All disclaimers in Chapter 1. (Sorry this is taking so long; I've got quite a bit more done, *but* I hit a major block several chapters ahead of this. Also, I've discovered the infinite joys of trying to rent an apartment in time for your roommate to have a place to live while your soon-to-be-employer allows EVERYONE in recruiting to take off so there's no one to confirm to the realtor that you can indeed pay the rent. Grrr... That, and I can't unstick certain keyboard keys.)
Anyway, the next part will not be so forthcoming only because I need to spend my week making sure I have a job/insurance/apartment/roomie who's not going to kill me. :)
Special Case
by Amanda Ohlin
Chapter Four
"Power Rangers save the day again," Daniel yawned. "Can't they at least try to be original?"
He pulled his glasses off briefly to rub his eyes before slipping them on again and peering at the computer screen in front of him. All the stories regarding the Power Rangers seemed basically the same: monsters appeared, the Rangers appeared, the monster grew, a robot destroyed it, there was property damage galore, and all the photos were generally too blurry or grainy to be deemed genuine. "Sam, I'm going to get you for this," Daniel murmured as the database brought up a new article.
Strangely enough, this one wasn't in the same vein as all the rest. MASS DISAPPEARANCE AT LOCAL HANGOUT, the headline read. It was a sidebar to the bigger story, which was the standard Rangers-save-the-day bit that Daniel had come to know and despise. Basically, a few sets of parents who had arrived late to the school Parents' Day had arrived at a local youth center to find it completely abandoned. Two hours later, all the attendees were back, and no one remembered even leaving. The two hours were completely lost to them.
The story had made the paper only because the disappearance had seemingly coincided with the monster attack that took place the same day. Several parents and students were interviewed, and while they didn't remember anything, many of them did recall a brief "blip" in their memories.
The article went on to discuss theories of mass hallucination, but Daniel paid no attention to that. What interested him was the name of one of the people interviewed: Sarah Trevelyan-Scott, who had been there with her husband and son. *Trevelyan*-Scott.
While it was one heck of a name to hyphenate, that wasn't what got Daniel's attention. He and Sam had gone through Jason's records twice, and he was positive that Trevelyan was his mother's maiden name. That couldn't be a mistake. It wasn't exactly a common name - the only other Trevelyan that Daniel knew of was Andrew Trevelyan, an Egyptologist who was both famous and notorious for continuing to supervise and participate in excavations despite his age. Trevelyan had been one of the few who hadn't scoffed at Daniel's theories. _Wonder if there's a connection?_
Abruptly, he shook himself, bringing his thoughts back to the task at hand. So Jason and his parents had been there when the entire group was whisked away. Daniel frowned thoughtfully. It wasn't that he believed it, but if it was partially true, this might be what Sam was looking for. He made sure that the network printer was turned on before going to print out the article.
It was definitely a start.
******
"I can't really explain it," Jason was saying for the third time as someone knocked on the door. The guard on duty opened it to reveal Harriman, who entered quietly, setting a report down in front of Hammond before turning and leaving.
Sam was handling some of the questioning, since she had the most experience with the situation. "Lieutenant, you're going to have to try."
Jason sighed as Daniel eased into the empty seat beside Jack. "All I know was that something kind of - snapped. It was like... it was like I could have fought it off before, but whatever I had just kind of held back."
"Until the Goa'uld attacked Colonel O'Neill," Hammond finished.
"No, sir. That, um, that was just me."
He received several befuddled stares. Hammond frowned. Jack was confused. Daniel looked positively baffled as to what was going on. Teal'c raised an eyebrow.
Only Sam seemed to understand what he was talking about. "By 'just you,' you mean without the aid of whatever... spark allowed you to fight it off for good."
"I - I suppose," Jason replied uncertainly, turning to Hammond. "General, I'm serious. I know it sounds ludicrous."
"I'll be the judge of that," Hammond told him. "Go on. What happened when you rejected the symbiote?"
Jason was silent for a moment, trying to piece the words together. "It felt like something was exploding in my head," he answered in a low voice, looking down at the table. "I couldn't see, I couldn't hear - everything was too bright, everything was too loud."
"Like a full sensory overload," Sam proposed.
Jason nodded, looking up. "After that, I - don't remember anything. The next thing I remember is waking up in the infirmary."
Absolute silence followed his words. Jason glanced around anxiously at the group assembled, waiting for an answer.
He finally got one as Hammond spoke. "Very well, I think that's quite enough. Lieutenant, you're free to go - back to the infirmary, that is," he added, and Jason flinched. "That's an order. I'm not about to let you aggravate any injuries after the ordeal you've had."
Jason relaxed. "Thank you, sir."
"You're welcome, Lieutenant. Dismissed."
Once the lieutenant was gone, Hammond turned back to SG-1. "Opinions?"
"He seemed sincere, sir, if that's what you mean," Sam replied. "Whether or not everything he said was true, he seemed to believe it was."
Teal'c sat down beside Sam. "His account appears to match our observations."
"That's because it was so damned vague it'd fit any story," Jack groused.
The others stared at him in surprise. Teal'c raised an eyebrow. "Colonel," Hammond asked, "are you implying that Lieutenant Scott was lying to us?"
Uncomfortable at being the sudden center of attention, Jack shifted in his seat. "General, that's not what I'm saying. I think the kid told us the truth, just not all of it."
"What could he be withholding?" Sam asked. "And why? He's been through the whole battery of tests; it's not like he's under the influence of anything or anyone."
Jack sighed. "I don't know. Call it a gut instinct. I just get the feeling he's not telling us something. Scott seemed pretty nervous."
"Well, it goes without saying he's been under a lot of stress, sir," Sam interrupted. "And to have to recall the details of the experience so soon--"
"All right, all right, I get it," Jack protested. "Something just bugs me about all of this."
"For my part," Hammond put in, "I think Lieutenant Scott has told us all he can under the circumstances. I'm going to take Dr. Fraiser's recommendation and put Scott on medical leave for a few days, effective immediately after he's been discharged."
Sam frowned, confused. "Are you sure that's wise, sir? Shouldn't he at least receive some psychiatric treatment?"
"Dr. Mackenzie spoke with him this morning," Hammond replied. "He also recommended a similar course of action. I'll have to inform Colonel Makepeace and the rest of SG-3, but other than that, we're done here. Dismissed."
There was more to it than that, but Jack could tell that now was not the time to question Hammond. As the other two filed out, he hesitated for a moment before heading out of the briefing room and closing the door.
******
"You lucky son of a bitch."
Jason didn't even bother to open his eyes, recognizing the voice almost immediately. "You got to love the concern for the wounded. Johnson, you want to trade, be my guest."
Several voices chuckled at that, and Jason opened his eyes to see Johnson, Davis, and to his surprise, Colonel Makepeace standing by his bed. He hastily tried to sit up. "Uh, Colonel..." Jason winced as he was reminded painfully of his bruised ribs, and lay back down again. "I think I'll just lie here, if you don't mind, sir."
"Please," Makepeace answered. "If the Doc finds out you're making yourself worse, she'll give us all hell for it."
It was Jason's turn to chuckle, despite his discomfort. "Yeah, well, I'm not exactly feeling very lucky right now."
"You should be," Davis informed him, grinning. "We get to guard a science mission on PT29-something this weekend while you'll be sitting at home watching the game."
This time Jason did sit up, ignoring the pain in his ribs. "What?"
"As soon as you're in shape to be discharged, Lieutenant," Dr. Fraiser said, coming up to them, "you'll be put on ten days leave."
"Hammond himself gave the okay," Makepeace added at Jason's stunned expression. "In a day or two, you'll be heading home."
"Home," Jason murmured inaudibly, still surprised. Of all the responses he was expecting, this was not one of them. A wide grin spread across his face. "That's - that's great. I don't believe it."
"Listen, my man," Johnson said conspiratorially, "if you do catch the Lakers game, you let us know who won and who scored what, okay? We got a pool going here."
Davis elbowed him. "Knock it off."
Jason had all but forgotten his discomfort by now. "You're going to be all right without me?"
"Sure, kid," Makepeace assured him. "We'll pull through somehow."
He left a few minutes later, leaving Jason with Johnson and Davis. "What was he doing here?" Jason asked once Makepeace was gone. "I mean - that's not the Colonel's style."
Davis shrugged. "I don't know. Think he was feeling kind of guilty. You did save our bacon back there."
"Only because I got dumped down the drain," Jason remembered. "Anyone else would've done the same thing."
"Says you," Johnson muttered. "I'd have gotten my ass out of there first chance I got."
"There's a surprise," Davis told him, punching Johnson in the shoulder before turning back to Jason. "Scott, I don't know what you told Hammond, but you must have said the right things."
"Yeah," Jason answered. "I guess I did."
But his smile this time was uneasy.
******
"Are you sure this is the right gate?" Adam Park asked his girlfriend for the third time in twenty minutes.
Tanya Sloan sighed. "For the last time, yes. His plane was delayed; it should be here in a minute or two."
Nodding, Adam surveyed the rest of the welcome wagon gathered there. The four exhausted teens were camped out by the gate, having come for a flight that should have landed an hour ago. Rocky DeSantos was slumped in one of the plastic airport seats, fast asleep and clutching the cardboard sign he'd made as a joke. Tanya was sitting by Adam's side, reading a magazine, the only patient member of the group.
She was the complete opposite of Tommy Oliver, who was pacing like a caged lion in front of their seats. "Tom, you're not making the plane get here any faster," Adam informed him.
Realizing what he was doing, Tommy stopped and sighed. "Sorry. I just - Jase didn't sound so great on the phone. Call it a hunch, but I've got a feeling something's wrong."
"He sounded fine to me," Tanya said. "But I only got to talk to him for thirty seconds."
As she spoke, a jet was taxiing down the runway, heading in their direction. "Heads up," Adam said. "We're probably about to find out."
The half-awake woman at the counter jerked awake and grabbed the microphone. "Flight 23 from Denver is now arriving at Gate C12. Flight 23 from Denver is now arriving at Gate C12."
"Finally," Tommy commented as Adam stood up, stretching to ease his stiff muscles. Tanya got up as well, but Rocky was still out cold. "Anyone want to wake up Sleeping Beauty?"
A second later, a rolled-up magazine struck Rocky squarely in the forehead. "Huh? What?" Rocky mumbled, sitting straight up and blinking sleepily. "Who hit me?"
Tanya hid the magazine behind her back and tried to look innocent as Adam hauled Rocky to his feet. "Plane's here, Rocko."
Rocky glared at Tanya suspiciously as the gate opened, letting forth a flood of relieved and exhausted passengers. After about ten seconds of the stampede, a familiar face emerged from the crowd. "Jase!" Tommy cried, and Rocky held up the sign. "Over here!"
Seeing them, Jason waved and started towards them. It was then that Adam noticed the look in his old friend's eyes. Jason seemed lively enough, but there was a sense of exhaustion about him, like a cloud of fatigue had settled permanently over his eyes. He looked fine, yet at the same time he seemed drained of energy. _Last time he looked like that was when the Gold Ranger powers were acting up,_ Adam realized silently. Looking over at Tanya, he could tell that she saw it too.
She didn't say anything as they exchanged hugs and handshakes in turn, but Rocky was nowhere near that tactful. "Jase," he observed, "you look wasted."
Jason, fortunately, grinned at that and punched Rocky in the shoulder. "Yeah, well, they put me next to this screaming two-year-old. It was hell."
There was more to it than that, Adam sensed, trading worried looks with Tommy. "Sounds like it to me," Tommy empathized, patting his friend on the shoulder. "You got any bags to check?"
"I came straight from the base, bro. This," here Jason pointed to the knapsack he was carrying, "is all I've got."
"Good," Tanya declared, pulling her car keys out of her coat pocket. "I actually got a close parking space. Let's get out of here."
Gratefully, the five teens headed out of the terminal, with Tanya in the lead and Adam right beside her. Behind him, Adam heard Jason tell Rocky, "Nice sign, Rocko."
Rocky yawned. "Thanks. Kind of a gag."
"Oh, so *that's* why you were holding it upside down."
"What?"
******
"That's all?" Jack asked when Daniel finished his account.
"What do you mean, 'that's all?' It's the best possible means of exposure we've been able to dig up," Sam retorted.
Jack sighed. "So the kid and his parents were there when everyone forgot a couple hours. Doesn't say anything really happened."
"Well, most of what we have are a collection of news articles," Daniel interrupted. "If we could get some readings from the NASADA base--"
"NASADA?" Jack looked over at Sam for an explanation.
"National Aeronautics and Space Aerial Defense Administration," she clarified. "It was kind of NASA's reaction to the sightings. They generally work independently; the division was created outside of Angel Grove just in case something concrete turned up. Needless to say, we're a lot better funded than they are."
Dr. Fraiser was nodding. "You might want to get in touch with them," she suggested. "None of this is any good to us if we can't figure out *what* Lieutenant Scott was exposed to."
Jack frowned at the medical report with the frown of someone who doesn't understand what he's reading and has better things to do. "If he was exposed to anything. Doc, you said the kid checked out all right. Maybe we should just let this go for a while."
"Let it go?" Sam echoed. "Sir, Lieutenant Scott managed to expel a Goa'uld parasite without any external aid. If we can figure out why, the cause may help us find a way to remove the Goa'uld from the host safely, perhaps even make it possible for anyone to reject the parasite on their own. Imagine if the Goa'uld couldn't take any of us as hosts. That could--"
"I get it," Jack interrupted. "I'm just saying that we haven't turned up much of anything here. If Lieutenant Scott was actually around, it would help big time."
Fraiser sighed. "He's agreed to resume the tests once he's back on duty."
"So let's let it go until he gets back!"
"I agree with Colonel O'Neill," Teal'c added. "There is nothing to be gained from this now."
"I'm afraid it's not that simple," Fraiser admitted. "General Hammond submitted the report to the Pentagon this morning, after Scott's plane departed. If R&D does demand to have a hand in this, it would help our case if we had some possible causes for the rejection when they get here."
"That way, they couldn't insist that testing be done off base," Daniel realized. For Jack's benefit, he added, "Maybourne wouldn't be able to use that in his favor."
Jack's shoulders slumped slightly as he stared at the spread of documents. "All right," he conceded after a moment. "Let's hit the books."
******
"Hey, Mom?"
Sarah Trevelyan-Scott looked up from the stove and frowned as she saw the odd expression on her son's face. "Jason? What's wrong?"
Jason was staring at the pot, at the green fettucini noodles that bubbled and writhed in the boiling water. "You're making that?"
"Well, if I'd had more than a day's warning you were coming home," she retorted, "I'd have been able to go out and get burgers. You and John will just have to grin and bear it."
There was a moment before Jason spoke again, softly. "Mom?"
Sarah paused. She recognized the tone in his voice, saw the distress in his eyes. "You really don't want pasta, do you?"
Her searching gaze snapped him back into reality, somewhat back to his old self. "I - I mean, I know you're working really hard and you didn't have a lot of time, but could you make something that doesn't..." He hesitated, then shook his head, turning to leave. "Never mind."
"Stop right there, Jason Lee Scott," Sarah snapped, giving him her best I'm-Your-Mother-And-If-You-Know-What's-Best-You'll-Listen look. "Something's bothering you, and you won't tell me what. Now I know you can't talk about most of it, but would it kill you to tell me why you don't want pasta?"
"This is going to sound really stupid," Jason began, but she fixed the Look on him and he sighed. "Could you make something that doesn't... look so much like snakes?"
******
John Scott grinned as he paid the pizza delivery boy and set the boxes down on the counter. "Soup's on!"
"Finally," Jason sighed as he, Adam, and Tommy emerged from the living room. They had been watching television and talking for the past hour about everything - and nothing. Despite Tommy's attempts to find out what was wrong with his friend, Jason had remained continually evasive. A lot of it, Tommy knew, was because Jason couldn't tell him what was going on, just because of security. But that wasn't all. Jase wasn't talking about it because he didn't want to talk about it, didn't want to relive it.
Tommy knew from personal experience that wasn't exactly healthy.
Adam strode up to the counter, looking over the pizzas John had ordered. "Doesn't look like any soup I've ever seen. Not that I'm complaining."
"It's an expression, kid," John told him, reaching over to good-naturedly ruffle his son's short hair. "Thank the guest of honor here."
Jason looked uncomfortable. "Cut it out, Dad." He snagged a slice of pepperoni, and accidentally dripped some cheese onto the tile. "Oops."
"Smooth move, Jase," Tommy joked.
Jason chuckled. "Yeah, it's all in the wrist."
As he grabbed a napkin and knelt down to wipe it up, Sarah appeared with a sponge. "First night back and already you're making a mess." She paused as he took the sponge and wiped up the spill. "Jason? What's that on your neck?"
"What?"
"That." Her fingers traced a thin scar on the back of Jason's neck. It was faint, but clear, almost like an incision. Jason flinched at her touch. "What happened?"
"It was, uh, it was an accident." Jason rubbed at the back of his neck nervously. "I can't really go into detail."
Sarah's eyes flicked over to John, and they shared the same worried glance, but neither parent pressed the subject. "Come on," John said, grabbing a piece of pizza and pulling a couple of soda cans out of the fridge. "I want to see how the Knicks are going to get out of this one."
"Is it too much to ask for you to sit at a table and eat?" Sarah demanded.
"Yes," the four men answered in unison. Sarah shrugged, got herself a slice, and headed for the living room with the rest.
Jason patted his father on the shoulder. "Thanks, Dad," he muttered.
******
"So when is Kat coming home?" Jason asked.
Tommy blinked. "Huh?"
"Kat. Katherine. Tall, blonde, Australian, wore a lot of pink, you two were joined at the hip. Ring any bells?" Jason chuckled. "Don't tell me you forgot Kat now."
"No. God. I'm not that bad." Tommy sat back, staring up at the night sky. They were sitting on the Scotts' roof, unbeknownst to Sarah, who would have given them all hell if she knew they were up there. "She's coming home Thursday. Said something about being fed up with the dance school."
Adam pushed himself up on his elbows. "How come? You never told me that."
"Snobs," Tommy replied, and both men nodded understandingly. "And something along the lines of not wanting to starve herself. Said she wanted to teach."
Jason smiled. "Yeah. That sounds like Kat."
Adam chuckled. "Remember when she tried to get us into the ballet recital?"
"Vividly," Jason sighed.
"Look at it this way," Tommy pointed out. "You couldn't have been worse than Bulk and Skull."
All three laughed heartily at that. "No one could have been worse than those two," Jason admitted, grinning. "Seriously, though - what happened to them?"
"Bulk hooked up with this kook professor," Adam told him. "Skull's taking classes at AGU, but we don't see either of them much. I think they cleaned up their act. Well, Skull did, anyway."
"About time," Jason remarked. "They were always getting into messes."
The other two nodded, allowing a comfortable silence to settle. "Can you tell us anything, bro?" Tommy asked after a moment. "What happened?"
Jason looked down. "I don't know. It was - weird. I think I just... need a little time. That's what I'm doing back here."
"Yeah, ten days leave," Adam remembered, grinning. "Lucky bastard."
"Not that lucky. Mom's putting me to work." Jason smiled, lying flat on his back. "I don't know. I need to sort it out for myself - exactly what happened. Because frankly, I'm not so sure."
"Well, when you do, we'll be here," Adam told him. "Right?"
Tommy shrugged. "I'm not going anywhere."
"Thanks." Jason turned his attention to the stars.
A nearby window opened a few minutes later. "Jason?"
"Yeah, Dad?"
"Get off the roof. Please. Before your mother kills me."
"In a minute, Dad."
They spent another half hour watching the stars.
******
He couldn't move. He couldn't fight.
It was inside him... wriggling... burrowing into his brain... in his head... no... the tendrils snaking out like ropes of fire, burning as they wrapped around him, pulling him into the depths... suffocating, blinding... the parasite flooding his mind...
Nothing moved at his command, but he watched and heard and felt another presence controlling his own body. His own hands wrapped around Colonel O'Neill's neck, squeezing the life out of the man with inhuman force. He could feel the flesh and muscle contracting beneath his grip, hear laughter - the Goa'uld's laughter - rumbling inside him.
~it's not me it's not me it's not me...~
The face changed, the features shifting. Now it was Tommy, his best friend, then his old girlfriend Emily, then his mother, writhing in his grasp, clawing uselessly at his arms. He screamed, but the cry made no sound.
~it's not me...~
Strapped onto a table again, with Hatmehit leaning over him... no, wait, a figure in a white lab coat, several lab coats and masks, and it wasn't the chamber of the citadel, it was a laboratory with bright lights and machines and tubes sticking into him...
One of the lab coats raised a scalpel...
With a cry, Jason tumbled out of bed and crashed to the floor. He lay where he'd fallen, panting, trapped in a sweaty tangle of sheets. Staring blankly into the darkness, he tried to organize his thoughts, tried to make sure it was real. Impulsively, he reached out and snagged a handful of the carpeting, relieved to feel the fibers between his fingers. "Just a dream," he whispered, clutching the carpet. "Just a dream."
After a moment, he struggled to his feet, extricating himself from the sheets and sitting back down on the bed. Without thinking, he reached back again, tracing the rough line of the entry scar with his fingers. It was faint now, hard to see, but all too real to the touch. And not faint enough to escape his mother's keen eye.
"Jason? Honey, are you all right? I thought I heard--"
Speak of the devil. Jason cleared his throat. "Fine, Mom," he called back softly, hoping he didn't sound as out of sorts as he felt. "Just fell out of bed, that's all."
Her head poked into the doorway. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm sure, Mom. Go back to bed. And, uh, could you close the door?"
She narrowed her eyes, unconvinced, then sighed. "All right. Let me know if you need anything."
"Night, Mom. Thanks." She closed the door again, and Jason took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. It didn't work. He looked down at his hands; they were shaking. He was shaking.
No, he wasn't fine. But how could one be expected to be "fine" after all that?
He lay down again, drawing the sheets and blankets tightly around him. It wasn't just the Goa'uld. There hadn't been any white lab coats in Hatmehit's citadel. Jason looked up at the glow-in-the-dark stars and moons that still remained on his ceiling, and frowned. This had gone on long enough. Classified or not, he had to get outside help. Someone who dealt with stuff like this on a regular basis, someone who might have half a clue about what had really happened to him.
Jason had a pretty good idea where to start.
******
The shrill ringing of the telephone jolted Tommy out of a sound sleep, bringing a pleasant dream involving Katherine and several cans of whipped cream to an abrupt end. He opened one eye, half-tempted to unplug the machine for a moment as the phone rang again. Groaning, Tommy finally grabbed the receiver. "What?" he slurred.
"Tommy, it's Jase. Bro, I'm sorry, but we've got to talk."
Tommy blinked, still drowning in the fog of interrupted sleep. "It's three in the morning."
"It's about what happened. On base. I've got to find some way to get in touch with Billy."
Hearing that, Tommy snapped back into full awareness. "What? It's that serious?"
"I don't know. It might be." Jason lapsed into silence for a moment or two before continuing. "You don't happen to know... uh... the current group, do you?"
It took him a moment to process the question. "Huh? Yeah, I know some of them. Why?"
Jason hesitated before replying. "I need you to set up a meeting."
******
Anyway, the next part will not be so forthcoming only because I need to spend my week making sure I have a job/insurance/apartment/roomie who's not going to kill me. :)
Special Case
by Amanda Ohlin
Chapter Four
"Power Rangers save the day again," Daniel yawned. "Can't they at least try to be original?"
He pulled his glasses off briefly to rub his eyes before slipping them on again and peering at the computer screen in front of him. All the stories regarding the Power Rangers seemed basically the same: monsters appeared, the Rangers appeared, the monster grew, a robot destroyed it, there was property damage galore, and all the photos were generally too blurry or grainy to be deemed genuine. "Sam, I'm going to get you for this," Daniel murmured as the database brought up a new article.
Strangely enough, this one wasn't in the same vein as all the rest. MASS DISAPPEARANCE AT LOCAL HANGOUT, the headline read. It was a sidebar to the bigger story, which was the standard Rangers-save-the-day bit that Daniel had come to know and despise. Basically, a few sets of parents who had arrived late to the school Parents' Day had arrived at a local youth center to find it completely abandoned. Two hours later, all the attendees were back, and no one remembered even leaving. The two hours were completely lost to them.
The story had made the paper only because the disappearance had seemingly coincided with the monster attack that took place the same day. Several parents and students were interviewed, and while they didn't remember anything, many of them did recall a brief "blip" in their memories.
The article went on to discuss theories of mass hallucination, but Daniel paid no attention to that. What interested him was the name of one of the people interviewed: Sarah Trevelyan-Scott, who had been there with her husband and son. *Trevelyan*-Scott.
While it was one heck of a name to hyphenate, that wasn't what got Daniel's attention. He and Sam had gone through Jason's records twice, and he was positive that Trevelyan was his mother's maiden name. That couldn't be a mistake. It wasn't exactly a common name - the only other Trevelyan that Daniel knew of was Andrew Trevelyan, an Egyptologist who was both famous and notorious for continuing to supervise and participate in excavations despite his age. Trevelyan had been one of the few who hadn't scoffed at Daniel's theories. _Wonder if there's a connection?_
Abruptly, he shook himself, bringing his thoughts back to the task at hand. So Jason and his parents had been there when the entire group was whisked away. Daniel frowned thoughtfully. It wasn't that he believed it, but if it was partially true, this might be what Sam was looking for. He made sure that the network printer was turned on before going to print out the article.
It was definitely a start.
******
"I can't really explain it," Jason was saying for the third time as someone knocked on the door. The guard on duty opened it to reveal Harriman, who entered quietly, setting a report down in front of Hammond before turning and leaving.
Sam was handling some of the questioning, since she had the most experience with the situation. "Lieutenant, you're going to have to try."
Jason sighed as Daniel eased into the empty seat beside Jack. "All I know was that something kind of - snapped. It was like... it was like I could have fought it off before, but whatever I had just kind of held back."
"Until the Goa'uld attacked Colonel O'Neill," Hammond finished.
"No, sir. That, um, that was just me."
He received several befuddled stares. Hammond frowned. Jack was confused. Daniel looked positively baffled as to what was going on. Teal'c raised an eyebrow.
Only Sam seemed to understand what he was talking about. "By 'just you,' you mean without the aid of whatever... spark allowed you to fight it off for good."
"I - I suppose," Jason replied uncertainly, turning to Hammond. "General, I'm serious. I know it sounds ludicrous."
"I'll be the judge of that," Hammond told him. "Go on. What happened when you rejected the symbiote?"
Jason was silent for a moment, trying to piece the words together. "It felt like something was exploding in my head," he answered in a low voice, looking down at the table. "I couldn't see, I couldn't hear - everything was too bright, everything was too loud."
"Like a full sensory overload," Sam proposed.
Jason nodded, looking up. "After that, I - don't remember anything. The next thing I remember is waking up in the infirmary."
Absolute silence followed his words. Jason glanced around anxiously at the group assembled, waiting for an answer.
He finally got one as Hammond spoke. "Very well, I think that's quite enough. Lieutenant, you're free to go - back to the infirmary, that is," he added, and Jason flinched. "That's an order. I'm not about to let you aggravate any injuries after the ordeal you've had."
Jason relaxed. "Thank you, sir."
"You're welcome, Lieutenant. Dismissed."
Once the lieutenant was gone, Hammond turned back to SG-1. "Opinions?"
"He seemed sincere, sir, if that's what you mean," Sam replied. "Whether or not everything he said was true, he seemed to believe it was."
Teal'c sat down beside Sam. "His account appears to match our observations."
"That's because it was so damned vague it'd fit any story," Jack groused.
The others stared at him in surprise. Teal'c raised an eyebrow. "Colonel," Hammond asked, "are you implying that Lieutenant Scott was lying to us?"
Uncomfortable at being the sudden center of attention, Jack shifted in his seat. "General, that's not what I'm saying. I think the kid told us the truth, just not all of it."
"What could he be withholding?" Sam asked. "And why? He's been through the whole battery of tests; it's not like he's under the influence of anything or anyone."
Jack sighed. "I don't know. Call it a gut instinct. I just get the feeling he's not telling us something. Scott seemed pretty nervous."
"Well, it goes without saying he's been under a lot of stress, sir," Sam interrupted. "And to have to recall the details of the experience so soon--"
"All right, all right, I get it," Jack protested. "Something just bugs me about all of this."
"For my part," Hammond put in, "I think Lieutenant Scott has told us all he can under the circumstances. I'm going to take Dr. Fraiser's recommendation and put Scott on medical leave for a few days, effective immediately after he's been discharged."
Sam frowned, confused. "Are you sure that's wise, sir? Shouldn't he at least receive some psychiatric treatment?"
"Dr. Mackenzie spoke with him this morning," Hammond replied. "He also recommended a similar course of action. I'll have to inform Colonel Makepeace and the rest of SG-3, but other than that, we're done here. Dismissed."
There was more to it than that, but Jack could tell that now was not the time to question Hammond. As the other two filed out, he hesitated for a moment before heading out of the briefing room and closing the door.
******
"You lucky son of a bitch."
Jason didn't even bother to open his eyes, recognizing the voice almost immediately. "You got to love the concern for the wounded. Johnson, you want to trade, be my guest."
Several voices chuckled at that, and Jason opened his eyes to see Johnson, Davis, and to his surprise, Colonel Makepeace standing by his bed. He hastily tried to sit up. "Uh, Colonel..." Jason winced as he was reminded painfully of his bruised ribs, and lay back down again. "I think I'll just lie here, if you don't mind, sir."
"Please," Makepeace answered. "If the Doc finds out you're making yourself worse, she'll give us all hell for it."
It was Jason's turn to chuckle, despite his discomfort. "Yeah, well, I'm not exactly feeling very lucky right now."
"You should be," Davis informed him, grinning. "We get to guard a science mission on PT29-something this weekend while you'll be sitting at home watching the game."
This time Jason did sit up, ignoring the pain in his ribs. "What?"
"As soon as you're in shape to be discharged, Lieutenant," Dr. Fraiser said, coming up to them, "you'll be put on ten days leave."
"Hammond himself gave the okay," Makepeace added at Jason's stunned expression. "In a day or two, you'll be heading home."
"Home," Jason murmured inaudibly, still surprised. Of all the responses he was expecting, this was not one of them. A wide grin spread across his face. "That's - that's great. I don't believe it."
"Listen, my man," Johnson said conspiratorially, "if you do catch the Lakers game, you let us know who won and who scored what, okay? We got a pool going here."
Davis elbowed him. "Knock it off."
Jason had all but forgotten his discomfort by now. "You're going to be all right without me?"
"Sure, kid," Makepeace assured him. "We'll pull through somehow."
He left a few minutes later, leaving Jason with Johnson and Davis. "What was he doing here?" Jason asked once Makepeace was gone. "I mean - that's not the Colonel's style."
Davis shrugged. "I don't know. Think he was feeling kind of guilty. You did save our bacon back there."
"Only because I got dumped down the drain," Jason remembered. "Anyone else would've done the same thing."
"Says you," Johnson muttered. "I'd have gotten my ass out of there first chance I got."
"There's a surprise," Davis told him, punching Johnson in the shoulder before turning back to Jason. "Scott, I don't know what you told Hammond, but you must have said the right things."
"Yeah," Jason answered. "I guess I did."
But his smile this time was uneasy.
******
"Are you sure this is the right gate?" Adam Park asked his girlfriend for the third time in twenty minutes.
Tanya Sloan sighed. "For the last time, yes. His plane was delayed; it should be here in a minute or two."
Nodding, Adam surveyed the rest of the welcome wagon gathered there. The four exhausted teens were camped out by the gate, having come for a flight that should have landed an hour ago. Rocky DeSantos was slumped in one of the plastic airport seats, fast asleep and clutching the cardboard sign he'd made as a joke. Tanya was sitting by Adam's side, reading a magazine, the only patient member of the group.
She was the complete opposite of Tommy Oliver, who was pacing like a caged lion in front of their seats. "Tom, you're not making the plane get here any faster," Adam informed him.
Realizing what he was doing, Tommy stopped and sighed. "Sorry. I just - Jase didn't sound so great on the phone. Call it a hunch, but I've got a feeling something's wrong."
"He sounded fine to me," Tanya said. "But I only got to talk to him for thirty seconds."
As she spoke, a jet was taxiing down the runway, heading in their direction. "Heads up," Adam said. "We're probably about to find out."
The half-awake woman at the counter jerked awake and grabbed the microphone. "Flight 23 from Denver is now arriving at Gate C12. Flight 23 from Denver is now arriving at Gate C12."
"Finally," Tommy commented as Adam stood up, stretching to ease his stiff muscles. Tanya got up as well, but Rocky was still out cold. "Anyone want to wake up Sleeping Beauty?"
A second later, a rolled-up magazine struck Rocky squarely in the forehead. "Huh? What?" Rocky mumbled, sitting straight up and blinking sleepily. "Who hit me?"
Tanya hid the magazine behind her back and tried to look innocent as Adam hauled Rocky to his feet. "Plane's here, Rocko."
Rocky glared at Tanya suspiciously as the gate opened, letting forth a flood of relieved and exhausted passengers. After about ten seconds of the stampede, a familiar face emerged from the crowd. "Jase!" Tommy cried, and Rocky held up the sign. "Over here!"
Seeing them, Jason waved and started towards them. It was then that Adam noticed the look in his old friend's eyes. Jason seemed lively enough, but there was a sense of exhaustion about him, like a cloud of fatigue had settled permanently over his eyes. He looked fine, yet at the same time he seemed drained of energy. _Last time he looked like that was when the Gold Ranger powers were acting up,_ Adam realized silently. Looking over at Tanya, he could tell that she saw it too.
She didn't say anything as they exchanged hugs and handshakes in turn, but Rocky was nowhere near that tactful. "Jase," he observed, "you look wasted."
Jason, fortunately, grinned at that and punched Rocky in the shoulder. "Yeah, well, they put me next to this screaming two-year-old. It was hell."
There was more to it than that, Adam sensed, trading worried looks with Tommy. "Sounds like it to me," Tommy empathized, patting his friend on the shoulder. "You got any bags to check?"
"I came straight from the base, bro. This," here Jason pointed to the knapsack he was carrying, "is all I've got."
"Good," Tanya declared, pulling her car keys out of her coat pocket. "I actually got a close parking space. Let's get out of here."
Gratefully, the five teens headed out of the terminal, with Tanya in the lead and Adam right beside her. Behind him, Adam heard Jason tell Rocky, "Nice sign, Rocko."
Rocky yawned. "Thanks. Kind of a gag."
"Oh, so *that's* why you were holding it upside down."
"What?"
******
"That's all?" Jack asked when Daniel finished his account.
"What do you mean, 'that's all?' It's the best possible means of exposure we've been able to dig up," Sam retorted.
Jack sighed. "So the kid and his parents were there when everyone forgot a couple hours. Doesn't say anything really happened."
"Well, most of what we have are a collection of news articles," Daniel interrupted. "If we could get some readings from the NASADA base--"
"NASADA?" Jack looked over at Sam for an explanation.
"National Aeronautics and Space Aerial Defense Administration," she clarified. "It was kind of NASA's reaction to the sightings. They generally work independently; the division was created outside of Angel Grove just in case something concrete turned up. Needless to say, we're a lot better funded than they are."
Dr. Fraiser was nodding. "You might want to get in touch with them," she suggested. "None of this is any good to us if we can't figure out *what* Lieutenant Scott was exposed to."
Jack frowned at the medical report with the frown of someone who doesn't understand what he's reading and has better things to do. "If he was exposed to anything. Doc, you said the kid checked out all right. Maybe we should just let this go for a while."
"Let it go?" Sam echoed. "Sir, Lieutenant Scott managed to expel a Goa'uld parasite without any external aid. If we can figure out why, the cause may help us find a way to remove the Goa'uld from the host safely, perhaps even make it possible for anyone to reject the parasite on their own. Imagine if the Goa'uld couldn't take any of us as hosts. That could--"
"I get it," Jack interrupted. "I'm just saying that we haven't turned up much of anything here. If Lieutenant Scott was actually around, it would help big time."
Fraiser sighed. "He's agreed to resume the tests once he's back on duty."
"So let's let it go until he gets back!"
"I agree with Colonel O'Neill," Teal'c added. "There is nothing to be gained from this now."
"I'm afraid it's not that simple," Fraiser admitted. "General Hammond submitted the report to the Pentagon this morning, after Scott's plane departed. If R&D does demand to have a hand in this, it would help our case if we had some possible causes for the rejection when they get here."
"That way, they couldn't insist that testing be done off base," Daniel realized. For Jack's benefit, he added, "Maybourne wouldn't be able to use that in his favor."
Jack's shoulders slumped slightly as he stared at the spread of documents. "All right," he conceded after a moment. "Let's hit the books."
******
"Hey, Mom?"
Sarah Trevelyan-Scott looked up from the stove and frowned as she saw the odd expression on her son's face. "Jason? What's wrong?"
Jason was staring at the pot, at the green fettucini noodles that bubbled and writhed in the boiling water. "You're making that?"
"Well, if I'd had more than a day's warning you were coming home," she retorted, "I'd have been able to go out and get burgers. You and John will just have to grin and bear it."
There was a moment before Jason spoke again, softly. "Mom?"
Sarah paused. She recognized the tone in his voice, saw the distress in his eyes. "You really don't want pasta, do you?"
Her searching gaze snapped him back into reality, somewhat back to his old self. "I - I mean, I know you're working really hard and you didn't have a lot of time, but could you make something that doesn't..." He hesitated, then shook his head, turning to leave. "Never mind."
"Stop right there, Jason Lee Scott," Sarah snapped, giving him her best I'm-Your-Mother-And-If-You-Know-What's-Best-You'll-Listen look. "Something's bothering you, and you won't tell me what. Now I know you can't talk about most of it, but would it kill you to tell me why you don't want pasta?"
"This is going to sound really stupid," Jason began, but she fixed the Look on him and he sighed. "Could you make something that doesn't... look so much like snakes?"
******
John Scott grinned as he paid the pizza delivery boy and set the boxes down on the counter. "Soup's on!"
"Finally," Jason sighed as he, Adam, and Tommy emerged from the living room. They had been watching television and talking for the past hour about everything - and nothing. Despite Tommy's attempts to find out what was wrong with his friend, Jason had remained continually evasive. A lot of it, Tommy knew, was because Jason couldn't tell him what was going on, just because of security. But that wasn't all. Jase wasn't talking about it because he didn't want to talk about it, didn't want to relive it.
Tommy knew from personal experience that wasn't exactly healthy.
Adam strode up to the counter, looking over the pizzas John had ordered. "Doesn't look like any soup I've ever seen. Not that I'm complaining."
"It's an expression, kid," John told him, reaching over to good-naturedly ruffle his son's short hair. "Thank the guest of honor here."
Jason looked uncomfortable. "Cut it out, Dad." He snagged a slice of pepperoni, and accidentally dripped some cheese onto the tile. "Oops."
"Smooth move, Jase," Tommy joked.
Jason chuckled. "Yeah, it's all in the wrist."
As he grabbed a napkin and knelt down to wipe it up, Sarah appeared with a sponge. "First night back and already you're making a mess." She paused as he took the sponge and wiped up the spill. "Jason? What's that on your neck?"
"What?"
"That." Her fingers traced a thin scar on the back of Jason's neck. It was faint, but clear, almost like an incision. Jason flinched at her touch. "What happened?"
"It was, uh, it was an accident." Jason rubbed at the back of his neck nervously. "I can't really go into detail."
Sarah's eyes flicked over to John, and they shared the same worried glance, but neither parent pressed the subject. "Come on," John said, grabbing a piece of pizza and pulling a couple of soda cans out of the fridge. "I want to see how the Knicks are going to get out of this one."
"Is it too much to ask for you to sit at a table and eat?" Sarah demanded.
"Yes," the four men answered in unison. Sarah shrugged, got herself a slice, and headed for the living room with the rest.
Jason patted his father on the shoulder. "Thanks, Dad," he muttered.
******
"So when is Kat coming home?" Jason asked.
Tommy blinked. "Huh?"
"Kat. Katherine. Tall, blonde, Australian, wore a lot of pink, you two were joined at the hip. Ring any bells?" Jason chuckled. "Don't tell me you forgot Kat now."
"No. God. I'm not that bad." Tommy sat back, staring up at the night sky. They were sitting on the Scotts' roof, unbeknownst to Sarah, who would have given them all hell if she knew they were up there. "She's coming home Thursday. Said something about being fed up with the dance school."
Adam pushed himself up on his elbows. "How come? You never told me that."
"Snobs," Tommy replied, and both men nodded understandingly. "And something along the lines of not wanting to starve herself. Said she wanted to teach."
Jason smiled. "Yeah. That sounds like Kat."
Adam chuckled. "Remember when she tried to get us into the ballet recital?"
"Vividly," Jason sighed.
"Look at it this way," Tommy pointed out. "You couldn't have been worse than Bulk and Skull."
All three laughed heartily at that. "No one could have been worse than those two," Jason admitted, grinning. "Seriously, though - what happened to them?"
"Bulk hooked up with this kook professor," Adam told him. "Skull's taking classes at AGU, but we don't see either of them much. I think they cleaned up their act. Well, Skull did, anyway."
"About time," Jason remarked. "They were always getting into messes."
The other two nodded, allowing a comfortable silence to settle. "Can you tell us anything, bro?" Tommy asked after a moment. "What happened?"
Jason looked down. "I don't know. It was - weird. I think I just... need a little time. That's what I'm doing back here."
"Yeah, ten days leave," Adam remembered, grinning. "Lucky bastard."
"Not that lucky. Mom's putting me to work." Jason smiled, lying flat on his back. "I don't know. I need to sort it out for myself - exactly what happened. Because frankly, I'm not so sure."
"Well, when you do, we'll be here," Adam told him. "Right?"
Tommy shrugged. "I'm not going anywhere."
"Thanks." Jason turned his attention to the stars.
A nearby window opened a few minutes later. "Jason?"
"Yeah, Dad?"
"Get off the roof. Please. Before your mother kills me."
"In a minute, Dad."
They spent another half hour watching the stars.
******
He couldn't move. He couldn't fight.
It was inside him... wriggling... burrowing into his brain... in his head... no... the tendrils snaking out like ropes of fire, burning as they wrapped around him, pulling him into the depths... suffocating, blinding... the parasite flooding his mind...
Nothing moved at his command, but he watched and heard and felt another presence controlling his own body. His own hands wrapped around Colonel O'Neill's neck, squeezing the life out of the man with inhuman force. He could feel the flesh and muscle contracting beneath his grip, hear laughter - the Goa'uld's laughter - rumbling inside him.
~it's not me it's not me it's not me...~
The face changed, the features shifting. Now it was Tommy, his best friend, then his old girlfriend Emily, then his mother, writhing in his grasp, clawing uselessly at his arms. He screamed, but the cry made no sound.
~it's not me...~
Strapped onto a table again, with Hatmehit leaning over him... no, wait, a figure in a white lab coat, several lab coats and masks, and it wasn't the chamber of the citadel, it was a laboratory with bright lights and machines and tubes sticking into him...
One of the lab coats raised a scalpel...
With a cry, Jason tumbled out of bed and crashed to the floor. He lay where he'd fallen, panting, trapped in a sweaty tangle of sheets. Staring blankly into the darkness, he tried to organize his thoughts, tried to make sure it was real. Impulsively, he reached out and snagged a handful of the carpeting, relieved to feel the fibers between his fingers. "Just a dream," he whispered, clutching the carpet. "Just a dream."
After a moment, he struggled to his feet, extricating himself from the sheets and sitting back down on the bed. Without thinking, he reached back again, tracing the rough line of the entry scar with his fingers. It was faint now, hard to see, but all too real to the touch. And not faint enough to escape his mother's keen eye.
"Jason? Honey, are you all right? I thought I heard--"
Speak of the devil. Jason cleared his throat. "Fine, Mom," he called back softly, hoping he didn't sound as out of sorts as he felt. "Just fell out of bed, that's all."
Her head poked into the doorway. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm sure, Mom. Go back to bed. And, uh, could you close the door?"
She narrowed her eyes, unconvinced, then sighed. "All right. Let me know if you need anything."
"Night, Mom. Thanks." She closed the door again, and Jason took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. It didn't work. He looked down at his hands; they were shaking. He was shaking.
No, he wasn't fine. But how could one be expected to be "fine" after all that?
He lay down again, drawing the sheets and blankets tightly around him. It wasn't just the Goa'uld. There hadn't been any white lab coats in Hatmehit's citadel. Jason looked up at the glow-in-the-dark stars and moons that still remained on his ceiling, and frowned. This had gone on long enough. Classified or not, he had to get outside help. Someone who dealt with stuff like this on a regular basis, someone who might have half a clue about what had really happened to him.
Jason had a pretty good idea where to start.
******
The shrill ringing of the telephone jolted Tommy out of a sound sleep, bringing a pleasant dream involving Katherine and several cans of whipped cream to an abrupt end. He opened one eye, half-tempted to unplug the machine for a moment as the phone rang again. Groaning, Tommy finally grabbed the receiver. "What?" he slurred.
"Tommy, it's Jase. Bro, I'm sorry, but we've got to talk."
Tommy blinked, still drowning in the fog of interrupted sleep. "It's three in the morning."
"It's about what happened. On base. I've got to find some way to get in touch with Billy."
Hearing that, Tommy snapped back into full awareness. "What? It's that serious?"
"I don't know. It might be." Jason lapsed into silence for a moment or two before continuing. "You don't happen to know... uh... the current group, do you?"
It took him a moment to process the question. "Huh? Yeah, I know some of them. Why?"
Jason hesitated before replying. "I need you to set up a meeting."
******