Chapter 1: Reintroduction
Daniel slowly made his way through the checkpoints of the prison, his hands and feet no longer bound by the heavy cuffs. He was still in shock, because he'd expected this parole hearing to be the same as his previous two had been. He'd had the routine down pat: he'd show up for the hearing, they'd hear testimony from General Hammond's family about what a danger he was to society and about how much suffering he'd caused them, plus listen to testimony from various Air Force officers about how he'd seriously damaged the integrity of Cheyenne Mountain by murdering the general. This time, none of that had happened. Neither General Hammond's family nor any Air Force official had been present. Instead, only prison employees had testified on his behalf.
As Daniel walked down the dark and oppressive hallway, he looked around at the place that had been his home for the past twelve years and sighed. He had never really gotten used to the completely confined and controlled atmosphere of the prison. Yes, he had learned to survive in it, but it didn't mean that he hadn't suffered from nightmares on an almost daily basis because of it. The prison atmosphere had been completely alien to his inquisitive and free nature. He'd had a hard enough time following orders while at the SGC, but Daniel had learned very fast that you did what you were told in prison, or else you paid the price.
The worst thing about his prison stay was that Daniel couldn't be sure that he hadn't done what he'd been convicted of. The way his life had been going at that time, the injury he'd been recovering from, could have all been factors in his "mental collapse" if that was what happened. The events surrounding that day were a blur to him, all he remembered was finding Hammond lying in a pool of his own blood. If there had been another intruder, Daniel hadn't see him or her.
Daniel had gone to see Hammond that Saturday morning to apologize for the heated words he'd said to the man the previous day while at the SGC. Hammond had agreed to see him and had ushered him into the house. He and his family had been about to leave for a picnic, but the general had decided to stay behind to talk to him. What happened after that was a complete blank in Daniel's mind. When he'd woken up, Hammond had already been dead and the nightmare he now found himself in had started.
The trial had been long and painful. The evidence gathered against him had been a bit scarce, because there wasn't much the Air Force could use against him without revealing the existence of the Stargate project. A cover up for his role at the Cheyenne Mountain Base was quickly erected, and suitable explanations for his work were constructed. The Air Force had allowed the prosecuting attorney access to a heavily edited security tape of him and Hammond arguing at the SGC, which was what had sealed the conviction. Daniel had been wearing his civilian clothing in the tape, because Hammond had ordered him home to recuperate from his last mission. That was what had resulted in their argument. Ironically enough, that was the argument Daniel had gone to apologize to Hammond about the day he was killed.
After reviewing all of the information his lawyer had been provided with by the prosecuting attorney, Daniel had discovered inconsistencies in the police reports. The main one being that the doctor that examined him determined that the injuries he'd sustained that day weren't self inflicted. The doctor who had preformed the autopsy on Hammond had said that Daniel's blood had not been found anywhere on General Hammond's body, even though the general's blood had been found on Daniel. If Daniel hadn't inflicted the injuries on himself, and the victim hadn't injured him, how had he gotten injured? While on the stand, Daniel's lawyer had tried to reason with the jury as he presented this evidence. The prosecuting attorney had succeeded in destroying the doctor's credibility, ensuring that the jury didn't believe a word of her testimony. The scarce evidence had led to a conviction of second-degree murder and a sentence of 30 years in prison. The prosecutor had convinced the jury that Daniel had not shown up at Hammond's house to kill him, but had decided to do it on the spur of the moment, driven by rage.
What had hammered the last nail into his coffin was the absence of SG-1. Daniel had been told that SG-1 had been off world during the trial, sent to help the Asgard with their Replicator problem. He'd understood the necessity of Earth's help in this matter, even though Daniel had wished for a little support from his friends.
Robert Rothman had been there during that time. He'd attended the trial and had provided him with moral support whenever needed. Robert had also filled Daniel in on what was going on with the SGC, which is how he'd found out about SG-1. However, the fact remained that Robert was only an archaeologist. He could no more investigate Hammond's death than could Daniel himself. Ernest and Catherine Littlefield had also been supportive, but like Robert, they'd been unable to do much of anything. The defense lawyer that the state of Colorado had assigned to him had tried his best to defend Daniel, but he'd been way over his head with the case.
Every day of the last twelve years, Daniel had thought about who had set him up to take the fall for Hammond's death and why. They more he'd thought about it, the more he came to realize that what happened hadn't really been about him. Whoever had murdered Hammond, be it the NID, the USAF or the US Government, had wanted to get the general out of the way for their own political reasons. Daniel had just been the unlucky one picked to take the fall.
During the last decade, Daniel had become very adept with computers, hence the name Hacker. A fellow inmate had given him the name after he'd managed to hack into the Colorado Department of Public Safety and remove a traffic violation from the record of that inmate's wife. Daniel had done it for fun, just to see if he could. He'd been surprised when he'd gotten away with it. Because of his abundance of time, Daniel had been able to locate and hack into both the NID and the SGC mainframes. Neither program was common knowledge, but Daniel had known what to look for. Due to the limited computer resources of the prison, however, he'd only been able to access and read several of their files, not all of them. He needed a stronger, more secure computer to get in deeper. However, he had been able to keep up with the changes that had been brought upon the SGC and NID by General Hammond's death, which were substantial enough to give Daniel an idea about who had been behind the murder.
"Are you going to stand there all day or what?" Norman, one of the guards on duty, remarked, breaking into Daniel's thoughts. "Man, don't tell me that you don't want to leave this joint."
Daniel smirked and turned towards him. "Oh, I definitely want to leave this place. I'm just thinking about those who have to stay behind."
The guard chuckled. "Yeah, right. You'll be back, Hacker. You'll miss us."
"I don't think so, Norman. I'm leaving and don't plan on coming back."
Daniel stood in front of the last set of controlled doors. Up ahead, was a final door, the door that would finally take him outside.
The guard unlocked the doors, and then came over to Daniel and walked him to the final door. With a nod to the guard, he opened the door and stepped outside into freedom. He blinked as soon as the sun hit his eyes and shivered slightly in the chilly, winter afternoon, wrapping his arms tightly around himself for warmth. He walked down the few steps in front of the door then stopped. What was he going to do now? He had no money, no place to live, and no belongings except for the clothes he was wearing. Robert had told him that Jack had packed up his apartment and still had most of his things, but Daniel couldn't exactly call Jack up and ask him where they were. It was good to know that somewhere, he did have some of his things, but right now, he didn't even have money for bus fare. Daniel sighed deeply, put his hands in his pockets and started walking towards what looked like the main street. He'd find a way to survive; he usually managed to.
He was halfway to the street when a black Lincoln pulled up next to him. Daniel glanced at the car but did not stop. He heard the window being lowered then a voice called out.
"Dr. Jackson?" the man asked, his voice uncertain, as if he couldn't believe that the man in front of him was the one he was looking for.
Daniel stopped walking. It had been a very long time since anyone had addressed him by his title. So long, in fact, that he'd almost forgotten about those Ph.D.s he had. He turned around slowly to glance at the man sitting behind the wheel of the Lincoln.
"Are you Dr. Daniel Jackson?"
"I'm Daniel Jackson. What can I do for you?"
"Why don't you get in the car? There's someone who'd like to see you."
Daniel frowned. What the hell?
"I don't think so. Whatever you're selling, I'm not interested."
Daniel turned away from the man and resumed his trek towards the street. He wasn't worried, not yet. He was, however, cautious. Twelve years in prison had taught him that much.
The Lincoln sped up until it was a few feet ahead of Daniel. It stopped and the back door opened. A woman slowly stepped out of the car and turned towards Daniel. She was an older woman, probably in her late-seventies or early-eighties. As soon as her eyes met Daniel's, she smiled.
"It was easier getting you in the car the first time," she said.
As soon as he heard the voice, Daniel recognized the woman. "Do you make a habit of picking up dangerous felons who have nowhere else to go?" he asked, smiling slightly in return. "What are you doing here, Catherine?"
She didn't reply. Instead, she walked to him and wrapped her arms tightly around him. When she stepped back, she arched an eyebrow. "My, you've been working out. You're hardly the boy I picked up the first time."
"I had too much time on my hands, I guess," he stated, his voice turning slightly bitter. "Besides, 'boy' doesn't do it in prison. I learned that very fast."
Catherine saw Daniel's hands tighten and wondered what he meant. Not that she had to wonder for very long. She was well aware of the atrocities committed in prison and she regretted not being able to spare her friend from that fate.
"What are you doing here?" he asked again.
"I'm here to pick you up and take you home with me."
Daniel frowned and crossed his arms. "Why?"
Catherine smiled again. This time, sadness was reflected in her eyes. "You have nowhere to go, you said so yourself. Ernest and I have a house that's much too big for us and we'd love to have you stay until you get back on your feet."
"Why? I'm a convicted murderer, remember? How did you find out about the parole, anyway? I didn't find out until a few hours ago."
"You're no murderer, Daniel, we both know that. The Air Force framed you, Jack and Sam managed to find out that much after your trial. I mean, you can't tell me that it's standard operating procedure for the Air Force to hire new people and transfer them immediately to Cheyenne Mountain just as key members of the Stargate Project start to die under mysterious. That raised a lot of eyebrows, just not enough to spare you the sentence." Catherine smiled and shook her head. "As to why I'm here, let's just say that I know some people. I wanted to be here for you."
Daniel smiled, genuinely touched at Catherine's sincerity. "Thank you, Catherine."
She waved her hand, before grabbing one of Daniel's arms and pulling him into the car. "Come on, Daniel. Ernest will get cranky if we're late for dinner."
They both stepped into the car and settled down for the ride. The black Lincoln sped away, leaving the prison behind.
****
Catherine sat quietly next to Daniel, observing the passing scenery. She could tell that he was tense, because he sat close to the window, as far from her as he could. His face was turned away from her, but she could see the set of his shoulders, and the way his hands made fists on his lap. There were so many things that she wanted to say to him, but she knew that none of them would make up for twelve years of lost time. All she could do for him now was help him in the best way that she could, because she wanted to, and because he deserved it.
They were traveling through an area of Colorado that she wasn't very familiar with. She lived in the outskirts of Denver, which was where she generally spent her time. She had, of course, gone to Colorado Springs and to the ski resorts in various other parts of Colorado, but never to Cañon City, where the State Penitentiary was located. It was a nice little city. It wasn't too crowded, but since it was a prison town, she didn't expect it to be.
Catherine sighed, and decided that the silence was too much. She reached out and put a hand on Daniel's arm, and was surprised when he suddenly whipped around to face her, his eyes immediately scanning his surroundings for signs of danger. When he found only her, he sighed and shook his head slightly.
"I'm sorry, Catherine," he said.
"Daniel, are you okay?" she asked, her eyes narrowing in concern as he refused to meet them.
Daniel swallowed, and Catherine saw his mask of cool confidence and control immediately fall over his features.
"I'm perfectly fine," he automatically answered.
"Are you really?"
Silence followed the remark. Catherine did not remove her hand from Daniel's arm, nor did he move away. Instead, she saw the strong emotions play over his eyes, until he finally sighed and looked away from her. In that instant, she could see the mask dropping away to be replaced by the look of open honesty and curiosity that used to reside in Daniel's face.
"Why are you doing this Catherine? Why did you come pick me up?" he asked, his voice laced with wonderment and disbelief. "I'm not the man I used to be and I don't think you'll like what I've become."
Catherine smiled, squeezing Daniel's arm comfortingly. "I know who you are, Daniel. That's all that really matters. You were put in the middle of a very unfortunate situation, which forced you to adapt in order to survive in your new surroundings. That doesn't mean that you're any different than you were before."
Daniel gave a small nod, apparently seeing some truth in her words.
"How can you tell? I mean, you've only been talking to me for about half an hour. How can you know that I'm still the same person?"
Catherine shrugged her shoulders and gave Daniel's arm a reassuring pat, before releasing him. "I don't know how I know, I just do." She grinned at the way that sounded. "Call it old lady's intuition, if you want."
Daniel chuckled. "You're no old lady, Catherine," he joked, then immediately became serious again. "Prison was very different, I'll tell you that much. I was a cultural expert when I went to prison and found myself unable to submerge myself into that particular culture fast enough. Every day was like sensory overload for me, until I finally learned to cope with it."
"I can only imagine. But you're here, you made it."
"For better or worse, I made it."
Catherine watched him turn away from her again and sighed. "Have you remembered anything else about the day General Hammond was murdered?"
"No, not at all. I still remember only as much as I did back then. I'm willing to concede that it's possible that I killed the general. I can't remember not doing it, so I have to accept the possibility that I might have. However, the conflicting police reports about the blood that wasn't found on the general's body, along with the circumstantial evidence used to convict me all lead me to believe that I probably didn't commit the murder."
"Don't forget what Sam and Jack found out about the SGC's new personnel and what you found out about the other mysterious deaths. The evidence does speak for itself, Daniel. I, for one, don't think you killed anyone."
"I have to be sure, Catherine. It's the only way I'll ever be at peace. It's the only reason I'm not going to just count my blessings and live out the rest of my life as a parolee," Daniel commented, and then turned around to look at Catherine.
"How do you plan on doing that?" she asked, noting for the first time that determined look in his eyes.
"I have acquired some new skills in computer hacking, so I'm going to start by gathering all the information about that time as I can. After that, we'll see where it leads."
****
"General, here are the reports you asked for," Sergeant Miller stated as he handed the reports to his superior. "Also, SG-1 has just returned from PT5- 455."
"Very well. Send SG-1 in."
"Yes, Sir," the Sergeant stated and quickly made his way out of the office.
The major general opened the first folder and studied the various casualty, defense and budget reports that were collected there. He sighed and shook his head, thinking for the thousandth time that paper work was a headache. He couldn't believe that after twelve years they still hadn't managed to eradicate the Goa'uld. Sure, they'd fought them to a stalemate and back, but no side seemed to gain a foothold on the other. They just kept dancing the same old song, year after year. He supposed that the fact they were still standing at all was a victory of sorts, considering Earth had never been involved in a galactic war before. The thought didn't bring any comfort to the general.
He got up from his chair and made his way to the window on the back wall of his office. He didn't look outside onto the lush planet. Instead, he examined his reflection on the window. While still in top physical form, his hair had gone entirely gray. It was still cut in a short, military style, which served to emphasize the added wrinkles on his face and neck. He sighed and turned away from the window. It was times like this that made him feel really old.
The SGC had deemed it necessary for an off-world command to be established on an uninhabited planet in case of a Goa'uld attack of Earth. They'd sent him to command this off-world post in December of 2001. His life hadn't resembled what it had been only a year before, so he'd taken the offer quickly and had run away from Earth. He would never admit it to anyone, but running away was what he'd done. His new superiors had thought that commanding the off world base was the best place for him, and he hadn't argued with them. He never thought he'd take a desk job over fieldwork, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. Besides, there had been nothing on Earth to hold him there.
His thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of SG-1, which was still Earth's premier team.
"Colonel, how was the mission? You didn't tick anyone off, did you?" he asked as he, once again, took his seat behind the desk. He saw Major Jenkins and Lieutenant Giles smother their grins, while Dr. McDonald smiled at the jab.
"No, sir, not this time," Sam Carter replied, her own smile evident on her face.
He examined his second in command, noting that she seemed rested and relaxed, even though her face was set in an expression of alertness. Her blond hair was cropped short and framed her face, which sported a few more wrinkles now, since assuming command of SG-1. The remainder of her team was young, but experienced. Major Jenkins was a decorated pilot in his 30s, who had served the Air Force with distinction before coming to the SGC. Lieutenant Giles was a newer recruit, barely 28, but he had already shown promise and exceptional intelligence. Dr. McDonald was older than the two soldiers, close to Carter's age, but no less intelligent or eager. She was the team archaeologist and did her job remarkably well.
"The mission was a complete success, sir," she added . "The inhabitants of PT5-455 are willing to share their weapons technology with us in exchange for vaccines and medication. I assured them that there would not be a problem in providing that."
Jack O'Neill nodded. "Medicine, huh? We can do that. It's been a while since a trade has been so easily established. I mean, most of the races we encounter want things that we can't part with, like weapons."
"The people of 455 aren't interested in war. All they want is to cure their illnesses and live in peace."
"Sounds like the kind of people we want to keep up relations with."
Sam nodded. "Their technology is incredibly advanced, even though they've chosen not to use it. They're willing to share it, only because they know of the Goa'uld and wish to see them subdued."
"My kind of people."
"Ah, sir, I'd like to add something."
Jack frowned and regarded the speaker, trying to curb his annoyance. He was able to keep the slight smile off his face at the woman's nervousness. The archaeologist had been with the SGC and SG-1 for three years and O'Neill would have figured that would have been enough time for her to get used to dealing with him. Judging by the woman's tension, however, that didn't appear to be the case.
"Yes, Dr. McDonald?"
"There are several temples on PT5-455 that should be investigated. These people defeated the Goa'uld once and if we're to form a trade agreement with them, we should know their history. Besides, it could help us with our own battle."
Jack regarded the tall woman carefully. She stood rigidly at attention, even though she wasn't a military officer. She had always tried to fit in amongst her military counterparts and had done an astonishing job of it. For that, Jack respected her.
"Very well, Doctor. I will send SG-9 to investigate the temples."
"With all due respect, Sir, I'd like to go with them."
"I'm afraid not. SG-1 is needed on the Tok'ra home base to witness some delicate negotiations. Your place will be there."
The archaeologist opened her mouth to protest further, but then shut it.
"Very well, dismissed. Carter you'll need to stay so I can brief you on a couple of things," Jack stated.
Sam nodded to her team as they left, then settled herself on a chair in front of the general's desk.
"What's the latest on the Goa'uld forces, sir?" Sam asked as Jack sat down on his comfortable leather chair. He picked up the folder he'd been reading earlier, but made no effort to open it again.
"It's been the same old stuff. At the rate we're going, the Goa'uld are going to be a pain in our back sides for many years to come."
"I hear that Teal'c is coming along nicely with the Jaffa army. When I spoke to him last week, he mentioned that Chulak is now populated entirely by freed Jaffa and their families," Sam said.
"Teal'c is on cloud nine. The look on his face when he came to tell me was worth a thousand words," Jack agreed. "He was positively glowing, though no one else would have noticed."
"Did he give you one eyebrow up or two? I got one eyebrow up with a very small smile"
Jack laughed. "I actually got a grin, if you can believe that," he added. "I wish I'd had a camera with me."
The white phone on the desk suddenly rang, and Jack immediately picked it up.
"O'Neill," he said briskly. "Send it up," he added after a few seconds, then hung up the phone. "Supplies from Earth just arrived, and an airman is bringing up a package sent for me."
"Anything you're expecting?" Sam asked.
"Not really," Jack replied, puzzled. He was about to say more, when there was a knock on his door. He motioned to the airman to enter and returned his salute.
"This was sent for you, General," the airman said, handing O'Neill a folder- sized envelope.
"Who gave it to you?" Jack asked, confused and suspicious.
"Dr. Rothman, sir. He said that you asked him to run some surveys on possible expeditions for SG-9 and wanted these back as soon as possible."
"Thank you, airman," Jack replied, taking the envelope. "I will inform the good doctor that I have these in my possession."
The man gave Jack a crisp salute, before turning around and quickly exiting the office.
"You've got Rothman running surveys for possible missions? Why didn't you get McDonald to do it?" Sam asked, puzzled.
"I didn't have Rothman do anything, Carter. I have no clue what this is."
He opened the envelope and retrieved the single sheet it contained. He read it through twice to make sure he hadn't missed anything due to the messy handwriting, before putting it back down on his desk.
"Is there something wrong?"
"Daniel was granted parole," Jack stated, his voice eerily calm as if he still couldn't believe what he'd read. "Rothman found out yesterday and got a message to me as soon as he could."
Sam's eyebrows rose in surprise, but she smiled. "That's wonderful," she exclaimed, the smile widening, before it faltered slightly. "But I thought he wasn't up for parole?"
"He wasn't. For some reason, Robert didn't know why, Daniel was granted another hearing. The last one apparently didn't go well and they reconvened to review the case," Jack replied.
"I'm glad that he's finally out. He never should have been there in the first place," she said, sadness and regret tainting her voice.
Jack nodded. "I know. We did everything we could to get him out once we came back, but by then it was too late." Jack shook his head, once again mentally berating himself for his inability to do anything for Daniel at that time.
"How anyone could have believed that Daniel was capable of beating Hammond to death with a vase is beyond me," Jack added, shivering unconsciously at the memory of the crime scene photographs Sam had been able to get her hands on.
"The worst part is that we still don't know who really killed the general," Sam added, her eyes focused on the desktop in front of her. "It could have been anyone. It could have been a robber."
"But we know that it wasn't just anyone. The deck was stacked against Daniel from the moment the Colorado Police arrested him. We both saw how evidence that the prosecuting attorney had no business having, like the tape of Daniel and Hammond arguing at the SGC, came to be in his possession."
"We still couldn't prove that Daniel had been set up to take the fall."
"And we sure as hell couldn't do a thing to help, either. We saved the Asgard, but we lost our friend," Jack replied. "He wouldn't even see us," Jack added quietly. "When we came back from Othala, the SGC was so different. Everything we knew had been changed and Daniel was gone. Why wouldn't he see us?"
Sam shrugged. "I don't know, sir. Ernest and Catherine told us that he didn't want us to see him in there."
"But he let them go visit him, and Rothman too!" Jack exclaimed. "For five years, we were his team mates and he wouldn't even give us the opportunity to talk to him."
"He knew why we weren't at the trial, sir, why we couldn't help him. Dr. Rothman kept him informed of our whereabouts."
"How do you know that?" Jack asked, hearing what Sam had just said for the first time.
"I talked to Rothman a lot after we got back and then again once we all transferred to the off-world base. He was there the whole time; he told me what happened at the trial, what evidence they showed."
Jack nodded. "I know, I read the newspaper coverage of the trial. Whoever set Daniel up did a magnificent job, so magnificent that we couldn't prove otherwise."
Jack fell silent for a moment, remembering back to those months following Daniel's trial. It'd been hard for all of them, and they had tried to help their friend out in any way they could. After they'd failed to clear Daniel, nothing much was said about the situation. It was almost as if they tried to forget it, and their failure. Jack felt the familiar feelings of guilt churning in his gut, and from Carter's expression, he could tell that she was feeling something similar. They had never really talked about this before, not like he and Carter were doing now, because of the feelings the situation seemed to be bringing up in both of them.
"Yes, sir," Sam said. She took a deep breath and faced her commanding officer once again. "What do you think he'll do now?"
Jack shook his head. "I don't know, Carter. I don't know."
Daniel slowly made his way through the checkpoints of the prison, his hands and feet no longer bound by the heavy cuffs. He was still in shock, because he'd expected this parole hearing to be the same as his previous two had been. He'd had the routine down pat: he'd show up for the hearing, they'd hear testimony from General Hammond's family about what a danger he was to society and about how much suffering he'd caused them, plus listen to testimony from various Air Force officers about how he'd seriously damaged the integrity of Cheyenne Mountain by murdering the general. This time, none of that had happened. Neither General Hammond's family nor any Air Force official had been present. Instead, only prison employees had testified on his behalf.
As Daniel walked down the dark and oppressive hallway, he looked around at the place that had been his home for the past twelve years and sighed. He had never really gotten used to the completely confined and controlled atmosphere of the prison. Yes, he had learned to survive in it, but it didn't mean that he hadn't suffered from nightmares on an almost daily basis because of it. The prison atmosphere had been completely alien to his inquisitive and free nature. He'd had a hard enough time following orders while at the SGC, but Daniel had learned very fast that you did what you were told in prison, or else you paid the price.
The worst thing about his prison stay was that Daniel couldn't be sure that he hadn't done what he'd been convicted of. The way his life had been going at that time, the injury he'd been recovering from, could have all been factors in his "mental collapse" if that was what happened. The events surrounding that day were a blur to him, all he remembered was finding Hammond lying in a pool of his own blood. If there had been another intruder, Daniel hadn't see him or her.
Daniel had gone to see Hammond that Saturday morning to apologize for the heated words he'd said to the man the previous day while at the SGC. Hammond had agreed to see him and had ushered him into the house. He and his family had been about to leave for a picnic, but the general had decided to stay behind to talk to him. What happened after that was a complete blank in Daniel's mind. When he'd woken up, Hammond had already been dead and the nightmare he now found himself in had started.
The trial had been long and painful. The evidence gathered against him had been a bit scarce, because there wasn't much the Air Force could use against him without revealing the existence of the Stargate project. A cover up for his role at the Cheyenne Mountain Base was quickly erected, and suitable explanations for his work were constructed. The Air Force had allowed the prosecuting attorney access to a heavily edited security tape of him and Hammond arguing at the SGC, which was what had sealed the conviction. Daniel had been wearing his civilian clothing in the tape, because Hammond had ordered him home to recuperate from his last mission. That was what had resulted in their argument. Ironically enough, that was the argument Daniel had gone to apologize to Hammond about the day he was killed.
After reviewing all of the information his lawyer had been provided with by the prosecuting attorney, Daniel had discovered inconsistencies in the police reports. The main one being that the doctor that examined him determined that the injuries he'd sustained that day weren't self inflicted. The doctor who had preformed the autopsy on Hammond had said that Daniel's blood had not been found anywhere on General Hammond's body, even though the general's blood had been found on Daniel. If Daniel hadn't inflicted the injuries on himself, and the victim hadn't injured him, how had he gotten injured? While on the stand, Daniel's lawyer had tried to reason with the jury as he presented this evidence. The prosecuting attorney had succeeded in destroying the doctor's credibility, ensuring that the jury didn't believe a word of her testimony. The scarce evidence had led to a conviction of second-degree murder and a sentence of 30 years in prison. The prosecutor had convinced the jury that Daniel had not shown up at Hammond's house to kill him, but had decided to do it on the spur of the moment, driven by rage.
What had hammered the last nail into his coffin was the absence of SG-1. Daniel had been told that SG-1 had been off world during the trial, sent to help the Asgard with their Replicator problem. He'd understood the necessity of Earth's help in this matter, even though Daniel had wished for a little support from his friends.
Robert Rothman had been there during that time. He'd attended the trial and had provided him with moral support whenever needed. Robert had also filled Daniel in on what was going on with the SGC, which is how he'd found out about SG-1. However, the fact remained that Robert was only an archaeologist. He could no more investigate Hammond's death than could Daniel himself. Ernest and Catherine Littlefield had also been supportive, but like Robert, they'd been unable to do much of anything. The defense lawyer that the state of Colorado had assigned to him had tried his best to defend Daniel, but he'd been way over his head with the case.
Every day of the last twelve years, Daniel had thought about who had set him up to take the fall for Hammond's death and why. They more he'd thought about it, the more he came to realize that what happened hadn't really been about him. Whoever had murdered Hammond, be it the NID, the USAF or the US Government, had wanted to get the general out of the way for their own political reasons. Daniel had just been the unlucky one picked to take the fall.
During the last decade, Daniel had become very adept with computers, hence the name Hacker. A fellow inmate had given him the name after he'd managed to hack into the Colorado Department of Public Safety and remove a traffic violation from the record of that inmate's wife. Daniel had done it for fun, just to see if he could. He'd been surprised when he'd gotten away with it. Because of his abundance of time, Daniel had been able to locate and hack into both the NID and the SGC mainframes. Neither program was common knowledge, but Daniel had known what to look for. Due to the limited computer resources of the prison, however, he'd only been able to access and read several of their files, not all of them. He needed a stronger, more secure computer to get in deeper. However, he had been able to keep up with the changes that had been brought upon the SGC and NID by General Hammond's death, which were substantial enough to give Daniel an idea about who had been behind the murder.
"Are you going to stand there all day or what?" Norman, one of the guards on duty, remarked, breaking into Daniel's thoughts. "Man, don't tell me that you don't want to leave this joint."
Daniel smirked and turned towards him. "Oh, I definitely want to leave this place. I'm just thinking about those who have to stay behind."
The guard chuckled. "Yeah, right. You'll be back, Hacker. You'll miss us."
"I don't think so, Norman. I'm leaving and don't plan on coming back."
Daniel stood in front of the last set of controlled doors. Up ahead, was a final door, the door that would finally take him outside.
The guard unlocked the doors, and then came over to Daniel and walked him to the final door. With a nod to the guard, he opened the door and stepped outside into freedom. He blinked as soon as the sun hit his eyes and shivered slightly in the chilly, winter afternoon, wrapping his arms tightly around himself for warmth. He walked down the few steps in front of the door then stopped. What was he going to do now? He had no money, no place to live, and no belongings except for the clothes he was wearing. Robert had told him that Jack had packed up his apartment and still had most of his things, but Daniel couldn't exactly call Jack up and ask him where they were. It was good to know that somewhere, he did have some of his things, but right now, he didn't even have money for bus fare. Daniel sighed deeply, put his hands in his pockets and started walking towards what looked like the main street. He'd find a way to survive; he usually managed to.
He was halfway to the street when a black Lincoln pulled up next to him. Daniel glanced at the car but did not stop. He heard the window being lowered then a voice called out.
"Dr. Jackson?" the man asked, his voice uncertain, as if he couldn't believe that the man in front of him was the one he was looking for.
Daniel stopped walking. It had been a very long time since anyone had addressed him by his title. So long, in fact, that he'd almost forgotten about those Ph.D.s he had. He turned around slowly to glance at the man sitting behind the wheel of the Lincoln.
"Are you Dr. Daniel Jackson?"
"I'm Daniel Jackson. What can I do for you?"
"Why don't you get in the car? There's someone who'd like to see you."
Daniel frowned. What the hell?
"I don't think so. Whatever you're selling, I'm not interested."
Daniel turned away from the man and resumed his trek towards the street. He wasn't worried, not yet. He was, however, cautious. Twelve years in prison had taught him that much.
The Lincoln sped up until it was a few feet ahead of Daniel. It stopped and the back door opened. A woman slowly stepped out of the car and turned towards Daniel. She was an older woman, probably in her late-seventies or early-eighties. As soon as her eyes met Daniel's, she smiled.
"It was easier getting you in the car the first time," she said.
As soon as he heard the voice, Daniel recognized the woman. "Do you make a habit of picking up dangerous felons who have nowhere else to go?" he asked, smiling slightly in return. "What are you doing here, Catherine?"
She didn't reply. Instead, she walked to him and wrapped her arms tightly around him. When she stepped back, she arched an eyebrow. "My, you've been working out. You're hardly the boy I picked up the first time."
"I had too much time on my hands, I guess," he stated, his voice turning slightly bitter. "Besides, 'boy' doesn't do it in prison. I learned that very fast."
Catherine saw Daniel's hands tighten and wondered what he meant. Not that she had to wonder for very long. She was well aware of the atrocities committed in prison and she regretted not being able to spare her friend from that fate.
"What are you doing here?" he asked again.
"I'm here to pick you up and take you home with me."
Daniel frowned and crossed his arms. "Why?"
Catherine smiled again. This time, sadness was reflected in her eyes. "You have nowhere to go, you said so yourself. Ernest and I have a house that's much too big for us and we'd love to have you stay until you get back on your feet."
"Why? I'm a convicted murderer, remember? How did you find out about the parole, anyway? I didn't find out until a few hours ago."
"You're no murderer, Daniel, we both know that. The Air Force framed you, Jack and Sam managed to find out that much after your trial. I mean, you can't tell me that it's standard operating procedure for the Air Force to hire new people and transfer them immediately to Cheyenne Mountain just as key members of the Stargate Project start to die under mysterious. That raised a lot of eyebrows, just not enough to spare you the sentence." Catherine smiled and shook her head. "As to why I'm here, let's just say that I know some people. I wanted to be here for you."
Daniel smiled, genuinely touched at Catherine's sincerity. "Thank you, Catherine."
She waved her hand, before grabbing one of Daniel's arms and pulling him into the car. "Come on, Daniel. Ernest will get cranky if we're late for dinner."
They both stepped into the car and settled down for the ride. The black Lincoln sped away, leaving the prison behind.
****
Catherine sat quietly next to Daniel, observing the passing scenery. She could tell that he was tense, because he sat close to the window, as far from her as he could. His face was turned away from her, but she could see the set of his shoulders, and the way his hands made fists on his lap. There were so many things that she wanted to say to him, but she knew that none of them would make up for twelve years of lost time. All she could do for him now was help him in the best way that she could, because she wanted to, and because he deserved it.
They were traveling through an area of Colorado that she wasn't very familiar with. She lived in the outskirts of Denver, which was where she generally spent her time. She had, of course, gone to Colorado Springs and to the ski resorts in various other parts of Colorado, but never to Cañon City, where the State Penitentiary was located. It was a nice little city. It wasn't too crowded, but since it was a prison town, she didn't expect it to be.
Catherine sighed, and decided that the silence was too much. She reached out and put a hand on Daniel's arm, and was surprised when he suddenly whipped around to face her, his eyes immediately scanning his surroundings for signs of danger. When he found only her, he sighed and shook his head slightly.
"I'm sorry, Catherine," he said.
"Daniel, are you okay?" she asked, her eyes narrowing in concern as he refused to meet them.
Daniel swallowed, and Catherine saw his mask of cool confidence and control immediately fall over his features.
"I'm perfectly fine," he automatically answered.
"Are you really?"
Silence followed the remark. Catherine did not remove her hand from Daniel's arm, nor did he move away. Instead, she saw the strong emotions play over his eyes, until he finally sighed and looked away from her. In that instant, she could see the mask dropping away to be replaced by the look of open honesty and curiosity that used to reside in Daniel's face.
"Why are you doing this Catherine? Why did you come pick me up?" he asked, his voice laced with wonderment and disbelief. "I'm not the man I used to be and I don't think you'll like what I've become."
Catherine smiled, squeezing Daniel's arm comfortingly. "I know who you are, Daniel. That's all that really matters. You were put in the middle of a very unfortunate situation, which forced you to adapt in order to survive in your new surroundings. That doesn't mean that you're any different than you were before."
Daniel gave a small nod, apparently seeing some truth in her words.
"How can you tell? I mean, you've only been talking to me for about half an hour. How can you know that I'm still the same person?"
Catherine shrugged her shoulders and gave Daniel's arm a reassuring pat, before releasing him. "I don't know how I know, I just do." She grinned at the way that sounded. "Call it old lady's intuition, if you want."
Daniel chuckled. "You're no old lady, Catherine," he joked, then immediately became serious again. "Prison was very different, I'll tell you that much. I was a cultural expert when I went to prison and found myself unable to submerge myself into that particular culture fast enough. Every day was like sensory overload for me, until I finally learned to cope with it."
"I can only imagine. But you're here, you made it."
"For better or worse, I made it."
Catherine watched him turn away from her again and sighed. "Have you remembered anything else about the day General Hammond was murdered?"
"No, not at all. I still remember only as much as I did back then. I'm willing to concede that it's possible that I killed the general. I can't remember not doing it, so I have to accept the possibility that I might have. However, the conflicting police reports about the blood that wasn't found on the general's body, along with the circumstantial evidence used to convict me all lead me to believe that I probably didn't commit the murder."
"Don't forget what Sam and Jack found out about the SGC's new personnel and what you found out about the other mysterious deaths. The evidence does speak for itself, Daniel. I, for one, don't think you killed anyone."
"I have to be sure, Catherine. It's the only way I'll ever be at peace. It's the only reason I'm not going to just count my blessings and live out the rest of my life as a parolee," Daniel commented, and then turned around to look at Catherine.
"How do you plan on doing that?" she asked, noting for the first time that determined look in his eyes.
"I have acquired some new skills in computer hacking, so I'm going to start by gathering all the information about that time as I can. After that, we'll see where it leads."
****
"General, here are the reports you asked for," Sergeant Miller stated as he handed the reports to his superior. "Also, SG-1 has just returned from PT5- 455."
"Very well. Send SG-1 in."
"Yes, Sir," the Sergeant stated and quickly made his way out of the office.
The major general opened the first folder and studied the various casualty, defense and budget reports that were collected there. He sighed and shook his head, thinking for the thousandth time that paper work was a headache. He couldn't believe that after twelve years they still hadn't managed to eradicate the Goa'uld. Sure, they'd fought them to a stalemate and back, but no side seemed to gain a foothold on the other. They just kept dancing the same old song, year after year. He supposed that the fact they were still standing at all was a victory of sorts, considering Earth had never been involved in a galactic war before. The thought didn't bring any comfort to the general.
He got up from his chair and made his way to the window on the back wall of his office. He didn't look outside onto the lush planet. Instead, he examined his reflection on the window. While still in top physical form, his hair had gone entirely gray. It was still cut in a short, military style, which served to emphasize the added wrinkles on his face and neck. He sighed and turned away from the window. It was times like this that made him feel really old.
The SGC had deemed it necessary for an off-world command to be established on an uninhabited planet in case of a Goa'uld attack of Earth. They'd sent him to command this off-world post in December of 2001. His life hadn't resembled what it had been only a year before, so he'd taken the offer quickly and had run away from Earth. He would never admit it to anyone, but running away was what he'd done. His new superiors had thought that commanding the off world base was the best place for him, and he hadn't argued with them. He never thought he'd take a desk job over fieldwork, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. Besides, there had been nothing on Earth to hold him there.
His thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of SG-1, which was still Earth's premier team.
"Colonel, how was the mission? You didn't tick anyone off, did you?" he asked as he, once again, took his seat behind the desk. He saw Major Jenkins and Lieutenant Giles smother their grins, while Dr. McDonald smiled at the jab.
"No, sir, not this time," Sam Carter replied, her own smile evident on her face.
He examined his second in command, noting that she seemed rested and relaxed, even though her face was set in an expression of alertness. Her blond hair was cropped short and framed her face, which sported a few more wrinkles now, since assuming command of SG-1. The remainder of her team was young, but experienced. Major Jenkins was a decorated pilot in his 30s, who had served the Air Force with distinction before coming to the SGC. Lieutenant Giles was a newer recruit, barely 28, but he had already shown promise and exceptional intelligence. Dr. McDonald was older than the two soldiers, close to Carter's age, but no less intelligent or eager. She was the team archaeologist and did her job remarkably well.
"The mission was a complete success, sir," she added . "The inhabitants of PT5-455 are willing to share their weapons technology with us in exchange for vaccines and medication. I assured them that there would not be a problem in providing that."
Jack O'Neill nodded. "Medicine, huh? We can do that. It's been a while since a trade has been so easily established. I mean, most of the races we encounter want things that we can't part with, like weapons."
"The people of 455 aren't interested in war. All they want is to cure their illnesses and live in peace."
"Sounds like the kind of people we want to keep up relations with."
Sam nodded. "Their technology is incredibly advanced, even though they've chosen not to use it. They're willing to share it, only because they know of the Goa'uld and wish to see them subdued."
"My kind of people."
"Ah, sir, I'd like to add something."
Jack frowned and regarded the speaker, trying to curb his annoyance. He was able to keep the slight smile off his face at the woman's nervousness. The archaeologist had been with the SGC and SG-1 for three years and O'Neill would have figured that would have been enough time for her to get used to dealing with him. Judging by the woman's tension, however, that didn't appear to be the case.
"Yes, Dr. McDonald?"
"There are several temples on PT5-455 that should be investigated. These people defeated the Goa'uld once and if we're to form a trade agreement with them, we should know their history. Besides, it could help us with our own battle."
Jack regarded the tall woman carefully. She stood rigidly at attention, even though she wasn't a military officer. She had always tried to fit in amongst her military counterparts and had done an astonishing job of it. For that, Jack respected her.
"Very well, Doctor. I will send SG-9 to investigate the temples."
"With all due respect, Sir, I'd like to go with them."
"I'm afraid not. SG-1 is needed on the Tok'ra home base to witness some delicate negotiations. Your place will be there."
The archaeologist opened her mouth to protest further, but then shut it.
"Very well, dismissed. Carter you'll need to stay so I can brief you on a couple of things," Jack stated.
Sam nodded to her team as they left, then settled herself on a chair in front of the general's desk.
"What's the latest on the Goa'uld forces, sir?" Sam asked as Jack sat down on his comfortable leather chair. He picked up the folder he'd been reading earlier, but made no effort to open it again.
"It's been the same old stuff. At the rate we're going, the Goa'uld are going to be a pain in our back sides for many years to come."
"I hear that Teal'c is coming along nicely with the Jaffa army. When I spoke to him last week, he mentioned that Chulak is now populated entirely by freed Jaffa and their families," Sam said.
"Teal'c is on cloud nine. The look on his face when he came to tell me was worth a thousand words," Jack agreed. "He was positively glowing, though no one else would have noticed."
"Did he give you one eyebrow up or two? I got one eyebrow up with a very small smile"
Jack laughed. "I actually got a grin, if you can believe that," he added. "I wish I'd had a camera with me."
The white phone on the desk suddenly rang, and Jack immediately picked it up.
"O'Neill," he said briskly. "Send it up," he added after a few seconds, then hung up the phone. "Supplies from Earth just arrived, and an airman is bringing up a package sent for me."
"Anything you're expecting?" Sam asked.
"Not really," Jack replied, puzzled. He was about to say more, when there was a knock on his door. He motioned to the airman to enter and returned his salute.
"This was sent for you, General," the airman said, handing O'Neill a folder- sized envelope.
"Who gave it to you?" Jack asked, confused and suspicious.
"Dr. Rothman, sir. He said that you asked him to run some surveys on possible expeditions for SG-9 and wanted these back as soon as possible."
"Thank you, airman," Jack replied, taking the envelope. "I will inform the good doctor that I have these in my possession."
The man gave Jack a crisp salute, before turning around and quickly exiting the office.
"You've got Rothman running surveys for possible missions? Why didn't you get McDonald to do it?" Sam asked, puzzled.
"I didn't have Rothman do anything, Carter. I have no clue what this is."
He opened the envelope and retrieved the single sheet it contained. He read it through twice to make sure he hadn't missed anything due to the messy handwriting, before putting it back down on his desk.
"Is there something wrong?"
"Daniel was granted parole," Jack stated, his voice eerily calm as if he still couldn't believe what he'd read. "Rothman found out yesterday and got a message to me as soon as he could."
Sam's eyebrows rose in surprise, but she smiled. "That's wonderful," she exclaimed, the smile widening, before it faltered slightly. "But I thought he wasn't up for parole?"
"He wasn't. For some reason, Robert didn't know why, Daniel was granted another hearing. The last one apparently didn't go well and they reconvened to review the case," Jack replied.
"I'm glad that he's finally out. He never should have been there in the first place," she said, sadness and regret tainting her voice.
Jack nodded. "I know. We did everything we could to get him out once we came back, but by then it was too late." Jack shook his head, once again mentally berating himself for his inability to do anything for Daniel at that time.
"How anyone could have believed that Daniel was capable of beating Hammond to death with a vase is beyond me," Jack added, shivering unconsciously at the memory of the crime scene photographs Sam had been able to get her hands on.
"The worst part is that we still don't know who really killed the general," Sam added, her eyes focused on the desktop in front of her. "It could have been anyone. It could have been a robber."
"But we know that it wasn't just anyone. The deck was stacked against Daniel from the moment the Colorado Police arrested him. We both saw how evidence that the prosecuting attorney had no business having, like the tape of Daniel and Hammond arguing at the SGC, came to be in his possession."
"We still couldn't prove that Daniel had been set up to take the fall."
"And we sure as hell couldn't do a thing to help, either. We saved the Asgard, but we lost our friend," Jack replied. "He wouldn't even see us," Jack added quietly. "When we came back from Othala, the SGC was so different. Everything we knew had been changed and Daniel was gone. Why wouldn't he see us?"
Sam shrugged. "I don't know, sir. Ernest and Catherine told us that he didn't want us to see him in there."
"But he let them go visit him, and Rothman too!" Jack exclaimed. "For five years, we were his team mates and he wouldn't even give us the opportunity to talk to him."
"He knew why we weren't at the trial, sir, why we couldn't help him. Dr. Rothman kept him informed of our whereabouts."
"How do you know that?" Jack asked, hearing what Sam had just said for the first time.
"I talked to Rothman a lot after we got back and then again once we all transferred to the off-world base. He was there the whole time; he told me what happened at the trial, what evidence they showed."
Jack nodded. "I know, I read the newspaper coverage of the trial. Whoever set Daniel up did a magnificent job, so magnificent that we couldn't prove otherwise."
Jack fell silent for a moment, remembering back to those months following Daniel's trial. It'd been hard for all of them, and they had tried to help their friend out in any way they could. After they'd failed to clear Daniel, nothing much was said about the situation. It was almost as if they tried to forget it, and their failure. Jack felt the familiar feelings of guilt churning in his gut, and from Carter's expression, he could tell that she was feeling something similar. They had never really talked about this before, not like he and Carter were doing now, because of the feelings the situation seemed to be bringing up in both of them.
"Yes, sir," Sam said. She took a deep breath and faced her commanding officer once again. "What do you think he'll do now?"
Jack shook his head. "I don't know, Carter. I don't know."