Daniel made his way through the hallways, not paying too much attention to
what was going on around him. His head was swimming, remembering blood
soaked shirts and ducking for cover.

He was on autopilot by the time he reached his office. He opened the door
and began to put away various papers that had been in his briefcase without
looking up. He didn't notice the small click as the door opened. "Busy?"

"Wha-?" Daniel was surprised by the sense of deja-vu, the voice was so
similar.

"Did I startle you?" Peter looked amused.

"A little."

"I could wear a cowbell," Peter said, not quite deadpan, and Daniel had to
smile.

"No, it's all right. I was a bit... distracted."

"I can understand that." Peter perched on the edge of Daniel's desk, idly
looking through the papers. "So where are these texts?"

"I've got them in another room." Daniel rescued some of the papers. "Wanted
someplace where I could spread them out."

"Got it."

"I, uh." Daniel tapped the papers against one hand, looking down. "You
didn't go to school at Oxford, were you?

"Oxford?" Again there was that strange flicker of *something* behind Peter's
eyes. "No, I don't believe so. Why?"

"Just curious." Daniel gave a smile that wasn't quite a smile. "It's
nothing."

"This is about your friend, isn't it," Peter said quietly, "the one I
reminded you of, back in the briefing room."

Daniel closed his eyes, shook his head slightly, and said, "We should
probably get to work."