Daniel was at the mountain at six the next morning, preparing for the briefing at 0730. They were scheduled to go to P5Y-362 for a mineral sample collection, given that there were traces of naquahda in the soil and in a series of caves four miles from the Stargate. It would be a three-day mission, with no sign of lifeforms or civilization in a twenty-mile sweep of the area.

Basically, this would be Sam's show. Daniel planned to spend the time helping as much as he could, though from past experience he knew his contribution would be small. There was no point to his presence on such a mission, but it was to be his last. He determined quite firmly that he would speak to the General as soon as the briefing was over. As he had nothing to contribute to the briefing, he was sitting at his clutter-strewn desk, wishing one of his teammates would stop by and remind him why this would be a mistake. He had made the rounds the first few days like clockwork, stopping in their usual haunts and the commissary, but the other members of his team were rarely around. Jack and Teal'c had gone fishing in Minnesota, and Sam was at home, resting. His calls had been unanswered, and after awhile he had just . . . stopped.

They hadn't seen each other - or he hadn't seen any of them - for the entire eight-day stand down. They had been off for over a week because Sam had sprained her ankle on the last mission, and was only off crutches for the past three days.

Noting the time, 7:10, Daniel gritted his teeth and shook his head, refusing to wallow in self-pity any longer. Hardening himself to the finality of his decision, almost in spite of his inner misery, he printed out the letter. He signed it, put it in a folder containing one other piece of paper, and meandered toward the briefing room, putting the moment off as long as possible.

Despite his care, he was still distressingly early. The room was predictably empty when he got there, and so he sat down to wait, eyes riveted to the folder in front of him, fingers nervously tapping out a beat on the arm of his chair. Ten interminable minutes later the rest of the team entered in a jovial whirl that set him aback a little, widening the distance between them as the archaeologist found he could only listen with a wan smile.

"How was the fishing, Sir?" asked Carter, mischievously twinkling at the Colonel and Teal'c.

"Wonderful," answered Jack, grinning as he mimed casting a line into a nonexistent pond. "Relaxing, peaceful, quiet." This last was said with a sidelong look at Daniel that lasted only long enough for the archaeologist to get the point, but not long enough for his CO to see the strained smile vanish behind a concealing façade.

Teal'c did not look happy, and Daniel could see fading mosquito bites all over his head. "On the contrary," the Jaffa intoned darkly. "There were no fish in this lake O'Neill speaks of."

"I don't know how many times I have to tell you this, T," Jack groused, turning exasperatedly to the larger man. "It's not about the fish per se, but the act of fishing itself. It's a time-honored tradition among us Tau'ri, a rite of passage type-thing. Daniel can tell you all about it," Jack finished with the air of one cementing a victory, eyes glinting as he gestured to the archaeologist. Daniel was spared entering into the conversation by the arrival of the General.

He discreetly shifted the folder on the empty chair to his right, out of sight, for the duration of the briefing. He tried to concentrate, for Sam's sake, but found himself glazing over the reports on mineral abundance and botanical potential, concerned with what he was going to say to the general. The prospect left him uncharacteristically speechless. A fine diplomat he made, he snorted quietly to himself, bundling the panic deep down inside. For once, the briefing was short, and Daniel's slightly shocked glances to his watch proved that it wasn't simply his time-sense playing sadistic games on him. As Sam wrapped up, the General nodded. "Does anyone have anything else to add? Dr. Jackson?"

Jack glanced up, jumping in to respond before a sound could pass Daniel's lips. The linguist quickly snapped his half-open mouth shut. "There are no signs of life or civilization on the planet, General. Should be an easy 'gate in, grab the dirt, gate out' mission." Daniel stayed silent.

Hammond nodded as he pushed himself away from the table. "Dismissed." The General walked to his office, leaving the door ajar as SG-1 took their leave. The others quickly stood and left the room, Sam gushing on excitedly about the possible benefits of the naquada, and Jack's teasing comment to "Slow down, Carter," the last thing Daniel heard before the door closed. He was left alone in the briefing room to gather his courage and try to decide how to address his problem to the General.

"Dr. Jackson?"

Daniel jerked and his head flew up, startled. The time had come before he was ready, and he still had no idea how he was going to do this. "Is there something you'd like to discuss?" asked Hammond, noting the scientist's closed face as he walked further into the room. He'd glanced up from his paperwork and observed the archaeologist seemingly frozen in his seat, with an expression of such unhappiness that his concern had immediately been roused. He'd been prompted to his feet and back into the briefing room by that expression, yet looking at the younger man now, he couldn't find a trace of the poignant sorrow that had caught at his heart.

"Yes," murmured Daniel, standing and retrieving the folder. He passed it to the General, whose eyes narrowed slightly at the succinct answer that was very unlike the verbose scientist.

He opened the folder, scanned the short letter and the signed non-disclosure statement, and closed it again. "Is this -"

"The military equivalent of my two-week's notice, sir," Daniel somehow managed to still sound respectful as he gently interrupted the stillborn question.

Hammond looked searchingly at the scientist in front of him. "Would you care to explain why you feel this is necessary?"

Daniel took a deep, steadying breath. "It's become increasingly clear to me that I don't have a place on the team, sir. The focus of the SGC has shifted to more militant pursuits, and that has never been my strength." Hammond shrewdly noticed that Daniel had ignored mentioning his admirable adaptation to the new circumstances. "I'm also aware of a lot of tension within the team, and I feel that is largely due to my presence there. I have - several personal reasons for leaving, but the crux of the matter remains that I'm a civilian archaeologist on a military team," Daniel stated.

Hammond frowned. The archaeologist was now using one of the main points that had stood against him at the inception of the SG program, and Hammond wasn't buying the excuse. As for those personal reasons – if he was going to quit because of Sha're, he would have done so long ago, and the same applied to the Harcessis situation. What possible personal reasons could he be referring to?

Daniel could see that the General didn't fully believe him, and so he continued stubbornly, trying to make his last point as gently as possible. For both their sakes. "I've always had to fight to get people to listen to me, regardless of whether I'm right or wrong." He tactfully left out the fact that, a lot of the time, he was right. In the scheme of things, that didn't really matter. He'd been wrong his fair share as well. "Lately, it's become clear to me that the people I'm fighting most are the members of my own team. It is my job to come up with alternate solutions to violence, and I can't do that when others refuse to listen. This isn't a problem I've been able to fix, General, but one I feel I've been unintentionally exacerbating."

"I can see that this isn't a hasty decision," said Hammond, looking the scientist over carefully. Daniel seemed to relax, and with the gesture Hammond noted the archaeologist's tense posture. His face was pinched and pale, lines of tiredness carved deeply around the tight mouth and weary eyes.

Daniel removed his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. "No," he responded, looking up. "I've been thinking about this for a long time."

"How long?" asked Hammond carefully, unsure if he wanted to know.

"A little over a year," Daniel responded, a subdued hunch to his shoulders. The General's eyes widened in surprise as he thoughtfully fingered the two pages. He hadn't known the situation was quite that bad, or had been going on for that long.

"Very well," said Hammond, rising. Daniel stood as well. "Complete this mission, and then I'll have SG-1 on stand down until they chose a new fourth." He saw Daniel flinch at the words, and he himself was dismayed. "It will give you time to put everything in order," he added unnecessarily. Hammond turned to leave, but stopped at the door, turning to face the somber man standing at the briefing table. "Do you want me to tell them?"

Daniel shook his head firmly as he stood, refusing the coward's way out. "I was planning on letting them know after the debriefing."

Hammond nodded, lingering in the doorway. "I'll arrange for them to stay after the debriefing is formally closed."

Daniel nodded. "Thank you, sir."

Hammond jerked his head once, in acknowledgement, and then went to his office. Shutting the door, he threw the folder down on his desk and cursed shockingly. How had this happened? How had no one noticed Daniel's unhappiness, the factors that led to his resignation? Hammond slumped angrily in his chair. He would wait, until it was clear whether or not Dr. Jackson could be persuaded to stay. He would wait until he had no choice but to put the papers through. It was clear that Daniel wasn't going to change his mind without help from SG-1, and for the first time Hammond doubted the capabilities of his premier team.

Now that he thought to look, the situation was appallingly obvious. Dr. Jackson was on the outside looking in when it came to his team, and none of the other members of the team seemed to notice, or more frighteningly, care. It seemed that Daniel had been struggling with this for a long time. Hammond, knowing of the man's history, didn't blame him for pulling out – but he couldn't understand how this had been concealed for such a long time. There was only so much unhappiness and pain anyone could take, and for Daniel most of it came through the job. The universe seemed to have a special grudge against one Dr. Daniel Jackson. The Stargate had been countlessly cruel toward the one who had first opened her.

Casting his thoughts back, the General thought that the entire mess had probably started with the NID infiltration, and cursed himself once again. He'd known that the setup had the chance of crippling his best team, and hadn't seen an alternative. When the situation played out, it hadn't seemed so bad. Now, however, he realized that the NID stint had been the falling of a few rocks starting a landslide.

From then on, it had been incident after incident, piling pressure and strain upon all the team, but the last year had been the hardest on Dr. Jackson, by far. Hammond glared at the folder, and sighed, moving to his desk. Sitting down, he picked up the phone and called his secretary, telling her to compile files of all the members of the SG teams, as well as those in training. He would put the task of choosing a new fourth member squarely in the hands of SG-1. Not only did he not want to have to contemplate the distasteful task, but he also grimly thought unless they could fix this problem, they would reap the disaster they had sown.