Forget Me Not

by SGC Gategirl

Standard SG-1 luck. A mission to a peaceful planet goes terribly wrong when SG-1 meet up with an ancient people transported from Celtic Europe. Not everyone is who they seem to be and memories cannot be trusted. (Complete)

5. Chapter Five

Daniel Jackson walked into the embarkation room wearing his drab green field BDUs and carrying his open field pack. It was stuffed to the brim—too full to be closed with anything close to precision.

He was grateful to the Museum Company in this instance, since he had managed to find some unique Celtic broaches and jewelry to bring to Lord Kentigern and Lady Morgana. Usually, he just discarded whatever he found there out of hand, considering it as merely refuse—why settle for a cheap reproduction when you can have the real thing, he always contested.

For this occasion, however, cheap imitations—even at these prices—were the perfect gift for some misplaced Celtic priestesses and lords. So what if they were mass-manufactured, it was the thought that really counted. Besides, they'd never know—and he'd never tell.

In addition to the gift boxes, Daniel was determined to bring some reference books with him. He hadn't caught up on his reading for this trip and he could use the opportunity to brush up on his knowledge of Celtic beliefs and customs—especially since everyone expected him to know just what to say.

His job was a lot tougher than it looked—having to converse with representatives of various races and cultures—thankfully not at the same time—without accidentally hitting on some taboo subject. Granted, he'd gotten the hang of the Texas two-step over the past few years—dancing around the sensitive areas when he stumbled across them—partially thanks to his badly broken speech.

Alien languages made Earth-based languages look like a walk in the park, Daniel thought wryly.

But, I digress, Daniel thought, as he knelt at the base of the Stargate ramp, trying for the fourth time to rearrange his pack in some semblance of order—stuffing the books, the gifts, and all his supplies into the bag. Years ago, he hadn't been able to comprehend the reason for actually carrying all this stuff on his back—now he couldn't carry enough.

He glanced up quickly toward the control room. It was still empty this early in the morning, with only Graham Simmons monitoring the controls. General Hammond hadn't made his appearance yet either. Casting a quick glance at his watch, he noted that he was early—very early by his standards—he still had fifteen minutes.

Just as he began musing about taking a quick jaunt back down to his lab to grab another book and an extra chocolate bar, Sam Carter walked in with Major Paul Davis, the Pentagon's liaison to the SGC, chatting up a storm.

From Daniel's perspective, it seemed like Sam was trying to bring Paul up to speed on the mission objectives. Why Sam was doing it now, Daniel wasn't sure. Usually General Hammond gave very complete briefing notes, especially when it involved an off-world mission. With everything going on, Daniel was positive that Davis had probably gotten a more complete briefing than they had. Oh well. Either way it didn't matter. It was better late than never, Daniel thought, vaguely realizing that Paul must have flown into Colorado this morning. At least someone had been up earlier than him.

A few steps behind them, Major Stan Kovachek strode in—a pack in his hand and a chip on his shoulder. Major Kovachek was responsible for the treaty itself—getting it arranged and making sure all parties were in agreement. For this mission, however, Sam was in charge. Major Kovachek wasn't happy—and had expressed his displeasure quite loudly last night—but was willing to follow General Hammond's commands, even though he didn't agree with the orders.

You've got to love the military mind, Daniel thought. Blind obedience was something he'd never understood. Maybe that was why he'd never joined the military when they were recruiting—or it could have been the fact that he was probably out of the country at one dig or another. Why he was in the military now was beyond him.

Why are you kidding yourself? Daniel's mind retorted. They had you—actually Catherine had you—hook, line, and sinker as soon as you set your beady little eyes on that cover stone all those years ago.

Daniel shook his head in an effort to clear his mind and stood up to greet the rest of the team.

He could tell Sam was a little nervous about the mission. She was keeping up a pretty continuous monologue about Meath and SG1's previous mission—which in itself would be quite normal since Paul needed to be kept in the loop—but her words were rushed and her hand gestures broader than they usually were. Plus, after every few gestures, Daniel observed her trying to unobtrusively wipe an obviously sweaty hand on the back of her fatigue pants.

Daniel put what he hoped was a supportive and non-threatening smile on his face and broke into Sam's dissertation. "Hey, Sam, Paul. You all ready?"

Sam and Paul Davis had stopped just a few feet shy of where Daniel's backpack was doing a very good impression of Mount Vesuvius. Paul leaned forward, offering Daniel his hand in greeting, which Daniel shook warmly, while at the same time flashing Paul a welcoming smile. As cautious and "by-the-book" as Paul had been over the years, Daniel had developed a certain respect for the man. It was hard enough to work for the military, let alone having to worry about what the Pentagon and the Joint Chiefs had to say about everything that happened halfway across the country—and in this case, the other side of the galaxy.

"I think so, Daniel." Sam aimed a glance at the over-stuffed pack resting at his feet. She sent an amused smile his way. "Do you have enough stuff?"

Daniel crossed his arms over his chest and matched Sam's smile with an embarrassed one of his own. "I hope so. I'd hate to have to hike all the way back to the gate just to get a book."

Daniel didn't think it possible, but Sam grinned even wider. "Amen to that. It's bad enough that we have a two hour journey ahead of us as is."

"I know. I was just considering running back down to my lab to grab one other book."

Sam looked quickly at her field watch, checking the time and glanced up at the control room. Daniel followed her gaze upward and found the control room still empty except for Simmons. "You have time if you want to go. If you need help looking, I can take a walk with you, as long as you tell me what it is I'm looking for."

A weird feeling passed over Daniel, but he shook it off. "That's okay, Sam. I don't think I really have to run down there, but thanks for the offer."

"Okay, Daniel, but I don't want to hear it later," Sam said, trying to keep her tone light and joking, instead her tone fell flat in the uneasy silence left between them.

Tension filled the air, buzzing just beneath the surface, and it was all coming from the direction of one hovering Major. While Major Kovachek was part of the team for this mission, he had been a little standoffish during the pre-mission briefing, in the infirmary during the pre-mission medical check, and even later in the locker room when they were getting ready. If Major Kovachek's attitude was going to cause a problem, Daniel was sure that Sam would address it here and now—before they left the planet. Sam wasn't one to beat around the bush and she was used to speaking her mind, so Daniel wasn't surprised when she brought up the subject a few minutes later.

"Major, I know you were not happy with the choice of commander for this mission, but I want to reassure you that I won't step on your toes during the negotiations. SG1 was never meant to be a diplomatic team. We're strictly first contact and reconnaissance. I just need your assurance that, until the negotiations begin, you will trust in my abilities to lead this team safely to Meath and to judge the situation there." She glanced at Major Davis, who offered her an encouraging nod before she continued. "While Major Davis is part of the Air Force, he has not been part of a front line unit in many years. Daniel, on the other hand, has plenty of experience in the field, but is not militarily trained. I need to be able to rely on you if something happens. Can I?"

Daniel was sure that if the solider could look remorseful, Kovachek would have. Once Sam had started speaking, the Major had quickly found that his bootlaces were very interesting. Even now that Sam was finished and waiting for Kovachek's answer, he couldn't meet her steely gaze.

"Major Carter, please believe me when I tell you that my...disagreement with General Hammond was never an insult aimed at you or your abilities to command." Kovachek chanced a quick glance at Sam, trying to see if she was actually listening. She was—very intently—causing Kovachek to drop his gaze once again. "I was merely expressing my...concerns about having only one diplomat on this mission, especially since this is both a much needed and highly desired alliance for the SGC. At the time...I felt that in light of the situation it might be best to have a diplomat in charge. General Hammond was considerate enough to explain the entire situation to me."

Daniel knew that Kovachek was walking on thin ice—Sam, while patient never liked double-talk—but so far, Kovachek was doing well. He hadn't insulted Sam directly, yet. I guess that's why he's the professional diplomat, Daniel snickered to himself.

Daniel looked at Sam, noting her stiff back and the tension in her face and shoulders. While she wore a calm expression on her face, trying to show that she was open to Kovachek's comments, Daniel knew that she wasn't a happy camper. Kovachek had waltzed around her question with the greatest of ease.

"Major Kovachek, before you even set foot on that ramp," Sam said, gesturing to the metal structure before them. "I need to know that I can rely on your training and your expertise if the situation turns on us. Do I have that assurance?" Sam's voice was like steel.
Kovachek swallowed before answering, his tone meek. "Yes, Major. You can rely on me."

"Thank you. That was all I needed."

A thick, stifling silence descended on the gateroom as they waited for General Hammond. Each member of SG1 found a different part of the gate room fascinating, everyone trying their best not to make eye contact. Minutes passed before Daniel inched up to Sam and leaned into her, speaking softly. "You were a little rough on him, don't you think?"

Sam sent a surprised glance his way but answered in an equally quiet voice. "Yeah, I know." Daniel saw apprehension in her eyes. "I'm just worried. I didn't mean to take it out on him."

"You might want to tell him that."

Sam glanced over at Major Kovachek, who was now intently scrutinizing his fingernails.

"Damn," Sam swore softly.

"Yeah, I know."

"I should talk to him."

"Probably be a good idea."

Sam sighed deeply, rubbing a hand through her short blond hair, ruffling it slightly. Her blue eyes were intense, showing clearly the battle that was raging in her mind. Normally, there was never a question about Sam's ability to command any situation, but for some reason, this time things were different. It was as if this whole mission had them on edge and, unfortunately, that meant that Kovachek got the short straw.

Sam knew intellectually that she had come down too hard on Kovachek and she had to straighten things out with him before they left. For a team to function effectively there had to be trust between all members. Forcing her will upon a team member didn't exactly make for a very solid foundation—especially at the beginning of what could very well be a long and complicated relationship. Treaty negotiations were never easy in the best of times and were typically even more convoluted when it involved people from other planets entirely.

Her emotional side had other thoughts on the matter, however. Daniel was sure that if Kovachek walked naked into an incoming wormhole she wouldn't have cared in the least. He could almost hear the thoughts running through Sam's head, because they were the same ones he had had when he heard the ruckus last night. Where did he get the nerve to go over her head to General Hammond? It was astonishing to Daniel that a diplomat, who was supposed to be tolerant of others, would even begin to imply that Sam was incapable or unable to perform her duties.

Unless the grapevine in the mountain was faster than usual, Daniel thought. News about SG1 usually traveled quickly, especially when something happened. News of SG1 finding an imaginary race of people or under possible alien influence was a hot topic any day of the week.

Daniel watched the battle rage in her eyes for a few moments before she nodded her head. "Yeah." Sam glanced up, watching Kovachek carefully as he tried unsuccessfully to blend into the concrete wall behind him. "Major?" Sam said. As Kovachek's head shot up, Daniel had a quick mental image that was a cross between a deer in headlights and a lamb being led to the slaughter. Not a pretty picture.

"Sam..." Daniel said, his tone warning her that she was still coming on a little strong.

Sam glanced at Daniel quickly, exasperation on her face, but realized he was right. She took a deep breath and started again. "Major Kovachek, can I have a word with you for a minute?"

"Sure, Major," Kovachek said, stepping forward.

Sam looked around quickly and realized that she didn't want an audience for this. She gestured for Kovachek to follow her as she walked toward the door to the gateroom. "Let's step into the hall for a minute."

Sam stepped through, with Kovachek following meekly behind her, leaving Daniel and Paul Davis to stare at the remnants of Daniel's overflowing backpack. Paul broke the silence a few seconds later.

"You know, Daniel, you're never going fit all that in there."

Daniel looked up, catching the spark of laughter in Paul's dark eyes. "Yeah, I know," Daniel said, conceding the point with a shrug of his shoulders. "But I really can't afford to leave any of it behind."

"Why?" Paul asked, dropping his own pack next to a now kneeling Daniel.

"I'd just rather be on the safe side. Besides, it's not like it's a short trip back to the gate if I do forget something," Daniel said, trying to make some sense out of his backpack before General Hammond made his appearance.

Paul reached over and grabbed some of the books from Daniel's hand. "Here, let me take these."

"Paul, you don't have to do that. I'll manage." Daniel's voice held a note of warning, but Paul pointedly ignored it. Daniel didn't like to be coddled—never had, even as a child. He was accustomed to fending for himself, taking care of himself. It wasn't that he didn't trust anyone, he just wanted things done in a particular way...and he didn't trust anyone else to do it the way he wanted it done.

Ever since he'd joined the Stargate program, he had gotten a lot of attention from everyone—the way people deferred to him for an opinion; the "can we help you carry that back to your lab?" from men who were twice his age; the protection off-world. It could get suffocating at times, especially when Sam and Teal'c were in one of their "mother hen" moods—but that usually only happened after he had managed to injure himself.

"Daniel," Paul said, looking Daniel in the eyes, "there is physically no way all of this will fit into your pack. How many times have you tried?"

Breaking eye contact, Daniel shifted his gaze back down to the boxes in his hands and the pack lying in front of him. "This would be the fifth or sixth time."

"So, what's the problem with a little assistance?" Paul asked, neatly packing the books he had snatched from Daniel's hands into his own pack.

"Nothing, I guess," Daniel mumbled, shifting a few items in the pack to fit one of the gift boxes. "Thanks," he added. The words were so quiet they barely left his mouth, although Paul heard them loud and clear.

"You're welcome." A few more seconds of silence passed before Paul spoke again, his words accompanied by a perplexed expression on his face. "What is it about this planet that has you and Carter so jumpy?" Paul snagged another item from the pile on the floor, much to Daniel's dismay. Daniel sighed deeply, knowing it was pointless to argue with him as Paul continued to pilfer articles from Daniel's pile.

"I don't know what you mean," Daniel said, glancing up quickly, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. He knew exactly what Paul was talking about—he just didn't think...he had hoped...and prayed...that he and Sam hadn't been so obvious about it. Besides, it wasn't something he really wanted to talk about—especially not just before they were leaving. If General Hammond got wind of what was really going through his mind, he'd be back in his lab so quickly his head wouldn't catch up with him for weeks. And to top it all off, he'd probably never set foot anywhere near the Gateroom for the rest of his life. Not an option he was willing to consider.

"I mean, Carter has been talking my ear off since I set foot in the mountain this morning. She's normally a little more...reserved. And add that to the fact that she nearly ripped Major Kovachek a new body orifice this morning..." Paul said, leaning back on his heels while his eyes locked with Daniel's. "You, on the other hand, while maintaining your normally calm and professional exterior, have decided to pack your entire office in your backpack."

Daniel shrugged noncommittally, fitting another item into his bag. "We've just been under a little stress lately, that's all."

"Stress?" Paul asked. Daniel could tell that Paul wasn't buying that answer any more than if Daniel had told him that there was some type of winged pig hovering just above his head.

"Yes, stress," Daniel said, his voice firm. "It isn't every day that we get the opportunity to make an alliance with a new race. We just want to make sure that everything goes smoothly."

"Smoothly?" Paul huffed in disbelief, glancing around the gate room once again. To Daniel it looked like he was trying to put his thoughts in order and, at this point, Daniel was sure he wasn't going to like what Paul had to say. "Daniel, I'm trying to say this as a friend. Both you and Carter aren't looking like the flagship SG team we're used to seeing. It's painfully obvious to all of us that there's a big problem, but you just can't see it. You know, if Colonel O'Neill was here—"

"Well, he's not here. And in any case, we have everything under control," Daniel said, abruptly cutting Paul off and stuffing the last item into his bag and zipping it closed.

"Daniel," Paul said as he grabbed Daniel's shoulder and turned him, forcing Daniel to look at him.

"What?" Daniel said, defensive.

Paul's eyes flashed angrily, his mouth set in a thin, tight line. "What's really going on here? What the hell happened to you on that planet?"

Daniel closed his eyes in resignation, his arms going limp at his sides. "Paul, I don't know. We went, we met the natives, we attended a nice dinner party, found that they were friendly and willing to share their knowledge and forge an alliance, and then we got back here and all hell broke loose."

Daniel's blue eyes bored into Paul's with an intensity and determination that was startling. "Paul, there's something going on over there and I need to find out what they did to us. When Colonel Yearwood returned with SG5, Dr. Fraiser found a trace chemical in their bloodstream that could have something to do with why we seemed to have...suffered from some...memory problems."

"Memory problems?"

Daniel cringed slightly at Paul's tone of disbelief, although it was better than having him angry—at least he was listening. "Apparently...all of SG1...well, at least Sam, Teal'c, and I, seem to have...forgotten...completely forgotten...that we have a fourth. At the very least, we seem to have left him behind on the planet somewhere...at least that's what they've been telling us."

"You what?" Paul's eyes were just about ready to pop out of their sockets. In the back of his mind, Daniel vaguely wondered what that would be like. If Paul's eyes did pop out of their sockets that might be kind of cool. Wondering where that morbid thought came from, Daniel shook his head before he continued.

"And if that wasn't bad enough, when SG5 went back to check out our story, they didn't find any signs of civilization whatsoever, which made things a look a little worse for us than they originally had. It seems that the native population has the ability to block out selective memories from our consciousness. In the case of SG1, it appears that it was the memory of Colonel O'Neill. For SG5, it was their entire race—that is if they even looked for them in the first place," Daniel said, standing up before his legs cramped up on him.

Paul's eyes were still wide in shock as he rose to stand beside Daniel. "And we're going back to make an alliance with these people?"

Daniel waved his hands emphatically, his tone passionate. "Paul, these people could be a powerful ally in our fight against the Goa'uld. They were capable of fighting and defeating the Goa'uld and the Goa'uld haven't returned. We need to know what they know. This might be the race that helps us turn the tide in the war against the Goa'uld. How can we turn our backs on that?"

"But, Daniel, if they have the ability to block memories, do they have the ability to add memories to your mind as well?" Paul spoke cautiously, choosing each word carefully. "Could everything you saw on that planet be just a figment of your imagination, merely suggestions planted in your mind by a powerful alien?"

Daniel pulled off his glasses to rub his free hand across his eyes. "Paul, you have no idea how many times I've kicked myself for forgetting to bring along my digital recorder the last time. At least if I had a picture of what we saw, I would have some kind of visual confirmation that what I'm saying was true."

"Do you have it this time?"

"Yeah, plus five extra blank memory cards and four sets of extra batteries. I'm going to document everything." Daniel offered a weak smile.

Paul chuckled quietly. "I think you may have it covered." An easy, contemplative silence fell between them that Paul broke a few minutes later. "No wonder you're stressed."

"Huh?" Daniel turned toward Paul, noticing the thoughtful expression on the other man's face.

Paul looked up, smiling slightly. "No wonder you're stressed. It's difficult enough to prove to the military that you're sane when you have doctors and scientific reports to support your side of the story. It's next to near impossible trying to prove it when you have nothing but your word."

"So, that's why General Hammond's been looking constipated," Daniel said, a broad grin spreading across his face.

"Yeah, probably," Paul said, as a laugh found its way to his throat.

Daniel and Paul were laughing heartily when Sam and Major Kovachek walked back into the gate room, moving to stand at the base of the metal ramp beside the chortling men.

"So...what's so funny?" Sam asked, looking back and forth between Paul and Daniel, trying to figure it out. Her clear blue eyes searched Daniel's face for an answer that wasn't forthcoming.

"Nothing, Sam," Daniel said, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye with his hand. He was fitting his glasses back on the bridge of his nose when General Hammond's voice echoed throughout the gateroom.

"SG1, are you ready to embark?" Hammond said stiffly, causing Paul and Daniel to glance at each other conspiratorially.

Sam's eyes narrowed slightly, catching the look between the two men. "Yes, sir. We're ready to depart," she answered Hammond.

The inner ring of the Stargate starting spinning seconds later and the group started prepping themselves for the journey to the other side. Every now and then, an absent chuckle would emerge from Paul or Daniel as they shrugged their packs over their shoulders. Daniel's, while lighter than it had been originally, was still considerably loaded down. He was grateful that Paul had packed several of the heavier items in his own bag and made a mental note to himself to make sure he thanked Paul as soon as they had a private moment.

Sam eventually managed to catch Daniel's eye and a silent communication passed between them. Daniel shook his head at the questioning look Sam sent his way, adding the mouthed words "later" as an afterthought.

Making a face of displeasure, Sam nodded reluctantly.

"Major Carter, I expect to see you back here in three days' time. If you need more time, we can decide then what our course of action will be," Hammond said, his voice echoing strangely off the hard concrete and metal surfaces of the gateroom.

The ka-whoosh of the opening wormhole prompted the team to take their positions on the ramp, waiting for Sam who had turned to acknowledge the General's order. "Yes, sir. If Lord Kentigern is anything like he was when we were there last, we shouldn't need any more time than what you've already allotted us, sir."

"Very well, Major. God speed."

"Thank you, sir." Sam turned back to the open wormhole, the blue and white light glinting off her face. She eyeballed each member of the group and offered a smile. "Well, if we're ready to go, let's get a move on. There's no time like the present."

XXXXXXXXXX

At least this time, it wasn't raining, Sam Carter thought, picking her way across the rocky ground to stand next to the DHD and wait for the rest of her team to emerge from the open wormhole.

Her blue eyes scanned the horizon, noting the lush vegetation, the varied shades of green with hints of color dotting the landscape. Winged creatures soared high above, circling, welcoming the travelers with their cries before they moved on, deeper into the valley and forests below. There were no gray mists to obscure her vision and for that she was grateful.

Sam took a long deep breath of the crisp air and felt some of the tension leave her body. She'd finally gotten back to the planet where everything had started. Maybe that meant she would finally get answers to the questions that were running through her mind—questions that were in desperate need of answers.

At the very least, she was pleased. She'd had a good conversation with Major Kovachek before they left and things seemed to be better—not great, but better. At least she didn't have to worry that Kovachek would second-guess her commands during the mission. If something did happen while they were here, the last thing she wanted to worry about was someone getting injured or killed because he couldn't obey a simple order.

Hearing the gate discharge an object—a person in this instance—Sam glanced back and watched as Daniel walked across the open track toward her, his eyes firmly fixed on the ground beneath his feet—oblivious to his surroundings. When it came to Daniel, you couldn't teach him new tricks—and God knows, she'd tried. While she stood at attention, her weapon aimed at the wooded area beyond, her eyes constantly scrutinizing the perimeter; Daniel only glanced up to judge the distance he still had to travel before he reached even ground.

Majors Kovachek and Davis stepped out of the wormhole side-by-side and, a few beats later, the gate closed with its usual snap-hiss behind them, the rock wall at their backs.

Kovachek and Davis, Cater noted, were immediately on guard, their eyes sweeping the trees before them, their weapons held at the ready. Assured they were doing their job, she turned her attention back to Daniel, who had finally reached the DHD and was trying to lean against it nonchalantly. The heavy backpack prevented his stance from being anything remotely casual. Sam was sure he was just using the DHD as a shelf, allowing the structure to hold up his pack and alleviate some of the pressure on his back. Sam was glad that she wasn't in Daniel's shoes this mission.

Glancing around once again, she voiced the question foremost in her mind. "Daniel, where is everybody? Do we just head out or are we supposed to wait and meet up with someone from the village?"

"Well," Daniel said, rubbing a hand through his short brown hair and gazing at the other two men approaching their position. He turned back to Sam to answer her, his eyes distant in thought. "Since it doesn't look like there's anyone here to greet us, I guess we can just make our way to the village. They know we're coming. I wouldn't be surprised to find Egan on the trail somewhere."

"That was my thought too, Daniel. I just wanted to make sure we were on the same page," Sam said, nodding to Kovachek and Davis as they stopped before her. "Well, it looks like the welcoming party isn't here yet, so we might as well get started. We have a good two hour walk to get to the village."

While Sam was speaking, Daniel had slid his pack off his shoulder and was digging around inside. Moments later his digital camcorder emerged and he zipped the pack shut, levering it up onto his back. "Sure, Sam. I just want to get started with some recording," Daniel said, pressing a few buttons on the camera's side, his concentration fully engaged on the device.

"I'll take point. Kovachek, I'd like you to take our six."

"Yes, Major," Kovachek said, gripping his P90 a little tighter.

"Major Davis, if you don't mind, can you keep an eye on Daniel?" Sam asked the question with a smile, as they watched Daniel wander off to take some recordings of the Stargate itself.

"No problem, Major," Paul said smiling. "I'll try to keep him in line, make sure he doesn't stray too far."

"Let me tell you, that's easier said than done. One of these days it might pay to put a leash on him or something," Sam said, her manner joking, but a strange shiver ran up her spine. Shaking off the feeling, she glanced around the clearing, watching as Daniel ambled around the area. "Daniel," she called, trying to get the archeologist's attention.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming." Daniel's distracted reply floated over the air. Daniel was aiming himself toward the ruins now, barely paying attention to the rocks beneath his feet. A few times, Sam was almost certain he was going to trip and injure himself.

"Daniel, at this rate you're going to run out of space on that camera before you even get to the village," Sam said, gesturing for the rest of the team to follow her toward the path that led to Meath.

Daniel snapped off the recorder a minute later, after panning the camera slowly around the site. "That's all I need right now. Are we ready to go?"

"Yes, Daniel," Sam said, her voice ever indulgent of his quirks, as she led the way into the forest.

Moments after Kovachek's form disappeared into the undergrowth another figure emerged from the trees on the far side of the Stargate clearing. He gazed after the figures, but did not follow, instead choosing to turn back the way he had come.

A lone black bird circled overhead, making careful patterns in the sky.

XXXXXXXXXX

For the first time in a very long time, Jack O'Neill was warm. Not the suffocating, unpleasant, sitting too close to the fire warm, but the comfortable curled up under a down comforter in bed on a winter morning warm.

He smiled to himself and burrowed back down under the covers and the heat they held. A few seconds passed, however, before his mind caught up with the sensations of his body. Once it did, his eyes flew open, taking in the dirt floor, the rough blanket covering him, the open door, and the pitcher sitting nearby.

He squinted through the dark, the only light from the torch burning brightly in the hallway beyond the door. He closed his eyes briefly, breathing deeply before opening them once again to be greeted by the same sights. It wasn't his imagination. He was back in his cell with no recollection of how he got there.

He settled back down onto his makeshift bed, trying to think, trying to remember what had happened the night—and day—before. His last memory was of a bath sometime the night before, washing away the grime and the sweat.

Lifting the blanket, he glanced down toward his chest to confirm what he already knew—he was dressed in new clothes—even down to his undergarments. The reassuring weight of his dog tags was gone, as was the comfortable feeling of cotton next to his skin, replaced instead with a rougher fabric, less refined than what he was accustomed to. Vaguely he hoped that nothing chafed.

Dropping the blanket, he sighed deeply, rubbing his hands savagely across his eyes. His thumb and forefinger stopped briefly to squeeze the bridge of his nose as he tried to ease the throbbing pain in his head.

Things were so disjointed. He was weary, tired to the bone. He felt drained—of feeling, of strength, of will.

Memories kept flashing in and out—faces...words...kept coming back, echoing through his mind. Memories of pain—incredible pain—were the strongest. His body shivered as it recalled the sensations.

It would be so easy to give up, to turn over and go back to sleep, and later, to give in to Lady Morgana's demands. Part of him wanted to. Part of him was ready.

His team had already given up on him. They'd come to their conclusions about him not long ago, realizing that the people who got close to O'Neill were the ones most likely to be hurt—or even killed. They'd started distancing themselves from him—especially after that whole NID undercover incident.

They had already begun to realize the things everyone else had figured out eventually—that they really didn't need him. When it came to SG1, they already had a linguist/archeologist, a scientist, and a very capable warrior. What did they need him for? What had he done for them lately except manage to attract trouble to the group?

It was Daniel who figured out how to stop the ship from wiping out the Enkarans—even willing to go out on a limb and place his life on the line to find a solution to the problem. It was Daniel who perceived that the Eurondans were not to be trusted. When all was said and done, it was really Carter who discovered that the Zatarc was Martouf and saved the day—and the president's life. It was Carter who found a "stupid idea" to defeat the Replicators. And where was he when Daniel, Carter, and Doc Fraiser were running around the planet in search of a missing Goa'uld? Fishing.

They didn't need him. They never had. It had taken him this long to finally figure it out himself.

He couldn't really blame General Hammond for giving up on him. What did the General need with a washed up, over the hill, set in his way Colonel who never listened to orders? Sure, he helped keep the base running as second in command, but any desk bound paper pusher could fill out the same forms he did—and they would probably do a much better job. Knowing Hammond, he had probably already listed him as missing in action, dotted the "I"s and crossed all the "T"s, filed all the paperwork in triplicate, and had written him off with barely a second thought.

He closed his eyes as the weariness settled into his bones.

But, out of that lassitude, a small spark emerged—barely an ember. O'Neill realized that he wasn't finished. He wasn't ready to stop fighting. Yes, he was tired, he admitted to himself, but that was no reason to give up.

As long as I'm alive, there's always a chance. That had been his motto years ago, at the hands of other demented, psychotic madmen passing themselves off as respectable generals. He survived four months under their care—four months of his life spent rotting in an Iraqi hellhole that had come to be his home away from home.

If he didn't give up then, why should he give up now?

Even if everyone was against him, why should he give up when there was still the possibility that he could escape—that he could return to his world and try to make a difference, try to make up for all the lives that had been lost on his account? Trying to survive was the least he could do.

Closing his eyes, he concentrated on his breathing, gathering his strength. Several moments passed before he moved, sitting up slowly and carefully, the chain clinking behind him as he adjusted the blankets around his body. He was pleasantly surprised to find himself merely sore and aching, the pain infrequent and minor. From the bits and pieces he could remember from his last encounter with Lady Morgana, he had expected to be much worse off.

But, he was thirsty.

And there was a pitcher of something within reach.

After a moment of indecision, his eyes flicking quickly back and forth between the door and the pitcher, he reached out, his arm shaking with exertion, and lifted the pitcher to pour some of the liquid—a weak tea of sorts—into the glass. After spilling some of the precious liquid, he grabbed hold of the pitcher with both hands, slowly guiding it to the tumbler, the liquid finally reaching its goal.

Placing the pitcher back down before his trembling hands dropped it, he sat back, winded, his heart beating frantically. He was disgusted with himself for being so weak.

A few moments passed before he reached out again, this time to grasp the cool glass between his hands, bringing the tumbler to his mouth. Drinking deeply, he closed his eyes as the cool liquid washed away the dryness that had settled in this throat. As soon as the liquid hit his stomach, warmth spread through his middle, making him sigh in relief. He could feel his strength returning bit by bit.

In the back of his mind, a voice warned him to be careful. The voice warned him about the possibility that there was something in the water, but his thirst drowned out that tiny voice.

Putting the tumbler down, he reached for the pitcher again with both hands, pouring another glass full with arms and hands that were steadier than they had been moments before. It was sheer ecstasy to him as the liquid filled his mouth and cascaded down his throat bringing him that much needed relief. He sighed contentedly, closing his eyes, and leaning back against the stone wall.

His eyes flew open seconds later, when a soft voice resounded throughout the room.

"Are you feeling better, my love?"

He squinted through the darkness, trying to follow the sound of Lady Morgana's voice. He cleared his throat, trying to reply. "What?" O'Neill asked, his voice rough and raspy.

Her shapely, graceful figure formed out of the darkness and settled down before him, her earth-colored dress flowing around her, pooling before him. Her auburn hair framed Lady Morgana's face; her green eyes were firmly fixed on his chocolate brown eyes. Her hand caressed his cheek, her fingers brushing through the short hairs on his chin.

"It is good to see that you are better, my love," she said, gazing deeply into his eyes. Her close scrutiny was disconcerting and disquieting, but he couldn't turn away. He knew this couldn't be right—it shouldn't be right—but her eyes were all that he saw, her green eyes piercing deep into his soul.

Her smile lit up his heart.

While he held her gaze, drowning in her luminescent eyes, the voice in the back of his mind was trying to issue a warning. Danger Will Robinson! Danger! Danger! The voice was screaming out the words in an effort to be heard over the rushing white noise that was quenching all of his thoughts.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see her lips moving, but he couldn't make out the words. It was strange, he thought vaguely. He knew that he should be able to hear what she was saying—understand what she was saying—but her eyes were all encompassing—drowning out all of his other senses.

Vaguely, he realized that her hands were on either side of his face, rubbing his temples, easing the throbbing pain in his head, only to be replaced with a feeling of contentment and serenity.

A thick haze was falling over his mind, suffocating his sense of free will.

Part of him realized that she had to have put something in the tea—and he had had two full glasses on an empty stomach in a weakened state. Smart thing to do, O'Neill, his mind chided him, trying to fight for control.

But control was not to be had, at least in this instance.

When she removed her hands and leaned back, he almost surged forward, trying to maintain contact with the hands that had so lovingly held him moments before. That comforting presence had become so welcome, so needed.

"Shush, my love. I'm not going far. Would you like something to eat?" Her smile enveloped him, lighting the room and his soul.

O'Neill nodded his head slightly, without breaking eye contact. She was his world. There was nothing else that mattered.

"Good. Just sit there and I'll get something for you. Can you remain still for me?"

He nodded quickly. He'd do anything to make her happy.

"Good," she smiled, getting up and moving toward the open door. "Turlough," she called from the doorway, the flickering light from the burning torch casting highlights and shadows on her face. Her eyes, though, never left O'Neill's expectant face.

"Yes, my lady," O'Neill heard Turlough's faint reply from the hallway.

"Please bring us some food to break our fast this morning."

"Yes, my lady. I shall bring it right away," Turlough said, his retreating footsteps indicating he was running to comply with Morgana's request.

"See, my love, that was easy," she said, stepping back to sit before O'Neill on the pallet of blankets. He closed his eyes, leaning into her palm as she gently caressed his face.

A few moments passed before her hand slid down to finger the metal collar around his neck. She dropped her eyes to gaze at it, but quickly looked back up into O'Neill's now open deep brown eyes. "Would you like me to remove this from you?" she asked, tapping a fingernail against the metal band.

O'Neill nodded his head slightly, clearing his throat to get the words out. "Yes...yes, my lady." Part of him cringed as the words left his mouth, but he knew that there was no other answer to be found.

Lady Morgana smiled widely at him, her green eyes glinting with an emotion he couldn't read—wouldn't read. "Very well, my love," she said, reaching with both hands to grasp the collar. A few seconds later a quiet click was heard and the collar dropped into her hands, the chain rattling behind him. She smiled at him. "Is that better?"

"Much better, my lady. Much better," he answered automatically, the real O'Neill shouting in his mind, railing against the brain-dead sycophant he had become.

She reached down and poured another glass of the tea from the pitcher on the floor. "Here, my love, drink more of this. It will help you to regain your strength."

Even though his mind howled at him to hurl the glass far away from him, to not take another sip, he watched in horror as his hands took the glass from her and he drank deeply from the tumbler, finishing it in one long swallow. O'Neill felt a wave of pleasure flow through him when she commended him, taking the glass from his hands. "Very good, my love."

A rustle of fabric against stone announced Turlough's return with a tray full of food. Turlough placed the tray next to Lady Morgana and stepped back, awaiting her next order.

"Thank you, Turlough. Please make sure everything is in readiness for our guests. They should be here within the hour. Return to me here when they arrive."

"Yes, my lady. I will do as you ask." Turlough bowed, turning on his heel, and strode from the room, a man with a purpose.

Lady Morgana turned her attention back to O'Neill's whose eyes had never left her face. "Are you hungry?"

He answered, although his voice was still hoarse from the cries and screams from the day before. "Yes, my lady."

"Good. Then let us eat something, so you can regain some of your strength. We have a long day ahead of us," Lady Morgana said, leaning down to put some butter on the still oven-warmed rolls.

His mind screamed at him to fight, to flee from her, but his body was not cooperating. While his mind tried to plan and scheme a way for him to escape this nightmare that had become his reality, his body—his own hand—accepted the roll from her. A feeling of intense pleasure rolled through his body and mind when she smiled at him, drowning out all other thoughts and senses.

His own voice spoke the words he never thought he would utter. "Thank you, my lady."

"There is no need for thanks, my love," she said, tenderly running her fingers through his hair. "You shall be my new beloved. How does that sound?"

"I look forward to it, my lady."

All he could see was her bright green eyes and her lovely, tender mouth turned upward in a smile.

XXXXXXXXXX

"Major Carter," Major Paul Davis said, breaking the silence that had settled over the group as they trekked through the forest toward Meath.

Sam glanced back quickly at the sound of her name and observed Davis stepping carefully over an overgrown tree root. Although this was a main path to and from the Stargate, it was obvious that it hadn't seen much use over the past few hundred years. The trees and bushes had encroached on the trail, as was evidenced by the many tree limbs, roots, and vegetation that now littered the track.

"Are you sure that this is the right way to the village? We've been walking for hours," Davis said, his voice anxious.

"Actually, we're making pretty good time compared to the last time we hiked to the village. When we were here before, we had to do this in the pouring rain," Daniel said, speaking up before Sam could answer the question. Daniel maneuvered himself around a rock that had managed to land in the middle of the path. He glanced up and smiled sheepishly. "But, you really didn't need to know that, did you?"

Sam had slowed down, allowing the rest of the group to catch up so she didn't have to yell. Why announce your presence when you didn't have to?

She had to agree with Daniel that they were making good time and would probably make it to the village within the hour. From the look of the trail up ahead—much cleaner and better traveled—they were nearing civilization.

Sam was eager to get to their destination. Her shoulders ached from the constant stress of being on guard against a possible enemy. Her hands had not strayed far from her P90 while they walked. Her eyes darted back and forth, calculating possible hiding places—possible places where her team could be ambushed. She wouldn't say that she was paranoid—just prepared for any possible situation.

Sam was also pleased to see that Major Kovachek was on guard as well, keeping on eye on their lovely backsides. He was doing a good job of it, too. Apparently, her little talk had made some kind of impression on him.

Daniel had been quiet for the majority of the hike, much to Sam's amazement. Usually, Daniel was a never-ending source of chatter, but a comfortable silence had fallen on the group early in the hike, allowing everyone the opportunity to concentrate on the walk and the upcoming negotiations.

"Major Davis, we've only been walking for a little over an hour," she said, checking her watch, and turning back to look at the group. "Daniel, don't you think it's a little peculiar that we haven't met anyone yet?"

Daniel shrugged. "No, I don't think so, Sam. They could be on patrols in another area or maybe we just missed them somehow. I didn't say exactly when we would be coming, just that we would be here today. Besides, at this point, it really shouldn't matter since we're only about a half-hour away from the village," Daniel said, huffing and puffing a little. They had started heading uphill and Sam was sure that the pack on Daniel's back was getting heavier by the minute.

She glanced around at everyone, noting the tired faces, and made a quick decision. "You know, why don't we take a quick breather? I could use a few minutes to catch my breath before we get to Meath. Besides, I'd rather make a good first impression. What do you think?"

Daniel perked up immediately. "Sounds good, Sam."

"Major Davis? Major Kovachek? What do you think?" Sam asked, stopping in the middle of the trail and examining her team's faces.

"Major Carter, a short rest would be very welcome," said Kovachek, speaking up for the first time this trip. As he got closer to where the group was standing, Sam could see the beads of perspiration along his hairline, dripping down into his collar. Kovachek was a little more out of shape then she originally thought. While Major Davis, Daniel, and herself were tired, they weren't as out of breath as Kovachek obviously was. She made a mental note to mention something to General Hammond about it when they got back. Maybe it was time that the members of the diplomatic team got out a little more with the rest of the SG teams on a regular basis. It couldn't hurt and besides, it might help with their integration into teams on other occasions—such as this one.

Sam glanced around and figured that this was as good as any a spot to rest for a few minutes. Off to the side of the trail, there were a few large boulders that they could sit on or lean against—whatever their preference. "Okay, everyone. Let's take five. Major Davis, how would you feel about keeping an eye out for a few minutes? I can take over after a while," Sam said, shrugging the pack from her back and swinging it down to rest next to one of the boulders.

"That would be fine, Major," Davis said, bringing his P90 to bear on the forest beyond their position.

"Good," she said, easing down to rest. Daniel dropped his pack and collapsed at her feet, wheezing slightly. "Daniel, you okay there?" Sam asked, concerned for him.

After taking a few deep breaths, he answered, "Yeah, just a little winded, that's all. You don't have to worry about me passing out or anything, Sam."

"Well that's good to know, because I would have left you here. I know I wouldn't want to have to lug both you and your pack up that hill," Sam said, a smile evident on her face as she pointed toward Meath with her hand. She took a long sip from her canteen and examined her team. She was keeping an eye on Kovachek as he settled in on the ground a little ways from the group, leaning against another one of the boulders. He was breathing heavily and mopping his brow with his hands, trying to wipe away the sweat.

Daniel half-smiled, when he realized that Sam was picking on him. "Thanks, Sam. I'll remember that the next time you want me to carry your mineral samples back to the gate."

"Uh, Major Carter..." Davis said, his voice sounding unsure as he backed up, glancing over his shoulder at her. "I think we have company."

Sam and Daniel jumped to their feet, followed by a panting Kovachek. Sure enough, a few moments later, the familiar form of Egan emerged from the forest, gliding silently along the trail.

"Egan," Daniel exclaimed, stepping around Davis to greet the imposing figure. Sam placed a hand on Davis' arm, letting him know that the stranger was the friend they were expecting.

"Daniel Jackson, it is good to see you once again," Egan said, pulling Daniel into a warm embrace.

Daniel returned it enthusiastically, before steeping back to introduce the rest of the group. "I'm sure you remember Samantha Carter," Daniel said, gesturing for her to step forward.

"Yes, I do," Egan said, bowing in respect. "It is good to see you again, my Lady. Lady Morgana is looking forward to speaking with you once again."

"Thank you, Egan. I am also looking forward to seeing her again," Sam said, smiling graciously in return.

"Egan, I'd also like you to meet Paul Davis and Stan Kovachek. They will be helping us form the alliance between our two peoples," Daniel said, indicating each of the men in turn. Both men inclined their heads in greeting, still at attention, not fully trusting the large, heavily armed man before them.

"It is a pleasure to meet friends of Daniel Jackson. Come, let me walk with you the rest of the way to the village. Lord Kentigern and Lady Morgana are awaiting your presence," Egan said, turning his attention back to Daniel.

"Oh, yeah, that would be great," Daniel said, stepping back to where he had left his bag. Hoisting it up onto his shoulders, he glanced back at Sam, who had an amused expression on her face. Sam saw realization dawn on his face a moment later. "Ah...that is...if that's okay with you, Sam."

"Yes, Daniel," Sam said, her hands crossed over her chest, the epitome of patience, as Daniel moved back to stand with Egan.

"Major..." The soft note of warning came from Kovachek.

Sam glanced sharply at the hovering Major, whose hands were tightly gripping his weapon. Her eyes narrowed sharply. "What seems to be the problem, Major?" Sam asked, her voice low and quiet, so as to not carry to where Daniel and Egan were conversing.

Kovachek glanced at the towering Celt before he answered. "Is it such a good idea to just go along with him?"

"He's a friend, Major." Sam looked at him critically before she continued. "This is one of those times where I'm going to ask you to trust my judgement. Egan is a friend and will not harm us. He will merely accompany us back to the village. I don't have a problem with that. Do you?"

"Well, no. But..." Kovachek started, at a loss for words.

"Major, I thought diplomats were a little more tolerant of others." Her voice was still low, but firm. Sam noticed that Davis was trying not to listen to their conversation, but curiosity was getting the better of him. She noticed his eyes drifting back to where she stood with Kovachek.

"Well, yes, we are."

"Then, what seems to be the problem?"

"Nothing, Major. Nothing at all."

"Good. See that it stays that way," Sam said, her tone indicating that the conversation was over. She leaned down to pick up her pack, before she stepped up next to Daniel.

"Yes, things have been quiet as of late. Over the past fortnights our sentries have not met any resistance during their patrols," Egan was saying.

"Have you had much unrest?" Daniel asked. Sam was sure that he had completely forgotten about the heavy load on his back. The digital recorder was already in his hand and Sam was certain that he was just itching to turn it on.

"Daniel, Egan, I'm sorry to interrupt, but before we get sidetracked, would it be possible to walk and talk?" Sam asked, stepping into the conversation before Egan could respond to Daniel's question.

"Of course, my Lady," Egan said, bowing again. "You must be fatigued. The village is not far. Come, let us walk." Egan gestured widely, indicating that they should follow him as he made his way along the path.

Sam stepped up alongside Egan, with Daniel on Egan's right. Davis and Kovachek settled in behind them. Sam could see Egan pursing his lips, and Sam was almost certain that Egan was trying to decide just how much to tell Daniel. Egan was skilled in the art of speech and politics and knew how to handle people. He was even better than some of the politicians back home, Sam thought.

"Egan," Sam said, drawing his attention to her. "How exactly does your society function?"

"Are you speaking in terms of civil society?" Egan asked politely, his eyes curious.

"Yes, in general terms." Daniel was sending silent messages her way, wondering where she was headed with her question. If her hunch were correct, Daniel would see the point in a few minutes.

"Well," Egan said, pausing briefly to collect his thoughts. "Ildanach is divided into many counties, with Meath being the largest. Lord Kentigern rules over Meath and leads us in battle and presides over us in peacetime. The nobles include all of the land-owning families as well as all the warriors, the priests and priestesses, the artists, and some of the craftsmen."

Egan looked inquiringly at Carter to make sure she was following his description. When she nodded, he continued. "This leaves the farmers who are considered to be freemen and the slaves, who are the unfree people."

"How do you choose your Lord?" Sam asked. Daniel was still shooting her quizzical expressions, but she was ignoring him. Sam also noted that his camera was now running silently, recording Egan's response. She almost chuckled at his predictability.

"There are two ways in which a Lord can be designated. Either through lineage or through selection."

"In the case of Meath, how did Lord Kentigern become Lord?"

"Through both lineage and selection."

"How does one get selected?"

If Egan was suspicious about the direction of Sam's questions, he didn't show it. "There are certain requirements which he must fulfill. The Lord must not be deformed in any way that would prevent him from being a good warrior. Additionally, his father and grandfather must have been nobles."

"Who does the selection, the nobles themselves?" Sam asked.

"They do have a voice in the selection process, but the high priestess has the final say in the matter of selection," Egan said, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"Now I imagine that the nobles are well educated, as evidenced by you," Sam said. She glanced briefly over at Daniel, whose eyes were warning her off the subject.

Egan bristled a little at the question, but answered it nonetheless. "Yes. Although our ways are simple, we are not a primitive people. All of our people are well educated. We make sure that even the freemen are taught."

"I'm sure Sam wasn't indicating that your people were uneducated, Egan. Please don't take offense," Daniel said, trying to smooth things over. Sam knew she wasn't as diplomatic as she could have been, but there had been something nagging at her ever since she was here the last time, but she couldn't put her finger on it. She looked ahead and noticed some smoke rising in the distance. They were nearing the village and she wanted to—needed to—know if she was right.

"Egan, from my observations, it seems that you are one of the most well educated persons here, apart from Lord Kentigern and Lady Morgana. Is there any reason why this appears to be true?" Sam asked, shooting Daniel a silent command to be quiet.

"I'm not sure what you mean, my Lady," Egan said, his eyes telling a different story.

"Are you related to Lord Kentigern by any chance?"

After a few moments pause, Egan replied quietly. "Yes, my Lady. Lord Kentigern is my older brother."

XXXXXXXXXX

"Yes, my Lady. Lord Kentigern is my older brother."

Daniel felt his eyes widen at Egan's response. Egan was part of the royal family line and brother to the current Lord of Meath.

Wow.

Daniel quickly turned the camera off, dropping his hand to hang by his side. So, this entire time—from the first time they had stepped foot on the planet—they had been speaking with the King's brother.

Wow.

It wasn't every day that you found someone from the royal family who was so approachable, so humble, and so subservient.

Daniel looked over at Sam, his eyes still wide, to see her smug expression. Not only had she figured it out on her own, he hadn't even put all the clues together—and he was the anthropologist in the group. Looking back, he realized that the signs were all there. He hadn't seen them. He hadn't taken the time to look.

He glanced back at Paul and Major Kovachek. They were close behind and, from the look on Kovachek's face, Daniel could tell that he realized the opportunity they had. SG1 had already built a strong relationship with the Lord's brother. How hard would it be to write a treaty when you had the ear of the royal family?

"Egan," Daniel said, turning his attention back to the man at his side. "How does succession work exactly? When did Lord Kentigern become Lord?"

"When our father died, as the eldest son, he was crowned as Lord of Meath."

"So when he dies..."

"When he dies, if he has no successor and I am able and the Gods agree, I will become Lord of Meath," Egan answered simply.

Glancing ahead, Daniel noticed he could see the tall walls of Meath through the trees. If he listened carefully, he was sure he could hear the sound of people beyond the walls.

"Egan, thank you for your honesty," Daniel said, bending his head in a gesture of respect. "I will be honored to be considered your brother."

Egan looked at Daniel carefully before answering, a smile gracing his mouth. "As will I, Daniel Jackson. As will I."

Daniel returned the smile warmly, but quickly turned his attention to the village as they walked through the massive gates. He raised his hand and clicked on the camera to record the sights.

The village had not changed. Craftsmen of all types worked in their shops adjacent to the main thoroughfare of the village, glancing up to watch the strangers pass by. Some smiled in greeting, which Daniel returned whole-heartedly. Others, he saw, were not so welcoming, their eyes and general demeanor were cautious and observant, making Daniel feel slightly uncomfortable.

Of one thing he was certain: he did not want to get on their bad side.

Daniel moved the camera around, trying to catch as much as he could as they walked toward the castle. He was going to ask Sam for some time later on to come back and wander through the outer edge of the village, recording what he could. It wasn't every day that you got the chance to see how a medieval Celtic village worked. From what he could see, everyone had a role, an assignment—even the children. He watched as some of the young ones ran back and forth from one door to another, carrying various items, exchanging them for other things, before running to yet another door. Other, older ones stood alongside their parents as apprentices learning the trade.

Daniel released a breath he wasn't aware of holding. There was something about this village that drew him. Daniel wasn't sure if it was the people or the atmosphere or something else, but it almost felt as if he were coming home.

Glancing ahead, Daniel saw Nerys standing at the open door to the castle, a wide smile on her face. As they got closer, she called to them in greeting.

"My Lady and Lords, please be welcome once again into our home," Nerys said. Once they got close enough, she curtseyed deeply and ushered them into the castle, closing the door behind them.

"Thank you, Nerys," Daniel heard Sam say, a smile in her voice. He was too busy filming the walls and the tapestries to answer. "It is good to be back. Would it be possible to put our bags down and freshen up before we meet with Lord Kentigern?"

"Yes, my Lady," said Nerys, gesturing for them to follow her up the winding staircase to the second floor. "I have had the same rooms prepared for you to use. Will they be acceptable?"

"I'm sure that they will be more than acceptable, Nerys," Sam said, climbing the stairs with Paul, Major Kovachek, and Daniel trailing behind. Daniel noticed that Egan had stepped into the Great Hall, probably to speak with Lord Kentigern and inform his brother of their arrival.

Nerys led them down the hall to the suite of rooms they had occupied previously. The fire was burning brightly and various servants were rushing about, bringing warm water into the room so they could freshen up.

"I believe Lord Kentigern was planning to dine with you this afternoon in the Great Hall and he would like to begin the talks for the treaty following your meal. You have some time yet before he expects you. Do you require anything?" Nerys asked, looking expectantly from face to face.

As Daniel turned the camera off, he managed to catch Sam's eye and raised his eyebrow in question. Sam nodded slightly and indicated that he could ask a question.

"Nerys, would it be possible for us to walk around the village a little bit to speak with some of the craftsmen and the like? I'd like to take the opportunity to learn as much as I can about your people."

Nerys paused to consider the question, and for a moment, Daniel thought that she might not permit them access. She finally answered, her voice thoughtful. "It should be safe enough for you to walk throughout the village, my Lord. But I would recommend that you remain within the walls. I can have a guide sent to you, if you would like. He would be able to answer some of your questions if you have any."

"That is more than fair, Nerys. Thank you for your foresight in this matter. I would be delighted if someone could accompany me," Daniel said, glancing at Sam, who nodded and offered a small smile. Her eyes, though, were thoughtful. Sam probably had picked up some of the same feelings that he had noticed—Nerys' hesitancy, indecision, and uncertainty. There was something going on here, something strange. It could be a simple explanation such as the civil unrest had grown and, since they were strangers, they needed to be extra cautious. Or, it could be something else.

Majors Davis and Kovachek were silent, but Daniel could tell that they were soaking in every word, every sight, in much the same way SG1 had the first time they were here. From firsthand experience, Daniel knew how overwhelming Meath could be.

"I will allow you some time to rest, and then I shall send Hywel to you. He will bring you back so you have enough time to prepare," Nerys said, moving toward the door.

"Thank you. That would be great," Daniel said as Nerys bowed her head and closed the door behind her. Daniel glanced around, finally noticing how heavy his pack had become. He let it slide off his back and placed it carefully on the floor beside one of the chairs. He looked at Sam and managed to catch her eye. She was watching Kovachek as he circled the room, staring intently at the furnishings and decorations. "If it's okay, I'm going to put my stuff down in the same room I stayed in the last time."

"That's fine, Daniel," Sam said, her tone distant. A moment passed before she shook her head slightly and turned to face him. "Daniel, what do think is up with Nerys? Did she seem a little unsure about how to answer your question or was that just me?"

"No, it wasn't your imagination. I almost thought she was going to refuse my request to walk around the village," Daniel said.

"Yeah, that's what I thought, too," Paul said, stepping up next to Daniel. "Are we free to walk around or do we have to stay here? Are we prisoners?"

"Well, we are their guests and they didn't tell us that we couldn't walk around..." Daniel started, but Sam cut him off before he could finish his thought.

"But, they are making sure we have a guide," Sam said, her fingers adding quotation marks around the last word. She paused for a minute, gathering her thoughts. Kovachek stepped up quietly to stand behind Davis. "Until something happens, I'm going to suggest that we abide by their restrictions. There might be more going on here than meets the eye. The explanation could be as simple as a little civil unrest. I know they were in negotiations with a representative from a nearby village when we were here before. Maybe the negotiations didn't go as well as expected. Does that sound reasonable to everyone?" Sam asked, glancing around at everyone with a questioning expression.

"Since we are here to forge an alliance, I would recommend not making any waves early on," Kovachek said. "Everything we do will have some kind of effect on the negotiations—both good or bad. I know how much you all want this alliance. I'd rather play it on the safe side. At least, that's my opinion."

Sam smiled at him. "That's good advice, Major."

"I know that the Joint Chiefs and the President are in favor of this alliance, Sam. So, whatever we can do to make this go as smoothly as possible would be a good thing," Davis added quietly.

"Daniel, if you're going to go for a walk, please tread lightly. We'll hang out here, unless you want some company," Sam said.

"Actually, Major," Kovachek said, speaking up. "I'd like to go with Daniel and try and get a feel for the people, if that would be okay. Sometimes it's easier when it comes time to sit down at the negotiation table if I have a feel for the society and the people." Kovachek shrugged, an embarrassed expression on his face.

"That's fine with me, Major. Daniel?"

"Sure, I'd love some company," Daniel smiled. He was glad that Kovachek was warming up a little. Maybe he would settle into the team by the time everything was said and done. Better late than never.

"Okay, then it's decided. Paul and I will stay here and get us settled in while you and Major Kovachek check out the natives. Sounds like a plan," Sam said, pulling the pack off her back and dropping it on the floor next to her feet.

"I'm just going to put my pack in my room," Daniel said, hoisting his bag off the floor as he headed for the room to the left of the bathroom.

"Sounds good. I'm taking the room over here," Sam said. Daniel looked over his shoulder in time to catch Sam gesturing to the room to the right of the bathroom door. "You guys can fight over the other two rooms."

"I'll take the one by the door if that's okay with you, Major," Kovachek said looking at Davis.

"Sure," Paul said, heading to the room adjacent to the one Daniel occupied.

A knock sounded from the door moments later and Major Kovachek opened it to reveal Hywel who stepped in to stand in the doorway.

"Good afternoon, my Lord," Hywel said, bowing his head to Kovachek. "Nerys sent me. She mentioned that you would be interested in a tour of the village."

"Yes, Daniel and I would be very interested in a tour," Kovachek said as Daniel emerged from his bedroom.

"Hywel," Daniel said, immediately recognizing Hywel and striding over. "It is good to see you once again. Are you our guide?"

"It seems that I am, Daniel Jackson. I am pleased you and Samantha Carter are in good health. Did Teal'c not accompany you on this trip?" Hywel asked pleasantly.

"No, Teal'c had other duties that required his attention. Hywel, I'd like you to meet Stan Kovachek and Paul Davis," Daniel said indicating each man in turn. Davis was standing in the doorway to his room, watching Hywel and Daniel converse.

"It is a pleasure to meet friends of Daniel Jackson," Hywel said, echoing the words spoken by Egan earlier that day. "Are you ready to depart?"

"Uh, yeah. I'm ready," Daniel said glancing around. "Major Kovachek...ah...Stan, are you?"

"As ready as I'm going to be," Stan confirmed.

"Okay, then. Hywel, we're ready. Sam, we'll be back in a little bit," Daniel said, glancing back over his shoulder at Sam, who had plopped herself down in one of the chairs near the fireplace.

"Okay. Have fun. Try to behave yourself," Sam said, her tone teasing.

"I will, mom," Daniel said as Hywel ushered them out the door.

XXXXXXXXXX

"My lady," Turlough said, stepping into the room. "The visitors have arrived. Two are taking a tour of the village with Hywel and two have remained in the rooms you have appointed for their use. Lord Kentigern has arranged to have a meal with them shortly and plans to begin the discussions for the alliance."

"Very well, Turlough," Lady Morgana said, stroking the head that was in her lap. O'Neill had fallen asleep not long after consuming two rolls and another glass of the tea. Not only did the tea help to make his mind more susceptible to her control, but it also boosted his immune system, enabling him to heal at a much faster rate than was otherwise possible.

Even though his slumber permitted her easier access to his mind, Morgana was reluctant to alter it too extensively. To do so would take away from the man that he was. It would take away the characteristics that made him so desirable.

She gazed down at O'Neill's sleeping form—his body still showing the stress from the days and weeks before. He looked different—from the way he held his body to his physical appearance. His forehead was creased even in slumber. He was pale, much paler than he had been, his cheekbones more pronounced. He had lost a lot of weight since he had first arrived and his beard had grown in, giving him a more distinguished—if slightly rumpled—look.

She smiled to herself, proud at what she had accomplished in such a short period of time. She doubted his own kind would recognize him now. And if they did, she could change that easily enough.

"Turlough, bring me a pitcher of water and another glass. I will need it for when O'Neill awakens," Morgana ordered.

"Yes, my Lady. I shall return immediately," Turlough said, turning on his heel and disappearing into the hallway.

Morgana traced a finger along O'Neill's strong jaw line, the short hairs tickling her fingertips. There was something special about this man, she thought. And now, it was just a matter of time before she had him entirely—heart, mind, and soul.

XXXXXXXXXX

Once they left the castle, Hywel took them on the grand tour, meandering through the various streets and alleys of Meath.

Daniel was fascinated by the artisans and blacksmiths, watching them mould and shape metals into the forms he was accustomed to seeing—the Celtic knots and symbols, and the long swords worn by most of the warriors in the city.

Although for the most part Major Kovachek was quiet, Daniel could see him absorbing the culture. It was almost as if he was breathing it in, allowing it to fill his very soul. Kovachek asked a few questions—mainly about the current state of affairs in the area and how much religion played into the way the village was governed. Daniel found himself listening politely, but his eyes were drawn to the sights surrounding him.

A few times Daniel had to pinch himself to assure himself that he wasn't dreaming. The books he had read were coming alive before his eyes, amazingly close to the reality he was observing.

As reserved as Egan and Hywel were, Daniel finally figured out why these people looked the way they did—they were constantly preparing for battle, whether it was in training sessions standing in the shadows of the castle or on the streets in small scuffles.

After the third such tussle, Daniel asked the question that was plaguing his mind. "Hywel, why does it seem like these boys are fighting all the time?"

"Daniel Jackson, if you had not already noticed, we are a proud and brave people. For many of us who follow the warrior's path, we are quick to defend our honor," Hywel said, leading them off to a quieter section of the street, away from the crowds which had gathered to watch the outcome of the latest fight. He gestured over his shoulder to the young boys sparring in the street. "Violence breaks out easily among the young ones, many of whom have been trained to wield a sword from the time they begin to walk. Many of these boys are eager to prove their courage and bravery. Even some of the older trained ones find that they are quick to fight if they believe they have been insulted."

"Really? I find it hard to believe that these boys would go to such an extreme," Daniel said, his tone incredulous.

Hywel smiled tiredly. "Daniel Jackson, we were all boys at one time or another. Did you always follow the right course? Did you always do the things your elders wished?"

Daniel looked down at his feet before answering. "Well, no, not exactly. But I didn't take up arms against my friends."

"No, you might not have, but then, your ways are most likely very different from ours. This is our way of life." Hywel glanced up at the sky as if he was searching for something. "My Lords, I believe it is time to return to the castle so you have time to prepare to meet with Lord Kentigern."

Daniel nodded, his eyes narrowed in thought. "Sure, Hywel. Lead on," Daniel said, his tone distant, as he followed Hywel and Kovachek back to the castle.

XXXXXXXXXX

"Wake, my love. It is time for you to arise."

O'Neill opened his eyes slowly and Lady Morgana's face swam into focus above him. It was a weird angle, looking up at her face, but as soon as she smiled, everything was all right. A satisfied smile settled on his face. She was still here. She had promised she wouldn't leave him alone.

"My love, can you sit up?" Morgana asked, her hand stroking his temple.

O'Neill nodded slightly and with the help of Morgana, found himself sitting up against the stone wall a few moments later. He was tired, but he felt a lot better than he had a few hours ago.

Morgana examined him carefully before she spoke. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes, my Lady," O'Neill answered immediately.

"Then I need you to trust me now. I have to give you something, but it will hurt quite a bit. It pains me that I must do this..."

"My Lady," O'Neill said, taking her hand into his own and looking deeply in her eyes. "I can withstand a little pain if it is for you."

"Truly?" Morgana asked, her eyes glittering. At O'Neill's affirmation, she reached into her pouch and withdrew several leaves that she crushed into the empty glass sitting beside her. Pouring water into the glass, she continued speaking. "You must drink this entire glass of water in one swallow. Can you do this?"

"Yes, my Lady," O'Neill said, taking the glass from her hands. Looking at her smiling face over the rim, he tipped the glass back against his lips and swallowed.

As soon as the liquid hit the soft surfaces of his mouth and throat, an intense burning began, but by then, it was already too late. Lady Morgana was there, holding the glass to his mouth, making sure he drank the entire contents.

The agony spread down into his stomach, burning a trail behind it. Finally able to gasp for air when she pulled the tumbler away, he tried to cry out in agony, but for some reason he couldn't make a sound. His hands went immediately to his neck, his brown eyes wide staring accusingly at Morgana.

Even through the pain, he tried to speak, to ask her what he had done wrong, but even though he could feel his lips moving, there was no sound coming out of his mouth.

Morgana pulled him close, hugging him to her, trying to comfort him as the realization washed over him. "Shush, my love. You will understand in time why this must be done. Everything will be fine. Go to sleep. The pain will pass. I will return shortly and you will accompany me to the Great Hall this evening as my guest," Morgana said, stroking his back, trying to calm the shudders that ran through his body.

He nodded into her shoulder and allowed her to ease him down to lie once again on the pallet of blankets. She left a few moments later, his silent sobs following her out.

XXXXXXXXXX

"How'd the tour go, Daniel?" Sam asked as soon as he stepped foot in the door.

"My Lord, I will return shortly to bring you to Lord Kentigern," Hywel said, inclining his head toward Daniel and Kovachek.

"Thanks, Hywel," Daniel said, smiling absently as the door closed behind him. A few moments passed before he realized Sam had asked him a question. "Oh, Sam...uh, good. The tour was good."

Sam had turned around in her chair to look at Daniel when he hadn't responded to her question. He looked up to catch her examining him carefully, her eyes narrowing, apparently not happy with what she was seeing. "Daniel, are you okay? Did something happen?" Her tone was full of concern, the muscles of her shoulders tensing.

"I'm fine, Sam. Just thinking," Daniel answered, flashing her a half-smile, trying to convince her that he was in perfect condition.

"Daniel," Sam said her tone low.

"You know what always amazes me, Sam?" Daniel said, dropping down in the chair next to the fireplace, trying to warm himself and change the course of the conversation. Paul Davis had stepped out of the bathroom and was silently observing them. Major Kovachek had settled on the arm of a nearby chair, listening intently. Kovachek was wearing a similarly thoughtful expression on his face as Daniel was.

"What, Daniel?" Sam asked, playing along.

"You know, every time we meet another race, another planet full of people, I begin to realize just how much we are alike. I mean, the planets are different and we may look entirely different and have totally different customs, but deep down we are the same. We all worry about our futures, we care about our children, we all are trying to scratch out for ourselves a better life." Daniel looked up at Sam from his hands, his eyes filled with anxiety. "Sam, I don't know if we have anything that we can offer these people that will really matter to them. They have everything they need—family, homes, health, happiness, and safety. All we can bring them is death and destruction when the Goa'uld finally find them."

"Daniel," Sam started cautiously, "where is this all coming from? Did Hywel say something to you?" She glanced between Kovachek and Daniel when an answer was not forthcoming. A few moments passed before Kovachek finally spoke up.

"No, Major. Hywel didn't say anything of the sort. From my observations, this is a very stable society and we have a lot that we can share. They have welcomed us with open arms. I think we should take their offer of friendship for what it's worth," Kovachek said, pausing for a few beats. His forehead creased in concentration as he ordered his thoughts before he spoke. "They have their own civil problems, but so do we. Their society is not perfect and many die unnecessarily because of illnesses they can't cure and fatal accidents. I believe that we can help improve their quality of life."

"But what if we can't? What if all we can bring them is more war?" Daniel asked, his voice rising in frustration.

Paul sat up straighter in his chair, his eyes flashing. "Daniel, we took a risk when we opened that gate. We've angered the Goa'uld and these people may be able to help us. Would you rather we just bury our heads in the sand? You said it yourself back in the gateroom. These people may be the race that helps us turn the tide in the war against the Goa'uld. How can we turn our backs on them? Should we not give them what is in our power to give? Should we not try to make their lives a little better? Remember, Daniel, they chose to open the gate, you didn't make them. They were just fortunate that we were the ones to step through first, not the Goa'uld."

Silence settled on the four of them, surrounding them like a blanket. They all had their own doubts and worries. They all had their own emotional baggage that they carried with them. But every time they stepped through the gate, that was all set aside. They weren't only concerned about themselves—the fate of the planet Earth was in their hands. Sometimes that responsibility settled in deep, hampering movement, but a river of strength ran through each of them. It was what pushed them along.

Call it honor. Call it responsibility. What Hywel said rang true. They all followed the warrior's path—everyone who stepped through that gate—and they were quick to defend their honor, their place in the universe.

It was what they did. It was who they were. It was their way.

Daniel's whispered words, although subdued, were powerful. "We are not so different after all."

XXXXXXXXXX

O'Neill did not know how much time passed before Morgana came for him once again.

And one thing he couldn't figure out was why he never even thought to escape. He was no longer chained to the wall—Morgana had taken care of that. Leaving would have been easy—just up the stairs, around a few corners, and out the door.

But, the thought of escape never crossed his mind for long. Even now, as they walked up the stairs to the main areas of the castle, he was quickly dismissing the notion as preposterous.

The smells of food wafted on the air as they walked toward the kitchens, Morgana's arm entwined with his. He felt better, stronger, but his mind was jumbled. His body followed Morgana's suggestions and orders without question and he reveled in the pleasure of basking in her smile.

While the pain had passed, the effects of her latest potion had not. O'Neill was unable to even utter the smallest sound—a hum or whistle even being beyond his current abilities.

Even when the smallest ember of rage bubbled forth from the depths of his mind, the constant white noise filling his mind beat it down so that all that remained was serenity, peace, and conformity.

Before they entered the Great Hall from the door at the rear of the chamber, Morgana stopped, looking deeply into his eyes. "My love, there are visitors here who are trying to forge an alliance with us. We...I...want this alliance. Our people need this alliance. I need your cooperation. Will you just sit and observe?"

O'Neill nodded, willing to do what she asked.

"Good. I need you to sit by Turlough and not move until I return for you. I will permit you one allowance. If you must use the facilities, you may do so, but that is as far as you may go. Disobey me and you will face dire consequences. Do you understand?" Morgana's eyes penetrated deeply into his, daring him to contradict her.

He nodded in understanding, dropping his eyes, and inclining his head in submission. All that she asked, he would do.

"Very well, my love. Come walk with me. It is time to enter," Morgana said, linking her arm in his and escorting him into the Great Hall.

From his vantage point on the dais, O'Neill could see that the Great Hall had been changed for the upcoming talks. Instead of a long table stretching to the main doors, a large round table was set in the middle of the room, just before the dais. All the torches in the room were lit, casting flickering shadows on the walls and the faces of the people present in the room.

On either side of the table were several rows of chairs. Many were already occupied, while other groups of people were milling about, speaking in low tones. Lord Kentigern was speaking with several men off to one side, while a small group dressed in drab green fatigues stood off to the side. Immediately, his body tensed. He recognized the blonde and brunette heads and, after a few seconds more, realization set in. Paul Davis and Stan Kovachek were here with Carter and Daniel. They were here to set up a treaty. After the shock at seeing them, a slow rage started to build within him, tightening the muscles in his back, the only response he was capable of making.

As Morgana stepped down off the dais, she tightened her hold on O'Neill, leaning in to speak quietly, issuing yet another mandate. "My love, you will be polite and courteous to everyone here. I expect you to be respectful to one and all. And you are not to do anything to upset these talks. I know what you are thinking. If anything happens, I will be very disappointed and we both know what happens when I'm disappointed, now don't we?" Morgana asked, her voice low and tight, but firm.

A quick nod of his head showed his understanding and she led him to a chair in the front row, settling him in directly across from her seat at the main table. He was certain that she would be able to gaze on him all evening, watching his every move—enjoying his discomfort.

Several heads turned to watch her approach and immediately the crowd quieted down, finding their seats. Apparently, they were waiting for her.

When everyone settled down, O'Neill realized Morgana had chosen his chair very well. Not only would he be able to gaze on her beautiful form, but also he was forced to watch two of his closest friends—Carter and Daniel—make an alliance with a race of people he had come to despise.

And there was nothing he could do to stop them.

Absolutely nothing.

XXXXXXXXXX

Daniel was grateful that they had the chance to walk around a little bit before the negotiations began for the treaty. If they ate like this every day, he was positive that he was going to put on a considerable amount of weight before they got back to the SGC.

As the servants were clearing the table, others brought in chairs and set them up around the room, much to his surprise. Waving his hand, Daniel called Hywel over.

"Hywel, what's with all the chairs?" Daniel asked, his hand gesturing wide to take in the room.

"We are setting up chairs for those who wish to listen to the talks this night," Hywel answered, surprise flickering across his features. "Is this not how you negotiate treaties?"

"Well, no, not exactly," Daniel said, hesitating a little at the words.

"Then what do you do? Would it not be more advantageous for the people to be able to hear firsthand the alliance we hope to form between our peoples?"

"Well, actually, on our planet this usually happens behind closed doors. The general public really doesn't get much say in the treaty. Many times, they only hear about it when our leaders are signing the documents," Daniel explained, his hands crossed in front of him in a familiar pose.

"That is strange," Hywel commented, apparently at a loss for words. "Will this be a problem for you?" he asked a few moments later.

"No," Daniel answered loudly, immediately dropping his voice when Sam turned around. "No, that won't be a problem. It's just a little different than what we are used to. We'll be fine. Thanks." Daniel smiled, bowing his head slightly toward Hywel, and walking over to where Sam stood with a perplexed expression on her face.

"What's wrong, Daniel and what's with all the chairs?" Sam asked, noticing his furrowed forehead.

Daniel took off his glasses, rubbing the heel of his hand across his face. Breathing deeply, he started to explain. "Well, apparently, not only are we negotiating with Lord Kentigern, but the people of Meath have a say in the treaty as well. That's what all the chairs are for."

"Really?" Sam said, her eyebrows rising in surprise.

"Yeah, really. I told Hywel that it wouldn't be a problem. I just hope Stan doesn't have stage fright," Daniel said, smiling tightly.

"No, I don't. Why do you ask?" Kovachek said, stepping up with Paul Davis. They had taken a quick trip back up to the room to get some of the paperwork he needed.

"Well, the people of Meath will be joining us during our negotiations," Daniel said, aiming a curious look at Stan when he didn't flinch.

"Oh. Is that what you're worried about? I'd rather draw up a treaty with ten thousand people, as long as they're not belligerent and argumentative," Kovachek said, glancing quickly around the room. "From what I can see of the people here and when we were walking around this afternoon, they want this alliance. We just have to make sure we get what we want—and that shouldn't be too difficult."

"That's easy for you to say," Daniel said, catching a glimpse of Lady Morgana as she appeared from behind the dais. Lady Morgana had vanished immediately following dinner, only to return now arm in arm with another man. She was speaking quietly to him as she stepped down to the floor, her manner intense.

"It looks like the party's just about ready to start," Paul said, pulling Daniel's attention back to his teammates.

"Looks that way," Sam said, glancing around. "Come on, let's find our seats. The fun's about to begin."

XXXXXXXXXX

"Looks that way," Sam said. "Come on, let's find our seats. The fun's about to begin."

Paul Davis nodded and slowly made his way to the table set before him. Everything that they did from this point forward would have some type of repercussion on how this treaty eventually ended up. It was a weighty responsibility and one that he was glad to share with Major Kovachek.

But still, even as they were discussing various topics and how each side could benefit, Paul noticed his mind kept drifting. General Hammond had been adamant about one point: they had to find Jack O'Neill. Even though Daniel had passionately argued that they had to return for the Colonel, General Hammond had plainly seen through his emotional arguments. According to General Hammond, Daniel's true motives were the completion of the treaty and nothing more.

For Paul, though, looking for Colonel O'Neill was merely an exercise in futility. Even though General Hammond held out a hope that the Colonel was still alive, he was also a realist. If Colonel O'Neill were alive, he would do anything within his power to get himself home.

The fact that O'Neill still hadn't surfaced in nearly two weeks was not a good sign.

But still, in the back of his mind, Paul had to keep searching, keep looking—just for his own peace of mind.

On the way into the great hall with Kovachek after dinner, he watched Lady Morgana stroll down the hall arm in arm with the older gentleman now seated in the front row. The man stood out like a sore thumb with his short hair and beard, so Paul had made some discreet inquiries, stopping several servants to ask some pointed questions. They'd all answered the same way: the man was a representative from Glyn Cuch. His appearance was merely cultural and nothing more.

But Paul was still distracted. He sighed deeply, pulling his thoughts back to the present, rewarding himself with a pointed glance from Kovachek. It was time to get back to business. They had a treaty to draw up.

XXXXXXXXXX

When the talks concluded for the night some five hours later, Daniel was pleased to find that they had already hammered out some of the finer points of their alliance. Gate information and education was at the top of Lord Kentigern's list and that was easy enough to provide. They were looking for other trading partners and the SGC had several worlds they could recommend. Vaccines and medical training were also easy requests.

Lord Kentigern had agreed to allow a scientific team to set up on the far side of their land, near to the Stargate as a permanent research station. Additionally, another cultural team would remain in the village, living and learning side-by-side with the villagers—a true exchange of information.

All through the evening, however, Daniel found his gaze wandering back to the man who had come in with Lady Morgana. He was different than everyone else, with short gray hair and a full beard. But he looked familiar. Daniel just couldn't place where he had seen him before.

Even as he was getting ready for bed, Daniel's thoughts kept drifting. There was something about that man, something important. He knew it. He could feel it in his bones.

If only he could remember what it was.