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)

6. Chapter Six

This time they locked the door.

For the first time in days, possibly even weeks—since at this point he'd entirely lost track of time—the door to his cell closed and locked with a loud clank as soon as Turlough pushed Jack through it. Without his collar and chain, apparently, Morgana and Company were not taking any chances of accidentally misplacing him in the middle of the night.

Swell.

Standing in the middle of the dark cell, with only a small glimmer of light shining through the barred window in the door, O'Neill ground his teeth in frustration. He was in a sorry state. He was locked up in the dungeon of a castle, barely clothed, his voice was on vacation, and his brain and body kept losing their connection.

Just peachy.

At least he didn't hurt anywhere. That was a pleasant change, but who knew how long that would actually last.

This evening had been a nightmare—and one he would probably relive time and time again if Morgana had any say about it. It had been painful to sit twenty feet away from Daniel and Carter. He was forced to watch their every move, all their familiar gestures and quirks—Daniel constantly playing with his glasses, Carter tucking the longer strands of her blonde hair behind her ears—but completely unable to speak or do anything but stare. Even though he had managed to catch Daniel's eye several times throughout the evening, the lack of recognition had been disturbing. To Daniel, Jack was just one more face in a crowd. Jack was a nameless face without a voice. One nameless, voiceless face without the will to get the hell out of Dodge.

Glancing back to the closed door, Jack rubbed his hand roughly across his face and into his short gray hair. He'd discovered that as long as Morgana wasn't in sight he was pretty much himself, the noise in his mind dropping down to a tolerable level, allowing him to think—and perhaps plan his escape.

Squinting through the dimness, he crept to his pallet of blankets wishing he had a tall glass of crystal clear mountain spring water. His throat was dry again—probably due to his forced abstinence before. As long as she didn't give him that firewater again, he'd be okay. Long after she had left, he had writhed in agony until the pain had finally dissipated, allowing him to fall into a restless sleep. Of course, that luxury hadn't lasted long. She had awoken him just so she could drag him upstairs for her nightmarish version of show and tell.

It wasn't as if he could actually ask for a glass of water, he thought savagely. Besides, he wasn't the type to do the whole sign language/stick figure drawings thing. That was Daniel's job.

Daniel, Jack thought, his breath going out in a long sigh. Daniel had looked tired. Probably not taking care of himself again, too busy wrapped up with one artifact or another—forgetting to sleep and eat as he usually did.

Thinking back, he realized that Carter had looked a little highly strung as well—probably due to her new position as leader of SG1. Since he was gone, there was nothing to hold her back. Jack knew that she was more than capable of commanding an SG unit. People respected her, looked up to her—he did, and he was the hardest sell of all. She didn't have anything to worry about. Hammond loved her—as a surrogate child and as the brilliant scientist who had pulled their asses out of the fire more times than he could remember.

Leaning back against the cold stone wall, he pulled a blanket around his body, trying to keep warm. While the Great Hall had been heated, the rooms in the castle foundation were anything but warm. Drafts abounded and the blankets never fully covered his lanky frame. It was one of those constants that convinced him that the universe was playing one big practical joke on him. No matter where he had gone throughout his life—whether it was on earth or another planet—his feet were always cold due to a substantial lack of blanket length. Ildanach was no exception.

Trying to conserve as much body heat as possible, he drew the blanket tighter around him and pulled his feet up toward his chest, resting his elbows on his knees. The uneven stones of the wall dug into his back but he welcomed that small discomfort because it reminded him of where he was and what had happened to him—not that he would forget anytime soon, he thought, his mouth turned down into a painful grimace.

He was tired, but he knew he was too wired to sleep. His team was here—minus Teal'c apparently—and they didn't know who he was. And from the looks of things, they didn't even know that he was here. And they probably weren't even looking.

Things were not looking up.

There had to be some way he could contact them to convey to them that he was still here, that he was still waiting for that one chance, that one small fighting chance, to go home.

He was still thinking that thought as he drifted off into a fitful sleep, his head cradled in his arms.

XXXXXXXXXX

Egan glided through the silent halls of Meath Castle while its occupants slept soundly all around him. This night he was finding it difficult to sleep. His mind would not quiet.

He had sat through the sessions in the Great Hall this evening—in the back among the shadows—while his brother played Lord, presiding over the event in a grand fashion—as he usually did when there was an audience to impress.

While he agreed with the alliance they were outlining, it was Lord Kentigern and Lady Morgana's motives that concerned him. His brother had changed these past few years, moving away from the warrior's path that he had at one time cherished.

Egan nodded quietly to a passing servant, smiling gently in greeting, his mind a million miles away. The servants were accustomed to his nightly strolls, as infrequent as they usually were. He realized that, as of late, these walks had almost become nightly, his restlessness beginning sometime after his first meeting with the strangers who stepped through the great stone ring.

His actions of late weighed heavily on his mind. He was the one who had greeted them and extended the hand of friendship that they had gladly returned in kind. He had brought them to his home, to his family, his people, without a word, without a warning of what could happen.

He had seen the hungry look in Lady Morgana's eyes that first evening and he knew that things would not go well for these strangers, especially for O'Neill. He was the strongest one—full of energy and vitality. He was a warrior, one educated in the art of war and in the ways of honor. Egan could see it in O'Neill's eyes, in his bearing, in his very being. O'Neill had a warrior's soul and walked the warrior's path.

After he had escorted Daniel Jackson and his colleagues to the Castle this day, he had spent the remainder of the afternoon deep in thought, walking through the gardens trying to gain a measure of peace.

Peace, however, would not come.

He trusted Lady Morgana and Lord Kentigern with his life. Kentigern was his brother and, even though he had his faults, he was family. When they were growing up, Kentigern had always been the center of attention, winning awards at the various contests and fairs each year, excelling in all things until he was eventually selected as Lord.

Lady Morgana was his wife and Meath's high priestess, but she had changed over the years. Egan remembered her from when he was younger, when she first had come to the village from the outlying territories, asking for protection and a home. Immediately, his father had welcomed her, for not only was she a priestess in service to our God Lugh, but she was beautiful. Throughout the years, she had aided both his father and his brother to become powerful rulers, bringing a peace to Meath that had not been seen in years.

However, even though she claimed to be trained in the path of warriors, there were times when Egan doubted her word—and her motives.

Just as he did now.

Glancing out a window as he passed, he noted the flight of several birds against the lightening sky. Dawn was soon to break. He sighed. This was another night where he would find no rest.

Egan paced though the silent halls, his hands clasped behind him, his expression thoughtful. But time and time again, his steps led him to the hallways and stairs that he wanted to avoid. Twice already this night he had turned from this very doorway, but yet three times his feet—or was it his heart—had led him here.

This time he did not turn away.

Stepping carefully down the scarcely lit staircase he made his way into the depths of the castle, the cool damp air caressing his face. There were no guards present on this lower level this night, as per Lady Morgana's order. Apparently, she felt secure, confident in her own abilities. Egan, however, suspected that O'Neill would surprise her.

Walking to the closed cell door, Egan peered in, trying to see the figure slumped in the shadows. Even though it looked as if O'Neill were sleeping, crouched uncomfortably against the wall, O'Neill was a light sleeper this night. Just as Egan started to turn away, a glint from O'Neill's open eyes caught his attention.

They stared at each other through the darkness for several moments before Egan moved to grab the key and the torch, opened the door to the cell, and stepped inside.

He placed the torch on the wall, eyeing O'Neill carefully, waiting to see if he would do something. O'Neill just watched Egan warily, his expression guarded. After a few minutes of locked eyes and tense silence, Egan kneeled down, finally getting a good look at O'Neill in the flickering light offered by the single torch. O'Neill looked better than he had several nights before, which was not saying much. His face was gaunt and pale and covered with a salt-and-pepper beard. His eyes were tired, but still held a small spark.

For Egan, that was all he needed to see.

"O'Neill, how much of the tea did you drink?" Egan asked, getting directly to the point, his eyes fastened to O'Neill's. Dawn was breaking and the guards would soon return. Egan knew he did not have much time.

After a moment's hesitation, O'Neill raised his hand, three fingers raised. Egan's eyes widened slightly in surprise while O'Neill looked on, a perplexed expression on his face. Egan explained a moment later.

"Normally, men such as yourself drink much more of the tea, double what you have had. Are you sure that was all you drank?"

O'Neill's firm nod was answer enough.

"Good. The confusion you are currently feeling should dissipate within the next day or so, allowing you to act independently of Lady Morgana." At O'Neill's disgusted expression, Egan continued. "I know you are not pleased, but I assure you, it will wear off. Take pleasure in your fortune. Most men find themselves at her mercy for much longer. How much of the Riordan did you take?"

O'Neill shrugged his shoulders and shook his head.

"My apologies," Egan said. "I am inquiring about your voice. Did Lady Morgana give you something to drink or eat?"

O'Neill nodded vigorously and pantomimed drinking, holding up a single finger.

"You drank one glass?" Egan asked, needing confirmation. At O'Neill's affirmative nod, he continued. "Good. Try saying something."

O'Neill's forehead furrowed, his eyebrows drawing close together in distrust, but he tried—without success. O'Neill shrugged apologetically.

"No, it is I who should apologize, but that must wait for another time. You will probably recover your voice within the day. Riordan, while effective, lasts only for a short time, usually less than a day. With your physical differences from my people, the time may be longer or shorter, unfortunately, I do not know which." Egan paused, his eye critically going over O'Neill's face. He reached out his hand to tilt O'Neill's head, but stopped quickly, realizing what he was doing. "O'Neill, I need to examine you. I am sure Morgana will return once the sun rises. I do not have much time."

O'Neill nodded, somewhat reluctantly.

"I aided another man, much like yourself, years ago when I was much younger," Egan admitted, taking O'Neill's head in his hands and tilting it to get a better look at him in the dim light. O'Neill drew back slightly, fighting Egan's hold until he finally acquiesced and relaxed his muscles, allowing Egan to work. "He was a formidable warrior and Lady Morgana took a personal interest in him—much like she has in you. He managed to escape, never to be found again. I can help you as I did him. Give me your hand," Egan ordered, and much to his surprise, O'Neill complied with a roll of his eyes and a sigh.

The man had not lost his spirit.

"Do you trust me, O'Neill?" Egan asked after a few moments, sitting back on his heels, giving O'Neill more room to move. His quick examination of O'Neill was promising. He was in fair health, in no pain, and his eyes were clearing quickly.

O'Neill narrowed his eyes and shook his head slightly back and forth.

The answer did not surprise Egan. "Before I go, let me tell you this. You can choose to believe me or not, it is entirely up to you," Egan said, speaking fast and keeping his voice low. "I think you are past the worst of what Lady Morgana's potions can do. I do not think she will give you more this day. She underestimates you, thinking she has already won. I, though, can tell the difference." Egan smiled without humor. "Morgana has limited control over your mind and it will continue to decrease as the day goes on. Remember that, but do not misuse the freedom it gives you. Your voice should also return soon. Use it wisely."

Egan stood, glancing back over his shoulder toward the door. If anyone saw him now, he would have a hard time explaining himself—even as the brother of the Lord. What he was about to do amounted to treason—and called for death.

He did it anyway.

Egan reached into the leather pouch at his hip, pulling out two small leaves. Looking above the greenery at O'Neill, he came to his final decision. From here there was no going back. "O'Neill, I know you do not trust us, but we are a good people. Take this. It will give you energy when you need it and it will help clear your mind—but remember this, it will only be a temporary solution for you. You must find your own way home."

Leaning down, Egan handed the green leaves to O'Neill and turned, walking out the door. Looking in the cell as he locked the door, Egan noticed that O'Neill had not moved, still holding the foliage in his outstretched hand.

Had Egan stayed, he might have heard the strangled whisper, barely louder than a gentle breeze.

"Thank you."

XXXXXXXXXX

It was afternoon on the second day of the negotiations and they were just about finished. Lady Morgana, Lord Kentigern, and the team from the SGC had reconvened first thing in the morning—with an equally large audience in attendance as the night before—and things were moving smoothly.

For Daniel, it was a blessing. He was eager to explore the village and some of the farms on the outskirts of the city—and the talks were boring him to death. Intellectually, he knew his place was here, but his emotional side had other thoughts on the matter. Maybe it was the fact that he really wasn't supposed to leave the table that made him so jumpy—especially when he knew the treasure trove that was outside waiting for him.

So, instead of wandering around in the sunshine, he was sitting in the Great Hall sandwiched between Sam and Stan Kovachek and trying not to be obvious about his boredom. Glancing to his right, he caught Sam's eye and smiled quietly at her. Daniel could tell from her expression that she also wished she were anywhere else but here. Paul and Stan, on the other hand, had jumped in with both feet and were having the time of their lives—at least that's how it appeared from Daniel's perspective.

Glancing around the room, he noticed most of those present in the audience were listening intently, some even taking notes. Egan, Daniel noticed, was standing once again in the back of the room doing a fine job of blending in with the tapestries.

Daniel glanced at his watch again. It was only one o'clock, fifteen minutes later than when he had looked the last time. He sighed quietly, trying to pay attention to what Paul and Lord Kentigern were discussing, something about mining rights. Apparently, the mineral samples they had brought back looked promising and the SGC wanted to get their hands on more. Although the samples didn't contain a lot of naquadah, there was enough to make some of the scientists very happy.

"The mineral you seek, why is it important?" Lady Morgana was asking.

"We have found it to be useful in many aspects, especially for defensive technologies such as shields," Sam said, drawing Morgana's attention away from Stan. "Unfortunately, naqahda is not plentiful on our planet."

Apparently, Sam was leaving some of the more interesting uses of naquadah—such as in ribbon devices, the Stargate, nanotechnology, power generators, and explosive devices—out of the conversation, Daniel thought absently, his mind and his gaze wandering around the chamber once again. An empty seat in the front row surprised him. Lady Morgana's friend was gone. He'd been there all morning. They'd caught each other's gaze on more than one occasion, Daniel usually turning away first, uncomfortable with the man's cool, level gaze.

Daniel leaned over to Sam, whispering quietly, "I'm going to the little boy's room." Sam nodded her understanding, her mind focused on naqahda and mining rights.

Daniel slid from his chair, quickly excusing himself from the table. Once he was out in the hallway, however, he was unsure why he was there. He really didn't have to go to the bathroom. Glancing around the empty hallway, he headed for the back of the castle, toward the bathroom and what he thought was the kitchen area. Since there was no one around, he didn't think it would hurt if he just poked his head into some of the rooms he was passing. You never knew when you would get another opportunity like this, to walk through a castle, he thought, convincing himself that his snooping was justified.

Halfway to the kitchens, he was pulled deeper into an empty room, nearly swiping him from off his feet. When he finally caught his balance, Daniel found himself face to face with the tall stranger in the dimly lit room. The stranger tried clearing his throat several times, but when he spoke, his voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, and very rough. The message, though, was crystal clear.

"Help me."

Daniel glanced at the open door, expecting someone to walk in the room. "What?" Daniel asked. "How can I help you? What do you want me to help you do?"

The man closed his eyes briefly before he answered. To Daniel, the man looked frustrated, which perplexed Daniel all the more.

"Need...help...gate."

"You need help with the gate?" Daniel was confused. Gate education would start once the treaty was signed. Did he want a jumpstart on the education? And why? "What do you want to do with the gate? I don't understand."

The man turned around, his hands running through his hair as he took a few steps away from Daniel deeper into the shadows. Several beats passed before the man turned around once again, moving in quickly and stepping close to Daniel, causing Daniel to back up several paces, nearly standing in the open doorway.

"Home."

"Home? What about your home? Did something happen to your home?" Daniel glanced away, gazing across the hall at the hanging tapestry. Looking back at the stranger, Daniel breathed in deeply and took a leap of faith. "What do you want me to do?"

"My lord?" came an inquiring voice from the hallway, making Daniel jump nearly out of his boots. He turned to face the girl.

"I am sorry, my Lord, if I startled you. I was just inquiring if you required something," said the young girl. Daniel figured she was no older than Cassie was, probably around twelve or thirteen.

"No. I was just looking around a little before I went back to the Great Hall," Daniel answered.

"Very well, my Lord. If you require anything, please do not hesitate to ask," she said, curtseying and walking away.

When Daniel glanced back in the dim room, his eyes narrowed in bewilderment. Squinting through the half-light, Daniel realized that he was alone. The stranger had slipped into the shadows and vanished without a trace, without a sound.

Confused, Daniel stepped back into the hall and slowly made his way back to the Great Hall. When he found his seat, he was surprised to see the stranger sitting across from him, occupying the same seat as before with the same blank expression on his face that he had worn throughout the talks.

This time, however, Daniel was unable to catch his eye. The stranger sat perfectly still, his eyes focused intently on Lady Morgana.

XXXXXXXXXX

That was a stupid idea, O'Neill, his mind chided him, as he strode down the passageway back to the Great Hall. If he stayed away any longer, Turlough was sure to come looking for him. But when Jack had seen Daniel roaming the hallways alone, he couldn't think of a better plan. What made him think that Daniel would understand what he was trying to say? Jack grumbled to himself. Sometimes that boy was denser than a ton of bricks. Why did it have to happen now of all days?

It was times like these that Jack was convinced that Daniel had had much more successful communication with dogs on more than one occasion.

Sliding back into his seat next to Turlough, Jack leaned back in the chair, relaxing his muscles, his hands clasped loosely in this lap. Normally, it was nearly impossible for him to sit still for any length of time. But right now, his life depended on it. The white noise in his mind was nearly gone and his voice was returning, albeit slower than he would have liked. If he took it slowly, freedom might only be a few steps away.

He just needed to get outside.

Focusing his attention on Lady Morgana's collarbone, Jack let his mind wander, thinking of the various possibilities, various situations. He knew he wasn't up to his usual levels, but even if he wasn't at his best, he should be able to get himself to the gate and somehow get himself home—even if he took a side trip to Abydos or Chulak. One thing he knew for sure—he didn't want to end up splattered against the iris just because he couldn't get his hands on his GDO.

Vaguely, he realized Daniel had returned to the Great Hall as well, sitting down at the main table. Out of the corner of his eye, Jack could tell that Daniel was trying to get his attention, but any contact that obvious would mean death for him—and Jack was positive on that one point. He wanted to stay alive. Jack remembered what Lady Morgana was like when she didn't get her way. He'd rather take hundreds of spoiled brats—just like the one he had seen in the grocery store just a few weeks ago, throwing a temper tantrum because she couldn't get a chocolate bar—than be subjected to what this overgrown spoiled brat Celtic priestess could throw at him.

But, all his plans hinged on one thing: he had to be outside of the castle.

While a zat gun would be nice, he didn't think Carter or Daniel would just let him borrow one—especially not in their present state. He probably couldn't rely on Davis or Kovachek, either, Jack thought. Morgana had probably managed to get her mitts on them as well.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jack saw Stan Kovachek glancing at his wristwatch before speaking up again. "Lady Morgana, Lord Kentigern, would it be possible to take a recess for an hour or two? We would like to rest briefly. Additionally, it will give me some time to draw up some of the documents about which we were speaking. Would that be acceptable to you?"

Even before Lord Kentigern could respond, a figure materialized beside him. Egan bowed deeply. "My lords, please pardon my interruption, but perhaps a short walk around the village would help clear everyone's mind, since you have been seated for the majority of the day."

"Thank you, Egan for suggesting that, but I believe our guests would rather take the time to rest and relax—" Lady Morgana said, only to be cut off by Daniel.

"Uh, actually, a walk would be good. It helps to get the brain cells working again," Daniel said, glancing around the table for support.

"If it is not too much trouble, I would also love to walk around the village again. Perhaps even others could join us. If they have questions, I'm sure my team would be delighted to speak with them in person," Stan said. O'Neill almost huffed in disbelief when Stan said "my team," but he managed to restrain himself before the sound emerged. From the look of fire in Sam's eyes, Jack was sure that Kovachek would get an earful from her later on tonight.

"My lord," Egan said, bowing his head in respect, "your idea would be pleasing to us as well. The people of Meath have many questions for you."

"Very well, then, if everyone is in agreement, then let us walk. The weather is fine," Lord Kentigern said, rising from his seat, his hand entwined with Lady Morgana's.

Jack was ecstatic. He was sure that the utter glee of the situation was shining brightly in his eyes, so he kept them downcast, meekly following the crowd and the leading of Turlough's hand.

After only a few paces, Lady Morgana stepped close to him, whispering in his ear. "Stay with the group and behave yourself and you will be rewarded this night."

Jack nodded his head in understanding, watching Morgana glide forward to walk alongside her husband. He could have jumped for joy, but decided restraint was the better option. The white noise was gone and he felt no compulsion to obey Morgana's command.

He glanced at his surroundings surreptitiously, looking for escape routes. The group was large, but he realized that as long as Turlough was at his side, he didn't stand a chance. He could wait. He'd waited this long. A few more minutes wouldn't hurt.

The weather was ideal—not too hot, not too cold. If it were Earth, he would have called this Indian Summer. He'd be okay out in the open tonight. He just had to get away. He knew how to survive in the woods overnight. He'd done it often enough—as a kid, running away from home and a situation he found intolerable at times and as an adult, on special ops missions and on planets far, far away.
He was self-sufficient. He knew how to take care of himself. On many occasions, he was the only one he could really rely on when things got tough. He couldn't even depend on his team or the SGC—they'd left him for dead.

Maybe it was time for him to retire—for good this time. He'd thought about it often enough, but the promises made to his dead son and others kept a hold on him. If he gave up now, he would fail them all and that was something that he wasn't prepared to do—yet.

Daniel, Sam, and Paul Davis were scattered throughout the crowd, small groups hovering around them. Daniel, of course, had his digital recorder out and was busy filming as they walked. Sam was chatting animatedly with Lady Morgana up near the front of the group, while Stan was holding court with Lord Kentigern.

Paul Davis was speaking with Hywel but keeping an eye on Daniel, making sure he didn't stray too far behind the group. Good luck, Paul, Jack thought, smiling to himself. It's been four years now and I still haven't been able to keep him from wandering off.

All the while, Jack kept his eyes peeled, looking for an opportunity to slip away unnoticed.

"Turlough," called Lady Morgana, her hand waving high in the air.

When Turlough answered her and advanced his way through the crowd to be at her side, Jack almost sighed in relief. He wished he could hear what they were saying, but they were too far away and there were too many people around, too many conversations, and too many voices.

A few moments later when Turlough loped off heading back to the castle, Jack realized that it was either now or never. He'd never have a better opportunity. Keeping an eye on Lady Morgana and watching for the impending return of Turlough, Jack maneuvered his way to the edge of the group, carefully waiting for the moment that could very well make or break the rest of his life.

XXXXXXXXXX

Daniel was having a hard time paying attention to what Hywel was saying. Recording the sights and sounds of the village was far more important right now—at least in Daniel's eyes. Glancing over quickly, he flashed Paul a grateful smile. At least one of them was paying attention—and responding coherently.

Daniel panned the camera around, catching glimpses of faces and buildings. They were nearing one of the village walls, closer to some of the residential areas of the city. Between some of the wooden and stone structures small gardens grew, most of them past the harvest and picked clean, leaving the plants to wither and die in the cold of winter that was soon to be upon the valley.

He maneuvered his way to the back of the group so he would be able to film without getting too much of the group in his way.

This was fantastic, Daniel thought, as he stopped suddenly, zooming the camera in closer, trying to get all the details of the carving outside a door they were passing. He didn't remember reading about any intricate wood carvings on Celtic homes before, but then, on Earth there really was never anything left for the archeologists to find—just dust, stone, and rubble.

If they could only see just a fraction of what I have, Daniel mused. They wouldn't know where to begin. One day, perhaps once the Goa'uld threat was no more, his colleagues would be able to see some of the things he had been fortunate enough to behold on planets far, far away.

Panning back the way they had come, he vaguely heard Lady Morgana call for someone. But, when the call was not repeated, he continued filming, realizing that the group was in a section he had not visited previously with Hywel.

Taking his eye away from the camera, he let it run, panning the village while he gazed about, looking for something else to record. Up ahead was a gap in the wall where two large gates stood open, allowing cattle and people to come and go. Beyond the gate, Daniel saw a river, not wide, but flowing swiftly. Several men were standing knee-deep in the water, their cloaks on the riverbank, their feet bare, their pants rolled up as high as they would go, and holding spears. Other men, several yards downstream, were handling fishing nets catching some of the smaller fish.

In the few minutes they stood at the gate, and Daniel observed the men as they caught several fish. On the edge of his awareness, he heard Hywel explaining about what was happening. Daniel smiled to himself when he caught a glimpse of Paul's bored expression. At least now he knows how I feel, Daniel thought.

A huge splash distracted them as one of the fishermen tripped and fell into the river. Seconds later, he regained his feet and the man walked to shore amidst the joking and teasing of his friends.

As Lord Kentigern called for them to keep moving, Daniel stayed to get one last glimpse of the fishermen. This was a way of life that was nearly extinct on Earth, replaced instead by machines, global commerce, and the mighty dollar. Although primitive, it certainly served its purpose.

Movement at the corner of his eye caught his attention. For a moment he could have sworn he saw something, but he reckoned that it was just his imagination or an animal in the brush.

He quickly turned to catch up with the rest of the group before he was left behind and had to listen to Sam's complaining later that night.

There were some things that never changed. That was one of them.

XXXXXXXXXX

Jack O'Neill ran.

As soon as he was past the fishermen and out of their sight, he ran as fast and as hard as he could. He followed the river, remembering distantly that the path from the Stargate ran parallel to the stream.

Jack didn't think anyone had seen him. For a brief minute, he thought Daniel might have given him away—Daniel and his stupid camera—but, when no angry shouts or running feet followed, Jack breathed a small sigh of relief.

Once he hit the shelter of the forest, he planned to stop, to rest briefly before pressing on. He only had a two-hour hike back to the gate—if he took the direct route, which was unlikely. He'd discovered that over the years of missions, the strangest things happened when you took the easy route. Better to be safe and go slow, than head directly for your ultimate destination—and perhaps a waiting army.

Soon he would be off this godforsaken planet and going home—back to his bed, his shower, warm food, crystal clear water, and comfortable clothing.

Only a few minutes into his escape and he was already winded. This was not part of the plan. He could see the darkness of the forest just ahead, the river turning, meandering deeper into the woods beyond, the dense foliage swallowing it whole.

A few more yards and then a few more and he could rest. That was his mantra. That's what was keeping him going—that and his sheer determination and bull-headed stubbornness. He was not going to die on a planet light years from home.

Stones and rocks kept digging into his feet with every step, piercing through the soft-soled shoes Morgana had given him. While they were fine within the village walls, he wouldn't recommend them for long distance running. Not enough support where you need it most, he thought, chuckling humorlessly to himself.

He ducked his head as he plowed his way into the undergrowth, trying to avoid tree limbs, twigs, and thorn bushes—but managing to get several scratches in the process.

A few more yards and you can rest.

He was wheezing. It was loud amidst the silence of the forest. The sound was all consuming.

A few more yards and you can rest.

His heart was pounding so strongly he was nearly convinced that it would burst out of his chest. He was confident that it could be heard beating several feet away from him.

A few more yards and you can rest.

Sweat poured down his face, into his eyes, obscuring his vision. He wiped savagely at his eyes trying to clear them enough so he could see where he was going. He leaped over fallen tree limbs time and again, nearly losing his balance each time, but regaining it to push on further into the forest.

A few more yards and you can rest.

There was a small clearing up ahead. Rest stop number one was fast approaching. If he didn't stop now, he was sure that he'd just end up passing out a few feet farther down the path.

Collapsing on the ground, his chest heaving as he tried to pull in oxygen to his body, he tried to calm his pounding heart. For several minutes, he simply sat there, reveling in the peace and quiet and the absolute pleasure of breathing fresh air.

His ears were open to the sounds of the forest, listening intently for what could be the end of his life—the sound of movement, the sound of people in the forest, the sound of people in the forest looking for him.

Except for his heaving breaths, which were quickly evening out, the only sounds came from the forest itself—the rustling of the leaves, the twittering of birds high above, the scuffling sound of small feet against trees. Nature at its best.

Peace.

Solitude.

Freedom.

He was free. Now he just had to get to the gate—and that was easier said than done.

Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew the two leaves that Egan had handed him earlier that day, even before the sun broke over the horizon. Examining them with a careful eye, he twirled him in his fingers, mesmerized by their quickly changing color as they caught the light.

As if by some internal force, he came to a decision.

He didn't really trust Egan, but he didn't have much choice. Why did Egan offer assistance to me if his only intention was to kill me? Jack thought, his eyes narrowed in concentration, focused intently on the leaves in his hand.

He would take one now to get as far as he could before nightfall, and then take one tomorrow morning.

Tucking one leaf away, he sniffed the remaining one carefully. It didn't smell like anything with which he was accustomed. It had a sweet odor, but was mixed with other smells—foreign, alien smells.

Dropping it on his tongue, he closed his mouth and started chewing. The aroma filled his senses, lifting his spirits. It slid down his throat, leaving behind a sugary aftertaste.

Sweet, he thought, gazing around, a half-smile on his face.

After a few minutes, he was ready to move on, this time slower and more carefully, covering his trail as he went. He traveled for several hours—at least that was what he estimated since he no longer had his watch. He doubled back on his trail several times, leaving false trails as well. The people of Meath—at least the warriors—were doubtless very good trackers. He wanted to make sure they had problems following him.

Several times he considered walking directly to the gate, trying to beat the guards that were sure to be pursuing him. To him it was obvious where he'd go—to the gate. But, if he bided his time, he might stand a better chance of getting away unseen—if they thought he was already gone. It was convoluted logic, he thought, but it was the best plan he had.

Evening had fallen a while ago—an hour or two, or so he thought. It was time to make camp for the night.

The leaf, stimulant—whatever it was—had worked quickly, giving him the boost of energy he needed.

He'd covered a lot of ground, and hoped he was still on the right path to the gate. He stayed off the main path, remembering that patrols might be doing their rounds. One thing was for certain: he did not want to meet anyone tonight.

The nearly full moon was giving him ample light, but the night was getting cold. He needed to find somewhere to rest for the night—preferably someplace quiet that didn't already have an occupant.

Detecting a small clearing up ahead, he scouted around, looking for signs of habitation. Once he was satisfied that it was clear, he settled down under the bows of a great pine tree, its limbs nearly brushing the needle covered ground.

The pine needles would provide a soft mattress of sorts, while the tree itself would give him cover. It was perfectly positioned at the foot of a small rocky hill, providing protection for his back.

The needles were thick, thick enough for him to dig in, covering as much of his body as possible, insulating him from the cold of the night.

The hooting of an owl and the rustling leaves of the trees surrounding him followed him down to a peaceful sleep.

XXXXXXXXXX

It seemed like all hell broke loose once they reached the castle.

They'd enjoyed an hour or two walking through the village, conversing with many who had questions. Lady Morgana was more than pleased to show SG1 the sights—obviously proud of what her people had accomplished. It seemed that every turn they made, Sam was more and more impressed by what she saw. These people, although far behind Earth technologically, were not primitive. Many of the methods they used here for metalwork were still being used on Earth today.

Lady Morgana also excelled at small talk, asking questions about Sam's home and her family and sharing much in return regarding her place in Meath. At the very least, Sam was certain she had found a friend in the woman and had already been invited back to visit for a more extended stay. One day, Sam thought, she might take Lady Morgana up on that offer.

Lady Morgana had sent Turlough ahead to have the kitchens prepare an early dinner. She was apparently eager to complete the treaty tonight and didn't want to inconvenience anyone by forcing them to talk about business on an empty stomach.

Minutes after they arrived at the castle, however, Lady Morgana pitched a fit—and a large one at that.

Lady Morgana's exclamation could he heard outside the Great Hall and its thick stone walls and heavy wooden doors. With her green eyes blazing, she advanced on Turlough with a fury so intense Sam wondered if Lady Morgana had somehow lost her senses.

Sam flashed a quick worried glance at Daniel, Stan, and Paul. Their shocked expressions must have matched hers, as they watched in fascination, unable to turn away from the scene unfolding before them.

"What do you mean he's missing? What kind of idiocy is this?"

"My Lady, you sent me on ahead...to prepare the evening meal...and he was not with you when you returned,"Turlough tried to explain, stumbling over his words, fear plainly evident in his voice, but Morgana was not listening.

"So, you are blaming me? Why is it that I get blamed for your incompetence?" Her voice was low and dangerous. Lord Kentigern was even standing back, watching and waiting to see where this would lead. Sam didn't take that as a good sign. All the servants in the Hall had stopped in their tracks; their eyes firmly fixed on the Lady of the manor and the punishment she was about to dispense.

Turlough was sweating and a small stain appeared on his pants, spreading downward to trickle on the floor—drops of yellow mixing with the dust and dirt. Sam tried to turn away, to give this man some privacy from the humiliation Lady Morgana was serving tonight, but she couldn't. Turlough—a big, brawny, masculine man's man—was out of his mind with fear. What kind of person was Morgana if she could strike such fear into the heart of a full-grown warrior?

Sam was sickened and she felt, rather than saw, Daniel start toward the two figures that were engaged in this fascinating dance before them. She grabbed Daniel's arm before he could step more than a foot, shaking her head furiously. No, this was not a time to interfere.

"But—" Daniel's protest died on his lips, his eyes going wide.

Sam turned to see Turlough sliding to the floor, blood pouring from the gaping wound in his neck. Lady Morgana hovered over him, a bloody knife in her hand and a look of triumph and determination in her eyes.

XXXXXXXXXX

"Would someone please take this piece of trash away from my sight?" Lady Morgana said, kicking the still warm body of her former servant and guard. Two servants hurried forward, lifting the body, a trail of blood dripping from the corpse as they carried it from the room.

Lady Morgana turned back to the crowd, wiping the knife on her gown, before she tucked the dagger back into its sheath at her waist. Gazing at the shocked faces before her, she offered only a small explanation. "He knew what was required of him and he was well aware of the penalty for not following through. I apologize that you all had to witness this...his punishment. That was not my intent. Please, let us retire to our rooms to allow the staff to prepare the room for us. We still have much to accomplish this night."

Daniel was shocked—or more accurately aghast—at what had transpired. To Lady Morgana, it was as if nothing had happened. When any self-respecting Lady would be serving tea and crumpets during afternoon tea, this Lady served up something far more dangerous—and deadly.

Vaguely, Daniel heard Stan Kovachek speaking quietly to Lord Kentigern and Lady Morgana. Something about how SG1 would wait for dinner in their quarters. All Daniel could do was stare at the dark puddle on the floor. It was only Sam's urging and her prodding that got him moving out of the Great Hall and up the stairs toward their rooms. Hywel was leading the way, his face ashen. Apparently, this was bothering more people than just Daniel.

Only once alone in their quarters with the door locked and secured behind them, did they relax a little, sitting meekly on the chairs adjacent to the fireplace. They all looked pale and Daniel knew that he could use the warmth of the fire right about now. The scene continued to play in his mind—especially her chilling disregard for human life.

"Sam, how...how can we even think about making a treaty with these...these...animals?" Daniel asked, the first to speak after an awkward silence settled on them, smothering them like a cold, wet blanket.

"Daniel—" Sam started, but was cut off by Paul Davis.

"Daniel, you have to realize that we cannot base our conclusions about an entire race of people on the actions of one. If we did that, where would humankind be?" Paul said his voice firm and determined.

"Paul, come on," Daniel said, pulling the glasses off his face and dropping them on the table. "We just can't ignore what happened down there. It was...it was murder, for all intents and purposes."

"Capital punishment, actually," Stan Kovachek said quietly. "Lady Morgana acted as judge, jury, and executioner. In many cultures, people have been killed for less severe errors in judgement."

"But...but...that doesn't mean we have to...to be friends with the likes of...of these people," Daniel said. He'd gotten up and was pacing around the room, too disturbed to sit still. His hands waved, gesturing widely, trying to emphasize his point.

"Daniel, I can understand your dislike of what happened down there," Paul started.

Daniel turned suddenly; his face screwed up as if he were in pain. "Dislike? Dislike doesn't even begin to approach what I'm feeling right now. Disgust would be more like it."

"Daniel, even I know you are not the naive archeologist you used to be," Paul said, coming to his feet, his eyes firm and determined. Sam and Stan merely looked on, holding their tongues, waiting to see how this played out. "How many times have you killed a Goa'uld or someone else?"

"But, that's different," Daniel argued, refusing to answer the question directly. The number was far higher than he liked—or even imagined—and he remembered each and every occasion. They haunted him in the dead of night, waking him from sleep, shaking and sweating as he relived it over and over again.

"How is it different?"

"I did it out of self defense or to protect a team member," Daniel retorted.

"Why?" Paul asked, his tone quiet, his head tilted to hear Daniel's response.

"Why did I protect myself or my team mate? Because...because it's the right thing to do."

"According to who?"

"What?" Daniel asked, surprise flickering across his face.

"Who says it's the right thing to do? You? What if they were rightfully defending themselves against an aggressor—you in this instance?"

"We only fire in self-defense, as a last resort. We're peaceful—"

"Peaceful my ass, Daniel," Paul said, his voice rising in volume. "You carry weapons and you know how to use them—quite effectively, or so I've been told. Since when do we have the right to impose our ways and our beliefs on the people we meet when we go through the gate?"

Daniel looked down at his shoes, unable to meet Paul's gaze. "We don't," he said quietly.

"Since when do we have the right to tell other races how to run their lives and their villages?" Paul's voice was quiet now, kinder even. He knew he'd gotten his point across.

"We don't."

"So?"

"So," Daniel said, glancing up, his eyes cold and hard. "I guess we go back downstairs and have dinner and act like nothing happened." Daniel knew his voice was bitter, but he didn't care. He was tired and it was time to go home. This hadn't worked out the way he wanted it to. "And then after dinner, we'll sit down, finish the treaty and sign it, finalizing our allegiance with these people. We'll all smile and act like civilized adults because this is the best thing for both of our peoples."

Daniel looked around at the faces before him—his friends—and rubbed his hand wearily across his face. He started for the door, pausing only to turn and offer a parting remark. "If you'll excuse me, I need to get some fresh air before the farce begins again tonight."

XXXXXXXXXX

Egan watched from the shadows as Daniel stormed out of his rooms, slamming the door closed behind him. No one would stop Daniel this night. Everyone was too busy with other matters—burying a friend and cleaning up the mess in the Great Hall.

Egan had seen the looks of disgust on the faces of the four strangers—especially on Daniel Jackson. The female, although taken aback by the violence, was more accepting of it. Samantha Carter had seen much in her young life. That much was apparent just by her reaction.

Egan followed Daniel at a discreet distance, silently gliding down the passageways, nodding quietly to servants as he passed.

Daniel was heading outside, Egan surmised, watching Daniel plod down the stairs. He walked out the door without a glance toward the Great Hall.

Would it be wise to follow the young man, to speak with him, to offer assurances on behalf of the people of Meath? In his current state of mind, Egan was doubtful whether or not Daniel would welcome the conversation. Although, Egan thought, stepping outside, pulling his cloak around his muscular frame, there would not be a better time.

Egan nodded his head firmly to himself, following the wake of curious stares as one of the strangers stormed away from the castle.

XXXXXXXXXX

"Daniel Jackson!"

Daniel turned, hearing his voice, and watched as Egan approach him cautiously.

"Good day, Egan," Daniel said, inclining his head slightly, his tone cold. He hadn't forgotten his manners, addressing Egan appropriately, but he was hoping Egan would get the message from the tone of his voice. Apparently, things were a little different here.

"Daniel Jackson, I wish to speak with you," Egan said, stepping close, his voice low so it wouldn't carry across the square.

"Look, Egan, I'm not really in the mood for a chat," Daniel said, turning his back to Egan.

"I know you do not look fondly on this people at this time, but it will pass."

Daniel turned quickly, his eyes dark and brooding. "That's probably putting it mildly. Somehow I doubt that these feelings will pass. Now, if I may bid you good day," Daniel said, once again turning to walk away.

"Lady Morgana does not speak for all of us," Egan said, his voice low and quiet, but carrying to Daniel's ears, causing him to stop, to listen. "There are things...you should know."

"Things?" Daniel asked, stepping back to face Egan, his eyes narrowed. "What things?"

"There is more to our simple existence than what meets the eye, Daniel Jackson," Egan said cryptically.

"Apparently," Daniel said his sarcasm thick.

Egan took a deep breath. Daniel waited patiently for him to continue. He was curious to see what Egan had to say in his defense. "Daniel, some of us are not who we seem to be," Egan started, but was cut off when a young boy ran to his side.

"Master Egan," the boy started without preamble. "Lord Eavan wishes to know if you intend on joining the search parties this night."

Egan looked down at the youngster kindly, a flicker of emotion passing over his face. "No, I will not be joining the search parties. I must attend Lord Kentigern shortly."

"Thank you, Master," the boy said, curtseying as best he could, first to Egan, then to Daniel. "I shall tell Lord Eavan. Good day, Master, my Lord."

Egan took a moment before he turned back to Daniel. "We are a proud people and our ways may be strange to you, but please believe me when I say that many of us do not condone the actions you witnessed this day. Good day, Daniel. Good day."

With that comment, Egan turned on his heel, heading back to the castle. Daniel watched him go, awash in emotion. He trusted Egan. He spoke from his heart, Daniel could tell.

There were others, however, whom he did not trust. Lady Morgana was one of them.

After standing alone for a few minutes, collecting his thoughts, Daniel also headed back into the castle, absently watching the search parties gear up. Daniel was sure that they wouldn't be able to find much in the dark. Even though they had torches, their prey had most likely gone to ground. Morning would bring light and a better opportunity to find whomever it was for whom they searched.

By tomorrow afternoon, Daniel planned to be back in the SGC. Hopefully by then, he'd be able to forget this planet ever existed.

XXXXXXXXXX

"Sam, let him go," Paul said, stopping Sam Carter from walking through the door after Daniel.

"He's obviously upset, thanks in no little part to you," Sam said, turning around, her voice cruel.

"Trust me, he'll be fine. He just needs to get some air, to let it work itself out," Paul said, watching Carter pace around the room, running her hand through her blonde hair.

"Yeah, and things have worked themselves out just swimmingly, haven't they?" Carter said, snorting in disbelief.

"Major Carter," Kovachek said as he stood, his hands clasped behind his back. "The treaty will be completed tonight and these people will become our allies. But, I suspect that that is not what is bothering you."

Sam Carter glanced up suddenly, her eyes wide. "Nothing's bothering me, Major. I'm just a little high-strung after that incident downstairs. If you'll excuse me, I plan to wash up and change for dinner. I suggest you do the same." A swish of fabric and the closing bedroom door effectively ended the conversation.

Paul looked at Stan Kovachek and offered a shrug.

"Well," Paul said with a half-smile, "apparently, we're not too popular tonight."

"So, I've noticed," Kovachek said, stepping lightly to his bedroom door. "I'm going to pull together the rest of the papers I'm going to need for tonight. You?"

"I think I'm going to sit here, put my feet up, and relax," Paul said. "It'll be my first 'vacation' in months."

"Sounds exotic," Kovachek said, smiling broadly.

Paul returned the grin in turn, as he dropped down to rest in one of the armchairs. "Oh, it is. Don't kid yourself. Who else could say that they vacationed in a castle in a working medieval village on the other side of the universe?"

XXXXXXXXXX

By the time Daniel returned to the room, Paul Davis was snoring quietly in front of the fireplace and Stan Kovachek had reams of paper spread across all the flat surfaces in the room. Daniel was actually surprised to find no sheets of paper on Paul himself.

"Hey," Daniel said, lifting up several sheets to plop down on a chair.

"Hey, Daniel," Stan said absently, sorting through some of the papers, making notations on others.

"Where's Sam?"

"Huh?" Stan looked up, his eyes finally focusing on Daniel. "Oh, Sam? Napping, I think. You can check if you want." Stan turned back to his paperwork.

"Stan, do you need some help with all this?" Daniel asked, gesturing around the room.

"Uh, no. Got everything under control."

"Really? Sure doesn't look like it."

"Oh, but he does. Can't you tell?" came Paul Davis' sleepy reply. "I tried to help him before, but he wouldn't let me."

"Hey, Paul. Sorry to wake you," Daniel said quietly as Paul sit up straighter in his chair.

"That's okay, Daniel. I really should apologize about before," Paul started to say, but Daniel cut him off with a wave of his hand.

"No, Paul. It was my fault. I overreacted. You were right. It just took me a little while to figure it out," Daniel said, smiling gently. "We okay?"

"Yeah," Paul said. He looked Daniel over carefully, before nodding his head. "Yeah, we're okay, but I know I'm getting hungry. Any word about dinner?"

"It looked like they were still getting things together down there when I came back up," Daniel said, watching Kovachek prowl around the room looking for a missing sheet of paper. After a beat of silence, Daniel continued speaking, his voice low so as not to carry to the adjoining room. "Is Sam okay?"

"Yeah. She was a little rattled with everything going on. Like you, she needed some time to sort things out for herself."

"There it is," Kovachek's triumphant exclamation came from somewhere in his bedroom, causing the two men in the sitting room to chuckle.

"Is he always like this?" Daniel asked.

"All the times I've traveled with him—which haven't been many—yes, he is," Paul said, grinning.

The creak of a door signaling Sam Carter's entrance cut off their chuckling.

"Hey, Sam," Daniel said, getting up to give Sam his seat. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she said absently, rubbing a hand across her face. Her hair was a little rumpled from sleep. She looked up at Daniel a moment later, concern in her eyes. "Are you? You kind of stormed out of here before. I should have gone after you, but the guys said you'd be all right. Are you?"

"Yes, I'm fine, Sam. Like I said, I just needed to get a little air," Daniel smiled at her, pointing to her hair. "Are you going to fix that before we go to dinner or do I have to stare at that all night?"

"What?" Sam asked, her hands immediately going to her head. She leaped up out of the chair and headed directly into the bathroom. "Oh, God, will you look at that," she exclaimed a few seconds later. When she emerged from the bathroom several minutes later, most of her hair was damp. It looked as if she had run wet fingers through her hair, trying to get it in some semblance of order.

"Better?"

"Yes, much," Daniel said, a grin on his face.

A knock sounded throughout the room. "Thanks, Daniel," Sam said, but moved quickly to the door. Kovachek poked his head out of his room, stacks of paper in his hands.

When Sam opened the door, Nerys stood before them, her hand raised to knock once again.

"Nerys," Sam said, "please come inside."

"My lady, my lords," Nerys said, bowing to them in turn. "I came to inform you that dinner will be served in the Great Hall."

"Dinner? Already?" Sam said, her hand self-consciously going to feel her damp hair.

"Yes, my lady. Lord Kentigern wishes to have time this evening to complete the alliance."

"Okay. We'll be down in a few minutes. Will that be sufficient?" Sam asked. Daniel followed her glance around the room. The suite itself looked like a scene from a bad disaster movie. Daniel was sure that Kovachek would need more than a few minutes to sort through all this.

"Very well, my lady. Lord Kentigern awaits you."

Daniel watched as Sam turned sharply back to Nerys. "Lord Kentigern awaits us? How about Lady Morgana?"

"No, my lady. She has other duties this night," Nerys said, bowing her head and closing the door.

"Other duties?" Daniel echoed his tone incredulous.

"That's what the lady said," Sam said, stepping to the center of the room, avoiding what paper she could. "Stan, will you be okay with all this?" Sam asked, gesturing to the items littered about the room.

"Yes, Major. It'll only take me a minute or so to put this together, otherwise I'm ready." Stan reported and bent down to pick up some of the loose sheets.

"Give me a minute, Sam, and I'll be ready," Paul said, moving quickly into the bathroom to freshen up.

"Daniel, how are you doing?" Sam asked, her tone quiet and full of concern.

"I'm okay. I can be ready in a few minutes. You should go and get yourself together," Daniel said, indicating her wrinkled BDUs.

"Yeah, you too," Sam said, as she smiled and turned go into her room.

A few minutes later found Sam, Paul, and Daniel waiting as Stan raced around the room gathering the final pieces to his paperwork puzzle.

"Sorry about this," Stan said, stacking the last few pages on the pile.

"That's okay," Sam said, her hand on the doorknob. "We ready?" Everyone answered with a nod and followed Sam through the door.

Dinner was a quiet affair. Daniel was happy to see that the room had been rearranged so they wouldn't have to stare at the spot where Turlough had stood only a few hours prior. The extra chairs had also been taken away. Apparently, the remainder of the negotiations would be carried out without an audience.

In an effort to lighten the dark mood that had settled on the group, Lord Kentigern related many stories of his childhood, of his growing up in the village. It was hard for Daniel to imagine the stoic man before them participating in the activities—some of them fantastic—which he was describing.

Servants hovered, replenishing the bowls of food on the table, and refilling the glasses of wine and ale. They all ate heartily of the food offered—roasted venison and various cheeses and a rough porridge. It wasn't the food of feasts, but it was filling and pleasing to the palate.

When they had eaten their fill, Lord Kentigern gestured for the table to be cleared and, only a few moments later, they got down to the business of the treaty.

"I know you all must have reservations about this after what you witnessed this afternoon," Lord Kentigern began, his expression earnest. "I would, if our places had been reversed. Egan has spent much time with you and I trust his judgement implicitly. He feels that I should do whatever is necessary to reassure you, to convince you, to finish what we have started. "

"Lord Kentigern, I would be lying if I told you that the incident you speak of did not disturb us greatly," Daniel said, speaking slowly, choosing his words carefully. "But, the actions of a few—or one—cannot be held against the whole. We believe that this alliance would be beneficial for both of our peoples and we would also like to see this through to the end," he said, glancing at his companions who were nodding their heads in agreement.

"Daniel Jackson speaks for all of us on this matter, Lord Kentigern," Kovachek said, flashing Daniel a small smile of appreciation. "We are fully prepared to complete the treaty this evening and return to our world tomorrow to present it to our own legislative body."

"I am pleased," Lord Kentigern said, smiling gratefully. "I believe there were only a few other points we needed to finalize," he said, but was cut off when a knock sounded at the door.

Anger crossed Lord Kentigern's features when the door opened to reveal a tall, lanky man, dressed in dark breeches and a forest green cloak. "Please, pardon the interruption, my Lord," the man said, bowing deeply. "I know you asked not to be disturbed, but we needed you inform you that the search parties are prepared to depart."

"Thank you, Eavan, for your report," Kentigern said, stiffly. "Please tell Nerys that we are not to be disturbed again this night."

"Yes, my Lord. Thank you, my Lord." Eavan bowed deeply again and quietly closed the door leaving the room to fall into an uncomfortable silence.

Daniel looked from face to face, uncertain where to begin—wondering if he should say or do anything. A few moments later, Lord Kentigern cleared his throat and looked up with an apologetic smile. "Please pardon the interruption. Where were we?"

"No, we understand you have other duties to perform," Kovachek said, shuffling some of the papers before him. "I believe we were speaking about some of the details of the research station we'd like to establish."

The talks went on for some time, enumerating the amount of equipment and people that would be allowed at the site—while also permitting the use of the site as a remote outpost for the SGC in the case of hostilities on Earth.

Lord Kentigern signed the bottom of the document Stan Kovachek had drawn up earlier—after Stan added the other points they had spoken about tonight—with a flourish and a smile. Kentigern stood and took Stan into a huge bear hug—shocking nearly everyone at the table.

"My brothers, let us drink to our alliance," Kentigern said, stepping over to the sideboard where pitchers of ale and wine sat alongside several empty goblets.

Accepting a glass from Kentigern, Daniel looked at Sam with a self-conscious smile. They had completed the alliance. They should be happy, they should be celebrating, but as they lifted their glasses to toast the beginning of their alliance, Daniel felt none of those emotions. Instead, a deep sense of foreboding fell over him. He put on a bright smile, hoping they couldn't see the fear and anxiety in his eyes, knowing that the smile didn't reach his eyes.

There was something wrong. He could feel it, but it was just out of reach. A shiver ran down his back. Something was very wrong. Very wrong, indeed.

XXXXXXXXXX

Jack had been on the move for some time before he finally spotted the Stargate through the foliage.

Morning hadn't proved to be kind to him. He woke up to the steady splatter of rain on his face. Great, he thought, just great. I arrive on this planet in the rain and I leave in the rain.

After his breakfast of a single leaf, Jack moved out, appreciating Egan's gift even more the second day—especially after spending a night on the hard, cold ground. He was tired, exhausted even, and sleeping outside with no equipment was always difficult.

His decision to stay off the main path had proved to be even more problematic once the rain came, making the ground slick and muddy. Over the course of the morning, he'd slipped and fallen several times, managing to get himself covered in a nice coating of mud. Helps me to blend in, Jack thought, smiling to himself. His knee was bothering him, a result of a number of factors—the weather was damp and cold and he had twisted it earlier, trying to stop himself from falling for the fifth time. Instead, he managed to wrench it nicely.

From his vantage point near the ruins, there was no one around the gate, no guards waiting, no nothing. Jack glanced over his shoulder. He had the distinct impression that he was being watched, but there was no one to be seen.

Jack decided it would be in his best interests to check out the neighborhood first, before walking out into the open. He didn't want to give anyone an easy target.

Traveling quietly, Jack made a wide circuit of the area, looking for signs of a possible ambush.

The fog hadn't settled in yet, for which Jack was grateful. The forest was very still with only the light tapping of raindrops on the leaves above. It was peaceful, almost too serene for his liking. The forest—the planet itself even—was waiting for something. It was as if it was holding its breath—just as he was.

Sitting back on his heels on the edge of the clearing, Jack stared at the DHD, his ticket off the planet. The area looked clear, as best as he could determine. The DHD looked like it was all in one piece. So, what was he waiting for?

He shook his head and launched himself up, heading directly to the DHD.

Overhead, a lone black raven cried out several times, its cry echoing throughout the valley. Jack looked up, focused on the circling bird overhead. He quickly doubled his pace, limping as fast as he could to the DHD. Something was going to happen and he didn't want to be here when it did.

He reached for the first glyph, surprised when his hand prickled. Not only did it feel like he'd just gotten a mild electric shock, but it felt like the DHD was covered in something thick. Great, he thought, watch the DHD blow up because of a short circuit or something. He pulled his hand back quickly, looking at the DHD carefully. When it didn't blow up, he tried the second glyph and then the third.

Jack frowned deeply. There was something different about this DHD. Something strange, but it seemed to be working.

After he entered the third glyph, he started to hear sounds behind him. Someone was coming. Glancing back, he saw the first signs of guards—some coming up the main path, others apparently following his trail. O'Neill quickly entered the fourth and fifth glyphs, keeping an eye on their approach.

It would be close.

A large black raven circled over his head in a tightening pattern.

The sixth glyph locked in and he pressed the seventh.

He slapped the dome on the center of the DHD with his hand and the initial plume of the wormhole rushed out, settling down into its usual blue and white surface.

Jack ran.

Over the rocks and stones, he ran.

Shouts and cries from behind him urged him forward toward the gate and the open vortex.

The raven landed before him on the top step of the gate platform and the unthinkable happened.

He stopped.

Once the raven touched down, the air before him started to shimmer and shift, like heat rising off the pavement in the summer.

From the middle of the tempest, a figure emerged. Jack backed away, his eyes wide in fear. He turned to run, but several guards had come up behind him, effectively cutting off his escape route.

Turning back, he watched as Lady Morgana stepped down off the last step onto the rocky ground.

He was a dead man.

"Hold him and bring him to the edge of the forest. There is no need for us to stand as a spectacle to all," she said, gesturing to Eavan and two other men. They quickly complied, wrestling with O'Neill as he tried to fight, to somehow get away from his captors. They dragged him to the edge of the forest, to the middle of the stone ruins, throwing him to the ground to kneel at her feet.

With a strong, muscular man on either side of him, holding his arms, holding him in place, he looked up, determined to meet her eyes. He wanted to—needed to—show her that she had not broken him. He needed to show her that he was strong, even stronger than she believed possible.

Her green eyes were cold and unfeeling as they gazed upon him.

"Eavan, do you have the device I requested?"

"Yes, my lady," Eavan said, stepping forward as he pulled a small metallic object from his pouch. It was smaller than the Goa'uld memory devices Jack remembered from his latest encounter with Hathor, but looked very similar in appearance.

The gate behind him disengaged with its usual snap-hiss, sealing his fate.

"Thank you, Eavan," Lady Morgana said, smiling at her obedient servant before she turned her attention to the kneeling man before her.

"O'Neill, my beloved, you have displeased me. You thought you would be able to get away from me? You thought you would be able to leave my service? You are dreadfully mistaken. I have many ways to gain your cooperation, but wished I did not have to go to such extreme means." Lady Morgana paused, her eyes ravaging his body as he knelt before her, restrained and submissive.

"This device will ensure your complete cooperation. It is very simple. It rewards appropriate behavior and inflicts punishment when needed. You will wear it for as long as you live. You will never see your friends or family again. You will never return home. You are mine for all eternity."

"Yeah, well if you haven't already noticed, there's quite a bit of wear and tear on this body. Eternity won't be that long," Jack said, trying his best to put up a strong front. She did have a sarcophagus and access to Goa'uld technology. What was going to stop her from keeping him alive for as long as she wanted?

"It is no matter, my love. Once this is in, you shall see that what I speak of is true. Hold him securely. He will fight it," Morgana said, leaning down to grab his face in her hands.

Jack fought her, trying to move, to escape, but to no avail. He was still weak and they were much stronger than he was—even on a good day. Someone grabbed his head from behind, steadying it, while Morgana placed the cool metal disc on the side of his temple. As soon as it touched his flesh, it dug in, disappearing beneath the surface of his skin, burying itself deep.

O'Neill screamed as the white-hot pain shot through his skull.

Through the pain, he could hear Morgana speaking. He tried to concentrate on her words, but he couldn't. He couldn't escape the pain. He couldn't escape her.

He had nowhere to go.

Despair and hopelessness followed him down as he drowned in the welcoming blackness of unconsciousness.

She had won.