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)

8. Chapter Eight

The sunlight glistened brightly off the water, a molten river of silvers and blues, catching and reflecting the sun's strong rays. Jack O'Neill shaded his eyes with his hand as he gazed out across the river toward the forested valley beyond.

He'd developed a routine of sorts over the past several days. After eating what passed as breakfast in his quarters, he would amble through the streets and alleys of Meath, exploring every nook and cranny until the sun finally set, causing him to retreat back indoors, back to the suite of rooms that had become his prison. They were a great deal nicer than the dungeons he had occupied earlier, but a cage was still a cage—no matter how well appointed.

It was nearly time for him to go back to the castle for the night. The sun was setting over the land—its last dying rays reflecting off the water's surface providing a beautiful panorama. The river cascaded gently down the side of the mountain, pooling in a large lake in the valley several miles away. Each night, he had found his way to this very spot, watching as the light slowly faded and the land was plunged into the darkness of the night.

The darkness progressed slowly, first overtaking the village and then spreading out to engulf the river and the forest beyond.

The land was beautiful, untouched, and peaceful, but yet, even as he gazed out across the resplendent land, inside he was dying, each day another piece of him surrendering to the darkness that lay within just as the light from the sun died each night.

Soon, there would be nothing left of the man who had been known as Jack O'Neill. The device he wore made sure of that. He wasn't even permitted the companionship of his memories. Hope had long since vanished, crushed to nothingness along with the snap-hiss of the closing wormhole five days before. How much longer he could go on like this, he did not know.

He was empty inside.

Sitting on the back edge of a large wooden wagon, Jack was about as far from the castle as he could go. At this distance, approximately ten feet from the village wall, he could stand the pain buzzing just beneath the surface of his mind—just for the few minutes of pleasure he found from gazing out on the foliage below.

He'd discovered his limits in the first few hours. He had tested the waters as it were—walking brazenly to the village walls, only to find the pain growing inside until he could no longer stand it, forcing him to retreat back into the village, closer to the castle at its center.

The villagers were tolerant of him—restrained, but no longer overtly threatening. They still looked on him with disgust in their eyes, however. Jack tried to shy away from close contact with anyone, deciding to become a loner as much as possible. It was easier that way. If he didn't see family and friends gathering together, laughing over their meals, it was easier for him to stop remembering—to stop remembering the good times he had had with his team and his family. If he didn't see their happiness and contentment, he could distance himself from the life he was forced to live.

Every time Jack saw a child, however, he was reminded of his son. Jack was reminded of the promise that he had made while holding the body of his dying child in his arms. And still now, every time he saw a child, Jack apologized in his heart and mind, asking forgiveness from his son for his failures in life and for his ultimate sin—failing his son when he needed a father. Ever since then, Jack had promised Charlie that he would do the right thing, but never had those words—that promise—been fulfilled. Instead, Jack brought death and destruction with him. It followed him from planet to planet, cursing everything he touched until finally, now, it rested fully on him.

He wasn't going home.

Home wasn't even a consideration. He would never again set foot on the planet of his birth. He would die here, light-years from home, unable to visit his son one last time. Unable to apologize in person for the horrible deeds he had done and the pain that he had caused to so many people.

At least his team was safe. Safe from the plague that was embodied in him. They would finally gain a measure of peace—even if he could not.

If only he could gain his son's forgiveness, maybe he'd be able to die in peace. But, he knew that that was not possible.

He was alone.

Jack O'Neill had died six days ago.

Only of the shell of the man remained.

Jack closed his eyes as the darkness finally enveloped the land. One single tear left a wet trail down his face, dripping to the ground below to be soaked up by the dust, vanishing in the twinkling of an eye.

XXXXXXXXXX

Egan stood at the upper window of the castle, gazing down at the bustling square below. The sun had just set and Jack O'Neill would be entering the castle soon. Egan had watched the man over the past several days. He had even attempted to speak with him on more than one occasion, but his efforts had been fruitless. O'Neill had brushed aside all of Egan's attempts at communication.

Jack O'Neill had given up hope.

Egan didn't really blame him. O'Neill's freedom had been a few steps away, only to have it torn away from him and replaced by this hellish existence. Egan closed his eyes, breathing deeply. His hands were tied. He had offered all the assistance he could and it hadn't been enough.

Opening his eyes to gaze out once again into the deepening darkness, Egan spotted the lone figure for which he had been searching. O'Neill stumbled slightly on the uneven ground barely letting his unsure footing upset his stride. His head was downcast, his eyes refusing to meet those around him. The cloak he wore swirled around his legs in the brisk wind and if O'Neill felt the chill, he didn't let on, leaving the material flying loose.

O'Neill was even thinner than he had been in the dungeons before, Egan noted critically, watching as O'Neill stumbled once again. The house servants had mentioned that O'Neill had not been eating well, merely picking at the food offered him. According to the same reports, insomnia had also set in for the warrior. Many nights, O'Neill could be found staring out the windows or aimlessly pacing the floor, walking with nowhere to go.

What could he do? Egan pondered the question thoughtfully, meaningfully. If he tried to offer help now, everyone would know, everyone would realize what his true feelings were. It was not yet time for such drastic action.

But, would O'Neill last long enough?

Only time would tell.

XXXXXXXXXX

Morning in Meath came quickly.

O'Neill blinked weakly at the morning sun's rays as they swept through the village, lighting everything in its path. He had been up for some time already, watching for the first glimpse of sunrise—the red and orange rays of light of the morning sun as they touched the treetops, sparkling like jewels.

Here time had no meaning. Each day merged into the next, with only the advancing of the sun to mark its passage. The farmers continued to farm, the soldiers to train, and the children to play.

A knock sounded quietly at the door and O'Neill turned his head, offering a brief call to allow entrance to the house servant. Jack hadn't bothered asking the servant's name. He had no use for it. He had no desire to speak to him or anyone else.

"My lord," the servant said, bowing as he entered with the morning breakfast tray.

O'Neill turned back to the window and the scenery below, ignoring the young man. He would be gone soon enough.

A few moments later, the door quietly closed once again, leaving O'Neill in solitude.

"You could be more thankful," a voice said, harsh and shrill, loud in the silence that had settled in the room.

"You could have announced your presence," O'Neill said simply, refusing to turn. His voice was quiet and uneven, unused as it had been these last few days.

"I did not think you would have welcomed me, my love," Lady Morgana said, stepping closer to O'Neill, her smell swirling around him, enveloping his senses.

"You were right."

"Why must you be so melancholy, my love?" Morgana asked, her voice even closer now, whispering in his ear, her hands lightly caressing his shoulders and arms. The hairs on his arms reacted immediately to her touch, standing up straight as a shiver rolled through his body.

Jack's response was bitter. "What reason do I have to be joyful? You've taken me away from my friends and my home."

"Oh, I've taken far more than just your friends and your home," Morgana taunted. When he refused to be baited by her comment, she continued. "Today, we have scheduled a special ceremony. The Gods are unhappy with your refusal to cooperate."

He finally turned to her, meeting her green eyes, his mouth inches from hers. His warm breath touched her face gently, their positions intimate. "Don't you mean that you are unhappy that I won't cooperate?"

Morgana smiled innocently, her green eyes dancing in amusement. "These things are but one and the same. We are going to offer up a sacrifice to appease the Gods, to ask for their mercy on our village."

"Have fun at the bonfire. I'm really not in the mood for a party," O'Neill said, turning back to the window. Life was starting in the square below as farmers and others began their chores for the day. Soon the village would be filled with activity, everyone having a share, everyone with a purpose, a use—except for him.

Morgana's firm voice broke into his thoughts, dragging him reluctantly back to the present. "Hywel will escort you to the ceremony later today. I expect you to cooperate with him." Her tone allowed no room for arguments.

O'Neill rolled his eyes heavenward and shrugged his shoulders in resignation. "Fine."

"Eat up, then. You have a big day ahead of you," Morgana said, her voice flowing behind her as she glided to the door.

Once he was sure she was gone, O'Neill released the breath he had been holding. When she was around, he had to keep his emotions in the strictest of checks—trying to keep his mind focused on something else, lest he accidentally try to throttle her to death—although, with that device in his head, that was not exactly a possibility.

The pain, though, he could really live without. Even when he was "behaving," O'Neill was convinced that the device still hummed and it was grating on his nerves.

Jack was unsure how long he stood there gazing out across the expanse before him, when a knock sounded once again at the door. Offering a brief, "Come," he turned to see Hywel enter the room and bow slightly, the epitome of propriety. That was one thing he couldn't fault them for, Jack had to admit. The house servants were polite and always kind to him, much to his surprise.

"My Lord," Hywel said, his deep voice carrying across the room. "Lady Morgana requests your presence at the ceremony this morning. Would you please accompany me?" Although the words were phrased as a question, Jack knew he had no choice in the matter. What Morgana wanted, she got. If she wanted him at this ceremony of hers, he would have to attend—even though it was the last thing he wanted to do.

"Sure, Hywel," O'Neill said quietly, stepping away from the window and the view. Hywel stopped Jack with a light touch on his arm, carefully settling a hunter green cloak across his shoulders and fastening it at his neck with one of the most intricately designed metal broaches Jack had ever seen.

The broach reminded him of Daniel, but Jack had finally managed to stop thinking about his former teammate every time he cast his eyes upon it. It was the little things that continued to plague him, to remind him of just how much he had lost.

"Thank you, Hywel," Jack said, waiting patiently for Hywel to lead him down the stairs to where Morgana waited.

Before they reached the stairs, however, Hywel stopped suddenly. "My Lord, may I speak with you?" Hywel's eyes were intense, the first time Jack had seen anything besides subservience in them. It piqued his curiosity and stirred something inside him—hope. He roughly shoved that emotion down, back into the depths, down into the back reaches of his mind. Hope was something that no longer had a place in his life.

"What is it?" Jack asked, his tone sharp, sharper than he originally intended, his back straightening with anger.

"I have been asked to relay a message to you from Lord Egan. He wishes to speak with you before the ceremony is to begin. If you agree, we must hurry for we do not have much time. Lady Morgana expects us to arrive forthwith."

"Hywel, I have no intention on speaking with anyone if I don't have to," Jack said, a measure of fire finding its way into his tone. He turned his back on Hywel, striding toward the stairs. "Let's get this over with. Just bring me to Lady Morgana.

Jack could hear the disappointment in Hywel's voice when he finally answered. "Yes, my Lord." Hywel quickly stepped up alongside him, accompanying him to the main floor and out of the castle door, steadily moving into the castle gardens to the west.

As they approached, Jack could hear the rumblings of a great crowd of people and moments later, they turned a corner and the crowd was spread out before him. Lady Morgana stood regally on a raised dais in the middle of the garden with a small child—a young boy no older than four or five—at her side. A dark stone altar lay behind her and, as they got closer, Jack could see its deep coloring was not part of the stone—it was bloodstained.

A pit of unease swirled in Jack's stomach, threatening to rid itself of the acid burrowing a hole into its lining. The atmosphere of the crowd was charged. They knew something was going to happen and Jack immediately knew that it involved that little boy.

And if it involved Morgana, it couldn't be good.

Hywel slowly walked them up toward the front of the ground; the crowd parting to allow them passage. Eventually, they reached the front and Jack found himself standing on the ground just before Morgana, a pleased smile radiating from her face, bathing the crowd in her aura of peace and authority.

To these people, she was the high priestess, the spokesperson for their God. Whatever she said, these people would do without question. He'd seen it before—on Earth and on many other planets. As much as he hated clichés, this one fit the bill: Absolute power corrupts absolutely. This was—she was—a prime example.

Apparently, Morgana had been waiting for them because as soon as they settled into the front row, she began speaking and chanting. The child beside her was looking on, a terrified expression on his face, too scared to move a muscle. Jack watched the young boy's blue eyes search the crowd. He was probably looking for his parents, Jack surmised, or at least a friendly face.

There were none to be found.

"My children, your God Lugh is not pleased and he has withdrawn his blessings from this village. The only way we can appease him is through a sacrifice and we have one to present to him." Morgana's voice carried through the garden, weaving its way through the foliage, caressing the senses of those present. Her voice was intoxicating. It was so thick you could drink it in, delighting in its luxuriant tones.

Jack shook his head, trying to clear it, finally putting all the pieces together. Morgana was going to sacrifice the child to her false god. She was going to kill that little boy before he even had the chance to grow up, to learn what it was to live, to love. He couldn't let that happen.

"Stop," he cried jumping to his feet and breaking the spell that she was weaving.

Morgana looked down upon him, anger in her face and madness in her eyes. "How dare you interrupt these sacred proceedings." Her voice became venomous, her finger pointing as his chest. "It is because of you that we have been forced to offer up a sacrifice to Lugh in order to appease him."

"Spare the child. Take me instead," Jack said, stepping forward boldly, acting only on instinct, his feet climbing the stairs to stand at her side, pushing the child behind him, shielding the young boy from her. Out of the corner of his eye, several of the larger guards had started moving as well, but a small gesture from her hand stopped them in their tracks.

"Your death will not please our God Lugh."

"What will? What can I do to spare the life of this child? Killing him will not appease your God."

Morgana did not hesitate. "You must pledge your life to him and to his people."

"My life is already in your hands," Jack said, emphatically.

"But it is not given freely. Give yourself freely to us and I will spare the child."

Jack looked at the small child, huddled behind him, clutching at his legs. The boy's blue eyes were wide, pleading with Jack, asking for his protection. Jack looked across the gardens at the crowd gathered before him, noticing Egan standing quietly off to the side.

Jack bowed his head, realizing he was choiceless. If he did not agree, the child would die. That was not acceptable—especially when he had the power in his hand to prevent it.

Jack dropped to his knees before Morgana, bowing his head in deference to her—to her authority, to her power, to her sovereignty. He raised his voice loud enough for it carry to all present, the dais offering a unique acoustic, adding finality and decisiveness to his words. "I do this of my own free will. I give my life, my soul, and my whole being to you. It is all I have to offer."

Morgana's hand rested gently on the back of his bent head. As soon as the words left his mouth, a feeling of deep despair enveloped him. The darkness in his heart and mind was finally complete. He had made a deal with the Devil to protect the life of a child and, in the process, he had lost his soul.

Morgana's chillingly bright smile was only eclipsed by the roar of the crowd.

XXXXXXXXXX

"General Hammond, we have to go back right now," Daniel's impassioned cry echoed off the hard concrete walls as he burst into the General's office without knocking. General George Hammond looked up suddenly and watched as Sam, Teal'c, Janet, and Jacob, a few steps behind, followed Daniel into his office.

"Doctor Jackson, what is the meaning of this?" Hammond raged, appalled at the distinct lack of protocol and courtesy as the horde trampled into his office with nothing more than a muttered apology on the part of Doctor Fraiser and Major Carter.

"Sir...General, we have to go back to Meath," Daniel repeated, his blue eyes feral, his hair ruffled, the Tok'ra memory device still implanted in his right temple. To Hammond, Daniel looked like a wild man. His pale white appearance and his rumpled uniform did not do anything to help dissuade his first impression.

Hammond's angry eyes roved throughout the room, piercing all those who would meet his gaze. "Would someone please explain to me what the hell is going on here."

"Sir," Sam said, stepping forward, drawing his attention to her. She was wringing her hands together, biting her lips as she pulled words to explain their intrusion. "We're sorry for barging in like this, but the memory device worked and we have to go back to Ildanach."

"Why does this request require the five of you to storm into my office yelling at the top of your lungs?" Hammond asked, trying to keep his temper under control. It was a tough battle. He was tired and frustrated and he still didn't have the answers he wanted and needed. He was still mourning the loss of a good officer and his friend. Hammond continued to worry about the team that had been left behind. They were not the same, hadn't been for weeks, and there was nothing he could do about it.

"I'm sorry, General, it's my fault that they all ran in here," Daniel said, his voice finally calming down to a more normal, Daniel-like level. "It's just that now there's a sense of urgency."

"Why now? You've been back for the better part of a week. What's gotten you all so fired up?"
"Sir," Janet said, stepping forward. Apparently, she was the next in line to face the firing squad of her commanding officer. "Daniel's fully regained his memories from his first trip to Ildanach. When you put together his memories with what recently occurred, it has given us...a measure of concern."

"Doctor Fraiser, what do you mean? Someone needs to explain to me, in simple easy-to-understand language, what the hell is happening here. What did you find?"

"George, it's not really a matter of what they found. It's more like, what they've finally realized," Jacob Carter said, pausing in his explanation to gather his thoughts. To Hammond, Jake could have even been consulting with his symbiote for all he knew. "George, Colonel O'Neill is still alive—or at least he was alive the last time SG1 was there. George, as amazing as this sounds, Daniel had personal contact with the Colonel, but due to a number of factors, did not realize who it was who had approached him."

Daniel picked up the explanation, drawing Hammond's attention back to the young archeologist. This was more like what he expected. He was getting answers, although these answers were just causing his stomach to do flips. "General, when we left Meath, Lady Morgana was searching the forests for a man. She was searching for Jack. Jack's already been through more than any man has the right to endure in one lifetime at the hands of that woman," Daniel said, his hands waving wildly as if to emphasize his words. His eyes took on an earnestness that Hammond recognized. "We left him behind the first time and then we returned, we made a treaty with these people, and left him behind again, not even lifting a hand to help him—even when he asked. The least we can do is to go back and find him and bring him home."

"It's understandable that you did not recognize him, but why is it that Majors Kovachek and Davis did not mention seeing the Colonel?" Hammond asked, his eyes boring into Daniel's blue ones. He had to ask the question, but Hammond knew he wasn't going to like the response. It was just the news he was dreading. They had left a good man behind to die. He stood, walking a few steps to stand at his open door, staring out at the Stargate standing proudly below the window of the briefing room.

"General, I don't think you understand just what Jack's been through. Lady Morgana tortured him, probably severely from the looks of it. He's as thin as I've ever seen him and it's an unhealthy thinness. With his beard and dressed like the villagers, he'd be easy to mistake on any given day." Daniel's eyes had regained some of the passion he'd been missing ever since they returned from Ildanach. Daniel was truly back. "Sir, he even carries himself differently. If we don't go back soon, I'm sure we're going to lose whatever's left of him."

"What do you propose, Doctor Jackson? How do you expect us to go up against a people that you consider to be savages? How do you expect us to defend ourselves against a people that can effectively alter your mind? We have no defense against that sort of thing." Daniel's impassioned plea had struck a chord with him but he couldn't allow them to walk into what was essentially a trap. Pacing closer to the briefing room window, he gazed down on the massive gate, the time allowing him the opportunity to organize his thoughts. Vaguely, he realized the quiet shuffling behind him indicated his visitors had followed him into the briefing room. With the lights in the briefing room off, he could see them standing behind him, scattered throughout the room, their reflection in the glass. They stood patiently waiting for his decision, for the words that would seal the fate of their friend.

"Doctor Jackson, I would do anything to retrieve Colonel O'Neill, but I don't see how that's feasible in this situation. I have no idea what might happen if I send you back. If I send you back with several heavily armed teams we'd be effectively waging war with our newest ally. The President would not look kindly upon such action."

"We're talking about Colonel O'Neill here, General," Daniel said, stepping forward and coming around the table toward the General, his impassioned plea urging his body to action. Daniel's words, though, had turned bitter. "How many times has SG1 saved the world? Why can't we expend a little effort to save him from certain death? What does that say about us? How do you think Jack would feel about that?"

Hammond turned to face the archeologist, his eyes narrowing. "Doctor, Colonel O'Neill would understand. He's a military man, taught to weigh the options and act in the best interests of the many."

"You're wrong," Daniel said, his tone firm. "I know Jack. I remember. Jack wouldn't understand. He expects us to go back for him. We don't leave our people behind. That's what we always say. Or has that mandate changed suddenly?"

"Doctor Jackson, you know our policies very well. As long as it is safe, we will attempt a rescue. From what you're telling me, Ildanach is anything but safe. It does not make sense to risk the lives of more men to rescue one who is most likely already dead."

"So that's what you really think," Daniel said angrily, his back straightening, his muscles tightening. Daniel paced a few steps closer, his hands clenching at his sides. Sam tried to warn him off, but he ignored her, plunging headfirst into uncharted waters. "You think he's already dead. You can go ahead and think that way but I sure as hell won't. I know Jack O'Neill, General, and I know the kind of man he is. He's still alive and he's waiting for us to help him. All he needs is a chance, an opening, no matter how small. I'm not going to sit around here twiddling my thumbs when I can give him that chance." Daniel turned on his heel to storm out the door when General Hammond's voice stopped him dead in his tracks.

"Doctor Jackson!"

Daniel turned back to face the reddened face of General Hammond, realization crossing his face. He knew had gone too far.

"First, I do not react kindly to that tone in my office or anywhere in my mountain and I trust that you will remember that. Secondly, I can also assure you that we are not twiddling our thumbs. If the opportunity presents itself to organize a rescue mission I will do so, and not a moment sooner," Hammond said, his voice turning quiet and deadly. "And thirdly, if I decide to launch a rescue mission I will do so because I believe it is the right thing to do, not because I was ordered to do so by a civilian archeologist. Am I understood?"

Daniel swallowed a lump in his throat before he answered. "Yes, Sir," Daniel said meekly.

"Very good. Now all of you get the hell out of here. Some of us actually have work to do," Hammond said, turning back to his office and his desk.

Once they were gone, he dropped into his chair, rubbing his hand savagely across his face. The encounter had exhausted him. Not only was he having problems sleeping, worrying deep into the wee hours of the night, but also he was emotionally drained. How many more people could he lose under his command? How many more letters would he have to write? How many more lies would he be forced to tell for the good of the country? How many parents and spouses would never know the truth of how their loved ones died?

Hammond closed his eyes, leaning his face in his opened hand, his elbow placed carefully on the desk blotter, lost in thoughts of despair.

XXXXXXXXXX

"Damn," Daniel said for the tenth time in the past minute, as they stood in the elevator waiting for it to deposit them on level 21. He was slumped in the corner of the elevator. To Sam, it looked like he was trying to hide, trying to blend into the metal elevator walls and disappear. It wasn't working.

"Daniel," Sam started, cautiously eyeing her teammate and her friend. He was calming down, but he still wasn't happy. His hair was in disarray and the memory device on the side of his face made him look frantic, wild even. "Deep down, you know the General's right. I know you don't agree with him, but he's only trying to do what's best for the command."

"I know," Daniel said, looking up quickly and catching her eye. "It's just that...we...I...need to do something instead of pace through the halls of the SGC. If I was there, maybe I could actually make a difference. Maybe I could find a way to make it up to him."

"Sam," Jacob Carter said, pulling her attention to him, his voice thoughtful. "I have to agree with Daniel."

Sam's head came up sharply. She had fully expected her father to take the military line. His siding with Daniel was not something he would have done before Selmac. Apparently, his symbiote was having a good influence on her father—much to her surprise. "What?"

"Sammy, I happen to think Daniel's right. We have to go back. I took a look at that herb and, by itself, it couldn't have done what it obviously did to you, Daniel, and Teal'c. There is something else involved."

"I must agree with you, Jacob Carter," Teal'c said. The Jaffa had been very quiet as of late, spending much time meditating and kel-no-reeming. "Normal drugs do not affect Jaffa the same way they do other people. Perhaps it involved a strong telepath. The Gou'ald have encountered several species that have been telepathic."

"That's exactly what I was thinking, Teal'c," Jacob said, nodding his head. The opening of the elevator door interrupted his thoughts as the group made their way down to the infirmary and Janet's office, where they could speak a little more freely. Only once they were all settled in Janet's office did Sam's father continue to speak.

"Janet, if I show you how to operate the memory device, will you be able to walk both Teal'c and Sam through the same day that I walked Daniel through? I'm not sure how long it will take. You can even have one of the nurses help you if you want."

"Sure. Why, where are you going?" Janet asked, stepping forward a few paces, her head angled as if to catch Jacob's words better.

"Selmac has some vague memories about a race of people the Gou'ald encountered long ago, but unfortunately the memories are fragmented at best. If I had to guess, I'd say it had something to do with the Furlings as well, but I can't be sure." Jacob rubbed his hand across his mouth, deep in thought. He was thinking out loud, trying to sort out his own faulty memories and recollections. He turned his attention back to Janet, his eyes narrowing as he tried to focus on one thing at a time. Knowing Selmac, the symbiote was probably giving her father a running dialogue as well. Sam didn't envy the headache he'd have once he was done. "Janet, I brought an extra memory device, so once I remove the one I used on Daniel, you should be able to do both Sam and Teal'c. We need to know what they know before we leave."

"Leave?" Sam asked, her forehead creased in confusion, as her father's steps moved him back to the office door. "Where are we going?"

Jacob's mouth was set in a thin line. "Right now, I'm going back to talk to George. We'll probably leave for Ildanach first thing in the morning, so make sure you get some sleep tonight. If my guess is correct, you'll probably need it."

XXXXXXXXXX

It only took a few minutes for Jacob Carter to ride the elevator down the several floors down to General Hammond's office. When they had first barged into his office a while before, Jacob had been surprised at the appearance of his friend. They'd known each other for many, many years and had been through some strange things together—most of which had occurred over the last few years.

This time, though, his friend looked every single day his age. He looked old. Okay, maybe not old, per se, but he looked tired, drawn, haggard, and weary. With the strange and taxing things that this particular command could throw at him, nothing else had shaken his friend as much as this one mission had.

Jacob knew that George had lost men before under his command. It was a fact of life. This time he'd lost one, but for some reason, this time it was different. Jack O'Neill was more than just a colleague. Jack O'Neill was more than just the second-in-command of the SGC. He was a friend. He was, in many ways, the glue that held things together. He kept the fight going. He kept things moving. He was energy embodied in the form of a man. Even when Jack O'Neill was dead tired, dragging on his feet and barely able to stand, he still kept going. The man didn't know when to stop. Jacob was convinced that Jack wouldn't know how to die.

When George had given up on Jack O'Neill, it didn't seem right. George, of all people, should know the sheer determination to hang onto life that Jack personified.

Approaching General Hammond's office quietly, he noted that the door was still ajar. Jacob took the opportunity to peer inside first, checking out the scenery. Hammond was sitting at his desk, much as Jacob suspected he would be, but it was his posture that was wrong. He was slumped in his chair, his head resting in the palm of his hand, and his eyes were closed. George Hammond was the poster child for despair.

Not a good sign.

Jacob tapped lightly on the doorframe, trying not to startle his friend.

George looked up immediately, his eyes finding Jacob standing awkwardly in the doorway, and a half-smile found a way to his face. "What can I do for you, Jake?" Hammond asked, his voice evenly toned, obviously not surprised that Jacob had found his way back to the office.

He had to broach the subject carefully, Jacob realized, so he started off slowly. "It's more like what I can do for you, George." Jacob said as he settled himself into the chair across from his friend.

George Hammond looked at Jacob, a perplexed expression crossing his face and his mouth turned down in a frown. That wasn't the reaction he was hoping for, Jacob noted to himself.

Jacob cleared his throat quietly and decided to dive right in. "You know, Daniel was right."

"Jake, that's not exactly what I wanted to hear right now," Hammond admitted with a tired sigh, much to Jacob's surprise.

"I know, George," Jacob said, trying to organize his thoughts. "But, you had to hear it. I think you need to send a team back to Ildanach."

"And why do you feel that way? I'm sure you're going to tell me, whether or not I want to hear about it," Hammond said, his tone resigned.

"There's something else going on there and we need to figure it out. Besides, Jack O'Neill is not someone you give up on."

George sighed, the fight going out of his body. "I know. I wish there were something more that I could do, but I don't see any possible solution."

"George, I don't think it will be necessary to send hundreds of armed soldiers to the planet. That would just be overkill. And besides, we don't want to tip our hand. I think we should send SG1 back to the planet. I can accompany them if you think it's necessary," Jacob added quickly, seeing the beginning of an argument coming to George's mouth. He paused long enough to allow his friend a comment.

"That all sounds well and good, but the last time we tried that SG5 came back minus their memories as well. What guarantee can you give me that it won't happen again?" Hammond was playing devil's advocate and was doing a good job, much to Jacob's dismay.

"I can't guarantee anything, George. And besides, nothing in life is guaranteed except death and taxes." Jacob sobered a minute later, getting back to the subject at hand. "I think if we go back with the appearance of fulfilling some of our end of the agreement, they won't think twice about SG1 poking around. Their minds have already been altered. What harm could they do now? They've been back, and hell, they've even had contact with Jack. No one should suspect a thing."

"That's what you say now," George said, obviously not convinced.

"I know it's your final decision on whether we go or whether we stay, but if you're asking for opinions, I'd say let's go and bring Jack home."

George stared at Jacob for a long time before answering. For a few minutes, Jacob thought he had lost the argument. He had nothing else to say. There was nothing more he could add to persuade his friend to go along with his half-constructed plan. Jacob kept quiet and still, trying to hide his restlessness.

George sighed once, long and hard, before speaking. "What do you need?"

"I'll put a list together. We can leave first thing in the morning," Jacob said, immediately rising to his feet.

"Fine," George said as Jacob turned to walk out the door. "Jake," George called, stopping Jacob in his tracks, just before he was out the door. "Just bring him home."

Jacob turned to gaze upon his friend. George looked better. He had one thing less to worry about. Jacob spoke from his heart. "I will, George. I promise...and thanks."

XXXXXXXXXX

It wasn't even afternoon and Morgana had been in his quarters for hours asking question after question—and Jack was answering, truthfully.

"So the Goa'uld have been building up remote outposts in order to develop weapons and technology to fight each other?" Morgana asked, her voice sounding surprised.

"That's what we seem to be hearing," Jack said from his position at the window. He'd been there gazing out across the village and the forests beyond the walls since they had returned to the castle. As soon as they had returned, Morgana had used another finely tuned Goa'uld device to adjust the settings on the one lodged inside his head. It had tingled a little, which Morgana had assured him was normal. She claimed that she was adjusting the sensitivity of the device, allowing him better access to some of his memories without causing horrible pain. So far, it had been just as she said. If he thought too hard about home, though, the pain was quick to return.

She'd given him just enough rope to answer her questions, but nothing more—not that he was expecting anything.

"So, in your opinion, if you were looking for a Goa'uld controlled world with stores of technology, which would you recommend?" Morgana asked, dragging him back to reality. She was lounging in one of the chairs nearest the fireplace, her cloak tossed carelessly on another chair, and her close fitting dress leaving nothing to the imagination.

"There are a number of worlds that would fit that description," Jack said simply, as he watched two young men wrestle in the street, a crowd gathering to wait for the outcome.

It looked like snow, Jack thought, looking at the gray sky above. Yesterday, sitting at the edge of town, he could smell the snow, even though it was still quite a distance away. It had been a game when he was younger, living in Minnesota, one with the great outdoors. He and his brothers had competed every winter for who could forecast the snowfall first. Jack had always won. It had been different back then, simpler.

But even now, hundreds of light years away from Earth, he could still tell when the weather was changing. Now that he was older, he had even more indicators. His knee was a dead giveaway, especially on this planet. Dampness seemed to be a constant companion here. Sometimes he thought that if he sat too long in one place, he would become covered in mold. So far, that hadn't happened—much to his surprise.

The wind yesterday had been blowing strong and true, the clouds building and moving toward the village. By evening, the temperature had dropped suddenly, more so than it had the days before. It was then that the smell had made its final change. He had predicted then, that there would be snow by midday. He was sure of it.

A light snow had started falling a few minutes ago, nearly at the stroke of noon.

"My love, I imagine that to be so, but I am asking for your opinion. If you had a choice, which world would you visit? Which world would offer the least resistance?"

Jack turned then, tearing his eyes from the soft snowflakes falling outside to look at Morgana, a perplexed expression crossing his face. "Why?"

"I wish to visit one of these worlds and reap the rewards of my journey." Morgana was much like himself, he'd discovered. She knew what she wanted and was determined to get it. There had to be some kind of result to merit the initial action, the initial expenditure of time and energy.

Jack thought for a moment, his eyes turning back to the scenery outside. "There are two worlds I remember," Jack said, his thoughts proving difficult to pull together. He had spent too long trying to forget, trying not to think about such things. He absently rubbed at the scar on his temple, his outward reminder of the device below the surface. "Both were under the control of minor Goa'uld overlords, real nobodies as far as we could figure, but General Hammond thought it was too dangerous. He planned to revisit the planets sometime down the line, months, maybe years from now, who knows exactly when. Both worlds were said to have a large store of Goa'uld weapons and devices."

For a moment, it was as if he was reliving those very memories, watching them unfold in his mind's eye. His arguments with Hammond over both planets—P8X-767 and P3X-429—blending into one. His determination and desire to retrieve those weapons ran strongly through his mind—almost as strong as when he had first read the report describing the planets' spoils. Those planets he would remember, of this he made sure, inscribing those symbols on his very consciousness. This would help in their fight against the Goa'uld. It was only a matter of time before he found a way to retrieve it.

Morgana's voice drew him back to the present. "Very good, my love," Morgana said as a sense of peacefulness settled on his mind, blinding him to anything but the calmness inside. "Shall we go to the Stargate and travel to these worlds? I'd very much like to see them."

Jack turned back to her, resignation etched into every muscle. His words, though, were said with as much sarcasm as he could muster—not enough to write home about. "Yes, I can take you there, but we have to be careful. Those worlds are not a place for a lady such as yourself."

Morgana stood, gliding the few steps to rest her hand on his shoulder, to gaze directly in his eyes. "I am not your average Lady, my love," she said, her voice nearly purring with pleasure.

"So I've noticed," Jack said, keeping his eyes locked with hers, which were alight with playfulness and delight.

She ignored his comment, instead, stepping toward the door, grasping her cloak in one single graceful movement as she passed. "I shall call together a small group to accompany us. We can be underway within the hour."

Jack bowed his head. "As you wish, my Lady. As you wish."

A swish of fabric against the door and she was gone, leaving Jack to stare out at the snow lightly falling, coating the ground in a blanket of white, covering the dirt and grime. Jack wished he were outside, the snow falling on him. Maybe the snow could cover him and clean away the blackness that had replaced his soul.

XXXXXXXXXX

A frantic house servant met Egan as soon as he walked into the castle. Lord Kentigern requested his presence immediately in his quarters.

Egan bowed to the servant, assuring him that he would comply. Walking up the flight of stairs to the royal wing of the castle gave Egan time to ponder the reason for his summons. As of late, the only reason his brother requested his presence was to gloat over one thing or another. These meetings never went well, Egan realized, rapping on the door to his brother's suite of rooms.

The door opened moments later to reveal Kentigern's personal servant, Oran. "My Lord," Oran said, bowing deeply, relief crossing his ancient features. "Lord Kentigern is not well. He has yet to rise from bed this morning. Please talk to him. You must see that he is well."

"Oran, I will take care of my brother, fear not. Please leave us alone. We must speak."

"Yes, my Lord. I shall. Call if you require anything. I shall wait just outside the door." A breath later and Oran was outside, the door closing behind him.

Egan shook his head in amazement and strode to his brother's private chamber.

Stepping inside, Egan could tell that something was wrong, very wrong. The scent of death hung thick in the air. "Kentigern?" Egan called, praying that he was not too late. The room was dark, the light from the main chamber barely cutting a path to the large bed.

A weak reply answered and Egan stepped forward cautiously, moving toward the windows to draw the thick fabric back to allow some natural light to enter the room. The darkness of the day, though, did not help to lighten the room.

Squinting through the half-light, he could see his brother's form huddled on the bed, hidden beneath mounds of covers. Kentigern was muttering something, just under his breath. Egan stepped closer, leaning down to catch the words before they faded into the darkness.

"What is it, brother? What has happened?" Egan asked, hoping his brother could hear him and understand. Egan couldn't understand what had happened. His brother had been in good health the day before, laughing and joking with his wife, enjoying a hearty evening meal. For something to come on this suddenly was unthinkable.

"Egan..."Kentigern whispered, his voice barely loud enough to rise to meet Egan's ears. "You came."

"Yes, my brother. I am here. What can I do to help you?"

"Nothing, my brother, nothing at all. I am a dead man. The raven visited last night. I do not have much longer to live."

"Have you spoken with Lady Morgana to try and intercede with the Gods? Perhaps she can buy you some time..." Egan suggested, grasping at straws he didn't even believe were true.

"If her intercession has not worked yet, then I do not believe it shall happen in my lifetime, brother." A silent cough wracked his brother's body leaving him gasping for breath.

"Morgana has been here and she was unable to help you?" Egan was surprised

"She said she would try to offer a sacrifice to appease the Gods. Oran reports that a sacrifice of the highest order had been offered and refused by the Gods. Once she returns, I will be able to say my final farewell to her."

"There must be something more we can do," Egan said, a measure of panic finding its way into his heart. It was happening again, just as it had happened to his father years before. Would he be next? How long would it be until he too fell ill to this strange malady?

"Egan, be calm. Now that I am gone, you will be crowned Lord of Meath. Rule as I would have," Kentigern said, his breath leaving in a whoosh.

"Kentigern!" Egan yelled, reaching down to feel for his brother's pulse, to feel the gentle rising and fall of his brother's chest—anything to indicate that he was still alive. Under his fumbling fingers, Egan felt a light, thready pulse and his sigh of relief was loud in the enclosed room.

Egan quickly found his feet, racing out to the hallway where he had left his brother's servant. "Oran," Egan began, a plan forming in his mind. "Remain with Lord Kentigern until Lady Morgana returns. When she comes to my brother, you must come and find me. Do you understand?"

"Yes, my Lord," Oran said, puzzlement across his face.

"What are you to do?" Egan asked, wanting confirmation from the frightened house servant.

"Find you when Lady Morgana returns to her husband."

"Yes. Do not forget. It is very important," Egan said, rushing off toward the stairs.

"My Lord," Oran called after him. "Where shall you be?"

"In the family library, Oran. Come find me in the library."

XXXXXXXXXX

Egan pored over the books, looking, searching for something that had struck his mind while he stood over his brother's dying body two hours previously.

His research had only deepened his suspicions. There had been a number of unexplained deaths—first within those serving in the temple service—priests and priestesses alike—then among the nobles, and then his father. Over the years, such unexplained deaths had continued to occur, but they were few and far between. These deaths always happened in pairs. Most had been explained by a quickly killing illness, a plague brought on by the Gods because of their displeasure. Each time, the sacrifice of a small child had helped to stop the killing.

This time, though, no child had been sacrificed. However, there had been one death—Turlough, at the hands of Lady Morgana.

Going back through the records, Egan made one further discovery: there had been no strange deaths until after Morgana arrived. Somehow, all of these deaths started and ended with her.

"My Lord," Oran's breathless entreaty sounded throughout the cavernous room.

"Yes, Oran?" Egan said, rising to meet the servant halfway.

"Lady Morgana is with Lord Kentigern and she has requested a party of armed guards accompany her to the stone ring."

"How many?" Egan asked, his eyes narrowing as he considered all his options. He needed to move quickly, but it appeared that Lady Morgana was moving even faster than he had originally anticipated.

He would not underestimate her again.

"Twenty. She asked for twenty to accompany her. Half of those who accompanied her to search for the rebel."

"Very well, Oran," Egan said, patting the elderly servant on the shoulder. "Please see to any of Lord Kentigern's requests. I will also accompany Lady Morgana. I must prepare to depart."

"Yes, my Lord," Oran said, bowing and turning quickly to race back to the upstairs chamber. He hesitated just inside the door, turning back to look at Egan, sending him a searching look. "My Lord, are you the new Lord of Meath?"

Egan's head came up quickly, surprise filtering across his face. His tone was sharper than he intended it to be. "Why do you ask? Is Lord Kentigern dead?"

"No, my Lord," Oran said, his words laced through with worry. But as he continued, strength found its way back into his voice. "I just...I know that Lord Kentigern will not make it through the afternoon. As we stand here, Lord Kentigern has probably already passed on."

"Why do you say that?"

"It is well known that when there is one death, another shall occur. I had hoped it wouldn't be Lord Kentigern."

Egan was confused. The servants were expecting someone else to die? How did they know something that he had only just figured out? "What do you mean?"

"It was only a matter of time before she came for him too. It was the same with your father. They thought they were in love," Oran said, his words echoing strangely thought the room. "It was not love that she was seeking. It was something more, something much more."

"What was she after?" Egan tried to keep the surprise and astonishment from his voice, but was unable.

"Call it what you like. Some call it power, others the breath of life. Either would be accurate," Oran said, pausing before he offered his final piece of advice. "I tried to warn Lord Kentigern when he was a young man, but he would not listen, You, though, are different. You would do best to heed my warning. Beware of Lady Morgana. She is not who or what she seems."

"That much I already know," Egan said, his voice quiet and solemn.

"Then you do not need my warnings, my Lord. If I may," Oran said, bowing in respect, "I must prepare my Lord's body for burial. It is the last act of respect to the former Lord of Meath I must perform."

Standing speechless in the doorway to the library, Egan pondered the conversation he had just had with Oran. It confirmed his worst fears, but also bolstered his own determination. He had to do something for O'Neill. If he had to guess, O'Neill was next in line.

XXXXXXXXXX

Egan walked with the group toward the Stargate. Lady Morgana and Jack O'Neill were in the lead, speaking quietly to each other. The lightly falling snow helped to muffle any sound that may have carried to his ears. Every now and then, Morgana's arm would link with O'Neill's and her laughter would float to where Egan walked beside Hywel.

For a woman who had just lost her husband, Morgana did not look upset. She had shed a few tears as the servants removed Kentigern's quickly stiffening body from his chambers, but those had immediately dried once they were on the trail leading to the Stargate.

Her actions only convinced Egan more fully of her traitorous nature, especially toward his brother and the people of Meath.

They were nearing the Stargate, the ruins just ahead, the cold weather providing motivation for a quicker pace through the foliage. As they approached the clearing, O'Neill stepped forward, leading the way to the dialing device standing several yards from the ancient stone structure. Egan took a moment to gaze around, squinting through the softly falling snow as the valley below slowly changed its color. Much to Egan's surprise, O'Neill's voice carried through the clearing toward him, causing him to turn immediately at the sound.

"Egan," O'Neill called out, standing just before the dialing device.

"Yes, my Lord?" Egan asked, moving steadily toward him. O'Neill had had no desire to speak with him these past several days, why now?

"Egan, in case you must come for us, you need to know where we are. I want to show you the symbols to the planet where we are going." O'Neill looked briefly at Morgana before he continued. "Lady Morgana suggested leaving the information with someone at the castle. I'd rather leave it with you."

"Thank you," Egan said simply, bowing in respect. There was still something of O'Neill left, barely an ember, but something was there. But if the man was like anything like himself, Egan knew that O'Neill would stick by his word, his promise, and his vow that he had uttered before the crowd. It was the Warrior's Way. O'Neill's word was his bond. He would follow through even if it meant his death. Egan didn't want it to come to that.

"It's very simple," O'Neill said, turning to the device before them, pulling Egan closer. O'Neill had a small piece of paper in his hand to which he referred. "These are the coordinates of the two planets that we're going to check out. We're going to this one first," O'Neill said, pointing to the top grouping of symbols. "I don't know what's it's called and it doesn't really matter. All you have to do is push the seven symbols in order and then press the center dome of the DHD. The gate will do the rest. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Egan nodded, matching the symbols on the paper with the ones carved on the device.

"Good, because I don't have the time to explain anything else. Lady Morgana's in a hurry to get moving. Just watch what I do," O'Neill said, slowly pressing the symbols in order. As soon as he touched the center dome, a plume of water shot out from the surface of the gate, eventually settling back into the confines of the stone ring, shimmering like the water upon the surface of a lake.

"And you merely step through the water?" Egan asked, his eyes wide. The rest of the group had stepped back several paces as soon as the gate activated, panic etched into their faces. As warriors, however, they stood their ground as best they could when faced with the unknown.

"Basically," O'Neill nodded, stepping carefully around the dialing device, watching for the rocks under his feet. "It's not really water, you're actually looking at the event horizon of a wormhole, but I'm sure that Carter would—"His words cut off abruptly, a loud moan replacing them, as he crumpled to the ground, his hands clutching his head.

"My Lord," Egan exclaimed, rushing to the fallen man's side. As soon as Egan reached O'Neill, the man was already coming around, trying to straighten himself out. He was having difficulty getting his feet under himself, Egan noted. Taking one of O'Neill's arms, Egan helped to steady the man, bringing him to his feet. After a minute, O'Neill felt strong enough to stand on his own, although he was pale and shaking.

"Thanks, Egan. Must not keep the Lady waiting," O'Neill said with a half-smile, the humor never reaching his eyes. Morgana was standing at the top of the Stargate stairs, her eyes flashing in anger. O'Neill shuffled up the stairs, gesturing for the rest of the party to follow.

Egan watched them step through the pool of standing water, disappearing from his sight until only Hywel was left standing at his side. Egan was convinced he would not see many of those warriors again. They were going to an unknown planet armed with knives and swords.

Just what awaited them, Egan did not know.

They turned, starting to walk back the way they had come, when the gate closed with a final snap-hiss. Egan looked back, staring at the rock face. It was only then that a sense of dread filled his belly. The one man who could probably help them the most was not permitted to remember and he wasn't even armed, going to battle with only his wits and the little strength he had remaining.

Egan sighed deeply, turning back to where Hywel waited patiently, standing beside the ruins at the entrance to the trail.

They were gone.

His brother was dead.

The people of Meath needed his guidance—especially now.

Egan had never felt more alone than he did right now, standing in the Stargate clearing with the snow falling gently around him, quieting every noise, every sound, with a blanket of white.

Egan shook off the feeling, shoving the paper from O'Neill deep into a pocket. He had other things to do besides think about O'Neill, Egan said to himself. He was Lord of Meath. His brother was dead and Egan had just let the murderer—his brother's own wife—step through a doorway to another planet.

Such were the times, he thought, stepping beside his friend and companion.

"My Lord, are you all right?" Hywel asked, concern filling his voice.

"Yes, Hywel. I am fine. We must get back for my first official duty as Lord of Meath. My brother's funeral is tonight and I must not be late. Come, let us walk."

"Yes, my Lord. As you wish," was Hywel's only reply before the forest and the snow obscured all traces of their presence in the clearing.

XXXXXXXXXX

Morning came quickly. After an eventful and emotionally charged day, SG1 found themselves hurriedly preparing for a rescue mission. Into the late hours of the night, they had sat, along with Jacob Carter, planning and preparing for the fight that might lie ahead.

Much still remained uncertain—there were too many variables to guess at just what could happen, what might happen. Finally, in the early hours of the morning, Jacob called it a night, the group finally deciding on the best plan of attack on their newest ally.

A few hours after their heads hit the pillow in their on-base quarters, they met in the gateroom, geared up, and ready to go. They were a motley bunch, Jacob thought, looking critically at the three standing before him. Both Sam and Daniel had dark circles under their eyes, the strain and lack of sleep finally taking its toll on them both. Even Teal'c was showing signs of stress and strain, although not as obviously as his human companions. His eyes were ever watchful, though, taking in their appearance and measuring it against what he knew about them, drawing his own carefully formed conclusions.

General Hammond stepped briskly into the gateroom, the frown on his face deepening when he caught his first glimpse of the two members of SG1.

"Major Carter, Doctor Jackson, are you up for this mission? If not we can postpone it a few hours," Hammond suggested.

Sam and Daniel's response was immediate.

"No, we're fine."

"No, sir. We'd rather just get underway."

Hammond eyed them critically much in the same way that Jacob had a few minutes previously. "Very well, people. From the latest MALP readings this morning, it's started snowing on Ildanach. Good luck and God speed. Bring him home."

"Yes, sir" Carter said, stepping up beside Jacob as Hammond gestured for the gate technician to start dialing. "That's exactly what we intend on doing."

Teal'c was positioning FRED, loaded down with various essential items, at the base of the ramp. A feeling of eager anticipation filled the air of the gateroom. They had finally broken through their mental barricades. They finally had a purpose once again and this time they intended on fulfilling their mission objective whatever the cost.

This time they would bring Jack O'Neill home.

XXXXXXXXXX

Daniel Jackson stepped out onto the ground of Ildanach as a gust of wind swirled the lightly falling snow around his head, his glasses fogging instantly from the rush of cold air. He pulled the glasses from his face, folding them neatly, and tucking them into a pocket. Small clouds of water vapor misted from his mouth with every breath.

Daniel stepped carefully from the Stargate platform, allowing Teal'c and FRED enough room to emerge from the wormhole. He wasn't in the mood to be trampled by a Jaffa or the loaded FRED. He was just glad Teal'c had volunteered to take it through. He always had problems getting it to do exactly what he wanted. Teal'c, though, never had a problem. He probably just gave it the Jaffa version of the evil eye and it fell into place, Daniel thought wryly, taking a moment to gaze at his surroundings.

The scenery before him was vastly different than it had been, but in many ways the same. The light coating of snow gave the planet a serenity that hadn't existed before. The peacefulness that he had first observed was still present, however, and he took a deep breath, letting the calmness fill him. The perfect white snow covered the darkness and the secrets in a layer of outward pureness.

Sam had moved out to stand beside the DHD, her weapon pointed at the tree line ahead, her eyes efficiently roving the area, looking for anything that moved. She was playing the good little soldier routine, Daniel thought to himself, smiling humorlessly. He had tried to pull her aside last night to talk to her, to see how she was doing after Janet had broken through with the Tok'ra memory device, pulling the memories that had been buried back to the surface. It had been more difficult with Sam for some reason, Daniel recalled. Teal'c's memories were restored quickly, but Sam was another story.

It had taken the combined efforts of Janet and Jacob to figure out the problem. Daniel had been half-asleep by the time they had figured it out. It had something to do with the memories of Jolinar. Apparently, they were confusing the Tok'ra memory device. Go figure, Daniel thought, chuckling to himself, nothing ever goes according to plan.

Sam was feeling guilty. He knew that. It was the same way he felt. Out of all the people to whom this could have happened, it had to be Jack. Life was funny that way and it apparently had a very cruel sense of humor, Daniel thought, picking his way across the open area before him. It was even more treacherous than before, the uneven terrain hidden by the snow.

It wasn't enough that Jack got left behind for months in Iraq and that horrible things happened to the ones he loved. Someone or something loved to see Jack suffer.

"Hey, Sam," Daniel called, approaching his friend from behind. With the way she was acting, he didn't want to end up on the wrong end of her P90.

"Yes, Daniel?" Sam asked without turning.

"See anything?"

"If I had, I wouldn't have let you come tromping across the rocks," Sam said, her tone matter-of-fact. "You make as much noise as a troop of elephants."

"Thanks, Sam. I'll make a note to lose a little weight once we get back home. Maybe I'll only sound like a pack of hippopotami the next time." If she wanted sarcasm, Daniel was happy to provide.

Sam looked back, an apologetic expression crossing her face. She must have realized how surly she had sounded. "I'm sorry, Daniel. I'm just a little uptight."

"No kidding," Daniel said sliding up next to her as the wormhole closed with a snap-hiss. Daniel glanced back, watching as Teal'c and Jacob carefully maneuvered themselves and FRED down the Stargate stairs. Teal'c's eyes, in addition to monitoring FRED, were scanning the horizon. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Sam turned to him, sadness filling her blue eyes. "I just can't believe everything that's happened. I can't believe that we trusted these people and just left the Colonel behind. It's unthinkable." Sam paused, drawing her thoughts together, her forehead creasing in concentration. "In some ways, I don't know what I'm going to say to him once we find him. How do you apologize for something like this?"

Daniel turned to gaze across the snow-encrusted ground. "I don't know, Sam. It probably involves a lot of groveling." He turned back to her, offering a half-hearted smile. "And I'm good at groveling. Well, at least that's what Jack always says."

"Yeah, I remember," Sam said quietly, smiling wistfully. "I just hope we're not too late."

"Me too," Daniel said, as Jacob and Teal'c finally stepped close.

"Teal'c how are you doing?" Sam asked, squinting up through the snow to gaze at the stoic Jaffa.

"I am fine, Major Carter," Teal'c said.

"No adverse reaction this time?"

"Nothing I can discern at this time."

"Dad?"

"What, Sam?" Jacob asked, turning his attention away from the tree line and to his daughter's questioning gaze.

"How are you feeling? Teal'c had an adverse reaction when he was here the last time. We thought it might have something to do with Junior. Is Selmac okay?" Sam asked, her eyes flicking about, but finally coming to rest on her father's thoughtful face.

"I'm fine, Sam," Jacob answered a moment later. "Selmac's fine too. No bad reactions or anything."

"Good. I guess we should get moving," Sam said, gazing about one last time. She froze suddenly, her eyes going wide and her gun snapping around to point back toward the gate.

Daniel turned just as quickly, his eyes finally finding what had caused Sam's reaction—someone was in the clearing behind them.

"Hello?" Daniel asked, figuring it wouldn't be a bad idea to say something. The situation was awkward enough as it was, especially since the stranger now had three weapons aimed directly at him.

"Greetings, travelers. You are the ones who have traveled here before, are you not?" The approaching figure said, stepping carefully closer to the group, trying not to shout over the distance. Even with the weather and the blowing wind, the man's voice carried fairly easily. To Daniel's eye, he looked like he could have come from Meath, except for the fact that he was walking to them from the wrong direction. He was built similarly to Egan, tall without being muscle-bound and with a similar coloring. His dark brown undergarments complemented his long hair, carefully pulled back in a ponytail of sorts, and his full beard complimented his face. The leather garments looked warm and were of fine quality. The thick green cloak over his shoulders had a layer of fur on the inside.

Daniel was envious. Even with the military-issued boots and all his clothing, his toes were already going numb from the cold. He never liked cold planets. The cold air always managed to find a way past all his layers.

"Yes, were are. And who are you?"

"Forgive me, travelers. I am Caedmon," he said, bowing deeply, his hand sweeping to finish the gesture with a flourish.

"Its nice to meet you, Caedmon. My name is Daniel Jackson. This is Samantha Carter, Teal'c, and Jacob Carter," Daniel said, indicating each team member in turn. "Why are you in these parts? Doesn't the Stargate lay within the territory of Meath?"

Caedmon had stopped an arm's length from Daniel, who stood in front of the group, effectively blocking Caedmon from Sam's P90. He couldn't do much about Teal'c position to Daniel's left side. He still had a clear shot, but his staff weapon was pointing up, not at the stranger. Daniel was sure, though, that Teal'c was prepared to shoot if the situation warranted it. At least someone trusted his judgement, Daniel thought acidly. He could feel Sam's gun pointing in his direction.

"Even though these lands lie within the territory of Meath, the stone circle has always belonged to all the people of Ildanach. One man cannot change what has stood for centuries."

"So..." Daniel said, chancing a quick glance back at Sam. She was at attention, holding her gun rigidly in her hands, her eyes unblinking. Daniel tried not to sigh, but it was hard. He turned his attention back to the young man standing before him. "Caedmon, what can we do for you?"

"I would like to speak with you and learn from you. My home is only a short distance away from here. Would you like to join me there? Perhaps we can break our fast together on this winter morning?" Caedmon's expression was guardedly hopeful.

"Well, we're kind of in a hurry. We were hoping to reach Meath by mid-day," Daniel said, trying to let the man down gently. However, Caedmon wasn't taking no for an answer.

"You wish to speak with Egan, perhaps?" Caedmon asked.

"Yes, we wish to speak with him, among others," Daniel affirmed. Caedmon knew something that he wasn't telling, of this Daniel was sure.

"Please, join me for a light breakfast and then you can be on your way. I think your time would be wisely spent if you did this."

Daniel glanced back at Sam, looking for something, anything, but she wasn't forthcoming with answers. "Sam," Daniel asked quietly. "What do you want to do?" Daniel knew that Sam had only one thing on her mind—finding Jack. This would just be a diversion, taking a considerable amount of time away from the precious little they had.

Sam was silent for a few minutes, carefully considering her options. When she finally spoke, Daniel was surprised by her decision. "Let's go with Caedmon. I'm interesting in hearing what he has to say."

"As the Lady commands, so we shall do," Caedmon said, bowing regally to Sam before he turned back the way he had come. "Please follow me. It is but a short walk."

They left FRED at the gate clearing and followed Caedmon deeper into the forest. They walked in silence for several minutes, each person alone with their own thoughts. Daniel knew they needed information, better information than they already had. How much they could trust him was still uncertain, but Caedmon seemed more than willing to speak about the things that he knew.

A small stone structure appeared a few minutes later as Daniel got glimpses of it through the foliage. It was nothing like the castle of Meath, but Daniel was sure that it served its purpose. The area immediately around the house was well trampled, the remains of a small garden at the far end of the clearing. Smoke rose gently from the chimney. It looked like Caedmon lived alone.

"Welcome, travelers, to my home. It is not much, but it suits my needs. Please, come inside," Caedmon said, holding the door open to allow SG1 passage into the building.

As Sam stepped past him deeper into the house, Daniel noted that she had relaxed, her P90 hung from its hook on her vest, her hands merely holding it to stop it from swinging. Jacob was quiet, but his eyes were wide, taking in everything he saw. Just wait until you see Meath, Daniel thought with a half-smile. This is nothing to write home about.

The main chamber was set up partially as a large entranceway and partially as a living room. Several cushioned chairs—homemade by the looks of them—were scattered throughout the room, most within close proximity of the fireplace and the warmth it radiated. A small kitchen area could be seen just beyond the main room, along with a sleeping chamber and a bathroom. It wasn't big, but it was homey.

Once they had shed their thick winter parkas and settled down in various chairs throughout the room, Caedmon's expression grew serious. He opened his mouth to speak several times, only to close it before uttering a sound. It took several tries before he finally put the words together. "I know you must have a number of questions for me, so let me tell you a little of my own history. As you can tell, I do not reside within the walls of Glyn Cuch or of Meath, although I consider both to be my home."

Sam started to speak, but Caedmon held up his hand, smiling gently at her. "Please, let me speak, my Lady. There is much for me to tell and for you to hear and we do not have an abundance of time."

After Sam's hesitant nod, Caedmon continued. "I'm sorry if it seemed as if I spirited you away from the clearing in a hurry. There are many prying eyes these days. I was asked by Egan to keep on watch and to speak with you once you stepped through. He knew you would soon return."

"How?" Daniel asked, the question slipping out from between his lips before he could reign it in.

Caedmon smiled at Daniel with understanding in his eyes. "As I said before, there is much you need to know. If you have not guessed already, Egan is my brother, actually my half-brother, many years my senior. I was born to his father and Lady Morgana nearly twenty-eight cycles ago."

Daniel's eyes grew wide at Caedmon's admission and he was sure that everyone wore a similar expression. Things were getting curiouser and curiouser.

"This may be hard to believe, but Lady Morgana is not who she seems to be," Caedmon said.

"We'd figured out that much on our own," Daniel admitted. "We just hadn't figured out just what she is."

"She is from a race of people called the Kyredian. They were brought to this planet many, many years ago, banished here because of the deeds that had been done to others."

Daniel noticed that Jacob's expression of curiosity had hardened into one of understanding. Something Caedmon said had struck a chord with the older man.

"Lady Morgana, my mother, is the last of her people. The rest died off over the years, many because of infighting, only a handful to old age. Time passed slowly here, many of the Kyredians fighting each other for supremacy. Eventually the Goa'uld Lugh came and brought the people who now populate the planet. They prospered for a time, spreading out across the planet. Lugh was generous and really cared for his people. But eventually he left and another Goa'uld came and began treating the people harshly. The Kyredians had remained out of Goa'uld affairs, but this was too good an opportunity to pass up. They could oust the Goa'uld and rule here unchallenged. The few remaining Kyredians banded together and fought the Goa'uld, sending them retreating back through the gate from which they had come. They buried the Stargate at that time and promptly forgot about it."

Caedmon paused for a moment, taking a long sip from the cup sitting on the small table to his right.

"How were they able to fight against the Goa'uld?" Daniel asked quietly, trying not to spoil the mood that had settled upon them.

"Great skill in battle was not the way of the Kyredians. They use trickery and mind control to succeed, stealing the life-energy from their enemies. The Jaffa were easy to influence and were the first to turn. With the aid of the Jaffa, the Kyredians were able to defeat the Goa'uld overlord," Caedmon said, looking at Daniel over the rim of his cup. "It is much the same these days I am afraid."

"Caedmon, how old is your mother?" Jacob asked quietly, the question piercing.

Caedmon hesitated a moment, a long sigh sounding through the room. "She is several thousand years old."

Daniel's eyes widened at the answer. Several thousand years. That was unimaginable. "Why didn't the Goa'uld take them as hosts? Right now, they use the sarcophagus to extend their life."

"It is something about the body chemistry of the Kyredians, although I am unsure as to what exactly it is. The Goa'uld tried, but did not succeed. Instead, they were forced to obtain another host in order to survive."

"Caedmon, what did you mean when you said that they stole life-energy?" As soon as Daniel had heard that phrase, his heart had nearly dropped into his boots. It couldn't mean what it sounded like, could it?

"Well," Caedmon said, starting slowly. "Although the Kyredians are a long-lived race, the only way they can continue to live is by feeding off the life-energy of those with whom they bond. My father was one of Lady Morgana's victims. My brother was her last."

"Egan?" Daniel asked, praying that that wasn't the case.

"No, Lord Kentigern. He died yesterday morning."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Sam said, genuinely apologetic.

"Thank you, my Lady," Caedmon said, indicating his head in Sam's direction. "She can only bond with someone over whom she has control. She controls men and women alike through the use of various herbs and her mind. It is very convincing."

"Why do you say that? Did she try something on you, her own son?" Daniel was astonished. How could a mother inflict such an atrocity on her own child?

"She believes she is above all other beings. She would not hesitate to use any of you if it would add more days to her life. She tried to control me, but it did not succeed. She ordered my death as soon as she discovered that her control was slipping. For some reason, because I am a hybrid, she could not harvest my life-energy. My brother, Egan, helped me escape and faked my death."

"Why didn't Egan tell us any of this when we were here? Why didn't he warn us?" Daniel was outraged. They had trusted Egan with their lives and he led them directly to the castle and into Morgana's outstretched arms. God only knew what she had done to Jack.

"Egan," Caedmon said, pausing to collect his thoughts. "Egan, did not believe all that I spoke. He thought that I had lost my senses. He helped me because he could not see his brother put to death like an animal. All he felt was pity for me. I have been hiding out in this forest since the day he helped me leave the dungeons of Meath." Caedmon paused again, and this time Daniel was unsure if he was going to continue. "Egan was not willing to see what was before his very eyes. He would rather turn a blind eye than face Morgana and his brother Kentigern directly. It was only recently that he had a change of heart. It was once he met you that he began to doubt. He spoke with me on a number of occasions recently, asking questions, probing my memories, and looking for answers. He was unsure if he would be here to greet you himself, so he asked me to speak with you, to tell you my story. Please do not judge us based on your dealings with Lady Morgana. She does not speak for the people of Ildanach."

"Egan mentioned that to me on another occasion," Daniel said, his voice sounding unnaturally loud in the silence that had settled over the group. "Thank you for your honesty, but I have to ask, what would you have us do? We have come here searching for our friend. He has suffered at the hands of Lady Morgana for weeks. We must try and free him from her."

"Do you speak about O'Neill?" Caedmon asked, his eyes narrowing. The pit in Daniel's stomach continued to swell, filling him with dread.

"Yes."

Caedmon's eyes filled with concern and anxiety. "I wish I was not bearer of bad news, but O'Neill now stands at Lady Morgana's side."

Daniel's breath went out in one whoosh. He had thought for sure that Caedmon was going to tell him that Jack was dead. "That's fine. At least he's still alive."

"No, Daniel Jackson, you do not understand. O'Neill stands at Morgana's side as her beloved. He pledged his life to her. He is lost to you." Caedmon was adamant.

"No, you must be mistaken," Sam said, finding her voice. "He wouldn't pledge his life to anyone, let alone to her."

"I must disagree with you, my Lady," Caedmon said, his reply courteous. "I watched him take Lady Morgana and twenty soldiers through the stone ring. Would he have done so if he did not stand at her side?"

"You must be mistaken. Colonel O'Neill would never do that. He'd die before he told her anything," Sam's words, while strong, did not have conviction behind them.

"I watched him with my own eyes, dial the stone ring using the other device in the clearing and explain that the standing water was actually the event horizon of a wormhole. I do not understand the words, but that is what I remember," said Caedmon, looking directly at Sam, his eyes challenging her to argue with him, to prove him wrong. "He also mentioned your name."

"Mine?"

"Yes. Does he not call you Carter?"

"Oh, God, yes, he does," Sam said, her voice breaking a little at the end. She turned to Daniel, her eyes beginning to tear. "Daniel, we're too late, aren't we? If we had come back yesterday, he would still be here and maybe we would have had a chance."

"My Lady," Caedmon said, drawing their attention back to him. "Even if you had been here yesterday, it would not have mattered. The man you knew as Jack O'Neill died a long time ago. I watched it happen in the clearing of the stone ring seven days ago."

"Seven days ago? I thought you said he was alive, standing beside Morgana. How could a dead man dial the Stargate?" Daniel couldn't believe what he was hearing. This could not be true.

"She placed the small device of obedience on his temple, controlling all of his thoughts. I have yet to see any man withstand that kind of pain and pressure. Yesterday, he knelt down before all the inhabitants of Meath and pledged his allegiance—his life and his soul—to her. My brother watched him do this. You claim that the man you knew as Jack O'Neill would not have done this, but I must tell you this: he is not the man you once knew."

"Do you know where they have gone?" Teal'c asked, speaking up for the first time. Daniel jumped when he heard the voice. He had forgotten the Jaffa had been standing in the shadows, silently guarding the team.

"I do not know. Egan was there, perhaps he would be able to help you," Caedmon said, rising to his feet. "Come, let us go to Meath and see my brother. I believe it is time that I returned to the world of the living."