Author's Notes: It's been awhile, but I thought I'd pick this up again and finish it, regardless of whether anyone's reading it. I guess it's just not in me to leave it off.

"Alright!" Thomas Andrews stood up and threw his hands into the air. "That's it!" He bellowed. "I'm done!"

John Tatlock paused in his translation to look up at his bewildered colleague. "You're done with what?" he questioned, adjusting his glasses.

"This!" Andrews exclaimed. "This!" he repeated. "I'm tired, I'm hungry, and I'm getting nowhere! This isn't solveable!"

Tatlock shrugged. "Sure it's solveable, Tom; we just have to keep at it." He looked past the dancing Egyptians to the clock readout on Daniel's computer. "Take a fifteen minute break." He placated. "Go get a cup of coffee, rest your mind for a bit, and then try again. You can't deny that this is fascinating stuff."

"Oh, yes!" Andrews replied. "Yes, I can deny it. I hate this. This is not what I signed up for: I was scheduled for a mission with SG15 this week, doing my own work, not cooped up in this office staring at the same stuff that no one can read for hours and hours on end." The linguist crossed his arms resolutely. "I'm going home," he declared. "I'm going to get food, go home, and go to sleep."

Sighing, Tatlock tried a different route. "I know you're tired and I know you're missing out on a trip through the gate, Tom, but think about Daniel. He needs our help." Tatlock went back to his own translation. "Besides which, every member of SG1 has stopped by so far with the exception of Teal'c." he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "And I, for one, don't want to be caught slacking when he does stop by."

"Oh, please!" Andrews reverted back to shouting. "Daniel, Daniel, Daniel." He flung his arms about wildly in frustration. "All everyone ever talks about is how damn good he is. A fine mess he's gotten himself into that he can't seem to get himself out of! We're the ones who've got to figure out this stupid problem."

Tatlock looked up to reply, but only let out a frightened squeak as he saw an imposing figure standing in the doorway behind the still-venting Thomas Andrews.

"...and SG1! Who needs 'em?! Like they're the only ones who do good work?! I'm not gonna be intimidated by Teal'c either. What's so frightening about him? So he was the first prime of a gould. We kicked Apophis' ass years ago; he can't be that tough. Teal'c. Yeah. Right." Andrews huffed. "I'm going home, John. Call me if Jackson wakes up." Turning sharply to stride out the door, he ran straight into a very large bulk, rebounded, and landed heavily on the floor, almost upsetting several stacks of books.

Hands clasped behind his back, Teal'c tilted his head a bit and stared at the prone scientist. "Major Carter has been unable to contact the allies of Earth." His gaze moved to Tatlock. "I was sent to find out if any progress had been made with regards to the translation."

Tatlock shook his head mutely.

"That is unfortunate." Teal'c intoned. "I will return in several hours..." he looked back at Andrews, who cringed under his gaze. "I hope you will have made progress during that time."

Andrews waited until Teal'c left to pick himself up off of the floor. Straightening his clothes and squaring his shoulders, he looked to his friend. "I'm just gonna get back to that translation now."

"Yes." Tatlock affirmed. "Good idea." As Andrews moved to another part of the office, Tatlock looked back to the door and mentally shuddered before going back to his own work.