Throwing the chart on her desk, Janet Fraiser dropped into her chair and leaned back, her hands above her head, as she tried to stretch the kinks out of her shoulders. The labs had been going crazy for the past day and a half with little or nothing to show for it.

There was some strange chemical in both Colonel O'Neill's and Major Wales' bloodstream, but nothing so far had even come close to matching it. Intellectually, she knew that she was dealing with some kind of strange alien chemical, but most of the things they'd encountered had had some similarities with Earth's biology. Why couldn't this too?

Because that would be easy, that's why.

Taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly, she knew it was about time for her next rounds to check on her patients. And she knew one member of SG-1 would be lurking around the door, waiting for her—one of them always was. Their visits were limited to five minutes each and Janet was refusing to allow more than one every four hours—fifteen minutes tops for the three of them. If, for some reason, the Colonel or Major Wales got some kind of cold on top of this it would be disastrous.

As it was, this was flu season and she was carefully monitoring her own staff, rotating only the healthy ones to the intensive care ward.

Sitting forward she opened the file, sorting through the latest results, her eyes scanning the contents. One of the notations gave her pause, however, and she moved back to the beginning of the item, reading it again.

According to the report, there was something very similar to Phenytoin and Lidocaine in both patients' bloodstreams, but no further explanation or description was given. She shook her head, trying to fit that in with the symptoms her patients were exhibiting, but nothing made sense. What did that have to do with anything? And how did that dust they were encased in fit into the big picture?

Disgusted, she shoved the chart away and stood. She had time to look at it in more detail later. If she sat for one minute longer she knew she'd end up screaming.

Tucking her stethoscope in the pocket of her lab coat, Janet moved out into the hallway, her heels clicking against the concrete. She hated not knowing, not being able to help, to treat her patients, but some of these alien diseases and chemicals were tough to figure out. Her staff, though, was the best. Given time they could figure anything out.

Time, though, was always an issue.

Nurse Matthews glanced up as she walked into the ward, offering a smile.

"How are we doing this afternoon?" Janet asked, pulling out the Colonel's chart first, checking the readings before moving to his side. Placing the chart on the side table, her hand moved to his wrist, circling it, checking his pulse, getting the feel of him—not too hot, not too cold.

"No changes," Matthews answered, rising to her feet and moving to the end of the bed. "All readings are within normal variances."

"Good, good," Janet said, patting his wrist before moving across the aisle to Wales, her checks repeated on the young Major.

"If you don't mind, ma'am, I'm going to run to the little girl's room," Matthews said and Janet nodded. It was tough on the attending nurse because of her orders not to leave either patient unattended for any reason. When Janet came on rounds, she usually gave the nurse a chance to run down the hall.

A small sound, however, caught Janet's attention, giving her pause as she began to turn away.

"Anne, did you hear that?" Janet asked, stopping the nurse in the doorway.

"Ma'am?"

"Shhh," she ordered, waving the nurse to be quiet. Matthews approached slowly, her footfalls barely reaching Janet's ears.

The noise repeated itself.

"That noise," Janet said, moving back to Wales, her hand reaching down to grab the Major's hand. "Major, can you hear me? If you can, please squeeze my hand."

Janet waited but there was no pressure on her hand. As she started to disengage her hand, she heard the sound again. A moan.

Was she conscious?

How was that possible? For all appearances, both Wales and O'Neill were unconscious and had been since their arrival, with no voluntary movement of their own.

It was like they were paralyzed.

In the space of a solitary heartbeat, something in the back of Janet's mind clicked. There was evidence of something similar to Lidocaine in their system, a sodium channel blocker. But there were other sodium channel blockers, like Tetrodoxin, some of which caused paralysis—especially respiratory paralysis.

And they rarely resulted in unconsciousness, which meant that the Colonel and the Major were paralyzed, but able to hear and feel everything going on around them.

But then the bottom dropped out from under Janet as she realized one other point—Colonel O'Neill was suffering from some kind of hearing loss due to his punctured eardrum. So for all intents and purposes, he was deaf, dumb, and blind—and trapped in a body that wouldn't respond to his commands.

Damnit! Why did it take her so long to figure out?

"Anne," Fraiser said, turning to the nurse. "I need you to prepare an intravenous bolus of hypertonic sodium bicarbonate, 1 to 2 mEq/kg and administer it to both Wales and O'Neill immediately. I have an idea of what might help counter the toxin in their systems, but I need to go to the lab and see if they have any other thoughts, but at least it's a starting point."

"Certainly," Matthews said, pausing at the door, turning to look over her shoulder. "Ma'am, are they…"

"Paralyzed? Yes. And conscious? I think so."

As realization sunk in of both patients' conditions, Matthews' shocked face probably matched her own.

XXX

Senior Sergeant David Adams stretched and leaned back in his chair, perusing the monitors spread out before him. Two more hours and he could go home.

Sometimes it was interesting to see everything going on at the SGC, peering into the lives of people he heard about in the base mess. Although, the whole Peeping Tom stereotype wasn't a big plus when it came to his social life.

There were times he watched the teams go through the gate to unknown planets and he wished he did that. It was exciting, heroic. But then, he also saw them come home—injured and dead—or there were some that never stepped foot on Level 28 ever again.

Sometimes uneventful was nice.

A flickering screen on his right drew his attention and he slid his chair in its direction, hitting his hand against the monitor. Every now and then one of these things went on the fritz.

His gentle prodding, however, didn't help.

A moment later the picture darkened completely and then turned to static.

This wasn't a problem with the monitor.

Picking up the phone he dialed base maintenance. "Hey, Marty, it's David up on 16. It looks like one of the cameras is out on Level 20, in the storage area…Yep, that's the one. Thanks."

Hanging up the phone, his gaze slid across the snow-filled screen before resuming his perusal of the monitors. His job was done.

XXX

Janet pushed down a bout of nerves as she settled into General Hammond's guest chair, her files on her lap.

"Doctor, thanks for taking the time to see me. You mentioned something about Colonel O'Neill and Major Wales?" Hammond began, folding his hands over his closed laptop.

She nodded, immediately opening her folder and checking her notes, even though she's read through them several times before walking in the door. "It seems as if the dust entities from P3S-295 secrete some kind of toxin into their victims, something along the lines of tetrodoxin, the toxin found in blowfish."

"Now I know a little about them and that doesn't sound good at all."

"Like I mentioned, it's similar to tetrodoxin in some respects, but there are some noticeable differences. The toxin is less concentrated, so it takes more of it to bring on symptoms. I've had the lab examine its chemical structure and they've determined that we can synthesize an antidote. We have already begun treatment. Major Wales has shown improvement in the past four hours and I am confident that she will continue to do so."

"And Colonel O'Neill?"

Janet sighed, a worried smile finding its way to her face. "And we have also begun treatment on Colonel O'Neill, but I have been unable to see direct improvement in his condition. I'm worried that the cut on his leg might have provided more complications."

Hammond's eyebrows drew together. "How so?"

"It appears as if there is a greater concentration of the toxin in the Colonel and I believe that it is due to the fact that the entity had more direct contact with his bloodstream through his injury. In Major Wales' case, the toxin entered passively, seeping through the skin and her mucous membranes."

"So what's your prognosis?"

"Good. I believe that once the toxin is counter-acted they will begin to breathe on their own and I'll be able to take them off life support, but it's going to take some time. With the Colonel, though, we might have some complications."

"More?"

Janet nodded. "With the injury to his ears, we will be unable to determine the extent of his hearing loss until he's not paralyzed and able to move on his own. At least with Major Wales we can explain what's going on to her. With the Colonel, we can't. I'm watching his pressure very carefully, since until the paralysis wears off, that's my only indication as to his state of mind."

"How is he doing?"

"His pressure is a little high, and has been since he was brought into the infirmary, but nothing to worry about—yet. Once the antidote starts working, I think he'll be a lot better."

"Keep me posted and good work, Doctor."

"Thanks, Sir," Janet said, rising to her feet, the sound of dismissal in Hammond's voice. It was time to get back to her patients.

XXX

Sam dragged a hand across her face, trying to get rid of the cobwebs. The past few days had been hellish, to put it mildly. But even once they got home, things hadn't been easy. Barred from the infirmary, SG-1 had found themselves a little lost. They kept drifting back every few hours hoping to visit, but Janet had strict orders and the nurses were sticking to them.

After Janet had found out about Daniel's little bribe, she'd put her foot down and now they were only allowed to go every four hours. If it happened again, those visits would become reduced further.

So, they were obeying, but the waiting was killing them.

Daniel had stopped by earlier, his expression dark. 'No change' had been his only words and he kept walking, heading down the hall back toward the elevators.

Her hand shifted to the back of her neck and she rubbed, easing the tightness there. Her eyes caught the gaze of a passing Airman, one of Siler's assistants. He paused and stepped into her lab.

"Ma'am, I'm sorry to bother you, but have you seen Airman Stewart?"

"No, I haven't, why?"

"He was supposed to check on something on Level 20 and then do some repairs on some of the labs on this level."

"Well, I need to stretch my legs, so if you don't mind I'll walk with you," she said, rising to her feet.

"Certainly, ma'am," he smiled, unsure of himself.

"Airman…?" she began, stopping before him, tilting her head in question.

"I'm sorry…Airman Gary Ostroski. I work with Sergeant Siler." He gestured for her to walk past him and into the hallway and they fell into an easy walking rhythm.

By the time they covered the entire level, they were certain Airman Stewart was nowhere to be found.

"Shall we try Level 20?" Sam asked, her hands on her hips as they stood outside one of the stairwells.

"After you, Ma'am," Ostroski said, opening the door for her to enter.

The broken lightbulb over the door leading to the next level caught her attention. "I think you might have to come back here later," she said pointing overhead.

Ostroski shook his head. "Whoever buys the bulbs needs to try a different brand. These things don't last for anything."

Sam chuckled and pushed through the door and into the darkened hallway.

This wasn't right.

"Ostroski, there should be a flashlight—"

"Already on it, Major," he answered, his boot-clad feet squeaking a little on the floor as he raced to the nearest lab and the closest flashlight. He returned a moment later, the high-intensity beam cutting through the darkness.

"What was Airman Stewart doing on this level?" Sam asked, walking cautiously down the hall with the Airman at her side.

"A report came in about a broken security camera. They go out every now and then and we have to come and replace them. It's an easy fix."

"Where was the camera?"

"In one of the supply rooms at the far end."

"The secure storage?" she asked, a feeling of dread growing in her stomach.

"I think so. I'd have to double-check the report that was filed to know for certain."

"No, no, that's fine."

"Why do you ask?"

"Just call it a hunch."

XXX

"The body was found just inside the secure storage area on Level 20," Janet said, stalking up to Sam's desk. The scientist glanced up from the papers she was organizing, tucking them away as she prepared to join the teams sweeping the base. Surprise lined her features at the sheer volume of the diminutive Doctor's entrance.

"What?"

"Replicators, Sam. I'm talking about replicators. It seems that the sweep teams missed some."

Sam's expression blanked for a moment. "Not exactly."

Janet raised an eyebrow. "Sam, what's going on?"

She sighed before she began speaking. "I approached General Hammond during the base clean-up and requested the opportunity to study one of the replicator blocks. I assured him that there would be no danger to the base. He agreed to my request."

"You what?" Janet paused when Sam shot her a warning look and she rephrased her initial response, trying to set her internal temperature to simmer instead of boil. "From our limited research into the replicators, you know that even one block could be very dangerous under the right conditions."

"But—"

"Did Colonel O'Neill know?"

"I gave my request directly to the General because the Colonel was involved in the final survey of the base."

"But you knew the Colonel's feelings about the replicators. That's why you went directly to General Hammond. Airman Stewart was killed by a replicator, not a replicator block. This thing has reproduced and there's no telling how many there might be, or how long it's been alive. What were you thinking, Sam?"

Her expression was grim and a bit sheepish. "I know, Janet, I wasn't thinking as clearly as I should have been. I've already heard it from the General, trust me. Teams have already begun to sweep the base. I know you're especially worried about Colonel O'Neill and Major Wales because of the proximity and all, so please let me know if there's anything I can do to help you."

Janet moved away from the desk, her tone icy. "No thanks, Sam. Haven't you done enough?"

XXX

They crawled through the ductwork between the levels, their feet clicking against the metal and the concrete. They were still few in number but they were growing stronger.

And they could sense their brethren.

They needed to join with them and it wouldn't be long until they could.

XXX

The goggles Teal'c had given him were giving him a headache.

He'd decided to wear contacts this morning, but Daniel hadn't anticipated staring through plastic for half of the day.

When he'd heard the security announcement a few hours ago, he'd called Sam to find out what was going on.

And she'd explained.

Jack was going to kill her—slowly and painfully.

She'd asked him to help in any way he could. With several SG teams off-world, extra volunteers to conduct the sweep of the base were needed. He'd agreed, reluctantly, mainly because Sam had asked. It was really Jack's job, this running around the base playing action hero.

But Jack wasn't in any position to do that, or anything else, for that matter.

So, now he found himself skulking down semi-darkened hallways covering Teal'c's six on the search for replicators.

They'd found only two so far, but there was no way to know how many there would be.

But Teal'c was attempting to track them.

"Search party one, this is Carter, come in."

The radio crackled, nearly causing Daniel to jump out of his skin. The Jaffa answered, his voice perfectly calm and unflustered.

"Major Carter, it is Teal'c. Do you have news?"

"I have a report from Adams in the secondary bunker and it looks like there's been a power outage on level 21, near the isolation rooms. Can you check it out?"

"You believe it to be the replicators, Major Carter?"

"I don't know, but I'm not leaving anything to chance. Carter out."

The Jaffa turned and gestured for Daniel to follow him to the stairwell they'd passed a few moments ago. "I believe this is the quickest route to the section Major Carter indicated."

Daniel nodded, following the Jaffa through the door, his thoughts still processing Sam's order. "Teal'c," he began, the words coming slow. "Isn't the intensive care ward in that direction?"

"I believe you to be correct, Daniel Jackson," he replied, edging out on to the hallways on level 21.

"Teal'c, what if they invade the ICU?"

"We shall not permit them access," he said, his steps not hesitating.

"Easier said than done, don't you think?"

The single glance from the Jaffa terminated any further thoughts on the matter. Daniel sighed and picked up the pace, determined to find the replicators before they found Jack.

XXX

Time, for him, had no meaning. The hours passed, the minutes slipping away, a continual flow. He'd tried to judge how many times Doctor Fraiser had stopped by but it was difficult. With no time reference there was no telling when her last visit had been—an hour before, ten hours, three minutes.

He dozed when he could, when his mind let him.

How long could he stay like this before he started to go crazy, before the edges of darkness started crashing down upon him?

There'd been a lot of activity before, people tugging and touching, but it had gone as quickly as it came, vanishing into the reality he couldn't hear, couldn't see.

A reality that was speeding by.

A reality that he was missing.

Only now did he realize how important his senses were for the sheer enjoyment of life, for living it.

The sound of the squeaky front door that he swore he would fix every time he opened it.

The birds chirping outside his bedroom window in the early morning hours, just as the sun was coming up over the horizon.

The ka-whoosh of the gate engaging never got old.

He even missed the sound of Daniel prattling on and on about some god forsaken ruin or another.

Carter's insane scientific ramblings would even be music to his ears.

The clatter of his P90 wasn't something he enjoyed, but it reminded him that he was living, that he was defending something he believed in, protecting it until his last dying breath.

A light touch on his ankle and his attention shifted, focusing on the sensation, waiting for something more to follow.

He waited several moments, trying to judge the time. When nothing happened, however, his thoughts began to drift once again, finding more interesting pastures in the fields of his mind and his memory.

And then something climbed on his leg.