A/N: I recently realized that since Microsoft Word thinks it's so much smarter than me, a lot of my content is being changed, not getting the effect I wanted. I know you'll still read it, and be able to understand(ish) it as you are intelligent(ish) people. Ta! (I've been reading too many British novels, I know. Sue me.)

P.S. I have issues with names. Actually, I have issues with lots of stuff. But it would take several large planets' worth of paper to even begin to go into it. So I won't. I can't remember the names of all the nobodies and metaphorical red shirts that appear on Stargate, so I just call them 'airmen' or 'hapless airmen.' Sorry if I offend. But deal with it.

Disclaimer: Same as Chappy 8.

O.o

D'am'ar'a steamed with rage. Literally. Actual vapor was rising from her and condensing on the celing You told me the grey one would beniceshethought.

He was plenty nice to me, the voice replied.

Whatever. We are going home.

Let us go, then.

D'am'ar'a walked up to the Gate and murmured, "A'laco Sha'sha'mi'i," which meant 'take me to Sha'sha'mi'i.' At this, the Gate began to dial her planet. She knew this would blow some circuits in the briefing room. She could already imagine the chaos she was causing to their pathetic little routine.

Her assumption proved correct. A hapless airman's voice reached her. "Alien intruder, please return the Gate to its dormant state." D'am'ar'a then heard static and frantic humans in the room above her head.

Humans. They made her skin crawl. The only human she felt any kind of charity toward was the blonde one, and even that was a mere ounce of goodwill, strained at best.

Hey! Jack's an awesome man! And Daniel's not bad either, was thought at her.

You have feelings for Jack. It cluds your vision. And me'bage-swilling brutes disgust me, she thought back.

COFFEE!

Another voice reached her. Several voices, actuallyl.

"This is Colonel Samantha Carter. D'am'ar'a, I'm asking you to abort the dialing procedure…" More static.

"Ow!" It was the me'bage-swilling one. He must have opened the channel by mistake. "Jack! Get that gun away from me! I'm not going to shoot her! Don't abuse me!"

"Daniel! Grab the damn gun and shoot her! You! Get off me!"

"Sir, your behavior is reckless. Let me take you to the infirmary," a voice designed to have a calming effect said.

"Let go of me! Daniel, take the stupid thing!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

The wormhole established.

"Yes!"

"NO!"

"YES!"

The wormhole shut down.

"Jack," Sam said, trying to achieve the same calming effect of the guard, who was, at that point, running down the hall to the infirmary, where he happily spent the rest of his days with his remaining limbs. (Not really. He was just bleeding a little.) Sam continued, "It's too late. She's gone."

It was true. While Jack and Daniel argued, D'am'ar'a had slipped through the Gate.

"T, did you put anyone in my old quarters?" Jack inquired.

"No, indeed. No one resides there."

"Well, then, it's been fun kids. I'll be in my quarters."

"Very well."

After Jack left, Sam sighed with relief. "While he's off brooding the loss of his True Love, we can get some real work done."

"Right," Daniel responded. "Ok, so can we pull up the records of Sha'sha'mi'i out of the computer. D'am'ar'a had to have left some trace."

Silas sat down, tapping keys frantically under the territorial and micromanaging eye of Colonel Samantha Carter.