Epilogue

Three weeks later...

Major Rykerson stepped into the SGC gym and scoffed. Bunch of pansy flyboys, he thought, glaring at the Air Force personnel who were working out on the treadmills. He'd only been transferred to the SGC a few days ago, and already he was amazed that Earth was still standing, with these wussies running things. They need more Marines, he decided. I'll show 'em how a real soldier should be.

There was one other man using the weights, so Rykerson was careful to add slightly more weight to his barbells before he began his set. He recognized the dark-skinned man from the briefing he'd gotten on the SG teams – this was some kind of alien soldier, supposed to be stronger than any human and supposedly trustworthy. Rykerson sneered and made sure the alien was watching him heft three hundred and seventy pounds.

The alien did not react as expected, merely raising his eyebrow as he continued his own set at the same speed as before. The Marine snarled under his breath, annoyed by the lack of respect.

The alien finished and put the barbells back into their rack, sitting up to greet someone who had just walked in. "DanielJackson," he rumbled warmly.

Rykerson's eyes narrowed as he took in the unassuming figure. So this was Daniel Jackson, SG-1's pet civilian graverobber. Probably a hundred-pound weakling, he mocked. "Geek," he muttered, so quiet that no one would be able to hear it.

Jackson's eyes went straight to the Marine, an annoyed-yet-amused expression on his face. Rykerson's confidence faltered. No way did he just hear that...

"Teal'c," Jackson returned the alien soldier's greeting. "Jack wanted me to remind you we're going to give O'Malley's another shot tonight." He shrugged. "I told him you already remembered, but he insisted."

"O'Neill is most persistent," the alien agreed, standing up. "I must kel-no-reem. You are welcome to use my weights."

Rykerson's mouth set into a thin line as he aggressively began another set, making sure Jackson saw it. The civilian's eyes narrowed as he watched the Marine. Yeah, that's right, I'm better than you, Rykerson growled. Wanna make something of it?

"Thank you, Teal'c," Jackson agreed, pulling off his jacket and going over to the weights. To the Marine's surprise, the archaeologist added even more weight onto the bar. His eyes widened. Holy shit, that's got to be six hundred pounds, at least! He's going to kill himself trying to lift that!

Jackson calmly reclined on his back, took hold of the bar, and easily lifted it off the rack. His own set forgotten, Rykerson gaped as the supposed weakling bench-pressed that much weight as if there was nothing on the bar at all. After a few reps, he noticed that Jackson wasn't even holding onto the bar properly; not only was he only using one hand, but at the top of each lift, he tossed the bar up slightly to add more force to its downward motion. Jesus!

After a few minutes of this, Jackson made a disgusted noise and put the weights back, sitting up and putting his jacket back on. He isn't even sweating!

"Sorry, Teal'c," he said apologetically to the alien, who was still watching as if he saw this every day. "It's too easy; I can barely feel the weight." He hopped off the bench, ignoring the dumbstruck Marine. "Maybe Jack will let me bench-press his truck later."

Right before he exited, the archaeologist stopped and turned his head a little. "I don't know who you think you are, but you're playing with the wrong people," he said, projecting his voice through the entire gym. The airmen on the treadmills had stopped to listen, and Jackson looked straight at Rykerson. "Here at the SGC, nothing is what it seems. Here, you're either damn good, or you're dead. Arrogance will get you killed pretty damn fast." He smiled slightly. "Enjoy your stay."

Rykerson was silent as Jackson left, and he looked at the bare three hundred seventy pound weight in his hands. He...he rigged the weights, he told himself, putting his own back. To reassure himself, he went over to the civilian's weights. He'd forgotten to take the extra weight off, so Rykerson grabbed the bar and strained to lift it. It didn't even quiver as he put all his strength into it. His eyes went wide and he stared in the direction the much stronger man had gone. I'm way out of my league, he realized in shock, and quietly slinked out of the gym.

Behind him, one of the airmen let out a small cheer. "We should so let Daniel scare the arrogance out of all our new recruits," he said enthusiastically.

No one disagreed with him.

Author's Notes: Well that's it, folks. I'd like to thank you all for reading and reviewing; I really do appreciate your comments. To anticipate questions, yes, I do plan to write a sequel. I don't have any ideas for a plot-driven, chaptered story like this, but I do intend to write some "snapshots" of Daniel's new life in lycanthropy. No promises on when it'll be written, but the intent is there. Until then, thanks once more for reading this fic. Happy reading!