Title: Deconstructing the General

Rating: R George curses a lot.

Synopsis: In the beginning of the series, Maj. General George Hammond was irked with Jack O'Neill when they first met. Some people believe that it was because Hammond was angry that his easy job to retirement had been shot to hell. The truth of matter is simple, really.

For thirty years, George Hammond has held onto a folded piece of yellow paper. In his own handwriting, he requested assistance for four 'Soviet Spies' and there are two dates and times listed. Now thirty years later, with the foretold General stars on his shoulder and Jack O'Neill in front of him, Major General George Hammond is wondering if the four Time Travelers were worth the personal price that George Hammond had to pay.

Ok This started out slightly AU, but then Jacob Carter demanded that he be allowed to play, and so to stop his rather insistent voice, I went completely AU.

WIP


George Hammond was watching the fire vigilantly, and listening to the wind 'blowing a bitch' out there. He quirked a smile, as he easily remembered the Ireland-born TSgt who had unfortunately used that colorful phrase to describe the weather to his CO once. He had been in… what base had it been? Naval Air Station Keflavik in Iceland? Or had it been Misawa Air Base in Japan? So many places, so many memories, some of them pretty painful but some of them had been pretty damn special.

His second daughter, Milagros, named after her maternal grandmother but called Millie by everyone… she had been lovingly created during his tour in Alaska. Maggie always jokingly blamed Jacob Carter for the fact they had two daughters born so close together, as it had been Jacob's St. Patrick's Day Celebration with a hell of a lot of green beer… and Millie had arrived slightly after New Year's, but fortunately this time, in a hospital with a hell of a lot of doctors and nurses and trained personnel.

He was letting Captain Carter sleep through the night as there really wasn't any need for her to wake. It was getting colder and so he threw more wood on the fire, guesstimating that they had maybe two more days worth of fuel. It would get pretty cold by then, but Captain Carter had a destiny to fulfill, and she'd make it home.

And what a destiny it was.

They were destined to meet a long, long time ago.

She'd make it home… alright.

He took the bright yellow piece of paper from his wallet. Then, he walked up to the casket, ignoring everyone's concerned looks. They were all busy singing away… Maggie had wanted a loud, joyous celebration of her life and so she had picked every peppy, upbeat funeral song she could.

I'll fly away, oh glory, I'll fly away
When I die, hallelujah by and by, I'll fly away
Some bright morning when this life is over, I'll fly away
To a land on God's celestial shore, I'll fly away
When the shadows of this life have grown, I'll fly away
Like a bird from these prison walls, I'll fly away

He would have preferred a funeral dirge himself, but last night, when he couldn't sleep and he was compulsively ironing his jacket, and aligning and realigning his damn fruit salad, all those medals and awards that represented time away from his wife and family, on his jacket, he had decided what he had to do. The casket was still open, and he slid that piece of paper beneath her hands.

Then he took his gold stars and pinned them on her collar. When he had been promoted, she had pinned them on him, and now he was returning the honor. That mission finished, he then kissed her on the forehead, wanting one last kiss to hold him through the lonely years before they met again.

"I give you my secret, Maggie, and you will take it to your grave, as the price was too high for me," George whispered.

He then returned to his pew, not even trying to pretend that he was singing along with the rest of the crowd.

Hank, good old Hank, right now was trying to understand what George had just done, but Hank couldn't make heads or tails of why his General had just pinned his own set of stars on his wife's collar. Hank, who had handpicked the pall bearers from his subordinates who had volunteered, and who had decided that Maggie would be carried those final few yards by Mag's son-in-laws along with Jake, Sly Siler, Walt Davis and him.

Hank, with his gaggle of girlfriends, the nameless groupies that threw themselves at an eligible man in uniform, who had an ex-wife who hated him and a daughter who had sent back her father's check to help pay for her education with a scribbled suggestion for Hank to do something physically impossible with the folded check.

Did he envy Hank?

Or did he pity him?

Once, he thought he pitied Hank, for his marriage, that had started full of such promise and hope that had ended up cataclysmically self-destructing due to Hank's military career, and for his daughter, that loathed her father so much that she had taken her stepfather's name as her own.

Now… now…. He bitterly envied Hank, because Hank the Lothario and his one-nights conquests had never, would never, experience the aching heartbreak of watching their soul mate die inch by inch. Jake Carter nodded his head once in approval at what George had done, as he alone knew what agony George was experiencing. His dark eyes were suspiciously moist, and George knew that Jake was battling his own demons at the moment.

To George's surprise, Hank grabbed George's shoulder, giving it a squeeze, wordlessly offering his CO his unconditional, emotional support and George began weeping, at last letting his tears flow, knowing and accepting the fact that he was intrinsically unworthy of such absolute regard.

"She was a remarkable woman," Hank informed him softly. "I envy you… that you found someone strong enough to cope with being married to men like us."

"She deserved better," George protested. "She should have had so much more than the little I could give her."

After the funeral, and after everyone had left his house, he had changed for bed. Damn it, the hospice people had changed the sheets and even the pillow cases on his bed. Couldn't they have let him do that? He couldn't sleep in his empty bed, with crisp sheets that smell of laundry soap, and finally after several fruitless hours of tossing and turning, he got out of the bed and began rummaging through his dresser. He had hidden something, not wanting anyone to take it, because the girls had thought that they were doing him a kindness, and had gone through most of their mother's clothes and had gotten rid of them.

Unless the girls decided to rummage through his underwear drawer, they never would find this. It was that long robe that Maggie had worn during the last few months when she was feeling well enough to be frisky. Whenever she wore it, it meant that she wanted sweet lovin' from him and he had been delighted to oblige.

He carefully sniffed the collar, and yes, he could smell her special perfume as she always put just a dab on her neck….and she wore it just for him. God knows where he had gotten that particular fragrance from originally, but Maggie had decided that it was… an exceptional perfume to be worn only for him on the most illicit and passionate of opportunities.

He returned back to his lonely bed, and he put the robe on his pillow. He'd be able to smell her perfume and maybe… just maybe… he wouldn't feel so lonely.

Quickly, he fell asleep and he dreamed.

Maggie was wearing the robe, smelling slightly of that beautiful perfume and she was sitting in front of the shoji screen. She looked all of sixteen and she was fluttering a fan like a highly priced geisha. The sight was rather incongruous, as she was wearing his General's stars along with her engagement, wedding and several anniversary rings. No… he had given all her rings, with the exception of her wedding ring, to the girls.

"So, I finally got your attention, Hammond. I have been yelling at you all day, George, and you haven't wanted to hear me," she said as she closed the fan with a loud snap. Then for good measure, she thwacked him on the head with it. "What the hell were you thinking at the funeral?"

"That I miss you," he softly protested. "That I have a huge, gaping hole in my heart where you were all those years…"

Another thwack on the head.

"George, you put that note in my coffin!" Maggie protested. "What the hell good is that? When those four people you are going to meet for the first time show up in your office, what are you gonna do, Hammond? Pardon me; I need to make a few phone calls…."

"Maggie," he interjected slowly. "We never fought when you were alive, why are you yelling at me now?"

That was a white lie, but one might excuse his sin of omission because telling your recently deceased wife that sometimes you had been in fear of her cracking your thick, empty head open with a iron skillet on the few times she had gotten truly exceptionally angry with you was probably a very bad thing.

"Pardon me; I need to exhume my wife as I put a note in her coffin that's actually meant for you?" Maggie snapped before hitting him again with the fan.

Well, she tried, but this time, he grabbed her and prevented the blow from falling. No instead, this time, he pulled her closer to him and he kissed her fiercely, trying not to think of the inherent ickiness of fifty year old him kissing a sixteen year old version of his deceased wife. When they finally broke apart and he had regained his breath, he tried to explain what he had done.

"The price is too high, Maggie. I'm worn-out from the burden. I'm tired of always moving every two, three years. I'm retiring, Mags. I want to spend the few years I have left on this Earth, with our daughters and our grandkids. To hell with everything else, I'm finally realizing that the cost is too much for one man," he protested.

"You're blaming them for my death, aren't you?" Maggie questioned. "George…SawyerHammond…"

Shit. She was using his full name. He was in a hell of a lot of trouble with the judge, jury and prosecuting attorney then.

"Can't we go back to kissing?" He pleaded. "I'm not gonna sleep all night, dear. Can't I have a few happy dreams with you?"

"Do you remember the dates? Do you remember the times?" Maggie protested. "You didn't forget them, did you?"

"I can't possibly ever forget them, as they're tattooed on my heart, Maggie. I can toss that paper away, but those times and dates have been carved into my soul and the scars will never fade," George protested.

"George…" Maggie whispered. "It's been so hard for you all these years…and the worst is yet to come, George. Promise me, when you wake up, you'll write down that information, and put it back into your wallet."

He shook his head, refusing to continue paying in more grief, and Maggie put her hands on his face.

"George… please… Promise me that when you wake up, you'll write down that information, and put it back into your wallet. The time where you will meet them again is getting closer, whether you like it or not, and Captain Samantha Carter will need that information. You can't escape this George, in the future; you will put this all in motion, because in the past, you removed that piece of paper with those times and dates from her tactical vest. There is no escape from this paradox, George."

How did she know about the tactical vest?

"Why me?" George protested. "Why was I selected for this?"

"Because you're like Mansfield, George. You take care of your own, no matter what the cost," Maggie explained.

"I should have taken better care of you. You're my wife. You're the mother of our children. You are my soulmate, and I will never love anyone like I love you. You deserved better from me. If I break this chain of events in the future…never set these events in motion, maybe we'll have more time together…"

He spat that, and Maggie shook her head.

"No, George… don't you think that by not giving them that note in the future, you'll be able to change the past. You will change it, George… but you won't like the future. I'll still die from cancer, George. I will, George. But the worst part is everything will go to hell, George… You'll still be in the military, George… and when everything goes to hell, you'll know that you were the linchpin. And you'll know… that for the want of a nail…. The universe will be lost…And you will know… it will be your fault completely…The hammer is poised, George, and you are the nail. You can either withstand the pressure when the hammer hits or you'll shatter, George."

"You have the opportunity here and now to choose, to become something greater and nobler and more difficult than you have been before, George. The universe does not offer such chances lightly."

He stared at her, wondering about her intensity, what she had said and more importantly what she hadn't said. Then he made his decision or reaffirmed his decision that he hadn't made yet, knowing that he had no real choice in the matter, as the decision had been already made or will already be made, world without end, forever and ever amen!

George shook his head tiredly, admitting defeat.

"Death, my dear, has made you… rather melodramatic," he teased softly. "What would my father say if he heard a good Christian girl like you talking about the universe offering chances?"

Maggie looked annoyed and then she laughed when she realized that as always, he had bowed to her wishes.

"Your father was given the same choice, George. Why did you think he found God and sobered up? He had his role to play in this, as did Viviane, as did I."

"What was Viviane's role? To be killed by a drunk driver?" He spat.

"In every branch of the military, who is the reason why so many prospects don't make a lifetime career of it? Who really makes the decision to be in for the short time? The wives, George, the spouses. They get tired of packing up and moving every two, three years. The kids get out of control because Daddy's never home; and the wives have to be the father and the mother. The spouses get tired, they want a real house, a real home, some place they can put roots down. They want their kids to go to a good school. They need stability, then they begin to crave it like a narcotic. It starts off with a few comments, then it progresses to nagging, then ultimatums."

"You never did that," George protested.

"No, my role was to support you while you made General. I helped you get to the position you are now. If I really wanted you to leave the military, you have not made a lifetime career of it. You'd put it twenty years, maybe, maybe not, worked toward getting your pension, and then you would have moved on with your life. But you stayed in the military, because I supported your decision. Shelby Mansfield always made that truth crystal clear. I married a warrior, and I had to face that reality and accept the challenges that came with marrying a warrior. I supported you, through thick and thin, I kept the homefires burning…."

"And Viviane supported Jake," he said softly.

"Her role in Jake, Samantha and Mark's future is still continuing, George. Jake's greatest adventure hasn't even started yet. One day, he'll meet someone who will be as close to him as Viviane was and that someone will be quite willing to kick him in the ass when he needs it. You and Jacob met in Alaska for a reason, George. Your friendship is important in the grand scheme of things."

"This event has been coming together for more years that you could possibly comprehend, George. You're just the Alpha and the Omega in all this. It starts and ends with you."

WHY ME, he felt like screaming. WHY ME?

"Did I make the right choice, Mags? Will I make the right decision?"

"Yes," she said. Her voice was strong in her conviction. "There wasn't even a chance of a snowball in Austin in August that you'd make the wrong decision. You'll find your faith again, George."

"Without you to keep an eye on me? I doubt it, darling. I do," he admitted. "I've lost my faith, dear; all that remains is this onerous obligation and heavy responsibility which I never wanted."

She shook her head, and then she kissed him. To hell with her appearing to be sixteen in his dreams, and him being a fifty, and not a young fifty, but a battered, bruised and badly scarred fifty, overwhelmed with a heart crushing grief, he just kissed her again and again, needing to feel her close to him. Yes, this was a dream, but sometimes… dreams could bring comfort.

"On the first night, whenever you came home from a godforsaken assignment that had kept us apart for far too long, what did I always do?" Maggie questioned. "I'd put the children to bed; put an album on the record player, I would pour the wine…we'd drink… and then…"

"We'd dance," George whispered. "And all the horrors I had witnessed, all grief… all the doubts…they'd fade from my mind…because I was holding you, and you made everything right in my world."

"Because I was strong enough to take your burdens, and give you peace," Maggie agreed in a soft voice. "We'd dance until you could tell me what was bothering you. You were my heart and my soul, and I was your equal partner in everything. You'll just have to walk these few yards without me, dear. You're strong enough to do it."

"No," he protested. "Not without you."

His wife smiled at him, and he must be cracking up, as he heard music playing softly. Maggie gave him a very crooked smile and she held out her hand.

"Come on, we've still got time before you wake, George. Let's dance, dear," his wife offered. "One final dance until we meet on the other side, dear."

"I'll never stop loving you," George insisted.

"I know that… but don't be surprised if one day, you realize that a short little spitfire has stolen your heart…"

"NEVER," he protested.

"Of course," Maggie laughed. "But if you do find love again, I won't be angry…"

Someone said that in each life some rain is bound to fall

And each one sheds his share of tears

And trouble troubles us all

But the hurt can't hurt forever

And the tears are sure to dry

And it won't rain always

The clouds will soon be gone

The sun that they've been hiding has been there all along

He was dancing with his wife to a sad song played at her funeral. Then when they were both too tired to continue dancing, they started doing other delightful spousal type things. The kids were sleeping, so he and Maggie could have some private time… and…the wine was loosening his tight muscles… everything was going to be just fine… he had made it home in one piece from the Gulf… he was lying face down in his bed while his wife massaged his back muscles, especially that painful one right below his shoulder that always tensed up…. And then he was making love with the most beautiful woman in the entire world…

Mags always restored his soul…

His head nodded and his head jerked instinctively.

Hard.

He looked at his watch, realized it had been two minutes since he had had sat down in the chair and that his daydream had almost dangerously turned into a dream. He stretched his neck. Damn, that chair was the most uncomfortable in the world… no… the universe… and he had a crick in his neck.

What a weird day dream, he thought. It must have been because he was thinking about the funeral, and how he had fallen asleep that night, clutching Maggie's robe.

He had woken the next morning after a deep sleep, and the first thing he had done upon waking, was scribble down the times and dates for the Time Travelers. He hadn't been able to explain his change of heart on the matter, but he had always chalked it up to Maggie unconditionally and unquestionably disapproving of his actions and letting him know in no uncertain terms.

"Maggie, why are you haunting me," he whispered. "Why all these memories? Are you trying to tell me something?"

Josh must be rolling in his grave, worrying about his son who was looking for personal advice from a spirit that wasn't Holy and one of the Trinity.

Maybe… just maybe… if he ever got out of this mess, he'd start attending church real regular-like. Or was that like a spiritual bribe?

He moved the smallest bowl of melted snow away the fire. It wasn't boiling, but it was warm enough, as he could barely carry it to the table without burning his cold hands. He dropped a tea packet in the water to give it time to stoop, and then he woke up Captain Carter.

"Morning, Captain. It's time for breakfast. We've got a great special today for breakfast, unsweetened hot tea."

She was groggy when she woke up, but she wasn't cranky like Jake was when he got short on sleep. Thank God for small favors, as Jake was a nasty grizzly bear when he was short-changed on sleep. Immediately she looked at her watch and then she began to protest.

"Sir, you were supposed to let me sleep for two hours, not eight. Did you test the Stargate?"

"Captain, there's no way we can make it to the Stargate. The wind has picked up and it's still snowing," he informed her. "Drink your tea. Wake me in four hours, and if you could, have some hot tea ready and the MRE ready. We'll split that for lunch."

He split the tea with her, nearly burning his lips in the process, but it was all too easy to dehydrate in conditions like this. You didn't want to drink too much due to the problems of … eliminating the fluids… but if you got dehydrated, you'd die.

The tea didn't help warm him up that much and he carefully unhooked his arm from the sling and experimented with it. The arm was stiff, but he could raise it… carefully.

"Take the bed, sir," Captain Carter insisted. "Plus the blanket on the chair."

"Will you be warm enough?" He questioned. "The building doesn't have much in the way of insulation."

'I'll be fine, Sir."

General Hammond nodded his head, and he carefully got into the bed. But he made damn sure that he left the spare blanket on the chair. He was from Texas, after all, and his father has made damn sure that he had raised his sons correctly.


Hammond let her sleep the night away, still hadn't eaten anything from his stash, and it was mainly his stash as she had contributed all of two candy bars and one power bar to the pot, insisted on leaving the spare blanket out so she could wrap it around herself and who was now asleep in the bed.

Samantha walked for a bit, trying not to disturb the sleeping General, but her eyes kept getting drawn back to where the General was sleeping. Finally, she sat down in the chair, wrapped her self with the blanket and closed her eyes briefly.

I don't understand you.

You look at SG1 with haunted eyes.

You know my father, but you never mention him to me.

I doubt you've ever forgiven me for making you climb a tree in your dress blues after my mom's funeral in front of a General, yet you act as though this is the first time we've met.

You have never cracked a smile in SG1's direction, yet I've seen you laugh at Davis' jokes, inquire about Siler's daughter, and complain about the swill they serve as coffee to Luke the cafeteria guy.

Yet, why do you stare at me… at SG1… like a doomed man who can't escape his fate?

Did you really meet a blonde haired blue eyes gypsy who predicted your future? Yes, it was a pack of lies, but God, that story had the ring of truth in it.

I need to figure out what makes George S. Hammond, Major General tick.

"What am I thinking? I need to get us home," Sam chastised herself, warning herself to get focused on the problem at hand and quickly!

She got out of the chair, her eyes cataloguing the limited inventory, hoping that perhaps they had miscounted the original inventory. Nope, two pairs of dry socks (Hammond), a Leatherman (Hammond), a couple knives (his and hers), two candy bars (hers!), assorted power bars, a small first aid kit, two radios with two spare batteries, three envelopes, two canteens, several handguns, P90 and lots of spare bullets, and a couple plastic ziplocks bags were enough to MacGyver a solution home.

"Damn it," Samantha cursed to the uncaring universe. "Where's MacGyver when you need him?"

She looked back at the sleeping General, who had fallen asleep almost immediately upon getting into the bed. He had pulled the knit cap down farther, to try and retain as much heat as possible from radiating off his bald dome.

"Though I guess you do look a little like Pete Thornton," she commented dryly.

She looked out the window, couldn't see much due the blizzard like conditions and so she returned back to her chair.

"Damn it, Sam, you forgot the most important part. The Condoms! MacGyver could create an interstellar spaceship from them, using the radio batteries for an energy source."


O'Neill had a headache.

A Major General George S. Hammond sized headache.

With George's size 13 steel toed boots kicking him in the eye at every heartbeat.

Which is why he was ignoring Walter Davis' insistent attempts at getting his attention.

No, his murderous headache was why he wanted to kill Rodney McKay, so called Gate-Expert. So called Self-described Gate Expert because Rodney the Mouth that Roared just kept going on and on about how smart he was.

"She must be a blond? I just love dumb blondes," Rodney snarked. "Her notes about the gate are so…. Informative."

He had pleasantly daydreamed of defenestrating Rodney, until he reminded himself that being that they were located several stories UNDER Cheyenne Mountain, there was no window of which to throw Rodney through, except for the Gate Room Window, and probably George would be pissed if when he returned back to the base, the first thing he noticed was a broken Gate Room Window.

Yes, WHEN, not IF.

"You better not be talking about my daughter," snapped a male voice.

Everyone in the room stood up quickly, when they saw two men in dress blues with a literal galaxy of stars between them resting on their shoulders and O'Neill glared at Davis.

I tried warning you, Davis mouthed.

"So, are you?" The balding man snapped at Rodney. "That dumb blonde comment? Was that directed towards Captain Samantha Carter?"

"Jacob," General Ryan said in a polite voice. "Before you kill him, do you think I can get an update on the situation? Colonel O'Neill, this is Major General Jacob Carter."

"Sir," O'Neill nodded his head.

Carter gave him a briefest of glances, acknowledging him quickly before turning his murderous eyes back on McKay. But in that brief instance, O'Neill thought that Carter's father looked ill. Maybe it was in how the man stood, maybe it was hollowed cheeks, but Major General Jacob Carter looked …unwell.

O'Neill introduced everyone to the Generals quickly, but when he mentioned Davis' name, General Carter looked away from McKay to glance at Davis. Jacob appeared surprised to see the slight, balding man.

"Walter Davis?" Carter questioned. "Are you and… Siler… both here?"

"Yes, Sir," Davis answered easily.

"Odds are pretty poor that you were stationed here originally. George must have pulled you two in when things got exciting?" Carter asked, then continued, not waiting for Davis to answer. "Is Siler working on the situation? He must be. Ask him to please take a few minutes out of his time to give an update on the situation. I know he's busy, but I'm sure he has much to add to the conversation."

"Yes, Sir," Davis agreed before disappearing from the room at a fast clip.

"Mike, George trusts Siler and Davis. Recommend that you listen to anything that they might have to add to the conversation," Jake Carter paused then looked at McKay, before obviously dismissing him.

"Jacob, I've done a few of these rescue missions before, you know," Mike Ryan said dryly. "Perhaps not on another planet…"

"Yes, Sir," Jake quickly answered, acknowledging that Ryan had politely slapped him down.


"Shall we begin?" Ryan requested after Siler made his appearance. Walter Davis was also commanded to take a seat. "First things first, we're still considering this a rescue mission. The reports indicate that there was a subsequent power fluxation recorded here after the outgoing gate was apparently hit by enemy fire."

Jacob Carter nodded a brief acknowledgement at Siler and Siler nodded back.

They knew each other but from where? Jack wondered.

"Dr. McKay reports that the energy was transferred through the event horizon where our gate apparently grounded the charge. General Hammond and Captain Carter were in the buffer when the first surge occurred," Ryan explained. "Jacob…."

Carter was used to debriefings, as he took his cue and ran with it.

"Our experts at the Pentagon have been running simulations on what happens when the outgoing gate and the incoming gate are incapacitated. Normally, the patterns would be held in the buffer, but in this case, the buffer was literally fried by the amount of power coming into it," Jake Carter explained dryly. "It appears that the personnel were on the cusp of exiting the wormhole, when the gates went down. Due to the amount of fails safes and protocols that must be inherit in such a system…"

Major General Jacob Carter paused, and O'Neill saw for a brief moment, the concern for his daughter he was trying to hide from everyone. Maybe it wasn't illness that made Carter's father looked haggard, but the strain of his daughter being off world. And the use of the General Hammond's first name seemed to imply a familiarity or even a friendship between the two men. A daughter and a friend trapped off world… that was tough. Even tougher than losing your CO and 2IC off world, Jack had to admit.

"The Pentagon believes that General Hammond and Captain Carter were sent to another gate," Jacob Carter stated unequivocally.

"No," McKay said immediately. "It's a closed system. The one gate sends, and the other receives. It's not the turnpike where you decide if you want to get off at different exit."

Jake Carter pounced on McKay quickly, "Doctor, perhaps you have forgotten the Law of Conservation of Energy. The law states that the total inflow of energy into a system must equal the total outflow of energy from the system, plus the change in the energy contained within the system. In other words, energy can be converted from one form to another, but it cannot be created nor destroyed."

It was apparent where Carter got her brains from, as Jake Carter and Rodney McKay were busy disagreeing about the various laws of physics. While Carter didn't have McKay's knowledge, he was opinionated and not afraid to tell Rodney off. It was rather enjoyable watching Jake vivisect McKay into a thousand little pieces, but finally Ryan had to ruin the fun. Naturally, McKay the Mouth got the last results.

"Look, I'm the expert here, not you, so don't even suggest triangulating the vectors of a vessel firing on a gate based on the conductivity of the Stargate metal, and the size of the wormhole's event horizon verses the delta of the increased power through the gate at the time of the meltdown, General," McKay snapped. "It's not going to do anything, you understand? Why don't you Generally go somewhere and leave the gate to me?"

"General Carter, Dr. McKay, enough," Ryan warned softly. "Dr. McKay, last time I looked, you were on the USAF payroll, are you not?"

McKay's little rat eyes flickered back and forth.

"You are," Ryan said easily. "That means you will treat my personnel with the respect they are entitled too. Now, Dr. Lee?"

General Carter glared at McKay, plainly saying, "Just push me once more… and you won't live to regret it" with his eyes.

"That especially includes Sgt. Siler," Carter inserted in a soft whisper to McKay, that O'Neill barely heard. "Is that understood, Doctor? I may not have a doctorate in astrophysics like my daughter, but I have enough of a science background to know when you're bullshitting because you don't have a goddamn clue."

Bill Lee then reported loudly and … inconclusively…about anything and everything, Jack noticed. McKay almost got snotty but a nasty look from Carter's father settled the Doctor right down. But Siler, Siler was the bright ray of Sergeantly Sunshine at the meeting.

"We've got the gate back online. We need to run diagnostics before we send anything living through the gate."

"How long?" Ryan questioned.

"A few hours," Siler admitted reluctantly.

"Why didn't anyone tell me this?" McKay protested loudly.

"You were in the cafeteria… eating…" Siler stated quietly.

"I'm hypoglycemic," McKay protested. "Plus your chef and I use that term loosely, only had lemon chicken for the entrée. I'm allergic to citritus…"

"Very well, Dr. McKay, Dr. Lee will oversee the diagnostic. Colonel O'Neill, I want to speak to … Tilk…" Ryan talked over McKay easily, even while McKay was explaining what would happen if he accidentally had a piece of citrus.

O'Neill savagely shut down the thought he was merrily processing, to take a wedge of Lemon and squirt it at McKay, much like holy water. Back, foul demon! Back!

Would copious amounts of steam pour off McKay's body? Much like a demon sprinkled with holy water? Would he yell, "I'm Melting! I'm Melting!" like the Wicked Witch?

"Teal'c, T-E-A-L-'-C," O'Neill offered.

Ryan gave him a very slight narrowing of the eyes, which translated into, "Don't push me, Airman".

"Very well then, we'll meet back here in two hours, unless we have good news to report by then. Colonel, if you'll come with me? I want to actually take a look at that galactic monstrosity down there, up close and personal," Ryan decided.

With that, the meeting was dismissed. Major General Carter quickly cut off Davis and Siler off at the pass and began talking to them energetically. O'Neill could hear …Dad… asking Davis how his wife was doing, and he appeared generally delighted to hear that Davis' wife was almost six years clean.

Weird. What was that supposed to mean?

O'Neill picked up some paperwork, shuffled it so he could eavesdrop.

"I'm glad you two are here," Carter told the Sergeants. "George thinks extremely highly of both of you, and that's very reassuring for me, as not only is George out there, somewhere, but so's my daughter. I know that you'll do your best, and I appreciate that greatly. Now, I have to go be a pitbull with that McKay fellow. He gives you any more problems, please left me know."

The two sergeants then tried to escape but O'Neill grabbed then, ignoring Ryan's annoyed look.

"Just talking to the two sergeants," he explained breezily, before he turned to face the two men. He lowered his voice, not wanting to be overheard. "How well do you know Carter's father? Are he and General Hammond friends? His daughter's out there, is he friends with George? I need to know…"

"He was a pall bearer at the Maggie Hammond's funeral," Siler explained. "As we both were. I'm surprised he remembered us, it's been a couple years… and he had flown in specifically for the funeral. I think it was an eighteen hour flight one way."

That done, the Intel received, Jack knew he had to show the two Generals the Gate.

"Siler, mind giving the Generals the fifty cents tour of the gate?"


There wasn't much for Siler to say. Both Generals were suitably awed by the sheer size of the Gate and Siler quickly ran down the events that had caused Hammond and Captain Carter to be stranded off world.

In the background, he could hear McKay complaining about something, and he ushered the Generals out of the room. The Two Generals, naturally, ignored him except for instructing him to show them where Teal'c is.

"McKay certainly is…" Ryan sighed.

"Annoying," Jake Carter offered helpfully. "He's the best?"

"Besides your daughter, yes," Ryan explained. "Unfortunately, your daughter's not available for a consult right now."

"She's with George," Jake insisted, even as the two Generals walked into the elevator slowly, causing O'Neill to have to hop in order to get into the elevator before it closed. "George can handle himself, so the two of them are fine."

"Jacob," Ryan protested. "Face the facts, there's a small chance that they got spit out of the gate exactly where they entered it. They could be in a lot of trouble right now. They even could be…"

Jacob shook his head in denial, "No, they're not dead."

"Pardon me?" O'Neill jumped in. "I haven't been getting my memos apparently. You're saying…"

"Some of the geeks at the Pentagon believe that because the incoming wormhole shut down before the buffer was ready to move their patterns out of … memory…. that they might have been sent back to the outgoing wormhole," Jake explained. "The problem is, the huge power surge destroyed most of the hardware so we can't be sure if they left the gate system… or what… Most of the geeks believe that because the incoming and outgoing wormholes both had major power surges and the buffer being wiped clean and reinitialized when the gate came back up, that the gate system threw them out at another gate."

"McKay believes otherwise," Ryan explained. "As do some of the Pentagon geeks. We're right now in the field of theoretical physics for most of them. The Gate is so far beyond their comprehension that I think they're just guessing. Sorry, Jake, you deserve to know the truth."

"My daughter's not dead. I'd know if she were dead," Carter said firmly.

"Hopefully this alien…" the elevator door opened and everyone exited quickly as Ryan continued easily, "Has some working knowledge of the Gate."

The three of them stopped before Teal'c quarters. O'Neill gestured and the two guards stepped away quietly.

"I want to talk to him," Jake informed Ryan. "You'll be the big guns; I'll be the concerned father. Let's see what information I can get from him."

Ryan agreed and then Carter turned to face Jack. "Tell me about this… alien… Does he have a family? Does he have children?"


Teal'c was intent on achieving kel'no'reem, when he heard a knock on his door. Fortunately, his need for kel'no'reem was not great, so he stood up, and bid them enter. Perhaps it was Daniel Jackson, who had stopped by several times already just to... chat… and deliver large quantities of chocolate deserts.

"Teal'c," O'Neill entered the room first, and then appeared startled by the amount of lit candles in the room. "Geez, T, got enough candles lit?"

Oftentimes O'Neill made comments that O'Neill appeared not to need an answer to, as the man seemed to enjoy hearing himself talk. Plus, O'Neill obviously thought himself quite the wit, so Teal'c oftentimes deliberately failed to laugh at O'Neill's witticism as he knew O'Neill was disappointed when others failed to appreciate his humor.

Master Bra'tac would have been frustrated with O'Neill's levity. "A warrior must learn to make every act count, since he is going to be here in this world for only a short while, in fact, too short for witnessing all the marvels of it," was one of the old Jaffa's favorite quote."Life is too short for levity."

Teal'c waited for the two other men to enter the room. One was balding and wore the rank insignia that General Hammond bore and there was another man behind him. The other man appeared to be higher ranked than O'Neill and the other Major Generals. Both Generals appeared startled by amount of candles lit in his room.

Ah. These Tau'Ri were obviously not familiar with kel'no'reem.

Regally, he nodded his head in acknowledgment.

"Tek'ma'tae," Teal'c greeted them formally. "Tal mal'tiak mal we'ia."

"Right back atcha, T," O'Neill said quickly. "He's greeting you formally. The second comment implies a very high level of respect and honor. This is General Michael Ryan, the USAF Chief of Staff, and this other gentlemen…"

"I'm General Jacob Carter, I'm Captain Carter's father," stated the other man that wore the same rank that Hammond possessed. He was obviously not one for what O'Neill called small talk.

"I am honored to make your acquaintance, General," Teal'c stated once more. "Your daughter is a formidable warrior."

Teal'c was surprised when the General quirked a smile and looked at Ryan before commenting, "That's my Sammy. Takes after her mother that way."

Ah. The Tau'Ri women were strong folk, and the source of much pride to their male kindred. Odd, for a race that appeared relatively unscathed by the Goa'uld to have such regard.

Most less technology advances races viewed their womenfolk as… delicate.

Then the General turned to face Teal'c and motioned for him to sit at the table. Teal'c sat on one side of the table, while General Carter sat on the opposite side.

"Do you think it would be possible to have something to drink?" Carter asked O'Neill. "What would you like?"

He gestured at Teal'c and Teal'c stated that he was not thirsty and needed not to quench his thirst.

"Teal'c, did I pronounce that correctly?" General Carter asked.

"Yes," he admitted.

"I want to talk to you about what happened to General Hammond and my daughter. Do you have children, Teal'c?" Samantha Carter's father asked.

Up until now, Teal'c had denied the existence of Drey'auc and Rya'c, having accepted the fact that his willingness to fight the Goa'uld for the Tau'ri would be called into question, especially with Drey'auc and Rya'c living under the rule of Apophis. The denial of his family pained him greatly, and the wound opened anew when he denied their existence to Samantha Carter's father.

"No, General Carter, I have not been blessed with children."

Carter stared at him for a moment, and Teal'c realized that a perspective Jacob Carter had heard something in his tone of voice, or had seen something in his eyes when he had spoken that lie.

"Gentlemen, I'd like to speak with Teal'c alone," Jacob Carter requested. "It'll be ok, Mike. I can handle this."

Mike Ryan left only after wordlessly conveying his belief that Jacob Carter was a few bottles short of a six-pack. O'Neill exited the room also, only after being pointedly shown the door by Ryan.

"Teal'c," Jacob's voice was soft when he began again. "So… no kids?"

"None," Teal'c stated unequivocally.

Jake Carter gave him a long look, before quirking a smile. "Fine, you can continue to deny, and I won't push the issue. I'll just have to explain something to you, and you'll have to try and understand my viewpoint. I've been in the military for pretty close to forty years now. How about you?"

"I had been in the service of Apophis for much longer than that," Teal'c reminded him pointedly.

"Ah, I keep forgetting. You're a lot older than I am, which is rather surprising as you look younger than me. It's also surprising that you haven't settled down, haven't had any children," Carter paused, and then began again. "I keep forgetting, you don't have any children, so you can't even begin to comprehend what I'm going through right now. To know that your child is on another planet. That she could be in a lot of trouble right now. Could be ill, could be hurt… she even could be dead…"

"As a military man," Jacob Carter paused again. "I'm sure you can't even begin to understand what it must have been like for my daughter. I wasn't there during the times she was growing up, as I away from home, fighting in some goddamn foreign country."

Teal'c nodded his head, trying not to show his strong reaction to that comment. He retreated further behind his stone-faced persona, trying not to show Samantha Carter's father that he could far too easily understand the pain that Jacob Carter was experiencing.

What would he be doing if it was Rya'c and Master Bra'tac?

He'd be taking the chappa'ai apart, piece by piece, trying to make it operational again.

"Let me show you a picture I have of her," Jacob Carter continued easily. "Don't ever let her know that I let you see this picture."

Carter reached into his pocket, pulled out a well-worn black and white picture of a young blond girl in a beautiful dress. Her hair was neatly done in curls and ribbons, and the entire effect was ruined by the fact that the little girl's face was red and scrunched up from crying.

"That was taken when she was …. Four, I think. Her grandmother sent the dress up. Sammy hated it. Didn't want to wear it, and when her mother and I had finally calmed her down, and shoved her into the dress, we needed to take a picture of her. Anyway, she started sobbing uncontrollably," Jake then laughed, "It's not a very good picture of my daughter. I have better ones, but I've always kept it. You know why?"

"To cause great embarrassment to Captain Carter?" Teal'c said strongly.

His quick retort caused General Carter great amusement.

After General Carter had stopped laughing, he continued, "You're pretty funny for an alien, Teal'c. After all, humor is rather subjective… No… it's a reminder that even back then Samantha was bound and determined to be her own person. And just because I wanted her to wear that dress just to make my mother-in-law happy, didn't mean Samantha was going to do it. It also reminds me that as her father, I will do everything in my power to make sure that she doesn't get hurt too badly when she's busy being her own person. Do you understand me, Teal'c?" Jacob Carter questioned.

"Indeed, General Carter," Teal'c answered.

"I've been in the service for a long time. I've met a lot of people like you… well… somewhat like you… you know…they changed sides in the middle of a war due to their personal beliefs. If they can, they bring their families over with them… they often offer to help in exchange for their family's safety. And those… that can't get their families out… you know… sometimes… they deny having a family. Do you have any idea why, Teal'c?"

"No, I do not," Teal'c answered evenly, becoming more uncomfortable.

"I've read the reports; I know you've sworn to Hammond that you have no family ties on … Chulak. I don't believe you, Teal'c. I know that you lied to George about it. No doubt you thought that George would believe that you'd be dangerous, and that you are far too easy to compromise. Families can be taken hostage, and that makes you vulnerable. George will be angry that you lied to him, but that's between you and him. I won't tell anyone, Teal'c, but you have to promise me that you'll do everything to help me get my daughter home. Will you do that?" Jake questioned.

"I do not have any family on Chulak," Teal'c informed the General. His denial sounded false to his own ears and General Carter shook his head.

"Bull shit. My Spidey sense says that you're lying," Carter snapped.

"I do not know of this Spidey sense," retorted Teal'c. "It is wrong, never the less."

"Is it a boy? A girl? Both?" Carter questioned. "I know. It's a son, isn't it? He's getting old enough to be conscripted, isn't he? Soon he'll be trained in the ideologies of the false god you're trying to save your people from."

"I have no son," Teal'c responded angrily.

"He'll have a rough road to walk, being your son, conscripted into Apophis' army," Jake continued.

The General stopped for a moment, took a long sip of water and then wiped his brow.

"Teal'c," Jacob Carter paused before he continued softly. "Your best bet of saving your son right now is George Hammond. Do you understand that? There's no one else in the world that has his horse sense."

"First Spidey, now Horse, I do not understand these senses of which you speak," protested Teal'c. "Perhaps you Tau'ri have developed new senses over the years. Irregardless, they are giving you inaccurate information."

"George can look at people and judge them correctly. He probably knows that there's something not right about your story about not having kids, but he's letting it slide, because for some reason… he thinks he needs you. You know why you're not in Area 51 right now? Being examined? Hammond. Hammond fought with the President of the United States to keep you here. You owe Hammond."

"I do not need you to remind me of my obligations, General Carter," Teal'c stood up and walked away from the table.

"Just wanted to suggest to you, that for whatever reason you decide to help my daughter and George return to the base, that you keep that reason firmly in your mind. So, Teal'c, I'm sure you'll be quite helpful in answering our questions about the gate," General Carter said calmly, before taking another long sip of water.

The General stood up, and Teal'c turned to face him.

"I have already informed O'Neill that I am unable to assist him. I do not have the sufficient knowledge of the gates. It is whispered, that the Chappa'ai were not built by the Goa'uld, but instead, by others."

"Teal'c? Did you do this deliberately? In the chance of getting back into your false god's good graces? You know, present him with an Air Force General whose knowledge of Earth's defenses would be quite useful in determining our planetary weakness."

"No, I did not. General Hammond wished to go off world, to experience gate travel first hand. A seasoned leader can not expect those underneath his command to do what he has not," Teal'c stated firmly. "I chose a world I believed to be safe..."

"And it wasn't," Jake interrupted.

"Yes, what has happened to General Hammond and Captain Carter is my fault," admitted Teal'c slowly and regretfully. "I take responsibility for that. It was… unintentional."

"Swear to me on your non-existent son that you're telling me the truth," Carter requested. "You have no knowledge of the gate that could help us get my daughter home?"

"I so swear," Teal'c vowed.

Jacob Carter stared into his eyes for a long while, before nodding his head.

"I believe you. Just a suggestion, you need to tell George about your family. He'll understand why you did it, because he's a family man. But he better hear it from you, Teal'c," Carter explained.

General Carter left the room, and Teal'c felt a moment's compassion for Samantha having to deal with Jacob Carter as a father.


"I doubt he knows anything useful about Gate Technology, Sir," Jake said to Ryan. "I believe him when he says that."

Jack was about to zing both generals with something suitably respectful yet refreshingly caustic when Siler's voice came over the PA.

"Colonel O'Neill to the control room," Siler's voice sounded… positive, so Jack started trotting down to the Control Room, making sure that both Generals could keep up with his pace.

After all, and he would admit this to no one but himself, if he hadn't decided to put Hammond through his paces and make him do a twenty mile jog off world, the Old Man would have been closer to the gate when all hell had broken loose.


George woke up, disorientated at first, and then the reality of the situation hit him face first. He was cold, he was in a creaky wooden bed and there was the distinct smell of wood smoke in the air.

Off world, broken Gate, all my fault, Jake's gonna kill me.

Next rational thought was that his bellybutton was eating his backbone. He glanced at his watch, figured it was close to thirty six hours since he had a cup of coffee and a powerbar for a pre-dawn breakfast.

"Sir?" Captain Carter's voice was soft, barely audible.

Ah. She was giving him the option of sleeping in, as he had done for her. She could say that she had tried to wake him, but that he had continued sleeping.

God! It was tempting! No! No! Generals do NOT sleep! Get out of bed, Airman!

"I'm up," he rumbled. "Still here?"

"Yes, but it's stopped snowing," Captain Carter said in a very positive voice. "The sun's out."

"Need to try the Gate," Hammond decided. "Turn on your radio. I'll take the GDO, and make the first attempt."

Naturally Jake Carter's daughter wasn't having any of that shit.

"Sir," Carter protested, her blue eyes intense. "You don't know…"

"Draw the symbols for the coordinates you thought were the most promising to get home. I'll try them, and go from there. You're not going out there," Hammond stated. "I have cold weather experience, do you?"

She began protesting and he just stared at her until she ran out of steam. He found that often times just staring unblinkingly at the person while they protested, would often times cause their stream of protests to dwindle off into short spasms of dissent. The "Mansfield Technique", so called as he had witnessed first hand the Master of intimidation, General Tommy Mansfield utilizing it, even worked on O'Neill.

"You get marks for your enthusiasm, Captain," he told her dryly. "But unless I remember your service record wrong, there's only one person here in the room that's served in Alaska. It's windy, it's cold, and I'm guessing that we'll need to break a path to the Gate."

"In all due respect, Sir, I'm the resident Gate expert," Carter protested.

"Which is why you need to be here. Where it's warm, Captain. Anything happens to you, be it hostiles, be it freezing to death, be it you being eaten by the local equivalent of a wooly mammoth, and I'm permanently stuck on this planet. Anything happens to me, you've still got a chance to get off this world," Hammond protest.

"If the gate doesn't work, I come back here but I'll be freezing. Good chance that I'll have hypothermia, since I'm wearing hot weather BDUs. Get as much hot fluid in me as possible, Captain. If you have to pour it down my throat, you better, as I'll probably be too frizzed to do that."

"Frizzed?" Carter asked.

"Technical term," he retorted. "Put the blankets as close to the fire that you can. If I get back, I'll need to get out of my BDUs quickly as I'll be wet and cold. You might need to help me as my hand coordination one of the first things to go when I'm hypothermic."

Her eyes appeared startled and George knew she was thinking about the goddamn condoms.

"I'll have something to change into, Captain," he snapped. "Now if you don't mind, turn around, stare at the wall until I tell you can turn around. That's an order, Captain."


For a moment, she was wondering if she should sneak a peak while Hammond got out of and back into his bdus. The general was hurrying, she figured, as she heard him softly curse at the cold.

She really should sneak a peak just because it was the only chance she'd ever have of seeing a two star undressed.

Because she was going to get court martialed anyway when she got back, no doubt, so might as well make it for something really worthwhile!

Yes, Sir, I peaked at Hammond when he was changing. I was wondering if it's true that Texans are bigger!

And you know what?

To misquote Lili Von Shtupp from Blazing Saddles: Is it true how zey say zat Texans are... gifted?

Oh. It's twue. It's twue.

"I'm respectable," Hammond informed her.

Naturally, being a class A overachiever, he already had stripped the bed of the blankets, and had them folded closely to the fire. She also noticed that there was a neat pile of socks and a t-shirt sitting next to the fire, with…

Oooh hoo! Now she'd know for certain, boxers or briefs. Boxers, she thought. Two stars always wore boxers, she thought. Special Forces went commando.

Mentally, she slapped herself. She was getting slaphappy!

He pulled the knit cap down further down, put his sun glasses on, and then he took the clean socks off the table. One set he tied together and then placed around his mouth and nose, to provide a slight barrier against the cold wind and he put the others on his hands.

"Scarf and mittens," he explained shortly. "Where's the sheet with the symbols?"

She handed it to him as she had already drawn them out while she had watched him sleep. Then General Hammond nodded his head after reviewing it.

"Hopefully we can gate out. I'll let you know if there's anything"

"Sir, I want to state for the record, I'm protesting," Carter retorted. "You shouldn't go out there by yourself, Sir. What if there are hostiles?"

"Your concern is duly noted, Captain," Hammond retorted. "Last time I looked, neither of us are dressed for this little escapade. I'm built like an Eskimo, you're not. Your boots aren't water proof, and that is a recipe for frostbite."

"In all due respect, Sir," Carter retorted. "You need back up."

"And I'm not telling your father that I let you freeze to death. If we were dressed for this little escapade, yes, I'd use you as backup, but I have to weigh my concerns over my personal safety over the fact that anyone who is going out there will develop hypothermia. I have a choice between one person, that being me, or both of us becoming hypothermic," Hammond snapped. "This is a direct order, Captain Carter. You are to stay here, unless I say otherwise."

She glared at him, and he decided to ignore it, rather than writing her up for mental insubordination.

"Captain, there is no doubt in my mind that you are your parents' daughter," Hammond informed her. "But thank God, you look like Viv because looking like Jake would be too much of a cross for any female to bear."

As he no doubt expected, that comment about her parents pushed her off balance. While she was still trying to formulate a response, Hammond exited the small room. She soon saw him through the small window, trying to break a path to the Gate. The snow was easily three feet high.


Shit. Shit. When he opened the door to go outside, he had to push it hard, in order for it to open. Three feet of snow, easily on the ground in front of him, blinding white and goddamn cold. He was almost tempted to go back into the other room and tell Captain Carter that they'd wait to be rescued.

Yeah. But nobody had any idea where they were.

Therefore, he put one foot in front of the other and began making the arduous trip to the Stargate, breaking a path through the thigh high snow.

Shit. I might as well put a sign up saying, "We're here! Come on over for drinks."

Well. Time to prove to everyone, especially to himself, that he deserved the stars on his shoulders.


It took almost twenty minutes to break a path to the Gate, and before he was halfway there, he knew that he was in a hell of a lot of trouble. Fortunately, he had brought his sunglasses; else he would have been snowblind from the glare of the high noon sun on the white snow. It was bitterly cold and there was a brisk wind that went through his BDUs as though he wasn't wearing a damn thing.

He had debated about wearing his boxers, then being a pragmatist, he figured he better have something dry to change into when he got back to their little home, sweet home, and what he'd would be wearing then better cover the essentials.

By the time he got to the Gate, he was shivering so hard he could barely wipe off the DHD with his sock covered fist. Fortunately, he had quickly memorized the symbols that Captain Carter thought the most promising toward getting home, so he quickly punched in the symbols.

He nearly yelled YEEEEE HAWWWWW when the gate opened and stayed open.

Quickly he punched in the GDO code, cursing as cold made his hands thick and clumsy. Then he grabbed his radio, and keyed the mike.

"This is Hammond. Do you copy?"


The control room was literally buzzing with excitement by the time O'Neill got there.

"We were finishing the gate diagnostics," Siler explained. "When the gate started lighting up. Naturally, we got the hell out of there before the wormhole opened."

"Is it Hammond?" O'Neill snapped.

"There are a lot of power fluctuations still," Rodney inserted loudly. "The gate's not safe for traveling."

"Well, is it?" O'Neill snapped.

"We're getting a voice transmission and what appears to be a GDO code as it's broadcasting on the frequency for GDOs, but the transmissions need to be cleaned up," Daniel explained. The linguist was feeling survivor's guilt about getting off world and Carter not, so he had spent a great deal of effort in keeping Siler from killing McKay… deliberately… though Siler was a bit accident prone, so O'Neill had mentally promised to look the other way if something accidentally happened to McKay.

"Sir, l'm suggesting that we put two teams on standby in case it's Hammond and he needs to be extricated. Also requesting Teal'c be brought here in case we need his Intel. If it is indeed the two of them calling in from another planet, he might have needed Intel on that planet," O'Neill said. "Suggesting we have a med team on standby also."

When the chips were down, O'Neill could and would be deadly serious, and the flippancy he used to deal with most everyday occurrences was long gone.

"Make it so," Ryan agreed.


Damn it, he was hearing something on the radio, which meant that somebody or someone was hearing his transmission and responding, but he couldn't make heads or tails of it.

"Captain Carter, can you hear me?" His hands were getting too stiff to hold the radio, but he managed to key it again.

"Yes, Sir," she answered quickly.

"Any idea what I'm hearing? The wormhole doesn't look normal. Its looks more like… a whirlpool rather than the …..regular pool of blue," Hammond cursed himself, wishing he could describe the whirling, churning blue pool better.

If the wormhole was normally a calm, cool pool of galactic blue, this was an angry, swirling cosmic maelstrom.

We're between Scylla and Charybdis. We have a choice between an ugly whirlpool and freezing to death.

"I'd suggest that you keep talking, Sir. Keep the wormhole open for a few more minutes, because if we're reached the SGC, they'll need to modulate the frequency adapter. There could be damage due to the power spike."

Samantha Carter went on for some time about what the SGC would be trying to do if they were on the other side of the wormhole, but he was getting damn cold. He wasn't shivering anymore which was a bad sign. He needed to send them a sign but nothing too obvious if he had gotten the wrong number.

Too damn cold.

Every little brain cell in his all too empty, bald head was freezing, he couldn't think clearly…

I'm sorry, did I dial Apophis' home world? I was actually looking for the upstart Earthlings. You know, the ones that dropped an A-Bomb on Ra's last little tea party.

I need something to send them… a voiceless message that will mean nothing to anyone except for the SGC.

Something unique.

Impossible to be mistaken.

Maggie? I need help here. Darling?

Memories came to mind.

O'Neill throwing a tissue box into the wormhole, some way that Jackson would know he was being contacted by friendlies. Jackson with his allergies, the ceaseless sniffling, the non-stop sneezing….

Mags was lying in his arms. The two of them were wearing nothing except a set of dog tags twixt the two of them. Maggie was holding onto his dog tags, and he was kissing her…

His dog tags.

He stopped kissing her, and she gave him a leer.

They're the only ones in the entire universe, George. How much more unique than that do you want?

MAGGIE! When I get out of here, I'm taking a quick trip to Texas so I can deliver you two dozens roses!

He'd throw them through the gate. If it was the SGC, they'd understand. If it wasn't, well, the person on the receiving end wouldn't understand.

The General ripped them off his neck, and threw them into the wormhole. Then Hammond began jogging back to the guardhouse, trying not to slip in the snow, knowing that if he fell, he wasn't getting back up again.

"This is Hammond. Captain Carter, I'm returning now."

He hoped that she understood what he was saying… knowing that his voice was growing more and more slurred due to hypothermia induced by the extreme cold.

It was too damn cold. He had stopped shivering a while ago and his thoughts were scattering like birds disturbed by buck shot except for one thought that he kept repeating, Captain Carter would have been frozen long before now.

George fell face forwards into the freezing snow when he tripped over something that was hidden beneath the blanket of white. Yeah. That was his excuse even though he long had lost feeling in his feet. Blearily, he stared at the snow, wondering why he was fighting.

So tired… if he closed his eyes for just a moment….

What the hell was going on? He was just a poor boy from Texas, who wanted to fly… what the hell was he doing off world… freezing to death as he was wetter than an unhousebroken puppy and the brisk wind was colder than a mother-in-law's hard heart.

Viv… I'm sorry… I killed your daughter…. Jake… I'm so sorry…

Mags… darling?

Why aren't you here? I hoped that you'd be here with me at the end… I don't want to die alone… not like this…


Jack was getting more and more certain that whatever that transmission was, it was a rather exasperated George Hammond, was probably growing increasingly aggravated at the lack of response from the SGC. Walter Davis kept repeating, "Please identify yourself," until the Chevon guy was in danger of losing his voice. The wormhole was still open, the noise was being transmitted regularly… it had to be someone was trying to contact them.

But they had a gate coordinate thanks to the Gate's version of Caller IDs. Half of the geeks were running simulations to find out where the hell they were and the general consensus was that Hammond and Carter were on the opposite side of the galaxy. Teal'c was still on his way to the Control Room, but O'Neill hoped that Teal'c would know something about the planet.

The rest of the scientists were filtering the noise through various different modulators and multiplexers in their attempt to figure out what their missing members were saying when something came through the worm hole. The teams standing guard in the gateroom were vigilantly waiting for the unexpected to happen. But the teams weren't expecting anything physically to be flung through the wormhole to land with a clatter on the ramp, and so they nearly went into full scale attack mode until they realized it wasn't being followed by anything else. The Gate shut down with a mighty hiccup, as who ever was calling in decided to hang up as he was probably worried about the long distance roaming charges.

"What is it?" O'Neill called down.

Major Ferretti, all around good guy with a level head in Jack's opinion, went up to it cautiously, and then scooped it up. He stared at whatever it was in his hand, then looked up towards the control room. His expression was one of …. uncertainty.

"It's Dog Tags, Sir… They're Hammond's… but something's happened to them. They're twisted and bent."