Title: Deconstructing the General

Rating: R George curses a lot.

Synopsis: This is slightly AU. 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. Don't you just hate it when Secondary Characters REFUSE to behave themselves and demand to be front and center?

WIP


"Teal'c!" Jack exclaimed loudly, even as he tapped the computer screen in front of him, much to the annoyance of Sgt. Davis. "Hammond's dog tags just came through the Gate from this location. Can you look at the coordinates? Do they look familiar? Do you know anything about this planet?"

The former First Prime of Apophis, and now freedom fighter, outcast and apostate peered at the coordinates on the computer screen. His eyebrow arched and O'Neill felt the first glimmer of hope since he had landed on the gate ramp face first and realized that he had left two members behind in the midst of a fire fight.

"Indeed, they are quite familiar…" Teal'c stated solemnly. "It was formerly under the control of Ra. When Ra was eliminated, Apophis attempted to take control of the planet. The population refused, and so Apophis…."

Teal'c paused.

"Exterminated them. There is no human life left on that planet. It was to be a warning to all those who dared stand against Apophis."

"Exterminated? Are you talking biological weapons, Teal'c?" General Ryan snapped. "A plague?"

"No," Teal'c paused. "I and the rest of Apophis' Jaffa were required to round the population up and open fire on them. Women holding mere babes in their arms, young children, their deaths mattered not to Apophis, except to demonstrate his strength."

Teal'c looked at O'Neill, and then looked away. The stoic alien appeared expressionless, but Jack saw a touch of self-loathing in his dark eyes.

How much of that did you have to stomach before you met us, Teal'c? Will you ever tell us?

"Teal'c," Jake Carter inserted quickly. "So the fact that George's dog tags came through the gate, means that it's highly probable that George or my daughter send them through. If the two of them had been captured…"

Carter paused, and then he sat down, looking as though he was close to physically collapsing. He waved away the anxious folk who were hovering over him with a very gruff, "I'm ok, had a touch of the flu a few days ago, and I'm not completely over it. But Teal'c, they wouldn't be brought there to that planet, correct? If Apophis wanted them made an example of, he wouldn't send them to a dead world, would he?"

"It is unlikely, General Carter," Teal'c answered. "Apophis would prefer to have their deaths be witnessed, as a warning to others that would rebel."

"They tried contacting us via their radios, that must have been the noise," Carter snapped. "When we didn't answer, they realized that the Gate was having problems. So they threw the dog tags into the wormhole…hoping they'd get through."

"It might not be them, Jake," Ryan warned. "Don't get your hopes up. If it is them, they don't have much in the way of supplies, do they?"

"No, it was only supposed to be a quick jaunt off world so General Hammond could get his feet wet," O'Neill explained for the ninety-seventh time. "What type of conditions will they have to deal with Teal'c?"

"I am uncertain," Teal'c answered.

"OK. Let's find out how soon the Gate will be operational," Ryan ordered. "We're getting our people home."


Captain Samantha Carter, currently trapped off world on another planet with her CO, unaware that her father was storming through the hallways of the SGC and intimidating almost all who dealt with him due to his intense desire to get her home, threw more firewood into the fireplace. The MRE, some sort of tex-mex dish, (Naturally, she thought with some asperity) was cooking and she had reused the tea bag from earlier so Hammond would have something warm to drink when he returned from attempting the gate. He had radioed that he was on his way back, and she looked at her watch for the third time in thirty seconds.

Fifteen minutes ago he had said that he was returning. He should be back by now.

There were no answers to her repeated attempts at radio contact. Shit! She was pacing, back and forth, a nervous gesture she had picked up from her mother. On those times when her father had been late coming home from a mission, her mother had often paced with worry…

"God damn it," Samantha cursed. "My father would have done this."

A good junior officer always followed their senior officer's commands, and then Samantha Carter decided it was time to disobey General Hammond. She put her sunglasses, pulled her T-shirt up until it covered her nose and mouth, and then grabbed her P-90. It was long past time to rescue Hammond, whether he liked it or not.

To her surprise, she found him roughly 300 yards from the guard house, upright, staggering like a drunk on a week's binge, and covered head to foot in snow. He didn't seem to notice her, but instead he stumbled and fell face forward into the snow again. By the time she had reached him, he was still laying face downward in the snow.

Shit! He's hypothermic! And I can't even think of dragging him! He's too damn solid for that!

"Sir!" She called. "General Hammond! Can you stand up?"

He rolled over in the snow, and stared up at her. His normally ruddy face was pale and blue tinged, and to her complete surprise, he laughed uproariously when he realized who she was.

Err… who she looked like as she rapidly realized that General Hammond was disorientated and hallucinating.

"Viv?" He slurred. "Viv? What the fuck? You dead, Viv."

Hammond looked away from her, and stared over her shoulder. He nodded his head as though he was having a conversation with someone. A Dead Someone.

"Maggie?" The General slurred. "Aint't she dead?"

"Sir," Samantha yelled. "Come on, I need you to get on your feet, Sir. Come on, Sir."

To her complete unsurprise, Hammond completely ignored her. No, instead, he somehow got to his feet, and began stumbling off in the wrong direction. She briefly wondered if all of her father's friends were as bullheaded as Hammond was or if it was because Hammond was from Texas and because Texans had their own way of doing things…regardless!

"General HAMMOND!" Samantha yelled as she followed him into the deep snow and wallowed gracelessly in the snow. "GEORGE!"

The use of his first name seemed to draw his attention and he turned to face her.

"Viv?" He asked. "Where's Maggie?"

"Yes, George… come with me… Maggie's waiting for you in the house."

By hook or by crook, she managed to pull the General back into the guard house and she forced him to sit down by the warm fireplace. She handed him a warm bowl of tea, knowing that shocking his system with hot tea would make matters even worse. From all appearances combined with his mental confusion, the General was borderline hypothermic.

"Drink this," she ordered.

His hand coordination was shot, plus he was shivering so hard that Hammond succeeded in spilling more on him than he got into him until she took over for him.

"Here, you sip, I'll hold," she ordered.

She managed to get two bowls into him, and then forced him to eat one of the candy bars, knowing that right now he needed warm fluids and simple sugars. That done, she forced him to drink more warm tea, and he managed to drink most of it through his chattering teeth.

"I need … out of these wet clothes. Hand me my shirt and my hat please," he muttered. His voice wasn't quite as slurred, as before. Hammond tried to unbutton his shirt, but his hands were still clumsy and unable to handle the small buttons. Frustrated, he popped a button off before Samantha helped him undo the rest of his jacket. She assisted him with removing his jacket and putting on his t-shirt.

He sighed in contentment, "Shirt's warm. I threw my dog tags through the wormhole. If they landed at the SGC, they'll know that at least one of us was alive. If it went to Apophis' summer cottage, shouldn't mean shit to him."

Hammond was shivering still and he looked at his feet.

"Help me… my boots?"

Samantha agreed to help him with his boots, and he watched her intently while she got his feet out of his wet boots. His socks were soaked, and so she removed them. His feet were blue with cold, but they weren't frostbitten.

"Did I call you Viv?" Hammond questioned softly.

"Yes, you did," she admitted.

"Fuck," he cursed before he had a fit of coughing. "Captain, are you still wearing your wet pants?"

"Yes, Sir," Sam admitted.

"One idiot with hypothermia is enough for this three hour tour, Captain," Hammond barked before he started coughing again. "I need to get my pants off also, so… you turn around. I'll do the same… If I fall over, I'll let you know…though you'll probably guess that I took a header. You'll know as you'll hear a loud boom and the earth will shake… but I think I better handle this part myself."


Took a few minutes but he managed to change out of his wet pants and into his dry briefs. Thank God, he didn't need to have Jake's daughter help him change as he'd never be able to look Jake in the face again. That done, he staggered to the bed, and crawled…ok collapsed into it. He was so damn cold, the bed was warm, and he was delighted to close his eyes and just fall asleep.

Waves of weariness were crashing over him, while a small voice was saying that he should stay awake, but he ignored it, as he was drifting away.

"Sir?" A female voice interrupted him.

"Forge my signature," he informed that damn secretary that probably forged his signature on half the PR-291 forms that came through the base.

"Sir?" the voice questioned again. "You need to sit up. You really need to eat more than you did."

The voice kept haranguing and harassing him, so finally he opened his eyes, to see Viv… noooo… Samantha Carter sitting next to the bed. The Captain was wrapped in a blanket and she had a cup of tea and the mre sitting on the table next to her as she had pulled the table toward him.

Ah! He was off world, in a frozen Shangri-La, not on an Air Base in Texas.

"Captain, you are painfully persistent," Hammond grumbled.

"You'll freeze if you don't eat. How are you doing, Sir?" Captain Carter questioned.

"If things got any better, I'd need to hire some one to help me enjoy it," he drawled.

That quip caused Carter to laugh.

"Do you need help eating?" Samantha questioned.

"I can do it," he announced, and he uncovered himself long enough to take the MRE from her hands.

Carefully, he split the entrée in half, hoping that the Captain wouldn't see how his hands shook and he grimaced when he nearly spilled it.

"Bean and rice burrito," he informed her. "It's hard to believe that this is supposed to taste like that. Obviously they've never had good Tex-Mex. Fortunately, there's a good place by Cheyenne."

"Here, let me help you," she insisted. "Get under the blanket, you're still hypothermic."

"Yes, Ma'am," he retorted.


Hammond let her feed him, and though he was tired, he refused to just close his eyes. He was slowing thawing out, he wasn't shivering as bad as he was, but he wanted to make damn sure that she ate half the meal. Plus, he knew damn well that if he closed his eyes, he'd be asleep, which was a bad sign.

"Rest is yours," he informed her after his 4th bite or so. "I'll have some tea now, and then when you're done eating and drinking, throw more wood on the fire. Then you're to get into the bed, Captain."

"Sir?" She questioned.

"It's an order, Captain," he informed her tersely.

Hammond was lying in the bed, shivering. And she was wearing her bdu jacket, her t-shirt, and her underwear. Oh, and a blanket was wrapped around her middle, hiding her bare legs. Her pants were neatly hung up near the fireplace, as they needed to dry. The General looked at her, and he shook his head.

"I'm not in any condition to take advantage of you. Your virtue will remain intact," he promised. "Plus your father would kick my ass from wherever the hell we currently are, all the way back to Houston."

"It's not that, Sir," she lied.

"Good, as I'd be furious if I had the faintest suspicion that Jake Carter's daughter would prefer to develop hypothermia because a needless, deep-seated fear that I was a lecherous two star who'd take advantage of a junior officer when I'm too goddamn cold to even think of it," he growled with justifiable asperity.

"No, Sir! Never!" Samantha protested, wondering when the hell her life had spun out of control. "I'd NEVER think that!"

"Don't worry," the General rumbled in his deep voice. "I didn't even think it either."

So after throwing a few more pieces of wood onto the fire, Samantha Carter crawled into bed with her superior officer. To her surprise, the General was still shivering, even though he had been under several blankets. Deliberately, she snuggled close to him, feeling her bare legs brush against his. Then, she put a bag over her head, and did it for England… ok… for the United States Air Force, and she hugged her superior officer, wishing that there was a better way of warming him than by the sharing of body heat under assorted blankets.

His body was shivering so hard that it took him a few tries to wrap his arms around her.

"Sir?" She questioned.

"I think we can drop the rank," Hammond informed her. "When we're rescued, we can assure everyone that you called me General, and I called you Captain…. Here's the situation, Samantha. You need to keep me talking until I warm up, ok? May not wake up… if I fall asleep… Not warming up that… quick…"

"Ok, Sir… George…" Sam replied. "What do you want to talk about?"

The General… no…. George… was already dozing so she repeated her question louder.

"Is it true…you joined the Air Force because you got… a Matt Mason figurine for Christmas?" George questioned. "Your father must be so pissed at me…"

"You heard me mention that to Daniel?" Sam questioned softly.

Oh Fuck! How embarrassing!

He shivered again, and pulled her into a tighter embrace.

"You need to look at the picture again… when we get out of here," he mumbled. "The other guy… make him bald…add a few pounds… few decades….might look… familiar…"

"You were the one? You got me Matt for Christmas?" Samantha questioned.

"Yes. My wife…Maggie… she thought Sam Carter…. Was a boy…," George explained. "Then… when we showed up… you were wearing… that velvet dress…."

First he thought she would prefer to freeze before sharing the bed with him because she thought he'd try to make a move on her, then he mentioned the Matt Mason figurine and then the DRESS from HELL had to be brought in. She still had assorted traumatic memories of wearing that dress!

Her father had a picture of her unhappily wearing that dress. Her dad kept THAT PHOTO in his wallet through the years, ready for the chance to embarrass her in front of family, friends and perfect strangers.

Good God, if he was at the SGC, no doubt he'd be proudly showing it to everyone including Teal'c!

"Oh my god, that dress! George?" She questioned sharply as his eyes were closed and his breathing was growing heavy as though he was close to sleep. "George! You saw me in that dress?"

George nodded slowly and grumbled a response which she couldn't hear. Then she rubbed his chest HARD with her knuckles. Thanks to sitting through countless first aid classes, she knew the Sub-sternum chest rub should and could wake the nearly dead. For her trouble, George roused slightly.

"Cute dress. Should wear it now…. Probably warmer than the… bdus…"

She continued questioning him for a bit, and then she heard the oddest sound. It was thunder?

"What's that?" She questioned.

"Thunder snow," George informed her. "It's starting to snow again. There will be probably a lot more snow before it ends. Looks like we're snowed in."

That comment caused him to bark a laugh and she asked him why.

He explained, "Samantha, the last time I was snowed in with a Carter, the stork dropped off my daughter. I didn't think your father would ever talk to me again after Maggie had our daughter on your parent's brand new mattress. I bought them a new one, naturally, but… damn… that was one scary Christmas."

The two of them talked for almost an hour, until Hammond was warmed up enough to stop shivering. To her amazement, Samantha realized that Hammond's gruff-by the book exterior hid a kind and considerate heart. Never, ever would she think that Hammond would talk to her about his grandkids and how he took them sledding during the winter months.

"They'd love all this damn snow. They'd be running around trying to convince me that I want to kill myself by sledding down the biggest hill they could find."

"Sir, I'm sorry." she apologized when she realized that George had missed his daily phone call with his grandkids. "You didn't get home to call them."

"Hopefully Walter called my daughter and made up something that sounds suitably important enough to cause me to miss our appointment but not serious enough so that she worries," George explained. "It'll be a fine line to walk, as Jocelyn is too much like her mother."

"It's a shame though," George admitted slowly. "I was hoping that since I missed so much of their mothers' growing up that I could be more involved with Kayla and Tessa's lives. I was so close to retiring before that damn ghoul decided to ruin my plans."


"Which end?" Jack questioned McKay, the alleged brain.

"Beg your pardon?" McKay snapped. "Which end what?"

"Where did Hammond's dogtags unexpectedly crumble like they were made out of tin?" O'Neill snapped. "Is the problem on their end or ours?"

"We're running diagnostics, Colonel," Siler called from across the room.

"Fuck the diagnostics, Siler. Can we redial that gate address?" Jacob Carter growled.

"No. We managed to blow some of the circuits that we just replaced, Sir. We need to replace them again."

"Damn it," O'Neill and Carter swore at the same time. The two men looked at each appraisingly, decided that the other one reminded them far too much of themselves and so they immediately looked elsewhere.

"How long?" Ryan snapped.

Siler shook his head, "It's not just that, Sir. We'd almost replaced all the super conductive interface elements, Sir. The old ones all melted. It's going to take some time to replace them for the second time and load test them."

O'Neill managed to keep his impatience growl to himself but he knew his voice was sharper than it should be when he snapped, "Sgt. Just tell me the minute we can communicate with them with the radio."

"That'll be 24 hours, Sir, minimum," Siler insisted. "Possibly more as we need to find out if the damaged conduits being used when they dialed in caused additional stress on other parts of the Gate."

Ryan shook his head, "Sergeant, Captain Carter and General Hammond may not have that long. I'll give you half that. You'll also be saving Colonel O'Neill's six."

For a wonder, Siler dug his heels in, and shook his head, flatly telling General Mike Ryan to go scratch.

"No Sir, it doesn't work that way. 24 hours is the best I can do. You want me to take the chance of having General Hammond and Captain Carter returning in the same shape as that dog tag? Then make me rush."

Jake Carter stepped in, "Then you'd better get back to it, Sergeant. Mike, George trusts him, so listen to him."

"Very well, Sgt," Mike Ryan said with ill disguised impatience. "The clock is ticking. Colonel O'Neill, you and General Carter need to speak with General Hammond's family.


Hammond was asleep, and for some reason, he knew that he shouldn't be. But damn it, he was still chilly and Mags was lying near him, and somehow they had gotten entwined like pair of human pretzels under the shared blankets. She was partially lying on top of him and her leg was entangled with his. Plus her warmth was resting delightfully against his middle and he continued to doze, enjoying the burgeoning feeling of warm desire. Mags was moving slightly, just enough so that he was completely and totally aware of her, and how she was rubbing her body against his just so…

This was the very best way to wake up. He could even ignore the howling winds outside, as nothing mattered because Maggie was in his arms…

George? It's me, Maggie. That's not me, darling. Wake up!

He ignored her, and Maggie decided to teach him a lesson. She grabbed him by the short hairs, threw him into a snow bank where he was promptly eaten alive by a rabid seven foot tall aardvark who declared in a heavy British accent that he was completely inedible as he was grisly and tough to swallow. That weird dream caused him to wake up, and he blearily looked at the woman who was sharing his bed with him. His desire fled for parts unknown when he realized that the woman wasn't Maggie.

No.

Blonde?

VIV? VIV! What is VIV doing in MY BED!

It's Samantha Carter, Maggie informed him. Her voice was loud and clear in his head. You're still dozing, dear. Not completely asleep, not completely awake. I figured that I'd better wake you before you two did something that you'd both later regret.

Mags. I'm old enough to be her father!

Laughter. The Old Dog should be proud that he's still got some bite left! How are you doing dear?

Piss on the fire, and call the dogs! I wanna go home! It's long past time to be gone from here!

Seriously, George. Situation's pretty dire here. If you had reached the SGC, and if they could get back to you, they would have by now. If they could dial the gate, even just to contact you via the radio, they would have. You two have slept close to twelve hours. You're on your second day here, in fact, you're almost on your third day.

Yes.

Hammond thought about the supplies they had started with, what they had used and the little that remained. Among two people, it wasn't much, but for one person… might be enough until she was rescued.

You've got something on your mind, George. You could always talk to me, and you want to talk. So that's another reason why I'm here.

Strong chance we both won't make it out of here. Not enough provisions. Not enough wood, and we're in trouble, especially since they haven't come charging through the Gate to rescue us. Maybe one of us might make it if the other one decides… to fall on their sword, Mags. When she told me that I had given her that piece of paper…

She never said when you gave it to her. Just that you had.

She never said if I was still alive.

No. She'd didn't.

Very well. When I wake up, I'll put my plan into motion. All our meager resources will go toward keeping her alive. To hell with me. I've lived a good life, and I've missed you something fierce these last few years.

George… You're not giving up are you? I'm so surprised!

Darling, it's colder than a witch's tit out there. I gotta be realistic. I'm not giving up, as I'm uglier than homemade sin, tougher than an old boot and near impossible to kill. But Carter, she might only be able to live a few days longer especially when we run out of food and wood. I've got all these nice layers so I can hibernate, but she's a might scrawny.

I prefer my ladies…with a little more meat, you know. There's something about a woman whose got ample curves so I can admire them ...

Laughter. You're a dawg, George.

Hopefully the SGC will be able to locate her before she dies from the cold.

It's the only decision, Mags.

I'm the General.

I'm the one that got her stuck on this godforsaken planet.

I'll give her the note and instructions of when she'll need it. Then the circle's completed. My role in this little adventure is finished. At last, I can put this burden down. What will be, will be. If I make it out of here, great, if not, Samantha Carter has a date with a much younger me that she can't miss.

George? Are you still angry about the path you've had to walk?

No. I'm not… not anymore.

George? At the end now, would you change anything? If you had the power to do so?

She's Jake and Viv's daughter. They helped bring Jocelyn into the world, and that meant I've had my responsibilities and obligations to the Carters, and by that I mean, every member of the Carter family. Samantha Carter and I have had this tangled destiny for almost as long as she's been alive. It's time to cut the cord that binds the two of us together, Mags.

She'll have to face that adventure with… and possibly without me. Jackson's a good guy, O'Neill… if there's a way to get them home, he'll do it. And Teal'c? Teal'c will manage to keep an eye on the kids and keep them safe. I can't believe he's forty years older than I am!

But Maggie, Maggie, I would have loved to see the girls one more time before I got called home. Kayla's got your eyes and Tessa's got your smile, darling.

George… I think you've healed. Finally.

I needed to get to know them. I might not get the chance to really know them, not now, but… they seem to be decent folk. That's enough for me.

'Sides it's not that bad a way to die. Freezing to death. You just close your eyes, and fall asleep. You even believe that you're warm. You'll be there, won't you? Please?

Always, George. I will always be there, as I have always been there.


"That went well," O'Neill said dryly to General Carter after the two men left the Hammond household.

The General grimaced and shrugged his shoulders. The older man's face was drawn and haggard, and he looked exhausted.

"No family takes it well when a bunch of uniforms show up to tell you that they don't have any fucking information on your loved one," the General needlessly explained. "Plus the base's cover story really needs work. Analysis of deep-space radar telemetry?"

You think? O'Neill nearly retorted. What was the hint that the family wasn't taking it well? When Hammond's youngest daughter met us at the door before you could even knock on the door? That the oldest daughter asked why the hell her dad, a General, was out in the field overseeing a repair job?

No, the worst part had been when George's grandkids, two cute little girls by the name of Kayla and Tessa, had grabbed his hands, had looked imploring at him with big blue eyes and tearfully begged him to go find 'Papaw George who was losted'?

"You know the family well?" O'Neill said instead, wishing his headache would just find some other place to hang out for a bit.

"Jocelyn's my goddaughter," Carter explained. "I've known George for a hell of a long time. Like I told Jocelyn and Millie, my daughter was on the mission also, and I have no doubts in my mind that the two of them are alive, and covering each other's sixes."


George woke up and carefully got out of the bed, managing to keep Samantha Carter asleep. He grabbed his pants, realized that they were dry, and so he put them on, quite delighted at being able to retain some dignity. Nothing caused a general to lose his dignity faster than for a junior office to see him in his briefs.

Well, having the junior officer see him without his briefs was the fastest way, actually.

The fire was low and in fact, was almost out, so he threw more wood and kindling onto it before guesstimating the amount that was left. They were burning wood faster than he thought they would, and the guard house was still on the chilly side.

Not enough wood for another day.

If he broke the two chairs, and the table. That would be enough for a few more hours. Maybe the bed frame next… but that would mean the mattress would be on the cold floor.

He put one of the bowls close to the fire, so to heat the water for tea. That done, he looked out the window. Couldn't see a damn thing, as the wind was blowing something fierce and whipping up the snow.

The weather report was obviously predicting more snow until doomsday, so he took out his journal, ripped more pages out of it, and he began writing by flashlight. The first two letters he had to write were to his daughters. He wanted to make sure that they knew that at the end, he hadn't been afraid, that it had been a good life, made better by being their dad.

It's been a good life, Jocelyn…

He wrote for a bit, then reread the letters. There was so much to say, so much he needed them to know, and such little time in which to write. Hammond's hands were growing stiffer in the cold air, and so he quickly put his letters to them into an envelope. When, and not, IF, the SGC, found them, Jocelyn and Millie would get his notes.

That done, it was time to write the hardest letter of all.

Captain Carter,

This was the only ethical decision, and I did it knowing full well what the consequences might be. But I can assure you that one day you'll understand… why I've done what I've done… and how I knew you'd make it out alive.

My final orders to you are as follows:

Make sure Jocelyn gets my wedding ring and my journal.

When they bury me, I want you to tell my son-in-laws to make damn sure that there's a nice spray of yellow roses for my wife's grave, because there's a yellow rose in Texas that I am going to see…

He wrote another paragraph or so, and then he placed the yellow sheet of paper with a request to a younger Hammond to help four strangers plus two dates and two times into an envelope, which he then sealed into another envelope along with his note.

If I could, George, I'd tell you that it was worth it. At the end, I realized they were worth the trouble and the pain that you're going to live through. But you'll know that in time.

That done, he began working on the hypothermia wrap. He'd make sure Samantha Carter would eat and drink, take care of "business" and then he'd wrap her up in all the blankets, and the space blanket. Some of the rocks in the fireplace were loose, so he could heat them up, then put them into socks and make a rough hot pack of sorts, put them in with her, wrap her up real good, duct tape the entire wrap shut so to keep that precious heat from being lost.

Time to wake Samantha Carter in order to enjoy their last meal together.


Bill Lee ran the audio transmission through a multiplexer, removed the static, increased the frequency, adjusted the modulation and he grimaced.

"Here goes nothing," he said cheerfully to Daniel Jackson, who for some reason gave him a rather disgusted look.

He didn't know what Jackson's problem was, after all, Jackson could be helping McKay, who was by all accounts was rather snippy. Siler had been restrained from punching McKay only through the quick actions of Walt Davis, who had grabbed Siler and had pulled him out in the hallway for a serious talking to. Davis probably promised Siler that he could punch McKay AFTER the General was once again back at the base.

Bill knew himself to be the most levelheaded and easiest of personalities, so he decided he'd magnanimously chalk Daniel Jackson's crankiness up to stress. After all, the SGC had been on high alert for the last forty eight hours.

Rumors also had O'Neill in a very foul mood after meeting the General's family. Lee hadn't gotten any concrete gossip on that except for the fact that the General's oldest daughter had a bit of a mouth on her.

He hit play and he was rewarded with a roar like a moose in heat. Bill was also hit solidly in the back by a rather excited Daniel Jackson.

"Ow!" Bill exclaimed. "Why are you hitting me?"

"Listen again. Replay that," Daniel Jackson instructed, "Just decrease the modulation and increase the speed just a hair."

No, this time it didn't sound like a moose in heat, no, instead it sounded like Mickey Mouse on helium. But instead of incomprehensible noise, there were words… comprehensible words.

"This is Hammond. Do you copy?" Pause. "Captain Carter, can you hear me?"

"Yes, Sir." Higher pitched voice, probably female.

Bill tried to shush Daniel Jackson who was paging Jack O'Neill to the lab.

"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."

"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."

"Jack! It was Hammond who threw his dog tags through the Gate. They're alive, Jack. They're alive!" Daniel Jackson exclaimed excitedly.