Author Notes: Sorry about how wordy these chapters have been lately, this'll be the last one I think, then things will heat up. Thanks for the reviews!

Chapter 9: Dark Intentions

Daniel and Jonas were sitting in their lab; Jack was with Teal'c getting beaten up in yet another sparring match. Daniel sighed, "We really need to get out more. We have vacation till the gods know when, and yet four out of five of us are still on base."

Jonas smiled, but didn't say anything, continuing to lightly tap away on the computer. He still hadn't said a word to anyone. Luckily, however, since Dr Mackenzie's mysterious sudden leave of absence, he had relaxed around his team mates to the point of normalcy, minus the talking.

Daniel sighed and leaned back in his chair, "Jonas, why won't you just talk about it? I'm not trying to be a psychiatrist or anything, but it can't be good keeping your thoughts to yourself."

Jonas smiled again, but shook his head; even he couldn't explain why he wasn't talking. The closest he could guess was that his brain just needed to sort out the new information. He had always known his childhood had been bad, and now he knew why he had unconsciously blocked the earlier parts out – at least it had got better when he got older. Suddenly, he jumped as Daniel slammed his fist down hard on the desk. Daniel smiled guiltily, "Sorry, I'm just annoyed with Sam. She won't deal with it and I haven't heard from her since the de-briefing."

Jonas frowned, confused, so Daniel continued, "She's not coping. Did you know she's gone to Seattle? Janet found a note in her house. I know something's wrong." he sighed, frustrated, "This Mountain's making me feel claustrophobic, I hate being underground. Funny, I never noticed it all the years I've been here. I'm going up top for a bit – you coming?"

Jonas nodded and rose, following Daniel out. He wondered how long it would be before Janet called them saying that Jack had been knocked out again.

Sam slammed her hands down on the keyboard in frustration. However hard she tried, she couldn't find any data. She had checked all the sites that she could remember as being used by the NID, but none of them were remotely useful. She was so desperate she'd even typed 'Project Phoenix' into a search engine.

Samantha was in her third hotel room in four days. She hadn't slept more than a few hours a night, and when she did she had nightmares of white rooms and black eyes. Sam groaned and buried her hot face in her cool hands, "I'm going insane."

"Sir."

"I'm retired remember Reynolds, how long are you going to keep up the 'sir'?"

Major Justin Reynolds quirked a smile, "As long as you call me by my surname, sir."

The other man sighed and opened the door fully to allow Reynolds into his huge house. He then led him into his office, "So what is so urgent that you need to come by my humble home at-," he looked at the clock on the wall and groaned, "at two o'clock in the morning? There is that wonderful invention of a phone you know."

"This is." Reynolds dumped a file marked confidential on the green leather top of the antique mahogany desk.

Frowning, the older man picked up the file with his leathery hands and opened it, reading while Reynolds continued, "This has all occurred over the past week, from various terminals. Each time they want to know about a certain 'Project Phoenix', something that you told me to keep you informed about should it ever come up."

The other man sighed, "You are too paranoid Reynolds, it's probably just some nosy reporter, and they won't find anything."He glared up at him, "This is what you woke me up for?"

"It's not a reporter sir; it's a Major Samantha Carter, US Air Force. The military are snooping."

The other man froze, and then he smiled a small smile than did not reach his sunken, black eyes, "Is she alone?"

"Yes sir, she has had no contact with anyone since she began her digging."

Half to himself, the older man muttered, "I never thought I would see this day, she was always so well protected, and her brother is useless now…" An evil twitch of anticipation began in his index finger; he looked up at Reynolds, "This is our last chance. Bring her in."

"Same place?"

"No, I don't want her brother to come looking." He handed Reynolds a file, "An old property of mine."

Reynolds nodded, and made to leave before asking one more thing, "Sir, if I may, what was Project Phoenix?"

The other man poured himself a brandy, "Something me and your father worked towards under the service of your employers, the NID - the less ethical section of course."

Reynolds smirked, "Of course."

Sam was ready to admit defeat and go back to her friends. It had been just over a week and she had come up with nothing. With all her computer skills, she had found no evidence of there ever being a Project Phoenix. She was beginning to wonder whether the alien had planted the memories; made them up using her knowledge of the NID, but then she kept remembering that Mark had told her some things that rang true with her memories. She sighed. She was going round in circles.

Checking her hotel room for anything she might have missed, Sam went down to the front desk to check out. Just before she could leave, a porter called out, "Ma'am! I'm sorry, I'm glad I caught you," he held out an envelope, "This came for you this morning."

Sam thanked the man and went outside before tearing it open. Who could have sent it to her? There was no Air Force insignia on the envelope and no one else could have worked out where she was. Her eyes widened as she read the short typed letter:

Major Carter,

If you want information about the fire bird, walk across the road from your hotel.

There is a yellow car parked in front of an alleyway – go down it.

On the floor is a box with the information you want.

I cannot meet with you in person. I hope I have been useful.

Sam's stomach squirmed. All of her military instincts, even her common sense were screaming that it was a trap, but she couldn't help but entertain the idea of following the instructions – it could be her only chance for answers.

Against her better judgement, Sam scanned the street for a yellow car, and headed over to it. She peeked into the alley – it was bright with morning light and she could see a small metal box propped up amongst some rubbish bags. All thoughts of ambush dispersed with the warm rays of sunlight on her face; it was just an innocent helper, right?

Sam bent down and prised open the box – it was empty. Knowing she had to get back into the busy street fast, she dropped the box and made to turn around. A sickly smell filled her nostrils as a cloth soaked in a foal liquid was pressed harshly over her nose and mouth. Her mind screamed at her to stay awake, to fight, but her energy was ebbing as grey filled the corners of her vision.

The last thing Samantha heard before she blacked out was a deep voice that had been abused by years of chain smoking, "Contact Reynolds and tell him we got her."

To Be Continued…

Author Notes: What do you think? Please review! I need feedback!