Secrets and lies made up the Mariner's world, as he roamed the seas on his boat. He made his living trading plants and dirt that had been scooped up from the ocean floor for food, and distilled water to sustain him during the long days away from civilization. The dirt seemed to be the most prized of all his belongings, so the Mariner made sure that he had a small stash whenever he came to a way station. But he never stayed longer than a day. His preservation depended on keeping his distance from the people who lived there, knowing that if his secret became common knowledge they would kill him.
He was good at keeping secrets. What he didn't tell them, knowing that they wouldn't understand, was that his kind had come from a world that was located millions of miles away. His ancestors had willingly left their own world to come to this one in hopes of finding peace from an enemy that was bent on destroying their kind and to build their lives on the abundance this new world offered. They had come to Earth to live in peace, only to find that they were outcasts among the humans who originated here.
The Mariner's people had survived thousands of years of hatred and oppression by hiding their differences and by blending in with the very people who would destroy them if their secrets were known. They had long since given up on finding a way back to their original home and had settled down in their adopted world, with the faint hope that one of their descendants would somehow find a way back. It was a dream that still hadn't come true, as far as the Mariner knew.
Daniel Jackson was in shock. He couldn't believe what Teal'c had been telling him for the last hour. Colonel Jack O'Neill was nowhere to be found. This is not happening, Daniel thought, as he stared out over the water, still searching for his friend. He had to be out there. He and Teal'c had swam over to the place where the boat had tipped over, searching diligently for their fallen comrade, but the man was gone, missing, lost – and Daniel refused to add the word, "forever" to that thought.
Daniel had been standing next to the shoreline, talking with Teal'c while looking out over the landscape, hoping to see something that would give him the clue he needed to talk Jack into staying for a little while longer. He and Teal'c both turned toward the water when they heard Jack call out to Teal'c, just before the boat completely tipped over. Daniel had stood there in shock for a split second, while Teal'c dove into action, literally. He yelled for Sam to cover him as he began to peel off his vest while running toward the water. Sam nodded as she held her gun ready, while Daniel had tried to make sense of what he had seen. Teal'c's actions had galvanized Daniel though, and he, too, took off at a dead run to try to help Jack.
"Jack!" he yelled at the top of his lungs, stopping momentarily when he saw Jack's head pop up from the water. "Jack!" he yelled again, when Jack had suddenly gone down again. The swimming lessons he had taken all those years ago came in handy as Daniel swam out toward the place he last saw his friend. There was no way he was going to settle for a dead friend. He and Jack had been through way too much for it to end this way.
He and Teal'c came to the spot Jack had last been seen at the same time. They knew this had to be the place as the water was colored red, by what Daniel could only assume was blood. He and Teal'c kept diving for Jack for what seemed like hours, but there was no sign of their leader. Nothing. Not a trace. Teal'c came up for what turned out to be the last time and stared at Daniel, his eyes conveying his sorrow, then turned to swim over to the boat, which was floating upside down and drifting toward the shore.
"He is gone, Daniel Jackson," Teal'c's said, as he turned the boat over and began towing it toward the shore and toward Sam, who was pacing on the shoreline, her gun at the ready, just in case. Daniel didn't follow his friend; instead he stayed where he was, treading water as he searched far and wide for Jack. It can't end like this.
"We can't give up now," Daniel shouted, as Teal'c moved closer to the shore. "He's down there somewhere. I know he is."
"We did not find him," Teal'c called back, and Daniel could hear the Jaffa's grief all the way over to where he was treading water. "He could not have survived."
"No," Daniel said softly, his eyes scanning the horizon, as he tried to find the man who had become his best friend over the years. "No."
"Daniel?" Sam called out, and Daniel turned to see her standing there, watching and waiting for him. She was too far away for him to see the tears in her eyes, but he heard them in her voice, and he took one last look around before swimming back to the shore, hoping he would be strong enough to be there for her.
They had spent the next hour making plans and contacting the SGC, while Daniel refused to believe Teal'c, as the big guy insisted that there was no way Jack could survive. Jack was out there and it was up to SG-1 to find him. Jack would do the same thing for them.
General Hammond sent divers to help in the search for Jack, and Daniel stood there on the beach watching as they searched the area where Jack was last seen. Sam had dug out his blanket and he wrapped it around himself as he stood there on the beach watching and waiting for the divers to find his friend. Sam stayed with him, trying hard not to give into her own grief, but they had been a team for years, relying on each other in life threatening situations and Daniel couldn't help but glare out at the water that had broken up his team.
"He's got to be out there," Sam said with conviction. "Where could he have gone?"
"I don't know," Daniel responded, as he turned to look at his friend. He reached over to wipe away her tears and she reacted by pulling him to her for a hug. He held her, knowing that she needed some comfort, but deep down he also knew that Jack was still alive. He had to be.
The divers finally gave up when it got dark, much to Sam and Daniel's dismay. They wanted the divers to keep on working. Daniel was seriously thinking about punching the crap out of one of them when he gave Daniel a sorrowful look. Jack was not dead, no matter what that jerk thought.
They made camp for the night, but sleep didn't come easy for the members of SG-1. Their commander was out there somewhere, whether he be alive or dead, and they couldn't relax for the worry, fear and guilt that each were dealing with.
Dead silence. Jack O'Neill opened his eyes, only to find darkness accompanying the silence, and he wondered where he was and how he got there. His leg was throbbing painfully and he had the headache from Hell, but at least he was alive. Dead people didn't feel pain, did they?
He gritted his teeth and tried to sit up, but the pain in his head intensified with the movement and he groaned, as he lay back down and pressed the palms of his hands into his closed eyes, willing the pain to go away. Why did this stuff always have to happen to him?
He pulled his hands away and tried to pull back from the hands that had grabbed his head. It was too dark to see who was touching him, and Jack was determined that he wouldn't just lay there and let whoever it was kill him, so he grabbed the arms of his attacker trying to hold whoever it was off.
It was a woman, judging by the slimness of the arms he was holding on to, and by the soft voice that filtered through his mind. He didn't understand the words, but he knew she was trying to calm him down. Her words were soothing and he felt himself relaxing as she spoke to him. She placed her fingers along both sides of his face, softly caressing the skin at his temples, but Jack jerked back, determined to keep her from doing whatever it was she wanted to do. She said something a little harsher and a light was turned on, illuminating the room, causing him to slam his eyes shut against the blinding pain. He struggled to open his eyes and was successful to some degree, as the face of the woman who was trying to calm him came into view. It was the woman he had seen in the water, he realized, as his memory came back to him full force and he tried once again to push her away, only to cry out in agony when someone else grabbed his sore leg and squeezed it hard.
They were attacking him, as far as Jack was concerned, and he fought back by pushing the woman away as hard as he could, while struggling to get up so that he wasn't in the vulnerable position of lying flat on his back. He managed to get up off the bed, but he hadn't succeeded in getting anywhere as he found that he had ended up in a corner of the room with the woman and her two male companions standing in front of him, blocking the exit. Damn, now what?
"You are of the people," the woman said, obviously trying to calm him down. Jack just stared at her, taking in everything about her, including the fact that she was wearing a necklace with a strange symbol hanging from it. He had to admit that she was beautiful. Her long, dark hair framing her face, while green eyes stared back at him with concern. His attention was caught by the strange necklace, as he stared at it with curiosity. Something about it seemed familiar. He went back to watching her face, wondering what she and her friends had in store for him, even as he thought about attacking her in an effort to make his getaway.
His leg was still throbbing and Jack had to lean against the wall for support. This, in itself, told him he wasn't going to get far, even if he did get out of the room. One of the men gestured to Jack's leg and snarled something at him, but Jack was too busy trying to figure out a way out of there to even try to figure out what that idiot wanted. The woman took a tentative step toward him, and Jack pulled back even further into the corner, telling her with his eyes that she was on the brink of getting hurt.
"You are of the people," she said again, as she pointed at his leg.
"Yeah, so what of it?" Jack asked.
The man snarled something at him again, and Jack watched in amazement as the woman turned to the man and snapped out a response. The guy then turned his anger on her, demanding something, which she just ignored. She smiled at Jack again, and said once more, "You are of the people."
"I am of the people," Jack responded, wishing she'd get that broken record fixed. "Who are you?"
She smiled at him with confusion in her eyes, and Jack knew that communicating with this woman was going to be extremely difficult. She reached for him once more, but Jack wasn't about to let her touch him. She said something in that soothing voice of hers, causing Jack to start looking for a way to get out of that place now. Her voice seemed to have some control over him, and this was something he was definitely not comfortable with.
"Look," he said, "I appreciate the hospitality and the fact that you're trying to help out, but I really do need to get back. My friends are probably worried about me." No one moved, so Jack tried again. "They are probably out there look…"
"You are of the people," the woman said again, and Jack was starting to get pissed. This broken record was definitely grating on his nerves.
"I am Jack O'Neill," he said, pointing at himself. "Jack." She gave him a broad smile at that point, and Jack felt a tug on his heart. She certainly was pretty, he thought, before mentally stepping back. This woman was the enemy, at least for the moment.
"Leata," she said, as she pointed at herself.
Some things were universal, he thought, as he nodded at her, then said, "Leata," as he pointed at her. She nodded her head, then moved toward him with her arms outstretched to try to grab his head again. "No," he snarled at her, jerking away so hard that he hit his head on the wall. "Ow!' he complained, as he reached up to hold his aching head in his hand.
He was trapped, with nowhere to run, but he couldn't let it go down this way. Just as she touched his face, he pushed her back and made a run for it. The two men who were with her didn't have a leg wound and were able to stop him before he even made it to the door. Jack still tried to do some major damage though, and was glad to hear one of them yell as Jack's fist caught him in the face. He was dragged back to the bed and forced back on to it. One of the men held him down by holding his legs, while the other one held on to his wrists and pulled them up over his head. But it was the woman's actions that had Jack's sense of dignity snarling at her. She had gotten up on the bed and sat on his chest, straddling him as she reached over to put her hands on his head again. Jack bucked and tried to knock her off, but she held on, all the while talking to him in that soothing voice, calming him despite himself.
They ended up staring at each other as the woman sat there, her hands placed on either side of his face, and Jack wished she would just do whatever it was she was going to do, so that he could be rid of her. Her fingers moved along the skin of his face in slow movements, and he realized with shock that she was trying to read his mind. "No," he shouted, as he tried once more to dislodge her from his chest. The man holding his legs knew how to stop him though, and Jack screamed when the man dug his fingers into the raw wound in his leg.
The woman stopped what she was doing at that point, and turned to snarl at the man. The man responded with something, but the woman must have had enough of this guy, because she got up from her perch and went over to the man, screeching at him in her native language and pointing at the door, obviously telling the man to get the hell out of there. The man left, but not before he snarled something else at Jack.
Jack just lay there, breathing hard from the effort it took to fight off the attack on his mind and his leg, and watched the entire scene play out between the two. He was more than surprised when she turned back to him and smiled at him, before saying, "He wants proof."
"Proof of what?" he asked, once he got over the shock of her saying something other than, 'You are of the people'.
He then had to smile at the woman when she said simply, "That you are of the people."
"Oh well, I should have known," Jack responded sarcastically. He tugged at his arms and was glad when the other man let go of his wrists. Now if he could only convince his leg to hold up long enough for him to get out of this place he'd be in great shape. He sat up gingerly, then looked down at the limb that was giving him so much trouble, grimacing at the blood that was dripping freely down his leg. He looked up at Leata, hoping that her command of his language was good enough to understand what a doctor was.
"Heal your leg," she said, before he could ask her to go get a doctor. He could only look at her with disbelief. So much for asking her to help him, he thought incredulously.
"Do you have any bandages or a first aid kit?" he asked. She stared at him a moment, processing his words then shook her head, apparently not knowing what either one of those things were. "A first aid kit," he said again, using his hands to attempt a description, but realized that there really wasn't anyway to do it. "You know, bandages, Neosporin, aspirin… oh man, could I go for some aspirin right about now." She was still looking at him with a puzzled look, and Jack decided to just give up. "What about a doctor?"
Leata shook her head as she watched him. The other man said something to her in their native language, but she shrugged her shoulders as she glanced at Jack again. "A doctor," Jack said again, pointing at his leg in hopes of making her understand. "Someone to fix this."
"Heal your leg," she said, as the confused look turned into something else. She knelt down in front of him and grabbed his hands. He tried to pull away from her, but she was insistent. "Heal yourself," she repeated as she held his hands over the wound in his leg.
"Just like that," he said, anger moving in again. What did these people want? "Just tell my leg to heal and it will." She nodded her head, but Jack could tell she didn't have a clue as to what he was saying. "I can't," he told her angrily. "I need bandages and water. Don't you have any doctors here?"
The sadistic man came back into the room at that moment carrying an object that was shaped like a triangle sitting on a base, with a pendulum swinging wildly from the top point. The pendulum seemed to swing faster as the man came up to Jack. Jack watched the man warily; ready and willing to defend himself at all costs.
He jumped instead, when the woman gave a triumphant shout, then grabbed the object and showed it to the other man and to Jack, while telling everyone that she knew it all along. At least that was what Jack thought she was saying, as she had been speaking in her native language.
"You are of the people," she said, yet one more time, her expression daring him to deny it now. What could he say to the undeniable proof she had in her hands, Jack thought sarcastically.
"What is that thing?" he asked instead; as he reached down to pull the cloth of the pant leg away from the wound to get a better look at it.
"Your people brought it to us many, many years ago," she said, surprising Jack with the fact that she apparently knew his language fairly well. "We knew that you would come to bring us news of our people."
Jack didn't respond, his attention had been caught by the sight of the feet of the other people in the room. They were barefoot and their feet looked normal, except for what looked like webbing between the toes. He stared at the feet of his captors for a minute, then looked up at the faces of the people standing before him. They looked normal enough, but his instincts were telling him that something very strange was going on here, and he'd be way better off back at the SGC.
"Is there any chance of me going back to the Stargate?" he asked, actually feeling some disappointment when the woman shook her head.
"You died on the way here," she told him. "You may not make it back."