A/N: I have finally posted a new chapter! It had been ages since the last time I even touched this one. To those who reviewed all those months ago, my most humblest of apologies for not saying my thanks to all of you until now. I admittedly got a "little" sidetracked what with writing Heir. And I owe it to every one of you out there to finish this. That and I am also having one of those very rare depression stages in my life. So here goes nothing.

"I say, my hell is the closet that I'm stuck inside." - Dave Matthews Band

Chapter Two - Dilemma

But did I do anything to stop it?

That question continued to nag at me even though it had been three days since the incident at the commissary happened.

It wasn't much of an incident really. It had been occurring almost every day. I've heard of it but never witnessed it before and, up until that point, had no idea how naïve I was at how bad the situation actually was.

It made me feel bad both for him and for myself. I was there but I didn't do a thing. And why was that? I left that question hanging, dreading the answer I already knew but was still trying to deny to myself.

I was just released from the infirmary a few hours ago and thanked the two SFs that brought my things up to my temporary residence at one of the base's VIP rooms. One of them placed my duffel bag at the foot of the bed before stepping out while another placed an armful of blue folders on an empty table at the corner.

Compliments from Gen. Hammond, the airman said.

I looked at the stack warily like it was a coiled rattler ready to strike. I had heard stories about the base commander having a twisted sense of humor from time to time. I think I'm starting to believe them.

Maybe this was what Dr. Fraiser had in mind when she told me to go easy the first few days.

The SFs left me with a faint smile of sympathy on their faces as they closed the door behind them, their receding footfalls echoing outside the hallway as they went back to their stations.

Silence. A feeling of loneliness, helplessness and foreboding was beginning to set in. I wished Noel was here. He'd know when to make a ruckus out of things whenever possible.

2nd Lt. Noel Sykes and I had been friends since our early days at boot camp. He always, always stressed that his name rhymed with "Paul" and that there was no arguing about it.

We were so opposite from each other, that to this day, it still made me wonder how the likes of me ever got my friend's attention. He had always been the vocal one while I was the silent type. He wanted to stand out, the life and soul of every party while I was contented at being left alone. He had an attitude that sometimes got him into trouble with the senior officers and I was the goody-two-shoes people pleaser and everyone's generally likeable guy. He doted on attention that everyone paid him as I wanted nothing to do with it.

Everyone acknowledged Noel as one good soldier. He could even become a great commanding officer if not for his well-known rowdiness and all-around bad boy image. I guess it was one of the reasons why he was chucked out of his latest promotion.

We both should be First Lieutenants by now.

But some of the rowdiness seemed to have disappeared after he met Col. Jack O'Neill. My friend was more than awestruck by the Air Force colonel rather than by the ten-thousand-year-old, two stories high, sixty-four-thousand ton, naquadah-made Ancient device that was the Stargate as the rest of us new recruits undoubtedly were after seeing it for the very first time. I think that was the turning point in Noel's life and I wanted so much to thank the colonel for that.

Every new recruit had to pass Col. O'Neill's strict standards. Make it or break it. He had the last say and the blessings of the SGC commander to further strengthen his authority. The colonel was a hard man to please, they said, and I understood perfectly. To be the one person who held hundreds of lives on his hands and seeing some of them fall like pieces of dominoes at the hands of the Goa'uld would certainly make any man harden like him. He needed those he could count on and having their wits about them in times of danger.

I knew, without doubt, that Noel was going to make it to the cut. He wanted it. He dreamed of it ever since we were given a tour around the mountain and met some of the SG teams, most especially its flagship unit SG-1.

I was dubious with regards to myself. I wasn't like Noel. So imagine my surprise when we were both accepted in the Program and all I could ever think of then was that I made it. Barely. I pictured my name being at the bottom of the list, teetering near the edge of the invisible demarcation line that divided the "make" from the "break".

Noel Sykes came in this morning at the infirmary, informing me that he had some business outside the base to attend to but would not be gone long. He wished he could be there when Dr. Fraiser finally lets me out. But the thing he had to take care of couldn't wait. So he promised to drop by as soon as he returned.

I sighed all the while looking around the spacious room allotted to me for the remainder of my inactive duty as I pondered on what to do first. Unpacking the bag Noel had brought in from my apartment this morning would be a good start.

But then again I didn't feel like unpacking at the moment.

Although hospital food tasted nothing like Noel's mom's cooking, it still had the desired effect on the body. The need to sleep was overwhelming as I eased myself carefully onto the soft bed, wincing a bit as I felt a twinge of pain in my chest. It was hard to maneuver one-handed as I tried to find a comfortable position to lie down. My mind began to wander to places that I'd rather not go to just yet. Just like the question that had been bugging me ever since.

I shoved the thought of the Kelownan aside as I tried to find a way to solve my own problems.

I'd been putting my own dilemma on hold for days now. Because thinking about it wouldn't help me one whit. But the sense of dread and uncertainty was much stronger now than ever before.

Pulling that stunt on '586 had Maj. Ferretti railing mad. He even threatened to have me removed from the team as soon as the talks ended. If it ever begins, that is.

The one year that I've been working with him I knew he would likely do just that.

I am not a pessimistic sort of person but I knew and acknowledged that what happened to me was entirely my fault. And it would likely threaten the talks with the people of P1C-586.

If only there was another way…

"Please, help us!"

"He's slipping!"

"Wait til we get there, lieutenant."

"The floodwaters will overcome him if we do not do something, NOW!"

"I'm afraid the kid won't be able to hold that long, sir."

"That's an order!"

"Help me! Somebody, please!"

"Ah, hell!"

"Now there's two of you we need to rescue. I told you to stay put, Edrald!"

"The rope slackened, sir."

"Don't let go, please!"

"It's all right, I got you."

"The water's rising! Quick! Help them – "

"I think I might've broken something, major."

"Perfect! How's the tree holding out so far?"

"I'm scared."

"Me, too, kiddo."

"I am just about a hair away from kicking you out of the team, Edrald!"

"Attention, all personnel! Unscheduled off world activation… Incoming wormhole!"

"I am not through with you, yet."

"Attention, all personnel! Unscheduled off world activation… Incoming wormhole!"

The klaxon sliced through my dreams and jolted me instantly awake. I quickly rolled around without thought and fell out of bed landing face flat on the floor. Hard.

Ow!

I yelped as unimaginable pain tore through me then and stars danced before my eyes. I only gave myself enough time to catch my breath, organize my thoughts and bearings.

The klaxon continued to wail throughout the base. A long, mournful sound that everyone quickly identified with Gate activation.

Certain that I could move with little pain, I picked myself up one-handed and hobbled out of the room. I had no idea why I felt the need to be there, not exactly sure if it was indeed SG-2 or not. I reached level 28 in record time for someone like me and headed straight for the control room.

Although the general was kind enough to inform me that they called in a few times during my stay at the infirmary and inquired about my health, I was hoping to personally hear from my team myself. Maybe, it would help assuage the anxiety that became my constant companion these past few days, even if a little.

Very few people were ever granted access to the control room, the most sensitive of areas, the Sanctus sanctum of the entire facility at their leisure: Gen. Hammond, the Gate operators and techs, SG-1, Maj. Davis of the Pentagon and a few selected guests to name a few.

I did not barge my way in there like I belonged to those distinguished personalities and instead stood just at the threshold and out of everybody's way.

At the Gate room, the iris slid shut over the event horizon. Either someone or something was trying to enter Earth via the Ancient device or we were receiving radio transmission from one of our off world teams or from an ally. It was only a matter of waiting for an IDC to be sent through the Gate before anyone could do anything else.

My attention zeroed in on the figure standing behind the Chief Gate operator, Chief Master Sergeant Walter Harriman. Gen. George Hammond was looking down at one of the monitors in front of him.

My heart leapt as I distinctly heard my CO's voice magnified over the room's intercom. I craned my neck to see better. The general must have noticed me standing there and silently beckoned me forward.

I crossed the busy room towards him, all the while trying to slow down the furious beating of my heart and tentatively stood a step or two behind the general. Maj. Louis Ferretti was in the middle of giving the commander a rundown of what had transpired in the past twenty-four hours.

If someone warned me beforehand of things to come, I should've had opted to stay away from the control room until this entire incident passed.

Up until now SG-2 was still trying to convince Michen, the leader of the village to reopen talks with them. I soon found out that what I feared earlier had indeed came true.

After returning from the base, SG-2 found out that the village leader decided on cancelling all talks with them. The reason they gave was that I, a subordinate, had disobeyed a direct order coming from my superior and that showed weakness in leadership. Michen further stated that he only learned of what happened right after we left.

Although as advanced as we were, the people of P1C-586 led very simple lives. They believed in strict obedience to the chain of command. It showed strength and commanded respect. And since I had clearly broken their number one rule, even if the reason was trying to rescue a little kid from a watery grave and however heroic it may be, the people of '586 had seen it as a sign of weakness and wanted nothing to do with us after that.

I gulped. In wanting to help, I left my CO in a very precarious position. I thought they might be able clear things up with the villagers if the family we helped could be asked to step forward on our behalf but neither the child nor its parents could be found to back up my story.

What a mess I made.

I was already red with shame and couldn't bring myself to look at the general beside me. To anyone there for that matter.

And wonder of wonders… my CO inquired about me.

I held my breath then as my chest constricted like dread was squeezing the air out of me.

Gen. Hammond was about to step aside to let me stand in front of the monitor finally giving me a chance to speak with my team when I heard Maj. Ferretti curtly say no.

I blinked. What? My brows furrowed as I studied the major's stern countenance. It would seem that my thought process was left behind in the corner where I stood a while ago. I blinked again this time accompanied by a raised brow.

Good thing visual was not two-way. Otherwise, I would look comical to my CO with the expression I was wearing.

Did I just heard right or had I just imagined it? In a daze and uncertain of what to do I stepped back not quite looking at the pair of faces turned at me. Everybody in the room certainly heard it. Yeah, must have because the general nodded his head and their discussion went back to the mission at hand.

Our short "conversation" had just confirmed my worst fears. The major was pissed with me. Pissed big time. If there's anything I'd rather not face during my time here on Earth that would be Maj. Ferretti's wrath and my imminent ejection from SG-2.

The major was known to follow in on his CO's footsteps on chucking out anyone he thought who couldn't reach his standards. I vividly remembered the time, not so long ago, when SG-1 had to find a replacement for its fourth member nine times after the "death" of Dr. Daniel Jackson and before Col. O'Neill finally allowed Jonas Quinn to join the team.

So with a sinking heart and deep foreboding groveling at the pit of my stomach for things to come, that was the end of me. My cue to leave.

It was a most unpleasant thing to feel, rejection. No matter how many times in your life you experienced it nothing could still prepare you from the pain and the hurt that one word could inflict upon your person.

I sighed heavily. I felt like twenty years older after my encounter with the major. I wanted to hide under a rock somewhere. No doubt, this news would be the latest addition to the base's rumor mill.

Yes, now I really did it. If only I could return back to '586 and sort this one out myself.

But that would be another show of insubordination on my part. It might even make matters worse.

The only thing that I could do now was wait for the inevitable and start thinking of a whole new career after the major was through with me.

As I turned around, after quietly asking permission in taking my leave from the general, I noticed someone standing by the stairs that led to the briefing room directly above.

Jonas Quinn.

Another person appeared in my peripheral vision, someone wearing white. I turned quickly and saw one of the infirmary's nurses standing on the same spot where I stood a while ago looking at me.

I only took a moment to acknowledge the young woman's presence and then quickly looked up the stairs, hoping to greet Jonas with a smile or a slight nod of my head. I wanted to take the first step in befriending the guy. I had no idea what possessed me to do it right then and there. Maybe because everyone else was so busy they wouldn't even notice the silent exchange. Here at the control room and anywhere else at the base, he was never truly accepted as "one of us" like they did Teal'c and the other aliens who decided to remain on Earth but they were careful enough not to show their animosity whenever Jonas was with the big guns of SGC. Just like now.

My smile froze when I saw no one there. He must've ascended the split second that I took my eyes away from him.

Deflated, I walked towards the nurse. "Dr. Fraiser is waiting for you, sir."

I looked at the time. Yikes. I'm past my scheduled check-up with the doctor. I left the control room in a hurry, the orderly following close behind.

These people had their reasons to hate the guy. Rumor has it that if Jonas hadn't "peed" on his pants, Dr. Jackson would still be "alive" today. Well, technically, he's still alive. He just took on another form as soon as he "Ascended" as Col. O'Neill clarified again and again. They held no memorial service for the kind scientist so that basically meant that he was alive somewhere out there. What really happened on Kelowna was anyone's guess since the persons involved decided not to divulge anything at all.

Okay. So how do I get to know him? I just couldn't approach without enough background on the intended subject. You got to at least have something you know about the man.

Wait a minute. Why bother at all? I got a lot of things on my mind right now like, oh, my future, that I shouldn't even involve myself on another person's dilemma.

How about being guilty at not doing anything at the commissary at all for starters? A voice in my head reminded me sarcastically. Okay, so I pity the guy because I knew exactly how he felt at being rejected because I am at that very same position right now. But there's also another factor that I had to consider: I just want to be friends with the guy. Quinn seemed like a really nice guy and lonely, too, with SG-1 off world without him. Befriending him wouldn't be so bad now, would it?

So what do I know about him?

Nothing.

Oh, that was enlightening. Maybe I should just drop this and concentrate on how to get back into Maj. Ferretti's good graces before he really decided to kick me out of the team.

As I slowly walked my way into the infirmary, a thought hit me. I wanted to kick myself for not thinking of it sooner.

I had no idea that my escort was following at a respectful distance but was instantly beside me before I had noticed it, drawing the conclusion that something must be wrong as she gently touched my elbow.

I shook my head and assured her that I was fine.

The nurse then lets go but did not move away. It was then that I noticed I had completely stopped in the middle of the hallway. But I did not care at the moment.

It took me a few seconds more before I came to a decision and set my jaw firmly for what I am about to do.

It was then that I nodded at the nurse who was waiting patiently before moving purposely forward, her silent thread following closely at my heels.