"The testing went off without a hitch," Doctor Fraiser reported, handing identical folders to General Hammond and Jacob Carter across the briefing room table. "Teal'c is almost fully recovered. I've tested over fifty human blood samples and then repeated those tests topically with seven different volunteers. There's no sign of a reaction. At all."

"Even Sam seems to be immune," Jacob told the base commander. "No effect on former hosts."

"With a sample size of one," Hammond reminded him.

"And potentially a genetic component," the doctor reminded them.

"This is incredible news. For the Tok'ra, for the SGC," Jacob said. "Any way we can de-escalate the violence helps everyone."

"I assume you'll want to be on your way," his friend offered.

He nodded. "Would somebody tell my daughter to get her ass to the Gate Room?"

~/~

"Hopefully, Anise will be able to aerosolize it for easy dispersion. I'm sure we'll be in contact at that point."

George glanced over at his friend as they stepped through the last of the security doors and said wryly, "Excuse me if I'm a little skeptical about that."

Jacob took a breath and admitted, "That's fair. But I'll certainly try."

"That's all I can ask for."

"Well, aren't you brave, finally showing up." The Tok'ra's dry insult was aimed at Jack, who stood a few feet off the ramp with Daniel.

"Oh, just thought I'd say goodbye," the Colonel answered pointedly, and his intentionally patronizing smile made the archaeologist beside him roll his eyes. "I'm sure Teal'c would be here to see you off, but since he's still in the infirmary, and all."

"He's going to be fine, Colonel." Which was more than Jacob could say for Jack if the younger man's attitude didn't improve. "Where's my daughter?"

O'Neill shrugged. "Probably has her head in some gadget."

With a glare, Jacob suggested, "Maybe we should make good use of these extra few minutes. I think you have something to tell me?"

~/~

A frown wrinkled Sam's face as she stared down her printer, tapping her foot impatiently against the concrete beneath her. She knew she was holding up her father's departure, but she'd also promised General Hammond the report that was currently stacking up on the paper tray sheet by sheet, impossibly slowly. It wasn't her fault; she'd printed the damn thing out at 1415 for a 1500 deadline. And if she had known then that she'd run out of toner on page three, she would have had it fixed and rerun already. But she hadn't noticed. And so she was late.

But not as late as she'd be if she went to the Gate Room empty-handed, told her father goodbye, and had to come back for it. It wasn't like he'd leave without her, anyway.

Page nine. Page ten. Her hand hovered over the warm stack of paper, preparing to snatch it up the moment the twelfth sheet landed.

Her phone rang. Crud; she'd annoyed them enough that they were calling her. Swapping the vigil to her left hand, she snagged the receiver with her right. "Carter."

"Hey. I need your dad back in the infirmary. Now."

Janet's wasn't the voice she'd expected – or the sentiment – and Sam blinked in surprise. "What? Why?"

"The mice are dead," the doctor told her tightly. "He killed them."

The words didn't make any sense. "Who did? Dad?"

"No, the…. I came back from lunch and one of them had gone crazy. Aggressive. He… he killed the others. He ripped them to shreds."

"We, um…. We haven't seen that," Carter managed, stunned. "None of the subjects have shown any sort of violent tendency."

"I took a blood sample. The drug mutated in his system somehow. I don't..." She sucked in a breath. "I've restrained Teal'c and the SGC volunteers, just in case, but they're not showing any sign of the mutation. I need your dad."

"Okay. You need another blood sample, or…."

"He didn't tell you."

Dread snuck up through her stomach into her spine and then her throat. "Didn't tell me what?"

"Sam. Your dad dosed himself yesterday. And now his blood is showing the same mutation."

Surprise flashed through her, followed almost immediately by anger that he'd done that without her knowledge. Realization and fear were right on its heels. "He's in the Gate Room," she told her friend.

And she headed for the door at a dead run.