608 THE OTHER GUYS

Locker Room

After the briefing while kitting up for the mission Jonas Quinn said to Teal'c "I don't understand why Colonel O'Neill is willing to do this."

"What do you mean Jonas Quinn."

Jonas looked over his shoulder to make sure O'Neill was busy doing something else. "It wasn't a month ago Colonel was...you know."

"The entity in charge that we need to procure the information from is a Tok'ra, not a Goa'uld. O'Neill is not afraid, he is a warrior."

"I guess it's the 'way of the warrior' that I don't understand. My people are not so much for self sacrifice."

"And yet you, Jonas Quinn, sacrificed your private life, your home, to come here to essentially protect your world. This is O'Neill's life."

"I don't think he completely trusts this plan."

"He does not trust easily as you well know. And it is the Tok'ra."

On the Planet

As he rifled through the sandwich selections O'Neill said "Sometimes I wonder, T, I wonder if it's all worth it. It's like playing Whack-a-mole."

"Do you lose heart, O'Neill? Or do you think that fate will prevent us from succeeding?"

"No, I'm game for the fight and I think we make our own fate. Today I feel like a dog tied to a rolling donut, leashed by Kinsey and the short sighted penny pinchers, limited by our lack of adequate weapons and so called allies who wouldn't care if we all took a flying fuck through said rolling donut."

It took Teal'c a moment to parse O'Neill's convoluted sentence before he responded. "If we were adequately supplied, O'Neill, do you think the four of us can change the course of galactic events?"

"Daniel's Greeks have a word for that."

"Hubris?"

"Psychosis!" Jack took a bite of his sandwich, chewed and swallowed while he looked at the squabbling scientists working on the ring platform.

"These are supposed to be among the best and the brightest? Thank God for Carter."

SG-1

Jack rubbed his chest where Her'ak jabbed him with the pain stick.

"You know you invite their aggression." Carter said somewhat exasperated.

"So" O'Neill replied.

"I bet when you were a kid you couldn't resist an electric fence." Sam said.

"On my grandfather's farm the lowest wire on the fence he called a weed cutter. Packed quite a wallop."

"And"

O'Neill looked at a small scar on one of his fingers. "Had to touch it at least once." he said with a smirk.

Sam just shook her head.