Filling the Spaces

Aliens Made Them Do It

Thor

Telepathy

Hand Holding

Stuck Together

—-OOOOOOOO—-

Set in Season 6 between "Metamorphosis" and "Disclosure".

—-OOOOOOO—

"You know how I feel about being a human guinea pig, Sir."

He was pacing. He didn't want to, but he needed to move, and pacing seemed more mature than stomping his feet and throwing things. Damn it. Scrubbing a hand across his jaw, Jack paused near the door that opened into the briefing room, looking out at the people gathered around the long, stately table.

Well, mostly people. Entities, maybe. Peeps? Minions? No—individuals. That was a more inclusive word for a crowd in which only half of those assembled were actually human, wasn't it?

On the other side of the desk, General Hammond nodded. "I do, Jack."

Turning, he fixed the General with a glare. "It's just that every time we've participated in one of these little experiments, something has gone horribly wrong."

"But this is the Asgard, not the Tok'ra. Surely you trust Thor and his scientific team to protect your interest and respect your boundaries." General Hammond tapped a pencil against the legal pad in front of him. It was the only sign of his hesitancy to just do his General thing and give this ridiculous idea the go ahead.

They'd come through the 'Gate a few hours before, bypassing the iris in that annoying way they had. Four of the little gray aliens had simply made their way to Earth, led by the intrepid Thor.

Stinkin' Asgard and their stinkin' superior technology.

Littered atop the briefing room table, various and sundry bits of alien tech caught at the lights overhead. Some Asgard—some not—but, apparently, none of it was compatible with current Asgard physiology. And for this reason, the Asgard version of the Science Geeks had no idea what it was all supposed to do.

With the humans of Earth being closer to the original non-cloned Asgard physiology—well?—enter the guinea pigs.

"At this point?" Jack shook his head slowly, sighing heavily. "I'm not sure I trust anyone."

"Listen, Jack." Hammond angled his way around the desk towards the Colonel, stopping at his side. "I know that you and your team have been on the wrong end of things lately. First, losing Doctor Jackson. Then Nirrti, the NID, the Jaffa, the Tok'ra. Ba'al. Hell, even Jonas Quinn's people have screwed around with us. SG-1 has lost a few battles."

And nearly lost too many people. Specific people. Jack still couldn't think about the past year without fighting back a deep sense of dread. He'd nearly died a couple of times. Actually died a few times. But worse—he'd nearly lost her too many times. Lost her before they'd even been given a chance to find each other. Before—aw, hell.

O'Neill's lips drew thin. "Too many battles."

"But as far as I can tell, Thor and his people are here because they have no place else to turn." The Texas was in full force in the General's tone, his drawl heavier than normal. "It might be best if we just give them the aid that they've requested."

"And what do we get out of it?" O'Neill scowled. "I mean—other than mellow vibes or positive juju."

"Good will?" Hammond drew in a deep breath. "Lord knows we could use a whole lot more of that around here."

Jack let his head fall until it hit the wall with a dull 'thunk'. "You know how I feel about Thor, Sir. Love him like a brother. It's just—"

"It's just that you're getting tired of being on the butt end of all the cosmic jokes."

"Exactly."

A movement at the opposite end of the space drew his attention, and Jack looked up to see Carter make her way into the briefing room. The metal tray she carried held a dozen or so of the smaller items the Asgard had brought through the 'Gate. She settled the tray on the table, then looked over her shoulder to where the Colonel and Hammond still stood at the window in the General's office. Her expression was cautiously expectant.

Jack knew that look. It was the one that told him that she had some answers, but not enough facts, and that more tests were needed. He hated that look nearly as much as he loved—well, damn. Suffice it to say that, of all the looks that she was wont to throw his way, that one wasn't among his favorites.

That one usually meant that he was going to be that damned freaking guinea pig.

"Well, Colonel. No use borrowing trouble." Hammond reached around Jack and opened his door. "Let's go see what she's found out."

—-OOOOOOO—

"Sirs." Carter looked up from her task. She'd been organizing the alien technology, each individual device sorted into one of three groups. "I've managed to figure out some of these. A few are items we've seen before."

"But?" He'd overemphasized the 't', squinting at his second in command and waggling his eyebrows a bit. It was a 'Daniel' expression. A throwback to days when he'd teased her more. When they'd been easier with each other.

"Excuse me, Sir?" A little crinkle formed above Carter's nose as she peered over at him. "But what?"

"There's always a 'but', isn't there?" He'd been around enough to know this. He gestured at the items on the table. "All this alien crap always seems to have a gigantic, big-ass 'but'."

He loved it when she did that—when she bit her lips together to keep from laughing at something he had said. It made saying those ridiculous things worth it.

Because ultimately, if Carter was happy, it made everything better. And there had been precious little lately that had made her smile. The past few months had been remarkably crappy for them all—but she'd taken the worst of it in many ways. She'd been the one who'd nearly died on the Prometheus, and she'd been the most adversely affected by Nirrti's experimentation. She'd felt Daniel's loss the most keenly. She'd taken all of it personally—as if she'd somehow failed.

Worst of all, she blamed herself for Jack's tenure in Ba'al's torture chamber. After all, Carter had been the one who'd begged him to let the Tok'ra save him from the Antarctic virus. She had been the only reason that Jack had agreed to do what he'd done. Then, things had gone so far sideways that they'd met themselves coming back around. He'd struggled to recover. To heal. To forget.

She'd struggled to forgive herself.

She was right, in a way. It was her fault. Nothing—no one—else on this planet or any other could ever have convinced him to get snaked. But she'd asked him—begged him, really—those blue eyes desperate, and needy, and sad. And so he'd done it.

They still hadn't had an opportunity to talk about it. She'd visited him in the medical facilities during his recovery, but that wasn't the place for the kind of conversation they needed to have. And, by some unspoken agreement, they hadn't allowed themselves to be alone together for months, now. It was just too—comfortable. Too tempting to have her so near without someone else there to chaperone.

He'd never had an opportunity to absolve her. To tell her that it was okay. To tell her that, despite everything, he was grateful to be alive. To thank her. Because while her pleas had been what had made him accept the blending, it was also the thought, the memory, the promise of her that had helped him through it. During that ordeal, all he'd focused on was surviving so that he could come home to her. He'd been stupidly determined to see her smile again.

So, if he had to act like an idiot from time to time just to make her happy, so be it. He'd done worse things for lesser reasons.

Hammond, on the other hand? Well, he wasn't quite so easily entertained.

"Colonel O'Neill. If we may continue without the editorial, that would just be dandy." The General pulled his seat out from the head of the table, but he didn't sit. Instead, he braced his fists at his waist and looked down at the items in front of him. "What have you discovered, Major?"

Ducking her chin, Carter composed herself. Her expression was serious and science-y when she indicated the largest of the piles. "These are pretty much useless. Either they're objects that are decorative in design, or they're purely meant for entertainment purposes."

"Toys?" Jonas stood up, leaning over the table to look at the items. "The Ancients made toys?"

"Not just the Ancients." Thor sat directly across the table from where Carter had laid down her specimens. He was flanked by Hermund on one side, and Asfrid and Iorund on the other. All four of the Asgard contingent were seated forward in their seats, focused on the items being displayed by the Major. "The Asgard developed many items which were meant to be both entertaining and educational."

"Why?" Quinn shook his head, setting aside the apple he'd been working on. "I mean, forgive me, but you don't reproduce in the same way that humans do. Our young need to learn. The Asgard don't have 'young'. There doesn't seem to be a reason to either educate or to entertain."

"That is correct, Jonas Quinn." Asfrid responded, her large eyes landing on the Kelownan. She was the smallest of the Asgard contingent, seated directly to Thor's left. "However, that has not always been the case."

"Thousands of years ago, the Asgard were much as you are now." Thor indicated the humans with a tilt of his head. Gesturing at the collection of devices in front of Carter, he continued. "That is the reason for which we have brought these items to Earth. Your physical makeup is much more likely to allow these devices to function so that we can ascertain what their purposes are."

"When we discovered this trove of artifacts in one of our scientific institutes, we were curious if they could be of some use in furthering our work to perfect our cloning technology." Iorund, the scientist on the other side of Asfrid reached out to touch one of the items nearer to his side of the table. "Since the devices seem to be stimulated by physiology, we might be able to retrofit our clone coding to be able to interact with the technology."

"You want to tweak your cloned selves to be able to use these items again." Carter was quite possibly the only person in the room who had understood what Iorund had said. But then, she'd always been good at translating crap from 'genius' back down to 'mere mortal'. "Sirs, they're saying that they're hoping to reintroduce certain physical capabilities back into their genetic code. Figuring out how our bodies interact with these artifacts will allow them to dial back elements of their own evolution in order to regain specific lost functionalities."

Silence.

She tried again. "It's like retrofitting your stereo to play cassette tapes and not just compact discs."

"Eight-track?"

Those dimples appeared again. "Forty-fives?"

Biting back a grin of his own, O'Neill looked over at their little gray friends. "You're hoping to make yourselves dumber?"

"Not dumber, Colonel O'Neill." Thor's expression lightened. It was as close to a smile as the Asgard ever got. "Merely more capable of the kind of action and thought that would allow us Tau'ri-like flexibility in future iterations of ourselves."

Jack's eyes lit on Carter, then Teal'c and Jonas, then flew back to Thor. After a bit, he shrugged and said, "So. Dumber."

Teal'c seemed to agree. "Less advanced."

"Yes." Jonas nodded. "Definitely dumber."

"If you three are finished, I'd like to hear what else Major Carter has to say." General Hammond sent a withering look towards where O'Neill was standing before focusing back on the briefing room table. "Major. You may continue."

"Okay." She wasn't exactly smiling, but her expression was decidedly brighter than it had been. Schooling her features, she indicated a few of the items on the table. "These are basic puzzle games. We have similar ones here on Earth. Square peg, round hole kind of things. You need to remove one piece of the puzzle at a time through a specific set of moves."

"We had these on Kelowna, too. I used to love them." Jonas leaned forward and took one off the pile. "I had a whole bunch of them that I'd play with while I was concentrating on figuring out other problems. I called them my 'thinking toys'."

Smiling at Jonas, Sam indicated a smaller set of objects that she'd set aside. She lifted a soft, malleable sphere and sent it rolling across the table towards Teal'c, who caught it handily. "The rest are probably meant for much smaller children. I wasn't able to detect any radiation fields or energy signatures from these, so my guess is that they're either purely decorative or for entertainment purposes."

"And what is this second pile?" Hammond leaned over to look at the group in question.

"These are more advanced than the others. They're still toys, but far more complex." Carter picked up an object from the middle pile. A cube, it was slightly smaller than a baseball and covered in opaque tiles. As she held it in her palms, the tiles glistened and then shuffled themselves in a multicolored haze until the tiles settled themselves in a seemingly random order. "This one might interest you in particular, Colonel."

"Oh?" He stepped closer, peering at the cube. "It's cool."

"Beyond that, it's educational. As far as I can tell, it's intended to teach problem solving, spatial awareness, and algorithmic reasoning."

O'Neill watched as she shifted the panels of tiles around a central axis, aligning tiles of similar hues together. Once one side was a uniform color, the tiles on that side started to pulsate. She then started reconfiguring tiles on the opposite side.

As she worked, she explained, "The pulse is a timer. Each time you solve a side, the timer scales back, allowing the user less time to solve subsequent puzzles."

"Well, I'll be damned." O'Neill reached out, motioning for Carter to hand the device over to him. Once she'd placed it in his hands, the entire thing reset, and he turned it over to watch as the multicolored tiles shuffled. "It's like a Rubik's Cube."

"I thought you might like that one." She flickered a look at him from under her eyelashes. "What with your collection and all."

"Now, now, Major." He smiled back at her, fiddling with the tiles with his fingertips. "Don't give away all my secrets."

She looked back down at the table, but her dimples belied the fact that she was still grinning. "Of course not, Sir."

"What are these items, Carter?" General Hammond made his way to her other side, pointing towards a larger selection of artifacts that were on her tray. "They look kind of familiar."

"They should, Sir." She lifted one, placing it in the palm of her hand and reaching for what appeared to be its companion piece. "These are similar to the Tok'ra memory recall devices. The Tok'ra attach the reader to their subject's temple, and a receiver generates images based on the recovered memories. Although I haven't tested these personally, they appear to share memories directly from one individual to another, without the use of a screen or receiver."

Jack poked at a set of crystals set in gold and linked by thin chains. "These look like Goa'uld hand devices."

"As far as I can tell, they're diagnostic rather than therapeutic or weaponized." Carter looked over at him. "And while the Goa'uld devised a way that allowed only those who have specific naquadah or protein markers in their systems to operate their devices, these are activated simply by putting them on."

"There are limits to their usage, Major Carter." Asfrid leaned back in her chair, folding her hands in her lap. "While you may be able to use the devices, we were not capable of doing so. We were not aware that the Asgard of millennia ago were utilizing technology so similar to that of the Goa'uld."

"Well, we know that the Goa'uld co-opted Ancient technology for their own uses." Carter nodded, folding her arms across her body and rocking back slightly on the heels of her boots. "I'm sure that there was a lot of cross-pollination of technology and advanced design between all of the races of that era."

Thor seemed inclined to agree. "As much as we wish to believe that the Asgard were at the forefront of development, evidence has proven that many of our advancements were made on par and in concert with those of other races within the same time periods."

"No progress is made in a vacuum." Jonas shrugged, futzing with the stem of his half-eaten apple. "Everything affects something somewhere."

"And this?" Hermund stood, leaning as far as he could across the table to point at a small box still on the tray. "What have you learned about this?"

Shaking her head, Carter opened the box and removed a crystal. It was a few inches in diameter, deep red, and faceted identically on both sides. Settling the gem in her palm, she turned the box so that the Asgard could see the inside of the lid. "Not much, I'm afraid. I recognized the symbol on the lid as the sign for 'infinity' here on Earth, but I don't know what relevance it has for the Asgard."

"The same." Hermund nodded towards the box, pointing at it with his long fingers. "It is a mathematical notation."

"We use it in a few different ways. Math is only one of them." Carter laid the box on the table and scooted it closer to the Asgard contingent. "However, since I don't read Asgardian, I don't know what the other part of the inscription says."

Hermund lifted the box and was peering at the inscription inside. After a moment, he set the box on the table and pushed it towards Thor. "It appears to be a riddle, written in ancient Asgardian."

Thor, however, didn't seem convinced. "Perhaps. And perhaps the words are instructions as to the use of the crystal."

Iorund nodded. "I have documented many instances in which couplets such as this were used to provide information regarding the use of connected technologies."

"Well, I wasn't able to read it." Sam tilted her head to one side, her eyebrows edging upwards. "The crystal obviously does something, and I was hoping that one of you could tell me what the inscription actually said."

"What does it say?" Hammond's gaze moved between the Asgard scientists and the box on the table in front of them. "Even though it's in an older form of Asgardian, I'm assuming that you can still decipher it."

Asfrid nodded. "Loosely translated, it reads, 'Held by one, he will see, Embraced by two, they will know'."

"Any idea what that means?" Jack stepped closer, looking down at Carter's palm to where the crystal glimmered. It was impressive—nearly filling her hand—and it seemed to have a life of its own. Light from every source in the room collected in it, bouncing back out through the facets until it glowed.

Thor shook his head. He seemed rather disappointed. "I do not believe we can know until we discover what purpose it accomplishes."

"Perhaps the humans should try to activate the device." Hermund leaned over to speak directly to Thor. "I believe that to be the only way in which we can learn what it does."

"Everything else has been benign, right?" O'Neill narrowed a look at the Major. "All of the stuff they brought through has been harmless?"

"Yes, Sir." Carter surveyed the array of items on the table before looking back at him. "And while I can't be certain that none of this couldn't be repurposed for nefarious means, I doubt that anything here is threatening in any way."

He'd never been able to resist shiny things. With a little nudge, he drew her attention. "May I?"

"Sure." She flattened her hand out in invitation. "Careful. There's a slight vibration to it. As if it's radiating some sort of energy."

"Energy?" Using the pads of his fingers, he gingerly raised the gem off her palm and placed it into his own. It was heavier than it had first appeared, and Carter was right—it was vibrating. He raised his palm so that he could get a better look. "From what?"

"I don't know, Sir."

He was so close to her that he could get away with muttering. "It kind of tickles."

"Right?" Her smile was puckish—luminous. "I thought it was really cool."

O'Neill tilted his hand this way and that, watching as she crystal cast sparkling shafts across the room. It was hypnotic, in a way. Beautiful—almost ethereal. Just as an experiment, he flattened his palm, balancing the gem on the heel of his hand, looking up above, where a ruby-red arc stretched across the otherwise nondescript ceiling. Then, he closed his hand around the stone, enclosing it in his palm.

Warmth.

Darkness—he was moving—progressing through darkness. Voices whispered before him, around him—through him. Not voices. Questions. The answers were unclear.

At the edge of the blackness, something beckoned. A glow. Like the first hint of dawn on the horizon. A pinprick of light that steadily grew bolder.

So warm. His body seemed infused with heat—not unpleasant. Just enough to feel welcomed as he emerged from the darkness into radiance.

Not a room. Not a planet. Merely space. And time. Brightness all around as his feet planted themselves comfortably on a floor that wasn't solid, as he halted in the brilliance.

The voices were stronger now, the questions permeating his consciousness. Not words. Not language—feelings. Impressions.

Images tumbling through his mind like rocks in a pyroclastic flow. Rushing over and through him—catching at his memory, his psyche.

Sara. Charlie. Pain—pain—sorrow. His father—anger and resentment, his mother's face, faint with her absence. Friends. Kawalski—Fisher—Cromwell—Tolman—those he'd lost on missions and after—through darkest moods.

Run—escape!—but his planted feet kept him still.

Who? Words, now.

Heal. Peace. Final. Love. Love. Now who?

Faces swimming around him. Dark and light and thin and stout. Daniel. So worried. So serious. Tattoos on foreheads and tilted brows. Blue shirts, bald heads, stars at collars and overhead in the firmament. Friends. Brothers. Comrades.

Stars. Forests and trees and campfires and more, more, more.

Comfort. Thick quilts. Cushions. She rolls towards him, gold against white, tangled legs—feet—hands.

Blue. So blue. Cerulean wisdom. Feathery fringes of old-gold lashes and a smile that melted hearts and souls. So beautiful. Heart wrenching, lovely. Intelligent. Brave. Blue. Blue. Wonderful.

His.

"He sees, now. It is done." No words. Warmth blossoming within. Blue and gold and ruby.

"Sir!"

Shouting. He could feel a hand on his—voices in a flurry around him. Calling him. Calling.

"Sir!"

Her. Her fingers on his, prying his digits off from around the stone—one—two—the images fading from his mind. He was falling—faltering—his hand lax as he stumbled forward.

"Colonel O'Neill!"

Deep Texas. Blue shirt, bald. Sharp eyes. Rules. Regulations. Steel.

"Colonel—don't—"

Her. She'd caught him. Balance. Her hand on his. Reaching for the stone—don't drop—damage. Damage, crack. Break—

Her fingers within his—tight!—clasped together tightly. Hard crystal pressed between their palms. Whooshing. Motion. Darkness closing in again—then light.

There! There she was. With him in the light.

"Sir?" Tremulous. Seeking.

"Are you here?" His own voice calm, quiet. But not a voice at all. Pictures. Knowledge. "Are you here with me?"

"Where's here?"

She stood before him, in the light. Her feet planted toe-to-toe with his. Those eyes—as brilliant as the sun, as heaven itself—as they'd shone while they'd shared their smiles around cubes and secrets.

"It's the crystal."

"I tried to take it from you. You were falling."

"Not falling. Arriving. Becoming."

"I don't understand."

"'Held by one, he will see'."

"'Embraced by two, they will know'." Her voice soothed towards him. Sweet, lithe. Beautiful.

Absent. Not vocal. Just impressions.

She wasn't speaking in words, but in images. Eternity glimmered in her face. Forever, forever. Always.

"You're reading my mind."

"And you're reading mine."

"Telepathy? This is—"

"Talk to me, Carter." Now. Now. Finally say the things that were unutterable. "Talk to me. Real talk. Don't waste this trying to figure out the science."

"I'm sorry." She shook her head, her eyes fixed on him. "I'm so sorry."

"For what?"

"For what happened to you. With Ba'al."

He smiled. A slow, easy thing. Real. Not stifled by regulation or honor. Truth. "How did I know that would be what you'd say?"

"I've wanted to tell you so many times, but there wasn't a moment—"

"It wasn't your fault."

"It was, Sir."

"You kept me alive. You were there with me. In my head. Every time I woke up in the sarcophagus, you were there. On the rack. I saw you. In the chamber, through the pain, the death. You kept me alive in there. The hope of you."

"The hope—"

He tugged her closer—thigh to thigh—his body against hers. "Someday. The hope of someday."

"Sir—I—Someday sounds perfect." She leaned in, her softness against his chest. "But still—I owe you—."

"You owe me nothing."

"I missed you so badly." Glistening regret now, in those luminous eyes. "I was so terrified that I'd lost you, and then I was afraid you'd hate me."

"I could never hate you, Carter."

"I couldn't live with myself." She paused, her hand on his jaw, his cheek. Her body trembled, even amidst the warmth, against his body, within a half-embrace.

So bright, amid the silence. No voices now, no questions. The light swirled and danced over and around them, red and yellow and deepest gold—

Lips. He touched her, soft, soft, light—brushing, silk to silk—her body rising up to meet him.

Deeper. Open. Eyes open, she watched him kiss her, he saw her respond—intimate, conscious, knowing—until the blue was lost behind those lashes—dark gold, feather soft.

"This is someday, Sam." Against her lips. He pressed again. Harder. His hand tightened around hers, the gem solid between their palms. "Someday is this. Us. I saw it. I held the stone and saw it. I saw you."

"Embraced by two." Her hand in his hair, at his throat, as the stone grew hot and vibrant between their joined palms. "That's what it means. This is what it means."

He saw her. Saw her soul. Saw her pain, her struggle. Her loneliness. Saw the weeks–days–years wasted pushing down what should have been allowed to bloom. Saw her pureness. Her honor. It swirled around him, falling upon him, infusing her within him.

Gentle. Lips, tongues, hands. Sighs. She sobbed against his mouth with the beauty of it all, skin to skin, and true. So wondrous. Peaceful. He kissed her again—lingering, bodies and hearts and mouths joined. Deep. Profound. Real.

Effulgence and wonder and light.

Pressure. Fingers being pulled and pressured and parted. Shouts and force against their joined hands. The connection wavered, faltered—fight! Harder. Hold on! Just a little longer—

Dark to blue. His eyes fiercely insistent. "I need you, Carter. Don't ever forget that."

"I won't." She pressed up against him, fighting the forces shredding their connection. "I need you, too. You're my someday."

"Always, Sam." Fighting to say it. Voiceless, the images fading, the communication waning. "Always. Remember."

And then she was gone, lost to the blackness that quickly reclaimed him.

—-OOOOOOO—-

He recognized the ceiling.

Jack blinked a few times, glaring up at the discolored tiles. He'd gotten really familiar with those panels over the course of the years. He could pinpoint precisely where he was within the infirmary by which stained tiles hovered overhead.

He lay in the third confinement section over from the main office. It was the second-largest of the curtained divided sections. The largest one being the corner bay, directly to his left.

He could hear voices, but no beeping. So, at least they hadn't had to use machines or intubate anyone. A quick look at his arm confirmed the fact that he'd been hooked up to the ubiquitous drippy fluids. He couldn't see the clock. He had no idea how long he'd been out.

Or how long it had been since he'd closed his hand around that gem.

He only knew that he hadn't imagined it. Hadn't dreamed it. Whatever had happened between him and Carter as they'd both clutched that ruby-red stone had been real. Profoundly so.

He was still wearing his own clothes—trousers and his t-shirt, at least. His feet were bare, and they'd removed his button-down shirt. He was on a gurney, and not one of the fancy-schmancy hospital beds, so that had to mean that he hadn't totally freaked them out.

Kicking the covers away, he levered himself upwards and swiveled around so that he was sitting on the edge of the cot.

"You're awake."

Quinn. Jack closed his eyes again, exhaling sharply. "I am."

Jonas pulled the curtain wide, pausing in the opening. "How are you feeling?"

Fuzzy. Disoriented. Hazy. Foolish. Wanting. "Fine."

"Because you kind of just blanked out there." He'd been reading. There was a book tucked under his arm. "After you touched that crystal thing."

Aw, hell. Jack started picking at the adhesives holding the IV into place on the back of his hand.

"We've all decided that it's a love potion of some sort. Although it's a rock, and not liquid." Jonas edged closer, pulling a tissue from the box on the table next to the gurney and handing it to the Colonel. "Soulmate stone? Crystal of Connection? Teal'c and I were trying to come up with a nifty name for it, but neither of us are very creative nor alliterative."

Jack tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry. When he could finally speak, his voice resembled that of a famous frog. "You ought to hear his jokes."

"The Jaffa have jokes?"

Despite himself, O'Neill smiled at that. Pulling the cannula from his hand, he tossed it aside and applied pressure to the site with the tissue. "That's what I said when I found out, too."

Jonas stepped backwards and found the little plastic pitcher and cup that seemed omnipresent in these places. Pouring water into the cup, he handed it to O'Neill.

Jack took the drink. A little grudgingly, but still grateful. "Thanks."

"Sure." Jonas's brows dipped low. "Do you remember what happened?"

"Not really." At least, not that he was going to discuss with the Kelownan. Hell. If Daniel were still around, Jack wouldn't discuss it with him, either. But then—Daniel probably had been here. Laughing his Ascended ass off at the situation. Asscended? There was a joke there, somewhere. Forcing himself to focus, he looked back up at Quinn. "Is she okay?"

"Sam?" Jonas raised a shoulder in a half-shrug. "When I looked in on her a half an hour ago, she hadn't woken up yet. Teal'c's with her."

"Is she—" O'Neill gestured towards the IV pole and the gurney.

"Doctor Fraiser hooked you both right up as soon as they carried you both to the infirmary." Jonas slid his hand into his trouser pockets. "It's been several hours."

"Hours?"

"The Asgard took their toys and went home." Quinn rocked forward on the toes of his boots. "They hung around for a while, but decided it would be better if they returned to their homeworld."

Ingrates.

Jonas stepped even closer, so that his leg bumped the mattress. To his credit, he spoke quietly. "You know, I've always suspected. But the two of you are expert-level at this whole 'denial' thing. How you keep all that contained is beyond me."

"Keep what contained?" Madness—or stupidity—made O'Neill ask the question, but his tone made it clear he didn't expect an answer. He stood, wincing at the cold of the concrete floors on his bare feet. Satisfied that he wasn't going to fall over again, he aimed towards the curtain separating his isolation unit from the one next door, grabbing the fabric and drawing it aside.

Blue eyes. She was awake and lucid, although pale. Still lying in the bed, she'd curled up on her side with her hand beneath her cheek. When she saw him, her lips relaxed into just the hint of a smile.

"Carter?"

"Sir."

"You okay?"

"Yes, Sir." She nodded, exhaling slowly. "You?"

"I'm fine."

From down the way, the unmistakable clicking of heels heralded the arrival of the Doctor. Her footsteps were accompanied by heavier treads. "I don't know what to tell you, General."

Dragging his gaze off Carter, Jack watched as Fraiser strode into the unit.

She was frowning down at her omnipresent clipboard, flipping back and forth between the pages. "We've run all the tests. There is nothing abnormal about any of the results."

Hammond stopped in the middle of the unit, the wrinkles on his forehead more pronounced than normal. "There has got to be some explanation for their behavior, Doctor."

Fraiser speared O'Neill with a glare. "What are you doing out of bed?"

"Standing?" He shoved his hands into his pockets, sighing in resignation when she marched up alongside him and handed the clipboard to Jonas.

Reaching for his wrist, the Doctor probed for and found his pulse with cool fingers, turning her arm to measure the beat against her watch. Apparently satisfied, she did her little 'light-in-the-eye' thing and then shoved the penlight back into the pocket of her lab coat. It only took a moment for her to repeat the whole process with Carter.

With a little shake of her head, she shrugged in the General's direction. "Maybe the Asgard were right. The only plausible explanation is the gem itself. There is nothing physically wrong with either of them."

"How are you feeling, Colonel?" Hammond looked towards O'Neill as he shuffled towards the Major's bed, his expression cautious.

"Like a guinea pig, Sir." He was glaring. He really didn't give a damn who he offended by that.

"What do you remember?"

"Nothing." His answer was immediate. "Not a thing."

Hammond shifted his gaze towards Carter. "Major?"

"Nothing, Sir." She'd sat up, and was raking her fingers through her hair. "I don't have any idea what happened."

"Well, people." Shaking his head, the General sighed heavily. "I really don't know what to say."

"I do." Jack levered himself upright, pressing the button on the remote that raised the back of his bed fully. "The correct words are 'I told you so'."

"I guess that I have to give you that one." Hammond chuckled. "The Asgard seem to believe that the stone has the ability to retain the emotions of the people who have handled it. Iorund and Asfrid postulate that it may have been used in concert with the memory recall devices to help to establish romantic relationships between their ancestors."

Jonas motioned with the hand still holding the clipboard. "Thor told me that it may have been a way for them to find compatible mates. Sort of like a crystalline yenta."

"That's actually a pretty solid theory." Carter tilted her head from side to side, holding her hand as Janet disengaged the IV and pulled the cannula free. "The infinity symbol is used for more than just mathematical notation. It's also used to symbolize 'eternity'."

"It may then be unfortunate that the Asgard took the stone with them back to their homeworld." Teal'c rose from his seat at the foot of Carter's gurney. "Such a stone might facilitate the strengthening of familial relationships between the Tau'ri."

The General squared his shoulders, passing a glance between Carter and O'Neill. "Regardless, I can't help but feel as if the two of you were put into an awkward situation. I guess that it's a blessing that you can't remember any of what happened."

"A blessing." O'Neill tried to appear agreeable. He was pretty certain he lost that battle.

"Sure, Sir." Sam's tone, on the other hand, was decidedly more convincing.

"In the end, I guess that all's well that ends well." Hammond gave them an odd little half-smile as he backed out of the unit. "In fact, in light of your actions while you were affected by the stone, it's safe to say that the aliens made you do it."

"Do what, Sir?" There was that crinkle again, directly above Carter's nose.

"I don't remember doing anything, General." Jack rocked forward on his bare toes. "One minute I was conscious, and the next I wasn't."

"That's probably for the best." He turned towards the exit, only to throw one more direction over his shoulder. "Take the rest of the day, folks. We'll reconvene tomorrow for the briefing about your next mission."

Jonas and Teal'c left next, followed by Doctor Fraiser. O'Neill waited until their footsteps had faded before making his way towards the gurney and sitting down next to his second in command.

She looked up at him sideways, from under her eyelashes. "Were you telling the truth, Sir?"

"About what?"

She seemed slightly disappointed at that, pressing her lips together before venturing further. "Do you really not remember anything?"

"Sure." He cast her a sideways glance, scrubbing a little at the blood drying on the back of his hand. "What's there to remember?"

"Right." Nodding, Carter leaned into his shoulder. It was their thing—communicating through nudges. "Nothing happened to remember."

The infirmary was quiet—somewhere beyond the curtains, someone was mopping. Someone else was pushing a cart of some sort—the squeaking of the wheels echoed on the cement floors. Whirring computer towers, muffled voices, paper shuffling, pens clicking. A woman laughed even further away. Maybe in the hall, or at the nurses' station.

But back in their little back corner, it was quiet, and intimate, and close. Sitting alongside each other, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip. Her foot swinging gently in concert with his. Bare heels brushing with every few passes.

He wanted to hold her again. Wanted to be held by her again. Whatever had happened with them—to them—between them—had been so damned right that losing that connection now seemed unnatural and wrong. He couldn't help it. His hand moved before he could stop it, taking hers, entangling their fingers together.

"I meant it."

"Yeah." Her hand tightened around his, and for the briefest beat, her head dropped to rest on his shoulder. She sighed against his throat. Warmth, and sweetness, and comfort. "Me too."

So short, the moment was over practically before it had begun. A pair of footsteps had Jack up on his feet and heading across the concrete floor before the orderly had even reached the curtain.

"Sir?"

He turned back towards her.

She seemed smaller on that cot, the blanket gathered up around her lap, her bare feet crossed at the ankles. Her eyes were huge, searching his face. "But someday, Sir. Right?"

"Someday, Carter." Damn, he hoped so. He had to clear his throat before he could answer her. And when he did, his words held the sincerity of a vow. He was struck by how fervently he meant it. To the roots of his soul, he meant it. "Someday."