Thursday, April 22
Reality A001

After leaving Daniel's room, Samantha settled down in her lab and got straight to work. From the colonel's expression and his words, she had a feeling that Hammond had been angry about the amount of time they'd spent on this Daniel. It didn't make a lot of sense to her. Keeping this Daniel happy would help more than it would hurt, she'd think.

She'd never understand Hammond. How that man could think it was a good idea to drug nearly the entire staff of the SGC was beyond her.

She worked for about three hours solidly without interruption, then someone cleared his throat from the doorway. She turned and saw Colonel O'Neill leaning against the doorframe. "Hey Samantha," he said.

"Hi!" she said. "Come in." It was difficult, but she managed to bite off the 'sir' that came automatically to her lips.

"I didn't want to interrupt anything," he said, walking forward.

"I'm at a good pausing point," she said, and he swung the door shut. Her eyes widened as he walked over and put his arms around her from behind.

"I'm going to have to cancel dinner tonight, Samantha." His breath tickled her ear slightly. "Hammond doesn't want us to spend too much time on ordinary working days with Daniel, but once the day's over, it's not a problem. I figured I'd eat dinner with him tonight, if you don't mind. You could join us."

"That would be great . . . Jack." She blinked at her own daring. "That would be great."

"Good. It'll be around seven, I think."

"Shall I meet you there, or do you want me to pick up Daniel's food?"

"Just show up, Samantha," he said, then squeezed her gently and left. It was very startling. There had never been any physical contact between them that wasn't strictly necessary within the confines of their missions and training exercises.

She shook her head and returned to work. She had to give Hammond nothing to complain about, so he wouldn't cause any further problems for them.

When evening came they all ate in Daniel's room, hamburgers, clearly specially made for the occasion because she'd checked the menu for today. Tuna casserole or spaghetti. Not big juicy hamburgers with lots of fresh topping options, fat crisp french fries and green salad. Or followed up by rich chocolate cake.

Daniel clearly reveled in the special food, and Samantha was glad to see him smiling. He and the colonel talked pleasantly for awhile, but after a time she could see how Daniel kept catching himself before he spoke. His tension rose gradually as the evening progressed. She sighed. They had to get him home, but she didn't see how it could be managed. Not yet, anyway.

She went home that night feeling depressed and angry. Both emotions were perfectly appropriate to her situation, but she knew she was being influenced from outside. She needed desperately to stay calm, cool and focused. Going out into her backyard, she ran through a series of tai chi exercises. After about an hour she was much calmer, much more grounded, and as she went in to bed, she resolved to start doing it regularly.

Friday, April 23

In the morning, Samantha woke up feeling much more rested than she'd felt for months, much more able to face the coming day, which was a good thing because it was a gloomy morning with tall thunderheads. An atmosphere better designed to encourage tension and depression could hardly be found.

She reached the base and headed into the locker room where she started to get changed. She put her purse down on the bench and started undoing her top as she twirled the combination on her locker.

"Good morning, Carter," said a voice behind her, and she turned to see Lt. Angie Thomas doing up the front of her blue uniform blouse. Her dark hair hadn't yet been caught up in its customary bun, and she looked sort of odd. Samantha couldn't place just why until the other woman picked up her glasses and settled them on her nose.

"Good morning," Samantha said, smiling. "Haven't seen you in a few days. How's life treating you?"

"Not bad. Had a leave coming, so I took it."

Sam nodded. "Good for you," she said, and turned back to her locker.

"Yeah, I just hope that the records room is still in one piece when I get back. I guess Sheila got sick, so it's just been the guys in there for nearly a week."

Samantha stilled slightly, staring blankly at the little scrap of white that resided atop her neatly folded uniform. Angie started talking about what she'd done on her leave, and Sam paid very little attention, only making encouraging sounds whenever it seemed appropriate. She got dressed quickly and managed to unobtrusively tuck the note into the hip pocket of her fatigue pants, wondering what Maybourne wanted now.

As she turned to go, Angie said, "Maybe you should come next time we go, Samantha."

Since Samantha didn't have the foggiest idea what she'd said, she cast around for a vague reply. "I don't know if I'll be able to, but I'll think about it," she said. "See you later."

"Sure!" Angie called as Samantha left the room.

When she got to her lab, she sat down and pulled out the note. All it said was, "The usual place, five hours early."

She glanced at the clock. It was just eight now, so that meant she had an hour. Daniel had probably already had his breakfast and was going to start his shortened day soon. The colonel had warned Daniel the night before that they might not see him much today, but that they'd be in on Saturday for certain. She hoped he was okay. This sudden distance that Hammond had forced between them couldn't be good for his morale.

She rushed through her morning work, then made her way to the bathroom to go out of phase and meet with Maybourne. The man was waiting for her with two cups of coffee held in his hands. "Good morning, lieutenant."

"Good morning, sir," she said, taking the cup he offered and hitching herself up so that she was sitting on the desk.

"You seem a good deal more yourself this morning," he said.

She shrugged. "What do you need? I have to get back to work. Hammond's breathing down our necks. He thinks we're not spending enough time on our work."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a rolled up sheaf of parchment pages. "This is the message you need to give Dr. Jackson. It's hidden amongst other texts that will look authentic, and it was written by a native speaker of Goa'uld. They have a Jaffa as one of the members of SG-1."

Her eyes widened. "Really? And they trust him?"

"Implicitly, from the looks of things. He was part of the meeting with O'Neill, Hammond and . . . and Captain Carter."

Samantha's lips tightened. It was very hard to calmly contemplate a Samantha Carter who hadn't dealt with all the insanity that went on in her reality. One who hadn't been demoted for being able to see what others couldn't. One who wasn't regularly drugged without her knowledge. One whose commanding officer presumably wasn't a lunatic. One whose Daniel wasn't dead.

That brought her out of her self pity quickly. They had her Daniel, and they hadn't treated him well. She had no right to begrudge this woman her good fortune. She took the rolled up parchment. "What does it say?"

"Among other things that I am to be trusted." She tilted her head curiously as he looked slightly disturbed. "Apparently their Maybourne is a jackass of the first order, and this Daniel would probably run at the sight of me without some kind of reassurance."

"How odd," she said, shaking her head. "So, what is the plan at the moment?"

He grimaced. "I don't really have one. Hammond has to be gotten rid of, but that will be difficult with the president so firmly on his side. I have reasonably good intelligence that the Senate is going to impeach him very soon, but they have to wait till they have the votes to get him out completely or it will be a long, messy fight."

Samantha nodded, remembering the riots they'd had the last time the Senate had tried to impeach a president. It had come close to civil war for awhile in the east, but that was way back in the sixties. Things had improved since then, but there would still be serious unrest. President Kinsey had his supporters, and they were a militant bunch, almost by definition.

"Well, I do need to get back to work," she said, turning to go. "I'll get this to Daniel at my first opportunity."

"I've arranged for something in Goa'uld to be released in Hammond's direction this afternoon, so he should want it sent in to Dr. Jackson as soon as he gets it. All you have to do is find a way to be the person who takes it in to him."

"When this afternoon should he get it?"

"Around two," Maybourne said.

She bit her lip, considering it. "Well, if there's nothing else right now . . ." He shook his head. "Thanks for the coffee, and I do have to get back."

"Take care of yourself, Samantha," he said as she headed towards the door. She turned, surprised, but he was looking away.

"See you later," she said, and went out.

The day passed fairly quickly, almost too quickly, really. She planned carefully to have a reason to be near Hammond's office for about forty-five minutes around two o'clock. She was nearing the end of the task she'd set up for herself and was wondering what else she could do to keep herself handy when a courier showed up. About ten minutes after he left, Hammond came boiling out of his office. He saw her and snapped, "Carter, over here, now." Relieved, she took the papers he handed her. "Take these to Dr. Jackson and tell him I want them translated by noon tomorrow at the latest."

"Yes, sir," she said, snapping him a salute. She hurried away and in the elevator she slipped the extra pages into the sheaf. When she arrived at Daniel's room, she hoped her manner didn't give away that she had a secret, or that if it did, they'd put it down to the 'relationship' she was supposedly having with Colonel O'Neill.

Daniel looked up, his eyes somewhat shadowed, but a grin lit his face when he saw her. "Samantha, how are you?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she said, smiling at him. Then she put down the sheaf of papers. "Hammond asked me to bring these to you. He wants them translated by noon tomorrow."

"I see," he said, pulling them closer.

She leaned on the desk and tapped on the edge of the parchment that was extra. "Take extra care," she said. "And I'll see you tomorrow morning, I hope."

He smiled, and she gave his shoulders a quick squeeze as she left.

Daniel looked down at the new folder. Great, another sudden new project. He hoped devoutly that this one wasn't as wretched as the last one. He didn't have any idea what Hammond might decide to break next if he refused another translation. Sighing, he gathered up the project he'd been working on most recently and tucked it out of the way in a desk drawer. Then he spread out the sheaf he'd just received and started trying to work out what he was looking at.

The first thing he noticed was that there were two different writers, and from the looks of it, two distinct texts. He carefully separated them and looked closely at each of them. The paper was also different . . . the differences in both writing and materials were subtle, but they were there. As he looked them over, something struck him suddenly, with the force of a blow. The writing on one of them was dramatically familiar.

Was this written by the Teal'c of this reality? He started scanning through it and saw something that made his eyes freeze. His name, written in Goa'uld.

He went back to the top of the page and read slowly and carefully what was written there.

In a time that was long ago, in a place that was far away, there lived a young Jaffa who longed to prove himself . . .

Daniel could hear Teal'c's voice telling the tale. It hadn't been more than three weeks since he'd gotten the Jaffa to tell him a folk tale, and he had already transcribed it once from Teal'c's words. This couldn't be what he thought it was, could it? A message from home? Samantha had very carefully tapped this specific page when she told him to take extra care.

His heart was beating hard, and he found that his mouth was dry. He started writing out a translation of the first paragraph. It was written in a particularly archaic form of the language. Then he got to a section that read very differently.

Daniel Jackson, this is your friend Teal'c, from your reality. You were taken from us on the fifth of April, and we are seeking a way to get you back.

Then it segued back into the story for several paragraphs, and Daniel filled in the missing section that the beginning of the note took the place of. He couldn't believe what he had in his hands. Samantha had brought him a letter from home. How was that possible? That she had done it deliberately seemed certain, but he had difficulty imagining how she could have managed it.

He cobbled the note together mentally since he couldn't very well write it out.

We realized very quickly that the Daniel Jackson that has been left here was not you. Rest assured, he is well and will recover completely. We are seeking a way to bring you home, and will not rest until we find one.

It was definitely Teal'c's style of prose, Daniel reflected as he read.

Someone from the reality you currently reside in has contacted us and has promised to help us retrieve you, but he says it may take some time. This ally is the Maybourne from that reality, and he seems to be a man of honor and courage.

There is one thing you must know. The people on the base you are in are regularly given drugs to alter their moods and behaviors. This is done without their knowledge. The O'Neill there is given drugs to boost his aggression.

You must remain alive until we can reach you, so do what is asked of you. O'Neill is most emphatic on this point. He has asked repeatedly that I tell you something very specific, so I have translated it. "Do not permit your unwise equine beast of burden to be terminated." I told him it would not translate well, but he was insistent.

Daniel read that sentence again, carefully, and closed his eyes to repress the surge of emotion that threatened to overwhelm him. That was Jack all right. 'Don't get your fool ass killed.' He could hear him saying it, see him pointing at the paper and telling Teal'c to write it.

He wanted to go home! But now . . . now he knew for certain that they were trying. Now he knew that they had a chance, with help from Samantha and the Maybourne from this reality, of getting him back. He got up and went into the bathroom, where he could sit and think and odd expressions would go unremarked upon.

Don't get yourself killed. If only it were that easy. His Jack would be furious, but there were things Daniel simply couldn't do. Like help this Hammond plan an attack that would kill a thousand or so innocent Jaffa. The people here were people and he couldn't treat them as anything less without becoming someone other than who he was. Sometimes Jack didn't understand that.

He considered the information regarding the drugs and resolved to be even more submissive around Jack, though he could overdo that. If he got too passive, it might make Jack just as angry. It was a difficult balance to find and keep. Though if there was enough provocation from elsewhere, Daniel might not be able to do anything to keep the balance.

He grimaced, thinking of the Hammond in this reality. What wouldn't that man do? Drugging his staff, killing innocent people whose only crime was wanting to hang onto their own technology, implanting bombs in people to control them . . . was Daniel the first or simply the next in a long line of people to be so favored?

The question was, had Hammond started drugging him? Was he getting something in his coffee or in his food to keep him passive? How did he drug the others? It couldn't be through food . . . it would be too difficult to make sure that the right person got the right drug.

Daniel shook his head and stood up. He flushed the toilet and washed his hands. He didn't have time or energy to waste on wondering about that, and it hardly mattered. He needed to focus on staying alive and in one piece so he'd be here to rescue when they managed it.

As he went back to his desk and continued to transcribe the folk tale, filling in the pieces Teal'c had left out in order to send the message. The fact that they needed him so very badly was a sure hint that they didn't have anyone else capable of translating it.

Then he got to work on the other text, the one that Hammond wanted. It was an intelligence report on the activities of a Goa'uld Daniel had never run into in his reality, Narsis, who, it seemed, was gearing up for an assault on a base this SGC had on P4X-391. He was also readying to attack a planet listed as P4L-387. It had lots of resources and a society that sounded roughly Renaissance level in technology. He didn't see any references to anything that Hammond would find appealing, so maybe they'd focus on the Goa'uld and ignore the natives in this case.

Food came at noon as always, and Daniel ate absent-mindedly. It was fascinating to read about a culture that had risen so high in technology, but still had many of the features of its ancient Grecian origins. He did, however, remember the timeline. He had a very powerful reminder in the stiff cast on his left arm.

Around one o'clock, he finished the translation, but was at a loss as to how to let anyone know the fact. He stood up, glanced sourly up at the ceiling and said, "I'm done. I was asked to do it as quickly as possible, so I figure the general probably wants it soon."

Within moments, the door opened and an airman came in. "Sir, someone with more clearance will be along to collect it in about fifteen minutes."

Daniel smiled at him. "Thank you." His eyes darted to the name tag. "Airman Wilson, thank you very much."

Wilson nodded and stepped back out of the room. Daniel put the folder containing both translations and both original texts aside and pulled out the project he had been working on. Ten minutes later Jack came in. "Hammond sent me for –" Daniel pointed and Jack broke off. "Ah, good. Thanks, Danny." He was gone again as quickly as he'd come. Daniel shrugged and focused on his project. He only had about an hour of permissible working time left, so he had to make it count.