Tuesday, April 27
Reality L583

By an hour past dawn local time, they got the eight cameras arranged to Daniel's liking. Six of them were outside the hut, the other two were inside. Jack was beginning to feel like a light show, and he'd begun to devoutly hope that they'd be done before dark today. This much light was bound to attract attention if there was any to attract. His temper wasn't helped any by the fact that dawn local time was a good two hours before dawn back home.

Daniel and Carter had spent about two hours during the wee hours talking incomprehensibly. Jack had been surprised that Fraiser let the archeologist get up that early, but he supposed that she might have figured it was better to let him get it out of his system. If he wasn't sleeping anyway, why not let him work? Jack had listened to them babbling on, but he hadn't really caught much of what they were saying, except that it involved naquadah, energy transfers and that sort of thing.

Then he'd had to get busy with cameras and listening to a man who was seven miles and several thousand light years away direct him in their placement.

Now he sat, watching the shapes on the exterior of the hut's surface shift shape. Major Schofield had suggested a carefully placed bomb in the early hours of the morning, but Carter had shaken her head. "There's a lot of naquadah in those walls. Unless we want to be picking up pieces of them over a ten mile radius, we don't want to use explosives."

A stray word in the stream of information flowing back and forth between Daniel and Carter caught his attention. " . . . elevator, so we don't want –"

"Did I hear the word 'elevator'?" he asked.

"Jack, I thought you'd left us," Daniel said. "Yes, I think this might be an elevator to an underground base of some kind."

"Then isn't touching all this stuff kind of dangerous?" Jack asked more quietly, as he heard Dempsey ask if he'd heard right.

"I only just figured the elevator part out, Jack," Daniel said. "And how was I supposed to figure out what it was? The symbols seemed to be pretty random. It was only by causing them to change that I could identify their purpose."

"Did you say elevator?" Dempsey demanded from inside the hut. When Jack didn't immediately respond, he raised his voice. "Hello, man trapped in alien elevator here! Hello?"

There was a strange snorting sound over the radio, and Daniel excused himself. Fortunately, they weren't on broadcast link. Given some of the few things they'd said earlier that he had understood, Jack had thought that was wise. Now he thought it even more. Dempsey really didn't need to hear Daniel laughing at his perfectly understandable distress.

A moment later, Daniel came back to the radio, sounding completely composed. He opened his channel to broadcast. "Colonel Demspey, I believe it's possible that the structure you found is an elevator leading to an underground facility of some kind. I'm not absolutely sure, but I'm . . . just a moment." There was a pause. "No, I'm sure. That panel next to your left hand, sir, looks to be a console to help a visitor identify which level he wants to travel to."

There was a scuffling inside the hut as Dempsey moved away from that panel. "How do we keep it from going down?" asked Chen.

"I'm not sure it can," Carter said. "It appears to be jammed solid. Did you notice any movement just after the door shut? Maybe a slight downwards jerk?"

"I was too busy focusing on whether or not we were going to be able to get Craig loose before she bled to death," Dempsey said.

"Right," Daniel said. "So, now I'm trying to work out which of those symbols you need to use to activate the emergency stop and the manual door override."

"Why do the symbols on the outside change when you touch the symbols inside?" Jack asked.

"Only some of the symbols are interactive from the interior to the exterior," Daniel replied. "I believe they are a means of communication. This appears to have been some kind of gathering place, a Goa'uld Monte Carlo of sorts. Some of the stuff on the inside looks like advertisements or announcements. Clearly it was abandoned a long time back."

Silence fell in the clearing while Daniel looked and had people shift the views on his cameras. Finally, the linguist said, "Colonel Dempsey, please walk over to face the door."

Jack stepped forward and looked inside to see that the colonel was following Daniel's instructions. "Yes?" he said when he was in position.

"On the left there are three columns of figures. In the far right column, fourth down, there's one that looks like a house with a porpoise on top."

Dempsey studied them, then ran his hand down to hover over one of the symbols. "This one?"

"Exactly," Daniel said. "Press it." Dempsey licked his lips, took a deep breath, and did as he'd been told. There was a sudden silence as a deep, almost subliminal hum died away. Jack hadn't even been aware of the noise till its absence made it noticeable. "Good. Sam, did that cut off the power signatures we've been picking up?"

"It did," she said. "Now there's nothing."

"Okay." Daniel paused. "Colonel, there's a symbol high in the upper left corner of that wall, sort of like a donut with rippled edges. Yes, that one. Press it."

He did, and with a shuddering clank, the door released. It didn't actually open, and Jack held the others back until Daniel gave the go ahead to try and pry it open. Within moments Dempsey and Tyler were out in the sunlight.

"Chen?" Jack called through the side wall.

"Just a minute. There's something here that I couldn't –"

"Captain, get out here right now!" commanded Colonel Dempsey.

With commendable alacrity, Chen got out of the little structure. Jack couldn't help suspecting that Daniel would have been slower to move. Then he immediately felt guilty for the thought.

"Did it work? Are they out?"

"Yes, Daniel, they're out," Carter said. "They're fine."

"Yes, Dr. Jackson, thank you," Colonel Dempsey said fervently.

"Just doing my . . . my job," Daniel said, his voice faltering towards the end. Carter caught Jack's eye, and she looked concerned. Dempsey glanced over at him as well, but before Jack could think what to say, the general spoke.

"I think Dr. Jackson needs his rest. I want all of you back as soon as you can manage it. We may have to send a larger engineering team to get a look at this place, but later. I want you all home pronto."

"Yes sir," Jack said. As the others started taking things down, Jack switched over to private mode and walked a bit away from them. "Is everything okay, sir?"

"Dr. Jackson's a little tired," the general said. "I'll . . . I'd better go with them. I'll give you more details when you get back. It's nothing to worry about, and we should get the gate closed."

"Yes sir," Jack repeated, then fell to tearing the camp down with a will.

When the camp was packed up and the three teams were all heading back to the gate, Jack found himself the focus of attention from both Dempsey and Travis, the commanders of the other two teams. They fell into step beside him after their teams had deployed themselves, and he waited for them to speak. He had a good idea of what they wanted to know.

Travis deferred to Dempsey as the senior officer. "Is Dr. Jackson all right, sir? I mean, I know he was injured, but that was weeks ago. Is he still so badly off that . . . I mean . . . is he going to be okay?"

Jack grimaced. "He's going to be fine," he said. "But there are complications that I'm not at liberty to explain."

"But he is going to be okay?" Travis asked.

Sighing, Jack shifted his sling to a more comfortable position. "We sure hope so," he muttered.

"Hope so, sir?" Travis repeated. "Sir?"

"Oh hell," Jack said. "Look, there are issues I can't go into."

"I understand that, sir," Dempsey said uncomfortably, "but . . . well, there are some pretty scary rumors making the rounds. People are getting alarmed."

"Rumors?" Jack asked, pursing his lips. "What kind of rumors?"

"Varied," Travis said when it became clear Dempsey wasn't going to say anything.

"Name a few."

They each tried to wait the other out, but finally Dempsey tired of the game and said, "I've had a couple of guys come up and ask me if Daniel's got amnesia."

Jack nodded. That didn't surprise him in the slightest.

"I heard a couple of guys theorizing that he was a Goa'uld, or some other kind of alien that can possess a human," Travis said. "I told them there wasn't the slightest chance in hell, but that's some of the talk that's going around."

"I can assure you that he's not a Goa'uld."

"I'm sure, sir, but the idea that people have got is that he's an imposter."

"He's not that," Jack replied.

"Neither of us is saying that he is," Dempsey said, glancing at Travis, who nodded. "After what he just did, I don't see how he could be, but it's got people unsettled."

"I'll bring it to the general's attention," Jack said.

"Someone even suggested he might be malingering," Travis said. "That he'd lost his nerve."

"Malingering!" Jack exclaimed angrily.

"I told them they were wrong, but –"

"Well, that's one notion I can dispel right off the bat," he said. "He was beaten so severely that his kidneys went into failure and they had him on dialysis for awhile. He has a broken foot, broken ribs on one side, barely healed cracked ribs on the other side and his right arm is broken in two places." Both of them stared at him silently. "And even with all that, he tried to get us to let him come on this mission. We had to practically tie him in his wheelchair to keep him on base."

"O'Neill," Dempsey said, glancing around at the soldiers who were moving through the wilderness on either side of them. "You can stop spitting fire. We're on your side, but come on, man. You've got to see that we need details. The only thing to stop rumors is facts, and those are sorely lacking right now."

"I can't give you details."

"What we know for fact is this," Travis said. "Dr. Jackson was attacked and severely beaten inside the SGC, and you were arrested for it."

Jack grimaced. "It wasn't me," he said.

"Obviously, or Hammond would have thrown the book at you so hard you'd never get up again," Dempsey said. "You were cleared and released, but nothing else has been done. No further arrests, no investigation, no search. Nothing."

"We know who did it," Jack said, shrugging.

"And he is?"

"Not there anymore."

"Colonel!" Travis exclaimed. "That's part of the problem, I think. The guys who think he's malingering think you and the general are covering it up for some reason, and that's why there's been no search for the culprit."

"Damn it!" Jack growled. "I really can't tell you, but I'll talk to the general about it."

"Can you at least tell us how this intruder got onto the base and off again without being caught?" Dempsey asked. "That's the thing that worries me most. We've got a hole in our security, and no one knows what it is."

"We know what it is," Jack said. "And it's being well guarded now."

"I don't like it," Dempsey said. "It's like there's a draft chilling my ankles and I can't figure out which door is open."

Jack shook his head. "I'm not happy about it either, but –" He shrugged.

"Sir, there is something you should probably know. Again, I told them they were full of crap and reported it up through channels to the general, but one of the rumors . . . sir, a couple of guys I heard talking think you did it, but that Hammond's covering up for you." Jack stopped dead in his tracks as the blood pounded in his ears. "And see, when you look murderous like that, it just helps the rumors." Jack knit his brows and took his cap off to run a hand through his hair. "Better," Travis said. "Now you just look baffled."

"I am. How could anybody think that?"

Travis shrugged. "I made my report just yesterday. They just couldn't figure out why Dr. Jackson would be covering for you. I mean, there were a couple of crack-brained suggestions, but nothing that made any sense."

"Like my Daniel would ever cover for me on something like that!" Jack said incredulously. "He'd head straight to Fraiser to demand I get a check up."

Both of them stared at him. Finally Dempsey found his voice. "Your Daniel, sir?" he asked.

Jack's jaw dropped. That had been a serious slip that allowed for dangerous interpretations. He shook his head. "Our Daniel," he said. "It's not . . ." They were both looking even more alarmed, so he threw his head back and scowled. "Our Daniel, as in the one from our reality. As opposed to one from a different reality." He waited for the comprehension to dawn in their eyes. Then he started walking again, shaking his head.

They caught up with him. "You mean that transdim –"

Jack stopped and turned to face Dempsey before he could finish the question. "Don't say that out loud! Not where someone might hear you."

"Right," Dempsey said. "Sorry sir."

They resumed walking, and after a few moments, Travis said, "So, it was you, wasn't it, sir? Not you, I mean, but the you from that other reality."

"No, Travis," Dempsey said urgently. "I think it's more complicated than that. The Daniel back on base isn't our Daniel, is he?"

"Got it in one, Dempsey," Jack said. "And Travis. He brought this one, already beaten to a pulp, dropped him off, then took ours."

"So, why does he need our Daniel? What happened to his?"

Jack shrugged. He'd already told them most of it. In for a penny and the beans were spilled and all that. "His Daniel did cover up him beating up on him. And eventually, he accidentally killed him."

"There were way too many pronouns in that sentence, sir," Travis said. "You're saying that the Jack who stole our Daniel killed his own Daniel?"

"On accident, yes," Jack said. "It's a very complicated situation. We're in communication with someone from that reality, and we're working to get our Daniel back."

"But at the moment, he's in the hands of someone who left the guy who just saved our butts in a storeroom with multiple serious injuries?" Dempsey asked.

"That's the gist of it," Jack said.

"Charming."

"That's my take, too," Jack replied. "I'm guessing that something really got to the Daniel back there and that's why he was suddenly gone like that. He's got twin babies waiting for him at home, and his Sha're is . . . well, she's not a Goa'uld."

"Crap!" Travis said.

"So what condition is our Daniel in?" Dempsey asked.

"As of last Thursday, not great, but surviving." Jack bit his lip and shrugged again. "My information is third hand at best, though. The man I'm in communication with can't even get onto the level of the base they're holding Daniel on, much less see him for himself."

"Damn." Dempsey looked like he was grinding his teeth. "What the hell are they doing it for?"

"Long, complicated story, comes down to the fact that Kinsey is president and gung ho to seek out new worlds and plant the US flag in their soil, and Hammond is a greedy sycophant."

"I assume you mean their Hammond," Travis said. Jack just gave him a look, and the younger man flushed with embarrassment. "Yes sir," he replied.

"I'm going to have to ask you two to keep this under your hats until the general has decided what to make public knowledge on the base, so for the time being, please don't even talk about it with each other. If you have further questions, come to me. If you have people asking you questions . . . I'll get back to you on what you should tell them. If people suspect me, you probably shouldn't direct them to come to me with their questions."

"No," Dempsey said dryly. "Thank you for being frank with us, Jack."

"Somehow I don't think the general will thank me for being frank with you," he replied, reflecting that he was going to have an uncomfortable interview with Hammond later. They both looked moderately sympathetic, but Jack thought they were right. The time for secrecy was past. If they'd managed to get this Daniel home and their Daniel back within three weeks, they might have been able to keep it a secret, but it was the first day of the fourth week. That was simply too long to keep a secret like this . . . at least when it involved one of the most talked-to people in the SGC.

They returned their attention to their teams and the walk back to the gate. Jack endeavored not to get maudlin, but the fact that one of these teams was a person shy didn't help his mood any. She even had a broken arm.

He put those kinds of thoughts out of his head and returned to his job.

Reality A001

"Fuck!" Samantha blinked and rolled over as the low-voiced exclamation woke her. "Get up!" Jack growled, shaking her shoulder. "Get up!" The situation sank in slowly to her sleep-fogged brain. She and the colonel had . . . she was naked. "Get up!" he called again as he rushed around the room. She sat up and a pair of pants hit her in the face.

"Up?" she asked stupidly.

"Briefing. Late. Get up!"

She looked at the clock. "Shit! You take the first shower, sir," she said

"Sir?" he repeated incredulously. "Sir?! We don't have time for niceties, Carter, we'll shower together."

They scrambled around, getting themselves together, slooshing off the remnants of their . . . uh . . . activities of the night before. There was no particular physical awareness of each other during the shower, they were too rushed.

She didn't expect that he'd have any clean clothes to put on, but he wrapped a towel around his waist and made a quick trip out to his truck for a little duffel with all the necessities. He'd used her razor with one of her spare blades to shave off his stubble in the shower, and he smelled oddly like women's shaving cream when she got close to him, but they were clean and dressed in under half an hour.

The drive to the base was exhilarating. Ordinarily, the colonel drove sensibly. Not too slow, but never quite fast enough for Samantha's tastes. On this occasion, given their tardiness and the possible consequences thereof, he drove like a bat out of hell.

They just had time to get to their respective locker rooms and change before the briefing. The colonel's hair was dry, but hers was still just the tiniest bit damp as they slid into their chairs to knowing looks from Hammond and Kowalski.

The briefing was short and to the point, and once they had their mission plans complete, Hammond informed her that he'd arranged another outing for Daniel just after lunch, with shelter nearby to avoid problems with weather. It also, as she'd expected, dealt with the issue of not being able to monitor what they did.

"Thank you, sir," she said. "I think that will make Daniel happy. He was disappointed to have to go in early yesterday." Kowalski left, clearly not interested in the conversation. Jack stayed, not speaking, as if he hoped to go unnoticed.

"I can understand that," Hammond said. "Did he say anything of importance yesterday? I understand you talked for a fairly long time."

"We did," Samantha said. "I don't know if you'd say important . . . we mostly talked about his options, what kinds of things he could do to improve his situation, the things he could do to worsen it." She shrugged. "He did ask for one thing, though."

"Did he? What?"

"Music. A cd player and some music to listen to. He'd prefer it to be unlimited, because he says he can work while he listens. I know where our Daniel's music collection is." She glanced uneasily at O'Neill, both for Hammond's benefit and to see how the colonel was taking her phrasing. Of course, a determined mind could take it as an affectionate reference to their friend . . . Neither man reacted to those words so she went on. "I could take those in to him. I'd imagine that should work for him."

"Very well. Just make sure he knows that I'll take it away again if he slacks off."

"Of course, sir," she said.

"Sir," Jack started and she looked at him apprehensively. "It's not a cut and dried business, this translation stuff. There will be times when he'll get lots done, and others when it will take longer." Hammond raised an eyebrow, and as the colonel started to speak again, she put a hand on his arm. It was all well and good to push for reasonable behavior, but angering Hammond would not have any kind of beneficial effect.

Jack subsided, and the general turned his eyes to her, giving her an appraising look that made her want to shower all over again. He cleared his throat. "I take your meaning, colonel, and I will endeavor to keep that in mind. Dismissed."

Samantha and Jack parted outside the briefing room with nothing more than a pat on the shoulder from him to her. She went to the elevator and pressed the button, waiting for it to come and totting up the complications in her life right now. She was being drugged, in fact she was heading to get her next shot right now. She had thrown her lot in with a group of people who would be called traitors, mutineers and rebels if they were caught, and it was all of her own doing. She had pledged her help to a man who came from another reality from which she could gain nothing more than the satisfaction of knowing she'd done the right thing. She'd managed to give the opposition the impression that she was on their side, which required her to back up that impression with some level of word and deed. And now she was having a sexual relationship with a man who was not only her commanding officer but was also completely bananas, drifting in and out of lucidity, but never wholly sane.

And then there was her day job.

After allowing Warner to shoot her full of stuff designed to make her a complacent twit, she went to her lab and picked up a couple of files. She dropped them off with Siler together with his little device for jamming communication frequencies. The storm yesterday had undoubtedly covered up her use of it during her chat with Daniel. As she'd expected, that would clearly be her only chance to have an open conversation with the man, and she was glad she'd taken the opportunity.

Siler took the files matter-of-factly, and she went on to Daniel's room to check on him and let him know that they would be going out again later in the day. There was a tray on his desk that was full of things like she'd requested for him yesterday, foods that wouldn't get unpleasant if not eaten right away. His color was better, and he was working. He smiled when he saw her, but an underlying tension filled the room. He was all too aware that they would be going offworld soon, and she didn't have a solution to his stress.

"Good morning, Samantha," he said. "You're looking moderately harried."

"Well, that's about how I feel, so that works," she said. "I thought I'd better let you know that at one o'clock I'll be coming back to take you outside again, this time to where there's some shelter from rain squalls."

"That's great," he said, smiling. She could tell, though, that he'd gathered the implications of a pre-arranged location from the darkness in the back of his eyes. No more private chats. "Even cloudy skies beat constant ceiling," he added.

She smiled and rested a hand on his shoulder. "Well, I've got to –"

The door opened and an airman walked in. One of them was carrying a small portable stereo. "Dr. Jackson, where would you like us to put this?"

Daniel stared at the man for a moment, then pointed to the corner of his desk. The airman positioned it within easy reach, plugged it in and then turned to Samantha. "I was told to report to you to get the music."

"I'll go get it," she said. Daniel seemed stunned by the sudden appearance of the cd player in the room. She squeezed his shoulder and took the airman to their own Daniel's old office. He looked uneasy in the room that had almost become a shrine to a dead man. Apart from removing all the books to the Daniel prison they maintained for their unwilling guests, Hammond hadn't intruded here. At this point, she figured he planned on making it the office of whichever Daniel lasted for any significant amount of time.

When she didn't know where to find the colonel, she often came here to find him sitting at the desk, looking blank and utterly unaware of his surroundings. She went to the cabinet against the wall and pulled out a wooden cd rack. The airman took it, then started to turn. "Just a minute," she said, sliding out a second rack. The young man took that rack and waited while she pulled out a third. "I can get these," she said. He looked as if he thought he should be carrying everything, but sensibly didn't object.

They went back to Daniel's cell . . . and she hated thinking of it that way, but it was the only honest term for the space. He looked up with surprise when they brought in the racks, and watched in apparent bemusement as they set them up for him. "There, music," she said. "I hope you enjoy it."

"I will," he said. Then, leaning closer to look at them, he asked, "Are these . . . did these . . ."

"Yes, they belonged to our Daniel," she answered, anticipating the rest of the question he couldn't seem to force out. He looked up with wide eyes "I was really hoping that you two had at least similar tastes."

He nodded, eyes distant as his finger strayed across the backs of the cases. "I . . . I . . . thank you, Samantha. This may just save my sanity."

"Hammond asked me to make it clear that it's a privilege, not a right," she said for Hammond's benefit.

Daniel looked up at her, humor sparking in his eyes. "I'm not likely to forget it. Thank you again. I really appreciate it."

"You're welcome," she said, figuring that telling him it was no big deal would come across poorly. It was a big deal for him, clearly. "I'll see you after lunch."

He nodded and pulled out a cd. The airman had already left, so she shut the door behind her to the sound of tribal drum music. They day passed quickly, and Daniel's second trip outside was over too fast for both of them. She rarely spent time out of doors on her own planet anymore. She didn't have the time. The weather stayed clear, for a wonder, and she wished it could have happened that way yesterday. A little more time of open conversation would have done neither of them any harm.

She took him back to his room and left him with his books and his papers. He seemed very somber when she left. Not really surprising under the circumstances. Work kept her busy until past eight, when the colonel showed up in her lab. "Samantha, I think it's time for you to go home."

"Sir?" she said. "I've got a couple more analyses to run."

"Run them tomorrow," he said walking across and putting his hands on her shoulders. A delicious tingle reminded her of the previous evening. "Right now we're going home."

She tilted and looked up at him. Old habits were strong, and she wasn't going to be a substitute whipping boy. "I'm not going to put up with too much of the domineering thing, Jack. I make my own decisions."

His hands froze on her shoulders and she waited to see what his response was going to be. He walked around to the other side of the table and stood facing her. He was blinking earnestly and he seemed to be having trouble speaking. She kept working, finishing up the last bit of the analysis she'd been working on when he came in, figuring that he'd speak in his own good time.

"Samantha, I – I'd like to take you home now," he said. "Actually, I'd like to take you to dinner and then take you home."

She hit enter on the last line of the document, closed it and looked up, smiling. "Sounds good," she said. His eyes opened wide. "Just let me get things closed down."

"Sure," he said. "I'll just go get cleaned up. Meet you by the locker room?"

She nodded and he went out. This was the oddest situation. The feelings he stirred up in her were not what she'd ever have expected to feel for a lover. Compassion and concern combined with strong exasperation. Just after Daniel's death, during the first few abductions, she had pulled away from him in shock and horror that he could do what he was doing. Now she wondered if she'd made a mistake. If she'd tried to support him, would he have responded?

The part of her mind that continued to analyze even her most sentimental thoughts reminded her that if she had influenced the colonel, General Hammond would have taken steps to neutralize that influence. He had very specific expectations, and if she'd caused O'Neill to fail to meet them, he would have acted swiftly to counteract that.

Closing up her lab, she reflected that their cover had only been strengthened by their near lateness for the briefing. But she, as the sane member of this little pairing had to remain very conscious of all the possible repercussions it could have. Relationships such as this were frowned upon, but so long as they didn't interfere with either participant's work performance they were tolerated. She also had to consider what this relationship meant in larger terms. Not as colonel and lieutenant, but as man and woman, what did this mean?

She was hardly a blushing virgin, but this was a pretty serious step. Was it two people reaching for comfort from someone they each knew they could trust, or was it something more? She shook her head. It was probably too early even to wonder about that. It was comfort and support and intimacy with another human being at a time when she desperately needed them. Any other questions would have to wait.

He was waiting when she came out of the locker room. They went out to a little Italian place and held hands on the table. It was beginning to feel repetitive, but she couldn't help thinking yet again that her life had taken a very surreal turn. They talked about their childhoods and schooling, very much surface stuff, but things they'd never really talked about before. It wasn't a night for plotting and secret communications. After they ate a scrumptious tiramisu, he paid the check and walked with her out to the parking lot, hand in hand.

When they reached the truck, he walked her around to her door and stopped, holding both her hands. "Your place or mine, Samantha?"

"If it's your place, we'll need to stop by mine to get my things," she said.

He pursed his lips. "How about we swing by my place and I'll grab some stuff."

She nodded and he opened the truck door for her. "And tonight we set an alarm," she said ironically.

"Good thinking, lieutenant," he said, holding onto her hand for a moment and bringing it to his lips for a tender kiss on the palm. It was both intimate and erotic, and she felt herself flush. He shut the door and got in on his side. As he drove them to his house, she leaned back in the seat and watched the scenery go by.