ACT 1

John Sheppard never minded pissing people off. And he especially never minded it when the person he was pissing off was a superior officer. In fact, he kind of had a running tally of how many SO's he'd actually pissed off in his time and he held it as a personal mark of distinction that he had so many notches on his mental belt.

There was one superior officer, however, whom he had hoped never to irritate or disappoint, not because he feared him, but because he liked him—even more, respected him. That in and of itself was noteworthy because he could count on one hand the number of people, military or otherwise, he had ever held in that high of regard. Most of them he worked with on a day to day basis. One was no longer here—and he felt her absence keenly. The last one was General Jack O'Neill.

And it was General Jack O'Neill who was glaring at him at this moment with barely concealed fury and a look that would have withered even the most combat-hardened soldier.

Oh yeah. He had screwed up. And he had screwed up big time.

It was one thing to come back from a mission with a team member missing.

It was another thing when that team member was the commander of the whole Atlantis base.

And it was a completely different thing when that commander was General O'Neill's wife.

We don't leave people behind.

It was the code. His personal code. And he knew it was General O'Neill's code.

And yet he'd done it. Unknowingly, admittedly, but that didn't really change anything.

Colonel Carter was missing, and he hadn't a clue where she was.

Oh yeah. He pretty much felt like crap. O'Neill had every reason to be giving him the look he was giving him. He deserved it.

Bracing himself for what he knew was about to hit the fan, Sheppard took a deep breath and stared at the floor, waiting.

"How the hell did this happen?"

Sheppard glanced up. He'd been expecting the full fury of the general's wrath. Instead there was an eerie calmness to the man's voice, husky with the tone of an emotion Sheppard could not at first pinpoint. Then it hit him. He risked another peek at the general and confirmed it. Side by side with the anger was something he hadn't ever seen on the man's face—not when the rogue drone had nearly taken out their chopper in Antarctica, not even when the replicators had taken him prisoner on Atlantis. And seeing it there now, and knowing somehow that he was responsible, made Sheppard feel twice as bad as he already did, and he had truly thought he could never feel any worse. Because what he himself, John Sheppard, had put on General O'Neill's face was fear.

Sheppard swallowed. He knew now exactly how the hell this had happened, thanks to McKay and Zelenka, who'd finally figured it out. But he had a feeling that wasn't quite what General O'Neill meant. Still. It was the only answer he had at the moment so he offered it up.

"We were heading back through the gate, sir, taking fire. Colonel Carter was holding the gate open from that end, so we could be sure to get some of the slower refugees through. I came through just before her and I could have sworn she was right behind me. But when I got to Atlantis there was some sort of power surge and the gate shut down. We dialed back right away and sent a radio signal, but she didn't respond. So we sent a MALP. We still couldn't see any sign of her, but then the MALP took a direct hit and stopped transmitting."

He took a deep breath. He'd been rehashing the whole scenario over and over again since it happened, trying to figure out where things had gone wrong. He'd known he'd have to lay it all out like this, first for Landry, then the IOA. You couldn't lose your CO and not have every action you took put under a microscope for scrutiny. Still, he had never figured he'd have to face O'Neill himself. Thanks to the intergalactic bridge, it had taken only an hour, though, for the general to appear. Hardly time to figure it all out.

"We kept dialing back periodically," he went on. "Sending a radio transmission, in case she could hear us. After about a half hour we sent another MALP and when the area seemed secure we sent a team back through. There was no sign of her, sir. We even sent up a UAV. I'm…I'm really sorry, General."

Sheppard swallowed hard and tensed even more as he watched the general struggle with his report. The man's jaws were clenching and unclenching, a sure indication of his effort to keep his emotions in check. Sheppard admired the man even more and felt all the worse for it.

"So you're saying she was taken prisoner," the general finally said after what had become an uncomfortable few moments of dead silence. Sheppard was about to respond when McKay opened his mouth. Sheppard was amazed that Rodney hadn't spoken up til now. He usually was not one to hesitate throwing in his two cents regardless of the situation. Except, of course, in this case.

"Not…necessarily, General," said McKay, with a side glance at Sheppard, almost as if he were asking permission to continue. Sheppard nodded slightly. It was rare to see McKay so reticent. It had to be because of O'Neill. They guy was just cowed.

"We analyzed the power surge that struck the gate just after Colonel Sheppard stepped through, and we think it was caused by the gate being hit directly at the other end by enemy fire."

O'Neill seemed to blanche. A dark veil slid across his eyes and Sheppard could have sworn he looked like he had thrown a switch. His face lost all emotion and there was a stony set to his jaw. Sheppard thought he was looking at a statue of the man who had been standing there moments before.

"Then she's dead," he said flatly, in the same husky voice as before.

"Ah…we don't think so," McKay contradicted, still glancing nervously at Sheppard. "You see, when we compared the recording of the surge to the gate with other energy patterns in the data base, we found one that was disturbingly familiar."

Sheppard was watching O'Neill and he was sure what Rodney was talking about was not sinking in. It hadn't on him at first either. Maybe it was McKay's superfast speed, which was even faster now, seeing as how he was obviously nervous.

When O'Neill made no reply, Rodney forged ahead.

"Ahh. Yes. Well. Like I said, it was disturbingly familiar because it was nearly identical to the energy blast that caused the wormhole to jump to the alternate gate in Antarctica that time you and Colonel Carter…I mean, at the time she was Captain Carter, I believe…or maybe she was Major by then, I can't remember…"

"McKay…" growled Sheppard, warningly. Rodney looked at him as if he were just noticing him for the first time and then looked back at General O'Neill.

"Wh…? Oh. Right. Sorry. Like I said, it was the same energy pattern that caused the wormhole to jump on earth."

O'Neill was studying him.

"But we had two gates on earth. Are you saying there are two gates in Atlantis?"

Sheppard and Rodney exchanged glances. That had been their first theory too, but they'd discounted that.

"No, sir," replied Sheppard, cautiously. "We're pretty sure this is the only one."

"But…" interrupted McKay. "It only jumped to the other earth gate because there was another earth gate. If there hadn't been a second gate buried in Antarctica then it probably would have jumped to another gate somewhere in the corridor between the source planet and the target planet. And that's what we think happened here."

Sheppard saw the general take in what McKay had said and turn it over carefully in his mind.

"So, how many planets are we talking about here?" he asked finally. Sheppard had to keep from wincing as Rodney stammered over his answer.

"Well, it's really hard to make an absolute boundary of the corridor, considering the force of the blast and the likelihood that the wormhole…."

"McKay…" the implied threat from O'Neill made Rodney gulp.

"Oh…around, maybe… eighty or ninety…give or take," he answered in a small, quavery voice. O'Neill gaped at him.

"Eighty or ninety?" The general's voice was incredulous. Rodney looked apologetic.

"Yes, well…unfortunately, there are lots of gated worlds between the one where Colonel Carter…ah…disappeared and where Atlantis is now…." the scientist's voice trailed off.

Sheppard watched the general close his eyes and take a deep breath. When he opened them again he seemed resigned somehow.

"Fine. We'll do this systematically. Start with those gates in direct line between the two planets and gradually widen the search. How many teams are available?"

Sheppard had known this was coming. He'd marshaled as many teams as was possible, but the fact was there was only the fraction of the resources available in Atlantis as there were at the SGC. He had thirty men and that was it. He told the general.

O'Neill ran both hands through his hair, making it stand up almost on end.

"Keep two teams here as back-up. Send the rest out after MALP recon. When Colonel Carter and I were thrown out of the gate in Antarctica it was a rather…violent experience. Seeing as how she hasn't dialed back by now, I think it's safe to assume she's been injured. In which case she won't be too far from the gate. That could speed things up some."

O'Neill fell silent, staring off in the direction of the gate. Sheppard wasn't sure if he had been dismissed or not. He shifted position slightly, hoping to remind O'Neill he was still there. It worked. The general focused on him.

"What?" he asked irritably, although Sheppard suspected he wasn't really reacting to his standing there. "Go…go!"

With a glance at McKay, they left Colonel Carter's office.

Yeah. Losing the general's wife.

Not exactly how he liked to start the day.

o-o-o-o

Jack watched the retreating backs of Sheppard and McKay for a moment and then turned toward the obsessively neat desk in an effort to pull himself together. It didn't help. The way everything was precisely placed, just like on her desk at home, screamed "Sam" at him. Nope. Didn't help at all. And why, for crying out loud, did every CO's office in Stargate have to have a damned window in it so that the whole rest of the world could see what was going on in there. Hadn't they ever heard the word "privacy"?

He made to sit down in her chair, as if even sitting where she had sat might make him feel better, but he couldn't. Every muscle was twitching to do something, take some action, make some move. He couldn't. Just. Sit. And. Wait. And yet he had to. That was his job, just like Sheppard's was to go out and find Sam.

Since he couldn't sit he paced. This was the first time he'd been to Atlantis since she had, ever so reluctantly, accepted the posting here. In fact, he'd made a point of specifically staying away. The rumor mill was always grinding something out and there were whisperings among a few who had found out about their relationship that the plum posting of Atlantis base commander had been a wedding gift from the general to his wife. Sam had nearly blown a gasket when she'd heard that. Her rant had lasted a full twenty minutes by Jack's watch, and when she'd missed a few points about why that was, without a doubt, the stupidest and most asinine conclusion anyone could ever come to, he'd offered her a few choice remarks of his own to round out her argument. It had had the desired effect and she'd cooled down a little; still, the whole thing continued to be a testy topic for her. So he had stayed away.

It had been hell. The Colorado Springs to DC distance had been painful enough. Being in two separate galaxies…well, it was mind-boggling. It gave a whole new meaning to the term "commuter marriage". Being new to the job, Sam had felt like she couldn't just bug-out when her first scheduled leave came, so she'd forgone not only her first but also her second chance to come home, hoping it would help her fit in better with what was already a fairly well-established senior leadership.

And as usual, her instincts had been good; events in the Pegasus Galaxy had an eerie ability to mimic the life they'd known at the SGC, with Murphy's Law seemingly at work no matter what corner of the universe a person chose to occupy. Sam being there at a few critical times had helped cement her position as base commander, especially among those who had been suspicious of her at the start. A worthwhile sacrifice of her personal time.

The third time, though, Jack had insisted. Threatened to make it an order. The damned bed was too big, and after two months of gloriously holding her in his arms every single night, having to go the next three months without even seeing her, except on the damned monitor, was excruciating. He ached for her. Not just with his body, but with his spirit and his mind. He needed to hear her voice telling him things he didn't understand and didn't want to, he needed to watch her smile light up the room when he said something deliberately stupid to provoke it, he needed the mundaneness of having her complain that she'd seen this episode of the Simson's five times already and for crying out loud couldn't they watch something else for a change. And he needed to hold her, smell her, kiss her, make love to her, sleep with his arms wrapped around her to protect her in the only way he could.

The way he couldn't protect her when she was here. Alone. Without him.

He found he was staring at the pictures she'd so carefully placed on the credenza behind her desk. There was one of Cassie. Jack hadn't called her yet. Really, what was the point? Until he knew something for sure, there was no reason to disrupt her life. The kid had already lost too much—had even almost lost Sam herself, last year. He couldn't throw this at her until he knew what he was dealing with for sure.

The next picture was of Teal'c. Now that the Ori were history and Mitchell was settled in with a new SG1, Teal'c had gone back to try to reconstruct the Jaffa High Council along with Bra'tac. The photo of Teal'c was taken before he'd magically aged fifty years and with a rarely seen Teal'c smile. There were some things about the old days he missed, and hanging out with T was one of them. The big guy had a grounding quality to him that had always helped put things in perspective. And if he could use anything now, it was some grounded perspective.

The photo of Daniel, he realized, was from their wedding. Oh yeah. Danny-boy had gotten himself a new tux just for the occasion, and the thing was so crisp and black it fairly crackled in the frame. It sat next to a picture of Jacob Carter that Jack had never seen before. It was a younger Jacob than the one he'd known. A pre-Selmak Jacob, all decked out in his general's uniform. An interesting choice, considering Sam and this Jacob had never gotten along so good. He'd have to ask her about it. If he got the chance.

Not a good place to go, he realized too late. He'd been doing a decent job of calming down. That thought hadn't helped. He picked up the last picture and studied it. Of course she would choose this one. Two small figures perched on a dock, lines stretched out over a pond. A person would have to look very carefully to see it was him under that cap, although Sam's blond hair, back when it was short, was pretty much a give-away. He wondered vaguely who the hell had taken the picture. It had to have been Daniel. Teal'c didn't mess much with common earth technology like cameras. Daniel hadn't realized it at the time, but the shot had captured probably the greatest day in Jack's life. It had been that evening, after their erstwhile chaperones had gone to bed that he and Sam and finally talked. And when talking had no longer been necessary…oh yeah. A great day. No wonder Sam had chosen this particular picture. In spite of everything, Jack had to grin. Fishing. It had taken on a whole new meaning for them after that night.

He set the picture back down, careful to angle it just has she had left it. He didn't want to disturb anything in her office, not even a damned paperclip, if he could help it. It had to be waiting for her when she came back, exactly as she'd left it. Just like they'd left Charlie's room….

God. Where had that thought come from? Jack pushed it away, angrily, trying to block out the image of a small boy's bedroom filled with baseball trophies and model airplanes and hand-drawn pictures of "Colonel Daddy" taped on the wall. The word "shrine" popped into his head. No. He wouldn't do that. Not again. The office wasn't a shrine. She would be back. Sitting in the chair. Glancing at the pictures. Fiddling with the damned pyramid paperweight he'd given her as a joke because it looked like a goa'uld mothership.

And even though it went against every instinct to keep it just so, Jack pulled out the chair and sat down in it. Shrine be damned. He futzed with the neat stack of papers. A paperclip dropped to the floor. Good. It would give her something to do when she got back. She'd yell at him for messing in her stuff. He'd love it. For good measure he reached behind him and rearranged the pictures. Even better. Through the window he could see Sheppard and his team conferring. Action. Good. It meant something was about to happen. And something was a whole lot better than nothing. They'd find her. She'd be back in no time.

And as if somehow it might assure it, he pulled a pencil out of the drawer and left it haphazardly on the desk before he headed out to hear Sheppard's plan of attack.

o-o-o-o

She remembered…something. The memory flitted on the edge of her brain, but each time she reached for it, it danced maddeningly out of her mind's reach. But it was there. Somewhere. It had to be. Being…well, being no one, was too terrifying. Like looking in a mirror and seeing no reflection. Odd that she should know what a mirror was and yet not even know her own name. Carter. The dogtag had said Carter. Dogtag. How did she known that? But that's what it was. And it was hers. It belonged around her neck. It had to be around her neck. She was almost panicked at the thought of it not being there. The woman, the small one, had taken it back. Placed it in her pocket. But she, Carter, she needed it back. Now.

Propping herself up on her elbow she looked frantically for the girl they had left behind. Arisha. She was seated on a stool, as far away as she could get yet still be within the circle of light. She was…reading.

Her throat was dry from unuse and it took her a couple of tries to get sound out.

"Hey." Her voice was still hoarse. Husky.

The girl looked up, startled.

Carter tried to smile.

"That…necklace…the one the other woman showed me. The one with my name on it," she managed. The girl nodded.

"I really, really need to have that back."

Arisha frowned at her.

"You remember more now?"

Carter closed her eyes and shook her head.

"No," she admitted, looking at the girl again. "Not really. But I do know that I'm supposed to wear that…necklace. It's called a dogtag. And I really have to have it. Do you think you could get it for me."

The girl glanced at the entrance to the tent and then back at Carter.

"I'm not supposed to leave you alone. The others will be back in the morning. When Zetra returns, I will tell her."

Some of the panic of not having the dogtag returned, but Carter forced it down. The girl's look was adamant, and in her condition there was nothing else she could do. Managing a small smile, she lay back down, suddenly exhausted.

Zetra. The smaller woman. She would have to remember that.

Wondering how long until morning, she stared at the ceiling of the tent and the shapeless shadows that lurked there, willing herself to remember more. Dogtag. Carter. Well. It was a start.

The memory twirled tauntingly on the edges of her thoughts again, nearly formed, and then dissipated. She sighed and closed her eyes. The pain in her head was returning. She needed to rest. Perhaps when she woke up the memory would be there. Maybe they all would.

"Help me, sir," she whispered absently. She didn't know why. But somehow it brought her comfort.