This story got completely out of hand, and since I don't like these to go over a certain size, this episode of Team Building gets two chapters. I hope this didn't annoy anyone—I thought briefly about posting this as a stand alone, but there are references to other Team Building stories, so I didn't want to confuse anyone.

I hope you enjoy this—I had fun writing this one.

Captive Audience 2

"So, how long do you think it'll take?"

Long enough for him to completely deplete his supply of patience. And trail mix.

He tried to be long suffering, having been told by numerous people over the years that it was a trait he should try to acquire.

But longsuffering got boring.

And Daniel kept shushing him when he tried to start up a conversation with Carter, who sounded at least as bored as he was.

It had been—he flipped back the cover on his watch—two hours and eighteen minutes since they'd figured out that Matu had actually locked them in.

This level of inactivity could be deadly for a guy who couldn't stand still in an elevator without pushing extra buttons. Hey—he could be honest with himself.

Jack wadded up the trail mix wrapper and stowed it in his pack. He thought briefly about digging around in the pack and trying to find one of the multitudinous toys he normally traveled with, but they'd been disappearing lately, and he suspected one of the people he currently sat imprisoned with as the culprit. Well, one of them, or all of them. They'd each been shifty lately.

A movement at the window caught his attention, and he looked over to see a child's face peering through the bars.

He stood, crossed to the window, and returned the look. It was a little boy—around eight years old.

"Hey." He said.

The kid scowled. "You're boring."

"What?"

"You're boring. The other Rata Gue prisoners have at least tried to make it interesting, but you people just sit there. Boring."

"How long have you been watching us?"

The kid sat down next to the window and plucked a blade of grass from near the sill. "Since Matu brought you down. We always gather when there are new prisoners. It's usually a good show. One guy sang for us. A lady danced. Once a man and woman were together—and that one was interesting. Then they started separating girls and boys."

"They did?"

"They said that was a little too educational." The kid dropped the piece of grass through the window and picked another one.

"And what did you think?"

"I thought it was gross."

"Good boy."

The kid frowned at him. "Do you sing?"

"No."

"Dance?"

"No."

"Tell stories?"

"I can tell jokes."

"Funny jokes?"

"Is there another kind?"

The child narrowed one eye, his fingers working automatically on the grass. "Tell me one."

"Okay." Jack thought for a moment. He glanced over at Daniel, who was watching him intently. "What?"

"Make it clean, Jack."

"Of course I will, Daniel. He's just a kid."

But the archaeologist still looked more than a little skeptical.

O'Neill ran through the jokes in his head, discarding any that were sketchy or too Earth-bound. Finally, he turned back toward the face between the bars.

"Three guys are standing on the roof of a building."

"How tall is the building?"

"Ten stories."

"How tall is a story?"

"Uh—taller than a house."

"Okay."

"Okay, so they're on this roof. And the first guy runs to the edge."

"Why did he run to the edge, Colonel O'Neill? This would seem to be a foolish thing to do." Teal'c asked from his corner.

"Just because he does, Teal'c. There's no other reason."

"It would be wiser to remain in the center of the roof awaiting rescue."

"If he did that, then there wouldn't be a joke."

Teal'c inclined his head. "I see. It just seems foolish for a man to abandon a safe location in order to facilitate comedy."

Jack just stared at him. Finally, he shook his head and looked back up at the face. "So you with me?"

"I think so."

"So he runs to the edge and just as he's preparing to jump, he yells, 'Airplane!' and he turns into an airplane and flies away."

"That is indeed fortuitous, O'Neill."

"Shush, T."

Teal'c shushed.

"What's an airplane?" This from the boy, accompanied by a furrowed forehead.

"It's a machine that flies."

"Oh. Go on."

"So the second guy runs to the edge and yells, 'Eagle!' and—"

"What's an eagle?" The kid had stopped shredding grass and had his hands gripped around the bars of the window.

"An eagle—it's a bird. A big bird."

"Is it pretty?" The boy grinned. "I like pretty birds. There are many beautiful birds on Rata Gari."

Jack considered this for a moment. "I wouldn't say pretty as much as awesome—it's big and has nasty claws—"

"Talons!" Carter called from her cell. "They're called talons on birds of prey!"

"Thanks!" Jack waved a hand in her direction. "Appreciate the help, Major!"

"You're welcome!" She called back, apparently happy to contribute.

"Anyhoo—" Jack rewound back to where he'd been. "They're not that pretty, but they're good looking birds."

"Like Dr. Jackson is good looking and Major Carter is pretty?"

"Thanks!" Called Sam from her cell.

Daniel grinned. "If I'm good looking, and Sam is pretty, what does that make Jack?"

The boy nodded intelligently. "He's old."

"Ah." Daniel laughed smugly. "Old. Okay, then, go on, Gramps."

Jack leveled a look at Daniel that took most of the giddy out of his expression. "Are you done?"

"Yeah." Daniel raised his journal, brandished his pen. "Writing. See?"

"Ummm." The Colonel rediscovered his place and continued. "So the guy yells, 'Eagle!'. And he turns into an eagle and flies away."

The little boy's face was rapt, awaiting the last man's fate. His fingers drummed on the bars of the window.

"So the third guy runs to the edge—but just when he gets there, he trips on the side of the roof and yells, 'Oh! Crap!'"

O'Neill waited. Daniel groaned and lowered his face into his book. Teal'c's mouth inched up at one corner. From Sam's cell, a slight giggle wafted through the air.

The boy simply stared at him. After an interminable amount of time, he shook his head. "I don't get it."

"What don't you get about it? The last guy says 'Oh, crap.'"

"So, what's funny about that?"

"So, he turns into crap—like the other guys turned into an eagle or an airplane."

The boy still sat, stone faced, in the window.

"Poop. Shi-shi. Number 2. Doo-doo. Chocolate logs." O'Neill turned to Daniel. "What are more words for crap?"

"That joke comes to mind." Daniel said without looking up from his journal.

"Shut up, Daniel."

"Shutting up."

The boy glared at O'Neill. Standing, he brushed the grass of his pants, then bent over again to peer into the jail. "I don't think that joke helped you much." He took one last look around the room and turned and hurried away.

----OOOOOOO----

Eighteen hours later, O'Neill joined Carter at the top of the 'Gate platform. The walk from the village had done nothing to ease the stiffness in his joints, and he was going to need to spend around an hour in the bathroom and then at least that long in the commissary.

"Are you okay, sir?"

"Besides really needing to pee? Besides being totally put down by a little kid? Besides having spent twenty some-odd hours in the Rooms of Ratatouille? Yeah—sure. I'm great, Carter."

"I told you not to drink those juice boxes." She grinned.

"I figured they'd at least give me a pot or a jar, Major."

"Yes, well, next time we'll remember to make arrangements for that."

She turned to enter the event horizon, but he caught at her arm, turning her around.

"What?"

"Next time. You said 'Next time'."

"Yeah—you didn't catch that?"

He shook his head. "Catch what?"

"Matu said we had to come back. The amounts of naquadah we're requesting are causing alarm and they want some time to reconsider. He suggested returning to the Rooms of Rata Gue to show that we're really in earnest."

O'Neill blanched. He turned to stare at the village behind him, then whirled around again to look at his Major. "Do we have to?"

"I'm afraid so, sir." She shrugged and put a hand on his elbow. "Come on. Let's go home."

O'Neill dropped his head in resignation, and sighed deeply.

And as they entered the shimmering entrance to the wormhole, Carter distinctly heard the Colonel say, "Well, crap."