From Here to Alternity I: Canon minus A Major: Sam, Lies and Videotape, part 4 – A Formal Feeling Comes
No owning Stargate in any permutation for the likes of me. Gekko, MGM (Sony, now, I guess), SciFiChannel, Double Secret Productions, etc. can fight over the rights instead. The chapter title is also not mine; it comes from an Emily Dickinson poem: "After great pain, a formal feeling comes."
Big Long Author's Notes to follow.
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From Here to Alternity I: Canon minus A Major: Sam, Lies and Videotape, part 4 – A Formal Feeling Comes
Previously in "From Here to Alternity":
Panting with suddenly shallow lungs, Sam could feel the poison on the blade rushing through her system. The blade hadn't punctured her lungs, she would've felt that, but they were close enough to her circulatory system to feel the burn now. The tall blonde lunged toward her former assailant with the knife and made several hits as the long-haired menace tried to dodge her. Sam was seeing red now, literally, as the haze of pain and poison made it to her brain. She could hardly move but she made a last heroic stumble into the woman's body and stabbed her as well. Just as everything went black, she heard an anguished scream like she'd never thought to hear on Earth. All she could think was "my spidey sense… no wonder".
… … … … … … … … …
The tape continued in dead silence.
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Video Surveillance Monitoring Room, Administration Building
Grand Canyon National Park, AZ
Downtime Day 11, very early morning
The entire investigative team watched the end of the surveillance video with grim concentration. Jonas and Teal'c analyzed the images impassively, having seen this before. Agent Tapping was sucking down prospective clues like an info junky in need of a fix. Both Agent Anderson and Colonel O'Neill looked like they'd lost their best friend. Ranger Alvarez coolly split his focus between the video and his colleagues. A darkening view of the empty parking lot continued to broadcast as he cleared his throat and began his analysis.
"So, Major Carter drops her assailants – bam bam bam." He mimicked the major's elbow throw, head butt and clothesline in small scale as every eye in the room turned his way. "Then she runs for the passenger side of the vehicle. Why?"
"I believe that MajorCarter intended to retrieve her cell phone in order to summon the authorities," Teal'c explained.
"Did you see the cell phone on the tape?" Tapping inquired.
"I did not." Teal'c admitted. "However, MajorCarter is a proficient warrior. If she intended to escape immediately she would have chosen to enter her vehicle on the driver's side." The unsaid moron hung silently in the air.
Alvarez nodded and continued to act out his narrative in miniature. "Okay, so we think she goes for the phone. Then she jumps like she's been shocked and turns to the last attacker. It didn't look like the other woman said anything to alert her, so I guess your friend heard her come up from behind." No one disagreed, so the ranger proceeded. "They fight, bam bam bam and the big guy starts to get up," Alvarez jerked a thumb towards the side of him the man would have been on if the re-enactment were actually taking place. "The major makes her move to escape," and Alvarez imitated Sam's dodging, looking oddly like a mime having a seizure. His next movement, however, scuttled all amusement in the room, "and the woman stabs her."
The members of SG-1 and Agent Anderson visibly tensed at his sharp motion. Alvarez noted the agent's anomalous response as he continued to act out his words. "The assailant goes in for a few more hits, the vict… major puts up her arms and gets defensive wounds. The major makes a break for it, fakes her attacker out and grabs the knife – nice moves, by the way."
Silence greeted his quasi-conversational sally. Teal'c looked like he was stuck between pride and irritation as he stared back at Alvarez. The ranger went on, "the major struck back, was giving the same kind of defensive wounds she got, then bam bam" as he threw in a few illustrative bobs and weaves "stabs the assailant back. Then, still holding the knife, she passes out as the attacker screams bloody murder."
Agent Anderson winced at his unfortunate turn of phrase. Alvarez flushed but persevered in his reconstruction. "Now, I didn't get a really good look at it, but from the way she was moving before she collapsed, I don't think the major's stomach wound was, um… fatal." O'Neill's face went completely expressionless as Alvarez hurried helplessly on. "I mean, she didn't seem to be bleeding too badly. And they picked her up pretty carefully and seemed to give her some kind of first aid in the van. Plus, they weren't in a big hurry, which they probably would have been if anybody needed immediate medical attention. So I don't think Major Carter's dead."
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Jonas Quinn carefully reached out and stopped the video playback. The room was so quiet in the wake of Alvarez' last comment that he could hear the individual breaths of the people around him. Colonel O'Neill seemed to be trying for control with his even exhalations, but Jonas could see the strain just below the surface. He didn't know exactly what Sam Carter meant to the older man, but he'd been around the SGC long enough to pick up the gist of it. And from the shallow gulps of Agent Anderson he could tell that this wasn't just another case for her. Tapping and Teal'c both seemed to almost forget to breathe as they watched their colleagues struggle with the possibility that Sam was… that she hadn't been able to… that the attack was more serious than they could tell. He couldn't even bring himself to say the 'd' word about his friend. A sharp ache in his chest made him aware that he was holding his own breath.
The whole investigative team seemed to linger in a bubble of suspended emotion. Not even Tapping wanted to break the silence and let reality come crashing over them. Jonas knew that someone had to speak up and kick start the investigation again. As much as he hated the thought, it looked like it'd have to be him.
"Okay, well, that's all Tio and I could find from this camera. We have the van making its way undisturbed to the nearest exit, and from there it made a turn to the west. It's all scattered on other tapes, but we figured you'd all want to see what happened to Sam…" Jonas found his throat closing up as the mood in the room wavered. As much as he had known what the tape would show his friends and as much as he tried to keep a stiff upper lip, he was upset. They were all trying so desperately to believe that there was no way Sam could be… dead, but she was last seen injured in enemy hands. The logical conclusion was inescapable.
No one else jumped into the silence, so Jonas cleared his throat and doggedly tried again. "Well, whoever analyzes the tape for more details can put that exit footage together. And the footage of the van on the way in might be helpful as well." He cleared his throat again, aware of Teal'c and Tapping's eyes on him. Colonel O'Neill was staring at the screen as if he could make the fight come out differently if he just concentrated hard enough. Chris Anderson's chin was tucked into her chest and she seemed to be fighting for calm.
"I guess the first order of business is to redirect the canyon search," Alvarez added quietly, shooting Jonas a grateful glance for his intervention. "We need a CSI team out here to collect evidence from the parking lot, but we could use the search teams to try and find anything the assailants may have left in the gaps between cameras."
Jonas nodded, grateful that the ranger had used the word 'left' instead of 'dumped'. According to the cop shows he'd watched, you left clues but bodies you dumped. Alvarez went on, "we also need to trace the license plate and VIN number of the van. And see if we can get better shots of their faces. Doesn't the FBI have some kind of facial recognition software?"
Tapping glanced at his withdrawn partner before he replied. "Yes, we do. And we're tied into a national network. If you can get me onto the 'net, I can access FBI, TSA, CIA, NSA and maybe even Interpol records. I also think we need to narrow down the attackers' movements in the van before the victim arrived. They might have a traceable item we could pick out or we could possibly read their lips if the angle's right. And, of course, we need to put out an APB for Major Carter and the others."
"I could call a couple of friends in the State Department of Transportation and maybe get them to pull the camera feeds from any surrounding roads around the time we think they left. And we could send some of the searchers to canvass gas stations and hospitals in the area to see if they stopped to refuel or get medical treatment," Alvarez offered.
"Okay," Jonas said, relieved to have some sort of plan. "So… Teal'- Tio and I're most familiar with the tape, so I guess we should stay and work on the video with Agent Tapping and Ranger Alvarez. Agent Anderson and Col. O'Neill could work with the crime scene investigators?" He didn't mean for that last statement to be a question, but his CO and the agent in question finally looked like they were coming around. Hopefully they could come up with improvements to the plan.
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"Tio's coming with us," O'Neill insisted. Every pair of eyes in the room latched onto his coldly determined face. "Anderson can supervise the CSI team and Tio can catch anything that we might miss."
A small silence was broken by Tapping's muted challenge. "And what will you be doing, Colonel O'Neill?"
The deep brown eyes that met the agent's gaze were bleak and cold… and furious. "I need to see her car."
It didn't take much for people skills – which was good because the male agent really didn't have many – to see that the tape had horrified O'Neill. An expressionless mask of neutrality settled on the colonel's face, but not before they could all see how blazingly helpless the 'big tough military man' felt at seeing his 2IC bleeding and beaten. As much as he disliked the colonel, Tapping could replace Major Carter's face with Anderson's and know exactly what the man was going through. The lanky agent suppressed a shudder as he looked away from both the tape and his partner.
A thin, controlled soprano voice came from the back of the room. "I need to inform the Deputy Director that we now have evidence of a crime committed on Federal property. Given that the van's plates were from Nevada, we can safely assume that there's enough of an interstate component to give the FBI jurisdiction. He'll probably authorize our use of the local office and its resources." The men in the room, including Tapping, watched their lone female companion straighten her spine and wrap cool competence around her like armor. Her misery seeped through anyway.
"Tio, could you drive us to the parking… the crime scene? I'd like to leave in fifteen minutes, if that's possible. Colonel O'Neill? We can contact our superiors now and continue the less sensitive conversations on the way to the site." Teal'c nodded in agreement as O'Neill opened his mouth to argue, agree or comment. Anderson had already moved on.
"Ranger Alvarez, could you coordinate local response and get their resources deployed up here? Redirect the search, etc." Alvarez didn't waste his time acknowledging her, but picked up the office phone and began dialing. Tapping could see the compassion in the ranger's expression as he turned away.
Chris completed her circuit around the room with her arms locked firmly around her middle. Tapping saw the sudden stiffness of Tio and O'Neill as they saw her gesture. He couldn't have known that both men felt a painful twinge as they saw the small woman take up Daniel Jackson's characteristic pose.
"Jonas, Michael…" she sighed. Her cool voice left no room for emotion or dissent as she laid out the last of the assignments. It didn't reassure any of them. Her partner could almost see the cracks in her façade widening as she let his first name slip out. "Let us know when you find something. We all have each other's cell numbers." With a brief nod, she exited the room and moved away from the doorway at a deliberately calm pace. They could hear her heels click slowly until she paused and gave a choked sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. It repeated, then they heard her turn and walk quickly in the direction of the ladies' room.
Jonas and Alvarez, the unofficial movers and shakers of the last few moments, exchanged glances. It didn't sound to any of them as if Agent Anderson was as cool and unaffected as she wanted to seem. However, before either of them could formulate a casual enough suggestion, Teal'c spoke up.
"AgentTapping, I believe AgentAnderson requires your assistance," the Jaffa stated baldly.
"She probably wants to be alone," Tapping contradicted uneasily. He had the look of a guy desperately avoiding an inevitable confrontation. He had no idea what to do with a crying woman, much less a crying partner.
"Regardless of her wishes, I do not believe it is wise to allow her to be solitary at this time." None of them could miss the steely resolve behind Teal'c's polite remark.
Tapping got slowly to his feet, frowning. "Okayyyy. I'm gonna… go check on Chris. Maybe you guys could… get yourselves some coffee?" Tapping's suggestion was wordlessly accepted when they saw the honest distress on his face. Whatever his faults or hesitations, Tapping genuinely cared about Anderson.
He jogged after his tiny partner, calling out her name as the redhead pulled further and further ahead.
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Tapping's long legs closed the gap just as Anderson went through the door to the ladies' room. He cursed her speed silently as he shifted from foot to foot. How was it possible that a high school track star could be outpaced by an ex-karate kid in heels?
"Hey, Anderson, I know you're in there! Anderson, c'mon, what's the problem?" He listened to the absolute silence surrounding him and tried again. Still no response.
A female ranger passed him in the hall and gave him an odd look that elicited a pained smile in return. "I'm not gonna stand out here all day, Anderson!" he threatened. Hearing no retort, he gingerly pushed the door open. "Anderson?"
He saw her braced against the metal sink with locked arms flanking her bowed head. "Hey, Anderson? What's wrong?" A tiny shudder worked its way along her spine as he let the door swing closed behind him. Oh, great. Just great. How was he supposed to make this better when he didn't even know what the matter was? Give him data to analyze, a suspect to profile, anything technical and he could knock it out of the park. But emotional stuff was firmly in his partner's jurisdiction. It just wasn't fair of her to go all girly on him like this.
"Nothing," she rasped. "Go ahead and call in for us."
Normally he'd be all over that suggestion, but he considered the enormous black guy waiting back in the video room and thought better of it. "It's not nothing or you wouldn't be acting like this. Now tell me what's going on."
He saw her head shake and fought to keep from snapping at her. Bad enough that she was ignoring him, but he was in a freakin' girl's bathroom and he couldn't leave until she came with. He opened his mouth to demand her explanation when a mental voice cut through his anger. It sounded way too much like the memory of Chris Anderson and his little sister at the last family Christmas party. They'd gotten him a 'female survival kit' that was apparently to help the women in his life survive his company – a season of Tivo-ed 'Oprah' episodes, a book about men and women being from different planets and a bracelet that held the initials W.W.D.P.D. Apparently it stood for "What Would Doctor Phil Do?" He hadn't thought it was all that funny, but he had to admit that he used the information to improve his interrogation techniques for female suspects. And to get his partner to do what he wanted.
He gentled his voice and awkwardly moved to stand behind her, putting his hands cautiously on her stiff shoulders. "Chris? What is it? Talk to me."
She shrugged his hands off and wrapped her arms back around herself silently. He stared at the veil of strawberry red hair eclipsing her face and made himself wait. Patience, calm, let her tell her story. Don't solve the problem, that's not what she wants. Sensitivity frustrated the hell out of him.
She sucked in a lungful of air, held it… and faced him with dry eyes.
He scrutinized her ravaged expression as her blue eyes skittered away from his. "This is a women's restroom, Michael" she scolded weakly.
"I know. Chris, please…" his frown deepened as his hand reached out for her again. She drew even further back and it dropped to his side. "Just tell me what's wrong. Please." He waited until she met his eyes before continuing slowly. It wasn't in the 'women are nuts and here's why' handbook with the planet title, but he thought he'd found the problem. "I need to know… is this about the Mesarin case?"
Her eyes met his with an unreadable expression. There was pain there as he brought up an undercover assignment two years ago that had left her on life support from multiple stab and gunshot wounds. She'd managed to put the memories behind her, mostly, and he'd hoped she wouldn't relive her emergency surgery and months of recovery. Her reaction to the tape had taken that hope away, which was partially why he'd concentrated on it so intensely. He knew she'd have bigger problems right now than trying to assimilate the information they'd just seen.
But there were layers of emotion in her eyes that he couldn't understand. Underneath her obvious pain he saw fear and sorrow swirled in a whirlpool of something older and deeper still. He stayed silent and watched her re-establish control of a maelstrom of overpowering feelings.
"Some of it… brings back Mesarin," she admitted quietly. "I don't think I'll ever be able to watch someone get stabbed or shot again, even on TV, and not flash back to that moment. It wasn't the same circumstance at all, and yet…"
Tapping nodded slowly. "I know. I watched O'Neill's reaction and I couldn't help thinking 'that's just how I'd feel… that's just how I felt.' I'm… I'm sorry I wasn't there to back you up, Chris." He shoved his hands into his pockets and let the echoes of regret weigh him down. The rest of his statement was mumbled at the floor. "I know we had separate targets and all, but I wish I could've helped. And I know I've told you that before, but it still holds. 'M sorry."
He studied his shoes in rapt guilt until a small hand grasped his chin. He let her establish eye contact again and was startled by the determination in her gaze.
"You couldn't have known it was going to happen like that. We agreed to the division of labor ahead of time and I didn't think I'd run in to his guys either. I don't blame you." She shook his chin gently at his disbelieving stare. "I don't. You need to let it go. We did the best we could with what we knew at the time. It's over. Done." Her stern honesty was hypnotic.
He nodded slowly, not exactly agreeing, and watched the swirl of emotions cloud her eyes again. She continued, "I'll admit this brings it back…", then continued in a smaller voice, "but that's not all that bothers me here. It's… it's old stuff. From before we were partners."
He couldn't help the sudden near growl that escaped his lips as he morphed from Mr. Sensitive to Protective Man. "Chris? What aren't you telling me? Did somebody hurt you?"
She shook her head vigorously and replied, "No, nothing like that. It's not what you think, I can guarantee that. It's just… disturbing to watch that happen. On a lot of levels." Her blue eyes pleaded for him to drop it. And he did, for now.
He eased back to the opposite wall and watched her gather her agent's persona again as she repaired her composure. This discussion wasn't over, not by a long shot. Her pre-Bureau life had always been off limits with the exception of casual references to her family. From her tone, she got along well with them and he'd never heard anything that would make him suspect a previous history of violence. He'd let her off the hook for now. But just for now.
"I'm ready," she announced softly, patting a damp paper towel over her pale face. "Let's go."
He stepped out the door ahead of her and held it. Extracting his cell phone from a suit pocket, he pushed the speed dial number for their office. She smiled, pale but grateful, as he silently handed over the phone. She gave her name to their boss' secretary and followed him back to the video room.
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Alvarez took in the body language of the military observers and rose from his chair as they watched Agent Tapping disappear down the hall.
"I need to update the Chief and Ranger Crosby. Jonas, will you be here until I get back? We need to protect the chain of custody for the video evidence." Alvarez discreetly left the team alone at Jonas' nod.
A grim silence persisted as the men of SG-1 worried about their friend and colleague and what this would mean for all their other co-workers. Even when - not if, but when - they got Samantha Carter back, the damage to morale would be done. The SGC had just gotten used to the fact that the legendary flagship team didn't always beat the odds. Daniel "Nine Lives" Jackson was gone. Now Carter's kidnapping would drive home their collective vulnerability again. And the men of this fractured team knew it and could do nothing about it.
The colonel jammed his hands into pants' pockets as his shoulders hunched under a leather bomber jacket. Jonas tried to meet his eyes but they were fixed on the floor. Teal'c was as straightly upright as always, but Jonas could see the weary frustration the Jaffa did not express. Whatever Teal'c's beef was with O'Neill, Jonas could see that the unresolved tension was taking an extra toll on both of them. And Jonas was at a loss as to how to fix it.
"Umm, Colonel O'Neill?" Jonas ventured.
O'Neill lifted frustrated brown eyes to his but didn't reply.
"Why did you want to take Teal'c to the, uh, to the crime scene, really?"
"Because he can sense naqahdah," came the terse response.
Teal'c's eyebrow shot up towards his ball cap. This wasn't the answer he was apparently expecting. "Indeed?"
O'Neill's mouth turned up in a wry parody of a smile. "Well, yeah. We know you can track and find, ya know, anything, but what I really need is someone to tell me if we can let the Feds gather their evidence or not."
"Why wouldn't we?" Jonas frowned.
"Think about it, Jonas!" O'Neill snapped, waving his arms in exasperation. "Carter's blood contains naqahdah. Naqahdah is classified. Therefore, Carter's blood can't be allowed to get into every lab from here to Phoenix to D.C. Can you imagine what'll happen if the lab geeks find some metal in the samples that's like literally nothing on Earth? The general'd have to classify this whole investigation!" He didn't let the phrase 'Carter's blood' provoke any visible response.
"But -" Jonas couldn't get a word in edgewise as the colonel paced the confines of the private-for-now room. Before he or the colonel could continue, a door banged somewhere down the hall.
O'Neill's voice dropped as he continued. "Remember when you wanted to use classified information to prove my innocence when I was locked up for killing Kinsey? We CANNOT let classified materials into the public arena. No matter what's at stake."
"But…" Jonas could see the guilt and self-condemnation simmering under the colonel's statement. "I mean… Isn't this investigation our best chance for finding out who took Major Carter? And where she is now?"
"Indeed. It seems that we must decide between MajorCarter's safety and national security. I know which I value more." The Jaffa's dark expression offered his challenge.
O'Neill's face was a picture of military stoicism. "I'll tell you what the Major would say in my place. There's no decision to be made here." He held up a hand to forestall the oncoming arguments. "We have other ways of finding out who took Carter and where she is now. All we could do with random blood samples is endanger the SGC." Jonas looked ready to dispute that point, but O'Neill plowed on.
"Look," he hissed, "remember the whole big flap with that reporter and those N.I.D. nuts taking over the Prometheus? Carter said that Julia Donovan approached her with a sample of trinium and tried to use it as proof of her wild assed guesses. Those same guesses blew the lid off the whole project! What's to stop the next guy from trying to blackmail the SGC with naqahdah?"
Jonas pursed his lips and listened. Teal'c looked less convinced.
"We can't let naqahdah become public knowledge, which means no one can analyze those samples. The only way they won't analyze them is if they don't get any in the first place. That's why Teal'c needs to come with me. If the samples are clean, we can let them go. If not… I'll call the general to make sure, but I think this investigation is about to be classified beyond the FBI's need to know."
Jonas considered O'Neill as he processed the colonel's 'no arguments' look and the toll it was taking on the team leader. No one - except maybe Sam the fellow officer, Jonas thought sadly – could fully understand how much O'Neill hated to have to say this and how completely he would stick to his guns. The Stargate program was more important than one missing person. Even if that person was Samantha Carter.
"I think I could hate that word," Jonas muttered.
"Which one?" O'Neill demanded.
"Classified." Jonas' frown cut a deep furrow between his eyebrows as he frowned. "Whenever somebody on this team gets in trouble on Ea… off base, it seems like the only stuff we can use to help them is off limits because it's classified."
O'Neill gave a grim parody of his usual grin. "Sucks, doesn't it?"
Jonas shared a look with O'Neill before turning to their other companion. Now that the Kelownan was on board only the largest obstacle remained. Luckily, the Jaffa as a people had an ironclad sense of duty. As long as they let him come to his own conclusion, Teal'c would see that this was the right decision.
"O'Neill, I will do as you wish," Teal'c finally rumbled. "If I do not sense naqahdah at the site, we will allow the agents of investigation to analyze their findings. If I do sense naqahdah traces, I will send the samples to DoctorFraiser for analysis. Immediately."
O'Neill glanced at Teal'c, seeing the same unsubtle warning that Jonas caught. No way was Teal'c giving up these precious clues. Even if the FBI got kicked back to D.C., he would make sure that the SGC got all the material they could find. No matter who got in his way.
The colonel gave a tight false smile. However nasty the circumstances, it was nice to have his team pointed in the same direction. "Damn right," he acquiesced. "Let's get going."
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General Hammond's Office
Stargate Command
Downtime Day 11, afternoon
George Hammond gently hung up his secure phone line. Some people he wouldn't trade jobs with for all the naquadria on Kelowna, and Major Paul Davis topped that very short list. The Pentagon liaison to the SGC deserved every bit of his salary and probably quite a backlog of hazard pay they'd never be able to explain. The latest request from the field had the potential to turn into a bureaucratic firestorm of truly epic proportions.
General Hammond, in his official capacity as head of the "Deep Space Radar Telemetry" project, had just asked Major Davis of the United States Air Force to prepare to step into an ongoing FBI investigation on lands under the care of the National Parks Administration to classify evidence collected by local Crime Scene Investigative Units under the jurisdiction of the State of Arizona. Paul Davis' shocked silence had exploded into a series of muttered curses impugning Colonel O'Neill's pedigree, intelligence, hygiene and mental status when he realized all the red tape he'd have to wade through in the next 24 hours.
The only consolation Hammond had been able to offer was that maybe none of the blood samples remaining at the scene contained naqahdah. But one of the tech boffins had already digitized and transmitted the tape of Major Carter's abduction to the Pentagon, so Davis and Hammond both knew how futile that hope would be. Still, Davis was not only a consummate professional and staunch supporter of SGC personnel. He was also a friend to Major Samantha Carter and had the utmost respect for her accomplishments as part of the original SG-1. He'd clipped off his rant mid-insult and, in a much louder voice, told General Hammond he'd get started finding the contacts and permissions he'd need. If there was a way to pull off this interagency sleight of hand with a minimum of fuss and lingering grudges, they both knew Davis would find it.
The portly bald general ran his hands over his exhausted face and sighed. The cat was well and truly out of the bag on Samantha Carter's disappearance, and his entire day had been a series of explanations, requests for technical aide and reassurances to the people under his command. Only twelve hours after Doctor Fraiser had let him awaken from his sedative induced sleep he was ready to take another rest, this time without a fight. And the hardest part of the day wasn't even here yet.
He'd let the Tok'ra know that Selmak's host was urgently requested to make contact with the SGC as soon as he returned. From what little the High Council had told him, Selmak's mission should be complete any day now. Jacob hadn't yet made contact and his old friend George was almost glad that was the case.
Normally, General Jacob/Selmak and Major Samantha Carter would remain in blissful ignorance if the other ran into trouble – unless, of course, one was asked to rescue the other. The previous time Sam had been kidnapped on Earth and held in an Oregon hospital, there had been no advantage in involving the Tok'ra. The existence now of the blood evidence and the video tape had changed that.
The Tok'ra, for all their reduced numbers and semi-nomadic existence, had better technical capabilities than any lab on Earth. If anyone could find elusive evidence hidden in the blood of the attackers or the images of the abduction, it would be Jacob's symbiotic colleagues. Now George had to tell a very old friend that his daughter was in danger somewhere on Earth and they could do very little here to find out where and how she was living. Of course, there was at least a possibility that she was dead by now. He had no idea how General Carter, USAF (Ret.) would take that and he really didn't want to have to know. Maybe Selmak's mission would run la-
"Unauthorized Offworld Activation!" Lt. Simmons called from the Control Room.
Hammond made his brisk way down from his office with a sinking heart. No one was expected back this afternoon, so it was either a team in trouble or –
"It's the Tok'ra, sir," Simmons advised.
"Open the iris," General Hammond commanded as his heart sank somewhere close to his feet.
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Author's Note: Yay! Another one bites the… silicon. My muse had serious issues with this one and I was dumb and fought her over it, thus the long wait. It sets up some clues and situations for the next few chapters that should move pretty briskly even if it's not, um, the most gripping itself. ;-) (My new mantra? Moo is always right. Moo is always right. Moo is always…)
As for the title change, I got really pretentious and decided that if this puppy kept expanding I'd need to designate the sections some way besides the cumbersome one I kept having to explain to my editrix when I told her about later ideas. So, this one is FHtA I (there may be up to V parts) and since it's the canon world just minus Sam… Canon minus A Major. (Yes, yes, I know I'm a dork, but I can't find my favorite sheet music and it's pissing me off. I miss tinkering at the piano.) Just to tease, FHtA II has the working title of Blinded With Science (apologies to Thomas Dolby).
As for the chapter title, stolen from an Emily Dickinson poem "After great pain, a formal feeling comes.", I imagine that the remnants of SG-1 and anyone else who knew Sam at all would have that reaction. It's sorta a hint. Kinda. See the above paragraph for dorkiness, okay?
Oh, and mea culpa, but I'm too taken with writing the next chapter to research whether the CSI for near-the-Grand-Canyon, Arizona operates on a city, county or state basis. Let's just pretend it's the State unless someone feels strongly enough to complain about it, okay?
AND – I'd really appreciate if I could get a Stargate expert to beta read for me, especially with upcoming scenes and later ideas. If you're interested, leave me a signed review or your email address and I'll contact you. You get to see upcoming scenes before anyone else and upcoming plot twists in all their embryonic glory. And I'll love you forever, but that's secondary, right? ;-)
REVIEW! PLEASE! REVIEW! SEND ME A LETTER, DROP ME A LINE, STATING POINT OF VIEW! REVIEW! And if you own the Beatles catalogue, don't sue! REVIEW! Am I being too subtle? ;-)
Last but in no way least, an enormous "SORRY" about the wait, anyone who's still reading this! I'll try to be better, but I can make no (unbroken) promises. Stinkin' RL. grumble I actually have the next two chapters awaiting email to my editrix, but she's off for a fabulous weekend in New Orleans at some jazz festival. jedimindtrick I am in no way jealous. The package is not ticking. Move along. /jedimindtrick