Part 4: Reversal

The sound of alarms jolted Jack from his fitful slumber. He nearly slipped from his precarious perch on a stool as he blearily pushed up from his rather uncomfortable pillow that turned out to be one of Daniel's ancient rocks. He absently wiped drool from the object in question and looked around for Daniel, finding him head down in a journal at his desk, completely oblivious to the klaxons.

Jack pushed to his feet, stretched the kinks out of his back and decided to leave Daniel to his beauty rest. Chances were that this alarm would be like all the others from the last three weeks: dead ends and false hope. Daniel could do without that for a few more hours.

Jack traveled the empty, early morning halls at a sedate pace, unsurprised when Teal'c fell in step beside him on level 28. They were all holding this vigil these days.

By the time they reached the gate room the mouth of the Stargate already shimmered coolly and three figures were materializing out of the restless blue surface. Jack didn't recognize the first two people, but could quickly catalog them as Tok'ra by their outfits. The third, shorter figure that stood somewhat behind the other two was much more familiar.

Jack's pace quickened and he jogged the last few steps, coming to rest at the foot of the ramp. He looked expectantly up at the woman, his heart in his throat.

Anise turned to him, a small smile on her face.

"I found her."

Less than 24 hours later, Jack, Teal'c and Daniel were crammed together with the three Tok'ra in the Goa'uld cargo vessel left behind by 'Jacob' on the Prometheus. The planet Anise and her companions had determined housed the rebel Tok'ra base did not seem to have a Stargate, as several attempts at dialing it failed to connect. Thus they were stuck traveling the distance by ship, a voyage estimated to take fifty hours.

The journey was less than pleasant. Everyone was high strung, wanting to get there as quickly as possible. And of course Jack was not only impatient, but bored, a dangerous combination. By the time they neared the planet, the Tok'ra had ensconced themselves in the front of the ship, leaving Daniel and Teal'c to deal with Jack in the back.

Even though it had felt like time had literally stopped there for a while, they did eventually arrive in the target system.

It became rapidly clear that something was not right.

One of Anise's buddies was running a scan of the surface, concentrating on the southern edge of the main continent where they believed the rebels to be based.

"I can't pick up any signs of complex life," said the blond Tok'ra whose name Jack had never bothered to learn. "Though something on the planet may be interfering with the instruments."

"Visuals of the area?" Anise prompted.

The screen in front of them suddenly filled with an image of the surface. Jack stared incomprehensibly at it for a moment before his eyes finally made sense of the black crater he was looking at.

What seemed to have once been a lush forest was now a jagged, burned-out hole. The barest remains of the foundations of a building were all the evidence that anything had once stood there.

"It seems we were not the only ones to receive this intelligence," Anise noted in a calm voice that made Jack want to shake her.

"The damage appears to be many days old," the other Tok'ra supplied.

"Get us down there," Jack demanded quietly.

No one thought to argue.

Ten minutes later the ship landed a short distance from the wreckage. The air on the planet was thick with the smell of burning foliage, but the eerie silence of the place was even more disturbing.

Jack and Daniel both walked to the edge of the crater, picking their way carefully around tangled, twisted bits of metal.

Teal'c, meanwhile, had wandered off towards the edge of the encroaching jungle, his head cocked slightly to the side as if listening, a clear signal to Jack that something or someone was watching them. Jack lifted his gun and gestured for Daniel to circle wide to the left, before moving to the right himself.

Leaning against the base of a tree a few feet into the jungle was a woman. She wore a typical dusty Tok'ra costume, but was smudged with dark soot. A crimson gash stained her side and her face showed various scratches and bruises.

She gasped as they came around the opening with their guns trained on her. Hands flew to cover her face. "Please…don't hurt me. I'm sorry…I didn't mean…," she babbled brokenly in a very human voice.

Daniel automatically stepped forward to calm the woman, but Jack pulled him back, gun still covering the woman. "Don't, Daniel."

Anise came up behind them, ignoring Jack's restraining hand. "She is injured and obviously frightened. I doubt she is much of a threat."

Anise stepped towards the woman to assess her injuries, but the woman flinched away from her touch. "I will not harm you," Anise informed the woman, but she didn't seem inclined to believe her.

"She is Tok'ra, right?" Jack asked brusquely, watching Anise with disapproval.

"No."

The harsh answer did not come from Anise, but from the cowering woman, her eyes now betraying a small flash of anger. "I am free," she said, shoving Anise's hand away and unsuccessfully trying to push to her feet. "You can't do that to me again."

Daniel's eyebrow's rose in astonishment. "Are we speaking to the host?"

"It seems we might be," Anise answered thoughtfully.

"Has everybody forgotten Jacob so quickly?" Jack snapped. "We can't trust anything she says."

"Perhaps we can," Anise said, pulling a healing device from a pouch at her waist. She held it up to the woman. "You know what this is?"

The woman nodded, still looking rather suspicious.

"May I use it on you?"

The woman squirmed again, but Daniel put a hand on her shoulder. "It'll be okay," he reassured her.

She glanced rather dubiously at Daniel, but eventually gave reluctant assent. Anise held the device up to the back of her neck. The white glow enveloped the woman's head and Anise grimaced in concentration, finally slouching back and dropping her arm to her side.

"She speaks the truth. The symbiote is dead."

Jack couldn't find it in himself to care about the dead snake. Instead he watched the woman with continued mistrust. "Then shouldn't she be dead, too?"

"The symbiote can choose to sacrifice themself to save the host," Anise reminded him.

Jack snorted in disbelief, but was kept from voicing his next scathing remark by a soft voice from below them.

"He said there was no reason for both of us to die." Her eyes were unfocused as if seeing something they couldn't. "They chased us for days and days…hunting us like animals. He tried to heal the damage done to my body in the blast, but he was too weak. He was so…apologetic," she said disbelievingly lifting her hands in front of her face and staring at them in fascination, moving each one. "I never thought I would be able to do that again…," she said, still staring at her fingers.

Jack and Daniel shared a glance, wondering at the woman's sanity.

"Can you tell us your name?" Daniel asked softly.

She turned her head and stared at Daniel for a few moments as if not really seeing him. "Marat," she finally managed to say. "I am from Pangar."

"Pangar?" Daniel repeated in surprise, turning to Jack.

But it was Anise that answered. "Yes, we received intelligence that the rebel Tok'ra were in fact behind that attack. Culling for hosts, probably out of some misguided feeling of revenge," Anise said with disgust.

"Please," Marat said quietly, "I wish to return home."

Anise settled down next to the woman. "I promise that you will, but first, please, could you answer some questions?"

Marat nodded slowly.

"What happened here?"

Marat squeezed her eyes tightly shut in concentration. "It was so confusing…total chaos, but it seemed someone named Bastet had somehow discovered the base's location. They were taken by surprise. The facility was evacuated in haste, most fleeing through the Chapp'ai, but many were left behind."

"A Stargate? What Stargate?" Jack asked, looking around the wreckage.

Marat looked around in confusion. "It must have been buried in the blast."

"Blast?" Daniel prompted.

"Yes," she said, nodding slowly. "There was a sort of self-destruct. They did not want to Goa'uld to have access to any of their research or the technology."

"What sort of technology?" Anise asked.

Marat shook her head. "I'm not really sure. It was all made by some alien race, long dead. The place had been nearly swallowed by the jungle."

Jack pushed to his feet, losing patience with this conversation. "What about prisoners? Samantha Carter? Were they holding her here?"

"The woman from Earth?" Marat asked in clarification. "Yes, she was here."

"Did she evacuate with the other Tok'ra?" Daniel asked.

Marat's eyes darted away from Jack's face, settling on the ravaged wreckage. "No," she said softly, beginning to look decidedly uneasy. "She was left behind. No longer deemed important."

Jack turned away from her sorrowful expression, looking to Daniel. "Maybe she slipped out during the chaos."

"No," Marat interrupted. "I'm sorry, but there was no way she could have made it out on her own. There was…extensive physical damage. They did not believe…," she trailed off as if unable to continue.

"What?" Jack demanded in a harsh tone.

Marat flinched and her eyes now sparkled with tears. "They did things to her, horrible things. To her mind. They were sure she would never recover." She took a deep breath. "They left her for dead."

Stunned silence filled the charred glade.

Anise was the first to recover. "Could the Goa'uld have taken her?" she asked, looking for any loopholes.

"No," Marat said, tearing her eyes away from Jack and looking to Anise. "Only a few Jaffa made it in before the blast. There was no time…"

Jack abruptly stalked away from the group, walking into the smoldering shell of the building, unable to hear anything else.

Dead.

The word pulsed through his head with every beat of his heart and he felt an overwhelming wave of dizziness.

Some dozen yards away from the others, he crouched down in the debris, sticking his fingers into the charred tangle. He was aware of everyone's eyes on his back, but for once, he didn't care. His hand closed painfully over a piece of tangled metal and he could feel it cutting into his flesh.

The pain only made everything more real.

"Carter…," he whispered softly to the silent wreckage, half hoping for some response.

But all that answered him was the deafening silence and oppressive stillness of death.

Daniel watched Jack walk away, his own ears filled with a vague buzzing. He sensed Anise shift next to him, as if to go after Jack and he stilled her with one hand. "Leave him," he said softly.

Anise's eyes followed Jack's disappearing form for a moment before she nodded, turning her attention back to Marat.

Daniel forced his eyes to focus on the woman as well, to tunnel down on her and the information she represented, blocking out all else. Don't think, don't think…

Daniel could feel Teal'c eyes on him, his concern and grief heavy against Daniel's skin. Refusing to look at him, Daniel asked Marat, "What about the man who brought her here?"

"Keren?" Marat asked.

"What was his host's name?"

Marat looked dubiously between Anise and Daniel. "What makes you think they valued their hosts enough to lend them separate identities?"

Daniel glanced away from the obvious malice. "Do you know…was his name Jacob? An older man, slightly balding?"

Marat had a faraway look to her for a moment, as if searching through her jumbled memories. She eventually nodded. "That sounds right."

"Keren," Anise spat, her nostrils flaring gently in anger. Daniel could feel the righteous indignation radiating off the Tok'ra. "To think there was a time I called him friend."

"Was he here…during the attack?" Daniel asked.

Marat shook her head. "No, he left many days before, when he had finished with the woman. Extracted what he needed."

Daniel was torn between being grateful that Jacob had escaped and angry that this Keren had slipped away unharmed. He should have been the one buried under rubble.

Anise finally seemed to have recovered long enough to ask in a voice rough with anger, "Do you know what he wanted from Major Carter?"

Marat dropped her head into her hands, pinching her nose with her fingers. "It's here…somewhere. Just out of reach."

Daniel sighed and handed the woman his canteen. "It's okay…maybe it will come later. When you've had a chance to rest."

Marat stared unseeing at the container for a long moment, her forehead furrowed in concentration. "No…it's here, just at the edges."

Daniel dug through his pockets, pulling out bandages and antiseptics to apply to Marat's wounds.

"Egeria's Legacy," Marat finally said, so quietly that Daniel almost missed it.

"Egeria's Legacy?" Daniel repeated in confusion, looking up from his supplies. He glanced over at Anise when he heard her quick intake of breath as if in astonishment. He caught a look that passed between the three Tok'ra, but wasn't sure what it meant. "What is that?" he queried.

Anise hastily looked away, but Daniel saw the surprise and concern on her face. "It's a myth," she said with quiet determination. "It doesn't exist."

"Keren obviously thinks it does."

"It's insanity," Anise insisted, "a fairytale."

"Humor me," Daniel pressed.

Anise glanced at the other Tok'ra again, eliciting a small nod from each. Then she took a deep breath, absently playing with the hem of her sleeve with restless fingers. "Egeria's Legacy….is said to be the final gift of our Queen. Something she left behind for her children before she was captured by Ra."

"Something?" Daniel said dubiously. "Can you be a little less vague?"

Anise shook her head. "That's just it. No one knows what it is. Just that it will supposedly help us with our fight against the Goa'uld."

"A weapon?" Teal'c asked, breaking his long silence.

Anise just shrugged, running a slender hand over her pale face. "It is a myth," she repeated tiredly.

"And if it isn't?" Daniel demanded. "If it really is a weapon and somehow Keren is able to find it because of whatever he did to Sam? Then what?"

"Then we get to it first," Jack said suddenly from behind Daniel, causing him to jump in surprise. He hadn't heard him return. Daniel turned back to see that his face was now an impenetrable mask, revealing only hard, calculated coolness.

Daniel suppressed a shiver.

"Here's the plan," Jack said, glancing around at them all. "First, we find the Stargate." He looked at Marat. "I assume you can tell us where it was."

Marat nodded mutely.

"Good. We find the gate and unbury it. Anise, you and your buddies here will go through, find out what you can about this Legacy thing. Any intel on Jacob or anything."

Anise nodded slowly, wisely remaining silent.

"Daniel," Jack said, turning to him. "You will go back to Earth with Marat. You can brief Hammond together before sending her back to Pangar. Tell Hammond that I want full search teams back here as soon as possible."

"Jack…," Daniel began softly, slightly unnerved by the abrupt shift in Jack's behavior.

But Jack didn't want to hear it. He put up a hand and said, "The ship's sensors aren't working. They didn't tell us about Marat here, did they? So we search. She could be out here somewhere."

Daniel couldn't argue with that, even if it had an air of pure desperation to it.

Jack looked around at the exhausted, weary faces regarding him with varying levels of sorrow and disbelief.

"Let's get started."

Janet treated the nasty looking wound in silence, carefully irrigating what looked like charred ash from the ragged gash on Jack's hand. The injury had been ignored too long, red angry streaks radiated from it along his palm and down his wrist. It was too late for stitches, but hopefully not too late for a strong dose of antibiotics to stave off the infection.

Normally she would have asked how he'd done it. She might have even given him an imperious glare, reminding him to be more careful in the future, threatening him with an overnight stay. Ranted at him for letting it go untreated for days.

But not today.

Because today Jack had been summarily ordered to come back through the gate, a demand given extra weight by the two SFs sent to collect him, forcibly if need be.

Daniel had returned to Earth three days earlier, empty handed with nothing but a heavy expression and an ex-Tok'ra host that was as jittery as he was. Daniel had the Pangaran woman by one arm, speaking quietly to her, his hand constantly touching her shoulder.

It had taken twenty minutes to calm either of them down enough to get a report. Jack's relayed request for search teams was fulfilled within the hour, even as Hammond asked to speak to Jack directly.

But Jack hadn't come back to Earth; he'd stayed, directing the teams in their search, leading some of them himself.

Hammond's patience and understanding for the wayward officer had lasted exactly three day before he had Jack forcibly brought home.

Janet waited in the gate room even though no request for her presence had been made. Hammond didn't seem to mind. They stood together and watched Jack walk down the ramp, his SF shadows a few steps behind him.

Janet wasn't sure what she expected from him. Anger? Grief? Anything other than the complete apathy that seemed to wipe Jack's face of any expression. The normally active man was utterly still. His hands didn't move as he talked, but lay impassive at his sides. He reported the recent findings of the search teams in a low, emotionless voice to General Hammond, never faltering.

Janet didn't hear the words describing fruitless searches and charred out buildings. She didn't want to hear them. Her eyes instead lasered in on the dirty cloth wrapped around Jack's hand.

"Colonel, you're injured," she'd said, pointing needlessly at his hand.

Jack looked down at the wound, flexing his fist.

"Son, you'd better go with Dr. Fraiser and have that checked out," Hammond had suggested carefully, as if not quite sure what Jack might do as each second passed.

For a moment, Janet had thought Jack was going to protest, to yell or throw something, but instead, he had just turned to Janet and nodded silently. His eyes had met hers and Janet had literally felt a cold tingle travel down her spine.

She was looking into the eyes of a stranger.

So now some twenty minutes later, as he sat on a bed in the infirmary, she didn't try to speak to him, her words held back by a combination of not trusting her voice to be steady and not really knowing this man sitting quietly under her ministrations.

She had just begun removing the first piece of shrapnel when General Hammond entered the infirmary. She felt Jack stiffen under her fingers.

Janet noticed that Hammond looked as ill at ease as she felt, like he knew he was about to have an unpleasant scene on his hands. Janet had to squelch her instinct to flee, instead redoubling her efforts to focus on the nasty wound and drown out all else.

"I've recalled the search teams, Colonel," Hammond said in an unerringly even voice full of forced calm.

One of Jack's fingers twitched against Janet's wrist, but he didn't say anything.

Hammond paused as if giving them all time to let the information sink in, but the silent moment held no reprieve, only serving to increase Janet's heart rate painfully. The air hung thick in the infirmary and Janet wanted to curse Hammond for doing this here in what used to be her sanctuary.

Hammond took a deep, audible breath and then said in a coolly professional voice she hadn't thought him capable of, "I've changed Major Carter's status to Missing, Believed Dead."

Janet wondered why all the lights had dimmed so suddenly.

But Hammond wasn't done with the punches. "The Memorial service will be this Friday."

Janet became aware of Jack's fingers trembling, but when she looked down she realized that she was the one shaking. His hands had carefully curled around hers, attempting to calm the tremors that threatened to send her tray of instruments spilling to the floor.

"I'll contact the family, do the arrangements," Hammond was still saying somewhere in the distance, but all Janet had eyes for were her hands gently quivering in Jack's steady grip, a soft buzzing obscuring Hammond's voice.

Hammond had turned to walk out the door, his distasteful duty discharged, when Jack finally spoke.

"No."

Hammond flinched as if the word had been shouted rather than softly breathed. "Son," Hammond said, running one hand over his exhausted face, "All evidence points to the fact that she died in that building. I can't continue to stretch our resources so thin on what is more than likely a lost cause. I'm sorry."

The words had the feeling of a rehearsed speech, as if Hammond had forced himself to memorize the cold litany.

Jack's hands clenched painfully around Janet's for a moment, fresh blood dripping on the white sheets.

"I know," Jack finally said in a low, rough voice.

Hammond obviously hadn't expected that response and it somehow managed to break though the icy mask he had erected. Janet had to look away from the careworn face as his eyes betrayed him by filling swiftly with moisture. "Then what…?" Hammond said in an impossibly quiet voice that made it easy to forget he was a General.

"I'll take care of the arrangements," Jack said, now studiously watching the blood slowly drip off his fingers.

"Jack, you don't need to-," Hammond began.

Jack cut across him, lifting his head to look the other man in the eye. "Yes, I do."

The two men stared at each other for long moments, a frank sort of communication passing between them. Finally Hammond nodded, acknowledging Jack's right.

"Let me know if I can help," Hammond said weakly before turning on his heel and leaving the infirmary.

Janet stared sightlessly at their entwined hands for the span of one more ragged heartbeat before turning back to her tray of instruments and determinedly finishing with Jack's wound. She set up an IV of antibiotics to stop the infection, irrigated the wound and carefully wrapped it in clean gauze.

It wasn't until the very last strip of tape was in place on the immaculate bandage that the first drop struggled free from her eyes, splashing softly against the pristine cotton. She looked around for something else to fix, for something else to focus on, but Jack's hand stopped her restless movement, settling warmly on her shoulder.

Janet took a deep breath, placing her hand over his and squeezing gently. Then she stepped back away. "You'll need to stay a few hours to finish the IV treatment," she said, her voice surprisingly steady. "Try to get some sleep."

Jack nodded and lay back on the bed, closing his eyes. But as she walked away towards her office he asked in a gravelly voice, "Will it scar?"

She stared at him incomprehensibly for a second before he restlessly waved his bandaged hand at her. Janet bit her lower lip, fighting back the tears that still threatened. "Yes," she managed to answer.

His arm came up and covered his eyes. "Good," he replied.

Janet slowly expelled a long breath, feeling it flow softly over her lips. She felt the tingle in her fingers and the heaviness of her brow, somehow wishing that she had a visible scar too.

But she didn't, so she went and sat silently in her office staring at the banal walls and tried not to remember that her best friend was dead.

Jack stepped back into the crowd, letting himself be swallowed back up by them. He rubbed his clammy hands on the legs of his pants and settled into a spot next to Janet, feeling her hand snake out and briefly squeeze his arm. Jack released a deep breath, grateful that he had managed to speak with dignity to the crowd of people gathered at Sam's memorial. His voice had been steady, but not detached and he'd found it easier to talk to them than he expected, detailing what a great soldier, scientist and friend Samantha Carter had been.

But now that all the eyes were pulled away from him as the guns fired into the pale blue sky, Jack was grateful for his sunglasses. His own personal shield. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Cassie flinch with each report, tears freely falling down her cheeks.

In a way, Jack envied her emotional freedom.

Soon enough the crowd gradually dispersed, all heading out to the gathering at a local restaurant of which Sam had been particularly fond. Jack shrugged off Daniel's offer of a ride, needing a few more moments to himself.

So it was that all that remained was Sam's brother and his family and another uncomfortably familiar face.

Shanahan.

Jack stared in horror as the man made his way towards him, his instincts yelling at him to flee, but he remained rooted to the spot. Jack couldn't quite believe that he had forgotten about the man. The boyfriend. Pete probably should have done the plans, made the calls.

"Colonel O'Neill," Pete said as he drew near.

"Shanahan," Jack replied with a stiff nod of his head.

"Mark said you did all the arrangements," Pete observed quietly. "You did a nice job."

Jack peered at the man, unsure if he was being sincere or sarcastic. "I'm sorry. I probably should have called you. I didn't think."

Pete's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Call me?" he asked in confusion. And then his expression suddenly cleared. "Ah. She didn't tell you."

"Tell me what?" Jack asked a little harshly, his emotions too raw to play games with Sam's boyfriend.

"We broke up," Pete said steadily, now gazing over the grassy field. "Weeks ago. Though I can't say I'm too surprised she never told you. Just….disappointed I guess."

Jack didn't know what to make of that and he really didn't want to anyway. "Well, it wasn't really any of my business," he said, looking around for a quick exit.

Pete snorted softly. "You two really were a lot alike, weren't you?"

Jack couldn't think of a safe answer to that. He craned his neck to see if, by some miracle, Daniel was still around. He would gladly take that ride now.

Pete finally looked back at Jack, either not noticing or not caring that the other man was uncomfortable with this discussion. "I was the one who left, you know," he said bracingly, his eyes now soft with sorrow. "She came back with bruises, stitches and a busted leg and I just couldn't handle it. I couldn't handle not being able to fix it, or be with her to keep her safe, or hell, even know what the she was really doing day by day. I'm a cop. Action is my thing. I just couldn't sit around waiting, wondering if she would ever come back."

Pete stopped talking abruptly, taking a deep breath as if trying to steady himself again. "I'm not sure what kind of man that makes me, but it's something I'll have to deal with myself."

Jack stared at his toes and shifted slightly from foot to foot, made uncomfortable by the man's heartfelt confessions.

Pete gave Jack a small broken smile. "I know you don't want to hear any of this, but my point is that you were there for her. I know she never said it, but it meant a lot to her. You meant a lot to her. And I just thought you should know that."

Pete stretched out a hand to Jack and he shook it. Then Pete walked away, back towards Mark.

"But I wasn't there when it mattered most," Jack said unexpectedly, not even aware of the thought until he had spoken it.

Pete might have heard the soft words, because his strides faltered for a moment, but Jack had already turned on his heel and charged off in the opposite direction, never bothering to look back.

One week of personal leave was spent pretty much doing what most people would expect of Jack, drinking beer and watching TV. He didn't have the mind for chess and his emotions were too volatile to risk opera. So he listened to mindless commercials telling him how to improve his life by buying better products instead.

If only anything were ever that simple.

On his last day of leave, Daniel predictably appeared on his stoop, more than likely sent to check on Jack's mindset. Jack briefly wondered what the spread was on whether or not he would actually ever return to the SGC. He'd have to ask Siler someday.

Jack was well past the point of illusion anymore, finally accepting the fact that his carefully hidden feelings for Sam had been not so hidden as he'd thought. In fact, it turned out that the only person he had been fooling was himself.

Not that it really mattered anymore.

Daniel sat across from Jack, pretending to nurse a beer, but Jack could tell that he was just working up the nerve to ask Jack was he was planning to do now.

Retirement.

It was what most people expected, even Daniel. Jack had to admit that there was a certain appeal to the idea. He could disappear into obscurity; hang out at his cabin, a place blissfully free of bad memories. There was nowhere around here that wasn't haunted, every spot a potential booby-trap of reminders of what never was. What never could be.

So, retirement. It would be nice to no longer be responsible to anything or anyone.

Really.

But Jack wasn't going to retire. He should tell Daniel that just to ease the heavy look from his face. But he didn't, maybe because if he did, Daniel would want to know why.

Jack could probably say that he wasn't ready to quit, that there was a battle still going on that need to be fought.

But it was a lie.

Honestly, he didn't give a damn about the Goa'uld anymore. Even if they probably could offer him a chance to go down in a blazing bang of glory. But that wasn't why he wasn't retiring.

There was really only one thing propelling Jack's ass off the couch, only one thing sending him back into that goddamned mountain.

Revenge.

The simple drive was what enabled him to dress in his uniform, look Hammond in the eye and pick some whey-faced newbie to take Sam's place.

The simple fact was that Keren was running around the Galaxy somewhere, chasing the Tok'ra Holy Grail with information he had brutally wrested from Carter's mind. And Jack would be damned it he would be allowed to succeed.

Someday, somehow, someone was going to pay for what had been done to Samantha Carter.

He would see to it.

General Hammond watched the new SG-1 gather in the gate room. Captain Santos was a fine addition to the group. A good soldier and also bright, he was a bit of an electrical engineering guru. Sam had often spoken highly of the young man, and Hammond was sure that her approval more than anything had secured him the spot.

Today was their first mission, exactly six weeks after the disappearance of Sam. High Councilor Tuplo of the Land of Light had sent out a personal request to see SG-1 and Jack had thought it as good a mission as any to break Santos in.

Down below, Daniel was talking to Santos, who was nodding avidly as if absorbing advice from the more experienced man. Not many soldiers would feel comfortable with a civilian giving advice, but Santos seemed to have no problems with it. Hell, from what Hammond had seen so far, Santos wasn't even intimidated by the great Jack O'Neill.

Yes, overall, Santos made a good fit, even if his very presence was a bitter reminder of what had been lost.

Hammond's eyes moved on to Jack, observing the Colonel's relaxed expression and seemingly unconscious stance. He looked for all the world like nothing was wrong and that he was just waiting to step through the gate on another routine mission, like the dozens before it.

Hammond wondered who the hell he thought he was fooling.

The General may not know what exactly was going on in Jack's head, but he wasn't stupid either. He just hoped that whatever it was Jack was up to, it didn't end up getting anyone else killed.

Hammond watched the premiere team disappear into the waiting waters and tried to ignore his growing sense of unease that things were about to change all over again.