Okay guys, I'm sorry about the delay, but my entire future was dependent upon whether or not I passed Mon/Tue (I did, thankfully!) and that's not an exaggeration. If I'd failed, I wouldn't be able to go into my chosen career, and with it being the 3-job weekend too, something had to give. But I'm back now! See! There is fic!

Also, thanks to all you guys who have been kind enough to r&r or put me on your alert or favourites list!

As usual, see part 1 for header details!

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Jack studied the three sat at the briefing room table. Of the small group, only the one in the most trouble right now was brazen enough to meet his gaze unrepentantly. He snorted to himself. Yeah, how had he missed that this kid was special forces? He didn't bother to avert his gaze as the door opened, knowing it could only be one of two groups.

Carter and Daniel, he identified from the footsteps; as familiar to him as his own after so many missions together. "Take a seat, Carter," he greeted. "Daniel, may I see you in my office?"

Carter gave him a crisp nod, totally disregarding parker, Hardison and Spencer. And that was going to take some getting used to, calling the guy Spencer and not Johnson. He mentally sighed and shut the door behind himself as Daniel dropped a file onto his desk.

"What did you want?" Daniel asked after the silence stretched.

Jack snorted. "Ever get the feeling you're too old for all this crap?" he asked, drawing a smirk from the younger man.

"I've been feeling too old for this crap since I woke up in the sarcophagus on Ra's ship," he pointed out with an amused expression. "What do you want?"

"I want you," he said quietly, "to give our good buddy Colonel Chekov a call and explain the situation to him."

Daniel stared at him for a moment, eyes narrowed as he worked the reasoning through. "Jack, palming Dubenich off on Russia will probably get the 'Gate taken back," he pointed out after a moment, equally quietly. "And you like Colonel Chekov."

Rolling his eyes, Jack leaned in closer. "I need his help to set the guy up," he murmured, all too aware that he had to sweep his office twice a day for bugs. "He doesn't need to worry about getting stuck with the fallout. We'll deal with that. Tell him he gets to shout and bluster and tell everyone that the SGC are uncooperative morons. He'll enjoy that."

Staring at him for a moment in disbelief, Daniel sighed. "Are you planning on sending Dubenich to Russia, or do you want Chekov here?" he asked, eying Jack suspiciously, and Jack nearly laughed. As appealing as sending Dubenich to Russia to be well and truly caught was, it would be a better idea to have him here and under their own control.

"Daniel," he said, as though the answer should be obvious.

"Jack."

Ouch. Okay, so maybe Daniel's patience was getting just as thin as his own. He had genuinely taken to Parker, who had seemed endlessly curious about civilisations in general and had overlooked Daniel's lack of social skills when he was mid-flow with an ease only previously exhibited by Teal'c.

"Here, Daniel," he said softly. "Ask when he's available, and tell him he can collect their next round of data while he's here."

Daniel nodded and stepped away, heading off to make a call from the phone in the commissary just to ensure it was an un-tapped line, leaving Jack to sag against his desk with a sigh. Teal'c.

He had to break the news to Teal'c.

Maybe he could get Carter to do it.

Revenge was sweet and all that.

#####

Carter looked up as the whispered conversation she had been pretending to ignore cut off with a surprised grunt. Johnson was glaring at Hardison as Parker rolled her eyes.

Not Johnson, she reminded herself; Spencer and Sergeant Spencer at that.

Parker huffed. "Ma'am!" she protested. "Permission to speak?"

Bemused, Carter nodded.

"May I exchange seats with Sergeant Spencer please, ma'am?"

Carter stared at her for a moment, willing away the smirk that threatened. "You may, lieutenant. Sergeant Spencer, trade seats please." The man hesitated long enough that she was about to speak again, when he pulled his gaze from Hardison and gave a curt nod.

"Yes ma'am," he said softly, getting up and switching places with Parker. "Sorry ma'am," he added as he resettled himself.

Her lips thinned. "Somehow, Sergeant Spencer," she told him quietly, "I don't think sorry is going to cut it right now."

He looked at her like she had just slapped him. She managed to meet his gaze for a moment, then jerked her own back down to her paperwork. "No more talking. The general will be back soon."

#####

When Nate and Sophie entered, Jack was sat at the head of the table, holding the folder that Dr Jackson had been carrying earlier. Of Dr Jackson there was no sign, but Nate nodded to Jack, who gestured at the chair between himself and Lieutenant Colonel Carter. Sophie nodded sharply to him, putting a sheaf of forms down in front of each of the three prisoners as Nate met each of their gazes in turn.

"You need to read those forms and sign them," he told them. "They are amended. Please take careful note of the amendments and initial next to them to indicate you have seen them."

The three hesitated, and Nate was about to speak again when Jack looked up from his file. "Get signing," he ordered, voice dangerously quiet and evidently at the end of his patience. Or, at the very least, fast approaching it and doing damage control before he got there.

Whichever it was, first Hardison, then Parker and Spencer almost as one, took up pens and began reading, apparently coming to an unspoken consensus that discretion was the better part of valour.

Nate wasn't entirely surprised when the sergeant finished first. He could well imagine the number of these non-disclosure agreements the man had been given to sign in the past; had expected the man to simply skim until he found the amendments and simply check what had been altered; and had been proven right.

He waited until the sergeant looked up and jerked his head in a 'follow me' gesture. Spencer glanced across at Jack, who nodded gravely, then gestured for Spencer to follow Nate into the hallway.

#####

Eliot glanced back once as he followed the dark haired guy into the hallway. He was a major according to his rank patches, but Eliot couldn't help but feel that something was going on here.

He was proved right when he was herded into an unmarked office with a desk and several sets of empty shelves. The name-bar still on the desk read 'Colonel J. O'Neill', with an oddly surprising number of letters after it. He didn't know why he was so surprised. No-one got to that rank without a PhD of some description.

He was pulled out of his reverie as the Major thrust a bundle of papers at him. "This is a better set up for the identity of Lieutenant Johnson. Learn it, then destroy the crib sheets. You are now officially on an undercover assignment, given to you by General Jack O'Neill, who some three months ago requested your assistance in finding the contact of a member of the Trust who was attempting to infiltrate the SGC. Ah. Questions later. Read now.

"Your instructions were to lay low and make it known that you would not be adverse to 'assisting' in this type of operation. Do you know how Dubenich selected you?"

Eliot stared at him blankly for a moment, then shook his head as if to clear it. "No, sir." And he really didn't. The man had simply shown up at HQ one day demanding to speak to him personally, and he had been given his assignment. He had queried it with his superiors, but they had okayed it and here he had found himself.

With a last, slightly wild-eyed stare at the man who had just given him the info-dump, Eliot resigned himself to being sucked further down the rabbit hole than he had ever wanted to go and began reading.