"I'm sorry, Sam. I'll go back and talk to her. I just…I just need a minute." Daniel joined them up in the observation room as Mitchell left to check in with a returning team. Sam and Sheppard were leaning against the back table; Jack still stood staring at the monitor, the black shirt having made its way to his hand. He and Ellie no longer stared at each other, but Daniel couldn't help think there was still some sort of communication going on there.

"What are you thinking Daniel?" Sam asked. Her voice was full professional mode, but deceived by the concern written across her face as she looked not at Daniel, but at Jack.

She saw what Daniel saw.

"Honestly…the only conclusion I can come up with is, well, a future timeline. It's the only way I can explain it. I mean, I know I wasn't in there long, but…I mean…she's…well…look at her." He waved an arm at the windows, vice the monitor.

"We see her Daniel" came the quiet confirmation from Jack.

"I have to agree with Jackson," offered Sheppard. "But…she didn't know Atlantis. She didn't know any of us. I mean, not to sound selfish or anything, but your kid? She would've definitely grown up around all this, right?" He waved his hand, encompassing all that the room was.

"Not necessarily," Sam returned. "Who knows if it's this timeline's future or another one entirely. She may come from a timeline where I'm not a general, in command of SGC. Or maybe it's a timeline where we didn't discover Atlantis. There's thousands – millions of possible timelines she could be from."

Daniel couldn't help but smile. Good ole analytical Sam. He knew it was her way of handling the seemingly unmanageable. In this instance, in particular, her rationalizing was most likely an attempt to distance herself. He couldn't imagine what she was thinking – being told you can't have kids and then have one walk through the gate.

"Why don't we find out, huh?" Both Daniel and Sam turned to find Jack had finally looked away from the monitor. He was holding Ellie's shirt loosely in one hand, the other tucked in a pocket.

"Uh…yeah…sure…" Daniel went to move towards the stairs, but was stopped by Jack's hand.

"I got it." He gave a nod to both gentlemen and a quick smirk to Sam before walking down the stairs.

"This oughta be good," Daniel quietly quipped as Sam and Sheppard joined him at the window.

Don't like it. Not one bit.

Jack slowly made his way down the stairs, pausing just past them in the hallway. He pulled his hand out of his pocket to look again, the dog tags quietly jingling on their chain.

Not. One. Bit.

Daniel's theory was a decent one. He almost believed it himself. Until he'd picked up the blouse and felt the tags in one of the top pockets. The blouse was bad enough – it was his, no doubt about it. All the patches had been carefully pulled off, but there was his name, written on the inside label, in pen. Like some green airman.

But then there were the tags. One his, one Sam's. Military issue. Genuine article. Right down to the small indent in his from when he'd got it caught in his locker.

Could've been caused by anything… he tried to convince himself. Simply a coincidence… Nope. That dent he remembered. It made it look like his dog tag was winking, with that goofy gap-toothed grin at the end.

See Jack! You turn it like this, on the side. He's winking!

Sure kid. Sure. Whatever you say.

Jack shook his head, trying to knock the memory loose. It wasn't that it was a bad memory – him grinning, little blonde mop-top of a thing sitting in his lap, showing him his dog tag and trying to convince him it matched her toothy grin.

Great memory. Just…for the life of him…he couldn't remember having it before he picked up that shirt.

He made his way to the room, waving off the SFs standing guard. As he walked in, the first thing he saw was two feet swinging beneath the table.

"What happened to your shoes?"

She looked up, startled; then peered down at her socked feet.

"Good question. Not quite sure… I was sedated you know. Rather unduly."

"Right. The weasel. I heard." He walked over and handed her the shirt.

Her eyes followed him over, just like she did with Daniel.

"Thanks," she quietly said, slipping the shirt on and re-rolling the sleeves. Three-quarters up.

Once the sleeves were situated, she went to reach for a top pocket before she noticed the tags on the table. She looked up at him, where he still stood next to the table.

"Found these. But I don't think they're yours."

"What makes you say that?"

"Few things. But, mostly? The names on them. No 'Ellie' anywhere."

She continued to hold his gaze, but eventually turned to look back at the tags.

"They don't need them…not…not really."

Answer number one. He let the chain drop fully on the table and turned to the door.

"I'll see if I can't find some shoes. You think –? Ah, never mind. I'm sure we have something." He moved closer to the door as he heard the chain drag across the table.

"Yes."

That stopped him. He turned back to look at her quizzically.

"You were going to ask if I thought I'd fit in…General Carter's shoes." She put the chain around her neck and tucked the tags into her shirt before she continued. "Yes, they'd fit. The black ones. In her desk drawer."

Answer number two…maybe…

"Oh really? Read minds do you?"

"Not all of 'em. Just folks with the…what did she call it? The ATA gene?"

"Like me. 'N Colonel Sheppard." He vaguely remembered some report or another talking about how the Ancients had telepathy or ways of communicating without talking. It was one of those theories that had never, thankfully, been put to the test.

Until now.

He continued to look in those blue eyes. God, those eyes… He wasn't sure how to word what he wanted to say next. And, maybe, now he didn't have to.

Those blue eyes went sad.

Nope. Don't have to say a word.

"You really want me to say it?" she asked hesitantly. "You sure you really want to know?"

He just continued to hold her gaze.

"You were right. About all of it."

Bingo. Unfortunately… He turned again towards the door.

"It wouldn't have changed anything," she offered. He turned his head over his shoulder, stopping but not turning back. "The decision was out of your hands before you even knew there was a decision to be made."

That had him turning back.

He found her gaze again, still tinged with sadness; but now, colored dark with anger as well.

Two answers gained, and more questions added.

"I can't say I know all of it… I don't think anyone does." She looked away again, unsure.

"How about what you do know," Jack said, leaning up against the door jamb.

"The Unknown are behind it. …most likely."

"Right… Got anything more…definite?"

She looked back at him, still sad angry eyes. It seemed like she was afraid. Not necessarily of the information. No, more like what saying it out loud would mean.

"The Unknown are the last of the four great races. They abhor humans; want nothing to do with them. Would really prefer not to have to deal with not dealing with them."

"Hold up. 'The Unknown'? Never heard of 'em, and we've met all those guys. Well…except the furry ones."

"The Furlings are a front. Kinda like the Jaffa for the Goa'uld."

"Okay…so they're so enthralled with themselves and hating humans, they use cute teddy bears to take their appointments. Great. Easy. Where are these guys? We'll dial 'em up and kick their butts."

She laughed, seemingly despite herself; but then it was all seriousness again.

"You've eradicated the Goa'uld, made nice with the Nox, even impressed the Asgard. But the Unknown are a different entity. They deal in subtlety. They've hidden themselves away for so long, no one knows what they are anymore. There are a few Asgard who have faint memories, which is where we have gotten the little bit of information we have, but –" she stopped short, looking shocked.

"Asgard, you say?" Jack was doing his best to not appear shocked as well. "Yeah…they're all gone, the Asgard. Thelma-and-Louised it a while back…"

"Um…yeah…not exactly…" Where she had been a bounding chatty-Kathy a minute ago, she suddenly appeared abashed. It was almost as if she felt like she'd said too much.

Which just told Jack that there was still more.

"Uh huh. Well?" He looked at her expectantly.

She looked around herself frantically, like a squirrel with a nut, avoiding his gaze as much as possible.

Jack stood up straight, hands in pockets, and turned up the gaze. He'd started at polite query, edging impatience. Now – full on O'Neill-demand.

She hadn't really stood a chance.

"The explosion was a diversion. And a catalyst. The Asgard knew what was coming, they'd heard rumors, but with the Ori gaining strength, they figured it was only a matter of time. And it was their last chance to save their own race."

She paused to look up at him. He had backed down the gaze, but not completely. He just…waited.

"They split the timeline, forced another into existence, centered off one event." She paused again as Jack's eyes started glazing over. Both of them took a moment to stare at each other before turning as one to stare up at the windows above them.

"Okay. Let's say we move this party."