CW: sexual harassment.

Chapter 8, part 2.

She was still thinking about Heath and his reluctant agreement to start an official inquiry into Cho's wrongdoings when she walked into her lab, already changed into normal green ABU that she usually wore on the base. She was so occupied with her thoughts, in fact, that she didn't notice the man sitting at the table in the middle of the room until the movement as he jumped to his feet caught her eye and she did a double-take.

"Good morning, Lieutenant," she greeted the boy, waving at him to sit back down. "What brings you here this Monday morning?"

"I came in early today to have a look at some of the reports that came in over the weekend," Rodriguez replied, patting a thin folder that lay on the table in front of him.

"You found something?" All thought of Heath and Cho immediately vanished from Alice's mind, chased away by the exciting prospect of an actual lead on Jareth.

"Maybe. It could be nothing—but I think I've got a pattern." He opened the folder and Alice walked around the table to look at it over his shoulder. "I didn't put it together until I saw yesterday's report from the Nineteen's mission on P2J-3X1." He took out a few sheets of paper and spread them out. "These are all the reports that fit the pattern. All of these planets are either known hubs for smugglers and mercenaries, or they are suspected of being connected to Lucian Alliance in one way or another. And on all of them, when our teams visited, the locals have turned out to be unusually hostile or suspicious."

"That's all?" Alice frowned, disappointed.

"There's one more thing," Rodriguez added, his voice a little nervous now. "All of them are within the same quadrant of the galaxy." He pulled another sheet of paper from his folder—a miniaturized map of the Milky Way, with a circle marked on it with a red Sharpie. "I know that's not a lot, ma'am, but when I went through these reports, it's just struck me that in every case, the team was surprised at being regarded with a level of aggression or caution that they haven't previously encountered on these planets, from these people. I could buy that something might've spooked the mercs or locals when it comes to the known SG teams, but two of them were undercover."

"That is odd," Alice admitted thoughtfully, picking up a couple pages and quickly scanning through them. "Alright, leave it with me, I'll have another look. Good job, lieutenant."

As he got to his feet, he straightened up to his full length—he towered over Alice even when he was not stretching like that—and beamed at her proudly. Alice had to suppress an amused smirk.

He left and Alice stayed at the table, carefully reading through each of the reports he dug out, marking the positions of the planets on a star map in her computer, trying to see if there was anything more to it. There wasn't, but she presented the lead on the SG-7's eleven hundred hours briefing with Carter nevertheless, and they agreed it was worth investigating. Rodriguez seemed to grow a few inches taller when Alice complimented his work again, and with a plan to check out a couple of the planets the next day, the team broke again to continue their individual tasks, which for Alice meant going back to her lab. She had delegated as much of the paperwork as she could to Rodriguez, who—though still not cleared for offworld duty—was settling into his role quite nicely. In a few weeks, he'd be able to start training with Watson and Morgan again, and finally the team would be complete.

They met up again for lunch, as usual. Alice let Rodriguez fill the other two in on the Friday's outing with Carter and SG-1, funded by the Army. She kept the ending to herself—the kid left before he could see just how drunk she'd gotten, so all he asked was if she stayed long after he'd gone. She said she didn't and changed the subject.

"How's the cat doing, Sergeant?" She asked Watson with an impish smile, remembering he got one for his daughter a while back.

"Wild," he answered, rolling his eyes. "He hisses at everyone but Lucy. She's the only one who can pick him up or pet him. When I try, I come out with battle scars!" And he rolled up the sleeve of his uniform to show off his forearm—marked with angry red scratches crisscrossing all over.

"Twelve years in the service, six of them dealing with aliens and all, and you're bested by a cat?" Rodriguez teased.

"Are you sure it's not a Flerken, Sergeant?" Alice joked, but got only blank stares in return. "No comic book fans among you gentlemen, I presume from the dead silence," she added, cursing herself for bringing it up. The mention sent a wave of grief and pain through her, fast as lightning; Karim had been a comic book aficionado. The memory was like a piercing hot blade slicing into her heart, but she blinked it away and smiled to cover it up. "Flerken is a space-cat from one of Marvel's comics, it looks like a cat but holds a multitude of tentacles in its mouth," she explained, working very hard to keep her tone light. "It's supposed to be very dangerous and unpredictable. Maybe your daughter's cat is one of them."

"I wouldn't be surprised," Watson agreed morosely, making the other two chuckle. Alice merely smiled again.

"Isn't that…" Morgan began, and then stopped, hesitating. Alice encouraged him to go on with a gesture. "Isn't that similar to what happened to you, ma'am? I read in one of your reports from Atlantis… that cat that changed into a man?"

Alice nodded pensively. "He wasn't a cat, not exactly—he was a shape-shifter. He merely took a semblance of a cat to insinuate himself onto the base. It was one of the more surreal experiences I've had in this line of work…" She smiled sadly. As long as he'd been Felix the cat, she thought of him with such affection—and then to learn that he was merely lying in wait to betray her and steal Atlantis away… it had been difficult, and not made any easier by the fact that she'd been forced to kill him, in the end. Karrthren of Elyssa, he'd said was his name. One of the last of his kind, the majority of them killed or abducted by no other than Jareth—though she had had no idea it had been him, at the time. Just one more pebble on the barrow of the vile Wraith's victims. Like Lanthal's people, whom she had helped to bury in a huge common grave. Like Keana, the girl who looked like her, whom she had promised to get home—and who died before she could... Even without looking into the future, enough people had died in this timeline at the hands of Jareth. Not to mention he bore part of the responsibility for Karim's death. The other part rested squarely on Alice's shoulders, but perhaps if she killed Jareth, some of the load would disappear… or so she hoped. She had no idea how to face a future with no Karim but with this constant guilt and sorrow in her heart.

"Major?"

She blinked quickly, coming out of the reverie, unsure if it was the first time that Watson called her, and instantly embarrassed.

"Sorry. I guess I let my mind wander." She shook her head to get the last of the cobwebs out of her head. "You were saying?"

"I was just wondering—you said one of the more surreal. But not the most?"

She shrugged. "It's a turn of phrase—but yeah, there's been that time when I tumbled down into an underground maze of corridors after a whiff of toxic air and fought off a creature with three clawed arms, scaly hide and a mouth full of teeth by setting my uniform jacket ablaze and throwing it at the monster… that was fun, too." It was also the first time she and Karim had really talked; he had helped her through a panic attack brought on by hallucinations, held her as she shivered in the darkness… She tried to suppress a shudder now, and failed; it had as much to do with the fear in the memory itself, as with the pain of the loss brought up front again.

"I bet it was," Watson agreed.

"Man, I can't wait for when I'll be able to go offworld with you," Rodriguez said plaintively.

Alice smirked, amused out of her dark mood. "It's not that glamorous, you know."

"Well, it's doing something. I am tired of sitting on my butt all the time!"

"Should I remind you that you got shot on your first offworld mission?" Alice teased.

"By your own admission, ma'am, you got hurt on your first mission out of Atlantis, too," he reminded her.

"Yeah, well, you're in good company," she joked.

He chuckled, but then added: "But that's my point, exactly—you've done all these amazing things, and I can't wait to be able to start learning from you!"

Alice cocked her head to the side, surprised by that confession. She was not used to think of herself as a role model for anyone. Sure, she'd led men into battle before, but they were all experienced and not easily impressed. It felt nice to have someone look up to her for a change—though it was also daunting. For the first time it occurred to her that she was now responsible for these three. Watson was her own age, and in the military for longer than herself, so it wasn't as impactful, though he still had to obey her orders; but Rodriguez and Morgan were both newbies, bright-eyed and impressionable. Her responsibility towards them extended beyond keeping them alive in the field; she had to help them realize their full potential, as airmen—and, in Rodriguez's case, also as an officer. They were already good, they had to be to be admitted into the Stargate Program in the first place, but it now fell onto her to make them into the best versions of themselves. That knowledge suddenly seemed to weigh a ton; what if she screwed that up? What if she turned out to be a bad influence? It was enough to look at her recent shenanigans to know that this possibility wasn't so far-fetched: getting blackout drunk with strangers, doing drugs at clubs? What sort of a role model was she?

She covered her panicky distraction with a chuckle. "I like your eagerness, Lieutenant, but I'm afraid until Doctor Lam gives you the all-clear, you'll have to do it from afar."

"Well, I've already read every single report you've ever filed," he admitted earnestly. "So I guess I just have to wait. At least Rennel didn't make a fuss." He nodded towards something behind Alice and she looked over her shoulder to see the base's resident psychiatrist at a table on the other side of the commissary, closer to the exit. He was surrounded by a group of SFs, and they seemed to be having a fun conversation since it kept being disturbed by waves of laughter. Rennel was a fifty-something year old academic who had been invited to join the Stargate Program because of his work with Iraq and Afghanistan veterans—someone on top apparently thought it would be close enough. It wasn't, of course, but the one time Alice had spoken to him—he administered her mental status exams before she was pronounced fit for duty after her convalescent leave ended—he seemed to be extremely competent, if a little slick for her taste.

"Rennel's a bit too crafty to be a real shrink," Watson declared, echoing Alice's thoughts. "I mean, I'm sure all his degrees are real and all, but when he talks, it's like he always says what he thinks I want him to say, if you know what I mean?"

"Whenever did you talk to him?" Rodriguez asked, surprised.

Watson shrugged. "Mandatory quarterly mental review. I don't really trust shrinks."

"Really? Why is that?" Alice raised her eyebrows.

"I don't need a glorified Dr. Phil to tell me my head's screwed up, I have my wife for that," he quipped lightly, though there was an undercurrent there that made Alice even more curious. She didn't want to pry, though, so all she said was:

"I don't think that's necessarily the good doctor's job description." But then she thought of the responsibility she had towards Morgan and Rodriguez once again, and, against her better judgment, she added: "I agree with you on Rennel, I can't put my finger on it exactly, but there is something about him… but with what we do, it's not always a bad idea to talk to someone. A professional." She sighed as their curious glances and raised eyebrows prompted her to continue. "On Atlantis, there was Doctor Borden, he had a policy of seeing every single person who went offworld at least once a week. Atlantis has fewer recon teams," she added as an afterthought; the same wouldn't be possible at the SGC. "I was resistant at first, too, but it wasn't that bad. Some things he told me were actually useful."

"Like what?" Morgan asked, his whole face alit with vivid interest.

"Like stress management techniques." She started counting off on her fingers. "Ways to fight insomnia. Breathing exercises to lower your heart rate, very helpful for a sharpshooter." She shrugged and let her hand drop. It was hardly all that Borden had taught her, but as much as she wanted to convince her teammates that seeking help was okay, she didn't think sharing all of her traumas and what they entailed with them was a good idea. And that had been back when the worst of it was her time in Jareth's dungeon… Suddenly she remembered her conversation with Aaron in which he admitted to being in therapy himself. She had promised him to think about doing it, and then she promptly forgot. Even now, the idea seemed preposterous. She was fine, wasn't she? All the tricks Borden taught her were enough help—she didn't need anything more. And besides, the mere idea of confiding in Rennel made her nervous; not to mention that she wouldn't be able to be completely honest anyway, since she couldn't share anything about what she'd seen in the future one way or another.

"For stress, I recommend having kids," Watson joked. "The constant worry over them is gonna push away all the pressures of the job, I assure you."

Alice smirked and shook her head. Lucy and Peter, Watson's kids, were his one and true apple of the eye. He mentioned them often and always with a mixture of exasperation, pride and love. In those moments, he sounded a lot like Aaron when he talked about Ike, and Alice understood that to be a universal trait of all fathers—or at least the good ones.

"Think I'll wait a bit," Morgan quipped nervously and they snickered. He was the youngest of them all, barely twenty-one; but then Alice realized Watson must have been around his age when he had fathered his first-born. The technical sergeant was Alice's age, and Peter was eight years old, which meant that Watson was only twenty-two when he was born. It felt weird to Alice; in some ways, she felt older than any of them, Watson included. He'd joined the Air Force right after turning eighteen, she knew from his personnel file, and he spent the first six years in various bases around the globe as part of the Security Forces before being reassigned to guard the Gate at the SGC, a job he held for four more years before finally moving to SG-17 for another two. Alice spent three years on Atlantis alone, which meant that, even without counting her time as a 302 driver, she had more offworld field experience than he did. In other ways, though, she also felt younger; Watson was a husband and father, with a house of his own, a mortgage, pets—all the markings of a settled down adult. Whereas she was living in a rented house she shared with a roommate, spending all of her time at work because she had no life outside of it.

That thought was distressing, so she shook her head, smiled and stood up. "Alright, gentlemen, lunch's over. Thanks for your company, as always, and let us get back to work. See you later."

She walked away to deposit her tray, and they scattered after her.

She had just exited the commissary when she heard her name and stopped in her tracks. She turned and watched Major Hailey trot up to her.

"Alice, good, I've been looking for you!" The SG-1's science officer panted. "I need your help with something. Well, Doctor Lee is helping me already, but one smart head more won't hurt."

"Oh, sure, happy to—what is it?" Alice asked, but Hailey didn't respond. Instead she cocked her head to the side and raised one finger.

Alice blinked and realized Hailey was trying to listen to something—and then she heard it herself. No wonder the other woman noticed it earlier—the voices mentioned her name.

"Oh, yeah, Hailey is one nice chunk of ass!" One of them said. Alice raised her eyebrows and exchanged a look with the proprietor of the aforementioned part of anatomy. The voices were coming in from inside the commissary, through the open door; Hailey and Alice were stopped just outside and could hear every word, clear as day, even though the men kept them quite low.

"I like blondes," another person said dreamily.

"What about the new girl, whats-er-name, the redhead?"

"Boyd? I'd do her in a heartbeat!" A third man piped up, and they all laughed.

"She's a little too flat and too skinny," another one complained.

"Yeah, but I bet she's deliciously tight, ya know?" The remark was met with another bout of laughter.

Alice wondered if her own expression was as revolted as Hailey's at this moment. She felt actually nauseous—literally sick to her stomach with disgust. And with anger, lately always smoldering underneath a thin layer of composure, suddenly roaring high in flames. Except she knew it came out of her as cold as ice. She felt her face setting into stone as she turned around and strode back into the commissary.

"Alice, don't—it's not worth it!" She heard Hailey call, but she ignored it, blinded by fury.

Perhaps, if it were any other day, she'd let it go. Perhaps she'd just make a note of who it was and then spoke to their supervisor. Or perhaps she'd go to Carter and insisted on doing a sensibility training to everyone on the base, or something along those line. Perhaps, if it wasn't two days after she'd been assaulted by another service member; if she hadn't been completely dismissed by the police; if she hadn't been discouraged from making a report by an Army colonel; or perhaps if some time had passed and it wasn't all so fresh in her memory; perhaps then she'd be able to restrain her wrath. But on this day, with all that's happened, she simply saw red.

She halted next to the table; it was the one occupied by Rennel and a group of SFs. They all fell silent very suddenly when she approached them, with various expressions of guilt on their faces.

"Out. Get back to work, all of you," Alice barked, and even though they were barely halfway through their meal, if any of them thought about protesting, one look at her face discouraged them from doing so. "Rennel, you stay," she added menacingly. The soldiers scampered up to their feet and bolted for the door; the psychiatrist rose, too, but he heeded her command and didn't move from his spot.

"Listen, Major—" he began, his voice oily in an obsequious way.

"Zip it, Doctor." Alice raised her hand to stop him; she felt rather than heard Hailey joining her behind. "I have had it up to here with men and their excuses. Or do you really think that was appropriate behavior?"

"I know you're upset, Major," he answered, lifting his hands up, palms towards her in a non-threatening way. "But you have to understand, I have to be on good terms with these guys if I'm gonna help them, and I—"

"Stop!" She interrupted him heatedly. "Just stop. You're embarrassing yourself."

"Major, I think you're overreacting—"

"No, you're done talking." The temperature of her voice dropped back down to somewhere between icy cold and absolute zero. "You're gonna listen to me now, Doctor." She put so much venom into the word that it came out almost like a hiss. "I am so sick of men right now, I could vomit. And I'm not naïve, I know how guys act when women aren't around. I've grown up surrounded by boys, I went to an engineering school full of men, and I've been in the male-led military for almost ten years now. You have no idea how many times I've had my boobs or my ass or my pussy discussed by men before." The crassness of her words seemed to have shocked him a little—or maybe it was the sheer force of her fury, for he took a little step back. "And it's always just a harmless joke, right? I'm just being oversensitive, aren't I? You said it yourself, I'm overreacting!" He was smart enough not to try to say anything; his hands were still up as if she was a mugger with a pistol who was threatening to shoot him. "Well, it's not harmless. It normalizes objectification and sexualization of women. It makes it okay to think of women that way, to think that we're just there for the taking. And that leads to harassment and abuse, to a culture where women in the military cannot feel safe and always have to be on our guard! But you already know all that, don't you? Because you're our base's resident shrink, a Stanford alum, a Johns Hopkins fellow, and a former professor at Penn State! So with all your academic achievement in the field of psychiatry, I am quite at a loss as to why I have to stand here today and tell you all these basic things on how to be a decent human being!" Her tone had gradually became more heated again, and she stopped only because Hailey put a restraining hand on her shoulder. Rennel wisely kept his mouth shut, but his cheeks were red—Alice didn't know if with anger or shame—and his hands, still up in the air, shook a little. She took a deep breath, and added with less fire but more finality: "More than anyone else, you have the responsibility to, at the very least, lead by example. Today, you failed spectacularly. And if you can't do your job and help men without harassing women in the process, then you shouldn't do it at all." She paused for a moment, and then added, her voice completely cold again: "Consider this the last and final warning. I will be watching you, and if I ever see you acting this way again, or hear anything that I find objectionable, I will report you and you will say goodbye to the Program." And, without giving him the opportunity to react to that, she turned around on her heel and stalked away.

Hailey caught up to her as she was entering the elevator. They stood next to each other and watched the door close in silence, carefully not looking at each other. It was Hailey who spoke first.

"That was interesting."

"He deserved that," Alice countered vehemently.

"I don't disagree," Hailey replied, her voice conciliatory. "But you were a little… forceful."

"You think I overreacted, too?"

"A little." Hailey turned to finally look at Alice. "I get where you're coming from, I really do—I've dealt with these kind of comments and little jokes, too—but, you know, it's all about picking your battles. I don't know if that was an especially good moment for a dress-down."

Alice took a deep breath, trying to slow down her furiously beating heart. "Why do I have to care about choosing a good moment to beg to be treated like a human being and not a fucktoy in a uniform?" She shook her head. "I am so tired of men never being accountable for anything!"

Hailey looked back at the door as it slid open before them. "Yeah, me too."

Alice exhaled and stepped out of the elevator. "Let's go check on that thing you came for help with, shall we?"

Alice, Hailey, Lee and Carter were sitting around the table in the briefing room, discussing the preliminary results of their research on an alien artifact the SG-1 had brought from their recent mission. The majors and the civilian doctor spent the entire afternoon working on it together, and were just now giving a rundown of their findings to Carter. Being the incredible scientist she was herself, the general was vividly interested, asked a lot of detailed questions, and offered some theories of her own based on their answers, which meant that the entire conversation could no longer be called a briefing, and promised to still last a while when they were interrupted by a knock on the doorframe as Sergeant Harriman appeared on the threshold.

"Excuse me, ma'am," he said to Carter and then turned to Alice. "Major, there is a call for you rerouted from Peterson—a General Boyd?" His voice went up, making it a question.

Alice felt her eyebrows move up in surprise. Why would Uncle Simon be calling her? She suddenly felt cold panic rise inside her; the only reason she could think of why he would call her at work was if something bad happened. What if it was her mom? Alice didn't have her phone now—what if…?

She looked at Carter, grasping at the remnants of her composure. The general nodded ascent, so Alice got up and picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

"Alice, finally!" Answered her Uncle Simon, his voice gruff and irritated. "Why is it so hard to get ahold of you?"

"Why are you calling me here, Uncle, what is wrong? Did something happen?" Alice ignored his comment and went straight to the source of her worry.

"Well, you tell me!" He huffed. "Have you made a report about one of my guys assaulting you?"

She exhaled, relief almost overwhelming her for a moment. "That's why you're calling?"

"Yeah, why do you think?" He sniped; he sounded angry. "Did an officer of the Army really assault you?"

Alice was acutely aware that all eyes in the room were trailed on her, even as she stood sideways to them. "I really don't have the time to discuss this right now, Uncle," she answered cautiously, and then asked, unable to hold her frustration at bay: "How do you even know about this? I asked Heath specifically not to involve you!"

"He called me as a courtesy, and he did the right thing! I'm a brigadier general in the United States Army, I would've learned about this sooner or later, and since this involves my niece and an Army officer, this is very much my business!"

Alice rolled her eyes. "Fine, but I really can't talk right now."

"Did you not hear me when I said I am a brigadier general?" He hissed indignantly.

"I'm in the middle of something right now, and it's more important," Alice said dismissively. "I'll call you later."

"You better!" He warned and she heard the click as he hung up.

She replaced the receiver carefully, overcompensating with slowness of movements because inside she was in turmoil. She did not like the idea of Simon getting all up in her business, not least because he wouldn't keep it to himself, she knew, and having her whole family know about it was the last thing she wanted.

"Everything alright, Major?" Carter asked.

Alice took a deep breath and walked back to the table. "Yes, ma'am."

Carter seemed unconvinced, but she didn't press the issue, instead going right back to the discussion of the possible nature of the alien artifact. Alice hoped that, by the time they were done, the general would've forgotten about the call, but of course she didn't; she asked Alice to hang back after finally dismissing the group.

"So, Major," she said, leaning back in her chair and looking at Alice, her gaze intense. "Anything you wanna share with me?" She paused, and, since Alice didn't immediately respond, she added: "Any reason why would General Boyd of Pentagon be calling you? Something Colonel Heath of the 10th Special Forces Group would inform him of? The same 10th Special Forces Group that our new friend Major Cho is part of?"

Alice was quite impressed with how much Carter managed to infer from the one side of the phone conversation she'd heard, but it did mean there was no way to dismiss or redirect the question.

She sighed resignedly, and told Carter the whole story—in as few words as possible. She was getting tired of repeating it.

When she finished, Carter remained quiet for a moment, and then shook her head and finally asked: "Were you ever going to tell me any of this?"

She looked disappointed and Alice felt bad—like she failed her somehow. She nodded fervently. "Of course, ma'am, as soon as I knew that my complaint had been officially accepted and an investigation began." And, seeing as this didn't fly too well, she added more honestly: "It just happened. I haven't… processed it fully myself yet."

Carter seemed slightly mollified. "I can understand that." She nodded and then continued more softly: "I want you to know there is counseling available if you need it. Doctor Rennel is in-house and at your disposal, or you can contact the SARC at Peterson—"

"No, thank you, that's unnecessary," Alice cut her off quickly, alarmed at the very idea of having to talk to Rennel, especially about this. "I'm quite alright. It's not my first rodeo."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Carter replied kindly. "I wish I could say I'm surprised."

"Yeah."

They fell silent for a moment, neither looking at the other, the shared moment of awkward frustration somehow bringing them closer and pulling them apart at the same time. Then Carter cleared her throat.

"Two courts-martial in one month, that's gotta be fun for you," she commented.

For a moment, Alice didn't know what she was talking about—and then she remembered. "Just two? So they'll letting Cox off with a slap on the wrist?"

Carter shook her head. "In light of his past contributions to the Air Force and the Program in particular, he's been offered the possibility to retire. He took it, of course. Martinez, on the other hand, will go through the whole thing."

"Have they found whoever she was selling or giving the intel to? The intermediary?"

Carter shrugged. "I'm sorry, Major, I am not at liberty to say. You will be deposed as an expert witness at her court-martial, and there can be no question of witness tampering, so I can't share any new information pertaining to the case with you. The investigation is still open."

"Of course." Alice nodded understandingly. "Makes sense. When this is going on, do you know?"

"Not long. Couple more weeks, probably, maybe up to a month."

Alice nodded again. "I've never participated in a court-martial before," she said, trying to sound nonchalant, but it didn't seem like she fooled her commander.

"It's not that different from civilian court," Carter explained with a small smile. "There will be a military judge, JAG counsels, and twelve officers to deliberate and deliver a verdict."

"Twelve? I thought it was five or so."

"Whenever the possible punishment for an offense includes death, the number gets bumped up to twelve," Carter replied, looking slightly uncomfortable.

Alice felt a chill steal across her back. Espionage was a serious offense—especially in terms of the Program, whose secrecy was paramount—but she forgot that under the Uniform Code of Military Justice, it was punishable by death. She couldn't quite reconcile that possibility with her memory of the efficient and self-effacing captain that she'd known from Atlantis. It felt absurd to think she might be killed for what she did, no matter how serious an offense it was.

"You know, I kinda miss going toe to toe with Wraith," Alice quipped in an attempt to lighten the mood. "I'd much prefer that to facing depositions in courts-martial."

"Hah! I don't blame you. I'm starting to wonder if I did the right thing accepting this job," Carter said casually, throwing it out in the air in an offhand manner that nevertheless had Alice raising her eyebrows. "Anyway. It's getting late and you promised to make a call."

Alice sighed and nodded with such a pained expression that the general laughed. She didn't comment further, though, so Alice said a polite goodbye and left.

Back in her lab, she sat down at her desk and looked at the phone, but decided to check her e-mail first. Her cell was presumably still in Cho's possession, unless Heath recovered it, so her only contact with her friends and family had been via the Internet over the past few days. She'd have to stop by a convenience store in the morning and buy a replacement.

Aaron sent her some photos of the house he was buying in Bel Air. She clicked through them quickly, feeling very weird. The house he'd bought for him and Sarah after they'd become pregnant had been spacious, but this one was enormous. It had only four bedrooms and bathrooms, he specified in the e-mail, but it also boasted its own gym, a small basement movie theater, a soundproofed recording studio, a library complete with hundreds of volumes of classic novels bound in leather, and of course the inevitable backyard pool and a rooftop deck overlooking the city of Los Angeles and Santa Monica Bay in the distance. Alice didn't want to ask how much it cost, but the pictures made her realize just how filthy rich Aaron was. His wealth never seemed to be real; to her, he was still the same boy she had known since they were toddlers together. Reconciling that image with the millionaire rockstar he had become was beyond her capabilities, and it sometimes felt like there were two Aarons: her best friend she'd grown up with and the celebrity whom she only saw glimpses of.

Having replied to Aaron, she sent a short message to her mom to let her know everything was still good with her, and then she could no longer find reasons to procrastinate the call. She dialed the Pentagon switchboard and asked to be connected to General Simon Boyd.

"Boyd," he barked into the receiver instead of a greeting.

"Hi, Uncle, this is Allie," she said politely, trying to put him in a better mood. The conversation wouldn't be pleasant either way, but she'd already aggravated him enough for one day. She made a solemn vow to not let him throw her off-balance again.

"Took you long enough," he complained immediately. "D'you know what time it is here?"

She looked at her watch. Oops. It was almost eight in the evening, Colorado time; Washington was two hours ahead.

"I'm sorry," she answered earnestly. "I didn't think of the time difference."

He huffed. "I didn't appreciate being brushed off earlier, either. What was so important?"

Alice sighed. "I was in the middle of a briefing with my CO, Uncle. It wasn't a good time or place to discuss my personal matters."

"Personal?" He sneered, and she heard him suck up a big breath to continue, so she hastened to interrupt.

"Yes, it is personal to me. It happened off-duty and off-base."

He let the air go with a whoosh before replying. "If that's the case, why didn't you call the police, go the civilian route?"

Alice rolled her eyes. "You know why. It wouldn't serve anyone to have our business in a civilian court."

"If it even made it to court," he murmured testily. "So it's true? An Army officer really tried to…?" And he hesitated, as if the words were too difficult to say out loud.

"Rape me, yes," Alice finished calmly, feeling a bit of a perverse pleasure at his shocked silence. "We were at a bar, and as we left it, he attacked me, dragged me away around the corner of the building, and punched me into the ground. Then he restrained me and started fumbling around with his belt buckle. I fought back and managed to get him off of me when the police came."

"Police was involved?" He blurted, latching onto the part of the story that made him the least uncomfortable.

"At the very end of the fight. Their body cams will confirm at least that I was trying to get away and he kept hold of me, or so I hope."

"Why didn't they arrest him there and then?"

"Because they're sexist swine," she replied heatedly, and then reminded herself of her promise to remain calm and took a deep breath. "He alleged that I attacked him. They chose to believe him."

He didn't say anything to that immediately, and they lapsed into silence. Alice was determined not to break it herself. Let him mull it over.

"Colonel Heath told me the case is mostly circumstantial," he finally asserted. "I'll make sure he conducts a proper, extensive investigation." And then he added more quietly, almost threateningly: "No one touches my family and gets away with it."

Alice sighed. "See, that's why I didn't want you involved in the first place. You can't do that."

"The hell I can't!" He raised his voice. "I take care of my own!"

"That's… admirable," she admitted grudgingly. "But I really don't need nor want your help. I can take care of myself, and I'd rather not have anyone accuse me of using family connections."

"Don't be ridiculous," he dismissed her, offhand. "I'm not talking about anything illegal or inappropriate, I'll just keep the pressure on Heath and his command to get to the bottom of this."

"Please, don't," she pleaded. "Just leave it alone. It's bad enough that Heath made the connection, I—"

"Quit worrying," he interrupted. "May I remind you that I've been in the service much longer than you, and I've seen my fair share of allegations such as yours with much stronger evidence get dismissed. A little pressure from the top won't hurt."

Alice rolled her eyes again. That was the problem with Uncle Simon. He wasn't a bad guy; he cared about his family and protected his own, as he said—but he rarely actually listened. It was sweet that he wanted to help—and completely infuriating that he wouldn't stop when asked.

"At least promise me you won't tell anyone about this," she beseeched him hotly. "Especially not mom or Alastar."

"What are you talking about? They should know what's going on with you!" He protested.

"I'm fine, and I don't want to worry mom over nothing, you know she's still very fragile," Alice explained.

"Okay, fine," he agreed, and added quickly, as if conceding one point needed an immediate defense of the other: "But I am going to talk to Alastar. His influence might prove useful at some point."

"That's exactly why I don't want you to talk to him! Please, Uncle—"

"Allie—"

"Just listen to me for one second, okay?!" Her voice went up an octave in annoyance and she had to work to bring it back down. "There's another reason I don't want you going around and talking to people about it. It's just—it's personal, you know? It was hard enough to tell you and you basically left me no choice, but I've been going around and repeating the story all day, and I really don't want to anymore…" She paused, but since he didn't respond, she ploughed through: "I'm going through with this thing because men need to know that there are consequences to their actions, especially in the service, and that man in particular needs to be stopped before he hurts someone more fragile than me. But that doesn't mean that any of it is pleasant, and I would really appreciate if you could take that into consideration."

She wasn't sure if the rant really got to him, or maybe it was just the force of the conviction in her voice, but he finally replied:

"Fine, then. I'll keep it to myself, but that doesn't mean I'll let off the pressure. That man will face a court-martial and he will pay for what he's done."

"Alright, fine. As long as it's all above board."

He huffed. "Of course. Who do you think I am?"

A careerist who doesn't really care about sexual harassment in the service as long as it doesn't personally affect you or your close ones, she thought, but bit her tongue before it spilled out.

"Alright, Uncle. Thanks. Is there anything else?"

"No. You should go and get some rest. You sound tired," he said, throwing Alice into a state of shock. Not just that he noticed—but that it was noticeable in the first place. And only in her voice!

"I'm fine," she replied automatically. "Goodbye, Uncle."

"Goodnight, Allie."

She stared at the phone receiver for a few seconds more before she replaced it. He was right, of course; she felt exhausted. It had been a difficult, emotional day, but the idea of going to bed early scared her. She knew her treacherous mind wouldn't let her fall asleep without torturing her with memories and feelings of guilt and shame and all the other baggage that she carried around. On the other hand, her brain seemed completely fried and the thought of going back to work seemed equally hideous. She needed to shut down for a while, and there was only one way she knew of to do so.

An hour later she walked into her bedroom and changed into pajamas. Then she sat at the edge of the bed, fished out a sleeping pill from a tiny bottle she got from the SGC's on-call doctor, and chased it down with a glass of whiskey. She wasn't fond of that particular type of alcohol, but it was strong and she only needed a little bit to feel its effects. She put the glass on the nightstand, turned off the lamp, climbed into bed, and was asleep within twenty minutes.

Alice woke up refreshed and feeling more energized than she could remember. She went out for a run with Deanna and chatted with her lightheartedly at breakfast, until the girl finally commented:

"You're right chipper this morning. Something good happened?"

Alice shrugged. "I just had a very good night's sleep," she replied, which was true. It was incredible how much of a difference eight hours of solid, uninterrupted sleep, unmarred by nightmares for once, could make. She almost felt like a different person altogether.

The good mood didn't leave her all day. She and her team visited a number of planets Rodriguez had identified as galactic organized crime hubs that suddenly and inexplicably turned hostile to offworlders, in search for clues as to Jareth's whereabouts. They didn't find anything tangible, nothing that would point them to a specific place, but they did confirm that the pattern the lieutenant had seen had a singular origin: in all cases, the locals had been attacked, either by their own people returning from elsewhere, or by their known contacts from the mercenary or smuggler groups that visited their planets regularly. The point of these attacks seemed to be kidnapping or theft of technology or high-value resources. The SG-7 did not find any surviving attackers; most managed to accomplish their apparent mission, and the couple that didn't had been punished by the locals with death. For Alice, it was clearly Jareth's way of procuring victims to feed upon—or perhaps also to augment his brainwashed army. Stealing resources and technology also made sense; he needed them to conduct his experiments.

Despite the lack of concrete leads, Alice felt like the trips weren't in vain; at the very least they confirmed her earlier assumption that Jareth might be deliberately targeting mercenary groups. She was pleased to find out, upon coming back to Earth, that during their absence the Alliance mercenary who'd been bent by Jareth and brought to the base by SG-14 had finally fallen into deep sleep—and, Alice knew, that meant he'd be soon coming back to his senses. Talking to him could be a significant step towards getting valuable intel on Jareth—and the Lucian Alliance itself.

As she walked into her lab that evening, she also discovered a message for her from Colonel Heath. He informed her that Cho had been confined to the base—Fort Carson, just down the road from the Cheyenne Mountain Complex—and that charges had been officially preferred to him. He also advised that the official investigation had been initiated, which meant that an Army lieutenant colonel would be contacting everyone who'd participated in the night out at the bar to gather depositions; some of them might even be called as witnesses at the court-martial itself. That put a significant damper on Alice's mood, since it meant she had to inform the entire SG-1 and Rodriguez about what happened, so they wouldn't get blindsided by it.

That night she lay awake in her bed again, wrestling with the dark cloud that seemed to weigh her down like a thousand tons of steel, and the morning did not bring relief.