A/N: Today's part is short because I couldn't find a good way to cut it otherwise. But maybe that's okay, because I have big ask for you: please, please. please help Ukraine.

As you may or may not know, I am Polish. Ukrainian border is 300km away from where I live. I have already donated as much as I possibly could, and I have two young Ukrainian refugees staying (for free, of course) in my spare room currently. I also have distant family in Iwano-Frankiwsk. I am scared and sad and horrified by this invasion on an innocent, democratic country. I know wars have been raging in other parts of the world, and they are scary and sad and horrifying as well; but this one is at my doorstep. I beg you, if you can, please donate; any large, legitimate organization (such as UNICEF for example) is collecting money to help Ukraine. If you want to help organizations that are very close to the action, directly on the ground, google Polska Akcja Humanitarna (PAH), Polskie Centrium Pomocy Międzynarodowej (PCPM) or Fundacja Ocalenie and donate there. They all have facebook donations enabled, as well. If you cannot give money, you can help by just talking about what's happening in Ukraine on your social media. Share those videos and news stories (though be careful of falsehoods, there is a lot of disinformation out there, as well), put the Ukrainian flag on your profile pic, if you can - contact your representative and tell them you care, or go demonstrate in front of the Russian embassy or consulate in your country/city. Keep up the pressure, show the people in power that you care. I am not sure if I believe in the power of prayer or good thoughts, but it certainly can't hurt, so keep those brave men and women fighting for their freedom in your prayers and thoughts.

Thank you.

Slava Ukraini!

Chapter 14, part 1.

The young captain from the Press Office called Alice on Friday to let her know that they've authorized her interview and that the article would go to print on Monday. Alice picked up an issue on her way to work that morning, and closed herself in her lab to read it through.

She had to give it to Sandra: it was a great piece of writing. Well-researched, accurate, with good flow. She was a little less pleased with Sandra's choices of quotes from Alice's interview; she disregarded all of Alice's attempts at being diplomatic and instead put in only words that made it sound worse than what Alice actually meant. When she spoke of examples of sexual harassment, she had mentioned that it wasn't that different from other predominantly male environments—but that remark did not appear in print; instead, Sandra focused on the more gross examples Alice gave related to unwanted touching. But, at least, a lot of Alice's rant about changing the culture in the military made it through, as well as some other notes. The article mentioned the trial as well, and there was a nice little appeal to all women to come forward with their accusations, punctuated by a quote from Alice about how it was her responsibility to report sexual assault. More than anything, Alice was glad that Sandra stuck to their deal: she identified Alice with a fake name and only mentioned the points they had discussed as allowed ('Victoria Smith, a 30-year old major in the Air Force, with a slew of decorations to her name, including a Bronze Star for valor in combat…'). Those who knew Alice could probably tell it was supposed to be her, but anyone else would have a right difficult time to trace it to her.

Her assumption was confirmed multiple times during the day; apparently, half the SGC was reading the Gazette, as people kept coming up to her to congratulate her on a great article. For Alice, these discussions were rather uncomfortable and awkward, but at least it proved that there was a chance her words of encouragement could really reach the right people—the women contemplating coming forward with more accusations.

Even Carter made a comment on the article.

"You could've been a tiny bit more positive about the Armed Forces there," she noted after congratulating Alice on it first.

"I was, but Sandra decided to put only the worst examples in print," Alice explained, shaking her head, miffed.

"Of course she did. Well, tomorrow it will be all cleared up." Carter shrugged.

Alice frowned. "What do you mean, ma'am?"

"You didn't see? On the first page, where they merely mention the article, they promised to print the entire interview tomorrow." The general tapped on the paper sitting on the table.

"What?" Alice grabbed it and read the first page headline. "Damn it! That wasn't the deal."

"Well, the Press Office authorized it, and the newspaper can do with the interview what they want. I think it might actually be a good thing—at least it will smooth over some feathers up top that might have been ruffled with the article otherwise."

"Maybe. I just hope the journalist will still keep to our deal," Alice mumbled, upset.

And, the next day, it turned out that she did. Most of the interview was printed verbatim, but in several places the journalist put three dots instead of what Alice actually said. She didn't put in any of the background information Alice had shared with her, and any time Alice had said I can't talk about it, the whole section was cut. Alice was grateful for that.

The interview made even more of an impact; fewer people came to talk about it to her, but she could see their eyes following her at the commissary and in the corridors of the base. It was mostly women who chatted her up now.

"God, I remember those times," Hailey said that afternoon, having stopped at Alice's lab. "PT at the Academy, in pouring rain, our uniforms sticking to our skin, and the instructor just staring at our boobs and asses, not even trying to hide." She shook her head. "Or that time our squadron mates decided it would be fun to break into our locker room while we were taking a shower and steal all our uniforms, so we had to parade through the corridors in nothing but towels…"

"The Academy sounds like a lovely place," Alice commented with heavy sarcasm. "At least the OTS was short. Though it was little better at the flight school," she admitted.

"I was lucky to get to the SGC very quickly after graduating the Academy," Hailey noted. "That's not to say there haven't been a few jerks here, or at the Area 51, but overall, it's really quite okay."

"Yeah." Alice looked up at the ceiling. "I miss Atlantis," she mumbled as an afterthought.

"I've never been there. I'm kinda jealous you've had this opportunity," Hailey said with a bright smile. "Must have been amazing to be there."

"It was," Alice acknowledged. "Though it wasn't without its challenges."

"The Wraith are scary," Hailey agreed. "And that Jareth gives me serious creeps. What he can do, you know—I can't quite imagine how awful it must be, feeling like your own mind is escaping you. With the Goa'uld at least you were still there, unable to stop them from using your body, which is horrifying enough, but at least you were all there, you know? But that mind-bending fuckery Jareth does is the next level. It must be real scary, to feel your mind slipping away from you…"

Alice shivered, remembering the force of command reverberating in her bones when Jareth first tried his mind-bending fuckery on her. The way it felt when all of her mind and body wanted to comply when he tried the second time, after she'd been in the dungeon for days…

"I can only guess how it feels to yield to him," she answered after a heartbeat. "Though I imagine it's not truly unpleasant. His will is so strong that resisting is physically painful—I'd imagine complying would actually give a sense of relief. Like giving in to the current—if you try to swim against it, it's gonna be hard, but as soon as you stop struggling, it'll take you away smoothly."

Hailey shuddered. "I don't know, Alice. Losing my mind sounds like the worst nightmare. I'd rather be dead."

Alice understood that sentiment well. How many times had she waken up, sweating and terrified, from a dream in which she was slipping into the horror of delusions? She's always lived with the shadow of doubt on her shoulder, the insidious fear that kept whispering that she'd be just like her mom, that schizophrenia was as inexorable as death. Consciously, she knew that having one parent afflicted with the disease only marginally increased her chances of getting it, but it was very difficult to stop the subconscious from being terrified of it anyway. And the fact that she was now the right age for typical onset did not help. Everything that's happened to her—that was still happening to her, it served only to increase that fear; constant stress and mental breakdowns were often factors that precipitated an attack.

She shook her head, as much to clear it of the dark musings as to contradict Hailey. "We have the cure for what Jareth does. It's not a choice between being bent or dead."

"Yeah, thanks to you," the other major acknowledged. "You know, I'm really glad you're here. There's truly no one who knows him as well as you do."

"Now if only I could find him!" Alice sighed.

"You think this plan of yours is gonna work?"

"It has to. It's the only plan I have at the moment."

"Well, for what it's worth, I think it's crazy," Hailey opined, getting up from the chair she'd been sitting in. "But you might just pull it off—and I don't think anyone else could."

"Thanks?" Alice wasn't sure if that was an actual compliment.

"Sure thing. I'll leave you to it—take care."

"You too, Jennifer."

Alice watched Hailey walk away, wondering if the talk they'd just had meant they were becoming friends. They had worked together a few times over the past few weeks, and Alice knew the other officer was brilliant—but sometimes she rubbed her the wrong way. Hailey was often a bit too blunt for Alice's taste, though it also might have been just because she didn't always agree with her; and while Alice respected her opinions on science, Hailey wasn't beyond commenting on other things, too. Like that time she'd told Alice she'd gone too far with Rennel. Alice had to admit it still smarted.

Her musings were interrupted by the sound of the first notes of the main theme from Superman, her ringtone for Jake. She picked up the phone and touched the green receiver, putting it immediately on speakerphone.

"Hey, Jake! Has something happened? Why are you calling so early?"

"It's six PM, Allie, normal people go home at this hour," he quipped.

"Oh." She didn't actually notice the time passing. "Alright, whatever, then. How are you?"

"I'm fine. Listen, I'm calling because—well, I read an interesting article yesterday, in the online issue of the Gazette. And there was an interview today, and I gotta ask…" He said, but didn't actually ask anything.

Alice sighed. "Yeah, that was me."

"Fuck, Alice. Why didn't you say anything?" He demanded, sounding angry.

"About what?"

"Any of this. Assault? Court-martial? Fuck, we've been talking every other day since I've been home and you've never even mentioned any of this shit!"

He was exaggerating on how often they talked, but not by much. Nevertheless, she found his ire a bit annoying. "I didn't feel like talking about this."

"Allie!" He protested. "You didn't want to talk about this to me—but you could do it to a reporter?" He sounded hurt now, and she immediately regretted her cold reply.

"It had just happened a few days before you got hurt. I was still… processing it, and then I didn't want you to worry about it and—"

"Allie," he said with censure in his voice. "You don't need to worry about my mental state. I don't want any secrets between us. I could've helped—supported you somehow… Or find that motherfucker and kill him on the spot."

She smiled despite the anxiety the whole conversation was generating for her. "You sound like Aaron."

She heard him expel his breath loudly. "You told him but not me?"

She bit her tongue belatedly. "It was after that big showdown at Ike's birthday… I just wanted to mend some fences. I didn't exclude you on purpose. It just… it never came up."

"Yeah, right."

She sighed again. He didn't sound convinced. But talking about personal stuff like this was difficult for Alice, especially with Jake. She didn't know why; they used to never keep secrets from each other. Maybe because it made her feel weak, and somehow admitting that to strangers was easier than to the people closest to her. They'd always seen her be strong, go the extra mile, defy expectations; to destroy that perception by admitting how vulnerable she truly was seemed both callous and alarming. Somehow, wearing a mask all the time seemed easier than disappointing them.

Jake took a deep breath, audible through the phone's speakers, and when he spoke, it was clear he was making an effort to sound less resentful. "And how are you feeling about it all now? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she reassured him. She'd told that lie so often lately that she was beginning to believe it. "I'm glad it's all behind me now."

"I hope you're right. You know, this interview you gave is pretty explosive," he cautioned. "I know it was given anonymously, but I assume the Air Force knew of it before it went to print?"

"Yeah, the Press Office authorized it." She frowned. Was it really that bad? She really tried to be diplomatic in her answers…

"Really?" He whistled. "Well, good for you. Any heat will now go onto them."

"Heat? You really think there might be problems?"

"There are gonna be a lot of people high up the chain that ain't gonna like it," he warned seriously. "You know how it is. The DoD is already scrambling with image issues following the Lackland case, and that documentary released at the beginning of the year; it's not really a good time to be pouring gasoline on the fire."

"That wasn't what I did," Alice protested angrily. "That journalist would've written about the court-martial anyway, it was open to the public."

"Why?" He sounded a bit shocked.

"I asked for it. I wanted the news to get to other women Cho might have victimized—and it worked, even better than expected—three more women came out with accusations against Cho, and two more against one other Army officer at Fort Carson."

"That's—noble of you," he admitted, a bit grudgingly, she thought. "I wish you thought more of yourself, though. I really do hope that this thing won't come down at you."

She didn't reply right away, considering. "Even if it does, it was the right thing to do."

"I know. Just because I'm worried doesn't mean I'm not proud of you, too," he said simply.

She felt a little choked up, hearing the praise, and didn't respond.

He waited for almost a minute for her to speak, then sighed and finally decided to break the silence himself. "Alright. New subject: do you think Cicada's too fancy for a first date?"

"Uh…" Alice felt a little blindsided by the question. "Depends on the date, I guess. If it's someone new in the city, why not, but perhaps not necessarily an L.A. native… unless you really wanna impress them, I guess, but it could come off as a little too much." She held her tongue on the obvious question, though her curiosity was cranked all the way up.

"I thought so." He let out a frustrated breath. "I'm struggling a little with finding the right place. Any advice?"

"I'm not exactly the right person to ask, I'm afraid. I know very little about L.A.'s fine dining scene. Why not ask Aaron? I'm sure he'll have all the latest info."

"That's a good idea," he agreed eagerly. "Thanks."

Alice bit her lip and then decided she could not hold off any longer. "So who…?"

"I wondered if you'd have the balls to ask," he laughed. "His name's Oliver. He's a paramedic at the hospital where I'm getting my checkups."

"A paramedic?" Alice repeated, her eyebrows arching up even though he couldn't see.

"I know, okay? Apparently I have a type." He sounded amused and exasperated at the same time. Robert, his long-term boyfriend who had been killed in the line of duty two years ago, had been a member of the SG-15—a medical unit.

"What's he like?" She asked, feeling as if she was prying, but unable to restrain her curiosity. Jake had never talked to her about his relationships—if he had any before Robert, he had hidden them well. And Alice had had to guess that there had been anything more than friendship between him and Robert—and he hadn't really confirmed it until after Robert's death.

"Tiny," he replied; she could hear a smile in his voice. "He's like 5'7", 5'8" at the most."

Alice shook her head, amused; only for someone who was 6'2" a 5'8" man could seem tiny.

"He's got light brown hair and blue eyes," Jake continued earnestly. "Kinda hot."

"Kinda?"

"He's more of an Andrew Garfield rather than Ryan Gosling, if you catch my drift."

Neither of these names told Alice anything, but she understood the implication. "So you think he's cute but not necessarily handsome?"

"Oh, he's handsome alright, just not like a supernova handsome. Still very easy on the eyes, though." He paused for a moment, and then added, a little reluctantly: "And he's cute, too."

"What about his character?"

"I don't really know yet, we haven't yet been on a date," he reminded her. "We've chatted for like five minutes, that's all."

Alice wondered how, with that little conversation, one made a jump to I wanna go on a date with you—especially when, statistically speaking, the chances of that person also being gay were not very big. Alice herself had been on a few dates, but never with a perfect stranger—it had always been either an old friend, like in the case of Stephen Foster, or someone she worked or studied with, like Anthony, Jude or Peter. And it was always the guys asking her out, she was usually too preoccupied with work to think about romance—and so it surprised her when they did. The only exception was Karim, but she couldn't really characterize her confession as asking him out, nor that first night together as a date…

"Who asked out whom?" She inquired as a result of her own musings.

"I did," he huffed almost indignantly. "Though I have to admit it wasn't very easy. I thought I felt a vibe coming from him, but I guess I'm a little rusty at the game—he didn't have any qualms to show himself, though. In some ways he seems much more confident than I am—well, he's fully out of the closet, for starters…"

She hesitated before deciding not to ask the question she had at the tip of her tongue. Who else knows about you? Alice and Aaron had guessed and then had the confirmation when they had caught up to Jake at Robert's funeral. But did anyone else know? Did mom?

"Well, I think that's wonderful, Jake," she professed with a big smile on her face. "I'm sorry I can't give you any advice on date-worthy restaurants; but I do hope you have lots of fun, wherever you end up."

"Thanks, sis." He sounded genuinely pleased. "It's good to be able to talk about it, you know—even if it feels a little silly…"

"Nothing silly about it," she assured him. "I'm so glad that you—" She stopped herself, not sure how to phrase it.

He understood. "Yeah. It's not like it doesn't still hurt, but—I don't know. I think it's time." He paused for a heartbeat, and then added: "It feels a little like a betrayal, but I'm trying not to think of it like this. Robert would want me to move on."

Alice was getting choked up a little again; both from compassion for her brother's loss, and for the parallel with her own. At the moment, the mere thought of ever being with anyone else felt like cheating, an impossibility. But then again, their circumstances were a bit different; Jake hadn't seen the way his whole life would've played out if things had been otherwise—he hadn't met one of the children he'd have if he hadn't screwed up…

"I'm sure he'd want you to be happy," she agreed, her voice a little thick.

"Yeah."

For a short moment, they were both silent, and then Jake sighed.

"Alright, Allie. Thanks for the talk. I'll call Aaron now. And…" He hesitated. "Just—in the future, please, please let me know when something like this happens to you again… or anything, really. I'm here for you, sis."

"I know, Jake. I'm sorry," she said; she really did feel sorry. She didn't promise anything, though.

"Alright, bye, sis."

"Bye, Jake."

The line went dead and the phone lit up for a second before fading to black.