ALTERNITY, PART 3

Cascade, Washington

Knowing that he was insane, Jim decided bitterly, was absolutely no help at all in stopping himself from *acting* insane. It didn't even help knowing that he had a valid reason for behaving as if a few cards missing from his personal deck. He still uselessly, ridiculously prowled around the loft, double-checking all the barricades and locks, ignoring the worried looks his partner keep shooting his way. At least Blair hadn't objected to his constant presence or tried to talk him through his madness, but let him be with it.

Of course, that could be because Sandburg was sharing his lunacy, at least in part. There was no denying the very real physical pain that had randomly attacked them for the past few days. Thankfully, none of his episodes nor any of Blair's had done any physical harm, though his last had been severe enough to leave him wasted for hours. More importantly, there hadn't been another 'long distance rape scene,' as Blair had described that particular assault.

That Jim could almost wish for. Though he wouldn't let Blair sleep alone, he hadn't been able to relax his vigilance well enough to be able to make love with him again; despite being horny as hell simply because they had, and because it had been beyond incredible, and because they would again. If he could ever get rid of the clawing, gnawing sense of imminent danger that seemed to grow larger and closer with each passing minute.

At times, he thought Blair sensed it, too. Not once did he protest Jim's constant invasion of his personal space or the myriad of small touches and caresses. At times, Blair was even the one to do the invading, coming up behind Jim to wrap arms around his waist or to simply lean into him for a few heartbeats. It was strangely reassuring, and all that kept Jim from going off the deep end and screaming his rage and challenge to their unseen foe.

Just when he thought he would finally lose it and vent some of the immense pressure in a senseless act of violence, a feeling of overwhelming fear, as if standing in the path of a tornado and having no retreat, slammed into him. Without conscious thought he grabbed his partner by the upper arm and hustled him into the small bedroom, up-ending the futon and putting it in front of the door. A moment later, the desk was over-turned and blocking the corner nearest the fire-escape window, allowing Jim a clear shot at anyone coming through it but leaving it as a viable exit.

Through it all Blair watched wide-eyed, hefting a baseball bat that he'd snatched up on their way into the room. It wasn't until Jim pushed him into the corner and sat down in front of him, weapon up and ready that Blair dug in his heels. "No, no, you are not going to shield me. Back to back, Ellison! Do you hear me! Back to back, watching out for each other!"

Jim snarled and wouldn't budge, despite a hard punch to his back and a muttered, "Thick-headed, arrogant...."

Whatever else Blair had to say was lost as the tornado struck, not with devastating pain or fear or destruction, but with a pleasure too vast to be described by that feeble word. More intense than any orgasm, too consuming to be survived, it wiped out awareness of anything but itself. Then, as abruptly as it had descended, it was gone, but not the changes it had wrought.

When he dropped back into self-awareness, Jim found himself crouched on his knees and elbows, head hanging to the floor and his belly wet with his own seed. Blair was behind him, one hand painfully tight on his hip, the other scrabbling at his waistband in an attempt to get his pants out of the way for the hard-on grinding frantically at Jim's backside. Clumsily Jim succeeded in getting them down, but it was a moment too late. With an incoherent shout, Blair shoved against him hard enough for Jim to feel the pulses of his release.

Then Blair dropped on top of him like a dead weight, shaking violently and whispering his name over and over. Since it didn't seem like his lover was going to be able to move on his own any time soon, Jim carefully, slowly straightened himself out until he was laying on his stomach, Blair still resting on his back. Half afraid his partner would take it as a sign he was too heavy, Jim awkwardly reached back to hang onto a trembling thigh to hold him in place. In answer, Blair tunneled one hand under Jim's shoulder, fingers digging into his shirt tightly enough to tear the fabric.

They stayed like that until both were breathing normally again, then Blair murmured into the hollow between Jim's shoulder blades, "Is it always like that? Your senses, I mean? Bang! Out of nowhere, trying to stand up in a hurricane?"

"Not all the time," Jim said sleepily, remotely surprised he *was* sleepy. "Just when stuff gets weird."

"God, Jim, why are you still sane?" Blair sounded sincerely amazed and curious.

"Am I? And don't tell me that if I can worry about it, I still am."

To his credit, Blair thought about it before answering, "You're asking because of what's happening right now?" At Jim's affirmative grunt, he said thoughtfully, "There was a genuine, valid reason the last time you went strange on me. If I had thought that then, maybe Alex Barnes wouldn't have been able to do so much damage."

"You can't shoulder the blame for that one, Chief. Her wiring might have been all wrong, but she was closer to her instincts than I'll ever be. In some ways, she was a more pure sentinel because she didn't fight what her intuition told her."

Sounding far more alert that Jim felt, Blair objected, "Yeah, but..."

"That's right, yeah, but," Jim interrupted. "She blew into town and knew right away I was here and that it didn't mean any good for her. So she set out to do the one thing that could damage me most; peel you away, though she probably had no idea why it would work.”

Sandburg went from completely sated and boneless to bunched up guilt and frustration in zero flat, but before he could retreat, Jim hurriedly clarified. "It's not like you knew what she was up to, or that you had any reason not to take her at face value when she took you on."

"Jim, meeting her was a pure accident, literally," Blair protested.

"Was it? You mean to tell me that a known criminal, a convicted felon with plans to steal lethal gas, meekly allowed herself to be taken into a police department because of a bump on the head? Hell, the car she was driving wasn't even registered to her; she should have been gone before the first black and white unit showed up."

As Jim had talked, the body on him had gradually returned to its former melted state, and Blair spoke into his back again, as if enjoying the feel of the words vibrating in the skin there. "Knew there was danger... would have translated it to 'cop' because of what she had in mind... safe way to scope out the enemy... bait was talking about the sensory spike... shit.shit.shit.shit."

Blair was deathly quiet for a moment, then asked, "Jim, do you think it’s possible that what's happening now is being caused by another sentinel?"

"There's not one here in Cascade," Jim said promptly, willing to swear to that, though he couldn't explain why.

"That doesn't mean there isn't one behind these attacks," Blair prodded gingerly.

"I... I...." Jim trailed off uncertainly, not sure what to say.

"Okay, wrong tact." Blair thought again, then asked, "Jim, do you sense another sentinel?"

"Yes." That popped out without him consciously deciding on the answer.

"But he/she is not in town, not in your territory," Blair said reflectively. "Could this be some tactic to drive you out of Cascade? That could explain why you've dug in, fortified your home, instead of going out prowling."

"There's some sense to that," Jim agreed, turning the thought over in his mind. "The odd thing is, the attacks don't feel deliberate. It's more as if... as if...." He fumbled, trying to find a way to explain, getting irritated when he couldn't pin a describing word on the elusive thing flitting at the edge of his awareness. Frustrated, he flexed his shoulders to warn Blair he was moving, then slowly sat up. "Never mind."

Though he sat back on his heels, hand on the small of Jim's back to maintain contact, Blair didn't let their conversation go. "Maybe like we're being caught in a crossfire?" he suggested.

"You mean someone is going after this unknown sentinel the way Alex went after me?" he asked skeptically. "It would explain getting hit by the sex thing," Jim grudgingly added.

"That's what it was like; getting hit with it?" Blair asked curiously.

"Ever seen big cats - not lions, but tigers and jaguars - mate?" Jim asked absently, stripping off his shirt and trying to clean up the mess on his front with it. "The female entices the male out his territory by leaving scent markers for him that override his instinct to remain where he belongs. Then, when he does, she damn near tries to kill him because he's invaded *her* turf. Might ensure strong kits, but it's hell on the males."

"Give it up and take a shower," Blair advised, smirking slightly, but helping mop up the worst of the semen on Jim's back. "Yeah, that sounds pretty close to what she did. Beats me how you held off if it was as consuming as mating drives are supposed to be."

"She tried to use me to kill you. Again." Jim spat out the words. "Took too goddamned long for me to push down my instincts long enough to stop her, but I did and in time. God. And I'm supposed to trust them." He hung his head, rubbing at his eyes, seeing that whole slow-motion disaster in his mind's eye for the millionth time.

Needing to change the subject, Jim said curtly, "So we've gone from not knowing what's up to guessing there are *two* more sentinels out there dueling for territory, supremacy, mating rights, whatever?"

"Hey, it's a theory, at least," Blair said with an abrupt flare of anger, standing as he did. "Better than just crawling into a hole and pulling the dirt in after me."

Glad he was too tired to flare back, or maybe just seeing clearly that this was his partner's way of expressing the tension and frustration of the past forty-eight hours, Jim looked up at him said calmly, "Better than crawling into bed and seeing if we can't do better than coming in our pants for a change?"

That completely derailed Blair for a second. "You're not going to keep guarding?"

Shaking his head, Jim admitted, "I don't need to right now; the nagging is low-key, distant. Everything's telling me now's a good time to rest." He paused to grin crookedly. "Or something."

"Fight or flight sublimated into good, old-fashioned sex," Blair said thoughtfully,

then yanked his shirts off over his head in a wad. "Works for me."

"I thought it might."

* * *

Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado

Feeling very much as if he were sitting in the eye of a hurricane, Daniel settled himself gingerly on the edge of Teal'c's bed, taking his lover's hand in his, shielding the action with his body from watching cameras. Though Teal'c was in kal-no-ree, Daniel was sure that he was aware of him on at some level, and even if he wasn't, it was still good to hold that powerful hand, feel the heat and pulse of life in it. There was a serenity in that, in being in the night-hushed infirmary, and he was fairly sure that it was all the peace that could be found in SGC this night.

Jack was one walking rage, wanting to do something, *anything* to the Tok'ra that had been so afraid of losing their supremacy over the Tah'ree that they robbed Earth of the first, real, honest advantage they'd had since they ran into the Ga'ould. Sam was quieter, grieving, as if for the first time she understood that she had lost the father she remembered, and all that was left were the fragments strong enough to survive Selmak's corrupting influence. Before Teal'c had obeyed doctor's orders and rested, he had been tense with anger at himself for failing in his duty to protect their new teammates. Even Dr. Fraiser had been hard on herself, berating herself over and over for not doing more tests on the trizatas injury, or, at least, asking more questions.

Worst of all, Hammond was beset by presidential disappointment on one hand, and by a concentrated effort by Maybourne's allies on the other to have Jim and Blair removed from Cheyenne Mountain. So far, he had been able to stave off the latter by insinuating, backed up by statements in the official reports, that neither Colonel Ellison nor Dr. Sandburg would cooperate with anyone else. Jack had given that ploy teeth by pointing out that SG1 had already been given information and training by their visitors—and that each and every one of them would go to the brig before sharing it if Ellison or Sandburg were taken away from Fraiser's expert care.

Daniel had no doubt that SG1 would go to jail if necessary, though none of them knew anything of particular value. Strictly speaking, though, it was the truth, but that particular truth was in the subtext of what they had been told over the past few days. Everyone had been so focused on the technology, the *tools* promised by an advanced earth, that they hadn't paid attention to the *culture* underlying those advances.

Except him; he'd been sure from the first that he was missing something, that there was a silent language underneath the actual words used when Jim and Blair spoke about what they had to give. Daniel had had too little time and too few clues to interpret it, much to his frustration. It wasn't until he had seen the Gate blocked by what could only be called an act of will, until he had seen the bracelets fuse together as the partners fell, that he realized that he had his Rosetta Stone.

Unwillingly, but with the sense of calm staying with him, Daniel left Teal'c's side to stand by Blair's bed, which might as well have been Jim and Blair's bed, despite the fact that officially, Jim had his own. But with their wrists linked by the unbreakable nacquada, Fraiser had had no choice but to push the two of them close together and work around that. In the end she'd had to place Jim on his handcuffed side, letting him curl his free hand onto his mate's shoulder, IV needle in the back of it not withstanding. Blair was on his back, one leg pressed close against his spouse's, and the only movement he made besides the slow rise and fall of his chest was to put his leg back if it were moved away from contact with Jim.

Jim didn't have that much self-awareness. Mercifully, he was in a coma, far beyond what had to be unbearable agony as the tissues of his back slowly dissolved, the damage working inward toward his vital organs. According to Fraiser, there was nothing wrong with Blair except exhaustion and malnutrition, but he was unconscious despite that, vitals slowly dropping. Though she hadn't wanted to make the diagnosis, she had to admit it looked as though Blair was dying only because his mate was.

SG1 didn't doubt for a minute that was exactly what was happening.

But Daniel didn't think anyone besides him knew *how* it was happening. Hesitantly he reached across Blair to stroke a fingertip over the tarnished surface of the bands, which had only the barest glimmers of pure metal left. In his mind, he heard the introductions Jim had made a seeming eternity ago.

//PhDs in Anthropology and Psychology, not a physician,// Blair had said. But he'd also said that he'd been part of SG1 with their Daniel and Jack. Why would they need *two* civilian anthropologists on a single team? Daniel's specialty might be language, but that didn't usually take so much of his time that he couldn't function as team anthropologist, too. So what did Blair do for his SG1?

//We're out of time; nothing to do now but pray the soil is fertile,// Daniel had over-heard him say. On the surface that had sounded like Blair was referring to the accumulative effect of the temporal distortion, and the hope that they'd be able to convince the people of this Earth that he and his mate were sincere in wanting to help. But Hammond had already committed to cooperating with their unexpected visitors, they only needed to work out the details. And Blair knew then that Jim's injury was fatal. It had to be something else entirely that they were hoping would germinate.

"Higher cerebral functions as opposed to autonomic and instinctive. Emphasizing the human aspects, mind versus brain," Daniel murmured silently to himself, recalling his conversation with Blair before the first lesson on how to use the ribbon device. "Marrying hard science with that, to make leaps of developmental progress. *Developmental* progress. Human development. Each of them knowing when the other was hit with a temporal distortion, absorbing some of the effect, Blair's hands floating over his partner after one, as if feeling out how much strength he had, insisting on giving me the lessons, manipulating Jack to do it....”

On impulse, Daniel closed his fingers over the fused bracelets, and focused the way Blair had taught him, sending the energy he summoned into the changed nacquada. Gathering all his admiration for the two men, all the respect, all the grief at losing friends he’d hardly had a chance to know, he poured everything he felt into that surge of power. And was rewarded with Blair’s eyes slowly opening, though the machinery around them showed no change in his vitals at all.

They stared at each other for a moment, the barest of smiles on the bed-ridden man’s face. Then Blair glanced up at where the security camera was, then back to Daniel. Understanding that having anyone realize one of the patients had regained consciousness was probably not a good idea, Daniel bent over bed, as if plumping up a pillow and straightening out an IV line.

“Knew you’d get it,” Blair whispered, the sound barely a thread of moving air.

“Not fast enough. You’re not strong enough to teach me the rest, are you?” Afraid of remaining close for a suspiciously long time, Daniel ducked his head, hoping it looked like he was praying.

“No.” As faint as it been, Blair’s voice grew even softer, and his eyes slid shut again. “Get the other Sandburg,” he ordered gently. “He’s untrained, but he’s aware; we can work with that.”

“Hold on.” There was a faint nod of agreement, then Daniel felt the other man’s awareness fade. He waited a moment longer, gave a last touch to Jim's head, as if in farewell but really in order to slip out the earring the man wore. Sighing deeply, his sorrow very genuine, Daniel went back to Teal’c’s bed. For a long moment he clutched his lover’s upper arm, trying to communicate his heart to him, then left, moving as fast as he could.

Not sure if the wrong people were watching, not willing to take the chance, he went back to his own office, to all appearances going back to work. Under cover of checking a comparison on an artifact, he called up articles written on the Chopec, hoping that if anyone were monitoring his Internet usage, they wouldn't get the connection quickly enough. As he'd hoped, that search was enough to find links to lead him to the papers published by Blair Sandburg, which gave him a location: Rainier University, Cascade, Washington. Daniel wasn't really surprised to find he lived in the same city as the Jim Ellison he'd met, and, thinking a cop might make the news occasionally, he called up back issues of the Cascade papers to make sure Ellison was still there.

Downloading them to a CD without reading, he kept up the facade of working until he'd buried those inquiries under a dozen other truly valid searches. Then looking as distracted as possible, but half-deafened by his pounding heart, he took out the CD, scooped up his laptop, and left, coming back in a second later to pick up ribbon device as if he'd just thought of it. Half way to the weapons locker, he backtracked to Sam's office, jiggling the device once or twice, hoping to give the impression of reconsidering what to do it with.

She wasn't working—not that he had expected her to be. Instead, she was pacing around the small space, hands methodically dismantling into small pieces something that looked intricate and scientific and valuable. "Something wrong?" she asked, without looking at him.

"Everything," Daniel answered honestly. That got him a sharp look, but he didn't have anything to add to it that his eyes couldn't say for him more succinctly.

Apparently reading the sympathy and determination he knew was clear there, Sam smiled fractionally. "Maybe I should rephrase that. Is there something I can give you a hand with?"

Looking down at the ribbon device, Daniel bounced it so that the metal chimed discordantly. "Forgot to return this to the weapon's locker, and then on the way there, I got to thinking that it might be possible to make the same change to a staff weapon that we made to this so that only humans can use it." Before she could point out that it was two different types of armaments entirely, he added, "I know that you weren't present when Jim altered it, but he was teaching Teal'c to do it. Maybe you could take this and a staff into the infirmary and have him talk you through it."

Holding her hand in one of his, he placed the ribbon device in her palm and sent a feeling of intense danger to her, again letting his expression speak for him. The rising of her eyebrows told him she picked up on the silent warning, however subliminally. "How is Teal'c doing?" she asked slowly, checking out the security camera in her office from the corner of an eye.

"More than likely completely healed and waiting stoically for Janet to let him go, which she won't until she's convinced the bullet hole in his leg is healing right. He'd probably appreciate the diversion." Daniel waited expectedly, trying to keep his face and tone bland for the audience, and willing her to read his subtext.

"I could use one myself; I'm thinking too hard about the wrong things," she said, not without some self-derision. She walked out the door, Daniel following willingly. "Is there any change to the power mechanism that you know of?" she asked, plainly asking for the sake of potential listeners.

"Not that I saw, but Blair and I worked more on the application than the construction," Daniel answered honestly. Between the two of them they managed to keep up a conversation that sounded on the surface like a discussion on the two weapons, but was in truth, pure nonsense, like comparing medicine to ballistics.

At the first blank spot in the security coverage, Daniel whispered hastily, "Don't let anybody take them away while they're still alive, no matter what. Blair's defense shield was left with his other things in the infirmary; use it. I'll be back before they die, I promise."

"Daniel...." There was a world of worry and questions in the word, but Sam limited herself to that one, giving him a quick hug. "Take Jack with you."

"I planned on it." They were back into camera range, and he said, "Want me to brief the colonel or would you rather do it?"

"Your turn," Sam said, grinning. "You're the linguist. Go translate."

"Oh, joy. Thank you, Major Doctor." He grinned back, and took the turn for Jack's office while she continued on to the weapons locker for a staff.

If Hammond's people still had the base in hand, there wouldn't be any problems at all while he was gone, but Daniel didn't want to bank on that. No one would question Sam taking a staff to Teal'c, or staying in the infirmary with him. If there were traitors, or just officers who were waiting to see how things stood if the President withdrew his support from the general, then they might be suspicious, but not have any grounds to move. It wasn't much protection for Jim and Blair, Daniel knew, but hopefully, it wouldn't be necessary at all.

He caught Jack on his way out of his quarters, and from the fierce glower on his friend's face, he was probably keeping O'Neill out of the brig by giving him something constructive to do. Daniel grabbed him by the arm, all but dragging him to the nearest alcove where they could barely be seen and not heard at all, and said, "I need to talk to you."

"Hey!" Jack protested half-heartedly, not trying to get away.

"We need to get off the base without being stopped or anybody finding out where we're going," Daniel said urgently, trying to make it look as if he and Jack were arguing about something.

Truly angry, but not at Daniel yet, Jack snapped, "Why?"

"Do you want them to come all this way, try so hard to succeed in their mission, then fail because of the Tok'ra?"

All emotion faded from O'Neill's face, leaving behind only the mask of a covert op solider. "Tell me you have an idea, Danny. Please."

"I have an idea. But first, I've got to get off and back on the base without being stopped or missed. Can you help me with that?" Fighting the urge to glance guiltily up and down the hallway, Daniel waited patiently for his commander to make up his mind.

Finally, Jack smiled his quirky, cocky, 'oh yeah,' smile. "I've always wanted to see if I could break out of this place." It was his turn to take Daniel by the arm and lead him down the hall.

Blinking, Daniel pointed out quietly, "You did that once. I was with you. Remember?"

"Doesn't count; it wasn't really me."

"Well, technically speaking," Daniel started to argue, just for argument's sake, but he was smiling and more than willing for Jack to take command.

All in all, it took less than an hour to get out of Cheyenne Mountain, and was done so easily that Daniel couldn't help but wonder if his friend had spent a restless night or two working on an escape plan just for fun. Or maybe it was part of the covert operative mind set to always have sneaky ways out of top security sites. Either way, Jack commandeered a chopper without a question from the deck officer on the simple grounds that all qualified pilots were expected to maintain their air hours.

The long-ranged chopper he picked was built for a co-pilot, but didn't really only need one to fly it, and Daniel spent the time winging toward Cascade reading the material he'd downloaded. By the time they were ready to land, his 'translation' of the Colonel James Ellison and Dr. Blair Sandburg back at SGC was complete, leaving Daniel astounded at what he'd learned. Slowly, he shut down the laptop and destroyed the CD, thinking fast and furious all the while.

When he and Jack were on their way into Cascade in a borrowed jeep, Daniel said firmly, "This Jim and Blair have to come willingly, Jack. No threats, no coercion, no 'recalling to service.' Or what I have in mind won't work."

"You still haven't told me why we're coming after them," Jack complained. "They're not the ones who've lived through fifty years of fighting Ga'ould. Or are you thinking maybe you can convince Dr. Sandburg to stay alive for the sake of this Jim Ellison? We'd still lose the keys to his brain. Granted, the kinds of things he just tosses off in casual conversation has all our big IQ people running around in circles and howling, but still."

"I'm hoping everybody else is thinking the way you are and haven't even bothered to find out where they are." //Otherwise we might be doing a great deal of harm to two people who've already been through enough,// Daniel thought to himself. "It's hard to explain; you're just going to have to trust me on this one."

Picking up his sunglasses so he could stare with impact, Jack conceded, "I guess I owe you a few of those. Just be careful when you call them in."

Shaking his head, turning to watch the mountainous scenery roll past, Daniel said, "No, no you don't owe me. I don't want you to have this invisible tally going on where you give in to me on an issue because you feel you have to in order to keep the books balanced. The team works because we all bring different things to it, and maybe I argue with you more than I should - in public, Jack, in public -but when you listen to me it should be because you think I'm right."

"That's usually why I get pissed," Jack admitted, shocking him into whipping his head around to gawk at him. "You being right, I mean. Don't stop being the voice of reason, Daniel. Sometimes military types forget that weapons aren't the only method to accomplish the mission. Me included."

"Well... most of the time...you don't call in the military until it's time for shooting," Daniel had to concede. "Not as if I haven't used a bullet to make my point, once in a while, either."

"True, true," Jack agreed. They exchanged a grin, and Daniel put his head back on the seat, soaking up the early morning sunshine and trying to decide how to approach this Blair Sandburg.

When they pulled up in front of the building on Prospect Street that was listed in the phone book as home for Ellison & Sandburg, Daniel was no closer to a solution for that particular problem. Even when his knuckles hit the door for the first knock, he had no idea what he was going to say. A snarled, "Who is it?" came through the wood, and he automatically answered, "Dr. Daniel Jackson, Captain Ellison. Could I speak with you for a minute?"

There was a long silence; enough of a one that Daniel was about to rap again when the door opened a foot or two. The man who filled the opening was clearly one suffering from exhaustion and pain, on his feet through pure stubbornness. Red rimmed both vivid blue eyes, and there were deep lines of pain etched around the tightly held lips. "Dr. Jackson, this isn't a good time to be dredging up the past," Ellison said bluntly.

Daniel could see Blair Sandburg standing uneasily just behind his companion, looking as if he'd rather be glued to Jim's side, telling the linguist everything he needed to know about their personal relationship. He opened his mouth to apologize for intruding on the pair, but what came out instead in Quencha was, "The other sentinel sent me."

Instantly, Jim started to bring up the hand that Daniel hadn't been able to see for the door, and not waiting to see if it had a gun in it, he added hastily in the same language, "Or, more truthfully, his hunting brother sent me."

That confused the sentinel for a moment, long enough for Blair to wrap his fingers around his lover's tense upper arm. From behind him, Jack said softly, "Another one of those situations where English isn't necessarily the best language, Daniel?"

"As a matter of fact...." Moving in ultra slow motion so the action wouldn't be alarming, Daniel reached into his shirt pocket and fished out the earring he'd taken from Colonel Ellison of SG1. Palm up, he offered it to this Jim, hoping against hope that the scent or sight of it would evoke a positive reaction.

Gingerly, Jim took the silver hoop with its obsidian jaguar resting alertly in the bottom of the circle, frowning slightly, but obviously letting go of a measure of his wariness. He stepped back, opening the door wider, keeping Blair protectively behind him. To Jack, he said as they entered, "Do I know you?"

"I'm sorry," Daniel said hurriedly, gesturing from his commander to Jim, only belatedly realizing he was copying when he and Dr. Sandburg had first been introduced. "Colonel Jack O'Neill, this is .. it's Detective, right? Jim Ellison and his, uh..." He fumbled for the English equivalent of 'hunting brother.'

"My partner, soon to be Detective Blair Sandburg."

The two soldiers nodded at each other, as Blair gave a half-hearted wave, then Jack took a slow look around the room. "You expecting some trouble? This place looks fortified enough to hold off a small army."

Jim's expression turned murderous, but before he could say anything, Daniel stepped closer, holding both hands up as if to ask for peace. "They didn't know," he said quickly, intuition leaping to make the connection between the state the partners were in and the presence of their alternates. "The other sentinel and his companion - they didn't know you two would feel what was happening to them."

"What *is* happening?" Blair asked, his tone a mixture of frustration and honest curiosity. He dragged a shaking hand through his hair, then waved it in a circle to encompass their home. "You think it looks like we're under siege? Well, it feels like we're under siege, and we don't have clue who the enemy is. We thought it was finally getting better, last night, but it just...changed."

"Look, you deserve the answers, and we want to give them to you," Jack said unexpectedly. "I wouldn't mind a few myself," he added darkly, just for Daniel's ears.

Ellison snorted impatiently, and Jack went on, "But we're stationed out of Cheyenne Mountain. You're ex-Ranger; you know what that means."

"Classified Top Secret: Need to Know," Jim snapped out. "Which means you're not going to tell us squat. What'd you do; drop by to see for yourselves what kind of side effects your experiments were having? How'd you get your hands on the poor saps? Play the patriotic card? Or simply harass them until they had no choice?"

Before Jack could answer attitude with attitude, Daniel risked a careful, brief touch to the sentinel's forearm. "Considering the way your service ended," he said cautiously, "I can see why you might not trust anyone in a military uniform, but you have to know not all soldiers are mindless killing machines, not all commanders are tin-plated dictators. The people we work with, our team, they truly are the officers and gentlemen they swear to be."

Practically feeling Jim's hostility ebb, Daniel said earnestly, "Come back with us and let us show you that. See for yourselves what's going on so that you can understand and decide if what we're doing is right."

Jim didn't seem at all convinced, but Blair bit his bottom lip nervously, staring up at his partner. Without looking at Daniel, he asked in Quencha, "The other sentinel? He dies?"

Half afraid to answer that, Daniel answered honestly anyway. "Yes."

"What will happen to Jim if he does?" Blair inched closer to the bigger man, giving up all pretense of keeping a socially polite distance.

"I don't know." Daniel lifted his glasses to pinch at the bridge of his nose, then decided not to hold back. "To be truthful, I'm scared to even guess."

"Jim," Blair said hesitantly, "If I have more information, if I can speak to the other, ah, companion, maybe between us, we can sort this out."

"If it helps," Jack volunteered, "You can take your gun and badge; I give you my word that no one will try to stop both of you from coming and going as you please." His slightly ironic emphasis on 'my word' showed that he wasn't letting Ellison completely off the hook for the insults thrown.

The stubborn set of Jim's jaw hadn't changed, and, mentally taking a deep breath to brace himself in case he set the sentinel off, Daniel threw out his trump card. "The companion is dying, as well. We think it's because his mate is."

There was a flash of pure panic in the blue eyes, then Jim bit out through a clenched jaw, muscle telegraphing his ire, "Sandburg, we could be putting our heads in a noose."

"I know, I know. But there are easier, cleaner ways to get to us than this, and you know it." Blair didn't seem to have anything to add to that, and the two of them studied each other for a moment before Jim reluctantly nodded.

Catching Jack's eye, the sentinel said flatly, "Your word, Colonel?"

"My word. And I'll tell the President himself, to go piss up a rope if he doesn't back me," O'Neill said as flatly.

"The President?" Blair nearly squeaked.

"The President. That's how important this is." Gesturing at the door, Jack added, "The good news is that I have a chopper waiting for us; the bad news is that we have to move right now."

"They were in pretty bad condition when we left," Daniel said reluctantly.

Obviously still not completely convinced, Jim took two coats off of the hooks near the door and handed one to Blair. "Let's get on with it, then."

Jack led the way out of the apartment, and Daniel heard Blair mutter, "Flying. Oh, joy, it really can always get worse."

* * *

Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado

After spending the flight to Colorado unashamedly huddling up next to Jim, as if by holding onto him physically, he could stop his lover from leaving him permanently, Blair had trouble convincing himself to walk a decent distance away from him on the way into the complex. It helped that O'Neill was obviously bullying and threatening guards to get them all past the security check points, forcing Blair to act as if he were a VIP on official business. At Jim's questioning glare between stops, Daniel confessed that they were trying to keep the brass out of the loop as much as possible, though he didn't explain why.

It wasn't until they were on the way down to a sublevel so far below the ground that Blair decided they would need to decompress before going back up to the surface, that Daniel and Jack began to relax. That told him that they were near to the end of the trip, and the odd, strangling fear that had gripped him since he and Jim had climbed the stairs to the upstairs bed returned in full force. Like last night, it drove everything out of his head except the need to possessively cling to his lover, giving him a deep appreciation of just how confusing and bewildering it was for Jim when his senses demanded an action that made no sense.

To make matters worse, Jim's instincts started cranking up again, as well, and he lagged behind, subtly searching with his senses. "What?" Blair whispered.

"I don't know," Jim muttered back. "There's something, a scent, a feeling in the air... like static electricity...." He trailed off uncertainly, coming to a stop in the corridor and looking back the way they had come as if he wanted to leave.

"Jim?" Daniel asked, stopping as well, then his eyes went wide. "Damn, I forgot. Jack, do you remember what happened when Teal'c went into the Gate room?"

"Yeah, so?" Jack said shortly.

"I think we're about to have a repeat performance," Daniel said shortly, mystifying Blair completely.

Plainly just as mystified, Jack backtracked to join them. "Why?" he asked in pure exasperation, flinging his hands out to underline it.

"Ah, you see," Daniel said very seriously, "I haven't had time to tell anybody everything, and I'm not sure who I've told what... not to mention that most of what I think I know I don't know for sure that I know."

For a second no one said a word, then Jack asked plaintively, "Did anybody get *any* of that?"

"Secrets are a bitch," Blair said to Daniel understandingly, feeling the tug of a smile when Jim and O'Neill exchanged the completely simpatico look of soldiers suffering civilian genius as best as possible. "Start small. What are you specifically worried about?"

"Jim killing my... teammate, Teal'c," Daniel answered distractedly. "When the other sentinel met him, he had an instant, instinctive murderous reaction."

"Sentinel?" Jack asked, only to have the question brushed aside with, a muttered 'later' from the linguist. Not deterred, he added, "He's been fighting Jaffa all his life; of course he wanted to kill him. This guy's never met one before."

"Maybe not, but I don't think that's going to make a difference." Daniel eyed Jim uneasily, then said, "Explanations would take too long; just promise me that you won't kill anybody in the near future."