THE PAST REMEMBERED
by: PHO
Feedback to: phowmo@mindspring.com

*****

DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognisable characters and property of Stargate SG-1 belong to
MGM/UA, World Gekko Corp. and Double Secret Productions.  This fan fiction was created solely
for entertainment purposes and no money was made from it.  Also, no copyright or trademark
infringement was intended.  Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and
not intended by the author.  Any other characters, the storyline and the actual story are the
property of the author.  Not to be archived without permission of the author(s).

*****

Of all the rotten luck.  A full moon.  Next week would have been better. Hell, last week would
have been better.  But no - the fates were definitely against him.  The tall, gaunt man shook
his head in disbelief, and smiled grimly as he recalled the number of times he'd cheated fate.
He'd win this time too, somehow, even if the proverbial deck was stacked against him.  Using
the back of his hand, he rubbed the sweat out of his eyes, then tightened his grip on the
nondescript brown bag.  There!  The lock had finally given.  Thank God for antiquated
technology.  As he let himself into the darkened room, his thoughts turned to the recipient of
the package he guarded so closely. He'd failed once before to do the right thing, and it had
cost the young stranger dearly. He would not make that mistake again.  Footsteps running by the
door brought his thoughts up short and he froze, listening intently as they faded away. So they
were closer than he'd thought. Wasting no more time, he carefully slid his knife around the
seal of the package.  Removing one of the video tapes, he replaced it with the one he'd guarded
for so long.  Resealing the package as carefully as possible, he casually tossed the box into
the pile of unprocessed mail at the small postal sub-station he'd just broken into.

He slipped stealthily out of the door and hurried away from the building.  Four blocks away he
relaxed.  It was a mistake.  The fiery pain that cut through his chest almost took him to his
knees.  Staring in disbelief at the red stain growing ever larger on his shirt, his only
thought was 'damn, it's true, you really don't hear the one that ki...'  He tumbled face first
into the gutter, his life's blood disappearing down the drain.

***********


"*Move it*, kids!"  O'Neill's voice could barely be heard over the approaching storm. Of all
the stupid luck. The telemetry from the MALP had confirmed that the Stargate on PX7-292 was in
a desert.  Surrounded by pyramids. Seven of them. Enough to send Daniel Jackson into an
archaeological feeding frenzy. But it had looked safe enough, until they got there.  Tightening
his grip on the younger man, Jack continued.  "Carter, dial us outta here! Hang on, Danny,
we'll be home soon."

Nodding the young major skillfully punched in their home address, watching the approaching sand
with dismay. It was moving toward them much faster than she would have thought possible. 'Come
on, connect.'  The tidal pool of simulated liquid disgorged its flux, stopping just inches from
where Colonel Jack O'Neill supported Daniel Jackson's limp form. Sam couldn't suppress a scream
as wind suddenly kicked sand into her face, temporarily blinding her.

"Carter!  Teal'c, get Carter. Move it people!"  Jack moved swiftly toward the 'gate as Teal'c
swept a protesting major into his arms.  Sheltering her body with his he quickly caught up with
the colonel and the four members of SG-1 hit the 'gate simultaneously, along with the
sandstorm.

************


The chaos on the SGC side of the 'gate was inevitable as the four travelers landed in a heap.
O'Neill and Teal'c pushed their charges down onto the ramp and covered them with their bodies
as a mass of grit flew through the 'gate.

The guards relaxed as the voice of General George Hammond commanded them to stand down, even as
O'Neill yelled for a medical team.  Teal'c stood quickly upright, and held out a hand to assist
Sam to her feet.  Tears running down her face, she gratefully took his hand, and climbed to her
feet just as a medic reached her.  Shaking her head, she quickly waved him away. "Just got grit
in my eyes. Check on Daniel."

Dr. Janet Fraiser frowned as she knelt beside the unconscious form held tightly by the colonel.
"Martins, take Major Carter to opthamology."

"I'm fine, Janet..."

A withering glance from both the colonel and the doctor silenced the young major's protests as
she was led away.  Janet took a closer look at the bruise on Daniel's forehead, then looked
questioningly at O'Neill. The colonel smiled grimly. "Lost a battle with a loose tile. Knocked
him silly."

Janet did a quick check of Daniel's eyes, breathing a sigh of relief as she found his pupils to
be responsive. "I don't think he's got a concussion, but we'll do a work-up just to be on the
safe side."  Motioning to the orderlies, she stood and watched as they quickly moved Daniel's
inert form to the gurney, and whisked him out of the 'gate room.  Jack and Teal'c started to
follow, only to be stopped by Hammond's firm voice.

"Colonel, what happened?"

Jack sighed inwardly. Much as he wanted to follow the medical team, he knew better than to try
and stall Hammond unnecessarily. Pulling his vision from the closing doors, he forced himself
to look the general in the eye. "Daniel was doing a survey of the nearest pyramid when the wind
picked up.  A loose tile broke off, hit him in the head and knocked him silly.  Teal'c spotted
a killer sandstorm just as Carter and I got to Daniel. Figured we'd better high-tail it back
here."

"That's it?"

"Yes, sir. But I'd recommend sending another team to look at the pyramids. Daniel got so
excited that his voice changed to soprano for a while."

"I'll take that under advisement, Colonel. Dismissed."

**********


"Colonel O'Neill?"

Jack froze in his tracks. "Oh, for crying out loud. Punch the elevator, Teal'c."  As the Jaffa
moved quickly toward the elevator, Jack turned and eyed the young airman hurrying toward him.
"What is it, Airman?"

Saluting smartly, the young man looked very young, and very uncertain. "Sir, this package came
for Dr. Jackson, from Washington. Should I take it to his lab?"

"No, I'll take it to him. Thank you, Airman."

"Yes, sir."

Jack quickly tucked the small parcel under an arm then jumped slightly as the elevator alarm
announced that Teal'c had been holding the door just a moment too long.

**********


Sam was waiting impatiently outside the infirmary doors when Jack and Teal'c arrived. "Carter?"

Exasperated she responded. "I'm *fine*, sir. Just got a good dose of sand in my eyes. Dr.
Murray flushed them."

"Good. Daniel?"

"I..."

A nurse opened the door, and motioned the SG-1 team members into the infirmary where a now
conscious Daniel Jackson was protesting his imprisonment. "Look, Janet, you said I don't have a
concussion. I'm fine. All I have is a very bad headache."

"Daniel, you were knocked senseless, and have a very bad bruise on your head. You'll be
spending the night in the infirmary just to be on the safe side."

"No one else is staying." The young man said petulantly.

"No one else got knocked unconscious, Daniel." Jack spoke firmly.

"Jack..."  Daniel started to argue, then his attention was grabbed by the package with his name
on it. "What's that?"

Jack looked down. "Don't know. Came from Washington."

Daniel frowned as he reached to take the package, then his eyes lit up. "Oh, my God. I didn't
expect this so soon."

"What?" Jack asked suspiciously.

"More Tutankhamen tapes.  Dr. Rivers at the Smithsonian found some old home movies taken by a
British film crew. This is great!  Janet, I've got to take these home and watch them."

Janet shook her head. "Nope. Sorry. You're spending the night here. You can go home tomorrow if
you're okay."

Daniel looked desperately at the package. "Janet, if I promise to stay very still, and not do
any kind of moving around, could I watch these in my lab? Please? I'll behave. Honest. Won't do
anything but watch the tapes. Truly. Cross my heart."

The doctor was going to say a firm 'no', but the look in Daniel's eyes was too close to
Cassandra's when she really wanted something. "You'll only watch the tapes. Not do any
research?"

"Honest. Won't pick up a book. Please?"

Janet sighed. "Daniel, if you'll stay quiet for four hours here in the infirmary, then I will
let you take the tapes to your quarters, *not* your lab, and watch them. *If* I have your word
that you will take it easy."

"Four hours!"

"My only offer, Dr. Jackson."

The young scientist frowned in dismay while behind him his teammates grinned broadly. "Oh. All
right."  He flopped backwards onto the pillow, and glared at his friends. "What?"

"Nothing, Daniel. Nothing at all. Get some rest."  Jack eased his way back from the bed, trying
not to show his relief, or his amusement.  As the SG-1 team walked toward the door, Janet went
with them.

As they reached the door, Sam asked curiously. "Janet, why not just let him watch them in
here?"

Janet laughed lightly. "I made that mistake once. Daniel talks to himself, and argues with the
narrator if there is one.  Quite disturbing for the staff."

Grinning broadly now, the three teammates dispersed to complete their reports on the aborted
mission.

************


The night was clear, and the stars wove an intricate collage in the night sky as Jack O'Neill
passed the last exterior checkpoint into Cheyenne mountain. He whistled to himself as he took
the elevators to the office level. His favorite team had won the hockey game, and he'd been
lucky enough to have tickets for center ice.  Teal'c had accompanied him, and once the rules of
the game were made clear, the Jaffa had had as good a time as Jack, or at least it had appeared
that way. The only downside to the entire evening had been the realization that he hadn't
actually given the general his report.  Experience told him that it needed to be on Hammond's
desk before the man arrived at the SGC in the morning. O'Neill's only choices were to go back
after the game, or go in early. The latter was not an option as far as Jack was concerned.

The elevator doors opened on level 26 and Jack frowned as he looked at the buttons. What the...
Oh, yeah. Daniel's on-base quarters were on this level.  Jack managed a crooked grin as he
realized his subconscious mind thought he should check on the younger man. Giving into the
urge, he moved quickly down the hall, once again whistling a cheerful tune.  The tune died on
his lips as he saw the lights were on in Daniel's quarters.  Jack's irritation took control,
and he opened the door quickly. The 'Damn it, Daniel!' lecture died in his throat as he slammed
the intercom button. Jack nearly choked on his words as he called, "Medical emergency -L26."
Releasing the button, he moved quickly toward the figure huddled in the corner of the room.
Kneeling, he reached out and placed a gentle hand on Daniel's shoulder. The blue eyes, so
normally full of life, were glazed over. Afraid to move him, Jack kept his hand on Daniel's
shoulder, and spoke softly. "Daniel, it's okay, help's on the way."

*****

"Doc?"  Jack O'Neill's voice was heavy with concern as the petite doctor slipped out of the
infirmary. He watched as Janet Fraiser sank into the nearest chair.

"He's sleeping, Colonel.  Pumped as full of tranquilizers as I can without risking permanent
damage. He's definitely suffering from shock but I don't see how it could be related to the
earlier injury.  Would you care to tell me exactly what happened?"

"I don't know."

"Colonel-"

"Seriously, Doc, I just happened to go by his quarters and there he was, backed as far into the
corner as he could get."

"Was he saying anything?"

"What?"

"Colonel, I know you're anxious about him, but I really need to know as much as possible.  Now,
was he saying anything?"

Jack hesitated for a moment. "Not really, but he was rocking back and forth, with his arms
wrapped around his chest, kinda crooning to himself.  No words, just sounds."

"Other than the head injury, has anything unusual happened lately?"

"Not that I know of. Look, let's cut to the chase, is he going to be okay?"

"Physically, yes, but until I know what caused his collapse..."  The implications were obvious.

"Can I see him?"

"Yes, but don't expect him to respond.  I've got him heavily sedated."  Janet found herself
talking to air.  Sighing she followed the colonel into the infirmary muttering, "Why do I even
bother?"

*********


"Major Carter, I do not understand what it is that we are searching for.  There is no
indication that Daniel Jackson was attacked."

"I know, Teal'c, but something made him like.. that."  She frowned as she recalled driving much
too fast back to the SGC, after retrieving Teal'c from Jack's place.  Daniel was sleeping,
heavily sedated when they arrived, although he was much too pale against the white of the bed
linens. On the off chance that she'd find something, Sam had left the Colonel standing watch
over their teammate, and had taken Teal'c to Daniel's room.  She walked toward the corner where
O'Neill had found Daniel, and turned to look back at the room. Nothing seemed out of order,
except... She stared at the small television set, which was on with no picture. The blue screen
spoke of a video tape which had moved past its contents.  Frowning, she hit rewind and waited
impatiently for the device to do its job.

"You have found something, Major Carter?"

"I don't know. I'm betting the videotape he got today is in the machine."  Hitting play, she
spotted the Jaffa eyeing her skeptically. "Well, it's worth a shot."

*********


Daniel was indeed sleeping, but the face was still too pale.  Jack stared at the younger man.
"Dammit, Daniel. What the hell happened?"

"We may..." Janet's reply was cutoff before she really got started.

"I..I can help you with that."

O'Neill whirled at the sound of Carter's voice.  "You found something."  It was not a question.

"Yes, sir."  Her tone was flat, almost emotionless, and Janet realized the Major was having
difficulty staying in control.  "I've sent for the General, sir.  Teal'c is on his way to the
briefing room.  Doctor Fraiser, I think you should come too."  Sam started as she suddenly saw
the sleeping figure. "If Daniel's okay?"

Janet nodded as Jack responded. "Let's go kids, we're wasting time."

*********


General Hammond was waiting impatiently when the others arrived.  "All right, Major.  What does
this...", his hand waved across the videotape on the table, "have to do with Dr. Jackson's
collapse?"

"Everything, sir. I, uh, well, this isn't pretty."  Taking a deep breath, she pushed the tape
into the player and hit play.  All eyes focused on the screen as images from an 8mm movie
camera appeared.

"Home movies?"  Jack was pissed. "What the hell is this?"

"Just watch, sir."  Carter's voice was unusually subdued.

Camels in the distance indicated the location was the Middle East, somewhere.  As the camera
panned the area, it passed what could only have been a pyramid in the distance, isolating the
location to Egypt. The camera homed in on a man and woman directing work on a series of stone
pillars.  Workers released the hook of a large crane and shoved it away from a large cover-
stone, now resting on a flat-bed truck. Commands snapped urgently by the man spurred a nervous
work crew into motion to steady a rocky pillar. As the camera continued its surveillance, it
paused on a small boy hovering nearby.  Slowly, the child edged closer to the couple. Suddenly
the man spun around and pulled the little boy away from the work area.  The young woman turned
and watched as he lectured the child, punctuating his comments by a finger pushed pointedly
into the little boy's chest.

"Carter..."

"It's almost there, sir."

The film flickered badly as if two disconnected films had been spliced.  The location was now
much different.  The work area had relocated inside of a building.  The stone pillars stood
alone in the center of a large room. A huge chain held the corner-stone above the pillars. The
couple from the earlier footage stood beneath it, once again directing the work. The camera
paused in its sweep to close in on the same small boy sitting with arms crossed, obviously
pouting, behind a crudely drawn chalk line.

"It's the New York Museum of Art."  Carter spoke quietly.

"And just how do you know that?" Jack's patience was rapidly ending.

"The Gamekeeper's planet, sir, the room is identical to the one Daniel and I saw there."

"Oh, yeah. Sorry, Carter."

"Yes, sir. It's almost over."

As the group watched, the camera returned to the exhibit just as the corner-stone began to
sway.  Suddenly the chain slipped and the huge block crashed into the pillars.  The resulting
collapse of the pillars buried the screaming couple in rubble. Carter's hand trembled slightly
as she turned off the tape.

"Daniel saw this?"  Janet asked the question in everyone's thoughts.

"Ya think?"  Jack's voice contained barely controlled rage.

Carter replied simply. "It was in his VCR."

"Why would anyone send this to Doctor Jackson?"

"I think I can answer that, sir.  Please watch."  She hit stop, then rewound the tape briefly.
Hitting play, she watched as the father moved the child away from the work area.  She then
froze the frame.  "Look at the first pillar, sirs."

Jack O'Neill came out of his chair. "Those symbols look familiar."

"Yes, sir.  Five of them match symbols on the Stargate.  The other two, I don't recognize.  I
suspect..."  She enhanced the image.  "that the remaining pillars contain other symbols from
the Stargate.  I'll have to do some heavy doctoring on the films to be sure."

"Major, I can understand how this would have upset Dr. Jackson, but if he didn't collapse on
the Gamekeeper planet, then why would he collapse now? And why do I have the impression that
you haven't shown us everything?"

"You're right, General.  The rest of the tape is very confusing and more than a little
suspicious. *I* think it's this third section that sent Daniel into a tailspin."

"How?"  O'Neill's rage was edging to the top of his emotions.

Carter fast-forwarded the tape.  The next images were of military personnel sealing crates and
loading them into Army trucks.  An older civilian, apparently an employee of the museum, argued
in vain with the officer in charge, a colonel by his insignia.  Janet Fraiser gasped as the
camera turned away from the work area. An Army major held fast to the hand of a very small,
obviously frightened child. Ignoring the little one's shorter legs, the man hustled the boy
toward a waiting car, the emblem on the door proving it belonged to the New York Department of
Social Services.  A grim-faced woman spoke briefly with the major before lifting the sobbing
child quickly into the car. The officer watched as the car pulled away, then stiffened. The
furious face of the unknown colonel came into view as the major turned reluctantly toward the
angry man. The camera closed in on the colonel, the close-up revealing the depth of his rage.
The tape ended, but the silence did not.

*********


Daniel tossed restlessly on the infirmary cot.  Nightmare scenes plagued his drugged sleep.


   [That *man* in the funny clothes had come to visit again last night. The little boy
shuddered at the memory of the angry words *he* and Daddy had spoken. Momma's voice was angry
too, but also, she sounded kinda scared. Grown-up stuff, Daddy had said, no need for him to try
to understand it, he was too little.

The child shifted restlessly in the scant shade provided by the nearby buildings. He wanted to
help, but Daddy had once again said no, he was too little.  Well, maybe he couldn't actually
dig, but he could read, and write too. And there were soooo many wonderful hieroglyphs on the
pillars.  The excited voices of his parents rang in his ears, and he unconsciously shifted
closer to them, hoping to seeing something.

A stern male voice commanded his attention.  "Daniel! This is the last time I tell you not to
get so close.  It's too dangerous."  The solemn-faced man shook a dirty finger at the child.
Taking a firm hold of a small arm, he led the little boy away from the pillars.  Kneeling, Dr.
Jackson used his index finger to draw a line in the sand between the child and the work area.
Cupping his young son's head in his hand, he forced the child to look at the sand. As he spoke
he punctuated his words with a thin finger aimed at the boy's chest.  "Come no closer than this
line, Danny.  Do you understand me?"

Danny nodded absently, his eyes wandering to the wonders of the pillars. "Yes, Daddy.  I'll
stay behind the line."

The father studied his child closely for a moment, then forced the little boy to meet his eyes.
"Daniel, I know you want to help but you can't right now."  Noticing the far away expression in
his son's eyes, the older man added. "Son, if you come too close again, I *will* spank you."
He ignored the gasp from his wife and concentrated on the child in front of him.  "Danny, I
don't want to punish you, but the choice is yours. Now, you may sit here and watch, or you may
go play on that hill over there.  Understand?"

Tears threatened to fall, and the little boy chewed his lip in an effort not to cry. "Y..yes,
Daddy."

"Good."  He pulled the youngster into a tight embrace, then jumped quickly to his feet and
returned to his wife.  He shrugged as he saw her frown.  The young mother watched her small son
climb the nearby hill, shoulders slumped in sorrow.

"Don't you think you were a little hard on him?  He's only five."

"I want him to make six.  He's got to learn to be careful around these digs if he's going to
continue to come with us.  Danny's a smart child, too smart.  No five year old should be able
to read and write their native tongue much less ancient Egyptian.  He ignores all our warnings
and rushes into places he shouldn't go until we know they're safe.  I mean it, darling, I don't
want to spank him, but I don't want to lose him either.  Now let's get these pillars loaded.
It's a long way to New York, and I don't think we have much time."]


"Noooooooo!"  Adrenaline overruled the sedatives as Daniel sat bolt upright on the bed.

The nearest nurse struggled to push the distraught young man back down. Shouting "Get Doctor
Fraiser, quick!" to a nearby aide, she worked to calm her patient.

*****

"Well, that was fun.  Got any other surprises for us, Carter?"  Jack winced inwardly at his own
sarcasm.

"No, sir, you've seen it-"

The intercom blared an interruption, "DR. FRAISER - CODE BLUE, REPEAT CODE BLUE."

Janet Fraiser's small size belied her speed.  Leaping from her chair, she hit the intercom
button on the wall before SG-1 or General Hammond could move. "Fraiser. Report."

"Ma'am, Dr. Jackson is conscious and extremely agitated.  Lts. Nelson and McFrady are trying to
control him, but..."

"On my way."  She turned as she spoke. "General?"

"Go Doctor."

"General, I'd like-"

"SG-1 dismissed.  None of you are..."  His voice faded as they left the room. "any good to me
right now anyway."  Picking up the remote control, he stared at the silent video screen for a
moment, frowned, then hit rewind on the VCR.

*************


"NO!  I don't *want* to! Go 'way. *Momma!*  *Daddy!*"  Janet could hear the frantic cries
coming from the infirmary as she shoved open the door.  Running toward her distraught patient,
she braced herself for a confrontation.

The aide appeared at her side, hypodermic in hand.  "Doctor?"

Fraiser shook her head.  "He's got enough in his system now to keep a water buffalo down.
We'll have to calm him some other way."

O'Neill burst through the infirmary doors followed closely by Carter and Teal'c.  Moving
quickly to his friend's side, he motioned Janet and the nurses away. "Let go of him."

"Colonel-"

"Doctor, I can handle him. Release him and get everybody out of here."

"Sir, Teal'c and I would like to stay."

"Not this time, Carter.  Out."

Nodding slowly, she motioned to a reluctant Teal'c to leave with her.

Janet glared at the Colonel briefly, then ordered her nurses to release Dr. Jackson.  The
exhausted women moved gratefully away from the struggling patient.  O'Neill slipped quickly
onto the bed, pinioning Daniel's arms to his sides.  "Doctor, leave. Now."

Fraiser motioned her nurses out of the room, then followed, giving one last sympathetic glance
to the man on the bed.

Ignoring the lingering gaze of the worried doctor, Jack tightened his hold on Daniel and shook
him gently.  "DANIEL!  It's all right. It's only a dream!"

"Go 'way!  Don't *like* this game! I want Momma!"  Daniel's eyes were wild with terror.

Jack shook him again, harder this time.  "DANIEL. Wake up. It's only a dream!"

The blue eyes blinked rapidly for a moment.  "Ja'k?"  Daniel's voice was laced with confusion
as he tried to focus on his surroundings. "W..What?"

"It's okay, buddy, you were having a nightmare."

The panic in Daniel's face eased as he concentrated on Jack's face. "Not my room."

"No, Danny-boy, you're in the infirmary.  Your reserved bed."

"Oh. W..what happened?"

Jack hesitated, unsure how to answer a loaded question.  "You were having a nightmare.  Scared
the nurses half to death."

The younger man's brow furrowed in confusion. "Nightmare? I..I don't remember a nightmare."

Jack fought back a frown at Daniel's words. "What do you remember?"

Now that the adrenaline rush brought on by the nightmare was starting to fade, the sedatives in
Daniel's system were beginning to reassert themselves. "In room."  His eyes shut in
concentration, then shot open. "Was I working? On what?"

"It's not important, Daniel. Go back to sleep."  Jack relaxed his hold and began to gently rub
Daniel's shoulder.  He smiled as a yawn subdued another question.

"'kay, Ja'k."  The blue eyes slowly disappeared as Daniel's body relaxed into a drugged
slumber.

***********


A grim SG-1 sans one reappeared in the briefing room.  General George Hammond was pacing the
length of the phone cord, speaking loudly into the mouthpiece. "You heard me correctly.
Melbourne and Claire Jackson. Died in an accident in the New York Museum of Art in 1970. ...
No, they were NOT military. ... I don't care if you have to steal it from the archives, it's to
be on my desk by eight am tomorrow morning. That's right, Lieutenant, EIGHT."  Slamming the
headset into the cradle, he fumed briefly before acknowledging the presence of his premier
team.  "How is Dr. Jackson?"

"Sleeping again, sir."  O'Neill nodded at the videotape clinched tightly in Hammond's hand.
"What's the word on that?"

"NID is tracing the original package.  Fortunately Dr. Jackson left the mailing package on his
desk, otherwise security would be searching the trash bins.  Major Carter-"

"Sir?"

"I'm entrusting this tape to your capable hands. I need a copy of the tape for NID; then I want
a complete analysis of the contents, concentrating on the symbols on the pillar.  Teal'c,
please assist Major Carter with the analysis of the symbols."

"YES, SIR!" Sam eagerly took the tape from Hammond.

The Jaffa tilted his head in silent acknowledgment of the General's orders.

Jack watched in silence as the pair left the room.  "What now, General?"

"Colonel, we have the hardest job of all.  We wait."

***********


"Sir?"  A tentative knock on the solid oak door followed the question.

"Come."

Taking a deep breath, and straightening his clothing, the young man opened the door. "I'm
sorry, sir.  The tape got through.  Our sources indicate Dr. Jackson has seen it."

Cold fury flashed in the steel gray eyes. "Indeed."

"Y..Yes, sir.  They also say he reacted very badly to the contents, sir."  Getting no response,
he felt brave enough to continue. "I'm told he's been sedated and is confined to the
infirmary."

A huge fist slammed the desk, sending paperwork flying in all directions. "Have the damage
control procedures begun?"

"Yes, sir.  All paper trails surrounding the investigation of the museum mishap are being
'lost' even as we speak."

"Don't fail me in this, Rogers."

"No sir.  I guarantee it's being handled."

The older man templed his fingers in thought.  "I have an additional assignment for you."

"Sir?" An electronic security card dropped on the desk in front of him, closely followed by a
key.

"The card will get you into the Pentagon's storage facility one.  The key is for one of the
lower level vaults.  You'll need to go as an Army Major.  I assume

"Yes, sir."

"You'll need a truck and some assistance, expendable assistance."

"That should not be a problem, sir."

"Good."

"Sir, it would help if I knew what I was looking for."

The salt and pepper head raised to stare for a moment at the young man.  "Let's just say that
mistakes were made a long time ago.  Made and buried, but apparently not deep enough. It was
after all, the Vietnam War era, practically dedicated to mistakes both large and small.
Unfortunately certain items like the tape,"  the older man answered the unspoken question in
the younger one's eyes, "have now begun to surface.  While that particular leak has been
plugged, I ... we, cannot afford to allow anything else to be 'found'.  Am I clear?"

"Uh, you're not going to tell me what I'm looking for?"

"Very good, Rogers. Empty the vault. Collect the contents for me. You'll be told where to
deliver them later."

"Yes, sir."

"Dismissed."

"Thank you, sir."  Rogers fled the office, oblivious to the figure entering the office through
a side door.

Cold blue eyes watched the rapid departure.  "He's very young.  Can he be trusted?"

"Yes."

"For your sake I hope so."

"I said he could be trusted."

"It wouldn't be the first time you were mistaken.  You made a horrendous mistake with the
Jacksons."

"A fact you have pointed out to me for nearly thirty years."

"We can afford no such errors in judgment this time.  It is imperative that the items in that
vault remain hidden, until such time as they are needed."

"And just who decides that?"

"There's an old cliché that goes 'I could tell you but then I would be forced to shoot you.'"

"So?"

"In this case, it's true."

*********


Janet Fraiser was tired, mentally and physically.  She'd been officially off duty for five
hours, but somehow couldn't bring herself to leave the infirmary. The thin figure in the bed
was sleeping peacefully ... now.  The whole scenario was insane.  Daniel Jackson just did *not*
go off the deep end. Well, ... there was that time with the sarcophagus, but that was an
addiction. And Machello's little present - again not a normal occurrence ... But then to not
even remember he'd had a nightmare?  Not knowing what it was about she could understand. She'd
had her share of those herself. But she'd never heard of not knowing you'd had a bad dream,
even if it was nothing more than an uneasy sensation when you awakened.  Perhaps it would be
best if Daniel saw one of the SGC psychiatrists ... Oh. Wouldn't *that* suggestion go over
well.

The night terror that had plagued Daniel's sleep just a few short hours ago appeared to have
been defeated by the drugs she was forcing into his veins.  God, she hated that, but between
the earlier head injury and his extreme reaction to that damn tape, the boy needed his rest.
Boy?  Where did that come from?  Daniel Jackson may have been the youngest member of SG1, but
he was still almost the same age she was.  What was it about the scientist that brought out the
motherly instincts of almost every woman he met?

"Doctor Fraiser?  Is anything wrong?"

"What? Oh, no, Andrea.  Just making a last check of Dr. Jackson's vitals."

The pretty nurse smiled knowingly. "Colonel O'Neill's not here, so you're gonna take his
place?"

"No, I..."  Janet stopped and grinned.  "You're right.  For once I was able to get the Colonel
to forego sleeping in a chair, and look what I do."

"Yes, Ma'am. Go home, Doctor.  Get some rest.  We'll watch him."

Janet barely managed to stifle a yawn. "You win, Andrea. But do remember that Dr. Jackson can
get into trouble even in his sleep."

*****

Jack O'Neill was not happy.  Granted this was not the first time Daniel had fled the infirmary
before being officially released, but, dammit, why did he always leave just before dawn? The
inevitable result was that Jack was deprived of precious hours of undisturbed sleep, which, at
his age, was not to be taken lightly.  This time, however, Jack was more concerned over the
young scientist's frame of mind than his physical condition.  A quick check with the sentry on
duty proved that Daniel had not left the facility. Jack smiled sadly. That left the man's only
real sanctuary on base.

Daniel was most comfortable in his own environment, and on base that environment was the
sanctum of his laboratory.  Few SGC personnel dared to cross the threshold into the
Egyptologist's lab.  Although Daniel's openness and ingenuousness had won him lasting
friendships among the SGC personnel, the brilliant young man unwittingly terrorized those who
were brave enough to visit him in the lab. Most people feared being trapped by a dissertation
on a long dead society which they had no hope of understanding.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he saw that the lights were on in Daniel Jackson's lab.
Peering in through the small window, the Colonel studied the younger man from a discreet
distance.  Realizing that time was not his friend, Jack pushed the door open.  "Daniel. Did Dr.
Fraiser release you?"

"I released myself."

"Daniel."

"What, Jack?"  Daniel whirled and glared angrily at his friend.  "I had a momentary nervous
break-down.  Made a complete idiot of myself in front of just about everyone.  No problem.
Could happen to anyone.  Now if you don't mind, I have work to do.  SG-7 brought back pottery
shards...

"Danny-boy..."

"...from a Viking culture on PSX927A but the writing..."

"Daniel..."

"...is definitely Egyptian, probably 4th century..."

"Daniel!"

"WHAT?"

"I'm sorry."

The younger man, for once, was rendered speechless. He sat motionless, eyes wide with shock as
he stared at the Colonel.

Jack made a mental note to mark this day on his calendar, then continued. "Daniel, you were
what, six, seven when your folks died?"

"Five.  I was five."  Daniel was suddenly engrossed in watching his feet.

"Whatever.  The point is that you were a little boy who had his world snatched away from him in
one fell swoop. Worse, you saw it happen.  No one, and I mean no one, thinks of you as an idiot
for your violent reaction to that damn tape. I'm just sorry I went to the hockey game.  I might
have been able to help."

"Not your fault, Jack.  You didn't know what was in the box."  An involuntary shudder played
over the young scientist's body.

"Wanta talk about it?"

"Nothing much to talk about.  You saw the tape?"

Jack nodded.

"Well, that was it, except..."  Daniel's words trailed off.

"Except?"

"There wasn't any sound on the video, was there?"

Confused, Jack responded, "No, it looked like it was spliced together from three separate home
movies.  No sound.  Why?"

Pain-filled blue eyes rose to meet concerned brown ones. Daniel's voice was barely above a
whisper. "B..Because, I could hear their screams, Jack, all night long."

***************


"Teal'c?"

"Yes, Major Carter."

"Are you sure that you don't recognize these nine symbols?"

"I am sorry, Major Carter, they are unfamiliar to me."

"That's okay, Teal'c.  But I've managed to match almost all the other symbols to those on the
Stargate.  There're a few blocked by this object, but maybe I can use the comp... Oh my God!"
Sam dropped the laser pointer onto the desk and sank slowly into a chair.

"Major Carter, is something wrong?"

"I'm an idiot, Teal'c. The 'object' blocking my view is Daniel's mother.  How could I be so
callous?"

"I do not believe you were being callous, Major Carter. You are much like Daniel Jackson.  When
presented with a puzzle you will work tirelessly to the exclusion of all else to solve it. You
have also been working all night. It is entirely understandable that you have forgotten the
source of this photograph."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Teal'c, but I'm not sure it makes me feel any better."  She
sighed, and used the pointer to isolate one of the unknown symbols.  "These nine don't make any
sense."

"I agree, Major Carter. They do not seem to belong with the others."

"I know, maybe Daniel can... Uh, no, bad idea, real bad idea.  I must be really tired."  She
stared for a moment at the fuzzy, gray mass in the center of the photo.  At this scale of
enlargement, it was unrecognizable as human.

The large Jaffa looked even more solemn that usual. "Indeed it would not seem advisable to
allow Daniel Jackson to see these photographs."

"You can say that again."

"Indeed it would-"

The intercom effectively cutoff the Jaffa's reply as General Hammond's aide requested their
presence in the briefing room.

************


Jack placed a sympathetic hand on Daniel's shoulder, but before he could respond his pager
played a lively tune.  "Dammit!"  Jack ripped the device from his belt and glared at the
message.  Turning his attention back to his friend, he smiled ruefully. "Daniel, you really
need to get some rest."

"Rest!  Unless I'm mistaken I've been in a drugged sleep for about twenty four hours.  What I
need to do is check these artifacts..." He once again stared at his feet, then, sighing, lifted
his head to meet Jack's eyes. "No, that's not true.  I need to find out who sent me that, that
tape and why.  I don't remember a camera being there.  Surely I would have remembered somebody
with a camera."

"Daniel, the camera could have been set up anywhere and it was probably on a tripod.  As to who
sent it, General Hammond has turned that over to NID.  *You* don't need to sweat it."

"But Jack..."

"No, Daniel. You go ahead and fiddle with your rocks-"

"Artifacts."  Daniel automatically corrected the older man.

"Whatever.  Just let NID worry about the tape.  Okay?"

"Okay," came the reluctant reply.

"I've gotta go. Are you gonna be okay?"

"I'll be fine."

Jack squeezed his friend's shoulder, then left quickly; grateful that Daniel hadn't asked where
he was going. But he fervently hoped that the younger man hadn't picked up on his anger.

Tired eyes followed Jack from the room.  Daniel's mind took him back again to the horrendous
day when his secure little world had died.  Five. He'd only been five. God.  That ... event ...
had been followed by three years in institutional limbo. Three long years spent waiting for the
authorities to trace his grandfather. Who, when found, didn't have time to raise a child, or so
he'd been told as he'd been shuffled off to one more foster home, and one less chance of having
real connections.

Shaking his head in an attempt to clear his mind of increasingly bitter thoughts, Daniel
absently picked up a pottery shard.  He stared unseeing at the broken fragment, then his brow
furrowed with confusion. Why hadn't he seen the camera?  Even on a tripod, someone should have
been there.  Think, Daniel, think.  No. There'd been no tripod.  But something didn't fit.
What?  The movie. Movies - three to be exact.

Daniel frowned. Three?  Surely there were only two.  The one in Egypt and the one in ... New
York.  What third one?  He'd have to remember to ask Jack or, or watch the tape once more.
Shuddering, he moaned softly.  No, that was definitely out.  He did NOT want to see that tape
ever again. Get a grip, Jackson. Don't think about th..them, what was wrong with the picture?
Concentrate on the picture.  Yes! That's it.  The movie didn't waiver when the corner-stone
fell. A security camera?  That had to be it.  Jack said NID had the tape but... The General.
He'll know how to find out. Relieved to have something constructive to do, Daniel gently placed
the artifact on the table and went in search of General Hammond.

****************


"General, sir, you wanted to see us?"  Carter saluted as she entered the briefing room.

"Yes, Major, be seated.  Colonel O'Neill should be along momentarily. Ah, Colonel, come in."

"Sir."  O'Neill quickly joined Teal'c and Carter at the table, staring curiously at the NID
officer standing there.

"This is Major Harris, NID.  He's been assigned the lead in the investigation of Dr. Jackson's
tape. Major, would you explain to my staff what you've found so far."

"Yes, sir.  Colonel, Major," the NID officer hesitated slightly before continuing, "Mr. Teal'c.
The package originated in Washington, DC.  It was mailed from a small substation near the
river.  Unfortunately there were no prints on the package itself nor, as Major Carter found, on
the original tape."

"What you're trying to say is that you've got nothing."  The frustration in O'Neill's voice was
obvious even to the NID officer.

"No, sir, not exactly.  A body was found in the gutter four blocks from the substation, time of
death preceded the postmark on the package.  We believe he dumped the tape at the substation
after hours, then left the site only to be murdered a few blocks away."

"So?  What makes the connection?  It's Washington.  People are always dying there."  Jack's
thoughts trailed back momentarily to the reporter who'd died at his feet there.

"True. But, how many die within easy walking distance of a mailbox containing an unwrapped tape
of the Tutankhamen dig?"

Carter gasped. "So you think the victim sent Daniel the tape?"

"Yes."

"I assume you've identified the body." Hammond sat straight up in his chair.

Major Harris nodded slowly. "Yes, sir.  His name was Colonel Martin L. Nichols, U.S. Army,
retired."

The silence that filled the room was broken from an unexpected source. "Why would a retired
Army colonel have a tape of my parents' accident?"

************


A trembling hand brought the secure cell-phone out of an inner pocket.  The young man stared
for a moment at the number he'd dialed, then reluctantly hit the send button.

It seemed an eternity of rings before a severe voice answered.  "Report."

"Sir, I, uh, I've failed you, sir.  The vault was empty when I got there."

"EMPTY!"

"Y..yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir.  I didn't let on to anyone that the vault had been cleaned out,
but I did check the records.  It hasn't been accessed in ten years."

*****

"Dr. Jackson, when were you released from the infirmary?"  General Hammond kept his voice
level, in keeping with his rank.

"I wasn't.  Now someone please answer my question.  Why would an Army colonel be carrying
around a tape that had my parents' accident on it?"

"We don't know yet, Daniel,"  Jack replied softly.  "The Major had just started his spiel when
you got here."

"Fine.  I'll just join you, if no one minds."  Daniel crossed to the table and flopped tiredly
into the chair beside O'Neill.  Noting the expressions surrounding him, he added an irritable,
"What?"

Sam gulped. "Daniel, I really think it might be better if you-"

"Do what?  Hide in my lab, pretend this never happened?  That's no good and you know it, Sam."

"Son, considering your reaction to the tape last night, I'd really like to have Dr. Fr-"

"Meaning no disrespect, General, but everyone seems to be ignoring the fact that these were
*my* parents, and the tape was sent to *me*. That tape is my property, to do with as I like,
and right now what I'd like is for all of you to stop trying to protect me.  I'm a big boy.  I
can take care of myself."

"Ya think?"

Daniel glared for a moment at Jack, then relaxed. "I'm sorry. I'm a little on edge.  I'd still
like to know what's going on, though."

Hammond looked thoughtfully at the young man.  "Agreed. Major, you were saying..."

"Uh, yes, sir."  He nodded a greeting to the young scientist. "Well, to answer Dr. Jackson's
question, Colonel Nichols was a major at the time of the accident."

Carter sat up startled. "The one on the tape?"

"Yes."

Daniel looked confused. "Excuse me, what 'one on the tape'?"

Jack turned to his friend. "Daniel, the one in the third section of tape."

"There was a third section?"  Daniel was obviously surprised.

"Yes, why?"  Jack was watching his young teammate closely.

"I, uh, I guess I was more freaked out than I thought. I don't remember a third section."  He
closed his eyes for a moment while all eyes in the room stared at him.  Opening them, he smiled
wanly at the group.  "Could I see it, please?"

"Daniel, I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"Please, Jack.  I really need to see it.  General?"

Hammond nodded for Major Harris to show the tape, hoping that the man would have the sense to
fast forward past the second part.

**************


Shady Hills Retirement Home was his last hope for information. The archives had proven to be a
bust.  The year 1970 was missing and no one knew exactly how, or worse, when, that had
happened. He'd been incredibly lucky to find someone who recalled that the old man he was now
looking for had been in charge of the museum in 1970.  Praying that this was not just a fool's
errand, he stepped out onto the porch.  Just as the director had said, Dr. Philip Marshall was
resting on the porch, dozing slightly in the sun.

Captain Arthur Benjamin slowly approached the fragile old man in the rocking chair.  "Dr.
Marshall?"

Dark brown eyes studied him for a moment.  Benjamin found himself growing slightly unnerved by
the intelligence behind those eyes.  The old man stared at the uniform for a long moment before
speaking. "So, you've finally come.  I knew someone would, eventually."  He laughed bitterly.
"Just didn't think it would take thirty years."

"Sir?"

"You've come about that formal protest I filed haven't you?"

Benjamin's mind raced frantically.  What the hell was the old man talking about?  Okay, go
along with him for now.  Maybe you can steer him into talking about the accident.  "Yes, I
have."

"Liar."  The bitterness in the old man's voice was obvious.  "You don't really expect me to
believe that after three decades you're gonna turn over the Jacksons' things to the museum, now
do you?  Not to mention it's a little late for my daughter to adopt the child."

***************


Harris nervously fumbled with the remote as he searched for the right spot to start the tape.
He'd been told of Dr. Jackson's collapse, and had no wish to antagonize the group in the room
by being the cause, however indirect, of a similar event.  Fortunately he'd noted the starting
locations of the three separate sections.  Entering the number into the machine, Harris watched
in anxious anticipation as the VCR fast-forwarded. He'd never known one of the machines to
start on the wrong number, but there was always a first time. Or worse, he could've copied the
numbers wrong. The tape started to roll and he suppressed a sigh of relief as it began in
exactly the right spot.

No one except for Harris, and Daniel, was watching the tape.  All eyes were on Daniel, watching
for any sign of distress.  The young scientist, in turn, was oblivious to their scrutiny.  He
watched with morbid fascination as the child-Daniel was delivered into the hands of the New
York Department of Social Services.  The video paused suddenly with the major's face becoming
larger than life.  Before anyone could protest, Harris spoke up quickly. "Do you recognize him,
Dr. Jackson?"

Daniel nodded reluctantly as the memories surfaced.  "That's Colonel Nichols?"

Harris responded. "Yes, but he was Major Nichols in those days."

Daniel refused to meet anyone's eyes.  "I remember him. Sort of. He was always in a hurry."

Jack frowned. "Well, he certainly was in a hurry to get you into the hands of Social Services.
Any idea why?"

"None.  Is there more?"

"Not much."  Harris replied as he hit play.

************


"I'm sorry, sir.  Maybe I misunderstood you.  Did you say release the Jackson's things to the
museum?"

"I don't recall stuttering, young man.  Now, since we both know that's not why you've come, and
since I now know you're a liar, how about telling me why you're really here and I'll see if I
want to believe you."

Benjamin sighed. "I apologize for lying, sir.  It is not normally my method of operation, but
the request I have is so unusual that I wasn't sure how to deal with you."

"Just spit it out and hurry, I'm due for a nap in ten."

"Yes, sir.  I am here about the Jacksons."  He held up his hand to forestall a sarcastic
comment. "But not about your request.  Sir, I need to know everything you can remember about
the accident."

A derisive snort of laughter was the response. "Accident!  Accident!  God, that's good."

"Sir?"

"Hell, son, those folks were murdered."

Benjamin's eyes widened in disbelief.

"And, your people should know that, if anyone does."

"Why do you say that, sir?"

"'Cause your people killed them."

**************


All eyes were on the monitor as the tape was restarted. A strangled cry, accompanied by a
falling chair, caused everyone's attention to turn back to Daniel.  The young man was
practically glued to the wall behind him, his face ghost pale. "Oh God. That's *him*. He did
exist. Oh God. I thought he was a dream."

Jack moved quickly to stand beside his friend. Sam righted the fallen chair, and the colonel
steered the stunned young man toward it, even as Harris killed the tape. "Easy, Daniel. Sit.
Take deep breaths."  Jack pushed Daniel gently back into the chair and dropped into his own
chair, never taking his eyes from Daniel's face.  As the younger man's color returned, Jack
smiled. "That's better. Now, what are you talking about?  Who?"

"The Colonel in the film.  He..he was in my nightmares for years.  I thought I made him up."

Carter asked softly. "Nightmares, Daniel?"

"Yeah, he was my own personal bogeyman. Popped up at all the wrong moments. I thought I made
him up. God! Then I guess the rest of it must be true too."

"What rest?" Jack was becoming annoyed.

"He and his men took everything that my parents had away in a truck.  Even the rubble from the
museum.  All their research, everything."

"How do you know that, Dr. Jackson?" General Hammond spoke softly, not wishing to upset the
young man any more than necessary.

"I..I watched them. I..I must have..." He sounded very confused. Suddenly he shook his head to
clear his thoughts and continued quickly. "I tried to find their stuff after I grew up,
thinking the nightmare was just my imagination working overtime, but no one at the museum knew
what I was talking about."

"Daniel Jackson. Why would the military want your parents' belongings?"

"I don't know, Teal'c, I just don't know."

Sam watched Daniel closely for a moment, then ventured a question. "Daniel, what aren't you
telling us?  Why was this guy your bogeyman?"

He laughed nervously. "Old habits die hard.  Like I said, I thought I made him up but..."

"But?"  Jack prompted.

"The g..game."  Daniel's voice quivered with emotion even as he wrapped his arms tightly around
his chest. "The memory's kinda vague. He..he showed up at the museum really fast after ... the
accident. And he was so mad, all the time. But he was really mad when the major interrupted
us." Daniel seemed to shrink in on himself as his words faded away.

Silence ruled momentarily as worst case scenarios raced through the minds of everyone at the
table. Sam's face paled dramatically, and Jack looked ready to chew nails, while Hammond and
the visiting major looked grave.  Teal'c, however, remained outwardly impassive. Inwardly he
was seething. His alien perspective, gleaned from years in the service of Apophis, allowed him
an insight into the worst kinds of human behavior. "What manner of game, Daniel Jackson?"

Daniel looked at his friend across the table. "I..I'm not real sure. I mean, I know I didn't
like it, but..."  His words stopped as he struggled to remember.

Sam's sympathetic eyes watched him closely. "Take your time, Daniel."

He frowned deeply. "Pictures, there were lots and lots of pictures."

"He took *pictures*?"  The fury in Jack's voice promised dire consequences to someone.

"Huh? Oh. No, he showed me pictures.  Said it was a game. Wanted me to tell him about them..."

"Daniel..."  Jack tried to interrupt but his friend didn't seem to hear him.

Now that the gates were opened, information flowed forth virtually unchecked as Daniel's
memories returned.  "So many pictures. 'Look at this, Danny. I'm sure you know where your mommy
and daddy found this. How about this, Danny?  Don't tell *me* you don't know. I'll give you a
prize if you tell me.'" The young man's eyes were glazed over, almost dull in appearance. "He
got mad when I didn't know, or got tired. I don't remember which. Then he started to shake me,
and his hands were hurting my arms. I..I remember screaming for..for Momma, but she..she didn't
come and neither did my Dad."

*****

Daniel's words faded away into the silence of the briefing room, but he appeared not to notice.
Jack laid a supportive hand on the younger man's shoulder, only to have him start violently,
and jerk away. "No!"

"Daniel..."

"Oh, God. I'm sorry. I thought... I mean... It was all..."

General Hammond interrupted the young man. "It's all right, son. A perfectly understandable
reaction. Take your time. How long did the colonel," Hammond almost gagged on the title, "talk
to you?"

"I don't really know, General.  Everything's fuzzy and confused.  All I know is the game seemed
to take forever.  But it could have been six minutes or six hours, I really don't know."

"How many times did you play this, this game, Daniel?" Jack was struggling to control his anger
in the face of his friend's obvious discomfort.

Daniel thought for a moment. "Just once ... I think. No. That's right. Just once.  Same
questions over and over. Like I said before, I..I started crying and sc..screaming. Then the
other man, I think you said he was a major, came running in, and pulled me away from the
colonel." He stopped, struggling to organize his thoughts.  "From then on, the colonel never
got near me, alone, again."

"Damn good thing."  Jack's fist hit the table with a resounding thump, earning him a silent,
but very visual reprimand from the general. "Uh, sorry, sir. Anything else, Daniel?"

The young man templed his fingers as he contemplated his next words. After a short, but
poignant pause he continued. "Well, the major was almost always around. Or he would show up
just after the colonel started asking questions.  Then the major would interrupt and they would
argue. I didn't even think it was strange at the time. I didn't know anything about military
rank back then, so it didn't seem odd. But thinking back, I can see how really strange it was
that the colonel actually deferred to the major. I seem to remember the major saying something
about 'just a kid who couldn't possibly know' but the colonel kept shaking his head.  It's
pretty obvious that they were talking about me, but I have no idea why or what I was supposed
to know.  All I know is that the colonel really scared me."  He paused thoughtfully. "His game
scared me too. Some of the pictures were ... ugly."

Major Harris spoke up. "Colonel Roland Parker was enough to scare most grown-ups.  I can only
imagine the effect he'd have on a small child.  He was a very young Ranger in Korea.  By the
time of Viet Nam, he was deeply involved in a variety of special projects which  took him
around the world, including Egypt."  Harris paused to allow the significance of his findings to
sink in. "After 'Nam, he officially retired from the military. Unofficially, he was still
active duty.  He took on the assignments that no one else wanted."

"Terrific.  Any idea where the s... where he is now?"  The SG-1 commander was now in full angry
colonel mode.

"The records show he died in 1982."

"Sweet.  Anyone wanta bet he's not dead?"  Jack looked around the room, his eyes landing on
Samantha Carter.  Her faraway look got his attention immediately. "Something on your mind,
Carter?"

"Hmmm? Oh, sorry, sirs."  She leaned forward and the words rushed from her mouth.  "Could all
this have anything to do with the symbols? Teal'c and I managed to identify all but nine of
them."

"Carter!"

"What symbols?"  Daniel Jackson's question was uttered simultaneously with O'Neill's warning.

Sam groaned as she realized what she'd done.

"What symbols, Sam?"

"Might as well go ahead, Carter."

"Sorry, sirs." Turning an embarrassed face toward her friend, she responded. "Daniel,
enlargement of the films of the columns showed symbols that match the Stargate."

"Show me!"  The Egyptologist was on his feet in a flash.

"Daniel, I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"Show me!  Please!"  Daniel looked urgently from one officer to the next, his eyes finally
landing appealingly on the General.

Hammond took a deep breath to steady himself.  The intense blue eyes watched his every move.
"Dr. Jackson is correct.  This whole incident revolves around the tape he was sent.  Show him
the symbols, Major.  Now."

***********


"Where's the next symbol, Sam?"  Daniel stared at the enlargement on the screen in front of
him, finishing up the almost legible notes on his pad as he asked the question.  The young
scientist had been studying the symbols to the exclusion of everything else since they'd
arrived in the lab.

"Daniel, the next one..."  Her voice trailed off helplessly.

He glanced at her for a moment.  "It's okay, Sam, I can handle it. Put up the next one."

Gulping, she nodded.  Casting a worried look at Jack and Teal'c, she positioned the next image
on the enlarger.

The young scientist nearly choked on his coffee as the image took focus on the screen.  Don't
think about it.  Concentrate on the symbol. Identify the symbol.  Oh, God, that's her.  See
only the symbol, Daniel. Forget about...

"Daniel?"

"Oh, s..sorry, Sam. You, uh, can't, uh, really see, uh, all... Uh, just a minute. I, uh, I..."

O'Neill motioned Carter and Teal'c to leave. He'd remained with the others in the photo lab for
almost three hours as Sam fed Daniel the pertinent photos as slowly as possible.  Most of the
enlarged images were safe, containing nothing but the pillars from the scenes in Egypt.
However, later images from the New York disaster had been added to the research material.  Two
of those had rather graphic pictures of the accident in process.  These had carefully been
reserved for last, on the off chance that Daniel Jackson would grow weary and call it a day.
'Fat chance was more like it' he thought bitterly. Days with only minimal sleep and food were
not uncommon for Daniel Jackson on a mission, and this time the mission was personal.

Daniel appeared to be frozen in place, eyes darting everywhere in the room, except the screen.
Jack moved forward and clicked off the projector.  "Time to call it a day, Daniel."

"No, Jack, r..really, I'm fine. I just need to, need to..."

O'Neill waited.  He didn't have to wait long.

The younger man turned to face his friend.  "It was so long ago, Jack.  Why do I remember it as
if it were yesterday?"

"A defining moment, Daniel."

"What?"

"I've heard it said that everyone has defining moments in their life.  My guess is that this
was the one of yours.  Probably the first."

"Terrific. ... Do you think it's true, Jack, that my parents were murdered for this?"  Daniel's
arm swept over the projector and its contents.

Jack O'Neill silently cursed the fates that always seemed to thrust Daniel to the forefront of
danger, physical or emotional.  If the phone call to Major Harris from that Captain in New York
had been five minutes later, then Daniel would have been safely on his way to the lab with Sam,
oblivious to the accusations of an ancient archaeologist.  "I don't know, Daniel.  I can
promise you that we'll find out."

"I..I'm not sure I want to."

"Excuse me?"

"I've spent the last few years devoted to the Stargate program, Jack. It's been the main thing,
no, the only thing in my life.  What if it cost them theirs?"

************


"Major Carter?"

"Hmmm?"

"Major Carter?"

"Oh, sorry, what is it Teal'c?"

"I have called you several times. Are you all right?"

"Just thinking about that damn tape and the double damned phone call."

"Yes, I was most surprised that Daniel Jackson did not to react to the allegations."

Sam sighed. "He will eventually.  He's trying to bottle up the feelings."

"I saw no bottle, Major Carter."

"No, uh, sorry Teal'c. That's an idiom for control what he feels."

"Ah, the pain of his parents' deaths."

"Yeah, and the fact that he may be working for the same military that caused them."

"I do not believe the military of yourself, Colonel O'Neill and General Hammond would do such a
thing."

Sam smiled. "Thanks Teal'c, but you, better than just about anyone, should know that not all of
us are the same."

"That is true, there are a few without honor."

"That's putting it mildly, and that was a different era."

"I do not understand."

"The United States was involved in a very unpopular war, there was civil unrest, the college
campuses were full of students protesting everything.  Even the highest level of government was
not exempt from the corruption of the times."

"Ah, yes, your president Nixon..."

Sam was surprised. "What?"

"I have read much of the presidents of this country of yours, Major Carter, Daniel Jackson
suggested that it would be a good thing to know."

She smiled sadly. "That sounds like something he'd recommend."

"Excuse me, Ma'am?"

Sam turned to look at a young Airman. "Yes, Airman Simpson?"

"Ma'am, I have a package for Dr. Jackson.  Sergeant McCandry said that under no circumstances
was I to give it to him.  I had to go to either you or Colonel O'Neill, Ma'am."

"Thank you, Airman.  Dismissed."  She stared aghast at the post-mark. "Holy Hannah!"

"What is wrong, Major Carter?"

"It's postmarked Washington, DC."

*****

Jack frowned as Daniel carefully slid the letter opener into the over-sized envelope.  Dammit,
why hadn't Carter shown him the damn thing first? He'd have been able... to do nothing more
than she'd done, Jack reluctantly admitted to himself.  The younger man's hands were shaking so
badly that O'Neill had to resist the urge to do it for him.

"Well, here goes nothing."  Daniel reached inside and withdrew a stack of very old, very musty
books.

"What the?"  Jack muttered as he realized these were not books in the true sense.  They
appeared to be diaries of some sort.

Daniel's face lit into a smile, and his voice became more animated than it had been since the
incident.  "My father's journals.  Jack, Sam, Teal'c - these are my father's journals.  I
thought they were lost forever."  He fumbled excitedly with the pages of the top book, turning
them rapidly as he tried to take them all in at once. Jack barely caught the remaining four as
they slipped unnoticed from Daniel's hands. A metallic clang captured Jack's attention and he
concentrated on isolating the sound.  There, a key, on the floor.  Had it been in one of the
journals?  Probably. Bending, he retrieved it and slipped it surreptitiously to Carter, who
took it without comment and left the room.

Jack then focused his attention on Daniel.  The young man had slowed down and was now back at
the beginning of the first journal, drinking in each word as if it was the elixir of happiness.
"Daniel?"

"Hmmm..."

Jack took his friend by the elbow and pulled him toward the door.  "What say you go back to
your quarters and read this in peace.  Maybe even get some rest."

"'kay, Jack."  The young man never noticed as he was carefully maneuvered back to his room.

Teal'c opened the door and Jack skillfully steered Daniel into a chair.  The younger man's eyes
never left the journal he was reading.  Jack clicked on the reading lamp above the chair,
finally succeeding in startling his friend. "What, where, how?"

"Your room, Daniel.  Thought you'd be more comfortable here."

"Oh, thanks Jack.  His handwriting's kinda like yours, hard to read, but I think I can..."  His
words faded away as the journal and all its mysteries captured him again.

***********


Carter and Harris snapped to as the Colonel entered the room.  "As you were."

"Sir, Daniel?"

"Back in his room, reading, and Teal'c is standing guard.  Daniel won't be going anywhere
alone.  What've you got?"

Harris responded promptly. "Sir, the markings on the key show that it is for a storage vault."

"You mean a locker, like at the bus station?"

"No sir, I mean a storage vault and based on the DOD code on this key, I'd say this one gets
you access to a fairly large storage room in one of the Pentagon's storage facilities."

"Any idea which one?"

"Not yet, sir."

"Great, the vault could be in what, a half dozen different places?"

"Thirty-six, sir."

Jack stared open-mouthed at the Major. "How many?"

"The Pentagon maintains thirty-six storage facilities in the Washington area alone. But based
on the number, I'd say this key was for one of the older ones."

Carter asked curiously, "What makes you think that?"

"The newer units have the facility number as the first two digits on the key. This one doesn't
and seeing as Dr. Jackson's parents died in the early seventies, there can't be more than five
facilities that fit the bill."

"Washington, eh."

"Yes, sir."

"Carter?"

"Yes, Colonel?"

"Road trip. I'll go clear it with the General."

***********


Captain Arthur Benjamin drummed his fingers on his chair as he waited impatiently for the bank
officer to return.  Getting the proper authorizations to gain access to Dr. Marshall's safety
deposit box had not taken as long as he'd originally feared. For once the military attorneys
had managed to cut through the red tape. Until now. Now all that stood between him and that
accursed box was a four-foot ten-inch fireball of a bank officer. Mrs. Stanley had explained in
no uncertain terms that she really didn't care what paperwork he had, she wasn't letting him at
the safety deposit box until *her* management had approved it.  And *they* were in a meeting.
He would just have to wait. And he could do so in the lobby.

Totally convinced the woman was a retired drill sergeant, Captain Benjamin played his ace ...
national security.  He'd felt himself blush as the older woman glared at him over the top of
her glasses. Her look spoke more plainly than words 'please, Captain, not the national security
line. This is upstate New York state, not the mid-East.'  And he, a captain in the U.S. Army,
had meekly gone to sit in the lobby. Shit!

Groaning in frustration he twisted in the chair, trying to get comfortable in a device
obviously designed by the Marquis de Sade. A pleasant young voice interrupted his self-
condemnation. "Captain Benjamin?"

He leaped to his feet, and turned to face a tall redhead. "Yes, ma'am."

She smiled. "I'm Lorraine Curtis, bank manager. I apologize for the wait, but, well, we do have
our rules."

"Yes, ma'am. I believe my paperwork is in order, ma'am. May I please see the box?"

She studied the paperwork for a moment, then frowned. "This gives you authorization to take
possession of the contents of the box."

"Yes, ma'am. It does. Dr. Marshall turned control of his possessions over to me."

Curiosity flashed in her green eyes, but she only nodded. "Then, if you'll please come with
me."

Hat in hand, he smiled for the first time since his commanding officer had rousted him out of
bed for this assignment. "Yes, ma'am. I'm right behind you."

***********


"Thank you very much. Yes, there will be a bonus in your check this month." The man frowned as
he hung up the phone.

"Problem?"

"Nothing that can't be handled. My source inside the nursing home says that Dr. Marshall had a
visitor from the U.S. Army today. A captain."

"Indeed. What did the captain want?"

"Unknown. My source attempted to determine this but was unable to eavesdrop on their
conversation with impunity."

"I'm surprised, have you never heard of 'listening devices'?"

"There's no need for sarcasm.  In his ten years in the nursing home, Dr. Marshall has never
been visited by more than his few friends, and his family. He was not considered a threat."

"Why didn't you eliminate him at the time?"

"Please. The deaths of three archaeologists, however accidental, would have aroused the
suspicions of my superiors. As time went on, it became apparent that he was harmless."

"Until now."

The first man tilted his head in silent agreement.

"Now what will you do?"

"Find the army captain, and discover what Dr. Marshall actually knew."

***********


Daniel's eyes were glued to the first journal. He studied each page carefully, sometimes
turning backwards to reread a section.  His thoughts were buried in the words of his long dead
father.  The early entries were absolutely normal. Some good, some bad. Typical days in the
life of a pair of young archaeologists and their child.  Daniel was pleasantly surprised to
find just how much of his father's journals were devoted to his young son.  First steps, first
words ... Arabic, of course. First serious illness.  Daniel could almost feel his father's fear
as he wrote of nearly losing his toddler to an outbreak of cholera.  First vacation.  The young
man had to laugh. His parents had left their dig in Egypt for a vacation to... Pompeii.  He
dropped the book to his lap as he laughed.  Wiping the tears from his eyes, he spied the other
journals where Jack had carefully placed them. On the table next to the lamp.  Looking
wistfully at the diary of the early days, Daniel reluctantly put it down, and reached for the
last journal.  The one with mostly empty pages.

 The days in Egypt prior to what his father had labeled 'the find' were as pleasant and
carefree as the entries in the first journal. The odd phrasing caught his attention and he
skimmed a few pages looking for a description of what his parents had found, but none was
forthcoming.  Flipping back to the last page he'd read closely, Daniel was once again struck by
the odd tone his father's words conveyed.  As he read further, he became aware of a kind of
tension building in the entries.  The last few passages in the journal, as the family arrived
with their exhibit in New York, seemed to have a shadow of fear and anger around them.  Daniel
frowned as he concentrated on the last entry, which had obviously been interrupted by
something, or rather someone.

[[[

New York City - at last. It feels good to have a real bathroom again, even if only for a short
time.  Helping Danny with his bath last night was a real treat.  Poor child, he's having a
tough time adjusting. First he has to speak English, not Arabic, and certainly not ancient
Egyptian. Even as smart as he is, it's been a bit difficult. Then he has a real bath in a real
tub, not that little metal thing we used at the dig.  Those little eyes and ears don't miss
much, even in his mostly adult world, and it's really hard to surprise him, but I managed to
last night. Didn't have bubble bath in Cairo. God, the expression in those blue eyes when the
foam began to rise.  I think he was a little ...


...They were here again.  Dammit, I thought I'd settled the matter in Cairo.  My permits are
all in order.  The Egyptian government was delighted to receive the check from the museum. What
could the US Army possibly want with this display?  That colonel really makes me uneasy, I
don't like how he talks to Claire, and to Danny.  The boy is terrified of him, but too polite
to say so. I've forbidden the man ever to speak to my son again. Just let him try. ... And he
knows entirely too much about what we've brought back from Egypt. If I didn't know better, I'd
say he recognized those symbols on the pillars.

Well, at least he hasn't seen this bracelet.  I've never seen anything like it.  It weaves its
way around the lower arm, wrist and hand and ends up with golden cups on the fingers.  I don't
understand why the hole ends up in the center of the palm, though. It's almost like it's
missing something. Well, after we set up the pillars today, I'll take some time to decipher the
mystery.

]]]

*****

Teal'c sat cross-legged on the floor in front of Daniel's office.  O'Neill had charged him with
Daniel Jackson's safety. He would remain on guard until such time as the SGC commander relieved
him of the charge.  Off-world, Teal'c would have considered the assignment to be a challenge of
the highest caliber, but he would have normally assumed his young friend to be safe within the
confines of the SGC. Recent events, however, had allowed evil to reach within it's walls to lay
hold of Daniel Jackson.  It was indeed fortunate that the young man had taken no lasting
physical harm, but the emotional toll had been high. Too high.

Daniel Jackson was what had once been known, according to O'Neill, as a gentleman scholar, and
he was also the kindest, gentlest, most honorable individual Teal'c had ever met. That some, as
yet unknown, person would wish to cause his young friend pain was incomprehensible to the
Jaffa. He frowned as he realized his own emotions were almost out-of-control. Taking a
shuddering breath, Teal'c relaxed his body and concentrated on achieving Kel-no-reem.

************


The journal slid unnoticed to the floor as Daniel's grip turned to watery Jell-O. A Goa'uld
ribbon device. Oh God, his father had been writing about a Goa'uld device. "Jack!"  Daniel
glanced around, puzzled, then shrugged and headed for the door. Suddenly remembering the
journal, he darted back to his chair, and retrieved the book from the floor. Flipping backwards
through the pages in search of the passage he'd just read, he flung open the door, and promptly
fell over Teal'c.

Alarmed the Jaffa bolted to his feet, barely managing to catch Daniel before he slammed
headfirst into the wall. Setting the stunned man on his feet, Teal'c asked urgently. "Daniel
Jackson, are you harmed?"

"I...I'm fine, Teal'c. Thanks, but, uh, why are you here?"

"Colonel O'Neill did not believe you should be left unguarded."

"Oh, he didn't, did he."

"That is correct. You appear to be displeased with this arrangement, Daniel Jackson." Teal'c
was concerned by the hint of anger in his young friend's tone.

Daniel sighed and absently brushed at non-existent bangs. "Teal'c, I'm not really angry with
you, but just let me run this by you. I've been going through the 'gate for three years with
SG-1.  I've been shot at by just about everything. I've k..killed, and I've even been killed.
I've managed to handle all sorts of situations that most people, military included, can't even
begin to imagine. *Why* do I need a guard?"

"Ah. You feel your manhood has been threatened."

Blue eyes widened impossibly wide. "*What!* No, that's not... Blast! Where's Jack?"

"I believe he had business with Major Carter and Major Harris."

"Fine. Thank you very much!"  Daniel barely managed not to snap as he turned on his heels and
headed for the elevator. Teal'c's eyes lit up with amusement as he followed his young friend
down the hall.

*************


Harris was on the phone as Daniel, trailed closely by Teal'c, arrived. Sam looked up puzzled as
he flew through the door demanding, "Where's Colonel O'Neill?"

Sam looked startled at the tone in Daniel's voice. "Daniel?"

"What Sam?  You think I need a baby-sitter, too?"

'Oops.' She pursed her lips as she quickly contemplated her next words. "Actually, no, but you
might need a bodyguard."

"What?" Daniel looked startled at the unexpected response.

"Daniel, be realistic.  First you get knocked unconscious on a mission. Then you get the tape.
You have to admit that this thing with the tape has been a real mind-bending experience..."

"Sam..."

"Let me finish. Oh, yeah. Next comes the discovery that there are Stargate glyphs on the, uh,
pillars."

"Sam..."

She held up a hand to silence him. "Next we're given reason to believe that the, uhm, accident
might not have been an accident."  She gulped as she attempted to hurry past the tragedy of his
parents' deaths. "And you mysteriously get your father's journals sent to you. Here. At the
SGC.  Yes, Daniel, I'd say that you most definitely need a bodyguard."

He smiled wryly. "Are you finished?"

She crossed her arms over her chest, and braced for the worst. "Yes."

"My father had a Goa'uld ribbon device."

Her eyes widened in shock and her hands took on a life of their own as she started for the
door. "The colonel's in with the general."

*************


"Colonel, I understand your concern for Dr. Jackson, but I am not certain that a trip to
Washington is warranted. Let Major Harris and the NID deal with it."

"Sir, with all due respect, I'm sure Major Harris is a fine officer, with the best of
intentions." Jack mentally groaned as he heard himself. "But the NID doesn't have a stake in
this, and neither does Major Harris. Daniel is only a victim to them. Actually, except for
mental harassment, whoever sent the tape and the journals couldn't even be charged with a
crime, yet. It's important to me...us to find out the answers."

"All the more reason to let the outside entity investigate, Colonel. SG-1 is just too close."

"Sir, these journals..."  Jack found himself interrupted as the door opened to reveal Daniel.

Hammond frowned as the young man burst into the room. His glare was as much for the young major
who stopped just shy of the door as it was for the scientist. "Join us, please, Major, Teal'c."
Sam gulped and moved to stand nervously beside Jack.  Teal'c stopped just behind them. The
colonel spared a moment for his more militaristic teammates before returning his attention to
his civilian. The one who was about to be chewed up and spit out by an obviously annoyed
general. *Not* that said civilian noticed, of course.

The ranking officer's tone was glacial. "Dr. Jackson, I would have..."

"I'm really sorry to interrupt, General, but my father had a Goa'uld ribbon device."

*************


The mention of a Goa'uld ribbon device in the elder Jackson's journal, with all the unspoken
implications behind it, had stopped the dressing down of the young man before it even began. It
had also served as the deciding factor in persuading Hammond to authorize the trip to
Washington, one which, to Jack's relief, did not include Daniel.

The young archaeologist's fury at being *ordered* to stay behind rivaled anything his
commanding officer had ever seen.  Granny O'Neill had once again been proven right with her
'still waters run deep' line. As the argument heated up, Jack discretely shooed Sam and Teal'c
from the room, and settled in to watch the verbal fray.  To his complete amazement, Daniel won
General Hammond's reluctant approval in record time.  Granting Jack a beatific smile, Daniel
darted from the office even faster than he'd arrived.

Jack, however, had remained behind, too stunned by this turn of events to say much... at first.
When at last he found his voice, he'd argued for what seemed an eternity with the General, but
in the end reason, and rank, had prevailed, and Jackson was, once and for all, included in
Jack's road trip. Daniel, however, remained blissfully unaware of the contention between the
two officers.

*************


To Jack's relief, the trip from Colorado to DC had been decidedly uneventful, the most
dangerous part of the journey being the collection of luggage at Washington National airport.
They'd taken a cab to their hotel, where a suite consisting of two bedrooms, and a very small
kitchen, looked inviting after the long flight.

Jack watched as Daniel dropped his hastily packed bag on one of the beds in the bedroom he'd
chosen.  To his infinite relief, the younger man appeared to have recovered from the shock of
the tape, but O'Neill still wasn't happy about his presence in Washington. 'For heaven's sake,
O'Neill, get a grip. We're on Earth, not off-world. Why should I be worried?  Just because
we've got a dead colonel, a killer colonel, and a Goa'uld ribbon device - gee, what could
possibly go wrong?'

"Jack?"

"Yeah, Daniel?"

"You looked worried."

"Me worried? Nope. Just jet lag, Daniel.  I'm used to quick trips through, uh, you know.  Not
long jet flights with movies.  Let's see if Carter's ready."

*************


"Sir, O'Neill, Carter and Jackson are on their way to Washington."

"Indeed.  Why?"

"Our source was unable to determine that, sir, but," he hastily added before the man could
display any temper, "I'm told that Jackson has been preoccupied reading some sort of journal
that arrived earlier today."

"A journal?  What kind of journal?"

"Unknown, sir.  Our source could not get close enough to tell, Jackson was always being
watched."

"How many men are at the airport?"

"Five, sir.  We won't lose them."

The cold gray eyes lit up suddenly, as if on fire, and the young man took an involuntary step
backwards.  The voice was soft when he finally did speak.  Caressing a large jar, he said. "No,
you won't. Unlike Rogers here, *you* won't fail me."

The younger man's eyes never left the contents of the jar. "N..No, sir. Never."

*****

"Knock, knock."  Sam called from outside the bedroom. "Everyone decent?"

"That's a matter of opinion."  Daniel laughed.

"Not funny, Jackson."  Jack growled in mock dismay. "Come on in Carter."

"Yes, sir. I just wanted to find out if we're going out right away..."

"Yes..."

"No..."

The negative from Jack surprised both of his colleagues.  Daniel turned startled eyes toward
the older man. "Uh, Jack?"

"Daniel, I don't know about you, but airline food is worse that being at boot camp.  I think
eating should be top priority. Besides we don't even know where to start..."

"Actually, Jack, I've got an idea about that."

Jack's bewildered look caused Carter to look quickly away. "And that would be, what?"

"The Museum of Natural History."

It was Sam's turn to look bewildered. "What?"

"An old friend of my father's still works there, or did as of a few months ago. He may be able
to shed some light on my parents' last dig."

"Good friend of yours, eh, Danny-boy?"

The younger man blushed deeply. "Not exactly. The last time I saw him he, uh, suggested I
change my name to Jackass so I wouldn't embarrass my parents anymore."

********


The bus had released him within easy walking distance of the Pentagon, and Jack lost no time in
heading for the uniquely shaped building. He passed easily through the metal detectors and
security checks at the south entrance to the building.  His hand hesitated briefly over the
maps on the counter, but his brain rejected the idea as unnecessary.  After all, he'd managed
to navigate successfully on multiple alien worlds, how bad could the Pentagon actually be? And
the room he was looking for was on the first floor, 1E702.  First floor, E ring, room 702.
Nothing to it. If memory served him correctly all he had to do was to get to A ring in the
center of the building, then cut across to the right corridor in E ring. Nothing to it.

Jack walked confidently down corridor three, turned right into A ring, rounded the first corner
and found ... construction. A helmeted worker stopped him. "Sorry, sir, this area's blocked off
for asbestos removal."

"Sweet. All the way up or just this floor?"

"Just this floor, Colonel."

"Thanks." Sighing heavily, Jack searched for the nearest stairwell, which turned out to be in
the B ring. Cursing under his breath, he took the stairs two at a time, exited on the next
floor, and turned right.  Relieved to be headed in the right direction, he rounded a corner and
almost collided with a wall. Thinking that only an idiot would wall up a hallway, he
backtracked to the nearest corridor and headed for the next ring, figuring that he had to get
to E ring anyway and hoping the wall did not extend all the way through to C ring. Forty-five
minutes, three floors, and five corridors later, his blood pressure was high enough to get him
grounded. 'Face it, O'Neill, you're gonna have to ask for directions. And where the hell is the
men's room?' For once, luck was with him, and he shoved open the door grateful for the release
the violent action gave him, and for the fact that no one was coming out of the room as he was
going in. This entire day was going to shit, and fast.

********


"Captain Benjamin?"  A slightly hoarse voice called to the young Army officer as he started to
cross the street.

Upon hearing his name, the captain turned quickly, scanning the area for the owner of the
voice. "Yes?"

"Here, sir."  A middle-aged man with thinning hair waved a hand to gain the officer's
attention. A confused Captain Benjamin stood rooted to the spot. The other man moved closer,
holding out a badge. "Sorry to bother you, sir. I'm Madison Trent, FBI."

Benjamin smiled. "How can I help you, Mr. Trent?"

"Dr. Philip Marshall."

"What about him?"

The other man glanced around him. "Well, I'd rather not discuss anything on the street.  Have
you had lunch?"

"No."

"There's a café across the street. Let's talk there."

********


"Colonel?"  The pretty young lieutenant saluted as she approached the obviously annoyed
colonel.

Jack froze in his tracks, turning to face the girl. "Yes, Lieutenant?"

"I'm sorry to bother you, sir, but you look a little lost."

"That obvious, eh?"

"Yes, sir."

Jack smiled charmingly at the young woman. "I'm looking for Historical Records."

Jack's smile brought an unexpected blush to the young woman's face. "Oh, that's in room..."

"1E702. Yes, I know, I just can't seem to find it."

"Sorry, sir. Actually, you're very close. It's around the next corner."

"Thank you, Lieutenant."

"You're quite welcome, Colonel."

He walked quickly around the corner and stopped just outside the plain gray door with the black
lettering. '1E702 Historical Records.' Thank God! Beside the door was a removable nameplate
bearing the name, Colonel Clark Armstrong. God, the very thought of being trapped in a room,
surrounded by musty relics day in and day out, made his stomach turn.  Bet Daniel would love
it. Should've let him ... no, he's better off at the Museum of Natural History with Carter.
He'd never have made it through the halls of the Pentagon, even with an escort. Besides, Jack
suddenly remembered, the military environment might not be the safest one for his young friend.
Swallowing a grimace, he knocked on the door.

********


Daniel stared in astonishment at the huge skeleton in the center of the room.  Odd that in all
his years of studying ancient artifacts, he'd didn't remember ever getting this close to
dinosaur bones.  He wondered fleetingly how the Goa'uld would've coped if they'd found Earth
during the Jurassic Era.  Grinning absurdly at the thought of a possessed T-Rex, he replied
absently to Sam's explanation of fossil fuels. "That's ... interesting, Sam."

"Daniel.  You're not listening to me, are you?"  She placed a gentle hand on Daniel's arm.

He covered her hand with his own. "I'm sorry, Sam.  I've just never seen anything this big
before. At least nothing that used to be alive.  What were you saying?"

She laughed. "Something useless about gasoline, I believe. Now where do we go to find your
fr..., uh, your father's friend?"

Daniel quickly moved to the information booth. "Excuse me, miss, can you tell me where Dr.
Damian Fielding's office is?"

"Upstairs, third office on the left."

Daniel and Sam hurried up the ancient staircase, oblivious to the watchers below.

********


Colonel Clark Armstrong was an imposing figure. Tall, muscular, broad shouldered. Imposing. The
thick dark eyebrows indicated he'd once been the owner of a shock of dark hair, which was now
obviously MIA.  The colonel was middle-aged, probably a little older than Jack himself.  Jack
suppressed a smile as envious gray eyes acknowledged his rank, ribbons, and decorations in one
unobtrusive glance.  Long thin fingers turned the little key over and over as the other man
studied the smooth metal surface. "Well, it's a DOD storage locker key."

Jack cursed inwardly. "I *know* that.  Any idea where the locker might be found?"

"Actually..."  Jack's ears perked up. "No."

"No? No! Colonel, I find that hard to believe."

"Well, it's almost true."

Jack counted silently to ten. "Why?"

"All the older lockers were re-keyed, starting five years ago. Security purposes, you know."

"I see." Jack wondered how to dispose of the body. "But this is an older key, right?"

"Right, and that's where the problem comes in. Notification of the re-keying was mailed to all
key-holders, but no new keys were mailed. Security..."

"...purposes. Got it. So?"  Jack had now counted silently to thirty-two.

"The firm hired to do the work did an excellent job on the lockers, but their record keeping
left a lot to be desired."

"They didn't keep records?"

"Not electronic."

"But they have paper records?"

"Yes, but there were 11,327 lockers re-keyed over the past five years."

********


The third door on the left was open, and an older secretary sat with her back to the door,
studying the PC in front of her.  Alerted by their footsteps, she turned and watched as the
pair walked into the room. "Yes?"

Daniel glanced quickly at Sam. "We're here to see Dr. Fielding."

"Do you have an appointment?"

"No."

"Well, sir, I'm afraid that Dr. Fielding does not receive visitors without an appointment."

"Excuse me."  Daniel stared as Sam took over the conversation. "I believe he'll want to see
us."

"And you would be..."

"Dr. Samantha Carter." She flipped an id case open and closed rapidly. "Pentagon."

The woman turned slightly in her chair. "Concerning?"

Sam put on her best military demeanor. "His grant."  She managed not to react to the strangled
sound coming from the young man beside her.

********


"Sir, they've split up."

"Indeed. What division?"

"O'Neill's gone to the Pentagon. Carter and Jackson went to the Museum of Natural History."

"Are the tails still active?"

"Yes, the tail on O'Neill's been changed four times. Twice for the other two.  Also, we weren't
able to follow him into the Pentagon, but we have people watching every exit."

"Excellent. Carter's credentials?"

"Major in the US Air Force, Doctorate in Astro-Physics, worked at the Pentagon..."

"Defensive capabilities?"

"Self defense - level 3."

"That high."

"Yes, sir. The young lady can hold her own."

"Dr. Jackson?"

"Apparently everything he knows he's been taught by Colonel O'Neill. Our source at the SGC
tells us that he's adequate at them."

"Very good. Bring me Jackson."

"What about Carter?"

"If she interferes, terminate her."

*****

Hammond sighed as he heard the knock on his door. Another interruption. "Come."

The door opened and Teal'c walked quickly into the room. "General Hammond."

"Yes, Teal'c?"

"I have come to ask a preference."

"Excuse me?"

"Is that not the correct term when asking for assistance?"

"Do you mean a favor, Teal'c?"

The Jaffa's eyebrows rose. "I believe that is what I said."

"Uh, right. What can I do for you, Teal'c?"

"I wish to inquire as to the whereabouts of Colonel O'Neill, Major Carter, and Daniel Jackson."

Hammond looked puzzled. "Son, I thought you realized they left this morning for Washington."

"I am aware of that, General Hammond.  I wish to know their current location."

"Teal'c, are you by any chance asking me if they're there yet?"

"I believe that is what I said."

"Oh. Yes, actually they should be getting to their hotel about now."

"I wish to communicate with Colonel O'Neill."

"Why?"

"O'Neill requested that I communicate anything unusual to him, immediately."

Hammond studied the ever-serious Jaffa. "When was this?"

"Shortly after he viewed Daniel Jackson's tape."

"I see. Well, Teal'c, since the colonel is not here, I recommend that you tell me."

Teal'c looked closely at the general, then tilted his head in acquiescence. "That would be
acceptable. Daniel Jackson's laboratory and quarters have been searched."

"What! That's not possible. Security is doing random checks on his quarters and lab, and
haven't reported anything out of the ordinary."

"It was very skillfully done, General Hammond. Eve
amiss."

"Damn. I'll have security dust for prints. Was there anything missing?"

"There did not appear to be, but my primary concern is for Daniel Jackson's home."

"I'll have security check it out."

"If you have no objection, General Hammond, I would prefer to observe his apartment myself."

Hammond frowned. "Why, Teal'c?"

"I have been to Daniel Jackson's home on several occasions, General Hammond. I will know if
anything has been disturbed, SGC security will not."

******


To his credit, Jack never flinched. "11,327? Paper records?"

"Yes, Colonel. Some have been scanned onto optical disk, but that project just began this year,
so the odds of your key having a match on optical is very low. You obviously have the proper
clearances, where would you like to begin?"

Desperately wishing he'd brought Carter with him, Jack managed a smile. "With the optical. I'm
assuming it will be faster to check those out."

"Yes indeed, Colonel.  Let's see..."  Colonel Armstrong picked up the phone. "Lt. Simmons, I
have a colonel here who wants to view optical records. Find him somewhere to work."  He
disconnected, and turned back to Jack. "Lt. Simmons will assist you in locating a cubicle to
work in, and will also introduce you to the look-up procedures."

Picking up on the obvious dismissal, Jack forced a smile. "Thank you Colonel, you've been ...
helpful."

The other man nodded absently, and Jack couldn't help but notice the lack of an 'anytime'
response. Stepping quickly outside the man's cubicle, he almost ran over the pretty lieutenant
who'd pointed him to the correct room. "I'm sorry, Lt. ... Simmons. Oh!"

"No problem, sir, we're thinking of putting up stoplights at the busy intersections."  Noting
his puzzled look, she smiled. "Sorry, sir. Just a bit of Pentagon humor.  Colonel Armstrong
says you need to view some records?"

"Yes. I'm searching for a key match for this."  He passed the key to the young woman.

She frowned as she saw it.

Noting her expression, Jack responded quickly. "What's wrong?"

"I'm not sure, sir. I think ... Sir, would you come with me, please? I'd like to check
something."

Jack motioned her to lead the way.  She maneuvered her way quickly through the maze of cubicles
in the Records room, ending up in a tiny cubicle near a wall. She dropped into the chair and
entered her PC password, taking care that Jack did not see it.  Placing the key on the desk
beside her, she began pulling up what appeared to be log records.

"Lieutenant?"

"Just a minute, sir. This won't take lo... There."  She turned the screen so that Jack could
see it.

The colonel frowned as he reviewed the display. "If I'm reading this correctly, the new key
match to mine was requested two weeks ago."

"Yes, sir.  I recognized the number, but couldn't place when it had been ordered up."

"You recognized the number on the key.  Why?"  Jack was working hard to keep the suspicion out
of his voice.

"Well, actually, two reasons, one, I've got a really good head for numbers. I sometimes have
trouble forgetting them. And, two, the officer who made the request was a real..."  She
stopped, suddenly aware that her next comments might not be well-received by a senior officer.

"A real jerk?"  Jack asked with a smile.

"Yes sir, jerk will do."

"I see. I see his name on the log, but can you by any chance describe him?"

"Oh, yes sir, that's no problem. I have a really good head..." Her voice trailed off, slightly
embarrassed.

"...for faces."  Jack finished for her. "Thank you, lieutenant.  May I borrow your phone? I
need to make a few calls."

******


Damian Fielding was all smiles as Sam entered the room. "Ah, Major, an emissary from the..."
His words died in his throat as he caught sight of Daniel. The welcome in his voice died as he
returned his attention to Sam. "Is *he* with you?"

"Yes."

"Then we have nothing to talk about.  Please leave or I will call security."

Daniel stepped forward quickly. "Dr. Fielding, please. I know you don't like me but I'm here
for my parents."

"Since when have you ever cared about your parents?"

"W..what?"

"Your absurd theories about the pyramids are a disgrace to your parents' memories. Your parents
are probably dizzy from spinning in their graves."

Daniel's face drained of color. "Dr. Fielding, don't you think my theories have cost me enough?
I'm not part of the mainstream archaeological community anymore. No one will publish my papers.
I..I couldn't get a job with a university if I tried, and I doubt that I could get onto a dig
except maybe as a third assistant.  I know what my parents would have thought of me. I don't
need you to tell me.  Come on, Sam, we won't get any help from him."

Sam placed a concerned hand on Daniel's arm. "Just a minute, Daniel."  She turned back to Dr.
Fielding. "Sir, I really don't give a rat's ass what you think of Dr. Jackson or his theories.
I am here to gather information that my superiors have requested. I would rather not report
that you have been uncooperative.  That could adversely affect your grant for the Utah digs
when they come up for review, next month."

Fielding choked. "You wouldn't."

The young major looked grave. "Try me."

"Very well, I'll speak to you. Not him."

Sam's temper peaked. "You will speak to both of us, or..."

"It's okay, Sam. I'll wait downstairs."  Daniel glared at the older man. "I could use some air,
anyway."

******


Daniel wandered aimlessly around the museum before finally flopping down on a bench near the
dinosaur exhibit.  The sheer size of the beasts was a bit overwhelming and almost succeeded in
pulling him out of his depression.  Damian Fielding was wrong. Daniel knew it. His parents
would have backed him and supported him no matter what. Wouldn't they? Of course they would.
But, he'd been laughed off the stage for his 'theories'. Would they have been proud of that?
No, but... God. There could be no buts.  His parents would have thought him a failure, just
like the rest of the scientific community.  And he wouldn't have been able to tell them he'd
been right.

"Dr. Jackson?"

Daniel looked up from his place on the bench. "Yes?"

The security guard smiled. "Major Carter asked that you meet her in the workrooms."

"Oh, yes. Well, thank you. Uh, where are the workrooms?"

"I'll be glad to show you, Dr. Jackson."

"Thanks."  Daniel followed the older man to the back of the museum.

"It's in there, son."  The guard pointed toward the double doors.

"Thanks."  The young archaeologist pushed open the swinging doors and stepped inside.  A
sickeningly sweet smell assailed his nostrils as a cloth covered his face.  His struggle
against the strong hands which held him was brief, as darkness took hold.

*****

Forty-five irritating minutes passed as Sam grilled Damian Fielding, alleged Ph.D.  The man was
without a shadow of a doubt the most arrogant human she'd ever met. He'd even give Maybourne a
run for his money. Each question was barely, if at all answered, then twisted into a
dissertation on how he would have handled the situation differently. Sam finally decided that
enough was enough. "So, Doctor, if I'm hearing you correctly, you have no idea where the
Jacksons were digging just prior to their deaths, is that right?"

Fielding smiled. "As I've stated before, Major, I was in South America at that time, studying
the ruins of..."

"Yes, thank you, but back to the Jacksons. He was a good friend, correct?"

"Oh, yes, Dr. Jackson and I were quite close."

"But he never gave you any indication of what he and his wife were doing?"

"I'm afraid not.  I do know he was extremely excited about the exhibition in New York. Pity."

"Doctor, I really find it hard to believe..."

Fielding smiled. "I know what you're going to say. You find it hard to believe that such a
close friend wouldn't have confided in me, particularly since I am also an archaeologist."

Sam nodded. "Very well stated, now as to the answer..?"

"Young lady, archaeologists can be a very closed-mouth group. And when it comes to a
significant find, possibly of major historical significance, then no, no one would have been
told."

"But surely someone associated with the dig would have leaked its location?"

Fielding shook his head. "Not in this case. Dr. Jackson and his wife inspired an almost
unbelievable loyalty in their workers.  They'd used the same foreman for years.  If Dr. Jackson
asked them to jump into a live volcano, then they'd probably have done it.  At any rate, Dr.
Jackson never got a chance to catalog a list of his discoveries so there was little interest in
locating the site.  And the foreman was killed about six months after their own accident."

"So there's no one you can think of who might know the location of the Jacksons' dig?"

"If their son," Fielding managed to turn the title into a sneer, "doesn't know, then, no, I
can't think of anyone else who would."

Sam managed to hide her astonishment. "What?"

"Surely he's told you?"

"Why don't you tell me?"

"Very well. The Jacksons' took their darling Danny with them everywhere. Kinda like American
Express, never left home without that child. If anyone knows where their last dig is located it
will be their son."

******


His phone call to General Hammond had resulted in the path being cleared for him to access all
personnel records as needed.  Unfortunately, it had also given him cause for worry ... Hammond
had related Teal'c's discoveries about Daniel's lab and on base quarters. The colonel was
grateful that Teal'c had noticed it, and that the Jaffa was the one who would be searching
Daniel's apartment.  Teal'c knew where Daniel's safe was located.  Jack smiled as he recalled
Daniel's reluctance to allow one of the colonel's friends to install the hidden device. But a
swift reminder that his journals would become SGC property otherwise, was all it took to turn
the protest into reluctant acquiescence.

The young lieutenant's eyes had widened noticeably when the personnel director was given the
formal authorization to cooperate fully with Colonel O'Neill. But she wisely kept silent as she
followed the colonel and a very annoyed lt. colonel to a nearby workstation.  The lt. colonel
dropped into the swivel chair, and logged into the network. Turning to Jack, she said. "There
you are, *Colonel*, I've logged you in with my password. This gives you access to anything you
could possibly need to know."  She rose to allow him to take her place. "Oh, and sir, please
don't leave the machine logged in when you leave.  That's a security violation."

"Thank you, Colonel, I couldn't have managed without you."  Jack smiled as he spoke, leaving
the other woman uncertain of his meaning as she retreated to her post. Glancing at the smiling
lieutenant, Jack sobered. "Something amusing here, Lieutenant?"

The smile vanished. "No, sir. Nothing amusing at all."

"Didn't think so. Now, do you have any idea how to operate this thing?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then have a seat and let's look for your jer...,uh, Colonel."

******


Sam left Fielding's office breathing a sigh of relief, only to stop short in the outer office.
Knowing how upset Daniel had been when he'd left, she assumed that he'd head for the nearest
exit, and the outside air. "Excuse me, but where's the nearest exit?"

"Take a right, then a left. Door leads to the street."  The secretary never missed a beat as
she concentrated on her PC.

"Thanks."  Sam started to leave.

"It's raining."

"Oh." Terrific. "Did you by any chance see which way my friend went?"

The woman turned toward Sam. "Look, Major, I'm not paid to keep an eye on the visitors. Okay?"

"Uh, yeah. I, uh..."

"Your Dr. Jacobs left in a hurry. That's all I know."  She turned to once again look only at
her PC.

"Jackson. It's Jackson. And thank you." Sam walked quickly toward the door, muttering 'for
nothing' under her breathe.  Hurrying back down to the information counter, she caught the
attention of the young woman behind the counter. "Excuse me, but I seem to have lost my friend.
You haven't seen him recently, have you?"

The girl responded solemnly. "You mean the real sweetheart with the cute ...?

"That's him." Sam found herself blushing as she quickly interrupted the girl.

Laughing the receptionist replied. "Actually yes. He came down the stairs looking as if someone
had just licked the red off of his candy."

"Any idea where he went?"

"You mean the first time he passed me?"

"Uh, no. How about the last time?"

"Oh, he went into the dinosaur room."

"Thank you."  Sam headed toward the door.

"Oh, Major?"

"Yes?"

"Is he married or something?"

Restraining the urge to kill the young woman, Sam replied softly. "Or something," then hurried
away before more questions could be asked.

******


"He's not here, sir."  Lt. Simmons was as dejected, and tired, as the colonel who sat slumped
on the shelf behind her.

"How may John Black's were there again?"

"One hundred and twenty-three total. But only three are Colonels, and only one of those is
Army."

"And we've looked at all their pictures?"

"Yes, sir. And he wasn't here. I don't understand, sir. How could he get forged id?"

"That's another thing I'll have to find out.  Think you could describe him well enough for a
sketch artist to draw him?"

"Yes, sir. He was, shall we say, unforgettable."

"Good. A face is better than nothing, which is what we have right now. Let's go. And for
heaven's sake, log off the network, and let's find another phone."

The young woman did as she was told and followed Jack in search of the dragon lady. Not that he
would dream of referring to the lt. colonel that way in anything other than his thoughts,
but...  Rounding a corner, he braked in time to avoid a collision with a harried private
bearing a stack of folders that almost obscured his vision. The young man gasped as he saw the
officers, and tried to rearrange the paperwork to respond appropriately.  Only Jack's quick
reflexes stopped an avalanche of paper from hitting the floor. "It's okay, son, you have your
hands full."

"Yes, sir, thank you, sir."  The private nodded gratefully, and disappeared into a stack of
filing bins.

"Not all automated, are we?" He asked Lt. Simmons.

"Well, actually, we have to store paper backup for all the electronic records we keep."

O'Neill stopped in his tracks and looked at the young woman, trying to determine if she was
pulling his leg. A high-pitched musical tone caught his attention and he pulled his pager from
his belt. "Hmmm. Lieutenant. I really need a phone, with an outside line."

"Yes, sir."  She quickly found him a phone, and discreetly disappeared while he made his call.

Jack dialed quickly, then counted the rings under his breath as he waited for the answer.
"Carter, what's up? Did you and Daniel... What do you mean he's missing?"

*****

Sam was waiting in front of the museum when the cab bearing Jack O'Neill pulled up.  She
watched anxiously as he paid the driver, then unfolded from the back seat onto the pavement. He
minced no words as he bore down on the young major. "You lost him?"

"Yes, sir. It appears that way."

"How the hell do you lose a six foot tall geek in a museum? No. Don't answer that question. Let
me guess. He wandered away to look at rocks."

"Not exactly, sir."  Sam was growing annoyed with the colonel's sarcastic rhetoric. Daniel was
nowhere to be found. She really didn't have either the time or the patience for the colonel's
tantrum.

"What happened?"

She quickly ran through their meeting with Damian Fielding, and Daniel's desire to get some
air. As she spoke, the angry glint in the colonel's eyes changed to worry.

Jack took a deep breath, and straightened his cap. "Sorry, Carter. He should have stayed
indoors. Dammit, Daniel."

"No, sir. You don't understand. According to Fielding's secretary, it was raining when Daniel
left the office. I don't think he'd have gone outside.  The last person I can find who saw him
was the receptionist. And he was heading to the dinosaur exhibit when she last saw him.  But no
one in that room, including the security guard, remembers seeing him. Do you think he's been
kidnapped?"

Jack glared at the sky as raindrops landed on the brim of his cap, then said. "Let's go inside.
I need to talk to the receptionist. And Fielding."

******


Teal'c's conversation with the doorman at Daniel's security building was going nowhere fast. It
simply did not matter to the doorman that Teal'c had been there on many occasions with Daniel
Jackson. Dr. Jackson was not in the building, therefore, Teal'c could not enter. The Jaffa was
puzzled, General Hammond had assured him that there would be no problem with his examining
Daniel Jackson's personal abode. To the alien's amazement, the doorman had no knowledge of
General Hammond nor did he appear to care that Hammond was Daniel Jackson's commanding officer.
"Look, Mr. Teal or whatever your name is, I don't give a tinker's damn who this Hammond person
is. Boss or not, a man's entitled to his privacy, and I'm not letting you in without a court
order."

"How must I go about obtaining this court order?"

"You're kidding, right? First you get a lawyer. Then you give him all your worldly possessions,
then he goes to a judge, then you get the order. Comprende?"

"How much time does this giving process usually take? This matter must not be delayed."

"God, I..." The doorman turned to answer the phone. "Jenkins. ... Yes, sir, he's here right
now. ... The key? Sir, I... Yes, sir. No questions. Understood, sir."  Turning back to Teal'c,
the doorman sighed. "You must know some important people."

"Why?"

"My boss just told me to take you upstairs and let you into Jackson's apartment."

"My thanks to both you and your superior."

"Yeah, right. Whatever. Let's go."

******


Jack looked scathingly at the dinosaur fossils. "You would'a thought there'd be enough rocks in
this museum for him. Major, you're sure no one saw him leave?"

"No one that I spoke with, sir. And..."

"Excuse me, uh, Colonel, Major?"

Sam and Jack whirled to face a nervous guard. "Are you looking for Dr. Jackson?"

"YES!"  The twin replies caused the man to visibly wince.

"Well, I took him to the workrooms about two hours ago."

"The workrooms?" Jack's voice held more than a hint of steel. Daniel would be six feet under if
he found the scientist looking at rocks in the workrooms while his friends frantically searched
the public areas of the museum. "Why? What did he want to see?"

"I can't really say, sir. Major Carter asked him to meet her there."

Sam looked stunned. "No, I didn't."

It was the guard's turn to look surprised. "Your name is Carter, too?"

Jack groaned inwardly. This was bad, real bad. "Don't tell me. Some female in a major's uniform
identified herself as Major Carter, and asked you to give Dr. Jackson the message?"

"Yes, sir."

"Would you show us where you took him?"

"No problem. And I apologize for not getting with you sooner. Had to run to the Post Office and
that took longer than I'd planned.  This way please."

******


The frigid temperature surrounding him was barely noticed as Daniel's eyes struggled to open.
The ceiling swam above him, making him even more dizzy than he already was. Before he could
even begin to take stock of his whereabouts, or anything else, his stomach lurched. Daniel
lunged desperately to one side and barely managed to hang over the edge of whatever-the-hell-
it-was-he-was-on.  What little nourishment had been on his stomach was quickly expelled, but
the dry heaves continued for far longer.

When at last the retching ceased, Daniel rolled onto his back and covered his eyes with his
arm, praying for the room to just stop moving. As his stomach settled, and his head began to
clear, he struggled to recall exactly what had happened.  He mentally replayed his tour of the
museum, cursing his stupidity for following the guard to the workrooms.  If he hadn't been so
angry at Fielding, he'd have realized that Sam would have sought him out before going anywhere.
She'd never have sent a guard to find him.  Groaning he opened his eyes, only to close them as
the ceiling continued to vibrate. 'Maybe if I sit up, that'll help.'  Keeping his eyes tightly
closed he started to push himself upright, only to freeze as he discovered his left wrist was
bound with something. Forcing himself to look, he was not terribly surprised to find handcuffs
securing his left wrist to metal shelves. His eyes widened as he realized the shelves were
vibrating. Taking a deep breath, he glanced around the room, only to find that it was not a
room. He was in a van of some sort, obviously a prisoner of someone, being transported
somewhere. Shivering slightly, he glanced back at the contents of the nearby shelves. 'What the
hell? Ice? Oh shit!' This wasn't just a van, it was a refrigerated van, carrying frozen
specimens. Wrapping his free arm around his now shivering body, he hoped he wouldn't be frozen
by the time the van reached its destination.

******


Teal'c waited patiently for the doorman to unlock the door, and stood silently as the lock
clicked. The man backed away from the door, looking expectantly at Teal'c as he did so. "Well?
Aren't you going to open the door?"

"When you have departed."

"Oh. Yeah. Well, just remember I'm not responsible for this apartment if you forget to lock up
when you leave."

"I will not forget."

The startled doorman stared for a short moment before shaking his head and walking away.
Teal'c gave him a moment to leave, then opened the door.  Brown eyes narrowed at the sight
before him. The apartment had been thoroughly searched, and by someone who knew they would not
be interrupted or discovered quickly.  The Jaffa removed General Hammond's cell phone from his
pocket, and calmly reported the ransacking of Daniel Jackson's apartment to SGC security. That
task out of the way, Teal'c maneuvered his way through the wreckage in search of Colonel
O'Neill's safe.

*****

The guard chatted cheerfully with Sam as he led the way through the maze of exhibits to the
workroom area.  He used his security card to gain access to the area, and proceeded to usher
Sam and Jack through the double doors.  Sam forced herself to be interested in the guard's
conversation all the while wishing that, for once, she could take on the colonel's role of
resident grump. Breaking into his non-stop monologue, Sam asked. "There was no one else here
when you left him?"

"Couldn't say."  The guard leaned casually against a crate, arms relaxed by his sides.

Jack cast a disparaging look at the other man. "You couldn't say?"

"Nope, I didn't come back here with him."

"Ah ha. Why not?"

"Well, a refrigerated truck was getting ready to leave. I had to verify that the shipment was
in order."

Sam spoke up quickly. "A refrigerated truck?"

"Yes, for specimens or something."

"I see." Sam pretended not to notice as the colonel wandered away. "And was it okay?"

"Actually, no. They'd messed up the inventory."

"Messed up. How was it messed up?"

"There was one extra crate."

Jack turned in his tracks. "And this didn't strike you as the least bit, shall we say, odd?"

"Not really. Third time this week something's been wrong."

The colonel nodded to Sam to resume her conversation. Sam quickly pulled the guard's attention
back to her. "What was in the crates?"

"Specimens of some sort."

"May I see them?"

The guard smiled. "Sorry, they were going, not coming."

Jack rejoined them and responded. "Do they make mistakes going out often? You know, send too
many crates, that sort of thing."

"Nope. Now that you mention it, it was odd. Usually it's the inbound stuff that's wrong.  Too
many of this, too little of that."

"How big was the crate?"  Sam met Jack's eyes and knew they were having the same feeling of
dread.

"Well, see for yourself. It's still on the loading dock."

"What? Where?" Jack and Sam were again speaking in unison.

The puzzled guard started toward the back of the workroom. "Just through those doo..." His
words died on his lips as Jack, closely followed by Sam, raced past him. "What the hell's wrong
with them?"

*******


Teal'c threaded his way through the disaster area that was Daniel Jackson's apartment. Whoever
had done the searching was taking no chances. Not a book remained on the shelves, not a picture
on the walls.  Even the fish tank had not been left undisturbed. It lay partially on one side;
a complete turn over prevented only by an out of place footstool. The Jaffa took a moment to
right the tank, taking care not to harm the surviving fish. Satisfied that most, if not all, of
the delicate little creatures still lived, he preceded on into Daniel's bedroom.

The mattress had been shredded. Even the box springs had not been left untouched.  Teal'c moved
swiftly into the bathroom and knelt beside the decorative tiles in the center of the floor.
Reaching down, he slid aside a small red circle.  The lock appeared undisturbed. Removing a
small key from his pocket, he quickly opened the compartment. The combination lock inside also
looked undamaged. Teal'c carefully entered the combination and lifted the decorative tiles out
of the floor as a unit, revealing, to his relief, Daniel Jackson's off-world journals.  Colonel
O'Neill's friend had indeed done an outstanding job of concealing the safe.

"Teal'c?"

The Jaffa hastily replaced the door, making sure it was secure before answering. "I am in the
bedroom, General Hammond."

The stunned general walked slowly into what was left of the bedroom. "What in sand hill is
going on, Teal'c?"

"It would appear that someone has been hunting for something, General Hammond."

"Uh. Yes. Thank you very much. But what?"

Teal'c positioned his hands behind his back. "I do not know, but it is possible they wish to
obtain the journals of Daniel Jackson's father.

******


By the time the van finally stopped moving, Daniel was shivering too badly to notice. He'd
drawn his legs up to his chest and wrapped his free arm tightly around them. The handcuffed
wrist hung uselessly from the shelves next to him and every so often he'd yank it hard, as if
believing that at some unnamed point in time the metal restraints would break loose.  His chin
was buried in his chest, and he showed no sign of rousing as the door was flung open.

Two burley men, obviously wrestling wannabees, forced their bulk through the door. An overlarge
hand jerked Daniel's head upwards. "This one won't be giving us any trouble."

The second man undid the handcuffs from the shelves, as the first one pulled the disoriented
young prisoner to his feet. Forcing his free arm behind him, the second incredible Hulk snapped
the open cuff in place. Keeping a steadying arm on the prisoner, the first guard guided Daniel
to the door. The second man held onto Daniel as the first guard jumped to the ground. Turning,
the big guard unceremoniously draped Daniel over his shoulder, making him look more like a sack
of potatoes than an archaeologist.

The pair then headed inside what could only be called a mansion, nodding to the armed guards
outside as they passed.

******


"Where ... is the crate?" Jack forced the words through clenched teeth.

The guard nodded toward a 2x2x4-foot box on the loading dock. "Right there."

Sam looked puzzled. "I though it was a refrigerated truck?"

"It was."

"Then shouldn't this be back inside somewhere."

"Naw, that's how I knew it was wrong, they'd put this in the cab."

Jack just stared at the man in disbelief. "Thank you very much..."

Sam quickly interrupted. "Yes, we certainly do appreciate the help, but I'm sure you have more
important things to do than stay with us out here."

The guard started to protest, then succumbed to her smile. "You're welcome, Major. Any time."
Nodding to the colonel, he wandered away.

The man was barely out of earshot when Jack cut loose. "Of all the stupid, inept, incompetent
... morons!"

"He let them take Daniel. They distracted him with the damn crate..." Sam hurled a violent kick
at the wood. "...and put Daniel in the back, while he was taking inventory up front, and me, I
was making nice with Dr. Jerk himself."

Surprise colored Jack's voice. "Take it easy, Carter. You know we're gonna have to talk to the
guard again."

"Why?"

"His records probably have the license number of the truck. ANH!" He raised a hand to stop her
protest. "It's probably fake, but it's worth a shot."

******


Daniel's eyes opened to see ... leather. Black leather. 'Nice. Soft. What am I thinking?' He
turned his head slightly to catch a glimpse of a very, very large muscular man walking beside
him. His movement had not gone unnoticed.

"He's looking a lot more alert. Why not put him down? It's probably best to let him walk inside
to face ... *him*."

The man carrying Daniel plopped him, none-too-gently, on his feet. "Inside."

The young prisoner barely had a moment to notice the ornate doors as they opened, but it was
enough. Ancient hieroglyphics decorated the doors.  Daniel's mind was too fuzzy too translate
what he saw, but he knew instinctively it could not be good.  A violent shove forced him
through the doors.

The room was a library, pure and simple. Shelf after shelf of books lined the walls, along with
a wide variety of ancient artifacts.  An elaborately carved desk sat in the middle of the room,
and leaning against it was a tall, slender man with obviously dyed black hair, and steel gray
eyes. "Welcome Daniel Jackson. You were very young when we met last. I am..."

"Colonel Roland Parker."  Daniel glared defiantly at the man. "I'm not a small child any more,
Colonel."

The man laughed easily. "No, and that fact will make my question and answer sessions much
simpler. I no longer have to phrase the questions for a child."

"You'll also find I don't frighten easily."

Parker nodded toward the guards, who easily pushed the resisting prisoner to his knees. "Much
better, Daniel. I'd hoped to persuade you to hand over your father's journals, and tell me all
that you remember."

"No way in ...." Daniel growled at the man, then gasped as Parker's hand gripped his chin
tightly.

"Oh, no, no, no, little man. One way, or the other, I will regain what is rightfully mine."

*****

The waitress, anxious for a good tip on a slow day, made certain that the officer, and his
well-dressed companion, were served their coffee from the freshest pot. She included a variety
of specialty creamers, along with the plain variety, and stood poised with her pen. "Are you
gentlemen ready to order?"

Captain Benjamin smiled at the pretty woman. "Yes. I'll have a cheeseburger, extra onions, and
onion rings."

Madison Trent studied the menu for a moment longer. "Do you have a house dressing?"

"Yes sir. It's a creamy vinaigrette, with bacon and cucumber."

Trent nodded. "Fine. I'll have the chef salad with the house dressing."

The two men waited for the waitress to leave, then Benjamin broke the ice. "Just why is the FBI
interested in Dr. Marshall?"

Trent sighed. "The FBI isn't. The interest is personal. My father was one of the police
detectives assigned to the investigation of a fatal accident at the museum where Dr. Marshall
was the curator, some thirty years ago."

Benjamin frowned. "Indeed?"

"Yes. A couple by the name of Jackson, Melbourne and Claire Jackson died. Dr. Marshall was most
upset by the accident, kept claiming it was murder. Dad's partner wrote off his concerns as
fantasy, but my father wasn't so sure.  There were a couple of military officers there whose
actions were a little odd, to say the least."

"Odd? In what way?"

"Well, as I'm sure Dr. Marshall told you, an Army colonel confiscated the exhibit where the
Jacksons died. Had it loaded up lock, stock, and barrel, and hauled away in a truck. Showed the
proper paperwork, so my father and his partner really couldn't stop the transfer of the
materials.  And he refused to answer questions. Said everything was classified.  National
Security."

Benjamin looked surprised. "National Security? Are you certain?"

"Oh yeah. Dad served two hitches in the Air Force, before going into police work. He spent a
lot of time trying to figure out what could possibly be so dangerous about the exhibit. I mean,
it was going on display until the couple was killed.  But the thing that really got to my
father was the way the colonel treated the child."

"Child? Daniel Jackson."

"Yes. The poor little guy had just seen his parents die, and this jerk keeps asking the kid the
same questions over and over."

"What questions?"

"Where did his parents find the tomb they raided, and where was the golden bracelet."

"Bracelet?  Dr. Marshall didn't mention any bracelet."

"It wasn't in the inventory.  And apparently no one but my father, and the major, heard that
question, just before the major intervened. According to Dad, the colonel had grabbed the boy
by the shoulders and was shaking him violently. The major had just arrived on site, and my
father was showing him to the room where the colonel was. They both heard the child screaming
for his parents.  The major practically knocked my father down getting through the door."

The captain shook his head. "I can't imagine treating a kid that way, particularly one that had
been traumatized the way he'd been.  But outside of that, what was so odd?"

Trent frowned. "Well, the colonel wasn't asking the questions in English."

The captain looked puzzled. "Let me get this straight. The guy's questioning a little American
boy, and he's not speaking English?"

"Right, but neither was the kid."

"Okay, now I am confused. If neither one was speaking English, how did your father know what
they said?"

Trent grinned. "Really, really good memory. Photographic to be exact, but his auditory memory
was just as good.  After he was certain that the major had control of the situation, the major
spoke English by the way, Dad sought out Dr. Marshall and asked him if he could translate."

"I assume he could."

"Yes, but here's the weird part. The language was, according to Dr. Marshall, Egyptian....
Ancient Egyptian."

******


The cab ride back to the hotel was made in virtual silence. Both Sam and Jack were too caught
up in their concern for Daniel to waste time on trivial conversation.  The cabbie, a gregarious
man by the name of Bill, attempted to point out the local sights to his out-of-town clientele,
but outside of an occasional "sweet" or "that's nice", could garner no reaction, good or bad.
Consequently, he was relieved to pull up in front of their hotel.  An eager bellboy opened the
door as Jack paid the cabbie.  Sam waited solemnly on the pavement for the colonel, then the
two walked silently into the hotel.  They'd made it halfway to the elevators when a worried
voice was heard calling Jack's name. "Colonel? Colonel O'Neill?"

Turning, the SG-1 duo found themselves accosted by the day manager. "I'm sorry, Colonel, you
are Colonel O'Neill, aren't you?"  Barely waiting for his nod of acknowledgment, she continued
hastily. "We've had a bit of a problem here today. It doesn't usually happen, but occasionally
we..."

The look of steel in O'Neill's eyes silenced the nervous woman. Jack took a deep steadying
breath, as he glanced at her nameplate. "Ms. Parnell, what *kind* of problem?"

"I'm sorry, sir, but someone broke into your room..."

"What!"  Jack turned quickly away from the woman, headed for the elevators, stopping only when
she applied pressure to his arm. "What?"

"Fortunately, sir, housekeeping had left some cleaners in the room, and had gone back to get
them. Poor Maria screamed bloody murder when she saw someone ransacking the living room.  The
men ran by her, and out the door.  According to Maria, and Louis, who was down the hall,
neither man was carrying anything, so if anything is missing, it's got to be very small."

"Small?"  Jack's voice was numb as he echoed her words.

"Yes, sir. We've already had the police in for fingerprint checks. Detective Morris left his
card for you, in case anything is missing. And we've cleaned the room. Oh, and for some reason,
our chief of security ordered one of his people to stay in the room until your return."

"Thank you, Ms. Parnell. We'll go take inventory."

"Please let me know if you need anything. We really don't have this problem. I can't remember
the last time..."

Jack was already moving to the elevator as Sam smiled at the woman. "Thank you. We'll be in
touch."  Hurrying to catch the colonel, she reached the elevator just as the door opened.
Following the colonel, she winced as he angrily jabbed the button for their floor. "Sir?"

"They've got Daniel, Carter. Now they want his journals. Dammit to hell!"

*****

The elevator doors had barely parted before Jack O'Neill stormed down the corridor, Sam on his
heels. A small party of Italian tourists flattened themselves to the hallway walls, startled,
and frightened by the dour expression on the older man's face. Sam slowed slightly, taking a
moment to smile reassuringly at the tourists, then hurried after the colonel who remained
blissfully unaware of the subdued conversation behind him. 'Not,' thought Sam, 'that he would
understand it any better than I do. Now Daniel... dammit, Daniel, why didn't you just stay with
me?' Mentally kicking herself, she picked up speed once more to catch up with her CO.

Jack was already inserting the electronic key in the lock when Sam drew up beside him. Frowning
as the light stayed red, he tried it again. "What the hell?"

"Maybe your key's gone bad, sir. Why don't I try mine?"  Sam pulled her key from her pocket as
she spoke.

Too irritated for words, Jack motioned her toward the lock, glaring at his card as he did so.
Before Sam could insert her key, however, the door swung open, and both SG-1 members found
themselves on the business end of a Chief's Special.  The man behind the gun studied the
officers for a short moment. "Colonel O'Neill? Major Carter?"

"Yes."  Jack was rigid with tension and anger as he spoke.

"May I see some sort of identification?"

"Oh, for crying out loud."  Jack moved quickly for his wallet, slowing as the man in his room
tensed behind the gun.  Holding up his hands, Jack responded quickly. "Sorry, just going for my
wallet."  Seeing a nod of approval, the colonel pulled out his wallet and allowed the stranger
to see his military id, but not to take it. Sam did likewise.

The man with the gun visibly relaxed and smiled apologetically at the officers as he retrieved
his own id. "Apologies, Colonel, Major.  I'm David Camden, I work security here at the hotel.
The head of security, Robert Littlefield, told me to stay here until you arrived.  I'm to stay
until you've had a chance to check for missing items."

"In that case, seeing as it is our room, can we come in?"  Jack's voice positively dripped with
sarcasm.

The younger man's grin broadened, but no trace of embarrassment showed on his features as he
stepped aside. "Of course, Colonel, sorry."

Sam's eyes lit up as a thought occurred to her. "You had the codes for our door changed. That's
why the colonel's key wouldn't work."

"Yes, ma'am. I've got three keys to replace the ones you, the colonel, and Dr. Jackson have."

"Thanks."  Sam watched, concerned, as Jack's spine stiffened at the mention of their missing
friend, but the colonel never broke stride as he headed straight for the room he shared with
Daniel. "If, you'll, uh, excuse me, I'll go do a quick inventory of my room."

"Of course, ma'am."  Camden watched admiringly as the pretty woman walked away.

Within fifteen minutes both officers reappeared in the living room. Sam shook her head at the
colonel who replied for both. "Nothing's missing. You can go now."

Sam took the new keys from the guard as she walked him to the door. "Thank you for your
concern, and we appreciate the hotel's prompt response."

"You're welcome, ma'am, and may I suggest the use of the hotel's vault for any valuables you
may have with you?"

She smiled. "We'll keep that in mind. Thanks again."  Before the guard even knew what had
happened, the door was closed.  Sam turned around and leaned heavily against the door.

"Why do you do that?"

"What?"

"Make nice with the locals."

"Sir, we're not off world. We *are* the locals."

"Not really. We're from Colorado and we're in Washington.  He's local, we're not."

"Okay?"

"So why make nice? I told him everything he needed to know ... that nothing was missing and he
could leave."

"Well, we might need his help."

"And he might not have helped us with my dismissal?"

"Well, sir, you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar, as my mother used to say."

"I'll remember that next time I need to catch flies. ... The journals were still in his
suitcase."

Sam looked relieved. "I was really hoping you weren't lying to the guard, sir."

"If that's who he is."

"Sir?"

"Sorry, Carter, but until we find Daniel, and figure out just what the hell's going on, I'm not
prepared to trust anyone in this town, except you, and Daniel."

"Yes, sir. ... What now?"

"We let Hammond know that Daniel's gone."  Jack flopped down onto the sofa, pulling the phone
into his lap as he did so.

******


Several thousand miles away, George Hammond watched the Betta fish on his desk swim lazily
around its bowl.  A gift from his granddaughters, the little fish served to relax him when he
was tense, and cheer him up when he was down. Right now, he was a little of both.  Daniel
Jackson was a valued member of the SGC community, but Hammond counted the young man as more
than a coworker, he was a friend.  The phone rang suddenly and Hammond practically leaped
across his desk for the handset. "Hammond. ... Yes, Colonel, I'm glad you replied to my message
so promptly. ... You didn't? Then why? ... *WHAT!* Has this been reported to NID? ... Have them
keep me informed as well as yourself, Colonel. ... Yes, I did leave a message. Daniel Jackson's
quarters, lab and home have been searched. ... Language, Colonel.  Teal'c assures me that
nothing is missing from any location. ... Yes, Colonel, he is very thorough. But he does
believe that whoever did it was looking for Dr. Jackson's father's journals. ... *WHAT! Are
they...?*... Good. Keep them safe, and keep in touch."

The Betta was still swimming lazily around its bowl as he hung up the phone, but, somehow, its
calming effect was gone.

******


Sam was frowning as Jack hung up. "Someone has searched Daniel's apartment?"

"And his lab and his on base quarters."

"Damn!"

"My sentiments exactly."

"What do we do now, sir?"

"We read the journals."

"SIR!"

"Major, I don't like it either, but they're the key to this fiasco. I don't think we've got a
choice."

"All of them? I mean, do we have to read all of them?"

"Daniel said the mysterious colonel was mentioned in the last one. We'll start with the last
one. If we're lucky, the answer's in it."

*****

The large oak door creaked badly as it opened into total darkness. The light from the hall was
barely sufficient to identify the opening as a stairwell, but the number of steps remained an
unknown.  Daniel took a deep breath, hoping against hope that he wouldn't be expected to
maneuver them in the dark. He barely suppressed a sigh of relief as one of his escorts fumbled
for a light switch.  But his relief was short-lived as he looked at the seemingly unending line
of steps.  The light at the top of the stairs did nothing to illuminate the bottom, and Daniel
was left with the impression of being escorted into oblivion.

"Move."  The single word was accompanied by a brutal shove, upsetting Daniel's balance.  The
young prisoner couldn't quite suppress a cry of alarm as his foot missed the first step, and he
started to fall forward.

"SHIT!"  The single word was accompanied by a strong grip on Daniel's arm, pulling the young
man backwards, and holding him firmly in place at the top of the stairs. The rescuer turned
angrily on his cohort, "STUPID!  He gets killed, we get killed. Accident or not."

"Sorry."  The other man shrugged as if unconcerned, but Daniel could not help but notice that
the grip on his arm was now uncomfortably tight.  This time there was no command to move, only
a not-so-gentle pressure on his arms, urging him down the steps.

******

Sam eyed the old journals with dismay, as she and the colonel quickly checked them for dates,
trying to isolate the most recent. Even though her head told her they might hold the key to
saving Daniel, her heart told her that it was wrong ... wrong ... wrong!  *These* were Daniel's
property. They'd belonged to his father! Daniel hadn't even had a chance to *read* them, for
crying out loud.  1968. This wasn't it. She dropped the little book she was holding onto the
table, and reached reluctantly for the next book when Jack's grim 'YES!' got her attention.
"Sir?"

"This is it, Carter. 1970. Starts about half-way through this one."

"Terrific, sir."

Jack turned quickly to study her face. "Carter..."

"I know, sir."

"I have to..."

"I *know*, sir. Let's..Let's just ... You have to what, sir?"

"Read the journals first." He silenced her small protest with a look. "There're a lot of
entries in 1970, not all of them could possibly be relevant.  I'll mark the ones I need you to
read.  No sense both of us prying any more than necessary into the private thoughts of Daniel's
father.  In the meantime, check with that detective and see if they were able to id any prints
from this room."

"Yes, sir."  The relief in her voice was evident as she moved toward the phone.

******

The walls were cool and slightly damp, indicating he was well underground, as if the number of
steps downward had not already told him that. Daniel sank tiredly onto the stool in the center
of his latest prison. There were no other furnishings.  Rubbing his hands over his face, he
shivered violently at the memory of Colonel Roland Parker's eyes boring down on his face. He
really hoped his fear had not been apparent, but this man had been too long in his nightmares
for him not to be afraid. His childhood memories of the colonel were strong ... too strong.
The one time he'd been alone with the man had been terrifying. "Stop it, Daniel. You were just
a little kid.  He didn't really *do* anything bad then, did he?"

A mechanical noise attracted his attention, and he looked up to see the upper portions of the
walls sliding down to the floor. Video monitors lined all four walls. Small monitors surrounded
the oversized monitors in the center of each wall.  His eyes widened with surprise as the
monitors on the wall in front of him came to life, followed by the monitors on all the other
walls.  Roland Parker's smiling face appeared in every single monitor.  A crackle, followed by
a hiss told Daniel that the volume controls were being adjusted. Soon he was able to hear his
'host'. "Welcome to my basement, Daniel.  Please, make yourself comfortable. Oh, wait, you've
only got a stool.  Well, behave yourself, and you might just get a real chair later."

"Don't do me any favors."  Daniel grumbled irritably.

"Oh, don't worry, little man, favors are not something I usually enjoy."

'Shit, he heard me.'  Daniel's eyes had widened with the revelation, but he refused to
acknowledge the older man.

"I thought you might enjoy some home movies, Daniel. Perhaps they'll be able to stimulate your
memory as well as loosen your tongue."

Daniel remained stubbornly silent as his captor's face disappeared from the screens to be
replaced by images of the New York Museum of Art.

******

Jack thumbed his way through the journal, avoiding the most intimate passages that spoke of the
man's love for his family, as he searched for the first mention of the Army colonel.  God, he
felt like a voyeur. Daniel's father had been a man of great passion in everything he did. Much
like his son. Or rather the son was like the father. He flipped past a page containing nothing
but an equipment list, then stopped as he realized what that meant.  An expedition, and as he
read the list, he realized that some of the equipment appeared to be very old military surplus.
Thinking about it, he realized that it was probably not that unusual. Egypt had been a center
of activity for multiple armies for many, many years. That there was a vast market of military
surplus, legal or not, did not really surprise the colonel. Turning another page he froze as he
spotted the Stargate symbol for Abydos in the center of the passage.

]]]

...almost ready.  If the rumors are true, then Claire and I will have made a find which will
outshine the Carter fiasco. The colonel has been most helpful, but I have declined his offer of
military assistance in this venture. I do not want them involved.  I have promised to review my
findings with him first, but that promise bothers me.  There is something... untrustworthy ...
about the man. I'll deal with that problem later.

My immediate concern is Danny.  He's much too young to accompany us on this trip.  The maps,
old as they are, show a very difficult path, and he's such a little boy.  But Claire refuses to
leave him with the housekeeper in Cairo.  My heart understands, three months is a long time to
be separated from your child. Particularly one like Danny.  My head warns that he would be
safer in Cairo, but the only way Claire will leave him behind is if her father consents to take
him for a while.  Right. Like Nick's gonna drop what he's doing, and come take care of a child.
Damn the man. He won't even let the boy call him Grandfather.

I guess in my heart, I agree with her.  Danny's only going to be small once, and everything is
an adventure to him.  From the camel traders going to market, to that antique dealer of
questionable character down near the docks.  Although I shudder to think how long I'd searched
before I found him *there*.  I'd really hate to miss any of his little escapades while we're
gone, but perhaps I should invest in a leash as we start searching for Ra's tomb.

[[[

"Carter!  We have a problem."

*****

"Ra? But Ra wasn't buried on Earth, sir."  Sam's face betrayed her confusion as she finished
reading the journal entry.

The colonel's voice was grim as he responded. "Well, obviously someone thought he was.  I
assume you notic--"

"The symbol for Abydos right after the mention of Ra's tomb?  Yes, sir, did you read the rest
of the page?"

Jack looked mildly miffed. "Not yet. *You* have the journal."

"Oh, yeah, sorry, sir," she smiled as she returned the book to him. "But you probably ought to
read the rest of entry."

]]]

Ra's tomb. I assume that's what the symbol stands for. While I am somewhat skeptical concerning
the veracity of the occupant, the papyrus containing the map alludes to great wealth,
unsurpassed treasures, greater than any found to date. The treasures alone make the journey
worthwhile.  Whoever is entombed there was obviously very wealthy, even by today's standards.
If the tale is true.  Big if there. The location is nowhere near any known tombs, although I
suppose a rational explanation can be found for that.

Everything I've seen so far points to the tomb as the resting place for Ra. Although the
literal translation is 'healing' not resting, but that doesn't make any sense. Of course, it
could be that the people who scribed this history were really referring to a temple to their
god, not a tomb.  But it mentions his sarcophagus. What else could it be but a tomb?

[[[

******

Daniel's eyes widened with horror as he saw the images playing on every monitor in his prison.
His parents were dying on every television set in the room.  He was surrounded by the deaths of
his parents. This was worse... much worse than the Gamekeeper's sadistic little game. This was
... had been ... real.  His parents were really *dying* in the film. Screwing his eyes tightly
shut, he tried to ignore what was playing silently around him, but the images had been seared
into his mind.  He simply couldn't stop them from racing around inside his skull.

Stifling the urge to scream, he leaped from the stool and started to pace, hands stuffed deeply
into his jeans' pockets, shoulders slumped forward, and head bowed. He simply wouldn't look at
the walls. That was it. He wouldn't look. No problem. Right.

It wasn't long before he realized what a dismal failure not looking was. No matter how hard he
tried, his eyes were drawn, like obscene little magnets, to the horror playing out on the
screen. Well, if he had to look, dammit-to-hell, he'd look at their work, not *them*.  Taking a
deep breath, he focused all his energy on the columns surrounding ... them. ... He wouldn't
think about them, he wouldn't! ...

Wait a minute. These pictures were taken from a different angle than the one he'd seen back at
the SGC. Could he...yes, he could. He could see symbols he'd been unable to see before.  Drawn
like a moth to a flame, Daniel moved closer to one of the large monitors, his hand reaching out
to touch the symbol for Abydos ... for home.

******

Two pairs of eyes watched as Daniel touched the screen. "You were right."

"Don't sound so surprised."

"I'm impressed, not surprised.  I would not have thought he would be so easily distracted."

"Oh, he's not. He's desperate."

"I don't see how you get that. He's studying the symbols."

"Look at his face. How stiff and cold it is. He's forcing himself *not* to see good old mom and
dad."

The other man looked closely at Daniel's face on the view screen for a moment before replying
doubtfully, "You could be right."

"I'm always right."

"Ah ha. But wouldn't it be quicker to beat the information out of him, or if you don't like
violence, there are drugs..."

The shaggy gray head shook an emphatic negative as cold blue eyes stared at his ... friend.
"Violence in this case would prove useless. He was a five year old child when he accompanied
his parents.  The memories of that event have long been buried behind the deaths of his
parents, and time itself.  To get what you want, first we have to recover the memories. *Then*
we can extract them at will."

"But drugs--"

"Might damage him mentally as well as physically. Physically ... well, that can be dealt with,
but I understood you to say that you needed his mind intact, Roland."

"True. He speaks twenty some-odd languages, did you know that? I've read his papers, the few I
could find. Brilliant. Not mainstream by any means, but brilliant none-the-less. But it *would*
also be a shame to damage him physically, however repairable. Did I ever tell you what a
beautiful child he was?"  Colonel Roland Parker smiled at the memory. "Such an absolutely
beautiful child."

******

Abydos. God, to be back there, safe in... No, that wasn't right. *She* was gone too.  Just like
*them.*  He wouldn't look. He wouldn't. Columns. Study the columns. Odd. That symbol next to
Abydos looked like ... Ra?  Yes, it was definitely Ra.  Well, that made sense, Ra, Abydos. The
false god had made the desert planet his new home when he'd been expelled from Earth.  Daniel
frowned as he continued down the line of symbols, suddenly realizing they were the Stargate
address for Abydos, just reversed.  His eyes widened as a thought rode roughshod over his
brain. Was it possible? He recognized almost all the symbols in the pictures back at the SGC,
but he hadn't seen them in a row.  Could the symbols on the columns be the escape routes of the
Goa'ulds who fled Egypt so long ago?  If Ra was an *average* Goa'uld, whatever the hell that
meant, would the other refugees still be located on their original planets?  The tactical
advantages were obvious even to him.  Figure out which Goa'uld was where, and go on the
offensive.

The ancient images on Abydos told of the uprising by the Tauri slaves. Of the vast treasures
abandoned in their masters' haste to save their skins.  The ivory statues, the golden
necklaces, the jeweled headdresses, the elaborate sarcophagus.... His mind retreated into
itself as he leaned against the wall.

]]]

"Claire!"  The man's voice was barely above a whisper as he pulled his wife into his arms. "The
maps were right. It was not a hoax."

The woman smiled skeptically as she stroked the silky blond hair of her little son. "Well, it's
something, but I'm not sure it's Ra's tomb."

"Momma?"

"Yes, Daniel?"

"Wasn't Ra a god?" The child turned puzzled blue eyes toward his mother.

"Yes, darling, he was. At least that's what the ancient Egyptians believed."

The little one bit his lower lip in confusion. "Aren't tombs for dead people?  How could he be
a god if he died?"

A delighted giggle burst forth as his father swung him high into the air. "You're absolutely
right, Daniel. Only false gods die."

[[[

Ra's tomb. His parents' last expedition had been in search of Ra's tomb. And they'd found it
and he'd been with them. He remembered. Dear Lord, he remembered.

******

"Oh, this looks promising."  Parker was watching Daniel's actions intently.

"What?"  The older man turned around, his eyes lighting with delight as he saw Daniel's face.
"Ah, he's beginning to remember.  This is a good thing.  A very good thing."

*****

"What else could it be but a tomb? A sarcophagus?  Healing? Carter, are you thinking what I
hope you're not?"

"Yes, sir.  And I'm guessing the site the Jacksons' found was not a tomb but Ra's headquarters
here on Earth."

Jack looked grim. "So just about anything could have been there."

Sam nodded thoughtfully. "I'd say yes. After all, the journals did mention the Goa'uld ribbon
device.  There could be a healing device, electronic books --"

"Weapons."

"Uh, yes, sir. I'd say that was a definite possibility."

"Sweet. Now--"  The ringing telephone cut Jack off. "Shit. ... O'Neill!... Lieutenant Simmons?
Yes, send her up ... please."  Jack replaced the handset. "Simmons was trying to find the
locker as well as the mysterious Colonel John Black, who'd come inquiring about the key a
couple of weeks ago."

"She's downstairs?  Why not just call?"  Sam's tone was laced with confusion.

"Good question."

******

Captain Benjamin bit hungrily into his cheeseburger, grabbed for his napkin and hastily wiped
the ketchup from his chin before it could drip onto his uniform.  Swallowing quickly, he
glanced across at Madison Trent. "I still find it difficult to believe a little kid could speak
ancient Egyptian. Hell, I can't even imagine what that must sound like."

"Gibberish from what Dad said."  Trent replied as he chased a cherry tomato around his salad
bowl. "I'm surprised Dr. Marshall didn't mention the national security angle. I'm sure he must
have know."

"Never said a word about it.  And from his list, I don't see how it could be true."

"List?"

"Uh, never mind, forget I said that."

"Please, Captain Benjamin, don't tell me you're gonna pull the national security angle.  I am
with the FBI."

Benjamin yelped slightly as he bit his tongue. "Ouch! Oh, sorry. Well, no, I'm not, but when
Dr. Marshall gave me access to his safety deposit box I gave him my word that I would not
publicize it."

"I'm FBI, not New York Times."

The captain grinned. "True, but if your only concern is the national security threat, let me
assure you that the list might impact the national treasury, but certainly not national
security."

"What's on it?"

"I don't know a lot about Egyptian tombs, but I did see the Tutankhamen exhibit a few years
back, so I'm guessing pretty standard stuff for a tomb."

"Burial jars, statues?"

"Yeah."

"Any jewelry?"  Trent stabbed the tomato violently as he spoke.

Benjamin swallowed some fries then replied. "Well, there was a headdress mentioned, and some
necklaces.  And a whole bunch of rings."

"No bracelets?"

"No, why?"

Trent sighed in embarrassment. "Sorry, my wife's a bracelet nut. Christmas, birthday,
anniversary. You name it, the gift better be a bracelet. So to me, jewelry means bracelets."

"Understand.  My fiancee's into earrings. And shoes."

"To get back to my original reason for catching up with you, do you have any idea where the
stuff on the list is?"

"Not at liberty to say."  'Translation,' Benjamin thought, 'military has it, so God only
knows.' "Why the interest?"

"Well, that kind of inventory is a pretty good reason for murder. Particularly if what was
removed from the museum didn't match the original inventory list.  What if the Jacksons were
killed to prevent their going to the police?"

"Good point, but how do we reconcile Marshall's list of what was in the museum to what was
actually retrieved by the Jacksons?"

"Surely they had an inventory of the items somewhere?"

"Probably, but that was what ... thirty years ago. No telling where it is now."

"Well, *if* the items from the museum are housed ... somewhere, and *if* the Jacksons'
inventory of the items is housed ... somewhere, and *if* the Jacksons were killed to prevent
exposure of a theft--"

"That's a lot of *if's*."

"Detective work is usually loaded with them. To cut to the chase, it's entirely possible that
the murderer is still around, and doesn't want his handiwork exposed."

"Mr. Trent, I'm sensing a warning here."

"Indeed you are, Captain Benjamin, indeed you are.  Murderers are not inclined to *want* to be
caught.  If the risk of exposure is too high, they can kill again ... and again."

******

Jack flung the door to the SG-1 suite open just as Lieutenant Simmons started to knock,
startling the young woman badly. "Oh! Colonel, sorry, sir."

"Come in, Simmons.  This is Major Carter.  Have you found the locker?"

"Ma'am."  The young lieutenant acknowledged the other officer, then turned her attention back
to the colonel. "No sir, but I've got people working on it. They have no idea why, but they're
working round the clock."

"Excellent. I'm assuming there's something else..."  Jack let his words fade as he studied her
face closely.

"Well, sir, I've found Colonel John Black, and he's not a colonel at all."  Her voice was
filled with indignation as she spoke.  "He's a major."

"Name, Lieutenant, the name."  Jack could barely keep the impatience out of his tone.

"Yes, sir.  His name is Major Martin L. Nichols, Jr. He is Army, though, at least he had that
part right."

Sam and Jack exchanged concerned looks. "Do you have an address on him, Lieutenant?"

"Yes, sir. He lives in Maryland. Prince Frederick to be exact. I've written down his street
address and phone number for you, sir. And here's his file photo."

"Thank you, Lieutenant.  You wouldn't happen to have a map on you, by any chance?"

"Actually, sir, I printed off a map to his home. Kinda figured you'd wanta go there."

Jack quickly took the offered paperwork from the young woman and, to Sam's astonishment, deftly
maneuvered her to the door. "Thank you, Lieutenant. Good job."

"If you need anything else--"

"Keep me posted on the locker search. Report *only* to myself, or Major Carter. And Lieutenant,
not a word of this to anyone. And I mean anyone."

"Yes, sir.  It's our secret."  Finding herself in the open door, she smiled. "Good luck with
... whatever it is." Saluting smartly, she headed for the elevator.

Jack barely returned her salute before closing the door.

"Nichols, sir? Related to *our* Colonel Nichols."

"Ya think?"  Jack's voice was grim. "It's time we paid a little visit to the major."

"Yes, sir. After all, impersonating a colonel is *not* a good idea."

"Neither is kidnapping Daniel."

"You think Nichols has him?"

"He requested the new key for the vault our old key goes with. Wherever that is. If he has the
artifacts, then he may just need Daniel for some reason."

"Yes, sir. I'll get the car and meet you out front, sir."

"Carter, we don't have a car."

"Actually, sir, I took the liberty of arranging for one while you were talking to Lieutenant
Simmons.  I didn't think you'd mind."

******

Trent and the young captain parted ways outside the diner. The FBI agent watched as Captain
Benjamin climbed into his car, and drove away.  As soon as the car was out of sight, he pulled
a cell phone from his jacket pocket. Dialing quickly, he spoke into the microphone, "Trent
here. He's got the list, but it's not the Jacksons'. Apparently Marshall kept an inventory as
well. ... Yes, I'm certain. The list didn't have the bracelet on it. ... Yes, sir. I'll take
care of the Marshall problem immediately."

******

As soon as Trent was out of sight, Benjamin picked up his cell phone and dialed quickly.
"General Hammond. Security code - Alpha Five Niner."  The young captain sighed as he waited for
the operator to locate the general, grateful once more for all those evenings spent playing
poker. "Benjamin here, sir.  I've collected the only thing Dr. Marshall had that was important,
an inventory of the Jacksons' artifacts. There's also been interest in the list by an FBI agent
named Trent. I'll be ordering a security review of him as soon as I hang up. And General, the
bracelet you described to me, well it's definitely on this list, along with two other bracelet
type things. ... Yes, sir.  I'll go to DC immediately."  Disconnecting quickly, he punched in
another number and angrily hit 'send'.  "Benjamin here. I need a security check run on Madison
Trent, who may or may not be with the FBI. And I need a guard posted *yesterday* on Dr. Philip
Marshall at Shady Hills Retirement Home. No one is to be alone with the old guy until I say so.
... Excellent.  Just make sure the guards understand, if anything happens to Dr. Marshall,
their next post will be so far away from civilization, that the sunlight has to be piped in."

*****

"ACHOOOO!"  Daniel sneezed. Again. Was it just him, or was it cold in this room?  He knew it
was damp, but he didn't remember it being this cold when he'd been dumped here. Wrapping his
arms around his chest, he barely suppressed a shiver as the coverstone in the film fell. Again.
Please, please let this be a nightmare. Just a nightmare. As his eyes automatically sought out
the images on the screens, he knew it wasn't a nightmare in the conventional sense, but a
nightmare none-the-less.

His parents had sought, and apparently found, Ra's tomb.  The find of the ages ... bigger than
Tutankhamen. The discovery had cost them their lives.  The symbols on the columns 'supporting'
the coverstone were all the proof he needed of the actual find. The collapse of the coverstone,
proof of their murders.  There was no longer any doubt in his mind that their deaths had *not*
been accidental. Something that would have been unthinkable only a week before, was now his
reality. As was his current status of prisoner. Of the man, or men he mentally conceded, who
had caused his parents' deaths.

The thought both confused and concerned him.  Why had they been killed?  If robbery was the
motive, why not just abscond with the easily portable, and valuable, treasure?  He was certain
he remembered an elaborate headdress of gold, silver, and red - probably ruby - stones, that
his father had placed on his mother's head as she laughed in pure delight.  He smiled briefly
at the pleasant memory, watching in his mind's eye as she twirled, her blue eyes dancing with
unadulterated joy. Gradually the images of his parents faded so that he could plainly see the
coverstone, and its supporting columns, in their natural setting. And there was something
almost familiar on the wall behind them.

"ACHOOOO!"  Daniel tiredly wiped sweat from his brow.  Was it just him, or was it hot in this
room?

******

"A Mercury Grand Marquis, Carter?"  Jack looked puzzled as he saw the large gold-colored
vehicle. "On *our* budget?"

"All they had, so it was the same price as a mid-size." She frowned as he approached the
driver's side door.  "Sir?"

"I'll drive, Carter."

Stifling the comment she wanted to make, she asked politely. "Done a lot of driving in DC,
sir?"

"Why no, not rea... Oh. Pentagon. You worked at the Pentagon."

"Yes, sir. For several years."

Jack quickly walked around the front of the car, and slid into the passenger seat. "Then why
don't you drive, Carter?"

"Yes, sir.  I'll do that."

******

Parker slammed the handset loudly into its cradle. "Shit!"

"What's wrong, Roland?"

"Marshall didn't have the original inventory the Jacksons made.  That means Nichols had it."

"Well, Nichols is dead, so I don't see--"

"Don't you?  Nichols had a son."

"Oh.  Do you think he..."

"Obviously. Damn the man to hell. I knew I should have beaten the information out of him years
ago."

"Then why didn't you?"

Parker templed his fingers, and studied them closely. "Because I didn't recover the pictures
until recently.  I couldn't act until I got hold of them."

"What pictures?"

"Some rather compromising photographs Nichols had gotten hold of.  The man was smarter than I
thought."  Parker's confession took his companion by surprise. "Oh, in the end, I won, but he
caused me a great deal of trouble for thirty years."

"Powerful subject matter?"

"Try candid shots of me arguing with Melbourne Jackson, on multiple occasions."

"So?  That's nothing to be--"

"The investigators were told I didn't know him, by the time I found out about the photos, it
was too late to recant."

"Oh."

"And there were the damn journals, which, by the way, I still don't have.  Somehow Nichols got
them to Jackson."

"Why didn't Nichols use the photos and the journals against you?"

"Because he didn't want to risk harm coming to his family. Like I told you, he does have a son.
So let's just say it was a thirty year stalemate."

A moment of silence was followed by a quiet, "Roland, I have to know.  Why now?  Why risk
exposure now?"

The other man glared at him. "I'm not getting any younger. I need to find the tomb, and to do
that I need the map, as well as the notes in Jackson's journal."

"Surely you don't believe the myth of eternal life!"

"According to the legends, Ra dwelled in this place for many hundreds of years before the
uprising."

"Roland, that's obviously Ra as in father to son to grandson, etc.  There's no way anyone lived
that long.  And as for the rebellion, you know as well as I do that the ancient scribes were
referring to the Exodus.  As in Biblical."

Parker shook his head. "No. Two totally different events, in different times, and different
locations.  As for Ra, nothing the Jacksons reported finding in that tomb, and I use the word
loosely, indicated that Ra died. Quite the contrary, everything showed Ra as remaining very,
very young.

"Aren't you forgetting they found a sarcophagus?"

"Yes."  Parker practically growled the reply. "Which unfortunately was too large for transport
or so my man on their team led me to believe."

"I thought he was killed?"

"True, quite tragically, but he was able to relate a limited amount of information about the
tomb.  Unfortunately the imbecile never bothered to put down detailed instructions on how to
find it again."

"Okay, now I'm confused. If the sarcophagus is all that's left..."

"But its not.  I have reason to believe the Jackson exhibit contained less than half of the
contents of the tomb.  They'd hoped to obtain funding from someone other than myself to
excavate the remainder of their find.  Dr. Marshall was working on securing money for that
purpose when they, uh, died."

The other man's eyes turned to dollar signs as he did mental calculations. "So you want the
rest."

"I paid for it. It's mine.  Everything in the tomb is mine. For all eternity."

"Good Lord, you actually believe the legends about the healing sleep and immortality, don't
you?"

"Actually, I do. ... And so do you."  The icy glint in Parker's eyes told his companion, more
plainly than words, that disagreement at this time would not be a good thing.

******

"1452. 1454. 1459 should be on your side of the street, Carter."  Jack turned his attention to
the left of the vehicle.

"Yes, sir. I believe it's the white two-story just head, sir."

"You can read the mailbox sign from here?"

"Sir?"

"Nothing, Carter. Looks like Major Nichols just got home. Pull in behind him."

"Yes, sir."  Sam maneuvered the long car up the slight slope of the driveway, bringing it to a
stop just behind the mid-size coupe already in the driveway. The dark-haired man emerging from
the driver's side turned to stare at the newcomers. Two small children vaulted from the back
seat, and also turned to stare curiously at the strangers.

Jack climbed out. "Major Martin Nichols?"

"Yes?" If anything the major's demeanor was even more tense than before.

"Colonel Jack O'Neill, Major Samantha Carter. US Air Force. Can we have a moment of your time?"

"Yes, of course, sir.  Michael, Susan, inside. Baths, teeth. ANH!" A hand sliced through the
air in chopping motion, stopping the protests even as they formed on the children's lips. "You
know the drill. Bedtime's in thirty minutes.  Tell your mother I'm in the office with guests."

"Yes, Daddy."

"Yes, sir."

The major watched as his children disappeared into the house, then turned back to Jack. "My
office is behind the garage, sir. Major. Right this way."  He pointed to a stone path running
parallel to the garage. "What can I do for you?"

"Actually," Jack replied coldly, "You can do quite a bit, Major. Or should I say, Colonel.
Colonel John Black?"

*****

"Actually," Jack replied coldly, "You can do quite a bit, Major. Or should I say, Colonel.
Colonel John Black?"

The color leached rapidly from the major's face as his hand froze on the door handle in front
of him. "I...I don..." The man paused, took a deep breath, then continued. "I can explain,
Colonel."

O'Neill said nothing, his icy glare pulling the younger man to attention. Carter smiled
inwardly, then spoke up. "Major, I assume you understand that you can be court-martialled for
impersonating a superior officer."

"Yes, Major."

"Is this your office?"  Sam nodded toward the pale yellow door behind the man.

"Yes, Major."

"Inside would probably be a better place for a discussion, don't you think?"

Her smile was almost feral in nature, leaving the man wondering who he should fear more ... the
colonel with ice in his eyes, or the major with ice in her voice.  Gulping, he stammered.
"R..right this way, ma'am, sir."

******

The knock was so soft Hammond almost missed it entirely. "Come!"

A very nervous airman entered quickly, and froze at attention, his body language spelling
'terrified' in big bold letters.  "The first part of the lab results just came in, sir. Captain
Hargrave thought you'd want to see them first."

"He thought correctly, Airman.  Where is the captain?"

"He's still reviewing the other half, sir.  Shall I get him?"

"No, that's quite all right. Let the man work."

"Yes, sir.  Will, uh,  that be all, sir?"

"Hmmm,"  Hammond's nose was already buried in the technical jargon of the reports. "Uh, yes.
That will be all."

The relieved young man fled the office. Fortunately the general was much too engrossed in the
report to notice the less than proper departure.

Hammond's face furrowed into a frown as he read. Hargrave was nothing if not efficient, and the
fingerprints lifted from Doctor Jackson's home had quickly become the property of the Air
Force.  The young captain had wasted no time in doing a standard fingerprint check. And, to his
credit, a non-standard one.  When the prints had revealed nothing in the FBI files, Hargrave
had initiated a search of the CIA and NSA systems. Hammond's frown deepened as he saw the
Interpol connections maintained by one of the men who had searched Daniel Jackson's apartment.
'What the hell was going on?'

His thoughts were interrupted by a heavy rap on the door.  Growling in irritation, Hammond
called out, "Come!"

Captain Walter Hargrave entered the office with a very somber expression on his face.  Hammond
kept his own expression neutral as the younger officer began to speak. "We've got him, sir!"

"Got who, Captain?"

"Oh, sorry, sir. Some of the prints were consistent across Dr. Jackson's onbase quarters,
office, and apartment.  They belong to Lieutenant Harry McIntosh."

"Captain, Lt. McIntosh is in maintenance. Of course  you'd find his prints in Dr. Jackson's
onbase abode as well as his off... You said at his apartment?"

"Yes, sir."

"I didn't authorize any maintenance work be done at Dr. Jackson's home."

"No, sir."

"Has Major Harris seen the reports?"

"No, sir."

Hammond flipped his intercom switch. "Lt. Murphy, have Major Harris report to my office
immediately."  Without waiting for a reply, he disconnected, returning his focus to the
captain. "Is McIntosh on base?"

"Yes, sir. He's working on a repair to the network wiring on level 23."

The general templed his fingers for a moment. "Captain, make sure he stays on base, but don't
let him suspect anything is wrong. I don't know how Major Harris will want to play this."

"Yes, sir."

"Good work, Captain. Dismissed."

******

Jack remained ominously silent as he followed the majors into the small office off the garage.
Shutting the door, he leaned against its wooden surface, arms crossed in front of his chest.
"Well, Major..."

Nichols turned to face the colonel, not quite at attention, but not at ease either. He'd
obviously used the few moments it had taken to enter the office to regain at least some of his
composure. "Who are you?"

Jack's eyes narrowed. "I'll ask the questions, Major-"

"Respectfully, no, sir, you won't."  Before a stunned O'Neill could respond, Nichols continued.
"This is my home. I don't know either one of you from Adam's Housecat, but the Colonel John
Black reference tells me you've been to the Pentagon.  It also tells me you were looking for
something. Care to tell me what?"

Sam lit into the man. "You impersonate a Colonel, and you have the gall to interrogate us!"

Before he could respond, Jack spoke up. "Where's Daniel Jackson?"

The major's face instantly took on a look of pure arrogance. On closer study, however, the more
experienced officer realized the younger man was hiding his fear.  Jack repeated the question.
"Where's Daniel Jackson?"

"What?"

"Let's see if I can make this simple. Our friend, Daniel Jackson, is missing. We know you are
involved. Where is he?  Simple enough, or should I try for words of only one syllable?"

"How do I know...Jack O'Neill?"

"That's right."

"ID. Do you have id?"

"It says so on my jacket."  O'Neill was trying to rein in his temper.

"So did Colonel Black's."

"Valid point. As did his ID."  Jack thought for a moment, then pulled out the envelope Daniel's
journals had come in.  "Recognize this?"

The SG-1 pair watched in astonishment as Nichols' skin became almost transparent. "Where?"

"Daniel got this in the mail.  It had several, uh, items in it."

Nichols' voice faded to a whisper. "His father's journals."  The younger man studied his feet
for a few moments, then sighed. "Colonel, I've seen your picture, my father had it.  Don't know
the major here, but if you'll vouch for her..."

   "Vouch for me! Of all the..."

"No offense intended, Major. My father was murdered a few days ago attempting to make right
something he's brooded over for nearly thirty years."

"The accident in New York?"  Jack asked quietly.

"The murders in New York."  Seeing their faces grow cold, he hastily added. "My father wasn't
involved. He really didn't know Parker was going to kill them. He thought they were to be
frightened out of New York only."

"But they were killed."

"Yes, he told me a few weeks ago that he wasn't in time to save them. But he did manage to save
the child."

Sam and Jack exchanged looks, then Jack responded. "You call being forced into an orphanage at
the age of five being saved."

Nichols turned a little green. "Yes. Parker apparently had plans for the boy. He knew the child
had been with his parents to the original dig and could probably get him there..."

Jack finished his sentence for him. "Then he would have killed Daniel."  Sam looked sickened by
the thought.

"Uh, no.  According to Dad, Colonel Parker's interests included such things as beautiful little
boys.  I'm told Daniel Jackson fit the bill quite nicely."

*****

Beautiful little boys. Beautiful little boys.  The words performed an endless loop in Jack
O'Neill's brain, accompanied by images of a miniature Daniel Jackson being violated by...
'Didn't happen, O'Neill, get a grip.'  Jack shook his head to dispel the horrific image, then
growled, "Your father did nothing to stop him? To protect other children?"

Nichols drew himself up angrily. "I know what you're thinking. My father should have turned him
in. Well, he was caught between a rock and a hard place.  From what he told me, Parker had
evidence linking him to the murders of the Jacksons while he had none at all to link Parker to
child... abuse."

"How," Sam's voice shook with emotion, "how do you know he s..saved Daniel?"

"Dad had evidence showing that Parker knew the Jacksons prior to their deaths, something Parker
had not admitted to when he took over the investigation of their deaths.  Dad put the kid in
the hands of Social Services and faked a next of kin status for him so that Parker couldn't
claim him."

"C..Claim him?"  O'Neill glanced at his second in command, the fury in her voice promising dire
consequences to someone.

"Parker had planned to present someone other than himself as a second cousin and get legal
custody of the kid.  Dad falsified a paternal grandfather, hoping that would take precedence
over a second cousin.  Apparently it worked, because Parker wasn't able to get the kid out of
hock."

Jack glared at the man. "Why?  Why not turn Parker in?"

"I told you. He would have gone down for the murders he didn't commit."

"Not good enough. He could've turned state's evidence.  Testified against Parker."

"Not and live."

******

Daniel wrapped his arms tightly around his chest, trying to keep the warmth in, and the videos
out. Forcing himself to focus on a dirty speck of tile in the floor, he failed to notice the
door opening.

"Enjoying the movies, Dr. Jackson?"  A voice as cold as the refrigerated truck came from the
man standing in the doorway.

"ACHOOO!"  Daniel jumped as he sneezed. "N..never have been m..much on home movies."

"Why Doctor, you seem to have caught a cold."

"Allergies.  ACHOOOO!"

"Ah ha."  The videos ceased as Parker leaned against the doorjamb. "Now that you've remembered,
we really need to have a chat."

Daniel rubbed his weary, watering eyes, then glared at the other man. "I don't know what you're
talking about."

"Oh, dear. I was really hoping you wouldn't make this difficult. Gentlemen, Dr. Jackson needs
convincing. Bring him."

Daniel groaned inwardly as the two goons from the truck moved quickly into the room.  Taking
hold of his arms, they forced the young man to his feet, keeping him upright as a series of
sneezes emphasized the ache in his joints and jolted his spine.

"That's a nasty cold, Dr. Jackson. You really should take better care of yourself."  Parker
smiled benignly as he left the cellar accommodations.

Daniel's retort was cut-off by a round of coughing, made worse by the forced motion as the
thugs dragged him out of the room.

******

Teal'c leaned against the wall in General Hammond's office and watched Major Harris with barely
disguised displeasure.  Daniel Jackson was missing. Lieutenant McIntosh was involved. The Jaffa
saw no need for subtlety. The man should be made to speak. Immediately. The former First Prime
of Apophis could not entirely understand why the general had refused his offer to obtain the
desired information from the maintenance officer.  After all, Teal'c had almost guaranteed the
lieutenant would survive the experience. Instead he was forced to remain idle while Major
Harris conducted the interrogation. Interrogation. Ha! It was painfully obvious to the Jaffa
that the NID did not understand how to properly solicit cooperation.  Well, General Hammond had
requested that he refrain from participating, therefore he would do nothing.  For now.

******

Major Harris smiled inwardly while remaining outwardly emotionless.  The Jaffa's presence was
having the desired effect, although he doubted the alien was even aware of it.  Lieutenant
McIntosh squirmed in his seat, unaccustomed to sitting while his superiors stood.  Normal
procedures would have required the suspect to stand at attention, but Harris had learned
through long experience that cooperation could often be gained by throwing the suspect off
kilter. Therefore, McIntosh sat while he and the general circled around him like birds of prey.
Of course, the solid mass that was Teal'c spoke silent volumes about disapproval and Harris was
pleased to note that the lieutenant kept one eye always turned toward the Jaffa. Clearing his
throat he asked another question. "So, you had orders to go to Dr. Jackson's?"

"Yes, sir. I was told he was having difficulty with the secure line to the SGC."

"Who ordered you to check the line?"

"Sir?"

"Who told you to go there?"

"Why, no one, sir. The work order was on my assignment list one morning, along with the key to
his apartment."

"And you didn't find that to be unusual?"

"Well, no sir.  I'd done similar work at Colonel O'Neill's, but he was home at the time."

"So you were alone at Dr. Jackson's?"

"No, sir."

"But you just said..."

"Airman Barkley was with me, sir. He is, uh, was a trainee. Actually he was slated to be my
replacement since my promotion came through." McIntosh absently fingered the new gold bar on
his uniform as he spoke.

"Was?"

"Yes, sir. A real whiz with a network connection. I was sorry to lose him."

"He's no longer here?"  Harris struggled to keep the anxiety out of his voice.

"No, sir. He was transferred to Washington. Left two days ago."

******

"Ah ha. I'm not buying that, Major.  He obviously had enough on Parker to keep the man at bay
for thirty years. I'm thinking there was something else. Perhaps the missing artifacts from the
Jacksons' excavation?"

The Army major paled. "N..No."

"Exactly how much do ancient Egyptian relics bring on the black market, Major?"

Carter glanced puzzled at her CO, but wisely remained silent as he continued. "The storage
vault's empty, isn't it, Nichols?  That's why your father decided to return the journals to
Daniel, he was out of goods, and was really hoping Daniel would lead him to the tomb."

"No! I'm telling you he--"

"Cut the crap, Major!"  Jack pushed past the startled man and yanked an urn from a shelf behind
him. "*This* is a burial urn. Shall we have it tested for age? I'm guessing it's really, really
old.  Probably held somebody's liver or heart or something at one time."

"I..It's a replica. Not the real thing."

"Carter, contact Gen--"

"Wait."  Nichols' pale face was sweating bullets. "You're right.  It's real, but I swear, I
didn't know where it came from until recently."

"So the vault is empty."  Jack managed to conceal his concern that the Goa'uld ribbon device
was now in the hands of some private collector of illegal artifacts.  But, he reasoned, they
wouldn't be able to make it work.

"No, my father didn't sell anything. Hell, until two weeks ago, I thought that urn was a
replica of a trip Dad took to Egypt in the seventies."

O'Neill glared at the younger man. "Do you know where the storage vault is?"

"No. Dad was going to tell me, but he was murdered."

Carter interrupted, confusion in her eyes. "I don't understand. Why didn't Parker try to get to
your father through you, or your mother?"

Nichols smiled arrogantly. "Mom died when I was a baby. Car wreck, but apparently Dad did all
the right things to keep me safe.  Parker's never tried to bother me or *my* family."

Sam's face was glacial as she replied. "So he protected his own child, but other children were
fair game."

"What?"

"He left Parker out there, to prey on other kids, possibly even Daniel."  Scorn and disgust
colored her tones.

"I don't know what you're getting so huffy about. Dad's ruse apparently worked, because Parker
wasn't able to get the kid out of hock."

"The *kid* has a name. Daniel Jackson, age five. Five, dammit to hell, and he wasn't an item in
a pawn shop, he was a traumatized, frightened little boy who'd seen his parents crushed to
death." Jack motioned a livid Sam out the door, then turned back to the major. "And the
paternal grandfather who didn't exist?  Well, there was a maternal grandfather that did, but
I'm guessing no one even bothered to look for him. Thanks to your father. So Daniel was dumped
into foster care. Again, thanks to your father. Remember that when you see your kids. Oh, and
by the way, don't bother trying to run.  NID will be here soon to take up where we left off."
As Jack left the office, he had the small satisfaction of seeing Major Nichols slump into a
chair, his head buried in his hands.

*****

Daniel stumbled a few steps before getting his balance.  At two steps for every one of the
larger men's he was soon gasping for breath, a condition that only worsened as he was forced up
the stairs.  With no air to support a protest, the young man could only struggle to keep up. He
knew he'd be dragged if he faltered, and he'd be damned if he was going to give his captors the
satisfaction.

To his relief, the thugs stopped at the top of the stairs, allowing Daniel a brief respite
while one of them opened a door.  The young man's eyes widened at the sight before him.  He'd
been prepared for as wide a variety of implements of torture as his fertile imagination could
conjure up.  What he had not envisioned was ... the bed.  King-sized, with four over-sized
posts, it was well-cushioned with pillows of assorted shapes and sizes, resting beneath a
ceiling made of mirror tiles.  Now that he had a chance to look around the room, he noticed a
wide variety of mirrors on the walls as well.

As he was dragged toward the bed, he couldn't quite suppress a gasp at the sight of the
restraints built into the posts. 'OhGod, OhGod, OhGod,' issued forth as a silent prayer.  Much
to his surprise the thugs didn't stop at the bed.  Instead he was led ... pulled ... dragged
into an elaborate bathing room. An over-sized tub, uh, Jacuzzi, dominated the center of the
room. 'Is *everything* too damn big in this place?'  The thought had barely passed through his
mind, when Daniel found himself dumped head-first into the filled and bubbling Jacuzzi.

"Isn't this the slow way?"

His partner shrugged as he tightened his hold on the struggling form. "Careful, keep his head
under."

"Shit, slippery little bastard... Oh, no you don't." The smaller man shoved downwards with a
vengeance as Daniel tried desperately to break free. "Wouldn't it be quicker just to beat the
information out of him?  I gotta rawhide whip upstairs that hasn't been broken in yet."

"The colonel doesn't want any marks on him. He's got other plans for Pretty-Boy later.  And
this has worked in the past.  On my count ... one, two, three." With that Daniel was hoisted
out of the water, and placed on his feet, where he stood coughing, sputtering and shivering in
the air-conditioning.  The warmth of the water quickly turned cold as it puddled around his
feet.

"Think he's ready?"

"Naw. On my count ... one, two, three."

'Ready for what ... oh, sh...'  Daniel's train of thought went away as his head disappeared
beneath the bubbles again.

******

A manilla folder slid across General Hammond's desk, coming to rest mere inches from his belt
buckle.  Eyebrows raised in disapproval, he *looked* at Major Harris. "Sorry, sir. It wasn't
supposed to slide."

"What's it say?"

Grateful for Hammond's easy attitude, Harris responded. "Airman Barkley doesn't exist ... at
least not anymore."

"Explain."

"He was killed in a raid on Saigon, thirty years ago.  But the id used was his, down to his
serial number."

"How is that possible?"

"I don't know, sir.  My superiors are looking into that even as we speak.  The fact remains, it
happened.  Barkley arrived the same day that Dr. Jackson received the video-tapes.
Coincidence? I think not."

"What about McIntosh?"

"Clean as far as we can tell.  At least nothing untoward has come to light, yet."

"Does Teal'c know that McIntosh is clean yet?"

Harris grinned. "Yes, sir.  I felt it necessary to save the lieutenant's sanity by telling Mr.
Teal'c first.  The lieutenant's been feeling a little, uh, intimidated of late."

Hammond nodded his approval. "Are you confident that the mole is out of here, Major?"

"Yes, sir.  Barkley was recalled to DC the same day that Daniel Jackson was abducted.
Fortunately, the security cameras gave us a good picture of him.  We've got an interstate
APB..."  Harris was interrupted by the phone.

"Hammond! ... Yes, he's here."

Harris quickly took the handset from the general. "Harris. ... When?  How long? ... Thank you."
Returning the handset to its cradle he muttered a disgruntled "Shit" before remembering where
he was. "Sorry, sir. Barkley's body was found an hour ago.  He never got out of Colorado
Springs."

******

"He's been under a while this time."

"Still see bubbles."

"This *is* a Jacuzzi.  There're gonna be bubbles."

"True."

"How many times does this make?"

"Six."

"Hmmm,  I thought seven."

"Could be."

"Pull him up?"

"I suppose."

The two men lifted Daniel's head clear of the water.  He sputtered, coughed, and gagged as he
was positioned upright once more.  Only their firm hold of his arms, prevented the prisoner
from falling to his knees. His head lolled weakly as tremors of cold and fear racked his body.

A too familiar voice pierced the fog that was his thoughts. "Oh, Daniel, you're all wet.  I
trust you're learning to be a little more cooperative.  He *has* been behaving, hasn't he
gentlemen?"

"Yes, sir. Not a peep out of him."

"He seems to like the water, sir."

"Indeed. How interesting."

As the two guards held Daniel upright, Parker moved closer, sliding a hand underneath his wet
T-shirt.  Daniel's tremors increased as the other man caressed his chest. Parker's breath was
warm on his neck, causing the young prisoner to attempt to recoil, only to be held fast by the
much larger guards.  Parker merely smiled as he gently patted Daniel's face. "It's time for a
conversation, Daniel. These gentlemen will make sure you're presentable.  In the meantime, I
have a few loose ends to take care of. I'll be back ... later. But don't worry. I won't be gone
long."

Daniel pulled his head away from the man's hand, and managed a hoarse. "No need to hurry on my
account."

The smile faded from Parker's face as his open palm collided with Daniel's cheek, rocking the
younger man's head brutally to one side. "You will learn manners, young one.  Perhaps another
session or two in the tub?" Parker watched with delight as the color leeched from Daniel's
face. "Not quite so willing to do that again, are we?"  Turning back to the guards, Parker
snarled, "Continue the water treatment" as he left the room.

******

The return trip to DC took Jack to new heights of terror. After the third near miss, he decided
that enough was enough. "Park the car, Major."

"Sir?"

"Park...the...car."

Puzzled the young woman pulled into the nearest parking lot, and stopped the car.  "What's
wrong, sir?"

Jack shook his head at the confusion in her eyes. "Major, I didn't have this many close calls
in black ops. What's on your mind, cause it sure isn't watching traffic?"

Sam winced at his words. "What if Nichols didn't really save Daniel, sir?  What if Parker
really, well, you know?"

"There's nothing in his files to indicate that sort of abuse, Carter.  I'm no expert, but I'm
betting that's not the sort of thing you can hide."

"But Parker has him now, sir. What if he still wants to ... uh, you know?"

"What if he still wants to rape Daniel?"

The younger woman cringed visibly at his words. "Yes, sir."

"Not saying it, won't make it not happen, Carter."

"No, sir.  What do we do if he is assaulted?"

"First things first, Carter. First we find Daniel. Then we deal with whatever's been done to
him."

"Yes, sir. What now?"

"If you think you can get us back to DC alive, I'm going to read some more journal entries.  I
have a feeling I'm missing something important."

"Yes, sir. No problem, sir."  Sam started the car again, and pulled out into traffic.

Jack watched for a few minutes, then muttered under his breath. "Ya think?"

*****

Jack fumbled with the key to his briefcase, issuing a not-so-quiet curse as an unexpected pot-
hole dumped the contents onto the floor of the car.

"Sorry, sir.  Didn't see that one."

The colonel bit back a sharp retort about the Grand Canyon, knowing full well the major was
every bit as tense as he was.  He bent forward and retrieved the loose papers. Stuffing them
back into the leather case, he then reached for the journals. Breathing a sigh of relief that
his bookmark was still in place, -- thank God for Post-Its -- he carefully secured the
remaining journals in the briefcase. Opening the little book, he scanned quickly down the page,
searching for where he'd stopped.


[[[-----------

   ...I'd really hate to miss any of his little escapades while we're gone, but perhaps I
should invest in a leash as we start searching for Ra's tomb.

]]]----------


Jack found himself grinning at the mention of the leash.  Why hadn't he noticed it the first
time?  Probably hung up on the mention of Ra's tomb. At any rate, Daniel's father obviously was
a very smart guy. Jack forced himself to scan the next few pages, he had no time to waste being
side-tracked.  Skimming past the pages containing the preparations for the trip, Jack's eyes
narrowed as he found another mention of Parker.


[[[-----------

Today has been incredibly bad.  The last of the supplies are being held up by the local
officials.  I guess the last bribe just wasn't enough.  Then Parker shows up with a higher
offer than before.  If El Alabin wasn't bankrolling this thing ... I'll see him in the morning
about getting those supplies out of hock. Damn, this has cost us one more day.

And if that's not enough, Parker almost saw the map. It's a minor miracle that he didn't. I
know he knows I have one, but... How Danny got hold of it, I'll never know.  He's entirely too
smart for his own good.  But there he was, sitting at my desk, copying the details from the map
onto notebook paper when I walked in with Parker on my heels. Thank God the colonel didn't see
it. I got rid of him as fast as I could.

And the day's just getting worse. It's been thirty minutes since Parker left in a huff.  I
suppose Danny's been in the corner long enough. Who am I kidding?  I really wish I didn't have
to punish the child further ... he did an incredible job on the map's details ... but I cannot
have him playing with my important papers. Claire's going to be upset with my decision, but if
I wait any longer I won't be able to follow through with it, even if she did agree.  Damn. This
first spanking is going to be at least as hard on me as it will be on him.

]]]----------



'So, Daniel copied the map. Shit. I'll bet Parker did see what he was doing. That's why he's
been grabbed. But he was only four, maybe five, I doubt very seriously that...' Jack suddenly
groaned as something Sara once told him crossed his mind - 'match the punishment to the child'.
He hadn't totally understood her meaning until he'd watched her niece burst into repentant sobs
when given a lecture Charlie would have ignored completely. With Daniel's gentle nature and
brilliant mind, Jack had no doubt that the physical discipline administered by his father had
engraved that damn map into his memory, permanently.

He was also certain that the elder Dr. Jackson had been wrong; Parker had seen exactly what the
child had been doing.  With the proper stimuli, Daniel should be able to reproduce it easily,
and Jack had no doubt the colonel was an expert at ... stimuli.

Jack tried to dispel the nightmare images of Parker torturing Daniel by forcing himself to
continue on through the journal.  The boring pages that followed did little to ease his mind as
he searched for clues. Eyes widening, he felt his blood pressure rise as he suddenly stumbled
upon another military reference.



[[[----------

I've been incredibly stupid.  I didn't want military backing for this dig. Didn't need it. Had
the backing of El Alabin. A private investor.  Stupid. God, I was stupid.  My foreman finally
confided in me that El Alabin has no funds of his own.  Expensive tastes, no money. Looks like
Parker has won the first round. Damn the man. I really don't understand the military's concerns
in this expedition. We're digging up an ancient Egyptian tomb, not an arsenal.  Any weapons we
find will be useless to them, bows, arrows, javelins. Worthless in modern warfare.

   But didn't I hear rumors of a dig in the twenties? What was that? A giant circle of some
sort. That's right.  Bundled away under guard to some unnamed US military location because it
might have been a weapon. Ha. Probably an over-sized calendar. Wonder if the circle looked like
the one on the map? No, that was a gate of some kind. Probably to the underworld, seeing as
it's right next to the drawing of that large sarcophagus. Yeah, a gate. That has to be it. The
pictures show people going in one side, but not coming out the other.  Definitely not a weapon.

]]]----------



"Oh shit."

"What's wrong, Colonel?"

"The map the Jacksons had... if I'm reading this entry correctly, it shows a sarcophagus and
the Stargate on it."

"But surely you're not thinking ... our Stargate?"

"I hope so. I do not even want to think third gate.  Nor do I want to think about a
sarcophagus."

"Sir, what if the sarcophagus is real?"

"Don't go there, Carter."

"But, sir, what if it contains a Goa'uld?"

"You went there."

"Sorry, sir."

******

Daniel was nearly unconscious as his tormentors pulled him from the Jacuzzi.  The voices of the
two men seemed to be coming from a great distance.

"Ya know, I could use a break."

"What about him?"

"Handcuff him to the sink, he's not going anywhere. And maybe when we get back, he'll be more
polite to the colonel.  Maybe even tell him about the map."

Cold steel locked around one wrist as Daniel was dragged across the damp ceramic tile floor.
The smaller man shoved him to the floor while his partner snapped the handcuffs in place around
the plumbing.  The door shut behind him, leaving the drenched young prisoner shivering in the
cold room. 'Map? What map?' Daniel's thoughts were confused as he tried to understand what was
happening, what was wanted of him.  With his arms pinned behind him, wrapped awkwardly around
the pedestal base of the sink, Daniel was unable to gain relief as a spasm of coughing racked
his slender frame.

As the coughing fit ended, he struggled to concentrate on the conversation he'd overheard.
'Think, Daniel, what map? I went with Mom and Dad.  They had to have a map, didn't they?'
Suddenly images of multi-colored lines and shapes whirled through his mind, and intermixed with
images of colored pencils and notebook paper was his father's somber face and an over-large
hand which held his own much too tightly. Why was his father frowning?  He'd done something
wrong, hadn't he? Or had he? Daniel's tired mind whirled in confusion. A map? Oh! *That* map.
As his consciousness faded, the map grew clearer in his mind, along with the unnerving
sensation that his father was gonna be mad.

*****

Sam was unusually quiet as she pulled into entrance circle of their hotel, but Jack was so lost
in his own thoughts that he failed to notice her reticence. 'That son-of-a-bitch wants Daniel
to lead him to the tomb, wherever the hell that might be. Shit, Jack, stupid, real stupid.
Egypt. Where *else* would it be? All the pyramids are in that country. Well, all the Egyptian
py... God, don't be anal, Jack. ...  Country?  Daniel. Parker could already have taken Daniel
out of the country.'

The major trailed slightly behind her CO as they headed for their suite.  He inserted his key
card in the door, then cursed as he fumbled with the handle. "Not again!"

"Try it again, but pull the card out faster, sir.  These damn things can be quite annoying at
times."

Fuming silently, O'Neill did as she suggested, and was not surprised her directions worked.
'*Much* smarter than me.'  Jack vented some of his pent up rage on the defenseless door as he
kicked it all the way open and stormed into the room.  A sharp crack behind him caused danger-
honed senses to come alive, placing him in a defensive posture as he turned to see what had
happened.  To his surprise, the knob on the inside of the door was stuck in the wall and his
second-in-command stood in the doorway, staring, bemused, at the damage.  "Carter?"

Her face glowed beet-red as she looked at the stunned colonel. "I, uh, was hoping it would
help, sir.  It, uh, seems to work for you."

"Ya think?" He grinned broadly as she suddenly became absorbed in watching her shoes. Images of
Daniel, alone, frightened and in great pain, buried his grin. "Wanta talk about it?"

"I'm sorry, sir. I know you're worried, but--"

"I don't have a patent on worry, Carter. It's okay that you're worried about him."

She yanked the door loose from the wall, and shrugged as she pushed it closed. "It's more than
that, sir. I just keep thinking, what if they're torturing him right now. They could have
broken his hands by now, sir, and..."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! You've been reading too many adventure novels, Carter.  They want a map. His
hands are probably the *only* part of him that's safe."

"Why don't I find that comforting, sir?"

He motioned her toward the sofa. "It wasn't meant to be, Carter. It's a statement of fact.
Daniel's in trouble, and so far we haven't found anything that will help him."

Sam groaned softly as she sank into the sofa's cushions. "What if they took him out of the
country?"

The phone rang as he searched for an answer. "O'Neill! ... Where? Carter, get me a map of the
area."  His fingers beat an impatient tune as he searched for a pencil in the desk drawer.
Finding a barely usable stub with no eraser, he turned to inquire about the map just as it was
plopped, unfolded, onto the desk.  "Go ahead. ... Right. ... Got it!"  Hanging up, he whirled
to face Carter, a smile engulfing his face. "The highway patrol found the van."

Sam grabbed her small purse from the couch and fumbled for the keys as she headed for the door.
"Where?"

"Virginia.  Less than two hours drive from here."

******

"Wakey, wakey."

Daniel's head rocked with the not-so-mild slaps of his tormentors. "Wh..?"  Heavy eyelids,
refusing at first to cooperate, finally consenting to shift just a bit at the urging of a pain-
driven brain. "I'm 'wake."

The slurred words were apparently not enough for the guards.  Daniel gasped, then choked and
coughed as a blast of cold water hit his face. "S..stop!"

"Don't think he likes it."

"Too bad." The smaller man knelt and unlatched the handcuffs from both wrists. Daniel barely
suppressed a gasp of pain as his hands unexpectedly slammed into the floor. He slowly moved his
arms forward, gingerly rolling his shoulders to relieve the shooting pains in his back. Strong
hands grasped his biceps and jerked him to his feet. "The colonel wants to see you.
Downstairs."

Daniel really hoped relief wasn't evident.  With luck, those poker games with Jack had paid
off.

"But he's wet."

'Well, duh...' Daniel rolled his eyes as he realized he'd been hanging out with Jack *much* too
much.

"Well, duh. We just tossed water on him, you twit."

"I *know* that, but the rug in the study is really old.  I don't think the colonel will want it
to get wet. And he's dripping."

"Strip him?"

"Works for me."

A violent sneezing fit robbed Daniel of his speech as the larger of the guards twisted his
hands behind his back.  Simultaneously, the other man tore away the wet T-shirt with his bare
hands.  The black material fell in a soggy heap around his feet.  Daniel cringed inwardly as he
felt his sodden leather belt being tugged through its loops. A large knife was cold as ice
against his skin as it slid effortlessly down the seams of his jeans. Soon, they too were in
shreds around his ankles. His briefs followed quickly, leaving the young man shivering among
the remnants of his clothing.

A not-so-gentle hand in the small of Daniel's back, urged him through the door, and back into
the bedroom. The young prisoner protested irritably. "There's no need to shove."

******

Sam grinned in spite of herself as traffic slowed in response to the flashing lights ahead of
them. The refrigerated van was definitely well-guarded.

"Something funny, Major?"

"Human nature, sir.  Flashing lights ahead, and suddenly everyone's going the speed limit."
She frowned as she glanced at the speedometer. "Or less."

"Go around."

"Sir, traffic's too heavy to pass on the left."

"Not on the right, it's not."

"Drive on the shoulder? But, but I'll get a ticket."

Jack simply *looked* at her.

Grumbling under her breath, she braked slightly to give her room to maneuver, then eased the
large car onto the shoulder of the road. As she feared, they were soon stopped by a state
trooper standing in front of them already writing on a pad. 'Great, just great.'

"Easy, Major. I'll handle this." Jack's no nonsense voice told Sam he had a plan.

"Ma'am, uh, Major, I'm sure you have a very good reason--"

"Excuse me, Officer, I hate to interrupt the standard ticket routine, but I'm Colonel O'Neill.
Detective Carroll is expecting us."

"Oh, yes sir, Colonel. Keep on going on the shoulder, I'll let them know you're here."

The trooper hurried away as Sam turned to *look* at the colonel. She shook her head as she
depressed the gas pedal. "Sweet."

*****

The fact that the van was a standard, ordinary, run-of-the-mill refrigerated all-purpose
carrier was not lost on Jack.  Neither was the fact that it had been torched, along with a half
acre of over-dry timber.  Detective Amos Carroll looked grim as he recounted the van's
discovery.  "Got lucky with this one, Colonel, in more ways than one. A volunteer fire unit was
heading back to their station after a training run.  Saw the flames and fortunately had enough
water to hold it at bay until more units could arrive.  Dry as it is, the fire could have gone
for miles.  Several housing developments and a hospital just over the hill. Could have been
ugly if we'd had to evacuate."

Jack nodded sympathetically, well aware of the intricacies of emergency evacuations in a
military environment.  He shuddered to think of the problems involved in a civilian withdrawal.
"And the van?"

"Oh, yes, sorry. Your missing friend. Well, the back of the van, over the gas tank was
completely gutted. We got luckier in the front.  The wind took the flames away from the cab.
The back of the seat is singed, but the VIN's easily readable. The trace shows it's owned by a
rental company in DC."

"Credit cards!  Renting a car requires a credit card. This is terrific."  Sam's smile indicated
her delight.

"Sorry, Major. I don't think it will help us. I suspect this was rented under a fake name."

Her face fell. "Oh."

"Detective Carroll?" A young trooper approached the portly detective.

"What is it, son?"

"Dr. Foster said to give this to you. He's already dusted it, got only partial prints. So far
it's the only thing in the van with prints. Whoever left it was very careful.  This was wedged
between the seats. We'll try to do a match on the prints as soon as possible."

Carroll reached out and took a tiny slip of paper. "Thank you, son."  His voice spoke of
dismissal and the young man returned to the van. "Hmmmm, a ticket stub. Don't know to what,
though."

"May I see?"  Jack held out his hand expectantly, and breathed a little easier when the
detective dropped the stub into his palm. He studied it for a moment. "This looks famil... Ah.
WWF."

"What?"  Sam and the detective asked simultaneously.

"World Wrestling Federation.  I recognize the bottom part of the stub."

"You do?"  Sam stared at her CO in shock.

"Colonel, are you sure?"

"Absolutely.  I've seen..."

"You've *been* to one of *those* things?"  Sam asked, aghast.

"No."  Jack replied, too quickly. "Uh, NO, but SG-3 go whenever they get a chance."

Sam eyed him skeptically as Carroll spoke up. "No telling how long this has been here, but
we'll do a trace on the ticket number. Who knows, maybe we'll get lucky. ... Again."

"I think it's recent. If I remember correctly, the Rock was supposed to face off against Triple
H and the tickets had a special look for *that* match."

Nodding, the detective walked toward his patrol car, not quite successful in hiding his grin.

Jack looked puzzled as the man left then turned to catch Sam trying to conceal a grin. "What?"

"Nothing sir."

"Spill it, Major."

"Triple H?  It sounds more like a dude ranch. ... Sir."

******

Daniel attempted a bravado he didn't feel as he stumbled across the threshold into the bedroom.
He'd been half-drowned and stripped bare-ass naked.  He was *really* cold, tired, hungry,
scared to death, and to top it off, he felt like hell.  Enough was enough. Daniel whirled to
face his guards. "Dammit, I said don't *push*'.  The look on the smaller man's face instantly
told him this had *not* been a good idea.

Strong hands shoved the scientist against the wall, a forearm in his Adam's apple successfully
pinning him in place.  A coiled strip of rawhide appeared out of nowhere grasped tightly by the
leering guard. Daniel cringed as the leather was rubbed gently up his bare chest, and across
his face. A soft, ominous voice whispered in his ear. "Consider yourself lucky.  Orders are
you're not to be physically damaged -- no marks, yet. But when that changes..."

All things considered, Daniel would have preferred the threat to have been thinly veiled. The
smaller guard increased the pressure on his throat, and smiled as he watched Daniel struggle to
catch his breath. Humorless dark eyes studied his young prisoner for a moment, then suddenly
the guard released his strangle-hold.  Gasping, Daniel automatically brought his hands up to
his throat, and wheezed in a fresh supply of oxygen.

"Put this on."  The larger guard held out robes reminiscent of those he'd worn on Abydos.

Relieved to be able to cover himself, Daniel hastily complied, ignoring the ogling of the
guards.  A quick glance in the mirror - damn, when *had* he lost his glasses - closest to him
startled him badly. The robes, which appeared sufficient for his peace of mind, were actually
somewhat translucent. 'Don't stand in front a light, Daniel.'  And to make matters worse, the
hem extended barely past his ... well, he'd seen prostitutes with more cover.  But the native
peoples of ... 'ACK! Get a grip, Daniel!'

The unnatural tightness in his chest was hard to ignore as he found himself in the grip of
another coughing spell, and he nearly doubled over as the pain in his chest and shoulder
intensified. Strong hands prevented a fall while propelling him toward the door. "The colonel
wants to see you downstairs."

Okay, downstairs. *Not* the bedroom. He *really* hoped no one noticed his sigh of relief. And
maybe it'd be cooler downstairs. God, he was soooo hot.

******

"A *dude* ranch, Carter. Oh, Puhlease! Well, I'll give you that on Triple H, but The Rock,
Jerico, Undertaker ... no ranches there."  Jack tapped his foot impatiently as he spoke.

"No, sir."  Carter schooled her expression to be carefully neutral.

"Well, Colonel,"  Jack whirled to face the detective once more. "Looks like you were right.
This is a WWF ticket stub and there was a show, uh, match, of some sorts three nights ago."

"How do we know it belongs to one of the kidnappers?" Sam finally voiced her confusion.

"The van's a rental. They get cleaned between rentals.  A ticket stub would never have been
left between the seats."

Sam eyed Jack skeptically but Detective Carroll merely nodded. "The colonel's right, ma'am.
We're running a search on the outfit that sold it. With any luck, someone used their credit
card."

*****

Daniel's climb up from the basement had left him wondering exactly how many staircases this,
uh, house had anyway.  The stairs down to his cellar accommodations had been the standard
staircase common to most basement areas.  The stairs up to the Jacuzzi area, on the other hand,
had been narrow and winding, almost hidden in nature, and he knew that he'd climbed entirely
too many steps for a mere two stories.  As he left the bedroom, he glanced around for the steps
which should have been close to the door and was not particularly surprised to see only walls,
confirming his suspicion of a secret staircase.

As his guides prodded him down the long hall, he took note of a three foot high statue of the
goddess Bastet standing beside the next doorway.  Frowning, he realized it looked old, very
old.  His hand went out involuntarily to investigate its dark surface, and recoiled just as
quickly when the handle end of the rawhide whip impacted with his knuckles.  "*Ouch!*"

There was real amusement in the laugh that greeted his cry of pain. "No stalling.  The colonel
wants you. ...  Badly."  His grip tightened on Daniel's arm as he chuckled merrily at his
little joke.   Laughter from the other guard made Daniel suddenly realize that he did not want
in on the joke.

Additional statuary lined the hallway at random intervals, while frescos of various sizes and
shapes were embedded in the walls. The urge to touch, to investigate, to savor the texture of
what appeared to be museum quality pieces was almost too much for the young man as he was
pulled along the corridor.  A whimper of emotional pain almost escaped his lips as they reached
the top of yet another stairwell, and they started down, leaving the treasures behind.

******

Sam slouched in a very hard visitor's chair near Detective Carroll's cluttered desk, while Jack
paced the narrow confines of the crowded room. Carroll was closeted with his captain in a
nearby office, engaged, if hand motions could be trusted, in a lively discussion with the man.
A strong hand on her shoulder made her jump. "Wh...what?"

"Carter, I'm told there's a couch in the break room, why don't you go use it?"

"I'm fine, sir."

"Sam, you were snoring." Jack hid a smile as his second in command blushed in embarrassment.
"You're exhausted.  The couch has *got* to be more comfortable than that chair."

"You're tired, too, sir."  Sam pointed out as she attempted to smother a yawn.

"Untrue, Major. First thing you learn in Colonel's school is how to get by on very little
sleep.  Go.  ANH!" He wagged a finger in her face. "Consider it an order."

"Yes, sir."  She sighed deeply, weary in body as well as mind as she walked to the door. She
paused in the doorway, turning to face Jack. "Sir, we will get Daniel back, won't we?"

"No doubt about it, Carter. None at all."

She studied him for a brief moment, as if questioning the veracity of his assertion, then
nodded and left the room.  Jack's reassuring smile faded as she left. 'But in what condition, I
can only guess.'

******

George Hammond was a very unhappy general. He'd reached the point in his career where very few
of his requests were denied. He smiled slightly as he realized that either he had a lot of
influence in the nation's capital or he knew which requests would be successful, and which ones
would fail.  Considering the condition of his office furniture, he silently acknowledged that
it must be the latter.  But this request, dammit to hell, *had* been reasonable.  All he wanted
was access to the chain of paperwork removing Airman Barkley from his facility. Okay, he'd
grant that requesting the body be returned to the SGC might have been a little off the wall,
but the paperwork?  A perfectly reasonable request from the man's CO.  Except the arrogant
little snip at the other end of the line had pointed out that Airman Barkley had been
transferred, therefore, Hammond was no longer his CO. Besides, the soon to be ex-lieutenant had
pointed out, shouldn't all of Barkley's paperwork already be at the SGC?

Hammond slapped the side of his computer monitor hard enough to scramble the image. Wincing at
the pain in his hand, Hammond glared at the now steady screen. The one which proclaimed that
Airman Barkley had never darkened the doors of the SGC.

******

An angry voice pulled Jack from his thoughts. "Colonel O'Neill, can you join us in here a
moment. ... Please?"

Nodding his compliance as he started for the office, Jack couldn't help but notice that
Detective Carroll was obviously livid. The colonel slipped easily into the room, and Carroll
shut the door behind him.

"Colonel O'Neill ... Captain Smith."  Carroll made the introductions quickly, then crossed his
arms in front of his chest as he continued. "Captain, tell him."

Jack braced himself, visions of a dead or dying Daniel dominating his imagination.

Smith glared at his detective, then sighed, releasing the last vestiges of his anger as he did
so.  "Colonel, we've gotten nowhere on the prints, but the ticket was purchased with a
Mastercard."  He paused, obviously reluctant to continue.

Relieved beyond words that Daniel was still missing - odd how that worked -- Jack forced the
captain to meet his eyes. "What's the problem, Captain?"

"We've been denied access to the records."

"What does that mean?  I thought you'd gotten a court order?"

Captain Smith frowned. "We did. The card company representative is protesting the order,
claiming we have no jurisdiction to request the information."

"And that's bad?"

Smith nodded. "Yes.  I've run into this before.  If I'm right, the FBI's got the records
sealed."

Jack's eyes narrowed as he spoke. "Why?"

"There are other possibilities, but it could mean that whoever purchased the ticket is in the
Witness Protection Program."

"And this means..."

"The odds of you getting a name and address went from good to zip in under an hour."

******

Daniel tugged at the hem of his skimpy robe as he was led toward an ornately carved oak door.
The robe was very loose-fitting, swirling around his torso as he moved, but he had no illusions
as to its coverage potential. And it was cooler down here. Much cooler. His chest ached from
coughing and the pain just below his shoulder was much, much worse. Could he have broken
something? He didn't think so, but the pain indicated otherwise. A frigid blast of air from an
overhead register hit him and he found himself shivering violently as the smaller of his guards
knocked on the door.

"Come."  The voice was low, barely making it past the heavy wood.

The guard opened the door, shoved Daniel inside, and shut it again in one fluid motion.  Daniel
cringed as he heard the lock snap behind him.  Leaning against the door, he looked at Parker,
but said nothing.

"I'm pleased you could join us, Daniel."

"I'm happy you're happy." Wincing as Colonel Parker's eyes flashed ominously, Daniel moaned
under his breath. 'God, I have *got* to stop hanging out with Jack.

*****

"Yes, Director, I am very aware of the time in DC. However, this is a national security issue.
... Yes, sir, one of my people has been abducted, and I have reason to suspect that someone in
your department is thwarting our attempts to locate him. ... No, I am not implying complicity.
I do not believe your people have all the facts. ... Yes, sir. That's correct. ... Doctor
Daniel Jackson. ... Our investigation indicates that someone may try to take him out of the
country. ... No, I cannot tell you why, merely that it is in this country's best interests for
Dr. Jackson to be found quickly. And the President agrees. ... Yes, Director, our president.
... Thank you.  I'm sure you will." George Hammond returned the phone to its cradle and sighed
in satisfaction.  Amazing, he could get the FBI director out of bed and cooperating in the
middle of the night, eastern time, but he still hadn't received the paperwork on Airman
Barkley, even though his counterpart at Bolling Air Force Base had assured him it was being
expedited immediately.

Sighing, he reached for the phone. Even with the scarcity of the information, Colonel O'Neill
deserved an update.  He knew the SG-1 team leader well enough to be sure that the man was
probably silently climbing the walls about now. Many more delays and O'Neill would be extremely
unpleasant to be around.

The phone rang loudly just as his hand reached it, causing him to start violently.  Cursing
under his breath, he pulled the handset to his ear. "Hammond. ... Signed out? When? ... Why
didn't, oh never mind. Airman, have Major Harris paged.  And get a security team to Lieutenant
McIntosh's home.... No, he is not under arrest. The security is just a precaution. They're to
take no action until Major Harris arrives." Slamming the phone down, Hammond fumed.  He'd
ordered McIntosh to stay on base, but had never posted the orders to the gate.  Dammit to hell.
A really bad thought found its way into his brain, and he grabbed for the phone. "Hammond,
here.  Has Mr. Teal'c by any chance signed out? ... He has?  ... How long? ... Thank you,
Airman."

George stared bleakly at the phone.  Jack was not going to like this. Hell, he didn't like
this. Hopefully, Teal'c would do nothing to McIntosh. Hopefully. Dammit, he should have
anticipated this. Teal'c had not believed the NID officer when Harris told him of McIntosh's
apparent lack of involvement. Reaching for the receiver, he dialed the number in Virginia where
the colonel said he could be reached.  And really hoped the man wasn't there.

******

Daniel met Parker's glare with one of his own as the older man struggled to maintain control of
his temper.  After a short moment, he smiled coldly, "That was one, Daniel. Do not make me
reach three. You will not like me, if I reach three."

Discretion being Daniel's true nature, he bit back the Jack-comment about not liking the other
man now, and settled for a non-committal, "Oh. I see."

"I doubt that very seriously, but given the reports of your tenacity, I suspect you will."
Parker sighed. "I know better, but I must really ask -it's only civilized - are you ready to
talk with me now?"  He held up a quick hand. "And no, not about the weather, Daniel.  I wish to
know about the journals, the map, the trail to Ra's hidden temple, and of course, the Doorway
to the Stars."

Daniel's involuntary gasp of surprise was fortunately buried in a hacking cough that seemed to
go on forever.  By the time he'd stopped, he'd managed to get his brain around the idea that
this man knew the original name for the Stargate.  His coughing jag had caused him to double
over in pain, and he was grateful for the solid door behind him that provided a little more
cover than did his skimpy outfit.  He stood to find the older man eyeing him coldly, but
maintaining his distance.

"That is a very nasty sounding cough you have, Daniel.  You really should take better care of
yourself."  If Parker was disappointed that his young prisoner did not take the bait, he did
not show it.  Instead, he moved toward a set of cabinet doors and opened them wide. "The
journals would be nice to have, Daniel. They contain a complete inventory of what was found in
Ra's tom

"What stayed?"  The question slipped out before Daniel could prevent it.

"My dear boy, your parents were not stupid people. On the contrary, they were unusually
intelligent. A miscalculation on my part, I admit. They brought back only enough artifacts to
satisfy an ordinary backer's greed.  They, of course, were hoping to gain the support of a
museum, go back, and make a gigantic discovery, which would leave me out in the cold."  He
laughed loudly. "Unfortunately for them, I already knew that what they'd removed wasn't all of
it."

"If you know so much about the artifacts, why haven't you gone back and gotten the rest of them
yourself?"

"I had considered it, but the only reference *I* have to the location is on this ancient map,"
He pointed to the yellowed parchment behind him, "which does not correspond to any map known
today. As you can see if you compare the old map on the left, with the modern map on the right.
...  Oh wait, without your glasses, you cannot see it. Do come a little closer, Daniel."

Curiosity waged war with discretion in Daniel's mind. Curiosity won.  Tugging absently at the
hem of the short robe, he moved toward the map. The ancient document was protected by a thin
layer of Plexiglas. The hieroglyphics drew Daniel in, and it wasn't long before he recognized
the ancient cities of Thebes, Memphis, and Abydos on it's wildly inaccurate topography. And
centered in the distortion were the hieroglyphics denoting the name of Ra, in what should be
the southern part of Egypt. Southern Egypt?  Heliopolis, the city of the sun was north of
Cairo, in the ...  A hand on his shoulder caused him to jump back in alarm. He'd forgotten
Parker was in the room.

*****

Sam was softly snoring as she lay curled on her side on the short sofa in the break room.  The
light blanket someone had placed over her lay crumpled on the floor.  Detective Carroll walked
quietly into the break room, regretting the need to disturb the colonel who sat, eyes tightly
shut, arms crossed over his chest, in a hard plastic chair which was tilted backwards on two
legs, and kept from falling only by the wall behind it. Moving as quietly as possible to the
colonel's chair, the detective started to speak, but was interrupted by a quiet, "I'm awake.
What's happening?"

"Your General Hammond is on the phone for you, Colonel. In the captain's office."

O'Neill's eyes opened slowly, unwilling to surrender the brief respite they'd had.  He glanced
at Sam's sleeping form and sighed deeply. "On my way."  Forcing himself to stand, he walked to
the sofa, knelt and repositioned the blanket over his sleeping teammate, then rose and followed
Carroll down the hall.

******

Daniel leaped backwards, knocking over a nearby trash can and stumbling into the desk chair.
The movement cost him his balance, and he landed hard, half in, half out, of the large leather
chair.  Off-centered by his actions, the chair tilted forward, dumping him unceremoniously to
the floor just out of reach of the older man. Scrambling to regain his lost dignity, he ignored
the increasing pain in his chest and shoulder, and pulled himself upright, straightened his
robe and positioned the chair between the colonel and himself.  Only then did he look at his
adversary, and was surprised to see laughter not anger in the other man's eyes.

Tears streamed down the colonel's face as he gasped for breath.  Gingerly wiping his eyes, he
shook his head. "Daniel, Daniel. There's no need to hide yourself.  You've been monitored ever
since you came into this house."  Smiling, he pressed a button, and a row of televisions
recessed in the wall across from the desk were suddenly displayed.  Each set showed a different
picture of a different part of the house. "These two," Parker turned a laser pointer on two of
the sets, "are focused on the bedroom and bathroom you just left. Of course, without your
glasses, I'm afraid you're just going to have to take my word for that."

The heat in his face told the young prisoner that he was blushing, and the idea that Parker had
been watching while he was stripped of his clothing caused him to cringe inwardly. Much to his
disgust, his discomfiture only caused Parker to laugh harder.  "Delightful. Absolutely
delightful. It's so refreshing to meet someone with your ... sensibilities. Most of my, uh,
friends are so jaded."

Anger caused Daniel to forget to hold his tongue. "Could be the company you keep.  You know,
thieves, kidnappers, perverts ... not a good group."

Parker grew thoughtful. "True. So very true. However, this is getting us nowhere.  I assume
you're not willing to divulge any information about the map or your parents' journals,
whatsoever?"

Daniel started to speak, but sneezed violently instead. Wincing as his shoulder throbbed in
agony, he managed to snarl.  "Even if I remembered, which I don't, I would have to say ... not
no, but hell no."

"Pity."  Parker raked Daniel's body visually over the coals as he moved closer. "As I once told
your father, I know you're lying. In his case, he lied about what treasures were buried in Ra's
temple. In your case, I saw your face as you watched the films from the museum.  Don't ever
play poker for large stakes, Daniel, your face tells it all.  Just as your father's did."

******

Nodding almost politely to Captain Smith, Jack put the phone to his ear. "O'Neill! ... Nothing
yet? But sir it's been... yes, sir, I understand, patience is a virtue. ...That's good. ...
Yes, I'm sure he'll be able to help. Was there anything else? ... He *what!* Oh, for crying out
loud! ... I am calm, General, but Teal'c... Yes, sir. Major Harris? ... I don't think Teal'c
will stop on his orders.  ... I'd have to disagree, General. ... Yes, he is military, but it's
not our military. ... Exactly.... Yes, he will definitely stop for you sir. ... you're welcome,
General."  The colonel wanted nothing more than to fling the telephone, wires and all, across
the room.  Wisely resisting the urge, he slowly and deliberately replaced the handset, took a
deep breath, then turned to face the policemen.

Captain Smith nodded toward the phone. "Wanted to throw it, right?"

Jack couldn't quite suppress a grin. "Yes, how'd you know?"

"The wire to the wall, well, it's not original equipment."

"I see."  Jack stared at the wall for a moment. "Damn it!"

"Bad news about your missing man?"

"No news about Daniel."  Jack caught himself just before mentioning Teal'c. 'Damn, I must be
tired.'

Smith looked sympathetically at the colonel.  Dark circles under the man's eyes told the story
of too little sleep and way too much worry. "Go back and try to get some rest, one of us will
come get you if we get any info."

"We should really head back to DC."

"Is there anything you can do there that you can't do here?"

"Uh, no, but..."

"The lady's asleep, and you're practically walking in your sleep right now. In other words,
neither of you are in any condition to drive. The Chief's office has a couch. Go use it."

Jack's attempt to disagree was overrun by a wide yawn, followed by a sheepish grin. "Sweet.
Lead on, Captain Smith." 'Just call me Pocahontas.'

******

"May I help you, sir?"

"I'm looking for Colonel Jack O'Neill's room."

"Is he expecting you, sir, uh, Captain?"

"I'm not sure."

"Sir?"

"Look, I know you can't give me the room number, but just call him and let him know I'm down
here."

"Certainly, sir."  The young clerk checked the computer display in front of him, then
discretely dialed the number. He waited a few moments, then turned to the captain. "I'm sorry,
sir. There's no answer.  Shall I dial the number and you can leave a message?"

"Fine. Thank you."  The captain waited almost patiently for the handset to come his way.
"Colonel O'Neill, Captain Arthur Benjamin.  General Hammond asked me to connect with you.  I'll
be down in the, uh, lobby when you get this message."  He returned the receiver to the clerk,
nodded his thanks, then searched for a secluded place to wait.  He hadn't had a chance to
review all of Dr. Marshall's documents, and while he'd waited to leave a message for O'Neill,
his beeper had gone off three times.  Sinking into a surprisingly comfortable high-back chair
near the front window, he checked his beeper. One from his wife, no surprise there, he was
incredibly late getting home. One from ... yes, that is Hammond's number. And the third ...
odd, New York area code, and the number ... Marshall!  The retirement home. Oh God!  Praying
nothing had happened to the delightful old man, he shakily dialed the number for Shady Hills.

*****

Daniel's angry reply was cut off by another round of coughing.  Parker eyed him closely as the
younger man clutched his chest, desperately trying to get air into unresponsive lungs.  He
managed a choked, "You won't get anything from me."

"Oh, I really think I will.  I've waited a long, long time, Daniel.  Too long.  But I had no
choice."

"Because of Nichols."  Daniel forced himself to stand upright as he spoke.

The colonel frowned. "Yes, because of Nichols.  Do you remember Major Nichols, Daniel?"

The "No, not really" froze on his lips as the memories flooded back.


]]]

"Go 'way!  Momma!  Daddy!"  His screams rose in pitch as the angry man's hand tightened around
a tiny arm.  His struggles grew in proportion to his cries as he was pulled tightly against the
man's chest.  Words whispered in his ear made no sense.  He didn't *like* this! He didn't know!
He wanted to go home!  He wanted his mother!  "Don't wanta play!"

Another grown-up voice pierced his terror, and he felt the angry man's hands pulled loose,
freeing him to run to the other side of the room.  Crouching low in the corner, he covered his
ears with his hands. Too angry. Too loud. He didn't *want* to hear.  Why didn't Momma come?
Where was Daddy?  He didn't *know* where the funny box was!

[[[


Box?  A sarcophagus. And not just any sarcophagus.  A Goa'uld sarcophagus. There had been one
in the tomb. Oh God!  What if it held a Goa'uld?  Daniel felt sick as he remembered his
parents' delight in their discovery.  They'd even let him *sit* on it.  His stomach roiled at
the thought.  Gagging, he went to his knees as he battled his stomach for disposition of its
contents.  As his desperate bid for control failed, he barely heard the colonel's angry scream
as he vomited onto the oriental rug.

******

Nervous fingers beat anxiously on the arm of the chair as Captain Benjamin listened to the
rings on his cell phone. "Come on, come on! ... Benjamin. What's the problem? ... Is he all
right? ... Oh, thank God. ... And the shooter? ... Fantastic.  When you find out who he is, let
me know immediately."  As he snapped his cell-phone closed, Benjamin let out a sigh of relief.
His men had arrived barely in time to stop an assailant -dressed as an orderly for heaven's
sake - as he took aim at the defenseless old man.  And they'd managed to take the man alive!
Benjamin shook his head in disbelief at the turn of events. If he'd hesitated about assigning
protection, Dr. Marshall would be dead.  He cringed at the thought.

Suddenly remembering that General Hammond had also beeped him, he dialed the number in
Colorado, more than ready to deliver a progress report.  His wife, forgotten as usual, would
just have to wait.

******

Parker's scream of rage coincided with him crossing the distance separating him from his
prisoner.  Daniel, too dazed to see him approach, was struggling to his feet when a strong
backhand to the side of his head returned him to his knees.

"You will pay for this, Daniel. Oh yes, you will pay! I will have the journals, and I will have
*you*."  The colonel squatted beside his prisoner, gently running his fingers through his hair.
Daniel weakly attempted to pull away, only to find his head jerked upwards.  A finger ran down
his cheek. "You were a beautiful child, Daniel. Did you know that? If Nichols had not
interfered ... meddlesome fool. *I* would have been good to you. Very good."  Letting Daniel's
head drop to his chest, Parker rose, moved quickly to his desk and slid his hand underneath his
upper drawer. Almost immediately the two guards appeared.  Nodding at Daniel, Parker addressed
his men. "Clean him up and take him to my room.  And be careful. I do not wish to see damaged
goods." Parker stared at the newly stained carpet. "And get someone in here to clean up this
... mess."

Strong hands wrapped firmly around Daniel's slender arms as the two men moved closer to him.
Ignoring his weak protest, they pulled him ruthlessly to his feet, supporting him there as he
swayed dizzily.  Nodding their understanding to their employer, they silently dragged Daniel
from the office.

Parker watched the exit, noting his young prisoner's attempts to pull away from the larger men.
A side door opened, and his partner entered. "I didn't quite catch your instructions, Roland,
more underwater sessions?"

"Hmmm?"

"I said, more underwater sessions?"

"Oh, no. Nothing like that."

"Then how will you get the journals?"

"I'm surprised you don't understand. His colonel has them."

The other man's eyes lit up. "I see."

"I rather thought you would."

******

Daniel's panicked thoughts ran ahead of his body.  He really didn't want to remember, but it
was far too late for that.  The route from Cairo to Ra's tomb was crystal clear in his memory.
As was the hard to find entrance to the tomb itself.  He'd been with his father when the man
had found it, after three almost non-stop days of searching. He knew how to get there, he knew
how to get inside, and God help him, he knew what was inside.  Just not who. He needed Jack and
the backup of the SGC.  Parker and his cronies could not be allowed to get to the items his
parents had left in the tomb. He knew from what little Jack had said about his stay in Iraq
that there were limits on how much the human body could withstand.  He shuddered at the
thought. He didn't really *want* to know his limits.  He would much, much prefer a state of
blissful ignorance, but if Parker really wanted information, why hadn't he been hurt?

His brow furrowed with confusion as he stumbled on the stairs only to be yanked brutally to his
feet once more.  Being held under the water in the Jacuzzi had been frightening. The sensation
of almost drowning still one of his most unpleasant memories to date. And he was *not* going to
think about the images in the cellar.  But he hadn't been physically harmed. Hell, he barely
had a bruise on him. It made no sen... Oh oh. Parker's words came back to him - 'Clean him up
and take him to my room.  And be careful. I do not wish to see damaged goods.'  *His* room?
Take him to *his* room? Oh, no,no,no,no,no. His earlier childhood memories of the 'game' came
flying back, as did the words Parker had whispered in his ear as he held him tightly.  Words
the five year old Daniel had not understood. Words the grown-up Daniel understood only too
well.

Blue eyes opened impossibly wide as they approached the bedroom door. "NO!"  Daniel's frantic
attempt to pull free only succeeded in earning him a hard punch to his kidneys, and a much
tighter hold on his arms.

******

"Uh, Captain?"

Captain Smith looked up from his paperwork to see the retired Marine Master Sergeant standing
in his doorway. "Yes, Chief?"

"There's an Air Force major asleep in the break room, and a colonel asleep on my sofa. Is there
something I need to know?"

*****

"Hey John!"

"What?"  The young night clerk responded as he stuffed his keys in his pocket.  His shift was
almost over, and he'd never been more happy. That captain had been in the lobby most of the
night. *Not* that he'd been a problem, but his presence had meant John couldn't spend most of
the night reading.  At least not what he usually read.

"When'd this get here?"

"What?"

"If you'd look in my direction, you'd see what.  This envelope. For Colonel J. O'Nelk?"

"Huh?  Let me see that."  John moved swiftly to his replacement's position. "O'Neill, not
O'Nelk.  This wasn't here when I went on duty. How the hell?"

"Sleeping on the job, again?"  The girl's green eyes held undisguised laughter.

"No, Maddie, I wasn't.  But we did have some check-ins last night.  Hey, I wonder..."  John
glanced over to the chair where the captain was sitting, although the tilt of the man's head
told the clerk that he was definitely not awake.

Maddie followed his line of sight. "Is that the colonel?"

"No. Don't you know anything about insignia? *That* is a captain."

"Okay, so what?"

"He was looking for O'Neill last night.  Left him a message on his phone, and has been pretty
much planted in that chair all night."

Her eyes widened, their green shade going dark with anger. "You aren't thinking about giving
him O'Neill's mail, are you, John?"

He refused to meet her eyes, telling her more plainly than words, that he'd been considering
just that. "Uh, no. Not at all."

"Right.  You know better."

"Oh yeah. Right. Well, I'm gone. You deal with it."  John took one last look at the sleeping
officer, then grinned at his replacement.  "I'm outta here."

******

The traffic was terrible. Sam's hands tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles white under the
strain.  She'd lived in Washington, navigated its horrendous rush hours for years, and managed
to get to the Pentagon on time... always.  And now she found herself trapped. Every alternate
route she'd known about was either blocked itself, or no longer existed.  Damned new
subdivisions. Like DC needed any more people.  She spared a moment to glance away from the
bumper to bumper melee to look at the colonel. He hadn't spoken more than ten words since
they'd left the police station that morning. 'No news was good news, wasn't it, sir?'

Gratefully she took a sip from the large cup of coffee, thoughtfully provided by one retired
Marine Master Sergeant.  Either she was in desperate need of caffeine or this was the best cup
of coffee she'd had in a month of Sundays. Even Daniel ... oh, God. Daniel.  Anger, fear and
guilt warred for control of her emotions.  There was absolutely no telling what was happening
to Daniel right now.  His abductors had  proven themselves in the past, and, come to think of
it, the present, to be capable of anything, including murder.  Nichols, dying in the gutter on
a Washington street.  Daniel's parents dying underneath the collapsed coverstone in New York.
And that poor old man in New York, who'd almost been assassinated in his own bed in a nursing
home.  Thank God Captain Benjamin - she was looking forward to meeting him - had ordered
protection for the retired archaeologist.  And according to the general's reports, they'd
captured ... someone.  Someone without recognizable prints.  Someone who'd taken the time and
endured the pain of having his prints burned off.  Obviously someone with a past.  And
according to Hammond, a very silent someone.

Her eyes wandered to the briefcase at the colonel's feet.  He'd been unwilling to leave it
anywhere, even in a vault.  It contained Daniel's father's journals, which in turn contained
the answers to the questions of the universe. A giggle threatening to surface was beaten back
by the more sobering thought that she wasn't far wrong.  Daniel's parents had stumbled across
Ra's tomb and from what they'd read so far, it had belonged to the real Ra, not some panty-
waisted pretender of a Ra. The Ra of Abydos. The Ra who'd been destroyed by Colonel Jack
O'Neill and Daniel. The Ra who'd really fled earth millennia ago when the Goa'uld slaves had
revolted.  She'd seen the rough sketches in the journal, and there was no doubt in her mind
that the circle was a Stargate, and the people going through it were the fleeing Goa'uld.  And
if that was the case, the sarcophagus shown in the rough sketch was Goa'uld as well. 'Oh
Daniel.  We are in such deep shit.'

******

The sun was still hours away from peaking over the horizon, and the night air of Colorado was
more than a little chilly.  Teal'c, however, was unconcerned. The lights were off in Lieutenant
McIntosh's home, but the same could not be said for the security vehicles observing it.  The
Jaffa did not understand how the Tau'ri tolerated such laxness.  The lighters used to ignite
the end of the cigarette tubes were bad enough, but occasionally, the inner light of the
vehicles would come on, illuminating the occupants with a yellow glow. These watchers were
indeed fortunate that neither they, nor the man behind him, were his prey. "Greetings, Major
Harris."

To his credit, the NID major did not seem surprised. "Hello, Teal'c. Anything happening that I
need to be aware of?"

The Jaffa sat silently for a moment, pondering his answer. Hammond had asked him to trust this
man, and he would do so ... for a while. "McIntosh is preparing to leave."

******

"Sorry sir."  Sam spoke softly as she turned the car into the driveway of the hotel.

"About what, Carter?"

"Taking so lon..."

"Oh, for crying out loud, Carter. It's not your fault.  I should have insisted we leave last
night."

"You needed the sleep, sir."  She left the door open for the valet as she followed the colonel
to the door.  She started violently as his hand cracked hard on the metal surface, causing the
revolving door to spin violently. "Sir?"

Using his hand again, he slowed the door and slipped inside one of the triangular compartments,
shoving it forward as he went.  Sam hastily followed him. "Sir?"

"Oh, Colonel?"

"Colonel O'Neill?"

Jack froze on the marble floor as his auditory senses were bombarded from three directions.
Sam moved to stand beside him as an Army captain approached from a corner of the lobby, while
the day manager waved at him from the desk, a manila envelope in her hand. Ignoring both the
captain and the major, the colonel aimed for the desk, followed by his confused subordinates.
"I'm O'Neill. What?"

"Package for you, Colonel."

"Thank you."  He frowned at the dearth of markings on the envelope. Only his poorly written
name graced the front, and nothing was on the back. "Where..."

"We don't know, Colonel. It was simply ... here ... this morning."

Nodding, he turned, undoing the clasp as he did so, almost colliding with the two younger
officers, who awkwardly dodged their superior. Jack's face drained quickly of color as he saw
the contents.  A single picture, eight by ten, of Daniel.  Slumped, head down, almost naked,
and bound, hands over his head, to what was obviously a bedpost in someone's private playpen.

*****

"Colonel? What's wrong?  Is it Daniel?"

"Colonel O'Neill? Are you all right?"

The strange male voice pulled Jack from his nightmare. "Who are you?"

"Captain Arthur Benjamin, sir. Army Intelligence, on loan to the NID and your General Hammond."

Jack's continued stare caused the young captain to wonder if he'd left something undone on his
uniform. "Sir?"

"Come with me."  Jack turned on his heel and bolted for the elevator, leaving the two junior
officers racing to catch up.

Benjamin exchanged a confused glance with Sam, who merely shrugged non-committally before
following her CO into the elevator, with the captain close behind.

The tension in the elevator was palpable as Jack clenched and unclenched one fist while the
other hand held the manila envelope and its contents clasped tightly to his chest, eliminating
the chance that Sam or the captain might get a sneak peek.  The elevator slowed to a halt, and
Jack glared at the floor number on the wall, his frown deepening as he realized it was two
floors too low. As the doors parted, he immediately held down the 'close doors' button, causing
the doors to snap shut in the face of an over-large businessman. His very vocal protest, as the
doors shut, was met with Jack's angry "Take the next car!"

Jack sprang from the elevator as soon as the doors began to part, and stalked down the hall,
Carter and Benjamin once again following closely behind.

Sam was surprised to see that for the first time since checking in the colonel had no trouble
getting the door open. 'Good thing, too.'

"Carter, is the phone in the bedroom a different line than the one out here?"

"Your bedroom is, yes, sir." She made a mental note to thank Hammond's receptionist when she
got home.

"Check him out. I'm going to call Hammond."  The bedroom door slammed behind him.

"Is he always like that?"  Benjamin asked in a low voice.

Sam shook her head as she held out her hand. "No. Something's wrong. Let me have your
credentials, Captain."

"Yes, Ma'am."

******

Jack sank wearily onto the bed, pulling the phone toward him as he did so.  Even as he dialed,
he couldn't stop looking at the picture. Daniel's color was bad, very bad, the heightened tint
to his face indicated either a fever, embarrassment, or possibly both. And the circles under
his eyes were entirely too dark.  His hands were bound tightly above his head, the cord cutting
into his wrists. His travel clothes were gone, replaced by a thin, possibly even silk, robe.
Which barely covered anything. And his feet were no exception. They were bare, and, now that
Jack had a moment to notice, had leather bindings around the ankles which were not attached to
anything. If his worry button had not already been pushed, it was certainly pushed now, so much
so that it took him a few seconds to realize that someone had answered the phone.

"This is Colonel O'Neill. Put me through to General Hammond. ... What? Oh, Yes. Bakersfield.
'Stupid security word.' ... Well where is he? ... What do you mean Bakersfield isn't high
enough? ... I need to ... Fine, Captain. I'm back at my hotel. Do try and remember to tell the
general that it's important."

******

Sam and the captain were deep in conversation when Jack emerged from the bedroom, looking not
one iota better than when he'd left them. "I take it he's legit."

"Yes, sir."  Sam continued quickly while she had the nerve. "Sir, about that envelope."  She
couldn't restrain her horrified gasp as he tossed the photograph onto the table in front of
her. "Oh, Daniel."

Benjamin leaned forward to get a better look at the photo and tensed in barely suppressed rage.
"*This* is Dr. Jackson?"

"Yes."  Jack swore silently under his breath as he spoke.

Benjamin was not so restrained. "Son-of-a-bitch!"  His eyes widened as he realized what he'd
said. "My apologies, Colonel, Major."

"No need. I assume you weren't referring to Dr. Jackson?"

"NO, Sir. I'm referring to the ... person ... holding him."

"I like your attitude, Captain."

"Sir, Captain Benjamin's just told me that Dr. Marshall had pictures of most of the New York
exhibit."

"We've got the movie, Carter."

"Yes, sir, but these are photos of the people with the exhibit. Maybe some of them are still
working for Parker."

Jack ran his fingers through his hair. "Good point, Carter. Well, Captain, while I'm waiting on
General Hammond to return my call, how about a show and tell session?"

******

Major Harris' face was grim. "So, McIntosh is getting ready to run."

Teal'c rose gracefully from the ground to look unblinkingly at the NID major. "Indeed. Why do
you believe me?"

"Two reasons. One, because the general said that your Jaffa senses are better than the average
human."  He paused to unholster his weapon.

"That is one. What is the other?"

"Well, since your senses being better are a given, running's the only reason I know of for
getting dressed in the dark."  He nodded down at the little house. "*My* men are awaiting
instructions. And before you ask, they aren't the ones with the cigarette lighters and map
lights."

Teal'c nodded his approval. "General Hammond is a wise man."

The Jaffa's matter-of-fact statement took Harris by surprise. "What?"

"General Hammond asked me to trust you. I do not believe that trust to be misplaced."

"Thank you, Teal'c. Just one thing."

"What is that Major Harris?"

"We need McIntosh alive.  The boys in New York haven't gotten a thing out of the prisoner
there."

"As you wish."

******

Daniel leaned back against the bedpost, trying to get more comfortable. Right, like that was
possible where he was. God, he was so tired. Every part of his body ached as if he'd been
beaten, and his cough was getting steadily worse. He hadn't had anything to eat or drink in he
couldn't remember how long. Having his hands above his head didn't help, either.  And the
location of the post restraints left no doubt as to Parker's favorite kind of games.

Without a shadow of a doubt, this had been one of the worse weeks in the history of Daniel
Jackson. And it didn't look to be getting any better.  He'd been dunked like a damn apple at
Halloween, stripped naked, shoved into a skimpy robe, and interviewed by a ... piranha. Yeah,
he could see the resemblance between Parker and the toothy fish. At least he'd gotten some
small satisfaction in throwing up on the Oriental rug, even if he hadn't done it on purpose.
But Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum had taken great pleasure - sick bastards that they were - in
cleaning him up, and dumping him here, and, dammit to hell, taking his picture. Thank God this
new robe was longer than the first. Daniel shuddered to think just what would not have been
covered by the earlier one, and he had no doubt at all where that glossy print was headed.   A
line from a TV show he'd seen somewhere played games with his thoughts. 'Strip him, bath him,
bring him to my tent.'

Only this was no tent, and he'd absolutely had it with playing victim. Taking a deep breath, he
went back to pulling and tugging on the ties which bound his hands.  They were leather, just
like the restraints on his ankles - don't go there, Daniel - and leather stretched.  He hoped.

*****

It was a very surprised Air Force lieutenant whose door disintegrated in the wee hours of the
morning. McIntosh stood, eyes wide with shock, and no small amount of fear, in the middle of
his living room.  Next to him stood a small suitcase.

"Going somewhere, Lieutenant?"

Harris' predatory smile sent chills down the younger man's back. "No, sir. I, what are you
doing here, Major?"

"You were preparing to leave the city. You will tell me the location of Daniel Jackson or I
will disembowel you."  Teal'c's voice thundered from behind the startled man, who whirled to
find himself face to throat with a stone-faced Jaffa, holding a very large knife.

The color drained from the lieutenant's face, and for a moment Major Harris thought the other
man would faint.  But even as his color died, McIntosh found his tongue. "Parker took him.
Don't let him near me with that knife.  Parker took him. He ain't here! Don't let him near me
with that knife. God, he ain't in Colorado..."

The steady stream of words continued as Harris' men took charge and led the babbling officer
away.  Teal'c watched in confusion, then turned to the NID officer who was smiling at him.
"Major Harris, do the songs of all canaries resemble this noise?"

Harris clapped the Jaffa on the shoulder. "Actually Teal'c, this was one of the better songs
I've heard.  Let's go listen to the rest of the music."

******

The photographs so carefully stored by Dr. Marshall were virtually useless to Sam and Jack. No
doubt Daniel would have been waxing poetic about their contents. For his part, Jack was almost
pleased to note that he recognized the standard set of burial urns.  He feigned annoyed
ignorance as Sam explained their significance to the bemused captain. "Carter, what is this
buying us?"

"Sorry, sir."  Sam didn't meet his eyes as she pulled out some smaller prints from the pile.

Jack sighed heavily. "No, I'm sorry, Carter. This--"

"Holy Hannah!"

"What?" Jack and the captain spoke in unison.

"I recognize this place. I think I've been there, but why?"  Her forehead crinkled up in a mass
of wrinkles as she struggled to remember.

"Better yet, Major, when and where?"

"Is it somewhere in New York, ma'am?"

"No, that's just it. I think it was when I was stationed here.  Why can't I remember?"

Jack took the photo from Sam's hand and studied the picture closely. The house was enormous,
obviously meant for entertaining on a grand scale.  Three stories high, and probably a full
basement. On closer inspection, Jack decided the structure definitely had a full basement.
"Sweet.  Carter?"

"I'm sorry, sir. It's just not coming back to me."

******

Daniel barely restrained a gasp as another sharp tug pulled one of the cords binding his wrists
loose.  Or at least looser.  It wasn't quite dangling from the restraint, but he definitely had
more movement than before.  The robe he wore was drenched with sweat, and he blinked heavily as
salty drops of moisture ran into his eyes. At least with his new haircut, he didn't have to
worry about hair falling in his eyes.  He'd been feverish for quite some time now, and his
chest felt like a lead weight was tied around it every time he coughed.  And on the dresser, so
near and yet so far, was a pitcher of what looked to be water. And crackers and cheese.  He'd
begun his struggle with his bonds so that he could escape. Now his primary goal was that...
damn ... pitcher!  Another yank, and his hands fell into his lap, with a dull thwap!  For a
short moment, he stared at them, unable to move or even to think clearly, then he remembered
the water.  There was something else he needed to do, but his over-tired brain could not quite
remember just what. Pushing off the bed, he homed in on the dresser. Shaking hands tried to
pour a glass of the clear liquid, but failed as the water sloshed onto the wooden surface. 'Oh
to hell with it!' Daniel lifted the pitcher to his lips with both hands, and drank deeply,
relishing each gulp.

******

The sudden ringing of the phone caused Jack to lunge for the instrument with a passion never
before shown where Alexander Graham Bell's device was concerned. "O'Neill! ... Oh, hello
Lieutenant. ... What?  Where?  We're on our way!"  He dropped the receiver into its cradle.
"Yes!"

"Sir?" Carter and Benjamin spoke simultaneously.

"Lieutenant Simmons found the storage locker!  It's..." His voice faded as the phone rang
again.  "Shit! Not now. O'Neill!"  Jack's exasperated look turned to stone. "I saw. ... No, I
did *not* find it interesting. Where is he?"  His eyes narrowed as his second in command dashed
for the bedroom. "Don't play games, you know we have his journals. ... Fine. Thirty minutes."
This time the phone was thrown into its cradle. "Carter!"

"Sorry, sir, I couldn't get a trace.  You weren't on long enough."

"Trace?"

"Yes, sir. Captain Benjamin set it up after I filled him in on the break-in."

"Good work, Captain."

"Thank you, sir.  Where are you supposed to be in thirty minutes?"

"Constitution Gardens."

Benjamin frowned. "That's a fifteen minute drive from here, in normal traffic. We'd better
hurry."

Jack shook his head as he jotted something on the hotel stationary. "Nope, Carter, you and
Benjamin are going to meet Simmons."

"But sir!"

"Anh! We need to know what's in that vault."

"But you'll be alone meeting ... whoever."

"Ya think?"

"Are you going to take the journals, Colonel?" Benjamin asked quietly.

Jack thought for a moment. "No. The journals go with you and Carter.  It's obvious that
Daniel's not imprisoned at the Vietnam Memorial.  This asshole's just trying to pull our
strings."

"But sir, what if he, they force you to go with them?  If they draw a weapon..."

"Then I'll go. Too many innocents on the Mall for me to try heroics.  Now get going. Simmons is
alone."  Jack led the way to the door, followed by the younger officers. As they raced for the
elevators, none of them heard the phone ringing again in their room.

*****

For the sixth and, she hoped, the final time, Sam held her id out for inspection.  Captain
Benjamin followed suit.  The guard looked closely at their pictures, then their visitors
badges, then - as the earlier four sentry posts had done - called the previous post for
confirmation.  Sam exchanged a meaningful look with the captain, then nodded politely if not
graciously to the guard as they were finally admitted to the inner chamber.

As the security door clanged shut behind them, Captain Benjamin commented. "Just what the hell
are they securing down here."

"Probably the Ark of the Covenant."

"Uh..."

"And for that matter, the Holy Grail's probably on the floor below."

"Uh, Major..."

"Or they could have found--"

"Major Carter, ma'am, are you feeling okay?"

Sam sighed heavily. "Sorry, Captain.  I'm just worried about Daniel and Colonel O'Neill. One of
us should have gone with him. If I'd tried a little harder..."

"Ma'am, have you ever been able to change his mind?  When it's really set on something, I
mean."

She giggled in spite of herself. "No. Point taken."

"So, what are they securing down here," he asked again, "The Egyptian Book of the Dead?"

"You may not be far wrong, Captain. You just may not be far wrong."

******

There was no one at all in Constitution Gardens when Jack leaped from the cab with five minutes
to spare.  He waited, not quite patiently, for ten more minutes in the Gardens themselves, then
began to pace the paths.  There were people everywhere, but no one approached him, and he was
quite certain his adversaries knew exactly what he looked like.  Which was more than he could
say about them.  He strolled slowly along the path to the Vietnam Memorial, admiring the beauty
of the grounds and keeping an eye out for suspicious characters as he went.  A homeless man
picked through a half-full trash can looking for leftovers, while a businessman sat on a nearby
bench munching on a sandwich and throwing chips to the squirrels, oblivious to the hungry
figure less than ten feet away.

Jack watched the scene unfold, wishing he had food to share with the bedraggled figure. Money
would probably be wasted on booze.  As the homeless man turned away from the trash can, empty-
handed, Jack gasped as he saw the medal on his chest. Medal of Honor.  They didn't just *give*
those away.  And they were rarely pawned.  No, the odds were that this old man was actually the
recipient. As he looked more closely, he realized that old was not the correct term.  The
derelict was pushing fifty, maybe fifty-five, but he was definitely not old.

The colonel hesitated for a heart-beat, then walked quickly up to the man, and pushed a twenty
dollar bill into his hand. Before the stunned man could utter a word, Jack walked away, blindly
heading back to the gardens themselves.

"Well, that was an ... interesting display of compassion, Colonel O'Neill."

Jack forced himself to turn slowly, confidently. Not wanting the voice to realize he'd been
caught off guard. "I have my moments."

"*Not* what your record says, Colonel.  At least not your Black Ops record."

Brown eyes narrowed into slits, as he finally looked into eyes the shade of Daniel's.  But
there, the resemblance stopped. While Daniel's eyes were blue, they were warm, compassionate,
almost always laughing.  The eyes he faced now were cold as the Arctic circle. "You work for
Parker."

The laugh failed to reach the other man's eyes, as he rose slowly from the bench, all hint of
the businessman gone. "No.  We're, shall we say partners. At least for now.  The journals are
with Major Carter?"

"Of course.  You didn't really expect me to bring them, did you?"

"*I* didn't, but Roland thought you cared more for your young friend's well-being."

"Daniel..."

"Is fine, well, he does have a nasty cough and a fever, but being held upside down in a Jacuzzi
could explain that.  Probably just a cold."

"Why,"  Jack cleared his throat, "Why torture Daniel? He's harmless."

"So you say. And it wasn't torture, although I suspect Daniel would disagree. Not being able to
breath at will gives one such a limited outlook."

"You haven't answered why."

"Because Roland could, Colonel, simply because he could.  Shall we go?"

"Lead the way."

"Certainly, Colonel, but just as a small demonstration of our, shall we say, preparedness, the
red spot on your chest is not yet blood."

******

Lieutenant Simmons was pacing the hall as Sam and the captain rounded the corner.

Sam smiled a greeting and returned the young woman's salute. "Lieutenant Simmons, where's the
vault?"

"Uh, ma'am,"  Her voice held a hint of confusion, as she glanced at Captain Benjamin. "Colonel
O'Neill's not coming?"

"No. Where's the vault?"

"Right here, Ma'am."  She pointed to a wide door.  She stepped back as Carter moved to insert
the key.

To everyone's relief, it unlocked the door easily, allowing Sam to slip inside.  Once there,
she froze, blocking the entrance and her companions' view. "Holy Hannah!"

"What?... uh, ma'am"

Sam moved to one side, allowing the other two to enter and also freeze.  The vault could easily
have been the back room of some rundown museum, one without enough space or funds to display
its exhibits properly.

"Oh my God." Simmons whispered in awe. "How?  In a military vault?"

"Need to know Lieutenant."  Benjamin came to his senses quickly. "If you'll wait outside..."

Reluctantly the young woman turned to leave, stopping only at Sam's command. "Wait.
Lieutenant, please call General George Hammond at this number. Tell him I need a team here,
yesterday."

"Yes, Ma'am!"  Simmons raced out of the room.

"Major?"

"Need to know applies to you as well, Captain, but seeing as you're with NID, I'm assuming you
already know some things."

He shook his head. "No, Ma'am. Only the basics. No clue what you really do. Should I wait
outside also?"

Sam started to reply 'no', but a glint of gold caught her eye. "Actually, it might best if you
do just that."  She waited until he'd left the room, then tried not to run to the far corner.
She frowned as she realized that the jewelry chest she'd spotted did not house the ribbon
device mentioned in the journal, but it did contain jewelry. New jewelry. At least compared to
the funerary jars near by.  As she fingered the delicate gold charms on the little bracelet,
she knew she'd found a piece of Daniel's past.  Her heart broke as she saw the little boy
figurine with the 8 July engraved on its back.  'Daniel's birthday.  Oh, Daniel!'

She allowed herself a moment to review the remaining charms, a heart with another date engraved
on it, a pyramid - how appropriate - a dancer.  Sam froze. Dancer? Dance? No, reception.  For
the new ambassador from ... somewhere. One of the few times she'd attended a function while
stationed in DC, without any military entanglements. Maybe that was why she'd remembered the
house.  Reluctantly dropping the bracelet back in a drawer, she hurried toward the door.  She
knew where the house was.  Dammit to hell, she'd remembered, but was it too late?

*****

Only years of practice being politically correct, and two young granddaughters, prevented
General Hammond from releasing the string of expletives he was thinking.  Instead, they all
rolled, not-so-nicely, into a single, emphatic "*Damn!*"

Harris frowned. "Maybe they're having a late lun..." He glanced at his watch. "...dinner. Maybe
they're having dinner."

Hammond nodded silently then dialed again, this time asking for the front desk.  Another moment
of silence, then he spoke into the mouthpiece. "This is General George Hammond in Colorado. ...
uh, Yes, I'm fine, thank you."

Harris groaned silently as the unseen hotel clerk exchanged pleasantries with a two-star
general.

"I'm trying to reach two of my officers, Co... ... That's right.  O'Neill and Carter. Have ...
They aren't in their room, ma'am. I've already tried that. ... I've tried paging them. They're
not answering. ... Yes,"  Hammond was obviously counting to ten, in multiple languages, "I
would like you to see if anyone has seen them."

"Sir, that's a large hotel. The odds of anyone seeing them..."  Harris let his words die off at
the expression on Hammond's face. "...are very good. Very good indeed."

******

Jack relaxed in the back of the limousine, silently enjoying the effect his being unrestrained
was having on the two size 4X guards sitting across from him. The 'businessman', on the other
hand, was nothing if not relaxed, casually reading a magazine in the center seat.  The windows
were tinted almost black, allowing no visibility, either in or out and the darkened safety
barrier was up between the driver and the passenger compartments.  And the acoustics.  Most
drivers only dreamed of a vehicle like this - no road noise whatsoever. A few bumps every now
and then, but the ride was so smooth Jack couldn't tell if they were on a dirt stretch or badly
maintained pavement. And they'd already driven so far, it could easily have been either.  Not
to mention, the stop and go of downtown traffic had ceased quite some time back.

He'd taken note that the limo was facing east when they left, hoping to at least be able to
maintain a vague idea of the direction he was going.  His hosts, however, had other plans as
the driver circled a few blocks, then did a few right-left combination turns to throw off his
sense of direction.  Fine, he'd play their game, but they'd have to play one of his as well.
With a silent sigh of satisfaction, Jack had settled back to stare down the guards.

******

Sam almost collided with Captain Benjamin as she ran from the vault. Gasping, "I know where it
is!" she flew by him toward the sentry post, and its phone.

"Where *what* is?"  Benjamin called after her. "Ma'am? ... OH!"  He increased his own speed and
caught up with Sam as she slid to a halt beside a very confused lieutenant.

"Haven't you gotten Hammond yet?"  Sam blurted out.

"No, ma'am. The airman at the other end says that the general's on the phone and can't be
disturbed.  I've tried everything I know, but..."  Simmons looked as frustrated as Sam felt.

"Let me have it."  Sam smoothly took the handset from the lieutenant, and spoke quietly into
the mouthpiece. "This is Major Samantha Carter.  Put me through to the general, now! ... No, I
don't care that ... Airman, if I'm not put through to Hammond's office in the next thirty
seconds, I can guarantee your next post will be in Antarctica.

******

"No answer?"

"No.  Less than twelve hours ago, they couldn't move fast enough to get this name and address,
and now ... no one's around to take it."  The frustrated clerk tossed her pencil onto her desk
as she looked at her supervisor. "I don't get it. I left word for Detective Carroll, but you
said that the main Mastercard office said to get hold of Colonel O'Neill personally."

"Have you tried that General Howard person?"

"You mean Hammond?  Yeah, three times.  The man spends more time on the phone than my teen-
ager.  All I get is this airperson who won't even tell the general I'm on the line."

"Try the general one more time, then call the hotel back."

"Colonel O'Neill's not in his room.  All I'll get is the answering machine."

"Leave a message."

"But you said..."

"Never mind what I said, I changed my mind. You've got more important things to do than play
phone tag with the military."

"Tell them the name and address?"  The woman's voice was skeptical.

"Just tell them we've got a name and address to go with the WWF tickets they called about.  If
they want the information, let them play phone tag with us."

"Oh, I like it. I really like it."

******

"I see. Thank you."  Hammond hung up and turned to Major Harris. "I finally got sense out of
one of the security officers.  Colonel O'Neill took a cab and Major Carter and Captain Benjamin
took the car."

"No idea where they..."  His words trailed off as the phone rang.

"Hammond! ... Major Carter!  What in blue blazes is going on? ... Good work, Major! ... Yes,
I'll dispatch a team immediately. ... We found the mole.  Lieutenant named McIntosh. ... Yes,
it is a good thing, Major. ... Major, if you'll just ... Major. ... Major Carter! ... We have
the address where Daniel is probably being held."

******

"Simmons, you stay here with the key. No one goes in that vault until Hammond's people arrive."
Sam handed her the key along with a piece of paper with the hieroglyph for earth on it.
"They'll show you this. You give them the key. And leave. Clear?"

"Yes, ma'am!"

"Good work, Lieutenant.  Colonel O'Neill will be pleased."

"Yes, Ma'am. Thank you, Ma'am."

Sam started for the elevator, with Benjamin in silent pursuit. She checked her beeper as she
went and found it dead.  She mentally kicked herself as she realized she'd forgotten to change
the battery. And she sure didn't have time now to track down the hard-to-find AAA. Hopefully,
no one would need to page her.

"What's up, Major?"

"They found the mole."  Sam frowned as she tried to place the name Hammond had given her.
McIntosh. She was drawing a blank.

"That's good."

"Hammond's sending a team to secure the vault."

"I heard."

"Oh, yeah. The mole gave us an address where Daniel may be."

"That's very good."

"Hammond's sending another team to meet us there."

"That's good, too."

"I just hope it jives with what I remember."

"It does, Ma'am."

She looked suspiciously at the young man. "Captain, is there something I should know?"

He smiled slightly as he held up a digital phone. "My men will also be joining us there."

"Huh, how?"

"I took a minute while we waited on the car to fax that picture of the house you remembered to
my office. They've tracked the address. And as I said, Ma'am, it is the same as the one
McIntosh gave General Hammond and Major Harris."

Sam sighed with relief.  "That's really good."

"Yes, Ma'am.  By the way, the colonel's been taken away in a limo."

"What? But... You're having him followed?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

Sam stared for a moment, then started to laugh. "Captain Benjamin, I'm glad you're on *our*
side."

******

Daniel sighed with relief as his thirst was finally quenched. Placing the pitcher back on the
dresser, he cursed himself for a fool as he heard footsteps approaching the door. 'Should have
taken the pitcher with me. Or left it alone.'  He thought briefly of pretending to be bound on
the bed once more, but just as quickly quashed the thought as he suddenly remembered Parker's
statement about cameras. His color rose as he realized they'd probably been watching him the
entire time. 'Shit! Stupid, Daniel. Really stupid!'

The heavy wooden door slammed open, causing Daniel to jump in spite of himself.  Colonel Parker
looked at Daniel. Or, it seemed to the nervous young man, through him.  The colonel closed the
door with a push of his hand, then took a single step toward Daniel, who stepped backwards
without thinking.

Parker matched Daniel step for step, neither closing in or distancing himself from his prey.
Rather, he seemed to take an unholy delight in watching Daniel's growing uneasiness. A
satisfied smile flitted briefly across the older man's face as Daniel finally connected with
the wall. There was nowhere else to go.

*****

"Lieutenant Simmons?"

The young officer's head jerked up with an audible snap, and she rose quickly from the floor,
salute already in progress. "Sir! Yes, sir!"

The major nodded. "At ease, Lieutenant. Where's the vault?"

"Sir, I need to see your id first."

"Oh, of course."  He handed her a standard issue military id along with the drawing she'd been
told to expect.

She studied it for a short moment, allowing a little bit of time to get her sleep-addled wits
in gear.  She could not *believe* she'd fallen asleep on the floor next to the vault. Some
lookout she'd turned out to be. "Yes, sir. This is what Major Carter told me to look for.
Here's the key. But I am a little confused, your id card says Colorado."

Louis Ferretti looked grave. "When General Hammond couldn't reach either Colonel O'Neill or
Major Carter earlier today, my team was sent to DC. Now, I'm assuming this is the vault?"

"Yes, sir.  It's like a museum in there, sir. I've never seen anything like it."

Ferretti exchanged a significant look with his team. "Thank you, Lieutenant.  We'll take it
from here."

******

Daniel cringed in spite of himself as Parker reached for him.  The slight movement was not lost
on the older man who openly laughed at Daniel's reaction. "Anticipation is half the fun,
Daniel."

"Not anticipating anything *you* have, Parker." Daniel's head snapped to one side as Parker's
gentle caress turned violent. 'Ouch. Make note -leave smart-ass remarks to Jack.' Waves of
dizziness swept over him as he turned back to face his attacker.  The steel gray eyes contained
more emotion than Daniel could previously recall from their earlier encounter, and what he saw
filled him with trepidation. Desire was the primary sentiment Daniel read in those eyes,
accompanied by no small amount of evil. There was nothing else it could be called. He'd read
long ago that the eyes were the windows to the soul. Well, here was a man whose soul had long
ago disintegrated, leaving nothing in its wake but an inner glimpse of hell.

"Ah, Daniel. I wish we had time to consummate our relationship, but time is very short, and you
are very ill..."

The veracity of the colonel's words was partially realized when his young prisoner's response
was interrupted by a round of coughing.

"...And we have a long way to go. It is a long journey to the Middle East.  I have summoned my
personal physician to accompany us.  No doubt you will be feeling much more yourself when we
get there. We will then have all the time in the world to become better acquainted while we
search for the tomb."

"You...you don't have a map."  Daniel wheezed, fear partially paralyzing his lungs as well as
his body.

"I confess that a map would be nice, Daniel, but I do not really need one. Not when I have you.
Because we both understand that you know where the tomb is. How to get there. How to find the
entrance."  He leaned closer, drinking in Daniel's fear, as he spoke. The back of his
forefinger stroking the younger man's face, his other hand deftly working its way inside the
robe. A chill ran up Daniel's spine as Parker's hand began caressing his nipples.

The unwanted sensation releasing him from his momentary paralysis, Daniel tried to push Parker
away, a whispered plea of "Nooo!" on his lips.

The colonel had other ideas, however, swiftly seizing both of Daniel's wrists in his own much
larger hand and shoving his arms above his head, pinning them to the wall above Daniel's head.
As Parker leaned closer, his helpless prisoner turned his head away in revulsion even as he
struggled to pull air into burning lungs. Ignoring the rejection, the older man leaned forward,
lips almost touching Daniel's ear as he whispered, "I've had many... lovers ... Daniel, but
I've been looking forward to *our* union for thirty years.  You were *such* a beautiful child."

******

Boring. This was getting boring. 'God, O'Neill, you're beginning to sound like Urgo.' Jack had
never realized before how much he'd come to depend on Daniel's endless stream of chatter.  Or
for that matter, how nice it was that Carter was such a good conversationalist. Hell, Teal'c
could be a talk show host compared to the tag team duo seated across from him.  The idiots even
seemed to blink in unison. Jack decided to once again focus on the back of the businessman's
head. Maybe even pretend he had a bead on him.

Jack frowned as the man suddenly stiffened, noticing the same thing the colonel had noticed.
The limo was slowing to a halt.  An unexpected halt if the other man's reactions were any
indication.  Jack's suspicions were confirmed when the man pressed the intercom button. "Why
are we stopping?"

"Sorry, sir. License check ahead.  They've got cars pulled over on either side of the road."

"License check?  Out here?  Isn't that a bit unusual?"

'Out here? Where the hell is here?'  Jack muttered to himself as he strained to hear the
conversation.

"Yes, sir. But I've had the radio on up here, and apparently the local authorities are looking
for a couple who robbed a convenience store nearby. A short-haired blond woman and a really big
black guy with a gold tattoo of some sort on his forehead."

Jack's facial muscles fought hard to form a wide grin, but were over-powered by his good sense.
'Excellent work, Carter.  Back-up is a good thing.'  Forcing himself to slump dejectedly into
his seat, he concentrated on looking harmless, all the while glad that the monotonous ride was
almost over ... one way or another.

******

To Daniel's relief, Parker backed slowly away.  "Much as I like the scenery, you cannot travel
dressed like that. Someone will bring you clothes."  The man sighed and walked to the door,
turning to look back at Daniel as he reached for the knob. "I know you have much too much sense
to try to escape, but just in case, remember the cameras."

Daniel sagged heavily against the wall as Parker closed the door. Clothes. They were bringing
him clothes. Thank God! But wait. Parker had said they were leaving. And taking him with them.
Oh, nononononono! *Not* gonna happen. With or without the cameras, he'd find a way out of this
mausoleum.

He frowned as he unconsciously sat down on the bed. Why now?  What was the big rush? Absently
he noticed running footsteps passing the door, and faint shouts coming from the distance. His
spirits suddenly lifted as he realized that Parker and crew were - what was that term, oh yeah
- bugging out.  They were running. And that could only mean one thing. His friends had found
him.

******

Ferretti walked slowly through the vault, only half-listening as his team's archaeologist
sputtered and exclaimed and was appropriately incoherent over the items he was seeing.  The
rest of his team was carefully taking an inventory of what they could identify, and applying
multicolored tags to the various items.  Green tags for the obvious antiquities, blue tags for
items that were obviously not antiquities, and red tags to anything whose age or ownership were
in doubt.

The major's attention had been drawn to a pile of rocks, hidden away in a corner. "Hennesey!"

He'd called three times before the bemused archaeologist answered. "Sir?"

"Over here."  Ferretti waited impatiently for the man to reach him. Without waiting for a
question, he continued. "What are those rocks?"

The puzzled archaeologist moved to examine the items more closely. "From the shape and
markings, I'd say these were once columns."  He paused, then frowned. "That's odd."

"What's odd?"

"Some of the stones have, what appears to be, dried blood on them."

Ferretti closed his eyes. 'Oh God!' Taking a deep breath, he looked at Hennesey. "Captain, I
don't care what it takes, these get stored separately from the rest of the items, and under no
circumstances is Dr. Jackson to see them. Understood?"

"Yes, sir. Separately, sir."  The young man wanted to ask why but the iron in his CO's voice
told him that now was not the time.

*****

"Why aren't we moving? You did deny them access to the main compartment, didn't you?"

There was a slight tremor in the driver's voice as he responded. "Yes, sir, but the officer
appears to be very concerned for our safety. Those two thieves must be bad news.  They want to
be sure no one in the back is a hostage."

The businessman's frown deepened as he clicked off the intercom and turned to face Jack in the
back seat. "Colonel O'Neill.  I'm certain you heard all of our irksome conversation.  Now, it's
obvious that I'm going to have to allow those morons outside to do a visual on the car.  Please
remember that Daniel Jackson is still a prisoner.  And that he will be severely punished if you
misbehave in any way.  Are we clear on this point?"

"Crystal."  Jack responded grimly, fully aware that any slip on his part could spell disaster
for Daniel.

The intercom sputtered to life. "Driver, when the officer returns, tell him we've had a change
of heart and will open the middle window. But only the middle window."

"Yes, sir."

The mystery man - Jack had begun to think of him as The Corpse, for a variety of reasons -
twisted in his seat once more to look suspiciously at Jack. "Your female teammate has short
blond hair, doesn't she, Colonel?"

"Bleached."

"What?"

"My teammate. Bleached blond hair, but I guess you could say it was short."  Jack cringed
inwardly, praying that Carter never found out what he'd just said. 'I am sooooooooo dead if she
does.'

The Corpse looked mildly amused. "I see. But it's really irrelevant, your black teammate is
still in Colorado."  He glanced down as the intercom sounded. "Ah, the ever vigilant police
have returned. Yes, driver?"

"The middle window's fine, sir."

"Very well." The window whirred down as he spoke.

An uniformed officer leaned into the window, a younger counterpart standing quietly behind him.
"Evening, sir.  Sorry for the delay. But the pair we're looking for, a blond woman with short
hair and a black man with a gold tattoo on his forehead, are very dangerous."

"As you can see, officer, they are not in this vehicle.  May we pass?"

"Certainly, sir. But do be careful. We believe they're still in the area somewhere and are
considered to be very dangerous."

"Yes, I believe you said that. *Now* may we leave?"

The uniformed officer glanced into the back seat once more, nodded, and backed away. As the
limo pulled away, Jack relaxed for the first time in days.

******

The plethora of mirrors in the bedroom only served to heighten Daniel's disgust with the
clothing his captors had brought him.  Neither the jeans nor the T-shirt actually fit, but he
was grateful they were big rather than small. He was having enough trouble breathing without
having to contend with the skin tight clothing he'd thought Parker would provide. Pulling the
belt to its smallest notch, he fastened the buckle, then moved to the door and tested the knob.
Unlocked! Wonderful!

As he turned the knob, his fevered, over-tired brain loudly rang warning bells, but they only
served to intensify the pain in his head. Yanking the door open, he plunged forward blindly.
Straight into the chest of yet another very large guard.

******

Jack's eyelids lifted slowly as the door to the limo opened beside him.  The larger of the
guards exited first, then turned, waiting stupidly for the colonel to follow. The businessman
turned in his seat, his voice rising in volume as he spoke. "I really do hate to disturb your
nap, Colonel O'Neill, but we're here."

'Good. He's annoyed.' Jack silently congratulated himself.  An annoyed opponent was a
distracted opponent, and O'Neill was pleased to note that at least one of the guards was
perplexed by his little nap. Although, with the mental capacity of a Neanderthal, the man was
probably trying to figure out how to leave the limo and still hold onto his gun. Jack silently
slid his legs out the door, stood and stretched, turning in a circle as he did so.  There was
no sign of the NID or Carter, but he really hadn't expected to see any. However, the message
from the license check had been very, very clear. Help was on the way.

"If you're quite through looking around, Colonel..."

'Ooops!'  Jack shrugged. "Kink in my neck. Comes with age. After you..."

The businessman's eyes flashed then quickly cooled. "We weren't followed, Colonel. Help is
definitely *not* on the way for you. Or your friend."

"Speaking of Daniel. Where is he?"

A new voice was added to the equation. "Changing. He was dressed for the bedroom, not for
travel. He'll be joining me downstairs shortly."

It took everything Jack had not to kill the man on the spot.  For a short, red-hazed moment, he
actually contemplated breaking Colonel Roland Parker's neck, but realized just as quickly that
he'd be dead before the colonel. God, he hated referencing that title for
according to the U.S. Army, Parker had earned it.  Fat lot they knew. Gulping back his hatred,
Jack responded. "And where are you going, if I may ask?"

"I think you already know our base destination, Colonel. The Middle East."

'Well, Duh!' Damn, he'd been hanging around Cassandra too long. "Care to narrow it down a
little?"

"Let's just say that the area in question is not overly fond of Americans."

"*That* description covers about a third of the civilized world, and at least half of the
rest."

Parker started to laugh. "Oh, Colonel, I'm so glad to have had an opportunity to speak with
you. Your wit is everything it's cracked up to be."

The businessman frowned. "Roland, you asked me to bring O'Neill here. I brought him. Now you
tell me we're leaving?  What about..." He tilted his head toward Jack.

Parker shrugged. "We sprang a leak."  Turning back toward the house, he glanced back over his
shoulder at Jack. "And by the way, kill him, then dispose of the body. And don't kill him in
the driveway. Bloodstains just will not come out of pavement."

******

"Oh."  The word barely escaped Daniel's lips before the over large ... correction, the grumpy,
over large guard seized him by the shoulders and whirled him around, jerking his hands behind
him as he did so.  As his hands were once again bound tightly behind him, Daniel's only thought
was that maybe he should have tried the other door.

*****

'Kill him? Him being me?' This was definitely *not* what Jack had had in mind when he'd met the
businessman on the mall.  Lack-of-personality number one took a tight grip on his right arm
followed by his counterpart of a similar name taking a grip on his left. Ignoring the primal
urge to resist, Jack allowed himself to be dragged away. With Parker and the yet-to-be-named
man still in conversation beside the limo, he knew he had no chance of escape. If he struggled,
he was either dead on the spot, or restrained, translation: dead later.  No, his only chance
lay in passive resistance; not his normal mode of operation.

He stealthily surveyed his surroundings as he was hurried along the winding trail leading away
from the mansion. The barn in the distance appeared to be their destination, but between it and
the house he noticed two storage sheds, a greenhouse, fifteen feet of some sort of tall, thick
shrubs, and a gazebo. Just the sort of retirement home any well-placed, well-healed, criminal,
retired colonel should have. No shuffleboard in Florida for Colonel Parker.

A curve in the path led the trio around the shrubbery, which blocked the view of the house,
some of the driveway, and the limo. Without wasting another moment, Jack stumbled to one knee,
forcing the smaller of the men down with him.  A well-placed elbow sending the thug down for
the count.  Astonishment was almost Jack's undoing as he realized the man had a glass jaw.
Almost too late, he remembered his second opponent.

A quick, hard jab to the guard's abdomen produced a grunt, but nothing more as a giant fist
flew at Jack's head.  Barely twisting aside in time, Jack immediately threw himself in the
opposite direction and succeeded in loosening the other man's hold on his arm. Rolling away
from his opponent, he pushed himself to his feet, and moved clear as the strangely silent giant
attacked.  A sidekick caught the man in his upper thigh, costing him his balance.  As the large
guard fell toward the ground, Jack hastened his fall with a chop to the man's thick neck. A
louder grunt this time, and the guard fell silent at Jack's feet.

******

Daniel silently fumed as he was once again forced down the stairs. Old. This was getting very
old. He'd been lugged up the stairs, practically thrown down the stairs, and passed around from
large thug to large thug to large master thug like a damned suitcase. Wasn't *anybody* in this
place short?  Hell, he'd seen baggage handlers moving luggage with more care and consideration
than he'd received.  And he was supposed to be valuable. Pity the poor soul who wasn't worth
shit.

He *really* hoped that he didn't have to climb any more stairs.  His lungs felt like they were
on fire, and every breath was a struggle. In short, he felt like death warmed over. Actually,
if he remembered correctly, dead felt better than he did right now. 'Hurry up, Jack!'  Daniel
was using the silent plea as a mantra when he realized that he was in the office once more, and
that Parker was speaking to him.  And just who the hell was the other guy, anyway?

Wait! He's saying something about ... Jack. But what?  Daniel concentrated as much as his tired
brain would allow, and immediately wished he hadn't.

"...eill is dead. Rescue is not possi..."

The words faded away as fast as they'd begun, but changed Daniel's mantra to a horrified, 'Jack
is dead, Jack is dead.'

******

Using their own belts, and dirty T-shirts, Jack bound and gagged the two would-be assassins,
and rolled their still unconscious forms underneath the shrubs. Stepping back, he smiled,
satisfied that they would not be discovered for quite some time.

A movement to his right caused him to whirl, taking aim with one of the guns he'd retrieved
from the guards. "Dammit Carter. You can get killed like that."

"No, sir. I knew who had the gun."

"Thanks, Carter, but you still need ..." He paused, a frown creasing his forehead, "That *was*
a compliment to my shooting skills, wasn't it, Major?"

She smiled politely, and promptly changed the subject. "Anything on Daniel?"

Jack's frown of puzzlement deepened into one of concern. "Still inside, unless they've gotten a
car away in the last five minutes."

"They haven't."  Captain Benjamin rose from checking the unconscious thugs. "Any idea where Dr.
Jackson may be?"

"Only that Parker was having him brought downstairs. Benjamin, the fact that you're here tells
me that you've done the recon. What's the plan?"

The captain nodded toward the part of the driveway visible from where they stood.  Puzzled at
the man's reticence, Jack turned quickly, and froze. "You didn't."

Sam sighed heavily. "Actually, sir, he did."

******

"Sir..."

Parker whirled away from Daniel, his face a mask of anger. "I *said* no interruptions."

The man paled, then spoke up. "I...I'm sorry, sir. But..." The icy glare from his employer was
too much for him.

"Just spit it out and be gone!"

"Sir, there's a bus coming up the drive."

Parker's jaw dropped to his chest. "A what?"

The guard took a deep breath. "A bus, Colonel. A God-damned tour bus."

The colonel just stared, his mind utterly rejecting what his flunky had just related. Before he
could respond, another man, even more flustered than the first burst into the room without
knocking. "Sir, the bus is unloading. There're teenagers all over the yard!"

The businessman started to laugh. "Is there something I should know, Roland?  Having a little
trouble with the taxes?"

"Shut up! You!" Parker thrust a finger in the direction of the first guard, then pointed to
Daniel. "Untie him, but keep a close eye on him." Turning back to Daniel, he snarled as he took
Daniel's chin in his hand, forcing him to meet his eyes. "Be on your best behavior, Daniel, you
wouldn't want some kid's death on your hands."  Without waiting for a response, the colonel
stormed out of his office.

******

A harried looking teacher stood in conversation with the bored bus driver. "Are you sure this
is the right mansion? There weren't any signs.  Henry Jacobs! Amanda Miller! Do *not* wander
away. Oh, dear." She glanced around her in frustration as groups of young people scattered
around the courtyard. "Bob, please make sure the kids don't get too far away from the bus. Now,
Mr. Fitzwilliam, this house does not match the advertisement at all."

"Look, lady, I just drive the bus to the address I'm given, then park. We're here for two and a
half."  He stopped and looked at his watch. "Correction. Make that two and a quarter hours.  Do
with them what you like."

Before she could respond, a severe voice interrupted. "Just what the hell do you people think
you're doing?"

And from the entrance to the house, a high-pitched voice cried out. "Hey, guys, the door's
unlocked! I've got the bathroom first!"

*****

Daniel was standing tiredly in the center of the office when a boy opened the door. The guard
gaped as the kid groaned. "Damn! I was hoping this was the bathroom. Hey! There's a door over
there. Is that one?"  Not waiting on a response he practically ran across the room, trailed by
a few of his friends.

To Daniel's horror, the guard moved to retrieve his weapon from its hiding place under his
jacket.  The young archaeologist leaped to block the man's aim, gasping a warning. "Kids, look
out!"  The next few moments were a madhouse of activity.

As Daniel leaped to block the guard's shot, a muscular, young linebacker tackled the scientist,
driving him heavily onto the floor. The guard's gun rose high in the air only to suddenly drop
as the hand that held it fell forward, accompanying its owner to a place near Daniel. And
through it all, the businessman managed to look bored as he slipped unnoticed out of the office
door.

******

Small arms fire got the attention of both Jack and Sam, but they deferred to the NID captain as
he shook his head. "Not just yet, sir, ma'am."

The two SG-1 members exchange a puzzled look, then glanced at Benjamin as his radio suddenly
crackled to life.  "First floor's secure, sir. Other floors are being secured. And Dr.
Jackson's safe."

"Good work, Captain. On our way." Sighing he rushed to catch up to the two senior officers.

Jack and Sam had, by silent agreement, started for the house as soon as they heard Daniel's
name.  Jogging past a group of youngsters sporting guns, they paused briefly by the cursing
figure of Colonel Roland Parker, face down on the ground, hands behind his back, and a petite
young girl seated nonchalantly on his back, handcuffing his wrists together.  Jack did a
remarkable imitation of Teal'c as his eyebrows headed toward his hairline. Benjamin's laugh
wisely disappeared into a sneeze. "Colonel Jack O'Neill, Major Samantha Carter, meet Lieutenant
Amy O'Rourke, NID." Before Jack could register the introduction, Benjamin focused on the
lieutenant. "Dr. Jackson?"

"On his way out, sir.  Reports from inside indicate a total collection of twelve people so far,
including Mr. Potty Mouth here."  She slammed Parker's protesting mouth into the dirt. "Keep it
civil, asshole, there're ladies present."

"Gently, Lieutenant, we need him in one piece, I think."  Jack added doubtfully as he
remembered the photo of Daniel, bound and helpless, and dressed in very, very little. He knelt
by the furious prisoner who paled as Jack spoke softly, for his ears only, reminding Parker
that they would ... talk.

"Jack? Oh, God, you're alive." A dazed but familiar voice pulled Jack's and Sam's attention
away from Parker. A ghost pale Daniel Jackson was being steadied by a tall, muscular young man
with the kind of ageless face that would be carded well into his thirties.

"Daniel!"  Jack and Sam sprinted to his side.  But before they could reach him, he doubled
over, coughing violently. Only a quick move by the young man next to him prevented a fall.

The linebacker saluted as he spoke. "Captain Mike Murphy, NID."

Jack took another look at the 'kids'. Gone was the carefree, gonna-live-forever, attitude of
moments before. It had been replaced by a variety of expressions, ranging from seasoned
professional to eager-to-please novice. "You're all military?"

"Yes, sir.  Captain Benjamin's instructions were that anyone who had to show id to get into
bars in DC was to get on the bus."

Nodding his confused approval, Jack turned his attention back to Daniel, who now had Sam glued
to his arm.  "You okay?"

"I'm fine, J..."  Another round of coughing caused Sam to frown as she tightened her grip.

"There's an ambulance on the way, sir. He's got a high fever, sir. And from the sound of that
cough, I'd guess pneumonia."

"No, I don't need... I'm fine. Just a cold."  Daniel wheezed irritably as Jack moved forward to
place a hand on his forehead. Angrily batting it away, he stammered. "D..Don't!"

"Daniel?" Jack's eyes narrowed as thoughts he did not want raced through his mind.

The younger man blushed. "Nothing happened, Jack.  Lotsa talk, lotsa threats, lotsa innuendo."
He paused to catch his breath and glared at Parker who was now on his feet, still cursing
loudly. "Lotsa nothing."

A siren in the driveway caused Daniel to groan. "God, I do not..."  His words died on his lips
as Parker suddenly stopped cursing, gave a burbling gasp and collapsed to the ground.

"Sniper!" The astonished lieutenant who'd secured him dropped beside him, rolling him over as
she did so. Immediately, all personnel were on guard as a widening bloodstain appeared on the
dead man's shirt.  Murphy and Jack collided as they moved to protect Daniel, while Sam,
Benjamin and several others took defensive positions.  The tension was palpable as all
personnel scanned for the sniper, waiting for more gunfire, but it was soon evident no more
shots were to come.

Smiling an apology at the colonel, the captain waved down the ambulance as it wailed its way
into the yard. At the sight of the vehicle, Daniel began another protest which ended when a
spell of coughing drove him to his knees.  As his friends helped him to his feet, Daniel could
tell, even through watering eyes, that his fate lay with the ambulance.  A pair of overeager
paramedics maneuvered him onto the gurney, and began their appraisal of his condition while
Daniel struggled to speak. "Wait... I ... just... journals?"

Jack smiled, trying to hide the concern in his eyes. "Safe, Daniel. They're with..."

"...One of my staff."  Benjamin interjected. "I'll get them to you at the hospital."

Daniel relaxed for a moment then his eyes widened. "W...Who?"

Sam gently touched Daniel's shoulder as they walked beside the gurney. "Captain Benjamin. One
of the good guys."

The three officers stepped back as the paramedics loaded Daniel into the ambulance.  Sam waited
for the colonel to follow him, and was surprised when her CO turned to her. "Carter, go with
Daniel. Do *not* let him out of your sight."

"Yes, sir, but I thought you'd..." Her words faded away as Jack shooed her toward the doors.

His face was grim as he spoke. "I'll be along, Carter. Right now, I'm looking for someone."  He
took a quick survey of the prisoners kneeling in the courtyard. "Someone who doesn't seem to be
here."

*****

"I'm sorry, Miss, but you'll have to wait outside."  The orderly held up a beefy hand as a
signal for Sam to stop.

She knocked his hand away as she pushed past him. "It's *major*, Mister...", she glanced at his
name tag, "...Smith, not 'miss'. And I *will* be waiting inside."

Daniel was hoisted onto the examining table just as Sam slid through the doors.  Groaning, he
braced for the worst as he heard the scissors start to snip away at his T-shirt. 'Why me?'

"Who the hell are you?"  The doctor in charge glared at Sam as she leaned against the wall,
trying to stay out of the way.

She nodded at Daniel. "His bodyguard."

The doctor's eyes narrowed while a sharp retort hit the end of his tongue and jammed on
memories of his days in the Air Force.  The woman in front of him was a major in that branch of
the service.  He studied her tall, slender frame for a short moment, took in the tanned, finely
muscled arms, and quickly decided that he pitied the person who took her on. "Right. Don't get
in the way."

"No problem." Dodging a nurse-on-a-mission, she mumbled under her breath, 'I hope.'

As quickly as he'd arrived in the examining room, Daniel was wheeled out, closely followed by a
confused, and concerned Sam. "Where are we going?"

"X-ray." The orderly pushing the gurney skillfully down the hall answered quickly.

"Why?" Sam picked up her pace to stay near the gurney.

"Doctor's orders."

"Oh." 'Thank you very much, jerk.' Realizing she'd get nothing more from the obviously
disinterested man, she snapped her mouth shut and followed one step behind.

******

Benjamin's troops swept the house ... again. Captain Murphy shook his head as he approached
Jack. "Sorry, sir, nothing. The man you described is definitely not there."

"You checked for secret passages?"

"Yes, sir. Found three.  Airman Armstrong's measurements were right on track. Everywhere she
said the walls were 'off', we found a passage. All of them leading to somewhere else in the
..."  He paused as his radio squawked. Turning up the volume so that Jack and Benjamin could
also hear, he hit the transmit button. "Murphy. Go ahead Armstrong."

The radio crackled with distortion as a woman started to speak. "Sir, the tunnel in the
basement had another tunnel off of it. Well, a secret door at least, we're working on getting
it open now, sir."

The hair on Jack's neck suddenly rose. "Not until we get there, Airman."

"Sir?"

Murphy snapped into the mike. "Cease and desist. We're coming down."

"Yes, sir!" As the radio disconnected, they heard her shout. "Can it guys! The brass is on its
...."

Benjamin sighed. "Sorry, Colonel. She's very young."

Jack smiled grimly. "Don't be sorry, she's right, we *are* the brass. Let's take a look at that
tunnel."

******

Ferretti eyed the loaded crates with satisfaction.  The vault, although large, had insufficient
room for properly examining its treasures.  Therefore, three separate trucks were loaded with
the newly catalogued inventory.  A fourth truck, bearing the rubble of stones from the vault,
was already on its way to the air field, where a waiting plane would take it back to Colorado.
The hieroglyphs which Ferretti had been able to read, definitely matched the ones on the
Stargate.  General Hammond had arranged for a group of experts to examine the remains of the
columns back at the SGC. Later, when things had settled, Colonel O'Neill would probably be
given the unenviable task of telling Dr. Jackson about them. He was, after all, Daniel's CO and
friend.

"Major, we're ready to roll."

"Right. Let's move."  Ferretti climbed into the last truck. He had no intention of letting any
of the vehicles out of his sight. These items had been 'lost' for over thirty years, and
Ferretti would see someone in hell before they disappeared again. A nearby warehouse had been
cleared of its inventory to house the crates.  And experts from the SGC were on their way to
examine the goods.  Hammond had once again come through for his people. The major checked his
watch and realized with a laugh that some of the experts were probably standing in the empty
warehouse right now.

******

"Sir, if you'll move back just a bit."  The nervous private fiddled with his flat bar as he
spoke.

Jack nodded, and moved back.  Armed troops, shoulder to shoulder in the cramped tunnel, pointed
their weapons at the door. The private winced, then shoved the flat bar between the door and
the jam.  Putting all his weight against it, the door popped open easily. The tension in the
small area decreased noticeably as the new tunnel revealed itself to be unoccupied.  Jack
snarled an unhappy, "Dammit to hell!" as he moved forward to examine the area where concrete
turned to dirt.  Footprints, heading away from the door, were easily discernible in the soft
black dirt.

Benjamin snapped at a nearby airman. "Get someone down here to take a plaster cast of those.
And do *not* let anyone disturb the prints until you do."

Jack and Murphy had already leaped over the prints and were heading down the tunnel, Murphy
attempting in vain to get in front of the colonel.  Benjamin caught up with the pair as they
reached an apparent dead end, complete with ladder. "Colonel, wait! Please, sir!"  Benjamin
gasped as he saw Jack's hand on the ladder. "If you get killed we won't know if we've caught
the right man, and Dr. Jackson could still be in danger!"

The colonel froze, then looked at the two captains, backing off slightly. "Right. Valid point,
Captain."

"Yes, sir." Benjamin's sigh of relief was matched by Murphy's as the younger captain checked
his sidearm, quickly climbed the ladder, and pushed carefully on the trap door.  The wooden
door opened easily, with no sign of gunfire or booby-traps.  Murphy shoved the door all the way
up and threw himself out, rolling as he did so to hopefully be less of a target. The silence
from above was broken by the sounds of the younger man muttering angrily. "All clear, sir. The
son-of-a-bitch is gone."

*****

Sam looked worriedly at her watch. It had been over six hours since she'd left the colonel at
the house and so far she'd heard nothing. Granted it would be a little difficult to find her
since she wasn't a patient, but the colonel had her beeper number. ... "Shit!"  She yanked the
little device from her belt. "Stupid, Sam, really stupid!"  In all the confusion, she'd never
replaced the battery.

A soft voice interrupted her quiet self-condemnation. "How's Daniel?"

"Holy Hannah!"  Sam jumped as Jack entered the room. "Sorry, sir."

Jack moved quietly toward the bed, where Daniel was sleeping as peacefully as possible with the
number of wires and tubes attached. "How's Daniel?"

"Let's talk outside, sir. I don't want to wake him."

Reluctantly, the colonel followed her through the wide door, pulling it shut behind him. "How's
Daniel?"

"Dehydrated, pneumonia, and some rope burns.  At first the doctors were worried about a broken
rib or collarbone because of a pain Daniel mentioned he had in his shoulder area.  The X-rays
showed nothing broken, though.  Turns out that pneumonia can cause pain in that area. But he'll
be okay.  On his back for a while, but he'll recover."

Jack frowned. "Nothing else? Even with *that* picture?"

"No, sir. The doctors were most concerned when I mentioned the possibility of assault, but
didn't take long to determine that nothing happened.  At least..."  Her voice faded away.

"At least what, Major?"

"Nothing physical happened, but what if it was suggested?  Combined with what we now know about
his parents, how will Daniel handle that?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there, Carter. Right now, there are three main items on
the agenda. One, Daniel recovers. Two, Daniel is reunited with the stuff from the vault. And
three, we find the Corpse."

"Excuse me?"

"Sorry, Carter. The *man* who was in the limo with me from Constitution Gardens to the house.
Wore a dark three piece suit.  Seemed to know Parker very well.  I call him the Corpse."

"Oh. Looked kinda like a corpse, sir?"

Jack started to answer in the negative, then decided that she didn't really need to know the
truth, that as far as Jack was concerned, the man was dead. "Yes, Carter. He kinda looked like
a corpse."

"What is the condition of Daniel Jackson?"  A deep voice startled both Jack and Sam.

"Teal'c?"

"Son of a ... When'd you get here?"

"I have only just arrived, O'Neill."  The Jaffa looked slightly puzzled.

"No, I meant. Never mind."  Jack suddenly realized that Teal'c was holding a small crate. "What
do you have there?"

"Items Major Ferretti felt should be given to Daniel Jackson as soon as possible."

"Ferretti's here?"

"Yes, O'Neill. SG-2 was assigned to secure the items from the storage vault. I was told to
inform you that a warehouse has been commandeered to house the items removed, and that they are
available for Daniel Jackson's review as soon as he is able. What is the condition of Daniel
Jackson?"  Teal'c asked patiently.

Jack beat Sam to the punch. "Dehydrated, pneumonia, some rope burns, but he'll be okay."

******

Captain Arthur Benjamin was staring at the sketch done of Colonel O'Neill's kidnapper.  The
colonel's memory for detail astounded the young captain as he studied the face.  O'Neill had
even noticed a small tattoo on the back of the businessman's left hand.  He shuddered at the
image of a coiled snake, ready to strike.

"Art? The image of asshole number two has been faxed.  Every major police department in the in
the States has the sketch."

The other captain continued to stare at the sketch on the wall. "Fax it to Interpol and any
contact we have in the Middle East."

"Art, he's probably still in DC.  Security's been upped at all the DC airports looking for the
'terrorist'."

Benjamin turned to face Captain Murphy. "He's not in the States, Mike."

"How can you be so sure?"

He handed Murphy a sheet of paper. "Thirty minutes after we found the last damn tunnel, a
private jet took off from a private airport. Destination Barbados."

"So?"

"Once out of US airspace, the jet changed course. Destination unknown, but radar tracking put
it on a course over the Atlantic."

"Art, it could have been going anywhere. England, France, anywhere."

"You really believe that?"

"Uh, no." Murphy looked glum. "What do we tell O'Neill?"

"The truth. That we lost him.  I'll tell him when I return Dr. Jackson's journals."

"Want company?"

Benjamin smiled grimly. "No thanks. Why should both of us die?"

******

Three out of four SG-1 members sat in the elevator area glumly thumbing through out-of-date
magazines.

"How long?"

"Eighteen minutes, sir."

"His fever spiked really fast, don't ya think?"

"Yes, sir."

"But that's probably common with pneumonia, don't ya think?"

"Maybe, sir."

"When did Benjamin say he'd get here?"

"It should be within the next ten minutes, Colonel."

"How long has the doctor been with Daniel?"

"Twenty minutes, sir."

"Oh.  Pneumonia's not usually fatal, is it Carter?"

"I don't think so, sir."

"You don't think so?"

"Sir, why don't we wait on the doctor?"

"How long?"

"It has now been twenty-two minutes, O'Neill. Does this ritual have a meaning?"

"Ritual?"  Jack glanced confused at the Jaffa.

"The ritual of asking 'how long' and receiving an unsatisfactory answer."

"Oh. Well, uh, actually it can go on for hours."

"I see."  The Jaffa fell silent as he pondered O'Neill's words.

"Twenty-two minutes?"

"Yes, sir."

"Too long."

"Yes, sir."

"I'll just go check."

"Yes, do that sir."

"O'Neill, I do not believe that is wise. Nurse Adams was quite emphatic about her orders to
remain here."

"Teal'c, I'm a colonel in the Air Force. Only higher ranking officers give *me* orders."  With
that, Jack leaped to his feet and strode purposely into the hall, heading for Daniel's room. A
few moments later he returned, followed by an irate fifty-something woman in a crisp white
uniform.

"The doctor will be with you shortly, Colonel, and has asked that you remain here. Please don't
make me tell you this again."  With that, she turned and stalked toward the nurses' station.

Teal'c's eyebrow peaked in confusion, and Sam barely smothered a grin as O'Neill spoke
dejectedly. "Okay, make that higher ranking officers, and retired master sergeants."

As the elevator pinged, all eyes turned toward the opening door. Captain Benjamin stepped out
of the car, and froze in confusion. "Colonel, Major, what?  I thought you'd be with Dr.
Jackson."

"His fever spiked suddenly and they sent for cooling blankets. The doctor's with him now. We're
supposed to know something, soon."  Sam replied quickly.

"You got him?" O'Neill kept his vision focused on the young officer.

Benjamin gulped and replied weakly. "No, sir."

"Not 'no, sir, not yet' just 'no, sir.'?"

"Yes, sir."  Benjamin braced for an explosion which never came.

Jack eyed the young officer sadly. "He's left the country, hasn't he?"

"I believe so, sir."

"Damn!"  Jack suddenly punched the wall nearest him. "Dammit to hell!"

"Sir, I brought Dr. Jackson's journals. But if he's too ill..."

Sam smiled sadly. "We'll kept them for him, Captain. Thank you."

"Yes, Ma'am. If there's anything else you need..."

"Thank you, Captain."

He nodded and pressed the down button on the elevator. "I'd better be getting back."

"Captain!"

Benjamin cringed as he turned to face Jack, fully expecting a tirade on the inefficiencies of
the NID.

"You and your people did good work today, Captain. Very good work. The schoolchildren ploy was
very original and worked well. I'll be putting in recommendations for commendations for you and
your team."

The elevator pinged open as a stunned Benjamin stuttered. "Th..thank you, sir. I..we appreciate
that. And sir, we'll get him. It may take a while, but..."

Jack nodded as the younger man backed into the elevator. "I'll hold you to that, Captain."

As the elevator doors closed, a stern voice came from behind them. "Colonel, the doctor will
see you ..." Nurse Adams gasped loudly as the trio rushed past her, "... now."

*****

Long eyelashes fluttered once, twice, three times, then slowly followed the eyelids open. A
gambit of emotions, primarily fear and confusion, raced through the blue eyes as they tried to
focus on their surroundings. Soon the pale green walls and sterile surroundings took shape.
'Oh. Hospital. Again.' "Whe..."

"Easy Daniel. You're safe. You're in the hospital.  Walter Reed, to be exact."

'Know that, Jack. Why aren't these places ever painted yellow? Oh. Military. Green. Figures.'
"Wha..." 'Blast, could use some water about now.'

"Here, take some ice chips.  They'll soothe your throat."

Daniel gratefully let some of the ice melt on his tongue and swallowed. "T..Thanks.  How long?"

"Four days asleep. Helped along by the infamous happy juice."

"Oh. Sam?"

"Right here, Daniel. It's about time you woke up."

"Indeed, Daniel Jackson. It is good to see your baby blues again."

"Teal'c, when, how? ... Baby what?" Confused, Daniel turned his attention back to Jack.

"Carter's been introducing him to old movies."

"I see. ... Did I miss anything?"

"Not a lot. You remember the rescue?"

The young man nodded as he swallowed some more ice. "I *think* so."  His face clouded in
confusion. "Those *kids* weren't really kids, were they?"

"Nope. Captain Benjamin did very well. Figured that they wanted you alive and probably would
take extra precautions to prevent you getting killed.  And a group of dead school kids arouses
the ire of just about everyone."

"Worked. Parker's dead?"

"Yep. No great loss there."

"W..Who killed him?"  Daniel's memories of the incident were fuzzy but he didn't *think* Jack
had done the deed.  At least he *hoped* not.

"Not sure, but I suspect it was the same man who brought me to the house. Still looking for
him, by the way.  But that's NID's problem. They lost him. They can find him again. *We* found
the vault."

Daniel sat bolt upright, only to find himself forced back on the bed by Teal'c. "Remain prone,
Daniel Jackson. You will not heal otherwise."

"Teal'c's right, Daniel. You need to rest."  Sam patted his shoulder as she spoke.

The young archaeologist's voice was frantic, but weak. "Can't. Need to see it, see what's in
it, take inventory. See if..."  His words trailed away but Jack could plainly see his mind was
mentally cataloging everything he needed to do.

"Whoa, hold up. SG-2's already cataloged and moved the items in the vault.  They've been set up
in a warehouse and Ferretti's made sure that everything's been laid out for proper review."
Jack grinned as he spoke.

"That's right, Daniel. The vault was so crowded you couldn't examine anything."  She looked at
Jack. "Sir?"

"Go ahead, Carter. Give 'em to him."

"The journals?"  Daniel's eyes lit up as he saw them. "You've got the journals, they didn't get
lost. Parker wanted information in them to find the tomb my parents started excavating.  He
seemed to think they hadn't emptied it."  He was gasping for breath as his words died away.

Jack looked concerned and oddly embarrassed. "Take it easy, Daniel. And, uh, I kinda read some
of them. Looking for clues ya know. And it looks like there might have been a Goa'uld
sarcophagus in the tomb. ... Don't get up!"

"What! Parker never even alluded to ... or maybe he did, I can't remember. I wish I wasn't so
tired."

"You're sick, Daniel. And we're going to let you get some rest. But I think Carter has
something else she wants you to see."

Sam smiled as her friend turned to look at her. "Artifacts weren't the only things in the
vault, Daniel. It looks like ... the bad guys took some of your parents' belongings as well.  I
brought you a few things. Maybe you'll recognize them."

Jack pushed the rolling dining cart over the bed.  Daniel's tired eyes widened as she laid a
money clip and a charm bracelet on the cart. A badly shaking hand retrieved both items. "These
were, were. Oh, God. The money clip was my Dad's and the bracelet was my Mom's."

"We hoped it wasn't the other way around."

Daniel missed both Jack's sarcasm and the dirty look Sam shot her CO, as he continued. "I
thought these were gone forever.  Thank you."

"There's more stuff in the warehouse, Daniel. But..."  Jack held him down on the bed this time.
"...you've got to recover before you can go there."

"And that, Dr. Jackson--"

"Huh? Who..?"  Daniel's eyes widened as a nurse swiftly entered the room, the reaction of his
teammates not going unnoticed by the patient.

"--is not going to happen if you don't rest."  She injected something into one of the IV tubes.
"This will take affect shortly. Everyone, out!"

"Nurse Adams," Jack started. "I don't think--"

"Obviously. Out!"

Even as Sam and Teal'c slipped quietly out of the room, Daniel's eyes were starting to droop.
"But, need to, gotta..."

"Rest, Daniel. We're looking for clues to the tomb's location, and experts from the SGC are
taking care of the items your folks excavated.  SG-2's keeping guard over the stuff that
belonged to your parents. You've got nothing at all to worry about."

"Colonel..." The woman stood at the door, hands on her hips, waiting for Jack to leave, her
words dying on her lips as he held up a hand.

"'kay, Jack."

"Good dreams, my friend." Jack sighed as Daniel's blue orbs disappeared behind heavy eyelids.
"One SOB is dead, and sooner or later, we'll get the other one.  Your parents' murderers will
*not* go unpunished. I promise."

******

"Excuse me, Sergeant, maybe you can help me?"

"Yes, Lieutenant?"

"I'm trying to find Captain Arthur Benjamin."

"Do you have an appointment, ma'am?"

"Yes, I do."

"Second hall on the right, ma'am, then follow that for about fifty feet. Captain Benjamin's
desk is the third office on the left."

"Thank you."

In a matter of minutes the young lieutenant stepped into a large office where a solitary
captain, whom she didn't recognize, stood pondering a map. She was certain it was the right
office, but Captain Benjamin was nowhere to be seen. Gulping, she nervously approached the
officer, who looked up as she drew near. "Yes, Lieutenant?"

She saluted, taking in his name tag as she did so. "Captain Murphy, I'm Lieutenant Andrea
Simmons. I was ordered to report here to Captain Benjamin, sir."

"Yes, Lieutenant Simmons. You've come highly recommended. Captain Benjamin's been called away
for a short time. Welcome to the NID."

"Sir, I'm flattered, but also curious, I've tried to transfer to the NID before. My last
request for transfer is over a year old. What happened?"

"We were told that your talents were wasted guiding officers around the Pentagon, and that we
would be stupid not to snatch someone with your eye for detail and independent thinking."

The young woman blushed. "Oh. I, uh, I..."

Murphy laughed. "Colonel O'Neill said you'd probably be a little overwhelmed."

"Colonel O'Neill?"  Her eyes widened. "Oh! He, uh, Wow!"

"Yes, he did. And for your first assignment, we're looking for an ancient Egyptian tomb. Think
you can find it?"

"Sooner or later, yes. ... Sir."

*****

"I do not need a wheelchair."  Daniel sat on the edge of the bed, arms crossed, his irritated
frown adding years to his age.

Nurse Adams merely shook her head. "Hospital policy, Dr. Jackson. Ride or stay. Your choice."

"Oh for crying out loud, Daniel. Just get in. You can do all the walking you want to when we
get to the warehouse."

His annoyance at the wheelchair gone, he slid quickly into its leather seat, pulled his feet
onto the footrests, and commanded. "Move it, Jack!"

Jack shook his head as he kicked the locks loose and shoved on the handlebars, "Whatever. We're
outta here."

"Where's Sam?"

"Not sure. Said she had some errands to run but that she'd meet us at the warehouse. Teal'c's
already there, standing guard.  Wouldn't want to be the thief who tried to get past him. And
before you ask, it's about a twenty minute drive."

******

"Captain Benjamin?"

"Yes, Lieutenant?"

Simmons' brow was creased in confusion. "Sir, I just looked at the inventory list from the
estate raid. I understand that there were some maps retrieved?"

"Yes?"

"Well, sir, I understand that no one has done anything with them. As far as finding the tomb, I
mean."

Benjamin nodded. "That's correct, Lieutenant. They were useless. One map was a modern map of
Egypt, with all the known tombs marked. The other was a map of the same area from ancient
times. Of course, it doesn't even come close to matching the modern, satellite drawn one.  Like
I said. Useless."

"I'd like to look at the old one, sir. If I may."

"Waste of time, Lieutenant. Don't you already have an assignment?"

"Yes, sir. But maps are a hobby of mine and ..."  Her words trailed off at the older officer's
glare. "Right. Assignment. Yes, sir."

She started to walk away but was halted by Benjamin's sharp command. "Wait!" Turning she met
his eye, wondering if she was in for a lecture on following orders. Instead, he frowned. "Why
the interest in the old map?  It's very distorted."

"Yes, sir, but the topography may give us some clues to the location on the satellite map."

"Topography?"

"Yes, sir. They may not have had satellites, sir, but they knew mountains when they saw them
and they also knew how far it was from the mountains to the nearest water, possibly even to the
sea. If it was drawn by traders or for that matter slavers. Anyone who would depend on a
seaport to further their wealth."

The captain's eyes widened, then he smiled. "The map's in the vault. Consider it your new
assignment."

******

Daniel stared blindly out the window as the city passed by. Every now and then he glanced over
his shoulder, then looked back out the window.

"They're still there, Daniel."

The younger man's head shot around to face Jack, as he replied sheepishly. "I know, but I can't
help being a little paranoid. Those journals have been in someone else's hands for years. I've
only had them a few days, and I'm really afraid they're gonna disappear."

"They're not."

"Damn straight."  Daniel looked thoughtful. "Any idea how that McIntosh person got assigned to
the SGC?  And what about Barkley?  And the mystery man?"

"YES! I won the bet."

"What?"

"Sam bet you were asleep when Teal'c brought us up to date on the SGC fiasco, I said you were
faking. She owes me fifty bucks."

"I thought it was twenty-five."

"Would've been if you hadn't picked up on the twenty-five."

"Dammit, Jack!  Hang the bet ... what about the SGC problem?  Two infiltrators?"

Jack's grin faded. "Yeah. Hammond is *not* happy.  He's ordered a three month stoppage of
transfers in or out.  And all personnel who've come on board since McIntosh are having their
records reviewed.  The security team who did the initial approvals have been suspended from
duty pending investigation of their loyalties." He deliberately ignored the query about the
mystery man. He could think of no good reason to tell Daniel that the man had gone to ground.
The NID had queries out, but the blue-eyed businessman wannabe had simply vanished.

"That may be too little, too late."

Jack shrugged. "Could be, but we're working on probably the most secret project since the bomb
was developed during World War II.  The infiltrations should never have occurred in the first
place.  Believe me when I say that some careers have been destroyed because of this mess." The
car slid to a stop, and Jack put it in park. "We're here."

Daniel's eyes widened at the size of the warehouse. "Is all this..."

"No. There was a lot of stuff, but not that much. Come on."  Jack climbed easily from the car
and watched with concern as the young archaeologist stood stiffly.

Daniel had eyes only for the warehouse doors, and made a beeline in that direction. Teal'c
stood at the entrance, watching with silent amusement as the younger man changed from 'Daniel
Jackson, recently released from a bout with pneumonia' to 'Daniel Jackson, archaeologist on a
mission'.  "It is good to see you well, Daniel Jackson."

"Thanks, Teal'c. Through these doors?"

The Jaffa's lip curled slightly as he replied. "It is."

Jack clapped a hand on Daniel's shoulder. "Let's go look at your artifacts, Danny-boy."

"Artifacts, Jack. Not ro.. Oh. You said artifacts."

Jack grinned broadly as he shoved the younger man through the open door.  Teal'c followed,
equally intent on watching Daniel's reactions.  The colonel frowned as they got inside.
"Carter's not back?"

"No, O'Neill. Major Carter has been delayed. She said not to start the party without her."

"Right."

Daniel was oblivious to the conversation around him.  He'd homed in on a small statue of Ra,
and was already waxing poetic about the writings on the pedestal.  Putting it down carefully,
he was then off like a shot to look at a scroll, carefully secured on a stand, obviously
designed to hold it. From there, Jack felt he was watching a tennis match, as the young
archaeologist bounced from item to item, often passing closer artifacts to review ones farther
away, then returning to examine what he'd missed.

"Have I missed anything?"  Sam's voice startled Jack out of his amused surveillance of the
youngest member of the team.

"Nope. You got 'em?"

Grinning from ear to ear, she held up a carefully wrapped package. "Yes, sir. And it turned out
much better than we'd hoped for."

"Terrific.  Teal'c, would you care to reign in Mr. Impulsive and escort him to the back of the
warehouse?"

"I will guide Daniel Jackson to the correct area, O'Neill."

Jack cocked his head, mildly confused. "No questions about the Mr. Impulsive comment?"

Teal'c's eyebrows arched high, and he nodded toward the effusive image of Daniel Jackson. "No."

******

It took longer than Jack had planned for Teal'c to retrieve Daniel. "Shoulda gone myself."

"Ya think?"  Sam grinned at her frustrated CO.

"Funny, Carter. But--"

"Jack, you wouldn't believe the ... oh, hi Sam, when'd you get here?... There're three complete
sets of funerary jars, and ... Oh!" Daniel's words stopped abruptly as he spotted the items
behind the grinning SG-1 members. "This is, these are, I remember ... Oh, my."  He moved
forward and tentatively reached out to touch, as if he were afraid he was dreaming.  "My
mother's jewelry box, and the jewelry's still here."  His eyes filled with tears as he touched
each item.  "And my father's portable desk."

He moved quickly to touch the smooth mahogany surface. "I never thought I'd see any of these
things again. I was five. No one tells five-year-olds *anything*."  His fingers found a latch
and a 'secret' compartment sprang open. His brow furrowed in disappointment as he found it
empty. "Oh. I'd hoped..."

"It was not empty, Daniel Jackson."

"Huh?"

Teal'c continued quietly. "The inner spaces of drawers did not match the outer dimensions.
After much searching I was able to locate a concealed compartment."

"What..."  Daniel cleared his throat. "What was in there?"

"Some old rolls of film."  Jack replied quickly.

Daniel's disappointment was obvious. "Oh.  Not much good after thirty years, I guess."

Sam smiled broadly. "Well, actually ... open it."  She thrust the package toward him.

Daniel stared for a moment, the tore open the wrappings.  Inside lay a photo album embossed
with the Great Pyramid and the Sphinx and inside that was a wonderland of old photos. Some
clear, some not, but all precious to Daniel.

"I took the undeveloped film over to the photo lab at NID headquarters, Daniel, and with their
state of the art equipment, we were able to develop about ninety percent of the pictures at
least to some degree."

"This is... this is... Oh my..." Daniel's voice choked up as he turned page after page of old
photos. These were not the excavation and site photos he'd expected.  These were family photos.
Images of his parents, and of himself as a child, taken in the Middle East, somewhere. "I..I
don't know what to say.  Thanks just doesn't seem to be enough."

Teal'c summed up the feelings of the rest of the team. "Thanks is sufficient among friends,
Daniel Jackson. You would have done the same for us."

*****

"Nooooooooo!"  The echo died in the shadows of the bedroom as Daniel Jackson sat bolt upright
in bed, drenched in sweat.  Gasping, eyes wide with fear he glanced anxiously around the room.
The full moon shone through the window, providing barely enough light for the young man to
discern his surroundings.  Burying his head in his hands he moaned.  "Nightmare, it's only a
nightmare."  Realizing that he'd get no more sleep this night, he climbed shakily out of bed
and made his way to the kitchen.  He was relieved to see that, for once, the timer on his
automatic coffeemaker had worked.  Was there?  Yes, the pot contained enough coffee for one
cup.  A small one, granted, but a cup nevertheless.  As he tilted the pot over his mug, his
hands trembled so badly that he almost spilled some of the precious liquid.  Sinking down onto
his sofa, Daniel sipped gratefully at the brew.  Four am?  Why had he set the timer for this
hour?  Oh yeah, Jack had set the briefing on P2R 732 last week for six am.  That was 0600
hours, Jack's time.  Guess he hadn't thought to reset it.  Good thing 'cause he really needed
the caffeine. Sighing he finally admitted that the events of the last six weeks had taken a
great toll on his peace of mind.

Six weeks since he'd received the package which had started everything and still nothing. No
sign of Jack's mysterious businessman. Nothing. Nada. Inquiries around the world, to all the
major law enforcement agencies, had turned up absolutely nothing. And until three days ago,
he'd still hoped to find the tomb, possibly finish his parents' work. Then the pieces of the
puzzle had come together to isolate the probable location of the tomb in northern Chad, near
the Libyan border.  An area off-limits to US military personnel, and exceedingly dangerous for
just plain tourists. An archaeological expedition *might* be safe, relatively speaking, but the
State Department advised against it. There was no way in hell he'd be able to get within four
hundred miles of the place.  And if there was really a sarcophagus ... he shuddered at the
thought. If there was one, it was probably the run-of-the-mill burial variety, just like most
of what his parents had brought back.

The items from the tomb had proven to be pretty standard fare, at least as far as Egyptian
tombs went. Only a handful of items had related to the Stargate and the 'gods' and those,
thankfully including the infamous ribbon device, were safely tucked away in the depths of the
SGC.  The remaining articles were offered to the New York Museum of Art, which politely
declined the offer. Egyptian artifacts were simply not in vogue at the moment. And, the
director had told him, they already had enough. The local museum, however, had been more than
grateful to receive his donation. It pleased him no end that he could visit the artifacts
whenever he chose; it was almost like visiting his parents. He was just glad the columns and
coverstone had not been found.

He could still hear their screams as the heavy stone fell, could still see his father throw
himself on top of his mother in a valiant but fruitless attempt to save her life. Time had not
yet erased the horror of that moment, and to know that their deaths had not been an accident
merely served to make a horrible memory almost unbearable.

The first cup of coffee had done its job.  He was awake and the trembling had stopped, almost.
Rising, he moved deliberately to the kitchen for a much needed second cup as he realized that
the other nightmare had once again preceded the one with his parents. The one with Parker's
face haunting him, taunting him, threatening to ... No! He refused to go there. Catching sight
of the clock out of the corner of his eye, he decided that one cup of coffee would have to do
until he got to the base.  Pushing the nightmares to the back of his thoughts, Daniel headed
for his bedroom to dress.

*************

"Good morning, Colonel."  The young blond woman saluted as she approached the last security
checkpoint before entering the heart of SGC command.

"Morning, Major."  Colonel Jack O'Neill returned her salute as well as those of the sentries.
Military formalities over with, he picked up the pen to sign in, and froze, almost dropping the
pen in the process.

Major Samantha Carter glanced at her commanding officer.  "Sir, is something wrong?"

He shoved the log book towards her.  "I'm seeing things, right?"

Her own eyes widened at the barely legible scrawl. "Daniel?  It's only five thirty."

"Ya think?  Look at the sign-in time."

"0500? Sir, what's wrong with this picture?"

"I don't know, but I intend to find out.  Sergeant Hendricks, did Dr. Jackson happen to say
anything when he signed in?"

"No sir, but he did look distracted."

Jack sighed.  "Daniel always looks distracted. Guess I better find out what's going on."

"He did take the news about the tomb's location badly. Do you want some help looking?"

Jack shook his head. "No. Thanks. Team leader job."

The search took longer than even Jack had anticipated. Daniel's on-base quarters, his lab, even
the Gateroom were missing the presence of the young scientist.  The cafeteria workers hadn't
seen him, nor had anyone in the infirmary. A chance encounter with a bemused quartermaster took
the colonel hurriedly to the outside shooting range. Sure enough, Daniel Jackson was there,
blowing holes in the standard bulls-eye target, and doing very well.

   Jack studied the younger man until Daniel placed his weapon on the counter to retrieve more
shells. "Who are you and what have you done with Daniel Jackson?"

"Jack? Huh? What?" Daniel spun, eyes wide, definitely startled.

"Never mind, Daniel.  Bad joke."  O'Neill frowned as he took note of the dark circles
underneath his friend's eyes.  "I didn't expect to find you here."

"Couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd come up here, get some practice in."  He turned around
reaching for the replacement shells. "You did say I was getting a little rusty."

The older man interrupted. "You're never up here, not without me pushing you to practice.  Now,
why are you here and why couldn't you sleep?"

"Geez, Jack, I just couldn't sleep.  Does there have to be a reason?"

"Yes."

The simple reply startled the young archaeologist.  He'd expected a sarcastic retort, not an
answer. "Oh, well, uh, okay.  I've been having nightmares for the past three nights.  No big
deal.  They'll go away, they always do."

The fact that the start of the nightmares coincided with the off-limits notification for the
tomb was not lost on the colonel. Frowning, he asked, "Parker?"

"NO!"

The reply came too quickly and vehemently for Jack's taste, but he chose not to comment.
Instead he pointed to the ragged target. "You need a new one."

Daniel grinned sheepishly. "I guess so. I'll go..."

"Nah, I've got a private stash in my locker up here."

"You have a locker up here?"

"I *am* a colonel, Daniel."

"Oh. Yeah. Sorry. I forgot."

"Be right back."  Jack hurried away and soon returned with his own weapon and a batch of large
human outline targets.

"Jack, you know I don't like to use..."  His eyes widened as Jack silently unfolded one of the
outlines, revealing Roland Parker's likeness.

"W..What?  Jaack!"

The colonel merely shrugged. "Didn't get to beat the crap out of him. That's okay, though.
Shooting him on a regular basis seems to work just as well and doesn't hurt my fist."

"I don't think..."

"Just try it. You might like it."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

Jack just grinned and handed the younger man the standard bulls-eye. "Thought you might think
so. Mind if I use the 'P' one?"

Daniel sighed as Jack loaded his target on the pulley and moved it into position.  Instead of
loading his own target, Daniel stood back and watched in admiration as Jack put holes in a
variety of places on the image of .... Somehow he couldn't bring himself to even think the
name.  By the end of the clip, Jack's target was unrecognizable and Jack looked inordinately
pleased with himself.

The younger man shook his head in disbelief and started to refold the not-yet-used bulls-eye.

"Watcha doing?"

"Packing up?"  Daniel replied hopefully.

Jack grinned, took the bulls-eye, swung it out on another pulley and handed Daniel his weapon
and the ammunition. "Don't think so, Daniel.  *I* saw the first one."

Groaning in frustration, Daniel reloaded and took aim.  Jack watched him closely, complimenting
him where his form was right, correcting him where it was not.  Jack frowned slightly as he
realized that sooner or later he would have to tell Daniel about the rubble from the
coverstone, and allow him to choose whether or not to examine it, but now was not the time. The
younger man had not yet come to grips with everything that had happened, and Jack steadfastly
refused to add to his burden any more than was necessary.

The older man knew Daniel's nightmares would continue until the tomb was either unearthed or
found to be irretrievably buried.  Hell, there wasn't anyone at the SGC who wasn't concerned
about it.  But Hammond had pulled out all stops, and sooner or later - hopefully sooner -
they'd have an absolute answer on the tomb.  As for Daniel, only time would heal the wounds
which had originated thirty years before due to the actions of greedy, soulless men and
exacerbated by recent events. But, unlike thirty years before, Daniel would not have to go it
alone. SG-1 would stand together as a team. Just as they always did.

The End