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).
"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.