Please note:

I played with the timeline a smidge. When Maybourne first visited Jack, in the episode, he said Jack did something illegal ‘yesterday’. And, I’m sorry, but I don’t think they’d have responded that fast. In MHO they’d have sat back and watched a while. So I stretched that section. The rest is pretty much as it is in the episode.

**********

It was so un-nerving.

Jack might be used to being beamed aboard an Asgard ship thousands of miles above the Earth, so that looking down made you feel as dizzy as standing at the door of a C-130 about to make your first parachute jump, – and yes, I still remember that moment, long ago as it might well be, now – but I *wasn’t* used to it. And I was still feeling a little queasy after the ride. To say nothing about getting my first view of Earth from space.

How the hell Jack took this kind of thing in his stride was beyond me. The man acknowledged such bizarre events with the acceptance of someone who had apparently already read the design schematics. I, on the other hand, was fairly certain I was doing a good impersonation of a teenager who had opened his first Playboy and wasn’t quite sure if he believed what he saw, or not.

Jack could see I wasn’t on my best form. Dammit. And he grinned that rather smug you-may-be-the-superior-officer-here-but-I’m-way-ahead-of-you-on-this-one grin that at times made me want to bust him back to 2nd lieutenant, even if only for twenty four hours.

So, whilst I was still getting used to my new surroundings, and deciding whether I liked looking at a view that showed a planet housing six billion people as nothing more significant in size than a tennis ball, Jack wandered back and forth in that restless manner I found particularly irritating. If the man wished to advance to the rank of general he was going to have to learn to wait with a greater appearance of calm for events to unfold. Frankly, calm didn’t describe how I was feeling, but hopefully, I was starting to look more composed, even though inside I was making the Colonel's pacing look like a Sunday morning stroll.

Mind you . . . I couldn’t imagine Jack O’Neill as a general, and nor could I imagine any promotions’ board being broad minded enough to pass him. The man was born to command a field unit. Sitting behind a desk organising strategies, instead of implementing them, and waiting for active units to report in, instead of being where the action was himself, would be the last thing he’d want to do.

Sitting and waiting was not something Jack O’Neill did well.

Hence the pacing.

But if there was one thing *I* didn’t do well it was tolerating the Colonel’s intolerance.

I was about to order him to stand still when we were joined – without warning – by a grey alien. Thor, I supposed. They all looked rather the same to me. I glanced at the Colonel, and waited for him to take the lead. Which he did, with a big boyish grin on his face.

‘Thor! Buddy!’

‘O’Neill. We are pleased you could join us.’

‘Now, see, Thor little fella, that’s a worry. Right there. Every time you ask me to join you there’s something going on.’ O’Neill quirked his eyebrow, ‘Usually something I’m not gonna like.’

I shared his misgivings, particularly as I knew more about recent events than he did, and I had a nasty suspicious feeling growing in my gut.

All Jack really knew was that we had been asked to attend a conference aboard an Asgard ship. With one hour’s notice. As if I had nothing else planned for today, and the Colonel wasn’t in the middle of one of Doctor Fraiser’s check-ups. But they had stressed it was to be just the two of us, with no one else to know where we had gone. So I’d managed to leave Colonel Makepeace in charge, and Jack had finished his exam within ten minutes of the deadline, and here we were.

A new voice sent my suspicious nature into overdrive. ‘General Hammond.’

Ah, the Tollan. My fears would seem to be well founded.

‘O’Neill.’

And Lya, of the Nox.

High Counsellor Travell, of the Tollan, gestured to us to take seats at the table. Thor had already seated himself at the head, and the High Counsellor placed herself at the other end. The Nox representative took a lone seat on one side of the table, and the Colonel and I were left to sit side by side opposite her. O’Neill looked from one to the other of our hosts, and waited for someone to speak. He flexed and stretched his fingers, and then drummed them rhythmically on the polished table surface as if he was seeking to irritate one of them into breaking the silence. His eyes flitted back and forth between them all as if trying to assess which one would give in first.

Eventually, whether in response to Jack’s restlessness or not, Thor started to speak. ‘We have asked you here because all our races are concerned about certain events we believe to be connected to people from your planet.’

I knew they had worries. They’d already spoken about them, and I thought we’d addressed them. The people they wanted didn’t seem to be from Earth.

‘Thor . . . ,’ I began.

‘Before you say anything, General,’ Travell interrupted me, ‘we would be grateful if you heard what we have to say.’

I leaned back somewhat reluctantly. ‘Very well, Counsellor.’

‘As you know, we have become aware, General, of a number of very disturbing occurrences. On several planets under our jurisdiction people, who would seem to come from your world, have been instrumental in taking technology which does not belong to you.’

I could only say what had been said before. ‘High Counsellor, when you approached me last week I ordered a thorough investigation of all SGC records. I can assure you that these people did not come from Stargate Command.’

‘Then where?’ She asked, as she had last week.

And I gave her the same reply as before. ‘I don’t know. I just know that you are mistaken about your suspicions. You have to be.’

‘We are not mistaken.’

‘Hang on,’ Jack had lost patience. I was somewhat surprised he’d lasted so long. And wished I’d had chance to fill him in on what he’d missed whilst he was stuck on Edora. Finding a way to get him back had been such a relief, I’d decided that getting him up to speed with everything could wait a while. And, hell, I’d figured I’d dealt with this last week. Hadn’t expected it to up and bite me on the ass again. This meeting was going to be a steep learning curve. Not that Jack O’Neill couldn’t be a quick study, if he needed to be. Still, I forgave him the, ‘What the, excuse me, General, friggin’ hell is going on here?’

I interjected before Travell, or any of the other delegates, had chance to explain. ‘The Tollan came to see me last week, Colonel, with concerns they have about incidents Off World.’ I looked at him, and shrugged. ‘They seem to believe that members of the SGC are stealing their technology.’

‘That’s crap!’

There were times when I was grateful for O’Neill’s bluntness. I was bound by certain protocols and boundaries of decorum, in my position as the SGC’s commanding officer. Jack had no such borders, and probably wouldn’t have observed them, anyway, if he had. But here he expressed my own feelings very well. In fact, as straightforwardly as I very much wanted to.

Travell looked rather shocked. I’m not entirely sure they would use Jack’s exact phrasing on Tollana, but the Colonel’s views were clear from his tone. A precise translation wasn’t particularly necessary.

‘We regret that we must raise this matter with you, again,’ the High Counsellor said, looking anything but sorry. ‘But another incident has occurred.’

Jack tilted his head, and looked from Travell to me. All the time he was drumming his fingers repetitively on the table top, a sign to anyone who knew him that he was gaining a head of steam, and that some kind of explosion was approaching.

I gestured for the Counsellor to continue.

‘On a planet where we have been conducting some experiments into weapons’ technology, a small scientific base was ambushed, and three Tollan scientists were killed. However, one researcher survived. He was able to give us valuable information about the attackers.’

I looked at Jack. His hands had stilled, and he was concentrating on Travell with slitted dangerous eyes. He was still simmering at the slur being cast on the SGC. Waiting for the wrong thing to be said, and then he was going to give somebody a right royal example of somewhat less than sophisticated Earth culture.

There were good reasons why Jack didn’t get the diplomatic assignments. They included his mouth, which had a frequent and lamentable tendency to run away from the tenuous control of his brain, and his temper, hell, his maverick temperament full stop. To say nothing of his rather up-front, off-putting frankness. And . . . well, frankly, then, his almost total lack of any true diplomacy.

It sometimes amazed me that he’d made it as far up the ladder as colonel, and wasn’t, instead, the oldest 2nd lieutenant in Air Force history. Working out his time cleaning latrines with a toothbrush, to the vengeful delight of some long-suffering commanding officer.

For some reason, the Asgard had insisted that I bring Jack when they called this meeting. So, then, they’d just have to put up with him. And I would silently cheer every time he scored a point, on Earth’s behalf. Before I played peacemaker, in a bizarre version of good cop, bad cop. I almost wanted to smile at the thought. Except I was still suspicious about where this whole thing was going

Travell was watching me.

I dragged my mind back to the matter in hand. ‘Go on,’ I obliged. Because it was obvious she wanted me to say something, stringing out the build up to whatever she was going to reveal, like a magician about to produce a rehearsed finale. Or the executioner waiting to flick the switch on the condemned prisoner strapped in the chair.

‘He was able to tell us that the group were attacked by people from Earth. They wore uniforms, and were very organised. And they were ruthless when they did not get their own way.’

‘How do you *know* they were from Earth?’ Jack’s voice bubbled with his suppressed anger.

‘They told them.’

‘They *told* them?’ He was as incredulous as I was.

‘The leader made a point of saying that if we – the Tollan – would not share our discoveries with the people of Earth then your people would take what they could, when they could, using whatever means necessary.’

I didn’t know what to say. I felt as if someone had punched me in the gut. Hard.

‘That doesn’t prove anything!’ Jack obviously had no problems speaking.

I was, however, ahead of him, and so was the Counsellor.

‘They had no reason to lie, Colonel. They believed they were going to kill all those to whom they were speaking. There were to be no survivors. No witnesses. Fortunately for us, they were not as thorough as they had thought they were going to be.’

Shit. I thought.

‘Shit.’ Jack said. ‘Sir?’

I shook my head. I was as bemused as Jack now looked. I just hoped I was doing a better job of hiding it.

I asked, ‘This scientist? Where is he?’

‘He is here if you need to question him, General.’

‘I think that that might be necessary, but first,’ anything to get a pause to this witch hunt, and a chance to regroup, ‘I would like to speak to Colonel O’Neill alone. He hasn’t been privy to these events. He only returned from a lengthy Off World mission two days ago, and was in the process of recovering.’

Thankfully, they agreed, because I really needed time to catch my breath. My head was spinning, and Jack still looked as if he was working out the puzzle. Sometimes the cogs going round in his brain were as visible as if his head was transparent.

When we were alone he exploded with suppressed feelings, as if someone had released a pressure valve.

‘Sir? For crying out loud! What’s going on? Pinching stuff? That’s ridiculous!’

‘We had a delegation, from the Tollan, about a week ago. Complaining that there was the possibility that someone at the SGC was organising unauthorised missions. There had been some incidents on a couple of planets under Tollan control. Then the Asgard appeared because they’d heard the rumours, and said they found them very worrying.’

‘Possibilities? Rumours? Is that all?’ He was still heated.

‘They could offer no real proof, but they said that a piece of weaponry left behind after a skirmish suggested Earth as the place from which the thieves came.’ I shrugged. ‘I had Sergeant Davis check, and recheck, all the computer logs. Everything I could do to find any unauthorised activity, I did. To the best of my knowledge there has been no activity of this kind originating through the SGC Stargate.’

‘So, it’s not us, then.’

‘I don’t know, Colonel.’

I couldn’t explain it. But it seemed as if the evidence was mounting. The gun used in the attack last week. And now a witness with supposedly damning evidence against us. The Tollan, the Asgard, and the Nox were all valuable allies in our fight against the Goa’uld. We couldn’t afford to lose their trust and friendship.

‘If not us, then who?’ he asked.

‘I don’t know,’ I said again.

He came over to join me, and silently we looked down at our little tennis ball of a planet. I got the fanciful feeling I could hold it in the palm of my hand and just squeeze it into oblivion. It looked that small, and defenceless. Easy to obliterate completely. And, from here, I realised how fragile it was. That tiny world that was home to six billion people; 99.99999999 per cent of whom did not even suspect that something like the Stargate existed, except in the realms of television fantasy shows. Which meant that same vast majority had no idea their existence could be threatened by alien races who would like nothing better than to expand their own backyards a little.

Which made the responsibility on those of us who did know even greater. Even heavier. We made decisions for the welfare, and continued well-being, of six billion people. None of who suspected a thing. From the leaders of some of the most important countries worldwide, down to the most poverty stricken homeless beggars in the shanty towns of so many nations.

From where I stood I could see other planets beyond the Earth. The scope of vision from this ship was breathtakingly vast, as if someone had forgotten to invent an horizon. Edges were blurred into darkness and I was lost in the contemplation of trying to tell where space and sky merged. And failing. Somehow, it all seemed to go on infinitely.

And merely added to the impression of Earth’s vulnerability, and insignificance, in the overall scheme of things.

We stood for a while, contemplating. Because, on occasion, when he wanted to, Jack O’Neill could be silent. And could think deeply. And was capable of powers of reflection that were usually hidden behind an asinine front that camouflaged a whole lot more than most people ever realised. Looking for the real Jack O’Neill was as tricky as trying to spot a chameleon on a tree trunk.

Quietly, ‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it, sir?’

‘Yes, Jack. Yes, it is.’

We didn’t need to say any more. Everything accepted about duty, honour, and responsibility had been acknowledged between us. Looking back, it was as if we both knew instinctively what was going to happen. Knew the demands that would be made. Knew who was going to tread the hard road, and take the risks, the knocks, and the bitter consequences.

That’s why they’d asked for Jack to accompany me.

And he would kick up a storm of protest, and object loudly. As would I. But in the end, we’d be left with no choice. We’d resist with all the means at our disposal. Search all alternative avenues. But, in the end, the road was going to lead to a crevice between a rock and a hard place.

Part 2

It was worse than I’d feared.

Everything.

What the scientist said.

What they all wanted us to do.

What they wanted Jack to do.

And he exploded.

As I’d known he would.

Diplomacy shot all to hell.

And I didn’t blame him.

So now they’d left us alone again.

To consider our options.

Which was considerate of them, seeing as how I knew, and Jack knew, that we didn’t have any.

Jack slumped into his chair, and one leg nervously trembled so that only the ball of his foot rested on the floor. The heel was jumping up and down like he had St. Vitus’ Dance. I knew it was because he wanted to kick something. Very hard. Repeatedly. Probably until he broke his foot.

Except that would mean somebody else would have to do the dirty work.

His hands were splayed out across the table and he contemplated them with a grim concentration. The childish grin, with which he’d greeted Thor, was long gone. I suspected it would be a long time before he used it for real again.

I was standing against the window. The distance between us somehow symbolic of what he was being asked to do. Of what was to come. I wanted to cross the divide. Give some help and advice. But I couldn’t. There was nothing I could say. Nothing I could do that would be of any comfort.

I knew Jack’s service record as well as I knew my own. I remember reviewing it when I took over at the SGC, when I had to find out everything I could about the bizarre pre-retirement position I’d been handed. Then I read it again when I had to meet the man for real, because I’d needed to know as much as I could about the first Abydos mission, as it seemed we were under attack from there. And I scoured it once more before I asked him to take on the role of leader of SG-1.

I wasn’t sure, then, that I was doing the right thing. There seemed so many things that could have proved fatally explosive. Not the least of which were the suicidal tendencies, although I suspected if he was going to end his own life he would have done it in the year he spent alone after the end of that first mission.

He had admitted disobeying orders, or at least interpreting them creatively. Now, that might mean he would prove an asset, or not; officers who did nothing but blindly follow orders could be incredibly dangerous. Officers who thought for themselves, about others, and about the situation they found themselves in, and *not* about themselves and their career CV, were generally those I admired most. They tended to be more reliable, honest, and straightforward to deal with.

The problem was that officers like that often got fed to the lions by the military machine whenever a scapegoat was needed. I wondered why O’Neill hadn’t been.

He had enough reprimand markers in his file to paper my office walls.

He had enough commendation slips to cover the reprimands.

Twice over.

I liked what I read.

But I still sent Ferretti and Kawalsky along. With express orders that friendship and sympathy had nothing to do with it. If the Colonel looked like going wild on them they were to relieve him of his command, immediately.

If he ever suspected that he never said. And there was no need for them to do anything. He came through the trial run with flying colours, and I’d never had cause to doubt him, then or since.

He was as reliable, honest, and straightforward to deal with as I’d hoped he’d be. With military matters. Personal issues was another basket of rattlesnakes altogether.

I’d had cause to take him to task over his out of control express train of a mouth on more than one occasion. As it had tried repeatedly to wreck his career by running into political buffers, or other obstacles, that could be avoided by slowing down and taking more care. But Jack O’Neill, I learned, had as little patience for anything that didn’t cut to the chase straight away, and that wasn’t as up front and candid as he was, exactly as his file had suggested.

Whether that’s because he’d escaped after having spent so much time lost in the deceptive world of Special Forces I didn’t know.

But his next assignment was going to hark back to those murky times. And expect him to be anything but up front and honest.

He raised his eyes. They were blank. Empty. Like holes in space where life had ceased to exist.

And I hated what I might be forced to do.

What he was certainly going to be forced to do.

What, actually, he was probably going to force *himself* to do before I would be forced to do anything, because that’s just the way he was.

They had insisted we sort out the situation on our own, and that if we didn’t they’d sever all ties with Earth. They were adamant. Reluctant. But adamant.

The Colonel and I protested vehemently that those responsible for these outrages had to be rogue units. Completely unofficial. People over whom we had no control. Actually, after his first bubble of outrage burst over the proceedings, I said all that. O’Neill wisely sidelined himself, and left things to me.

It made no difference. *I* made no difference. They accepted our, *my*, arguments, but remained entrenched in their opinion that everything was a severe test of their faith in Earth’s security, trustworthiness, and capability to keep our own house in order.

They’d obviously joined forces beforehand, because their front was totally united, and well dug in. Nothing I said shifted them back one iota. I tried diplomacy. I tried bluntness. I tried Jack O’Neill style ‘For crying out loud,’ back to the wall anger. None of it made any difference.

We were going to have to do something.

And when I asked what? Did they have any suggestions? They said yes.’

Dammit.

Outflanked. I should have seen it coming. Instead I’d left my men in the firing line. Exposed. Alone.

Men? Man.

Because I saw them look at Jack, and I knew with a hateful finality that all those miserable suspicions I’d had when we arrived were horribly correct.

Thor’s eyes were sympathetic. At least, I swear, they blinked sympathetically. That slow, drawn out, hold the eyelids closed as if I’m in pain, blink he had, as opposed to the quick I’m assimilating your ideas, and dismissing them, blink. Travell’s gaze pinned Jack like a fly to the wall. Determined to have her way. Lya’s look shone with sad understanding.

And Jack was never slow on the uptake when the chips were down, the cards were being dealt, and he was getting a crappy hand.

‘No.’ Blunt and to the point.

I wasn’t going to stand for it either, but I’d realised we were pretty much playing a deck stacked before we sat down to play. We were a pair of deuces to their full house.

‘It is the duty of the people of Earth to prove they can be trusted,’ Thor reiterated, just in case we were dense, and hadn’t got the message yet. He looked at the Colonel. ‘I have seen into your mind, O’Neill. You are skilled at missions which are both dangerous, and which require you to work against members of your own race. Alone. You did this well, in the past.’

‘See, now there’s the thing,’ Jack spat. ‘*Did*. I *did* that. In the past. As in, I don’t *do* that any more. As in, over. Finished. No longer.’

‘Someone must seek out these traitors, these people who harm your planet’s cause.’ Thor insisted, and the others seemed content to let him do most of the talking.

‘Not me.’

‘If not you . . . then we have no one else to trust.’

‘Crap! There are plenty of other ex-Special Forces officers at the SGC. Who’ve had much more recent experience at that kinda thing than me, too.’

‘That is not possible, O’Neill.’ Thor blinked with his obsidian, complacent, I’ve got all day, action. ‘We are not going to allow any beyond a small committee to know of these events, and what must be done to rectify matters. I have witnessed your life, your values, your character. The Tollan, and the Nox are willing to accept my recommendation that we turn to you. And you alone.’ He looked at me. ‘General Hammond will, obviously, also know what is happening.’

So gracious of them, I thought.

Jack was more forthright. ‘Well, thanks for the vote of confidence, but the answer’s no.’

Thor seemed oblivious to the negative reply, and merely continued as if he had not been interrupted, ‘Above all other people on Earth, O’Neill, the Asgard know that they can trust you to do the honourable and the honest thing. You are the only one we trust. We cannot be entirely confident that that anyone else we choose would not be a traitor. Including,’ he paused, significantly, ‘the rest of your team.’

‘No fucking way!’

‘No!’ I chorused, omitting the less diplomatic cultural reference.

‘I am sorry, O’Neill. But this must be a mission restricted to the barest minimum number of people. We feel the fewer people who are aware of its existence the greater the chance of success.

‘I don’t care what you feel,’ his temper was showing clearly again. Bubbling up like lava held back by only a thin and fragile covering layer. ‘They’re my team. They are *not* traitors. Absolutely, utterly, and completely *not*. They are as reliable as you think I am. I’ll vouch for every one of them. If you think any of this has anything to do with any one of them you are so *fucking* far off beam.’

He blazed his eyes at them each in turn, as if daring them to disagree, before continuing, ‘And anything I do, they do. T-E-A-M. People I can rely on. People *I* trust. People who will back me up if I need it.’

‘This is a one person operation, O’Neill. Any undercover operation must necessarily be so. The Asgard have chosen you to complete this mission.’

‘Well, screw the Asgard, then!’ He pushed himself back from the table with a violent shove. Fighting against the inevitable as hard as he could.

‘The Tollan agree with the Asgard proposal,’ Travell said, decisively.

‘As do the Nox,’ Lya was quiet. Sympathetic. But determined.

The expected explosion could no longer be contained. ‘Well screw the Tollan, then.’ He stood up with a fierce anger bursting from every pore. ‘And screw the *Nox* as well. Fuck the lot of you. I’m not doing any fucking *dirty* undercover mission for you. I don’t do that any more.’

‘Colonel,’ I tried to stem the tide. As futilely as the English King who once believed he could turn back the incoming sea. All I got was a glare that should have frazzled me to a cinder on the spot, and a hot blast of refusal.

‘No. Totally, and absolutely not. What part of *no* do you folks *not* understand? No, no, and no. Not my job description. Not any more. And as for thinking Carter, Daniel and Teal’c are *traitors* . . . ’ He seemed to run out of words to properly express his anger, and instead stuffed his hands into his pockets, and turned his back on all of us, before stalking over to the window. Where he stood determinedly, shoulders rigid, gazing out towards Earth.

And I realised that this room had not been chosen at random. O’Neill’s responsibility, and my own, was there for us to see. In case we should need reminding. The Colonel stood looking down at our vulnerable home world.

And I could feel nothing but sympathy. For a soldier caught between despair and duty. A man ensnared by his own conscience and dire consequences to so many others. A human being faced by an impossible choice. Because, in the end, there was no choice. One Air Force Colonel’s wishes didn’t count for a hill o’ beans in this crazy universe. What was one ravaged conscience, one embittered life, one desolate, empty soul, measured against six billion, free to continue their existence, blissfully unaware that one man had bought them their lives at such personal anguish and sacrifice?

I knew the shame of undercover missions. You can't make a career in the military and not be aware of the stench from that stagnant pool. I hadn’t done any myself. But I’d had close friends who had. And there’s only so long you can do them. Because the line between friend and foe became such a tenuous one that holding on to yourself, and your loyalties and values, was like desperately trying to grasp a greasy pole suspended above a dark pit. And making life and death decisions concerning people you must come to know well, people you have, necessarily, to work beside, who will come to trust you, and whom you must, ultimately, betray, stains a man’s mind. Marks a man forever. Deep down where others cannot see. Where only his conscience, his soul, and his nightmares haunt him.

I knew Jack had completed several dangerous undercover missions. I also knew he’d left those kind of assignments behind in favour of more military style operations. If Thor had seen into Jack’s mind he had to have seen that, too.

And undercover missions required a certain state of mind. Needed the person to be well prepared for them. Not thrown in, blind, at a moment’s notice.

‘You surely don’t intend the Colonel to deal with this alone?’ I tried to do my bit. Provide an element of damage control. What they were asking seemed impractical anyway. To employ one person with so little information to go on. Little chance of any realistic back-up if things went wrong.

‘We cannot allow anyone else to be trusted.’ Thor was positive.

‘The Colonel’s team . . .’

‘I regret that the other members of SG-1 cannot be involved. The fewer people who know of this then the better our chances of success. The wrong word, spoken at the wrong time, in the wrong company, could jeopardise the entire operation.’

‘I trust all of SG-1, implicitly.’

‘That may be,’ Thor agreed, ‘however, to us they are not as well . . . ‘ he paused a moment as if searching for the right word, struggling for a while, before continuing, ‘examined as Colonel O’Neill.’

‘What am I? A freakin’ microscope study?’ The words were grated out, without any attempt to look round.

‘I am sorry, I could not think of another expression.’ Give him credit, Thor did sound apologetic. But that wasn’t really the point. One of my officers was being coerced into a course of action neither he, nor I, were happy with. And yet there seemed no possible way of avoiding it.

Thor looked at me and continued, ‘Forgive me, General, but one member of SG-1 is not a member of your military, and is not trained in such matters. Is, in fact, a civilian.’

‘However, Daniel Jackson is a very intelligent person, and very well able to assess any situation. He would also do nothing whatsoever to place Colonel O’Neill in any danger.’

‘On purpose.’

‘He’s one of the most, if not *the* most, intelligent person I’ve ever met. He simply would not do anything that would harm the Colonel.’

‘He is not trained to deal with what is involved here,’ Thor interrupted. ‘Doctor Jackson may have a great loyalty to Colonel O’Neill, but he is also a very open person, prone to long speeches. It is possible he would forget himself, however inadvertently, and reveal information it was best he did not reveal.’

‘Rubbish!’ I exploded. Although I had to concede that, in all honesty, they had a point. Daniel Jackson was not exactly the world’s greatest at keeping quiet, and his enthusiasm for talking was legendary around the SGC. But that was about artefacts. Not classified information.

Where a man’s life would rest on the knife edge of absolute secrecy I was as certain, as I could be, that Daniel Jackson was as trustworthy as Jack O’Neill was.

‘And Teal’c is a former First Prime.’

‘Teal’c is now a valued member of SG-1. I have no doubts, whatsoever, about his loyalty to the SGC, or to Earth.’

‘That is merely your observation.’

‘After three years of Teal’c proving his worth, and faithful allegiance, time and time again, I will not even *consider* the possibility that he could have betrayed our cause.’ I was getting heated, now, and I couldn’t afford to. One ticked off delegate was enough in a pair of ambassadors. ‘You are all way off beam in thinking for one *moment* that anyone in SG-1 could be working against Earth.’ Steady, George.

Thor just blinked. It annoyed me that he just sat there. Silent. Having all but accused half of SG-1 of being, at best, incompetent. After all they owed to them. I wished I could read something, *anything*, into his expression. Except that he had no expression. Could barely frown. The only time we got to work out if he was upset was when he spoke. His eyes were blank liquid pools. Expressionless. Unfathomable. I hated that. To negotiate you need to be able to read the other player. But Thor was like the best poker player I’d ever encountered.

‘And your objection to Major Carter?’ Hoping in vain that the sarcasm wasn't seeping through and, on the other hand, hoping it was coming through loud and clear, as I tried to get at least something from the situation. Some leeway.

But no.

‘Major Carter is as unused to undercover missions as Doctor Jackson,’ Thor responded.

‘She’s still military, for the love of God! She will *not* go blabbering about secrets she *knows* should be kept as just that. And while we’re at it, Doctor Jackson is very good at keeping secrets about travelling through a Stargate to alien planets from everyone he encounters outside the SGC programme. He’s not gone revealing *that* to anyone.’ I was definitely getting heated, and needed to calm down. I wasn’t doing Jack any good at all.

And he seemed content to leave everything to me, as he stood, ostensibly ignoring us. Back firmly and defiantly displayed. Every now and then he would kick the toe cap of a boot against the wall, but he refused to turn around and acknowledge us in any way. Despite the fact that he could obviously hear every word.

‘It is, however, true, is it not, that Doctor Jackson has cut himself off from most of his former associates?’

Dammit, where did they get that little nugget of information from? I was getting no change whatsoever from this, and that was as clear to them, as it was to me. As clear as it probably was to Jack, too.

Thor blinked.

Travell sat, as she had all along arms folded watching proceedings with no real emotion. I could respect the woman as a leader amongst her people. It didn’t stop me from deciding she bore some considerable resemblance to my imagined picture of Lady Macbeth. All that she lacked was the twisted persuading tongue to accompany it. She’d left all that to Thor.

But it was Lya of the Nox who spoke, unexpectedly. ‘We will leave you alone, General. It is only fair that you discuss this alone.’

Discuss what, exactly? We were out of bargaining chips. Everyone knew that. They were just waiting for the inevitable. For the mugs, who had been invited into the game, to fold and accept defeat. Graciously, or not.

After they’d left the silence stretched out between the Colonel and me. It filled the room with razor edged tension, until I felt I could reach out and cut my finger on it.

I can read Jack O’Neill pretty well. I’ve had a crash course over the last three years. I learned early on that helpful bold headlines tended to be his hands, and eyes. The hands tended to fly about in flamboyant animation when he was in good anecdotal humour. They also showed his low boredom threshold with their frequent, restlessly repetitive behaviour, and gave an insight into his childlike nature through their compulsion to touch, explore, turn over, hold up, or in any way come to grips with things left lying around by Doctor Jackson, or Major Carter. They could also be very still. A sign to beware of. Poised to strike, and lethal when they did so, was how I’d come to think of O’Neill’s motionless hands.

His eyes could display a whole range of emotions, from an impish twinkle, to the equivalent of the force of a nuclear explosion. I’d seen them hold pain, despair, enthusiasm, and sharp watchfulness. Every range of feeling. And, yet, he was also a master at closing the door. Shutting out everyone. His eyes could be as blank as Thor’s.

The silence held. Tensile. Brittle.

I could neither read his hands, plunged deep into his pockets, nor attempt to read his eyes, fixed forwards on the view of Earth through the window. But if I couldn’t read the headlines, then there was always the small print to help me. There was the straight spine, the stiff defensive shoulders, and the foot that was threatening to knock a hole in the wall through which he could solve his dilemma by escaping into the suffocating vacuum of space.

I was his commanding officer, and the last thing I felt like doing was ordering him to do anything right now. And attempting anything along those lines would probably mean an end to the strange, respectful, non-confiding friendship we’d come to enjoy. We rarely discussed our lives away from the SGC, although I’d made passing references to Tessa and Kayla, on occasion, and I knew that I’d like them to meet him. They’d love him. But the chance to move up that notch in our relationship hadn’t happened yet.

But on a day to day, working side by side level, we’d reached an understanding about how far he could push me, and how far I knew he’d go for me. Despite our lack of sit down and chew over the cud congeniality, or an absence of share a good bottle of bourbon bonhomie, I knew, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that Jack O’Neill would walk through fire for me. And I knew that I would trust him with my career, my pension, my life, my grandchildren’s lives, and the sacred memory of my wife, if I had to. Because down the years I’d served with all kinds. Those who cared, and those who didn’t give a damn. Those I’d trusted, and those I wouldn’t have turned my back on.

And Jack O’Neill beat then all.

Because underneath the child’s play camouflage, behind the idiosyncratic idiocy, was a consummately professional soldier, who was the absolute epitome of everything that I’d once, idealistically, hoped every serviceman I ever met would be. One who would consider all others, and what served them, before himself and his own career. And I had discovered, sadly, that those qualities were as rare, and as precious, as a true cut diamond.

And I hated that I might lose him in seeking out others who were not as pure spirited. If I got my hands on the bastards behind all this I was going to make certain they were locked away for a very, very long time. In the deepest, darkest cell available. If I had my way they’d never see daylight again. And God help *anyone* under my command who might be involved.

Christ, I hoped no one under my command was involved.

I quietly watched Jack. I let him take his time. Because he deserved that respect. That the decision, such as we were left any decision to make, should appear to be his. I gave him greater space by leaving my seat, and moving to the other side of the room. It wasn’t that I wanted to be divorced from him. It was that I felt he should feel I wasn’t pressurising him.

And, after a while, when I felt that the silence would wound me to the core, because the longer it lasted the harder I knew it was for Jack to accept the assignment, he finally gave the wall one last defiant kick, and swung round. He slouched across the room, and slumped into a chair. His eyes were soulless.

And I could do nothing but look at him, helplessly.

‘Best work this out, then,’ he said, in a quiet tone laced with bitter resignation. He knew the taste of defeat, as did I. But he had spared me the persuasion, or the finality of having to issue an order. And for that I was grateful beyond measure.

Part 3

SG-1 were standing in front of the ramp, waiting for the chevrons on the Stargate to engage, and I could do nothing but watch them. Knowing what I knew. And feeling like a deadly snake in the grass that had bitten the team whilst it slept, and now waited for the poison to take effect and for the victim to die an agonising death.

Jack had on his dress blues. A uniform I knew he hated. He’d never said he hated it, but he forever pulled at the cuffs, ran his finger around the rim of his shirt collar, and fastened and unfastened the jacket buttons. And I used to smile at him, and he’d grimace.

Today I’d not smiled at him. Because I might be the general in command of the most secret US military facility, which required a considerable amount of whitewashing over accounts, and other reports, but that was merely fabricating figures and producing marginally misleading paperwork.

Avoiding letting folks in on the secrets of the SGC face to face was also fine because, only very rarely, did I know the officers or politicians well enough to care about deceiving them. And, anyhow, it was just a case of a little misdirecting.

This? This was personal.

I had wilfully and maliciously misled people I cared for very much, and whom I considered close to me in a very special way. And I had had to look them in the eye and do it. Had had to ask Doctor Jackson to work out a speech with which to address the Tollan High Council, a speech that I knew wasn’t worth the paper it was written on, yet which went through several drafts. And each time he read it to me I had to suggest revisions with a supposed enthusiasm not matched by the emptiness in my heart.

The burdens of command had often been heavy. You made decisions that sent men into combat, and you knew that many of them might never come back. But there was an honesty and accepted understanding about face to face armed combat. There was something seen as dirty and reviled about sending men on undercover missions. About the missions themselves. They were so often forgotten or ignored, and yet their successes could be as valuable to any war effort as the publicly acknowledged missions.

How Jack had carried his act off this morning, at the pre-mission briefing, was beyond me. Had scared me. It was a Jack O’Neill I didn’t know. A man who smiled and laughed as if he hadn’t a care in the world, as we went through the final arrangements, and who was anything but what he appeared to be.

We all knew Jack hid things from folks, was an intensely private man. But this was different, because I knew I was watching a consummate actor put in an Oscar worthy performance in a role only an audience of two could fully appreciate. Depths and skills were revealed I had never truly recognised before, because, so far as I knew, he’d never used them on me. And for one moment his eyes met mine. And I saw that he read me perfectly. Saw exactly what I was thinking. And his slight, withdrawn smile was one I hoped never to see again.

He’d gone home for the weekend, once he’d annoyed Daniel enough for the harassed man to tell him, in no uncertain words, that he could complete his speech so much better, thank you, without Jack’s distracting company. So, he’d left. A rare thing, but not rare enough to have excited comment. And I could only suppose he’d spent the time preparing himself for what was to come, in whatever manner you can prepare yourself to appear to betray every principle you’ve upheld for the last three years. To alienate those that, during that time, you’ve come to call family. Those who respect you. A respect you’ve had to work hard to earn. Built on a *self* respect you’ve had to work hard to earn, too. Because you’ve had to put yourself back together, as well as rebuild yourself a family.

And now, all that you worked so hard to regain was going to be snatched away from you, through no fault of your own. And you had no way of knowing if you would ever get it back.

I watched the back of Jack’s head, as the seventh chevron engaged, and wondered what he was thinking, knowing that, by the time he stepped back through the ‘Gate to the SGC, everything would have changed. That, as far as the others would be concerned, he’d have blasted his career into smithereens. That this was the last time he would wear his dress uniform until this sorry mess was sorted out. And that if things went wrong it would be the last time - period.

I remembered the haunted hopeless look in his eyes as we’d worked our way through the plans for the assignment on the Asgard ship.

Until, finally, he had said, ‘Sir?’ It was so quietly spoken I’d almost missed it.

I raised my head, and didn’t reply, just looked at him, and waited. I had a feeling I knew what he wanted to say.

He took a deep steadying breath. ‘If . . . ‘ And couldn’t go on.

I gave him time, but he just looked at his hands, splayed wide and running over the surface of the table, as if he were trying to polish it with his bare skin.

So I said, ‘I’ll tell them.’

He looked up sharply. And narrowed his eyes before looking away, as if embarrassed.

‘If this all goes south, Jack, I’ll tell them what you did, and why.’

His glance flickered my way, and then away again. ‘It won’t matter, by then.’ His words were barely audible. ‘They won’t care.’

‘Won’t care?’ I was shocked. ‘They could never not care about you, Jack.’

He smiled a wintry smile, full of frost and ice. ‘Once Fraiser figures out it’s not a virus or an alien bug that’s making me act odd, you think they’ll leave things alone?’

‘They might ask questions, but . . . ‘

‘They won’t let things rest.’ His eyes held mine, and he shrugged. ‘I know them, sir. Or, at least, I hope I do.’ There was the glacial smile again. ‘Full of old fashioned loyalty.’ Something in the slightly snide way he said this made me realise I was starting to lose the Jack O’Neill I knew. That a colder, harder, more bitter version was already taking his place.

He was starting to take on the persona he would need to complete the mission. Wrapping away the O’Neill who had earned my faith and trust, and that of his team. I fervently hoped that, one day, I’d be able to take him out of storage and replace him in his rightful position at the SGC.

‘They’ll want to know more. Push things.’

He was right. There was more to SG-1 than just names and faces. They had an unusual relationship, that came from being the flagship of the SGC, and also from being such a diverse cultural, and temperamental mixture. But there was no denying the affection that ran between them. Much of it produced by Jack’s unique leadership style. And he was right. They wouldn’t just let him go easily. They’d, after all, just proved that by working for three months to get him back from Edora.

‘If there’s a traitor inside the SGC this has to look real. There can’t be any unguarded moments. Because . . .’ he stopped, gathered himself, carried on, ‘ . . . because . . . if this . . . doesn’t work,’ he studied his hands intently before he finished, ‘and they even *suspect*, even *begin* to think everything isn’t absolutely as it appears, they’ll always . . . wonder.’

Doesn’t work. The most innocuous euphemism for ‘being killed’ I’d ever heard.

‘Wonder?’

‘Was it their fault? Did they say something to the wrong person? Did they do something at the wrong time that gave the game away? Did they do anything that betrayed what I was doing? You know Daniel, sir. He’ll analyse things every which way ‘til Sunday in the belief he might have let me down. Carter’ll feel guilty if she ever gets command of SG-1, because she’s stepped into my shoes and feels she might have actually had a hand in killing me. And Teal’c? Teal’c’ll transfer his allegiance to you, if he thinks I washed out. But if he thinks I’m out there, somewhere, he’ll likely jump ship and start looking for me. When you need him at the SGC, sir. They’ll have to believe everything. Believe I believe exactly what I say I do. Believe I feel exactly the way I say I do. About taking stuff . . .’ he paused and for a long moment I thought he wouldn’t finish. But he did. ‘And them.’

He didn’t look at me. Not once. And he spoke without any inflection whatsoever. No sense of pride that his team would value him so much, and that, deep down he knew that. No sense of determination that they should be protected from feelings of guilt as much as possible. No sense that the future of the SGC was more important than he was. No sense of anything. It was simply a statement of fact. This was the way things were. And this was the way things had to be. It was the longest speech I could remember Jack making. He was, despite everything, a man of few words. Short sarcastic comments rolled off his tongue, orders were issued with clarity, points made with biting decisiveness. Speeches? No. He just wasn’t the speech-making kind.

‘One day, somewhere down the line, you can tell them. Maybe when this war’s over. But for now, they don’t need to know. Protects me, and them.’

Which meant they would have to think he was a heel.

They’d have to think he was not the man they’d spent three years alongside. He’d have to repaint his portrait. Replace everything. But in such a way that they’d believe they’d been deceived in their previous assessments. Jack was such a bold picture of black and white, it was hard to see how he could reproduce himself in such shades of grey that he could lose the character his team knew so well in a new and confusing canvas.

Yet it would have to be done.

He would have to distance himself.

Alienate them.

Isolate himself to such a degree that they would stop trying to dig beyond the surface of what was happening. So they would have to believe the Jack O’Neill they thought they’d known was gone for good. Indeed, had probably never existed at all. And the one that had taken his place was not worth bothering with.

‘Can you do it, Jack?’

‘Push them away?’ His eyes were shards of ice. ‘Oh, yes, sir.’ And I’d never seen such determined coldness in his eyes before. I shivered. It was cold place he’d taken himself off to. Arctic.

I could sense his withdrawal. And I knew it wasn’t just his team he would have to leave behind. We could tell no one of our charade, and therefore we were both going to have to act convincingly. Jack had already started. I could sense it. Hated it.

The memories of that scene on the Asgard ship were like a backwash of sewage in my head as I watched SG-1 walk up the ramp, and disappear through the blue curtain. And I stood watching until the event horizon switched off. And even then I couldn’t move. Just stood there looking. Thinking. Until Davis asked me if I was all right, and I clicked into gear. I was failing already. First real test, and I was gazing at the iris, now in place, like I’d never seen it before. Christ Almighty, get a grip. Call yourself a two star? Well damn well earn the pay. Or else Jack O’Neill could pay for your carelessness with his life.

So I went to my office and stayed there trying to fill in team evaluation forms, and read reports sent from on high urging us not to spend so much money, to cut back on our expenses. Like the odd thousand dollars here and there was going to make any significant dent in our overall budget. And like, right now, I cared a Texas jig what our budget was, or how far we’d overspent, or whether we were going to be the subject of another round of heated debate amongst the precious few who knew what we really did here, and who authorised the funding. Like hell I did. My mind was light years away. Literally.

So, frequently, I found myself staring blindly at a piece of paper, because all I was thinking about was what was happening on Tollana, and how long it would be before the unscheduled activation of the ‘Gate. I’d reckoned on about an hour.

So I sat and counted the minutes. Because usually all I could do was sit and wait, and have no idea whatsoever about what was going on on the other side of the ‘Gate. This was almost unique. Because I did know. Had pretty much helped to write the script with High Counsellor Travell and Jack, aboard the Asgard ship. Had helped to plan how Jack would storm out of the meeting, and help himself to a piece of Tollan technology, in apparent disgust and anger, on his way back to the ‘Gate.

So everyone else in the SGC went about their business, as if it was as ordinary a day as we ever had around here, and I sat alone knowing that things were about to be thrown to all hell and gone. And if Doc Fraiser were to suddenly ask to take my blood pressure and heart rate I suspected she’d relieve me of duty on the spot. I would never have been able to do what Jack was doing. Because I’m fairly sure that if she’d taken his blood pressure and heart rate as he stood with his team, ready to leave for Tollana, there’d have been no difference to his normal recorded readings.

And that was impressive and yet somehow disquietening. I remembered the thoughts of hidden depths I’d had on board the ship, and his earlier slight remote smile. Tried to marry those with the happy-go-lucky, up front, cynically honest character I’d come to know and respect since I’d first met him.

Couldn’t.

I hoped the President appreciated what Jack was doing for his country. The world. Hoped he’d recognise him adequately. Reward him suitably. Doubted it.

I stared at a paper about the spiralling cost of secure storage facilities for alien technologies acquired on our travels, and their safe transference to Area 51, and considered how ironic *that* was right now. And found myself overlaying the typeface with familiar images of my 2IC, and I wondered if he’d walked out on Travell yet.

For three months we’d been fairly sure we’d lost him. Carter had worked all the hours God sends to find a way to get through to Edora. Doctor Jackson had wandered around like a lost soul. And Teal’c remained like a pillar of silent support. And I’d come to realise what a team it was that Jack had built. Pulling together three individuals who were as disparate in their backgrounds and interests as I could imagine three folks being. Yet he *had* pulled them together.

He had channelled Jackson’s over-exuberance, protected his innocence as much as he could, and above all kept him alive out in the big bad universe where you needed someone like Jack O’Neill to watch your six. But it was more than that between the two of them.

It was the history of the first Stargate mission that they shared. Jackson had seen O’Neill’s nadir and knew a Jack O’Neill the rest of his team wasn’t truly privy to, despite the events of the crystal entity which took O’Neill’s form. They had a connection, a base, from which to build a friendship that was as bizarre as it was firm. It would take a great deal to knock down those walls and I dreaded what Jack might soon have to do.

Then there was Carter. Who’d assumed every male senior officer in the Air Force would never see her brains for her feminine curves. And who arrived with a chip on her shoulder. I hoped Jack, and I, dispelled that very quickly. Jack made it very plain he hated scientists but it wasn’t a personal thing. And he treated Carter as if she were any other soldier. That was the thing about Jack. It wasn’t a gender issue. It was a respect issue. How you earned his admiration, or respect, had nothing to do with what you looked like. It was all about actions speaking louder with Jack. And Carter was a smart cookie, she worked that out pretty damn quick. She might have come up against some chauvinistic pigs in her time, in fact I’d bet my next paycheque she had, but I’m damn certain she didn’t rank Jack O’Neill amongst them. Or me, I hoped.

And as for Teal’c I suspected he’d take a bullet for the Colonel any day of the week. Hell, every day of the week, if he had to. Like Carter’s femininity, Teal’c’s alien background had never been an issue with Jack. He saw a warrior. He saw someone he trusted implicitly from the start, and that was that. Actions, again, speaking louder.

And no matter how he aggravated them, harassed them, ordered them around, or played impudent childish jokes on them, they all trusted him, and respected him in a way that was extremely rare. Almost unique. I should know. I’d seen many officers at work with their teams over the years. Hell, I’d seen the other SG team leaders in action, and they were the best of the best. But they just didn’t have that secret ingredient the Colonel had. So secret that even I didn’t know what it was, entirely. But he was, in my opinion, the best of the best of the best.

And I was sickened by what we were being forced to do. What he was being forced to do.

The klaxon sounded and jerked me out of my reverie.

I glanced at the clock.

I’d been wrong.

By four minutes.

They been gone sixty four minutes.

Now the hard stuff started.

Please God, let me be up to my part.

***********

Part 4

He’d gone.

Escorted off the base by a brace of SFs.

And there’d been no doing it quietly.

Because, in a very short time the bush telegraph, that worked like flames on tinder dry grass in this place, meant that everyone knew that Colonel O’Neill had stepped way beyond any redeemable margins.

And because we hadn’t *wanted* to do it quietly. Everyone had to know, so that anyone who needed to know would know. What he’d done, and what he’d said. Where he, apparently, stood with regard to acquiring alien technology.

So, after his outburst in the Briefing Room, Fraiser gave him a medical, and proclaimed him apparently free of any alien influence. Much, I could tell, to her deep dismay.

And Travell turned up to add her two cents worth, firmly, and clearly, in the Gate Room for all the listening technicians and operators and SFs to hear.

And I made sure that anyone who hadn’t got the message, got it loud and clear by locking the Colonel up for a good seven hours after he accepted the offer of early retirement so that I could talk to Travell, Carter, Teal’c, and Fraiser.

To anyone on the outside I was searching desperately for a way out of the situation that would save O’Neill’s career, and allow me to rescind my retirement order. Allow me to keep an officer I obviously valued very much.

I asked Fraiser to complete more tests. And her face when she came back to me was as if someone close to her had died.

‘I’m sorry, sir. I’ve completed every test I can possibly think of. Everything comes back negative.’ She was almost hunched in the chair. Not a posture I was used to from this usually upright, forthright, sometime termagant.

‘So, Doctor? Your conclusion?’

She bit her lip. ‘My conclusion would have to be, sir, that the Colonel was acting from the motives that he said he was. Even though he would seem to be acting very out of character. He . . . ’

‘He what?’

‘He was not very pleasant when I took more blood. Almost sneered at me.’ She shook her head, bemused. ‘Called me your lackey.’

I could see the confused hurt in her eyes. Jack had obviously done his job well, because Fraiser was as sharp as they come, and not one it was easy to hoodwink.

‘Therefore you would have to uphold my decision?’

‘To retire him? Because the Colonel was completely in control of his own actions?’ she asked.

I nodded. I’d never seen her look so miserable. ‘I suppose so . . . yes, sir.’ She admitted, reluctantly. Then, ‘I just don’t believe it,’ she shook her head.

‘Doctor?’

‘He was going to pick a fight with Teal’c, in my infirmary, as you phoned down.’

‘A fight?’

‘Yes. Teal’c wouldn’t let him pass. Was standing in the doorway, just being Teal’c, all quiet, and . . . well, you know, sir.’ She looked at me with some kind of lost bewilderment in her eyes. ‘And he was going to make Teal’c let him leave. Or . . . at least try to.’ She shook her head. ‘That just wasn’t like the Colonel O’Neill I know.’

‘I’ll admit it seems as if the Colonel has been deceiving us about his point of view. Or has altered his perspective for some reason.’ I couldn’t agree with her. I had to push the idea that I believed O’Neill to be acting under his own steam until anyone could prove otherwise.

‘You really believe he did this freely, sir? That he wasn’t persuaded? Or influenced? Under the influence of something that I haven’t found yet?’

‘I believe he may well have been acting freely, Doctor. Colonel O’Neill often acts on impulse. Remember how he acted over the alien child, Merrin? He believed he was doing the right thing, then.’

‘Then you’re really going to retire him?’

‘In the absence of any findings on your part to disprove the theory that Colonel O’Neill was acting under an alien influence, I have no choice.’ I hated putting her on the spot. I knew she’d worked hard, put in overtime, to try and find a solution to all this. And I felt as guilty as hell because there was no solution to find.

‘I’ll keep looking, sir. I have some other avenues to explore. Could you just keep the Colonel confined? Let me complete more tests?’

‘I’m sorry, Doctor, but the Tollans are valuable allies. The President himself has insisted that I sort this out as quickly as possible. I had a hell of a job persuading him that the Colonel be allowed to take early retirement, rather than face a court martial.’

‘But I can carry on looking, sir? I have blood samples that I can continue to analyse . . . ‘

It occurred to me that if Janet Fraiser, who wasn’t even a member of Jack’s team, was this hard to convince what was it going to be like with those who actually *were* members of SG-1?

‘You do that, Doctor. And be sure to keep me up to date. I want to know the second you find anything.’

‘Yes, sir.’

And she left. Leaving behind a thick folder of reports on scans and blood work that had been completed in double quick time. Anything to try and prove that Jack O’Neill hadn’t done voluntarily what he’d freely admitted to doing.

And all the time the rumours were spreading.

Travell and I had a meeting with SG-1 in the Briefing Room where she took back the stolen device, and thanked me for the measures I had taken.

‘I am content that Colonel O’Neill acted alone,’ she said, looking in turn at the members of SG-1. ‘His reaction as he passed me outside your office, General, and the demeanours of the other members of his team, convince me that that is the case.’

‘Counsellor I can only apologise, again, for the conduct of Colonel O’Neill.’

‘I am pleased that he is to be punished. I can only feel upset that a man who was such an asset to your cause should be brought down in this way. I hope that you can understand our reluctance to share our technology with you, particularly in the light of this latest incident?’

‘Indeed. Although I hope that we can work to win back your trust Counsellor, so that you may be able to reconsider your position in the future.’ I paused. ‘In the meantime . . . ’

‘Yes, General?’

‘You can see that the device is sent back to Tollana, and then I’d be honoured if you and your aide would remain here as our guests. So that we can show you something of the way we work, and of our continuing good faith. Despite the actions of one man.’

She tilted her head to one side, as if to consider my offer, as if she hadn’t known all along that I was going to make it.

‘That is a very gracious offer, General. Thank you. I would be honoured to accept.’

Throughout our entire exchange SG-1 had sat silently. I wondered if they were thinking about their now former CO sitting in a Holding Cell three floors down from here, his career effectively finished and confined to the garbage truck?

Carter wore something of the pinched disbelieving look she’d had when Jack launched into his “find technologies with which to defend ourselves” tirade previously, on their return from the mission. She had quite obviously wanted to support her CO in some way, whilst disagreeing completely with what he’d done. It had been another illustration to me of how far Jack would have to go to alienate these people.

Now, however, she looked even more devastated, if that were possible. And I’d heard that she and the Colonel had had an altercation when he was on his way up to my office. I needed to have words with the Major as soon as I could.

Daniel Jackson was looking as stunned as I’d expected. He kept fiddling with a pen as if he didn’t quite know what to do with himself. I wished he’d stop it, because that sort of mannerism just reminded me too much of the Colonel.

Teal’c sat just being Teal’c. He generally tended to keep his thoughts to himself and I couldn’t read anything into his facial expression. His hands were resting on the table, fingers interlaced together. His eyes were focussed on them with quiet calm. There was that quality about Teal’c that reminded me of the great monoliths at Stonehenge. Keeping his own secrets. Divulging very little. Yet you knew he’d seen much.

‘Right,’ I said, ending this sad little gathering. ‘Doctor Jackson, I’d appreciate it if you could arrange for the Counsellor to return the device to Tollana, and then organise for her to be our guest here for the next week or so.’

He looked grateful for something to do, and Travell and her aide left in his wake.

‘Teal’c I’d like to speak to you at some stage about Colonel O’Neill’s conduct during his visit to the Infirmary. I need to compile as full a report about this incident for the President, as I can. And I’d like to get it done as soon as possible.’

He inclined his head in that stately manner he had. And then left.

Major Carter sat and waited to be dismissed.

‘Major . . . ‘ She raised haunted eyes to mine.

‘I don’t understand, sir.’

‘Understand?’

‘Why he did it.’

There was a desperate searching look in her eyes.

‘I suppose he had his reasons, Major. None of which can concern us now. SG-1 will have to move on. Get over this. I know it won’t be easy, but I need you to lead by example.’

She looked at me, as if I’d suggested she paint her face purple, dye her hair blue, and then walk around the SGC.

‘Sir! Colonel O’Neill . . . ‘

‘Major, I have to be blunt here. Until I am told differently, Colonel O’Neill acted in a way that was completely out of line with SGC policy, and did it totally of his own volition. He broke the rules, Major, and he’s lucky he’s not on his way to Leavenworth right now. Especially in the light of some of the Colonel's previous escapades, which I won't discuss. The powers that be have mighty long memories, Major, as well as short tolerance for indiscretions of this magnitude. I managed to persuade the President to let him retire quietly, as the best way out of all this for everybody. *Including* Colonel O’Neill.’

She looked unconvinced. Then said quietly, ‘He said I’d never known him. That since he met me, he’d been acting. That this . . . this . . . person was the real Colonel O’Neill.’ She shook her head. ‘I’d just not realised he could be that good an actor, sir.’

No, well, Major, I’d not realised he could be that good an actor, either. His simple withdrawn smile as he’d read that thought in my eyes before he left for Tollana came back into my mind. I guessed we were both learning.

‘He served in Special Forces, Major. For a long time. They teach a lot of skills that even those who learn them don’t really want to learn. Camouflage skills. And you have to be able to sustain them for long periods of time. I suppose that’s what he’s been doing.’ I offered a silent apology, to Jack, and to the Major. And felt sullied by my own words.

‘It’s just . . . he was so cold. Not like the Colonel O’Neill I thought I knew.’ She looked at me with those haunted eyes, and I could only hope that what Jack and I had been forced to do hadn’t broken SG-1 beyond repair. That when Jack returned, and I refused to think of any other outcome, he’d be able to salvage what he’d had before.

It would be hard, because trust once lost is not easy to regain. And somehow, I knew, they’d be constantly looking for the signs that he was acting, playing a role with them. They would probably be doing the same with me, too. For a long time to come.

Yee Gods, the whole thing was a mess. And indeed, it seemed Scott was right. It is ‘a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive.’

‘All that time, he was just putting on a front.’ It was as if she couldn’t let the body go. Had to keep picking away at the carcass.

‘Well probably not entirely, Major. Just as regards his opinions about Earth’s defences and how we should protect ourselves against probable invasion. I’m certain his opinions of you, and Doctor Jackson, and Teal’c were untouched by that.’ I had to start saying that sort of thing. Build some bridges before everything fell into the sea, and Jack came back to stand on an island all by himself. But she still looked unconvinced.

‘Are we allowed to see him, sir?’

‘No, Major. In a few days maybe. But I’d rather SG-1 kept their distance from the Colonel at the moment. I don’t want anyone thinking that you’re in sympathy with him. Or, worse, in league with him.’

‘No, sir.’

‘And, Major?’

‘Yes, sir?’

‘So far your conduct has been exactly what I’d expect.’

‘Sir?’

‘You couldn’t have stopped him taking the device, could you?’

She paused, and I could see her replaying the scene. Going over it time and again. Finally, ‘No, sir. I don’t think I could. None of us knew what he was going to do. It took us all by surprise. Do you think he thought you’d support him, sir?’

‘I’ve no idea what he was thinking. If he thought he could push me into a corner, Major, then he’s certainly found out the hard way that that is not going to happen.’ I paused, ‘Maybe I let him get away with things for too long.’ She moved her head in a questioning gesture. ‘Merrin, for a start. He possibly began to believe I’d back him up over anything he did.’

‘I see, sir.’

I was digging a big pit for myself, too, here. And I was starting to see that I might be joining Jack on that desert island. Once you started with the fabrications it was not easy to see where to stop. And I had started to get a sneaking feeling that Jack was better at this sort of thing than I was.

‘I suggest you write up your report, Major, and then take yourself home.’

‘The Colonel?’

‘Unless Doctor Fraiser comes up with a last minute reprieve, which I know we’re all hoping for, then Colonel O’Neill will be escorted off the base once I’ve completed all the necessary paperwork.’

She left. A ghost of her normal self.

And I interviewed Doctor Jackson about the events on Tollana. Then Teal’c. And advised them both to stay away from Colonel O’Neill, at least for a few days, until some of the dust had settled. Then I wrote up everything. And filled out the retirement papers. And signed them.

I then delivered the papers in person, and he played the part to perfection. He was sitting on the bed just gazing at four blank, grey walls, when I arrived, but he shrugged himself upright, shoved his hands in his pockets and waited for me to hand him the papers. I paused, to emphasise my reluctance to the SFs standing at my shoulders, then held them out. He glanced through them, briefly, and gave a deliberately supercilious laugh, as he tucked them away in his jacket, and raised a mocking eyebrow. I knew the SFs were watching keenly. Knew we had to get this right. Held out my hand.

‘I’m sorry it should end like this, Colonel.’

He shrugged. ‘I’ll be proved right, General. In the long run you’ll wish you’d gone along with me.’

‘I don’t think so, Colonel. Our allies are very important to us. We do not just *take* what’s theirs and decide to make it ours.’

He shrugged again. ‘Well, I guess on that point, then, we’ll have to beg to differ, sir.’

And he took my hand.

‘Good luck, Jack.’ I waited a moment. ‘If you ever need a favour, don’t hesitate to ask.’

‘Thank you, sir.’

And then he was gone. Walking stiffly between the two SFs through the corridors of the SGC where anyone who had half a mind to could stand and watch. And many did. I’m told he kept his eyes firmly in the middle of the back of the SF in front of him, and looked neither left, nor right. He handed in his security pass, and his ID, and was then escorted to his truck.

In the course of less than twenty four hours things at the SGC had acquired a whole new perspective, and I could only hope that we’d done enough to convince anyone we had to that Jack’s charade was for real. Otherwise we’d wasted all our efforts, and I’d have to go to Doc Fraiser, and explain what had been going on, and tell her that her job was to report she’d discovered Colonel O’Neill had indeed been suffering from an alien infection after all.

Either that or he’d end up with a bullet in the back of his head as a warning to us for being so presumptuous as to believe we could get away with it; and our whole structure of cosmic alliances would be flattened like a house of cards in a tornado.

I wasn’t a praying man.

I prayed that night.

And for many nights after that.

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

Part 5

Then nothing happened. A spectacularly big nothing. And yet I was on tenterhooks all the time. Waiting. As any Texas oilman waits whilst the bore sinks into the earth, hoping to strike oil, but not certain if the drill is placed correctly.

So I held my breath through each day, because every moment was one that could potentially see a flood of black gold, but all I could do was wait. And hope. And pray.

And if I found it teeth grindingly frustrating, and heart stretchingly tense, goodness knows how Jack found it. I at least had a command to run. Mission briefings, and debriefings, to attend. Reports to write, and reports to read. Corridors to walk down, and servicemen to speak with. Grand-daughters to watch over in the evenings. Even if they were more perceptive than my officers, or just too darn unintimidated by grandpa to be afraid to ask him why he didn’t seem himself. Little minxes.

Tessa’s wide eyes looked at me with concern, as she asked, ‘Why are you unhappy, grandpa?’ Kayla stood quietly, watching. Knowing that all wasn’t well, but happy to let her sister take the lead in the investigation.

They were playing some game with their dolls’ houses, which seemed to need a great deal of imagination in order to keep up with family infrastructures, and which dolls lived in which houses, and with whom. I’d given up trying to unravel it all some time earlier in the evening, although it all appeared to make perfect sense to their young minds, so who was an approaching retirement two star general to interfere? I just read my paper and watched when things got heated, such as when Mary Doll left Mark Doll in a decided huff, after a conversation about whether he would drive her to the shops in the Dollmobile. The upshot seemed to be that Mary Doll moved from Tessa’s house into Kayla’s house. But it was all a touch beyond me.

I had fond memories of a catapult, and a home made racing cart, and tree climbing. And there were days when I wished I’d had a son. Or a grandson.

And that tenuous train of thought led me on to Jack O’Neill, who hadn’t been far from my mind over the last two days in any case.

And I guess I was thinking about his son, and Jack’s loss, and how he’d coped, or something of that order, probably staring vacantly into space, when Tessa broke in with her question.

‘Someone I know is in trouble,’ I answered, carefully. Their mother and I had worked hard to divorce grandpa from his job.

‘Oh.’ She seemed to wait for me to continue, and when I didn’t she asked, ‘Is it bad trouble?’

‘Yes, honey, I’m afraid it is.’

‘Can you help them?’

‘No. I’m afraid I can’t.’

‘Oh.’ She paused to consider this. ‘Is that why you’re sad?’

‘I suppose so, yes, Tessa love, that’s why I’m sad.’

‘Do they have anyone else to help them?’

‘No . . . no, they don’t.’

‘Oh.’ She paused again. ‘So they’re all on their own?’

‘Yes. Yes, they are.’

‘That’s sad.’

She paused with the flickering attention span of any nine year old to consider the tragedy of my friend, and then went back to playing doll families with her sister. And I wished it was that easy. But I could at least be diverted. Jack was having to sit and wait. Alone. Divorced from any back up.

The Asgard had insisted on a tracking device. But one that would simply be able to trail Jack from planet to planet, and tell them where he was. Anything else was very tricky, as they were unsure who the traitors were, who they were in league with, and exactly what technology was involved. A minute by minute trace on Jack was deemed too risky. If it malfunctioned it was likely to reveal its presence, and therefore Jack’s duplicity.

And Jack had surprised me by not wanting something like that in place either.

‘Its a role, sir. I have to play it properly, or not at all.’ His dulled eyes had found mine across the Asgard table. ‘Either I believe it’s real, and play things accordingly, or I feel it doesn’t matter because the Asgard will pull me out at the first sign of trouble. Perhaps without finding out all we need to know. If I feel it doesn’t matter I can’t do what I have to do. Can’t be as convincing as I need to be. If it doesn’t work first time, with me, then the chances of a second shot are almost nil, sir. They’ll go underground. Be so suspicious in the future it’ll be like trying to find the proverbial needle in the haystack.’

So, if anyone got in touch, he was pretty much on his own.

‘Grandpa?’

I looked up again in surprise. I was thinking too much here. The pair could have been doing anything whilst I wasn’t paying attention. Some babysitter I was tonight.

‘Yes, Tessa?’

‘Could we ask them over for a barbeque?’

‘Who?’

‘Your sad friend.’

Oh, bless the child.

‘That’s a lovely thought. But I’m afraid . . . not right now. They . . . wouldn’t come.’

‘Oh.’ I could see she was puzzled by the incomprehensible world of adults, which meant that, when you were sad, you didn’t accept offers to a barbeque with your friends. But she bit her lip in confusion, saw that grandpa really didn’t want to discuss it, and so eventually went back to her game.

When all this was over, I promised silently. When all this was over, I’d invite Jack over, and the rest of his team, to meet Tessa and Kayla. And my daughter.

When all this was over.

Hell, it was hardly started.

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

The week dragged on. And still nothing. I could feel the tension knotting at the back of my neck. Had to make a draining effort to maintain my normal routine, and behaviour. And all the time, no matter what I was doing, I wondered whether today would be the day that, somehow, Jack got word to us. A week was a short time. We were prepared for a much longer wait. Whoever was behind this had to get to hear about Jack’s outbursts, his criminal behaviour, and his forced retirement. They would have to make checks. Probably plant bugs. Observe. Scrutinise. Ensure that he was for real. That they weren’t making a mistake.

And Jack was having to persuade them by doing nothing that could appear suspicious. I wondered how he’d been occupying himself. Sitting at home, waiting, was not customary Jack O’Neill behaviour. This had to be driving him nuts.

Something disturbing did happen though, a few days after Jack left. Doctor Jackson came to see me, and stood in my doorway, and shuffled his feet and looked uncomfortable.

‘Doctor? Is there something I can help you with?’ Thinking that I knew pretty well what he was going to say

‘May I go and visit Jack?’ If he hadn’t said that I’d have eaten my dress uniform.

I looked at him, and he carried on in a flurry, ‘Sam feels . . . uncomfortable about going. Because of the military thing, I think, and reminding Jack. And because you said about her not getting too close. And Jack being in . . . disgrace. And Teal’c . . . obviously . . . ummm . . . can’t go wandering about Colorado Springs . . . so . . . we . . . ‘ he tailed off, and just stood there.

‘This is a request from all of SG-1?’

He looked over his shoulder, as if he half expected the others to be standing there supporting him. ‘Ummm . . . yes.’

They weren’t giving up easily. Jack had been right. Talk about Daniel into the lion’s den.

‘And you drew the short straw?’

‘Yeah, kinda.’ So, not giving up, but not entirely happy about visiting, either. ‘We just . . . want to know he’s okay. Doctor Fraiser says that she couldn’t find anything to show why he acted like he did. But that doesn’t mean he’s not . . . sick.’ Daniel shrugged. ‘One visit. Just to check. And see how things are.’

Well, Jack had known it was going to happen. So I hoped he was prepared.

‘Of course. Just let me know how it turns out? The President is still keeping a close eye on the situation here. I need to report anything I can about what’s been going on.’

He nodded and left. He left the base an hour later.

And didn’t come back for hours. Way beyond the time limit for a trip into Colorado Springs to visit an old friend. Carter and Teal’c were concerned to the point that Carter came to me and asked if I could contact the Colonel to see if Daniel had made it that far. They’d tried Jackson’s cell phone, but it appeared to be turned off.

Reluctantly, I agreed.

‘Jack?’ The first word we’d spoken since he left the base.

‘Sir?’ His tone was terse. I supposed I couldn’t expect anything less.

‘There’s some concern here on the base for Doctor Jackson. He left some while ago to pay you a visit. And he hasn’t gotten back yet.’

‘Well he’s not here. He left hours ago.’ Short and to the point.

‘Did he say where he might be going?’

‘Nope.’

Talk about getting blood out of a stone. I could only suppose that the meeting had gone about as well as I’d supposed it probably would.

‘How did he seem when he left you, then?’

‘General, why don’t you come straight out and ask me? Did Daniel and I have words? Yes we did. Was Daniel a happy bunny when he left here? No he wasn’t. Is that his fault? Yes, it is. He should know better than to come around asking touchy feely questions he knows I’m not going to answer.’

Right.

‘He was trying to see if he could help, Jack. He and the others were concerned about you.’

‘Well I suspect I’ve cured him of that. Anything else, sir?’

‘No, I don’t think so.’

‘Okay, then.’

I paused. Despite the fact that this was all an act, something being played out for the benefit of an audience that might not actually exist, I needed to say something, anything, to let him know, to let him know . . . Hell I didn’t really know what. But somehow leaving everything in such a negative frame of mind just didn’t sit right with me.

‘Jack?’ I tried.

‘Yes?’

‘If there’s anything I can do . . . ‘

His tone softened, and for a fraction of a moment the Jack O’Neill I used to know glimmered through the Jack O’Neill he’d had to become, ‘I’ll let you know. Goodbye, sir.’

Then the connection was broken and I was left looking at a handset and feeling as bereft as a cattle baron whose prize steer had been up and rustled in the night, with no sign of those responsible.

*********

Doctor Jackson sloped back in late into the evening. Tired. Withdrawn. Simmering with anger. Curt. Uncommunicative. And generally wearing a sign around his neck that said ‘Don’t Talk To Me About It.’

So we didn’t. At least I didn't. Until the next day, when I had to prise the whole shattering conversation out of him. Down to the last poisonous sentence.

And felt sick.

I remembered my conversation with Colonel O’Neill aboard the Asgard ship. My curious and slightly naïve, ‘Can you do it, Jack?’ And his cold response, ‘Push them away? Oh, yes, sir.’ And I remembered shivering at the look in his eyes and the distance he had started to put between us even then. I looked at Daniel Jackson, and wondered if Jack had sat and considered how much damage he was doing.

And I realised that of course he had. And had had to do it that way.

‘I guess I never really knew him. Not really. Guess he just tolerated me.’ The words were flat. Daniel’s eyes were flat. His body language was flat. It was as if someone had taken his bubble of life and deflated it. Someone? Jack O’Neill. The man who was supposedly Doctor Jackson’s best friend. ‘All that time,’ he continued. ‘And I never suspected.’

There had always been something of the little boy lost about Doctor Jackson. Something that meant I, at times, had a paternal reaction to him, wanting to protect his childlike innocence from the cruelty to be found in life, in the outside world, and throughout the universe.

And there were times he played the spoilt child, and I wanted to send him to bed without any supper. And I knew Jack felt the same way. Only more so.

Today, I couldn't look at the hurt emanating from him and not feel guilty for my part in all this farce. Albeit second hand guilt. What I wanted to tell him was to have faith in his friend, to be patient, to remember who he was dealing with, and everything they had been through together. To not to let the events of a few days ride rough shod over the past three years, and the patient fashioning of a friendship between two people, with such different outlooks it was sometimes a marvel to me that they appeared to like each other’s company as much as they did.

I wanted to remind him he was an archaeologist and that he needed to dig beneath the surface to find the truth, carefully clean off the dirt, to find the true treasure of friendship he sought.

That's what I wanted to tell him, but I couldn't.

I sat there pushing a file around on my desk, praying for inspiration.

'Doctor Jackson, I'm sorry.' At least that much was sincere. 'All I can say is to keep busy. Focus on the job we've got to do here. You are needed here, son. You're an important part of this programme. Colonel O'Neill is gone, now, and it falls to the rest of us to carry on.' Which was all true, as far as it went. So why did I feel I’d sunk so low I would need a mighty long ladder to climb out of the cesspit?

His expression didn't change. He’d been studying at the Jack O'Neill school of deadpan. ‘It doesn’t matter, really, General. I misjudged him. That’s all. I thought Jack was a better man than the one he proved himself to be on Tollana, that’s all.’

He is, Daniel. He is.

‘I thought he had morals, and scruples, and wasn’t just a military . . . ‘ he paused as if he suddenly realised who he was talking to. Then decided what the heck, and carried on anyway, ‘ . . . a military machine.’

Ouch.

‘I thought I’d made a difference to him. He taught *me*. Insisted *I* learn. *His* stuff. *His* lessons. How to fire a gun. Endless survival techniques. All that hard ass military training stuff. And I thought I’d taught him something in return. About the values behind what *I* did. Something about appreciating other cultures, and making friends with other races.’

He shook his head miserably, almost as if I wasn’t there. ‘I thought I’d made him realise a little about what this project was all about for me. About how privileged I felt to be learning about all the people we met, and the places we visited. Not so as he’d go and sit down and read a textbook or anything, but just enough for him to value what I did, and what I found important.’ He blinked as if suddenly realising he wasn’t alone. ‘I thought friends did that, you know? Helped each other. Accepted each other.’

He kicked the leg of my desk in an action that was so reminiscent of Jack kicking the wall under the window on the Asgard ship that I wanted to order him to stop. ‘He helped me grow inside, General. I’m more confident in myself because of all the things Jack taught me. And I thought I’d helped him grow, too.’

There was a long pause. ‘Seems I was wrong. And I couldn’t see . . . I couldn’t see that all he was, underneath everything, was a sneak thief. A dirty grasping thief. A bully boy thief.’

‘Bully boy?&#