What Choice Now

by Celeste

Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. I have written this story for entertainment purposes only and no money whatsoever has exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author(s).

~oo0oo~

O'Neill stood gazing down at Earth from the Asgard ship O'Neill II. He had seen this sight before but it still had the power to enthrall him. God, Earth was beautiful. It shone bright like a blue shining beacon in the silky velvet black of space, clusters of diamonds surrounding it. He felt a sense of pride that this was his home world - but the feeling was bittersweet.

His innards were coiled as tight as a spring, his heart thudding so that in the quietness of the O'Neill II, he was sure it would be heard - if there had been anyone to listen. He no longer felt certain about his place on that world laid out at his feet. Before, he knew that down there was his home, his job, his friends and colleagues. He didn't know that now.

There had been no time to assimilate the changes to his life, to work out what he wanted to do, before Thor had arrived to spirit him and Carter away in a flash of light.

The memory of his return from K'Larsia's planet was now seared into his mind. He did not understand the change. He had been so wound up when Lya had helped him home after his escape from K'Larsia's palace and his personal mission had overwhelmed everything else.

He remembered snatches of conversation with Hammond, Daniel and his sheer relief when Sam had woken from her coma. He also remembered how grateful he had felt when she had put her trust in him and agreed to do things on his terms - so pathetically grateful.

He grimaced, his forehead creased in a deep frown. Sam. He didn't know what he felt about Sam. Well, he did. He loved her. That had not changed, but time had not helped him sort through his confusion. If anything, it had made it worse. He didn't feel grateful anymore, he knew that much. That gratitude had died when he woke up and looked at the small sliver of metal that the Asgard medical technician had presented to him in a box. Njord. That was it. The Asgard's name was Njord.

The tiny box now lived in his jacket pocket. He didn't know why. He had considered destroying it, perhaps grinding it under his heel, but instead he had taken it carefully, closed the box and slipped it in his pocket.

Carter had not come to Othalla with him. Thor had been able to use the O'Neill II's medical facility to remove the chip behind Carter's ear with ease. His had been more deeply embedded and Thor had decided greater expertise was required than that which he could provide. So only O'Neill had gone to the Asgard home world.

Their goodbye had been brief. Thor did not waste time. The Asgard were still immersed in battle with the replicators and it was a measure of their esteem for O'Neill, mixed with gratitude that he had resolved the K'Larsia problem on his own, that had prompted an immediate response to his request for help.

So, his time at the SGC had been a blur: a delighted but strained welcome by Hammond in the embarkation room; an examination by Doctor Fraiser; a meal and sleep in his old quarters. He had woken up to see Thor gazing down at him with his wide, blinking eyes.

His friend had looked surprisingly concerned. It was difficult to see any variety of expression in the face of an Asgard, but O'Neill was learning and the look in Thor's eyes had been a measure of respect mixed with pity. He did not want pity: Thor's; Carter's; or anyone else's at the SGC. Pity told him that he was missing something, something important.

Pity told him that he was less than he should be.

He stared out at the sparkling blue orb before him. A thought snagged him and his head jerked round. The room was still empty. He frowned. This was unlike Thor. He would have expected to be back on Earth by now.

"Thor?" he called softly.

He knew that the Asgard always seemed to know when he was wanted. True to form, the little alien appeared in a flash of white light.

"What ya doing?" O'Neill asked him. "We've been here at least five minutes now. I thought you wanted to get back quickly."

"We have received a communication from Earth, O'Neill."

Jack let his surprise show on his face.

"You have? What is it?"

"It had been encrypted and I needed to determine the encryption protocol. The message has been repeating itself and is in fact still being received. Initially I did not understand why Earth would not use the communications device we gave General Hammond, but having translated the message the reason is clear."

Thor stopped and O'Neill felt an inexplicable urge to throttle the information out of him.

"And?" he prompted, his eyebrows both raised high.

"It appears that your President wishes you to be "beamed" directly to his Oval Office at the White House. We have been requested not to alert the SGC to your presence. From this I surmise that the SGC are not aware of this contact with us."

"Wow!" Jack's simple reply echoed his complete loss as to why President Davis would approach him in this way. "Did you reply?"

"I was not sure what you would wish me do, O'Neill."

Jack nodded. Of course, Thor would check with him first. He knew where Thor's loyalties lay and the President was way down the list beneath him.

He pondered the message. The last time he had seen President Davis, the man had ordered Carter to hand him over to that alien witch. Did he want to apologize? What now?

Technically, there was no question. He was still a Colonel in the USAF and Davis was his Commander-in-Chief. He should follow the order. The President would surely know he was not going to be in the friendliest of moods. In fact, he wouldn't mind putting Davis straight on a few things.

Somehow playing the perfect officer routine was very unappealing right now. His career was shot to pieces anyway. Curiosity also bubbled away behind his thoughts. Why wasn't the SGC to know he was back?

"Beam me to the Oval Office, Thor."

"Are you certain that is wise, O'Neill? I am not convinced that the intentions of your government are always in your best interests."

Jack looked at the Asgard Supreme Commander in surprise.

"They're not, Thor, but they are usually in the best interests of Earth. He probably wants to thank me personally."

Thor looked as unconvinced by this as the Colonel was. However, the alien bowed his head.

"It is as you wish, O'Neill. Good luck."

O'Neill grinned at Thor's growing command of Earth colloquiums.

"Thanks, Thor, for everything."

Again the little Asgard bowed his head before disappearing in a flash of light. O'Neill had just time to snatch a last regretful glance at Earth before edges of white caught his eyes and he found himself facing an empty desk in the Oval Office. He spun round on his heel.

The office was empty. It was definitely the right room though. He had been there a couple of times before.

He moved across to the window and looked across the green park to Capitol Hill. He snorted, wondering how long it would take for the President's Secret Service to realize they had an intruder in this most private sanctum.

He nearly laughed outright, imagining how infuriating it must be to know that there were aliens with the technology to easily breach Earth's security. The Asgard, the Goa'uld with their ring transports and K'Larsia, thankfully now deceased. Fortunately it was not his concern, although he hoped the President had forewarned them that he would be dropping by.

Voices approached from outside and he turned, his hands sunk deep into his trouser pockets, to watch the impending performance. Briefly, he wondered if his BDUs were the most appropriate garb for a visit to the White House.

It was the President who entered first, followed by his Chief of Staff. O'Neill lounged casually, unwilling to jump to the attention of anyone. It took a few seconds for his Commander-in-Chief to spot him and when he did Jack took a grim satisfaction in seeing him jump. The Secret Service agent following behind was on him like a shot, his service gun pointed unwaveringly at his heart.

The Colonel stayed relaxed; he had been invited after all.

~oo0oo~

The President put up his hand in a restraining gesture.

"It's alright. I've been expecting this man," he informed the agent. "Lower your weapon."

"Sir?" the agent responded, clearly unhappy about doing so. He had already rattled security codes into his radio and there were the sounds of approaching footsteps.

"Let no one else in this room," the President ordered, growing angry. "I invited this man here and it is imperative that as few people as possible know he was here."

The agent lowered his weapon, still keeping a wary eye on O'Neill who was calmly rocking on his heels, his expression one of sardonic amusement at the predicted pantomime being played out before him. The agent caught the door before it could fully open and conveyed the President's order in a few words. There was some discussion.

"Leave us. Remember: this man's presence here is classified President's Eyes Only," Davis ordered curtly. He was beginning to feel a subtle pressure from O'Neill's relaxed demeanor. He had not expected this interview to be easy and seeing O'Neill's complete lack of respect, respect that he had come to expect as his right from the military, he knew he had been right.

He quelled his Chief of Staff's expected protest with one focused glance.

Stephen Manning nodded and backed out. There was silence. O'Neill continued to gaze at him calmly and President Davis suddenly felt very aware that he was probably at the mercy of this man. He knew O'Neill's file backward and the bitter taste of what he had conspired in to O'Neill's detriment was still very strong in his mouth. He pondered how to open the conversation and then moved towards the drink cabinet.

"Can I offer you a drink, Colonel?" he offered, his hand hovering over the whisky. O'Neill shook his head.

"I'd prefer a beer," he replied, his voice cold and emotionless. There was not a hint of what he was thinking on his face. Davis decided then that O'Neill was probably the most dangerous man he was ever likely to get this close to.

In fact, Colonel O'Neill was just what he needed. You would never know to look at him now that this man had been on his knees, begging his former second in command's help before giving in to her demands that he leave willingly with the most evil creature Davis had ever encountered.

Something of what he was thinking must have shown in his face because O'Neill's eyes narrowed.

"You were getting me a beer?"

Davis started. He opened a refrigerator and drew out a beer, took an opener and flipped off the lid. O'Neill wandered over and took it from him.

"Please, sit down, Colonel."

Shrugging, Jack sat down in the offered sofa, crossing his legs at his ankles. With his beer in hand, he leaned back.

Davis smiled to himself as he sat down. The man had sheer nerve. He had never seen anyone relax like that in his office, except perhaps after a long night's session with empty cups and pizza boxes scattered about.

"So?" O'Neill asked, before taking a swig of his beer. A look of intense pleasure suddenly crossed the Colonel's face and Davis knew intuitively that this was O'Neill's first beer in over six years.

"Hasn't lost its taste then?" he asked using the moment to broach the dreaded subject, pleased to note O'Neill's surprise at this perceptiveness.

"Nope. And thanks," he offered, gesturing to the beer seemingly to ensure the President did not mistake the reason for his appreciation.

"No problem. Must seem a long time."

"Too long." Now O'Neill's reply was curt and his eyes flashed anger.

"I understand you have been fully briefed on the reasons we agreed to K'Larsia's terms."

O'Neill's finger agitatedly tapped against the bottle in his hand. "You think what you did was right?"

Davis could not help himself and flinched at the dangerous note hidden in O'Neill's voice. "Colonel, I don't know what we could have done differently. When I heard you had destroyed K'Larsia and her world I jumped up and down in this very office. I've made arrangements to right some of the wrongs done you. I know it won't ever be enough or that material things will mean much against the damage caused but there it is."

O'Neill was silent, only the rigid line to his jaw indicating the depth of anger Davis knew the man must be feeling.

"I ordered and witnessed you be sold out to K'Larsia for the second time. I felt guilty then and I still do. I can offer you my apologies and you have them, but I also know that if I was you, I wouldn't be interested in apologies."

"Why am I here?" O'Neill bit out the question word by word, allowing cold fury to light his eyes up for one split second.

Davis shuddered, swallowing down the fear that spiraled up his throat. He took a deep breath, recognizing that the Colonel might never forgive him. He could only take comfort in his belief that the man would not kill him for it. It was not in the man's psyche to kill without just cause, whatever his personal feelings.

"I need your help," he answered simply.

O'Neill shook his head at him in disbelief and barked a short, humorless laugh.

"My help? Are you nuts? Don't you think I've done enough for my country? God, I don't even know what I want to do with my life right now. Where to go even? I can't... "

O'Neill's ranting stopped as he took in the pictures that Davis had calmly removed from the folder beside him and hadstarted to lay on the coffee table between them. Davis looked up and caught O'Neill's wince. The President studied the horrific footage; a young Lieutenant slowly dissolving into the shape and face of an alien being, race unknown.

O'Neill looked shaken. "I know that man, a lieutenant in SG-7."

"Yes. The day we gave you back to K'Larsia, SG-7 returned from a mission. They ran into some difficulty, had some problems. There were injuries but none serious. We, as in General Rowney and I, believe that it was on that mission that SG-7 were infiltrated. Aliens came to Earth through the Stargate with the ability to replicate human form, passing all the required medical exams. There was not a hint of a problem. Until a freak car accident resulted in the death of Lieutenant Horness here. Twenty-four hours later, his body began to decompose mysteriously. The lieutenant was at the Academy Hospital and a security blanket was immediately put in place. As the body continued to decompose, these photos were taken. The SGC were caught up with your return with Lya and I ordered General Rowney to handle the investigation personally. Initially it was to take the pressure off General Hammond, given the situation with K'Larsia. We then realized that we had been very lucky to have kept the SGC out of the picture."

"You didn't think General Hammond had a right to know that a supposed member of his command was an alien masquerading as a human?" O'Neill asked incredulously. He picked up the final picture, studying the dead alien with distaste.

"Of course we did, until the initial investigations produced the results of a search of Lieutenant Horness's residence. Alien technology was found providing the means to inject a drug, including a case of one-hundred-and-seventy-two vials of the drug."

O'Neill was frowning now, not trying to hide his concern or interest.

"And?" he prompted impatiently.

"DNA tests on the used vials have proven that there are at least two more of these aliens at the SGC. We even know who they are. One is from SG-9. The other is a medical nurse who examined SG-7 and has never been off world."

O'Neill whistled. The President was impressed. The Colonel had put aside his earlier attitude and was totally involved in the problem that lay before him. He quickly made the jump to the crux of the problem.

"So you don't know if there are any more of these aliens in the SGC, nor who they are?"

Davis shook his head.

"It could be anyone from General Hammond down to the cleaning staff."

"What about the two you identified?"

"They're still working at the SGC. Once we realized the scale of the infiltration we decided that taking out the two we knew about would alert any remaining aliens. Instead, we have placed them under surveillance to try to ascertain their motives. We have also discovered that the drug provides a vital component in human blood that does not exist in the fluids we extracted from the decomposed alien here. The theory is that the drug needs to be taken by the aliens to maintain their chosen human form. Tests show that the drugs are unlikely to last more thanseventy-two hours."

~oo0oo~

There was a discreet knock on the door before it opened and General Rowney stepped into the office. Distracted as he was, O'Neill was unable to defy his training and snapped to attention. The Chief of the USAF approached him, an expression of approval on his face.

"At ease, Colonel O'Neill."

Jack relaxed, feeling a little sheepish given his attitude so far to his Commander-in-Chief. The four-star General offered his hand and, somewhat bemused, O'Neill returned the gesture. They shook hands.

"It's good to see you back safe and sound, Colonel," Rowney started after a polite nod to the President.

O'Neill knew from the exchanged glances between the two men that this meeting with him had been discussed previously. He felt the start of a headache invade the bridge between his eyes. The certainty that he was being set up could not be ignored anymore.

"You want me to sort this out, don't you?" he accused them, feeling a sense of satisfaction when General Rowney started at his aggression.

The President seemed unmoved, having already taken on board and ignored O'Neill's insubordination so far. For a moment, Jack thought his superior was going to haul him up on it, and if he had O'Neill would have blown at them. To his immense surprise and, strangely, chagrin, the USAF Chief let it go.

"Yes, Colonel O'Neill. We believe you're the only person capable of doing so for several reasons."

O'Neill shook his head. They had to be insane. He felt so unstable right now; he wasn't sure whether to retire, where to go, how to even begin talking to the people he cared about.

His thoughts were taken over by an image of Sam, the woman he loved. When he looked up at the President and Rowney his eyes were hard and cold. He could see the pictures on the table out of the corner of his eye.

"How do you know I'm not one of them?" he asked, more as a distraction than real interest as he ran options and scenarios through his mind. He already knew the answer. He really wanted to know if the General and President had thought it through properly.

"Given your recent situation it is unlikely that the aliens could have compromised you. More importantly, the Asgard have just returned you directly here. It is our belief that if you were not Colonel O'Neill, the Asgard would have discovered this by now."

Jack agreed with his assessment.

"You want me to contain the SGC, every member, and wait it out, without letting the aliens suspect they are the real target."

Both Davis and Rowney looked shocked. O'Neill suspected it had taken them days to work the operation out.

"Why exactly am I right for this job?" he drawled.

Davis gestured they all sit down. Once they were settled again, O'Neill deliberately picked up his beer and swallowed some. He detected a hint of a smile on Rowney's lips. Damn. If they weren't going to let him rattle them, he might as well listen up. He chalked a point up to the General. They were both letting him know he had earned their leniency, which as far as he was concerned he had. The matter before them was too important for petty wrangling and O'Neill just knew his life and the lives of everyone at the SGC were on the line here.

Rowney began. "First, you're the only officer I know legitimately based at the SGC, with the skills and experience to, in effect, put the SGC forcibly into quarantine against its will. Your recent history provides you with a natural cover. Your experience at the hands of K'Larsia has affected you - you are angry and want revenge. You have something to prove to everyone who has seen you used and abused by your second-in-command supported by your former friends, colleagues and CO. They already know you are angry with them and they will be uncertain as to what your reaction will be on returning to Earth and the SGC. The aliens will know this as well and they will probably sit back to wait it out."

O'Neill nodded. It made sense.

"The alternative is to do a mass call up, swoop in and detain the SGC for three days. Not only will that increase the potential exposure of the SGC project, we also have no idea what these aliens are capable of or if we could contain them. They would be sure to suspect something and to take steps," the Air Force Chief concluded, his hands minutely conveying a sense of their predicament.

"How will you ensure the entire SGC will be there?"

"The President has ordered a ceremony to welcome you back. The entire SGC will be ordered to attend. Any members of the SGC who call in sick or are absent will be isolated, detained, and watched."

O'Neill scrubbed his hand through his hair. This was insane, he thought. Take on the entire Stargate Command and put it into quarantine.

"I'll be shot," he stated.

"Depends how you do it. No one will want to shoot you. They know what you have been through. If General Hammond believes he can talk you down, he will do his best to prevent the situation escalating into a bloodbath. You know how he operates better than I do. As long as he does not perceive you as a threat to Earth and you retain the upper hand, we believe you can pull this off. It's a waiting game we're after."

"And afterwards?"

"General Rowney will be waiting outside to confirm your undercover status and provide full back up. I will be at the end of the red line waiting for a call to confirm it too," the President answered him.

"Is this only after I identify the aliens?"

"Your call."

O'Neill nodded, grateful for that latitude, but he was still suspicious.

"You're placing a lot of confidence in someone who hasn't even gone through regulatory psyche evaluation following..." He stopped, unable to form the words.

General Rowney leaned forward, deliberately catching O'Neill's eye and holding it firmly. His voice was soft but rang with confidence.

"Colonel, you took on K'Larsia and won. You went back to her on your own terms, having laid out your own plan, and watched her die. Against all K'Larsia's technology, and millennia of experience, without a single weapon but your own intelligence and courage you did what no one else had done before. You rid the galaxy and others of this menace. Your file speaks for itself, Colonel. You may be insubordinate and a difficult officer to manage, turning down offers of promotion so you can stay in the field, but I'm very glad you're on our side."

O'Neill didn't want to hear it.

One part of him listened to what the General was saying and recognized the truth in his words. The other half of him simmered as he heard the past few years of his life reduced to words that would fit well into an annual performance review. He jumped up and began to pace about the room, his hands strangling the air before him, the action only serving to enrage him further, his rage finally boiling over.

"You handed me over to the enemy! You. . . youabandoned me to that. . . that thing! How could you do that?" he accused them.

General Rowney was on his feet. "Stand down, Colonel! That's an order!"

O'Neill struggled to comply, desperately tempted to ignore the command and blow his career to hell. He could resign. Go fishing!

Shit! He didn't even have his cabin anymore.

His voice rose, each word laced with deadly venom. "You destroyed everything that belonged to me. Photos of my son! My dead son!"

Rowney opened his mouth, but no words came out. He glanced helplessly at the President who merely shook his head. O'Neill realized they were going to let him rant on and without any admonishments to fuel him, his steam ran out and his voice dropped to deliver the stinging rebuke that screamed out inside him.

"You took my life. Everything I've done for this country, and trashed it. You complete and utter bastards."

He glared at them defiantly, uncaring if Rowney had him immediately packed off to Leavenworth. It was the truth and he had the right to say it. A tense silence sunk in and then dragged on.

Annoyed, O'Neill glanced down at the pictures on the table. Damn, he kept being pulled back to them, understanding the importance of what he was looking at. His mind shifted gears automatically, sifting through the logistics of the proposed operation, casting his mind back to similar missions, smaller, but still requiring that covert ability to act, distract, and provide a meaningful cover.

He knew the SGC backwards, knew its strengths, its weaknesses. . . better, he knew the people. The President was clearing his throat, dragging O'Neill's attention back to the still silent pair.

"I trashed your life, Colonel. It was my responsibility and, although I'm ashamed to admit that I know of no other course of action that I could have taken, I am truly sorry." The President spoke the words with a simplicity and honesty that reached O'Neill.

He looked down and studied his feet. The President of the US, his Commander-in-Chief, had apologized to him.

Was it enough?

He didn't know. Maybe.

It was too soon, he needed more time. Right now, his feelings were too raw. He needed this mission. It would force him to confront his feelings from behind a facade, sift out the wheat from the chaff.

He was under no illusion that it would be easy. Sam would be there. Daniel and Teal'c. He would have to hurt them if he was going to pull this off, but right now, they could be fighting alongside aliens, intentions unknown, presumed hostile. They had to get them all.

Rowney moved uneasily and O'Neill knew he needed to say something. To move on. To move them all on. He nodded,the gesture speaking for itself.

"Right, show me what else you have," he prompted.

Relieved, Davis and Rowney retook their seats and after a moment Jack joined them.

The meeting lasted a further two hours. O'Neill knew this was his only opportunity to have everything set up just the way he wanted it and he began to trust that the President and General intended to deliver on their promises.

They finished by discussing the possibility of further aliens existing beyond the SGC. There was little they could achieve on this point except O'Neill would gather as much intelligence on the aliens as he could. He would have to watch everyone carefully: reactions; symptoms; anything they might possibly use to detect aliens in the general population and military forces.

O'Neill stood up. They had covered all the bases and he needed to make his appearance at the SGC.

The President stopped him.

"Colonel O'Neill? There are a few personal issues we wanted to resolve with you before this mission."

Jack frowned, anxiety rising within him.

"Like?"

"Your possessions for starters. We can't replace everything, but we have managed to repossess your home and cabin. A new truck is waiting in the drive. Your furniture, clothes, medals and certificates have been replaced. I'm sorry that we couldn't replace some of the more personal possessions but I know Major Carter visited your ex-wife. She gave a cover story about a fire and explained you are recovering from a training accident. Your ex-wife allowed copies of photos of your son Charlie, to be made. I understand they have been left at your home."

The President placed a set of keys on the table. They included his house keys, even hanging on their old key ring.

O'Neill swallowed the lump that rose in his throat.

"That's good," he finally managed.

General Rowney took up the thread.

"Obviously your pay, pension and insurance have all been restored, backdated of course. Your old position at the SGC is there for you, if you want it, but wehad something else in mind. You should know this isn't something we've just come up with as way of recompense. It's been on the Joint Chief's agenda for a while now, justthrashing out the details. It was an unusual proposition and there were concerns on whether it was appropriate. Your discipline record has not always been perfect - caused a few problems."

He made it sound like an understatement.

"The point is," President Davis took up, throwing Rowney a sharp look, "you've been exceeding the responsibilities and expectations of a Colonel for some years and your achievements are far reaching and well, extraordinary. I. . . we. . . need someone looking out for Earth in the universe and we think you're the best person for the job. It means a promotion to two-star General, Chief of Extra-terrestrial Special Operations and a seat on the JCS, but you can continue to work in the field doing what you do best. The position will be a covert one with a direct line to the Joint Chiefs and whoever sits in this office when you need it. We can't have anyone knowing that a member of the Joint Chiefs is out there in the field. It would put you at too much personal risk but this way you will get the recognition and latitude you deserve."

O'Neill was staggered. He had just bawled out the President and the Air Force Chief and he was getting a promotion? Two stars? They hadto be joking.He looked at their expectant, slightly wary faces.

"You're not joking, are you," he decided.

"No. In a way, this mission would be your first in your new role. The SGC will be your base, you can remain undercover as a Colonel, and when and if you need to, you just invoke your position. It would be at your discretion, but obviously the longer you can continue to act as a Colonel in the field the better for you. Once people know, their attitudes toward you will change and you will need to step back from the field for your own and others' safety."

O'Neill nodded. He understood that.

"The promotion is effective immediately. Your additional benefits will be separately routed outside of the SGC to your personal account. You can choose to sit or act on this as you see fit."

General Rowney pulled a box from his pocket and pushed it across the table.

Slowly O'Neill reached out his hand and picked it up, his long fingers releasing the clasp and opening it. Four stars sat inside, two for each shoulder.

"Not retiring then," he said, gazing at them.

This was unexpected. A surprise -a good surprise - but so unexpected he could not quite grasp the implications. He guessed it did not really matter right now. He wasn't being asked to choose. The stars could just sit there in a box until he wanted or needed to use them. Having a direct line to the President and Rowney would be very useful and there was nothing stopping him retiring if things did not work out.

"There's one small issue, well, quite a big one really."

"Major Carter?" the President guessed easily, leaving O'Neill disconcerted.

"Ah, yeah."

Davis raised a hand.

"Colonel O'Neill. You need not concern yourself regarding any ramifications to yourself or Major Carter. Your relationship developed in a situation that could never justify recriminations against either one of you. Once you both decide what you want to do, we will make the necessary decisions to ensure you are not in the same chain of command. For the moment, your mission is covert and Major Carter reports to General Hammond. If necessary we will keep it that way and you simply outrank Major Carter on any joint, as opposed to 'team' missions. Is that acceptable?"

O'Neill smiled. He could live with Carter not being his 2IC. It was more important that they focused on working their relationship out. There would be problems enough just doing that.

He remembered the tear he had wiped away as they had sat on the steps of K'Larsia's Stargate, quietly absorbing the enormity of what had been done to them both. He was also acutely aware that this mission would not help them either. He remembered how hurt Sam had been the last time he went covert at the SGC without her knowledge. This was going to be far worse but it had to be done. Sam's honest reaction to his actions would be crucial in ensuring the aliens did not feel personally threatened.

"Yes. That's acceptable. Thank you."

"You're very welcome, General. And congratulations," the President replied with satisfaction.

~oo0oo~

O'Neill's mind was buzzing as he arrived home.

He had decided to accept Rowney's offer of a jet to get himself back to Peterson's Air Force Base where a rental car would be waiting. For Jack the trip had been a real thrill, flying jets had been one of his great loves. The base had received orders to park a rented car with keys at a landing point where he could taxi up to it. His blacked out vehicle was to be allowed through the checkpoints without any questions asked.

Not a soul saw him make his way home and the rental company had been instructed to pick the car up from an address five minutes walk from his home. No one would be the wiser. If anyone asked, he would explain that Thor had beamed him straight into his bedroom, unaware that his property had been sold. Once there, it didn't take much to guess that the SGC had arranged to get his life back together. It wasn't brilliant but other than get Thor back, he had no choice.

Inside his house, he immediately spotted the envelope on the table.

He sat down on the new sofa and slowly drew the enclosed photographs out. He shivered, clamping down his feelings, as he gently rubbed one thumb along the outline of Charlie's face. It was a copy of his favorite picture of Charlie. It wasn't dog-eared, didn't have the memory of all those times he had sat holding this same image, studying it, remembering, but it was Charlie's picture.

Slowly he placed it on the table and flicked through the other photos. He did not remember some of them. Ironically, he now had a better collection of Charlie's life than he had before.

Carefully, he placed them back in the envelope, keeping one small photo back.

He went to a table with drawers which had replaced the previous chest he had used to dump stuff in and opened the right drawer. Inside was a wallet complete with two-hundred dollars, credit cards, checkbook and his SGC pass. He studied them and then, picking up the pen conveniently placed there, he signed his name on the backs. Reverently, he put his chosen photo of Charlie in one slot of his new wallet.

Picking up the phone, he quickly activated the cards andwas independent again.

He spent half an hour or so wandering around the house, opening cupboards, drawers, studying the books on the shelves.

He saw someone had replaced his thesis. It was a brand new copy without his notations but it was good to see it there. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to replace everything and he realized that an inventory must have been made before everything had been destroyed. He had to admit that whoever had done this had made an incredible job of it, and he just knew that his old team would have had a hand in it. In the kitchen, his cupboards and refrigerator were newly stocked with food. Fruit Loops, long life milk, beer, juice.

He shivered. The place was cold, new, unlived in.

Grabbing his wallet and his pass, he left without a look back.

On reaching Cheyenne Mountain, he worked his way through the various checkpoints.

It felt strange making his way down to the lower levels and there were a few startled but pleased looks from the few people he passed. It was early evening and the place had lost much of the day shift. Still, his stomach was churning by the time he exited the lift and made his way to Hammond's office. Protocol decreed he call there first.

Hammond was waiting for him, having been alerted to his arrival.

"Colonel. It's good to see you. Come in,"he greeted him, his round face beaming with genuine pleasure.

O'Neill ignored the smile, noting the instant hint of worry in the general's eyes, but he shook the extended hand before him, keeping the contact brief. His act started from this point. The only problembeing thatit didn't feel an act at all.

"General, Colonel O'Neill reporting for duty," he answered formally, his voice cold, his back stiff.

General Hammond stiffened too and his smile dropped away. He nodded and backed away to his desk. Sitting down, he gestured Jackdo the same. There was an awkward pause.

"Did the Asgard remove the chip?" Hammond began.

"Yes sir."

"I see. That's good."

The General was clearly feeling uncomfortable and no doubt trying to reconcile his subordinate's attitude now with their talk in Carter's lab,but his CO also knew that since then he had suffered again at K'Larsia's hands and they had barely communicated on his return.

Hammond sighed. "Look, Jack," he began.

O'Neill winced inside, the use of his first name provoking feelings of helplessness and shame.

"Don't call me that," he snapped.

Hammond shot his eyes up at O'Neill searching for clues as to how to deal with his newly-returned 2IC.

"I'm sorry. I'll remember to call you Colonel. Colonel, you'll need to submit to a medical exam. I'm sorry, but we have to be sure the chip is fully gone."

"It is."

"Even so."

O'Neill shrugged.

"Have you seen Major Carter yet?"

"No, sir."

"Does she know you're back?"

"Not that I'm aware, sir."

"Where did Thor drop you off? I understand you arrived at the gate in your new truck."

"Yessir. For some reason the little guy chose to beam me home. I hadn't told him the part about my life being wiped out. Found the keys, truck and other stuff. I assume you arranged this?"

"I was kept informed. I know the President instigated the return of your possessions to you."

"I see."

Hammond paused, folding his hands together on the desk in front of him. He leaned back in his chair.

"How do you feel about returning to the SGC, Colonel?"

"Fine, sir. Not a problem."

O'Neill could feel his fingers wanting to tap against his leg and repressed the urge, barely noting he had done so. Hammond frowned.

O'Neill guessed he was unconvinced he was ready for duty and he was right. Good, that would give him time to do his stuff and get ready. The ceremony was scheduled for tomorrow. He could get the medical exam out of the way, arrange a psyche evaluation with MacKenzie for after the ceremony, by which time, of course, MacKenzie would be safely locked outside the SGC.

Hammond was speaking again. "Colonel, this is a little difficult but the President has insisted on a ceremony to welcome you home and recognize your achievement. It is scheduled for 1400 hours tomorrow."

"That's unnecessary, sir. I would rather you didn't. I was hoping to slip back into things quietly."

Hammond snorted.

"Somehow I don't think that will be possible, Colonel. I've already tried to cancel the ceremony, but the President isveryinsistent. I'm sorry. I thought you wouldn't be comfortable with the idea."

O'Neill shrugged.

"It's that or resign, sir. I'm not ready to do that just yet."

"Good. I'm glad. Look Colonel, we need to give this a bit of time. I realize this is not going to be easy. There is a lot of adjusting for everyone to do. I want you to know I'm here if you need to talk. Anytime."

O'Neill frowned, battening down an unexpected desire to respond in real anger. This could be harder than he thought. He needed to keep things even - he couldn't afford to antagonize Hammond at this point.

"Sir, thank you, it's appreciated."

"Good. What are your plans for this evening?"

"Actually Sir, I thought I would stay on base. The house is a bit empty and new and. . ." He tailed off, letting Hammond fill in the rest himself.

"Yes, I can understand that. I believe Major Carter and Doctor Jackson are in the Major's lab.

They've been working on an artifact SG-10 brought back today. It should be a quiet night. All teams have been recalled for the ceremony tomorrow."

"I'll look in on them, sir."

"Your quarters have been refurbished, we've replaced as much of your possessions as we could. I know its not enough but..."

O'Neill stood up, stopping the flow.

"Thank you, sir. Permission to be dismissed."

Hammond rose as well.

"Of course," he replied simply.

O'Neill could feel Hammond's concerned eyes burn a hole in his back as he left. He desperately wanted to escape to his quarters and kick a few walls in private, but he had one more task to do. Three to be precise. And if he wanted to be left alone tonight to organize for the mission, he would have to deal with his former team.

Steeling himself, he wandered in the direction of the lift and made his way to Carter's lab. As he reached the door, he could hear their voices.

He paused for a moment, listening to them argue over Daniel's translation of whatever artifact it was that they were studying. Carter clearly could not reconcile Daniel's translation with the evidence of the device's structure. He smiled, allowing himself to cast his memory back to similar times.

It seemed years ago.

It was like stepping back into a previous phase of his life. He knew from the others' point of view, he had only been gone a few months. Seen from their perspective, he had probably been away longer on Edora. Silently he moved forward, practicing his stealth skills to move right into the room, reaching just two feet behind the engrossed pair.

"What ya got there?" he asked softly, suppressing an urge to smile when they both jumped into the air, a squeal escaping Carter before she could prevent it.

"God, Jack! You scared the life out of us!" Daniel yelped as he saw O'Neill, before calming down and placing his glasses more firmly back on his nose.

"Jack! You're back," Carter said more softly, her eyes saying so much more as she stepped towards him. He stepped back and registered the momentary pain that flashed in their blue depths. Now she looked uncertain and O'Neill was pondering how he felt about hearing her speak his name again.

Frowning, he studied his feet. Daniel always called him Jack. Sam did so now because they loved each other but it wasn't appropriate at the SGC. Careful to keep any unnecessary rebuke out of his voice, he corrected her.

"You address a superior officer by their rank or sir, Major. You are still on duty."

She looked hurt and O'Neill fought the urge to embrace her in a hug. Daniel frowned and looked uneasy, but for once kept his thoughts to himself.

Carter recovered her poise. "Sorry, sir. It was a surprise to see you. How are you?"

"Fine." He dismissed any concern on that front."The Asgard did their stuff. Everything's back to normal. Are you okay?" he then asked, unable to stop himself.

She gave him a tremulous smile and nodded. "I'm fine, sir. When did you get back?"

"Earlier today. Thor dropped me in my house. I saw what you did. Thanks."

"It was the least we could do, Jack," Daniel answered for her when Carter seemed lost for words. O'Neill was silent, his insides beginning to writhe. He felt uncomfortable.

"Jack, I was hoping we could talk..." Daniel began.

Oh God, here it comes; there was no way he could cope with a long conversation with Daniel on his feelings. This act he needed to put on was proving to be useful. He made his voice harsh, drawing on the genuine feelings raging inside him to give it an edge.

"Forget it, Daniel. Not interested. The last thing I want to do is discuss anything to do with what happened. I just dropped by to let you know I was back and that I would see you after the ceremony tomorrow. Right now, all I want to do is sleep."

Daniel's mouth had dropped open and O'Neill knew he was hurting. Well, tough! Jackson should try standing where he had been recently. Then he'd know what hurting was all about.

"Sure, I understand," he replied, looking anywhere but at his friend now.

Carter was studying him, a strange expression crossing her face.

"Does that include me, sir?" she asked and there was a broken catch hidden in her voice.

He picked it up because he knew her so well.

"I'm tired, Major. We'll talk later," he answered.

Her face creased in a frown and he knew she was deeply upset and trying to hide it. He decided to change the subject.

"Where's Teal'c? I want to say hello before I hit the sack," he asked, needing to escape.

"In his quarters," Daniel answered, sneaking a look at Carter as he did so. Carter was barely hanging on and O'Neill knew he could not bear it if she broke down. Spinning on his heel O'Neill strode out the lab, and was at the lift before he needed to draw his next breath.

Once inside the safety of the elevator, he leaned back against the wall out of sight of the camera insideand groaned. He forced himself to focus on his memory of Horness, decomposing into something out of an old science-fiction horror movie, reminding him why he was having to do this - to hurt themin this way. But he could not avoid the knowledge thatthe reason he found himself feeling so guilty wasthat his act and inner feelings were so closely intertwined. He might as well be in therapy doing - what did they call it? - oh yeah, role-play.

Hell! By the time he actually met MacKenzie there would be nothing left for the psychiatrist to ferret out.

Before he was ready to be there, he was outside Teal'c's door. He knocked.

"Come in, O'Neill," Teal'c's disembodied voice came through the door.

Damn, how did he do that?

He opened the door and walked in, letting his eyes adjust to the gloom, relieved by the hundreds of candles in the room. O'Neill was still amazed Hammond allowed him to do it given the fire risk it posed. Not to mention the amount of time Teal'c must waste lighting and extinguishing those candles.

Teal'c was rising and his huge form dominated the room. Of all his friends, seeing Teal'c again was, not surprisingly, the easiest meeting he had to do.

Teal'c was a constant. He never let his personal feelings get in his way of the overall picture. O'Neill had admired this resolve in the Jaffa warrior before and he would have been disappointed if Teal'c had allowed his friendship for O'Neill to come before the safety of Earth.

"It is good to see you, O'Neill."

"Teal'c," O'Neill responded, knowing Teal'c would hear the lack of reciprocation in his words.

The warrior raised an eyebrow.

"You are angry, O'Neill."

"Yes."

Teal'c pondered this and stiffened his back, giving careful thought to his reply.

"And yet you have come to see me."

Damn, Teal'c had caught him there. He thought quickly.

"I wanted to face everyone tonight. Get it over with. Tomorrow's not going to be fun."

"You do not wish to be recognized at the ceremony the President has planned for you?"

"Would you?"

The Jaffa paused.

"Indeed, I would not. Still, you did well, O'Neill. In difficult circumstances."

Teal'c had done it. He had waded through all O'Neill's defenses and found the few words that could turn O'Neill's stomach. Perhaps, the meeting was not going to beso easy. Still, it allowed him to let rip.

"Difficult circumstances!" he hissed, part of him noting Teal'c coolly absorb his accusations. "Difficult! It was hell, Teal'c! Like nothing I've ever gone through before."

"You survived," was his short, succinct, response.

"Have I?" he shot back. Hah. Got you now, he thought.

Both Teal'c eyebrows had risen.

"Do you believe I betrayed you, O'Neill?"

"Yeah, Teal'c, I do. It doesn't matter that I know why. All that matters is that I feel betrayed."

"I understand. I regret my actions caused you pain and offer you my sincerest apologies. I hope to regain your trust."

God, Teal'c was dignified and, deep inside him, Jack accepted the apology. Now all he could do was hope Teal'c would forgive him by the end of the next few days. He was sure Teal'c would, once he had all the facts. The Jaffa recognized in O'Neill the strength of a warrior and knew O'Neill would never allow the personal to stand in the way of carrying out his duty.

"You might have to wait some time."

He stingingly delivered the words needed to ensure Teal'c would not see through his actions tomorrow. He was as certain as he could be that Teal'c had not been compromised but until he reached the end of the seventy-two hours, he could not guarantee it.

If an alien was posing as his friend, all he would see was one Colonel bent on revenge. He watched Teal'c's eyes widen and knew each word had hit him like a bullet. He had jolted his friend off balance and Teal'c had lost his certainty in O'Neill.

Turning on his heel, he marched out of Teal'c's refuge in the SGC, slamming the door shut behind him knowing full well thatthe discourtesy would rattle Teal'c's cage further.

He drew in a deep breath.And felt very alone.

~oo0oo~

Circumventing the SGC security cameras was easy, he had done it before and O'Neill soon found himself at the hatch leading to the outside, following a long climb up the ladder in the narrow tube.

He had been working out hard during his time at the Asgard. He felt emotionally exhausted after today, but physically he was in fact quite fit. The Asgard medical facility was superb and he had not been allowed home until Njord had been satisfied that his body was in peak condition.

Jogging through the parks on Othalla was not quite the same as jogging in the woods behind his home and it had sure attracted some curious looks from the Asgards he met on the way. Still, nothing else beat the cardiovascular workout running gave him and as he reached the top of the ladder, he blessed Njord for his persistence.

Silently, he lifted the hatch lid, listening carefully for any sounds or lack of those he would expect. Satisfied, he slowly opened it fully until he could see all around him.

The place was clear, and the holdall bag he was expecting was there. Quickly he opened it, rummaging through its contents, mentally ticking items off his list. Everything was there.

Zipping it up, he threw it onto his back and carefully made his way back down again, making sure to lock the hatch door from within.

When he reached the base he took out his penknife, the one Carter had given in, and prized open the hatch's locking mechanism. He fixed it so that when he closed it behind him, no one would be escaping that way. He had already fixed the only other exit from the mountain, other than the stairs and lift.

Satisfied he sneaked his head out, checking the way was clear before silently entering the corridor again. With a wary eye on the camera, he let the door lock shut behind him and made his way back to his office.

He avoided a couple of passing SFs on guard and with a sigh of relief reached his haven of safety. He had already neutralized the camera inside his office knowing that it would not be scheduled for maintenance until the following day. It gave him the few hours he needed.

Unpacking his gear, he constructed the weapons he would be using, before locking them into the drawer of his desk. Next, he packed his battle vest with everything he needed. When he grabbed it tomorrow, he would need it ready.

He started up his computer. Using the new codes General Rowney had provided him, he was soon able to access areas of the computer network denied to even the highest security rated officers. Only Major Carter came close to having this level of access but even hers was not quite wide ranging enough.

It was not often O'Neill needed to exercise his considerable, but little known, computer expertise but he was soon back into it, hacking into the systems he required. He set up a few programs to run at a preset time, erasing any traces of his presence behind him.

Finally, he broke into the security surveillance system. All the camera feeds met in one program, which routed the data to the screens in the security control room.

Jack carefully accessed the archived material of the day K'Larsia had abducted him from the presentation. He reviewed the images, carefully checking that the personnel on each frame matched his log of current SGC personnel. A few hidden lines of code in the program would ensure that at the precise time he set his plan in action, the screens would feed back appropriate images to the security personnel.

The footage included his disappearance, and as he watched, it occurred to him that it was fortunate he understood the true purpose behind tomorrow's presentation. Otherwise, the whole event would have been the height in poor taste.

His final action was to set a trip to the security room door. He would need to contain the security personnel until he was ready to collect them.

Finished at last, he stretched his arms, arching his neck to ease the ache out of his shoulder muscles. He looked at his desk, noting for the first time how empty it looked without the usual photographs that graced it.

He felt a pang in his heart.

No one had thought to replace the photo of SG-1. It seemed a bad omen. He would remedy it as soon as this was all over. Now he needed to get to bed, he needed to be sharp tomorrow. He set his lock so only his pass would allow him entry and sneaked back to his quarters.

He prayed the normal nightmares that continually haunted him would stay away. One unexpected comfort to the few months he had spent under Carter's control, in her bed, was the lack of nightmares. Her body tucked into his had given him a warm comfort that had settled him. He had not slept so well for such a long period of time since before Charlie's death. Before then, he had Sara to hold and help him through his memories of Iraq but still nightmares had plagued him.

~oo0oo~

O'Neill's first duty the following morning was to report to the infirmary for his medical exam. Doctor Fraiser was waiting for him and for once, a bundle of nerves. Her usual fire was missing, but still she squared up to face him and carry out her duty.

His stern and unforgiving facade undid her immediately, guilt written clearly in every movement of her body. Clearing her throat, she gestured him to her office. Surprised, he followed her. Her first words surprised him.

"Colonel, if you would prefer another physician, I would of course understand. Doctor Warner is available."

His eyes narrowed.

"You don't want to treat me?" he asked her, genuinely puzzled.

Fraiser looked at him, her agonized eyes telling their own story. Mutely she showed him her trembling hands.

"I'm sorry, Colonel, I don't think I can. I feel so guilty."

For one single moment, O'Neill was ready to take the doctor into his arms and to let her know he did not hold her responsible. Her pain was so visibly raw that all his feelings of anger towards her just melted away.

She earned his admiration as well. Of everyone he had met since his return, only the doctor had openly displayed her guilt and placed herself at his mercy. His personal feelings assuaged, he shifted imperceptibly into his act and for the first time he felt an absolute heel for doing so.

"Doctor Warner will be fine."

Doctor Fraiser swallowed at the cold dismissal in his voice and nodded, her shoulders drooping. It took all his iron will to maintain the pretense of cold anger.

"Of, course, Colonel. I'll send him to you immediately." His rejection of her was reflected in the constriction of her throat, reducing her voice to a raspy whisper.

Crap. If Fraiser was an alien, he would eat one of Teal'c's hats.

Warner's examination was quick, thorough and completely boring. Finally excused, he made his way back to his office, determined to avoid as many people as possible.

It was difficult. Reactions to his presence were mixed. Some looked thrilled to see him, others uncertain and the rest were downright dismissive. If he had truly believed that he was going to have to stand in front of these people later and listen to the President extol his heroics, then he would have fled there and then.

Fortunately he knew better and he simply quickened his pace until he reached his quarters, only stopping to grab a tuna sandwich and coffee from the commissary.

Once there, he ate his lunch and quickly changed into his dress uniform. It was of course brand new and he checked all the correct ribbons and insignia were in place. Satisfied he polished his shoes, and donned his hat. He wanted to wander the SGC, let everyone see him in his uniform and believe he was ready for the ceremony.

There was just ten minutes to go. He resisted the temptation to visit his office and draw attention to the place where he had stashed his gear. He glanced at his watch, unworried that anyone would care about this action. He was allowed to be nervous right now.

The corridors were bustling and he ignored everyone he came across. He spotted Carter in the distance making her way to the locker room and dived down a side corridor, certain he did not need to deal with anything personal right now.

Five minutes.

Perhaps a visit to the men's room would be a good idea.

Four minutes to go and he knew the security cameras would now be feeding false information. He made his way back to his office and unlocked the door with his pass.

Uncaring now about the camera feed, he quickly changed. Everyone would now be waiting in the embarkation room, and Hammond would be waiting in his office for word of the arrival of the President, who would be late.

Three minutes left until 1400.

Now in his battle gear he donned his weapons, grabbed his pack and, checking the corridor outside his office, he sidled out.

His weapons ready, he crept down the corridor. Hearing movement ahead, he spotted a Captain exiting the Ladies, making her way quickly towards the Gateroom.

You're late, Captain, he idly noted.

Once the way was clear again, he moved on. He met his first obstacle, a SF on duty outside the armory. He started to run towards him, acting as if he had every right to be doing so.

"Open it up, soldier, we've just heard news of a problem with the President." The SF was startled enough to comply with the order until his brain began to catch up with his actions.

"Sir?" he queried, pausing to turn back.

Too late, O'Neill had jabbed his P-90 into the guard's side. With his free hand, he removed the SFs sidearm, a 9mm Berreta.

"You want to live, soldier?" he asked, allowing his dangerous side to show through.

The SF gulped. O'Neill had given him no options and the SF knew it. The military didn't train their soldiers to sacrifice themselves needlessly.

"Yes, Colonel. Sir, do you really want to be doing this?"

"Payback, son. You do as I say and no one needs to die here. Do we have an understanding?"

The SF nodded, fear plain to see in his eyes. O'Neill darted a look to his nametag. Private Simes.

"Good. " Deliberately he unloaded the SF's gun before handing it back to him, after checking him for further ammunition.

"Now, take this, Simes. We're going to sweep any remaining guards towards the embarkation room. Muck this up and I will shoot you. Now move."

With the SF preceding him, his Berreta in hand, they moved on down the corridor.

O'Neill knew precisely where each guard would be and using Simes as a shield, they quickly encountered them. With Simes before him, the Colonel seamlessly pulled out a silenced Colt 45. There was no way he would be able to get them all to meekly walk down to the embarkation room so he was going to have to resort to more deadly measures.

The SFs ahead saw Simes first and barely had time to take in O'Neill behind him before he had shot them both. His accurate aim nicked their shooting arms, allowing Jack to rapidly disarm them and acquire two further Berettas, as they dealt with the shock of being shot by the legendary Colonel O'Neill.

"Shit," said Simes in disbelief where he sat on the floor, O'Neill having casually downed him in passing. O'Neill demanded Simes' useless weapon back. Noting the despising looks the wounded SFs were throwing the private, he decided to cut him some slack.

"It's empty," he showed them. "Simes, get these two up and move them forward to the embarkation room."

With his flock before him, P-90 armed and ready, O'Neill swept them towards Hammond's office where the General was waiting by his phone for the President's arrival. His shock as the SFs followed by O'Neill stormed into his office was clear on his face but, correctly gauging the situation, the general rose slowly to his feet, his hands raised.

"Not a word," O'Neill wanted him. Ushering his growing flock into the briefing room, he glanced into the embarkation room and saw the expected rows of SGC personnel waiting.

He toggled his radio and smartly rapped out a command.

"Attenhut."

His command routed through the transmission network he had set up. Immediately the ranks snapped to attention, eyes straightforward, rigid and unable to see what was going on above their heads. Hammond clearly saw the implication.

"What the hell do you think you are trying to achieve, Colonel?"

O'Neill turned an expression of sheer deadliness on the General and Hammond balked.

"Simes. Tell him."

"Sir, yes, sir. Payback, sir." Simes squeaked.

O'Neill made a mental note to commend Simes later for his listening skills.

"That's right. Now General, are you going to force me to shoot poor Simes here or are you going to quietly make your way to join the ranks down there? They're waiting for you."

Jack watched the General narrow his eyes and fume, taking in a deep breath as he weighed up his options and made his decision. Fortunately, O'Neill knew Hammond knew his file, and had not missed the two SFs gripping their wounds and looking distinctly queasy. The General made his decision.

"Ok. We'll play it your way for the moment, but I don't know how you think you are going to pull this off. Security will be on you in a moment. The place will be swarming."

"Move!" O'Neill ordered, his tone making it clear that there would not be another chance.

His lips tightly clamped shut, the General moved forward, following the sheepish SFs down the steps and into the deserted corridor to the embarkation room. As the General entered in his full dress uniform, the troops already at attention stiffened further.

When they were all in, O'Neill, activated his timer and noted the control room blast shield drop. The only personnel now outside the embarkation room, were those trapped in the infirmary, security room and the control room.

Lockdown had been activated thanks to his foray into the systems during the night, and all doors would have shut automatically with codes locked out. The blast doors throughout the SGC would have also sealed off the infirmary staff until he could collect those later.

Right now, the SGC was in quarantine.

As he followed Hammond in, he pointed his P-90 into the air and let off a blast of bullets.

Everyone without exception dived to the floor, before looking round to take in what was happening.

Teal'c, Carter and Daniel were closest to the Stargate and fairly hemmed in. They were also weaponless. The shock displayed on their faces as they took in O'Neill in full black ops battle gear, fully loaded with weapons and brandishing his P-90 at them was clear.

"Everyone, heads down! Hands on your heads now!" O'Neill yelled, letting everyone know he was in battle mode and meant every word.

Heads shot down and hands were placed in full sight. There were some slackers but a quick burst of fire put paid to that. Even Hammond was on the floor, obeying the Colonel who had clearly run amok.

"Okay. Now let me make a few things crystal clear." O'Neill lifted his voice so everyone there could hear him. He constantly scanned the prone bodies to ensure no one was moving. "I have had years to plan this. And now that I've got rid of that damn stinking chip in my head, there is nothing to stop me teaching you a lesson you will never forget." He paused. "Can anyone tell me what that lesson is?"

Complete silence prevailed to O'Neill's immense relief. He didn't really want to invite a debate. His own tightly wound nerves, together with the knowledge that he was walking a tightrope above a huge crevasse, gave his voice the slightly hysterical edge it needed to convince Hammond and the rest of the SGC, flat on their bellies, that their Colonel had finally lost it.

"Well, I'll tell you. You don't sell out your own!"

O'Neill grimaced internally. Shit. He had meant every word of that and given he was holding a gun to each and every one of their heads, he sternly reminded himself of exactly why he was there. Allowing himself to be caught up in his own act would be suicidal to him and the mission. Too much was at stake. He had to maintain his perspective.

"But we can talk about that later. Right now, I want you showing me you still understand how to take orders. Starting with the General here, I want everyone, one by one, to come up here and remove their shoes and jackets. General?"

Hammond glanced up, his expression shifting between rage and pity.

"Jack, don't do this, please."

"Don't call me Jack!" O'Neill roared, raising his P-90 so it pointed directly against

Hammond's heart. Hammond nodded, his hands gesturing in appeasement.

"Colonel. I'm sorry but this isn't the way. These people had nothing to do with the decision to sell you out. Don't take it out on them."

O'Neill pulled back the trigger and Hammond blanched. By rights, the P-90 should have gone off. The only thing between him and death was O'Neill's fine motor skills.

"Right," he acquiesced, starting to remove his jacket. O'Neill released the trigger, hoping Hammond would never know exactly how much skill that had required. He gestured with the P-90 for the General to deposit his jacket and shoes in the corner.

"Turn `round," he ordered.

As the General turned, O'Neill spotted movement to his left, a Captain with more brains in his trousers than in his head. He shot off a single bullet, which landed in the floor beside the offender. The Captain returned his hands to his head faster than Hammond had time to jump.

The silence was total.

With order restored, the tension in the room palpable, O'Neill approached the General and expertly frisked him. Hammond sensibly stayed as still as a statue and satisfied, O'Neill stepped back.

"Go over to that wall over there and kneel down, facing it, hands on head."

Hammond obeyed him without a word.

"Teal'c?" O'Neill called out next, determined to disable the capable warrior at the earliest opportunity.

This was his trickiest moment. Of them all, Teal'c was the most dangerous. The big man calmly got up before approaching O'Neill with a disapproving expression on this face.

When he was two meters away, O'Neill ordered him to stop.

"Turn `round," he ordered.

His expression now inscrutable the Jaffa warrior swiveled on his heel. O'Neill pulled out his zat and activated it, its whine immediately communicating his intention. Teal'c stiffened and Jack fired. As soon as the huge muscular Jaffa was down, O'Neill frisked him, before applying metal handcuffs to his wrists, cuffing them behind his back.

"Simes and you, Captain. Carry Teal'c over to the General," O'Neill commanded. His orders were complied with and he then handed Simes a bag of plastic restraints.

"Fail to put these on properly and I will kill the person in them. Do you understand?" Simes gulped and nodded his understanding.

"Start with the General over there and then we have a lot of people to get through. Jackson, button it or I swear I will gag you," he yelled.

The murmur his sharp ears had detected stopped and the deadly hush was total.

It took one hour before O'Neill got to Carter. As she walked up to him, her eyes wide, he found himself unable to interpret her expression.

"It should be me you do this to. Most of the people here had nothing to do with what we did to you," she told him softly.

"Turn around, Carter," he ordered gruffly.

She obeyed. His hand trembled as he frisked her, his hands touching her body for the first time since he had left her for Othalla.

"Why are you doing this, Jack? I thought we had a promise." Her voice was calm, looking for answers.

"Perhaps they were different promises, Carter," he murmured in her ear, desperate for her not to fight him. He didn't want to hurt anyone, least of all her. Her small intake of breath told him he had startled her. Quickly, he applied the plastic restraints himself, strangely reluctant to let Simes touch her.

"Move," he whispered.

She did not look back at him once as she moved over to the wall to join the others.

Daniel surprised him with his complete silence. Of all of them, he would have expected Daniel to argue, but instead the linguist seemed shell-shocked and unable to comprehend that his friend was actually capable of doing this. Only as Daniel moved to join the others, did he turn to throw one last look at O'Neill, shaking the Colonel to the core.

Daniel looked like a dog that had been kicked by its master across the room for no reason. Hurt, disappointment and fear clouded his face. The young man was really scared of him.

It stunned Jack for a moment. Jackson had seen O'Neill take out hundreds of Jaffa, Goa'uld and other enemies they had encountered. He knew what his team leader was capable of, but he also had seen him vulnerable, hurting and compassionate.

Perhaps Daniel had never known what it was like to be on the wrong side of O'Neill until now. For the first time, he allowed himself to wonder if this time, when the truth was revealed, his team would be able to regain their trust in him. Would this be the end?

Mentally he shook himself. Now was not the time, he had a job to do.

At last, the horrendous job was over. Simes submitted to O'Neill applying the plastic restraints and made his way over to join the others, several rows deep against the wall, in relief.

O'Neill surveyed the backs before him.

"Right. Listen up. I'm going to leave you now. I have a few things to clear up. You may get up and wander about but don't try to free yourselves. I will be watching through the monitors in the control room and the first person who touches another's restraints will be history."

The threat was delivered in a flat dead tone guaranteed to send shivers down the spine. O'Neill knew that "history" only meant a trip to the brig. Hopefully, no one would be stupid enough to risk it and he really did have the monitors to check on them. His final act was to zat the pile of clothing three times, eliminating them from existence. It was a waste but they took up too much room.

Closing and sealing the blast doors to the gate room behind him, he took a deep breath. Beads of sweat coated the back of his neck. He looked at his watch. Sixty-nine hours to go.

Wonderful!

Clearing the control room was simple. One look at the battle fired Colonel and the technicians caved in. O'Neill took the opportunity to enter his codes, overriding the security blocks he had put in place and closing the iris. There would be no escape through the gate.

Next he overrode the surveillance changes and checked what was really happening throughout the SGC. The infirmary staff were trying to identify what was happening outside their world, and the security men were sat in the control room looking mightily pissed off.

Clearly, they had exhausted all their options. The quarantine imposed by his lockdown authorization was intact and had the benefit that no one would be trying to get in.

The place was sealed off tight.

"Okay, Davis, Corporal. Move it." He indicated they precede him to the embarkation room, and once his frightened captives had been frisked and placed in restraints, he unsealed the door, standing back to ensure that his prisoners would take the brunt of any escape attempt from those inside. No one had expected him to return so soon, and as soon as Davis and Trainer were in, he sealed the door off again.

Taking off his pack, he removed the electric gizmo Rowney had obtained for him, and the tools he needed to fix it securely to either side of the blast doors. Next he opened the panel in the wall and hooked in the electricity supply directly to the new boxes fixed to the walls.

Placing down the electric screwdriver, he stepped back and pointed a remote towards it. An electric net sprung into being, strung across the corridor immediately in front of the doors to the Stargate room.

Satisfied he switched it off before replacing the panel securely to the wall. Gathering his equipment into his bag, he switched the net back on. It wasn't much of a deterrent but it would provide him with a measure of initial security when he returned.

He checked in the control room and pulled up the view of the security room deciding to leave them for last. It would be the Infirmary next. Including one previously identified alien, Captain Allen, Nurse.

He removed a watch with a small display unit on it, adjusting the frequency until a scene of the embarkation room flashed up on the small screen. People were talking and struggling to get up, but so far, no one was attempting anything stupid. Carter was doing her best to check on Teal'c who was slowly coming round from the zat blast. Daniel was talking to General Hammond. The General looked like he was calling for attention.

Satisfied that he had everything in control, he set off down the corridor to the lift, his pass letting him through the security doors one by one.

The place was as dead as a morgue.

Tapping on the display console on his wrist, he analyzed the activity in the infirmary. Doctor Fraiser was busy with a patient. O'Neill frowned. The sensible option would be to keep everyone together, but this patient looked in a serious way. He debated the likelihood of that particular patient being one of his aliens.

Frowning, he entered the infirmary. Doctor Fraiser looked at him and her expression was one of relief.

~oo0oo~

"Colonel, thank God! How did you get in? We've been locked out and haven't been able to contact anyone. . ." Fraiser tailed off as she took into account his clothes and weapons.

"Weren't you supposed to be in dress blues for the ceremony?" she asked, beginning to suspect something was wrong.

The nurses, including the suspect alien, turned to stare at him.

"Actually, Doc... there's a bit of a situation." The colonel swung his P-90 down, to cover them. "You see I've gone a little nuts! Put it down to years of neglect and abuse." He laughed a little wildly and Fraiser backed away, her left hand searching for the alarm button in the wall.

"Ah, ah," O'Neill warned her, a slightly mad grin plastered on his face. It was a wide, open, false grin and it scared the living daylights out of her. She had seen the Colonel emerge fighting from his nightmares and knew enough from his file to know that this was possibly one of the most dangerous moments of her life.

One of Fraiser's staff gasped, her hand moving to stifle the sound, as Janet slowly moved her hand away from the alarm.

"What are you going to do, Colonel?" she asked him, trying to remain calm, for the sake of her staff. It was hard. Her stomach crawled with fear. O'Neill leaned towards her, his voice dropping to a whisper that conveyed such menace that it was all she could do to stop herself begging for her life.

"I'm gonna teach you all a lesson."

"A lesson?" she squeaked.

O'Neill nodded sagely, his eyes reflecting a manic twinkle, as if he was about to let them in on a secret.

"The importance of loyalty. Loyalty to your supposed FRIENDS!!"

The unexpected explosion of sound directed fully on her made Fraiser jump. Her eyes widened and her throat constricted until she could hardly breathe.

The hatred that shone in his eyes seemed to leap across the air towards her, almost crackling the air with its intensity. She wanted to speak, tell him how sorry she was. But no words would come out.

Horrified she stood rooted to the spot. Beside her, Sergeant Miles was moaning, in pain, and clearly aware that something was going on around him.

Her medical instincts came to her rescue and she tore her eyes from O'Neill's terrible gaze to look at her patient. Her hands trembling again, she lifted them towards the Sergeant, before catching herself and checking with the Colonel.

He had backed away slightly and his expression seemed calmer. He nodded at her and she hoped she had understood him correctly. Quickly she moved round to the Sergeant's IV, trying to throw reassuring glances at her staff. She increased the pain medication with a simple flick of the dial and stepped back.

She shivered. O'Neill was appraising her, seeming to make a decision. He gestured to Captain Allen.

"You. What's your name?"

The nurse looked at him defiantly.

"Allen, Captain Allen."

"Ok, Allen. You're new here aren't you?"

"Yes, sir. I joined six weeks ago."

"Well, Allen, you're in luck. My argument is with Fraiser here and the others of this command that betrayed me. You heard about that, right?"

Allen nodded, her face seeming to lose some of its hardness.

"Well, these others here are going to join the rest of the SGC to discuss it. You can come with if you want, join in the fun, or I'm prepared to leave you here. I'll need to cuff you to the bed but you'll be comfortable, out of the way until this whole thing is over."

Allen seemed to mull that over,

Fraiser could almost hear the cogs whirring. She looked at her nurse in disgust. Any officer worth their salt would have no hesitation in putting their lot in with their team but suddenly Fraiser knew Allen was going to make a decision in her own best interests. The remaining nurses in the room were staring daggers at her.

"I'll stay here," Allen decided.

"Captain!" Fraiser barked, partly pleased Allen would be spared from whatever the Colonel had in mind, and partly appalled at her newest member of staff showing such lack of team spirit.

"Come on Doc," O'Neill said softly. "No need for Allen here to suffer for what you did to me. She wasn't even here."

Fraiser bit her lip.

O'Neill gestured Allen to climb onto a bed, and using the infirmary's own restraints cuffed her hands and feet to the railings.

"You're sure you're comfortable?" he asked with concern.

Fraiser snorted and O'Neill quelled her with one look.

Allen nodded and O'Neill patted her hand.

"Good girl."

He turned to the rest of them.

"Right, let's get this show on the road. Fraiser, take Miles here with you."

Nodding to her remaining two nurses, Janet quickly prepared a gurney and with practiced ease they lifted the poor Sergeant across to it. Grabbing the IV and two other plasma bags, Fraiser was ready. O'Neill nodded them out of the room.

At the end of the corridor he stopped and ordered the other two nurses in to a side room, quickly locking the door on them.

"What are you doing now?" Fraiser snapped, beginning to lose patience.

"Hang on, Doc." O'Neill winked at her, his manner transformed. His eyes were no longer glaring with anger, instead they had softened and apology curled his lips. He ushered her into the ward, beside her office, pushing Miles in before him. The Sergeant groaned and Jack put a comforting hand on his arm.

"It's okay, Miles, You're going to be fine," he told him, his voice comforting. Miles nodded and turned to fall back asleep.

"You've not gone insane?" Fraiser asked him, now completely bewildered.

"Sit down Doc. I've got a lot to explain."

When he had finished Fraiser could only stare at him, agog.

"And I should believe this because?"

"It's the truth," he explained simply.

He toggled his radio, changing the frequency.

"Berserker One to Airdog One. Come In. Over."

They both heard the acknowledgement. O'Neill continued his eyes firmly fixed on the doctor.

"I have Doctor Fraiser here who I believe to be clean. Please confirm my status to her. Over.

"Doctor Fraiser, this is General Rowney here. We met once when I visited your facility last year. Perhaps you recognize my voice?"

Fraiser gulped. O'Neill leaned the radio towards her.

"Yes, General, I do. What are your orders, sir?"

"Just do as Colonel O'Neill requests. Over"

As O'Neill signed off, Fraiser ran his explanations through her mind. Something puzzled her.

"Colonel, what makes you think I'm not one of these aliens?"

"Your hand trembled. I've only seen you do that twice and both times, you were terrified of me, and there was your consideration to me earlier. Somehow, it was just you."

Fraiser's eyes spoke her relief.

"God Sir, I'm really glad you've not run amok. Are you okay with all this? It's not exactly what I would call the best way to settle back into things."

O'Neill shrugged.

"Not much choice really."

"Seems we use that as an excuse way too much," Janet observed. Tentatively she put out her hand, placing it on Jack's. "You're not sure about the General, Sam and the others?"

"Not yet. Can't take the risk."

Fraiser felt for him. She knew this could not possibly be easy after everything he had gone through. Well, she was going to support him to the hilt.

"Okay, Berserker One. What do you want me to do?"

O'Neill quickly explained. He wanted her to keep a covert eye on Allen and alert him the moment she showed signs of transforming into an alien. The other was simple. Look after Miles.

"How will you explain my absence?" Fraiser asked.

O'Neill turned his P-90 to the wall and let off a few rounds.

"Simple. You and Miles are now dead. Stay here until I've grabbed your two staff and we're gone." He got up and paused as she continued to stare in shock at the wrecked wall.

"Doc, be careful." She nodded wordlessly as he placed one of his newly acquired Berettas with spare ammo on her desk, the expression on his face needing no words. Then he was gone.

~oo0oo~

O'Neill glanced at the shell-shocked nurses beside him. Lieutenant Aston was barely able to hold back her tears, so convinced was she that the Colonel with them had just murdered their CMO and a patient.

The Lieutenant had the courage to ask where Doctor Fraiser was and he had simply replied that they were no longer a problem. They had exchanged frightened looks and when he had waved his P-90 at them, and then the door, they had shrunk back in fear.

When he had taken on this mission he had known how difficult it was going to be but as the number of people that now looked at him in terror grew, so did his own inner revulsion and guilt. So much of his past was already riddled with missions that left a nasty taste in his mouth that he had never quite got rid of. He didn't need this on top of everything else.

The elevator doors opened and the two women with him looked at him fearfully. He motioned for them to exit.

Silently he led them in the area of the commissary, stopping at a supply room and unlocking it with his pass. At the sheer look of dread on their faces, he hastened to reassure them.

"We need food, water," he explained. "The MRI rations are kept in here. Grab as many boxes as you can."

Obviously relieved, his two charges hastened to obey. Once they were fully loaded O'Neill motioned them out, grabbing a case of bottled water with his free hand.

"Okay, move out."

At the embarkation room he stopped, dropped his case and checked his display. Things were quiet. He had been monitoring the room every five minutes, mainly worried that an alien would break out from its cover early and he wouldn't be there to deal with it.

He checked the security room at the same time. The security chief was still frantic, trying to make contact with the outside world. O'Neill snorted. Even if the wily chief managed to override his traps, and contact the main base, General Rowney would pick it up and let him know.

His main concern was that he was still looking at three human beings and thankfully, he was. The nurses were watching him quietly, waiting for his instruction, and not daring to interrupt him.

Running his pass through the security lock, the heavy doors opened. The few brave souls that rushed him came up sharply against the electric net he had placed there earlier. They bounced back, shocked and dazed. O'Neill let rip with a round against the floor.

"General!" he yelled, as the nurses clutching their boxes pressed back against the wall.

"Sort this out before I have to hurt anyone!"

He heard some cursing and Hammond appeared, his arms useless behind him. His eyes studied the groaning men at his feet and then the electric net, fizzling in the air before him.

He frowned with deep displeasure and annoyance.

"Colonel. You seem very prepared." The SFs on the floor were struggling to reach their feet.

"Stand down men," the General ordered softly, "try and move back."

With a bit of writhing, the SFs managed to move far enough away that O'Neill was satisfied.

"Your call, General. I don't want a bloodbath, but anyone attempts to ambush me then I won't be held responsible for my actions."

The older man nodded, weighing his options, glancing at the terrified nurses on the other side of the electric barrier, noting the supplies they carried. He glanced to the side and jerked his head. The sound of shuffling told O'Neill that the area was clearing.

Hammond was moving everyone back a safe distance.

"Where's Teal'c? I want him where I can see him." O'Neill demanded sharply.

Teal'c moved into his line of vision.

Satisfied, Jack used his remote to switch off the electric barrier and nodded at Aston, and, checking her name badge, Corporal Lewis. They hurried through and he followed behind, immediately scanning the area around him to double check it was clear before entering the room. Most of his hostages were standing, eyeing him in a resentful silence.

He noticed the two SFs he had shot earlier. They were both leaning against the wall looking uncomfortable. As Lieutenant Aston dropped her boxes to the floor, he threw her a bag of medical supplies he had swiped from the infirmary.

"Sort them out," he ordered. Catching it deftly, the Lieutenant swiftly moved towards the injured men, her medical training taking over. O'Neill moved back and grabbed the case of water, hauling it in before sealing the door behind him. "Lewis. Your day just got busy. I want you to feed and water this lot." The corporal gasped as she surveyed the helpless crowd, before clamping her jaw tight.

"Yes, sir," she nodded. O'Neill thought she gained some color in her cheeks as she realized death was perhaps not round the next corner.

"Colonel, where's Doctor Fraiser?"

O'Neill grimaced, looking over to the suddenly frozen nurses. Hammond did not miss the tears that shone in Aston's eyes. When O'Neill did not answer, the General turned to Aston.

"Lieutenant, report!" he ordered.

Aston shot O'Neill a look, clearly torn. When O'Neill shrugged, she stood to attention.

"General. Captain Allen was cuffed to a bed in the infirmary. As she was not here when the Colonel was handed over to K'Larsia, Colonel O'Neill decided she needn't be involved in some lesson, I guess all of this. He put Corporal Lewis and I in a side room, we heard shots, and then the Colonel released us and brought us down here. Sir, when I asked about Doctor Fraiser and Sergeant Miles, Colonel O'Neill said they were not a problem any more."

There was a deathly silence around the room. The General looked ill, and turned to O'Neill, a burning rage igniting in his eyes.

"You killed them?"

O'Neill allowed a taut gap to stretch out before he answered, matching the general's fury with his own, allowing hatred to color his stilted words.

"It's as the lady said. They're not a problem."

The color drained from the General's face and O'Neill hardened his heart at the gasps. He saw Carter's blonde head turning into Daniel's shoulder. Jackson was steadfastly looking at the floor, the whiteness of his skin contrasting vividly with his dark shirt.

Taking control of the moment, O'Neill turned on the Corporal angrily.

"I said to feed them, Corporal." Lewis jumped, her face paling and O'Neill backed up to the door. Swiping his pass, he slipped through, quickly locking the door shut again and setting the net on. Safely alone, he leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes.

He felt like shit.

~oo0oo~

Making his way to the control room O'Neill quickly scanned the screens and finding everything as he would wish, sunk to the floor in the corner between a computer cabinet and the wall. The room was silent and dark, with just flashing colored lights to break the monotony.

Letting his P-90 drop to the floor beside him, he drew his knees up tight to his chest and let his head fall on them. He scrubbed his hair with his fingers a couple of times, before rubbing his eyes with his knuckles. Misery coiled into a tight knot inside him.

What the hell was he doing? Suppose no aliens turned up in the SGC? He would have put them all through this for nothing.

He snorted and shut his eyes tightly. Well, he needn't worry about anyone looking at him with pity in the future. Derision perhaps, fear and loathing definitely. Trust? No way. He could feel the gulf between him and his colleagues widening every second he played out this farce and for the life of him, he did not see how he would ever bridge it.

Battling the temptation to wallow in guilt, he forced himself to look up at the screen on his watch display. He checked the infirmary first. Allen looked like she was sleeping, still lithe and attractive. Fraiser was working on Miles still clearly in some pain.

Yep, he was sure he had made a good call there. If that woman tenderly stoking the Sergeant's hair was one of the alien infiltrators then they had to be good guys. Miles, he was sure, was safe. The man had been operated on for hours.

Security had slowed their efforts and looked a little depressed. Lewis was making the rounds with food and water. O'Neill groaned. It had been five hours now. He couldn't delay allowing them a bathroom visit much longer. He could imagine that taking up a couple hours of his time. Then he was going to have them go to sleep for the night.

He searched out Carter. She was sitting against the wall, her head leaning against Daniel. She looked strained and tired. What she would be feeling right now did not bear thinking about. All her dreams shot to pieces. Knowing Sam, she would be guilt-ridden and blaming herself for the situation she and her colleagues were in now, and, she would be worried for him.

He reached out a finger and traced her image on the screen. A pang of jealously surged through him as he watched Daniel speaking softly to her. Carter was nodding. He caught himself angrily; he should be glad she had him to turn to. After all, he wasn't going to be there for her.

An unbearable urge to speak to someone overcame him and reaching up he snagged the telephone wire, allowing the handset to fall against his shoulder. Catching it he stabbed a few buttons and watched Fraiser now in her office, pick her phone up. Her puzzled expression cleared as he announced himself.

"Hi, it's me."

"Colonel? Are you okay?" she asked. He could see the concern in her face. He must sound tired he guessed.

"Yeah. I was bored."

There was silence.

"I can see you," he told her. He watched her glance up at the camera and smile.

"Thanks, Doc. That's perfect."

"What's happening? Is Lewis and Aston okay?"

"They're fine. Aston's just finished treating a couple of SF's with gunshot wounds." Hearing Fraiser's gasp, he filled her in quickly. "Not serious and I only scratched them. They'll be fine. I took some morphine and supplies from the cabinet while I was up there." Fraiser nodded at him, her eyes seeming to look directly at him. "Lewis is feeding the troops."

"What about personal needs?" Fraiser asked.

"Soon. Gonna take me a while."

"You don't pick the easy missions, do you?" she observed, smiling at him gently. "Allen seems okay," she added.

"Yeah, I can see. She's asleep, right now."

"How long do you plan keeping her cuffed to the bed?"

"When she wakes I'll come up, give her a break, food and water."

"Good."

There was silence. It felt comfortable. O'Neill knew Fraiser was on his side. There was no hint of accusation or anger in her manner. He watched her find the words she wanted to say.

"I'm worried about you, Colonel." Her voice whispered through his handset against his ear, her mouth sounding the words on the silent screen. He sighed.

"I'll be fine," he lied.

"You need to rest. Almost sixty-six hours to go."

"I've gone without sleep that long before. I'm a master of forty winks, you know."

"Yes, I do know. I've always suspected you do that deliberately to avoid..." She didn't finish. She didn't need to. Nightmares. The word hung heavily in the air and both knew it was there.

"I should go," O'Neill whispered.

"Call me any time, sir," Janet offered, her eyes communicating the same promise on the screen before him. O'Neill pressed the button, disconnecting the call. He felt a little easier in his mind. Fraiser understood. She was there for him.

His stomach rumbled and he remembered he hadn't eaten since lunch. Rising to his feet, he decided to hit the commissary. There would sure to be something there.

It was strange, rattling around the empty kitchen. He had often visited it late at night to help himself to something to eat. Knowing the staff were bound in the gate room, being fed MRIs made him feel uneasy.

He wondered if he would dare eat there ever again.

Until he had seen the crowded embarkation room, he had never realized the sheer scale of the SGC command. Officers, troops, scientists, linguists, maintenance, medical, kitchen, cleaning staff, SFs. There had to be close on three hundred people right now, all terrified out of their lives and squashed into far too small a space. He mulled the problem as he ate his sandwich.

His radio beeped.

"Berserker One. Go ahead. Over."

"Air Dog One here. Further evidence suggests there are eleven aliens in total. Over."

"Evidence? Over."

"The alien clones itself, combining its DNA with that of human DNA. We found 10 containers with residue of the same alien DNA. That of the Horness alien. Further containers were clear. We combined it with sample DNA from one of the scientists based at Area 52 and it rapidly grew into a fully-fledged clone of that scientist. Quite gruesome. The clone was blank, said nothing, did nothing, empty. The scientists are theorizing that some transference of memory from both the human denoting the DNA and the Horness alien must be part of the process. The clone was shot dead. It reverted immediately into the alien species you saw in the photographs. Based on this evidence the assumption is that the drug used delays the transformation process, and that Horness would have received his last dose 48 hours previously. Over."

"So Horness is the original DNA. Presumably, the other 10 clones contain human DNA belonging to people he knows well. Like Allen and Hoston. So where are they?"

"We're conducting a house search again of all known associates of Horness. He was new to the area, having recently been assigned to the SGC. Allen was his girlfriend and transferred to the SGC a little later. Over."

"How did Horness produce this drug? Over."

"We believe he has a lab somewhere. Over."

"Start with the scientists. Over."

"Agreed. Air Dog One Out."

O'Neill silently digested the new information. The evidence was tenuous to say the least but he had to go with the simplest, most logical answer. This breach was enormous. Thoughts flitted through his mind. Of everyone at the SGC, Teal'c was firmly based at the SGC and he only left the base in the company of SG1. This should be easy to prove.

Decision made he jumped up and made his way to the embarkation room, grabbing some more MRIs and water on the way. Dropping his load, he opened the door and switched on the net. The crowded room edged back.

"Lewis?" he yelled. The corporal appeared, looking very flustered, an empty MRI in one hand. She saw the boxes and sagged with relief. O'Neill kicked them through the electric net. Insulated in cardboard, they sailed through safely. The water followed.

"Is Aston helping you?" he checked.

The corporal nodded, as she dragged the boxes in past the door.

"Get Teal'c," he ordered. Hammond appeared nodding as he saw the new supplies.

"We need restbreaks, Colonel," he demanded.

O'Neill nodded.

"One hour."

Teal'c appeared, his expression stern and forbidding.

"What do you want with Teal'c?" Hammond demanded.

"A chat, General, just a chat. Clear the air, as it were," O'Neill replied coldly. He gestured with his P-90 and switched the net off. "Step just beyond the door, Teal'c, and face the wall there," he ordered.

The General looked as if he was about to object but Teal'c merely did as ordered. O'Neill stepped forward, and quickly locked the door.

"We're going to the infirmary, Teal'c."

Teal'c nodded and silently led the way, O'Neill carefully covering him. He did not take his eyes off the warrior for a second, keeping his distance in the lift. Disapproval radiated off Teal'c in waves.

They reached the infirmary and O'Neill gestured the Jaffa to Fraiser's office. She jumped as they entered. Teal'c looked at her in some surprise, his gaze sweeping the room and noting the debris at the base of the wall, caused by the P-90 earlier. He gave O'Neill a searching glance before turning his attention to the surprised doctor.

"Doctor Fraiser. I am glad to find you unharmed. Am I to understand that Sergeant Miles is also well?"

"He's not well, Teal'c, but doing okay. Colonel, what's going on?"

"I heard from General Rowney. He had some new information that I think we can use. The information leads me to believe Teal'c here is clean and there is a simple way to prove it. Doc, check if his symbiote is all present and correct. Sorry T," he added in apology to Teal'c who was still handcuffed.

Doctor Fraiser grimaced but did as requested. Throwing the Jaffa an apologetic look, she rolled up his T-shirt to reveal the X-shaped slit in his stomach. She prodded it slightly and then pulled her hand back sharply as the primta shot out, its jaws snapping wildly.

"Eww," Jack said, hating the sight as he always did. Fortunately, the immature symbiote withdrew back into the comfort of Teal'c's pouch of its own accord and Fraiser quickly rolled down his T-shirt.

"Err... All present and correct, sir," Fraiser commented pointedly.

O'Neill nodded.

He summarized General Rowney's new evidence. Teal'c listened attentively.

"Colonel. It is highly unlikely that Lieutenant Horness or any of the other aliens could have extracted DNA from the symbiote. Based on the evidence we have, I would safely say this is Teal'c."

"Indeed I am," Teal'c offered. "I am also unaware of my DNA being collected."

O'Neill weighed the risks, taking into account his own conviction that this was his old friend.

"Turn around Teal'c and please don't attack me until I've had a chance to explain the full story."

"You have my word, O'Neill."

Silently, he removed the handcuffs. Teal'c carefully rubbed his wrists and flexed his shoulders.

"Teal'c, I've spoken with General Rowney and can verify that Colonel O'Neill's actions here today are fully authorized," Fraiser offered helpfully.

"I surmise that the SGC facility has been compromised and that you are trying to determine the extent of the infiltration. Your apparent hostility to the SGC is a cover to confuse the aliens among us," the Jaffa summarized.

As ever, O'Neill was impressed. Teal'c was one smart alien. Janet looked impressed too.

"Yeah, sorry about that, Teal'c." O'Neill was feeling a little more hopeful.

"And our conversation yesterday?"

"I can't say it wasn't all true. My last comment however was definitely false."

Teal'c merely nodded regally.

"This is a difficult situation, O'Neill. How long do you expect it to take?"

O'Neill quickly summarized his mission and his desire to reduce both the numbers affected, and the time it took to identify the aliens.

"I was hoping that, between us, we could figure something out. We have Allen here."

"You wish to kill her, O'Neill?" Teal'c concluded. Fraiser gasped in shock, which turned to outrage as she realized O'Neill was considering that very option.

"We need to know, Doctor. Once we do, we can assess the risk the aliens pose. Look, I'm just gonna talk to her to start with. See what we can find out. Teal'c, I want you out of sight but armed with the zat."

Teal'c nodded his understanding and accepted the zat'nikatel Jack offered him.

"Doc, you stay out of sight for now," he ordered next.

O'Neill paused, considering for a moment how he was going to approach this.

"Right, let's do it."

~oo0oo~

Allen squealed as she opened her eyes to look straight into Colonel O'Neill's own. She swallowed as she took in their coldness. Her training asserted itself and she forced herself to calm down, acutely aware that her heart was rapidly beating in response to her predicament.

Cuffed to the bed, she felt very vulnerable and it did not help that the man, stood menacingly beside her, was dark, dangerous and wow. . . so incredibly sexy. His first words confused her.

"I know what you are."

What? She turned his strange statement over in her mind and felt something deep inside her stir restlessly.

"Sir?" she managed, instinct telling her she needed to buy some time.

"Cut the crap, Allen. We found Horness, his alien DNA, the drugs. Everything. Now all we have to do is to wait for you to need your next fix. Then you are so busted. You're going to be our guinea pig. You know, experiments, research, that sort of thing."

"But... but," she stammered, clueless as to what he was talking about. Firmly she reminded herself that the Colonel was totally, absolutely unstable from his experiences with the alien Horness had told her about, but this made absolutely no sense.

She felt a distraction in her mind and annoyed she tried to block it out, needing to focus on this lunatic before her. Shit, he had her strapped to a bed. She'd let him! What had possessed her? Perhaps she should have gone with the others. Although, for all she knew, they could all be dead. Aliens? DNA?

The annoying tickle in her mind was getting stronger and demanded her attention. With a suddenness that shocked her, the intrusion into her thoughts exploded and an evil presence confronted her head on. With its brutal assault on her consciousness came understanding and knowledge.

A powerful memory swept to the fore and she saw her own blank eyes staring at her before something was searing through her mind, stealing from her in a raid that had been frantic, needing to take precious memories, her knowledge and skills before she could surrender.

She remembered she had shut down. An overwhelming blackness had descended on her, but not before she had seen those same empty eyes, her eyes, spring to life.

In that moment Captain Diane Allen stared long and hard into the shocked eyes of the Colonel beside her, recognizing in her last few moments of awareness that he was not mad at all. It was she who was mad. Because she knew, without any shadow of a doubt, that she was an alien. It had taken her mind and she was, in reality, a creepy, life-sucking alien.

In her last act of will, Allen begged O'Neill for his help, letting rip a scream of the most complete and utter terror that she had ever heard before. It was the last sound the awareness that was Diane Allen would ever hear.

~oo0oo~

O'Neill watched with horror the revealing emotions that cavorted so wildly and vividly on Captain Allen's face, instinctively understanding that the helpless woman before him, screaming in the most excruciating agony, was in truth Captain Allen.

The scream did not fade. Instead, it transformed into the scream of battle as a carbon copy of the decomposed alien-Horness almost burst through the Captain's skin, ripping her clothes at the seams as it took possession of her body.

"Teal'c!" he yelled, raising his P-90 automatically and stepping back as the thing that had just transformed before him struggled against its bindings. Alive, it was even more horrific, deep-set red eyes glowing angrily in a heavily built green scaly skin, the scales at least ten inches in length and seeming to rise up against him.

"Hold it," he warned the creature as it continued to struggle. "I don't want to shoot you but I will if you force me."

The alien paid no attention to his threat and with a shocked realization, O'Neill saw the straining cuffs were not going to hold it.

Backing away, he aimed his P-90 straight at the alien's chest, determined to kill the thing dead if it escaped that bed. The alien looked directly at him and growled, a ferocious sound that promised nothing good.

As the cuffs snapped and the alien launched forth toward him, O'Neill let rip. He continued to fire at will as the alien ignored the bullets bouncing harmlessly off its scaly armor. A spasm of fear swept through him.

"Teal'c!" he screamed again, continuing to rake the unstoppable creature with bullets as it moved forward.

With relief, he heard the zat whine and then the alien halted, immersed in the Goa'uld weapon's sizzling energy. His relief was short-lived as the alien continued to stand. It shuddered as if to shake off the energy, which it seemed to do with horrific ease.

"Again!" he ordered forcefully.

In the corner of his eye he saw Teal'c fire again and, as the alien began to advance once more, O'Neill continued his retreat towards the door in a desperate attempt to contain the alien in the isolation room.

Instinctively he knew the zat was useless. As both he and Teal'c backed out, sealing the door behind them, they exchanged a pointed look of understanding, and took position. They waited, the seconds slowing until O'Neill could hear his heartbeat in his ears.

They did not have to wait long. The door smashed open, its bolts seemingly useless against the alien strength waged against it. As the alien appeared, they both let rip, continuing to back down the corridor. Finally, O'Neill's P-90 ran out and they were suddenly out of options. Behind him came Fraiser's voice.

"Down!" she ordered.

They dropped, O'Neill knowing that when the doctor's Berreta ran out of bullets, it would be hand to hand, not that her efforts were going to make a difference. His mind thinking rapidly, he began to hunt for the grenade he had stuffed in a vest pocket earlier, his other hand searching for a spare clip for his P-90.

He only had seconds and he had already counted four shots from Fraiser, four totally useless shots. The alien was almost upon them. Teal'c was readying himself to fight too.

As he managed to pull out the pin from the grenade, he heard the fifth bullet shoot high above his head.

It struck the alien dead center between its eyes and the creature stopped. It stopped dead.

Slowly it toppled backwards, landing heavily on the floor. Stunned, O'Neill turned towards Fraiser who was frozen solid, in a two handed firing position, behind them.

The knowledge that he was holding a live grenade impinged on his senses and swallowing his relief, he quickly reinserted the pin, gazing down at the near explosive pineapple shape in his hand.

"Crap, that was close," he muttered as he shifted to his feet. Teal'c was already at the alien's side, checking it was really dead. As he nodded confirmation to O'Neill, the Colonel turned back to the still frozen doctor, noting her Berreta was pointed directly at him. Quickly sidestepping its path, he moved around to her side.

"You did it, Doctor, you can stand down now."

Fraiser's eyes blinked and she swallowed. Slowly he took the suddenly shaking gun out of her trembling hands. She raised them straight to her mouth in horror.

"That was Allen?" she whispered. "Oh God!"

Grabbing Janet's shoulders to force her to look at him, and not at the alien stretched dead across her infirmary corridor, he shook her gently.

"It's over, Doc," he told her gently. "You did good, real good."

He waited until he saw recognition of him in her eyes.

"Thank you, sir," she nodded, beginning to pull herself together before expressing her true feelings in one simple word.

"Shit!"

~oo0oo~

O'Neill couldn't agree more.

In many ways, it was a sheer stroke of luck that the doctor had been the one to unwittingly determine the alien's weak point. He had committed the most unpardonable sin in trusting Fraiser earlier. So far his instincts had proved good, but that did not excuse him.

Just a few minutes earlier he had watched Captain Allen face the reality of her situation and he knew, in every fiber of his being that, up until that point, that woman had believed she was Captain Allen. A person who thought like her, felt like her and more to the point behaved like her.

He'd had no right to trust Fraiser earlier based on a gut feeling. If she had not just proved her loyalty, he would right now be locking her up somewhere until the whole thing was over.

The thought of how close he had come to royally screwing things up made him feel physically sick.

Teal'c was staring at him, his face an expression of query and O'Neill pulled himself together. He patted the tiny woman on the shoulder.

"Okay. Let's assess what we know and work out a game plan."

"We should get it back to the isolation room. I'll be able to run some tests there. See what else I can find out," Doctor Fraiser suggested.

O'Neill nodded and between himself and Teal'c, they managed to drag the heavy alien carcass into the desired location and back onto the same gurney. Letting out a heartfelt breath, Jack motioned them all to one corner.

"Okay. You should know that any infiltrators, posing as aliens in the SGC, truly believe they are the identity provided to them. When that alien took over Allen's body, she was genuinely petrified. It means we can't trust anybody. The alien half inside her heard my threats and simply took over, as if eradicating any vestige of humanity in it. Doc, if you hadn't been the one to kill that thing then right now, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

He watched the comprehension dawn in her eyes and did not miss the unconscious shiver that swept through her.

"Can you still trust me?" she asked, her voice shaking slightly.

"I believe we can, Doctor Fraiser. You had an ideal opportunity to eliminate both O'Neill and I. Instead you eliminated the alien," Teal'c offered, his cold logic applying some badly needed perspective for the CMO.

"Guess I've been very lucky then." Her reflection was heartfelt and said it all really. She continued with a medical analysis of the problem. "So based on the evidence, we can conclude that the alien and human DNA form a hybrid in which the human DNA is initially dominant, supported by the drug found at Horness' home. The human form can be killed: we have the car accident that killed Horness to prove that, with the alien DNA coming to the fore when the drug wears off. So what happened here?"

O'Neill picked up the thread, after a momentary glance at his watch display. He was feeling very aware that Hoston was downstairs in the embarkation room and that the plastic restraints would prove useless. That solved one problem, he may as well not bother with them.

"The alien must somehow be present, but in the background. When I threatened it, the alien DNA took over. Allen somehow recognized or felt the process happening and everything that was human about the hybrid just disappeared. The alien part clearly has the overall control."

"The alien form is very strong and has a natural armor that is impervious to bullets, with the exception of the space between its eyes," Teal'c observed. "It is also immune to the zat'nikatel. It appeared to throw off the energy as if it was but a mere distraction."

"We know how to kill it once it reveals itself," the Colonel noted.

"In a controlled situation, yes," Fraiser pointed out. She shook her head, meaningfully, in response to O'Neill's incredulous look, asking that he hold off a moment. "Yes, I know.

This wasn't exactly controlled but its going to need a controlled situation if you are going to place a bullet between its eyes with pinpoint accuracy. Mine was just a lucky shot, you know."

"We need a way of determining who is a hybrid and who isn't. Doc?"

She stood there thinking.

"I have a recent blood sample from Hoston, post a recent offworld mission. I'll do some research with the alien body we have here and run some tests. If I find anything, we can use that to eliminate anyone whose blood samples I have available. Sir, I'm concerned for the welfare of the hostages. I've been checking their medical records and there are several of the civilians involved who will be suffering shortly. I suggest that to maintain your cover, you ask for any medical requirements. I can prepare any drugs you need and both Aston and Lewis will be able to assist you."

O'Neill nodded.

"Okay, get that ready. Teal'c, I'm going to need you as a backup in the embarkation room. Restraints are obviously going to be useless against these creatures and it will help everyone if we remove them. However, this makes it dangerous for me to be in there with you so I'm going to take a position from the control room, once I've given everyone a break. You need to be ready to react if an alien breaks out from within the gateroom."

His friend nodded his understanding.

Leaving Fraiser to check on Miles and commence her tests, O'Neill and Teal'c made their way to the gateroom.

As they went, Jack explained how he wanted things to pan out. His solution was simple and therefore effective. O'Neill took some pliers out of yet another of his pockets and handed them over. He then sealed all the doors in the corridor, leaving a single passage from the embarkation room to the nearby toilets.

Teal'c emerged from the facility to declare them fully supplied with necessities and clean from anything that could conceivably be used as a weapon.

O'Neill switched on the net and opened the huge blast doors to the gate room. He stepped back and watched the milling crowd move back. Hammond appeared immediately, his relief at seeing Teal'c unharmed, obvious.

"Colonel! People in here need relief," he began angrily, before pausing as O'Neill flicked off the net and Teal'c stepped forward, pliers clearly visible in his now unbound hands.

"General Hammond. I have persuaded O'Neill that restraints are unnecessary. He has agreed to allow everyone a trip to the facilities, two at a time. I strongly advise everyone to fully cooperate in this matter. O'Neill is well armed and..." Teal'c allowed his words to fade tactfully away, giving Hammond a meaningful glance that spoke volumes.

Hammond clearly took onboard the implicit message that the Colonel was more than dangerous.

"If you would permit me, General," Teal'c offered, holding up the pliers.

"With pleasure, Teal'c," the General replied, turning to allow Teal'c to snap off his restraints, throwing a glare at O'Neill, who stayed well back from the door, his P-90 at the ready.

Hammond muttered a few orders and a queue began to form at the door. O'Neill, his expression deliberately cold and hard, slowly backed away, motioning the first two, both SFs, to follow him. As he reached the bathroom he hunkered back a little further against the wall and motioned them in.

Quickly the two SFs emerged and darting O'Neill hateful looks, they obediently moved back to the embarkation room. Two more started down the corridor and the pattern was set.

Without altering a muscle in his body, he monitored Hoston, his known alien infiltrator, move through the trip to the facility. Hoston looked scared, his true feelings hid well behind an assumed mask of bravado expected from a well-trained SG team member. If O'Neill had not known otherwise, he knew he would never have suspected the man.

The queue continued and eventually O'Neill began to feel impatient.

"Tell Hammond to send any civilian personnel three at a time. See if we can hurry this up a bit," he ordered the next two who went through.

An hour later, having silently wilted under the furious glares sent his way by those bold enough to do so, O'Neill finally saw the General approach. Hammond just shook his head at him, cold fury and disappointment clearly reflected in his eyes. O'Neill's demeanor did not even twitch but Carter's eventual appearance nearly undid him completely.

Rubbing her wrists, she drew closer, her confused, hurt eyes not leaving his for a second. Her expression seared him and the slight wobble of her lips cut right through his facade.

She noticed his flinch and stopped at the door, waiting until the technician with her had moved into the bathroom.

"Jack? For God's sake, why? I thought we were okay when you left. What's happened to change you like this? Was it the chip being removed?"

"Stop it," he hissed, knowing he couldn't let her continue. Sam didn't back down one iota. If anything, she stepped closer towards him and he was forced to raise his P-90 higher to make her understand the message. She stopped but did not move back.

"You're hurting people in there. Most of them had nothing to do with what we did to you. They're scared. Let them go. Then we can talk. You, me, Teal'c, Daniel, the General..."

"That's enough, Carter. What? You got some sort of a death wish?" he snapped.

She caught her lip with her teeth, and glanced down at the floor. When she looked up, her eyes were bright with tears.

"Jack, I love you. I want to help you through this. If you need me to go, then I'll go. Anything. Please just stop this now, before someone gets seriously hurt."

God, this was too much. She was breaking down all his defenses with complete ease. Pulling himself together he aimed the P-90 at her feet and let out a round. She leapt back as the General and Daniel launched themselves down the corridor towards them. Seeing Carter still standing, they stopped.

Lifting a shocked face towards him, she nodded slowly.

"Okay, Colonel. I get the message."

Tears now pouring down her face she dived into the bathroom.

Long minutes passed before she emerged with her companion. She had fiercely scrubbed her face clean but her eyes still looked red. Without a backward glance at him, she moved towards Hammond and Daniel waiting for her. They exchanged a few words before Daniel moved towards him.

"You the last?" O'Neill asked harshly.

Daniel nodded, his face a sickly pale color.

"You didn't have to do that to Sam, you bastard," he spat, his words as angry as O'Neill had ever heard them. The Colonel narrowed his eyes, stealing himself, and Daniel took a step back. "I thought I knew you, Jack. Guess I was wrong," he continued, refusing to back down completely.

"That's what happens, Danny, when you sell out your friends. You find you have to face the consequences."

Daniel just looked at him in disgust, and shook his head.

"I feel sorry for you, Jack. K'Larsia really did a number on you and I feel responsible for that. I do. But hurting all these people here? That's not fair. That's not what the Jack I knew would have done. He was stronger than that."

The words were harsh and it took all of O'Neill's training to remind him that Daniel was responding naturally to an act.

"Get on with it, Jackson, or I swear..."

With relief, O'Neill watched Daniel take the hint. Five minutes later, they were all safely locked up again and he had retrieved the pliers from Teal'c.

Lifting up his arm O'Neill checked, for the hundredth time, the infirmary and security room.

The three security men in there had been penned in for hours now. He knew they had coffee to keep them going, but they needed a respite too. He called in his back up and they had a brief discussion. Once O'Neill had filled Air Dog One in on the reaction of Allen to the threats and what was required to neutralize an aggressive response the decision was easy.

Moving over to the computer, O'Neill released the security codes and the SGC quarantine was breached. He grabbed the phone and dialed Fraiser who was moving between Miles and the alien in the isolation room. She answered breathlessly on his third ring.

"Colonel?"

"Expect visitors, Doctor. I've spoken with Air Dog One and he's going to release the Security personnel and place them in quarantine. They'll try on them what we pulled on Allen, and if they stay human, they'll be moved to more comfortable quarters until the seventy-two hours are up."

Fraiser nodded.

"Sounds good to me, sir. Does this mean I get some help here?"

"That's the idea. You can pool your findings with the scientists that have already been working on this. I want an answer, before yesterday, on identifying the infiltrators."

"Yes, sir."

O'Neill monitored the resulting activity on his screens, noting the security personnel quickly surrender and new officers replace them. Efficiently, he sealed the doors required to place the SGC beneath the security room and infirmary into a second level of quarantine. If any aliens did break out he wanted them contained.

The embarkation room was quiet, people managing to find a place to sit. He noticed Teal'c monitoring them all covertly, keeping a vigilant but discreet eye on Hoston.

The atmosphere was one of calm, the General wandering round, speaking to everyone, taking time to reassure the civilian members less used to this sort of pressure. Several seemed to be settling down to try and get some sleep. That spurred him on. Time was moving on and he had no real idea when an alien might suddenly emerge. Teal'c was unarmed and he needed a quick route in.

He hit the control to retract the blast shield from the control window. The heavy noise drew everyone's attention and he felt exposed as they all stared at him.

The glass in the window was bullet proof but O'Neill had a gadget for that. He pulled out the specially reinforced titanium glasscutter and commenced creating a hole large enough for him to climb through if necessary. Before he reached full circle he placed a handle with a magnetized sucker on it, and finished the task, using the attached handle to pull the glass safely into the control room.

The hostages below observed his actions with suspicion, but as the hole appeared and nothing more happened, they settled back down. Only the General continued to throw assessing glances up at the control window as O'Neill settled down to wait.

His attention was on the monitoring screens. Fraiser was busily at work with some, clearly, welcome assistance and Miles was under the care of two new medics, relieving the CMO of the dual need to care for her patient and research the alien problem.

He was tired and, grabbing a ration bar, he devoured it quickly, washing it down with water

Jackfic Archive Story

What Choice Now

by Celeste