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Chapter Text

Sam twitched at the voice that came from around her knees.

“Attack or defend?”

She looked back and down at where Alain Corbier sat hunched on the ground. His filthy face was streaked with sweat, pale with pain and exhaustion through the grime, but his eyes were bright and alert. He met her gaze and clarified, “When the Colonel does his big bang what’ya think they’ll do? Attack or defend?”

Sam looked up, towards buildings where a hint of movement in the shadows set her nerves thrumming. “That’s not really my job, Corbier. That’s why we have cultural experts – to figure out that kind of question. And the Colonel to figure out what to do about it.”

He snorted. “You’re one of the brains, Major. You have to have an idea.”

“It’s not my job -” The look he gave her made the excuse impossible to say.

“Major, it’s my job to do what my country needs, even if I get killed. Part of your job is knowing how and why.” He shrugged, shot her an apologetic grimace. “I figure I’m never gonna really know why. But I’d like to be ready for how.”

She fidgeted a moment, then sighed. “Unofficial and informal?”

“S’how I’m asking.” His teeth flashed in a quick grin. “Come on. Keeps my mind off my fuckin’ leg.”

She nodded and gave him her answer. “I think they’ll attack.”

Teal’c’s low voice startled her again. “Why do you believe that, Major Carter?”

She glanced over to where he guarded their other flank and then turned back to watch her side again. “I’m just guessing, Teal’c.”

“I would like to know your reasoning. Please go on.” There was no challenge in his tone, just calm curiosity.

“Well . . .” She paused, glancing to where the Colonel was talking to Stromburg and Dave. She dropped her voice a little. “So far they’ve been driving us towards their young because we’re prey. We may be dangerous, but I guess their young are pretty tough. But when the Colonel hits them he’ll be showing them we’re successful predators and that we’re dangerous to their young. It’s just about nightfall. They may be just acting on instinct or like animals, but I don’t think they’ll let a dangerous entity stay in proximity to their young.”

“Uh huh.” Corbier sounded grimly satisfied. “About like I figured it too. Defense, that’d be for critters trying to keep us away from their young to start with or keep us controlled until they’re ready to use us.”

“They’re the top predators in this system. Top predators don’t tolerate successful competitors remaining in circulation.” Sam scanned the building faces again. The late afternoon sun hung low, dazzling where it got past her sunglasses. “I wonder how the people ever evolved with these things here.”

“Like we’re herd cows.” Corbier’s voice was grim.

“I think that unlikely, but that question is rather unimportant at the moment.” Teal’c moved back a little, closer to them even as he kept his eyes on the dilapidated buildings on the sunny side of the street. “I would very much enjoy knowing whether these creatures ever venture into the deeper recesses of these structures. Their behavior suggests they do not.”

It was an unusually long speech for Teal’c and Sam studied him a moment, until a wry voice brought her around with a nervous start.

“Hey, kids. You passing notes in the back of the class?”

“Sir?”

“O’Neill.”

And more softly, Corbier’s whispered curse and complaint, “. . . Officers got ears like bats.”

“That’s how we get to be officers.” Colonel O’Neill was tossing a thermite grenade back and forth, left hand to right and back again, flipping once each time. He grinned too brightly. “Come on, share it with all of us.”

“It was nothing, Sir.” Sam shifted, one foot to the other and stood a little straighter. She had questions but she’d be damned if she’d spook the others by suggesting a lack of faith in his plan.

Teal’c, however, was an entirely different matter. “Had I faced this situation as First Prime, O’Neill, I might have weighed the relative value of attacking a stationary resource such as the eggs.”

The Colonel nodded thoughtfully. “And you would have weighed it against . . . let me guess . . . trying to punch through a relatively thin flanking force?”

Teal’c tilted his staff towards the side of the street, the subtle movement letting the setting sun play over the metal. “In my experience attacking such a force is superior to defending against an enfilade.”

“Enfilade?”

“That is the correct term, is it not?”

“You didn’t pick that up from Jerry Springer.” The Colonel still grinned, though it was fading. Teal’c raised an eyebrow. The Colonel sighed and stopped tossing the grenade between his hands. “I could ask you to just trust me.”

“You could.”

“We do, Sir.”

Dark eyes met hers. She could see him reading her face, then down to study Corbier and back up to Teal’c. He rolled his eyes finally and waved one hand in a circle, taking in the street, them, the whole situation. “If I had an army here, Teal’c, I’d agree with you. And probably Carter since I figure she’s thinking the same thing. But I don’t.”

He was quiet for a long moment, long enough that Sam dropped her eyes from his, looked over to meet Teal’c’s gaze and back. She took a deep breath. “Sir, it does seem possible that doing this could provoke them.”

The Colonel gave a humorless snort. “Ya think?”

“Great. Do you people always do this song and dance?” Corbier’s voice was sour.

The Colonel shot him the kind of look that made Sam’s stomach tighten in an ‘oh-shit-what’d-I-do’ reflex, but his voice was mild, even pleasant. “You wanted to ask me something, sergeant?”

“Damn right!”

Sam heard an outraged Chulakian oath from Teal’c even as she wheeled on Corbier to slap down the blatant insubordination. “That’s enough, sergeant.”

“It’s okay, Major. The man’s got a question.” The Colonel’s lilting tone sounded quite cheerful. Sam looked up to meet Teal’c’s eyes and saw the same wariness she was feeling.

Something must have finally triggered a much-delayed survival instinct in Corbier who opened his mouth, shut it, cleared his throat and went on much more politely. “Permission to speak freely, Colonel O’Neill?”

The Colonel’s affable-seeming grin widened and never reached his eyes. “By all means.”

Corbier sucked in an audible breath. “You get us killed, that’s what I figure officers do. Sir. But Colonel O’Neill, if I’m gonna die I want to take the bastards out with me. This . . . “

Corbier trailed off, waving vaguely towards the sides of the street. Sam took a quick look at streets glowing in late afternoon sunlight then back to the Colonel, who waggled his eyebrows and tilted his head encouragingly. He mimicked Corbier’s gesture, waving his grenade in a circle. “This . . .?”

“Forget it. Sorry, Sir.” Corbier backed down, voice sour and resigned.

Teal’c’s voice startled Sam. She saw Corbier twitch at the sound. “O’Neill, I believe that Sergeant Corbier was inquiring about the relative efficacy of using grenades to attack stationary, passive targets as opposed to using them to breach the enemy line.”

The Colonel rocked back and forth, heel to toe, studying Teal’c, Corbier, finally meeting Sam’s eyes. He sucked in a deep breath, then looked into the lowering sun and blew the breath out, deflating. “Christ, I hate show and tell.”

“Sir, I’m sure . . .” He waved her to a stop; she wondered what she’d have said if he hadn’t.

“S’okay, Carter. The man’s got a right to know.” He looked down at the grenade in his hands, and up again at them. “Teal’c, let me see if I have it right. You figure we’re in a pincer move and basically those eggs are impassable. So when you were First Prime you’d have told your guys to punch a hole sideways. Carter, you figure the same thing, right? Straight out of all those military strategy classes you probably got a A in, right?”

Sam cleared her throat and finally nodded. “Yes, Sir. I . . . it seems like a waste of materials to attack the eggs, Sir. They’re stationary. We have limited supplies. We’re so close to the gate, Sir. If we broke through their lines we might make it.”

She stopped. The silence between them all settled. Corbier was nodding. Teal’c was impassive but one eyebrow rose as the Colonel looked in his direction. Behind him, Dave and Stromburg and the other guy had moved closer, were listening, faces tense. The Colonel glanced at them all, shoved back his cap to rake fingers through his hair and waved the cap at the setting sun. “It sounds nice, Carter, but we’d be fighting a running battle, retreating and trying to protect our rear.”

“But we’d be armed.” Sam blurted it out and then stopped. Teal’c spoke next. “O’Neill, I will follow your orders. My will is yours. But to know – if a man is to die, the reasons matter. Is this revenge or is it truly a plan?”

“You mean am I doing this to hit ‘em where it hurts?” The Colonel smirked. “I won’t pretend there’s not a little of that in there, the revenge part of it at least, but this is how I see it. If I had an army, yeah, I’d be trying to punch that hole. But I don’t. I’ve got six people and I want to keep them all alive. Crap. I really hate this . . .” He shook his head and started moving, pacing, looking up towards the sides of the street. “They hunt in the day, Carter. You said it. They only attacked us that one time at night, when we had a fire. Sort of an opportunity thing. Remember what happened? They got in each other’s way. They got tangled up with those long tails and claws. And they don’t hunt in big packs, either, you notice that?”

Sam looked up and down the street where furtive movements in the shadows suggested dozens of things hiding, moving. When she turned she saw Teal’c doing the same thing. They looked at each other, then at Colonel O’Neill. They didn’t have to say it out loud. He snorted in faint amusement. “I know. There’s a hell of a lot of them there. But they’re not hunting, not really. They’re driving us. Daniel and Rossiter fended off an attack. They’d never have survived a big group. And Stromburg – was that a big group that attacked you guys?”

“I . . . I can’t recall.” She fidgeted and looked away.

“Probably not. If big groups worked then you’d be dead. Small groups and a few of you get away.” The Colonel turned back towards them. “They want us to walk into the eggs; well, hell with that. But right now, take a good look. They’re in the walls but they’re strung out. We try to bust through the lines, they’ll just mass up and turn us back. Sooner or later we go down to attrition, at best. But we attack their young and I’ll lay odds they lose it and attack. All of ‘em at once.”

Sam shuddered at the thought and her mouth tasted metallic from fear. The guy whose name she’d forgotten, or maybe never knew, was the one to say it out loud. His voice twanged with nerves. “They’ll rip us to shreds. That’s your big plan?”

The Colonel looked towards him. Sam could see him waiting until the other guy met his eyes, then he went on. “Teal’c led armies. The Major studied tactics. For armies. Hell, I’ll bet Corbier’s got some military history under his belt too. I didn’t lead armies. I handled surgical insertion and extraction for small units in the field. You’re going to have to trust me on this, all of you. The only chance we’ve got is if they come at us in a mob. They’re not good in big groups and they’re lousy at night. Think about it. You see them in the buildings but they stay by the windows. Their nests are glued outside, not in where you’d think they’d be safe. They hunt in the day in small groups Hell, there’s probably more but that’s what I saw. If we try to do this the old-fashioned way they’ll take us out one at a time. That’s if we’re lucky.”

Sam finally nodded, and spoke. “Or throw us to the eggs themselves. They’re big and fast, but they’re diurnal. And those tails and claws and teeth . . . It’d make sense if that’s why they haven’t engaged us yet. It’s easier to wait overnight and push us when they can see us, in the day.”

The Colonel pointed towards her with his grenade. His voice was sarcastic. “And you go to the head of the class. Any more questions people? Can we pretend we’re in the Air Force again?” He looked at Corbier, then up to her and Teal’c, and to the three standing behind him. Sam bit down on her lips, faintly sick at the look she’d caught in his eyes, a look that told her they’d have a lot to talk about later.

He crooked a finger in her direction. “Major?”

Okay, not so much later after all. She stepped away from Corbier, out of earshot though she was sure Teal’c’s sharp ears could still hear. As was the Colonel, whose eyes flickered up once then came back to her face, dark and unreadable. “Feel better now, Carter?”

Sam took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, taking parade rest. “Sir. I will formally submit myself for disciplinary action upon retu –“

“Ah ah ah! Stop.” Colonel O’Neill waved her words away. “Last I looked I was just a colonel, not a king. You get to ask questions and sometimes I even need to answer them. But Carter . . .from now on, leave the ‘questions in the middle of a crisis’ thing to Daniel. Okay?”

“Yeah.” She mustered a smile from somewhere. “He does it better than I do.”

“Not that you were completely off base.” The Colonel tossed his grenade in the air and caught it again, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I really want to blow up some eggs.”

Her sober mask shattered and she couldn’t help the snort of laughter that escaped. “Make some omelets, Sir?”

“I’m a lousy cook. I figure I’ll just scramble the bastards instead.”

“Ummm. I do have one more question.”

All the humor dropped from his face and cold, intent eyes fixed on her face. His voice was neutral. “Go on.”

“When?”

A slow smile grew across his face. He waved at the shadowed side of the street behind his back. “Best time for any attack, Carter. Just after sundown. It’s probably just as well you guys dragged me into that dog and pony show. Kept you kids from getting all wound up.”

She grinned ruefully, acknowledging the mild dig. “So we’ve got about a half hour?”

“Carter, I didn’t tell you to stop asking questions. Just to get the timing right. What do you really want to know?”

“What happens next? After they mob us.”

“Knew you could do it.” He grinned. “And the answer is . . . we improvise. I’ll take point. I want you and Teal’c on our six. Make sure Corbier keeps up. We’ll break for the southern side of the street. We need to get through their line and into the building. After that, it’s all seat of the pants and keep heading east.”

“Right.” She bit her tongue and reflexively caressed her weapon, taking comfort in its hard, reliable contours. “We’re pretty close to the gate, aren’t we? I make it about three streets south and maybe three miles east of here.”

“Piece of cake.” The Colonel held out his grenade to her. “Here.”

“I’ve got about five, Sir.”

“It’s my lucky grenade, Carter.” His smile was stubbornly confident. “If I haven’t had to use it so far then maybe you won’t either.”

She reached out, touched it with the tips of her fingers then met his eyes. Wanted to say she was scared. Wanted to say she was proud to serve. Settled for, “Thank you, sir. I’ll use it well.”

“We’ll be fine, Major. If nothing else, we’ll survive just to kick Daniel’s ass for getting us into another fine mess.”

She bit down hard on both lips but this time the emotion was sudden, wild laughter. His eyes sparkled too. She nodded and glanced back, seeing their scruffy group huddled together making plans. And Teal’c, standing implacable guard, who nodded to her and briefly, respectfully, bowed his head to the Colonel.

The sun was below the roofline and the street fell into gloom. The Colonel gave her shoulder a friendly pat and turned away. Three steps and he suddenly stopped, turned back to meet her eyes. “He’d have asked the same questions, Carter. You know?”

“He’s better at it, Sir.” She held her breath, waiting.

He finally nodded, a smile still playing at the corners of his mouth. “Let’s not tell him that, okay?”

She nodded. He turned away, striding towards Stromburg’s little group like he didn’t have a care in the world. Teal’c and Corbier were waiting for her. She straightened her back and walked . . . like she did not have a care in this whole, damned world.

===================================

Daniel Jackson was sick of blood, but somehow wounds without blood were worse. He gritted his teeth and pinched together another bloodless, rubbery inch of skin and shoved the pre-threaded needle through it.

Under his hands, Ziusura twitched a shoulder. “You waste time.”

“I’m working as fast as I can.”

The Goa’uld twisted, pulling the needle out of his hands. A small, inhumanly strong hand closed around his wrist. “If you wish to serve me, Tau’ri, there are other, more pleasant ways.”

Ziusura’s leer sat badly on Natalie Peng’s plain, fine-boned face. Daniel twisted his wrist but the Goa’uld held tight. “Let go, Ziusura. We’ve already been through this.”

That small, stolen hand kept pulling, drawing him down nose to nose. Ziusura’s breath should have been stale, sour from days on foot. Goa’uld immunity rendered it odorless, warm and wrong on a level so deep he felt it in his bones. The creature turned its face, brushing lips against his and Daniel flinched. It pulled him closer, tongue pushing past his lips, working at his teeth. Daniel growled deep in his throat and wrenched himself loose, backing away. “Don’t do that again.”

Ziusura smirked. “Your kind are so confused. Why do you do this?”

Daniel rubbed at his bruised wrist, lips curling back from his teeth. “I am in no way confused about you. And I have been very clear that you are to keep your hands off me.”

The Goa’uld stood with a slow, boneless grace its host had never had. “I know your kind. I know you. You balk but I can give you everything you want.”

“But my freedom.”

“Freedom.” It waved the statement away. “Insects are free. Vermin is free. I offer you eons. Time to search, to learn, to know. Wealth and power, Tau’ri. Your kind thirst for such.”

“Not me.”

It snorted, an incongruously normal sound. “Your kind do not change so much. So short-lived, my dear. Do you truly not dream of the time? So many secrets to learn. I can give you centuries to learn.” It stepped closer. “Centuries to find knowledge and love.”

He stared appalled at the creature smiling coyly up at him from under its lashes. The pink tip of its tongue ran across dry, cracked lips. Daniel snarled, “Shut up.”

Ziusura quirked a brow. “Passion suits you. It must feel like wine in your blood.”

Daniel shut his eyes, trembling with the desire for violence. He slowly relaxed his hands from fists he hadn’t known he’d made and shook himself, feeling filthy. “That’s disgust. Look. I need you. You need me. For just a little while longer. Then I hope I never see you again and I hope the next time I hear your name is when you die.”

“Such spite.” It smiled gently. “Your pretense is so fragile. Why do you even bother?”

“Pr- ,” He stood there, open-mouthed, trying to find words. He finally spun away from the creature, trying to find something to do. “Damn it. I’m not doing this.”

“Do not turn away from me!”

The snap of vegetation crushed under foot gave an instant’s warning before it yanked him around. He grabbed the hand that clutched his shirt and raised a fist. “Let go! Get your hands off me!”

It caught his raised fist, pulling him close. “I have been patient with you. I have been kind.”

“You’re a goddamned parasite! Let go of me!” He thrashed in its grip, letting go of the its wrist to jam the heel of his hand into its face.

The Goa’uld shook him, hissing, “There was a time when you begged to come unto us.”

The words cut through his rage. He froze, breathing hard. He had to force his words past clenched teeth. “If you say her name I will kill you. I swear I will kill you.”

Ziusura smiled, an ugly expression. “Shall I fear the killer of infants? I like this in you. I like your true face.”

As quickly as he’d gone hot, he went cold, his anger cooling to a pure, hard hate. “You’re a thief. Without the host your kind are mindless, ugly worms. You steal everything, even your minds.”

“Arrogant beast! We gave your kind everything. We gave you your gods. We gave you your words. You should beg for my touch and weep joy at my favor!”

“You can let go now, worm.” He shuddered, sickened by its touch and, even more, by the rage he’d felt.

It shook him again. The smile was gone, leaving baffled anger. “Why?”

“What?” Its question confused him.

The hand clenching his shirt let go, rose to stroke his hair. “So smooth. Your kind has skin like silk. The first host I took moved so smoothly for me, dancing around me. I would dance with you for a thousand years.”

Daniel tasted bile at the thought. “I’d rather be eaten by bugs.”

His head rang as it slapped him so fast he didn’t see it coming. Ziusura leaned over him, grabbing his shoulders. “How dare you! Obstinate, arrogant meat! I would bless your flesh with my touch and you spurn me?”

“Natalie’s an entomologist, Ziusura. Ask her about maggots, parasite.” The small hands tightened on his shoulders and shook him. Daniel brought his arms up in a block, trying to break the hold.

“I am a god!” It yowled, eyes glowing and spittle flying.

“You’re a delusional worm!”

It shook him then threw him back to the ground. “Be grateful for your beauty and Our love.”

“Love? LOVE?” He sat up, rubbing his bruises. “You don’t know what the word means! You . . . even using the word is a joke from you. ALL of you. You don’t LOVE us. You use us!”

Ziusura crouched down, smiling at him. “As do you with your livestock. Which you have always loved. I remember your people, and their horses. In Egypt they mummified cats. Revered kine.” It caressed his cheek. “You loved them all. And ate their flesh.”

Daniel swallowed against a sudden sour taste at the back of his throat. He whispered, “That’s not the same.”

“Of course not. We did not devour our loved ones. Nor did we wipe them out.”

Suddenly feeling on firmer ground, he bridled. “Lies. I’ve seen the peoples you’ve destroyed, seen the bodies you left behind.”

One fine-boned, grimy hand waved his words away. “Trivial. Your kind have ever been on the verge of destroying yourselves. Our love for you saved you. We made sure your kind would survive even in the face of your own hate.”

“What?” Daniel shook his head in disbelief. “W-w-what!? You saved . . . you . . . are you crazy? No, you’re Goa’uld. What was I thinking.”

“You would contest morals with me, little creature? I am a god. Morals are my will.”

Daniel felt his mouth flap open, shut. “

It chuckled. The sound was like fingernails on blackboards. “Your outrage would be offensive were it not ludicrous. Would you truly assert your kind have not sought to destroy each other time and time again?”

“That is not the point!”

“Do you then permit those you love to die?” Ziusura smiled sweetly and shook its head in a show of bemusement. “My kind preserves those we love, keeps you alive and strews your seed ‘mongst the stars.”

“You farm us.” There was a sour taste in Daniel’s mouth. “We’re livestock to you.”

“And what of it? You travel in herds. You treat each other as you claim we treat you, yet you give no such return as do we, who are your gods. This host remembers slavery among your kind. My sweet, this host knows that your kind chooses for beauty and strength even as do your gods. Would you damn your gods for acting as you yourselves do? Your gods, at least, possess divine right.”

Daniel glared at it, breathing hard, words on the tip of his tongue. Lies on the tip of his tongue. He gestured, coughed, tried again. “We admit our wrongs. When we know we’ve done wrong, we change. Unlike you.”

Ziusura laughed. Threw back its head and pealed with glee. “You do? Yet your people still hold slaves, my dear. Do you tell me true that your kind no longer torture their own?”

“They . . . They are blinded and . . . “ He stopped. Swallowed bitter words, lips drawing into a thin line.

The Goa’uld slunk closer to him with boneless grace. “Do your kind now show kindness amongst them so that men - and women - no longer starve in the street, Daniel Jackson?”

“You know the answer to that.” He wrapped his arms in a tight clench across his chest. “I don’t want to be played with.”

“No game, Tau’ri. You condemn my kind for choosing among you.” Its voice was suddenly sharp and hard. “You condemn us for using your kind. How dare you. How dare you? How dare you stand before us and claim your kind are better? Claim you do not need your gods? Claim that we are evil for our love and our kindness and our care of you, who are as children to us. We care for you and you claim abuse? We keep you safe and you scream protest? Your arrogance is beyond belief. Yet we do love you still.”

Its last words were a verbal caress that raised the hair on his nape. “The mistakes are ours to make. Mistakes are the right of all sentient creatures, Ziusura. It is how we learn and grow. We need freedom to grow.”

It tilted its head to the side, apparently weighing his words. “If your kind gave such freedom to each other I might believe you. I might grant you the freedom you crave. But a child will ask for freedom before being ready to accept its duties. And such is true of you.”

“That is NOT your decision to make!”

“Is it then not a parent’s decision to make?”

“You are not my parent! Not our parents! You are vermin!”

“Yet we do no more than you to cause harm, and a great deal more than you to keep your kind alive. We were, indeed, the parents of your languages, your arts, your great civilizations.”

“Bullshit.” He instantly regretted the word but by then it was too late.

It smiled at him. “Daniel Jackson, you are a credit to your kind yet you cannot honestly defend them. If you could claim their virtues in truth, you would do so. You would not need . . . Invective.” The word was delivered with visible glee.

Daniel sat, breathing hard and swallowing hard against the taste in his mouth. “We are still growing. Learning. And that can only happen with freedom.”

“Which any good parent will grant when it is earned by the child.”

He clenched his teeth against the words he wanted to say, digging his fingers into his arms. His jaw ached. He slowly opened his hands, one finger at a time, and deliberately looked away from Ziusura’s intent stare. “We should make camp.”

“Yes.” The double voice rang with satisfaction. “Please do. And shall we speak more of your kind and their achievements? I truly enjoy your thoughts, and find your voice pleasing to the ear.”

“You can stop now.” Daniel turned towards the dryer side of the street, kicking through rubble, looking for shelter.

Ziusura followed him, ostentatiously holding its ribbon weapon at the ready. “I would not wish you to come to harm, Daniel. You should not stray from my protection.”

He spun, glaring back at the creature. “Stop it. I don't believe in the Machiavelli argument."

"Machiavelli . . ." The double-toned voice rolled the name. Ziusura shrugged. "Why would I care about a Tau'ri thinker? You need only look at your species' actions. I speak reality."

Daniel caught the hand that petted his chest, pulling it away from his skin. "You're just using the same argument every tyrant ever used, no matter what their species. And they're all worms, Ziusura, whether they've got two legs or not. There will always be people who claim everyone else is sheep."

The hand he held twisted, wove fingers through his. "Yet despite your words, your people truly do act like sheep. They follow though they know their leaders are evil. They turn away from righteousness for a fleeting promise of ease and certainty. At least my kind gave them gods, whose vision spans the ages. Without us they blindly follow the loudest voice, no matter how blind the speaker."

"You destroyed planets! Kept entire worlds of people locked in ignorance and illiteracy to keep them docile!" He stopped shouting and yanked his hand away from the creature's touch. "Brute force and terror aren't leadership."

"And when your own kind learns that lesson perhaps you will be worthy to lead yourselves. We know your kind, Daniel. We love your kind, despite your sins." Its voice was gentle, soothing. Smug.

Daniel blinked, stunned by the audacity of the statement. He finally shook his head and smiled gently back. "I hope we learned it from you. I hope it isn't inherent to my kind, lying by labels like that. George Orwell would have recognized you, Ziusura. He'd have laughed."

Ziusura shook its head, making a regretful moue. "Another so-called philosopher, Daniel? You have the great religious texts. We gifted you with our wisdom, gave you holy books. You still let these heretics lead you astray?"

"One of our holy books denounces the false gods, Ziusura."

"Is that the book that tells you to forgive? Turn the other cheek? Love your brother? Refrain from murder and adultery and theft?" Ziusura smiled brightly and gave a tiny, soundless clapping movement with the tips of its slender, stolen fingers. "Your kind has come so far!"

"Some of us have." Daniel slowly let go of the anger that had stiffened his spine, left him nearly shaking as he faced the Goa'uld. "When we escape from the box, when we refuse to let any god, any ruler, blind us we grow. It's slow and painful but it's real."

The thin fingers hovered in the air beside his face, then drew back. Ziusura smiled kindly. "All parents face this dilemma, Daniel. Do you let the child wander or do you keep the child close? Wise parents raise strong children. Weak ones raise children who are wild, if they survive at all."

Daniel smiled ruefully. "You have a great future in politics, Ziusura. I know a senator who'd love to get a good spin doctor."

"You do not refute my words?" Ziusura smiled back.

"We're not debating anything real, Ziusura. I'm telling you adults need freedom to learn and you're feeding me condescension and propaganda. What's to refute?"

The so-ordinary brown eyes flashed briefly molten white, plain features pinching into anger, then smoothing into indulgence. "One day you, too, may know a parent's dilemma, child. I shall do my best to see you safely home, Daniel. No matter what you say."

He clenched his teeth a moment then relaxed again. And smiled back. "And I'll let you hide behind me all the way. Now, about that camp . . ."

"It is midday, child. Why do you wish to halt? Are you hurt?" The words were spoken in a syrupy tone, sharp eyes fixed on him.

Daniel hesitated, then gestured towards Ziusura's shoulder. "You . . . Natalie was badly hurt. Even with your . . . abilities that kind of injury must be exhausting."

"I'm a god, Daniel." Ziusura held out its hands in what might have been a graceful gesture - on a person wearing robes in a place of pomp and ceremony. It must have seen the thought in his expression. It bridled, lifting a small chin, bracing narrow shoulders. "I shall lead you from the wilderness, Tau'ri."

He snickered. An ugly and remarkably unimpressive scowl contorted its face. "You doubt me?"

The snickers became giggles. Daniel tried to stop and coughed, coughed again, burst out into laughter. "Of course I doubt you! You're leading me? Ziusura, you're hiding behind my back!"

"I have saved your life, Tau'ri!"

"That's true. That is true. Of course, if you hadn't they'd have eaten you up like the gingerbread man."

"I do not know this god . . ." Ziusura looked briefly puzzled, then furious. "You make jest of me!"

"Ziusura, at best you were a flood god. Maybe if I needed swimming lessons I'd buy the act. Naaahhh." He shook his head and giggled again.

A slap rocked him back, stunned. "Show respect, whelp! To your elders and your God!"

Daniel tasted blood. His cheek felt hot. "We've been through this already, Ziusura. And it was a draw. Don't hit me again."

"You are insolent."

"Uh huh. And uppity and ungrateful and sharper than a serpent's tooth. And I stink and my beard itches and I want out of this jungle so if you really don't need to rest, then let's go."

"All right."

"Okay."

"Then go." Ziusura waved and crossed its arms, posing.

Daniel glared, then snorted. Again. His back felt grimy and his t-shirt stuck to his skin as he leaned down to pick up his pack. He could barely smell himself anymore, but what little he could smell told him that being scent-deaf was a good thing. He almost played a macho catch game with his machete, then imagined what Jack would say and just picked the thing up.

Ziusura, much sweeter smelling but just as grimy, picked up the other pack and gestured. "Lead the way."

"Out of the wilderness?"

"Do you want to argue or do you want to go?"

Daniel opened his mouth, then shut it with a snap. Turned and marched into the forest, hacking at the first vine that got in his way. It parted without a sound. Maybe silence was contagious. He could wish.

=================================

The walls seethed. Teal'c shifted his grip on the shaft of his staff weapon. He took a deep breath, drawing in humid air full of alien scents, some fresh, others sharp and acrid. The last failing rays of sunlight spilled over the tangled green jungle of the street and the glossy, dirty gray of the things swarming over the walls. He took another deep breath to center himself, glancing over his shoulder to the dark maw in the wall that would lead them into the depths of the buildings. He could not see the walls higher than the second floor, buried as they were beneath the chitinous bodies, and the weight of the creatures above him made the flesh of his scalp prickle.

And yet, it was quiet.

He'd been in this place many times; that last still, calm moment before battle, when the gathering forces drew themselves up before bringing blood forth into the air. He could feel the way his feet rested on the ground, the kiss of wet air on his skin.

100 meters out, he could see Samantha Carter kneeling, braced and ready. Her head moved in small, quick arcs. The crumbling walls of the city seemed to bubble, shiny with greenish-gray bodies. They made a low, grinding roar that set his skin prickling with an ancient distaste. He let his eyes relax, centered on Samantha Carter but taking in everything around him. For just a moment he let himself see her, and only her: the pale hair peeking out from the helmet, pale face and wide, intent eyes. She met his gaze for an instant and her lips twitched into a quick, hopeless smile, then her arc took her gaze back away from him.

He missed Daniel Jackson in that moment, missed the anxious, determined, solid presence; the quick words sharing what had been noted by the even quicker mind. He hoped Daniel Jackson was somewhere calm and safe where walls did not move and nothing hid in the leaves.

He could not see his third teammate, but he could hear him. He knew Jack O'Neill's cajoling, coaxing voice. He'd heard it before, when O'Neill had to convince sane people to do thinks no sane person should. Teal'c had long been sure that O'Neill was not fully sane himself. Teal'c usually held that to be a virtue in an officer, and frequently a large part of O'Neill's charm.

Though charm might be the wrong expression for the gleeful, demented howl that cut through the dusk and made Teal'c flinch to the tune of, "EAT HOT OMELET DEATH, YOU FUCKS!"

And that was the end of the quiet, in every possible way.

High, warbling, civilian war cries were underscored by the dull crump of thermite grenades. The walls seemed to melt as aliens flowed down and towards the humans, and the eggs. It was a hideous flood. Samantha's weapon chattered as frantic yelps and more frantic feet raced his way, and then pale, frightened humans were pelting towards him, herded and guided by O'Neill at their rear.

Teal'c was looking everywhere at once, behind him, around him, and he was suddenly two men. Teal'c, Rya'c's father, saw things moving so quickly, life narrowing down to moments measured by the wild pounding of his heart. But the man who had been a warlord to false gods saw the world slow down. He looked past Samantha Carter's position to see creatures pouring down from the ruined walls. Gaping holes and crumbling stone were left naked behind them. Not important but . . . To his right, the thinning line of jungle rang with the shouts of the people racing through it. O'Neill and the young male Tau'ri, the frightened one, dragged the crippled soldier. The woman and the other man ran before them awkward but intent. And behind him lay what the warlord understood was their bottleneck, the gaping hole that led into the depths, the dark . . .safety. He spun and fanned bolts of energy above him, where the wave of things spilled towards him. Teal'c who was only a man shuddered and bared his teeth. Teal'c the warrior, who'd seen a century of blood, stepped back to let the dead fall like rain. Scorched bodies piled up and he raked the wall above the hole again, deepening the layer. Behind him the sound of the Tau'ri was close. He leveled his weapon and blasted a smoking, foul path through the center of the heap so the dead formed walls to either side. Aiming up, he kept the vulnerable access above them clear as O'Neill and his flock struggled past. Behind him, Samantha Carter's weapon no longer fired in an unbroken shout. It snapped on and off, and then went quiet as her footfalls were loud, crunching through matted greenery, the creak and rustle of her gear sounded as she pelted towards him, joined him and he kept the line of retreat open for O'Neill and the young technician who carried the sergeant into the dark, then Elaine and the younger man followed. Finally, Samantha Carter dodged past him and now their line of retreat was her responsibility. He spun to keep the pursuers far from their heels, backing into the hole, trusting his teammates to hold his own line of retreat open and safe for him.

The part of him that was merely a man wanted to break and let his terror take him back. The warlord looked up at the onrushing clatter of enemy and he, too wanted to break and run. It was the man who trusted Samantha Carter and O'Neill who retreated carefully, flanked by her fire, placing his feet carefully to not trip over the creatures on the ground. A flicker in the corner of his eye and he whipped the butt of the staff around to strike a creature who hissed and wove. The breath of a wind behind him spoke of another but gunfire told him he need not turn that way. Another crowded from a side and another, and so many, too many, swinging his staff in a circle and clawed hands reached, spiked tails flayed the air, one caught his forearm. Then it happened. The tail tangled the claws that reached for his face. He glanced up and shot and two more fell to crush the creatures before him as he backed away. His staff weapon still struck alien flesh and his skin stung with clawed wounds and welts but he could find the space, was not overwhelmed, could fight!

The cool breath of eons of dark swallowed him up as he backed into the building, into the shelter and they were crowding into the gap in front of him and the noise was a crashing, echoing thing punctured by gunshots like tracers punching through the dark. He stopped, made his stand just inside the crumbling walls of the building they'd chosen and held their rear. Samantha Carter crouched to one side, just a little behind him. Nothing would pass. Nothing could, not past the two of them.

The chatter of Samantha Carter's weapon echoed back weirdly from the walls of the ruined hall. It mingled with the growing clatter of hard exoskeletons. Teal'c did not tense but his skin felt electric, eyes scanning. Motion above him drew his attention and he fired upwards at the gaping jaws and claws that lunged down from the battered skyscraper's height above. Fluid spattered but adrenaline showed it in slow motion. Teal'c stepped aside as it smoked into the floor and heavy bodies slammed down onto the ground where he'd been standing, sprawled across a hallway that might have connected offices thousands of years before when bipeds that resembled humans, or himself, had lived here.

It was not lonely, being the last ones facing the horde. No time to feel alone. Behind him, Teal’c could hear the dull crump of the last grenades and the shrill howls of O'Neill's pitiable squad as they forced their way down the hall, hear the sharp, continuous rattle of his teammate's weapon and, oddly, her soft grunts as she braced against the recoil. The sour tang of acid was thick, and the smell of dust and eons of mold. Teal'c drew it deep into his lungs and fired again and again, bringing bodies down, counted like the fingers of two hands.

Three hands, four . ..

They thrashed and writhed, still alive enough to kill, if not to live for much longer.

The one-time warlord of Apophis leveled his weapon and fired again and again, clearing a path through the wall of bodies he was building before their retreat. A zat would have been welcome, but then so would the weapons of a mothership. He smiled serenely and fired again and again, hearing the scientists and the colonel close now, O'Neill bellowing "TEAL'C BUDDY! HAUL ASS!" Teal'c's smile thinned and he took an instant to glance back, spun to fire behind O'Neill's small squad as they ran, limped, dragged their wounded member and pelted further into the dark. The scientists followed the Tau’ri madman just as surely and with as much faith as Teal’c himself did.

Behind them came the enemy, no longer individuals so much a glossy, vile wall of mingled shapes that smoked wherever his weapon blew holes into their mass. "Major CARTER!" He wasn't sure if she could hear him for a moment, but she scrambled up and began her own retreat, following O'Neill and his small group, leaving behind the gap that Teal'c had formed. He spun, made sure the airway above her stayed clear and then backed into the gap he'd made in a wall of dead higher than his head and restless with the last of alien lives.

The trails of acid blood ate into the ground under his feet, leaving it stinking and mushy until he drew back that final step into the dark, ruined hallway and found hard floor under trash, a hard surface after too many days on ground made of eons of soft, shifting leaves. The problem of their escape narrowed for him, becoming as hard and solid as the floor under his feet. The sun's fading light was dull over the howling, slithering wall coming towards him and he bared his teeth and fired again and again and again

Then there was no more time to think, no time to really understand how dark it was. Teal'c's world became a long, dark tunnel, draped in nameless stuff, lit by jarring, bobbing, tiny flashlights that touched but could not break the endless dark. It was shouting and whining and the crash of weapons as bodies came at him and he no longer saw them as individuals but as one great beast, over and over, behind and around and above him. He shot at it, and struck at it, slamming the butt of his weapon against hard shells, against hard claws, into hard teeth.

He didn't, couldn't, stop them all. He just backed and backed, fast steps, trusting his balance to keep him moving. There were instants he'd remember forever, like beads knotted on a string. Backing and catching his heel on debris, falling as the jagged rake of a tail slashed over his head, rolling back to come up firing into it and the burn of acid splashed across his cheek. There was a breath drawn in the stale, reeking air as the mass surged towards him, jamming the narrow tunnel and squirming, the enemy trying to break each other's bodies in the need to reach them, reach him, and destroy. He fired and fired and wondered if this would be the time he learned the limits of his weapon.

There were times that smooth, horrible shapes slid past him like poison flowing around him, to launch at the people he strove to protect. He remembered screams. He remembered the yellowish flashlight shining on blood on skin. Remembered O'Neill's curse and the sight of his commanding officer lunging at a shape that dove towards his charges, tangling into its claws, and the way Samantha Carter's face was unlovely and inhuman, teeth bared and eyes wide as she slammed the butt of her weapon past O'Neill's head, bent and broke the jaws that had thrust towards the man's face.

Teal’c’s body had an impression of warm skin and cloth against his palms as he yanked someone back to their feet and sent them racing on their way, but no memory of a face. Bruises painted his arms from stumbling back into walls, zig zagging across their narrow retreat to keep the surge at bay, screams and light and smells and everywhere, always, glossy dark shapes and the squeal of hard skins rubbing each other, rubbing the walls, the feel of those skins against his own and the stink of them burning his nose. his left hand ached and bled from a puncture -

He had a vague sense of having seized a jaw and yanked a thing forward, insanely towards him but more importantly, into the path of another of its kind. His arms burned in pin dots of acid and his face was scored by the stuff. The staff in his hands was hot. He'd never be able to remember how long they ran. The question made no sense. But there was finally a time there was light and then voices . . .

The voices of strangers were almost as alien as the enemy after all that time with so few, but they were Tau'ri

A warm hand with human skin was on his arm and a voice shouting in his ear and someone who was different, not one of them, stepped past him and threw something back, behind him. Teal'c turned and ran, not thinking, barely feeling, just ran. A concussion cracked and slammed behind him and the dull roar of masonry falling, the squeal of things he'd spent far too long fighting.

Speech made no sense at first. The noise he was hearing slowly became words, the hands patting the air in front of him weren't just random motion but meant something. Teal'c looked up, eyes searching through shapes with the mass of humans, shapes without long tails and whose jaws stayed properly part of their faces.

Familiar faces. He found dark hair flecked with silver first, a lined face pale and a bit blank with the come down from adrenaline. He looked away, found blond hair, slender frame. O’Neill’s tiny cadre was there too, the stocky researcher, her assistants . . . even the wounded sergeant. Teal’c blinked, startled to see that somehow, they’d all survived. All alive. O’Neill turned and found him and his face lit in a smile that showed what Teal’c felt, full of relief and joy and a giddy, fuck-‘em-we’re-alive glee. The Colonel gave him that odd Tau’ri signal, thumbs up in the air and thrusting obscenely. Teal’c let the corner of his mouth twitch upwards and offered the same in return.

Uniformed Tau’ri were crowded around him, examining, questioning, fingers touching spots of blood or burns and yammering at him. Teal’c let them go on for a moment, finding his own calm center to answer from: yes, that hurt; no, it was not serious; yes, he would get it treated; no, he had no deep wounds . . . he finally brushed them aside and found his way to his commanding officer.

Samantha Carter had also fought off her helpers, joining her team. The three of them paused a moment, together. It was noisy, with loud, relieved explanations from their rescued scientists, insistent queries from the corpsmen, weapons firing back towards the tunnel that had delivered them here and the grinding sounds of engines around them. The three stood in a tiny, quiet pocket and looked around them at a small, defended camp huddled in the shadow of this world’s Stargate.

It was strangely busy and peaceful at once. Above them arched a softly clouded sky that was wider than anything they’d seen for days, not cropped by buildings lining narrow streets. There was no jungle here, just the crushed, charcoal stubs of cut and burned plants along the ground. Olive and khaki shelters clustered around them – it was clear this camp was there until their people were safe.

All of their people. The three met eyes and Teal’c could see that his teammates felt as diminished as he did. They should be four. O’Neill grimaced. “Okay. I want you two back through the gate with the geeks. Get ‘em home, people.”

Teal’c looked away, found himself meeting Samantha Carter’s eyes. It took him a moment to identify the look he found there. She was appalled. And then her eyes narrowed and she turned her head slowly and shook it. “No. With all due respect, Sir, no.”

“Carter . . .” O’Neill’s voice was a low growl.

She stood straighter, lifted her chin. Teal’c didn’t have to meet her eyes to know where she stood. Where he stood. “O’Neill, we are not done here yet.”

The colonel looked at them both, frustration and worry clear on his face. “Look. I’ll be here. I don’t . . .” He stopped and shut his eyes, face tight, lips pinched. Then opened his eyes back up and heaved a loud sigh. “We need to get those scientists home, and you people have seen enough time on this damn hell hole. Take them home, okay? I’m ASKING you to take them home.”

Major Carter’s face was just as frustrated as she shook her head. “I am not done here.”

“Carter, I’ve already got one of you lost!” O’Neill was suddenly glaring, body tightly coiled and voice cracking and low. “I want to get my damn team off this fucking planet. I do not want to make this an order but if you make me I will!”

Teal’c watched them an instant, seeing O’Neill’s sudden, naked fear and Carter’s bitter determination. He looked away. Then back, and the colonel’s smooth, confident shell was firmly in place once again. He looked up to Teal’c. “I want you people to escort those scientists out of here.”

Teal’c kept his face still, in the calm look he’d worn for more than a hundred years in the face of every order and demand placed upon him. And he shook his head. “I cannot, O’Neill. Major Carter is right. We came here to do a job and we are not yet done.”

Beside him, Major Carter nodded sharply. “We’re staying, sir.”

O’Neill’s tired, blue eyes scanned her face, moved to Teal’c’s and ran over his features too. Teal’c met his gaze calmly, letting only his determination show. O’Neill shut his eyes and ground the heels of his hands into them. He looked smaller for a moment, worn, then he straightened and his shoulders were wide again, spine straight and body strong. “I’ll write you up, Carter. This is insubordination.”

She nodded. They could hear her swallow. “Yes Sir, it is.”

“Teal’c?” The blue eyes were hard, sharp, fixed on his face.

“I am not a member of your armed forces, O’Neill. Major Carter and I came here for a purpose. We will go home with Daniel Jackson.”

O’Neill barely flinched, the tiniest twitch of his eyelids, but his eyes softened and the hard lines around his mouth were not so deeply drawn now. He looked away, towards his second in command. “Carter?”

“We came here to do a job, Sir,” she repeated. And drew a shaky breath. “Please.”

O’Neill rolled his eyes and groaned. “Damn it, Carter. If you start crying I swear to God I’m writing you up.”

Her mouth twitched, drew into a slow, small smile. And she saluted, sharply and with perfect form, that was not in the least at odds with her bedraggled appearance and torn uniform. She held the salute. “Sir. Yessir.”

“Fuck.” O’Neill shook his head, shot a rueful look at Teal’c as well. “Well. Let’s see off the geeks and get this done so we can put this shithole behind us, people. That okay with you Carter? Teal’c?”

They both grinned at his sarcastic, insincere question, and Teal’c bowed his head in his own, subtle salute. “Yes. Sir. It is.”

====================================

There had been a time, many years in his past, that Daniel Jackson had thought profanity was for people too dumb to figure out how to REALLY insult someone.

He'd long since changed his mind on that score.

There'd been a time, not terribly long after he'd embraced profanity, that he'd thought that profanity IN ENGLISH was for people too dumb to figure out how to insult someone in another language.

He'd changed his mind on that too.

And now, he'd come to accept that there were times when nothing would quite do it like the good, old, Anglo-Saxon classics.

And this was one of those times.

“Oh, fuck.”

Beside him, Ziusura nodded slowly. “We would have to concur with you, Tau'ri. Oh. Fuck.”

It was hot and humid. An alien steamer that felt like a Washington, DC August. Just past noon on the day after a sweltering night, and the sun battered its way through the haze.

Daniel scratched idly at a sticky, itchy, sweaty, simply disgusting spot on his belly under the edge of his shirt as he stared out at the Stargate, and at the half a city block of space between them and it. That space had probably once been part of an open, urban plaza. It reminded him of the Mall in Washington – a broad, building-bounded avenue emptying into an open parkland, rolling gently up to a low hill surmounted by the lovely arc of the Stargate. The buildings still stood, dilapidated and empty. They still gave way at the top of the avenue to that open space, where sunlight washed the land and the shadows of skyscrapers yielded. But he didn't think he'd ever see the Mall in DC covered, side to side, by a field of eggs shining in that sun. It sort of looked like bubble wrap, if bubble wrap was white, killer bubbles on a field of mulch in a ruined city. Daniel sighed. “I'm sick of this. I really want a shower. And then a bath. A long, soaky bath. And maybe a glass of scotch while I'm in the bath.”

Ziusura nodded again and sighed just as deeply. “And servile, nubile attendants to turn the golden spigots and feed us savory tidbits and scrub our glorious, divine toes.”

“Yeah. That too.” Daniel rubbed his eyes with the grubby heels of his hands and then let his hands drop. “So. All we need to do is dance lightly through that mine field -”

“Without permitting our shadows to fall upon the eggs -” added Ziusura.

“And without your nasty Goa'uld presence tipping them off,” snarked Daniel, “and then we can go through the Stargate and get off this hell hole.”

“We shall ignore your impertinence out of our beneficent nature and in deference to your honorable aid to our holy selves,” snarled Ziusura.

“Great. Thanks. I needed that.” Daniel started to rake his fingers through his hair but the sweaty, oily feeling put him off. “So. Any chance you can talk the eggs into sleeping through our little foray? Bore them to death?”

“Maybe they're stale? Perhaps they are no longer active?” Ziusura sounded wistfully hopeful.

Daniel, looking out at the majority of unbroken eggs and the few shattered shells, smiled evilly. “Maybe. You could sidle up to one and see.”

“You are the lowly host species.”

Daniel snorted. “To quote a few marines of my acquaintance, 'I'm not stupid, I'm not expendable, and I'm not – HEY!'” He broke off as an iron grip seized the back of his neck and Ziusura shoved him around to stand in front of Natalie Peng's scrawny little body. “Get the FUCK off!”

“Your idea was good, Tau'ri. You should be grateful,” grunted Ziusura, shoving him forward. Little divots of muck and mould showed where his dug-in heels failed to have any effect. Daniel squirmed and fought, clawing at the hand on the back of his neck, striking back, but then a shadow moved inside an egg and the white shell blossomed out like a lily and he froze. Simply froze, like a mouse under the shadow of a hawk, not even breathing.

Ziusura had stopped too, when the egg petaled back. And then was backing up far more quickly than he'd pushed Daniel forward, yanking the archaeologist back with him. “Well. They do not appear to be lifeless.”

“You are an asshole!” Daniel rubbed his neck and glared as Ziusura let go of him. “Just so you know, formally and properly. You are what, in the military, would be referred to as a motherfucking goddamn cock sucking -”

“You are disrespectful and wasteful of your energy,” said Ziusura without any heat, coolly eying the eggs. “We are truly beginning to hate this place.”

Daniel sighed. Looked up and saw the Stargate past the eggs. People were standing there, looking back at him. There was a glint that experience told him was sunlight reflecting from lenses and he waved. One of the figures waved back. Another was jumping up and down, arms wildly gesturing and he grinned just a little. It had bright hair. He waved again, then let his arm drop and his shoulders sag. “Maybe we could get around it, come in from another angle.”

The Goa'uld snorted. It was an oddly human sound. “You are clearly dazed by hunger.”

“Well . . . just a thought.”

“Do you not think it likely that there would be eggs in other approaches? Or perhaps that the mature creatures might not herd us towards their hungry larvae?”

“. . . that's a nasty thought. You owe Natalie big.”

Ziusura gave him a nasty look. “We ruled armies and strategy is not within the realm of what your kind would call a 'bug doctor.' We have earned at least some modicum of respect.”

“Get us through that and I might even agree with you.” Daniel waved a languid hand. “It's all yours.”

“Your brilliant Tau'ri mind that so denies our superiority can offer nothing?” The former lord of floods arched an eyebrow and shot him a snide grin. It might have been more impressive if it hadn't been on the face of a skinny, grubby, disheveled and plain Asian entomologist.

“What can I say. I need chocolate and coffee.”

That very human snort answered him again. Ziusura looked out, studying the problem. Then shook itself and took a deep breath. “We see how you turn to the true leaders in your time of fear, Tau'ri. Watch. Learn. Stay close by me.”

“What? Wait a minute! What are you . . .” but the Goa'uld was striding towards the eggs, hands out. As he approached them, they shook ominously, rattled against each other, rippled and then the tops starred and opened up. Daniel caught his breath and stepped up close behind the possessed entomologist, desperately not wanting to be caught in the open.

“Stay very close.” Ziusura's voice held no derision now. The double tones were grim. He stepped forward slowly, into the space between two eggs, precisely in the middle of the narrow path between them.

Daniel nodded, not caring that the Goa'uld was facing away from him, and followed precisely where he led. One layer in, eggs behind them, eggs on either side, eggs in front, and all of them now open like flowers at the top, all showing a faint, shadowy life moving inside through the translucent shells. The moist, warm air felt icy in the human's chest, and he was sure his balls had drawn up into his body cavity in terror. Every stray breeze prickled over skin that was goose-bumped in fear. He could feel the heat of Ziusura's body, could almost feel the faint eddy of air as opening eggs breathed out. The scent of insects and acid was sour and thick.

Ziusura was nearly panting. He could hear the body's breaths. The military issue shirt was dark under the armpits. The Goa'uld advanced carefully, sliding those narrow, boot-shod feet forward, arms out like it was keeping balance, but hands back and the ribbon-weapon jewels in its palms glowed. A tendril slithered from the top of an egg, wavered towards them and a hot beam of plasma fire scorched from Ziusura's hand, sent it snapping back and the shell closing in retreat. The Goa'uld had frozen as it fired. Daniel could see the profile, eyes wide, face pale and lips snarling back from yellowish teeth. The short, black hair swung as Ziusura spun to check the other side, the front, glanced over its shoulder back at him and fired behind him. Daniel could barely breathe, wanted to vomit, wanted to freeze. Instead, when Ziusura advanced again, he stayed close. Very close.

The light bouncing off the eggs was brilliant, left after-shadows behind it. Ahead of them movement kept catching his eyes as they'd approach new eggs and the things would open up. If he got out of this he'd never be able to look at a lily again. They made a tiny sound when they opened, a small, wet, hungry tearing noise. He shuddered whenever he heard it. And Ziusura kept moving, so slowly, so carefully. Flashes of light in the distance caught Daniel's attention now and then. The first time he'd looked up, he'd seen one of the adults, glossy head a shiny, gray, tail lashing. He'd ignored those flashes of movement after that, concentrating only on the area a few feet around him, the area that could kill him. He nearly froze at that thought, shoved it down and slid through the mucky stuff between the eggs, staying exactly in the tracks Ziusura had laid down.

It took forever. He'd been here forever. He'd be here forever. Balanced on a knife edge, barely breathing, cold in his chest and sweat running down his palms and the world narrowed down to rounded white, white flowers, shadows and tendrils and the gray, filthy back of Natalie Peng's shirt, clumpy black dirty hair on Natalie Peng's head, electric blue and white glow of the ribbon weapons in Ziusura's hands. Sometimes they flashed and that hungry sound would happen as the eggs retreated. Once, Daniel hissed to him, “Just kill them already! Blow us a path!”

“Do you wish to live?” The Goa'uld had glanced back for an instant, long enough for Daniel to see skin tight and drawn, eyes dark with fear. “I believe the adults would attack us were I to kill. Be silent and stay close.”

And he did. The Goa'uld's words made sense and the plain phrasing hadn't escaped the linguist. Ziusura was terrified and doing the only thing he could – trying to survive. Daniel stayed quiet and close, finally reaching out to lay a hand on the narrow shoulders he followed. Ziusura didn't pause – Daniel hadn't meant him too. He was simply there, near, and afraid. Just like Ziusura. Afraid.

A thin motion, dark against white, to one side. Daniel squeezed and Ziusura fired and they moved on, one small step at a time. A sound and another shot. Over and over. Ziusura's shirt was soaked under Daniel's hand. Hot. He could faintly hear shouting, human voices, but here and now none of that was real. The only real things were the shoulder under his hand, the eggs, and the sounds of the things around them and the shots the Goa'uld fired. Firing just over the surface, skimming, forcing the hungry things back.

And then Ziusura stopped. Daniel froze right behind him, hand still firmly in place. Looked up for the first time in eons. The sun had changed position, the egg shadows were a little longer, the Stargate gleaming. They were so close now. Barely a hundred feet left, and he could see faces. Jack was standing in front, nearly in range of the eggs, visibly tense. Sam and Teal'c flanked him. Fanned out to either side were men in jungle camouflage, alert and waiting, weapons all trained out towards the eggs. Towards them. Silent.

Ziusura sighed. It was loud in that instant. He could see Jack twitch and knew they'd heard the little noise. The Goa'uld looked over his shoulder at Daniel and smiled sadly. “I do like you, you know.”

The words made no sense and he frowned. “What the hell are you talking about?” His voice felt rusty as if he hadn't spoken in hours, though it couldn't have taken that long to get here, not really.

The Goa'uld straightened, raised his chin. “Know this. We would have been proud to wear you as host.”

Daniel blinked, almost made a snide comment but this was . . . wrong. He looked up. The marines and his team were waiting, not pacing, but their nerves were almost visible. He looked back to Ziusura, who handed him a lighter and a can. “Remember how to dance, Tau'ri. We would have worn you with honor and love.”

“But . . “

Ziusura shook off his hand and spun, stepping away, firing to keep back the eggs. And shouted, “You must not fire. If you fire you risk your own!”

Daniel tried to follow but Ziusura passed an egg, kept it down by fire, and it opened in his path. And another and another and Daniel was surrounded by them now. Alone in a ring of the things.

Ziusura shouted, “If you fire, you fire towards him! If you fire you risk bringing them down upon you!” He gestured to the sides, where adults were waiting, moving, flashing in the light as they spun back and forth, and glittered. “I am holding my fire. I advise you to likewise hold your fire and wait.”

“I will personally shove a grenade up your ass so far it ends up behind your teeth you fucking snake!” Jack's threat rang out and Daniel almost smiled to hear it. “He dies and you'll wish you were dead!”

“His life or death are up to him.” Ziusura kept going. “Your threats are the yapping of tiny beasts in my ears.”

Cocking weapons was a sound Daniel knew well. He hadn't thought he could be any more afraid. Until now.

Ziusura paused, relaxed and calm, just one layer of eggs from escape. “Do not aim at me. I can still fire and destroy you – or him – before you bring me down. Do as I say and . . . “ He turned to smile at Daniel. “Do as I say and I may yet one day wear your face, Tau'ri. Obey me in this. It is the only chance I can give.”

“Daniel?”

Jack was looking past Ziusura, out to him. Daniel was trembling, afraid that even his shaking might take him in range of an egg. Ziusura had placed them well, in a tiny space just out of reach. He hoped. Daniel met his friend's eyes. “Hi Jack.”

“Oh God,” Sam's face was pale. She spun to the soldier beside her, “Don't fire. Don't fire!”

Teal'c had laid his staff weapon out, reaching across one weapon's muzzle, nearly to a second and the threat took no words. Those weapons also lowered towards the ground.

Ziusura paused, looking back towards Daniel. “Tau'ri. Remember how to dance.”

“What the hell are you talking about!?” Daniel wasn't sure if it was just sweat rolling down his face or not. There was a ringing in his ears and the skin around his eyes felt numb and cold.

“And you claim to be worthy of respect.” The eye roll was visible. “Look. At. Your. Hands.”

He did. And then up, and then down. “You are nuts!”

Ziusura actually snickered. “Do what I say and one day we may meet yet again.”

“Nuts nuts nuts,” muttered Daniel but he was flicking that lighter for all he was worth. The first two times his hands shook so badly his thumb simply slipped off the wheel. The third time it went out. And fourth time . . . it took. And a clear, narrow flame rose up. Daniel looked up and Ziusura smiled. “Goodbye, Daniel Jackson. Treat yourself with love, as would I.”

“Nuts,” he murmured, but distractedly now. Ziusura had stepped out of the eggs, was standing next to Jack and said something low that Daniel couldn't hear. Jack twitched, but then looked back towards him. Ziusura walked on, turning to pace backwards towards the gate, hands held out, weapons ready. “Look to your friend, not to me. Turn towards me and I will fire upon you all and he'll die. Look to him and live.”

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck,” breathed Daniel, not so much in a curse as a prayer. A tendril had risen and wavered. Daniel sprayed the can, sprayed it again. Took a look. Lubricant? Like . . . WD40? He smiled a little, felt himself relaxing. Too bad he didn't have the duct tape and coffee to complete the holy triad. He sprayed the can past the lighter flame and a jet of fire suddenly erupted. It nearly made him jump back, but a glance at the eggs behind him kept him in place.

Daniel looked up, to where Jack and Sam and Teal'c waited, where the marines were glancing back and forth as a small figure punched in gate coordinates and the Stargate ring spun around and a wedge glowed amber, locked. Daniel shuffled forward and a tendril rose. He fired the can past the lighter and it scorched a sooty spot on top of a suddenly shut egg. Several eggs around it shut too and a high keening rose from the sidelines as creatures rattled and made tiny forays into the field. Daniel gulped and changed his angle of fire, shuffled forward another yard, two, three, fired again as an egg tipped threateningly towards him, careful this time to keep his torch above the things. No keening, held breath, forward again and there was a touch at his knee and he screamed and spun, fired over the tops of eggs where a slimy, long tentacle had ventured out to grope for his leg. The eggs behind him snapped shut.

He could see the whites around Jack's eyes, the lines at the sides of Sam's mouth. The proud twitch of lips that was a full blown paternal grin in Teal'c-body-language as he turned back. Daniel wiped the stinging sweat out of his eyes and in the background saw the whoosh of the gate. Ziusura raised a hand to him, then drew it down its own throat in a sexualized caress. In an instant the Goa'uld turned and was gone. Daniel blinked. Shook his head. And moved forward. Just a few more yards to go.

The eggs were rattling loudly now, moving back and forth as the things inside them lurched around. The course Ziusura had taken was blocked as one rocked loose and rolled into his path. Daniel paused and reached a careful toe out to nudge it to the side, fired over the tops of the things nearby and smiled harshly as the petals slapped shut. Another yard, nearly there. Two more ranks of eggs were left, at most. He could see Jack breathing hard, winded in sympathy, hear Sam's muttered prayers and nearly smell his teammates. He was pretty sure they could smell him. Paused for a second. “Promise me the first thing we do is get showers.”

Jack scowled, suddenly looking more like himself. More annoyed, instead of scared. “Infirmary. You know that.”

“Showers. Not negotiable, Jack.”

“It's not my rules!”

“We're making an exception.”

“I can't!”

Daniel flashed an armpit and grinned savagely as Jack gave a theatrical wince. “My body qualifies as a chemical weapon right now. Showers.”

“Daniel! Will you QUIT stalling!”

“Jack, I'm the one who's got to get through those. Stalling is my prerogative.” He glanced at the eggs and took a deep breath. “I want that shower.”

“Look, get your ass out of there and we'll talk about it.”

“Done.” Daniel grinned, and suddenly he knew it'd be all right. He was home. With his team. The banter . . .well. It was normal, a return to where things should be. He looked around at the eggs and shook his head. “I suppose this would be a bad time to mention my fear of heights?”

“Daniel!” This time it was Sam growling and he looked up, nodded to her. Back down to look for a path but there wasn't one. Ziusura had just used his ribbon to keep the eggs at bay as he stepped past them and now they rocked and smacked against each other. He sighed. “This is not good.”

“I could fire upon them, Daniel Jackson.” Teal'c had his staff weapon ready and was also studying the course. “You would have time to escape.”

Daniel looked up, studied the area. Open. No cover. A few hundred yards away, thousands of large, heavily armored enemies and no barriers other than their young. Known tendency to defend . . .he shook his head. “We'd never get through the gate in time.”

“Smoke over the top of the top of them like the damn snake?” Jack was eying the eggs.

“It's a plan.” Daniel swallowed hard. Glanced up at Sam. “Any chance you have some kind of magic mini plasma cannon you can cook up?”

She grimaced. “Sorry. Not today.”

“Oh well.” He sighed.

“Just fire that thing up and get out of there, Daniel! Quit fucking around!”

He studied the last, unbroken ranks of eggs and nodded. “Yeah. That might work. That . . .” He looked up. Swallowed hard. Didn't have to work as hard as he'd thought to force a smile and said, “I always knew you'd be there, when I needed you. I never thought you wouldn't.”

“Will you STOP that and just get OUT of there?” Jack growled. “Buy us roses later, okay?”

“Drinks,” said Sam. “I want drinks. A lot of them.”

“Yeah. That. That works.” Jack nodded, edged forward and then back as an egg tipped towards him, a tendril lashed out.

“You guys ready?” Daniel looked up, then down to the eggs. Saw them nod from the corners of his eyes. The marines had gathered around too, but they left a respectful distance for his three people. It was him and his team. And a few dozen hungry alien eggs but that was to be expected, he supposed. He swallowed hard and fired the can past the lighter.

And it sizzled and dripped a few splatters of burning oil to the ground.

“What the hell?” Jack yelped.

“Shit shit shit,” muttered Daniel, shaking the can. There was that tiny, rattling sound that empty cans made and nothing else. He looked up, stricken. “Empty. Oh God, Jack, it's empty!”

“It can't be!”

“Then here!” Daniel tossed it. A few eggs twitched towards it but left it alone. “You make it fire!”

Jack spritzed and spritzed and got nothing. Absolutely no-fucking-thing. Empty. Daniel crossed his arms and nodded. “See? Empty.”

“Oh, this is sooo not good.” Jack spiked the useless can into the ground past an egg. It snatched the thing up and yanked it into the shell, then spit it back out. “Great. Fucking great. SO. Ideas. Anybody got a spare?”

He looked around. “Come on. SOMEBODY”s got have one. Deodorant? Hairspray? SOMEthing?”

“Maybe.” A man wearing captains' bars spun and pointed. “Howland, check the packs.”

The eggs were blooming open around Daniel, tendrils flicking out. “I don't think there's time.” He flinched away from a groping reach and twitched as a touch brushed his arm. “Oh God.”

“Daniel Jackson!” Teal'c's voice rapped out. He was holding out his staff. “Leap for this. Do it now.”

“But -”

“NOW!”

He did. Crouched quickly, gathered himself and sprang. He'd never been an athlete, even now was in shape only by necessity but he was sure he'd broken records as he lunged over the eggs, reaching for that staff with desperate hands, trying not to think of himself missing, falling, crashing into . . .

There was metal in his hands, warm metal hard against his palms and he tightened his grip harder than he ever had in his life and there was a huge pull and he was yanked, blurring sight of eggs below and men ahead and then a whip-crack grasp around his ankle and he screamed. Shrieked and howled as it yanked him back, towards them, the eggs, pulling and -

Hands closed around his arms and yanked him back towards them in turn, towards his team.

A tug of war that was an instant of forever, cold, alien touches on the flesh of his belly, exposed when his shirt rode up, hard, implacable grasp on his ankle pulling and he felt the tendons in his knee and hip almost tear with the strain. Hands, human hands, had his wrists and forearms, grabbed at his jacket, belt, and pulled and suddenly the grip on his ankle came loose. Behind him he saw something horrible flying through the air and then he was rolling, ground hard and honest under him, coming to a halt flat on his back looking up at the hazy sky and panting.

“GodDAMN!” That was the voice of that captain. The one who'd been looking for deodorant. And suddenly his face and another were bending over Daniel. “Dr. Jackson, are you okay man?”

In the background he could hear whoops and shouts, hands slapping hard flesh, grunts, Sam's voice burbling “Okay, okay, let me -”

“Get offa me!” Jack's voice, but not really pissed, almost bragging. “Teal'c my man, I owe you a beer!”

“Indeed,” that word drawn out, delivered for effect. “I believe that you owe me a beer store, O'Neill.”

And the nearly incoherent sounds that a herd of men make celebrating. It sounded like a high school football game to Daniel. Well, other than the part with the captain and his buddy asking if this hurt or that hurt or if he had any injuries to report. Not any football game Daniel'd ever seen at least.

“No, no, fine, no bleeding wounds, little sore, mainly I need a shower.”

“Dried blood here, Sir,” murmured the corpsman.

“Not mine.” Daniel sighed, felt the twinge of sadness but it wasn't enough to stop the growing grin on his face. “I'm alive. I am, aren't I?”

“Yessir, Dr. Jackson. Breathing and pulse and everything,” chuckled the captain. “Even have all your limbs.”

“AND my glasses,” added Daniel.

“And those.”

“You asshole!” That was Jack. Yep. Leaning over them all now, hand extended. “Goddamn it Daniel, not bad enough you go for the world record on resurrections but now you need to get ugly ass ankle cuffs with tentacles too? Jesus Christ you need a better fashion sense.”

“You might be right.” Daniel took his hand and let himself be pulled upright, where he suddenly found that maybe his limbs were all there, but at least one of them was a bit less functional than usual. “Oh, ow!”

“Sir?” The corpsman was there instantly, on the side Jack wasn't holding up.

“Ankle. Knee. Yeahhh, that hurts.”

Fingers probed the joints, not as gentle as they might be but totally unlike tentacles and therefore really not that bad. “I think you've maybe got a sprain and a couple nasty pulls here, sir. You'll have to ask the docs to be sure but I'm betting on a little bed rest and ice packs, elevate it, and good as new.”

“Right. Marvelous. Sounds just right.” Now Sam and Teal'c were there, crowding close, somehow managing to touch him now and then. “After my shower.”

“Yeahhh, about that.” Jack wrinkled his nose. “I'm thinking we might make an exception to that infirmary first rule.”

“Not that I would ever ask for such a thing.”

“No, just . . . It'd ruin your chances with the nurses if they got a whiff of you like this.”

“Of course, of course,” Daniel was hobbling towards the gate, Jack helping him. Somehow Sam had slid under the arm where the corpsman had been. Teal'c was at the DHD. Daniel suddenly felt a stinging at the back of his eyes as the gate spun and locked again and again. He blinked hard. Tried not to remember the times he didn't think he'd see this again. And the people who weren't there with him. Cleared his throat and finally said. “I want to go home.”

Jack's arm tightened around him and Sam's hand on his wrist squeezed. The lump in his throat loosened and somehow, home had come to him.

============================

The handicapped spots had been taken. And the ones nearest the restaurant. Daniel gripped his cane tighter as he finally reached the door and stood back for an old man. A Senior Citizen. An Elder. Who had a doggy bag in his hand. He also had white hair and a wide, gentle, wrinkled smile. And he was spry. Sprightly. Not limping. Daniel Jackson was reasonably certain the old man was laughing at him as he hobbled past, forcing a toothy smile of thanks for having the door held open for his poor, battered body. “Thank you. Kind.”

“No problem, son. I thank God it’s you and not me.”

Yep. Definitely laughing at him.

“Great,” he muttered under his breath. “I’m the laughing stock of the geriatric community.”

“Oh, you’ve been that since you joined my team.” Daniel jumped, startled. Jack’s warm, big hand grabbed his elbow and steadied him. “Whoa, tiger. Can’t have you surviving . . .field exercises like that and then killing yourself falling down in a restaurant. It’d give the Air Force a bad name.”

Daniel turned a big, bright, sincere smile on him. “Fuque toi, Jack.”

“Ow, wounded!” The Colonel placed a hand over his heart and managed to paste a hurt expression on his face. It lasted about two seconds before it melted into a wicked grin. “So when did Janet cut you loose?”

“Three hours ago.” Daniel paused as he carefully made his ungraceful way to a round table where Teal’c and Sam were waiting. “First thing I did was grab a VIP suite and get a shower that did NOT involve nurses selling lottery tickets.”

“Yeahhh, I heard some of the don’t ask, don’t tell crowd seriously cleaned up on selling their options. When my hair went gray the sponge bath mafia let up on me a little and I tell ya, it made me wish I’d dyed it gray a decade before.”

Daniel snorted. “What you really mean is you wish you’d stopped using Grecian Formula fifteen years ago.”

“You know you CAN be dealt with. And even if both your feet worked you couldn’t catch me.”

“You have to sleep some time.”

Jack’s smile gentled. “Maybe in a week, Daniel. You look pretty sore today.”

“. . . a little.” Daniel admitted.

“What’d Janet say? Is it broken?”

“Just sprained.” Daniel winced as the leg twinged. “It’s fine. Not like you and that road rash on your face.”

“Right.” Jack made a rude noise. “You’re just jealous of my rugged good looks.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right.” Daniel matched his rude noise. “Don’t tell me. Have you been using that old line about falling off a mountain while you were free climbing, again? They don’t buy that do they?”

“Envy is so unappealing.” Sam and Teal’c were looking up curiously as they reached their table. Jack pulled out a chair. “And here, after you spent all that time in the company of a lovely aristocrat!”

“What? HER? Or is that him?”

“I don’t think I want to go there, Daniel.” Jack helped ease him down into his seat. “You know they’ve put a BOLO out for your sweetheart. I’ll let you know if anyone spots her.”

Daniel sighed heavily. “I know there wasn’t much of a chance, but I was really hoping we could bring Natalie home.”

“We will. One day.” Jack nodded decisively. “She’s one of ours, Daniel. We won’t forget her.”

“Yeah.” He shook his head. “I suppose I should be thankful that . . . ‘Zee’ isn’t the worst choice she could have made.”

“Hey, I’m still hoping we can pick Natalie up on the rebound, if you know what I mean. I figure probably your Zee’ll be dumping Nat fast. She had a thing for you. A quick change and she’ll show back up on your door one of these days. Or that’s how it looked from where I stood.”

“You have a filthy mind, Jack. I can’t believe you’re thinking that.” Daniel screwed up his face in disgust.

“One more notch in your belt.” Jack shook his head. “I guess she counts as your type. Dark, dangerous and . . . all the rest.”

“Is that another trampy princess joke?” Daniel eyed him narrowly as Jack slouched into the seat next to him. Sam and Teal’c exchanged a look and the Jaffa smiled toothily as she handed him a five dollar bill. Daniel leaned forward. “What was that?”

“What?” they chimed, looking innocent. Poorly.

“What was the bet?” He asked suspiciously.

Teal’c folded his hands on the table before him. “Major Carter felt that O’Neill would be expressing concern and asking after your health. I disagreed.”

“Oh, that is so NOT what you said!” Sam wrinkled her nose. “You said he’d get a trampy alien princess dig in and okay, so you were right. But do NOT try to make it sound so . . . “ she huffed. “DIGNIFIED!”

Jack snickered. “At my age, anything is dignified.”

“That’s what I say about artifacts in midden heaps, Jack.” Daniel grinned and took a sip of his water.

“For that, you’re paying the bill.” The Colonel leaned back and caught the eye of a waitress who smiled broadly and made her way across the room with a speed that spoke of hope for a good tip. Daniel looked over at his teammates. “And for your information, he did ask about my health. Right before the undignified comments.”

“Pay up.” Sam held out her hand and Teal’c handed her money back.

Daniel pointedly ignored them and turned a smile he hoped was charming on the young woman standing beside him with her handful of menus. “Hi. Two scotches. Glenlivet if you have it. And . . . could we get another place setting?” He tapped the table to his right.

She looked puzzled but nodded, smiled back and handed him a menu. “No problem. In just a minute, if you can wait?”

“No hurry.” Daniel smiled a little sadly. “No hurry at all.”

She nodded, got the rest of the drink orders and scurried off, intent on her mission. He ran a finger across the fake leather of the menu and blinked hard, blinked again and looked up to find three confused faces turned towards him. “Are we expecting someone else?” asked Sam.

“You got a date?” Jack’s eyebrows jumped with curiosity.

“Something like that.” Daniel looked up and met their eyes in turn. They waited as the waitress put down a placemat, plate, and silverware, waited again as she brought their drinks.

“Well?” Jack’s single word was dry, patient.

“Patience is a virtue, Jack.” Daniel dimpled at him with a look he’d practiced in mirrors before hitting foster parents up for big orders of books. He smiled widely and ordered two steaks, one rare and one medium rare, and sipped at his scotch as the others ordered too.

Sam took her shot after the orders were given. “Uh, I guess ‘well?’ says it for me too.”

Daniel shut his eyes. Smiled softly and shook his head. Sipped again. “So. You guys didn’t tell me how you wound up cut off with a herd of Ph.D. ducklings. Just run across them?

Jack’s eyes crinkled in a wince and Sam abruptly looked away from him. Teal’c met his gaze in a steady, neutral stare and answered. “We were called, Daniel Jackson. They asked for our help.”

Sam looked back, visibly forcing herself to meet his eyes. “I tried,” she whispered. “Oh Daniel. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t get to you.”

Daniel blinked, thought back and considered. “That was when we couldn’t reach you? The contact dropped?”

Jack nodded. Started to speak and stopped, cleared his throat. “We didn’t know if you were still alive, Daniel. We . . .” He trailed off and took a quick sip of his drink. Grimaced.

“I get it.” Daniel sighed. Smirked in answer to Jack’s skeptical look. “I do. Believe me. And I don’t think I’d have dared say no to Elaine either. I KNOW her. She’d have chewed her way back . . home if she had to, and then you’d have been up shit creek, better believe it. I think they had to mop up the last assistant who screwed up in her lab.” He shuddered and toasted his teammates. “You survived. In the end, that’s what counts.”

“We should have come after you.” Sam blurted it, fingering her margarita and turning the glass around and around. “We should . . .”

“You couldn’t.” Daniel shrugged. “Sam, despite what you think, I am a scientist and I don’t believe in Santa Claus.”

“The tooth fairy on the other hand . . .” muttered Jack.

“Hey, hey, the tooth fairy is a known phenomenon well documented in anthropological research,” Daniel shot back. “But I wasn’t expecting a sleigh and eight tiny reindeer and I sure wasn’t expecting you guys to come riding through the . . . well. You get the idea.”

“Daniel Jackson,” Teal’c’s lips twitched upwards but his eyes were still solemn. “I accept your forgiveness and can only say that we would have found a way, somehow.”

Daniel sat up straight and leaned forward. “Listen to me. All of you. There is nothing to forgive. I know you’d have reached me, if you could. Hell, you’d have done it even if you shouldn’t have been able to. I know that. If you need to think I forgive you –“ he ducked head head, looked back up to find Sam’s pained gaze. “Then believe it. I don’t need to forgive an offense that never happened, but you’ve got my forgiveness, my understanding, whatever you need. Most of all, you have my trust. All of you.”

Jack cleared his throat and made a face. “God. This is awful. Did we have to do this in public?”

“I dunno, Jack, I remember you as an exhibitionist at heart. That bit on the campus of galactic clap sure wasn’t private!” Daniel grinned and turned, happy for the excuse.

The sly, amused look he got in return was what he’d been waiting for, what he really needed. Daniel finally sat back and sighed in relief. Shook his head. “I’ll tell you one thing. I really MISS my deserts now.”

“I think I agree,” moaned Sam. “I threw out all my houseplants.”

“I believe that I would also have removed dead ornaments, Major Carter. How is this a hardship?” Teal’c’s face was expressionless but his eyes creased just the tiniest bit at the corners.

She scowled. “You’re making that up.”

“No he’s not, Sam. I saw that heap of dead stuff outside your place when I drove past the other night, too.”

“Are you . . . Wait a minute! You two are scoping my PLACE?”

Jack shrugged. “Daniel was laid up. What else were we gonna do for fun?”

“You –“ She had to cut off her comment as the waitress appeared again with plates laden with steaming steaks. She made a face at Jack. Daniel wouldn’t have put money on it, but he was reasonably sure Jack had timed his comment to the food’s arrival. It did provide a perfect distraction, he had to admit.

Three of the four leaned forward, and suddenly they were quiet. They were looking at the plate with its steaming filet mignon, sitting before an empty seat. A glass of expensive scotch sat untouched by the plate. Daniel sat up more slowly than his teammates and looked around at them, meeting each set of eyes in turn. Then picked up his glass and reached out, solemnly tapped the glass to the glass by the plate and took a sip, then put his drink down. “Rest well, Frank. I miss you. Thank you.”

There was a long, long silence. Then Jack picked up his glass, and Sam. And Teal’c. And softly, each in turn repeated, “Thank you. Goodbye.”

Daniel blinked hard, vision blurring and stinging for an instant, then smiled. “Let’s eat.”