Sam and Jack stared deeply into each other's eyes at the foot of the gateramp. Sam's hair tousled gently in the wind as violins swelled and time slowed...

"Um, sir?" Sam started uncertainly.

"Carter?" Jack asked. "Why am I staring at you like that?"

"I don't know, but I think we experienced some kind of temporal displacement." Sam looked around, disoriented.

"The Goa'uld?"

"I don't think so, sir. It's someone who can alter the flow of time and control our minds." Sam's forehead wrinkled. "And where the hell did the wind come from? Is something wrong with the air conditioning?"

"Major Carter?" Lt. Simmons interrupted, with a particularly puppylike look of adoration. "Um, the timestamps in the computer are wrong. I think we experienced some kind of temporal anomaly.

"Looks like we're not nuts," Jack observed helpfully.

"Um, also, Dr. Jackson's record has been altered. It, um..." Simmons looked at the floor, unwilling to continue.

"What about Daniel?" Sam asked.

"Go on," Jack demanded.

"It... says he's dead," Simmons admitted. "Last week, but that doesn't make sense! He was here this morning!"

"He was here ten minutes ago, for crying out loud," Jack commented. "He just went looking for coffee!"

"We need to find Daniel," Sam said. "If he's missing, obviously this is a clever plot to make us not realize he's been taken."

"Thank you SO much, exposition grrl!" Jack blinked. "Did I just SAY that to you, Carter? I'm sorry!"

"Yes, sir, but... do I always sound so... Counsellor Troi?" Sam blinked.

"No, no, you're FINE, Carter," Jack reassured.

"Lieutenant, why were you looking at Daniel's record?" Sam asked.

"I... don't know," Simmons confessed. He blushed and stared at the floor.

"Look for more computer anomalies." Jack ordered. "We'll look for Daniel."

Daniel took a long, slow swig of coffee and sighed happily. He looked up as Jack and Sam tumbled into his office and stared happily at him. "What?"

"The computer said you were dead," Sam explained.

"So, someone thought it would be funny to change my computer records?" Daniel asked.

"No, something weird is going on," Jack replied. "We had some weird time-slowing staring thing going on."

"And the timestamps are all screwed up in the computer," Sam added.

"And we're acting weird!" Jack announced.

"You don't say," Daniel commented mildly, sipping coffee.

"I called her 'exposition grrl!'" Jack exclaimed.

"Okay..." Daniel watched them with worried eyes as he took another sip of coffee.

"I was making moo eyes at him! Big girly moo eyes!" Sam cried, deeply perturbed. "He moo eyed back!"

"I did not!" Jack retorted.

Sam gave Jack an incredulous glare.

"Uh, okay, I did," Jack admitted. "And no offense, Carter, but it was disturbing."

"None taken, sir."

"Why do I feel like I'm trapped in a really bad story?" Daniel asked.

"'Exposition grrl!'" Jack exclaimed. "I called Carter 'exposition grrl!'"

"Thank you, sir, I heard you the first two times," Sam snapped. Suddenly, violins began to swell, and Sam looked at Jack, eyes filled with emotion as the wind began to tousle her hair again. Jack appeared mesmerized. Daniel looked around, and saw a dark, undefined area behind him, that promptly disappeared as the music stopped.

"Did anyone else see that?" Daniel asked.

"What the HELL is going on?" Jack asked.

"Where is that stupid wind coming from?" Sam asked, looking around.

"Didn't we get some kind of memo about wind?" Jack asked, scratching his ass in confusion.

"Huh?" Sam asked.

"I think we should all go find Teal'c," Daniel suggested. "And, um, stop at the armory."

"I am not aware of any enemy that could slow time and control our minds," Teal'c intoned solemnly.

"I really think we're looking at some kind of... there are narrative conventions at work here," Daniel explained. "I think..."

The violins began to swell again. Teal'c grabbed his staff weapon and whirled around, immediately spotting the dark area, which grew as Sam and Jack stared longingly into each other's eyes. Daniel caught Teal'c's eye, and inclined his head towards Sam and Jack. Teal'c, understanding, grabbed Jack. Daniel grabbed Sam. The four of them rushed through the dark space...

"Gekko productions, Brad Wright's office, can I help you?" a woman behind a desk answered the phone. "Please hold."

"Brad Wright, please," Daniel asked.

"Who?" Jack asked. Daniel trod heavily upon his foot.

"He's in a meeting," the woman replied.

"But it's really, really important."

"I'm sorry, but..."

"We're heavily armed," Jack pointed out.

The woman looked at Jack oddly. She took off her glasses, cleaned them, and put them back on. "I'm sorry, Mr. Anderson. Go right in."

"Mr. Anderson?" Jack asked. "What is this? the Matrix?"

"No one can tell you exactly what the Matrix is," Teal'c intoned. "You have to see it for yourself."

Daniel gave Teal'c a strange look, but Jack just thumped Teal'c on the back. "Yeah, whatever, big guy." Teal'c looked around, confused, as they went into a conference room.

"Are you the authors of this story?" Daniel demanded.

"Um, yes..." one of the men at the table answered. "Didn't we write you out?"

"So YOU'RE the pricks who tried to kill Daniel? You wanted to do the story where I ate my own gun?" Jack growled threateningly.

"No! Jack is a soldier! A member of his team went down! No suicide!" one of the men at the table exclaimed.

"Remember that black ops background you gave me?" Jack purred threateningly. "Want to see it in action?"

"Help!" one of the writers squeaked.

"I would, but in so doing, I would use up my single allotted line for this episode," Teal'c remarked.

Daniel high-fived him.

"Well, you can have one of MY lines!" Sam burst out. "They're stupid! And what's with the violins and wind?"

"Didn't they send out a memo about wind?" one of the writers commented.

"Write the show we want, and no one gets hurt." Jack bumped Daniel with his shoulder. "Tell 'em what we want."

"Um, we just want good stories about all four characters," Daniel explained.

"And no wind or violins!" Sam interjected.

"I would like more than one line per episode," Teal'c commented.

"And DANIEL. We want DANIEL," Jack added, with a 'doesn't everyone' shrug.

"'Daniel' doesn't want you dismissing him as 'four-eyes' or making public statements about it always being hilarious when four-eyes get in the face with something," Daniel added sharply.

Jack scowled, reflexively fingering a grenade. "And how hard is it to remember I love my kids?" he asked pointedly. "There's only four of us. Count us. FOUR. How hard can it be? I'm the tall, handsome one with the distinguished grey hair and the winning smile."

Sam coughed. "Bullshit." She coughed again. "No offence," she added brightly. She and Daniel grinned at one another mischievously.

Jack glared at her.

"If anyone asks," Sam smiled winsomely, "He's the pretty one." She jerked her thumb at Daniel.

"This should not be news," Jack said witheringly.

Daniel glared at them both. "Pretty."

"Indeed."

"Don't you start," Daniel snapped indignantly.

"Hey! When you go through every mission wondering when they're going to cut to the chase and costume you like Wonder Woman, get back to me!" Sam riposted.

"Kiids," Jack warned, smiling dotingly at them. A thought occurred. He pointed his P-90 at the writers. "I'll give the first guy who can tell me what my masters degree is in a head start. Count of fifty," he offered generously.

"Masters degree?" one of the writers bleated.

"The one you need to get promoted to major," Sam supplied helpfully.

"Anybody?" Jack asked.

"I do not think we can trust them, O'Neill. They have shown themselves to be without honor." Teal'c gave the assembled writers a long, dark look.

"True. And they tried to hurt Daniel." Jack considered this. "Through me, a lot of the time. P90s?" he asked Teal'c.

"Bare hands," Teal'c retorted.

"Fair trial!" Sam interrupted.

"Um, yeah," Daniel said. "No, um, life-throttling-out on my behalf, please, however much I appreciate the intention."

"There's no fair trial for crimes against good writing," Jack orated, with inspiring music swelling in the background. "We can only wipe out this threat against humanity with brute force!"

"Indeed, O'Neill," Teal'c intoned solemnly.

"Oh, Jack! I love it when you're pointlessly violent!" Sam simpered.

"Um, hello?" Daniel waved his hands in between Jack and Sam.

"Oh my God!" Sam cried. "I think I'm going to be sick! Did you REALLY make me say that?"

"Please, Mr. Writer-Producer, refrain from moving until I have finished vomiting on your shoes!" Jack snarled.

"Why is the geek immune?" one of the writers asked.

"You wrote me out," Daniel said excitedly, thinking aloud. "You wrote me out and you have no control over me."

"I want to be written out, too!" Jack announced, stepping in front of his team.

"Me, too," Sam said.

"Sam! Baby!" one of the writers exclaimed in dismay. "Mmm...Who's your daddy...Mmm. Remember? MMMM...WHO'S YOUR DADDY...MMM! Violins? Moo eyes? Balmy breezes? Lip lock? Who WOULDN'T love that?"

"Apart from me, the colonel and the Air Force? Don't make me reconsider my fair trial idea," Sam warned, scowling. "I bet the writers never leered at Xena on the DVD commentaries," she added bitterly.

"I also wish to be 'written out,'" Teal'c announced.

"There are more lines in 'Othello'!" Daniel smiled across at him. Teal'c bowed, gratified.

"What he said! Leave the wallpaper to Ikea!" Jack snapped.

"And the men in black to the X-Files!" Sam added. She smiled slowly at Teal'c and they both smiled at the colonel, who shrugged.

"You know me and scifi."

Daniel helpfully made a cutting gesture across his throat. Jack beamed at him. "Oops," Daniel said innocently, eyeing the writers pityingly.

"Can any of you guys SPELL demographics?" Exposition Grrl asked grimly.

"But..." the writers stuttered.

"You're all fired! Write us the hell out," Jack ordered.

"Yeah! I hear they've got spots on Farscape," Daniel added supportively.

Jack hesitated. "Tight leather pants?" he asked uncertainly.

"Indeed."

"For the last time, you're NOT fat!" Daniel hissed, ignoring Jack's complacent look.

"Well?" Jack asked threateningly. "Either you're fired..." SG-1 hefted their P-90's pointedly. "Or we do..."