Author's Notes: #3 (of 3) of "Impossible Reality" series. This begins right where Part 2 ended, so it won't make any sense unless you've read the first two parts.

Part 3

More than thirty-five years in the Air Force had taught General George Hammond a great deal. A year and a half as C.O. of Stargate Command had taught him a lot more . . . including many things he had never imagined learning.

But one area which overlapped both aspects of his career was the need to maintain calm regardless of the situation. His people looked to him for leadership, especially in times of crisis. No where was that more true than here at the SGC.

Technically, an SG team being an hour late checking in was not a huge deal. Weather, overly-friendly natives, difficult terrain, all these and more were often responsible.

There was also the fact that both SG units -1 and -2 were peopled by experienced soldiers familiar with gate travel and its related perils, not to mention an alien warrior twice the age and with twice the experience of any one of them.

But General Hammond was still concerned. PXR 512 had already given him cause for worry with its unique puzzles. That no one had yet checked in gave him a very unpleasant feeling in the pit of his stomach. No more waiting, he abruptly decided.

"Dial the planet," he ordered.

"Yes, sir."

The technician input the planet's coordinates one at a time, waiting until each corresponding chevron on the Stargate locked in before proceeding to the next coordinate.

Hammond watched the inner working of the gate slowly revolving into place, one, two, three, four, five, six -

He stiffened. "Sergeant?"

"I'm sorry, sir. The seventh chevron won't engage."

"Try again."

"Yes, sir."

Once again the coordinates were typed into the computer and once again the massive Stargate moved in obedience to the commands. Hammond found himself mentally counting along with the chevrons as they lit up. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

Behind his back his hands tightened into fists but he kept his voice matter-of-fact. "Sergeant?"

"Checking, sir." The technician looked over the information on the monitors and did some more typing which called up other information. Finally, he looked up, shaking his head.

"I'm sorry, sir. The seventh chevron won't engage because - " he coughed "- there's apparently nothing for our Stargate to connect to."

"Nothing?" Hammond's blood chilled at the thought. "Sergeant, two of our teams went through the Stargate to those coordinates - to PXR 512 - just fifteen hours ago."

"Yes, sir -" he looked at the monitor again, then back to his C.O. "- I'm sorry, sir, but right now our system indicates that . . . there's no longer anything at those coordinates."

The General nodded shortly. "Get whoever you need up here to figure this out. I want answers, Sergeant."

"Yes, sir."

The General retreated to his office where he indulged in a moment of deep breathing, then reached for his telephone. "Get me Dr. Frazier," he ordered. A moment later, he heard her familiar voice.

"Doctor, is Colonel O'Neill still in the infirmary? . . . Good . . . No, I don't need to see him. I want you to keep the Colonel there and keep everyone else away from him. . . . We're having some trouble contacting SG's -1 and -2 and nothing would be accomplished at this point by telling him. Colonel O'Neill has enough on his mind. . . . That's correct. If it becomes necessary to inform him, I will do so. . . . Thank you, Doctor."

Hammond hung up and sat back in his chair. There was nothing to do now but wait. Wait for his people to come up with some answers, wait to be able to connect to that planet, wait to find out if his people out there on the other side of the galaxy were okay.

Damn, but he hated waiting.

Huh?

What?

Daniel blinked but the sand-colored blur pressing against his face did not change.

He blinked again as he tried to comprehend what was happening. But his sluggish brain was not ready to help him out.

Oww.

Pain took up the slack as Daniel suddenly realized that his face hurt. Instinctively, he lifted his head, only to realize that he was lying down.

But not on a bed.

He was lying on something hard. Very hard. And sand colored.

Stone. He was lying on a stone floor.

What was that?

Something was in his head.

Who?

What?

Daniel had the vague sense that someone was talking to him. But it didn't sound right. He mentally reached out in an effort to grasp the voice.

"Are you damaged?"

He recognized the words but - the voice was all wrong. It wasn't . . . normal.

Adrenalin shot through Daniel. As if someone had flipped a switch, his memories came flooding back.

The pyramid.

The earthquake.

Stone walls becoming transparent.

Daniel lurched upwards, unable to suppress a groan as his aching muscles protested. Finally he managed to sit upright, blinking hard in an effort to see clearly, but it didn't help. Glancing around the floor, he spotted his glasses and slipped them back on, breathing a sigh of relief as his vision cleared.

And his mouth dropped open.

Standing beside the pillar stood - stood? - something.

Daniel stared as his pulse thudded unevenly in his head and his bones turned to water.

It was - it was . . . tall.

He shook his head hard and looked again, but the sight did not change.

From some deep recess in his mind came a familiar phrase - No frame of reference.

That was it.

Daniel squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated on slowing his breathing. Deep, slow, one at a time, he told himself.

No frame of reference. Not human. Not even humanoid.

Okay, then he needed to let go of his usual presuppositions. He needed to look at this as it was. Whatever it was.

One more deep breath, then Daniel slowly rose to his feet and looked up again.

His first thought had been correct.

It - the being, the entity - was tall. More than six and a half feet tall.

Abnormally slender in human terms - No. Daniel immediately cut off that thought. He needed to let go of human definitions.

It was slender for its height. Its surface - skin? - was dark, perhaps a shade lighter than Teal'c's skin tone, and bore a faint sheen that was reminiscent of a dolphin.

Near the top of the alien, approximately where arms would be located on a human - Damn! Stop thinking in human terms, Jackson! - were two arm-like . . . appendages. But they were extremely long and smooth and . . . Daniel swallowed . . . contained nothing like elbow joints. More than anything else, they reminded him of the tentacles of an octopus. At the end of each appendage were a myriad of long, ultra-fine filaments that waved gently in the air currents.

It was impossible to tell if the creature had anything like legs because its lower half seemed out of focus, obscured by what appeared to be a faint, mist-like substance.

But the most alien aspect was the protuberance on top of the being's form . . . roughly head-shaped but with no neck and no . . . Daniel couldn't help a faint inward shudder at the sight of the non-face.

No eyes or nose or mouth or ears. Nothing but numerous slight indentations scattered over the surface of the `head'.

"Are you damaged?"

Daniel started. That was the voice he had heard before. Now that he was fully conscious he understood why it had struck him as abnormal. It was barely audible yet resonated in his mind, faintly echoing and containing a . . . what was it? Almost a liquid quality, as if the words themselves were being spoken through rushing water.

But - how could it speak with no mouth?

That was for later. Focus, focus Jackson. The alien was asking after his health. Surely that was a good sign.

"No, no, I'm not damaged. My name is Daniel Jackson and this is -" He looked around, suddenly overwhelmed by full awareness of the situation.

"Sam! Teal'c!"

They were both lying on the floor, unmoving. He turned immediately to Sam who was closest, dropping to his knees beside her. His fingers pressed gently into her neck, searching for a pulse while his own heart hammered wildly. Ah . . . there, slow, steady, it seemed normal.

Carefully, Daniel checked her out, but found nothing until he was exploring her head. There was a large lump just behind her left ear. The skin was abraded and had bled slightly, but that had stopped.

He sat back, breathing a sigh of relief. Sam was going to have one hellacious headache when she woke up but, hopefully, it wouldn't be much worse than that.

As he started to rise again, Daniel realized, belatedly, that he had forgotten to acknowledge the alien before his hasty action.

"I'm, uh," he gestured, "just going to check out my other friend, if that's all right."

"That is all right," the alien responded, and Daniel could have sworn that it echoed his own tone.

Teal'c was curled up on his side, both of his hands resting over his pouch. As Daniel checked him out he could find nothing wrong and he gently patted a massive arm.

"Teal'c? Can you hear me?"

The Jaffa did not respond, but the archeologist was surprised when the alien did.

"That one contains darkness."

"What?" Daniel said automatically, then his heart sank. Teal'c's symbiote. Did this alien know about the Jaffa? About the Gou'ald?

"We do not permit darkness." It was a cold, irrevocable, statement of fact and a thread of fear trickled through the archeologist along with a fresh stab of curiosity.

We? He looked around but didn't see anyone else in the room except for SG-1. His heart quickened at the thought of Kawalsky and SG-2 but Daniel knew his hands were too full at the moment to do anything about them. However . . .

"Not to change the subject," he said hesitantly, "but there are others, like us, on this planet. Do you know if they are all right?"

"They do not contain darkness."

"Uh, no," he agreed. "Can you tell me if they're all right?"

"They are not here."

Daniel sighed. This wasn't working. So he needed to focus on the here and now. "Teal'c doesn't carry this darkness willingly. It was something that was done to him long ago when he was a child."

"It can be removed."

"Yes, but that would kill - " his breath caught in his throat. What was wrong with him? How had he missed this? This wasn't a descendant of transplanted humans. For something so completely alien to be able to communicate with him -

"How do you know our language?"

There was a pause and Daniel wondered if it was going to answer. Then came that oh-so-alien voice.

"We do not. You hear us in the language with which you are most familiar."

What?

But before Daniel could begin to process that response, he was suddenly overwhelmed by a new realization. He was not hearing the alien with his ears. He was hearing it in his mind!

Caught between terror and delight, he gazed speechlessly at the being, his mind whirling with a thousand questions.

No, first he had to ensure Teal'c's safety.

"Teal'c can't remove the, uh, darkness. It would kill him. But the darkness doesn't control him. He controls it. He's a good man, um, a good Jaffa. Do you know what a Jaffa is?"

"They are part of the darkness."

Well, that was concrete thinking for you.

"Not all . . . that is, some Jaffa fight the darkness. Teal'c has joined with us, the Tau'ri, from the first world. Maybe you've heard of us? He's joined with us to fight the darkness."

No response this time and Daniel tried again. "Teal'c means you no harm. None of us mean you any harm. We're explorers, peaceful explorers."

"You said you fight the darkness."

Right, right, concrete thinking, right. Daniel nodded rapidly. "Yes, we do that, too. But we also like to meet new races, to learn from them, share ideas, become allies, friends." He offered a hopeful smile.

"We would like to do this with you, if you're agreeable. For instance, I've told you who we are. Can you tell me who you are?"

One very alien `arm' moved in an unnervingly human gesture of someone holding up their hand, and the myriad of filaments at the end of it stirred more vigorously. Then Daniel heard that same eerie, faintly echoing, liquid voice in his head.

"Who we are is not for strangers to know."

Great.

Daniel debated several possible responses, only to forget them as he felt Teal'c stir beneath his hand.

"Teal'c? Can you hear me?"

For an instant the Jaffa remained still, then his eyes opened but immediately squeezed shut again as he gasped.

"My symbiote!" he managed between gritted teeth, wrapping his arms around his mid-section.

The archeologist's head snapped up. "Please!" he said urgently to the still figure beside the pillar. "I swear, Teal'c means you no harm. Can't you do something to stop this?"

"We do not permit darkness in our presence."

"Yes, yes, I understand that," Daniel said hastily. "But I've already explained why he carries a sym- darkness. He is not your enemy. Please, don't allow this - whatever it is - to happen. Please!"

For a heartbeat he feared the alien would not respond, then Teal'c gasped again and straightened.

"My symbiote is gone!"

"It is not gone," the echoing voice said. "We have shielded it from our presence." This time the tone contained an definite flavor of unhappiness.

Teal'c stared at the alien, then abruptly plunged his hand into his pouch. Daniel winced and kept his gaze fixed firmly on the Jaffa's expression, which changed slowly from shock to bewilderment. Meeting his teammate's gaze, he said,

"My symbiote remains but as if it is dead. Yet I feel that it is not."

Daniel released his breath and looked up at the alien again. "Thank you," he said fervently.

"It is not our way," he heard in his mind, "to preserve darkness."

"I understand," the archeologist responded, "and we appreciate it very much."

Although the alien had not moved, he could sense the upset it felt at the action it had taken. Which only heightened his gratitude -

It was his turn to gasp.

"Daniel Jackson?"

"Just a minute -" Daniel managed, thinking back over the last few minutes. The alien had spoken to him telepathically. He understood that even while his mind reeled over the actuality. But he had also been getting flashes of emotion . . . so it was more than telepathy. It also had some kind of empathic ability . . .

"My God," he whispered, looking at the alien with new eyes.

The filaments at the ends of its `arms' . . . perhaps the indentations on its `head' . . .

Was it possible . . . could they be . . . some kind of sensors? Or was there simply a direct mental/emotional connection to another sentient being? Or might there be a combination of -

"Daniel Jackson?" Teal'c said again.

"Oh, sorry," Daniel said belatedly, accepting the Jaffa's hand as he stood up again. "It's all right, Teal'c. I . . . I think it's okay. I don't think this alien means us any harm. It's protecting you."

"Protecting?" Teal'c looked at the alien with narrowed eyes.

"Yes. Based on what it told me and what happened to you, I don't think the Gou'ald can survive in its presence. It had to do something that, I think, it wouldn't do normally so that your symbiote remains unharmed while you're here."

"Indeed." The Jaffa bowed his head slightly. "In that event, you have my gratitude."

"We accept your gratitude," the alien returned.

As Daniel heard the words he sensed a kind of warmth somehow wrapped around them, and excitement stirred afresh, along with a new thought.

"Teal'c, can you hear them?"

"I can, Daniel Jackson."

"In what language are they speaking?"

The Jaffa looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "They are speaking in Gou'ald."

That fit in with what the alien had told him. "Each of us is hearing it, I mean `them,' in our primary language," he mused, his excitement flaring higher along with his amazement.

"Captain Carter!"

As the Jaffa turned abruptly toward the still unconscious officer, Daniel was shocked and dismayed by both his and Teal'c's momentarily unawareness of their teammate. As he knelt down beside Sam again, he realized that something about being in the presence of this - these - aliens, or perhaps being in communication with them, seemed to make everything else fade away.

"I think she's okay, Teal'c, apart from a nasty bump on the head."

The Jaffa checked out Sam just as Daniel had done, then looked at the archeologist. "Major Kawalsky? SG-2?"

Daniel's excitement dimmed. "I don't know."

Teal'c rose and turned toward the alien. "Do you know where the other members of our group are located?"

"There are not here."

Yes, Daniel thought again, definitely concrete thinking. At least in communication with humans. "No, they're not here. They're down below, at the base of the pyramid. Do you know if they are all right?"

"We do not. On this planet we have limited ourselves to this structure."

This planet? No, focus, Jackson. So they didn't know anything outside this room? He frowned at the thought.

"Can I ask why you've limited yourself - yourselves - this way?"

"This dimension of time is fragile. We do not wish to cause further harm."

Dimension of time? Fragile? Further harm?

With the words had also come a strong feeling of regret, so strong it made the archeologist shudder. He looked at the Jaffa in bewilderment, who was still standing protectively over Sam.

"We do not understand your meaning," Teal'c said matter-of-factly.

"Because you are like the others."

They exchanged looks again and Daniel said, "I'm sorry. We don't understand. Who are the others?"

Waves of emotion surged through him - sorrow, guilt, regret - so overwhelming he staggered. Immediately, Teal'c caught his arm and supported him.

"We wished only to aid them but we are responsible for their destruction."

Daniel tried to swallow but his throat was too dry. "I'm sorry," he repeated, "but we still don't understand. Can you tell us about the others?"

"They were like you. They did not understand the Unity. Each one was separate from the other, alone."

Daniel felt a shudder of grief surrounding that last word, so intense he had to blink back sudden tears. Although he knew intellectually that he was experiencing the alien's feelings, the realization did not lessen the intensity of his emotional response.

So what was this being? It kept speaking about `we' and `us'.

"You are the Unity?" he said cautiously.

"You may call us so. They were very unlike us yet still they reached out to us, a bold attempt from ones so young."

"And you tried to help them," Daniel clarified.

"They were eager to learn. And we erred to attempting to teach them."

"Why was that an error?"

"They were not prepared. They could not understand. But then the darkness came and we wished to protect the others so we took them from their world and brought them here."

Daniel's jaw dropped. "You're talking about the ancient Aztecs? The people who built this pyramid?" The alien had taken them from their world. From Earth? Or were they actually from another planet? Or -

"Those who wished to build this pyramid were descended from those we first attempted to aid. But here they had no materials with which to build so we created the structure for them." Waves of sadness came from the alien. "Here is where they came to an end."

So . . . the Unity had tried to save an ancient people but their efforts had somehow led to the destruction of the descendants of that people. Daniel could not fathom the guilt and grief that an immensely advanced and benevolent race must have suffered when their well-meaning efforts had gone so terribly wrong.

The Unity had even created the pyramid for them, he thought sadly, then was startled by a new thought.

"That's why, Teal'c," he marveled. "The pyramid doesn't register on any of Sam's equipment because it's completely alien." He looked back to the alien.

"The material this pyramid was built from isn't from this reality, is it?"

There was a pause this time. As Daniel waited, he could feel the tiny hairs on the back of his neck rising at the distinct sensation of someone - something - rooting around in his mind.

Relax, Jackson, he thought sternly. The alien was trying to find a frame of reference, too.

"The substance is our creation. It is not from what you call this reality."

Not from what `we' call . . . What did that mean? The alien had spoken of `this' dimension of time. What did that mean?

Daniel shook his head in frustration, "I wish Sam was awake. This is her field."

"You must leave," the alien said abruptly.

"What? Why?"

"We are in the process of returning this world to what it was before we brought the others here. We cannot return this structure to our time in its current form. It must be turned back into its original substance. This dimension of time is fragile so the process must be done slowly, in small increments. Even so, this world trembles because of the process."

"Trembles . . ." Daniel started, then his eyes widened. "The earthquakes - I was right. The damage to the northern end of the pyramid is not only worse but there's actually less of the material now than before, isn't there? That's all part of the process, right? So that it can go through the quantum mirror?"

Another pause and the archeologist waited impatiently.

"The process is necessary for its return through what you call the quantum mirror."

"Return where?"

"Where it is from."

Daniel sighed and reined in his emotions. "Sam's - Captain Carter's equipment doesn't recognize this pyramid."

"Your equipment cannot measure that which it cannot comprehend."

He nodded slowly. This was making sense, kind of. The archeologist could not conceive of the kind of power the alien was talking about. The process of turning the pyramid back into its original form was obviously a dangerous proposition . . . risking a release of power beyond human imagining.

"Did you create them? The quantum mirrors?"

"We did."

The simple affirmation staggered Daniel. His head ached with all the questions spinning around inside it, begging for answers. He tried to focus on those relating to their immediate situation.

"People came through the quantum mirror recently, to this planet. Our equipment does recognize them. Why?"

"They are like you. They are not part of the Unity."

All right, all right . . . it wasn't alternate realities that were the issue here, it was . . .

"You, uh, the Unity, are from another dimension in time?" Daniel had to stifle a near-hysterical giggle as he heard the words come out of his mouth. Alternate realities, different dimensions in time. Weren't they the same? He needed SG-1's astrophysicist. Shades of the Twilight Zone!

"According to your meaning we are not. But that is as much as you can grasp with your current level of understanding."

Daniel shook his head in confusion. He was suddenly reminded of the Nox they had encountered last year who had insisted on calling SG-1 `young'. And, of course, next the Nox they had eventually realized that they were indeed young. And next to this - these - aliens, he felt even younger.

The questions raced even more rapidly through his mind in time to a growing headache. He rubbed his forehead in irritation, willing away the pain.

"You must leave this world," the alien said again.

"Yes, we understand," the archeologist nodded, then continued without a pause. "On that pillar," he gestured, "below the symbol of our galaxy is writing that I've seen before. Is it yours?"

In the midst of the lingering sensations of sorrow and regret that still drifted through him, Daniel felt a sudden jolt of surprise.

"You have seen this before?"

"Yes, on a planet we call - " Daniel cut himself off. Their planet designations would mean nothing to the alien.

"We saw it on a planet in this galaxy where we found the writings of four different alien races. At the bottom of one of these writings was the Norse rune - that's what we call it on our planet - of Othala. That rune refers to a place of power and friends and family. We believe that's the Asgard, Thor's race. I'm guessing you, that is, the Unity, knows his race, correct?"

Another jolt of surprise shook Daniel. The alien didn't answer but he took its silence as a `yes' and pushed on.

"And one of the other writings in that place contained the same symbols as are on this pillar, below the symbol of our galaxy. Are these your symbols?"

There was a longer silence this time. Deliberately, Daniel opened himself up as much as possible to the alien and as he waited quietly he became aware of a rather . . . thoughtful sense of deliberation emanating from the creature.

"They were young," it said finally, "but wise beyond their time. We thought it well to join with them to battle the darkness."

Daniel forced down a fresh surge of excitement to focus on the alien's words. The other three races were younger than this one, younger than the Unity? His mind boggled at the thought.

The alliance of those four races had brought together unimaginable wisdom and power. And yet . . .

"The darkness remains," he said softly.

"It takes many forms," the alien responded, and the archeologist swallowed as he felt its vast, aching regret.

It wasn't just the Gou'ald, Daniel realized, that the alien was talking about. They were evil - dark - certainly. But they weren't the only `dark' ones in this universe. How many people on his own planet routinely chose darkness?

"You understand," the alien said.

Daniel nodded. "I - I think so." Although he knew it was reading his thoughts and emotions he still felt the need to put them into words. "Darkness is everywhere."

"Those who understand, fight."

Teal'c had been silent for so long that Daniel had almost forgotten his presence. So he was startled when the Jaffa said,

"We fight everywhere we encounter the darkness."

"Yes," and this time Daniel sensed satisfaction. But before he had time to enjoy this feeling, the alien continued,

"Now you must leave this place."

It had barely finished speaking when a groan sounded at their feet. Both Daniel and Teal'c knelt again beside Carter and the archeologist put a hand on her arm.

"Sam? Can you hear me?"

Damn, her head hurt. And it was hard to hear over the pounding in her ears. Sam opened her eyes a slit, then winced and closed them against the light that pierced her brain. She swallowed the nausea rising in her throat, wanting nothing so much as to embrace unconsciousness. But something stronger would not allow it and as she reluctantly began to accept consciousness, Sam could hear a familiar voice.

"Sam? Please answer. We need to know if you're okay."

It wasn't the voice she had been expecting. Was she not hearing properly?

"Colonel?" Sam was surprised at how weak her voice was. Hadn't she just heard him speaking? Oh, she hoped it was the Colonel. He could deal with this, leaving her free to embrace nothingness again.

"Come on, Sam. Talk to us, please."

Sudden fear stabbed her heart. That wasn't the Colonel's voice. She needed to wake up.

She forced her eyes open again, unable to suppress a groan. A gentle hand stroked her brow.

"Take it easy. You're going to be all right. Isn't she, Teal'c?"

A much deeper voice rumbled, "You will be fine, Captain Carter."

That wasn't the Colonel's voice either. But Sam recognized it, just as she had the first voice. Teal'c. And . . .

"Daniel?" she moaned.

Hell, now she remembered! Wake up now Samantha!

She forced herself upright, fighting the hands that would have restrained her. Wincing against the too-bright light, Sam recognized her teammates but she had no time for them - too stunned by the sight of a huge, monstrous creature looming behind Daniel.

"Look out!" she cried as she yanked her weapon up.

"Sam, no!" Daniel yelled - just as she fired.

Jack O'Neill stood up and stretched luxuriously, his gaze never leaving his son's peaceful face. Charlie had finally awakened and, much to his father's delight, proceeded to put away a very late breakfast that would have satisfied a grown man.

Despite O'Neill's original concerns, Charlie hadn't asked any difficult questions. All that he wanted to know was that his father was indeed here, with him, and that the `bad people' who had been threatening them were no longer a threat.

To both queries, Jack had been happy to give the child a strong affirmative. And that, he realized, was enough for Charlie who was quickly ready to move on to activities more enjoyable than sleeping. He briefly considered taking his son for a tour of the SGC but Frazier was not yet ready to allow the boy to leave the infirmary, not to mention that his sprained ankle made walking difficult.

Instead, Jack had challenged his son to a game of checkers. They played two hard-fought games, each of them winning one. Mid-way through the tie-breaker third game, Charlie began yawning and, despite insisting that he wasn't sleepy, finally succumbed to a healthy, non-drug-induced sleep.

Now Jack studied the round, snub-nosed features, hardly able to breathe because of the overwhelming emotions - love, gratitude, sorrow, tenderness - that held him captive. He knew it wasn't going to be this easy. Charlie had been in the SGC when it had been invaded. He had seen his father killed right in front of him. Pretending that had all been only a bad dream was not going to work.

Besides, Charlie deserved the truth. Somehow, Jack was going to have to come up with the words to explain to his son what had really happened . . . that the invasion had been real, that the destruction of his world had been real, that the death of his father had been real . . . but nonetheless, his father, Jack O'Neill, was alive and here for him. All because the boy was now in an alternate reality.

And just how in the hell was he going to explain all this to a nine-year-old?

Jack shook his head. What he wouldn't give for some of Daniel's ability with words, right now.

Uneasiness stirred in his gut at the thought of the archeologist. Damn, but he would be glad when his team and SG-2 returned from that miserable planet. He should have gone with them, regardless of Hammond's orders.

Yeah, right, O'Neill. Like that could have happened.

Jack had to smile at the thought but the brief levity was not strong enough to erase his concern.

The sound of approaching voices caught his attention.

" . . . probably all toast by now." The words preceded an airman walking into the infirmary, holding a hand in the air, a bloody cloth wrapped around it. Beside him walked another airman trying to put a small towel around the injured member.

"Airman!" Though low, Dr. Frazier's voice carried the sharp snap of command that had both men spinning around to face her.

"Ma'am -"

"Dr. Fraz -"

"Not here," she said brusquely, ushering them out more rapidly than they had entered.

"But -" the bewildered, injured man started.

"This way," she snapped, overriding him. She grasped his arm just above the injured hand and herded both airmen back out into the corridor.

Jack stared after them, frowning. What in the hell just happened?

The airman was injured; he belonged in the infirmary for treatment. But the C.M.O. of the SGC had practically dragged him out of the infirmary and off to god knows where.

He looked at his son, relieved that his sleep had not been disturbed. Then, more slowly, O'Neill gazed around the empty infirmary. He hadn't thought about it before, but other than Frazier no one had come in here all day. He looked at his watch, startled to see it was after three in the morning. The time with his son had literally flown by. And they hadn't been disturbed. Not once.

Something was going on.

And Dr. Janet Frazier was obviously in on it.

And only one person on this base had enough clout to persuade the C.M.O. to change her usual procedures on her own turf.

Whatever was going on, Hammond had to be behind it.

`It.' What was `it'?

Hammond was keeping O'Neill isolated.

Why?

"Probably all toast by now."

The airman's words suddenly echoed in his mind again and Jack's stomach dropped to his feet. He strode swiftly into Frazier's office and snatched her telephone off the desk.

"This is Colonel O'Neill," he snapped. "Put me through to General Hammond."

He waited impatiently as the seconds turned into minutes, then finally an apologetic voice came back on the line with the news that the General wasn't in his office. Jack barely managed to swallow a curse.

"Then find him!"

O'Neill fumed, shifting restlessly in place as he waited. As the silence lengthened, his own suspicions grew into certainty. Ten more seconds, he vowed, and then he was going to hunt down his C.O. if it was -

"Colonel O'Neill? Is everything all right?"

"No, General," he gritted. "Everything is not all right and I want to know what's going on."

Silence answered and O'Neill's grip on the telephone receiver tightened. What little patience he had been clinging to suddenly evaporated.

"General, with all due respect, don't bullshit me!"

O'Neill felt more than heard his C.O. sigh. "Jack . . ."

His gut clenched. `Jack'. That meant it was bad.

"General -"

"Jack, we don't know anything for sure, yet."

"My team," O'Neill demanded harshly. "SG-2."

"We don't know." There was another pause, then Hammond said more strongly, "Stay in the infirmary, Colonel. I'll be there in ten minutes."

O'Neill paced the length of the infirmary, checking on his sleeping son each time he passed the bed. He tried to keep a lid on his imagination by repeating his C.O.'s words over and over. They didn't know anything, yet. But he couldn't refrain from the logical conclusion. Something had happened. And whatever it was, Hammond had enlisted Frazier's help in keeping him isolated and unaware.

It seemed much longer than ten minutes before General Hammond entered the infirmary. Jack moved swiftly toward him but the older man paused to look at the peacefully sleeping Charlie.

"He looks better," he said quietly.

"He is," O'Neill retorted.

Hammond looked at him and Jack knew he could see the simmering anger he was trying to hold in. The General glanced around the infirmary and then gestured his 2IC to join him at the far end.

Jack didn't give him a chance to start. "Just say it," he demanded, adding belatedly, "please, sir."

The commanding officer of the SGC studied his 2IC for a moment before nodding. "SG's -1 and -2 missed their check-in. When we tried to contact them, the Stargate would not connect to PXR 512."

"Why not?"

"That's what we're trying to determine now."

O'Neill turned away, his mind suddenly whirling with scenarios to explain the problem. Each scenario was worse than the previous one.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Jack - "

"I should have gone with them!" He whirled on his C.O. "I should be there with them now!"

"I understand your feelings but - "

"You should've let me go with my team!"

The General's eyes narrowed. "I made a decision based on my understanding of the situation at the time. Despite what's happened, I would make the same decision if I had to do it over."

"You should've - "

"Be careful, Colonel," Hammond said sharply.

O'Neill paused, his mouth still open. But the fire in his C.O.'s eyes warned him that he was perilously close to stepping over the line.

Jack closed his mouth, swallowed and tried again. "Sir, with all due respect," he said with forced calm, "we knew that planet could be a problem."

"Yes, we did, Colonel. Which is why I ordered SG-2 and Major Kawalsky to accompany SG-1. And - " he added hastily, overriding his 2IC's words, "Dr. Frazier felt it was important that you remain here. A decision I agreed with."

Oh, hell. Had he gained his son only to lose his team?

Jack turned to look at the sleeping child, trying to ignore the fear threatening his new happiness.

As if sensing what O'Neill was feeling, Hammond's voice gentled. "Colonel - Jack - it may just be a technical malfunction. For all we know, everything may be fine on that planet."

O'Neill closed his eyes briefly. He prayed that the General was right.

But he feared that he was wrong.

Teal'c yanked the MP-5 out of Sam's hands, passing it to Daniel as he caught her slumping form and lowered her gently back to the floor.

His heart in his throat, Daniel turned slowly around, fearful of what he was about to see. His breath escaped in a whoosh of relief at the sight of the alien still standing beside the pillar.

"Thank God," he whispered, then, more strongly, "I - I'm sorry about that. But please don't blame Sam. She's hurt. She didn't know what she was doing."

"It is no matter. This universe does not possess instruments that can damage us."

Daniel stared. "Uh . . ." Another dozen questions exploded into his consciousness and he literally didn't know where to begin.

"You must leave."

He barely swallowed a shout of impatience. "Yes, yes, I understand that. But there's so much we can learn from each other . . . um, at least that we can learn from you."

"Even if you knew what questions you wished to ask, you would not understand the answers."

Daniel blinked and gave his head a little shake. "Excuse me? I mean, I don't understand."

"Yes. That is the problem. Your language is very limited. And much of what you would like to know is beyond your current level of comprehension."

"Daniel Jackson."

"Yes, Teal'c," the linguist said absently, "just a minute - "

"We must return to the SGC. Captain Carter is in need of medical attention. And SG-2 and Major Kawalsky must be located."

The Jaffa's matter-of-fact statements broke through Daniel's concentration more completely than any shouted commands. He threw a quick look over his shoulder to see Teal'c kneeling beside a still-groggy Carter.

Daniel's heart sank as he looked at his teammate. This was more than just a bump on the head. They had to get Sam back to the SGC. And they needed to find out what had happened to SG-2 and Kawalsky. His heartbeat quickened. What was wrong with him? How could he have disregarded their wellbeing?

He looked at the alien and knew how. Even the faint connection he was experiencing while communicating with it - them - was more riveting, more engrossing than anything else he had ever experienced.

But he couldn't stay here. He and Teal'c had to get Sam to the SGC, advise the General what had happened, call for an S & R team.

But every fiber of his being resisted taking the actions he knew he had to. He wanted to stay, to talk further with this alien, to learn more. There was so much that could be learned.

But he couldn't stay. He had a greater obligation to his team members.

"That is correct," the alien said, and Daniel felt waves of understanding flow through him. "You must leave. We cannot continue to restrain the process. It must be completed."

Daniel swallowed at the strong sense of finality coming from the alien. Despair filled him at the thought of leaving. Of the countless questions shaking him to his core, one suddenly leaped to the forefront of his mind.

"The Unity," he said impulsively, "is very unlike our way of existence. Can't you tell me anything about it? Even if I can't fully understand it, maybe you can give me some idea - "

"Daniel Jackson," Teal'c said, a new warning note in his tone. "We cannot remain. It is not safe. We must depart."

Daniel heard his teammate speaking but the Jaffa's voice suddenly seemed to be coming from a great distance. Some part of his mind knew that he was still in the pyramid but, simultaneously, he seemed to be . . . somewhere else . . . his five senses were not strong enough to grasp what was happening but on a deeper level he could feel himself being surrounded, enveloped . . . by ...

Colors . . . unknowable, nameless, beyond beautiful . . . swirling gently around him . . . light softer yet more radiant than any he had ever known . . . just the merest hints of . . . sensations beyond human understanding . . . yet he sensed it all as absolute and complete . . . absorbing him into it while simultaneously freeing him beyond any sense of freedom he'd ever known . . .

Utter warmth . . .

Utter unity . . .

Utterly known and accepted . . .

It lasted beyond forever yet ended before his next heartbeat. As Daniel felt himself beginning to drift away from the all-encompassing Joining he cried out in his mind. No! He reached desperately for it, only to encounter the most gentle of denials. This was not his existence. He could not survive in it.

I don't care! Daniel wept in his heart.

Yes, you do. Your friends need you.

"Daniel Jackson?"

Daniel blinked and looked around. He was back in the pyramid. All the way back.

Teal'c stood in front of him, concern marring his usually stoic expression.

Daniel closed his eyes for a moment, suddenly, unutterably weary. And empty.

He looked at the alien, still standing quietly beside the pillar. How could he have considered this being, however briefly, hideous in appearance? For a moment out of time he had been granted an experience of knowing and being known that was infinitely beyond human understanding. And in that experience he had encountered a spirit so far beyond beautiful . . . so far beyond . . .

Daniel sniffed, only realizing then that tears were sliding down his face. Wiping them away with an absent swipe of his hand he said quietly, "Thank you."

"You must leave."

"I know," he said, although the thought filled him with grief. But there was one last thing he had to make clear.

"Although it's very different from yours, we have our own kind of unity. The people we came with, SG-2 and Major Kawalsky, are a part of our . . . our group, our unity. If we leave without them our unity won't be complete. And because of the gift you just gave me, I know you understand how terrible it would be for us if our unity became incomplete."

There was another long silence while Daniel focused on the Unity, deliberately avoiding Teal'c's heavy gaze.

"The process was begun long ago," the alien said, and the linguist sensed concern in the words. "Now it is coming to completion. Your forms cannot survive. You must leave this world now."

"We need the rest of our people," Daniel said softly.

"You must leave."

"Yes, we will. But, please, we must have our people. I understand that you can't leave this pyramid but isn't there some way - "

The alien lifted one `arm' in the air and the rest of Daniel's words caught in his throat. He sensed a sudden change of focus coming from the being, then . . a new sensation of . . . something . . . lifting him, transforming . . . his breath vanished at the overwhelming feeling of reality drifting away from him . . .

Blackness. Nothing but blackness.

Who the hell turned out the lights?

Major Lou Ferretti groaned. It felt like an entire college marching band was tromping around inside his head. He tried to lift a hand to rub his throbbing head but for some reason nothing happened.

Where in the hell was he?

Damn, but it hurt to think.

Why was it so dark?

Shit, that hurt too.

But despite the pain, or rather because of it, Ferretti knew it was imperative to figure out what was going on.

He blinked hard, stretching his eyelids wide to make sure his eyes were open. Yep, they were definitely open. And, yes, he really was surrounded by blackness. There was nothing to see, no light anywhere.

Lou lay still, forcing his aching brain to stir, trying to remember. What was the last thing he remembered?

He'd been joking with Kawalsky.

But that didn't make any sense. Kawalsky had been dead for over a year.

But, damn, it was so clear. They'd been in the `gate room - the mission to Abydos? No, there was a strong sense of familiarity with this memory. This was recent but, hell, how could that be when Kawalsky was dead?

Maybe he was going crazy.

Ferretti snorted at himself, then winced. Not smart, Lou.

Come on, jackass, think.

He'd been in the `gate room with Kawalsky. And there were other people milling around them. Daniel - the Doc - was off to the side, and there was Captain Carter, joining him. And Teal'c. Where was the Colonel? He didn't see the Colonel.

Out of the painful recesses of his thoughts, Colonel O'Neill's voice suddenly leaped into his consciousness.

"It may be nothing. But it may be something."

Son of a bitch!

Memory returned with a rush, threatening to explode from his throbbing head.

They were in the fuckin' mirror room! There'd been an earthquake -

"Barnett!" he croaked. "Pollock, Duncan!"

Only silence answered him. Lou tried to take a deep breath but only ended up coughing. His blood ran cold as he realized why.

There wasn't enough air in the room anymore, if the room still existed. He was running out of oxygen.

His radio - he needed to call for help.

Ferretti tried to lift his hand but, again, nothing happened.

Was he pinned down by some kind of rock fall? He needed to get free and check on his team and SG-1. And he needed more air to breathe.

Lou tried again to peer through the utter blackness but without success.

Wait. Wait a minute.

He swallowed hard, trying to disregard the panic beginning to trickle slowly through his veins.

Apart from his head, nothing hurt. He couldn't feel any pain. He couldn't feel anything at all. And he couldn't move. Nothing moved.

Ferretti swallowed again, forcing himself to breathe slowly, shallowly.

This was not good.

Ouch.

Everything hurt.

Charlie Kawalsky rubbed his head gingerly. He winced as his unwary fingers touched the still-bleeding wound above his ear.

What had happened?

He blinked and looked around. There was nothing but tree branches all around, one of them close enough to scrape the side of his head when he turned it.

Wincing again, Charlie batted the branch away but it sprung back. Grumbling, he grabbed the end of it, snapping it off in frustration. Then looked in surprise at the piece he still gripped. Okay, that worked.

Dropping the piece of wood he looked around again. Although he could see, he couldn't see as clearly as he thought he should. The sky was getting dark. The sun must be setting.

Oh, he remembered. The tornado.

Anxiety surged through him just before logic kicked in. The tornado must've already happened. That's why the trees were down.

He sighed, remembering his parents telling him how much fun he was going to have on his grandparents' farm.

They hadn't said anything about tornados.

"Gram?" he called. "Gramps? Where are you?"

Charlie coughed as his voice rasped in his dry throat. He tried to shift his weight but the tree held him firmly against the pyramid wall.

Pyramid?

What?

Damn, now he remembered!

He wasn't a twelve-year-old visiting his grandparents' Oklahoma farm. He was all grown-up and in deep shit on a fucking miserable excuse of a planet half-way across the fucking galaxy!

Instinctively he started to rise only to fall back as pain exploded through his body. Breathing hard, he looked around, blinking in an effort to clear his vision.

Kawalsky realized that his first scrambled thoughts had been accurate. He was on the ground, leaning against the pyramid, a huge tree in his lap, pinning him securely in place.

Well, hell.

He gritted his teeth while he assessed his condition. What hurt?

Bad question. Everything hurt.

Okay. Did anything not hurt?

Kawalsky considered the question for a moment before mentally shaking his head.

Nope. Everything hurt. Especially - he winced, his back. And - shit - his head.

And . . . damn, but he was freezing cold.

Charlie tried to swallow his rising fear but he couldn't deny the facts.

He was badly injured.

What had happened to SG-1? SG-2?

The sudden memory of the missing tunnel entrance made him close his eyes. Even if Ferretti and his team had survived the earthquake, had they survived the pyramid sealing itself up again?

Holding his breath, fighting the gasps of pain trying to escape, Kawalsky forced his right hand up to his radio.

Shit. It had been destroyed. Along with his entire left side, crushed to pulp under the weight of a massive tree.

Everything hurt. Except . . . he would have expected it to be hurting even more.

Why wasn't it?

Even the cold didn't seem so bad anymore. It was like . . . ohhh.

Kawalsky sighed as he faced the truth, his eyes fixed on the darkening sky.

Maybe, he mused, he should've stayed in his own reality, the Gou'ald invasion notwithstanding.

He might've lived longer.

No. Charlie rejected the thought. He'd managed to save the Colonel's son. Seen the Colonel again, alive and well. Been able to be part of, however briefly, a reality the Gou'ald hadn't conquered.

He smiled as his eyes drifted shut, no longer afraid. All things considered, it had been worth the ride.

Whoa!

Daniel staggered, catching himself just before he would have fallen flat on his face. He turned quickly, staggering again but not caring. Relief poured through him at the sight of Teal'c, still holding Sam.

What - what had happened?

"Teal'c!" he said urgently.

"We are at the Stargate, Daniel Jackson."

The archeologist looked around in bewilderment to see that the Jaffa was correct. Before them, the Stargate rested on its platform, with the DHD just off to the side. All normal.

He turned to see the jungle surrounding the clearing. Just as he remembered.

And in the distance, rearing high above the jungle, Daniel could see the massive pyramid. Also just as he remembered.

He rubbed his forehead. "Weren't we just - "

"In the temple at the top of the pyramid, Daniel Jackson."

He nodded slowly. Yes, that's what he remembered, too.

"Teal'c, what are you doing?"

Daniel spun back to see Sam trying to extricate herself from the Jaffa's grip. Teal'c cautiously lowered her to the ground.

"Are you well, Captain Carter?"

She looked at him before turning her gaze on Daniel. "I'm fine but - " she gazed around them in perplexity. "I think I had the strangest dream . . ."

"It wasn't a dream, Sam," Daniel said gently, feeling his heart plummeting at the realization that they were alone.

He looked at Teal'c and saw the same understanding in the Jaffa's eyes.

"We need to get you back to the SGC, Sam," he said. "Then we need to come back here to find SG-2 and Major Kawalsky."

Daniel's words pierced the confusion enveloping her. "What?" She looked around quickly, her heart beginning to pound in her chest.

"What are we doing here? Weren't we at the pyramid - " Damn, but she was confused! "There was a monster - " Oh, shut up, Samantha, until you get your bearings!

"Not a monster, Sam."

She looked quickly at the archeologist. Had she imagined it or had there been a touch of . . . sadness? regret? in Daniel's words?

He met her gaze and smiled. "You hit your head pretty hard. You probably have a concussion."

"I do?" Sam stared at him, then took a mental inventory. She had suffered concussions before and knew what they felt like. But . . . her head didn't hurt. She felt fine . . . except for being utterly confused.

"No I don't," she denied. "We need to get back to the pyramid and find SG-2 and the Major."

Daniel traded glances with Teal'c and then moved over to his teammate. Gently, he touched her head.

"Here, Sam, you hit - " He stopped abruptly. The swelling behind Sam's ear was gone. There was no trace of any injury.

Sam stared into the bewildered blue eyes so close to hers and felt fresh apprehension welling up. "What's wrong?"

"Uh, nothing," Daniel said as he drew back. "You're fine."

"I already said that," she returned impatiently. "Daniel, I want you to go back to the SGC and tell General Hammond what happened. Teal'c and I will head back to the pyramid now - "

"I do not believe that would be wise, Captain Carter."

"Why not?"

"The aliens told us we must leave, that it would be dangerous to remain."

Aliens? She closed her eyes in thought. Her mind was such a muddle but . . . yes . . . it hadn't been a monster - she cringed inwardly at the childish thought - there had been an alien but . . .

"Sam, even though there's no evidence of any injury to your head, I think you should come back to the SGC, too."

The concern in Daniel's voice broke through Sam's concentration. She opened her eyes to see her teammates watching her. Damn it, she didn't want to leave, not with SG-2 and Major Kawalsky missing. But -

"You're right," she said reluctantly. She knew she wasn't operating on all cylinders. If she remained, she would only be in the way.

"You'll have to explain the situation to the General," Sam said, hating that she wouldn't be able to. But Daniel and Teal'c were the only ones who could give Hammond an accurate report right now. Despite the risk the Jaffa mentioned, Sam couldn't imagine leaving SG-2 and Kawalsky behind without even making an attempt to locate them.

She just hoped they were okay. Wherever they were.

"Holy shit!"

Charlie Kawalsky stared at them, one after another. It was hard to determine who was more flabbergasted at the unceremonious appearance of the missing Major - right in front of SG-1.

"Major!" Daniel said in alarm. "You're hurt!"

"I am?" Kawalsky looked down at himself and his jaw dropped. His uniform was practically in shreds and stained dark all over with - gingerly, Charlie ran a finger over the huge stain that encompassed the left side of his uniform, then looked at it.

Blood. He was covered in blood.

Pulling aside a mangled fragment of cloth, Kawalsky looked at the smooth, unmarked skin beneath it.

He raised his head, looking at the others with incredulous eyes. "I . . . I feel fine," he stammered.

"You - "

Sam never remembered what she was about to say, her thoughts obliterated by the shock of SG-2 suddenly standing in front of them.

Ferretti gaped at his teammates, then at Kawalsky and SG-1. "What the hell just happened?" he demanded.

Daniel looked from one shell-shocked face to another, suddenly able to breathe again. He turned to stare out at the pyramid in the distance, towering above the jungle. A deep, aching, longing welled up in his heart at the sight and mingled strangely with his gratitude.

"Thank you," he whispered.

Deep in the bowels of Cheyenne Mountain, there is no such thing as sunlight. Artificial light and clocks help maintain the illusion of day and night but, in truth, down here it remains only an illusion.

According to his watch it was nearly six in the morning. But the fatigue General Hammond would normally have expected after a sleepless, not to mention chaotic, night had been superseded by much stronger emotions.

After seven frantic hours, George finally sat alone in the briefing room. On the table before him lay several reports, although he could not read them since the overhead lights weren't on. But that didn't matter. He had already read the reports, each more than once. Now he sat in the darkened room, grateful for the solitude.

First had come the verbal debriefing which had been done in the infirmary, after immediate medical concerns had been dealt with. SG-1 had received their medical clearance but, despite their protests, SG-2 and Major Kawalsky were remaining in the infirmary another 24 hours at the insistence of Dr. Frazier.

Hammond couldn't blame her caution. His first sight of SG-2 and Major Kawalsky stumbling through the Stargate into the gate room - their uniforms shredded and covered in blood - was a memory that he knew he was not going to forget for a very long time. Thankfully, they had been immediately followed by SG-1 who had clearly been undamaged. That, along with SG-1's calm, albeit slightly stunned, attitude, had gone a long way in reassuring the shocked General.

What he had learned during the debriefing stunned him. But the naturally more detailed written reports he had received shortly thereafter - the speed of their submission due in large part, Hammond suspected, to his people's boredom with being stuck in the infirmary - had been nothing less than shocking.

Though the details in the reports varied, there was one point on which they all agreed. Without the active intervention of an alien race, so alien as to stagger the imagination, SG-2, Major Kawalsky, and, most likely, SG-1, would all be dead. The bloodstained remnants of his people's uniforms provided a graphic exclamation point to this fact.

The General ran a gentle hand over the reports. Somewhere among them was Dr. Frazier's report, indicating that everyone on SG units -1 and -2, as well as Major Kawalsky, were in perfect health, despite the state of their uniforms.

One of the first things Hammond had done after the debriefing was to order that PXR 512 be locked out of their dialing protocols. As best he understood it, something was happening, right now, on that planet that could have potentially cataclysmic ramifications not only on the planet itself but possibly on the galaxy. Captain Carter was already running extrapolations of what might occur if the alien's activity on PXR 512 somehow got out of control . . . if their millennia-slow, ultra-careful efforts to return an ancient pyramid back into the substance from which it had been created in order to return it to . . . somewhere . . . through the quantum mirror . . . exploded in their collective face.

Hammond felt a sudden surge of empathy for his 2IC and the extraordinary situation in which Colonel O'Neill found himself, face to face with his son who had died nearly three years ago. He now had a far better understanding of what the younger man must be going through. How was the C.O. of the SGC supposed to wrap his mind around these events?

On top of the pile of reports was Dr. Jackson's. The General had read through it three times, so far. Although Dr. Jackson's verbal report in the infirmary had been startling enough, this written report was . . . Hammond sighed, dropping his head briefly into his hands.

Of one thing he was certain. Although Colonel O'Neill had sat in on the infirmary debriefing, he had not yet read Dr. Jackson's written report. Hammond knew this by the simple fact that - although the Colonel was furious with actions of the youngest member of his team - Cheyenne Mountain had not yet been obliterated by the eruption of Mt. O'Neill.

George sighed softly to himself again, feeling belated exhaustion creeping over him. He hoped his tongue-lashing after the debriefing would make Dr. Jackson think twice before ignoring all military protocol to put himself at such unnecessary risk . . . but he doubted it. A written reprimand was going to be included in his personnel file, but it wouldn't be the first. Although the young scientist had been apologetic, Hammond was very aware that he had not promised to refrain from such impulsive activity in the future.

Even before reading Dr. Jackson's written report, George had realized that he didn't know what he was going to do with the SGC's most important civilian. But now, after reading his report . . . he sighed again.

Dr. Jackson had been quite explicit in his written report. He had deliberately requested a deeper understanding of what the alien called its `unity'. Despite his recognition that this race operated on incomprehensible telepathic and empathic levels, he had voluntarily opened himself up to a connection with beings who redefined the term `alien'.

George rubbed a hand over his face at the thought. A verbal tongue-lashing was the least the young scientist deserved and he made sure the archeologist understood that. But he had been somewhat hampered by the fact that Teal'c was of the firm opinion that Dr. Jackson's plea for the missing SG-2 and Kawalsky were responsible for saving those soldiers. Even Captain Carter, whose memories of the events in that temple on top of the pyramid were admittedly fuzzy - felt able to confirm Teal'c's statement. The fact that Dr. Jackson had `connected' to the alien just beforehand quite possibly - so both Teal'c and Daniel argued - gave added strength to the plea, enough to ensure its success.

The written reports filled in a lot of blanks left over from the debriefing. But not all of them. Some blanks, some questions, Hammond knew, would never be filled in. Never answered. Others . . . they could only guess at.

More than thirty-five years in the Air Force did not help him now.

George ran his hand gently over the pile of reports. He had listened to his people speak of their time on PXR 512. He had read their reports about what they had experienced on the planet. And it all added up to . . . incomprehension.

He kept coming back to that one overwhelming fact. Major Kawalsky and SG-2 had all died on that planet . . . just a short time before they returned through the Stargate alive and in perfect health (although the same couldn't be said for their uniforms).

All five men were very clear on their recollections, up until their last memories of fading into death.

Only to find themselves all alive again, reunited with SG-1 and standing beside the Stargate on that alien planet.

Hammond sighed as he rubbed his weary eyes, realizing that he had been sighing a lot since he had read his teams' reports.

And as for SG-1 itself . . .

Captain Carter's report had been the easiest to read through, due in large part to the fact that she had been largely unconscious during the most problematic period of their time on the planet. But even so, it had been difficult for him to take in.

Teal'c had been his usual concise self in his report, although, as he made clear, he also had been unconscious during a good deal of their time in the temple room at the top of the pyramid.

And Dr. Jackson . . .

Hammond sighed again and looked down at the report on which his hand rested. He kept coming back to Dr. Jackson's report.

Reading through the reports of Major Kawalsky, SG-2, Captain Carter and Teal'c had given him a good understanding of the events that had transpired on PXR 512, insofar as the events were understandable. But Dr. Jackson's report had opened new avenues of thought and questions that had never occurred to him before.

So brilliant. So naive. So reckless and filled with self-disregard.

Coming right on the heels of the disastrous consequences of Dr. Jackson's impulsive action on P3R 636, Hammond wanted nothing so much as to grab the young man by the scruff of the neck and shake him until some common sense was uncovered.

If only it were that easy.

Really, George felt that he needed to do something more in an effort to quell the young man's impulsive behavior. What, he didn't know. But he was going to think damn hard about it.

As for the immediate future?

George felt his lips curving upward. Perhaps, for now, the best punishment he could inflict on the young scientist was an unleashed and furious Colonel O'Neill.

Thinking about it, Hammond could not help but wince in sympathy for Dr. Jackson.

Sam Carter sat in her lab. It had been a chaotic several hours since returning through the Stargate with everyone intact, although an ordinary observer couldn't be blamed for doubting that. Major Kawalsky and the members of SG-2 all looked as if they . . .

Say it, Sam.

They all looked as if . . . they had come back from the dead.

Which - according to them - they had.

But all of that had come later. They'd barely walked through the Stargate before they were immediately whisked down the infirmary. Dr. Frazier's first sight of the filthy, tattered, bloodied figures of Kawalsky and SG-2 had her summoning all available medical personnel on the base and they found themselves undergoing even more thorough exams and tests than usual.

Sam had been relieved that Dr. Frazier was prepared to let SG-1 wait a bit for their exams. But her relief turned to frustration when both Daniel and Teal'c advised the C.M.O. of their 2IC's head injury, which information immediately put her in an infirmary bed and wincing under Janet's relentless penlight.

But there had been no evidence of any head injury and she was finally released. At that point, SG-2 and Major Kawalsky were still tied up in the infirmary but they had been advised that as soon as Dr. Frazier gave the okay, General Hammond wanted a debriefing, even if it had to be held in the infirmary. Which was exactly where it was held two hours later. When it was over, all that the General had said was that he wanted their written reports on his desk as soon as possible.

Sam sighed now, stretching and rubbing her stiff neck. She had been able to distract herself for awhile by writing up her report, keeping it as dry and straightforward as she could. But now she was done. The report had been e-mailed to General Hammond and Colonel O'Neill. She had nothing else engrossing enough to hold back her own thoughts and memories and, above all else, her overwhelming disappointment in herself, especially her behavior on PXR 512.

Although she knew it wasn't her fault, she was angry that she had been unconscious throughout the entire - or almost entire - encounter with the alien. And the one time that she had managed to regain consciousness . . .

Sam cringed at the memory of the childish bogeyman that had reared up in her imagination during that critical moment. To fire on an alien who had done nothing threatening, merely because of its appalling - its gruesome - appearance . . . she squeezed her eyes shut but the taste of humiliation was bitter in her mouth.

She was a Captain in the United States Air Force, damn it! She should have been able to deal with the situation . . . with the . . . the alien . . .

But that had been the problem. The complete and utter alienness of the creature. It had shocked her to the core of her concussed being.

And reading through Daniel's report had only deepened her sense of shame. Like Sam, he had recognized nothing remotely human in the alien. He had had no frame of reference to fall back on, nothing to help him in dealing with the creature. Yet Daniel had somehow managed to set aside all of his human presuppositions and find a way to relate to the alien.

It was mostly, she knew, Daniel being Daniel. And he'd been able to draw from his background and training and, most of all, from his own unique mind and abilities.

And he had saved them all. Again.

Sam swallowed hard. She hadn't had a frame of reference either. Her training and education were all in hard science. None of which had been enough to help her make sense of what she was experiencing, of what her concussed senses were trying to comprehend. It had taken only one glimpse of that inhuman form to throw her back to the silly horror stories of her childhood.

She gulped at the memory, tears of shame burning against her eyelids.

The harsh ring of the telephone startled her from her absorption. Rubbing a sleeve roughly over her eyes, she reached for the receiver.

"Captain Carter."

"Captain, it's Dr. Lerner. We've finished analyzing the results from the last series of tests on the Stargate."

Sam sensed she wasn't going to like what the man had to say. They had had no problem dialing home from PXR 512, so she suspected that the alien must have . . . somehow . . . done something to the gate.

"And?" she demanded.

"We can't find anything wrong. We don't know why it wouldn't connect to that planet's Stargate. It doesn't make any sense."

She sighed softly to herself. No, she couldn't say she was surprised. "I'll take a look at the results later."

"Yes, ma'am."

When Sam hung up, she continued to stare at the telephone. It didn't make any sense. That was the conclusion of all of the SGC's scientists and technicians who prided themselves on knowing more about the inner workings of the Stargate than anyone else in the world.

Which, she was realizing now as she never had before, meant diddly-squat.

There was an entire universe out there filled with sentient beings, many of whom knew far more about the Stargate than Earth's most brilliant scientists.

Not to mention other sentient beings from universes in other realities, or dimensions of time, as these aliens had called it.

"God," she murmured aloud, dropping her head into her hands.

If only she'd had a chance to talk to that alien! What might she have learned!

But instead it had been Daniel.

Sam had read his report over twice, taking note of every comment, every question, every uncertainty, every tentative conclusion.

And learned almost nothing useful to a scientist.

Of course, Daniel hadn't been looking at the opportunity to converse with a vastly advanced alien race as a hard scientist would have.

Sam recognized that. She understood it. And she was angry with herself for being angry with Daniel who'd had such an incredible opportunity in his hand yet he'd thrown it away, wanting only to get to know the alien better!

It was just so Daniel.

The unexpected thought broke through her anger, wringing out a reluctant laugh. And the sound of her own amusement succeeded in further demolishing the unruly emotions that had temporarily held her hostage.

"You're an idiot, Sam," she said aloud.

As much as she hated to admit it, she knew what was really going on. She was embarrassed by her behavior on the planet, angry with her impulsive action that could have had such disastrous consequences. And, worst of all, most inexcusable of all, she was jealous of her youngest teammate.

Which was all the more reason for her to keep in mind that it was most likely Daniel's urgent, last-minute plea to the alien that had saved SG-2 and Major Kawalsky. Had, most likely, saved them all.

Daniel, being Daniel, had used his inherent gifts and abilities to establish a connection with a race so alien that the human mind couldn't begin to grasp its alienness.

Only Daniel.

It really was amazing she hadn't developed an inferiority complex by now.

The thought made Sam shake her head in fond exasperation. If this kept up, she suspected that Colonel O'Neill wasn't going to be the only one on the base claiming Daniel was responsible for his hair turning gray.

Apart from the light cast by one desk lamp, the room was dark. Which perfectly suited Daniel's mood.

The last several hours had passed with bewildering speed. It had begun as soon as they returned to the SGC. What the archeologist thought was going to be a brief stint in the infirmary for the usual post-mission check-up turned out to be far more time-consuming and complicated due to the bloodied appearance of over half the mission team. And, he discovered, that as soon as the other members of the mission had finished their tests General Hammond intended to hold the debriefing right there in the infirmary.

Daniel had not been surprised to find Jack entering the infirmary right after their arrival. The relief he had seen on his best friend's face when he saw Daniel and Sam and Teal'c had warmed the linguist all the way through. He was momentarily concerned that Charlie was nowhere in sight but his anxious, low-voiced query to Dr. Frazier was met with the reassuring news that the child had simply been moved to a V.I.P. room a short while ago.

SG-1's exams were taken care of by the medical staff, as both Drs. Frazier and Warner were preoccupied with the condition of SG-2 and Major Kawalsky. The soldiers all protested, insisting they were perfectly fine, but the tattered, blood-covered remnants of their uniforms indicated otherwise.

Daniel watched in sympathy until privacy curtains were whisked around the men, hiding them from sight if not from sound.

Meanwhile, Jack hovered between his three teammates. Daniel heard both Sam and Teal'c giving him preliminary, abbreviated reports and waited with some resignation, and a little trepidation, for his C.O. to focus on him.

The archeologist knew all too well that when Jack O'Neill had all the facts, he was likely to explode all over the younger man. The thought made him raise his chin a little in defiance. If he had to do it over again, he would do the same. Except for the part where he pretty much ignored his teammates for a while. That slip-up had confused Daniel until his extraordinary, all-too-brief, Joining with the Unity had helped him to understand.

Now he understood better, although he wasn't sure if he would ever be able to find the words to properly explain. A linguist unable to find the right words . . . it sounded ridiculous. But Daniel knew now how limiting human speech - in whatever language - actually was.

For a moment out of time he had been part of an incomparable communication. Ever since the Joining had ended, Daniel had felt bereft and alone, chilled to the marrow of his being.

"You're all done, Dr. Jackson."

He blinked at the nurse as she stepped back. "Um, thank you."

He slid off the bed and almost into Jack's arms. "Oops, sorry Jack."

"It's okay."

Daniel looked up quickly at the unexpected tone. Jack was eyeing him with unmistakable affection and the recognition warmed a bit of the chill in his heart. Obviously, Sam's and Teal'c's preliminary reports had not included Daniel's impulsive request to the alien. Which meant that Daniel had a little reprieve before his C.O. was going to take his head off.

He'd take the reprieve, thought the archeologist. It would at least allow him to get an answer to the question that had been on his mind since his return to the SGC.

"How's Charlie?"

Jack's smile widened. "Great. He's whipped my butt in checkers, Parcheesi and backgammon. He's also doing his best to eat up everything in the commissary."

Daniel gave a simulated shudder. "That's frightening."

"Nah, he has a nine-year-old's constitution. It's damn near impervious. Come on and say hello."

Surprised and pleased by the invitation, the archeologist followed his friend out of the infirmary. "Are you sure it's okay to leave? General Hammond said he wanted to have a debriefing - "

"Frazier won't be through with SG-2 and Kawalsky for awhile. We have some time."

"Good." As much as he didn't want to bring it up, Daniel couldn't leave it alone. "You haven't asked me for my report," he said with studied casualness.

"I got most of the details from Carter and Teal'c. Considering your contact with the alien is going to figure large in the debriefing, I figured I wouldn't make you go through it twice."

Daniel's brows rose in surprise. "Well, uh, thanks. For the consideration."

Jack shot him a quick, sideways look. "I can be considerate."

"I didn't mean - "

"I know you didn't." The older man stopped abruptly in front of the archeologist. "According to Carter and Teal'c, you managed to get through to that alien and save everyone. Literally."

Daniel flushed under the intense gaze. "Um, well, I don't know if I would go so far as - "

"No, of course, Daniel Jackson wouldn't say so. But the other people who were there say so. I figured that should cut you a little slack, for a little while anyway. Besides, you look like shit."

Daniel looked away from those too-observant eyes. "I cleared my post-mission exam, Jack. I'm fine. Just a little tired."

"Uh-huh."

No one could inject strong emotion - particularly disbelief - into a single utterance as well as Jack O'Neill. But the archeologist knew better than to call him on it.

Jack suddenly slapped him on the shoulder. "Come on."

As they walked, Daniel couldn't help shooting an occasional look at his friend. There was something about the older man . . . something different . . . then it hit him. For the first time since he had met Jack, the man was looking positively lighthearted.

"What?" O'Neill suddenly demanded, stopping again.

"What what?"

"You think I don't notice you staring?"

"I'm not staring - "

"Yeah, you are. Cut it out and come meet Charlie."

Despite the man's obvious annoyance, Daniel could hear his voice soften on his son's name. He smiled at the realization and Jack frowned.

"Something funny?"

"No, something's very right. I'm glad, Jack."

O'Neill looked taken aback, then the corners of his lips curved upwards. "Yeah, I know you are." He glanced around but they were alone in the corridor.

"Um, I never said . . . you know, thanks." He shifted uncomfortably. "You know, for being there."

"Yes, you did," Daniel said quietly. "Not in so many words, perhaps, but I knew."

"It's been a crazy few days."

"It certainly has. Maybe now things can begin to quiet down and you can make some plans for the future."

Jack's eyes brightened. "Oh, I already have."

"Really?" Daniel said in interest. He should have known. Despite all the uncertainty about PXR 512, Jack was a born tactician, a natural planner. As soon as the initial shock had begun to wear off, of course he would have begun planning.

"Yeah, I haven't talked to Hammond about this yet . . . " Jack's words trailed off, relieved by Daniel's prompt nod. Yes, he could trust Daniel not to talk about this to anyone.

"But," he continued with growing enthusiasm, "I figure it'd be next to impossible for Charlie to just pick up his life here. Too many people know - " he coughed and looked away momentarily, "you know. So I was thinking about my cabin in Minnesota. With a little work, I could turn it into a year-round home. And I've heard the school system there is really good. I think it'd be perfect."

It was the first time Jack had put his new dream into words and hearing them aloud sent a surge of excitement through him. He waited eagerly for Daniel's response.

For a moment Daniel's eyes appeared hooded, his normally expressive features as blank as Teal'c's. Then he smiled, his blue eyes warm and brilliant.

"If you think that would be best for you and Charlie, I'm sure it will be."

"You really think so?"

"It sounds great, really."

The warm sincerity of his best friend's words made Jack smile even more widely and he clapped the younger man on the shoulder again.

"What are we doing standing around here? Let's go."

"Let's go," Daniel repeated. Firmly he shoved every extraneous thought into the recesses of his mind. He had someone important to meet and he was not about to allow himself to be distracted this time.

Without ceremony, Jack shoved open the door to the V.I.P. room. Sitting cross-legged on the bed in a too-large pair of sweatpants and t-shirt, Charlie O'Neill looked up from the laptop in front of him with a triumphant smile.

"I've got it, Dad!"

"I'm afraid to ask what you've got," Jack grinned, closing the door behind them.

For a moment Daniel just stared at the little boy who returned the look with bright interest. The round face and snub nose he suspected was inherited from Sara O'Neill's side of the family. But the tousled brown hair, firm jaw and, particularly, the deep brown eyes, were pure Jack.

"Charlie, I want you to meet someone," Jack was saying. "This is Dr. Daniel Jackson, a very good friend of mine."

Daniel flushed at the words but smiled nonetheless. "I'm very pleased to meet you, Charlie."

The little boy cocked his head in a gesture so reminiscent of his father that Daniel was startled. "I know you."

Daniel and Jack traded glances of surprise.

"You do?" Jack said. "How?"

Charlie's eyes narrowed and Daniel swallowed. He was going to have to stop seeing Jack in every expression on that small face. It wasn't fair to the boy.

"I think . . ." Charlie chewed his lower lip thoughtfully. "I think I dreamed you."

"What?" both men said simultaneously.

The little boy raised up on his knees and nodded. "Yeah. I remember you told me your name and that you and Dad were friends . . . and, uh, other stuff I don't remember real good . . ."

A sudden wave of understanding swept over Daniel and he looked at a still-confused Jack. "Last night - um, the other night, when I stayed with Charlie while you got some sleep. I talked to him and, apparently - "

They both looked back at the boy who returned their bemused gazes with alert interest. "I didn't dream you?"

"No," Daniel managed, feeling a smile spreading across his face. "No, you didn't. Although you were sleeping you were still, at some level, able to process at least some of what I was saying to you."

Jack's grin looked as wide as Daniel's felt. "It was a good thing you did talk to him, Daniel. He was taking more in than we knew back then."

Daniel's throat tightened at the pride and tenderness so obvious in Jack's expression.

"Dad says you're really smart," Charlie said unexpectedly.

Daniel could feel heat on his face and knew he was blushing. "Well - "

Jack laughed and swatted his arm. "That's right, son. He's way smarter than anyone has a right to be."

"Good. Then you can help."

"With what?" his father demanded.

Charlie scooted into the center of the bed and gestured with an imperious hand. "You can sit here."

The two men sat down on either side of the little boy to see what he was doing on the laptop.

"What've you got there?" Daniel queried.

"Poker, see? You keep saying you're gonna teach me."

O'Neill groaned and rubbed his face. "I thought you were playing backgammon."

Charlie snorted and Daniel stifled his laughter at the familiar sound. This was so truly Jack O'Neill's son.

"I got tired 'a winning that. I wanted something harder."

"Uh, Daniel?" Jack said, his tone suddenly dry. "You should know that Charlie's a card shark. He plays 'em all and doesn't lose very often."

Charlie beamed, leaning against his father who ruffled his hair. "I lose sometimes," he earnestly assured Daniel.

Jack laughed. "That means he doesn't want to scare off a new pigeon," he warned.

"That's all right," Daniel said.

Father nudged son. "Just so you know, buddy, Daniel's awful good with games, too. Especially chess."

Charlie looked the archeologist over with a calculating eye, his smile widening. "You like to play chess?"

"Very much."

"Cool. Dad, where's the chess game on this thing?"

As Jack took control of the laptop Charlie turned his bright gaze back on the archeologist. "Do you like sports, too?"

Daniel shook his head. "I was never very good at sports when I was growing up."

"Dad taught me," Charlie said. "Didn't your dad teach you?"

Jack looked up but Daniel was careful not to glance in his direction. It was a simple, innocent question that deserved an honest answer.

"My parents were very busy with their work and I just enjoyed being with them."

Charlie eyed him thoughtfully for a moment and Daniel braced himself for more questions. He sensed Jack was about to speak and gave him a quick look, hoping the older man understood. He didn't need his friend running interference for him. Charlie was Jack's son and Daniel hoped they might become friends. Friends were honest with each other.

"I'm pretty good at sports," Charlie said. "I could teach you, if you want."

For a moment Daniel couldn't speak, overwhelmed by the invitation. This little boy had just met him, knew almost nothing about him. Yet how easily, how generously, he offered to share his love for sports.

Fearing the child would misunderstand his silence, Daniel said quickly, "I don't know what kind of a student I'll be, but I'd really like to learn how to catch a ball."

Charlie sat up, beaming from ear to ear. "I can teach you that! I play shortstop so I know how to catch real good. Just ask Dad!"

Jack caught him in a one-armed hug, gentling knuckling his already tousled hair. "That you can, buddy."

Charlie yelled, trying to squirm out of his father's reach. "No fair! I wasn't ready!" Though muffled by laughter his protests were still audible and Jack abruptly released him with a last gentle smack.

"Hey! Watch the foot!" his father warned, snatching the laptop out of danger. "I found the chess game. You want to play or you want to wrestle?"

Stiff huffing and giggling, Charlie resettled himself next to Daniel and gazed up at him, a clear challenge in his eye.

"I wanna see how good Dr. Jackson is at chess."

The archeologist smiled. "You're welcome to call me Daniel."

The little boy grinned. "Okay! Let's see how good you are at chess."

Daniel looked at Jack who shrugged. "Don't look at me. You're his new pigeon."

Charlie laughed over his shoulder at his father. "You're next, Dad."

O'Neill groaned and fell theatrically back on the bed. "May God have mercy on our souls," he intoned.

Despite his efforts, Daniel couldn't contain his laughter. Clearly recognizing a fellow conspirator, Charlie joined in. For a moment, the archeologist could see Jack fighting his own laughter, then he swept his son into his arms and turned him upside, pulling up his t-shirt.

"You want to laugh, do you? I'll give you something to laugh about."

His fingers danced along Charlie's exposed ribs, who yelped and started squirming. "No! Cut it out!" he yelled, giggling madly while he tried to push away his father's hands. "Daniel, make him stop!"

Daniel raised his hands in the air, still laughing as O'Neill threw him a mock glare. "I don't think I can, Charlie, not without your help."

"What am I supposed to stop?" Jack demanded, his fingers darting under his son's arms.

Charlie's yells escalated. "No! Stop - you're gonna . . . you're gonna get it!" He started coughing and Jack immediately stopped the tickling and turned his son right-side up, slapping him gently on the back.

"Okay, buddy?"

Charlie coughed a bit longer as his cherry-red complexion gradually lightened to normal. "Ohhh," he gasped, "you're so gonna get it."

"Really?"

"Yeah." The little boy grinned at the archeologist. "Daniel's gonna hold you down and I'm gonna tickle you 'til you beg for mercy."

"Oh, really?" Jack said again, his eyes narrowing as he looked from his best friend to his son.

"Uh - " Daniel started, realizing that Charlie had just dragged him right into the fray.

Thankfully, they were interrupted by a knock on the door. All three heads turned around to see the door open and a young airman poke his head inside.

"Apologies for interrupting, sir. General Hammond is about to start a debriefing in the infirmary. He wants you there, ASAP."

"We'll be right there, Airman," Jack said. As the door closed again he gave Charlie a bear hug, dropping a kiss on the top of his head.

"All right, buddy. Daniel and I have to go back to work. Here," he handed back the laptop, "you can brush up on your chess before you try to tackle Daniel."

Charlie eyed the linguist with his father's measuring gaze. "I'm already pretty good."

"That you are, kiddo," his father agreed, "but while you may be a card shark, Daniel's a chess shark."

The little boy's eyes sparkled. "We'll see about that."

Both men grinned as they walked out of the room. As they headed for the infirmary, Jack said, "Word of warning, Daniel. Charlie's serious. When you play with him, you'd better have your game face on."

Daniel chuckled. "Thanks for the warning, but I already figured that out."

Now, several hours later, as he sat in his quiet lab, Daniel sighed, remembering those lighthearted moments. Then had come the verbal debriefing in the infirmary. At which point everything had starting going downhill.

In a lifetime of reading, the archeologist had read more than he cared to about the various tortures human beings chose to inflict on others down through the ages. To that list of man's inhumanity to his fellow men (and women), he thought that Jack O'Neill in a towering fury should be included.

Jack had been quiet - suspiciously so - throughout most of the debriefing. It wasn't until they were winding things up that he beheld the first signs of an impending eruption of Mt. O'Neill.

"Are you telling us that you - you mind-melded with that thing?" his C.O. demanded.

Daniel sighed. "We aren't talking about Mr. Spock here, Jack. There was no mind meld."

"Whatever the hell it's called, you were hooked into that alien's mind. And it was hooked into yours." Despite the new, dangerous note in his tone, O'Neill's tone was still quiet. Though obviously upset he wasn't yelling and Daniel took heart from that.

"Well, in a manner of speaking, I guess - "

"You deliberately asked that thing if you could connect to it . . .with it . . . "

O'Neill floundered and Daniel jumped into the void. "I just wanted to know more about who it - they - are. They wouldn't identify themselves formally yet they still allowed us to know about the Unity. I just wanted to understand, to - "

"You all but gave that thing an engraved invitation to invade your mind!"

So much for not yelling.

"No, it wasn't like that -"

"What the hell were you thinking, Daniel? Oh, wait -" O'Neill hit himself on the forehead. "How stupid of me. You *weren't* thinking, were you! Of all the dimwitted, half-assed -"

"Colonel!"

At that moment, if it hadn't been for the General, Daniel knew Jack would most likely have torn him limb from limb. And then at his court martial, he probably would have argued justifiable homicide.

Thank God for the General.

But that still hadn't stopped Hammond himself from ordering Daniel into his office at the end of the debriefing. There, in a quiet, low-key yet somehow very intimidating tone of voice, he had metaphorically torn Daniel's head off for his rash decision.

As if that wasn't bad enough, when Daniel left the General's office he immediately ran into his own C.O., who had obviously been waiting for him and who was more than willing to take up where he had left off earlier.

Now, back in the safety of his office, Daniel eyed his shut door with a certain degree of trepidation. He rarely shut it and by doing so now he couldn't help but feel that it was a victory for the Jack O'Neill School of Intimidation. Nonetheless, he had to admit - if only to himself - he felt a little better knowing there was at least a layer of steel between him and, the last time he had seen him, his still-seething C.O.

But despite all that had happened since they returned to the SGC, Daniel chosen to focus his thoughts on the events of PXR 512. Although difficult and traumatic, they were still less troubling than Jack's revelation that he and Charlie would be moving to Minnesota.

No, Daniel thought quickly. He needed to think about PXR 512. There were still so many unanswered questions regarding the planet and what had happened there.

As angry as Jack was with him, he didn't know the half of it. And all of Dr. Frazier's tests had come back negative. So she didn't know either.

Nobody knew, for the simple reason that Daniel had not been able to put his experience into words. He claimed to be a linguist. He knew more than twenty languages. But even putting together all of the words in all of the languages that he knew would still fall far short of the mark.

He understood, at some level, that what he had experienced could not be described in human terms because it wasn't an experience humans could know. What he had experienced had been an incredible gift from the Unity.

Daniel felt a deep shame when he recalled his first instinctive reaction to the alien. Because it had looked so inhuman he had felt both fear and - as much as he hated to admit it - revulsion. Thank God, he had quickly gotten over those emotions but the memory of them was still bitter. He had thought a lifetime of training in different peoples and cultures would have better equipped him for a face-to-face encounter with the most alien species they had ever come across.

No, that wasn't accurate. The crystal entity they had stumbled upon on P3X 562 and, unwittingly, brought back to Earth had to rank as number one on their list of most alien species encountered - so far. But because the crystal entity was so alien, an inorganic entity having nothing to do with living beings as humans understood them, it had actually been easier to deal with than SG-1's latest encounter.

The Unity was an organic being. Except that wasn't true. Daniel's brief Joining with the Unity had provided him with glimpses, sensations really, that went far beyond their actual, mental meeting. But at least it appeared to be an organic being and, in its upright form, vaguely humanoid, possessing arm-like appendages, even that grotesque -

"Damn it!" he snapped at himself.

Not grotesque. People coming from a limited and, unfortunately, often superficial, human perspective could not help but think of the protuberance on top of the alien's form as some kind of head, although Daniel was pretty certain that it was not.

From a human perspective, the Unity was a supremely hideous-appearing creature. But at what point, Daniel wondered, did supreme hideousness cross the line to sublime beauty? Or, at that point, was it even possible to distinguish one from the other?

The more one tried to think of the alien in human terms, the more shocking and monstrous it appeared. But when one recognized that fact and tried to set aside normal preconceptions, tried to view the being as it truly was . . . then there existed a possibility of Knowing far beyond mere human appearance. Far beyond human understanding.

Who was to say that the Unity, as it had stood before them on PXR 512, did not possess some sort of transcendent beauty too great for the human mind to grasp? Not beauty according to human definition but according to a much broader, much more encompassing understanding not bound by earthly prejudices? Add to that the Unity's telepathic and empathic abilities that allowed it to connect with other sentient creatures on such a profound level that human beings couldn't begin to imagine. What did all of that add up to?

Daniel rubbed his eyes wearily but it did not help his racing thoughts. He had been fascinated by Sam's telling of the extraordinary vision she had seen just before the Unity appeared, of colors and lights beyond her ability to describe, but which Daniel was pretty certain he had glimpsed during his heartbreakingly-brief Joining with the Unity.

Despite the trouble he had gotten into for allowing - for inviting - that connection with the Unity, Daniel was grateful it had occurred. Without that Joining he would have never realized that what they had seen when they looked at the alien had been woefully incomplete. In truth, what SG-1 had seen in that temple was only as much as their human minds were capable of grasping - which really wasn't much at all. Though he couldn't begin to understand it, he knew now that, in its true form, the Unity was literally beyond human imagining.

Daniel leaned forward in his chair, wrapping his arms around himself as if it would help ease the ache in his heart. But he knew better.

He had thought he knew what it meant to be close to another person, first with his parents and later with Sha're. But now he had experienced a closeness, a connection, such as no human had ever known. And he was not sure he would survive the grief born out of his separation from the Unity.

O'Neill stormed down the corridor, turning sharply at the corner to see the airman standing guard beside the door to his son's room. He waved him away with an impatient gesture and the airman, taking only one look at his scowling features, disappeared at top speed.

Jack paced angrily the length of the corridor and back again. He did not want to go into Charlie's room until he had calmed down. But every time he thought of Daniel's stupid stunt on that damned planet his blood pressure shot right back up through the roof again.

Of all the stupid, thoughtless, reckless actions!

Damn it to hell, it was Shyla's planet all over again.

And if the shit on her planet hadn't been bad enough, there had been the sweat and agony Daniel had endured back home while going through withdrawal from that stinking sarcophagus.

Hadn't that brilliant, brainless archeologist learned anything?

Obviously not.

On his very first mission after getting back on his feet, what did Daniel do? He'd found himself one monster of an alien and given it a gilt-edged invitation to invade his shaggy head.

"Hi, I'm Daniel Jackson and I'd really like to mind-meld with whatever you call your mind."

Son of a bitch!

Only a last-minute flash of sanity kept O'Neill from slamming his fist into the wall.

Jack knew he shouldn't have blown his top during the debriefing. If he'd only managed to keep his cool until after the General had left the infirmary, then he could've torn off Daniel's head without immediate suspicion falling on his own head.

Right, O'Neill. Like Teal'c, not to mention Carter, would've stood by and done nothing while their C.O. committed homicide . . . on their teammate, no less.

Fine, then. He could've held out until he had Daniel alone in his office. And once a jury had heard all of the stupid stunts the archeologist had pulled since figuring out the Stargate, Jack thought it was likely they'd have ruled his action justifiable homicide and acquitted him.

Despite his simmering rage, despite his preoccupation with various homicidal scenarios, O'Neill remained, as always, attuned to his surroundings. Enough so that he was immediately aware when the door knob began to turn.

One long stride took him back to the door just as it opened. The sight of his son's tear-streaked face doused Jack's anger as completely as a bucket of water.

"Hey, buddy," he said as he picked up the boy and felt small arms winding tightly around his neck.

"Daddy."

The broken voice twisted Jack's heart. He moved into the room, shutting the door firmly behind him and settling on the bed.

"I'm right here, Charlie," he soothed, running one hand up and down the small back. "It's okay. I've got you."

He continued speaking quietly, reassuringly, despite the tightness in his throat, waiting while the quiet sobs gradually died away to gulps and the shaking little body relaxed in his arms. Finally, only sniffles were left and Jack reached out with a long arm to grab a small towel from the top of the dresser.

"Here," he said, gently wiping the small face, then held up the end of the towel. "Blow," he directed.

Charlie obeyed before laying his head back on his father's shoulder. Jack tossed the towel aside and resumed stroking his son's back.

"You want to tell me what happened?" he said gently.

"I fell asleep," Charlie managed in a shaky voice. "And I saw the bad men shoot you."

Jack's heart stopped and his arms tightened around the small form. Damn it!

"It's okay," he murmured into the boy's hair. "I'm right here."

He wished desperately that he could tell Charlie it was only a bad dream. But that would be a lie and he had never lied to his son. There had been things in his life that he hadn't been able - nor would he have wanted to even if he had been able - to share with the boy. Charlie had grown up knowing that his father worked for the military and was often away on missions he couldn't talk about. That had been understood in their home. But apart from that aspect of his life, Jack had worked hard always to be truthful with his son.

And, somehow, he was going to have to find a way to be truthful with Charlie again. O'Neill knew his superiors wouldn't be happy about his decision but he really didn't given a damn. Soon, he would be retired and he and Charlie would be off to Minnesota.

The thought made him smile and he kissed the top of the small head still resting on his shoulder. "Hey, buddy, you're awful quiet."

Charlie raised his head, brown eyes meeting brown eyes, and smiled weakly. "You're here," he said, one small hand patting Jack's chest.

"Yes, I am," Jack responded firmly.

Charlie gave him a sudden, fierce hug and then relaxed against him. "When are we going home?"

Home. Jack's throat tightened at the word and a moment passed before he could answer. "Well, I need to talk to the Doc first, but it should be soon."

Eventually the little boy straightened up and Jack loosened his hold so that Charlie could lean over to grab the laptop.

"I've been practicing my chess moves," he said brightly. "And I think I'm ready to beat Daniel."

Jack grinned. "Good. It's time someone named O'Neill beat Daniel at chess."

"I like him," Charlie pronounced.

Jack shook his head, his grin widening. What in the hell was this mysterious power that Daniel wielded, albeit unconsciously? Once again, the archeologist had gotten under the skin of an O'Neill, and almost immediately at that. By nature, Charlie was a gregarious, outgoing youngster. But even so, rarely did he warm up to someone as quickly as he had with Daniel.

And what had happened to all of the anger O'Neill had been feeling toward Daniel? No, that was for later.

"I'm glad you like Daniel," he said. "He's a good guy."

"Does he live near us?" Charlie asked as he began pecking away at the keyboard.

"Yeah, he does." For now, Jack thought. When he and Charlie moved to Minnesota, however, it would be a different story.

He felt a sudden pang at the thought but forced it back. Daniel would be all right. He could visit them. And he'd still have his work here. And Carter and Teal'c would still be here for Daniel -

But it won't be the same, a small voice in the back of his mind said unexpectedly.

Jack gritted his teeth in annoyance. No, it wouldn't be the same but nothing in life stayed the same. And Daniel himself had approved of Jack's decision.

Because he was thinking about you instead of himself, argued that small voice.

Oh, for crying out loud! He was arguing with himself. How stupid was that!

Daniel was a grown man. He would be just fine without Jack around, always haranguing him about something. And some day when he found his family he would -

Jack's thoughts came to a dead stop. Oh, shit. He was one stupid son of a bitch. What in the hell had he been thinking? He'd been so thrilled to have Charlie - to have . . . to have Charlie's younger brother (and he could thank Daniel for that shift in perspective, too) back in his life that he'd completely forgotten about the promise he had made to the younger man nearly a year and a half ago. The day they'd gone to Chulak to rescue Sha're and Ska'ara, only to see them both taken as hosts. The day Teal'c had saved them from Apophis' planned destruction.

On their return to the SGC with the refugees, Daniel's first broken words were for his family - who were `out there' somewhere, lost to him. And what had Jack said?

"We'll find them."

Immediately on the heels of that flashback came another - that terrible day when they had gone to Daniel's apartment to pack away his things, believing the archeologist to be dead, thanks to Nem's brainwashing. Carter had picked up one of Daniel's journals and found the page in which the younger man had set down his own memories of the day he had lost his family. And he had included Jack's words from that day, as if for reassurance. Then he'd added, "If anyone can, Jack can."

If Charlie had not been present, O'Neill might have banged his head against the wall. How could he have forgotten? How could he have forgotten his promise to Daniel that they would one day find his family?

And why in the hell hadn't Daniel said something when Jack told him of his plans to take Charlie and move back to Minnesota?

Stupid question, O'Neill. As always, Daniel thought of others before himself.

Jack rubbed his suddenly aching head, relieved that Charlie was still focused on his computer game. He had been so overwhelmed by the miraculous gift of his son that he had forgotten everything else. As if his promise to Daniel wasn't convicting enough, he had actually, for a few brief hours, forgotten everything he'd been fighting for the last year and a half.

How about it, O'Neill? You and Charlie are going to go live happily ever after in Minnesota while the Gou'ald continue to try to destroy Earth? You're not going to think about the SGC standing between the Gou'ald and this planet's future? And you're going to totally forget about Carter, Teal'c and Daniel gating out there into enemy territory day after day without you?

Right. That'll work.

The hell it would.

You are one stupid jackass, O'Neill.

As if awakening from a deep sleep, Jack looked at the little boy in front of him. Though he didn't yet know it, Charlie had lost everything, up to and including his entire world, thanks to the Gou'ald. How would he feel if he knew that his father - and, yes, damn it, Jack was still his father even if it was in this new reality - had chosen to turn his back on his duty in order to enjoy uninterrupted time with his son?

As he considered all of his memories of this fearless, stubborn little boy, O'Neill knew the answer. He doubted if he could live with himself if he turned his back on the SGC and all that it was fighting for, but he knew for a certainty he could not live with Charlie's disappointment in his father if he chose that road.

Damn, he thought in weary resignation. He and Charlie weren't going anywhere. Which meant, among other things -

How in the hell was Charlie going to be able to resume a normal life in a city where everyone who had known Jack and Sara O'Neill also knew of the little boy's tragic death?

One impossible problem at a time, Jack. First off . . . how in the hell was he going to explain alternate realities to a nine-year-old?

It didn't matter what he thought about, Daniel thought wearily. The Unity or Jack and Charlie's departure to Minnesota. Either one just made his headache worse. Maybe more aspirin would help. After all, it had been over an hour since the last three.

A knock on the door jerked his head up, fresh apprehension surging in his heart. Was this Jack again, come to yell some more? He didn't think his head -

Wait. That hadn't been Jack's kind of knock, authoritative and demanding.

He rose to unlock the door, pulling it open as he stepped back. Carter looked in with anxious eyes.

"Daniel? Why is your door closed? Are you all right?"

He smiled. "I'm fine, Sam. Come on in. How are you feeling?"

She entered slowly. "Great, thanks. Is this a bad time?"

"No." Daniel returned to his chair and she took the one opposite. "Actually," he said, figuring a bit of truth might go a long way, "I'm hiding out from Jack."

"Oh." Sam nodded, her anxiety replaced by an understanding smile. "Well, I didn't see him out in the corridor so I think you're safe."

"So what brings you here?"

"Maybe I just wanted to say hi," she said, a touch defensively.

"All right," the archeologist smiled in return. "Hi."

Sam laughed and shook her head. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about what happened on PXR 512. I read your report and, well, I have some questions."

Daniel nodded, utterly unsurprised. "I'll try to answer them, if I can. But I'm afraid PXR 512 is going to leave us with a lot more questions than answers."

She nodded, too, staring at him with unusual hesitancy. He watched her mouth open, then close again, then she sighed.

"I'm not sure where to begin."

"Just throw out the first thing that comes to mind," he suggested.

"Good idea. Your report was rather . . . vague." Sam gave him an apologetic smile so that he would understand she wasn't being critical, merely descriptive. "Clearly, you experienced some kind of connection with the alien. But what that involved, what exactly happened during that connection, is quite nebulous." She stopped, rather thankfully, he thought, and looked at him expectantly.

"Yes, well . . ." Daniel's voice trailed off and he chewed his lower lip in thought. "What I experienced during the Joining involved feelings, sensations, vague impressions, rather than any exchange of concrete information. And those sensations were . . ." he hesitated, frustrated by his inability to verbalize that extraordinary experience.

"In my report I tried as best I was able to put into words what happened. I know the report is vague but the Joining itself took place on an intuitive, rather than logical, level." His inward gaze turned outward again and he looked at his teammate.

"Sam, in your report you stated that the initial appearance of the Unity was beyond your comprehension, beyond your ability to grasp. Well, I experienced the same thing during the Joining."

Daniel watched as she closed her eyes. When she spoke again her voice was pensive and far away.

"When it first began to - to appear, all I could think was that it was more beautiful than anything I'd ever seen before. No, that's not right. It was beyond beautiful. So far beyond beautiful that I couldn't . . . I didn't . . ."

"I know," he said, equally soft. He understood exactly what she was trying to say. For he had experienced the same feelings, the same sensory overload, when he had Joined with the Unity. Except, he sensed that his encounter had been far more inward and intense. Something else he hadn't included in his report because, once again, words had failed the linguist.

Sam blinked and straightened, his expression tightening. "Then, I think it was right about the time when I hit my head, I saw all that beauty begin to change into that - " she cleared her throat - "creature."

The last word exploded with surprising vehemence and Daniel saw the shudder that ran through her slender figure. He sighed inwardly at the realization that she had barely managed to swallow a much stronger, much more negative adjective.

"Yes," he said, hoping Sam would hear the understanding in his voice. "I didn't see its initial appearance, only what it became. And it was still a shock."

"It was?" Sam returned uncertainly.

"Of course," Daniel said, wanting to reassure her. "Sam, the Unity is so unlike us, both physically and otherwise, that I don't think any human could look on that physical form and not be shocked. But I also think it's important that we don't linger there."

"What do you mean?"

"I was thinking about this earlier. Looking at it from a human perspective, the Unity, in the form I witnessed, is a monstrous and grotesque creature. But what you witnessed was a sublime beauty beyond any human's ability to comprehend. Yet both our experiences concern the same alien."

"But - but how?"

Daniel stared at the wall, letting the view go out of focus. "I'm not sure I can explain. Actually, I'm not sure I understand. But one of the impressions I received during the Joining seemed to imply that the physical being I communicated with was actually the form, or as much of it as our minds could grasp, in which the Unity once existed - " he swallowed, "very long ago. But they moved beyond that form eons ago, evolving into, well, you got a glimpse of what they evolved into."

Sam's discomfort had vanished, to be replaced by fascination. "That faint mist-like substance is the Unity today?"

The archeologist tried not to squirm. "Yes and no," he admitted. "I'm sorry, but the English language, any human language, is far too inadequate to accurately describe what I sensed during that Joining."

"The, um, mist," she tried again. "We could barely see it."

"I know. And we could barely hear them, even though they were communicating directly with our minds. I think that their, uh, plane of existence is almost impossible for our human senses to recognize now."

Sam frowned. "Is the smoke and, um, lights their usual form?"

Daniel repressed another sigh. She wanted more from him than he could give her. "Well, as much as our minds are capable of grasping, I think. But I don't believe they have actual forms. Not as we understand matter, anyway."

Her eyebrows shot up, disappearing under her bangs. "Daniel, everything in the universe, including the universe itself, is composed of matter. And the alien was visible. Maybe that was its earlier state, but it still appears that at some point in its evolution it was a material being - "

"Sam, wait a minute." Daniel tried to swallow his frustration. "Before the alien appeared you saw some form of smoke or mist and lights."

She nodded, hoping her discomfort at the memory was not obvious. "Yes, but that still involves matter. As far as science understands it, matter comes in three states - solids, liquid and gas - "

"That's what I'm trying to say," he said. "Our current level of knowledge is not sufficient to understand the Unity adequately."

The astrophysicist bristled but he continued, not giving her a chance to interrupt. "In the 16th century, it was commonly believed that Earth was the center of the universe and everything revolved around it. Correct?"

She frowned, obviously surprised by the change in subject, but nodded. "Yes. It was one of the teachings of the Catholic Church. The Inquisition was going strong at the time so anyone who argued against a church teaching put themselves on dangerous ground."

Daniel nodded. "But a brilliant scientist named Galileo Galilei discovered that the common belief was incorrect."

"And nearly lost his life when he published his observations, thanks to the Church's Inquisition."

"Yes. Remember what Galileo said? `I do not feel obliged to believe that the same God who has endowed us with sense, reason, and intellect has intended us to forgo their use.'"

Sam stared at him for a long moment before a reluctant smile broke through. "Yes, well . . ."

Daniel smiled as well. "Sam, knowing what you know, scientifically and technologically, what do you think would happen if you traveled back to the 16th century and tried to share that knowledge?"

Her smile widened. "I see where you're going, Daniel."

"Good. The religious leaders in the 16th century thought they knew everything there was to know. But they were wrong about what they knew. And they could never have imagined how much more would be discovered over the next five hundred years. It's no different today. Just because we have achieved a certain level of scientific knowledge early in the 21st century does not mean that is all the scientific knowledge that exists. The Stargate is proof of that. And every time we go through the Stargate we discover more evidence of how much more there is to learn."

"All right, all right," she said, laughing now. "You've made your point."

"I'm sorry," Daniel said in quick contrition. "I didn't mean - "

"I know what you meant," Sam acknowledged. "And I understand what you're saying, what you're trying to get me to accept, that the Unity is beyond understanding according to our current level of knowledge. And, as much as I hate to admit it, you're right. So can you answer another question for me?"

"I'll try."

"If they're so advanced, why did their speech sound so much like Teal'c's?"

"What?" The linguist stared at her, open mouthed, and his dumfounded expression made her laugh.

"Granted, I was unconscious a good deal of the time, but I did hear enough to wonder if they were related to the Jaffa."

Daniel felt a giggle forcing its way up his throat, followed by another. "Samantha Carter, I should wash your mouth out, no, your mind out, with soap. We meet a race of beings more advanced than anything we could ever - "

"Relax, Jackson," Sam chortled. "Don't have a cow."

Then they were both laughing helplessly as days of sleep deprivation and stress caught up with them. How long it went on they had no idea. Even after their hilarity began to subside, it only required one to catch the other's eye to start them up again. At some point during their joint hysteria, a mutual agreement was reached that had them, for safety's sake, dropping rather ungracefully to the floor.

When exhaustion finally won out, they were left holding their aching sides while trying to wipe their streaming eyes with the already soaked sleeves of their jackets.

"So," Sam said eventually, still a bit breathless. "About their speech . . ."

A last snicker escaped Daniel. "Remember, Sam, the Unity are incredibly advanced. They're trying to communicate ideas to us that we can't comprehend. And the only resource they have for that communication is what they find in our minds, particularly, in your case and mine, the English language. It's not uncommon for people who are new to the language to speak it with a rather stilted formality. Obviously, it also holds true for aliens." He shook his head at the thought. "All things considered, I'm amazed that they were able to share as much as they did with us."

"You said they told you that they created the quantum mirror?"

"Yes." At last, a question he could answer with absolute affirmation.

"And the reason the mirror on PXR 512 was different from the one you went through on P3R 233 is because . . . why?"

Daniel frowned, chewing his lower lip again. "I can't say for certain but I think it has to do with its purpose. This one wasn't just designed for life forms to travel through. It was created to transfer a great deal of . . . some kind of material . . . to and from PXR 512 and, um, wherever it came from originally."

Sam's eyes narrowed in thought. "What about the Stargate? Did they create that, too?"

"They didn't say, but I don't think so."

"Why not?"

"I'm sorry, Sam, we're back to my impressions again." Which, Daniel thought bitterly, were proving to be very inadequate.

As if sensing his change in mood, Sam's smile faded. "What about the pillar? Did you find out anything about that?"

"Yes," he said quietly. "The pillar is a memorial to those the Unity called the `others,' the ones they wanted to help but only succeeded in destroying. It was a reminder of the others and their universe."

"The ancient Aztecs? And how did the Unity destroy the others?"

Daniel sighed, answering her last question first. "I don't know how they did, just that they did. And no, the others don't refer to the Aztecs. I'm afraid I can't explain it very well because I don't understand it either. I think the others might have been the ancestors, very distant ancestors, of the Aztecs. Or perhaps there was some collateral connection. Again, it was just a fleeting impression among countless other impressions."

More impressions. Although Daniel had tried his best, so much of what he `remembered' was limited to impressions, sensations, intuition. He couldn't help but feel as if he was failing in his duty. It was his job to communicate and to share his communications with his world, or at least that part of it composed by the SGC. And this time, he couldn't.

When he had related his experience on PXR 512 to the General and his team, he had deliberately omitted one point. That had been the incredible, indescribable sensations of his Joining with the Unity. Daniel knew so many words, in so many languages. Individually or together, they were completely inadequate to describe his experience.

But the greatest truth he had discovered during the Joining was one Daniel knew he could never tell anyone. When the Unity had ended the Joining, forcing him, however gently, to separate from them, he had been left with a soul-deep longing for a restoration of that link. It was a longing that he sensed would be part of him for as long as he lived.

"Hey," Sam said.

Startled from his absorption, Daniel looked up to meet her concerned gaze. He tried to smile. "I'm fine, Sam."

"If you say so. How about we go get something to eat?"

"No thanks - "

"Daniel, I know you so I know that you haven't eaten since we got back to the SGC. Am I going to have to call for reinforcements?"

He shook his head, his smile widening. "The last time you did that Teal'c threatened to carry me to the commissary. I surrender."

Sam jumped to her feet. "Now there are a couple of words I never expected to hear from Daniel Jackson."

"Don't worry. You won't hear them again."

She laughed. "I'm sure of that."

Daniel was glad he had allowed Sam to drag him to the commissary. As he finished up the last of his lasagna, he realized that he was feeling much better. When was the last time he had eaten? He couldn't remember, a little fact he intended to keep to himself.

"This was a good idea," he said.

Sam smiled. "I agree." She shifted her chair slightly to make room for Teal'c to settle in the chair beside her and set his full plate on the table.

"How did the kel'no reem go?" she asked.

"It went well, thank you, Captain Carter. I am feeling much refreshed."

Daniel watched his teammates, trying to ignore the small ache of desolation in his heart. Before PXR 512 he had actually begun to look on SG-1 as a kind of substitute family. But now that he had experienced Joining with the Unity - discovered an indescribable connection with another sentient species - he wondered if he would ever be able to feel that way again.

A strong hand closed on his shoulder and a familiar voice spoke above him.

"Daniel."

The archeologist swallowed, mentally bracing himself.. But when he looked up to meet Jack's gaze he saw no residual anger, not even irritation. Instead, he was surprised to realize, what he saw in Jack's eyes was something like - wow, like a plea for help.

Daniel hoped his surprise was not visible. "Hi, Jack. Want to join us?"

"No, thanks. I need to talk to you."

"Oh, okay." He looked at his other teammates. "See you guys later."

Both Sam and Teal'c were watching them but the Jaffa merely nodded while Carter saluted with her fork.

Daniel followed Jack to the elevator and when he saw what floor his friend punched, he knew where they were going. But the older man did not say a word until they reached Charlie's room and he waved away the airman. When they were alone, Jack turned to Daniel.

"I need your help," he said abruptly.

Daniel's eyes widened. "Well, sure. Whatever I can do. Um, with what?"

O'Neill sighed audibly. "I need to tell Charlie. You know, the truth. But I don't know how the hell even to begin."

The linguist felt staggered by the very thought. But before he could respond, Jack was talking again.

"I'm been going over it and over it in my head and I think, if I can just figure out how to start, then maybe I'll actually be able to tell him."

Tell him what? How much? Was Jack going to tell that innocent little boy that he really had seen his father killed in front of him? Was he going to tell Charlie that his whole world had been destroyed by an alien race of parasites?

Daniel could not fathom how Jack was going to explain the last two and a half years to his nine-year-old son. But he suddenly determined that he would do his best to help his friend.

"All right," he agreed. "I'll help you begin. After that -"

"After that I'll take it," O'Neill said firmly.

Good. Daniel nodded. "All right," he said again.

He saw Jack's jaw tighten but also recognized the resolve in the older man's eyes as he opened the door.

"Hey, Charlie," he said. "Look who I found."

Charlie was now on the floor, the laptop still in front of him. He grinned up at them. "It's about time!" he exclaimed. "Come on, Daniel, let's play. Do you want to be black or white?"

"How about we wait on that a minute," Jack said. Without ceremony he picked up his son and swung him in the air.

"Dad!" Charlie protested, giggling loudly.

His father dropped down on the bed and settled the little boy beside him.

"What's going on?" Charlie demanded.

"What d'ya mean?" Jack said.

"Why do I have to wait to play chess with Daniel? I think I can beat 'im!"

The linguist sat in a chair beside the bed, feeling Jack's anxious glance. But his focus was on the child sitting beside his father as he mentally debated several possible beginnings, ultimately discarding all but one. Keep it short and simple, Daniel reminded himself.

He smiled at the little boy. "Actually, I wanted to ask you something."

"What?"

"I know you like sports. Do you like science fiction stories?" He thought he did, based upon an old comment of Jack's. But Daniel needed to be sure.

Charlie nodded. "Yeah, sure. Why?"

"Well," the archeologist started with a quick look at Jack, "there's something your dad would like to talk to you about. And it'll sound a lot like a science fiction movie but it's true."

"Really?" Charlie turned to his father with wide eyes. "What, Dad?"

Jack took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Well - no, Daniel," he interrupted himself at the sight of the linguist rising to his feet. "Stay here. In case I miss anything, you can fill it in." As Daniel sat down again, Jack grinned at his son.

"Besides, a lot of this story belongs to Daniel. So it's only fair he stay."

"Jack - "

But O'Neill gave him his 'C.O. ' look and the archeologist subsided, the flush of color on his cheeks fading slowly.

"Okay, first of all, you need to understand that what I'm going to tell you is top secret. You can't tell anyone else about it. Can you promise me you won't tell anyone, no matter what?"

The little boy nodded solemnly. "I promise."

"Good. Well, Charlie, you know all those movies you've seen about aliens visiting this world?"

"Uh-huh."

"Well, the movies aren't real but there really are aliens. From other planets."

Charlie's mouth fell open. "No way!"

Jack grinned and tousled the boy's hair. "Yes, way. Should I continue?"

The child bounced excitedly on the bed. "Yes!"

"Okay," his father started with another glance at his best friend who sat quietly. "Many years ago, before you or even I was born, some people digging in Egypt found something that they later came to call a Stargate . . ."

It was a long, involved, complicated story and, as he listened, Daniel both amazed and delighted with Jack's ability to explain it within the understanding of a nine-year-old. Of course, the man left out a good deal. The Gou'ald - who they were and what they had done - were compressed to "bad aliens who caused trouble everywhere they went." Apophis' attempted destruction of Earth was left out, as were many of their other experiences. But the Stargate, the SGC, and their ability to visit other worlds, many of which were populated by descendants of ancient human civilizations, were described in such a way that Charlie could understand.

But then came the most tricky part. Jack had offered a very simplified explanation of alternate realities - which Daniel would have dearly loved for Sam to hear, although he knew he would never tell her. He didn't have the right. But if anyone else could have heard Jack, his reputation for being occasionally `thick' when it came to understanding all things scientific or technological would have been forever destroyed. The man understood a great deal more than he would ever admit to.

Although the realization didn't surprise Daniel - he had always known his friend and C.O. was a lot smarter than he let on - he still enjoyed seeing Jack's mind in action.

But, finally, it came time to talk about the ramifications of an alternate reality - and what had happened to one, specific, alternate reality. At that point, Daniel knew he needed to leave. He rose quietly, gave Jack a small nod, and slipped out of the room. Once in the corridor, however, he paused, chewing his lower lip as he considered.

His first impulse was to return to his lab where he would be far away from the pain about to be experienced by the inhabitants of this room. But his knowledge of what was taking place on the other side of the door made such an escape impossible. It was possible he might still be needed in some capacity right here.

Daniel sighed deeply and leaned against the wall. He would wait. Just in case.

As it turned out, he waited for more than an hour before anything happened. A young airman came around the corner, his objective obvious. In one smooth move, Daniel was standing in front of the door.

"I don't think the Colonel wants to be disturbed right now."

The airman stopped to give him an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, sir, but it's General Hammond's orders."

Though surprised, Daniel didn't move. "What is it? Can you tell me?"

"Well, I . . ." the airman glanced at the door behind the archeologist. "I guess it's okay. The General needs to see Colonel O'Neill. Now."

"All right," Daniel said. "I'll see that he gets the message."

"Um . . . I think I need to . . ." the younger man gestured uncertainly toward the door.

"It's all right," the archeologist smiled. "I promise I'll tell him. Right now." As he spoke, he grasped the door knob, waiting until the airman began to retreat.

"Well, okay, thank you, sir."

Daniel carefully opened the door a crack, then wider until he could see Jack, stretched out on the bed, holding the sleeping form of his son. Hating that he had to interrupt, the archeologist quietly entered and, even more quietly, closed the door behind him. But despite his effort, O'Neill immediately raised his head off the pillow to look around, only to relax again at the sight of his teammate.

"Sorry," the archeologist whispered, "but General Hammond says he needs to see you."

Jack's expression darkened but he nodded and gently released Charlie. As the little boy settled back on the bed he murmured something inaudible and burrowed more deeply under the covers. For a moment Jack didn't move, except to stroke the hair back from Charlie's forehead. But finally he eased off the bed and stood up.

When he reached Daniel he paused to look back at his sleeping son, his frustration obvious. "Um," he started as he glanced at the younger man beside him, "do you think - "

"I'm not going anywhere," Daniel said quietly.

Jack gave him a relieved smile and a pat on the shoulder. "Thanks. I'll be back as soon as I can."

He shut the door quietly behind him and the archeologist turned back to the bed. Charlie was little more than a lump beneath the covers, except for a tuft of light brown hair sticking out. Daniel was tempted to smooth it down but restrained himself. Considering all the shocks this little boy had suffered in the last few days, sleep was probably the best thing for him.

As he watched Charlie sleeping, Daniel could see again the imprint of his father. He hoped with all his heart that the child could get past these shocks, could have a normal life with Jack, could grow up happy and well-adjusted.

As for Jack - Daniel couldn't help but smile at the thought of his friend. When he and Sam and Teal'c had returned to PXR 512 with SG-2, Jack had still been trying to adjust to the shock of suddenly having a son again. He didn't doubt that his best friend still had some adjusting to do but he was already, clearly, a different man. The lightheartedness Daniel had noticed earlier was still evident, despite the stress of having to explain the events of the past few days to Charlie. And, not counting the period when he had wanted to rip the archeologist's head off, the older man had been smiling a lot. More than Daniel had ever seen before.

He had thought that he understood - at least to some degree - what losing Charlie had done to Jack. But he realized now how inadequate his understanding had been. Losing Charlie had not only nearly destroyed Jack emotionally. Even after the older man had somehow come to terms with his loss, much of his old spirit had still been missing. Daniel recognized that now as he never had before, because now he could see that spirit sparkling in Jack's eyes again.

He blinked back sudden moisture and cleared his throat as softly as possible. As his gaze returned to the small form, he suddenly stiffened. Charlie was stirring, his head moving back and forth beneath the blankets. Even as Daniel leaned forward, the little boy jerked up off the pillow with a sharp cry -

"Daddy!"

Immediately, Daniel was sitting beside him. "It's all right, Charlie. Your dad is fine. Everything is fine."

Charlie blinked at him momentarily before looking quickly around the room. "Daddy?"

"Charlie," Daniel said with gentle firmness, "look at me. Please."

The small face turned toward him again and the archeologist smiled. "Your daddy had to go talk to the - to his boss. He'll be back in just a little while."

"He's okay?"

Daniel's throat tightened but he managed to speak past it. "He's just fine. I promise. How are you feeling?"

Charlie hesitated, licking his lips. "Daniel?"

"That's my name," he said with another smile.

"My daddy's really okay?"

"Absolutely, positively, fine and dandy."

That won him a small giggle. Encouraged, Daniel reached for the carafe of water and glass sitting on the bedside table. "Are you thirsty?"

"Uh-huh." Charlie yawned and shoved the covers away before accepting the filled glass. He drank deeply before handing it back and yawning again.

Daniel remained silent, content to take his cue from the little boy while fervently hoping that Jack would return quickly.

"What day is it?" Charlie demanded as he looked around the room.

How to answer that innocent question? Daniel went for the most simple response. "This is the third morning since you came here."

Charlie smiled widely. "Good! I missed it."

"Missed what?"

"The stupid history test."

Daniel's eyebrows rose. "You don't like history?"

The small nose wrinkled. "It's stupid."

The archeologist couldn't resist. "Them's fightin' words, Mr. O'Neill."

"Huh?" Charlie looked at him with wide eyes and Daniel smiled.

"Never mind. What is it about history you don't like?"

"It's just a bunch a stupid dates."

"Ah," Daniel nodded. "I understand now. It's not the subject that's the problem but the way it's taught."

"Huh?" the little boy repeated, his wide eyes now joined with a wrinkled nose. "What d'ya mean?"

"You may not believe it, Charlie, but history is one of the most exciting subjects in the world."

"Nuh-uh!"

Daniel laughed, careful to keep his confusion hidden The little boy was acting perfectly . . . normal. Despite the incredible story his father had related to him and the resulting shock it must have caused. Was this behavior an ordinary response? He didn't know but was not about to challenge the youngster.

"Uh-huh. After all, if we don't know our history we have no idea who we are or where we came from."

Charlie opened his mouth, undoubtedly for further argument, then closed it again. The archeologist watched as his eyes narrowed in thought.

"What d'ya mean?" he said again.

"Think about it," Daniel encouraged. "I know who I am because I know my history. I know my parents and grandparents, I know my family's stories. That's all part of my history. It's not about dates, it's about people - about the events, circumstances, situations, that the members of my family lived through and passed down to me in one form or another. It's the same for everyone. Even the O'Neill's."

That won another grin from Charlie. Encouraged, the archeologist continued.

"Every human being has his or her own history, and when you combine all of those histories you end up with the history of this world. And the more you know about people, especially their history, the more likely it is that you'll be able to find something in common with them. So they're more likely to become friends rather than enemies. And we'd all prefer to have friends instead of enemies, wouldn't we?"

"Yeah," the little boy said thoughtfully. "Friends are better."

"That's right. And you can also do the same thing on a larger scale when you look at particular countries. For example, why is England different from Germany? If you look at the histories of each country you discover how the countries came to be the way they are today."

Daniel stopped abruptly, afraid that he was getting carried away and talking over the boy's head. The last thing he wanted to do was increase Charlie's dislike for one of the subjects nearest his own heart. So he was relieved to see that Charlie was still looking thoughtful.

"My teachers never talk like that," he said finally. "Are you a teacher?"

Daniel smiled. "I used to be. Now I spend most of my time exploring the past. I do that through a discipline called archeology. I also do it by studying people, that's called anthropology, and the languages people communicate through, that's called linguistics." He paused to eye the boy doubtfully. "I'm probably boring you to sleep, aren't I?"

Charlie shook his head. "Nuh-uh. It's neat. I wish you were my teacher."

Daniel stared at him, feeling sudden heat warming in his face. He knew this little boy had no idea of the enormous compliment he had just paid him.

"Well, um . . . thank you, Charlie. That's very kind of you to say - "

The door blew open behind him and he turned around to see Jack stroll in. His alert gaze roved over his son's bright expression and he grinned, giving Daniel a faint nod. "Hey, guys," he demanded, "what's going on?"

"Daniel was telling me about history," Charlie said eagerly.

O'Neill's eyebrows shot up and he gave his teammate a wry look. "Oh, really?"

"Yeah. I bet I'd get better grades if he was my teacher."

"You get good grades, buddy." Jack rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. "Well, mostly."

"That's what I mean, Dad. Daniel makes it really interesting. It'd be fun to learn from him."

Daniel swallowed as two pairs of brown eyes swiveled in his direction. Jack studied him for a long minute before saying,

"Charlie's a pretty good student, but he's never really liked history or English. And when his class was studying foreign cultures, they were supposed to learn a few words of Spanish." He smiled affectionately at the little boy. "You didn't enjoy that, did you, kiddo?"

Charlie made a face. "I don't wanna learn other languages."

"Maybe you just haven't found the right teacher," Jack said with a widening grin.

Daniel fought to keep a straight face. "Or maybe Charlie might enjoy some time with a tutor?"

The little boy sat up and looked at his father who said, "Yeah, that's what I'm thinking. But that would depend on the tutor's rates."

The linguist finally gave in to a smile. "Oh, you might be able to find a tutor who would work for Chinese and Mediterranean food."

Charlie looked back and forth between the men as if he was watching a tennis match.

"What about pizza?"

Daniel's nose wrinkled. "Not more than once a week."

"Twice a week with Chinese and Mediterranean on alternate days."

"All right, providing one of those days is Greek."

Jack's eyebrows rose. "Wouldn't Greek fall under Mediterranean?"

"No, it has special dispensation."

"Well," the older man drawled in judicial tones, "I guess I could afford that rate of pay, if I can find a tutor willing to work for that rate."

"Oh, I think you might be able to find one."

It was hard to tell whose smile was broadest.

"Hey," Charlie said hopefully, "does that mean we're gonna get some pizza now?"

When Jack stopped laughing he said, "That, buddy, sounds like a great idea. Daniel, would you do the honors?"

The linguist glanced at the little boy. He had no idea of the eating habits of a nine-year-old. "How many do we need?"

Jack also looked at his son. "Charlie, there's a couple more people I'd like you to meet. They're the other members of my team." He grinned at Daniel. "I think we're going to have to buy out the pizzeria today."

Daniel turned toward the door as he tossed over his shoulder, "Ya think?"

"Hey!" he heard behind him but he closed the door firmly before heading for the nearest telephone.

He walked swiftly, half-wondering if the soles of his boots were actually touching the floor. The euphoria that filled him had, at least for the moment, pushed aside any depression or sorrow or grief that might otherwise have weighed him down and he felt almost lighter than air.

Jack had changed his mind! He and Charlie were staying. There's no way the man would have brought up the idea of Daniel tutoring Charlie otherwise. How the logistics of that decision were going to work out, he did not know. But they had time now to consider the future, the possibilities.

Daniel could feel his grin stretching from ear to ear. For the moment, even the lingering ache caused by his separation from the Unity had eased.

Right now, life was good.

Jack hastily shuffled through the stack of file folders on his desk. It had been a tortuous four days but finally - finally! - it was time to take Charlie home.

He looked over his desk with mingled dislike and satisfaction. It was the cleanest, not to mention the emptiest, it had been since the SGC started operations a year and a half ago. O'Neill couldn't help wondering if Hammond had somehow engineered this delay as a way to encourage his 2IC to catch up on his paper work.

Jack took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. It was hard to concentrate when he was so keyed up by excitement and adrenalin.

"Soon, Charlie," he murmured aloud.

Considering that the General was creating a whole new identity for his son, Jack knew that four days really was an amazingly brief period of time. Without Daniel's brainstorm, he was afraid to guess how long Charlie might've been stuck down here, waiting on the military.

Thank God for Daniel.

Jack shook his head in happy amazement. The archeologist looked like someone's kid brother, but behind that deceptively young and innocent-appearing face was a brain like nothing else he had ever run across. Who else but Daniel could've taken his C.O.'s brief reminiscence of how Charlie's name had come about, and use it to create a whole new identity for the little boy?

As he thought about it, his memory turned back four nights ago. SG-1 had held an impromptu pizza party in Charlie's room and Jack had been delighted to see how well his team had gotten along with his son. But it wasn't until Sam and Teal'c had finally left and Charlie was fast asleep that Jack discovered what had been going on in Daniel's often scary mind.

Jack ran into the archeologist outside his son's door as Daniel was returning from disposing the last of the detritus from their pizza party.

"Jack, do you have a minute?"

O'Neill eyed the younger man warily. He knew that expression. Daniel had been doing some serious thinking about something, the results of which he was about to dump all over his C.O.'s unprotected head. "Yeah?" he drawled.

"You said earlier that you wished there was some way Charlie could have his old life back. Maybe there is. Or at least a close approximation of that old life."

Hope stirred in Jack's heart. "How?"

"Before our last trip to PXR 512 you told me about Sara's biological father, Charlie. No one knew where he was for, what, twenty years?"

"Twenty, twenty-five, something like that. Why?"

"What if, during those missing years, Charlie acquired another family? Sara's side of the family wouldn't have known anything about them. And in this other family was a little boy who would actually be your son's cousin. He could even be named for his grandfather, too, so his name would be the same. But if that other Charlie lost his parents, then it's only natural the authorities would find out about your side of the family and it would make perfect sense for someone like you to adopt him."

Daniel paused briefly at Jack's incredulous expression, then hurried on. "With that cover story, it wouldn't be a surprise that this new Charlie looks so much like the old one - they're first cousins, after all. Or that their names are the same. And the fact that this Charlie is a few years younger than his cousin would give support to the whole scenario."

"Hold on," Jack said, giving his head a little shake. Even on a good day he had a hard time keeping up with Daniel. But this was . . . hell. Slow down, O'Neill. Think this through.

While the archeological waited patiently, he took the proposal apart and began to look at it slowly, piece by piece. When he finished he looked up to meet Daniel's eager gaze.

"It's not the most solid cover story I've ever used," Jack said doubtfully.

Daniel smiled. "It's a lot more plausible than Clark Kent's glasses being able to hide his secret identity."

O'Neill's snort of laughter surprised both of them. Of course Daniel was right. There would be some fine-tuning needed but, he realized with a surge of excitement, it could work. It could really work. And when he had Daniel repeat the suggested back story to Hammond, the General's support and enthusiasm provided the final seal of approval.

Four days, Jack thought again as he looked around his unusually tidy office. Four days of waiting while Hammond worked his magic to create all of the necessary documents to turn Daniel's suggestion into reality.

Jack had known from the beginning that the biggest fly in the ointment was, could have been, Sara. His ex-wife would know the whole story was a lie. But - he swallowed - she was no longer an issue. Her decision to re-marry and move back east with her new husband five months ago had removed her from her ex-husband's life and the city in which she had lived for several years.

As much as her re-marriage had stunned him, Jack could not fault her. Sara had chosen to resume her life, to move on from the tragedy that had nearly destroyed them both. It had been a courageous step, one that he himself was still struggling with.

O'Neill thought back to his meetings with Hammond over the last few days. He had tried repeatedly to persuade his C.O. to allow him to tell Sara about his - their - new Charlie. This was her son, too, for god's sake! But the General and his superiors were adamant. There was no way to tell Sara without revealing the secret of the Stargate and they were not about to allow that. Perhaps one day, when the Stargate was revealed to the world, it would be possible. But not until then.

It had been a bitter pill for Jack to swallow. Sara deserved to know, damn it! But he could not pursue an avenue his superiors had blocked. To do so might put Charlie at risk. And that was a risk he would not - could never - take.

Some day, Jack hoped, he would be able to tell Sara. But he also knew if that day ever came, she would never forgive him for not telling her sooner. He knew it, understood it, accepted it, because he knew he would feel exactly the same if their positions had been reversed. But he could live with that, so long as she knew the truth.

Some day, he thought again, and sighed heavily. He scrubbed at his face hard, deliberately pushing aside his unhappy musings and focusing again on his son, whom he would be taking home within the hour.

O'Neill dropped the pile of files in his outbox and headed for Charlie's room.

Daniel yawned prodigiously and stretched until he thought his joints were going to pop. How long had he had sitting still? If he went by his body's complaints, it had been quite awhile.

He knew he needed to get moving. Jack and Charlie would be leaving soon for Jack's - he quickly corrected himself - for their home. And he had promised Charlie a little gift that had only arrived in the mail this morning. He eyed the still-wrapped package on his desk with a sense of pleasure, hoping the little boy would like it.

But as much as Daniel wanted to see the pair before they left the mountain, he still hesitated. Watching Jack and Charlie together these past few days had been equal parts of delight and, though he hated to admit it, envy. For the first time since the day he had met Jack, his friend was exhibiting a lightness of spirit, of easy laughter, of a rollicking good humor, that took years off of him, both physically and emotionally.

As for Charlie . . . watching him interact with his father was an ongoing joy. Even before the events of the past week, Daniel had never doubted that Jack had been a wonderful father. Now he could see proof of that. Despite all that he had been through, despite the nightmares that troubled his sleep, Charlie was basically a happy, outgoing, gregarious little boy whose very nature was a testimony to his relationship with his father.

And it was only logical that Jack had less time for his best friend these days. He was a father again, naturally focused on the miraculous gift of his son.

Daniel not only understood this but he encouraged his friend to spend as much time as possible with Charlie. Both man and boy had a lot of healing to do, and nowhere would that happen more quickly than while they were together.

He did his best to ignore his own loneliness, heightened by the sight of Jack and Charlie together. No, that wasn't fair. The joy of the O'Neill's, father and son, was only part of the reason for his depressed state and the linguist knew it. His all-too-brief Joining with the Unity had been the most marvelous, unspeakable, moment of his life. He had carried the ache of its ending in his soul ever since.

Daniel sighed as he dragged his thoughts back to the present. On the desk in front of him sat two monitors. One held a close-up image of the wall from Ernest's planet, an image containing the writing of one of the alien races. The other monitor held another close-up image, this one of the writing set below the drawing of their galaxy on the pillar from PXR 512.

As he had known the first time he'd laid eyes on the pillar, the writings were clearly from the same alien race.

Which constituted clear proof that the Unity - whatever their formal name might be - was one of the four races represented in the extraordinary room on Ernest's planet.

The linguist sighed in frustration, the words he had spoken to Sam on PXR 512 coming back to him. There were too few words, too few symbols, to provide him with a frame of reference that would enable him to translate them.

Was there a chance they would ever again encounter the Unity? Daniel knew the odds against that happening were great. But the odds against them meeting the Unity in the first place must have been equally great. Yet, it had happened. Who was to say it couldn't happen again? Although PXR 512 was now locked out of their computer, Sam had persuaded the General to send a MALP back to P3R 233 where they had run into - in Daniel's case, quite literally - the first quantum mirror. If the readings were within safe limits, Hammond had agreed to allow them to gate there long enough to bring the quantum mirror back to the SGC. The thought of having the device available for experimentation had the astrophysicist drooling in anticipation.

So, Daniel thought, they would still have a quantum mirror available. Which meant that encountering the Unity again, some day, was not out of the question.

Maybe.

No matter how unlikely, it was still a possibility.

Daniel didn't realize that he was smiling until he glimpsed his reflection in one of the monitors. His smile turned into a sheepish laugh at himself as he glanced at his watch and pushed himself away from the desk.

It was almost time. He needed to get moving.

When he reached the 15th level, Daniel was relieved to hear voices still coming from inside Charlie's room. He peered through the open door to see Charlie fetching and carrying his new clothes to Jack who was packing the new suitcase he had bought yesterday - or, rather, that Daniel had been deputized to buy yesterday.

"That's all," Charlie sighed in audible relief.

"Don't forget to check out the bottom drawer," Jack said.

"Daaddd," Charlie said, sounding so much like his father that Daniel couldn't suppress a smile, "I never put anything in the bottom drawer."

"Well check it anyway, just in case."

Grumbling audibly, the little boy jerked it open. Clearly visible in the drawer was a pair of slippers. Father and son exchanged glances.

"What are slippers doing in there?" Jack demanded.

"I dunno," Charlie shrugged. "I didn't put `em in there."

"Actually," Daniel spoke up, "I'm the guilty party."

Both heads turned in his direction and Charlie brightened. "Hi, Daniel!"

"Hello, Charlie. Jack."

But Jack wasn't about to be distracted by amenities. "What do you mean you put the slippers in that drawer?"

"The other night when Charlie and I were playing chess, we sat on the floor, remember?"

"So?"

"So the slippers were on the floor beside the dresser. I almost sat on them. And I noticed that the bottom drawer was open so I just put the slippers inside." Daniel gave an apologetic shrug. "Just to get them out of the way."

O'Neill's glare turned into a grin and a shake of his head. "Is there anyplace else we should check?" he inquired with heavy sarcasm.

"Not on my account," Daniel assured his friend. "I thought I'd find Sam and Teal'c here."

"You just missed them." Jack looked at him with a touch of accusation. "I thought you'd gotten wrapped up in a translation or something."

Daniel smiled. "I'm here, aren't I? By the way," he continued, holding out the package. "This is for you, Charlie."

"Cool!" The little boy took it and immediately began tearing at the wrapping until Jack put a large hand over it.

"Didn't you forget something?" he said pointedly.

"Oh, thanks, Daniel."

"You're welcome."

Jack removed his hand and grinned at the younger man. "I bet I know what it is."

But the linguist refused to rise to the bait. He watched as Charlie ripped away the last of the heavy paper and looked rather blankly at the revealed gift.

"It's a book," he said.

"Yes," Daniel acknowledge. "You - "

"May I?" Jack interrupted, taking the book gently from his son. He turned it over to look at the front cover. " The Joys of Olden Days," he read out loud. "Well, this looks like a real page turner."

Daniel rolled his eyes at the little boy who giggled. To Jack, he said, "You'll get a good flavor of the book just by reading the first sentence of the introduction."

O'Neill raised disbelieving eyebrows. "Oh, really?" Nonetheless he flipped through the first few pages, then vigorously cleared his throat before he started reading.

"'Those folks who think history's about memorizing names and dates are missing out on a whole lot of fun. ' Okay," he said grudgingly. "I've got to admit, that isn't the kind of beginning I'd expect to find in a history book."

Charlie looked up at Daniel, his frown replaced by surprise. "This is a history book?"

"Yes."

"Gee, Daniel," Jack smirked, "you shouldn't have."

"I didn't, not for you, Jack. But I thought Charlie might like to see that history is about much more than memorizing dates."

Charlie's grin was proof of that. "History without having to memorize dates? Neat! I never had a history book that started out like that!"

"Well," Daniel clarified with a smile, "it's a book about history - but it's from the perspective of the people, what their lives were like, how the circumstances in which they lived affected their lives and the future. Dates are mentioned only in passing. Personally, I think this book is the way all books about history should be written.

"I thought," he concluded hesitantly, "That you might be interested in going through it with me, Charlie."

The little boy had taken the book back from his father and was flipping through the pages. "Yeah," he said, "that could be - " he stopped at an illustration. "What's that?" he demanded.

Daniel looked over his shoulder. "That's an illustration of a fictional character called the Scarlet Pimpernel. That chapter talks about the French Revolution and, according to a novel written several decades ago, the Scarlet Pimpernel helped the French aristocracy escape from the guillotine. It was all very cloak and daggerish."

"Cool!" Charlie exclaimed. "Could you tell me that story?"

"Right now, I think you need to finish packing. But I'll be happy to tell you that and other stories once you're home."

Charlie nodded vigorously as he continued to peruse the book. Jack looked from the archeologist to his enthusiastic son - engrossed in his new book - and back again, his eyes softening. "Good call, Dr. Jackson."

Daniel smiled, flushing slightly. He was pleased both by the little boy's enthusiasm and Jack's compliment.

While Charlie was absorbed in the book, the archeologist took a quick moment to ask a quiet question.

"I just heard this morning that Major Kawalsky is going to be taking over the new SG team. Is that true?"

Jack nodded. He glanced at his son and lowered his voice. "I told Hammond months ago we needed another first contact team. It's taken awhile to get the right personnel but when Kawalsky showed up last week . . ." he shrugged. "I've known him for a long time. There's no one better to be C.O. of SG-6." He grinned unexpectedly. "The word from on high is that Kawalsky wasn't killed in action after all last year, like everyone thought. Turns out he was just MIA and now he's back."

O'Neill's smile dimmed slightly and the archeologist suspected that his friend was remembering the Charlie Kawalsky who had died a year and a half ago. Despite - or, perhaps, because of - the joyous reunions of the past week, those who had been lost were particularly on everyone's mind. This was no happily-ever-after ending. It was, by its very nature, bittersweet. No one understood that better than Jack O'Neill. And, maybe, Daniel Jackson.

Nonetheless, Daniel felt both satisfaction and relief at the knowledge that Kawalsky, too, had found a place in this new reality. Except, he realized, it was no longer new. It was merging now with the present in which they lived, in which they would continue to live for however many years were given to them.

"So," Jack said, suddenly brisk. "You ready to go, buddy?"

"Uh-huh," Charlie returned absently, still examining his new book. "In a minute."

"Minute schminute," his father proclaimed, snatching the book from his hands and tossing it on the bed.

"Hey!" Charlie protested.

Jack grabbed him up in his arms and threw him on the bed. The little boy bounced up and down several times, laughing exuberantly.

"You're gonna get it!" he warned.

"We'll see about that." Jack pounced on the bed, quickly wrapping the squirming, giggling and complaining child in the bed covers, which also muffled his loud threats of reprisal.

"I believe," Daniel translated helpfully, "that he's saying you're still `going to get it.'"

Jack laughed and proceeded to excavate his son from all the blankets and linens. "So you ready to go now?" he demanded.

"Okay, okay!" Charlie emerged, rumpled and red faced and still giggling. "But you are so gonna get it!"

"I told you so," Daniel said, sotto voce. O'Neill gave them both a mock sneer.

"You can try your worst. Just remember, I always have the last laugh." He lifted the boy up off the bed and set him on his feet. "Got everything?"

"Yep."

"Okay." O'Neill took one more quick look around the room and then snapped the suitcase shut. "I think we're set." He turned to the linguist, now standing quietly beside the dresser.

"Once Charlie's settled in, we'll plan something, okay?"

Daniel smiled. "No hurry, Jack. Take your time. I'll be here."

Jack nodded, his own smile creasing his lean features. "Thanks, Daniel. For everything."

"You're welcome."

"You got anything to say, buddy?"

Charlie looked up with his usual bright smile. "I'll see you later, right?"

"Well - "

"Of course you will," Jack assured him. "You're going to teach Daniel about sports and he's going to teach you that learning about history and other stuff is fun."

The small nose wrinkled but the boy's smile remained. "So far it's not so bad," he admitted generously.

Jack laughed and tousled the child's already tousled hair. "That's the spirit. Daniel, we'll catch you later."

Daniel nodded and gave them a little wave. "Later," he agreed, keeping up his smile until their voices disappeared down the corridor. Once he was sure it was safe, he sat rather heavily on the edge of the bed.

He was thrilled for both Jack and Charlie. He wished them all the joy that had been ripped away from them the first time around. Nonetheless, he couldn't help feeling that an old hole had reopened in his own heart and it felt as if the last two and a half years had disappeared. Once again he was standing in the rain outside of a lecture hall which had seen the destruction of all of his hopes and dreams, leaving him as bereft as a long-ago day when a cover stone had taken away the only life he knew.

Daniel sighed, suddenly impatient with himself. "Come on, Jackson," he said aloud. "Enough with the pity party. You've got work to do."

As he pushed off the bed he felt something hard underneath the rumpled blankets. He pulled them away to see the book he had brought Charlie, forgotten in the fun of these last few minutes.

Daniel hefted it, considering. He could just put it in Jack's office. But Charlie had really seemed to like the book, had really seemed interested in its subject matter. It would be a shame if that early interest was snuffed out simply because the book that had first ignited his curiosity wasn't available, at least not until Jack remembered to take it home.

Jack and Charlie would be busy settling in this morning. But maybe, this afternoon, Daniel could swing by just long enough to drop off the book. Just for a minute, so as not to interrupt the pair. It would be nice, he thought, to see Jack's son settled in a house that had not known the sound of a little boy's laughter, at least not since O'Neill had bought it after his divorce.

The thought made Daniel smile as he turned toward the door, only to run into Dr. Frazier in the corridor. Both of them reared back sharply.

"I'm sorry - " they started simultaneously, only to break off and smile at each other.

"Did the Colonel and Charlie leave?" she asked, glancing toward the open door.

"Yes, just a few minutes ago." At her faint frown, Daniel added, "Is there a problem?"

"No, I had just promised the Colonel - " Dr. Frazier paused and the archeologist noticed for the first time the envelope she was holding.

"If you wanted to give him something, I'm going by his house later today," he said. "I could take it for you, if you like."

The physician looked at the envelope in her hand, then at Daniel, clearly thinking about it. Then she nodded.

"Thank you, I'd appreciate it." As she handed him the envelope, Janet added, "I promised him the name and telephone number of Cassie's therapist. Please be certain that he gets it."

Daniel's head jerked up. "What? What's wrong?"

Dr. Frazier smiled patiently. "Nothing's wrong, Daniel. He's just concerned about all that his son's been through and he's doing what any responsible parent would do. Making sure that Charlie gets the help he needs to deal with all of the recent traumatic events in his life."

"But - but Charlie seems fine."

"And `seems' is the operative word," she said gently. "Thanks to the Colonel, he has all the love and support a child would normally need. But what he's endured this past week far exceeds any definition of normalcy. His father wants to do everything in his power to help Charlie come to terms with what he been through. And while the Colonel may not be a fan of psychotherapy in general, he also recognizes the need for it now. For Charlie."

As Daniel listened, his own surprise dissipated. He knew the physician was right because he knew Jack. The man would do everything in his power to help his son heal and grow. Whatever it took.

He smiled. "I'll make sure that Jack gets this," he said, gesturing with the envelope.

Five hours later, Daniel parked in front of Jack's house. He was relieved to see his friend's truck in the driveway. But a few minutes later as he knocked yet again on the front door, he realized with a sinking heart that no one was home. Jack and Charlie had to be somewhere within walking distance but that still encompassed a good bit of territory.

Wait. There was that large park two blocks away. He and Jack had walked through it a number of times when he'd visited. It had a good-sized sports field, as he remembered. Perhaps the O'Neill's, father and son, had gone over there to do some serious playing.

The thought made Daniel smile but it didn't last long. What had he been thinking, butting in on their first day at home together? Brilliant, Jackson. Not.

Shaking his head at himself, he laid Charlie's book on the front doormat, then turned around and walked back toward his car. Just as he reached for the door handle he heard a familiar young voice calling his name. When he turned around again he saw Charlie racing up the street toward him while Jack followed a bit more slowly. Daniel had time to notice that his friend was carrying two bats and a bag of baseballs before Charlie slammed into him.

"Look out!" Daniel exclaimed, catching the little boy as he stumbled back. "Are you all right?"

"Sure!" Charlie grinned up at him. "You're just in time!"

"For what?"

"We were going to the park to play some ball but - " the little boy threw an accusing look over his shoulder at his approaching father. "Dad forgot the mitts!"

"Excuse me," Jack said with exaggerated politeness as he reached them. "I remembered the bats and baseballs. Just who was supposed to remember the mitts?"

Charlie's unabashed grin widened. "Gimme the key."

"Not until I hear the magic word."

"Pleassseeee?"

It was Jack's turn to grin as he handed the sports paraphernalia to Daniel. "Hold these for a sec, will you?" before digging into his pocket and pulling out his key ring. After selecting the right key, he handed it to his son.

"Here."

"Thanks!" Charlie yelled over his shoulder as he raced up the steps. They saw him bend down, pick up the book, which he waved at them, before disappearing inside. Jack looked after him for a moment then grinned at Daniel.

"I need to remember to get an extra house key made for him."

"Um," Daniel said hesitantly, "he could have mine."

Jack looked at him in surprise. "But then you wouldn't have a key to the house."

The linguist looked down, hoping his flush was not obvious under the bright sun. Jack wanted him to keep his spare key. That was . . . that was good.

"By the way," the older man said, his tone bringing Daniel's head up again. "Don't think I've forgotten that we still have some talking to do over that stupid stunt you pulled on PXR whatever."

Daniel swallowed. He had really been hoping that they were done with that. But he should have known better. He started to nod, then an "Oh!" escaped him.

"I almost forgot," he said, trying to shift his burden so that he could reach into his jacket pocket.

"Oh, for crying out loud," Jack snapped, grabbing the bats and bag of baseballs from him and dropping them on the lawn.

Daniel smiled his thanks as he pulled the envelope from his pocket. "Dr. Frazier asked me to give this to you."

O'Neill stared at the envelope for a moment before he slowly reached for it. As Daniel handed it over, he said quietly, "You're doing the right thing, you know."

Jack looked at him in momentary surprise, then sighed. "I just wish it wasn't necessary."

"It may take some time," Daniel acknowledged, "but I think Charlie - and you - are going to be just fine."

The older man laughed. "Pollyanna Jackson, is it now?"

"No. But Charlie's an O'Neill and I know how strong the O'Neill's are."

A slow flush of red washed up Jack's cheeks. "Yeah, well -"

"Got 'em, Dad!" Charlie yelled as he bounced through the front door and onto the porch, a mitt in each hand.

"We bought all this stuff on the way home this morning," Jack said to Daniel in an undertone. Then he looked at his son rapidly descending the stairs. "Hey, don't forget to lock the door."

The little boy stopped on the last stair, gave his father a put-upon stare, then ran back up to the door which he locked with grandiose gestures. "Okay?" he demanded.

"Watch your tone, young man," Jack laughed. "And let's get going."

Charlie clattered down the stairs again to skid to a halt in front of the men. "What do you wanna carry, Daniel?"

"Uh . . ." Daniel looked from father to son in surprise. Jack grinned but before he could speak, Charlie rushed on.

"It'll be easier with three of us," he noted. "We can each carry one thing. Well, like the mitts are one thing, you know?"

Daniel barely managed to suppress his laughter at this echo of Jack O'Neill. Jack himself gave the archeologist a mock glare.

"Come on, Jackson. You're not getting off scot-free while Charlie and I carry everything."

"Um . . . actually, I wasn't planning - "

"Remember, you said you wanted to learn how to catch. Charlie can help you with that."

"Yeah, Dad says I'm a great shortstop."

Jack laughed. "I can say that but you're not supposed to, kiddo. It's too much like bragging if you say it."

"Is not," his son argued.

"Is so," O'Neill returned, then hurried on before Charlie could one-up him. "We need to get moving. We've only got an hour or so before it starts to get dark. And," he continued with increasing enthusiasm, "after dinner there's always ESPN."

"Baseball!" Charlie enthused.

"And hockey!" his father responded.

"And soccer!" Charlie riposted.

"And hockey!" Jack exclaimed.

"And football!" his heir demanded.

Daniel groaned, shaking his head. "O'Neill, doubled. I'm not sure I'll survive."

Jack grinned, his eyes glinting wickedly. "And when we finish torturing you with sports, we'll toss you into the spare room to recuperate overnight so we can start all over again tomorrow."

"Yeah!" Charlie seconded.

"Uh, I hate to remind you, Jack, but you don't have a spare room anymore."

Jack stared at him and Daniel couldn't restrain a chuckle at the older man's suddenly blank expression. Father and son exchanged a long look and Charlie batted his father on the arm.

"Come on, Dad. You gotta figure something out. I wanna torture Daniel with sports."

"Great role model, O'Neill," Daniel grinned.

Jack smirked but his eyes remained thoughtful, then suddenly widened. "The office!"

"What?"

"You know, the room on the opposite end of the house."

Daniel snorted. "You mean the storeroom?"

"Hey!" Jack said indignantly. "I have a desk in there."

"As well as a ton of junk."

"We'll clean it out!"

"We?" the archeologist responded with raised eyebrows.

"Sure, this weekend. We'll invite Carter and Teal'c, too, make it an official welcome-home-Charlie weekend. And we can paint your room at the same time, buddy." Jack grinned at his son who beamed and gave a little jump in the air.

"That'll be so cool, Dad!"

"Yeah, it will." Jack gently knuckled the boy's head and turned a grin on his best friend. "Once the office is empty, we should be able to fit a bed in there, maybe even a little dresser or bookcase."

Charlie looked at Daniel, a smile spreading across his small face. "I think we should get the bookcase."

This time Daniel joined in the laughter and Jack rubbed his hands together gleefully. "Smart thinking, son. So we'll still have a spare room." He waggled his eyebrows at the archeologist, offering a chuckle that sounded positively fiendish.

"Face it, Dr. Jackson. There's no escaping this family. You're stuck with us."

"Yeah, permanently!" The youngest O'Neill chimed in.

Daniel surveyed the beaming faces, a lump growing in his throat at the warmth radiating from two pairs of nearly identical brown eyes. He was suddenly reminded of his words to the alien, about how humans had their own kind of unity. Even when the linguist had spoken those words, he hadn't understood the full truth of them.

But now he did. Humans were indeed a very young race in comparison to the Unity. The Joining he had experienced with the Unity was far beyond anything humans were capable of among themselves. Nonetheless, Daniel realized that he did possess his own bit of unity in this world, a connection that was both deeply satisfying as well as soul-warming. It was a realization that eased the week-long ache in his heart.

He swallowed, feeling his own lips curving in response. "I think I can live with that."

Charlie whooped and spun around in the air. "Well, okaaaay, then! Let's go!"

He grabbed the mitts and tore off in the direction of the park while the two men picked up the bats and bag of baseballs and followed, a bit more sedately but grinning just as broadly.

"When he's tired out," Jack said, "we'll go back home and order pizza."

"Chinese."

"Pizza."

"Mediterranean."

"Pizza."

"Greek."

"Pizza. Plus Indiana Jones. First and last movies only, not that middle piece of crap. And you can tell Charlie all the things that's wrong with them."

"Deal."

END (finally!)