Disclaimer:  Stargate Sg-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions.   MacGyver and it's characters are the property of Henry Winkler/John Rich Productions and Paramount Pictures.   This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The story is set in Stargate’s 2nd season, shortly after ‘Thor’s Chariot’.

The previous 4 instalments should be read first.

 

 

            "Okay,” MacGyver said as he and his cousin stood in the corridor that passed by their quarters and looked up and down its length, trying to decide which direction to try first. "You know Daniel a lot better than I do. Where d'you think he's likely to be?"

 

            O'Neill sighed, a slightly helpless look flitting across his face. Then his expression changed as a thought occurred. "This place has a library of some sort, right?" His cousin nodded. "Any idea where it might be?" O'Neill asked, scanning the corridor again almost as if hoping a sign would suddenly pop up from somewhere to declare: This way to the errant archaeologist.

 

            "No idea,” Mac confessed, “but I'm sure we can get directions." So saying, he turned to the 'duty healer' who was hovering in the small anti-chamber behind them and who was quite openly watching them both, curiosity written all over her face. MacGyver had become somewhat acquainted with her over the previous few days. “Ah, excuse me, D’Maya...We kinda’ need a favour...”

 

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

 

            MacGyver regarded the staircase and sighed. Beside him Jack O'Neill pursed his lips as he too regarded the steps.

 

            “'Short flight of stairs', she said,” O’Neill remarked. "Girl obviously needs her eyes checked." He looked to his cousin. "Think ya' can make it?"

 

            “Eventually,” MacGyver responded. Putting weight on his injured knee was no longer a problem, but the flaking cast still on it prevented him from flexing the joint, which made stair climbing, especially up such a long, steep flight as lay before them, a rather interesting prospect. "Go on ahead, Jack. I'll catch up with ya'."

 

            “Might not even be up there...” O’Neill pointed out, regarding his cousin critically. MacGyver picked up on the implication immediately.

 

            "Maybe not, but hey, I'd kinda' like to check out the library anyway. After listenin' to Daniel talk about it the past few days, what can I say? I'm curious." He shrugged and smiled.

 

            “Scientists...” O’Neill sighed, casting a quick glance heavenwards before shaking his head. "Preserve me from scientists."

 

            “Go on. I'll manage,” MacGyver smiled with unoffended amusement. He was well aware of his cousin's opinion of 'scientists'. It had been a bone of good-natured philosophical contention between them for years.

 

            O'Neill regarded him for a moment, clearly hesitant, then nodded and started off up the stairs, leaving the other man to follow at his own, necessarily slower, pace.

 

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

 

            "Daniel?"

 

            The familiar voice registered in Daniel Jackson's brain. He opened his eyes and blinked fuzzily at the camouflage-clad form that stood looking down at him. "Mac?"

 

            “Close,” O’Neill conceded. "You wanna' take another run at it, Danny-boy?"

 

            "Jack!" Daniel blinked in surprise and rubbed at his eyes as he hurriedly uncurled himself from the big bat-winged chair. He was a little disorientated, not quite sure just where he was for a moment. Then he remembered, except he didn't remember falling asleep although he obviously had. "What?" He questioned, a little bewilderedly as he saw the slightly wincing, critical, yet apologetic expression that appeared on the older man's face as O'Neill extended a hand towards him, caught a firm but gentle hold of his chin and tilted his head slightly towards the light streaming in from the room's windows.

 

            "Ouch!" O'Neill observed, his manner a mixture of sympathy and embarrassment as he retrieved his hand. "That musta' hurt. Mac said I decked ya' last night.  Sorry."

 

            “Yeah,” Daniel agreed a little ruefully, putting a hand to his jaw, where a sizeable bruise was clearly visible. He flexed his jaw. It felt stiff and a little uncomfortable. He shrugged, knowing that the blow O'Neill had inflicted on him had been totally unintentional. "Hey, it's okay. You weren't quite with us at the time."

 

            "Yeah." O'Neill shifted uneasily, clearly uncomfortable at the reminder. "You okay?"

 

            "Yes. Yes, I'm okay. How about you?" Daniel regarded the older man intently. O'Neill knew that look and shifted awkwardly. He endeavoured to change the subject.

 

            “Hey, it snowed last night,” he said, crossing to the window. “I ever tell ya' 'bout the time when Mac an' I were kids and we built this humungous-”

 

            “I've heard the stories you know.” Daniel interjected.

 

            Damn, he's gonna' worry at this like a dog with a bone, O'Neill sighed inwardly. Before he could take another stab at sidetracking the archaeologist, Daniel was speaking again.

 

            "About Iraq I mean. I figured they were mostly just that, stories. Or at least an exaggeration of the facts; whatever they are. But they're not, are they?"

 

            "Depends which versions you've been listening to. But hey, you should know better than to listen to base scuttlebutt anyway." O'Neill remained at the window, his back to the room, to his colleague, his friend.

 

            "It was what you 'Special Forces' types call a 'black op', wasn't it? It went wrong and you got left behind."

 

            "Daniel, leave it alone." O'Neill warned. "It's classified."

 

            “And classified, is classified. Yes, I know all that military camel dung,” Daniel sighed.  His expression was slightly reproachful as he continued. “I thought we had some trust going between us; that we could always talk to each other about stuff.  The bad stuff as well as the good.”

 

            “Daniel...” O’Neill sighed, reaching up with a hand to rub at the bridge of his nose. He could feel a headache starting. "I can count the number of people I trust, really trust, on the fingers of one hand and you're right in there, Daniel, believe me." He lowered his hand and looked round at his companion, whose expression suddenly switched to slightly startled and whose bruised jaw dropped slightly. “It’s just... What happened in Iraq, even if it wasn’t still classified, isn’t exactly the sort of thing one drops casually into after-dinner conversation. Ya' know?” He turned away again as raw memories abruptly resurfaced. "Frightens the horses."

 

            "Hadante stirred some of that stuff up again, didn't it?" 

 

            "What?" The quiet, pensively shrewd tone of Daniel's voice threw O'Neill slightly. He looked round to find the younger man standing just a couple of paces behind him. Daniel's gaze was intent and his face bore an expression O'Neill recognised. It was Daniel's classic 'I've-just-put-two-and-two-together-and-definitely-got-four’ look.

 

            "You had nightmares for a while after we got back from there." Daniel met the older man's slightly surprised gaze without flinching. "And my major screw-up on P3R-636 right after didn't help any either. At the time I didn't make the connection. I thought maybe it was... I don’t know... something to do with Charlie again. But it wasn't, was it?” Anguish crept into the archaeologist’s blue eyes.  “It was what happened in Iraq. And now... What happened on P4X-994 has brought it all back again. Only a heck of a lot worse because 994 was just like Iraq all over again. You got hurt and we... we left you behind." 

 

            O'Neill closed his eyes, his jaw clenching and took a deep, steadying breath before he regarded his younger team mate again.

 

            “Don't start going all guilty on me,” the Colonel sighed. "994 wasn't your fault. It wasn't anyone's fault. It just...happened. Now it's over. It's in the past. Time to move on. Forget it."

 

            "Forget it?" Daniel looked as if he couldn't quite make up his mind whether to be stunned or outraged at that suggestion. “My God, Jack! We left you behind. And they tortured you, damn' near killed you....” Anguish and apology mingled with the expression already on his face.

 

            “Goes with the territory. You know that as well as I do. We all run that same risk every time we set foot through the Stargate.” O'Neill said quietly, grimly. Then he smiled faintly. It was a smile that denoted his understanding of how Jackson felt and it was mirrored in his eyes. Raising his right hand, he rested it on the younger man's shoulder. “Look. I got left behind, yes, but not because anyone ran out on me, this time. It was just bad luck, pure an' simple, that's all. You came back for me as soon as our Gate was up and running again. And I'm here. I'm alive. I'm in one piece.” He saw Daniel's eyes flicker to the hand he was resting on the man's shoulder and the alien cast that was visible beneath his jacket sleeve, partially encasing that hand. He shrugged expressively. "Well, okay mostly one piece, but it's healing. So don't beat yourself up about it, Daniel. It wasn't your fault. Okay?" Daniel opened his mouth to say something. O'Neill brought his hand up from the younger man's shoulder and made a gesture that was transparently clear as he said. "Ah-ah. No. Not another word, Daniel."

 

            Jackson regarded him with a slightly reproachful expression; made again to speak.

 

            "Ah!" O'Neill repeated the gesture. Daniel sighed and subsided. “Good. Glad we got that settled,” O’Neill said. His manner lightened considerably, becoming almost cheerful. "Don't suppose ya' had any breakfast yet? You hungry?" He began to move away, heading for the door. "Great room service they got here. Brought us a whole heap of stuff to our room. Some of it might even still be lukewarm. S'pose we can always order up some more.  Not so sure about their ideas on eggs though. I mean... blue eggs? Sheesh....Can ya' imagine the chicken that lays blue eggs?"

 

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

 

            As he followed O'Neill into one of the main halls of the library, Daniel spotted a familiar shaggy haired figure moving slowly in an adjacent hall, intently perusing some of the shelves of thick, hand-bound volumes.

 

            “Hey, there's MacGyver,” he said, catching O'Neill's arm and gesturing. Before the Air Force Colonel had a chance to say anything, Daniel was off, heading in the Phoenix operative's direction. O'Neill sighed, shook his head slightly, pinched the bridge of his nose again for a moment and then ambled after the archaeologist.

 

            "Hey, Mac!" Daniel greeted the Phoenix trouble-shooter who had paused to pull a volume from a shelf and was leafing carefully through the discernibly ancient pages.

 

            "Daniel." MacGyver looked up. "You okay?"

 

            “I'm fine,” Daniel answered and rubbed a little gingerly at his jaw as he smiled his appreciation of the older man's concern. He saw MacGyver squint at him and wince sympathetically. He could almost hear him say 'ouch' just as O'Neill had done upon initially seeing the bruising. The man's expression gave silent voice to it.

 

            “Jack always did throw a pretty mean punch,” MacGyver observed with a smile that contained a distinct hint of fondly amused reminiscence. He saw the inquisitive way Daniel blinked at him and, before Daniel could give voice to the question that was quite visibly spreading across his face, Mac smiled again, his dark eyes twinkling and offered helpfully. "Taught me to duck at an early age. Guess you're still workin' on it, huh?"

 

            Daniel stared for a moment, then smiled ruefully. More than once when he had inadvertently managed to get himself into trouble on a mission, O'Neill had asked him when he was going to learn to duck. He witnessed Mac's gaze flicker past him and when it returned to him a moment later, he saw the mischievous twinkle had gone, replaced by a sombreness that had not previously been there.

 

            "See Jack found you alright. You two talk?" MacGyver's gaze flickered again in the unhurriedly approaching O'Neill's direction, almost as if he were asking the question of both men simultaneously.

 

            "Yeah, sort of I guess." Daniel nodded a little awkwardly as Mac's gaze settled back on him again. His own gaze inevitably went to the volume MacGyver was holding. "Hey, you find something interesting?" He asked, deftly changing the subject.

 

            “Not sure...” MacGyver confessed, his own gaze dropping to the yellowing pages in front of him. “I sorta' recognise this, but- ”

 

            “It's cuneiform,” Daniel pounced eagerly. He looked up at the older man, his blue eyes glinting with enthusiastic excitement. "You read cuneiform, Mac?"

 

            “No,” MacGyver admitted as Daniel eagerly liberated the volume from his grasp and took it over to the nearest table to set it down, all the while muttering something to himself about early Babylonian. “I just thought it seemed familiar...somehow...” Mac stared after the younger man as if a little taken aback by his actions.

 

            "He does that all the time. Ya' get used to it after a while." This observation came from O'Neill who had witnessed Daniel swoop on the book his cousin had been holding. "Won't get a word of sense out of him for hours now. You do realise that I hope." He halted at MacGyver's side and regarded the still muttering Daniel, who had produced a pencil and notebook from somewhere and was starting to scribble furiously as he simultaneously settled into a chair.

 

            MacGyver smiled with some amusement at that, then cast a look at his cousin which was a mixture of puzzlement and concern. "Headache?" He asked.

 

            "Yeah. A bit," O'Neill admitted. He inclined his head slightly in Daniel's direction. "Can you wonder?" Then, realising MacGyver was rubbing a little absently at his right temple, he frowned at the other man and asked. "What? You too?"

 

            "Yeah," MacGyver answered. "I think there's some aspirin in the remains of the med-kit."

 

            "Probably both just need a decent night's sleep, huh?" O'Neill remarked, a note of apology in his tone. "What the-?" He began as a beeping sound suddenly started up. All around the library hall heads began to turn with inquisitive frowns. "Oh, for cryin' out loud," the Colonel complained as he located the source of the irritating noise. He stepped over to where Daniel was sitting. "Daniel." The furiously scribbling archaeologist/anthropologist/linguist was totally absorbed in what he was doing and totally oblivious to the beeping. "Daniel," O'Neill's tone was a little tetchy as he reached out to grab hold of Jackson's left wrist. "You're beeping," he accused as he pressed the button that silenced the younger man's wristwatch alarm.

 

            "Huh?" Daniel looked up blankly as O'Neill let him have his arm back.

 

            "Beeping. You were beeping," O'Neill stated as if addressing a slightly backward child. "Annoying the natives." He gestured vaguely at the scattering of grey-clad figures that were dotted around the library hall.

 

            "Oh." Daniel said a little distractedly as if not quite comprehending what the older man had just said. "Sorry," he added absently. Then he looked at his watch and his expression changed to one that was a mixture of surprise, panic and irritation. "Oh! Is that the time? Damn." He looked at the book in front of him, visibly torn. "Damn," he repeated.

 

            "What?" O'Neill regarded his team-mate with some puzzlement.

 

            "Huh? Oh. Check-in time with the base," Daniel explained, looking up at the hovering Air Force officer. He saw O'Neill look suddenly around at MacGyver and, for the briefest of moments, got the strong sense that the two men were talking to each other though neither said a word aloud.

 

            "You ah, go back to your cubic stuff."

 

            “Cuneiform, Jack. It's cuneiform,” Daniel automatically corrected. "It's-"

 

            “Whatever,” O'Neill interjected dismissively before Daniel could launch into an enthusiastic lecture, which he was quite visibly about to do. "Think it's probably about time Mac an' I had a little chat with the folks back home," O'Neill patted Daniel on the shoulder as if soothing a slightly recalcitrant child. "You just... carry on here."

 

            "Oh. Right. Well, okay," Daniel said. He glanced at MacGyver, who nodded in return but remained where he was.

 

            "So. How do we get to the Gate-room from here?" O'Neill inquired, looking from Daniel to MacGyver and back.

 

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

 

            Major General George Hammond was busy reviewing reports in his office when the ringing of one of his two telephones distracted him. He automatically identified the sound as emanating from the black one and, a little absently, reached for it.

 

            "Hammond," he announced brusquely into it, his attention still primarily focused on the computer screen in front of him. A frown appeared on his face as a voice announced that it had a Peter Thornton of the Phoenix Foundation requesting to speak with him and asking if he wished to take the call. "Put him through, airman," Hammond instructed. A moment later he was saying. "Good morning, Peter, how are things at Phoenix?"

 

            "Fine, George. How are things at The Mountain?" The familiar voice of Thornton came back.

 

            "Drowning in paperwork as usual," Hammond responded, smiling slightly. "What can I do for you, Peter?"

 

            "If you could have someone drag him to a phone, I'd like a word with MacGyver. I've just got through talking with young Sam Malloy and he's a little concerned about not having heard from Mac for a few days. He's tried calling in several times, but he keeps getting stonewalled by your switchboard people. You want to tell me what's going on? It's not like Mac not to keep in touch, under the circumstances, just to let Sam know he's okay and the kid's starting to get a bit antsy. I'm a little concerned he might do something rash, he can be a little impetuous at times. Gets it from Mac, I guess."

 

            "Ah," said Hammond, his expression sombre. This was a conversation he had been rather hoping would never happen. "I'd like to help you, Peter, but Mr. MacGyver isn't actually on the base right now."

 

            "What?" Thornton sounded surprised and confused. "Then where is he? He's not at Jack O'Neill's place, young Sam's still staying there. Mac wouldn't just take off without letting Sam know, or me either for that matter."

 

            "I'm afraid I can't say where he is right now," Hammond answered. Well, it wasn't exactly a lie. He could hardly tell the other man that his top trouble-shooter was off on another planet somewhere. "He did ask that I pass on a message though, were you to enquire about his whereabouts."

 

            "What message?"

 

            "'Mary's lamb is grey'," Hammond answered. A profound silence emanated from the General's phone. It was a silence that lasted for some moments. Then Hammond heard a deep and slightly weary sigh, followed by a mutter that sounded like: 'Dammit, MacGyver, what've you gone and gotten yourself into now?' .  Hammond had been curious about the message he had been asked to relay. "I take it the message makes more sense to you than it does to me, Peter?"

 

            "Yes. Yes, it does. It tells me Mac's gotten involved in something military and classified and might be out of touch for a while. I don't suppose you can give me any sort of an idea where he is or what he's doing?"

 

            "Sorry, that is classified information."

 

            "So you do know."

 

            "Yes, but it's classified, so even if this were a secure line, I still couldn't discuss it."

 

            "Dammit!" Thornton sounded quite seriously annoyed, then he sighed. “You’d think I’d be used to him pulling these stunts on me after all this time...” A hint of resignation entered the Phoenix man’s voice. "Can you at least tell me if he's alright?"

 

            "As far as I know, your boy's quite safe and not in any danger." Hammond was as truthful as 'classified' allowed him to be. “If it’s any consolation, and I know it probably isn’t, he volunteered for what he’s doing.”

 

            "Well, there's a surprise." The heavily sighed, rather long-suffering response emanated from the phone. "Can you give me any idea when he's likely to get back from wherever it is he's gone?"

 

            "I really can't say for sure at this time, sorry. Should be sometime soon though."

 

            "Jack O'Neill's on a...'field trip' just now, isn't he?" A distinctly pensive tone had suddenly entered Thornton's voice. Before Hammond had a chance to comment, Thornton continued. "Sam told me the Colonel said he'd be gone a few days and was very evasive about the nature of the...'trip'. That was a coupla' days before Sam lost touch with Mac. There ah, wouldn't be a connection there, would there, George?"

 

            George Hammond pulled a face. He had wondered if Thornton would make the connection, or just put the 'absence' from the base of both cousins at the same time down to sheer coincidence.  His old friend was no fool. “I’m afraid Colonel O’Neill’s current whereabouts is also classified information.”

 

            "Uh-huh."

 

            Hammond could tell Thornton wasn't buying it and was rapidly putting two and two together.

 

            "Sam's not going to like this one bit. Still, I'll do what I can to keep him from doing anything rash. I'd appreciate it if you'd give me a call if you hear anything that you can tell me, George."

 

            "Of course, Peter." Hammond heard the line go dead. He sighed as he hung up his phone. Movement on the other side of the glass partition caught his attention. It was Carter and Teal'c.

 

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

 

             Captain Samantha Carter fidgeted a little anxiously and glanced at her wristwatch.

 

            "Daniel's late," she observed to Teal'c, who stood beside her, exuding his usual aura of timeless patience.

 

            "Perhaps this will be DanielJackson now," the Jaffa observed as, as if on cue, the Stargate in the chamber overlooked by the conference room began to show signs of life and the customary red alert that went with an off-world activation of the system, sounded.

 

            Teal'c's observation proved to be partially accurate. Within a matter of minutes, the red alert had been cancelled, the Duty Controller in the control room had announced that SG-1 codes had been recognised, the Gate's iris had been opened, the alien communications globe Sam had been given by Seeba had done its floating in mid-air routine and the communication-circle had established itself on the floor of the briefing room.

 

            "Is that Doctor Jackson?" General Hammond enquired, emerging from his office. He checked his wristwatch. "He's running a little late isn't he?"

 

            "I don't know, sir," Carter confessed, no-one yet being visible within the bounds of the communication circle. "Hopefully we're about to find out."

 

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

 

            Jack O'Neill made a tour of the perimeter of the glowing circle on the floor of the glistening white Gate Chamber.  "Cool," he observed. He looked across at his cousin who was standing beside the white-robed N'lrem. MacGyver was looking up at the big floating crystal in the centre of the chamber's domed ceiling, the expression on his face betraying a great deal of fascinated scientific curiosity. “So...We just...step inside the circle and we can talk to the folks back home like we were there in the briefing room?”

 

            "According to Daniel, yeah," MacGyver responded, dragging his attention down from the ceiling and looking across the circle at his cousin.

 

            "Hey, there's Sam!" O'Neill exclaimed as the figure of his 2-I-C stepped into view within the circle as if out of thin air. “Way cool...” he observed.

 

            “Yeah...” agreed MacGyver.

 

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

 

            "Hey!" Carter exclaimed. "I can see the Colonel!"

 

            "O'Neill?" Hammond questioned, the hint of surprise in his voice mirrored on his face.

 

            "No, MacGyver," said Sam. "He's with N'lrem. He looks... okay. Bit tired maybe, but okay." With that observation, she gestured towards where she could see the Phoenix operative standing.

 

            "Is Doctor Jackson there?" Hammond wanted to know.

 

            "I don't see him, sir," Carter answered her superior. "Perhaps he's with Colonel O'Neill." She nearly jumped out of her skin as she heard a very familiar voice behind her say.

 

            "Right here, Captain." O'Neill had stepped inside the perimeter of the circle behind her just in time to hear his name mentioned.

 

            Sam Carter spun around. "Colonel!" She exclaimed. Her delight at seeing him was openly betrayed by her whole manner, not just the smile that spread across her face and the relief in her eyes, before she endeavoured to rapidly assume a demeanour more in keeping with proper military decorum.

 

            "Captain," O'Neill responded neutrally, but there was an amused twinkle in his eyes all the same, which acknowledged her reaction and expressed appreciation of the genuine concern that had prompted it.

 

            “Sir, how are you? When I last spoke with Daniel he said you were still pretty much out of it. I really didn’t expect you’d be... ah... well...” Carter floundered a little, shifting slightly awkwardly from foot to foot, “up and about for a while yet. You look amazingly well considering how um, what happened...” She flushed slightly. Her gaze dropped to his right arm. “Sir... Your arm, how’s your arm? Daniel said.. ”

 

            “Oh... It’ll be fine, Captain.” O'Neill answered, raising the limb in question and flexing his fingers to demonstrate the accuracy of his statement. “Fact ya' might want to tell the Doc I'm thinking of bringing all my business here in future, they do good work. The methods are...” he glanced past Carter towards where he had last seen MacGyver standing, only to find there was no sign of his cousin, or the Gate chamber, and that he appeared to be standing in the briefing room at the SGC.  “...novel,” he continued, surveying his apparent surroundings as he spoke. “But hey... seems to work, so who am I to argue?” A frown spread across his face. "Man, this is weird." He observed and extended his right hand towards Carter. He was not entirely surprised when his hand went straight through her midriff without encountering any resistance whatsoever as he waved it back and forth a couple of times. He witnessed Carter jump slightly though.

 

            “Sir... I wish you wouldn’t do that, it’s a bit disconcerting.”

 

            “Yeah... You said it, Captain.” O'Neill looked slightly unsettled. "It's all done with mirrors, right?"

 

            "No, sir," Carter smiled with some amusement. “We're not quite sure exactly how the device Seeba gave us works, but we think it's- ”

 

            “Ah!” O'Neill's hand came up in a distinctive gesture to halt her. "If you're gonna' start gettin' all technical, ya' might want to talk to Mac - there's a chance he might actually understand some of it."

 

            "Sir," Carter tried, and failed, to keep another smile at bay. She was well used to O'Neill's reactions to any attempts on her part to explain any scientific theory to him, whilst knowing full well that he wasn't nearly half as dumb in the science department as he would have everyone believe.

 

            "Mac! Get your butt in here!  I need an interpreter, Carter's goin' all technical on me." O'Neill called out in the direction where he assumed MacGyver still was. He couldn't see his cousin, but he could feel a strong awareness of the other man's presence. A little disconcertingly that awareness suddenly told him that Mac wasn't where he'd last seen him. He looked to his left, just an instant before MacGyver stepped into view, right where O'Neill had re-aimed his gaze. "Oh man, this is weird," he murmured, more to himself than to Carter, who frowned dubiously at him.

 

            "Colonel?"

 

            "Oh nothing, Carter."

 

            "Whoa!"

 

            Carter looked round as she heard MacGyver's slightly awed exclamation and smiled at the Phoenix operative. The man's expression as he looked about him, was one of fascination and scientific wonderment.

 

            "Hello, sir," Carter said. "Good to see you up and about again too. How's the knee?"

 

            "Oh, a bit sore," MacGyver admitted truthfully, he was beginning to feel the effects of the trek to the library and then to the alien Gate chamber, "but okay." His eyes strayed from the young Captain to his apparent surroundings again. "Whoa, this is impressive. Ya' know, some of the boys back at the Phoenix labs have been playin' around with holographic and virtual reality technology for a while now, but they're nowhere near comin' up with anythin' like this, yet."

 

            "It is impressive," Carter agreed. "We're still not sure how it's done and I've no idea why you and Colonel O'Neill can see the briefing room at the SGC while I'm seeing the Gate chamber where you both are."

 

            "Daniel mentioned that," MacGyver frowned, clearly fascinated. "Perhaps the- "

 

            “Ahem.” Jack O'Neill cleared his throat loudly and pointedly. "Hello...?" Both MacGyver and Sam looked quizzically at him, almost as if they had forgotten he was there. “Before you two techno-heads start talking gibberish beyond the comprehension of us mere mortals...” He looked directly at MacGyver. "Might I remind you-?”

 

            “We need to talk with the General,” MacGyver said, nodding.

 

            "And we can't expect N'lrem to keep the Gate open indefinitely while you two swap theories in the meantime," O'Neill concluded.

 

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

 

            General George Hammond shifted impatiently as he watched Captain Carter converse with the two absent Colonels. Being only able to hear Carter's side of what was being said between the trio was frustrating; especially since she didn't actually seem to be doing much of the talking. Then he witnessed both O'Neill and MacGyver appear to glance in his own direction and say something to Carter again. She nodded then turned around and began to head away from them and towards the General.

 

            "Well, Captain?" Hammond questioned as Carter stepped from the circle and stood blinking for a moment as she adjusted to the change, from her point of view, of perspective.

 

            "The Colonels would like to speak with you, sir. In person."

 

            Hammond stared at his subordinate for a moment, then looked past her at the two men who waited within the alien communications circle. They appeared to be debating something between themselves while casting fleeting glances in his general direction.

 

            "Very well, Captain." The General made his decision. He stepped forward the few paces towards the glowing circle, then hesitated at its edge.

 

            "It's just like stepping through a doorway, sir," Carter offered, standing at her superior's side. "From one room into another. It's not nearly as traumatic as Gate travel."

 

            Hammond cast her a brief, slightly sceptical glance. It was only a few short weeks since he had taken his first trip through the Stargate, to P3X-775, in an attempt to extricate SG-1 from the clutches of the Taldor, who had sent the team, unjustly from Hammond's point of view, to the prison planet known only as Hadante.

 

            “The things I do...” he murmured softly, more to himself than to anyone else, before bracing himself and stepping forward. He discovered in an instant the accuracy of Carter's description of entering the circle. It was rather like stepping into another room. He glanced swiftly around, noting his apparent 'surroundings', namely the alien Gate chamber, which had previously been described to him by his subordinate. He also noted the white-robed figure which stood out-with the communications circle; N'lrem, he assumed. He nodded politely in N'lrem's direction, acknowledging the man's presence, then regarded O'Neill and MacGyver.

 

            “General Hammond, sir...” O’Neill’s stance straightened reflexively at his superior’s presence within the communication circle. MacGyver's stance, on the other hand, remained much more relaxed as he too acknowledged Hammond's presence.

 

            “General...”

 

            "Gentlemen." Hammond returned, casting his observant gaze over the pair of them. Being closer as he now was to the holographic images standing before him, confirmed to him that both men looked tired and well overdue for about a month's worth of uninterrupted sleep. "I confess to being a little surprised to see you here. Doctor Jackson's reports to date gave no indication that you were both on your feet, though looking at you, I can see why. You both look pretty damn' ragged."

 

            "Oh it's nothin' that that week's leave owing to SG-1 won't cure, sir," O'Neill responded confidently.

 

            Hammond looked sceptical. "I think I'll let Doctor Fraiser and Doctor McKenzie be the judge of that," he said. He saw the look that passed between the twosome in front of him. "Is there a problem I should be aware of, gentlemen?" He glanced past them towards N'lrem, then back again. "You aren't being prevented in any way from returning to the SGC, are you?" He questioned, his sudden concern in that regard quite clearly visible on his face. "Where is Doctor Jackson?"

 

            "No, sir, we're not under any duress to remain here," O'Neill responded, correctly interpreting the implication behind Hammond's last question: Is Jackson being held against his will somewhere to prevent you from coming through the Gate? “Daniel's in the library they got here. Mac found some old book written in...” He shot a quizzical look at his cousin.

 

            "Cuneiform," MacGyver supplied.

 

            "And you know Daniel, sir," O'Neill continued with a shrug. "Give him something to translate and he's gone. Probably be there 'til either he finishes scribbling or we go drag him out, kickin' an' screamin'."

 

            Hammond smiled with a certain amount of amusement at that. He was only too well aware of how tenacious Jackson could be when presented with a linguistics puzzle. His expression sobered quickly though. It was unlikely O'Neill and MacGyver had requested to speak with him simply to inform him that Doctor Jackson was busily translating something written in an ancient language. He regarded the duo shrewdly.

 

            "Am I to take it that there is likely to be some delay in your all returning to base?" He asked. He saw the duo in front of him exchange looks and knew he had just hit the nail on the head. "I see," he said. "And this would be because...?" His first instinct was simply to order the twosome to round Jackson up and get their butts back to base immediately. O'Neill and MacGyver both looked like they should be in the infirmary, not lingering on some alien planet. He knew O'Neill however and knew that if the man wanted to delay returning 'home', he had to have a good reason. He also figured he knew MacGyver well enough to know that he had to have an equally good reason for not bringing 'his mission' home immediately. Hammond wanted to know what that reason was. He wasn't quite prepared for the blunt answer he received from O'Neill however.

 

            "It's a sure-fire way of keeping Maybourne and his cronies from trying to put the grab on Mac."

 

            "Maybourne?" Hammond was lost and his expression betrayed the fact.

 

            "Ah, yes, sir," O'Neill continued. "Daniel's presumably told you that the people here have some sort of crystal-based technology?"

 

            "Well, yes, but what has that to do with Maybourne and you both wanting to stay here?" Hammond gestured at the white chamber in which they all appeared, to him, to be standing in. "Er, there, er, where you are I mean," he hastily amended.

 

            He saw the two cousins exchange another glance before MacGyver inclined his head slightly in a well-here-goes-nothing gesture - a gesture Hammond had seen from O'Neill on more than one occasion - before the Phoenix operative simply held out his left hand, palm upwards. Hammond blinked, a little startled as he saw the crystal embedded in the man's flesh, especially as the crystal was emitting a very soft blue-white glow. "What the-?!" Hammond exclaimed.

 

            "From what Jack tells me, if certain N.I.D. types get wind of this before we figure out a way of removing it, I could be looking at spending some time trying to break outta' Area 51," the Phoenix operative said, his expression grim. "That idea doesn't appeal much, General.  I've seen first-hand what security's like out there."

 

            O'Neill's eyebrows shot up expressively at that last remark and he stared at MacGyver. "Ya' have?"

 

            "Yeah. Tested it a coupla times."

 

            "Yeah?" O'Neill looked intrigued at that piece of information.

 

            "A few years back. Figure they've probably tightened things up a bit since then."

 

            "Oh, I think ya' can count on that," O'Neill's expression spoke volumes.

 

            "What exactly is that?" Hammond questioned, gesturing at the crystal embedded in MacGyver's palm.

 

            "Not sure exactly," MacGyver confessed, drawing his hand back towards himself and frowning pensively at it. "Locals call it a K'Rin'sha Guardian crystal."

 

            "Seems to be some kind of healing device, sir," O'Neill added. "Mac saved my life with it, saved my arm too." He made an expressive motion with the cast-encased limb in question. "So, with all due respect, sir, I'm not about to let Maybourne... " He gestured expressively again.

 

            “I get the idea, Colonel. Thank you,” Hammond said.

 

            "I owe Mac, sir," O'Neill was determined to make his point and there was a steely glint in the look he levelled at his superior.

 

            "Easy, Jack." The quiet caution came from MacGyver. "Listen, General, I'm sure if push comes to shove, I can handle this Maybourne guy. Wouldn't be the first time I've played hide-and-seek with people like him, I'd just prefer not to have to if it can be avoided. If we stay here a few more days, we may be able to solve the problem before it becomes one in the first place. The people here use crystal devices similar to this, but they don't seem to walk around with them permanently attached, therefore they must have some way of easily removing them."

 

            "Permission to at least give it a shot, General?" O'Neill chimed in.

 

            Hammond studied the holographic duo standing before him. He had the oddest feeling that there was more behind the request than met the eye, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it and the expressions on the two cousins’ faces were giving nothing away: O'Neill's was well-schooled military neutral, MacGyver's was almost innocently expectant, yet both had the same unmistakable hint of steely determination just under the surface.

 

            Hammond decided it was time for a decision based on gut-instinct. "Very well, gentlemen. You have two days," he stated. His expression was serious as he regarded MacGyver. "Young Mister Malloy has apparently been making noises about being unable to contact you. I'm only just off the phone with Peter Thornton- "

 

            “Did Captain Carter-?” MacGyver began, a sudden and distinct aura of concern forming around him.

 

            “Yes, she gave me the message you sent back with her and I've duly passed it on,” Hammond went on. "Peter was not best pleased, but said that he would try to persuade young Malloy from, and I quote, 'doing anything rash'." He saw the fleeting ghost of a smile that flitted across MacGyver's face before the aura of concern returned in full force. He also saw the sudden, raised-eyebrow look which O'Neill shot the man.

 

            "He wouldn't?" O'Neill's slightly uncertain question was clearly directed at MacGyver.

 

            "I'm afraid he just might." MacGyver frowned pensively.

 

            "Damn," O'Neill observed. "He could get himself killed."

 

            "I know," MacGyver responded grimly. He looked at Hammond and requested. "Could ya' give me a moment, sir? I need a word with N'lrem."

 

            “Of course, but- ” Hammond began, but MacGyver had already turned and was making his way from the communication circle. The General looked a little bewilderedly at O'Neill, clearly hoping for an explanation of some sort.

 

            "Think maybe you better warn security to watch out for a back-door visit by Malloy, sir." O'Neill obliged.

 

            "What?" Hammond blinked.

 

            "If they could avoid blowin' the kid away, Mac an' I'd appreciate it, sir," O'Neill added helpfully, straight faced.

 

            General Hammond stared at his subordinate, his jaw dropping slightly.

 

            "General Hammond, sir." MacGyver was back. "I need a favour."

 

            "A favour?" Hammond did not miss the look O'Neill shot the Phoenix operative, or the slight nod MacGyver gave his cousin in return.  It was almost as if the two were conversing silently between themselves.

 

            "Yes, sir," MacGyver nodded, regarding the General earnestly. "Pete'll only be able to stall Sam for so long; kid's inclined to be impetuous."

 

            “Wonder where he gets that from...” O’Neill’s muttered remark was just barely audible, but earned him a dark look from MacGyver before the Phoenix operative continued addressing the waiting General.

 

            "N'lrem's agreed to open the Gate again in about half an hour, at which time I'd like to send a message through for my son - he's stayin' over at Jack's place. He'll recognise my handwriting and know it's genuinely come from me. Hopefully it'll stop him from doin' anythin' stupid like tryin' to come lookin' for me in The Mountain."

 

            Hammond's jaw dropped again as he stared a little incredulously at the shaggy-haired figure standing before him.

 

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

 

            Jack O'Neill sat quietly on his bed in the quarters he was sharing with MacGyver and Jackson and yawned. He was rather enjoying the peace and quiet and the chance of a little time to himself. The aspirin he had swallowed a short while earlier while MacGyver had been composing a message for Sam Malloy had finally kicked in and the headache he had been developing had started to lift. Closing his eyes, he rested his head back against the wall above the bed-head, musing to himself that it wouldn't take all that much for him to fall asleep.

 

            He was, in fact, on the verge of dozing when the sound of excited children's voices roused him. Blinking and frowning, he wondered where the noise was coming from then, after a moment, realised it was outside somewhere. Shaking off his drowsiness and spurred by curiosity, O'Neill rose to his feet and went to look out the window. Sure enough he discovered a bunch of warmly clothed children bounding about in the snow and pelting each other with snowballs.

 

            O'Neill smiled in amusement as he watched the youngsters' antics. Then a wave of deep-rooted sadness suddenly welled up within him as memories of snowball fights with his now-dead son surfaced and of the first snowman they had built together when Charlie had been very small. Charlie’s excitement... Charlie’s laughter... Pain washed over him.

 

            He was lost in that pain when a familiar awareness seeped in through it. There was a deep sense of compassion in that awareness. "You get that message off to Sam okay?" He asked, not needing to look around to know that MacGyver was close by, even though he had not heard him enter the room. He didn't need to hear MacGyver to know he was there, especially not when they'd been around each other for a while. He just... knew.

 

            "Yeah. Might be a while before it catches up to him though. Last time I spoke to him he said he might take a run up into the mountains, maybe see if he couldn't catch some good landscape shots to add to his portfolio. Though if he's been bendin' Pete's ear enough for Pete to have called the General, he shouldn't be too hard to find."

 

            O'Neill just nodded. MacGyver moved to stand at his cousin's side and watch the children playing in the snow. The two men stood there, in companionable silence, for several moments before MacGyver observed. "You were thinking about Charlie, weren't ya'?"

 

            “Yeah...” O’Neill admitted with a quiet sigh and looked at him. MacGyver had no need of the K'Rin'sha crystal-enhanced bond between them to see the pain that was showing in Jack’s eyes. It washed over him, through him, just as he had felt it do a little while earlier when he had been making his way back to the room from the alien Gate Chamber. "You're lucky, Mac," O'Neill told him before looking back outside again.

 

            "I know," MacGyver agreed, also turning his gaze towards the laughing, shrieking youngsters enjoying themselves in the snow. He knew what his cousin meant: Sam Malloy.

 

            "Charlie used to love the snow," O'Neill said a little wistfully. "We had some good times."

 

            "You're the lucky one in that regard, Jack. I missed out on all that. Often wonder what it would have been like."

 

            "You missed out on a lot."

 

            "Yeah." MacGyver nodded his agreement. The bond between O'Neill and himself gave him an inkling of what it might have been like to have had the opportunity to watch his son grow from a baby through infancy, into boyhood. Since he and Sam had, quite by accident, found each other only a few short years ago, it was something he had frequently wondered: How would it have changed my life to have shared in Sam's childhood? It was something he realised he would never know and could only ever imagine.

 

            "Sam's a good kid."

 

            "I know." MacGyver smiled. His pride in and his attachment to his son was clearly visible in his smile and was mirrored in his dark eyes.

 

            "Ya' know somethin', Mac?" O'Neill regarded him again. "He reminds me a lot of you, but I can't help seein' somethin' of Charlie in him too. Can't quite put my finger on it, but it's there."

 

            "Yeah?" MacGyver's eyebrows rose.

 

            “I know I’ll never know how Charlie might have turned out, but...”  O’Neill did not finish. He did not need to. As he met his cousin's dark eyed gaze he knew the other man understood. Words between them were not needed. They knew each other too well.

 

            "Hey, ya' remember that Christmas Mom an' I stayed with you an' your folks?" MacGyver asked, determined to put a halt to the sombre mood that he knew was threatening to pull his cousin into the depths of a dark depression. He saw O'Neill frown, momentarily confused by the change of subject. Then he saw enlightenment abruptly dawn.

 

            “The humungous- ”

 

            “Snowman.” Mischief twinkled in MacGyver's eyes. He sensed the threat of all-consuming depression within his cousin start to retreat at a rapid rate of knots.

 

            "Oohh yeahh," O'Neill nodded, resolutely throwing off the gloom that had been threatening him as an assortment of childhood memories surfaced in a rush. Memories of good times and the innocent, and not-always-quite-so-innocent mischief he and his cousin had frequently gotten up to whenever they'd been allowed to get together and the opportunity had presented itself.

 

            "You game?" MacGyver inquired, inclining his head slightly in the direction of the shrieking mayhem continuing outside.

 

            The mischievous, not to mention slightly wicked, smile that spread across O'Neill's face, combined with the twinkle that crept into his dark eyes, answered the question eloquently enough for a verbal response to be totally superfluous.

 

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

 

            The growing need for coffee finally prised Daniel Jackson away from the cuneiform text that he had liberated earlier from MacGyver's grasp. Unfortunately coffee was an unavailable commodity on 'Sanctuary'. The indigenous populace did, however, have a brew that produced effects very similar to the caffeine contained in strong, black coffee, so it was this which Daniel left the library to go in search of.

 

            Having been in the place long enough to have learned the basics of the various dialects the locals spoke and to have learned the layout of the massive, almost castle-like structure around the alien Gate chamber, Daniel was able to find his way to one of the establishment's equivalents of a refectory. Once there, he was able to ask for the beverage he wanted. As his drink was being poured, his stomach started rumbling in response to some rather mouth-watering smells that were wafting from the kitchens. It was then that he belatedly realised he had missed breakfast and that it had been an awfully long time since he had last eaten.

 

            Daniel enquired, as best as he was able in the local 'primary' tongue, about the delicious aromas emanating from the kitchens. A rather crest-fallen expression spread across his face when the woman who had served him his drink informed him that the midday meal was not yet ready and would be a little while yet.

 

            "You are one of our Tau'ri visitors, are you not?" She inquired, inclining her head slightly as she studied him pensively. Daniel confessed the truth of the observation. She nodded at him in a matronly manner. "Go and sit over there," she gestured to one of the numerous long trestle-style tables that graced the hall. "I will bring you something."

 

            “Oh. Ah... Thank you, but I don’t want to be any trouble. I can...” Daniel began.

 

            “Go. Sit. Sit,” the woman insisted, gesturing with unmistakable determination before bustling off through a doorway into the kitchens beyond and snapping what were, from the tone, orders at the staff within, in the 'primary' tongue at a speed which was too rapid for Daniel to be able to follow.

 

            Taking his hot drink, Jackson went and sat down where he had been instructed to sit. He discovered warm air gently wafting from somewhere. Investigation revealed that he had been directed to sit at a table that was adjacent to the room's warm-air heating system and close to the kitchens. Sipping at his drink, he pulled his notebook from his pocket and began to look over some of the rough translations he had been painstakingly working on all morning.

 

            "You young Keepers are all the same. Always noses in books and writings."

 

            Daniel looked up in surprise as the voice intruded on his ponderings, to find the matronly woman standing shaking her head at him in a long-suffering manner. In her hands was a tray upon which rested some plates. Setting the tray down, she began to unload its cargo, which consisted of a large platter heaped with something from which steam rose at a goodly rate of knots, a more modest-sized platter upon which several thick slices of the dark-coloured bread that seemed to be one of the local staples resided, a smaller plate with a couple of chunks of the local equivalent of cheese and finally, a little dish containing a small block of the local version of 'butter'. The woman also unloaded cutlery and what Daniel took to be a napkin.

 

            "There," the woman announced in satisfaction as she regarded the meal she had just set out. She then looked at Daniel who, it had to be said, was blinking in surprise at the mini-feast spread before him. "That should keep you going for a while, young man."

 

            “Ah... Yes, indeed...Thank you...” Daniel looked up and smiled his appreciation.

 

            "I suggest you make the most of the peace and quiet," the woman advised. "In a little while it will be too noisy to think straight in here when the others all come."

 

            "Right. Thank you," Daniel smiled again. As the matronly woman moved away, Daniel turned his attention to his food. He was a little tentative initially as he tried a forkful of his steaming meal, then dug in with enthusiasm as he discovered it was a stew that tasted a lot like lamb and was delicious.

 

            As he ate and washed his food down with the brew that was the nearest thing to coffee that he'd been able to find on the planet to date, Daniel became aware of people emerging from the kitchens with large jugs of assorted juices which were placed on a large trestle table next to the main serving counter. Large trays of glasses came next and were stacked behind and around the numerous juice jugs. He also became aware of people beginning to drift into the hall in ones and twos. The bustling matron told them to go away, that the midday meal was not yet ready, but they seemed unperturbed, helped themselves from the assortment of juices and drifted to tables where they settled themselves in what were, Daniel thought to himself, probably their 'regular' seats.

 

            Daniel then became aware that those who had gone to one of the tables by the windows which lined one side of the hall, had abandoned their seats and were clustered around a window. As Daniel watched them, his curiosity stirred as they called to some of the others who had wandered in. He guessed they were probably watching the children he could hear playing outside. Given there was snow outside, there was, he mused, probably a snowball fight or something going on out there.

 

            The matron was, by then, directing the disposition of large platters heaped with chunks of bread, onto the trestles. Daniel saw her frown at the group gathered around the window and heard her throw a question at them. He didn't understand it exactly, but assumed it was along the lines of 'what are you all looking at?'. He didn't quite follow the reply that came back either: it didn't seem to be in the 'primary' tongue. The matron frowned, then, hands on her well-rounded hips, advanced to one of the windows to look outside.

 

            The woman shook her head, but there was an amused smile spreading across her face. Daniel saw her look in the direction of the growing group hogging the room's windows and call out something. He didn't understand what she said, but he recognised one word: ‘Tau'ri’. As the woman turned away from the window, she looked at Daniel, smiled with congenial amusement at him and observed as she swept past him.

 

            "At least the Warrior-Mages of the Tau'ri still know how to have fun."

 

            That remark intrigued Daniel. So much so that he rose and crossed to the nearest window to see for himself what was going on outside.

 

            Blinking in astonished amazement and his jaw dropping noticeably, Daniel Jackson found himself staring out at the biggest, most impressive snowman he had seen in a very long time. In fact it was probably the biggest snowman he had ever set eyes on, period. Beside it sat an equally impressive snow-dog, a large snow-bone in its mouth. Standing back several paces from this 'snow-art' were the unmistakable figures of a certain U.S. Air Force Colonel and a certain Special Forces Reserves Colonel. Each had about him a distinct air of contented satisfaction and about a dozen highly exuberant children ranging in age from about four or five to about ten. Each also had a youngster nestling happily in the crook of their left arms.

 

            As Jackson stared at the tableau, one of the youngsters hovering around MacGyver threw a snowball. Daniel had no idea exactly who the intended target was, but it caught the Air Force Colonel square on the back of the head. An instant later there was a fully-fledged snowball fight in progress as the kids surrounding O'Neill promptly took exception to his having been pelted, whether by accident or not, by one of MacGyver's entourage.

 

            Daniel couldn't help smiling and chuckling as he shook his head at the sight of his two companions directing the 'war' between the two 'camps' and hurling snowballs at each other with the same vigorous enthusiasm of the youngsters around them. He found himself almost wishing he had his video camera with him: there were people back at the SGC who would kill to view the sight he was viewing. Then again, he decided, it was perhaps just as well he didn’t. After all Jack might not take too kindly to the idea and it wasn’t really a good idea to get one’s team-leader seriously pissed off at one, especially when the team-leader in question was Jack O’Neill. Daniel knew only too well that O'Neill was nothing if not a master at the art of subtle revenge.

 

            Still smiling to himself, Daniel returned to his seat to finish his meal.

 

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

 

            It felt rather odd to Sam Carter to be parking her car in the driveway of Colonel O'Neill's house in the full knowledge that not only was he not at home, he was light years away on another world; a world the location of which, she had absolutely no idea. She noticed there was a motorbike parked at the top of the drive, close to the house. It had Colorado plates, probably a rental, she thought. She had heard rumours that the Colonel had an old wreck of a motorbike stashed away in the back of his garage, but she had never seen it and had never seen him arrive at the Mountain in anything but his slightly battered pick-up. The bike sitting at the top of the drive was a relatively new model.

 

            Carter made her way to the front door and knocked, loudly and firmly. Standing back, she then surveyed the Colonel's neat and tidy front garden and waited. And waited. No response from within appeared to be forthcoming. She knocked a second time.

 

            This time there was a response. The door opened after a couple of moments and Carter found herself facing a dark-haired young man clad in well-worn jeans and a black T-shirt over which he wore a red plaid work-shirt.  He was about 5ft 10" in height and appeared, at a rough guess, to be somewhere in his mid-twenties.

 

            He really looks nothing like his father, she found herself thinking, inwardly comparing reality with the photograph of Sam Malloy that she had seen before leaving the SGC on the errand she had been given by General Hammond.

 

            "Yes?" The young man enquired. His dark eyes took her in in a glance and Sam didn't miss the mischievously appreciative glint that twinkled in them. Then he smiled. It was a warm, friendly smile. Sam suddenly found herself rapidly revising her initial impression. I'd recognise that smile anywhere. It has his father and the Colonel written all over it! And there’s something about the eyes too... Carter suddenly realised that Malloy was saying something. "I'm afraid if you're looking for Jack, he's not here right now."

 

            "Ah, yes, I know," Carter responded. "You must be Sam Malloy?"

 

            The young man's eyebrows rose. He seemed a little surprised.

 

            "Colonel O'Neill said you were staying here," Carter explained.

 

            “Ahh...” Malloy said, smiling again, his expression a picture of enlightenment. Then curiosity became apparent. “So, if you’re not looking for Jack...?”

 

            Carter reached into the pocket of the leather jacket she was wearing over the jeans and blouse she had changed into prior to leaving the SGC and pulled out an envelope. "I have a message for you from your father." She saw Malloy's eyebrows rise slightly and saw surprise register in his eyes.

 

            "Come in," he invited, stepping back to allow her to enter the house. He gestured in the direction of the living room. "Make yourself comfortable. I'll be right with you, got some shots in the soup." With that, he was gone. Gone, Carter noted, in the direction of O'Neill's bathroom.

 

            Closing the front door, Carter headed for the living room. Curiosity flitted across her face. A couple of very expensive cameras sat on the coffee table, one in several pieces, along with various bits and pieces of camera maintenance equipment and several rolls of unused, professional quality, colour and black and white 35mm film. A number of 10" x 8" photographs were scattered about on the floor and the couch. Carter ventured over for a look.

 

            “Wow...” The Captain found herself murmuring as she gazed at a particularly spectacular colour image of what was unmistakably a Colorado mountain sunset. There were three of them in total she noticed, all slightly different but clearly taken in sequence. Then she spotted another three that were equally unmistakably sunrises. The rest were general mountain landscape shots and they were quite breathtaking.

 

            Of course, she thought, that's how the guy makes his living. General Hammond had reminded her when he had sent her on her current errand, that Malloy was a professional photo-journalist, with the emphasis on 'journalist', and cautioned her to keep her wits about her. She had, consequently, been hoping to simply hand over the item she had brought and be on her way. It seemed that the job wasn't going to be quite that simple.

 

            She was still gazing at the scattering of photographs when she heard a cheerful voice behind her.

 

            "Thought I'd take the opportunity to expand my portfolio while I was here. Excuse the mess, but I wasn’t actually expecting company and Jack said to treat the place like home while he’s away. I was just in the middle of developing a roll when you arrived. Got a makeshift dark-room set up in the bathroom. Jack had some stuff in storage he said I could borrow, if I could find it. I found it."

 

            Carter nearly jumped out of her skin. She hadn't heard Malloy come into the room. "Have a seat, Sam," he invited, hurriedly clearing a camera bag and a pile of rather grimy clothing from an armchair. He looked around for somewhere to deposit the stuff and settled for the floor beside the chair.  "It is Sam, isn't it?" He asked as she blinked at him in surprise.  “Or would you prefer I call you Captain Carter?”

 

            “Ah, no, Sam’s fine, but how did you know...?” She began.

 

            Sam Malloy pointed past her. She looked round. Sitting on the mantelpiece above the unlit fire she saw a couple of photo frames which she knew hadn't been there the last time she had been in the house. She recognised the photographs. They had been taken about three weeks earlier. It had been Cassandra’s birthday and, although the girl had had a small party with several of her school-friends, she had also wanted to celebrate with the SG-1 team too. They and Janet Fraiser had consequently taken her out on a picnic-cum-boating trip. A number of photos had resulted, courtesy of the small camera O'Neill had given the girl as a birthday gift.

 

            Carter recalled that when the photographs had been developed, O'Neill had requested copies of a couple of them. One had been taken by Janet of Cassie with O'Neill: the Colonel had been teaching Cassie how to steer the small motorboat they'd hired. The other had been one Cassie herself had taken of the SG-1 team during the picnic. The latter was a totally candid shot, and a good one too. Cassie had caught the team falling around in total hysterics over one of the Colonel's worse than bad jokes, even Teal'c was smiling in it, though probably more out of bemusement rather than amusement, Carter reflected.

 

            Both photographs now resided on the mantelpiece in new frames.

 

            "Can I get you a coffee or something?" Malloy inquired.

 

            "Ah, no, thanks," Carter responded. "I only came to give you this." She waved the envelope she was still holding.

 

            "So, how is Dad?" Malloy questioned. Just as he reached for the envelope, the unmistakable sound of a cell-phone ringing started up. "Excuse me." Malloy apologised and stepped over to where a black leather jacket was draped over the back of a chair, leaving Carter still standing with the envelope in her hand. She watched him pull a mobile from a pocket of the jacket, flip it open and speak into it. “Malloy here... Hey, Mr. Thornton... Dad always says you have great timing.”

 

            As Sam Malloy moved away towards the other end of the room, clearly wanting some privacy, Sam Carter sighed softly to herself. Turning her attention back to the photographs scattered on the couch, she reached to move one so that she could more clearly view the one that was partially hidden under it and several shifted, slipping onto the floor.  Along with the 10" x 8"s a couple of folders hit the floor, spilling open and scattering a small pile of 'contact' sheets over the carpet plus several more b/w prints.

 

            She looked over her shoulder, saw Malloy had noticed what had happened and mouthed at him 'Sorry'. He made a gesture with his hand that said clearly 'Don't worry about it' and went back to his phone call. Pocketing the envelope she had brought, Sam Carter crouched down and began to pick up the scattered 'contact' sheets and return them to their folders. As she did so, one of the b/w prints caught her attention. She stared at it.

 

            It was a picture of three men seated at a table in a quiet corner of what appeared to be a restaurant. Two of the men she recognised instantly. One was Senator Kinsey, the man who had, only a few short months ago, tried to close down the SGC. Also at the table, dressed in civvies, was Colonel Harold Maybourne of the U.S. Air Force. The Senator appeared to be exchanging a manila envelope with the unidentified man. Maybourne looked like the cat that’d just gotten the cream. Kinsey had about him the same look she had seen on his face when he had expressed his almost fanatical determination in no uncertain terms to see the Stargate Project closed down.

 

            Carter picked up another of the b/w prints. It was a similar shot, but the envelope was on the table near to Kinsey's hand. Another shot and the envelope was clearly being pushed across the table towards the third man by Kinsey. Another shot; the third man appeared to be reaching for the envelope.

 

            Sam stared at the photographs; a deep frown crossing her face. There was something familiar about the background in the shots, but she couldn't quite place it. Why, she wondered, are these photographs here? What is Sam Malloy doing with them? Did he take them? If so, why?  She was still pondering on her accidental discovery when she became aware that Malloy had finished his phone call and was folding up his phone. Looking round as she rose to her feet, she addressed him.

 

            "Mr Malloy..."

 

            “Name's 'Sam', not ‘Mr Malloy,” Malloy smiled. "Just call me Sam, Sam."

 

            "Okay, Sam," Carter responded, smiling in return. “These pictures...Can I ask where they came from?”

 

            "I took 'em night before last. Nearly got my head kicked in for my trouble too," Malloy said, a slightly grim look appearing on his face. "Why?"

 

            "You know who these men are?" Carter asked.

 

            "Why?"

 

            "I asked first," Carter responded. She saw Malloy incline his head slightly in acknowledgment of that fact.

 

            "Only one of them. Him." Malloy pointed at Kinsey. "Senator Kinsey."

 

            "And you took these? Night before last?" Carter pursued, her frown deepening.

 

            "Uh-huh," Sam Malloy nodded. He regarded Carter, a look of intense curiosity spreading across his face. "Why are you so interested?"

 

            "I'll take those." A cold, hard voice announced from the open sliding door that led onto the decking area outside.

 

            Malloy and Carter both turned. They both froze as they saw a man clad in dark clothing and a black balaclava standing in the doorway, a silenced 9mm automatic in his hand.

 

            “Aw man, not you again... I shoulda’ stayed in Bosnia...” Sam Malloy sighed heavily.

 

            "The pictures. Hand 'em over. And the negatives," the intruder growled, advancing into the room.

 

            “Hey, look... can’t we talk about this?” Sam Malloy asked, casually moving, Carter noted, to place himself between her and the intruder. A flare of irritation washed over her. She was quite capable of taking care of herself thank you very much.

 

            "Don't move!" The intruder snapped.

 

            Malloy duly stopped moving. Carter was vaguely aware though, that the journalist had unobtrusively slipped his left hand slightly behind himself, obscuring it from the intruder's view. It was the hand in which Malloy had been holding his mobile phone. The phone was open again and Malloy's fingers were moving awkwardly on it.

 

            "You know this guy?" Carter asked, deliberately pitching her tone a little louder than she might otherwise have done, in order to mask any soft beeps from Malloy's phone. She had no idea what he was up to, but if he was trying to call 911... Well, that was a plan, she supposed.

 

            "Kinda'. We sorta' met the other night. Didn't see his face then either, but I recognise the voice from then," Malloy said conversationally. "Him and some 'friends'," Carter didn't miss the slight emphasis on the word 'friends'. Was it a warning? she wondered. "Ruined a film and wrecked my favourite camera." Malloy casually gestured with his empty right hand towards the camera that was lying in pieces on the coffee table.

 

            "Nice," Carter commented with a grimace. Initially she had thought the camera to be in pieces because it was being cleaned. Now she suddenly realised that some of the bits were actually damaged. She regarded the gunman, her mind racing as she tried to think of some way of extricating Malloy and herself from the situation they were in. She was, after all, the one with the military training, the close-combat training, Malloy was just a civilian. It was up to her to do something. Even if Malloy had managed to dial 911, they could both be dead by the time the local cops showed up.

 

            "Yeah," Malloy was saying. "Invited me to accompany them on a long walk in a very dark wood." His tone was still calm and conversational.

 

            "Take it you declined," Carter remarked, her mind still racing as she rapidly formulated, then dismissed various escape scenarios. If she could just get past Malloy and close enough to the gunman to disarm him...

 

            "Uh-huh. My mom always warned me about going places with strange men."

 

            "Enough of the chitchat!" The gunman was growing impatient. He waved his gun. "The photographs, NOW."

 

            "Better do like he says I guess, Sam," Malloy sighed resignedly.

 

            Carter stepped slightly around Malloy and held out the pictures still in her hand. The Bad Guy came a little closer and reached out warily to take the photographs. Just as he did so, the phone in the hall rang. The intruder was momentarily distracted by the sound. The instant his gaze flickered away from Carter and himself, Malloy acted, launching himself at the guy, knocking the man's gun hand aside, throwing his aim away from Carter and himself.

 

            Used to having to react quickly in a dangerous situation, Carter waded in within an instant of Malloy making his move, working on the old principle of attack being the best form of defence.

 

            The ensuing altercation was strenuous but brief. The result; home-team one, visitor nil and O'Neill's furniture somewhat disarrayed.

 

            "That was a stupid move, but you've got good reflexes, I'll give you that," Sam Carter puffed in Malloy's direction as she snatched up the defeated gunman's discarded weapon and then yanked the balaclava off his head. The gunman offered no resistance.  He was curled up on the floor, moaning and clutching at a sensitive part of his anatomy which had suffered a rather unfortunate, from his point of view at least, encounter with Carter's knee. He also had a beautiful bruise already forming on the side of his jaw where Malloy had walloped him with the mobile phone that was now lying, damaged, on the floor.

 

            "You're pretty sharp yourself," Malloy grinned, reaching into a back pocket of his jeans. Somehow Carter was not totally surprised when he produced a small flat roll of duct tape. He must have caught her expression as she watched him proceed to roll the Bad Guy over and secure his wrists behind his back with the tape. He grinned again. "Useful stuff. Dad swears by it. He never- "

 

            “Leaves home without it.” Carter couldn't keep a smile off her own face as she saw Malloy's eyebrows rise in a fashion that strongly reminded her of O'Neill.

 

            "Yeah," Malloy acknowledged, still grinning and clearly intrigued by her correct anticipation of what he had been about to say as he stuffed the flat roll of tape back in his pocket.

 

            Carter saw  his expression change abruptly.

 

            "Look out!" Malloy yelled, launching himself at her with the sudden fluid grace of a big cat pouncing from cover onto unsuspecting prey.

 

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

 

            "Darn' it, Jack, that last one went right down my neck," MacGyver complained with good-natured indignation as he endeavoured to fish a handful of snow out of the back of his neck as he, O'Neill and their joint entourage of youngsters divested themselves of their snow-encrusted, warm outer-robes and jackets as they made their way indoors.

 

            "Ya' think?" O'Neill responded, brushing snow out of his short hair with a somewhat chilled left hand. Rather absently he took the towel which one of the three women who had summoned the children to come indoors to wash up for lunch, handed him. He grinned as he eyed his cousin and then held out the towel to him, saying. "Here. I think your need is considerably greater than mine. 'Drowned rat' is the phrase that springs most readily to mind."

 

            "Thanks, Jack. Thanks a lot," MacGyver responded dryly, aiming a mock glare at the other man. He took the towel without argument however, his much longer, shaggier, hair was dripping as the warmth of being indoors melted the snow plastered through it.

 

            "That was fun, Jack. Can we play again later?"

 

            The happily enthusiastic observation and question came from little Melia, who had just escaped from the three women who were desperately trying to establish some sort of order out of the chaos of milling, dripping, tired, but still exuberant youngsters.

 

            "We'll see, sweetheart," O'Neill smiled as he crouched down to be more on the child's level and took the towel that another of the three women thrust at him as she bustled past with an armful of such items. "I'm sure ya' must have a lot more excitin' things to be doin' with all your new friends here than hanging out with me."

 

            "Hey, ya' need to give the old fella' time to recover, Melia," MacGyver remarked. "He ain't as young as he used to be."

 

            "Hey, who're you callin' 'old'?" O'Neill objected indignantly as he hung his towel round his neck to catch the drips running down it from his hair. "I'm younger than you are, in case ya' forgot!"

 

            “Yeah I know, but not by that much.” Was the dryly amused and slightly muffled reply as Mac rubbed at his sodden hair with his own towel.

 

            Melia giggled, then pronounced solemnly. "But I like being with you Jack, you're nice."

 

            "You're pretty nice yourself, sweetheart," O'Neill smiled and reached out to ruffle the girl's damp hair. He pulled his towel from around his neck and draped it over Melia's head. "Here, honey, ya' need to dry that off a bit before ya' catch a chill," he told her as he proceeded to rub the towel over her hair, his manner gently paternal.

 

            MacGyver smiled to himself as he watched his cousin tend to the youngster for a moment before he was distracted by the antics of some of the other, older kids, boys mostly, who were proving to be a bit of a handful for the women to deal with. Automatically he went to help out.

 

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

 

            "Ya' know, Mac, it's times like this that kinda' make it all worth-while somehow," Jack O'Neill observed to his cousin several minutes later as the two of them watched the band of happy youngsters depart the small hallway in a relatively orderly fashion with the women who had summoned them back indoors. He smiled benevolently at little Melia as she threw a beaming smile over her shoulder at him as she went with the others.

 

            "Yeah. Know what ya' mean," MacGyver agreed, the relaxed expression on his face mirroring the one settling across his cousin's.  His knee was aching a little and he felt tired, but it was a good kind of tired. He knew O'Neill was feeling much the same. Their escapades in the snow with the passle of kids had done them both the world of good; had given them both a safe and fun way of releasing much of the stress caused by recent, much less pleasant, events.

 

            "What say we go find lunch?" O'Neill cheerfully changed the subject as his stomach rumbled. "We better swing by the library, drag Daniel out. I swear the man has no sense of time whatsoever. If the rest of us didn't- " He broke off, tensing discernibly as an odd sensation suddenly washed through him. He spun on his heel, automatically searching for....what he wasn't quite sure. Something indefinable. Something that had triggered his senses to full alert.

 

            "Mac?" He questioned tensely, aware that MacGyver too was on full alert and was looking warily around the hallway that was now deserted apart from themselves. His cousin had obviously felt the same odd whatever-it-was that he himself had done, was still feeling. An odd shiver ran up his spine as he realised that the two of them had quite unconsciously moved to cover each other’s backs, to protect each other from... What? He had no idea. Some intangible threat that prickled at their survival instincts.

 

            "Guess you got that too, huh?" MacGyver threw over his shoulder.

 

            "Ya' think?" O'Neill threw back, moving a pace or two to one side and stepping back so that he was standing beside MacGyver instead of back-to-back with him, but still facing in the opposite direction. "Any idea what the hell that was? Is? Might be?"

 

            “I... Ahh...” MacGyver shrugged. It was a slightly bewildered, slightly lost gesture. "I have no idea," he admitted ruefully, shaking his head as he continued to survey the hall around them.

 

            “Ah... Mac... Ya’ might wanna check the old crystal ball,” O’Neill suggested. He saw MacGyver frown at him. O'Neill inclined his head slightly in the direction of his cousin's left hand, he had caught a glimpse of glowing light. MacGyver raised the appendage in question. The crystal embedded in it was glowing, pulsing almost urgently this time and there seemed to be a distinctly reddish purple tinge to the glow. "Any idea why it's doin' that?" O'Neill questioned, grimacing a little as he regarded the crystal dubiously.

 

            "Uh-uh," MacGyver shook his head, visibly disconcerted as he eyed the glowing crystal himself. Then abruptly the glow was gone and with it the odd sensations that had been washing through him, nagging at the very edges of his senses.

 

            "Whoa!" O'Neill exclaimed as the deep sense of...disquiet - that was about as close as he could get to describing it with any degree of accuracy whatsoever - suddenly vanished even as he saw the glow of the crystal embedded in MacGyver’s hand abruptly cease. "Oh-kaay," he said decisively. "That's it. Forget lunch. We're gonna' go find Seeba, or that N'lrem guy, or someone, an' we're gonna get that thing," he jabbed a determined finger at the now apparently dormant crystal, "outta' there."

 

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

 

            Sam Carter was not entirely sure of the exact chain of events which followed hard on the heels of Malloy launching himself so abruptly at her for everything seemed to happen almost simultaneously. She was totally thrown off balance as Malloy collided into her. She heard the unmistakable 'phut' of silenced weapon-fire followed a scant second or so later by a loud crash as she and Malloy impacted with the coffee-table, which surrendered without a struggle and collapsed in splinters beneath them.

 

            Somehow she and Malloy untangled themselves rapidly from one another and the wreckage, he rolling in one direction and she going the other. She wasn't sure how, but she had managed not to lose her grip on the confiscated gun she'd been holding. Even as she heard the muted 'phuts' of more 'silenced' shots and splinters erupted from the scattered wreckage of O'Neill's coffee table; even as she rolled to come up on one knee, desperately seeking to line up a shot on whoever was doing the shooting, she was aware of Malloy snatching something from the debris he'd just rolled off of.

 

            Carter saw movement by the stairs leading up into the hall. Without hesitation she aimed and fired. Even as she did so, she was aware of Malloy hurling something in the target's direction before hitting the deck again and rolling, with a distinct grunt of pain, as the intruder opened fire again.

 

            The intruder collapsed backwards, slamming into the wall which he slowly slid down with a loud groan. Carter immediately bounded forward to check that the guy was rendered harmless. To her surprise, she found the wreckage of a camera lying beside the motionless intruder. She pulled off the ski mask he was wearing and found blood was pouring from his face, primarily his nose, which was clearly askew and broken. He looked like he'd lost a couple of front teeth as well. He was totally out of things. Blood oozed more slowly from a graze of a wound in his upper right arm, where she'd clearly succeeded in 'winging' him.

 

            A moan and a soft curse behind her distracted her. She looked round and saw an ashen-faced Sam Malloy clutching at his right shoulder, redness seeping through his fingers, as he sat on the debris-strewn floor, slumped against an armchair which was now sporting several holes that it had not previously possessed.

 

            "Oh shit! There's gonna' be hell to pay," Carter muttered, as a sudden image flashed through her mind of the reactions she was likely to get when certain parties learned of her failure to fully protect the young journalist. In an instant she was at Malloy's side. Putting down the gun, she instructed, "Let me take a look," and reached to prise Malloy's fingers away from his injury.

 

            “Dad was right...” Malloy rasped, fixing his gaze on some indeterminate point across the room as Carter checked his wound. “Getting shot... really sucks...”

 

            "You'll be okay," Carter was in military mode. She checked the back of his shoulder. "Damn," she muttered, "it didn't go through. Bullet's still in there." She pulled a pack of tissues from her jacket pocket, ripped them out of the packet and pressed them, en masse, over Malloy's injury. "Keep that there." She instructed, catching hold of the young man's left hand and putting it to his damaged shoulder. "I'll get help," she assured as she rose to her feet, inwardly cursing herself for having left her cell-phone in her car.

 

            Malloy said nothing, but Carter saw him nod wanly and close his eyes. Quickly she turned and ran to the hall where she knew O'Neill's phone was located. Her heart sank as, when she attempted to use it, she found it was now dead. A quick investigation revealed that the second intruder must have cut the cable.

 

            Carter cursed softly under her breath and ran to the bathroom where she knew O'Neill kept a well-stocked First Aid Kit. The red glow that filled the room when she hit the light-switch threw her for a moment until she remembered that Malloy had converted the bathroom to a makeshift dark room.  She went to the cupboard where she knew the First Aid box was, threw it open, grabbed the box and hurried back in the direction of the living room. As she shot through the hall, she heard an unfamiliar and muted voice seeming to emerge from the chest of the downed Bad Guy lying on the stairs.

 

            "Alpha Three, this is Alpha One, come in. Come in, Alpha Three. What's happening in there?"

 

            "Damn, they got comms," Carter muttered, stopping to check where the sound was coming from and finding the com-unit tucked inside the unconscious man's jacket. She noticed now the disconnected cable leading to the tiny earpiece that was discreetly tucked in the man's left ear. Straightening, she dove back up the short flight of stairs and peered cautiously out of the window beside the front door. She swore softly again as she saw the dark-suited man who was advancing in a warily purposeful manner up the drive.

 

            Turning, Carter rocketed down the stairs again and over to Malloy. He hadn't moved and there was a sheen of sweat glistening on his ashen features. Carter dropped to his side, ripping open the First Aid Kit as she did so.

 

            "We’ve got another one coming up the drive," she told Malloy rapidly as she tore open a packet containing a highly absorbent sterile dressing, pulled the man's hand from his injured shoulder, snatched the blood-soaked wad of tissues from his wound and replaced them with the dressing. "We need to get out of here," she went on, snatching some more items from the First Aid box which she stuffed into the pockets of her jacket.

 

            “Terrific...” Malloy rasped, dark eyes opening.

 

            "Think you can walk if I help you?" Carter asked, reaching to pick up the gun she had placed on the floor beside him.

 

            “Uh-huh...” Carter saw Malloy nod and witnessed an eerily familiar look of grim determination enter his eyes as he visibly prepared himself for the effort of just standing up. Then she saw him gesture with his bloodstained hand as he rasped. “The pictures... Get the pictures...”

 

            "Forget them," Carter instructed, moving herself around to aid Malloy to stand up. “We don’t have time to- ”

 

            "No way," the young man rasped with a grim determination that strongly reminded Carter of both MacGyver and O'Neill. Pig-headedness must run in the family, she thought as Malloy lunged for a couple of the scattered b/w prints that she had dropped earlier and snatched them up in blood-stained fingers from the debris in which they lay.

 

            "Sam, we have to go!" Carter insisted, half-dragging Malloy up off the floor.  Much as she would have really liked to have gathered up more of the photos, she had rather more pressing things on her mind - such as getting the journalist out of there alive and keeping him that way.  The two pictures would have to do.  There wasn’t time to sift through the debris for the others.

 

            Malloy's breathing was extremely rapid and shallow by the time Carter got him to his feet and he swayed alarmingly.

 

            "C'mon, Sam, don’t pass out on me now. We've got to go, NOW!" Carter encouraged, her whole manner urgent. Malloy said nothing, but Carter saw him nod determinedly. He was pretty unsteady on his feet, but she managed to get him to the already open sliding door and out onto the decking area. It was an effort to get him down the steps without both of them taking a tumble, but she was aware of him trying to help steady himself by reaching out with his right hand to the railing at his side. She heard his quiet hiss of pain as he did so, but heard no verbal complaint from him otherwise. Her already rising opinion of him rose yet another notch.

 

            "My car's out front, think you can make it?"

 

            Pain was etched on Malloy's face, but he nodded gamely.

 

            They made it around to the side of the house.

 

            "Wait here while I check it out," Carter instructed, manoeuvring to allow Malloy to lean against the wall. "You be okay a minute?" She questioned dubiously. Malloy merely nodded, his left hand clamping onto his right shoulder again. His head rested back against the wall and his dark eyes closed. He thus missed the doubtful grimace that Carter bestowed on him as she hesitated to turn her back on him for even a moment. She saw the determined set of his jaw though and inwardly found herself thanking whatever deities existed that Malloy had clearly inherited mule-headed stubbornness from his father.

 

            Dropping to ground level, Carter cautiously peered around the corner, fleetingly wishing as she did so for the little telescopic device O'Neill used on occasion for covert peeking around corners. There was no sign of the third 'guest'. She turned back to Malloy.

 

            "Okay, it looks clear. When I say 'go', head for the car. I'll cover you. Okay?"

 

            Malloy's eyes opened and he nodded, visibly gathering his waning strength for the effort ahead.

 

            "Get in the back and keep your head down. Okay?" Carter added, realising that they would be approaching the vehicle from the driver's side and not wanting to have her charge trying to dodge around the vehicle to the passenger side, or alternatively have him pile into the driver's seat and pass out blocking her access to the vehicle for what would probably be very precious seconds.

 

            "Thought I was supposed to do... the inviting into the back seat," Malloy managed to muster a wanly suggestive smile.

 

            Carter smiled and shook her head. She couldn't help it. The guy has clearly inherited the family sense of humour too, she decided. 'Wisecrack in the face of adversity' is obviously a family motto.

 

            "Okay. You ready for this?" She asked, eying him with clear concern and inwardly praying that he was up to what lay ahead.

 

            Malloy nodded. "Race ya’," he offered a little unsteadily. Carter abruptly had a flashback memory of O'Neill dryly muttering the exact same words to her in the ice-cavern in Antarctica. She hastily quashed the memory. She had to concentrate on the present.

 

            "Just stick with me, Sam," she told him in her best military 'That's an order, mister' tone and reached out to loop his left arm over her shoulder and pull him away from the support of the house wall. "Okay, let's move!"

 

            Malloy did his best to manage under his own steam, but without Carter's support he would never have made it to her car. As they reached the vehicle they heard shouts from the direction of the house.

 

            "Get in!" Carter ordered, yanking the rear passenger door open and shoving Malloy in the direction of the backseat. Raising her captured weapon, she loosed off a few rounds towards O'Neill's front door as the figure she had previously seen coming up the path stepped into view. The figure jerked back out of sight. Carter yanked the driver's door of her car open, loosed off another barrage of shots as she saw a gun poked around O'Neill's front door and then she jumped into the driver's seat, snatched her keys out of her jeans pocket, frantically found the one she wanted and rammed it into the ignition. As she did so, she stuck her left hand, in which she now held the 9mm automatic, out the open window and loosed off another couple of rounds in the hope of keeping the enemy's head down a bit longer.

 

            Yanking her hand back in, she dropped the gun on her lap, slammed the car into reverse, revved, released the brake and sent the vehicle hurtling backwards out of the drive. As she did so, the windscreen shattered as the gunman inside the house finally managed to get some return shots off. Carter yelped in startled reaction, but kept the car on course. It hurtled backwards out of O'Neill's driveway, narrowly missing hitting a passing vehicle broadside.

 

            Carter swore as she felt the close passage of more bullets come in her open window and exit the vehicle via the opposite, closed, passenger window, which shattered. The passenger window directly behind her seat also shattered. Grimly, Carter changed gear, hit the gas pedal and sent the vehicle screaming off up the road, leaving a trail of burned rubber in her wake.

 

            "Sam? Sam, you okay back there?" She questioned urgently, not daring to take her eyes off the road as she slewed the vehicle in an almost suicidal left-hand turn across the path of on-coming traffic at the end of the block.

 

            There was no response.

 

            "Sam? SAM?" She repeated anxiously. She risked a glance over her shoulder.

 

            Malloy was sprawled across the backseat, a smattering of broken glass scattered over him. He appeared to be out cold.

 

            Carter slewed the car around another corner, a right hand one this time, checking in the rear view mirror for signs of pursuit as she did so. She didn't think anyone was following them. She cast another quick glance over her shoulder. Malloy was definitely out cold.

 

            A look of resolute determination spreading across her face, Carter slammed the gas pedal down almost to the floor. She needed to get the kid to a hospital, fast. And it needed to be a hospital where he would be absolutely safe from any more trigger-happy thugs; safe from any trigger-happy thugs who might even, however remotely, be connected with a certain slime-ball called Maybourne.

 

            Sending the car hurtling around another corner virtually on two wheels, Carter grimly set course for Cheyenne Mountain, quite determined to claim the world land-speed record for getting there and frantically praying not to encounter any civilian cop-cars en route.

 

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

 

            O'Neill led the way off down the corridor leading from the hallway, striding out in the direction opposite to the one in which the group of children had gone. His manner was purposeful and determined. He did not go very far though before he realised the pace he was setting was rather brisker than MacGyver was currently able to keep up with. He halted and looked round as he waited for MacGyver to catch up to him.  A frown crossed his face as his gaze alighted on the other man.

 

            "You okay?" He questioned, making no attempt to conceal his concern as he observed that Mac was noticeably favouring his healing leg. He could feel an odd dull aching in his own right knee. It was like a nagging echo on his senses.

 

            "Yeah, I'm fine. Just not quite up to the hundred-yard dash yet, that's all. You wanna' ease up the pace a little, huh?"

 

            "Your knee's botherin' ya'," O'Neill stated with the grim determination of a man knowing he was making an irrefutably correct deduction. He looked hopefully around for somewhere where they could sit down.

 

            "No more than your arm's botherin' you," MacGyver retorted, rubbing a little absently at his right forearm as he caught up to his waiting cousin.

 

            “Aw, hell, Mac, ya' just had to remind me, didn't ya'?” O'Neill complained. He had been managing, with a reasonable degree of success, to ignore the nagging itchiness beneath the alien 'cast' on his damaged arm. Now that his attention had been drawn to it... well, the itch was flaring through his awareness with attention grabbing vigour. And the limb was aching a little too, probably due to the recent activities he had been indulging in, despite his efforts to not use it too much. He flexed his right hand and his arm as much as the 'cast' would allow, in the vague hope that it might ease the general discomfort. It didn't.

 

            "Sorry," MacGyver apologised ruefully, bending to rub at his cast-encased knee, not that the action actually did anything to ease the dull ache emanating from the joint, or the itching around it.

 

            "Ya' think this... whatever-it-is we got goin' here'll tone down again when ya' get rid of the rock?" O'Neill asked, falling in beside his cousin as MacGyver started walking again.

 

            "I sure hope so," MacGyver responded with much feeling as he absently rubbed at his right forearm again. "Seeba said it magnifies the sense of each other that we've kinda' always had, so if we get rid of the magnifier- "

 

            “We get back to standard sized print again,” O'Neill concluded.

 

            “Yeah...” MacGyver agreed, smiling with some amusement at his cousin’s analogy.

 

            “So...” O’Neill said pensively after a few moments had elapsed and they had covered a short distance in silence. "If you got the magnifier, how come I’m pickin’ up on your bum knee so strongly?"

 

            "Guess the amplification effects of this," MacGyver held his left hand out in front of himself, palm up, so that the crystal embedded in it was clearly visible to both of them, "must kinda’ go both ways."  His expression was as pensive as his cousin's. He looked up at O'Neill. “It's always been kinduva two-way thing. Just not this strong. Though in Iraq...” Apology flitted across his face as he saw the other man grimace at the mention of that country. "It was pretty strong then. You picked up on me bein' there while I was still lookin' for a way in. Remember?"

 

            "Oohhh yeeaahh, I remember," O'Neill nodded. Iraq was not something he was ever going to forget. Four months of sheer hell was not something anyone, apart from a total amnesiac, could ever forget. He had just about given up all hope of ever getting out of that hell-hole alive when, there in the darkness of constant pain, humiliation and growing despair, he had just somehow 'known' MacGyver was somewhere close by, was coming for him. It had been totally irrational. At the time he had been half-convinced that, between the drugs and the beatings, he was just finally losing his mind. But it had triggered a spark of rekindled hope that had kept him going, kept him alive during those last few hours when his interrogators had learned that the information he had given them when he had previously convinced them they had finally broken him, had been a load of crap. Plausible and convincing crap, but crap all the same. They had been pissed. Mightily pissed. And they had made sure he knew it.

 

            Memories of the horrors he had endured welled up, flooding through him.

 

            “Oh God...” he murmured, halting and closing his eyes as he fought down the hellish images, the remembered agonies.

 

            "Jack ... Jack, snap out of it! Jack!"

 

            O'Neill heard his cousin's voice, its tone urgent and commanding and yet at the same time oddly reassuring, felt the man's hand on his shoulder. Other memories surged up. The relief, and disbelief, that he had felt when he had heard his cousin's quietly anxious but urgent voice coming through the darkness of the stinking hole he'd been thrown into after that last interrogation session; a session that had damn' near finally broken him. Remembered the almost blinding, pencil-thin torch-beam in the pitch darkness. The touch of his cousin’s hand on his shoulder...

 

            "JACK!"

 

            "What?" O'Neill snapped abruptly back to the present to find an extremely worried looking Angus MacGyver standing in front of him and gripping him by the shoulders as if to shake him. He saw relief and apology wash across his cousin's face, which looked a little pale.

 

            "God, Jack, I'm sorry. That was my fault. I didn't mean..."

 

            “No,” O'Neill shook his head as he raised his left hand to rest it on MacGyver's right arm. “It happens sometimes. I’ve... I’ve learned to live with it.” He tightened his grip on his cousin's arm in an attempt to reassure the other man.

 

            "Always that bad?" MacGyver asked, his gaze intent, worried.

 

            "No, thank God," O'Neill admitted. “Though the past few weeks have been a bit... rough.”

 

            "Hadante?"

 

            “Among other things... yeah.” O'Neill admitted. The subject of Hadante had come up the previous night when, after the nightmares, he and Mac had spent a long time just talking quietly. He endeavoured to convey reassurance as he smiled and told his anxious cousin. "Hey, Mac, don't look so worried. They'll fade again. I can handle it."

 

            "I know you can. I just wish you didn't have to." MacGyver released his right hand's grip of his cousin's left shoulder.

 

            "Yeah." O'Neill sighed deeply, closing his eyes and bowing his head slightly as he did so. The unique sense of closeness that he had always shared with his cousin washed through him. He was oddly grateful for it right at that moment and accepted it without hesitation. Another sensation washed through him. “Uh, Mac...”

 

            "Yeah?"

 

            "The rock's glowin' again." O'Neill just 'knew' it without even needing to see it. His shoulder, where Mac's left hand still rested, tingled strangely and there was a peculiar sensation in the palm of his own left hand. He raised his head and squinted at Mac's hand as Mac withdrew the appendage and turned it over so that they could both see it.

 

            The crystal was indeed glowing. Gently this time, with an almost lethargic calm. And the glow was a soft green tinged with the barest hint of blue-ish purple.

 

            “Man, I’ve seen some weirdness since the first time I stepped through the Stargate, but that rock...” O’Neill shook his head, unable to quite find the words he wanted. Then, visibly brightening as a thought occurred to him, he remarked. "Kinda' glad you got it instead of Carter though. Hate to think how it'd react to a dose of PMS."

 

            MacGyver blinked at his cousin, momentarily taken off-guard by the left-field remark, then, as it sank in, he burst out laughing as he observed.

 

            "See, Jack, it's like Harry always used to tell us: every situation has an up-side. Ya' just have to find it is all."

 

            "Always was big on positive thinkin' your grandpa," O'Neill responded, grinning as he remembered with fondness the kindly man with the backwoods wisdom and philosophy who had been his cousin's grandfather, and with whom the pair of them had had some seriously fun camping trips as kids.

 

            Their mood considerably lighter than it had been just a very short while earlier, the two men, both chuckling and starting to toss back and forth between them various camp-fire-recollections of the 'wise-sayings of Harry Jackson', resumed their course down the lengthy corridor, their pace relaxed and unhurried this time.

 

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

 

            The duo were still merrily tossing childhood memories back and forth several minutes later when they were approached almost apprehensively in another corridor by the young girl whom Daniel Jackson would have recognised immediately as Seeba's daughter, Alaeya.

 

            "Excuse me, Honoured Guardians of the Tau'ri, but I have been sent by my mother to seek you out. She bids me convey her wish that you share midday meal with us, unless you would prefer a meal be brought to you in your quarters."

 

            "Your ah, mother?" O'Neill inquired, wondering to whom the girl was referring since he had no idea who she herself was, although there was something about her that was oddly familiar.

 

            "You know her as Seeba," the girl answered a little shyly, "but here, among the K'Rin'sha, she is called S'Baya."

 

            "Ah, then you must be Alaeya." It was MacGyver who swiftly put two and two together. Like his cousin he too had been trying to determine why it was that there was something elusively, yet strongly familiar about the youngster. Both Alaeya and O'Neill cast a puzzled look at him. "Daniel told me about you," Mac helpfully informed the girl. He was aware of O'Neill's eyebrows rising with curiosity and obligingly explained. "She's been showing Daniel around when Seeba's been busy."  Smiling amiably at the girl standing a little nervously before them, he added. "Lunch sounds good, as long as it doesn't involve climbing too many stairs to get to it."

 

            Alaeya looked momentarily confused, then comprehension visibly dawned. "Ah, your leg, of course. You still heal." Standing to one side, she gestured ahead of the three of them. "My mother has quarters on this level, but it is some distance from here in another part of the castrallud. Your own quarters are closer if you would prefer?”

 

            “No, no, that's okay. It's just stairs that are the problem. Lead on.”

 

            "Mac, you sure?" O'Neill queried. The echo of nagging discomfort he could feel emanating from the region of his own right knee, assured him that the aching of MacGyver’s damaged joint had not lessened any, even though he had been allowing Mac to set the pace at which they had been walking.

 

            "We want to speak to Seeba anyway," MacGyver reminded him. He shrugged expressively. "Might as well have lunch while we're doin' it. Don't know about you, but I'm feelin' kinda' hungry again."

 

            "Okay," O'Neill said. He had to admit he was feeling more than a little hungry himself, even though he wasn't entirely sure exactly how much of the feeling was his own and how much of it was actually his cousin's. He turned to Alaeya and invited congenially. "Okay, young lady, like the man said, lead on." A mischievous glint entered his eyes as he inclined his head in MacGyver's direction and added conspiratorially. "Just remember the old fella here's gettin' on a bit, has trouble keepin' up with us youngsters."

 

            Not about to let O'Neill away with a crack like that, MacGyver retaliated and good-natured insults were quickly flying back and forth between the two men as they followed Alaeya, who kept glancing over her shoulder at them as if she wasn't too sure whether either of them were being serious or not.

 

            After they had walked some distance, the two men still bickering, Alaeya halted and turned, waiting for them to catch up to her, though she had been trying to adapt her pace to match theirs. As the two men drew near, she addressed MacGyver a little awkwardly. "Do you wish to rest a moment, Honoured One?"  She gestured towards some padded benching in a window alcove to one side of the passage a few paces ahead of them. "There is seating here."

 

            "Ah, no, thanks. It's-  "

 

            “Yes, he does,” O'Neill interjected.

 

            “Jack,” MacGyver objected.

 

            “What's it gonna' hurt to take the weight off for a coupla' minutes?” O'Neill wanted to know.

 

            “Well...” MacGyver began, not missing the determined glint lurking in his cousin’s eyes.

 

            "Exactly." O'Neill stated. Then he instructed in his best 'command' tone. "Sit."

 

            MacGyver met his look for a moment, then made his way to the benching and sat, actually quite relieved to be off his dully aching knee even if it was only going to be for a few moments. He rubbed at the cast-encased joint.

 

            "See? Didn't kill ya', did it?" O'Neill observed smugly, rubbing absently at his own cast-encased forearm. He looked at the watching Alaeya and helpfully informed her. "Stubborn streak a mile wide ya' know."

 

            Alaeya smiled shyly, not quite meeting his gaze.

 

            "I've got a stubborn streak?" MacGyver's eyebrows shot up in indignation as he regarded a still-standing Jack. “What about you? You’ve gotta' be 'bout the most mule-headed, obstinate- ”

 

            “Mule-headed? Obstinate? Me?” O'Neill interjected indignantly. "What about Henson's Bridge, huh?"

 

            "Hey, that one was your idea."

 

            "Was not."

 

            "Was too."

 

            Another round of bickering broke out and Alaeya looked on with an expression on her face akin to wide-eyed incredulity. Then they caught her totally off-guard as, apparently just starting to really hit their stride with the 'squabble', the twosome suddenly ceased 'hostilities' as if by unspoken mutual consent and O'Neill asked of her.

 

            “So... Alaeya... How much further is it from here?”

 

            "Honoured One?" Alaeya was rather caught with her mouth open.

 

            "Your mom's place," O'Neill prompted. "How much further?"

 

            "Oh. Ah. Just across the hallway ahead and down another corridor to the left." She gestured appropriately.

 

            "Great." O'Neill then looked to MacGyver. "You 'bout ready now?"

 

            "Yeah. I'm fine." MacGyver nodded, rising to his feet and making no attempt to evade the hand which O'Neill put to his arm to help him. "Thanks."

 

            Alaeya watched them. It was transparently clear from her expression that she had no idea what to make of them, either separately or together, but she visibly endeavoured to rally herself and invited politely. "This way please, Honoured Ones."

 

            “Ah... Alaeya...” MacGyver began as he and O’Neill began to follow the girl again.

 

            "Yes, Honoured One?" Alaeya looked round, quizzically, not quite meeting his gaze.

 

            "I'd rather you didn't call me that," MacGyver said honestly. Alaeya blinked at him, clearly surprised. Then she half-looked at O'Neill, who told her.

 

            “Yeah. Me too. Been called a lot of things in my time, but this ‘Honoured One’ stuff... Just kinda’ don’t feel comfortable with it, ya’ know?”

 

            “But... You are Guardians of the Tau’ri. How else should you be addressed?”

 

            "Well," MacGyver seemed to consider the question, before he smiled amiably at the girl. "You could try just usin' our names. Call me Mac, or MacGyver. An' he's Jack." Mac inclined his head slightly at Jack as he finished speaking. "Or 'Colonel' when he's real cranky."

 

            Alaeya blinked at them both, clearly disconcerted by the request. “But... You are Guardians,” she persisted, still not quite meeting either of their respective gazes. "It would be disrespectful..."

 

            “Humour us, okay?” O'Neill suggested, doing his best to keep a sudden mild flare of irritation in check.

 

            Alaeya looked dubiously back and forth between the duo again, then appeared to reach a decision.  "It would be my honour," she said, bowing her head in a respectful manner and blushing slightly. She then gestured down the corridor. "Mother's quarters are this way."

 

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

 

            "Mother?" Alaeya called out as she presently led the way through a doorway near the end of a long, twisting corridor.

 

            "Ah, there you are," Seeba's delighted voice greeted O'Neill and MacGyver as they followed in the girl's wake to find themselves stepping into what was clearly a comfortable and cosy sitting-room. "I was beginning to think you had eluded my daughter and she was having to search for you."

 

            "Surely you would have known if she was?" O'Neill observed, automatically surveying his surroundings as he spoke. "Aren't you supposed to know these things, being a 'Seer' or whatever?"

 

            Rising from her seat beside the crackling fire which burned in a modest, stonework fireplace, Seeba smiled, clearly not offended by the man's remark. "Yes, I am a Seer, but that does not prevent Life from throwing surprises at me upon occasion and you two are full of surprises. I hear you have been outside playing with some of our young ones this morning, instead of resting in your quarters. I am also told your artistic skills with snow are quite impressive."

 

            “Hey...” MacGyver shrugged, a little embarrassed. "They're a great bunch of kids."

 

            "Oh yeah." O'Neill agreed. "Throw a pretty mean snowball too."

 

            "Yes, so I am told," Seeba smiled with some amusement. “Now please... both of you... Don’t just stand there cluttering up the door and letting draughts in, come and warm yourselves here by the fire. You must both be chilled to the bone. Once you have thawed out, Alaeya will show you where you may wash and then we shall eat.”

 

            The two men offered no objection to the notion of thawing out at the fire for a while. As they moved to warm themselves by the welcome source of heat, Seeba excused herself, saying that she was going to check on lunch and disappeared off through an arched opening.

 

            As they thawed nicely, the two men endeavoured to engage Alaeya in conversation, trying to put her at ease since they were both acutely aware that she didn't quite seem able to relax around them.

 

            "So, Alaeya, your Mom said there was somewhere we could wash up?" O'Neill questioned presently.

 

            Nodding, Alaeya moved towards a closed doorway which she opened.  "This way," she said. As O'Neill approached, she indicated the short length of passageway that lay beyond the opening. "First door on the right."

 

            "Thanks." O'Neill smiled and noticed the flush that crept across the girl's cheeks again as she shifted a little awkwardly under his gaze. "Guess ya' were payin' real close attention when your mom warned ya' about strange men," he observed quietly, his manner gently understanding. He saw the girl look rather sharply up at him at that, a flare of almost indignant defiance in her eyes. It was the first time she had actually met either his or his cousin's gaze directly since they had encountered her in the corridors. Her blush deepened. "Don't get me wrong, that's a good thing," he assured quickly. "There's some real bad stuff out there," he continued, making a small, non-threatening gesture that encompassed existence in general. "But ya' know, if your mom didn't think Mac an' I could be trusted, ya' can bet she wouldn't've asked us here. Moms've got this real big protective streak, ya' know? An' radar like ya' wouldn't believe." He smiled a smile of gentle reassurance as he concluded. "So, how about ya' try an' relax a little, huh? Life's too short to spend it as a nervous wreck. Okay?"

 

            Alaeya stared at the tall off-worlder, her jaw dropping a little and clearly surprised by his words.            "Oh, no, it's nothing like that!" The girl's cheeks burned bright crimson. "I mean, it's just, you’re both, that is, um, I've never met Tau'ri Guardians before," she blurted and looked abruptly down at her feet, shifting a little awkwardly as she did so.

 

            “Hey...” O’Neill smiled and shrugged expressively. "We're nothin' special. Well, okay, so we're both pretty good at what we do," he conceded modestly, before insisting, "But we're just a couple of ordinary guys really. So relax, okay? Before ya' start makin' us nervous." He paused and when the girl continued to study her feet, he questioned. "Okay?"

 

            Alaeya looked up, still blushing furiously and smiled shyly at him as she nodded.

 

            "First door on the right, right?" O'Neill changed the subject and gestured down the short stretch of corridor beyond the doorway at which he and Alaeya were standing. As the girl nodded, he sauntered off down the passageway, murmuring absently. "Cool."

 

            Alaeya stared a little bemusedly after O'Neill for a moment before she pushed the living room door almost shut and then returned to the fireside, where she discovered MacGyver had risen from the couch he had been perching on and was now standing in front of the fire, his attention apparently focused on the various artefacts that were displayed atop the heavy stone mantelpiece.

 

            "Some of these things come from Earth, don't they?" MacGyver asked, gesturing at the assortment of objects in question, a pensive yet curious expression on his face.

 

            "Yes," Alaeya nodded. She halted several paces short of where the tall Phoenix operative stood, then, a little hesitantly, she stepped forward to stand at his side as he surveyed the various artefacts with ill-concealed interest. "They are mother's. Many of them have been in our family for many generations since First Arrival," she offered a little shyly. "And even before."

 

            "First Arrival?" MacGyver frowned. "Daniel said something about that. That was when your people were first brought here by those you call 'The Wise Ones', right?"

 

            "Yes." Alaeya nodded. Her gaze running over the items adorning the mantelshelf, she added. "Some of these things are of the Tau'ri and some come from other worlds."

 

            "May I?" MacGyver asked, gesturing towards one of the artefacts. Alaeya nodded and MacGyver carefully picked up a rather alien looking object for closer inspection. Setting it back down again after a few moments, he surveyed the collection again. Another artefact caught his eye. “Daniel’s probably forgotten way more about this sort of stuff than I’m ever likely to even begin to know, but this... this looks vaguely familiar ... Egyptian, isn’t it?” He reached out to gently pick up and examine the object.

 

            "It is a representation of a god your people once called Sepa." Alaeya said shyly. "Mother says it was a gift to an Honoured One of our family by a great Tau'ri Warrior many generations ago. It is one of Mother's most treasured possessions."

 

            "Sepa?" MacGyver's brow creased in a pensive frown. “Sepa... Nope. Rings a few bells, but I can't quite nail it down. Daniel'll probably know.”

 

            "Daniel'll probably know what?" O'Neill was back. “Eughh... What’s that?” He inquired, catching a glimpse of the object in his cousin's hand. From his expression it was transparently clear he was not enamoured of the artefact.

 

            "Egyptian god, Sepa," MacGyver answered, setting the small god-form in question back in its place on the mantel.

 

            "Oh yeah, Daniel'll probably be able to give ya' chapter and verse," O'Neill remarked. "In twenty-some languages," he added dryly after a beat.

 

            "Apparently it's something of a family heirloom," MacGyver said, before excusing himself and heading for the doorway through which O'Neill had just re-entered the room.

 

            "First on the right." O'Neill called helpfully after him.

 

            "Got it." MacGyver vaguely waved a hand as he disappeared from view.

 

            “So... Family heirloom, huh?” O'Neill wrinkled his nose as he stared at the miniature god-form his cousin had been fiddling with. "All this stuff?" He asked, gesturing at the array of items on display.

 

            Alaeya nodded and began to tell him what she had told MacGyver about the items arranged on the mantel. By the time she was done, MacGyver was back and Seeba appeared in the arched doorway to announce that lunch was ready, if anyone was interested.

 

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

 

            Lunch proved to be an extremely filling soup that was thick enough to stand a spoon up in, accompanied by large chunks of fresh-baked dark bread and a selection of local cheeses, followed by fruit-laden pie, for those who still had any room left in their stomachs. Both O'Neill and MacGyver ate heartily and both somehow managed to find room for portions of pie. Not a lot of conversation flowed back and forth, all concerned being rather more engrossed in eating, especially the two men, who had discovered they were rather more ravenous than either had initially realised. What conversation there was, was cordial and pretty relaxed although fairly generalised.

 

            It wasn't until Seeba and her guests adjourned to the cosy sitting room, Alaeya having been requested by her mother to clear the table before joining them, that the subject which the two men wished to discuss with the woman was finally raised.

 

            “Ah, Seeba... About that rock thing in Mac’s hand...” O’Neill was the one who raised the matter as he settled into one of the big comfortable chairs at the fireside which Seeba gestured him to.

 

            "You have questions, that is to be expected," Seeba nodded sagely, giving the fire a poke with an ornate metal poker.

 

            "Oh yeah," O'Neill confirmed determinedly. "You bet."

 

            "I know you said it wouldn't cause me any harm," MacGyver jumped in before O'Neill could say anything further, well aware that 'tactful' wasn't always very high on his cousin's list of priorities. He rubbed absently at his still slightly aching knee. "But it could cause problems when we get back home if certain people see me with it like this." He waggled his left hand in an expressive manner that clearly displayed the embedded crystal.

 

            "Big time." O'Neill threw in as Seeba returned the poker to its stand and turned to face them both.

 

            "Yes," she agreed, nodding sagely again, before moving to where MacGyver was perching on the edge of the room's generous couch. She gestured appropriately as she told the Phoenix operative. "You will perhaps be more comfortable if you rest your leg up here."

 

            “Well I...” MacGyver began.

 

            "Come on," Seeba insisted. MacGyver gave in gracefully and accepted her assistance as he shifted position to settle more comfortably on the couch with his injured leg resting on the seat cushions.

 

            "Seeba, if we could get back to that rock thing," O'Neill wanted to get back to the subject at hand.

 

            “The K'Rin'sha crystal,” Seeba corrected as she made her way to the vacant chair at the opposite side of the fireplace from where O'Neill was sitting.

 

            "Whatever," O'Neill waved vaguely. "How do we get it outta' Mac's hand?" He asked bluntly. "It can be removed?" A suddenly dubious look appeared on his face.

 

            "Yes, old friend, it can be removed, but neither of you are yet ready." Seeba smiled with enigmatic composure as she settled herself comfortably in her chair.

 

            “Ah... Excuse me?” O'Neill did not look at all happy.

 

            "You mean because we're still walking wounded?" MacGyver asked, pensively studying the crystal embedded in his left palm.

 

            "Yes," Seeba smiled and nodded knowingly.

 

            “So... once we’re all healed up, it’ll what? Just... drop off?” MacGyver looked across at her.

 

            "No, old friend, not exactly. You will have choices and you will know which to make when the time comes."

 

            "Excuse me?" O'Neill was looking rather lost and confused. "Choices? What do you mean, 'choices'? What 'choices'?"

 

            "You are linked Guardians. You will know." Seeba smiled enigmatically again.

 

            "Oh, well, naturally," O'Neill commented dryly. He looked hopefully at MacGyver. "Any of this makin' any kind of sense to you?"

 

            "Suppose this was to be removed now... What would happen?" MacGyver shifted slightly on the couch and inclined his head at his upturned palm in which the embedded crystal was now emitting a very soft blue-green glow.

 

            "The speed of your healing and that of the other, would slow to what is considered 'normal' among the Tau'ri,"  Seeba answered.

 

            "Ya' mean that rock's actually makin' us heal right now?" O'Neill questioned. He somehow managed to look both sceptical and intrigued at the same time. "Both of us? At the same time? Simultaneously as it were? Even though Mac's not even touching me with it?"

 

            "You are linked Guardians," Seeba stated as if her words explained everything.

 

            O'Neill looked to be about to say something further, but ended up doing a sort of impersonation of a fish out of water, his mouth opening and closing silently a few times, before he shook his head, made a rather helpless ‘I give up’ gesture and subsided back into his chair as if he rather hoped he was going to wake up at any second and find the whole thing was just yet another bad dream that he could happily live without.

 

            MacGyver, however, wasn't quite ready to quit. "So everyone keeps saying," he observed. He indicated the still softly glowing crystal again, the colour of which seemed to be shifting subtly towards a greener hue. "As long as I have this, we'll both continue to heal faster than normal. Right?" He saw Seeba nod and so continued. “From the way my leg feels and the way Jack’s arm...” Mac floundered for a moment, “...seems to feel....” He couldn’t think of any other way to put it, he could feel how Jack’s so recently nearly shattered arm felt.  “We’re talking days instead of weeks, aren’t we?”

 

            Seeba nodded again, her expression as enigmatic as ever.

 

            “So... Does that mean we need to stay here until we’re both back in one piece or what?” MacGyver asked. From his expression it was clear he was trying to follow a logical train of reasoning.

 

            "You are both free to return to the Tau'ri whenever you wish."

 

            "Right now? This minute?" O'Neill interjected, leaping back into the conversation again.

 

            "If you wish it." Seeba's sightless gaze settled on him. He looked at Mac, who shrugged expressively back at him before observing.

 

            “But I’d still have this...” MacGyver indicated the still softly glowing K’Rin’sha crystal. He looked in Seeba's direction. "Wouldn't I?"

 

            "That will always be yours," Seeba answered. "And the other's."

 

            "What?" That last statement grabbed O'Neill's attention and he sat up noticeably straighter in his seat.

 

            "You are linked Guardians. In choosing one, the K'Rin'sha chose also the other."

 

            “Riiight...” O’Neill said slowly, dubiously. His expression denoted he hadn't a clue.

 

            "Jack could use this?" MacGyver questioned suddenly, his expression reminiscent of a light bulb just going on.

 

            "What? Me? Use that?" O'Neill's eyebrows shot up. Then he grimaced at the very idea. "Er... No. Thanks. Think I'll pass. Doesn't quite go with standard-issue camouflage."

 

            "It could be useful, Jack," MacGyver pointed out. "Given your current posting."

 

            "Yeah, right, Maybourne'd just love that," O'Neill observed dryly. "You at least can drop outta' sight if ya' have to, I can't." He made a vague gesture. "Besides, you're the one seems to know how to use the darn' thing."

 

            "Hate to tell ya' this, Jack, but I haven't a clue how to work this thing," MacGyver confessed. "It just sorta', happens."

 

            O'Neill stared at him. "Ya' mean you've no idea what it's doin' right now?" He asked, clearly disconcerted.

 

            “Well... it’s glowin’ a pretty colour I guess,” MacGyver observed. The crystal was indeed still glowing, a nice shade of gentle, but distinctly deeper green than before.

 

            "Terrific," O'Neill made a despairing gesture. “And you’re supposed to be the smart one...”

 

            "Hey, give me a break here, Jack. This is all new territory," MacGyver shot back with a certain amount of irritation. He looked back at the crystal. "But goin' on experience over the past few days, an' what Seeba just said a few minutes ago, I'd say it's probably in 'healing' mode again." He looked up at the woman. "Right?"

 

            Seeba smiled and nodded, almost in an approving fashion. Then she said, "You should both allow yourselves to rest for a while now, it will aid your healing. Neither of you rested much, or well, last night."

 

            The two men exchanged looks at that, each wondering just how much the Seer knew about events of the previous night.

 

            //Well she did warn me it might be a rough night.// MacGyver 'sent' to his cousin. //Not that she needed to, I expected it anyway.//

 

            “Yeah...” O’Neill murmured quietly to no one in particular, his gaze dropping to the floor as he struggled to quash a sudden surge of unwelcome memory.

 

            Alaeya arrived at that point, carrying a large tray upon which sat four mugs and two lidded, earthenware jugs. "Would you like some charl?" She asked, her question directed at O'Neill and MacGyver as she went to set the tray down on a ledge at the side of the hearth.

 

            "Thank you, yes," said MacGyver, almost without even thinking about it.

 

            "Charl? That that stuff you were drinkin' by the gallon last night?" O'Neill frowned slightly. “Before...” He didn’t finish. There was no need. He 'knew' Mac knew what he meant: Before they’d turned in for what had been a nightmare-ridden night.

 

            "Yeah," MacGyver answered as Alaeya handed him a freshly poured and steaming mug of the brew in question. He smiled at the girl as he thanked her. She nodded at him and reached to pull a small end-table around the arm of the couch in order that he would have somewhere to easily set his drink down when he wished to do so. "Think you'll like it, Jack," he added confidently.

 

            Alaeya gave O'Neill a questioning look. He appeared pensive for a brief moment, then shrugged and murmured. “Okay. What the heck... I’ll try most anything once.”

 

            Alaeya cast him one of her slightly shy smiles and poured him a mug. He sipped dubiously at it, then his expression brightened considerably. Looking to his cousin, he observed with an approving grin.

 

            "Hey, you're right, Mac, this is pretty good." Then a curious look suddenly crossed his face. "Since when did you develop a sweet tooth?"

 

            “Since about the time I ah... got this... ” MacGyver made a little gesture with his left hand. "I'm assured it'll wear off." He cast a significant glance in Seeba's direction. The woman merely smiled knowingly as she was handed a steaming mug by her daughter.

 

            The two men sipped at their drinks whilst Alaeya poured herself a drink and went to settle on the well-padded arm of her mother's chair. MacGyver promptly shifted position on the couch, insisting that there was plenty of room for the girl to sit in comfort despite his resting his bad leg on the cushions. Alaeya hesitated a moment then, a little shyly, moved to settle herself in the available space that MacGyver had indicated.

 

            A companionable silence had just begun to settle when there was a knock at the door.

 

            "That will be R'Shela with Melia," Seeba announced, setting down her drink and rising to her feet while indicating to her daughter to stay put as she did so, the girl having made to also rise.

 

            A few moments later little Melia came running eagerly across the room towards where Seeba's guests and daughter sat. "MacGyver! Jack!" She cried out delightedly as if it had been an age since she had last seen either of them instead of only about an hour or so.

 

            "Hello, honey," MacGyver smiled warmly at the child as she beamed at him and then headed straight for O'Neill.

 

            "Hi, sweetheart," O'Neill greeted the child warmly, setting his hot drink safely down out of the way and bracing himself for her to leap at him the way she had done the previous day. Her greeting of him that morning out in the snow had been pretty enthusiastic too. She skidded to a halt at his knee, but he could tell by her expression that she was struggling not to dive on him and bestow one of her hugs on him. He deduced Seeba must have warned her against being too exuberant.

 

            "Jack, Jack, will you come and play again?" She asked with eager hopefulness.

 

            "Not right now, sweetheart. Ya' gotta' give an old fella' time to let his lunch settle ya' know." O'Neill's manner was gentle and kindly. He saw her disappointed expression. "How about a story instead?" He asked. That produced an excited and delighted response.

 

            "Can I sit on your knee?" The child asked.

 

            "Okay," O'Neill smiled. "But ya' gotta' sit nice an' quiet. No jumpin' about."

 

            Melia nodded with eager enthusiasm and promptly clambered carefully up onto O'Neill's knee where she settled herself happily against him as if it were something she'd been doing all her young life.

 

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

 

            A grim expression settled on the face of Major General George Hammond as he listened to the voice on the other end of his black phone.

 

            "I'll be right there," he stated brusquely. He set the phone down, glowered darkly at it for a moment, then rose to his feet, exited his office and headed for the infirmary. As he entered the section he saw a clearly agitated Samantha Carter conversing quietly but animatedly with Teal'c. The big Jaffa's features were as unreadable as ever as he listened attentively to whatever the young woman was telling him. Hammond observed Teal'c say something to Carter, who turned, saw him, and quite visibly braced herself as if anticipating a major explosion.

 

            The General however, had noticed the blood on the civvies the Captain was wearing. An expression of concern appeared on his face as he eyed his subordinate.

 

            "Captain Carter, are you alright?" Was the first thing Hammond wanted to know, gesturing at her bloodstained clothing.

 

            "Yes, sir, I'm fine," Carter responded. “This isn’t mine...” She glanced down at the bloodstains on her blouse. "It's Sam Malloy‘s, sir.  He's been shot."

 

            "What?" Hammond stared.

 

            “We were attacked at Colonel O'Neill's house.”

 

            "What?" Outrage mingled with the various other expressions vying for dominance on the General's face. "By whom?"

 

            "Sir, with respect, I think we need to speak in private."

 

            The request surprised Hammond, but he knew his subordinate well enough to know that she would not have made it without good reason. "Very well, Captain,"  he nodded curtly.

 

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

 

            His meal long-since finished, Daniel Jackson remained in the refectory to converse with the several young men and women who had descended, in small groups, upon the table at which he had initially been sitting by himself. He nursed another large cup, his third, of the coffee-substitute drink he liked, whilst they ate their own meals and talked both with him and amongst themselves.

 

            They were all young people in their late teens to mid-twenties and were as curious about him as he was about them. Some, he discovered, spoke English as a third or fourth or even tenth language, which made conversation a lot easier, though he endeavoured to speak as much as possible in the K'Rin'sha 'primary' tongue. Being a linguist, he was as eager to learn the language as his new acquaintances were to teach it, while taking the opportunity to practice their language skills on him. Some spoke other Earth-based languages with which Daniel was both familiar and fluent, as well as languages which were alien and totally incomprehensible to him. Consequently, conversation flowed back and forth in several tongues as he both asked and answered questions with keen enthusiasm and listened intently to the wide variety of languages that were being spoken.

 

            Daniel was in his element. It was like being at a linguists' convention.

 

            It was thus he learned that he had stumbled across the community's equivalent of a Senior Students' Refectory. The young people filling the hall were all 'Novices', learning to use and harness the various powers and abilities of the K'Rin'sha. Most of those seated with him wore clothing in various shades of grey which, he learned, denoted that they were novice 'Keepers' of the Knowledge of the K'Rin'sha. Two wore differing shades of green, indicating they were novice 'Healers', while another wore blue hues which marked her out as a novice 'Mage'. He couldn't help but notice that it was the 'Keepers' who seemed to speak the greatest number of languages and who were the most fluent.

 

            Engrossed though he was with the 'Novices' in his immediate vicinity, Daniel still managed to observe the room's numerous other occupants as they came and went. A group of reddish/russet-clad young people, mostly males, laid claim to a couple of adjoining tables at the far end of the room and everyone else seemed to give them a fairly wide berth. Greys, blues and greens were the predominant colours worn by the young people and they seemed to be pretty evenly mixed. Scattered among them though, he observed a fair number of brown colours too, along with a handful of 'Novices' clad in purple-ish hues. Shades of yellow were few and far between and widely scattered, though none were anywhere near the rather raucous group in the reddish/russet hues.

 

            Daniel was just about to ask his new-found companions about the reddish/russet hued group, when he was distracted by a voice which reached his ears above the babble going on around him and which inquired in the K'Rin'sha 'primary' tongue.

 

            "I seek the Tau'ri Keeper called Daniel."

 

            "Ahh, hello, yes, that would be me," Daniel admitted, looking up to find a lanky, brown-clad young man hovering near to the end of the table where he was sitting. He saw that his words had not been understood and repeated them as accurately as he could manage in 'primary'.

 

            The lanky young man bowed his head in a respectful manner and spoke again, still in the K'Rin'sha tongue. "Honoured Keeper, the Exalted Guardian-Seer S'Baya requests your presence."

 

            "She does?" Daniel frowned, a little surprised, responding in the K'Rin'sha tongue. "What? Now?"

 

            "Yes, Honoured Keeper. If you will follow me, I will conduct you to her."

 

            “Oh... Right,” Daniel responded, gathering up his notebook, in which he had been openly scribbling from time to time as he had conversed with his new acquaintances. As soon as most of the 'Novice' Keepers had sat themselves down with him and had realised that he was willing to respond to their curiosity, they had produced notebooks and had started to make notes. No one had seemed to think their actions rude, so he had followed their lead and had taken a few notes of his own.

 

            Excusing himself to his assortment of new acquaintances, he followed after his brown-clad guide and wondered what Seeba wanted to see him about even as he mentally sorted through the various topics of conversation that he had just been indulging in.

 

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

 

            "Alright, Captain," General Hammond said as he moved behind his desk and sat down. "You want to explain what in God’s name happened and why you brought young Malloy here instead of taking him to the nearest civilian hospital?"

 

            "Well, sir, there may be N.I.D. involvement in what happened at the Colonel's house," Carter said, visibly bracing herself again, “and this was the nearest secure medical facility.”

 

            "N.I.D. involvement?" Hammond stared at his subordinate as if she had just suddenly sprouted two extra heads. “What in the Sam Hill do you mean by that, Captain?”  He demanded to know.

 

            “Well, sir...” Samantha Carter took a deep breath and launched into a succinct report on what had transpired at the absent Jack O’Neill’s house whilst she had been endeavouring, in accordance with Hammond’s own orders, to deliver the hand-written message MacGyver had sent through the Gate for his son.

 

            The General listened intently. Grim fury and outraged indignation were quickly vying for dominance on his face as he did so. "So you've no idea who these people were?" He asked when Carter was done.

 

            "No, sir."

 

            "Or why they wanted those particular photographs?"

 

            "No, sir," Carter confessed. She shifted uneasily. “But given that both Colonel Maybourne and Senator Kinsey were in them... And given that Sam was previously attacked the same night he took the pictures... Well, sir, it seemed advisable to bring him here. I thought it was the safest place to bring him until we can make some sense of whatever’s going on. Especially if those men belonged to Colonel Maybourne, sir."

 

            Hammond sat staring contemplatively at his subordinate for a few moments. "And where are these photographs now?"

 

            "I expect they're gone, sir," Carter replied. "Except for the ones Sam grabbed as we vacated the Colonel's house."

 

            "Do you have them?" Hammond wanted to know.

 

            "No, sir. I'm not sure where they are. Sam had them. They might be in his pocket, or still in my car."

 

            "See if you can find them, Captain," Hammond instructed. He reached for one of his phones, the black one. "In the meantime I'll have a security team go over to the Colonel's house to check it out and secure it. Not that I expect they'll find anything if the N.I.D. is involved."

 

            "Yes, sir." Carter turned and headed for the door.

 

            “And Captain...”

 

            "Yes, sir?" Carter paused in the doorway.

 

            “You might want to take time out to change...”

 

            Carter glanced down at her bloodstained clothing.

 

            “Yes, sir,” she agreed with him before exiting.

 

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

 

            Daniel's guide was not very communicative, despite the young archaeologist's best efforts as he was led along a maze of corridors, down a twisting stairway, along more corridors, across a couple of hallways and through still more corridors, into a part of the fortress-like complex that he had not yet had the opportunity to explore.

 

            Since conversation seemed to be out, Daniel concentrated on trying to take note of his surroundings en route. Eventually, his sense of direction totally scuppered, he found himself led into an ante-chamber-like area where his guide halted and knocked on a large, solid wooden door which bore an emblem of a sunburst with an image of an eye in its centre.

 

            “Ah... Excuse me... Where are you going?” Daniel enquired apprehensively as his guide turned and began to walk away, clearly intending to leave him where he was.

 

            "You are here, Honoured Keeper," the youth said in 'primary'. "You were summoned. Wait and you will be admitted." The youth bowed respectfully and went on his way.

 

            “Right...” Daniel murmured. He turned his attention back to the door and the symbol it bore. Never one able to contain his curiosity for very long, Daniel reached out to touch the emblem. Just as his questing fingers were about to make hesitant contact, the door opened, catching him flat-footed.

 

            "Ah, Daniel, there you are. Come in, softly." He was greeted quietly by Seeba, who pulled the door wide enough open for him to easily step past her. "Your companions rest within. Try not to disturb them."

 

            "Jack and MacGyver are here?" Daniel was a little surprised. “Oh...” He said, as he caught sight of O’Neill, seated in a large, very comfortable-looking high-backed chair beside the room’s merrily burning fire. Melia was curled up on the Colonel's lap, snuggled against his chest, the man's 'good' arm wrapped almost protectively around her. Both were quite noticeably dead to the world. Alaeya was quietly collecting earthenware mugs onto a tray.

 

            "There are some things I must attend to," Seeba said softly, distracting Daniel. "You would be doing me a great service if you were to remain here with your companions and watch over them. I hope that their rest will be less troubled now than it was last night, but if it is not, it would be best that you be here. I have warned Alaeya that they may be troubled, but she is young yet to understand such things."

 

            “Yes, yes of course,” Daniel interjected, understanding. He had found O'Neill's nightmares the previous night a traumatic enough experience and he was a grown man. To leave a young teenager like Alaeya to cope with anything even halfway as bad as something he’d not been able to handle himself... A wave of guilt washed over Daniel. He'd left MacGyver to cope last night. No way was he doing that again. Though where was MacGyver anyway?

 

            "Go and sit by the fire, young one," Seeba urged gently. "I will return presently."

 

            Daniel nodded. He remained where he was for a moment, surveying the comfortable sitting room as Seeba slipped quietly from it, drawing the door gently shut behind her. After a moment, Daniel moved towards the fire. As he stepped around the couch he discovered MacGyver's whereabouts. The Phoenix operative was stretched out on the couch and appeared to be every bit as soundly asleep as the Colonel. The K'Rin'sha crystal embedded in the man's left palm was partially visible to Daniel and he noted it was glowing a soft, restful shade of deep green...

 

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

 

            Having washed up and changed into a clean set of blue Air Force fatigues, Carter headed for the infirmary to make a start on tracking down the photographs Malloy had insisted on grabbing from the chaos left behind at O'Neill's house. She found Teal'c was still there and asked him if there was any news yet on Malloy's condition. There wasn't; the young man was still in surgery.

 

            "He is in good hands," Teal'c endeavoured to reassure her as she chewed anxiously on her bottom lip for a moment and stared in the direction of the doorway leading to the operating theatre into which Malloy had earlier been rushed by Doctor Fraiser.

 

            "Yes, I know he is, Teal'c," Carter sighed. The aura of worry surrounding her did not diminish.

 

            "They will not blame you," Teal'c stated with calm composure.

 

            Carter looked sharply at him, then smiled in grateful recognition of his having correctly interpreted one of her prime anxieties: how MacGyver and O'Neill were going to react when they got the news about Malloy being hurt. She murmured a quiet, “Thanks, Teal’c,” before asking if he had any idea where Malloy's belongings might be. The Jaffa nodded and indicated a bagged-up bundle resting on a nearby table.

 

            Going purposefully to the table, Carter opened up the bundle and went carefully through the pockets of the folded up clothing.

 

            "For what do you search?" Teal'c enquired as Carter turned her attention to the large brown envelope included in the bundle. It contained Malloy's personal effects, wallet, keys, watch, etc.

 

            "Two of those photographs I told you about," Carter answered, closing up the envelope again and returning it to the bundle.

 

            "I have not seen that which you seek," Teal'c said as Carter sighed in frustration.

 

            “I was sure he stuffed them in a pocket...” Carter muttered. "Maybe they’re in the car." She looked at Teal'c. The big Jaffa now stood at her elbow. “I need to go up-top. You’ll let me know if...?” She inclined her head towards the OR.

 

            "I will." The Jaffa announced solemnly. His expression denoted that wild horses wouldn't drag him away.

 

            Carter smiled her thanks, inclined her head in a brief nod and left the infirmary.

 

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

 

            Carter winced at the sight of the bloodstains on the backseat of her car and at the discarded, blood-soaked, emergency first-aid dressing that lay on the back floor along with numerous shards of broken glass. She had made a brief stop en route to the Mountain once she was sure there was no sign of immediate pursuit, to check on Malloy and to replace the dressing she had initially put on the young man's wound. She had also taken the opportunity to use her mobile phone to call ahead for a medical team to be standing by. The journalist had come to briefly as she had wrapped a travel rug around him in an effort to keep him warm and help prevent him going deeper into shock, and he had muttered some weakly cheerful smart-ass remark that had once again reminded her of Jack O'Neill before he had passed out again.

 

            Swiftly Carter searched the vehicle. An expression of irritated frustration crossed her face when she failed to find what she sought.

 

            “They have to be here...” she muttered irritably as she searched again, with the same negative result. "They have to be," she sighed in annoyance. A frown crossed her face as a thought occurred to her. She shoved her hand down the painfully tight space where the base of the backrest met with the rear of the actual seat part of the back seat and groped about. After a few moments of blindly feeling around, her fingers latched onto something. Carefully she tried to get a grip on the object and retrieve it.

 

            "Gotcha!" She exclaimed in triumph as she slowly pulled two folded photographs from their hiding place. "Guess 'sneaky' runs in the family too," she mused as she unfolded the prints. They were bloodstained and more than a little crumpled, but they were what she had been hunting for.

 

            Carter wondered how and when Malloy had hidden the photographs. That they had been deliberately concealed, she had no doubt whatsoever. There was no other way to explain how they had gotten where they had and folded into the bargain. The kid is clearly every bit as resourceful in a tight spot as his father is, she mused to herself.

 

            Still pondering the mystery, Carter made her way back into the bowels of the mountain.

 

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

 

            Halting outside the closed door that separated General Hammond's office from the corridor which ran past it to the briefing room, Sam knocked on it in a business-like manner. Upon hearing the command 'Enter' she went inside to find Hammond was in the midst of a phone-call. She hesitated in the doorway, but the General waved at her to advance. Closing the door behind her, she did so, then stood at 'parade rest' in front of her superior's desk.

 

            "Very well," Hammond said into his phone after a few moments. "I want a report on my desk A.S.A.P." With that, he set the phone back down in its cradle and regarded his waiting subordinate. "Well, Captain?"

 

            "I found them, sir," Carter stated, promptly setting the crumpled, bloodstained photographs she had retrieved from her car down on the General's desk. "They’re a bit damaged, sir," she apologised for the items’ condition as Hammond studied them.

 

            "This third man." Hammond tapped one of the photographs after a moment. "Any idea who he is?"

 

            "No, sir," Carter replied. "Sam Malloy doesn't either. The only face he's identified is the Senator - so far." She saw Hammond look sharply at her at that last remark. “I, ah... did a little checking on some of Sam’s work, sir.” She saw the slight shift in the General's expression and went on hastily. "I was curious, sir. Before SG-1 first went to P4X-994, Colonel O'Neill said a few things about him that Colonel MacGyver had apparently told him and I..." She saw Hammond was growing a little impatient. "Ah, well, sir. It seems Sam has worked on, and broken, some fairly major stories the past few years. Apparently he's pretty good at making some quite wild connections and at digging up the evidence to prove his suspicions. I gather he's building something of a reputation in journalistic circles, sir."

 

            Hammond snorted and studied the photographs again. His subordinate hadn't told him anything he didn't already know. He too had checked the journalist out through various contacts of his own, as well as through his friend Peter Thornton at the Phoenix Foundation, immediately after Malloy had first tried to gain access to base when Thornton had visited the Mountain to check up on MacGyver.

 

            Upon learning that Malloy was a journalist, Hammond had deemed it wise to check out the possible security implications of the young man camping out at his second-in-command's house for an indefinite period. Not that Hammond had been worried about O'Neill letting anything slip about the SGC, the Colonel was, he knew, too experienced and security conscious for that to happen, but given that journalists invariably had a streak of curiosity in them several miles wide and usually about as unstoppable as a runaway train on a steep downhill grade...

 

            Sam Malloy, he had thus learned, could be a loose cannon. An extremely loose cannon. Not unlike two certain other members of his family, Hammond had found himself musing at the time. Malloy also had a highly developed sense of ethics however and a strong sense of responsibility. During the course of his subtle background digging, Hammond had learned something that had interested him considerably and which was far from being common knowledge.

 

            The journalist had just recently returned to the U.S. from a fairly extended trip to Bosnia, to some very 'hot' spots by all accounts. On one of his solo excursions into the 'boonies' where no sane person would have thought to venture without a couple of squads of marines and an armoured division, at the very least, as back-up, he had stumbled on some intelligence which had had potentially serious implications for the various UN troops on the ground. He had shot a couple of rolls of film and high-tailed it. The rolls of film had subsequently found their way into the hands of UN Commanders on site instead of the Press. Lives had been saved as a consequence. Malloy had voluntarily foregone the headlines that he would have unquestionably made had the pictures he had taken hit the wire services instead. To Hammond, that said an awful lot about him.

 

            Now, however, Hammond was wondering what the journalist's interest was in the threesome in the crumpled, bloodstained photographs now resting on his desk. More to the point, what was Malloy’s interest in Senator Kinsey? And what was Kinsey doing rubbing shoulders with Maybourne? A more unholy alliance the General couldn't imagine, especially since he couldn't imagine the two men having anything whatsoever in common on any subject one might care to name. And the unidentified man... Who was he and what was his connection to the other two?

 

            Hammond sighed in frustration and wondered if perhaps he was just getting a little paranoid in his old age. "And you've no idea why young Malloy took these photographs, or what his interest in Senator Kinsey is?" He regarded Carter again.

 

            "No, sir. I didn't get the chance to ask and he didn't get the chance to say."

 

            Hammond snorted. "There's hardly anything incriminating here." He tapped the photographs with a finger. "It raises some questions perhaps, but that's all."

 

            Indeed there wasn't anything incriminating about the pictures that could prove that anything improper was going on. They merely depicted three men, in a restaurant, apparently having dinner together. There was no law against that. The fact that there was a manila envelope lying on the table in one shot, and that it was in Kinsey’s hand in the other, meant nothing. It could be anything. Certainly no proof of anything untoward.

 

            Of course the fact that Maybourne was one of the men at that table... And Kinsey was another... George, you’re definitely getting paranoid, Hammond decided, giving himself a mental shake in the process.

 

            "Quite a lot of questions, I would have thought, sir," Carter observed. She looked as if she were about to say more, but Hammond headed her off by announcing brusquely.

 

            "As soon as he's up to it, I want to speak to young Malloy."

 

            "Yes, sir." Carter nodded.

 

            “Meantime, however, is there any way these...” Hammond regarded the photographs again, “can be cleaned up to give us a better look at this third man?”

 

            "I can do a computer scan, sir and try digitally enhancing- "

 

            “Go ahead and do it, Captain.” Hammond ordered, picking up the photographs and handing them to his subordinate. "But be discreet." He gave her a pointed look.

 

            "Yes, sir," Carter said, instantly understanding the tacit implication that all things concerning the photographs were to be classed as strictly 'need-to-know' , for now at least.

 

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

 

            Melia slipping out of his protective grasp and down off his knee awakened O'Neill, though it took him a moment to realise that that was what had disturbed him and to orientate himself to his surroundings. As memory returned in a rush, he saw that Melia appeared to be heading for the doorway that led to the toilet facilities of Seeba's quarters.

 

            O'Neill yawned and wiped his good hand over his face, surprised by the sudden realisation that he had been asleep - he really couldn't remember drifting off.  He did remember that he had been telling Melia a convoluted story loosely based, very loosely based, on some childhood antics he and Mac had gotten up to one long hot Minnesota summer. MacGyver had chimed in helpfully from time to time, each interjection quite discernibly more sleepy-sounding than the last as the effects of a full stomach, combined with the soothing warmth of the wood-burning fire, the comfort of the big couch, plus the previous night's acute lack of sleep, had gradually kicked in and won out. O'Neill still couldn't quite recall drifting off himself, though obviously he had.

 

            O'Neill's gaze alighted on MacGyver. The other man was sprawled full-length on the couch, on his left side. Someone had put a cushion under his head O'Neill noted. He also noticed that the crystal embedded in his cousin's left hand was glowing very softly. The colour was a deep, rich green but there were flecks of other hues, mainly reds, swirling intermittently through the glow and Mac's fingers were twitching restlessly.

 

            A frown crossed O'Neill's face. He pushed himself out of his chair in order to take a closer look at his cousin as a sudden strong sense of unease washed through him. That unease grew as soon as he got a clear look at MacGyver's face. A damp sheen glistened on the man's skin and his expression betrayed that his slumber was far from being tranquil. MacGyver twitched and shifted restlessly, muttering something in his troubled sleep that O'Neill couldn't quite catch. Suddenly an intense wave of fear washed through O'Neill, fear that wasn't his own.

 

            Instinctively O'Neill dropped to a knee beside the couch and reached out to touch him, to waken him, calling Mac's name as he did so. The instant his hand touched MacGyver's shoulder a rush of jumbled but terrifying images flooded his mind, taking him totally off-guard with their intensity. In that same instant MacGyver came abruptly awake with an anguished, terrorised cry and shot bolt upright, looking frantically about him in a manner that could only be described as totally panicked.

 

            "Hey! Hey, take it easy, Mac!" O'Neill urged even as he tried to cope with the barrage of emotions that were hammering through him and which were not all his own. "'S'only me." For a couple of heart-thumping moments there was no reaction from MacGyver, then O'Neill saw, and felt, recognition and relief flood through the other man. “Hey... Thought I was s’posed to be the one havin’ all the nightmares around here,” O’Neill quipped with a levity that failed to conceal the concern visible in his dark eyes.

 

            "Jack? MacGyver?" Daniel Jackson came hurtling into the room via the open archway that led into the adjoining dining area of Seeba's quarters. The archaeologist skidded to an abrupt halt as he saw that both his comrades were clearly very much awake. Alaeya, hard on his heels, nearly collided into him. She looked every bit as worried as he did. "You guys okay?" Jackson questioned anxiously as he began to approach them, Alaeya following close behind him.

 

            MacGyver nodded vaguely, blowing out a deep breath and rubbing both his hands over his face, then running them up through his shaggy hair, seemingly oblivious to the still-glowing crystal in his left palm.

 

            "Yeah...Yeah, we're okay," O'Neill absently told the worried archaeologist. Then he frowned bewilderedly at the younger man. "Where'd you spring from anyway?" He asked, hovering protectively close to MacGyver and surprised by the realisation of Jackson's presence in Seeba's quarters.

 

            "Huh? Oh...I was through there with Alaeya. She's trying to teach me the local equivalent of chess. Seeba didn't want her on her own here in case you um, had one of those nightmares again." Jackson's hands moved expressively as he spoke. A little grimace of sympathy crossed his face as he concluded. "Guess you did, huh? You sure you're okay?"

 

            "Yeah," O'Neill nodded. "Only it wasn't me with the screamin' meemies this time," he added, turning his appreciably concerned attention back to MacGyver. "You okay, Mac?"

 

            "Yeah, yeah, I'm okay," MacGyver sighed deeply and attempted a smile of reassurance as he rubbed absently at the back of his neck. "Where's Melia?" He asked. Although it was an attempt to change the subject, his concern was genuine as he realised there was no sign of the youngster in the vicinity. "Didn't scare her, did I?"

 

            "No, she missed the excitement," O'Neill answered. "Think maybe she went to the little girls' room. Maybe someone should check on her though?" He looked at Alaeya.

 

            The teenager looked blank until Daniel said something quietly to her in 'primary'. Enlightenment spreading across her face, Alaeya nodded, excused herself and hurried off in the direction O'Neill had last seen Melia heading in.

 

            “So...” said O’Neill, sitting down beside his cousin, his manner companionable. "Who's the guy with the bad attitude an' the flamethrower?"

 

            "Flame thrower?" Daniel frowned, both intrigued and bewildered. As he moved closer to where the two cousins were sitting he caught the sharp look that MacGyver shot at O'Neill. It was a 'leave-it-alone’ look if ever he'd seen one.

 

            "'S'not important," MacGyver attempted to dismiss the subject. Looking at Jackson he inquired. "When did you get here?  I didn't hear you come in."

 

            “Ah, you were both asleep when I got here.” Daniel glanced at his wristwatch. "That was a coupla' hours ago."

 

            "Mac, the guy tried to barbecue ya'," O'Neill ignored Jackson, his attention focused determinedly on his cousin. He was still trying to make sense of the barrage of images and emotions that had rattled him when he had wakened the older man and he wasn't about to let it go until he had some answers. There had been a common thread to the images. "Among other things," he added. "Whaddya' do to get him so pissed off at ya'?"

 

            MacGyver gave him a startled look. O'Neill didn't need their odd, K'Rin'sha augmented link to pick up the question 'You saw that?' that flashed through his cousin's mind. It was written clearly across the Phoenix operative's face.

 

            "Oh yeah," O'Neill nodded. He gestured towards his cousin's left hand. "Works both ways, remember?"

 

            “Aw man...” MacGyver sighed resignedly as the realisation sank in that O’Neill wasn’t about to just let the subject drop.

 

            “Look... If you guys want some privacy...?” Daniel began hesitantly. “I can, um...” He gestured vaguely as he began to edge back in the direction of the archway leading through to the dining area.

 

            "No. No, it's okay, Daniel. It's not like it's classified or anything," MacGyver looked up. “It’s just...” He shrugged helplessly, then sighed. "An old nightmare that gets up-dated from time to time." He saw the curious looks that appeared on both Jackson's and O'Neill's faces. Rising to his feet, he crossed the short distance to the fireplace and leaned both hands on the mantel as he stared into the fire.

 

            O'Neill and Jackson watched him, but neither said anything, each waiting for him to speak when he was ready.

 

            "Murdoc's a professional assassin, been tryin' to kill me for years," MacGyver stated after a few moments, having managed to gather his thoughts together. "He's... crazy. Don't know why I should start thinkin' of him again now... here. If there's a place he can't possibly get to me, this has to be it."

 

            O'Neill and Jackson exchanged looks, both surprised by MacGyver's pronouncement.

 

            "Every time I think he's dead, he comes back again, weeks, months, years later," MacGyver sighed heavily.

 

            That utterance had O'Neill and Jackson exchanging another look.

 

            “Ahhh...Comes back?” O'Neill ventured dubiously, his eyebrows rising slightly. "From the dead?"

 

            "Yeah," MacGyver sighed. He turned and regarded his two companions. "Murdoc's had a building dropped on him, literally. He’s been burned up, blown up, fallen off a mountain, drowned, dropped down a mineshaft, driven himself off a cliff... The list goes on. He should be dead a dozen times over, but every time I think he is, he just pops up out of the blue again like...."

 

            “The proverbial bad penny?" O'Neill finished for him. What MacGyver had just told him allowed him to make some sense of a lot of the images he had picked up from the man and explained the barrage of emotions that had accompanied them.

 

            "An' then some," MacGyver said with a great deal of feeling.

 

            O'Neill was silent for a moment, then looked at Daniel who had settled on one of the couch's padded arms by that time.

 

            "Snake-head?" He asked. The archaeologist frowned pensively in response.

 

            “I don't know, Jack. We know they can heal a lot of injuries and if this Murdoc has access to a sarcophagus...” Daniel said thoughtfully. “I mean it's possible there were more left behind than just...Hathor....when the ancient Egyptians rebelled against Ra and buried the Gate at Giza.” The archaeologist visibly shuddered and hugged his already folded arms more tightly to his body as he spoke the Goa’uld Queen’s name.

 

            “Terrific...A fifth column to worry about,” O’Neill sighed, a distinctly unhappy expression flitting across his face before he looked at Mac again and questioned. “Mac... Ya’ ever seen this guy’s eyes glow?”

 

            MacGyver stared at his cousin.

 

            "What?" MacGyver exclaimed incredulously after several moments of gawping in stunned silence at his cousin. "Oh c'mon, Jack," he snorted dismissively. “Murdoc? A Goa'uld? That idea’s even crazier than he is, an’ he’s...” MacGyver took in the expression on O’Neill’s face, “way... out... there...” MacGyver’s voice trailed off. He stared at Jack again, then frowned and observed levelly. "You're serious, aren't ya'?"

 

            "You said he keeps comin' back from the dead," O'Neill pointed out. "Ya' got a better explanation how he does that?"

 

            “Well... No...” MacGyver floundered, still frowning.

 

            "So there ya' are," O'Neill gestured expressively as if the conclusion he had jumped to was glaringly obvious. Then his expression became military-serious again. "We need to talk."

 

            Before anyone had a chance to say anything further on the subject however, little Melia came bouncing back into the room, Alaeya trailing in her wake. Melia headed straight for O'Neill, an oblong box in her hands and eager enthusiasm on her face.

 

            "Jack! Jack! Can we play some more now?" She wanted to know, totally and innocently oblivious to having interrupted anything.

 

            "Well, that kinda' depends on what ya' got in mind, sweetheart." O'Neill dropped smoothly into kindly and paternal mode, though the look he shot MacGyver and Daniel clearly informed both men that they were not done with the conversation that had just been interrupted. "How about somethin' not too energetic, huh? Think my arm's 'bout had enough of snowball fights for the day," he told the eager little girl.

 

            Melia brandished the box she was carrying, rapidly explaining that it contained a game Alaeya had given her a couple of days earlier and had taught her how to play.

 

            “I...ah...really should get back to the library.” Daniel directed the statement at MacGyver as he rose to his feet from the couch-arm he had been perching on, while Melia chattered rapidly and enthusiastically at O'Neill. “Finish that translation I was working on. It...ah, could be important. It's certainly fascinating. It seems to date from around the Time of First Arrival, when Seeba's people were originally brought here from Earth. I mean, I don't know how much longer we're going to be here now that Jack's back on his feet and once we do leave... Well, we may never get the chance to come back again. You and Jack’ll be okay here for a while if I...?” Daniel gestured vaguely, his expression hopeful.

 

            "Yeah, sure, we'll be fine," MacGyver nodded with a smile that clearly conveyed his understanding of the linguist's eagerness to get back to the linguistics puzzle awaiting him. He was a sucker for puzzles himself, though his preferences lay more with scientific or situational ones rather than linguistic ones. He inclined his head towards the door. "Go on." A hint of amusement twinkled in MacGyver's eyes as he witnessed Daniel practically bounce up and down in delight, almost like a kid let out of school.

 

            "Right. Thanks, Mac. We can, um, finish talking about that um, other stuff later, right?" Daniel saw MacGyver nod, saw the flicker of... He wasn’t too sure just what exactly that registered briefly in MacGyver’s eyes, but it sent an odd shiver up his spine. He decided to make his retreat whilst he still had the chance. “I’ll er, just go now then...”

 

            "We'll catch ya' back in our own quarters later," MacGyver said.

 

            "Huh? Oh. Yes. Right." Daniel's response was vague. He was already slipping into 'distracted scientist' mode even as he headed towards the door, muttering quietly to himself.

 

            As Daniel reached the door however, it opened, taking him by surprise, to reveal Seeba returning. Recovering quickly, Daniel stood aside in a gentlemanly fashion to allow the blind woman to step past him as he politely greeted her.

 

            “Ah, Daniel... You were leaving?” The woman inquired, inclining her head slightly.

 

            "Well, the others are awake and Mac said, it was okay.... " Daniel began.

 

            “Yes...” the blind woman interrupted, holding up a hand to forestall the archaeologist. "Of course." As Jackson made to leave, Seeba added. "Please remain, Daniel. I must speak with you and with the others."

 

            “Oh. Oh-kaay...” Daniel frowned slightly. He watched the woman as she moved past him, leaving him to close the door in her wake.

 

            As she moved deeper into the room, Seeba was greeted congenially by everyone else. "Ah, good. You are indeed both awake." She smiled approvingly at both MacGyver and O'Neill. "You feel a little more rested now, yes?" The two men conceded that they did and Melia chimed in that she was going to teach Jack the board game which Alaeya had taught her. Seeba smiled warmly at the child, who was kneeling at O'Neill's feet. She had opened up the box she had fetched and was in the process of unfolding onto the floor, the board on which the game was to be played. "I am sure Jack will enjoy that, child, but I am afraid you will have to teach him the game some other time. Now gather up your things and please go with Alaeya. There are things of which I must speak with our friends and which do not concern little girls."

 

            Melia objected. Quite vociferously. O'Neill soothed her, assuring her that she could show him the game some other time and that he would look forward to her doing so. Melia was openly reluctant, but O'Neill turned on the paternal charm and firmness and the tantrum the girl had clearly been thinking about throwing was effectively disarmed. Gathering up and refolding the game board, Melia returned it to its box. O'Neill helped her put the lid back on the box and pick it up.

 

            "I'll see ya' later, sweetheart," he told the child as he ruffled her hair affectionately with his 'good' hand.

 

            "Alright, Jack," she responded before leaving the room with Alaeya.

 

            “So...What’s up?” O'Neill inquired of Seeba once the youngsters had departed. He glanced across at his cousin, still standing by the fireplace and saw from the man's expression that MacGyver too sensed that Seeba had something of major importance on her mind.

 

            "The Guardian High Circle has convened and would speak with you. All of you," Seeba solemnly announced.

 

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

 

            Jack O'Neill endeavoured to keep mounting frustration in check as he followed Seeba and MacGyver into a rather gloomy corridor that led from the modestly sized hall they had just traversed. Seeba had been singularly enigmatic about providing any information on where exactly she was taking them all. 'You will see soon enough' had been all she had seemed prepared to say on the subject.

 

            "Daniel, any ideas on this- ?" He broke off as he suddenly realised that the younger man was no longer walking with him. He turned and saw that the archaeologist was lingering in the hall and was standing gazing around in a manner that O’Neill recognised. “Oh fer cryin’ out loud...” he muttered, shaking his head. Give Daniel a room, any room, with a few old lumps of rock in it and the man was gone. It never failed. "Daniel!" He bellowed irritably as he rubbed absently at his itching, cast-encased right forearm. "C'mon. Ya' can visit with the pretty bits of junk later."

 

            Glancing back down the corridor, he caught sight of MacGyver looking over his shoulder and grinning at him. He shot his cousin a long-suffering 'see what I have to put up with?' look, which spectacularly failed to produce any signs of sympathy from the other man. If anything, it just produced more amusement. O'Neill glowered and turned back to bellow at his errant archaeologist again, only to find that Daniel was heading his way, albeit it noticeably dragging his heels.

 

            "You want to hurry it up a little there, Daniel?" O'Neill enquired. "I know Seeba's takin' it slow for Mac's sake, but at this rate they'll both be long gone over the horizon by the time you get your butt in gear."

 

            "Those are Egyptian artefacts back there, Jack." Daniel had about him an aura of fascinated wonderment that O'Neill knew only too well. "Amazingly well preserved. And those two on either side of the doorway there, they're- "

 

            “Damn' ugly big overgrown doorstops," O'Neill interjected his considered opinion before starting to walk briskly after Seeba and his cousin and ignoring the indignant look Daniel shot after him.

 

            "They're both representations of the god Sepa," Daniel was in enthused Egyptologist mode, however and not about to be headed off at the pass, just yet anyway.  “He was said to-  ”

 

            “Sepa? That’s that ugly little critter on Seeba’s mantelshelf...” O’Neill frowned and came to a sudden halt as he recalled MacGyver’s odd fascination for the small artefact in question. He saw Daniel blink at him in surprise. "Mac spotted it. He was going to ask you about it. Said 'Sepa' rang bells but he couldn't place it. Doesn't look anything like those things back there though."

 

            "No," Daniel smiled a tolerant smile. “Those...” he gestured to the corridor entrance behind them. "Are Sepa in the donkey-headed form. The one in Seeba's quarters is the centipede form most commonly associated with Sepa."

 

            “So... this Sepa character was into disguise in a big way, huh?”

 

            "No, Jack," Daniel sighed patiently. "Sepa was- "

 

            “A split-personality?” O'Neill offered flippantly. "Schizo? Looney toons...? Six blocks short of a pyramid...? Ten grains short of- "

 

            “No, Jack," Daniel endeavoured to continue being patient. He was well used to his colleague's sometimes very exasperating moods and refused to rise to the bait, this time at least. "Sepa was said to have powers to prevent snakebites."

 

            "Yeah?" O'Neill's eyebrows shot up. "Well I can't see even a no-good, slimy snake-head like Apophis wantin' to bite anything that damn ugly." He remarked before setting briskly off after his cousin and their blind guide, who were just about to vanish around a corner way ahead of him.

 

            Daniel Jackson sighed, shook his head, glanced briefly heavenward in a long-suffering manner and hurried after his SG-1 team mate.

 

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

 

            "There some kinda' problem back there?" MacGyver inquired as O'Neill and Jackson caught up to where he and Seeba were standing waiting for them.

 

            "No. Just Daniel going gooey-eyed over some rocks," O'Neill answered glibly. He looked at their surroundings and saw that the passage seemed to end in a natural rock-wall. "This is what you wanted to show us?" He inquired of Seeba. "I'd fire your interior decorator if I was you."

 

            Standing beside O'Neill, Daniel Jackson cast an irritable and slightly despairing look at the man. He also caught MacGyver's eye. Mac's dark eyes were eloquent. They said clearly ‘Oh-oh... He’s in one of those moods now, huh?’

 

            "Am not," O'Neill objected indignantly, glaring suddenly round at MacGyver, much to Daniel's surprise. The young linguist wondered how the heck O'Neill could possibly have seen the look he'd seen in MacGyver's eyes. Jack's attention had been focused in a totally different direction. More than once before he had wondered if the Air Force Colonel had eyes in the back of his head. He was wondering it again now.

 

            “So, Seeba...” MacGyver merely shot an innocent look in his colleagues’ direction before turning to regard Seeba. "What happens now?" He asked.

 

            Seeba smiled, turned to face the rock wall and raised her left hand. Golden light formed in a ball around her hand. A scant instant later the rock wall appeared to transform into a curtain of blue-white light. Seeba flicked a finger and the light around her hand floated forward, still ball-shaped, to vanish into the light curtain.

 

            “Whoa...” O’Neill and MacGyver gasped in unison as they stared at the phenomenon before them. O'Neill's expression, while being a little awed and a lot surprised, was also distinctly dubious. MacGyver too looked awed and surprised, but there was fascinated curiosity on his face as well.

 

            "You can say that again," Daniel agreed whole heartedly. His expression mirrored MacGyver's.

 

            "Come, my friends," Seeba smiled and stepped forward to vanish into the light display, apparently quite confident that her companions would follow her.

 

            The three men, however, stared at the wall of light, then at each other, then back at the light.

 

            “Ahh, Mac...” This came from O’Neill. He sounded distinctly unsettled as he absently scratched at his left palm.

 

            "I know. Me too."

 

            "What?" Daniel questioned, tearing his fascinated gaze away from the blue-white wall of light to look quizzically at them. "Jack? MacGyver?"

 

            Almost absently MacGyver held his left hand out in front of the archaeologist, palm upwards, without so much as glancing at the appendage himself. Reflexively, Daniel looked down at the older man's hand. He saw that the K'Rin'sha crystal was glowing again, a deep, rich, but at the same time quite vibrant blue colour this time. The sharp intake of breath that escaped him caused his companions to drag their attention from the light curtain to regard him quizzically.

 

            "Daniel?" O'Neill asked.

 

            “I'm okay. It’s just... look at that crystal.”

 

            “Yeah...” MacGyver said a little tersely. "We know." He stepped forward and reached out with his right hand towards the wall of blue-white light. O'Neill moved swiftly to intercept him.

 

            "I'll go first, Mac," O'Neill said determinedly.

 

            Daniel did not miss the sharp look MacGyver shot O'Neill and, for a few moments he was sure the Phoenix operative was going to argue. In fact he was just on the point of taking the risk of stepping in between them when MacGyver suddenly nodded and stepped awkwardly back a couple of paces.

 

            "Wait here." O'Neill levelled the command at Daniel, glanced briefly at MacGyver, then stepped up to the curtain of light.

 

            As Daniel watched, O'Neill reached out to do what he had prevented MacGyver from doing;  touch the light-curtain. The man's hand vanished. He pulled it back. Tried again. Pulled it back a second time. Then Daniel witnessed Jack’s head tilt in a gesture he recognised well, it was O'Neill's patented 'Oh-well-here-goes-nothing' gesture, before the Air Force Officer stepped boldly forward to disappear from view.

 

            "Jack?" Daniel called out after a moment or two. "Jack?" He tried again, a little louder when no response was forthcoming. He looked at MacGyver and frowned slightly as he saw that the older man seemed to be listening intently to something.

 

            "He's okay, Daniel," the Phoenix operative gave him a confident smile. "Says it's like stepping through a shower, without getting wet, but we should watch our step on the other side until our eyes adjust. Apparently it's a bit dark."

 

            "What?" Daniel's jaw dropped slightly as he stared at the older man. “How...?” He began, mystified. MacGyver's attention, however, was on the curtain of light.

 

            "Come on. You know Jack'll only get cranky if we keep him waiting." With that, the Phoenix operative stepped forward, and disappeared, just as O'Neill had done.

 

            "Hey! Wait!" Daniel exclaimed and promptly followed the older man. A moment later he found himself blinking as his eyes adjusted to the gloom he emerged into.

 

            As things began to come into clearer focus, Daniel discovered that he was standing in a small, enclosed area not much bigger than that of the big heavy-equipment elevator at the SGC. The walls were hewn from solid rock. The primary source of illumination was the glowing ball of golden light that hung suspended in the air just over the heads of himself and his companions. The other source of light was the blue-glow from the crystal in MacGyver's left palm.

 

            "Hi, kids," O'Neill said cheerfully. "Sweet, huh?"

 

            "Terrific," MacGyver commented, looking around at their surroundings. "Where's Seeba?"

 

            "I am here, old friend." Seeba's voice came from the darkness of what appeared to be an exit from the confines of the small chamber. There was a brief flare of light as a second golden globe materialized and floated in mid-air overhead. "I had hoped you would have a few more days for your leg to heal before the Circle summoned all of you." The woman announced, visible to the trio now in the glow from the second light-ball. She was standing in the opening of what appeared to be the chamber's only exit. "Jack, the other may need your assistance, there are many stairs." Turning, she began to move off into the darkness that lay beyond the exit. "Come."

 

            "I'll go first, okay?" O'Neill looked at MacGyver, who nodded a little grimly. The prospect of negotiating unknown stairs in the gloomy light did not fill him with a great deal of cheer. "Daniel, you got our six." With that, O'Neill began to head after Seeba. As MacGyver, then Daniel, followed him, the two glowing globes of light floated over their heads with them, illuminating their path.

 

            "Found the stairs," O'Neill reported after a moment. "They're descending in what seems to be a right-hand spiral. Mac, there's a guide-rope on the wall on the left."

 

            "I see it," MacGyver responded.

 

            O'Neill led the way down the spiral of steps. The stairway appeared to have been hewn from solid rock. It descended quite steeply, but fortunately the steps themselves had a decent surface area if one stuck to the outer edge of the spiral where the guide rope was. Aware that MacGyver was finding the descent distinctly awkward, O'Neill was careful to set his own pace to one that the other man could comfortably handle. He also kept glancing over his shoulder at frequent intervals to see how MacGyver was doing.

 

            "You want a break, Mac?" He asked presently when they had gone some way and no end to the descent appeared to be in sight yet.

 

            "No. No, Jack, I'm fine. Let's just keep movin', huh?"

 

            "Ya' sure?"

 

            "Yeah."

 

            They kept going. O'Neill had no idea how far ahead of them Seeba was. He could no longer hear her soft footsteps. In fact he hadn't been able to detect them for some while.

 

            "Guess she wasn't kidding," he heard Mac remark behind him.

 

            "Guess not," O'Neill agreed, knowing that the other man was referring to Seeba's remark about there being many stairs. "Guess they never heard of elevators around here," he added dryly. He was well aware of what his cousin was thinking, he was thinking much the same thing himself:  This descent is bad enough with a bum knee, but the climb back up’s gonna’ be a killer. "Hope they got some resuss teams standin' by for the heart attacks we're gonna be havin' comin' back up here," he muttered.

 

            A little way further on, aware that MacGyver was beginning to have trouble keeping up with him, O'Neill came to a decisive halt.

 

            "Okay. That's it. Stop and take five, campers."

 

            Not having any choice in the matter since O'Neill was effectively blocking the stairwell, MacGyver and Daniel halted in his wake. O'Neill lowered himself to sit on one of the steps and leaned against the outer wall of the spiral, angling himself so that he could look back up towards MacGyver. The Phoenix operative, well aware of why Jack had called the time-out, emitted a soft sigh of resignation and manoeuvred to sit down himself. Behind him and out of O'Neill's line of sight, Daniel too sat himself down.

 

            "Wonder how far underground we are?" O'Neill heard Daniel ponder aloud.

 

            "Guess it depends on whether that light show upstairs was just a straight-through doorway or whether it was some kind of transporter," O'Neill threw back, rubbing at his eyes with his 'good' hand.

 

            "A transporter?" The intrigued question came from MacGyver, who was rubbing a little absently at his immobilised knee. "As in some kind of Stargate?"

 

            "No idea," O'Neill shrugged. "You're the one with the science degree, you tell me."

 

            "It didn't feel like Gate travel," Daniel offered pensively, having been listening to the interchange.

 

            "You guys have more experience of Gate travel than I do, but I have to say I agree with Daniel," MacGyver said. He frowned slightly at the still-glowing crystal in his left palm. "And I know this is hardly a very scientific observation, but I think we're nearly at wherever it is we're goin'."

 

            "Yeah?" O'Neill raised an eyebrow and squinted at him.

 

            "Don't ya' feel it?" MacGyver responded quizzically.

 

            "What?" This came from Daniel.

 

            “It’s... I don’t know exactly,” MacGyver confessed, looking round at the young man seated on the steps above him. "It's kinda' like- "

 

            “Electricity," O'Neill interjected. MacGyver's attention switched back to him.

 

            “Yeah...” The Phoenix operative nodded.

 

            “Back of the neck stuff, only it’s...”

 

            “Sorta’...”

 

            "That rock."

 

            "Yeah," MacGyver nodded.

 

            O'Neill sighed and wiped a hand over his jaw. He was clearly unsettled again. He pondered for a moment, then looked up at his cousin and decided. "We should probably get goin' again." He rose to his feet. "You ready?"

 

            MacGyver nodded and began to manoeuvre himself to his feet. He offered no protest when O'Neill moved to help him. Behind him, Daniel also moved to render any assistance that might be required.

 

            Once assured that MacGyver had his balance, O'Neill turned and began to resume leading the way down the stairs. Above them, the two glowing balls of golden light continued to match their pace and illuminate their way.

 

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

 

            MacGyver's 'unscientific observation' that he and his companions were not far from their destination, encountered something of a hiccup. Not long after they had resumed their seemingly endless descent, the stairwell came to an end and admitted the trio into a small cavern very similar to the one they had started out from.

 

            "Well, this sucks," Jack O'Neill observed with ill-concealed disgust as he surveyed the small chamber. The only visible way out appeared to be the way they had come in.

 

            “I don’t understand...” Daniel Jackson looked around puzzledly. “This doesn’t make any sense...”

 

            "Ya' think?" O'Neill shot back dryly. He began to tour the chamber. “Oh-kaay... Anyone see a door here anywhere?” He inquired.

 

            “But it can’t be a dead-end...” Daniel persisted, still standing and gawping at their surroundings.

 

            “Excuse me... But do you see a sign that says ‘exit’ anywhere?” O'Neill enquired sarcastically.

 

            “Well, no...” Daniel conceded. “But there has to be a way out. I mean, there's no sign of Seeba and she came down here ahead of us, so where did she go? She didn't come back up past us.”

 

            “Oh, I think we'd've noticed if she had," O'Neill remarked crankily. He then tried some yelling. "Seeba? Yoo-hoo! Seeba!" Then modifying his tone he called, "Come out, come out wherever you are!"

 

            "Daniel's right," MacGyver said reasonably as, like O'Neill, he slowly toured the chamber, scrutinising it carefully for any visible sign of an exit other than the one by which they had gained entry. "Seeba wouldn't have had us come all this way if those stairs were the only way in or out. Besides which, she has to have gone somewhere. We just have to figure out where and how, an' maybe why." He stopped to rub absently at his cast-encased knee, which was both aching and itching, but his gaze never stopped roaming the cavern walls.

 

            "You okay, Mac?" Concern replaced O'Neill's crankiness of only moments before.

 

            “Yeah...” MacGyver responded with a ‘Don’t-worry-I’m-fine’ gesture and continued to scrutinise the cavern.

 

            O'Neill nodded, seeming on the surface to accept the apparent dismissal of his concern, but knowing full well that MacGyver was not quite as 'fine' as the man would have him believe. He felt a little tired himself. The previous night's lack of sleep and the long trek down the innumerable stairs on top of everything else was catching up on both of them again, despite the cat-nap they'd both had in Seeba's quarters.

 

            “Daniel...You want to help us look for the door out of here or ya’ just gonna’ stand there for the duration?” The Colonel inquired of the archaeologist, who was still standing gawping around with pensive puzzlement.

 

            "Huh? Oh. Right." Daniel seemed to emerge from his thrall and began to move around the cavern.

 

            “Ah...guys...” The archaeologist began, halting again. The uncertainty in his tone grabbed his companions' attention. O'Neill and MacGyver both looked quizzically round at him.

 

            "What?" O'Neill wanted to know, his tone a tad on the cranky side again.

 

            “Ah... Is it my imagination, or are those light-ball things fading?” Daniel indicated the two golden globes that had accompanied them on their descent. Just as O'Neill and MacGyver looked up at the glowing spheres, the illumination winked out, plunging the chamber into sudden complete darkness. “Guess not...” Daniel’s voice sounded apologetic as O’Neill muttered something colourful.

 

            "Don't suppose anyone brought a torch?" O'Neill went on to ask, blinking into the blackness which, he suddenly realised, wasn't quite as total as he had initially thought. There was a blue-white, slightly green-tinged glow and it was concentrated in one location... MacGyver was in that vicinity. “Ah, Mac... Don’t suppose you could crank that up a bit?” He asked, only half-serious. He saw the glow move.

 

            "Love to, Jack," O'Neill heard him respond a little tetchily. "Soon as I figure out how."

 

            They were both distracted by a muted thump which was followed an instant later by a pained yelp. O'Neill recognised the yelp. "Daniel?" He questioned into the darkness.

 

            "I'm ah, okay." Daniel's voice came back out of the murk. "Just found the wall."

 

            O'Neill sighed heavily. It was a long-suffering sigh. He was just about to say something appropriately caustic when he heard Daniel speak again.

 

            “Mac...” O’Neill recognised Daniel’s tone. It was thoughtful. Daniel was in the midst of figuring something out.

 

            "Yeah?" MacGyver responded, sounding a little distracted.

 

            "Try thinking about light. Concentrate on it."

 

            "What?"

 

            "Daniel...?" O'Neill questioned, wondering if, when Daniel had found the wall, he'd managed to brain himself and jolt a screw loose.

 

            "Try thinking about light," Daniel repeated, an excitement in his tone which O'Neill recognised from experience. The younger man had just made one of his infamous deductive leaps. "I think will-power has a lot to do with how the K'Rin'sha crystals work," Daniel went on rapidly. "I was talking earlier with some...students, I guess you'd call them and from some of what they were telling me, if I understood them correctly,  I think that the crystals respond to the power of thought. So, try it, Mac," he urged earnestly. "Concentrate on that crystal and think of light."

 

            “Ahh...” O’Neill heard MacGyver remark. His cousin sounded about as sceptical about the idea as he himself was.

 

            "You used the crystal to save Jack's life," Daniel went on earnestly. "Remember what Seeba told you? She said your will was strong and to use it."

 

            "I know she did, but I have no idea how."

 

             “She told you to go with your instincts.” Daniel's tone was still earnest. “You did it to help Jack, try it again now. Only concentrate on light this time. Maybe you can make one of those light-ball things like Seeba did.”

 

            "Mac?" O'Neill questioned doubtfully when MacGyver didn't answer. Something was prickling at the edges of his senses. He wasn't sure what it was. It was akin to the 'back-of-the-neck-electricity' sensation they had spoken of earlier, only it was stronger than before.

 

            "Try it, Mac," Daniel urged from the darkness.

 

            //Jack?// O'Neill 'heard' his cousin's voice inside his head. MacGyver was clearly highly dubious of Daniel's suggestion.

 

            //Hey, Danny comes up with some odd theories sometimes, but he's right more often than he's wrong.// O'Neill 'sent' back. //What've we got to lose?//  Aloud he added. "I really don't feel like climbin' back up all those stairs in the pitch black if we can't find the door to this place. An' maybe if we have some light, we'll figure out where the door is."

 

            “Yeeaah...” MacGyver’s tone was pensive, but still a little sceptical.

 

            O'Neill felt a strong sense of concentration wash through him and knew MacGyver was giving Daniel's suggestion a try. He felt the tingling at the edge of his senses intensify.

 

            "Whoa!" He exclaimed with quiet awe a few moments later as strong blue-white light flared suddenly, casting eerie, fleeting, ghostly shadows. Then the flare settled into a small ball of light barely the size of a tennis-ball. The tingling on his senses, the awareness of concentration grew and, as he watched, the glow expanded until it was about the size of a soccer ball. “Well, okaay... Way to go, Mac...” O’Neill breathed softly as the ball of light began to move upwards. “Now if we can just find the door...”

 

            “Wow... It works...” Daniel Jackson murmured, his tone one of slightly awed surprise as he stared at the ball of light that had formed around the Phoenix operative’s left hand and which rose as the man slowly raised that hand higher into the air. The light being provided was far stronger than that which had been provided by the two golden globes which Seeba had 'created'. He took a few steps towards MacGyver, then halted, suddenly wary of distracting the Phoenix operative as he saw the look of intense concentration that was on the man's face. He looked across at O'Neill, whom he could now see quite clearly on the other side of the cavern and saw the intent frown that was on the Air Force Colonel's face as the man moved to MacGyver’s side.

 

            "Where?" Daniel heard O'Neill murmur softly, then witnessed the man look rapidly around in a searching manner before O'Neill moved swiftly to a section of wall which he began to poke vigorously at.

 

            "Jack?" Daniel questioned, puzzled by the man's actions, especially when he heard the man say tersely.

 

            "I don't see it. This seems pretty solid to me."

 

            "The door?" Daniel made another of his deductive leaps. He hurried to where O'Neill was. "You think the door's here?" He glanced round at MacGyver, who hadn't moved. The older man's eyes were now closed and the expression on his face remained one of intense concentration. He saw O'Neill suddenly look around at the Phoenix operative and then hurry to the man's side. "Jack?" He questioned as he observed O'Neill glance back towards the section of wall beside which he was still standing, then look to MacGyver again and shrug dubiously before raising his left hand to rest it on the other man's left shoulder.

 

            Light flared beside Daniel, causing the young archaeologist to emit a startled yelp and jump away from the wall in fright. Where solid rock had been only seconds before, there was now a curtain of brilliant blue-white light akin to that which the three of them had earlier followed Seeba through. Daniel blinked in slightly stunned amazement as his eyes adjusted to the intensity of the light-show. He looked round at his companions. MacGyver was still a picture of total and absolute concentration. O'Neill, on the other hand, was staring rather slack-jawed at the light-curtain as if he couldn't quite believe his own eyes.

 

            “Cool...” the Air Force man muttered.

 

            Turning his attention back to the light-curtain, Daniel stepped closer to it and tentatively reached out to touch it. His hand vanished from view as it entered the light-field. He looked back round at O'Neill and MacGyver. "You found it!" Daniel exclaimed. "You found the way out!"

 

            "Daniel, GO!" The curt instruction came from O'Neill.

 

            Daniel hesitated, then saw that O'Neill had snapped into C.O. mode and wasn't about to brook any arguments. The archaeologist nodded, turned back to the curtain of light and stepped through it.

 

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

 

 

TO BE CONTINUED....

 

 

 
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