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The story is set in Stargate’s 2nd season, not long after ‘Thor’s Chariot’.

            The convivial atmosphere that had been filling the Briefing Room of the SGC, vanished within an instant of the newly arrived Colonel Redman’s self-introductory pronouncement.  It was replaced by uncomprehending bewilderment - courtesy of the SGC’s alien guests - mixed with a heavy dose of icy suspicion plus anger, surprise and indignation in varying degrees from everyone else, both military and civilian.

            Colonel Redman appeared totally oblivious to that abrupt change.  Exuding an air of authority, he stepped briskly over to the conference table and set his attaché case down on it. “I take it these are our guests,” he continued, his gaze roaming appraisingly over the room’s more obviously non-military occupants.  “Pleased to know you, people,” he went on, bestowing a briefly convivial smile that was totally negated by the predatory gleam that registered equally briefly in his eyes.  “You may consider me as your liaison from now on.  As such, I would assure you that the facilities which have been arranged for you are - ”

            “EX-cuse me?”  General George Hammond interjected in incredulous outrage as he stared at Redman as if not quite able to believe the man’s audacity.

            “I think you’ll find my orders to be in order, General,” Redman seemed totally unfazed by the fact that he was seriously pissing off a Two-Star General.  He had his attaché case open by then and had a couple of envelopes in his hand.  He offered one of the envelopes to the seething General, who accepted it with something rather less than good grace.  The Colonel then blithely carried on with the speech he had been in the midst of.  “As I was saying,” he told the SGC’s alien guests, “your accommodations will, I am sure, meet your every requirement.  I have transport waiting on the surface and my people will do all they can to ensure your journey to the facility is as swift and pleasant as possible given the circumstances.”

            “Circumstances?”  This indignant squawk came from Daniel Jackson.  Before the archaeologist could launch into further outraged utterances, Jack O’Neill jumped in.

            “Let me guess.  N.I.D., right?  So. What rock did you slide out from under?”

            “Colonel O’Neill, I presume.”  Redman turned to find he suddenly had the ex-Special Ops officer in his face.  He gave the man a chillingly cold smile calculated to reduce most men into piles of quivering jelly.  Jack O’Neill, however, was not most men.  He remained totally unimpressed by Redman’s attempt at intimidation.  In fact he gave him a look in return that had menace positively dripping from it and which made Redman’s attempt at being scary pale into total insignificance.

            “What gave me away?”  O’Neill inquired in silkily dangerous tones.  His expression switched to one of surprised suspicion as Redman thrust the second envelope at him.  “And this would be?” 

            “Your orders, Colonel, regarding your immediate transfer to Area 51,” Redman announced with open smugness. “Along with the rest of these people.”

            “What?”  O’Neill blinked and snatched the envelope which he proceeded to tear open.

            “Wh-wh-what?  You can’t do that!”  Daniel Jackson objected indignantly.  He launched into voluble protestations about Jack being needed at the SGC in general and on SG-1 in particular; the K’Rin’sha being not only guests of the SGC, but also civilians with rights and the whole thing being an unbelievable outrage.

            Totally ignoring Jackson’s increasingly incandescent splutterings, Redman stepped around O’Neill, who was staring in visibly seething anger at what was typewritten on the sheet of paper he had pulled from the envelope.  Signalling to his two black-clad henchmen, Redman indicated MacGyver, who had been silently observing and assessing the whole situation as it unfolded.

            “Take that man into custody and stay alert.”  A  feral smile flitted across Redman’s face as he took in the measured look that the civilian was levelling at him.  “Mr. MacGyver has something of a reputation for slipperiness.”

            Redman’s men swiftly closed in on MacGyver, levelling their weapons on him.  The Phoenix man stiffened, his eyes widening in concern and his hands coming slowly up in surrender to show he was unarmed.  On the other side of the conference table Daniel blinked incredulously and his jaw dropped, while the K’Rin’sha all shifted uneasily and Melia clung to Seeba’s skirts, clearly frightened.

            “Hey guys, can’t we talk about this?”  The Phoenix man inquired dubiously, even as O’Neill cast a murderous glower at Redman and uttered an explosive.

            “Are you nuts, Redman?  That man’s a civilian for cryin’ out loud!”

            “STAND DOWN!”  General Hammond roared, visibly furious and signalling to the SGC security personnel who had been hovering anxiously on the periphery of things.  They promptly leapt into action, drawing their side-arms and levelling them at Redman’s men who froze and cast suddenly uncertain glances towards their Colonel.

            “General Hammond, my orders - ”  Redman began indignantly.

            “My office, Colonel.  NOW.”  Hammond’s tone indicated he had had enough.  More than enough.  “Or you can cool your heels in the brig while I get to the bottom of this nonsense.”  As he spoke, he brandished the ‘orders’ Redman had given him.  “Your choice, Colonel.”  The look he gave Redman challenged the man to argue and thus allow him to make good on his threat regarding the brig.

            Redman stared at Hammond for a moment before obviously deciding the General wasn’t bluffing.  Stiffening, the Colonel said smartly.  “Sir.”  He signalled to his henchmen to stand down, snapped his attaché case shut, picked it up and then marched briskly in the direction Hammond indicated.

            “General Hammond, what is going on here?”  R’Fyaa inquired, his tone taut.  “We came to this place in good faith and have since dealt with you in good faith.  Are we to understand that that trust has been misplaced?  Have we become prisoners here?”

            “I assure you, sir, that all our dealings have been conducted in good faith and, as far as I am concerned, you most certainly are not prisoners.”  Hammond endeavoured to subdue his fury with Redman long enough to switch his military hat for his diplomatic one.  “This,” he waved the papers he was holding, “is probably nothing more than some gross interdepartmental error.  However, I am afraid I shall have to ask you if you would be good enough to wait here while I get this sorted out.”

            “Very well, General,” R’Fyaa inclined his head in a gracious manner after giving the man’s request due consideration for some rather tense moments.  “We shall do as you ask.”  With that, he resettled himself into one of the chairs at the conference table, Alaeya following his lead and sitting in an adjacent chair.

            “Thank you, sir,” Hammond acknowledged his guests’ co-operation.  Then, signalling to the SFs hovering watchfully over Redman’s men, he snapped brusquely.  “Disarm those men and have them wait outside until I say otherwise.”  The SFs obeyed instantly, with smartly snapped ‘Yes, sir’s.  The ranking one had a gleeful little smirk on his face which suggested he intended taking the General’s instruction regarding ‘outside’ literally - as in removing the henchmen to the surface.  If Hammond saw it, he gave no indication.  Instead, he turned and began heading purposefully for his office.  “Doctor Jackson, Mr. MacGyver, please wait here with our guests,” he instructed as he did so.  “Colonel O’Neill.  My office.”

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

            As he neared his office door, O’Neill on his heels, Hammond paused and indicated to his 2-I-C to hand over the ‘orders’ he’d been given by Redman.  O’Neill obeyed.  Hammond cast a rapid glance over the paperwork as he continued on into his office.  The snort that erupted from him as he did so eloquently indicated his opinion on what he was reading.

            “Couldn’t agree more, sir,” O’Neill muttered in heartfelt agreement.

            Heading for the chair behind his desk, Hammond cast his 2-I-C a glance that told O’Neill all the Colonel needed to know: this particular ‘transfer’ would happen only over Hammond’s dead body.  Depositing Redman’s assorted paperwork rather forcefully on his desk, Hammond settled into his chair in a business-like manner and glowered darkly at the Colonel in question. “Alright, Colonel.  Care to explain all this?”  He demanded, his gaze never wavering from Redman as he gestured curtly at the paperwork.

            “I’m afraid I really don’t see what the problem is, General,” Redman said stiffly.

            “Mebbe ya’ need an eye-test then,” O’Neill observed nastily.  He had closed the office door and now hovered to one side of Hammond’s desk.

            Hammond shot his 2-I-C a warning glance before addressing Redman again. “You want to effectively make prisoners of people who came here of their own free will to participate in negotiations that could provide Earth with an extremely useful ally against the Goa’uld, Colonel.  Negotiations which, I might add, have just successfully produced a preliminary mutual assistance treaty in principal.”

            “General, I - ”  Redman attempted to speak. 

Hammond ignored the attempt. “Do your orders not strike you as being in the least way ill-conceived at best and downright dangerous at worst, Colonel?”  He fixed a cold look on the interloper.

            “General, what I - ”  Redman attempted another interruption.  It was again bluntly ignored.

            “Perhaps you fail to understand the situation this planet is in, Colonel.  Earth needs allies, not more enemies out there.”  Hammond made a small but expressive gesture.  “And believe me, after having talked at great length with our guests, we’re much better off with the K’Rin’sha as our friends than we would be with them as our enemies.  Abducting their envoys is hardly going to be viewed by the K’Rin’sha authorities as the actions of friends.”  He eyed Redman intently.  “Do you comprehend any of this, Colonel?”

            “General, I’m simply the messenger.  If you have a problem with your orders, might I respectfully suggest you take the matter up with your superiors.”  There was a distinct hint of irritation in Redman’s tone.

            “Oh I intend to, Colonel,” Hammond stated coldly.  “And I think you’ll find they’ll agree with me.”

            “Perhaps, sir, but meanwhile I have my orders, so if you will kindly allow, I will - ”

            “Do nothing until I have spoken to my superiors.”  Hammond’s tone indicated argument would be futile.  He tapped the top sheet of the paperwork in front of him.  “As for the transfer of Colonel O’Neill to Area 51 for ‘research duties’...  You care to explain the thinking behind that idea and why I was not consulted.  The Colonel is, after all, my Second-in-Command, as well as the leader of the SGC’s flag-ship field unit.”

            “The Colonel is in possession of alien technology.  Technology we need to study,” Redman answered promptly.  “Technology which, I’m given to understand, has advanced weapons potential.”

            “Ah... No.”  O’Neill interjected.  “Technology-free zone here.”  By way of demonstration, he briefly displayed his crystal-free hands.  “Looks like your intel is outta’ date there, Redman.”

            Redman looked momentarily surprised, but he covered it well by pointing out. “You know how to operate the alien technology, Colonel.  We’ll need that knowledge should the aliens prove uncooperative.”

            “Any transfer requests regarding my senior personnel are required to go through me,” Hammond spoke before O’Neill could verbally squash Redman,  which the General just knew his subordinate was about to do at any second.  “And also require my approval.”  He picked up the transfer orders relating to O’Neill and calmly tore them up.  “The request is denied,”  he announced with some satisfaction.

            “General Hammond, you can’t - ” Redman protested indignantly.

            “I just have, Colonel,” Hammond said icily.  “Now.  Next item of business.  Would you care to explain your actions regarding Mr. MacGyver who, I might point out, is a civilian and therefore not subject to these.”  Hammond tapped the surviving paperwork still sitting before him on his desk.  “You cannot just abduct him at gun-point and drag him off to Area 51 or anywhere else for that matter against his will.”

            “Mr. MacGyver is in possession of alien technology and knows how to use it.  We can’t have a civilian running around loose with - ” 

            “Hate to burst your bubble, Redman,” O’Neill interrupted, looking anything but repentant,  “but MacGyver’s also a technology-free zone.  You can go check if you like.  I’m sure he won’t mind - much.  You know, your intel really sucks.  Maybe you ought a go do something about that and stop bothering those of us who actually know what we’re doing.”

            “Colonel... ” The warning in Hammond’s tone mirrored the look he threw O’Neill’s way before he faced Redman again and told him. “Mr. MacGyver has the highest security clearances, Colonel.  If he didn’t, he wouldn’t be here.  He also happens to work for the Phoenix Foundation, who know he is here,” he pointed out.  “His ‘disappearance’ would hardly go unnoticed. And believe me when I say he has a number of connections in high places that would not stop asking very awkward questions until his whereabouts were ascertained.” 

            “That’s always assuming you could actually hang onto him in the first place,” O’Neill added, his tone suggesting he didn’t rate Redman’s chances at all in that regard.

            “I am aware of Mr. MacGyver’s reputation; highly overblown though I’m sure much of it is,”  Redman icily informed O’Neill.  He looked back to Hammond and said in exasperated tones.  “With all due respect, General.  My orders come from the Pentagon and I intend to carry them out.  If I have to report to my superiors that you are blocking my efforts to do so, then I will.”

            “By all means, Colonel.  Go talk to your superiors.”  Hammond gestured towards the office door.  “Meanwhile, I’ll just call the President.”  So saying, he reached deliberately for the red phone that sat on his desk.  “This is Major General Hammond.  Let me speak to the President.”  He said into the phone as Redman stared at him.  Looking to O’Neill, Hammond covered the mouthpiece of his phone with a hand and instructed.  “Escort the Colonel to a phone, Colonel. And if he attempts to abduct our guests - any of them - before I get his mess sorted out - ” 

            “Shoot him, sir?”  O’Neill asked hopefully.  His manner suggested he wasn’t joking.

            “Let’s just keep that option in reserve for the time being.  I think the brig will suffice for the moment; if necessary.”  Hammond gave Redman a pointed look.

            Redman looked furious.  Clearly struggling to keep his temper in check, he snatched up his attaché case, turned and stormed from the office.

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

            “This is intolerable!”  Redman exploded to no-one in particular, trying to keep his volume semi-muted, while his body-language broadcast rage.

            “So are you, but there ya’ go,” O’Neill observed, having just followed the NID man from Hammond’s office.

            “You people can’t just ignore orders that come from the Pentagon,” Redman snarled.

            “Not ignoring.  Questioning,” O’Neill returned distractedly as he felt something seem to brush by him.  He glanced round, but saw nothing to account for the odd sensation and so switched his full attention back to the situation at hand.  “So.  You want to make that call, or you want to head straight for the brig?”  He inquired, his tone anything but cordial.

            “Colonel O’Neill.”  Both Colonels looked round to see R’Fyaa approaching them with dignified calm.  “May I enquire as to when my companions and I may leave?”  

            “The General’s working on it, sir,” O’Neill answered.  “Hopefully it shouldn’t take too long.  He’s going straight to the top to get Colonel Redman’s orders rescinded.”

            Redman snorted sceptically.  “We’ll see about that, Colonel.”  A hint of disconcertion suddenly crossed the man’s face.  “What are they doing?”  He demanded to know, pushing past O’Neill and R’Fyaa and heading across the conference room to where MacGyver was seated behind a desk, tapping furiously at a computer keyboard.  Daniel was leaning over the Phoenix man’s shoulder, an intent expression on his face as he studied whatever was being displayed on the computer monitor.

            “Writing their memoirs?”  O’Neill suggested helpfully.

            “I want this man arrested!”  Redman roared as he reached the desk.

            “Um... Who?  Me?  What for?” Daniel asked in innocent bewilderment, moving to hinder the final stages of Redman’s approach in a clumsy, startled, accidentally-on-purpose, absent-minded-professor-tripping-over-his-feet way that caused a ghost of an approving smile to register briefly on O’Neill’s face even as he witnessed it.  If he had needed confirmation that his cousin and his team-archaeologist were up to something, it had just been provided.

            “There a problem?”  MacGyver was a picture of unruffled calm as he lifted his hands away from the keyboard and looked up.

            “What were you doing with this computer?”  Redman demanded furiously as he finally succeeded in manhandling Daniel out of his way.

            “And that would be your business because...?”  MacGyver inquired with calm curiosity.

            “Because that is classified government equipment and you’re a civilian!”  Redman exploded.  “Arrest this man, damn it!”  He irately demanded of O’Neill.

            “What for?”  O’Neill inquired, peering at the computer screen.  All that it was displaying was the rotating SGC logo screen-saver.  “Mac has Pentagon authorization to be in this facility.”  He looked at his archaeologist.  “He wasn’t looking at anything... ” O’Neill chose his next words carefully, “inappropriate to his clearance level, was he, Daniel?”

            “Um... No.”  Daniel affirmed with the indignant conviction of a man telling the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.  “Of course not.”

            “Then I don’t see a problem,” O’Neill informed the fuming Redman.

            “He was doing something with that computer!”  Redman roared.  “You saw him as well as I did.”

            “Mac?”  O’Neill arched his eyebrows and looked at MacGyver in a manner that said clearly: Humour this idiot, but for God’s sake keep him off-track of whatever you were really doing.

            “Does he have clearance to see mission reports?” MacGyver asked.  O’Neill looked at Redman briefly, and then shrugged.

            “Probably.”

            MacGyver hit a few keys on the keyboard and, after a few moments, the first page of a mission report replaced the SGC logo.  O’Neill suppressed the urge to smirk.  What was on the screen was MacGyver’s official report to Hammond concerning P4X-994 and the time spent on ‘Sanctuary’: a report which O’Neill knew MacGyver had already submitted to the General.  He wondered just what his cousin and Daniel were up to, but knew that right then was not the time to inquire.

            “Figured I’d better get this tidied up.  I know how big the military is on paperwork.”  Waiting just barely long enough for Redman to confirm for himself that what was being displayed was his mission report, MacGyver hit another couple of keys and cleared the screen again.  He then calmly rose to his feet and headed back towards the conference table with a casually confident air that defied Redman to prove he’d been doing anything other than working on the report.  As Redman sputtered in annoyance, Daniel shrugged and followed after the Phoenix man, ducking his head to hide the amusement that was threatening to break out all over his face.

            “So. You want to make that phone-call you were making so much noise about or what?”  O’Neill inquired, poker-faced, as he indicated the phone that sat on the desk beside the computer.

            Glowering darkly and still muttering to himself, Redman slammed his attaché case down on the desk and reached for the phone.

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

            As Redman busied himself with the telephone, O’Neill allowed his attention to shift to the other occupants of the room.  MacGyver, he noted, was perching his backside on the edge of the conference table beside where Seeba was sitting.  The alien woman was talking to the Phoenix man in tones too quiet for O’Neill to overhear.  On her lap, her adopted daughter, Melia, was huddled up in her arms.  The child’s demeanour was not that of a happy child, but that of one scared and anxious and in need of the comfort Seeba was visibly trying to impart.        

            O’Neill felt anger surge up within him again.  He had no doubt that it was Redman’s actions that had distressed the little girl and scaring kids was a major no-no in Jack’s book.  As he quelled the growing desire to rip Redman’s head off with his bare hands, he witnessed MacGyver drop down into a crouch beside Seeba’s chair and, clearly addressing the child, reach a hand out to her.  Melia looked at the Phoenix man and O’Neill promptly had another struggle with his urge to do permanently fatal damage to Redman as he saw clear evidence that the little girl had been crying.

            O’Neill muttered something under his breath that cast serious aspersions on the parentage of the NID Colonel.  As he was doing so, he saw Melia slip from Seeba’s protective grasp and go to MacGyver, who gathered her in his arms and hugged her paternally as he talked quietly to her.

            Tearing his attention away from his cousin and the distressed child, O’Neill swiftly scanned the rest of the room.  R’Fyaa was seated opposite Seeba.  The alien’s demeanour was one of calm expectation and confidence.  O’Neill witnessed a kindly smile flicker across the man’s face as he watched MacGyver comforting and reassuring Melia.

            Shifting his attention again, O’Neill sought out his archaeologist and wasn’t really surprised to find that Daniel had gravitated over to the table underneath the glass panel that was part of one wall of Hammond’s office.  A thermos jug of coffee, another of tea and a supply of milk, sugar and clean mugs on a tray, always resided on that table whenever scheduled meetings were being conducted in the Briefing room.  That day was no exception and Daniel, whose addiction to coffee was legendary within the SGC, was pouring himself what O’Neill guessed was probably his umpteenth refill of the day.

            Abruptly O’Neill’s gaze swept the room again, then he glanced at Redman to see if the NID man had yet noticed what he himself had just realised: they were short one alien.  The girl, Alaeya, was nowhere to be seen.  Redman, however, was standing where O’Neill had left him, had a phone clamped to his ear and was tapping his fingers impatiently on top of the computer monitor residing on the desk. The man was exuding irritation.  O’Neill guessed he’d been put on ‘hold’ and tried not to smirk.  Instead, he looked towards a discreetly hovering SF and, jerking a thumb at Redman, instructed. “He goes anywhere - shoot him.”

            Redman clearly caught the instruction because he glowered murderously at its issuer, but before he could retaliate further, his attention was distracted by activity at the other end of the phone and he irritably demanded to speak to someone called General Claythorpe.  The SF on the other hand, nodded sombrely at O’Neill, then visibly focused all his attention on Redman.

            Leaving the NID man to his phone-call and the watchful eye of the SF, O’Neill headed in Daniel’s direction. “Daniel?”  He questioned as he hove to beside the archaeologist, cast a quick but significant glance over the room’s other occupants and then proceeded to pour himself a mug of coffee.

            “Jack,” Daniel responded, having made no move to escape and giving the older man a steady look.

            As was frequently the case between the pair, that simple exchange was almost an entire conversation in itself, so adept were they both at interpreting the subtle inflections of each other’s tone of voice and expression or lack thereof.  The Colonel’s one-word enquiry had asked: ‘What’s going on, Daniel?’  The archaeologist’s answer read as:  ‘Not telling - yet.’

            “Uh-huh... ” O’Neill observed slowly.  He changed tack.  “Hammond’s trying to get Redman’s orders rescinded.”

            “You know, I can’t believe the NID tried this again,” Daniel said, making no attempt to hide the outrage he was feeling.  “You’d’ve thought they’d’ve learned their lesson from the last time, when they tried to hijack the Tollan.”

            “They did.  That’s why Redman’s orders are to grab our guests and run.  They’re trying to avoid giving us time to come up with a plan like we did last time,” Jack pointed out grimly, before sipping at the coffee he’d poured himself.

            “But General Hammond isn’t going to let - ”  Daniel began earnestly.

            “Not willingly, no,” O’Neill said.

            “You don’t think the President would - ?”  An aghast expression spread across Daniel’s face as his nimble mind instantly interpreted the meaning behind his team-mate’s observation.

            “No, I don’t,” O’Neill cut in grimly.  “But that pre-supposes Hammond doesn’t get headed off at the pass.”

            “Huh?”  Daniel frowned in confusion.  He saw O’Neill’s gaze flicker significantly towards the scene on the other side of the glass.  Daniel followed that look.  What he saw didn’t exactly fill him with a warm, fuzzy feeling.  Hammond had the red phone clamped to an ear and was impatiently drumming his fingers on his desk.  The General’s expression was one of grim frustration and escalating anger.  “Oh,” said Daniel, suddenly understanding.  He looked back to O’Neill and saw that his friend was looking pensively grim.

            As the two men watched Hammond, the General slammed his phone down and glowered viciously at it for a moment before reaching for his other phone.

            “I hope it’s a fire-proof plan, Danny-boy.  I have a feeling we’re gonna’ need it,”  O’Neill observed, before setting down his coffee mug and heading over to the conference table.  “I’m real sorry about this red-tape screw-up, folks,” he told R’Fyaa and Seeba.  He noted that Melia was back on Seeba’s knee, was looking a lot happier than she had earlier and that MacGyver had settled into a chair adjacent to the alien woman’s.  “The General’s trying to get it sorted out right now.”

            “It’s alright, Colonel.  We are aware that not all Tau’ri are as honourable as General Hammond and yourselves,” R’Fyaa said, making a gesture that encompassed MacGyver and Daniel as well as O’Neill himself.  “That is why when we walk your world, we generally do so unannounced.”  A smile flitted briefly across the Keeper’s face.  “We realise the General’s dealings with us have been conducted in good faith.  We do not hold the short-sightedness of others against him or against you and your people.”

            “Thank you, sir.  I appreciate that,” O’Neill acknowledged, then he confessed.  “Somehow I doubt I would be as patient if our situations reversed.”

            “I doubt it too, Colonel,” R’Fyaa observed with a quiet chuckle and a twinkle in his eyes.  “That, perhaps, is why you are an Honoured Warrior, whereas I am merely a humble Keeper.”

            “Do not be concerned for us, Jack,” Seeba interjected as the Colonel snorted sceptically at R’Fyaa’s self-deprecatory utterance.  “We shall be on our way soon enough.”

            “Indeed you will, Madam.”  This rather smugly confident pronouncement came from Redman.  Glancing round, O’Neill saw that the NID man had finished his phone-call and now approached the little gathering at the conference table.

            “Not with you they won’t be, Redman.”  O’Neill graced the man with a dangerous glower.  “General Hammond will - ”

            “Find that my orders stand, I think, Colonel,” Redman cut in confidently, ignoring the menace in O’Neill’s eyes.  “And I think you’ll also find that your transfer to Area 51 is effective immediately and Hammond has no say in the matter - despite what he seems to think.  Nor does he have any say in the removal of Mr. MacGyver from this facility to Area 51, along with our other guests here.”  Redman positively smirked.  “You might as well start packing, Colonel.  We’ll all be heading upstairs to the transport I have waiting just as soon as Hammond gets it through his thick skull that this is all a done deal and he has no say in what is now NID business.”

            “Colonel... Redman, is it?”  MacGyver spoke up swiftly at that point, deciding it was time to jump into the conversation before O’Neill gave in to temptation and ripped Redman apart.  He could tell by the way his cousin’s jaw was clenching and unclenching that the man’s self-restraint was perilously close to red-lining at any moment.  “I realise that Jack has to pretty much do what the Air Force tells him, but I’m a civilian: as you so succinctly reminded me just a few minutes ago.  These folks here,” he indicated his alien companions, “are civilians.  That means we have rights,  whether you like it or not.  So, supposing we don’t feel particularly inclined to play along with being summarily kidnapped?”

            “This is a matter of National Security, Mr. MacGyver.  You will cooperate,” Redman stated confidently.

            “Let’s just suppose, for the sake of argument, we don’t.”  MacGyver’s manner remained amiable on the surface, but the steel lying beneath it was unmistakable.

            “You don’t have a choice,”  Redman stated smugly.

            “Oh there’s always a choice, Colonel,” MacGyver responded.  All amiability had gone.  It was replaced by an aura of determination that gave due warning that Redman would be biting off considerably more than he could chew if he persisted with his intended course of action.

            “Indeed,” Redman refused to be cowed by the challenge in the Phoenix man’s eyes.  “You can choose to cooperate and we can all be civilized about things or you can make the trip in handcuffs and leg-irons and, if necessary, under sedation.”

            “I don’t like that man, Seeba,” Melia chose that opportune moment to pipe up.  The look of utter contempt she bestowed on Redman was one that really only a child can truly manage.  She huddled further into the protective embrace of her adoptive mother.  “He’s not nice.”

            “Out of the mouths of babes,” O’Neill observed.  “Frightening kids an’ bullying civilians is about your speed really, isn’t it, Redman?”  He added caustically.

            The look Redman gave the other Colonel was frosty to say the least.  Then, clearly deciding that O’Neill’s comments were not worth dignifying with a verbal response, Redman pointedly turned away from him and moved around the table to the chair at the head of it; the chair that was customarily Hammond’s.  Seemingly oblivious to the increasingly thin ice he was blithely stomping all over, he sat himself down in the General’s chair.

            “Make yourself at home, why dontcha’,” O’Neill muttered darkly.  His sarcasm was lost on the NID man, who absently thanked him as he focused his attention on R’Fyaa and Seeba.

            “While we’re waiting for General Hammond to see sense, we might as well get better acquainted.”  Redman bestowed an ingratiating smile on the two aliens.  “We are, after all, going to be spending a considerable amount of time together from now on.”

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

            Colonel Redman quickly discovered that his particular brand of ‘making nice’ with the SGC’s alien guests wasn’t going to be the simple walk-in-the-park that he had anticipated.  In response to his kicking off with a couple of eager questions about the effectiveness of K’Rin’sha weapons technology, R’Fyaa regarded him critically, before casting a look across the table at MacGyver which seemed to silently ask: ‘Is he serious?’  MacGyver gave the alien an apologetically sympathetic look and an expressive little half-shrug in return which expressed his opinion of Redman quite eloquently.

            The alien ‘Keeper’ then looked back to Redman and spoke a few words in K’Rin’sha ‘Primary’, his tone distinctly less than cordial.  The utterance provoked a quickly muffled snort of amusement from Daniel, who was continuing to hover by the ‘refreshments’ table.

            “Excuse me?”  Redman regarded R’Fyaa blankly, while O’Neill and MacGyver both looked questioningly in Daniel’s direction.  O’Neill mouthed the obvious question at the archaeologist.

            “Something rude?”

            Daniel nodded, his blue eyes eloquent.

            “Cool...”  O’Neill murmured, exuding approval.

            “Ah, I’m afraid I didn’t understand what you said,”  Redman told R’Fyaa, totally oblivious to the by-play going on between the two SG-1 men.

            R’Fyaa spoke again, still in ‘Primary’.  Redman looked  bewildered.

            “Sir, I...” The NID Colonel began  irritably, only to break off and glower in Daniel’s direction as the archaeologist tried to smother another amused snort.  “Doctor Jackson?”  Redman growled, then assumed an air of confidence again as sudden enlightenment came to him.  “You understood what he just said?”

            “Um... I got the gist of it,” Jackson admitted.

            “Then please translate,” Redman commanded, returning his gaze to R’Fyaa in a manner that betrayed growing smugness.  “What did the gentleman say?”

            Jack recognised the look that entered Daniel’s eyes and knew that Redman had just dug himself a hole which Daniel intended to take great delight in back-filling - with Redman in it.  His body-language broadcasting belligerent stubbornness, Daniel obligingly uttered something in a language that most definitely was not English.  Jack wasn’t sure, but he thought it might be Abydonian.  Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of an appreciatively amused smile flitting across his cousin’s face and knew that MacGyver had twigged what Daniel was up to and was enjoying it.  After all, Redman hadn’t been specific about the language he wanted the translation to be in.

            Redman’s smugness slipped again and his irritation returned.

            “In English, if you don’t mind, Doctor Jackson!”  The NID man snapped, shooting another glare at the linguist.

            His body-language still positively screaming stubborn non-cooperation, Daniel refused to be intimidated by the NID man’s anger.  Instead, he returned the glare and uttered something brief and incomprehensible, in a tone that sounded extremely snarky.

            “Guess you’re going to have to find yourself another interpreter, Redman,” O’Neill smirked before heading back over to the ‘refreshment’ table to join his pissy archaeologist.  As Redman sputtered furiously and began to utter dire threats about having Jackson summarily removed from the Stargate project unless the linguist radically adjusted his ‘attitude’ and ‘got with the program’, O’Neill regarded Daniel and offered an educated guess as to what the younger man had said to the fuming NID man.  “Blow it out your ear?”

            “In a manner of speaking,” Daniel conceded confidentially.  O’Neill bestowed an approving look on his team-mate.

            “Way to go, Lingo-boy,” he praised.

            Daniel shot the briefest of irritated looks at Jack in almost reflexive response to this latest in a long line of dubious nicknames, then went back to the rather more important matter of broadcasting stubborn belligerence at Redman. Fortunately, before the unconcealed hostility between the archaeologist and the NID man could escalate to a full-scale outbreak of thermonuclear war, General Hammond emerged suddenly from his office.  He did not look to be a happy camper.

            The fury that Redman had been directing at Daniel changed immediately to expectant smugness as he eyed the approaching General.  O’Neill made to tag onto Hammond’s six, but Daniel’s hand suddenly on his arm stopped him.  He shot his team-mate a questioning look.  Jackson said nothing aloud, but his eyes spoke eloquently.  Acquiescing to the silent request, O’Neill inclined his head in the barest of nods and remained where he was at Daniel’s side despite not having a clue as to why he wanted him to stay put.

            “You don’t look like the bearer of good news, General,” MacGyver observed across the briefing room table even as Redman rose to his feet at Hammond’s approach.

            “I’m afraid I’m not, Mr. MacGyver,” Hammond admitted with noticeable regret combined with simmering fury.

            “I told you you were wasting your time, General.”  Redman didn’t do a victory dance, but he certainly exuded plenty of smug triumph.  “Now if you’ll allow my people back in here, I’ll take these people,” the NID man gestured at the K’Rin’sha and MacGyver, “off your hands.”  He shot a distinctly self-satisfied smirk in O’Neill’s direction.  “You should have packed when you had the chance, O’Neill.”

            “Colonel O’Neill will be remaining here, Colonel,” Hammond snapped with crisp authority.  Redman wasn’t the only person in the room to look surprised by that pronouncement.

            “Great.  Terrific.  Whoopee,” O’Neill observed laconically.  “What?”  He shot this question at Daniel as the linguist hissed his name at him in a manner that he recognised from off-world experience.  It was Daniel’s ‘Shut-up-Jack’ version of ‘Jack’.  Choosing to ignore Daniel, O’Neill went on.  “Score one for the Good Guys.”  He followed the observation with a question.  “What about Mac and everyone else, sir?”

            “Unfortunately I was unable to speak directly with the President,”  Hammond answered with grim anger, “and while my superiors have agreed to countermand your transfer Colonel, I have been instructed to comply with the rest of Colonel Redman’s orders, however misguided I consider them to be.”

            O’Neill was about to go suitably ballistic at that piece of news, but a sharp tug on his sleeve and another hiss from Daniel distracted him.  He cast an irritably bewildered ‘What?’ look at the archaeologist and saw the exasperated look the other man was levelling at him.  It was a look that said as clearly as the hiss of his name moments earlier had done:  ‘Shut-up!’.  Only it was more emphatic.  It also pleaded: ‘Trust-me-Jack’.

            Hammond missed the interplay between the two men. He was otherwise occupied with apologising to the K’Rin’sha and attempting to explain that they and MacGyver would be required to accompany Redman.  Redman, meanwhile, was positively gloating, but as he turned to aim some of that smug superiority O’Neill’s way, he was distracted by MacGyver who, rising to his feet, told the General not to worry and that things would undoubtedly be speedily sorted out just as soon as The Phoenix Foundation got wind of what was going on.  MacGyver then went on to really rattle Redman’s cage by casually adding that The Press would undoubtedly have a field day when the whole sorry fiasco leaked out.  The NID man predictably went ballistic, hurling various venomous threats at MacGyver who irritated him further by refusing to be intimidated by said threats and who retaliated with reasoned, but barbed and unshakable logic.

            Along with everyone else in the room, O’Neill’s attention was automatically drawn towards the outbreak of verbal hostilities between MacGyver and Redman.  An oddly familiar ‘buzz’ on the edges of his senses however, kept the focus of his attention from being as total as everyone else’s - other than Daniel’s - seemed to be.  That distracting ‘buzz’ grew rapidly in its intensity and O’Neill nearly jumped out of his skin when the missing Alaeya literally popped out of thin air beside Daniel and himself.  Daniel on the other hand didn’t appear to be as startled by the girl’s sudden appearance as one might reasonably have expected him to be.  No-one else in the room seemed to notice Alaeya’s appearance, so engrossed were they in the verbal altercation between MacGyver and Redman.

            “Daniel?”  O’Neill hissed at his team-mate in a pissed-off, but heavily muted manner that indicated he wanted an explanation for whatever the hell was going on.

            “Plan B, Jack,” Daniel shot back tersely, but just as mutedly.  “Just go with it, okay?”  He added, before addressing Alaeya urgently, but very quietly in K’Rin’sha ‘Primary’.  The girl nodded at him and he murmured a relieved ‘thank you’ to her.

            The elusively familiar ‘buzz’ on the edge of his senses that Jack had been experiencing, had grown considerably stronger by then.  He was just in the midst of identifying it when he felt Alaeya catch hold of and press something into his left hand; something which sent an unmistakable ‘jolt’ twanging through him as he felt it sink into his palm.  It took him by surprise, but he managed to mask any overt display of the fact, aware that both Alaeya and Daniel were endeavouring to block from the rest of the room, the brief flare of blue-ish light that was emitted as the K’Rin’sha crystal embedded itself in his flesh .

            “Daniel?”  O’Neill aimed the hiss and another questioning look at Jackson, desperately hoping the man would clue him in on what was going on.

            “I’ve, er, I’ve got something to do,” Daniel responded rapidly but equally quietly.  “Look after Alaeya, okay?”  He added, shoving a candy bar at his bewildered team-leader before casting a quick glance towards the heated argument still going on between Redman and MacGyver and then sidling hastily towards the exit only a few feet away and ducking out through it.

            “I hate when he does that,” O’Neill muttered in exasperation.  He realised that Alaeya was swaying and turned his attention to her.  “You okay, kiddo?”  He asked in concern, automatically reaching a hand to her elbow to provide support.  “You need this?”  He offered her the candy Daniel had left with him.  The girl nodded and smiled briefly up at him as she took the candy.  Still accepting the Air Force Colonel’s support, Alaeya tore open the wrapper and took an eager bite of the confection.

            “Colonel O’Neill.”  O’Neill heard Hammond’s rather terse voice.  Looking towards his superior, he suddenly realised that the verbal hostilities between MacGyver and Redman seemed to have subsided to silent glowering.

            “Sir?”  O’Neill responded.

            “Please escort Colonel Redman and - ”  Hammond began to order.

            “Where did she spring from?”  Redman interjected the demand as he looked round with the intention of aiming a superior gloat at O’Neill, only to spot the teenager at the man’s side.

            “Little girls’ room,” O’Neill said smoothly, giving the NID man the benefit of a look that challenged him to prove otherwise.  Redman chose not to rise to the bait.  Instead, he demanded suspiciously.

            “Where’s Doctor Jackson?”

            “Little Linguists’ room?”  O’Neill shrugged and offered helpfully.

            Redman glowered suspiciously, clearly not trusting a word O’Neill said and unappreciative of the man’s sense of humour.  Hammond, on the other hand, quickly suppressed the little smile that had made a valiant attempt to sneak onto his face.  Across the table, MacGyver caught O’Neill’s eye and gave him a look which the SGC Colonel interpreted easily;  it told him Mac knew exactly where Jackson had gone and why.

            General Hammond cleared his throat loudly and began to re-issue the order he’d been giving when Redman had interrupted him, which was for O’Neill to ‘escort’ Redman, MacGyver and the K’Rin’sha to the NID transport which awaited them on the surface.

            O’Neill was about to protest the order when another look from MacGyver warned him off.  With a heavy sigh of reluctance and his body-language screaming that his compliance was most definitely under the strongest of protest, O’Neill nodded at Hammond and told him tersely.  “Yes, sir.”  He then aimed a look at Redman that silently promised none of the man’s actions would be forgotten and that pay-back would be a spectacular bitch.

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

            After a quick check that Alaeya was going to be okay, Jack stepped over to the Briefing room doorway, where he then waited for Redman’s group of abductees.  Years in Black Ops had honed both his observational skills and his ability to hide behind an expressionless mask.  He employed both skills as he witnessed a very subtle little game of ‘smoke and mirrors’ unfold before his eyes.

            As R’Fyaa and Seeba rose from their seats on opposite sides of the table and moved to join each other at the head of the table along with little Melia clinging to Seeba’s skirts, Hammond began to apologise again to the K’Rin’sha for the unfortunate situation they all found themselves to be in.  Redman promptly endeavoured to butt in to impatiently break things up and get the show on the road as R’Fyaa responded politely to Hammond, once again assuring the General that he did not hold the man responsible for the idiocy of others.

            MacGyver, who had already been on his feet, moved with the K’Rin’sha, but drifted past them by a few paces and casually out of Redman’s direct line-of-sight.  The K’Rin’sha, O’Neill noted, halted and stood where they could keep Redman’s attention away from the Phoenix operative - even if only briefly.  Alaeya meanwhile, also moved.  She headed over to her mother, passing MacGyver en route.  Had O’Neill not been watching for it, it would have been very easy to miss the deft sleight-of-hand which the girl employed as she passed his cousin, slipping something into his right hand.

            O’Neill had a pretty good idea what it was that the girl passed to MacGyver.  His suspicion was confirmed a few seconds later as the Phoenix operative passed the object from his right hand to his left, casually moving as he did so to mask the action from Redman although the NID man was being efficiently distracted by Seeba and R’Fyaa.  O’Neill felt the strong vibration on his senses, followed almost instantly by a powerful surge of awareness of his cousin as the K’Rin’sha crystal settled itself into MacGyver’s left hand.

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

            Jackson, meanwhile, after his surreptitious departure from the Briefing Room, had made his way to the Control Room as swiftly as he could without attracting undue attention to himself.  When he entered the section he was relieved to note that the duty staff were all pretty much preoccupied with various routine tasks and thus paid him little heed. He received a couple of nods of acknowledgment and a respectful ‘Doctor Jackson’ from some of the personnel, but no-one enquired as to why he was there.  He was, after all, a familiar presence and he had clearance.

            Unobtrusively, Daniel made his way to and settled at a computer terminal tucked away at the back of the Control Room.  It was a terminal that saw little in the way of day-to-day use, being primarily an auxiliary back-up station.

            Checking his wrist-watch, Daniel blew out a breath, ran over in his mind the instructions MacGyver had given him, prayed inwardly that he remembered everything accurately, checked that no-one was paying him any particular attention and began to quietly but swiftly tap at the keyboard.

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

            Upstairs in the Briefing Room, Redman finally succeeded in prising his little group of detainees away from Hammond and ushered them out into the corridor.  O’Neill was at the head of the group, reluctantly leading the way to the elevators, his body-language broadcasting quietly simmering anger and disapproval with every step he took.  Seeba and Melia were a few paces behind him.  Alaeya followed them, with R’Fyaa and MacGyver close behind her.  Redman was on everyone’s six with a couple of reluctant-looking SGC SFs in his wake.

            As the group traversed the corridor, O’Neill ‘heard’ MacGyver’s voice resonate softly inside his head.  He carefully kept any trace of reaction resolutely concealed.

            //Jack?  Can you hear me?//

            //Yeah.  Five by.  So.  What’s the plan?  You do have a plan?//

            //Ssssorta.// To O’Neill’s way of thinking, it wasn’t the most definitively positive of responses he’d ever heard.  MacGyver’s ‘voice’ continued, its tone more business-like.  //When I deck ya’ make it look good an’ then stay down for as long as you can reasonably get away with it.//

            //What?// O’Neill was suitably dubious about the wisdom of what he had just ‘heard’.  //That’s your plan?//

            //Not entirely, but that part’ll keep ya’ from a court-martial ’cos I reckon Redman’s gonna’ be pretty ticked off when we’re done here.//

            //Ya’ think?//  Jack snorted dryly.  //And the rest of your plan would be...?//

            //Flexible.//

            //In other words you’re gonna’ wing it.//  Jack was less than thrilled by that notion.

            //It’s what I do best, Jack.  You should know that.  ‘Sides, it all kind of depends on Daniel’s timing.// The mention of Daniel disconcerted Jack.  MacGyver clearly picked up on that disconcertion for he added swiftly.  //Don’t worry, Jack, the kid’s not at any risk.  I promise.//

            Having by that time reached the elevators, O’Neill halted and glanced round.  That single, brief glance, confirmed what his senses were already telling him with regards to MacGyver’s whereabouts: he had made his way forward through the group of detainees and was only a few paces behind Jack.  In that same glance, O’Neill also registered that Alaeya was close on MacGyver’s heels.  He noted too that Seeba and Melia were dawdling some several paces further back, while R’Fyaa remained a few paces behind them and was successfully frustrating Redman’s impatient efforts to hurry them along.

            His body language still visibly broadcasting his simmering displeasure at the entire situation, O’Neill fished his security pass from a pocket and reached to rather viciously swipe it through the scanner that would summon the elevator.  That was the moment that every warning klaxon in the SGC seemed to erupt in a deafening cacophony of sound, almost drowning out the voice which, by means of the base P.A. system, tersely announced a fire alert, adding the rider that it was not a drill.  Just as the distraction happened, O’Neill sensed rather than actually saw the wild, double-handed, round-house swing which was launched at him by MacGyver.  Having already been primed by the other man though, O’Neill went with the ‘unprovoked attack’ rather than attempting to evade it as he would otherwise have instinctively done.

            To Redman and the SFs, already startled by the klaxons and the pronouncement of a full-scale security alert, it appeared that O’Neill was caught totally off-guard by MacGyver’s sudden and seemingly unexpected assault upon him.  They witnessed the Colonel slam violently into the concrete corridor wall and drop to the deck like the proverbial stone.  The momentum of the attack seemed to take MacGyver down too.  The Phoenix man hit the deck, dropping into a reflexive-looking roll, before coming back up onto his feet in a smoothly fluid motion.

            Despite being taken by surprise by this unexpected turn of events, Redman managed to let out a startled yell for the two SFs on his six to ‘Stop that man!’.  However, even as the openly stunned SFs reacted and began to rush past him, Redman saw the K’Rin’sha girl, Alaeya, dive to MacGyver’s side and grab hold of the man’s arm.  He also heard the girl cry out something that sounded like ‘Now, Patu!’ and saw her raise her left hand.  MacGyver’s left hand also came up.  Redman’s jaw dropped as he saw flares of vivid blue light seem to emanate from the centre of each of the duo’s left palms before the twosome literally vanished into thin air before his very eyes.  Equally startled, the two SFs skidded to a messy halt, staring at the empty space where MacGyver and the girl had been seconds before.

            “What the hell?”  Redman managed to squawk in a distinctly strangulated tone, before yelling at the SFs to grab Seeba and Melia, while he made a grab for R’Fyaa.

            With a surprising turn of speed the alien ‘Keeper’ neatly side-stepped the NID man’s lunge for him and Redman staggered a couple of paces, carried on by his own momentum, into the corridor wall.  The Colonel snarled viciously as he regained his balance and spun around preparatory to making another lunge at the alien.

            “Goodbye, Colonel,” R’Fyaa said with a courteous tilt of his head.  Redman saw the alien’s left hand come up and glimpsed the presence of a small blue crystal in the man’s palm before there was a flash of brilliant blue light and the K’Rin’sha ‘Keeper’ disappeared in the same manner as he had seen Alaeya and MacGyver vanish.  It was around then that Redman realised that the SFs he had ordered to grab Seeba and Melia were standing several paces away looking rather helplessly at each other.  Of the two alien females there was no sign.

            Redman’s yowl of frustrated rage was easily audible even above the racket still being made by the base klaxons.

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

            “Sergeant.  Report!”  General Hammond ordered tersely as he reached the foot of the stairs that descended into the Control Room from the Briefing Room above.

            “We have fire alerts on Levels 16, 12 and 11, sir,” Sergeant Davis reported briskly as Hammond hurried over to him.  “Fire and security teams are checking them out right now, sir.”

            “How in God’s name - ?”  Hammond began.

            “I don’t know, sir,”  Davis interjected before announcing.  “Sir.  We have another alert on Level 17.”

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

            Sam Malloy blinked awake from a deep sleep and lay where he was for some moments, trying to orientate himself to his surroundings.  Hearing the muted sounds of klaxons, he figured that that was what had disturbed him.  Wondering if the noise had something to do with the Stargate again, he pushed himself unhurriedly up into a sitting position.  He winced at the twinges of discomfort that emanated from his right shoulder and through his chest.  Absently, he rubbed at those aches with his left hand and yawned.

            Pushing aside the blanket that his father had tucked around him, Sam swung his feet over the side of the bed and, his movements on the cautious side, tried standing up.  There was no sensation of light-headedness and the room firmly stayed put, so he padded in the direction of the V.I.P. room’s small bathroom facility and took care of a personal matter, washed his hands and then splashed some water on his face.  Drying off, he returned to the other room.

            A frown crept onto his face as he realised the klaxons were still wailing.  It struck him as likely that if the alert was due to a team returning to the base via the Stargate, the noise would have ceased by then.  Something else therefore had to be going on.

            Concern rippled through Malloy.  Did the alert have something to do with his father?  Or Jack?  Or both?  Had they been experimenting with their crystals again and had something gone wrong like the last time?

            Sam scanned the room for any sign of his boots.  Spotting them tucked under the bed where his dad had put them, he hurriedly got his feet into them.  Opening the door to the V.I.P. room a few minutes later, he found his exit blocked by a living mountain.

            “Teal’c!”  He exclaimed, surprised as the mountain turned to regard him with a look that was almost  curious.  “What’s going on?”

            “I do not know, SamMalloy,” the big Jaffa admitted.

            “So how about we go find out?”  Sam suggested, endeavouring to step around the big man.

            “Your father instructed that you remain here, SamMalloy,” Teal’c rumbled, blocking Sam’s path in one smooth movement.

            “He could be in trouble, Teal’c,” Malloy pointed out, side-stepping the other way.  “If he and Jack have been experimenting with those crystals again, he could be hurt.  They both could.  Or have you forgotten what happened last time?”  He questioned  impatiently.

            “Indeed I have not,” Teal’c rumbled, once again easily blocking Sam’s path.  “However, your father has entrusted me with your safety.  You will remain here.”  Teal’c exuded an aura of determination.

            “Oh c’mon, big guy.  Be reasonable,” Sam sighed irritably.

            “You will remain here.”  Teal’c’s tone and demeanour indicated the matter was not open to discussion.  “If we are required, we will be so informed.”

            Malloy sighed heavily and tried glowering.  It had no noticeable effect on Teal’c’s demeanour.  Sam sighed heavily again. “Oh-kay,” he said. “But you must have some way of finding out what all this racket is about?  There must be a phone or something around here somewhere.”  He saw Teal’c incline his head as if conceding that particular point and so pressed on with.  “So how about it?  Look, I’m only gonna’ worry here until I know this...” Sam waved a hand vaguely at the on-going blare of the klaxons,  “...isn’t because Dad’s hurt or anything.  Or Jack either.”

            “Very well,” Teal’c inclined his head again.  “You will remain in your father’s quarters while I attempt to ascertain their status.”

            Sam waited for Teal’c to leave, but the Jaffa just stood there gracing him with a look that was unmistakable.  It said clearly that Teal’c was doing nothing until Sam went back into the V.I.P. room.  Sam sighed and retreated back into his father’s quarters, closing the door.

            Leaning back against the closed door, Malloy counted to ten under his breath, then turned and cautiously eased the door open just a crack.  Finding that his bodyguard was no longer blocking the doorway, Sam opened the door further and cautiously risked a quick peek out into the corridor.  He spotted the Jaffa some way down the corridor talking with an airman who was making use of a wall-mounted phone.  Sam ducked back swiftly as the Jaffa looked in his direction.

            Blowing out a breath Sam waited a few moments then eased the door open again and risked another peek out.  A group of airmen in green fatigues were hurrying past.  Sam glanced past them, saw Teal’c’s attention was on the SF with the phone and stepped smartly out of the V.I.P. room to tag onto the group of airmen, hoping to blend in with them since he too was wearing green fatigues and his hair was trimmed short enough to just about pass as military if no-one looked too closely.

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

            Ignoring the irate Colonel Redman, who was cussing fit to bust and was stomping back down the corridor towards the Briefing Room, one of the still bewildered SFs hurried to the crumpled form lying on the floor near the elevator doors.

            “Colonel O’Neill?  Sir?”  The SF questioned with grim concern as he dropped down onto one knee beside the prostrate Colonel.  Over his shoulder he yelled to his colleague.  “Better get a medical team down here.”

            It was at that point that O’Neill decided it was time to quit playing possum.  Putting on a pretty convincing act of coming suddenly but very groggily and even more crankily back to life just as the worried SF was trying to check him for a pulse, O’Neill waved the man off.  Although he was well aware of what had happened and what was going on courtesy of his K’Rin’sha-crystal-enhanced bond with MacGyver, the Colonel feigned ignorance and, hauling himself to his feet, irately demanded an explanation of what the hell was going on from anyone who cared to provide one.

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

            Glancing furtively around, Daniel rose to his feet and stepped quietly away from the computer terminal he’d been using.  No-one paid him any attention.  Not that that was surprising.  The Control Room staff were all pretty much occupied with trying to figure out why fire alerts were being triggered all over the base seemingly at random and for no apparent reason, while at the same time trying to placate a very unhappy two-star General who was demanding an explanation for the phenomenon.

            Taking a deep breath, Daniel steeled himself and, as unobtrusively as possible, snuck over to the stairs to the Briefing Room above.  It wasn’t until he was at the half-way landing that he began to relax.  He knew that eventually he would have to confess to Hammond about his part in what was happening, but by then Hammond would at least know the why of it and that ought to go some way to soothing the General’s ire.

            Halfway up the second flight of stairs Daniel found Colonel Redman standing at the top, glowering down at him.  Before Daniel could say anything, the Colonel snarled at him.

            “Jackson.  Where’s Hammond?”

            “Um...  He’s ah... ” Daniel’s gaze flickered reflexively in the direction of the Control Room.  “...a little busy right now.  Weren’t you leaving?”  He continued his ascent, a pretty convincing look of puzzled surprise and innocence on his face.

            Redman snarled something distinctly uncomplimentary about ‘Damn civilians’ and how they should all be shot, before he stormed past Jackson, nearly knocking the archaeologist down the stairs.  Fortunately Daniel had a hand on the stair-rail and managed to tighten his grip on it quickly enough to avoid taking what could easily have been a very nasty tumble.

            “Well he seems pissed,” Daniel observed in quiet approval as he watched Redman stomp furiously down the stairs.  “Guess ‘Plan B’ must have worked.”  He hesitated for a moment, torn between wanting to be a fly on the Control Room wall for the next few minutes and wanting to find Jack.

            It wasn’t that difficult a decision to make however.  Quickly ascending the last couple of steps up into the Briefing Room, he headed immediately for the exit that would take him to the elevators on that level.

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

            Malloy tried to exude an aura of having every right to be where he was as he mingled with the small group of airmen who came to a halt at a Fire Equipment Point.  As protective fire-retardant suits were hauled out and distributed, Sam did his best to blend in by snagging a suit and starting to climb into it.  He didn’t have any specific plan in mind, but it occurred to him that a fire-suit would be a pretty good disguise to enable him to move fairly freely around the base since it was apparent that a fire-alert was in progress and, so far at least, the airmen hadn’t questioned his presence amongst them. Eavesdropping shamelessly on what little conversation passed back and forth between them, he gathered that they had no more idea of what was behind the ‘Alert’ than he did, though they had plenty of speculations.

            As he reflexively helped one of the airmen who was struggling with an insulated back-pack of breathing equipment, Sam found himself being asked by another airman about his thoughts on the ‘Alert’ they were gearing up for.  Sam shrugged and said he hadn’t a clue what was going on.  Then, just to blend in, he threw out a speculation that maybe it had something to do with whatever had happened on Level 19 earlier that day.  One of the other airmen threw in that that was what he thought too and that he’d heard that that had had something to do with some weird alien tech. that SG-1 had brought back from somewhere.  Another offered the comment that things always got lively if SG-1 were involved.  That same airman suddenly swallowed nervously and turned pale while simultaneously stiffening as something behind Sam suddenly caught his attention.

            “Indeed.”  A familiar voice rumbled ominously behind Sam.  He felt a large hand clamp itself firmly on his left shoulder as the voice went on to state unequivocally.  “SamMalloy.  You will return immediately to your quarters.”

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

            Entering the corridor that led from the Briefing Room, Daniel spotted O’Neill almost immediately and, to the archaeologist’s familiar eye, his team-leader didn’t appear entirely steady on his feet.  An apprehensive-looking SF was about three paces on the Colonel’s six and was being subjected to a colourful diatribe on all the truly unpleasant places to which he could be posted if he were foolish enough to so much as breathe a word to Doctor Fraiser about what had occurred.

            Daniel wasn’t entirely sure just what exactly was going on, but O’Neill’s mention of Fraiser had him immediately concerned.  He hurried towards his team-mate. “Jack?  Jack, are you okay?  What happened?”

            “Don’t you start.”  The Colonel sounded distinctly tetchy.  Then his tone softened at the hurt look that flickered across Daniel’s face.  “I’m fine.  Okay?”  He assured him, before his tone became curter again as he demanded.  “Where’s that asshole Redman?”

            “Um... He, ah... ” Jackson motioned vaguely towards the Briefing Room.  “I just saw him.  He was looking for the General and he didn’t look too happy.”

            “I’ll bet he didn’t,” O’Neill muttered, stepping past Daniel, who cast a questioning look towards the SF who had been cautiously trailing the Colonel.

            “The Colonel took a bad one back there, Doctor Jackson.”  The SF informed Daniel in a confidential manner while tilting his head momentarily in the direction from which he and O’Neill had just come.  “He almost got put through the wall.  I think maybe Doctor Fraiser should - ”

            “Thanks.  I’ll take it from here,” Daniel responded appreciatively.  He noted the relief that flickered across the SF’s face at his offer.

            “Okay, Doctor Jackson.  Thank you.”  The SF said with a nod before executing a grateful retreat.  Daniel turned and hurried after O’Neill.

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

            “General Hammond!  I demand you lock down this base immediately!”  Redman yelled angrily as he reached the foot of the stairs and spotted the base’s commander, who was hovering at the elbow of a technician who was busy at a keyboard.  He began to stomp towards the General.

            “Are you still here, Colonel?”  Hammond turned to aim a glower of intense displeasure at the NID man.

            “They escaped, dammit!  MacGyver and those aliens.  They escaped.  Vanished into thin air.  I demand - ” Whatever Redman’s demand was, it was cut off abruptly as he suddenly stumbled and seemed to trip over something.  He careened into Hammond, who lost his balance and staggered backwards into Sergeant Davis.  The technician’s chair, unfortunately, was on castors.  Davis let out a startled yelp as he shot sideways along the console bench to collide with a standing colleague.  Hammond landed on the deck with Redman landing on top of him.  Davis, jolted from his seat by colliding with his colleague - who had fallen sideways into another seated technician whose chair was also on castors - tried desperately to avoid landing on either of the fallen Officers, particularly the General.

            A bellow of outraged surprise mixed with pain was clearly audible to all within the Control Room, despite the still-blaring base klaxons.

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

            “Jack?”  Daniel questioned, catching up to the older man in the Briefing Room.  O’Neill had stopped by one of the chairs at the conference table and was resting a hand on its high back in a manner suggesting to Daniel that the man’s sense of balance wasn’t quite what it should be.

            “I’m okay... It’s... Mac’s using his crystal... ” O’Neill muttered, visibly gathering himself together as Daniel came to a worried halt at his side.  “We really need to see about getting batteries for these things,” he man quipped, raising his left hand briefly to allow Daniel to see that the crystal embedded in it was glowing bluely.

            “Would this help?”  Daniel produced a peanut candy from one of his fatigues’ pockets.

            O’Neill was just about to respond when an urgent sounding announcement erupted from the base P.A. system.

            “Doctor Fraiser and a medical team to the Control Room immediately!  Doctor Fraiser and a medical team to the Control Room!”

            Daniel and O’Neill looked at each other in surprise.

            “Part of the plan?”  The Colonel questioned.

            “Ah... No.”  The archaeologist shook his head, his expression betraying him to be as bewildered as his team-mate.

            “Maybe someone shot Redman?”  O’Neill ventured in a tone that suggested the remark was more of a hope than a joke as he started to head towards the stairs.

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

            Having drawn the assignment of guard duty at one of the entrances to the Gate Room, Airman Malcolm Philips shifted uneasily as he listened to the relentless racket of the base klaxons and the P.A. announcement that medics were needed in the Control Room.  He wished someone would tell him what the hell was going on, preferably before he went deaf from the unremitting din echoing up and down the hallway.  Having received no orders that would allow him to leave his post however, he dutifully stayed put, trusting that his superiors would inform him if an evacuation was necessary.  He had been around the SGC long enough to know that no-one got left behind off-world.  It was something which he knew the base’s highly respected, albeit sometimes extremely volatile and cranky 2-I-C emphatically drilled into the head of each and every SG-team candidate that transferred in.  Philips was confident that that same rule applied Earth-side too.

            Some several minutes later, despite the continuing racket being made by the klaxons, he could have sworn he heard the sound of approaching footsteps.  Several sets of approaching footsteps.  Footsteps that seemed to be in something of a hurry.

            “Hello?”  He called dubiously, wondering if he was just imagining things since he couldn’t see any sign of anyone.  He was therefore surprised when he heard the distinctive sound of a security card being swiped through the scanner beside which he was standing.  Automatically he looked at the scanner.  He saw its red light change to green and the Gate Room door which he was guarding began to slide open.  Deciding that there was definitely something strange going on, Philips tightened his grip on the MP-5 with which he was armed.

            “Hello?”  He called out.  “Who’s there?”

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

            “What the hell?”  O’Neill muttered as he neared the foot of the stairs leading down into the Control room and swept the area with his dark-eyed gaze.  As he took in the scene which greeted him, adrenaline surged through his veins, helping to off-set the nauseatingly distracting buzz jangling through his being from the usage his cousin was currently putting his K’Rin’sha Guardian crystal to.

            Hammond was on the floor near the main control consoles and didn’t seem to be moving.  Several technicians were clustered around him and a First-Aid box lay open on the floor beside one of the kneeling technicians.  Colonel Redman on the other hand, was being held plastered back against a floor-to-ceiling equipment bank by two very large SFs who were shoving guns in the man’s face and who looked as if they were barely containing themselves from pulling the triggers.  Some of the Control room staff were shooting looks Redman’s way which indicated that if the SFs did give into temptation, they’d all suddenly become deaf, dumb and blind and swear the shooting was accidental.

            “What the hell happened here?”  O’Neill demanded loudly in a tone that suggested that the Wrath of God was about to descend from a devastatingly great height upon someone’s head just as soon as he decided upon the most deserving candidate.  Leaving Jackson still on the stairs and gawping in bewildered disbelief at the whole scene, O’Neill strode over to where his superior lay.  As he did so, he snapped an order - which was hastily obeyed - for someone to kill the damn’ alarms.

            Technicians scattered with the resolute exceptions of Sergeant Davis and a female technician.  Hammond was lying on his side in the recovery position and appeared to be unconscious.  His tie had been loosened and the top two buttons of his uniform shirt unfastened.   The female technician was holding a sterile wad from the First Aid kit to the back of Hammond’s head.

            “What happened, Sergeant?”  O’Neill demanded of Davis, his expression one of barely controlled rage as he dropped to one knee beside his unconscious superior.

            “I didn’t see exactly, sir, but I believe he...” Davis cast a coldly angry look in Redman’s direction, “...knocked the General down and he hit his head on something when he fell.”

            “What have we got?”  Janet Fraiser’s professionally clipped tones intruded, along with the clickety-clack of her heels as she entered the section at speed with a team of medics right behind her.  Her question was followed by a horrified, but quickly choked-off gasp as she saw who it was who was in need of her services on this particular occasion.

            “Take care of him, Doc.”  O’Neill rose to his feet and moved out of Fraiser’s way as she and her team swung swiftly into action.  “And keep a bed free in intensive care,” he added, his tone dark and dangerous.  “I know someone’s gonna’ be needing it real soon.”

            Fraiser glanced up, frowning bewilderedly, until she realised the Colonel was stalking in the direction of an unfamiliar, SF-restrained Colonel, who was loudly protesting his innocence of any wrong-doing and that he had tripped and how the whole thing was an accident.  Having rather more important things on her mind at that moment than the fate of the man about to have a seriously pissed-off Jack O’Neill in his face, Fraiser switched her attention back to her existing patient.

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

            In the Gate Room, Airman Philips registered the blessed silence brought about by the cessation of the base alarm system.  He did not relax however, since he still had something of a mystery on his hands regarding who - or what - had opened the door he had been guarding.  He scanned the Gate Room, his weapon at the ready much to the disconcertion of two of his comrades who had drawn duty-stations within the room and who were hanging around underneath the large reinforced glass panel that allowed the Control room personnel free view of the chamber.

            “Hey, Philips.  What’s up?”  One of the men called dubiously as he frowned at his colleague.

            “Dunno,”  Phillips responded tersely.  “Thought someone - or something - snuck past me.  The door opened by itself.”

            “Ya’ really ought a quit drinking so much Mess Hall coffee, Mal,”  the other Airman teased, although his gaze had become more alert at Philips’ announcement and he was reflexively scanning the Gate Room for any sign of anything out of the ordinary.

            The duo abruptly lost their casual attitude however as two unexpected things happened almost simultaneously.  The first was that the Stargate began to come to life, its inner ring starting to spin.  The second thing was that three people, plus a small child, literally appeared out of thin air near to the foot of the Gate’s ramp.

            As the duo beneath the Control Room window reflexively brought their weapons to bear on the four apparitions, Philips dove for and hit the nearest alarm button while bawling.

            “SECURITY TO THE GATE ROOM!”

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

            Colonel Redman experienced a tremendous sense of relief when the base alert sounded again to the accompaniment of Airman Philips’ yell for back-up, for it distracted O’Neill from hanging, drawing and quartering him. Or worse.

            The SGC man had, surprisingly, not yelled at him.  He hadn’t even raised his voice as he had caustically and pointedly reminded Redman of the dim view the Air Force took of personnel who did harm to superior officers.  O’Neill’s voice had, indeed, been so coldly controlled that it had struck a sense of terror into the NID man, the like of which Redman had never previously experienced.  The SGC officer’s expression had been even more dangerously controlled and terrifying.  And his eyes...  Redman had seen certain Death staring at him from those icy dark eyes.

            “Throw him in the brig.”  O’Neill issued the curt order to the two SFs who still held Redman plastered back against an equipment bank.  “If he resists, shoot him.”  Redman had no doubt whatsoever that O’Neill meant that instruction and, as the SFs nodded grimly, Redman also had no doubt that they would obey it quite literally if he uttered so much as a whimper of protest.  “And find him another pair of pants,” O’Neill added, gracing Redman with a look of utter contempt as he turned abruptly away.

            Redman flushed in abject mortification as he suddenly realised that somewhere along the line, he’d wet himself.

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

            As ‘back-up’ poured into the Gate Room, weapons at the ready, Airman Philips stared in stunned incredulity at the little group of ‘intruders’ clustered at the foot of the ramp.  He had heard that there was a civilian on the base who looked uncannily like the SGC’s 2-I-C, but to date he had not had the opportunity to visually confirm the fact for himself.  Now, unexpectedly, he did.

            “Don’t move!”  Philips ordered, snapping his attention back to the job at hand as the civilian in question moved with calm deliberation to place himself between his three female companions and the bulk of the militia piling into the chamber.  “What the hell...?”  Philips muttered as he saw the dully-blue-glowing crystal embedded in the civilian’s left palm as the man held his hands unhurriedly up in front of himself in the universal gesture of surrender.  “Hold it right there!”  Philips ordered.  “Sir,” he added as an after-thought in view of who the civilian looked so remarkably like.

            “Hey, guys,”  the shaggy-haired civilian smiled in a friendly, non-threatening, yet  apprehensive manner as he surveyed the rapidly increasing amount of hardware being levelled in his and his companions’ direction.  “Can’t we talk about this like reasonable people?”

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

            Meanwhile, up in the Control Room, organised chaos was still the apparent order of the day.  Sergeant Davis had made a dive for his keyboard as soon as the alert had been sounded in the Gate Room.

            “Colonel!  The Gate’s dialling... out!”  He called tersely over his shoulder, totally ignoring everything else going on around him.  “And I can’t stop it!”  He reported worriedly, having quickly discovered that try as he might, he just couldn’t touch any of the keys on the board.  It was as if there was some kind of invisible barrier in place just millimetres above the keys, preventing his fingers from making any contact whatsoever with them.

            “Stand down, Sergeant.  Let it dial.”

            “Sir?”  Davis couldn’t help but cast a surprised look at his superior, whom he suddenly discovered to be hovering at his elbow.  He noted that O’Neill’s gaze was focused on whatever was going on within the Gate Room.  He glanced in that direction himself and blinked in some surprise as he took in the scene there.

            “Let it dial, Sergeant,” O’Neill reiterated his order in quietly composed tones that brooked no argument.

            “Yes, sir,” Davis acknowledged crisply as O’Neill reached past him for the microphone that allowed Control Room personnel to communicate with those in the Gate Room.

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

            MacGyver flinched as he heard the distinctive ‘ka-whooshing’ sound of a wormhole establishing itself behind him, but he remained steadfastly standing between the female contingent of the K’Rin’sha delegation and as much of the weaponry being levelled at them all as was possible.

            A terse command issued by the familiar voice of his cousin echoed round the chamber from the Control Room. “Stand down, people.  Stand down NOW!”

            MacGyver slowly released the breath he hadn’t realised he had been holding as the assortment of hardware before him began to lower.  Looking up at the Control Room window he spotted O’Neill leaning over the microphone that allowed Control Room personnel to communicate with those in the Gate Room.  An anxious-looking Sergeant Davis was also visible, seated at one of the consoles.  Casting his cousin a grateful look, MacGyver began to relax and lower his hands.

            “You guys okay?”  MacGyver inquired, turning to regard the trio at his back.

            “We are fine, old friend.  All will be well now,” Seeba answered with a confidently reassuring smile.

            MacGyver was about to say something in response to that when he was distracted by the sound of his cousin’s voice resonating inside his head with a terse question.

            //Mac.  Where’s that R’Fyaa guy?//

            //Don’t know exactly.//  MacGyver was forced to admit.  He turned to look up at his cousin again and noted that he wasn’t looking very happy.  He also saw that Daniel Jackson had moved into view at the Air Force officer’s side and was chewing anxiously on his bottom lip as he gazed down into the Gate Room.

            “Mac.  Stay there.”  O’Neill made use of the microphone this time.  His tone remained terse.  “I’ll be right down.”

            “Sure.  I’m not planning on going anywhere,” MacGyver responded and watched O’Neill disappear from view.  He also saw Jackson remain staring down into the Gate Room for a few moments longer before suddenly coming to life and disappearing from view too.

            It was just about then that the absent R’Fyaa appeared to materialize out of thin air a few paces from where MacGyver was standing near the Gate ramp, which startled the relaxing security personnel still scattered about the place.  The militia reacted reflexively, adopting defensive postures and bringing their weaponry to bear on the K’Rin’sha ‘Keeper’ as a couple of them yelled at the man to ‘Freeze’ and ‘Hold it Right There’.

            “My apologies.  I did not mean to cause you alarm.”  R’Fyaa announced, freezing where he stood, his open hands well clear of his body to show that he carried no weapon and that he offered no threat.  The fact that there was a small blue crystal clearly visible in the centre of his left palm and that said crystal was emitting a rapidly fading blue glow did not particularly reassure the militia however.

            “Guys!”  MacGyver cautioned, quickly moving to place himself protectively between the darkly robed ‘Keeper’ and the bristling security personnel.  “Let’s not do anything anyone’s gonna regret later.” 

            “STAND DOWN!”  O’Neill’s commanding voice bellowed from the doorway.  Guns were promptly lowered and personnel scattered out of the path of the SGC’s 2-I-C as he advanced purposefully into the chamber, Daniel Jackson close on his heels.  MacGyver blew out another breath of relief.  Staring down the wrong end of gun-barrels had never been one of his favourite pastimes and in the past few minutes he had been on the wrong end of considerably more of the things than he cared to think about.  Twice!

            “Everyone okay here?”  O’Neill questioned, surveying the entire group of ‘escapees’ in an alertly appraising fashion.  Melia who had up until then been hiding behind Seeba’s skirts, broke away from her adoptive mother and, with a piercing cry of “Jack!”, ran to the Colonel who reflexively scooped her up in his arms.

            “We are all fine, Jack,”  Seeba answered on everyone else’s behalf as the Colonel quietly endeavoured to soothe the trembling child who had flung her arms around his neck and was clinging to him like she just might never let go.

            “I should like to apologise for events in your Control Room.”  R’Fyaa solemnly addressed O’Neill as they, plus MacGyver and Daniel stepped over to where the female contingent of the K’Rin’sha delegation stood at the foot of the ramp. “The injury to your General Hammond was partly my fault, though it was entirely unintentional I assure you.”

            “Wh-wh-what?”  Daniel stuttered, blinking in surprise at the alien ‘Keeper’.

            “Hammond’s hurt?  How?  What happened?”  Surprise, alarm and genuine concern radiated from MacGyver.  He looked to O’Neill for the answers to his questions.

            “Tell ya’ later,” O’Neill threw at him before turning to R’Fyaa.  “Okay.  Start talking and it better be good.”  He regarded the ‘Keeper’ with a look that indicated that while he was fully prepared to continue to do whatever he could to protect the man from the NID, he would, at the same time, quite happily kick his ass into the middle of next month if he didn’t like the next few words to come out of the alien’s mouth.

            “I needed a distraction to enable me to access the controls to your Stargate,” R’Fyaa explained.  “When Colonel Redman came storming in demanding that the General do something about our ‘escape’, I ah... tripped him up.  Unfortunately when he fell he knocked the General down too.  I sincerely apologise, Colonel.  I never intended for any harm to come to - ”

            “Yeah, yeah, okay.  I get the picture.  You’re saying it was an accident.  Right?”  O’Neill interjected.  R’Fyaa looked contrite as he nodded.  O’Neill’s expression suddenly changed to one of confusion.  “You were in the Control Room?  How?”

            “A simple concealment,” R’Fyaa answered and promptly vanished for a few seconds before reappearing again, causing some startlement to the three humans with whom he was conversing.  The action also alarmed the security personnel still in the room, but a curt order to ‘Stand down’ from O’Neill stopped them from putting the base on alert again.

            “Don’t do that!”  O’Neill ordered waspishly.  Then, levelling a disconcerted stare at the alien, he demanded.  “How’d you do that anyway?  I thought you were some kind of bookworm not - ”

            “He’s also a Mage, Jack,” Daniel interjected helpfully.  “It’s his Second House.”

            “What?”  O’Neill looked sharply at his archaeologist/linguist.

            “Look, can we worry about that later, Jack?  Right now, shouldn’t we be getting these folks on their way before Redman has a chance to...” MacGyver was beginning to fidget with noticeable impatience.

            “Redman’s no longer an immediate problem,” O’Neill cast a suddenly smug look at his cousin.  “He’s in the brig.”  A wicked smile appeared.  “Assaulting a superior officer and all,” he explained.   “Could take quite a while to find any security tape that says otherwise,” he added, an evil glint twinkling in his dark eyes.  Then he became serious again and studied the K’Rin’sha.  “But Mac’s right.  If you folks have a safe place to go, you’d better get going before any of Redman’s people start wondering what’s taking him so long and the cra- ”  He cut himself off quickly as he remembered the tender age of the bundle still clinging to him.  “Ah, the ‘you-know-what’ really hits the fan,” he hastily amended.

            “Thank you, Colonel.  Your concern and your help is appreciated and will not be forgotten.”  R’Fyaa inclined his head in a respectful manner to the Air Force officer.  “And yours also,” R’Fyaa added, looking to both Daniel and MacGyver in turn and inclining his head to each as he did so.  He looked back to O’Neill.  “And yes, we have a safe place to go from where we will be able to return to ‘Sanctuary’.”  He glanced up towards the Control Room window where a puzzled-looking Captain Carter could now be seen frowning over the shoulder of a still very worried-looking Sergeant Davis, who was seated at his usual console.  The duo appeared to be in an intense discussion about something.  Looking back to O’Neill, R’Fyaa added.  “Be assured, Colonel, that the block I placed on the control board of the Stargate will dissipate once my companions and I have departed and the Gateway has closed.”  He smiled.  “It has been an interesting visit, Colonel.  I shall look forward to the next one.”

            “So... Does that mean the mutual assistance thing you and the General hammered out is still on?  Despite the N.I.D.?”  O’Neill asked  dubiously.

            “Let us just say the actions of the dishonourable will not be held against the honourable,” R’Fyaa smiled again.  “Good day, gentlemen.”  He bowed to all three Tau’ri before turning and moving towards the ramp steps, murmuring to his K’Rin’sha companions as he did so that he would wait at the Gate-mouth for them.

            “We also must take our leave, my friends,” Seeba addressed the three Tau’ri.

            “I want to stay here with you, Jack,” Melia protested as the Colonel bent to set her down on her feet.  “Please, Jack.  Let me stay here with you.”  The little girl begged, refusing to let go of him as he tried to gently peel her off of him.

            “Honey, I’d love for you to stay here with me,” O’Neill told the child as he dropped down to one knee to be more on her level.  “But you’ll be much better off with Seeba.  This isn’t a good place for little girls.  With Seeba and Alaeya you’ll have a nice place to live and kids your own age to play with.”

            “But I like to play with you.  You’re fun.”  Melia protested, her face screwing up as if she was trying to keep tears at bay.  “Please, Jack.  Let me stay with you.”

            “I wish I could, Sweetheart.”  A wistful expression flitted across the Colonel’s features for a moment before he resolutely adopted a more serious demeanour.  “But I’m away a lot and - ”

            “I could stay with Daniel when you’re away,” Melia interjected decisively and looked up at Daniel as if daring him to say otherwise.  “I like Daniel,” she solemnly told O’Neill.  “He knows stuff.”

            “Yeah,” O’Neill agreed, hard-pressed to keep a smile at bay as he cast a swift glance up and round at his friend and team-mate.  “He does at that.”  Switching his attention back to Melia, he explained.  “That’s why when I go places, Daniel goes with me.  I need him with me because of all the ‘stuff’ he knows so I can do my job properly.”  He saw Melia shoot a speculative look MacGyver’s way and easily anticipated her next suggestion.  “Mac’s work takes him away a lot too,”  he pre-empted,  “which is why you really need to go with Seeba and Alaeya.  They’ll take real good care of you, honey.  An’ maybe once you’ve got settled, I can come visit.  Or you can come visit us.”  He glanced Seeba’s way as he uttered that last suggestion and noted the slight affirmatory nod of the woman’s head.  “And then we can play games and have fun and - ”

            “You’ll show me the owl again?”  Melia asked hopefully but subduedly.

            “Yeah, honey.  A whole heap of owls.  And when I come visit you, you can show me lots of stuff too.  Whaddya’ say?  We got us a deal here or what?”  O’Neill asked, reaching to gently brush some straying strands of hair back from the child’s face and tuck them behind her ear.

            Melia appeared to give the proposal sombre consideration, looking up at both Daniel and MacGyver with soulful eyes as she did so.  Daniel gave her a soulful look in return as, arms wrapped tightly around himself, he gave her a stressed little smile and a nod that suggested he was struggling with his emotions.  MacGyver too nodded and smiled at the child, the expression in his dark eyes and the restless twitching of his fingers betraying him to be in pretty much the same emotional boat as SG-1’s archaeologist where the little girl was concerned.  Melia’s green-eyed gaze returned solemnly to O’Neill.

            “Okay, Jack,”  she nodded, a lone tear starting to trickle down her face as she darted forward to bestow a fierce hug on him which he gently returned before she broke away and went to bury herself in Seeba’s long skirts.

            “Our paths will cross again, my friends,”  Seeba told the threesome standing before her as she reached to gently stroke the top of the distressed child’s head as Melia clung to her and hid tears in the folds of her long skirts.

            “Hopefully under better circumstances than this last time,”  MacGyver observed, keenly aware of the emotions roiling through his cousin as the Air Force man hauled himself slowly to his feet, and not missing the fact that Daniel edged  closer to the Colonel’s side so that their shoulders almost, but not quite, touched.  He was distracted from further observation of the duo by Seeba, who announced sagely.

            “Circumstances will be what they will be.”

            “Ya’ know, that’s really reassuring,” O’Neill remarked dryly. 

Seeba ignored the comment and, her blind gaze encompassing all three Tau’ri, continued. “The Path you walk is long and hard, my friends and you will all walk it in your own ways, but you will walk it well.”  Her sightless gaze then seemed to focus on MacGyver.  “To find the one who seeks to harm the boy, you must look beyond that which your eyes have seen, old friend.  Your adversary is one who is already known to you.”

            “To me or to all of us?”  MacGyver asked.

            “I can tell you no more than I have,”  Seeba answered enigmatically. 

            “Colonel O’Neill!”  The voice of Sergeant Davis echoed around the chamber from the Control Room.  The man sounded  fraught.

            “What?”  O’Neill’s tone was decidedly cranky as he glared round and up at the Control Room window.

            “Ah... Sorry, sir, but I have a phone call from the President for General Hammond.”  Davis managed to look apologetic.

            “Oh crap,” O’Neill muttered.  Then more loudly, responded.  “I’ll be right up.”  He looked back to Seeba and her companions.  “Sorry.  I gotta’ go.  It’s been fun.  Take care of yourselves, huh?”

            “We shall, Jack,” Seeba assured.  “May the Wise Ones watch over you,” she added as O’Neill glanced down at the little girl half-hiding in her skirts.  A wistful expression fleetingly graced his features before it was quickly replaced by one which was rather more stoic before he turned and hurried from the Gate Room.

            “You guys um, better go.  Jack may be able to get away with messing with the N.I.D., but he can’t exactly ignore the President with impunity,” Daniel said, casting a glance towards the Control Room before fixing an anxious look on Seeba and seeming to hug himself more tightly than he already was.

            “May the Wise Ones watch over you, Daniel,”  Seeba bowed her head.  She then stepped forward to MacGyver and openly hugged him.  A surprised look crossed Mac’s face, but he returned the hug all the same.  “It was good to see you again, old friend,” Seeba murmured and reached up to plant an affectionate kiss on his cheek.  “May the Wise Ones always protect you,” she added before stepping back, giving him a smile that was as warmly affectionate as her hug had been.  Then, gathering up her skirts and taking Melia by the hand, she turned and started off up the ramp.

            “Say good-bye to Jack for me,” Alaeya requested, stepping forward towards MacGyver and, as her mother before her had done, giving him a hug, which he returned with equal warmth.  “I’m glad we met, Patu.  You are everything Mother said you to be.  May the Wise Ones watch over you.  And your son.”  the girl whispered.  She then planted a quick peck on his cheek before she stepped back, blushing furiously.  Casting a slight bow in Daniel’s direction, she uttered a few words in K’Rin’sha Primary then, as the archaeologist blinked at her in a surprised fashion, she turned and ran up the ramp to join the others waiting at the Gate-mouth.

            A few seconds later the K’Rin’sha were gone and moments after that, the Gate shut itself down.

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

            The softly uttered “Whoa... ” distracted Jackson’s attention away from Alaeya’s parting words and the newly deactivated Stargate to the man next to whom he was standing. “Mac?”  He let out the concerned cry as he saw the older man swaying.  “Mac, you okay?”  Daniel was at the Phoenix man’s side in an instant.

            “Think I need to siddown a minute,” MacGyver said, looking suddenly pale-faced and making no attempt to evade the supportive hand Daniel had on his arm.

            Daniel didn’t hesitate.  He helped MacGyver to sit on the Gate-ramp steps and, as the older man sat resting his elbows on his knees and resting his forehead on the heels of his hands, Daniel fished a candy bar out of a pocket and tore the wrapper open.

            “Mac.  Here.  Eat this,” Daniel instructed, dropping down onto one knee on the steps.  Airman Philips who hadn’t yet returned to his post outside the Gate Room door, inquired if there was a problem and if he could help. “Ah, no.  No.  Thanks,” the archaeologist cast a brief, reassuring glance at the Airman before focusing his attention back on MacGyver as he went on.  “I know what this is.  I can handle it.”

            Philips looked dubious, but nodded and retreated to his duty station, casting a couple of backward glances at the two civilians as he did so.

            “Mac?”  Daniel prompted after a few moments of watching him.  Finally MacGyver’s head came up and he squinted at the archaeologist.  Daniel proffered the candy again.  “Eat this,” he repeated his earlier instruction, his tone one of encouragement.

            “Thanks, Daniel,” MacGyver’s smile of appreciation was on the wan side, but he accepted the candy.

            “When you’ve eaten that, maybe we should get you back to your quarters?”  Daniel suggested.

            “I’ll be fine,” MacGyver responded around the bite of candy he’d just taken.  “Just need a few minutes.  And this,” he added, making a small gesture with the candy.  “Maybe you better go check on Jack.  Don’t want him keeling over in the middle of talking with the President after all.” Daniel was torn by that suggestion. “Go on.  I’ll be fine.  Just gonna’ sit here while I eat this, then I’ll go on up to my quarters.  Sam’s probably going frantic wondering what all the racket was about.  If I feel too queasy, I’ll get an Airman to give me an escort.  Go on, Daniel,” MacGyver encouraged, reaching out with his free hand to give the younger man a reassuring touch on the arm.  “I’m fine.”

            To Daniel’s way of thinking, MacGyver’s declaration of being fine sounded all too like one of O’Neill’s when the man was refusing to admit he wasn’t 100%.  He gave Mac a highly sceptical look while rapidly assessing the situation.  The man was sitting down.  He looked pale admittedly, but he no longer appeared to be about to pass out or anything now and he was eating the candy bar which ought to help boost his energy levels again.  Daniel reached his decision. “Okay, Mac.  I’ll go check on Jack.” 

            “Appreciate it,” MacGyver responded with an approving nod before biting off another chunk of the candy the archaeologist had given him.

            Daniel rose to his feet, cast him a hesitant look and then began to walk away.  The sound of MacGyver calling his name after he had gone only a few paces brought him to an abrupt halt though.  He looked round, worry immediately appearing on his face.

            “Thanks,” MacGyver told him with quiet sincerity.

            Daniel easily read the expression that was in the dark eyes that regarded him.  Understanding, Jackson nodded and smiled briefly in acknowledgment before he turned and resumed his original course to the Gate Room exit.  Reaching the doorway, he paused to glance back at the older man.  MacGyver appeared not to notice.  Indeed he was now sitting with his head bowed again and his eyes closed as he rubbed at one of his temples while chewing steadily on a mouthful of candy.

            Daniel made another decision.  Stepping outside into the corridor, he approached Airman Philips. “Um, excuse me, Airman ah... ” He checked the Airman’s name-tag.  “Philips?”

            “Yes, Doctor Jackson?”  Philips responded in a crisply respectful manner.

            “Could you do me a favour and keep an eye on Mr. MacGyver?”  Daniel asked quietly, giving Philips a hopeful look.  “Unobtrusively?”  He added even more hopefully.  “And make sure he gets to his quarters on Level 25 okay when he’s ready.”

            “Of course, Doctor Jackson,” Philips nodded respectfully.

            “Thanks,” Daniel said gratefully, casting a final glance in MacGyver’s direction before setting off once again to find O’Neill.

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

            Daniel’s first port of call in his hunt for O’Neill was the Control Room.  The Colonel, however, was conspicuous by his absence and the area was a hive of activity.  No-one paid Daniel any attention since everyone was busy with diagnostic scans of the computer systems instigated and supervised by Sam Carter, who was trying to figure out what had triggered the series of false Fire Alerts and what had caused the apparently temporary glitch with the keyboard hooked into the Gate Control system.

            It occurred to Daniel that he could save everyone a lot of time and trouble if he stopped to explain MacGyver’s part, R’Fyaa’s part and his own part in what had happened.  However it also occurred to him that such an explanation might take a while and right at that moment finding Jack was, to him anyway, a higher priority.

            Swiftly Daniel made his way through the section to the stairs leading up to the Briefing Room and ascended them two at a time.  Reaching the top, he headed immediately in the direction of General Hammond’s office.  A glance through the glass panel set into the wall dividing the office from the Briefing Room, informed Daniel that Jack was seated at Hammond’s desk and had the red phone clamped to his ear.

            Daniel checked the thermos jug of coffee that sat on the table beneath the glass panel and found it still contained some coffee.  Swiftly he poured some into a clean mug and then loaded it up with sugar.  Armed with the mug of over-sweetened coffee, he ventured to the office door where he paused for a moment to cast a critically appraising and observant eye over his friend and team-mate.

            The Colonel looked on the pale side, though not to the same extent that MacGyver had just after the Stargate had shut down.  Jack was sitting with an elbow resting on the desk and was rubbing almost absently at one temple.  His brow was furrowed in the manner of a man with the makings of a doozy of a headache.

            Listening to Jack’s end of the conversation, Daniel quickly deduced that the President was getting the benefit of the Colonel’s opinion on the latest antics of the N.I.D.  Daniel grimaced.  O’Neill was noted for his tendency for bluntness and although the man was being undeniably respectful of his Commander-In-Chief, he was pulling no punches where the N.I.D. were concerned.

            Daniel saw O’Neill straighten in Hammond’s chair and lose the ‘developing a headache’ frown as he registered the archaeologist’s presence in the doorway.  Advancing into the room Daniel set the coffee mug down on the desk within his friend’s easy reach.  Jack shot him a quizzical look while doing some rapid ‘Yes, sir’-ing and ‘No, sir’-ing into the red phone.

            As Jackson gave him a silent, but highly expressive look in return, Jack began to rummage through some of the papers sitting on Hammond’s desk.  Quickly finding the ones he wanted, namely the orders that Redman had brought to the SGC regarding the K’Rin’sha, O’Neill scanned them and stated into the phone. “General Claythorpe, Mr. President.”

            Daniel stood eavesdropping shamelessly, but not really learning very much as Jack followed up his statement with some more ‘Yes, sir’-s and ‘No, sir’-s.  He did however notice the glimmerings of a smug little smile start to creep onto his friend’s face as the man presently said.  “Yes, sir.  Thank you, sir.  I’ll be sure to pass that on, Mr. President.”

            O’Neill looked unmistakably pleased with himself as he set the phone back down on its cradle and looked up at the hovering Daniel.

            “Well?”  Jackson inquired, his eyebrows rising .

            “That was Air Force One,” the Colonel said.

            “I kind of guessed that much,” Daniel responded.  “And?”

            “Oh I don’t think the N.I.D. will be bothering us for a while,” Jack smirked.  He picked up the mug of coffee Daniel had brought him, took a sip and abruptly spat the brew out again, trying desperately not to drench Hammond’s desk in the process.  “Aagghhh!  God.  Daniel.  This isn’t coffee, it’s molasses!”  He complained in disgust, wiping a hand over his mouth and aiming a spectacular glower at the offending liquid before redirecting the glare at Daniel, who winced apologetically.

            “I thought you might be needing a sugar fix for that crystal-induced headache you’re getting,” he offered by way of explanation.

            “Haven’t you ever heard of aspirin, Daniel?”

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

            Wiping a hand over his face MacGyver blew out a breath, gathered himself together and hauled himself to his feet.  Much to his relief the Gate Room stayed put.  He still felt fuzzy-headed, but the candy bar Daniel had given him had gone a good way to lessening that unpleasant feeling.

            Unhurriedly he made his way to the Gate Room exit and from there he headed down the corridor in the direction of the elevator.  Behind him, Airman Philips signalled to one of the guards within the Gate Room and then set off quietly down the corridor in his wake at a discreet distance.

            Reaching the elevator and fighting down a wave of nausea that had surfaced, MacGyver slowly frisked himself for his security access card.  Airman Philips swiftly caught up.

            “I’ll get it, sir,” Philips offered helpfully and swiped his own card through the scanner that would summon the elevator car.

            “Thanks,” MacGyver nodded  in acknowledgement and gratefully gave up on his hunt for his own card.  He swiftly concluded that the head-nod had been a mistake as the corridor decided to do a quick back-flip.

            “Are you okay, sir?”  Philips inquired with a frown, watching as MacGyver leaned a hand on the corridor wall as if to steady himself.

            “Yeah.  Yeah, I’m fine,” MacGyver answered, straightening with a determination that Philips recognised just as the elevator doors opened.

            Philips watched MacGyver gather himself together and step inside the car.  The young Airman stepped smartly in after the civilian.

            “You going to Level 25, sir?”  Philips inquired conversationally.

            “Uh... Yeah... ” MacGyver answered, refraining from nodding this time.

            “I got it, sir,” Philips announced, deftly reaching forward to hit the requisite button on the control panel which MacGyver was blinking at almost as if he had no idea what it was for.

            “Thanks,” MacGyver said, moving to lean back against the side-wall of the car and closing his eyes in a weary manner.

            “You’re welcome, sir,” Philips responded, surreptitiously watching the civilian out of the corner of his eye as the car began to move.

            The elevator ascended only one level before it halted again and the doors opened to reveal a decidedly cranky-looking Colonel O’Neill.

            “Sir.”  Philips snapped off a crisp salute and braced himself for the bawling out he was sure he was about to get for leaving his post.

            The anticipated rocket failed to materialise however, much to Philips’ considerable relief.  The Colonel simply returned Philips’ salute with one that bore scant resemblance to the Airman’s own almost text-book one and it was accompanied by an absent mutter of ‘Airman’ as the SGC’s 2-I-C stepped into the elevator, his attention seemingly focused on the civilian propping up the side-wall of the car.  Philips suddenly realised that O’Neill was not alone.  He was accompanied by Daniel Jackson.

            Philips relaxed and gave the archaeologist a nod of acknowledgement which was returned in amiable fashion before Jackson hit the button for Level 21.

            The elevator doors closed and the car resumed its ascent.  Out of the corner of his eye, Philips observed O’Neill and MacGyver for the few brief moments it took the car to reach Level 25.  During those few moments, Philips could have sworn an entire conversation took place between the two men, though neither said a word and the civilian’s eyes remained closed until the car had come to a halt again.  It was nothing specific that Philips could put a finger on, just something about O’Neill’s body-language as he stood beside the civilian and eyed him, combined with the faint smile that seemed to flit across MacGyver’s face at the same time.

            As the elevator doors opened, so did MacGyver’s eyes.  The man straightened, cast a weary smile at both O’Neill and Jackson and made his way out into the hallway.  Philips paused only momentarily before stepping out after him, then halted as he heard O’Neill’s voice quietly behind him.

            “Airman.”

            “Sir?”  Philips tensed and turned, wondering if his earlier relief at not being on the receiving end of an infamous ‘O’Neill rollicking’ had been misplaced.  He saw the Colonel had a foot keeping the elevator door from closing.

            “Before you go back to your post, go up to the Mess Hall and bring something down to Mr. MacGyver’s quarters.  Preferably vegetarian.  And some pie.  Or something else that’s sugary.”

            “Yes, sir.”

            “Carry on, Airman.”

            “Yes, sir.”  Philips responded.  O’Neill retrieved his foot and the elevator doors slid shut as Philips was in the midst of snapping off another text-book salute.

            Philips blew out a breath and stood blinking at the elevator doors for a moment as he contemplated the orders he had just been given.  He then quickly gathered himself together and hurried off down the corridor to catch up with the civilian he was supposed to be ‘escorting’.  Rounding a corner a few moments later, he saw MacGyver had reached the doorway to one of the VIP suites and was conversing there with Teal’c.

            Philips hovered, waiting until he saw MacGyver actually go into his quarters and Teal’c resume guard-stance before he turned and headed back towards the elevators to carry out the orders O’Neill had given him.

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

            Sam Malloy broke off his agitated pacing of the VIP suite and spun around at the sound of the door opening. “Dad!  What the heck’s been going on around here?  What was all that ruckus - ?”  He began to explode with agitated questions, only to break off in mid-demand as he took in the weary demeanour of the man who had just entered the room.  Concern instantly replaced agitated frustration.  “Are you okay?”  He asked, crossing immediately to his father’s side.

            “I’m fine, Sam,” MacGyver assured as he waved Sam’s concern aside and flopped down in the nearest chair.  He looked up at his worriedly hovering son and endeavoured to side-track the young man’s anxiety.  “I hear you’ve been giving Teal’c a hard time.”

            “Hey, I just wanted to know what was going on,” Malloy shrugged as he moved to perch his backside on the low table that sat before the comfortable leather armchair his father had sunk into.  “No-one would tell me anything.”

            “This is a military base and you’re a civilian,” MacGyver mustered an amused smile at the indignant expression that his son was wearing.  “And it didn’t directly affect you.”

            “Daaad...” Malloy cast a  pained look at his father.  Then he frowned at the man and revamped an earlier question.  “Are you sure you’re okay?  You look kinda’ washed out.  I see you’ve got that crystal thing back,” he observed, his sharp eyes spotting a faint blue-ish-green glow emanating from the region of the other man’s left hand.  “Have you and Jack been playing around with those things again?  Is that what set off all those alarms?  Again.  What did you guys blow up this time?”  A worried thought occurred.  “Is Jack okay?”

            “Yeah, he’s fine.  Don’t worry.  Daniel’s with him.”  MacGyver answered.

            “So.  What happened?”

            “Long story,” MacGyver sighed as he wearily wiped a hand over his face.  “Listen, Sam.  I will tell ya’ what I can, but d’ya’ think ya’ could kinda’ just give me five minutes here first?”  He rubbed absently at his temple.

            “You got a headache again?”  Malloy ventured astutely, a concerned frown gracing his features as he studied his father critically.

            “A bit, but it’s nothing to worry about.  It’ll pass.”  MacGyver cast his son a look that was intended to reassure the young man.  “Just need to chill out for a while, that’s all.”

            “Sure, Dad.  Okay,” Sam nodded, not looking entirely convinced.  He knew how much his father hated being fussed over however, so he didn’t push the point.  “Hey,” he said brightly instead as he reached to briefly rest a hand on MacGyver’s knee.  “How about I make ya’ some tea?”  He offered.  “We’ve got the fixings.”  He waved his other hand vaguely towards a small cabinet which, during an earlier thorough exploration of the VIP suite in the wake of his foiled ‘escape’ bid, he had discovered housed a small electric kettle along with sachets of tea, coffee, sugar and dried milk, plus appropriate crockery befitting a V.I.P. guest.  “There’s even some herbal.  Though how ya’ can drink that stuff... ” He grimaced expressively.

            “That’d be fine,” MacGyver mustered a  fatigued smile.  “Thanks.”

            Malloy patted his father’s knee briefly again and went to make him some tea.

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

            Sitting in one of the ubiquitous plastic chairs in the corridor outside the Infirmary, Daniel chewed on his lower lip and watched his team-leader pacing back and forth.  He refrained from passing any comments about his friend wearing a hole in the floor. He knew from experience that he would only get an acerbic response.

            They had arrived at the Infirmary a while earlier to enquire after General Hammond, only to be told that Fraiser was attending to him and they would have to wait.  Thus they were waiting.  Impatiently in O’Neill’s case.

            “Finally!”  The Colonel declared in exasperation when Fraiser eventually stepped out into the corridor. “How’s the General, Doc?”  He demanded in a business-like manner that belied the genuine concern clearly visible in his eyes.

            Crisply, Fraiser announced that the General was going to be fine.  She then went on to say that he had sustained a fracture of the left wrist but that the break itself had been clean and thus fairly straightforward to deal with; the laceration to the back of the General’s head had required some stitches but was not of itself serious, and that the man had regained consciousness en route to the Infirmary. He did however have a mild concussion which necessitated that he stay in the Infirmary for at least 24 hours for observation.

            “He up to visitors?”  O’Neill inquired, glancing hopefully past the medic towards the main doorway of the Infirmary.

            “For a few minutes only, Colonel,” Fraiser conceded.

            “Thanks, Doc.”  O’Neill nodded and stepped past the woman.  Daniel made to follow him only to be intercepted by Fraiser, who called his name and, as he halted and looked questioningly at her, inquired if the Colonel was alright.

            “Um... Why?”  Daniel responded evasively, frowning at the medic.

            “He looks... off-colour to me,” Fraiser responded pensively.

            “Oh.  Ah... He seems fine to me.  I’m sure he’d say if he wasn’t.”  Daniel attempted innocence and wasn’t in the least surprised by the sceptical snort that erupted from the petite medic.  He began to sidle away, gesturing vaguely in the direction his team-mate had gone.  “I’ll just... ah.. um... ” He stuttered nervously as he saw Fraiser stalk towards him with an unnervingly determined expression on her face.

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

            “Well.  This is different,” O’Neill observed cheerfully as, hands in pockets, he sauntered almost casually into the side-room just off from the main section of the Infirmary and grinned at the portly figure occupying the bed.  More usually it was either one of his SG-1 team-mates visiting him after a mission mishap of some kind, or else he and the General were visiting one of them.  It made for something of a novel change for it to be the General who was laid up. “I would have brought grapes...”  O’Neill went on in mischievous mock-apology, “but after Teal’c’s lunch-time raid on the Mess Hall they’re running a bit short.”  He cast an unmistakably appraising look over the pale-faced man reclining against a pile of pillows, his left arm totally concealed by a sling generous enough to serve a small boat as a sail.  “So.  Sir.  How’re ya’ feeling?  I hear now the Doc’s finally gotcha’ in her Napoleonic clutches she’s not about to cut ya’ loose for a while.”

            “Apparently I have a concussion.”  The General managed a faint smile of amusement, despite a splitting headache, in response to his 2-I-C’s irreverent attitude towards Fraiser and the entire situation.

            “Never works when I deny it either, sir,” O’Neill smirked, hands still firmly ensconced in his pockets.

            “What happened, Colonel?”  The General wanted to know, his tone denoting that it was time to dispense with the pleasantries and get down to business.  For once O’Neill didn’t pretend not to know what the General was referring to.

            “Ah.  Well...  The K’Rin’sha went home, sir,” he said.  “At least,” his right hand emerged from his pants pocket and he waved it vaguely as he continued, “they went through the Gate.  Said they could get home from wherever it was they went.  Carter’s busy trying to figure out what Mac did to the computers to trigger those false Fire Alerts, but personally I think she’s wasting her time.  It’d probably be quicker if she just asked him.  Redman’s in the brig.  General Claythorpe’s probably wishing he’d never heard of the N.I.D. about now and I don’t think the N.I.D. will be giving us anymore trouble. For a while anyway.  The President was pretty pissed when I told him they’d nearly blown some potentially very valuable new interplanetary relations and - ”

            “The President?”  Hammond interjected into his subordinate’s conversational ramble.

            “Yeah.  Oh.  Didn’t I say?  He called while you were... indisposed,” O’Neill said with helpful innocence.  “He sends his regards and best wishes for your speedy recovery by the way.”

            “I can see your full report is going to make for some very interesting reading, Colonel,” Hammond observed with a quiet snort.

            “Yes, sir,”  O’Neill was in the midst of saying as Fraiser bustled in to announce that ‘visiting time’ was up and the General needed his rest.  The General attempted a protest which fell on deaf ears as Fraiser determinedly hustled O’Neill away from his bedside.  “Might as well give in gracefully, sir,” O’Neill called over his shoulder as he was firmly propelled in the direction of the door.  “When she gets on one of these Napoleonic power trips there’s just no reasoning - ”

            “OUT, Colonel.  NOW!”  Fraiser barked in a tone that would have done a seasoned Marine drill-instructor proud.

            “See what I mean, sir?”  O’Neill plaintively called out as he was firmly pushed out of the door.  When he found himself being steered towards one of the beds and noticed a very sheepish-looking Daniel Jackson, arms wrapped defensively around himself, hovering a short distance away, O’Neill’s internal alarm bells started ringing.  Loudly.  “Doc?  Where’re we going?”

            “Up on that bed, Colonel.  Now.”  Fraiser’s tone was business-like and quite determined.

            “Hey, whoa, Janet.  This is hardly the time or the place... ” O’Neill protested jokingly.

            “I’m told you’ve reacquired one of those crystals, Colonel, and that you’ve been using it with the result you’re experiencing side-effects again,”  Fraiser stated in her best ‘I-Am-God-Defy-Me-At-Your-Peril’ manner.

            It didn’t require a genius to figure out how Fraiser knew what she apparently knew.  O’Neill sent a blistering look in the direction of his archaeologist, who winced and gave him a helplessly apologetic, lost-puppy look in return.

            “Hey.  C’mon, Doc.  I’m fine.”  O’Neill attempted to protest.

            “I’ll be the judge of that thank you, Colonel.”  Fraiser was not about to be dissuaded.  She indicated the bed she had steered the reluctant Colonel to.  “Sit,” she commanded.

            “Sit?  What am I?  A pet dog?”  O’Neill objected indignantly.

            “No, sir.”  Fraiser momentarily struggled to keep an amused smile at bay and maintain her best professional demeanour in the face of the look the man was aiming at her.  The Colonel might be a lot of things, she mused to herself, but a ‘dog’ was most definitely not one of them.  She was well aware that several members of her nursing staff who weren’t already harbouring fantasies about SG-1’s resident archaeologist, harboured fantasies about SG-1’s sharp-tongued team-leader.  “But you are the Second-In-Command on this base, which effectively puts you in overall charge while General Hammond is confined to the Infirmary.  You cannot therefore afford to be in any way compromised by any alien influence, technological or otherwise.  Unless I can be assured that you are not, Colonel, I will have no choice but to relieve you of duty and have Colonel Billinghurst, as the next most senior officer in the base chain-of-command assume command of the SGC.”

            “That pompous, half-assed, nit-pickin’, penny-pinchin’, desk-bound, brown-nosin’ pencil-pusher!”  O’Neill snorted in a highly derogatory manner.  “Oh yeah.  Right.  Like I’m gonna’ let that happen.  Sooner that damned bean-counter gets transferred back to Washington the better.”

            “So sit down and let me check you out, Colonel.”  Fraiser’s tone indicated that she would not be swayed.

            O’Neill sighed heavily and shot another look towards his flinching archaeologist that promised dire retribution. “I don’t believe you, Daniel.  Ya’ face down hordes of rampaging Jaffa without so much as batting an eye.  Ya’ go outta’ your way to seriously tick off Apophis, or any other passing Snakehead, with almost monotonous regularity,”  the Colonel complained to Daniel while hauling himself reluctantly up onto the bed Fraiser had dragged him to, “but one word from Genghis Khan here, just one word, an’ ya’ cave faster than a snowflake in a firestorm.”

            “Actually, Colonel, it took two words,” Fraiser defended Daniel. As the Colonel cast her an interrogatory look, she elaborated with a perfectly straight face.  “Proctology exam.”

            O’Neill blinked disconcertedly at the medic, then looked at his apologetically shrugging team-mate before looking back at Fraiser, who returned his intimidating gaze with an equally intimidating one of her own.  The Special Ops trained Colonel did a rapid threat assessment.  He sighed.  Resignedly. “Guess I’m all yours, Doc.”

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

            Endeavouring not to fidget with worried impatience, Malloy sat watching his father.  The man had unhurriedly drunk the tea that Sam had made for him and was now sitting quietly with his eyes closed.  Indeed he had been sitting like that for some while.  The crystal embedded in his left hand appeared to be dormant.

            “I’ll get that,” Sam volunteered when presently there was a loud knock on the VIP suite door.  As he rose to his feet and headed door-wards he heard his father say.

            “Don’t be surprised if it’s an Airman with a tray of food.  Jack’s orders.”

            Sam cast a raised eyebrow look over his shoulder, then opened the door.  His other eyebrow joined its twin as he found Teal’c looming ominously over a nervous-looking young Airman who stood holding a large tray.  On the tray was a covered dish plus some smaller, uncovered ones.  On one of the latter were some slices of buttered bread.  Another bore three heavily sugared doughnuts and on the last was a slice of apple-pie large enough to sink a battleship.  A generous amount of whipped cream adorned the top of the pie.  Accompanying all of this was a napkin upon which sat an assortment of cutlery.  A large, steaming mug of coffee claimed the remaining space on the tray along with a couple of single-portion cartons of cream and some sachets of sugar.

            “Excuse me, sir,” Airman Philips said respectfully.  “Colonel O’Neill ordered that I bring a meal for Mr. MacGyver.”

            “I have confirmed that O’Neill did indeed give such an order,” Teal’c stated, casting a intimidating look at Philips who shifted  nervously again.

            “Thanks, Teal’c,” Sam nodded at the big Jaffa.  Opening the door wider and moving out of Philips’ way, Malloy gestured the Airman to enter.  “Just put it on the side there please. Thanks.”

            Philips nodded, stepped into the room and set the tray down on top of a cabinet just to one side of the doorway.

            “Will there be anything else, sir?”  Philips inquired of Sam, but also casting an interrogatory look in MacGyver’s direction.

            “Ah. No.  Thanks, Airman ah... Philips,” Sam responded, noting the name on the Airman’s fatigues.

            Philips nodded and left smartly.  Remaining outside, Teal’c drew the door closed again in the departing Airman’s wake.

            “Shall I bring this over or do you want to eat at the table?”  Sam inquired, lifting the cover on the mystery plate to take a peek at what was being concealed.  He frowned and sniffed.  “I’m not sure, but I think this is supposed to be vegetable lasagne,” he observed.  He heard movement and looked round to find his father had hauled himself from the comfortable leather chair and was heading towards him.

            “I’ll take it whatever it’s alleged to be,”  Mac said, coming up beside his son.  “You can have the coffee if ya’ like.”

            “You gonna’ want all these doughnuts?”  Sam inquired, eying the items in question.

            “Feel free,” Mac invited.  Collecting up cutlery, the plate of buttered bread and the plate of alleged vegetable lasagne, he headed for the room’s main table where he settled into one of the wooden chairs that were arranged around it.  Sam grabbed the coffee and one of the doughnuts and joined his father.

            “So.  You going tell me what you were up to before or what?”  Sam prompted, sipping at the hot coffee.

            While making short work of the lasagne and the buttered bread, MacGyver gave his son a considerably edited version of events surrounding the departure of the K’Rin’sha through the Stargate.  Once he had cleaned his plate, MacGyver went to make himself some more tea.  Armed with the steaming mug, he collected up the apple-pie and returned to the table.

            “What?”  Mac asked, seeing the amused smirk that crossed his son’s face as he sat down again.

“That.”  Sam waved a hand at the cream adorning the pie.  “And you have the nerve to criticize my eating habits.”

That set off another round of the long-standing ‘debate’ between the duo regarding MacGyver’s general preference for vegetarian and health foods as opposed to Sam’s habit of existing on ‘junk’ food.

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

            Leaning against the foot of an unoccupied bed in the Infirmary, Daniel made no attempt to hide his amusement as he listened to the steady stream of complaints emanating from behind the curtain of the cubicle where his team-leader was ‘suffering’ the attentions of the SGC’s Chief Medic.  He swiftly straightened his face as he heard Fraiser’s prickly announcement that she was ‘done’.  The pronouncement was instantly followed by an acerbic comment from her ‘victim’ along the lines of ‘about time’ and a remark about some people having ‘better things to be doing with their time’.

            Daniel tried to muffle a snicker as the curtain was yanked back by a distinctly frazzled-looking Fraiser and he set eyes on his team-mate.  O’Neill was a picture of ruffled indignity as he adjusted his clothing and levelled a glower at the long-suffering medic.

            “So?”  Daniel ventured, endeavouring to present a picture of innocent concern.

            “He’s fine,” Fraiser said  tersely as she retrieved an open folder from the foot of the cubicle’s bed and began to scribble rapidly in it.

            “Which is what I said I was in the first place,” O’Neill pointedly reminded anyone who might be interested in his considered opinion.  It appeared no-one was, for Fraiser looked up from her paper-work to address Jackson.

            “You still have that crystal, Daniel?”  She asked.  Prior to the commencement of the swift but thorough exam she had just done on the SGC’s crankiest member, she had watched as O’Neill had relinquished his K’Rin’sha crystal into Daniel’s care.

            “Um.  Yeah.  Right here.”  Daniel patted a breast pocket of his fatigues shirt.

            “I’d really like a chance to study it,” Fraiser told him.

            “Um... ” Jackson began  hesitantly.

            “Daniel?”  Fraiser frowned as she saw the archaeologist glance at O’Neill and witness the older man’s shrug in return.

            Daniel fished the crystal out of his pocket, held it up between his thumb and forefinger so that Fraiser could see it, then quite deliberately he set it down on the end of the bed he’d been leaning against.

            “Oh.”  Fraiser said, a look of surprise crossing her face.

            “Yeah,” O’Neill remarked in an ‘I-could-have-told-you-so’ tone.

            Daniel retrieved the crystal and held it up again.  Fraiser blinked and stared at the crystal which she could now see again quite clearly.

            “Sam, ah, our Sam, had the same problem with the crystal Mac has.  So did a lab tech and an SF we tried it with,”  Daniel said.  “As soon as the crystal was put down anywhere it appeared to vanish, but I could still see it and so could Sam Malloy.”  As an afterthought he added.  “As could Jack and MacGyver.”

            “And you’ve no idea why?”  Fraiser frowned, clearly intrigued.

            “Nope.”  O’Neill said, his manner suggesting that he couldn’t really care less why only he, his two cousins and Daniel, seemed to be able to see the K’Rin’sha crystals when said crystals were no longer attached to either MacGyver or himself.  “So,” he went on, moving to usher his team-mate away from the curious medic.  “If there’s nothing else, Doc, we’re outta’ here.  C’mon, Daniel.  Let’s go lock that damn thing away somewhere.”

            “Oh.  Um.  Right,” Daniel said, swiftly depositing the crystal back into his pocket as he found himself being shunted swiftly and gently but quite firmly towards the exit.

            “Ah, before you two go, do either of you have any idea where I might find MacGyver and Malloy?”  Fraiser called after them.  “I’d like to check both of them over before I leave tonight.”

            “You might try the V.I.P. suite,” O’Neill answered helpfully as he pushed Daniel out the door.

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

            MacGyver and Sam were relaxing in the comfortable leather armchairs in the V.I.P. suite assigned to the Phoenix operative and were in the midst of discussing the likelihood of their being able to leave the SGC the following day and possible subsequent plans of action, when there was a loud knocking on the door.

            “I’ll get it,” MacGyver said rising to his feet.  “It’s probably Doc Fraiser come to check up on the both of us.”  He ignored the sceptical look his son graced him with.  Having had a ‘telepathic heads-up’ from his cousin a while earlier, he wasn’t in the least surprised to find Janet Fraiser standing on the other side of the door when he opened it.  “Hey, Doc,” he greeted her cheerfully.  “C’mon in.”

            “I thought I’d stop by and check on you and Sam before I head off home,” Fraiser said advancing into the room, a medical bag in one hand and a couple of folders in the other.

            “Sure, Doc.  Fine.” MacGyver nodded.  “Sam’s right over there.”  He gestured towards where his son was gawping at him in bewildered surprise.  “Aside from trying to catch flies, he seems to be doing okay.”  Sam swiftly shut his mouth which had been hanging open and shot a glare in Mac’s direction.  “I’ll be back in a minute,” Mac added.  “I just want a quick word with Teal’c.”

            Fraiser nodded, but gave him a look which warned against his trying to slip away when he was done speaking with Teal’c.  She then advanced on Sam, asking as she did so how he was feeling and was he having any discomfort from any of his injuries.  MacGyver meanwhile, stepped out into the corridor, drawing the door partially closed behind him.

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

            Standing in front of the small wall safe that had been installed in his office only a couple of months earlier, Daniel meticulously punched in the sequence of numbers on the electronic keypad on the face of its door which would allow him to open it.

            “Jaaaack,” he warned as, out of the corner of his eye, he saw O’Neill pick up an artefact from a nearby shelf.  Said artefact still in hand, Jack cast him a ‘What?’ look.  Daniel looked pointedly over the top rim of his glasses at the object the man was holding.

            “Oh.”  Jack said.  With a semi-apologetic little half-shrug he carefully set the little statuette back from whence he had taken it.  He ambled over to his archaeologist’s side.  “So.  Whaddya’ keep in this thing anyway?”  He inquired, waving a hand in the general direction of the safe as it emitted a soft beep and Daniel pulled the door open.

            “Some of the more valuable of the smaller pieces that get brought back until I’ve had a chance to properly catalogue and study them before they get shipped off to wherever,”  Daniel answered as the older man peered inquisitively into the interior of the small safe.  “And anything that’s really fragile,” he added, swatting away the hand that his companion was unerringly extending towards the contents of the safe.

            O’Neill let out a indignant yelp and snatched his hand clear of any further attack, then raised both hands in a defensive, ‘hey-I’m-not-touching-anything’ gesture before he stuffed them into the safety of his pants pockets.

            Daniel gave the man another warning look before he went to his desk, rummaged in a drawer for a moment and pulled out a small cloth pouch and a medium sized tie-on tag.  Jack followed him and hovered idly at his elbow, watching as he wrote on the tag:  ‘K’Rin’sha Mage Crystal’ and the date.  He flipped the tag over and, after a moment of frowning hesitation, wrote: ‘Sources: K’Rin’sha Novice Mage Alaeya/Col. J. O’Neill, SG-1.’  Daniel then fished the K’Rin’sha crystal from the breast pocket of his fatigues shirt, placed it in the pouch, pulled the drawstring tightly closed, knotted it to keep it closed and then tied the tag to it.  Taking the pouch to the safe, he cleared a space and placed the pouch inside.  He then looked round at his team-leader who was, by then, hovering a couple of paces behind him and beginning to fidget restlessly. “What about the other crystal?”  He asked.

            “I think we should just let Mac hang onto it for tonight, get it off him in the morning before he and Sam leave,” Jack answered.  Seeing that Daniel was about to ask a question, he fished a hand out of his pocket and waved vaguely towards the safe.  “You gonna’ close that up now or what?”

            “Huh?  Oh.  Um.  Yes.”  Daniel closed the safe door and checked that it was secure.

            “I’m gonna’ go grab something from the Mess Hall an’ then hit my office for a coupla’ hours of wonderful quality time with some paperwork before I turn in,” Jack went on, beginning to head for the door.  “You might wanna’ go down to the Control Room and fill Carter in on what it was that Mac did to the computers before she spends all night tearing her hair out over it.  Oh and Daniel.  Do me a favour and stay on the base again tonight.  Same goes for Carter.”

            With that, Jack made good his escape out the door, leaving Daniel standing open-mouthed in his wake.

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

            While he dutifully answered the various questions Fraiser asked of him, Malloy kept one eye on the VIP suite’s door.  As Fraiser checked him over with brisk efficiency, Sam griped good-naturedly about the necessity of the exam while continuing to keep part of his attention focussed on the door.

            “Dad?”  Sam questioned when he presently spotted his father stepping back into the room.

            “I was just convincing Teal’c that he really doesn’t need to stand guard out there all night,” MacGyver explained, “and that we’ll be fine on our own for a while.”  A mischievous twinkle appeared fleetingly in his dark eyes as he added.  “Mind you, I did sorta’ haveta threaten to get Jack down here to make it an order.  Big guy has one heckuva’ stubborn streak.”  Adopting a more serious air, he regarded Fraiser who was in the midst of unwrapping a blood-pressure cuff from his son’s left arm.  “So.  Doc.  How’s he doing?  Everything checking out okay?”

            “Everything seems fine.” Fraiser nodded.  She shot the Phoenix man a smile.  “I just wish all my patients healed this quickly after major surgery.  Perhaps I should ask General Hammond about getting you and that crystal of yours seconded to my staff.”

            “Hey...  Wouldn’t want to put ya’ out of a job, Doc.”  MacGyver’s hands came up in a  defensive manner, the crystal in his left palm glinting in the synthetic light.  “’Sides,” he gave a self-deprecating shrug.  “I really don’t know what the heck I’m doing with it half the time, an’ pretty much every time I’ve used it for anything major so far, I’ve had help.  Lots of help.”

            “I realise that, but you will figure it out and when you do...  Well, just think how useful that could be around here,” Fraiser answered quite seriously.  The expression on MacGyver’s face betrayed him to have already had such thoughts.  Content that she had made her point, Fraiser turned back to Malloy.  “Okay, Sam.  I just need to draw a blood sample then we’re done.”

            “Another blood sample? What for?” Sam looked surprised. “You already took one this morning.  And then again after Dad and Jack blew up the lab.”

            “I know,”  Janet answered patiently.  “But I want to check the levels of that alien substance that’s in your blood.”  As Sam sighed, Fraiser added.  “It’s important, Sam.”

            “She’s right, Sam,” MacGyver supported Fraiser.  “Given the scrapes you get yourself into on a regular basis, we need to know if that stuff’s gonna’ keep showing up every time anyone does blood-work on ya’.”  He waved a hand expressively.  “Could be kinda’ hard to explain to a civilian doctor.  Ya’ know?”

            “The scrapes I get into?”  Malloy was indignant.  “What about all the scrapes you keep getting into?”

            “Yeah... Well... ” MacGyver shifted uncomfortably and shrugged.  “Let me worry about that, okay?”

            “Okay, Sam.  We’re done,” Fraiser announced, having successfully drawn the blood sample she wanted while MacGyver had been distracting her patient.  “Hold that there and keep your arm bent for a few minutes,” she instructed, pressing a small ball of cotton wool to the puncture mark on Sam’s arm.

            “We are?”  Sam regarded the medic in surprise, then glanced down at his arm before he took over holding the cotton wool in place and bending his arm up as instructed.  “Hey, you’re pretty good at that, Doc.  Never felt a thing.”  He smiled happily.

            “I get a lot of practice.”  Fraiser couldn’t help but smile in response to the one being bestowed on her as she deposited the vial of blood safely into her bag.  Re-adopting her ‘professional face‘, she turned to MacGyver.  “Okay, Mac.  Your turn.  You want to sit down here for me or over there on the bed?”

            MacGyver opted for one of the chairs at the table, insisting as he did so that he was fine and that there really wasn’t any need for her to bother with a check-up.

            “It must run in the family,” Fraiser sighed, shaking her head in a ‘where-have-I-heard-all-this-before?’ fashion.

            “Jack checked out okay, didn’t he?”  MacGyver pursued.

            “Yes, he did, but he wasn’t the one making heavy use of one of those,”  Fraiser gestured towards the crystal embedded in Mac’s left hand, “to surreptitiously sneak around this base and simultaneously conceal three or four other people.”  She fixed MacGyver with a stern look as she pointed out.  “Using that thing exhausts you and plays havoc with your metabolism.”

            “I know, Doc, but I feel fine.  Really.”

            “Actually, he didn’t look too good when he got here, Doc,” Sam chimed in at that point.  “He looked pretty much - ”

            “Okay, okay.  So I was wiped out for a bit there,” MacGyver shot a glare at his son, then regarded Fraiser and told her.  “But I’ve had something to eat since and a chance to rest a bit and I’m fine now.”

            “You have a medical degree, Mister MacGyver?”  Fraiser inquired in a tone that warned that her patience was far from infinite.

            “No, but - ”

            “Well I do, so I’ll decide whether you really are fine or whether you just think you are if you don’t mind.”

            “Yes, Ma’am,” MacGyver sighed in defeat and meekly submitted himself to Fraiser’s professional attentions.

            As she had been with Sam, Fraiser was swift but thorough in her ‘checking-out’ of the Phoenix operative and concluded the exam by drawing a blood sample.

            “So.  I’m fine.  Right?”  MacGyver inquired as, a ball of cotton wool over the needle-mark in his arm and his arm bent at the elbow, he watched Fraiser rapidly scribble something in one of the folders she had brought with her.

            “It would appear so,” Fraiser conceded.  Closing the file and pocketing her pen, she glanced at her wrist-watch then regarded father and son and told them.  “However, I want both of you to get a good night’s sleep and I’ll want to see you both in the infirmary again in the morning.”  As both men opened their mouths to object, she held up a hand and said.  “I insist.”  They subsided and nodded dutifully.  Fraiser collected up her bag and the files.  “Goodnight, gentlemen.  I’ll see you in the morning then.”

            “I’ll see you out,” MacGyver volunteered, his natural gallantry reflexively kicking in as Fraiser made for the door.

            “Thank you,” Fraiser smiled appreciatively as the Phoenix operative beat her to the door and opened it for her.

            “For you, Doc... anytime.”  MacGyver gave the medic one of his best smiles as he added.  “And Doc.  Thanks.”

            Fraiser met MacGyver’s dark-eyed gaze for a moment and saw the genuine appreciation that was visible in them.  She nodded in return and then was gone from the V.I.P. suite.

            “So,” said Sam as MacGyver closed the door in Fraiser’s wake.  “What now?”

            “Now?”  MacGyver responded as he considered the question.  “Now,” he said, coming to a decision.  “I reckon we should maybe take the Doc’s advice and get a good night’s sleep.  It’s been one heck of a day one way an’ another, an’ we’ve got a lot to do tomorrow once we get outta’ here. Which we won’t if the Doc catches us looking bleary-eyed in the morning.”

            “Okay,” Sam nodded.  He frisked himself and, a moment later, retrieved a coin from a pocket of his borrowed fatigues.  Holding up the coin he grinned.  “Toss ya’ for who gets to pick which side of the bed.”

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

            Awakening with a start, O’Neill blinked into the gloom of the small room that served as his on-base quarters.  One of the advantages of his position as 2-I-C of the SGC was that he had a permanently designated room to himself, cramped though it was, instead of having to share or simply take whatever was available.  It was something he appreciated, especially on nights when he had trouble sleeping.  Not that he’d had any trouble dropping off this particular night.  He’d been out almost as soon as his head had hit the pillow.  He didn’t think it had been a nightmare that had woken him.  In fact he was damn sure it hadn’t been a nightmare that had wakened him.  When one of those disturbed him, he was usually drenched in sweat and shaking and he also usually remembered enough to know what the nightmare had been about.

            No alarms were sounding and no-one was hammering on his door so there obviously wasn’t ‘a situation’ in progress.

            Jack checked the electronic clock on the unit beside his bunk.  It read: 02:34.  He sighed, turned over and endeavoured to go back to sleep, only to sit up abruptly as a worrying thought suddenly occurred to him:  Were his relatives in danger?  He jumped as he heard a quietly murmured question resonate softly inside his head.

            //Jack?  You okay?//

            //Mac!  For crying out loud, give a guy some warning when you’re gonna’ do that willya’?”  He complained in mild annoyance.

            //Sorry.// Came the swift apology.  //Didn’t mean to disturb ya’.  I was just lying here thinking and all of a sudden you were broadcasting worry at me... //

            //Hey, I just woke up.// Jack returned.  //Don’t know what woke me an’ I just... Yeah, okay, I was wondering if you guys were okay.//

            //We’re fine.//

            //So.  Why aren’t you asleep?//

            //Like I said, I was thinking.//

            //About?//

            //The photographs Sam took.//

            //Photographs?// Jack echoed mentally.  //Two-thirty-something in the A.M. and you’re thinking about photographs?  Jeez, Mac... //

            //I’m serious.//

            //So’m I!//

            //Any chance I could get another look at them?//

            //What?  Now?//

            //Uhhh... Yeah.//

            Jack sighed heavily and scrubbed a hand through his close-cropped hair.  //You do pick your moments.  You know that, dontcha’?//  He felt a wave of apology wash through him from his cousin.  //Guess neither of us is gonna’ get any decent sleep tonight now ‘til ya’ do.  Right?//

            //Sorry.//

            //S’okay.// Jack sighed.  //Stay put.  I’ll bring them to ya’.//

            //Thanks.//

            O’Neill scrubbed a hand through his hair again, reached to turn on some light, clambered out of bed and began to throw on some clothes.

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

            “Dad?  Whatcha’ doing?”  Sam sleepy sounding voice inquired as he emerged from under the blankets he’d buried himself in to discover that his father was no longer sleeping at his side but was, instead, in the process of getting dressed.

            “’S’okay, Sam.  Go back to sleep.  Something I wanna’ check out.”

            “Can’t it wait ‘til morning?”  Sam asked in sleepy irritation.

            “Maybe.  Maybe not,” MacGyver answered gently.  “Go back to sleep, son.”

            “Daaad... ” Malloy was pushing himself up into something resembling a sitting position by that point.  “Spill.  What’s up?”  He questioned, rubbing sleepily at his eyes and blinking into the gloom provided by the low lighting that his father had switched on.

            “Nothing.  Just something I need to check,” MacGyver responded.  “Stay put and go back to sleep.  I’ll just be outside the door.  Won’t be long.”

            “Ah-huh.”  Sam snorted sceptically as he watched his father head for the door.  As soon as the door closed quietly in his father’s wake, Sam was pushing back the bed-covers, clambering to his feet and rapidly reaching for his own clothes.

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

            “So.  You want to tell me what’s got you spinning your wheels at this godforsaken hour?”  Jack inquired of MacGyver as he found him hovering in the corridor outside the V.I.P. suite.

            “Something Seeba said,” Mac answered, fidgeting restlessly.

            “Something Seeba said?”  Jack responded dubiously as he handed over the photographs that he had just retrieved from a locked drawer in General Hammond’s office.  “Like...?”

            “Not sure...” MacGyver answered absently as he scrutinized the crumpled, blood-stained photographs that Malloy had taken a few days earlier and had nearly been killed for.  He looked up at his cousin.  “Can I use the base computers again?”

            “What do you need the base computers for?”  This question came from a still half-asleep looking Sam who had just emerged from the V.I.P. suite in time to catch his father’s question.

            “Good question,” O’Neill said, eying MacGyver with something akin to suspicion.  “Carter wasn’t a happy bunny about what you did to them last time.”

            “The sub-routine was self-erasing,” MacGyver said absently.  “It’ll be long gone by now.”  To Sam he said.  “I thought I told you to go back to sleep?”

            “Yeah.  Right.  Pique my curiosity and expect me to sleep?  Don’t think so, Dad.”  Sam was scornful of the whole notion.  Then he asked seriously.  “So.  What do you need a computer for?”

            “I want a better look at these,” MacGyver said, waving the photographs as he looked at his cousin.  “And since you’re up,” he told Sam, “you might as well come along too.  I may have a coupla’ questions for ya’.”

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

            The Briefing Room was dark and deserted when Jack, MacGyver and Sam entered.  O’Neill flipped on the lights and Mac headed for the computer station at Sergeant Davis’ desk, Sam following hard on his heels.  Settling in the Sergeant’s vacant chair, MacGyver immediately set about persuading the computer system to grant him access.

            “Oh-kaay.  So what’re you looking for?”  Jack inquired presently as he hitched a buttock on the edge of the desk and squinted at the computer monitor.

            “I’ll know it when I see it,” MacGyver said, frowning at the screen which was displaying, in all its crumpled, bloodied glory, an image of the photograph that he had just scanned into the system.

            “Big help,” O’Neill sighed.

            “Sam, what else was going on in the restaurant when you were taking this?”  Mac looked round and up at his son who was hovering at his shoulder.

            “Ah... Lots of folk having dinner.” Sam offered with a shrug.

            “Big surprise there, huh?”  O’Neill remarked, grimacing apologetically as two sets of dark eyes shot him a chilly look before they went back to studying the image on the monitor.  Jack endeavoured to redeem himself.  “That guy with Kinsey and Maybourne...  Maybe you could do that mug-shot-finder thingy again and we could get an I.D. on him?”

            “Yeah.”  Sam looked eagerly approving.  “I got a pretty good look at him.  It shouldn’t be too hard to - ”

            “Ya’ know, I think we’re way too focused on Kinsey and company,” MacGyver commented as he stared pensively at the screen in front of him.

            “Huh?”  The smug look that had been spreading across Jack’s face in response to Sam’s apparent approval of his suggestion changed abruptly to one of bewildered confusion.  “What?”

            “Dad?”  Sam frowned at his father.

            “Seeba said to look beyond what our eyes have seen,” MacGyver frowned thoughtfully.  He straightened suddenly in his chair and his fingers flew over the keyboard in front of him.  “We’ve been looking at the obvious, which is Kinsey and friends.  We should be looking elsewhere,” he announced in his best ‘bear-with-me-I’ve-just-had-an-idea’ tone.

            “Excuse me?”  Jack stared blankly at him.

            “Something in the background...” Sam murmured, nodding thoughtfully, clearly keeping up with his father’s train of thought.

            “Yeah... ” MacGyver smiled as the computer screen filled with a blurry but enlarged section of part of the photograph’s background.  His fingers flew over the keyboard again and the image sharpened.

            “Nice one, Dad.”  Sam approved, studying the new image.

            “Oh-kaay... Let’s see what we’ve got here,” MacGyver said pensively.  “A couple of families... We can discount them.”  A brief smile graced MacGyver’s features as he added.  “A courting couple... ”

            “How’d ya’ know that?”  Jack looked intrigued as he twisted around to get a better look at the screen.  “Oh.” he said, figuring it out for himself as he saw the hand-holding couple and the entranced way in which they were gazing at one another.

            “Well, nothing there,” MacGyver sighed in disappointment.  He cleared the screen and brought up an image of the other photograph that he’d scanned into the system.  The picture had been taken from a different angle to the first so, consequently, the background differed from the first too.  His fingers flew over the keyboard and within moments he had a blurry enlargement of a carefully selected section of that background displayed on the screen.  A few more keystrokes and the computer enhanced and sharpened up the image.

            “Another couple... ” Sam remarked as he studied the new image.  “Yeah... I remember them.  Came in just after I arrived.  They were sniping at each other from the get-go.”

            “Married then, huh?”  O’Neill observed helpfully.  He received another chilly look from his cousins for that one before they went back to examining the picture on the monitor.

            “Hey, here we go.”  MacGyver said, his attention on a group of four men seated at a corner table.  “Looks like Seeba was right.”  He selected that section of the image and had the computer enlarge and enhance it further.  “We’ve got us a familiar face here... ” he observed as he studied the newest image.

            “We have?  There is?”  Jack moved from his perch to lean over Mac’s shoulder for a better look at what the monitor was displaying.  “Which one?”

            “Him.”  MacGyver tapped the screen.  The man he indicated was seen in profile.

            “Ah... Nope.  Not ringing any bells here,” Jack observed, frowning at the screen.

            “Name’s Carlo Vanzetta.  Used to run guns out of Miami,” MacGyver supplied.

            “How’d ya’ know him, Dad?”  Sam had curiosity written all over him.

            “He stole some classified military hardware a while back.  I ah, blew it up just as he was about to make delivery to his buyers,” Mac answered with a self-deprecating little shrug.

            “Bet that made him real popular with his buyers,” Jack observed.

            “It did.” MacGyver nodded.  “Especially since in all the confusion their money went missing.”  As Jack quirked an eyebrow at him and his son eyed him suspiciously, Mac smiled innocently back and said.  “Rumour has it that a few days later a coupla’ famine relief projects in East Africa received some very generous, but anonymous cash donations.”

            “Rumour, eh?”  Amusement twitched at O’Neill’s lips.

            “Hey... That was you?”  A look of sudden enlightenment spread across Malloy’s face, followed by something akin to amused appreciation.  “Boy, when you do anonymous, Dad, you do anonymous.”  Sam looked at Jack and told him.  “I know several journalists nearly went nuts trying to figure out the source of those donations when the word leaked out about them, but every lead turned out to be a dead end.”

            “I know some people who are very good at being discreet... ” MacGyver shrugged innocently before endeavouring to refocus everyone’s attention on the matter at hand.  “Don’t know who these other guys are,” he said, waving a hand at the computer monitor, “but if they’re hanging out with Vanzetta, odds are they’re on someone’s ‘Wanted’ list somewhere.”  He pursed his lips momentarily before deciding.  “I’ll send this to Willis at the Phoenix Foundation.  We may only have usable shots of two of these other guys here, but he can run ‘em through the system and see what turns up.”  He looked round at Jack and gestured towards the phone sitting on the desk.  “You mind if I...?”

            Jack made a ‘go-ahead’ gesture.  Mac promptly reached for the phone and dialled a number from memory.

            “Hey, Willis.  It’s Mac,” MacGyver said into the phone a few moments later when his call was answered.  “I know it’s late, but I need a favour.”

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

            Despite the interruption to his night’s sleep by his cousin’s request to scrutinize the photographs of Kinsey & co. in the early hours, O’Neill still arose early enough to hit the Mess Hall before the main ‘breakfast rush’ descended.  Joining the short queue that was already starting to form, he collected fruit juice, bacon and eggs with hash browns, toast and a large mug of the black sludge that purported itself to be coffee.  He then headed for the table that SG-1 tended to hog and tucked into his meal.  He was just washing down the last of his toast with some of the alleged coffee when he spotted his 2-I-C enter the room and head for the coffee as if on auto-pilot.  Still apparently on auto-pilot, she headed for the table where O’Neill sat.

            “Morning, Carter,” O’Neill greeted cheerfully as the scientist sank into one of the chairs on the opposite side of the table.

            “Sir.”  She responded while trying to stifle an obvious yawn.

            “Gee.  Lookin’ kinda’ rough there, Carter,” O’Neill observed in a cheerfully perky tone as he observed the aura of weariness emanating from his subordinate.  “There a party around here last night that someone forgot to tell me about?” 

            “If you’ll remember, sir, someone kind of blew up my lab yesterday.  I’m still sorting out the mess.” Carter cast an  irritable look across the table.

            “Oh,” said O’Neill, unabashed.  “So.  You’ve been up all night playing with your doodads again.”

            Carter rolled her eyes and sighed heavily as she realised that her superior appeared to be in one of his ‘pain-in-the-ass’ moods. “Yes, sir,” she conceded.  Trying to stifle another yawn, she continued.  “I’ve also been working on that computer glitch we had yesterday.”

            “Computer glitch?”  O’Neill gave her a blank look.

            “The one that triggered those false Fire Alerts, sir?”  Carter reminded.  “I ran full diagnostics on the computers and it turns out the glitch wasn’t a glitch at all.  Someone deliberately tampered with the system and whoever it was, they were good.  They hid their tracks almost completely.  They used a self-erasing sub-routine but the erased memory hadn’t been totally over-written by any new data before I - ”

            “Whoa!  Hold up there, Carter!”  O’Neill interrupted, his hands coming up to wave frantically before him in an unmistakable gesture.

            “Someone tampered with the computers, sir,” Carter stated earnestly.

            “Yeah, I know.  Didn’t Daniel explain it to you last night?”  O’Neill wanted to know.

            “Daniel, sir?”

            “Yeah.  Daniel.  You know...?  Geeky archaeologist?  I told him, in fact I distinctly remember telling him last night to tell you what Mac did to the computers so you wouldn’t spend all night trying to figure it out.”

            “Sir?  You’re saying MacGyver - ?”

            “Yeah, Carter.  Didn’t I tell you that where computers are concerned he’d give you a run for your money?”

            “Yes, sir, but it never occurred to me that - ” Carter was doing a very good impersonation of a very unhappy bunny who was getting unhappier by the second.

            “I’ll have him explain it all to you himself later,”  O’Neill rose to his feet.  “I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to give ya’ all the minutest of technical details about it.  Meanwhile, I suggest you get yourself something to eat and get your head down for a couple of hours while I go find Daniel and kick his ass.”

            “Yes, sir.” Carter yawned as her C.O. departed.

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

            Used to tracking down his errant archaeologist, O’Neill did not head straight for the accommodation section and the quarters Daniel usually used when on base.  Instead he headed for the archaeologist’s office on Level 18, exuding an aura of irritation that had the base personnel he encountered en route scuttling hurriedly out of his way.

            “Oh fer cryin’ out loud,” he muttered under his breath as, finding the door of Daniel’s office lying open, he looked inside and saw the Egyptologist.  The office was in near darkness except for a pool of light from a desk lamp.  In said pool of light the archaeologist was visible, slumped over a pile of open books, apparently dead to the world.

            It was a scene with which O’Neill was not entirely unfamiliar.  Shaking his head in a paternally despairing manner, he advanced into the office and round behind the desk.  Leaning close, he called the younger man’s name.  He was not entirely surprised by a distinct lack of response.  He tried again, this time pitching his voice to a level designed to carry across a parade ground - a very large parade ground - and garner the attention of semi-deaf recruits.

            Daniel came to life like a startled deer and Jack ducked back out of the way just in time to avoid the younger man’s head making contact with his jaw.

            “Huh?  What?”  Jackson blinked into the gloom of his office in a panicked fashion.

            “Daniel, did I or did I not tell you to - ?”  O’Neill began in his best long-suffering, patiently-pissed-off C.O.’s tone.

            “Jack!”  Daniel interjected, transforming before Jack’s eyes from a picture of befuddled alarm to earnest and enthusiastic scientist.  “Look what they left behind for us!”  He rattled on barely pausing for a breath and hauling a book from amidst the clutter he had fallen asleep over.  “It’s going to take a while to translate since I only learned some of the modern spoken form of their ‘Primary’ language while we were there and as far as I can tell this text is in an ancient form which, while having some similarities with various ancient earth languages, is still totally different.”

            “Whoa.  Slow down there, Book-boy.”  Jack held up his hands defensively in front of him as he endeavoured to stem the tide of, to him, totally useless information.  Daniel, however, was in full flood and turned back to the clutter on his desk to grab another book.

            “This is the same.  They left this one too and again the translation is going to take a while.  Actually it’ll probably take a whole lot longer.  It appears to be a different language to the other but there are just enough similarities to make me believe that its roots may lie within the other so it should be easier to translate once I figure out - ”

            “Fine.  Terrific.  Wonderful.”  O’Neill rolled his eyes.  “I only came to warn you that Carter is one seriously pissed off camper.”

            “-what the common ah, what?”  Daniel stopped short in mid-flow and blinked bewilderedly at his team-mate.

            “Feel free to contradict me, but I seem to remember telling you last night to go explain to Carter what Mac did to the base computers.”  Jack took the opportunity to get a word or two in edgewise seeing as how he had finally managed to gain Daniel’s attention.  “This apparently came as news to Carter whom I just left yawning in the Mess Hall.”

            “Oh... ”  Jackson said, his expression becoming one of ‘light dawning’.

            “Yeah.”  Jack confirmed.  “So, if you can bear to tear yourself away from... ” He waved a hand vaguely at the book in Daniel’s hand.  “I’d recommend Kevlar.  Lots of Kevlar.”

            “Huh?”  Daniel looked bewildered again as Jack started towards the door, a distinct bounce in his step.

            “Oh yeah, Carter is SO gonna’ kill ya’,” Jack cast a smugly evil smile over his shoulder as he ducked out the door.

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

            By the time MacGyver and Malloy descended on the Mess Hall in search of breakfast they found that, as had been MacGyver’s intention, they had managed to miss the worst of the ‘morning rush’ and the chow-line wasn’t nearly as long as it would otherwise have been.  Collecting up trays, they tagged onto the end of the fairly briskly moving queue.

            Sam didn’t fail to notice the numerous nods and smiles of acknowledgment that came his father’s way from various personnel as they patiently waited in line.  Nor did he miss the several respectful ‘Morning, sir’s that also came his father’s way.  He noted that MacGyver responded to each and every one in his usual laid-back, amiable manner, addressing some of the men and women by their first names and others by either their last names or their rank.

            It didn’t take too long for them to reach the serving counter where they made their selections from what was on offer.  Sam opted for some of just about everything in sight from the ‘hot’ section and came away with a generously heaped platter of bacon, eggs, tomatoes, hash-browns, beans, mushrooms and toast, while his father settled for a large bowl of cereal (which he half-drowned in milk) and a banana.  Drinks-wise, Sam chose coffee while his father selected a large glass of fresh orange juice.  Their trays thus loaded, they began to weave their way through the clutter of occupied tables towards one on the far side of the room where, when they had entered, they had spotted two members of SG-1 already in residence.

            “Hey, guys.  Mind if we join ya’?”  MacGyver inquired as he came to a halt beside the table where Daniel Jackson was waving a forkful of syrup-drenched pancake around while talking nineteen to the dozen to the man sitting across from him.

            “Your presence is most welcome, MacGyver,” Teal’c solemnly pronounced, inclining his head graciously in the Phoenix man’s direction.  “As is yours, SamMalloy,” the Jaffa added, inclining his head to the younger man hovering at Mac’s elbow.

            General morning pleasantries were exchanged along with enquiries as to Sam’s state of health as the two new arrivals settled themselves into the two vacant chairs at the table and unloaded their trays.  Sam cheerfully assured the two SG-1 men that he was feeling pretty good and was hungry enough to eat a horse.

            “Who’da guessed?”  MacGyver commented with a wry smile as he watched his son launch an enthusiastic attack on the stacked plate of food sitting before him.  Malloy just grinned back at him around a mouthful of egg and hash-brown.  MacGyver turned his attention to the man sitting beside the journalist.  “So,  Daniel.  We ran into Carter on our way up here... ”

            “Mmmm,” Malloy threw in around a mouthful of bacon and tomato.  “She was not a happy Captain.  Said something about feeding you to your fish when she catches up to you.”

            “Ahhh.... ” Daniel blinked.  “Yeah.  About that... ”  He looked apologetically across the table at MacGyver.  “Um... I was supposed to - ”

            “Hey, don’t sweat it.  I set her straight on what went on with the computers yesterday,” MacGyver assured him with a relaxed smile.

            “Oh.”  Daniel looked both relieved and surprised.  “You did?”

            “He did,” Malloy confirmed with a mischievous grin.  “It was a classic performance.  Peace Corps couldn’t’ve done better.”

            “Saaam,” MacGyver shifted uncomfortably and shot his son a warning look.  It failed to have the desired effect however.

            “The ‘MacGyver charm’ at work,”  Sam continued, happily ignoring his father’s obvious embarrassment.  “I think it was probably ‘The Smile’ on top of the scientific gobbledegook and all the eloquent apologetic grovelling that clinched it in the end.”

            “Gobbledegook?”  Teal’c inquired, raising an eyebrow by the barest of fractions.

            “Yeah.  Ya’ know...  Gobbledegook,” Sam said.  He saw Teal’c’s eyebrow twitch again and it suddenly occurred to him that he wasn’t getting his leg pulled and that the Jaffa really was unfamiliar with the terminology.  “It’s an expression.”

            “Indeed,” Teal’c rumbled, looking none the wiser.  Sam began to explain and totally missed the look which his father exchanged with Daniel.  It was a look that expressed relief that Sam had been side-tracked from his teasing and yet questioned whether Teal’c had deliberately side-tracked the journalist or if he really was ignorant of the meaning of ‘gobbledegook’.  The look which Daniel shot back indicated that he really had no idea, but that either or both answers were quite feasible.

            Never one to miss a life-line thrown to him when he was in danger of drowning, MacGyver made the most of Teal’c’s timely distraction of his son.

            “So, someone I know whispered something in my ear about the K’Rin’sha having left a coupla’ books behind for you.  You care to fill me in... ?”

            The mention of the alien texts had Daniel in enthusiastic linguist mode in an instant.  He began talking nineteen to the dozen again about the alien languages in which the texts were written.

            “Does he always go on like this?”  Sam hissed across the table at Teal’c some several minutes later as Jackson, clearly encouraged by the fact that MacGyver’s dark eyes had failed to glaze over after his first few sentences (as O’Neill’s were wont to do) was working up a full head of impassioned professorial steam.

            “Frequently,” Teal’c answered, his facial expression giving little away but his eyes hinting at long-suffering forbearance.

            A soft snort of amusement escaped Sam before he turned his attention to Daniel and attempted to interrupt the full-blown linguistics lecture being directed across the table at the attentively frowning MacGyver.

            “Uh, Daniel.”  The attempted interruption fell on oblivious ears.  Sam tried again, this time giving the enthusing man a deliberate poke in the ribs.  “Ah, excuse me.  What are they about?”

            “Huh?”  Daniel blinked in a mildly irritated manner at the journalist.  “What?”  He asked blankly.

            “What are they about?”  Sam repeated his question.  “The books,” he elaborated as it rapidly became clear to him that Jackson didn’t have a clue what he was talking about.  “I mean fascinating though all that stuff about the linguistic roots of the languages they’re written in is, I think some of us would kinda’ like to know what the books are actually about.”

            “Oh.”  Daniel’s expression took on a ‘light-dawning’ look.  “Right.”  He looked back to MacGyver again.  “One is a copy of ‘The Prophesies of S’Lell’.  Once I translate it, it might help us to figure out why the K’Rin’sha Guardian High Circle seemed so taken with you and Jack.”  He flushed.  “Um, no offence intended.”

            “None taken,” Mac smiled.  “In fact it’s something I’d kinda’ like to know myself.  What about the other book?  Any idea what it’s about?”

            “I’m not sure,” Daniel admitted.  “Like I was telling Teal’c when you guys got here, I think it may be some sort of a historical text.  I’m certainly hoping so.  The note that came with both books just says I might find them ‘illuminating’.”  Jackson fished in a pocket and pulled out a piece of neatly folded paper which he offered across the table to the Phoenix man.

            “Well?  What does it say?”  Malloy questioned impatiently after a few moments of watching his father frown at what was written on the paper.

            “’Honoured Young One’,” MacGyver read aloud.  “May these texts provide illumination to you and the Honoured Tau’ri Guardians as you walk the Path that is the Destiny of your Circle’.”

            “That’s it?”  Sam looked somewhat disappointed.  MacGyver checked the reverse side of the paper but it bore no further information other than the legend ‘Daniel Jackson’ in almost copperplate script.

            “Yep,” the Phoenix operative confirmed, looking briefly at the message again before offering it back across the table.  Sam reached for the note, shooting a ‘May I?’ look at Daniel, who nodded.  “So.  Daniel.  I take it it’s going to take a while to translate the books?”  MacGyver addressed the linguist.

            “Um.  Yes,” Daniel nodded.

            “You’ll let me know when you do?”  MacGyver asked, his expression broadcasting genuine interest in learning about the contents of the alien texts.

            “Sure.” Daniel nodded again, looking unmistakably pleased by the sincerity of the older man’s request.

            “Great,” MacGyver smiled delightedly.  “You got a pen and some paper?  I’ll give ya’ my e-mail address and a coupla’ numbers where I can usually be reached, or where ya’ can leave a message if I’m away on Phoenix business.”

            Unsurprisingly, Daniel readily produced both a pen and a notebook.

            “So, you guys really are leaving today then?”  The archaeologist asked as he watched MacGyver make several neat notations on a fresh page at the back of the notebook.

            “Once we’ve been okayed by Doctor Fraiser again, yeah,” MacGyver nodded.  “And this,” he wiggled his left hand in a manner that kept the crystal embedded in his palm discreetly hidden, “is all safely locked away with the other one.”  Looking up, he cast a wry smile across the table.  “Somehow I don’t think the temporary C.O. around here is going play ‘favourites’ and let me walk off-base with it.”  He pushed the pen and notebook back across the table to Jackson as he added.  “Though I’m sure the boys in the labs back at Phoenix would just love it if I did.”

            “I’m sure Pete Thornton would just love your blowing the place up too,” Malloy commented with a grin.  “Not to mention explaining it to the Phoenix board afterwards.”

            “Yeeah,” MacGyver acknowledged with a wry smile and a brief tilt of his head.  “Good point.”  He then cast a questioning look at the considerably reduced pile of food that still remained on his son’s plate.  “Don’t want to rush ya’, son, but you wanna’ finish that up so’s we can go hit Daniel’s office and get this thing...”  He moved his left hand in a discreetly expressive manner again,  “...locked away before we go see if Doctor Fraiser’s in yet?”  He looked at Jackson.  “If that’s okay with you, Daniel?”

            “Um.  Yes.  Fine with me.  I can show you those books while you’re there.”

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

            For several moments O’Neill stood silently in the doorway of the small room just off from the main section of the Infirmary, struggling to quash a smile as he watched his C.O.  The General was wide awake and was sitting up in his hospital bed, propped up by several pillows.  He was also subjecting a breakfast tray to the sort of suspicious scrutiny most people reserved for something nasty that had crawled out from under a rock.

            O’Neill raised a hand to rap his knuckles on the door-frame a couple of times as Hammond’s attention remained intently focused on the possible alien incursion on his breakfast tray.

            “Should I get a Haz-Mat team in, sir?”  O’Neill just couldn’t resist the temptation to solicitously inquire as, stuffing his hands in his pants pockets, he ambled into the room without waiting to be invited.

            Hammond’s gaze snapped up from the sloppy mush he’d been prodding with a spoon.  He glowered at his subordinate and dropped the spoon into the bowl in a manner that positively screamed his disgust as he demanded.

            “Is this the normal standard of the food in here?”

            O’Neill made a show of dutifully scrutinizing what lay in the discarded bowl then, straightening, he announced, totally straight-faced. “Ah, no, sir.  I’d say it’s an improvement.  That’s almost identifiable as... ” He hazarded a guess based on experience.  “Oatmeal?  Right?”  As Hammond emitted what could only be described as a highly sceptical snort, O’Neill offered helpfully.  “I could send a memo to Catering, sir, but they usually just ignore the ones I send them.”

            “I’ll be sending more than a memo to Catering, Colonel,” the General stated tersely as he shot another glower at his alleged breakfast.

            “Yes, sir.”  O’Neill endeavoured to hide a smirk.  “I could contact the Red Cross... ” He offered helpfully, his eyes twinkling with mischief.  “There’s gotta be something in the Geneva Convention to cover this...Maybe they could organize some Aid Parcels....Or maybe I could organize a Black Op...A heavily armed skirmish team to distract Napoleon Fraiser and her eagle-eyed minions while I sneak some beer and pizza in under the radar...”  O’Neill looked as if he was seriously warming to the challenge of such a potentially hazardous mission now that said plan had occurred to him.  “Need to be on a strictly volunteer-only basis of course,” he mused conversationally.  “I mean, considering what a cruel and unusual fate would likely befall anyone captured by...” He shuddered dramatically, “The Other Side.”

            Hammond snorted.  Only this time it was not a snort of disgust, it was a snort of amusement and lifting spirits.

            “Who are you and who authorized you to be in here?”  A clipped voice demanded from somewhere behind the Colonel.  O’Neill stiffened and looked round to see a stern-faced nurse in the doorway, a disapproving scowl emblazoned across her face.

            “See.  Spies everywhere,” O’Neill hissed confidentially to Hammond before turning and taking full advantage of every inch of his six foot plus height to tower over the 5’6” nurse while adopting his most menacing aura.  “I am Colonel O’Neill, Lieutenant, and as acting C.O. I authorized myself.  There are urgent and highly classified SGC matters being discussed here so unless you have a burning desire for your next duty assignment to be in Antarctica, I suggest you go find someone else to annoy.  Fast.  Do I make myself clear, Lieutenant?”

            The nurse stared.  Having just been recently assigned to the SGC, she had not previously had the dubious honour of a personal encounter with a cranky - or otherwise - O’Neill.  She had, however, heard all the horror stories.  She fled, but not before promising that ‘Doctor Fraiser will hear about this’.

Hammond chortled and observed. “You know you’re in trouble now, Jack, and there’s nothing I can do to help you.”

            O’Neill gave a resigned shrug.  “I’m Special Ops, sir.  I can handle it.”

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

            Once Sam and MacGyver had finished their breakfasts and were ready to head for Daniel’s office, Teal’c excused himself on the grounds that his presence was expected in the base gymnasium by some SG-trainees to whom he was scheduled to give a lesson in Jaffa close-combat techniques.  Thus it was that only the three humans presently descended on the archaeologist’s domain.

            “Hey, wow.  This place looks like a museum,” Malloy observed when he set eyes on the organised chaos that was Jackson’s office.  “Cool,” he approved, his gaze roaming freely around the room.  “Is all this stuff from...you know... Other planets?”

            “A lot of it,” Daniel answered, heading over towards the wall safe.  “But some of it’s of Earth origin too.  For reference and comparison.”

            “Either way, it’s an impressive collection.”  MacGyver was also surveying the room with interest.  He had seen it before - briefly - but without Daniel around to answer any questions.  Not one to miss an opportunity to learn new things, he asked.  “Are these Aztec or Mayan?”

            Daniel looked round to see the Phoenix man’s attention was directed towards a shelf crowded with an assortment of artefacts.  He had a sudden flash of déjà-vu as he saw the older man reach out a hand to pick up one of the objects of scrutiny.  Somehow he managed to curb the almost instinctive urge to issue a growled warning of ‘Jaaaack’ as he realised this was not his irritating team-leader he was dealing with.  MacGyver was handling the artefact with the undisguised care of someone who appreciated its fragility.  Daniel gave silent thanks for the man’s genuine interest in archaeology, albeit as an amateur, which predisposed him to handling artefacts with due care.  Especially fragile artefacts.

            “The primary influence appears to be Aztec,” Daniel answered, abandoning the safe in favour of going to MacGyver’s side.  “But there are definite signs of other influences.”  He reached to carefully remove the delicate object from the older man’s hands and restore it to its place on the shelf.  “SG-7 brought it and these other pieces back from ah, P2B-482 about a month ago.  I’ve really not had time yet to study them properly.”  MacGyver asked a question about the ‘other influences’ and Daniel slipped into professorial mode as he endeavoured to answer.

            “Ah, guys... ” Sam attempted to butt in after touring the office a couple of times.  “Aren’t we getting side-tracked here?”  He inquired, interrupting the lecture Daniel was giving to the attentive and clearly fascinated MacGyver.  “Aren’t we supposed to be locking that crystal thingy up?”

            “Yeah, you’re right.”  MacGyver seemed to visibly give himself a shake.  “Much as I could easily spend all day here finding out more about all this stuff.” He gestured at the clutter surrounding them all. “We do have some rather more pressing business to be getting on with.”  He cast Daniel a look that could only be described as hopeful.  “Maybe I could take a rain-check for another time?”

            “Uh, sure,” Jackson nodded as he watched the subtle change in the older man that seemed to be taking place right before his eyes.  MacGyver’s easy-going but attentive curiosity was being replaced by a more alert, business-like manner as his gaze roamed the room again.  Daniel recognised the change for what it was.  He’d seen a similar enough switch in O’Neill often enough:  the Phoenix man was threat-assessing the room.

            “How many people have authorised access to this?”  MacGyver asked, heading towards the safe in a purposeful manner.  “Aside from you.”

            “Ah, just a couple of my senior staff,” Daniel answered, trailing after the older man.  “Why?”

            “How secure a safe did you ask for?”  MacGyver asked, frowning at the safe.  “I mean did you ask for something really secure or just for something to keep small and easily damaged stuff in?”

            “Just something to keep small and very easily damaged stuff in, though I do tend to store some of the more valuable of easily mislaid items in it too, until I’m done with them.  Why?”  Daniel was frowning himself by then.

            “Because if you want something really secure, then this isn’t it,” Sam offered, joining them and regarding the safe in a critical fashion.  “Leastways, it wouldn’t keep a ‘pro’ out for more than a few minutes.”

            “Excuse me?”  Daniel blinked, his jaw dropping.

            “Do you want to...?”  Sam looked inquiringly at his father.  “Or shall I?”

            A brief little smile flitted across the Phoenix man’s face as he saw the mischievous twinkle that was in his son’s eyes.  “You want to get that camera?”  He asked in response, tilting his head in the general direction of the corner of the office where the security camera was located.  “Wouldn’t want to corrupt the innocent or give ideas to the curious.”

            Malloy grinned broadly, turned and went over to the camera.  Standing underneath its line of sight, he reached up - it was bit of a stretch for him - and flicked the switch near its base.  The red light underneath the lens went out.

            While his son was doing that MacGyver fished his Swiss Army Knife from a pocket, opened out one of the blades and began to scrape at some of the plaster on the wall beside the safe.

            “Ahhh... Mac?  What are you doing?”  Daniel asked, totally bewildered as he watched Mac catching up the falling plaster dust in his left hand.

            “He’s about to demonstrate why you might want to think about getting Jack to requisition you a more secure safe.”  Sam grinned broadly while moving to casually lean against a bookcase from where he would get a grandstand view of upcoming events.

            “This particular make and model of lock uses a four-digit entry code,” MacGyver explained as he moved to stand in front of the safe.  Raising his left hand to a level with the keypad, he blew at the little pile of fine plaster dust he had collected up and which was obscuring the K’Rin’sha crystal embedded in his palm.  “Finding out what those four numbers are is relatively easy,” he continued conversationally.  “In this case; one, five, six and nine.”

            Daniel’s jaw sagged as he saw that the fine plaster dust had adhered to the keys in question.

            “Next step is trickier.  You could try entering all the possible permutations of those four numbers.”  MacGyver hit each of the numbers once in ascending order and hit the ‘Enter’ button.  Nothing happened.  The safe remained firmly locked.  “But that could take a while.  That’s when the fact that people tend to be predictable comes in handy,” he went on conversationally.  “Combine that with inside knowledge and logical reasoning... ” He pressed the keys in a new order; one, nine, six, five.  This time when he hit ‘Enter’ the system beeped at him and, while Daniel’s jaw ricocheted off the floor, MacGyver turned the handle and pulled the safe door open.  “And hey presto... ”

            “H-h-how...?”  Jackson stammered, staring in disbelief first at the safe, then at MacGyver.

            “Like I said, people tend to be predictable.  They pick numbers that they have a reason to readily remember.  You were born in 1965.  Right?”

            “Yes, but... ” Daniel was doing his stunned guppy impersonation by that point.

            “Combinations, especially four number ones, with a one and a nine in them frequently turn out to be year-of-birth dates,”  Sam jumped in with.  “And you don’t look anywhere near old enough to have been born in ‘56, so ‘65 was the logical bet.”  Sam’s head tilted fractionally to one side as he eyed Daniel in a critically appraising fashion.

            Daniel’s disbelieving stare switched to the younger man, who just grinned mischievously at him, eyes twinkling with good humour.

            “Come to think of it, you don’t really look old enough to have been born in ‘65 either,”  Sam observed.  “You look more like you’re only maybe a coupla’ years older than me, not the best part of eight.”  He switched his attention back to his father.  “You want me to switch this back on now?”  He asked, making a vague gesture towards the inactive camera.

            “Ah, no.  Not yet,” MacGyver responded, scanning the room pensively.  “I’ve just had an idea.”  He looked to Daniel.  “You got any clear double-sided sticky tape?”  He asked in the manner of a man with a definite plan.

            “Ah... I think so,” Daniel frowned puzzledly.  “Why?”

            “Could ya’ find it for me?  Thanks.”  MacGyver responded absently as he began to prowl around the office, scanning the shelves intently as if searching for something.

            Daniel looked inquiringly at Sam, clearly hoping for some sort of an explanation as to what MacGyver was up to.  Sam just shrugged, clearly having no more idea at that point of his father’s intentions than Daniel.  Jackson sighed, went to his desk and rummaged briefly in a drawer for the requested tape.  It only took him a few moments to find it.

            “Mac, what do you need double-sided tape for?”  The archaeologist asked, holding the roll of said tape in his hand and looking bewilderedly towards the still-prowling Phoenix operative.

“I’ll tell ya’ in a minute,” was the distracted reply.  Followed a moment later by the man glancing in Daniel’s direction and observing.  “Ya’ got the tape.  Great.”  MacGyver then snatched up a couple of flattish, highly polished stones from a shelf.  “Mind if I borrow these?”  He asked, holding up the two objects which were roughly circular and about an inch and a half in diameter.  As Daniel stuttered a bewildered negative, Malloy suddenly pushed off from the bookcase he’d been propping up, a look of enlightenment spreading across his face.

“Hey...  Good one, Dad,” the journalist approved as he moved to relieve Daniel of the roll of tape and join his father who was heading purposefully back towards the safe.

            “Uh... Guys...?”  Daniel questioned bewilderedly as he trailed after Sam.

            “I think ‘insurance’ might be a sensible precaution,”  MacGyver smiled over his shoulder at the confused archaeologist.  “Until you get a more secure safe in here.”

            “Oh.”  Daniel was clearly still none the wiser as he watched MacGyver drop one of the polished stones into a pocket and hand the other off to Sam in exchange for the roll of tape.  MacGyver then reached into the safe, fished out the pouch containing the K’Rin’sha Mage crystal and handed it to Sam.  As Daniel continued to watch, Sam proceeded to swap the crystal in the pouch for the polished stone his father had given him while MacGyver fished out his Swiss Army Knife and used the scissor attachment to cut a length of the double-sided tape.  A glimmer of comprehension began to dawn in Daniel’s mind as he watched the Phoenix trouble-shooter affix the tape to the inside of the top of the safe and repeat the process with a second piece of tape, which he carefully aligned with the first before pulling the backing-tape from both pieces.

            “Oh,” Jackson repeated as the glimmer of comprehension turned into a fully fledged light-bulb switching on.

            “Knew he’d get it sooner or later,” MacGyver remarked to his son as the journalist handed him the K’Rin’sha Mage crystal which he pressed firmly to the double-sided tape adorning the ‘ceiling’ of the safe.

            “That’s... that’s... ” Daniel began to splutter.  Despite being a linguist and speaking around 23 different languages he was having trouble finding a word appropriate to the situation.  He finally settled for.  “Sneaky.”

            “Yeah,” Malloy grinned approvingly at Daniel.  “Since it seems pretty certain that apart from the three of us and Jack, no-one else around here can actually see the crystals when they’re independent of us.”  He handed the pouch now simply containing a polished stone though still labelled as the K’Rin’sha Mage crystal back to his father, who returned it to its place within the safe.

            “So by hiding them in plain sight and providing decoys for the uninitiated - ” MacGyver attempted to take over the explanation.

            “Anyone with sticky fingers, like the N.I.D., will take the decoys,” Daniel concluded.  A smile had started to creep onto his face.  It was clear the idea appealed to him as he blinked over the rims of his glasses at his two companions.

            “Yeah.  Something like that,” MacGyver smiled back.  Then to his son he said.  “You want to go stand by to switch the camera back on when I give ya’ the word?”

            Sam nodded and headed back over to the corner where the security camera lurked and while he took up position under its deactivated line of sight, Daniel stayed put and watched as MacGyver concentrated on the K’Rin’sha Guardian crystal that was still embedded in his palm.  The crystal glowed faintly, emitting a bluish-white radiance for a few moments before slowly un-embedding itself from the man’s flesh to rest on the surface of his palm.

            “You okay?”  Daniel asked concernedly as Mac just stood staring at the crystal for a few moments.  The sound of his voice seemed to snap MacGyver back to life.

            “Yeah.  Yeah, I’m fine,” the Phoenix man assured him and promptly set the colourless crystal in place beside the Mage crystal already stuck to the interior of the safe.  He then swung the safe door to but didn’t push it shut.  “Okay, Daniel.  Next step of the shell-game,”  he announced.  “You stand here with your hand on the handle and when Sam switches the camera back on, you pull the door open like the safe’s been locked the whole time and you’ve only just opened it.  Then we’ll go through the motions of my giving up my ‘crystal’ and you locking it away.  Okay?”

            “Okay.” Daniel nodded, content to go with the flow of the older man’s plan.  As he took up position MacGyver fished the second polished stone out of the pocket he’d stowed it in and hid it in his left hand while heading over to the archaeologist’s desk where he took up a relaxed position leaning his backside against an edge of it.

            “Okay, Sam.  Hit it.”

            Malloy switched on the camera.  Daniel pulled the safe door open.

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

            Janet Fraiser marched purposefully along the corridor, a determined expression on her face.  Two SFs trailed behind her wearing expressions akin to those of condemned men taking that last walk to the execution chamber.  Reaching a closed office door she paused for the briefest of moments that it took her to rap her knuckles twice on it before she opened it and advanced into the room beyond.

            “Ah, Colonel O’Neill.  There you are.  I’ve been looking for you.”

            O’Neill looked up over the assorted stacks of paperwork ranged along the far edge of his desk with the wariness of a man peeking over a defensive parapet and detecting overwhelming enemy odds.

            “And now you’ve found me,” he growled, returning to his epic battle with the overdue paperwork surrounding him.

            “Have you seen Mr. MacGyver and Mr. Malloy anywhere?  I thought perhaps they might be here with you since they’re not in their quarters or the Mess Hall.”

            “They’re probably still in Daniel’s office,” the Colonel answered.  “I’ll find out.”  So saying, he unearthed his phone from beneath some folders and pressed a couple of buttons on it.  He tapped his fingers restlessly on the folder that lay open before him as he waited for his call to be answered.  Used to Daniel sometimes taking a while to emerge from the depths of whatever he was currently fixated on, Jack was unsurprised when his wait lasted for several moments.

            “Doctor Jackson’s office.”  A voice eventually announced in Jack’s ear.

            “Hey, kiddo.  Is your Dad still up there too?”  Jack asked, recognising the voice of Sam Malloy.

            “Uh, yeah.  Hang on.”  This was followed by a more muffled.  “Dad, its Jack.”  Which in turn was followed a few moments later by MacGyver’s voice.

            “Hey, Jack.  What’s up?”

            “I’ve got a fire breathing dragon in my office on a search and retrieval mission to find you and Sam.  I think she wants to stick you both with some more needles.”  Jack endeavoured to remain impervious to the dark look his choice of words earned him from the medic hovering at the other side of this desk.  “You ah, might want to get yourselves down to the infirmary ASAP before she turns nasty.”

            “And we’re clear to leave as soon as she’s done, right?”

            “Fine by me.  Drop by my office when you’re done and I’ll give you the keys to my truck.”

            “Okay.  Tell the Doc we’ll be right down.”

            Jack dropped the phone back onto its cradle. “They’re on their way down now,” he informed the medic in question.  “What?”  He inquired suspiciously as he saw the determined glint in her eyes.  It mirrored the expression on her face.  And she gave no indication of being in any hurry to go anywhere.

            “I’m waiting for you to get your truck keys, Colonel.”

            “Huh?”

            “It’ll save you coming back down to get them for Mr. MacGyver when we’re done.”

            “Doc?”

            “You’re on my morning schedule too, Colonel.”  Fraiser reminded him. She fixed him with one of her best rebellion-quashing looks as she added.  “I have two SFs outside in the corridor.  I’m not going to need them, am I, sir?”

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

            Sitting opposite each other on adjacent beds in one of the infirmary sections, O’Neill and MacGyver chatted idly while they awaited the results of the most recent batch of tests that Fraiser had subjected them to and for the safe return of Malloy; whom they had last seen a good fifteen minutes earlier being hustled off by the good Doctor and a couple of her nurses into another part of the medical section for his battery of tests.

            “Excuse me, sirs.”  Carter stuck her head around the door.  “Colonel, could I see you for a moment please, sir?”

            “Sure, c’mon in,” O’Neill said, waving the young woman into the room.

            “Er.  Sorry, Colonel,” Carter apologised.  “Wrong Colonel.  I mean... Ah, I meant Mr. MacGyver.”  She grimaced as she realised she might have just put her foot right in it and retreated hastily back out the door before she had to field any awkward questions from her superior.

            O’Neill blinked in surprise.  He hadn’t missed the grimace that had flitted across his cousin’s face. “She knows about...?”  He questioned with a raised eyebrow.

            “Uh... Yeeaahh.... ” MacGyver admitted unhappily.

            “You told her?”  O’Neill was incredulous.

            “Ah... No.  That was General Hammond,” MacGyver answered, rising to his feet.

            “You told General Hammond?”  O’Neill looked astonished.

            “Ah... No.  That was General Morris,” MacGyver pulled a face.  He saw O’Neill’s expression.  “Hammond got hold of my Phoenix file and my DXS file, made some connections and called Morris at the Pentagon.  Apparently they’re on first name terms.  Seems Hammond was having trouble getting clearance for me to go through the Stargate with SG-1 to search for you as a civilian so... ” He shrugged expressively, letting Jack draw his own conclusions.

            “So Morris dropped you in it and Hammond threw you over the barrel.”  O’Neill shook his head at the deviousness of Generals.

            “Yeeaahhh,” MacGyver smiled wryly.  “Something like that.”

            “Does the whole damn’ base know?”  O’Neill frowned worriedly.

            “Just Hammond and your team.  The General gave me his word it’d stay that way.  Course he and Pete Thornton go back too, so I got this sneaking suspicion that when Pete doesn’t have any ‘little jobs’ for me at Phoenix - ”

            “The General’s gonna try to pull rank and ‘borrow’ you,” O’Neill finished.

            “Yeeaahh.  That’s about the size of it.”

            “Hey, would that really be so bad, Mac?  Working here at the SGC from time to time?  We run real interesting field trips you know.”

            MacGyver grinned.  “Of course it wouldn’t, but it’ll be fun watching him work for it.  Remember I got a clause in my government contract about assignments being on a strictly voluntary basis.”

            A broad grin began to spread across O’Neill’s face as he saw where MacGyver was heading with that.

            “In other words, if you’ll excuse the mangled metaphor, the barrel is now on the other foot...”

            “Uh-huh,” MacGyver grinned back before stepping from the room to find out where Carter had retreated to and what she wanted to speak to him about, leaving O’Neill chuckling quietly to himself.

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

            Mac didn’t have to venture very far to find Carter.  She was waiting in the corridor and she had an apologetic expression on her face.

            “Sorry, sir.  I didn’t meant to put my foot in it,” she began contritely as MacGyver approached her.

            “That’s okay.  Jack already knew about you-know-what.  He just didn’t know you or anyone else around here knew.  I ah, brought him up to speed,” MacGyver waved off the apology, no harm having been done by the her inadvertent faux pas.  “So.  What can I do for you?”  He inquired, eyebrows rising in an interrogatory fashion.

            “A phone call came in for you from the Phoenix Foundation.  The main switchboard weren’t sure where to find you so they took a message.”  Carter consulted a piece of paper.  “Please call Mr. Peter Thornton at the L.A. office ASAP with reference to your late-night request to the research department.  It’s important.”

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

            A frown graced Fraiser’s face and a long-suffering sigh escaped her as she discovered that one of her patients had apparently gone AWOL while her back had been turned.

            “Colonel, where is Mr. MacGyver?”  She demanded exasperatedly as she reached the foot of the bed upon which O’Neill was still sitting.  Before the Colonel had a chance to respond MacGyver’s voice sounded over the medic’s shoulder.

            “Right here, Doc.  Sorry.  I just stepped outside to talk to Captain Carter for a moment,”  MacGyver said as he slipped smoothly past Fraiser.  “Those test results?”  He inquired, gesturing the two files (one quite noticeably thicker than the other) which Fraiser was holding as he moved to lean his backside against the edge of the bed upon which O’Neill was seated.

            “Yes,” Frasier nodded.  As she dumped the files on the foot of the bed, opening them and arranging them so that neither was obscured by the other. O’Neill shot MacGyver a ‘What did Carter want?’ look and received a ‘Tell you later’ look in return.  Oblivious to the silent interchange between them, Fraiser announced.  “You’ll be pleased to know that you both check out fine.  Colonel, your blood-work shows a slight drop in the levels of that K’Rin’sha neural enhancement element.  Yours, however, Mac, shows no change at all.”  She looked up to encompass both men with her steady gaze.  “I’m assuming that these results are due to you still having that crystal of yours overnight while the Colonel was crystal-free.”

            “That would make sense,” MacGyver nodded, then asked.  “What about Sam?”

            “He appears to be in pretty good shape for someone who has been through all he’s been through over the past few days.  I’m waiting on the results of his blood-work and a few other tests, but if they don’t show up anything to concern me then the pair of you are free to go.”  She paused before adding.  “If it’s possible though, I’d like to see you both again in about a week to ten days, just to check for the presence of that K’Rin’sha element.  I’m guessing the levels in your blood will start dropping now that you no longer have a crystal and I’ll be monitoring Colonel O’Neill’s levels so it’ll be interesting to compare the rate of drop.”

            “Great...  More damn needles,” O’Neill muttered unhappily at the prospect of the medic pursuing him around the base for the immediately foreseeable future with sharp needles and a vampire fetish.

            “Well, I’ll probably be in town for a few more days anyhow, Doc, so I’ll see what I can do,”  MacGyver ignored his cousin’s grumbling.  “And unless any of his favourite editors have any urgent jobs for him, I expect Sam’ll be around for a while too.”

            “Good.”  Fraiser approved.  “If either of you experience any odd symptoms of any kind in the meantime once you’re off-base, I expect you to contact me here immediately.  Is that understood?”

            “Yes, Ma’am.” MacGyver nodded dutifully.

            “Same goes for you, Colonel,” Fraiser told O’Neill.  “Any odd symptoms and I want to know immediately.”

            “Sure, Doc,” O’Neill nodded and jumped down off the bed he’d been perched on.  “So we can go now, right?”

            “Yes, Colonel.  You can go now,” Fraiser confirmed as she closed and gathered up the medical files.

            “Ah, Doc...?”  MacGyver began as Fraiser made to leave.

            “Yes?”

            “Sam?”  The man inquired, making a gesture with one hand that eloquently expressed the unvoiced part of his question: ‘Where is my son and can I have him back some time soon please?’

            “As soon as I see his test results, he’s all yours,” Fraiser said.  Just as she spoke, the young man in question entered the main section of the infirmary in the company of one of Fraiser’s nurses.  The nurse was talking animatedly and blushing like a school-girl while Sam was grinning broadly at her and nodding.  As Fraiser bore down on the new arrivals with a rather chilly:  “Thank you, Lieutenant, I’ll take it from here.  Are those Mr. Malloy’s test results?”  O’Neill leaned nearer MacGyver and in a shameless stage-whisper observed.

            “Oooops.  I think someone just picked up indefinite bed-pan duty.”

            The nurse in question hastily adopted a more sober demeanour as, with a crisp. “Yes, ma’am,” she handed over the folder she was carrying.

            “I’ll call ya’,” Sam called after the nurse as she scuttled off.  The nurse glanced over her shoulder and gave him a nervous smile and a nod in return.

            “Mr. Malloy, my nursing staff are not here to enhance your social life,” Fraiser stated sternly as she opened up the folder she had been given and began to peruse its contents.

            “Hey, c’mon Doctor Fraiser, don’t get steamed.  It’s not what ya’ think,” Malloy gave the medic a reproachful, ‘hey-innocent-man-here’ look.  “Joanie was just telling me how her great grandmom’s gonna be having her hundredth birthday next week an’ they’ve got family coming in from all over the country over the next few days for a big get-together.  She was just wondering if I could do her a favour since photography’s sorta’ what I do and take a few family portrait shots so’s she can put a Family Book type thing together for the old lady.  Thought it’d make a nice present for her.”

            “She shouldn’t have bothered you with - ” Fraiser began, her demeanour still stern as she looked up at Sam.

            “Hey, no, it’s okay,” Sam swiftly interjected with a dismissive wave of a hand.  “I’m happy to do it.  Sounds like it could be fun.”  Then, giving the medic one of his most charming smiles, he gestured at the file she was holding and deftly changed the subject.  “So.  What’s the verdict?  Everything where it’s supposed to be and doing what it’s supposed to be doing?”

            Fraiser attempted to maintain her stern facade and resist the urge to smile at the oh-so-familiar diversionary tactic.  She returned her attention to the open file perched on top of the other two files already expertly balanced in the crook of her left arm and flipped briskly through its pages with her free hand. “Hmmm,” the doctor said, well aware of two tall figures looming up behind her but remaining focused on what she was reading.

            “Don’t ya’ just hate when they say that?”  O’Neill’s voice sounded petulantly over her shoulder.  “I mean what is it with medics and ‘Hmmm’?  What’s it mean anyhow?  ‘Hmmmm’.  Could mean anything from ‘You’re fine an’ gonna’ be around for years yet.’ to ‘You’ve five minutes before the big toe on your left foot drops off.’  Right?”

            “Yeah.  Know what ya’ mean,”  MacGyver’s voice sounded over her other shoulder, his tone one of sage agreement tinged with mischief.

            “Alright, alright,” Fraiser said, trying valiantly to keep a smile at bay and briskly closing the folder, well aware that both older men had been trying to read it over shoulders.  “Everything here checks out fine,” she told them all.  She then addressed Sam.  “The K’Rin’sha element in your blood is still showing up, but the level has dropped quite considerably.  I think you’ll probably be completely clear of it in a few more days.  However, as I have just finished telling your father, I’d like to see both of you back here in about a week to ten days for another check-up, but if you experience any odd symptoms in the meantime contact me at once and - ”

            “I’ll have him back here by the time you’ve alerted security to expect us,” MacGyver promised in a tone that left no doubt as to his sincerity.

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

            The knock on the door of his hospital room roused General Hammond from the light doze he had lapsed into courtesy of some pain-killing medication that had been administered earlier when he had happened to answer in the affirmative to a question from Janet Fraiser about whether he was having any discomfort from his injured arm.  Blinking, he saw a familiar-looking fatigues-clad figure hovering hesitantly in the doorway.

            “Come in, Jack,” he called out without thinking as he rested his head back against the pillows stacked at his back.

            “Close, sir.”  A familiar and  amused sounding voice observed.  Hammond looked again.  More attentively this time.

            “Mr. MacGyver,” the General said, promptly realising his mistake. “My apologies.  I mistook you for - ”

            “No problem, sir,” MacGyver responded.  “Mind if we come in a moment?  Doctor Fraiser said it would be okay.”

Hammond blinked again and realised that MacGyver was not alone.  A shorter, dark-haired figure hovered at his side, also clad in fatigues.  It was Sam Malloy, who gave him a vague sort of half-wave and offered a  hesitant,  “Morning, General,”  as if not too sure of his welcome.

“Not at all, gentlemen.  Come in.  My apologies if I’m...well...less than sharp this morning, shall we say.  Doctor Fraiser gave me a shot of - ”

            “Yeah, she warned us.”  There was understanding in MacGyver’s tone as he advanced into the room to stand at the General’s bedside, his hands slipping into his pants pockets as he came to a halt.  Malloy accompanied him.  “She ah, also cleared us to leave whenever we’re ready, so we thought we’d stop by to see how you’re doing and thank you for your hospitality before we go.”  MacGyver paused momentarily before adding pensively.  “You know, it’s a pity that when the K’Rin’sha left they didn’t leave any of that green stuff they used on Jack’s arm.  I’d offer to try and help things along with that crystal they gave me but, as I’ve been reminded by more than one person already this morning, I really don’t know enough about how it works to try flying solo with it on something like that.  Might just make things worse.”

“That’s alright,” Hammond smiled warmly.  “I’ve had the odd broken bone before.  This,” he waved at his sling enshrouded left arm with his right hand, “isn’t anything that won’t heal in its own good time.”  His smile deepened and a twinkle crept into his eyes.  “Besides, I’m sure Colonel O’Neill will enjoy the deep and meaningful experience of becoming better acquainted with the concept of administration and paper-work in the meantime.”

            “I’m sure he will, sir,” MacGyver chuckled, well aware that the General was left-handed and how much O’Neill truly hated being stuck behind a desk.  “I expect the paperwork authorizing the release of Colonel Redman from the brig will probably get lost in the system a few times as a result,”  he speculated, a mischievous twinkle creeping into his own eyes.

“Missing paperwork is the bane of any administrative system,” the General nodded sagely, trying to curb a smile and failing miserably.

            “Yes, sir,” MacGyver agreed in return, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.  Retrieving his right hand from his pocket, he extended it towards the General.  “Anyway, it’s been an honour, sir.”

            “It has indeed,” Hammond agreed, reaching to return the proffered handshake.  Mutual respect and understanding flowed between the two men as they regarded each other for a moment and Hammond knew in that instant that if he ever had need of the Phoenix man’s rather unique abilities, he would only have to ask.  He also knew that he wouldn’t have to go through a lot of red tape either.  A direct call would be all it would take.

            As he and MacGyver released their handshake, Hammond found Malloy offering his hand.

            “Me too,” the journalist said with open sincerity. “I owe you, sir.  Big time.  For everything.”  Malloy added as Hammond shook his hand too.  “Anytime you need an honest journalist, you just give me a call.”

            “I’ll keep that in mind, son,” Hammond responded, meeting the younger man’s dark-eyed gaze and understanding exactly what Malloy meant about the ‘honest journalist’.  Malloy would stand by his word to remain silent about everything he had learned about the SGC come hell or high water unless he was given official authorization to do otherwise.  He would also be available should Hammond need a favour and it was in Malloy’s power to oblige him.  As they broke the handshake, Hammond regarded both his visitors.  “I take it you’ll both be staying at Colonel O’Neill’s for a few days?”

            “Yes, sir.  We have a few things that need taking care of before we leave town,” MacGyver answered.  He met the General’s gaze unwaveringly as he stated sincerely.  “Anything turns up that you should know about, you’ll hear about it.”

            “I’d appreciate that.”

            “Well I guess we’d better get going before Jack changes his mind about lending us his truck,” MacGyver said to his son.

            “Or Doctor Fraiser changes her mind,”  Malloy said with an expressive grimace that clearly indicated he thought the medic was a much scarier prospect to cross swords with than the cranky Special Ops trained Colonel.

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

            O’Neill was perched on a stool just inside the doorway of the main section of the infirmary, idly juggling three sterile-sealed rolls of bandages when his relatives hove into view from their courtesy visit to General Hammond.  Catching the bandage rolls and hastily tossing them back on the trolley he had pinched them from, the Colonel rose to his feet as the two men approached.

            “You guys ready to take off now?”  He inquired.

            “Soon as I make that call to Pete,” MacGyver answered.

            “We’ll go to my office,” Jack decided.  Prior to the courtesy visit to Hammond, Mac had filled him in on the message he’d received via Sam Carter.

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

            The trip down to Jack’s office didn’t take long and soon MacGyver was hovering  impatiently beside the Air Force man’s paper-work piled desk, a phone to his ear, waiting for the call he had just placed to be answered.  Jack and Sam were waiting outside in the corridor to allow him some privacy, despite both being intensely curious as to why Thornton had wanted Mac to call him.

            After several frustrating minutes of listening to the connection ring-out unanswered, Mac cancelled the call and tried another number.  This time, after a short delay a tinny-sounding voice announced in his ear that the number he was trying to reach was currently unavailable.  With an irritated sigh Mac broke that connection too, then dialled for a third time.  Within moments a crisp voice announced in his ear.

            “Phoenix Foundation, how may I help you?”

            “Peter Thornton’s office please,” he said and was promptly requested to hold for a moment.  This was followed by a click, then by ringing.  A few seconds later, another crisp voice announced in his ear.

            “Peter Thornton’s office.  Helen speaking.  How may I - ?”

            “Hey, Helen, it’s MacGyver.  Is Pete around there somewhere?  I tried both the private line and his mobile but - ”

            “MacGyver!  It’s good to hear from you.  Are you alright?”  Thornton’s secretary sounded pleased to hear Mac’s voice.

            “I’m fine, Helen.  Thanks.  About Pete...?”

            “I’m afraid you just missed him.  He’s on his way over to the Federal Building for an urgent meeting.  It appears that research you asked for has stirred up a bit of a hornet’s nest.”

            “Yeah?”  MacGyver’s eyebrows rose.  “And that would be because...?”

            “Apparently it has something to do with the Russian Mafia.  I don’t have any of the details but - ”

            “Okay, thanks.  When he checks in let him know I called, willya’?  Sam and I are just about to head out to Jack O’Neill’s place. Pete should have the number.  Okay?  Thanks, Helen.”  With that, he hung up the phone and stood frowning at it for a few moments before heading for the door and stepping out into the corridor to an immediate chorus of:

            “Well?”

            “Pete wasn’t available,” Mac answered.  “But I talked with Helen.  She doesn’t have all the details, but apparently our ‘friends’ are connected to the Russian Mafia.”

            “Oh terrific... ” Jack sighed, wiping a hand over his jaw.  “This mess just gets better and better.”

            “Yeah,”  Mac agreed with a heavy sigh.

            “Would explain why they’re so camera shy even though it wasn’t actually them I was originally interested in,” Malloy frowned pensively.  Then he gave the two older men a taut smile.  “Though they’ve certainly got my attention now.”

            “Kid, they’ve got all our attention now an’ believe me, one way or another, they’re SO gonna’ wish they hadn’t,”  O’Neill stated with a bleakness in his dark eyes that promised that mayhem was going to fall from a Very Great Height on the Bad Guys if he had any say in the matter.

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

            “I hope you guys realise,” O’Neill observed, fidgeting restlessly while he watched MacGyver and Sam sign themselves out at the security check-point located on sub-level 11 of the Cheyenne Mountain Facility,  “my fridge probably rates a visit from a Haz-Mat team by now.”  His tone was light, almost idly conversational, yet at the same time suggested he wasn’t entirely joking.

            “No problem.  We’ll take care of it.”  MacGyver was unperturbed by the prospect.  He was, after all, used to returning from unexpectedly prolonged trips to find the contents of his own fridge having turned into a science experiment.  Jack’s light-hearted manner abruptly sobered as if an alarming thought had just occurred to him.

            “Kiddo, I’m counting on you here,” Jack told Sam as the journalist was in the midst of handing the pen he’d just finished using back to the SF manning the security desk.  As Sam shot him a uncomprehending look, Jack elaborated.  “Don’t let the old guy here fill the damn’ thing up with nothing but yoghurt and bean-sprouts.  I hate yoghurt,” he pulled an expressively disgusted face, “and I like bean-sprouts even less.”

            “Yeah, me too,” Sam chuckled.  The S.F. behind the desk swiftly turned an amused snort into a passably convincing cough as O’Neill shot him a darkly warning look.

            “Nothing wrong with yoghurt,” MacGyver remarked.  “Or bean-sprouts.  They’re good for you.  Helps stop one of these developing,” he added, playfully slapping at O’Neill’s stomach as he stepped past him.

            “Hey!”  Jack was instantly a picture of full-blown indignation.  “I’m not fat.  Are you saying I’m fat?  My gut’s flatter than yours.  Waaay flatter.  Always has been.  Always will be.”

            “Keep telling yourself that, Jack,” MacGyver threw over his shoulder as he headed for the elevator that would take them all to the surface.

            Sam couldn’t help it.  He roared with laughter at the sputtering indignation that erupted from the Colonel while the poor SF behind the security desk (envisioning a sudden and unwanted transfer to the back-end of beyond) struggled valiantly not to follow suit.

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

            It didn’t take the trio long to reach the surface from the Level 11 check-point and Jack escorted his cousins briskly through the various other security check-points en route before finally leading them to where his truck was parked.  Handing his keys over to MacGyver, he said. “Do I need to remind you that I like this truck and I paid good money for it?  Next time I see it, I expect it to be in the same condition as it is right now, namely unscratched, relatively un-dented and with no bits missing.”

            “Anyone would think you didn’t trust me,” MacGyver retorted mildly as he settled himself in the driver’s seat and ignored yet another amused snort from his son.

            “I trust you with my life,” Jack said with genuine sincerity.  “The truck,” he went on, totally straight-faced, but with a teasing twinkle in his eyes, “is a whole other thing.”

            MacGyver laughed, clearly not offended while Sam volunteered happily from the passenger seat he’d just settled into. 

            “So maybe I should drive, huh?”

            “I’ve seen you on that rental bike,” Jack promptly shot back.  “No way you’re getting behind the wheel of this.”  He made an expansive gesture at the aging truck.  “Like I said, I want it back in one piece.”  While Sam spluttered an indignant protest, Jack addressed MacGyver again.  “Security at the front gate know you’re coming through.  You can leave your passes with the Duty Sergeant.  Okay?”

            “Yeah.” MacGyver nodded as he reached to start the truck’s powerful engine.

            “Oh and Mac... ”

            “Yeah?”

            “Don’t go flying solo on this one, huh?”  Jack warned cryptically.  He shot a look past MacGyver to Sam.  “That goes for you too, kiddo.”  Jack’s gaze encompassed both men as he added.  “I can have a team put together inside of twenty minutes.  Remember that.”

            “Don’t worry, Jack.  We’re not gonna’ go do anything stupid,” MacGyver assured with a disarming smile.  O’Neill gave a sceptical snort that suggested he’d heard that one before, hadn’t believed it then and didn’t believe it now either.  “We’ll see you at your place around seven, right?”

            “Yeah,” Jack nodded.  “If I get hung up here, I’ll let you know.”  He paused momentarily before adding.  “And Mac...”

            “Yeah?”

            “Remember... Steak.  Beer.  Pizza.  Apple-pie.  Lots of apple-pie.  But skip the yoghurt, huh?”  Jack gave the other man a pleading look.

            MacGyver just grinned, slipped the truck into gear, released the parking brake and began to ease the vehicle judiciously out of its parking space as Jack stepped back to give him plenty of room for manoeuvre.

            O’Neill stood watching his departing truck for a moment, firmly reminding himself that the insurance on it was up-to-date, before he turned and made his way back into the bowels of the Cheyenne Mountain complex.

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

TO BE CONTINUED....