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

STARGATE/MACGYVER -- Crossover Story (Part Six)

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

The previous 5 instalments should be read first.

            Surprise washed through Daniel Jackson as he suddenly found himself standing in the centre of an illuminated circle. Around the perimeter of the illuminated area, a table curved, in three distinct sections. White robed and hooded figures sat in ornately high-backed chairs behind the table sections, three at each of the two longer sections which curved around to his left and his right. One sat at the much smaller section which he was directly facing. Above the head of each seated figure, the elaborately carved woodwork of the chairs bore a large crystal which swirled with a cloudy whiteness around which several smaller crystals of differing hues resided.

            Slightly behind and to each side of the seated figures, stood two more figures. These were also robed and hooded, but the robes were coloured; Healers' green, Seers' gold, Mage blue, Keepers' grey and also red so deep it was almost black, deep rich purple and last, but not least, deep brown.

            “Uh... Hello...?” Daniel ventured, his immediate instinct being to establish communication with this strange, unidentified gathering. “I'm... ah... Daniel Jackson.” He introduced himself while glancing rapidly around for any sign of O'Neill and MacGyver or the 'doorway' through which he had just stepped.

            “We are the Guardian High Circle of the K'Rin'sha.” A voice resonated around the chamber, the exact boundaries of which Daniel was unable to determine in the darkness that lay beyond the illuminated area in which he stood. He wasn't certain, but he suspected the voice was N'lrem's. “We bid you welcome.”

            “Ah...Thank you,” Daniel responded, still glancing around for any sign of his companions. “Ah... my friends...?” He began anxiously.

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

            “C'mon, Mac time to go,” Jack urged. Acutely aware of the intensity of his cousin’s focus on the alien 'doorway' that Daniel had just vanished through, he began to attempt to physically nudge MacGyver towards it. MacGyver did not move. O'Neill nudged more firmly, but was wary of destroying MacGyver’s concentration. //Mac, c'mon. Time to go.// he 'sent' strongly.

            MacGyver moved slowly. As he did so, the glowing ball of light around his left hand abruptly winked out.

            //Jack... Losing it... Go!// O'Neill heard the barest of distracted whispers resonate softly somewhere deep inside his mind, read the plea in it that told him to get going. He saw the light-curtain fluctuate.

            //Not without you I'm not. C'mon!// Even as he 'sent' that thought, he grabbed as firm a hold on MacGyver as he could manage and threw them both at the alien 'doorway', hoping like hell as he did so that he wasn't about to crash them both headfirst into solid rock.

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

            Daniel Jackson heard the sudden sound behind him even as he finished voicing his anxious enquiry about his companions. Spinning, he was just in time to glimpse a flash of dazzling light before a runaway freight train hit him and sent him crashing backwards to the stone-flagged floor. The impact knocked the wind out of him.

            “Great catch, Danny-boy.” Daniel heard O'Neill's voice remark as the freight train rolled off him in two different directions and he tried desperately to suck air into his lungs. The remark was followed a moment later by a question. “Ya' okay?”

            “Just... winded...” Daniel managed to wheeze, still flat on his back.

            “Mac?”

            “Okay, I think.” MacGyver sounded vague.

            Daniel managed to straighten his glasses and elevate himself up onto his elbows as his lungs began to work again. He was still wheezing a bit though. He glanced to either side of himself to find O'Neill on his right and MacGyver on his left. Both cousins were full-length on their bellies; both were manoeuvring themselves up onto their elbows. O'Neill appeared to be much more alert to their surroundings than MacGyver was and was already surveying their surroundings.

            “Who're the guys in the dresses? Local chapter of the KKK?” The Air Force man enquired as the three of them were descended upon by three robed figures; two wearing blue, the third in Healers' green.

            One of the blue-robed figures dropped down, solicitously enquiring if Daniel was alright. Daniel recognised the voice as T'Vella's and assured her as he pushed himself into a seated position, that he was fine, just a bit bruised. The green-robed figure meanwhile had gone to O'Neill's side and was concernedly asking if the man had injured himself. As O'Neill manoeuvred to sit up, Daniel caught a muttered remark about harder landings falling off a step-ladder and couldn't help smiling; O’Neill always seemed to have a smart-ass comment for just about any situation.

            As O'Neill began to ramble conversationally about cushions being a much softer landing pad than Daniel and something about using a parachute next time, Daniel turned his attention to MacGyver. The Phoenix operative hadn't moved beyond propping himself on his elbows yet. In fact the man still seemed dazed.

            “Mac?” Daniel enquired. His query grabbed O'Neill's attention. Before Daniel could make any move himself, O'Neill was past him and at his cousin’s side.

            “Mac? Mac, you okay?”

            “He'll be fine in a few moments.” The small blue-robed figure which was already at the other side of the prone Phoenix operative stated with clipped assurance. “Just out of practice.”

            “What?” O'Neill stared over his cousin at the blue-robed figure that was resting a hand on the centre of MacGyver's back. There was a soft, blue glow emanating from the man's hand.

            “You both are,” the figure went on, pushing back the hood of its blue robes to reveal itself to be a sharpish-featured, middle-aged man with short brown hair that was greying at the temples. “But I wouldn't worry about it.”

            “Oh, I'll... try not to,” O'Neill said dryly. His expression indicated he hadn't a clue what the blue-robed figure was talking about. He looked suddenly down at MacGyver, who had shifted abruptly onto his left side and was propping himself up on his left elbow. “What?” O’Neill asked of him, having heard the man's slightly startled gasp and noting the slack-jawed way in which MacGyver was staring up at the blue-robed figure.

            “Phil...?” MacGyver was incredulously disbelieving. “Phil Sternwise...?!”

            “Hello, MacGyver,” the little man in the blue robes smiled congenially. Amusement danced openly in his eyes. “Seen any U.F.O.'s lately?”[1]

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

            Jack O'Neill stared at the sharp-featured little man in the blue robes, his expression one of total bewilderment.

            “What?” He questioned. Then he looked at MacGyver. “You know this guy?” He asked, moving reflexively to help MacGyver as the Phoenix operative finally began to manoeuvre himself to slowly sit up. T'Vella and the green-robed Healer made no move to interfere. In fact they quietly withdrew, returning to their places outside the Circle.

            “Uh...Yeah...Kinda',” MacGyver admitted reluctantly, before adding wryly. “Tried to sell me a vacuum cleaner once.”

            “What?” O’Neill's confusion grew discernibly.

            “It's a long and kinda' weird story,” MacGyver sighed, wiping a hand wearily over his jaw.

            “Phil Sternwise, at your service,” the little man in blue beamed congenially at O'Neill and extended his right hand. “You must be Jack O'Neill. Welcome to Sanctuary, Jack. Call me Phil, you’ll find it a lot easier to pronounce than my K'Rin'sha name.”

            “Ah. Right...” O’Neill ignored the proffered hand. His expression remained one of totally bewildered confusion. Phil didn't seem in the least bit perturbed. Instead he returned his attention to the still slightly stunned MacGyver, his manner cheerful.

            “Think you're ready to try getting up now, old chap?”

            “As I'll probably ever be,” MacGyver responded wryly. Aided by both O'Neill and Phil Sternwise, he was on his feet a moment later. He looked pale though and swayed slightly. O'Neill automatically reached out to steady him. “I'm okay...” MacGyver murmured in response to the question //Mac?// that he heard resonate with quiet concern inside his head.

            O'Neill didn't look entirely convinced by his answer, but chose not to pursue the issue, having noticed the studious way in which Sternwise was regarding the pair of them.

            “What?” The Air Force Colonel demanded crankily, eying the smaller man.

            “You know, aside from the hair, you two really do look like twins,” Phil observed in a pensive manner that suggested he was just coming to see the accuracy of something he had previously been told but had been sceptical about. Then he smiled congenially again as he addressed MacGyver. “The light-headedness will pass in a few moments, MacGyver. You're just out of practice.”

            Both MacGyver and O'Neill blinked at the little man, then Mac looked at Jack. O'Neill gave him a 'don't-ask-me-I'm-as-much-in-the-dark-as-you-are-here' look in return. Phil, meanwhile, made a gesture with his left hand and three cylindrical objects with well-padded tops materialized a few paces away in a triangular formation.

            “Please...” Phil indicated the objects. “Sit. I am sure that under the circumstances, no-one will mind.”

            “Circumstances?” O’Neill queried, his eyebrows rising. His patience was beginning to wear thin with the entire situation.

            Phil Sternwise merely smiled enigmatically at him and gestured again at the newly materialized 'seating'.

            “Tau'ri. Are you well?” The question resonated around the chamber. Its source seemed to be the white-robed figure that sat apart from its fellows.

            “Oh we're just peachy,” O’Neill looked round. His tone was distinctly tetchy. “No, actually,” he went on irritably. “We're not. You wanna' explain what that was all about?” He demanded, gesturing vaguely at the nothingness that had spat MacGyver and himself into the chamber.

            “It was a test!” This enlightened exclamation came suddenly from Daniel. O'Neill looked sharply round at the archaeologist, who caught the look and shrugged at him. “I'm only guessing, but it would make sense.”

            “To you it might,” O’Neill retorted irritably.

            “I'm right, aren't I?” Daniel ignored O'Neill's remark and addressed the assembly as a whole. “It was some kind of a test, wasn't it?”

            “It was indeed, Young One.”

            O'Neill, Jackson and MacGyver all directed their attention towards the speaker. They had all recognised the voice as being Seeba's. They saw a golden-robed and hooded figure move around from behind one of the two longer sections of curved table. As she entered the circle and approached the three Tau'ri, she pushed back the hood of her robes.

            “I apologise, my friends,” Seeba said, her tone one of honesty. “But it was necessary.”

            “And you couldn't have warned us?” O’Neill was noticeably ticked off.

            “No.” Seeba's reply was succinct. She came to a halt at MacGyver's side and reached to place a hand deliberately on his shoulder. “Sit, old friend,” she advised, her tone gentle. She exerted equally gentle, but firm pressure on his shoulder as she spoke.

            MacGyver regarded her for a moment then sat without argument. He was still trying to shake off the odd feeling of light-headedness he'd been experiencing since he and O'Neill had made their rather dramatic arrival in the chamber. He didn't miss the fact that O'Neill remained close to him, hovering almost protectively at his other side. A now-familiar tingling tickled his left palm and the light-headedness seemed to finally begin to lift.

            “So, did we pass?” O’Neill looked at Seeba, yet managed at the same time to address the assembly around them. He made no effort to hide his irritation with the entire situation.

            “You are here,” Seeba smiled enigmatically. O'Neill did not fail to notice that she gave MacGyver's shoulder a squeeze before she removed her hand. He felt an odd tingle in his own shoulder as if she had touched him too.

            “Guardians of the Tau'ri, I bid you welcome to the Guardian High Circle of the K'Rin'sha.”

            This pronouncement came from the solo white-robed figure that, as the three Tau'ri looked towards it, rose to its feet and pushed its hood back to reveal itself to be, as Daniel had earlier suspected, N'lrem. Even as N'lrem then bowed in a courteous manner, the other white robed figures rose to their feet and followed his example, throwing back their hoods and bowing. The already standing figures in the various coloured robes similarly pushed back their hoods and bowed.

            “Please, Honoured Ones. Be seated.” N'lrem made an expansive gesture as he himself sat once again. Apparently following his lead, the other white-robed figures also resettled in their chairs. “And accept my apologies for the manner of your coming before us. I regret there were those among our number who required to be convinced that Tau'ri Guardians had indeed come among us.” He seemed to shoot a rather pointed look towards some of those behind the table section to his right.

            O'Neill made no move to sit. Instead he glowered with some annoyance at N'lrem and at the assemblage in general.

            “Jack...” Daniel spoke quietly and reached to tug lightly at the officer's sleeve. O'Neill looked abruptly round at him, read the silent caution in the younger man's expression, sighed heavily and finally sat down, but not before shooting a look of irritation at the room in general. He suddenly realised, as Daniel settled on the remaining seat, that the blue-robed man calling himself Phil Sternwise was no longer in their immediate vicinity. As he looked rapidly, bewilderedly around, he caught MacGyver's eye.

            “He does that a lot,” MacGyver observed softly. He too had noticed Sternwise was no longer with them and also hadn't actually observed the little man's departure. As O'Neill arched an eyebrow at him, Mac added with a sigh as he rubbed absently at his cast-encased knee. “Like I said, long story...”

            O'Neill was about to say something in response, but was distracted by N'lrem's voice echoing clearly around the chamber.

            “The Guardian High Circle of the K'Rin'sha would speak with our Tau'ri visitors.”

            “About?” O’Neill demanded before Daniel had a chance to say anything.

            “Many things,” N'lrem responded.

            “Such as?” O’Neill wanted to know. His general irritation with the situation as a whole was clearly still simmering nicely.

            “Whether the Time of Waiting is at an end and the Time of Awakening has begun,” N’lrem answered.

            That floored O'Neill. He looked automatically to Daniel, eyebrows rising, hoping the younger man could provide some sort of a clue. The archaeologist took up the challenge. Looking towards N'lrem, Daniel ventured pensively. “The Time of Awakening... Ah... When the Sleeping Ones awaken. The falling of the False Sun shall herald their Awakening, when they shall do battle once more against the Dark Ones, the Stealers and Corruptors of Souls.”

            “You know the Prophecy of S'lell, Daniel Jackson?” This question came not from N'lrem, but from another of the white-robed figures, a woman. She seemed both surprised and intrigued, as did the golden robed man who hovered at her elbow. “How? Did our Sister, S'Baya, speak of it?”

            “Ah, no.” Daniel responded quickly. “It was something I read in a book Mac ah... discovered in your library this morning.” Daniel gestured vaguely in MacGyver's direction as he spoke. “It was written in a style we call cuneiform. It hasn't been actively used on Earth in a great many generations.”

            O'Neill's eyebrows arched as he listened to Daniel's response to the white-robed woman's question and he shot an inquiring look at MacGyver, who shrugged vaguely back at him.

            “But you are able to comprehend the writing?” The woman questioned, regarding Daniel with keen interest.

            “The form and language in which your prophecies are written is similar enough to several ancient earth forms that I have studied to enable me to understand some of it, yes.” Daniel nodded seriously.

            “You are the destroyers of the Soul-Stealer that called itself Ra?” This question came from another white-robed figure, a large, dark-haired, imposing man, with the aura of someone not to be tangled with up a dark alley without having at least a couple of squads of marines handy as back-up. He was flanked by two figures robed in deep, almost black, red.

            The mention of Ra grabbed O'Neill's attention. “Ra?” He questioned. “As in old snake-head Ra?” He caught the expression of sudden enlightenment that was spreading across Daniel's face and knew he was on the right track. “Oh yeah. That'd be us,” O’Neill said with extravagant false modesty. Then he amended helpfully. “Well okay, so Mac here,” he waved a hand vaguely in his cousin’s direction, “wasn't involved in that, but Daniel and I were and we had some help, but yeah...we kicked Ra's ass but good,” he concluded with ill-concealed smugness. He caught the look MacGyver was directing at him and told him with a slightly defensive shrug. “Hey, the snake was waay overdue.”

            The white-robed man who had voiced the question about Ra looked pensive. “We have also been told that the Soul-Stealer that calls itself Apophis, recently attempted an attack on the Tau'ri, which failed.” The man's gaze flickered up the chamber as he spoke. MacGyver and Daniel both followed his gaze and saw Phil Sternwise, now standing slightly behind and to one side of N'lrem’s chair, incline his head slightly as if modestly acknowledging himself to be the source of whatever the current speaker had been told. The latter's gaze returned to the three seated Tau'ri and focused on O'Neill in particular. “You are the Warrior responsible for that defeat?”

            “I led SG-1, yeah,” O’Neill nodded, meeting the white-robed man's steely gaze, refusing to be intimidated by it and assessing the man as a fellow-soldier, a fellow warrior; even as he knew the other was similarly assessing him.

            “SG-1?”  This question came from another white-robed figure, a woman, seated between two green-robed Healers.

            “That is the designation by which Jack's people refer to him and this young Keeper.” It was Seeba who answered that question. She was still hovering by MacGyver's back. “Along with the young female warrior called Sam and the Jaffa known as Teal'c, whom I have already spoken of to the Circle and who returned to the Tau'ri shortly after they and these,” Seeba made a gesture encompassing the three seated humans, “came among us.”

            “And that coming was accidental, so we are told.” This observation came from the white-robed woman who had asked Daniel about the Prophesy of S'lell. Her gaze was levelled intently at the young archaeologist.

            “Ah...” Daniel began. “Well... That was kind of my fault... I, ah... ”

            “Was guided by the hand of the Wise Ones, perhaps?” Interjected the white-robed woman who had asked the question about SG-1.

            “However they came here, they are here.” This slightly disapproving statement came from one of the white-robes who had previously been silent; a man seated between two figures in robes that were of a rich, very deep, almost-black purple.

            “Yes, they are.” Seeba's tone held a distinct rebuke, as did the expression on her face, as she 'looked' towards the last speaker. The man shifted uneasily. “And now, the Circle must decide if the Prophecies given to us so many generations ago by the Great and much Honoured Guardian Seer S'lell, are coming to pass and if these,” Seeba indicated the three seated Tau'ri beside whom she remained, “are those whom she foretold.” Seeba paused only momentarily before continuing. “My opinion on these matters is already known to you all. Once you have spoken further with these Tau'ri Guardians and this young Keeper, I think you will share it.”

            With that confident statement, Seeba turned and, with a swish of her long golden robes, she returned to her place at the perimeter of the assemblage. A quiet murmuring made its way around the chamber, then a voice spoke quite clearly above the murmuring.

            “We understood the Gateways to the Tau'ri home world had been destroyed many generations ago, yet the evidence sits clearly before us that the Tau'ri walk freely between the stars, as S'lell foretold they one day would.” The observation came from a man seated between a duo wearing deep, dark grey robes. He regarded the three earth-born humans with an expression on his face that was both deeply curious and intent. It rather reminded O'Neill of the look Daniel often wore when examining some particularly fascinating old rock. “How is this so? Will you tell us, Young Keeper?” The man inquired, clearly aiming his question at Daniel.

            “Ah...” Daniel shot a look at O'Neill, who nodded permission for him to go ahead. “Of course.” Jackson turned back to the most recent speaker and began to relate the story of the discovery of the Stargate at Giza. He had not missed the fact that the white-robed man had said 'Gateways', implying awareness of the existence of more than one Stargate on Earth, but he had also not missed the look in O'Neill's eyes which had warned him to be careful of what he said even while granting him permission to answer the question that had been asked. Daniel therefore restricted himself to speaking only about the Gate found at Giza as several further questions followed rapidly on the heels of the first.

            As was his habit, O'Neill 'tuned out' as Daniel warmed to his subject and answered questions from his audience. While Daniel appeared to be the main focus of attention in the room, O'Neill took the opportunity to study the various robed figures surrounding them and to try to get a better look at the chamber itself. Not that he could see much beyond the gathered circle because whatever lay beyond was enshrouded in darkness, but from the 'feel' of the place he sensed that it was rather larger than appearances suggested.

            As he absently kept track of the fact that Daniel was still talking, O'Neill became aware of an odd feeling of... He wasn't altogether sure. Then he realised and looked towards MacGyver. He discovered MacGyver was rubbing wearily at his eyes and had his head slightly bowed. The crystal in the man's left hand was glowing softly again, with a distinctly greenish tinge.

            “Mac?” O’Neill spoke quietly. “You okay?”

            MacGyver's hand shifted to run up through his shaggy hair, pushing it back from his face as he responded.

            “Yeah... Just a bit of a...”

            “...Headache,” O’Neill finished for him. “Guess maybe ya' shoulda' packed more aspirin, huh?” O’Neill added as he caught the slightly 'caught-off-guard' look that MacGyver cast him. Mac smiled ruefully, then a small frown crossed his features and O'Neill saw his attention shift to Daniel.

            O'Neill allowed his gaze to follow his cousin’s. Yep. Daniel was quite definitely in full cultural exchange mode. He recognised all the signs. The young archaeologist had risen to his feet and had started to move around in what O'Neill always thought of as Daniel's classic 'distracted scientist' mode. The younger man was totally absorbed in the Q and A session with the various robed figures seated around the chamber. So much so that he probably wouldn't have noticed if a couple of dozen serpent guards barged in to shoot up the place without an invitation.

            Sighing quietly to himself, O'Neill watched Daniel for several moments then looked back across at MacGyver. He was surprised as he caught the slightly marvelling shake of MacGyver's head as the Phoenix man continued to observe Daniel in animated action. O'Neill's gaze flickered back to Daniel, then returned to MacGyver just as Mac looked over at him and smiled.

            “Always wished I could do that,” the Phoenix operative remarked wistfully.

            “Do what?” O’Neill was uncomprehending.

            “Pick up other languages that quick,” Mac answered, a hand moving expressively. “The few days we've been here, I can still only just about manage 'please' and 'thank you', but Daniel's...” MacGyver didn't finish, but he was clearly impressed.

            The penny dropped for O'Neill as he belatedly realised that somewhere along the way the 'cultural exchange' in which Daniel was quite animatedly and intently involved in, had switched from English to something totally unintelligible - to him at least. He couldn't help but smile as he realised that if Mac's expression was anything to go by, then whatever Daniel was currently saying was clearly incomprehensible to him too. Sometimes, he found himself musing, it was nice to be reminded that there were things that left his cousin as stumped as they left him.

            “Yeah... Well...” O’Neill shrugged expressively. “That's Daniel for ya'. Soaks up languages the way you soak up obscure science stuff.”

            “Hey, 'science stuff's' interesting. Can I help that?” MacGyver retorted defensively.

            “That's what he says,” O’Neill tilted his head slightly in Daniel's direction, “'bout languages an' old rocks.” He sighed and rolled his eyes expressively.

            MacGyver chuckled softly. Further debate between them on the subject was curtailed by Daniel, who came to a halt in their vicinity just then and inquired. “Er... Jack... You ah, want to jump in here?”

            The two men both looked up at the archaeologist.

            “What?” O’Neill bestowed a blank look on him.

            “We have a mutual enemy, Jack, and I've been telling them,” Daniel indicated the assembly around them, “that part of our brief is to find allies against the Goa'uld. They seem interested in maybe helping us. I thought you, ah, might want to-?”

            “Allies sounds good.” O’Neill duly and promptly jumped in, looking past Daniel at the assembly in general as his brain rapidly switched gears into military mode. He rose to his feet, surveyed the gathering, then, although addressing them generally, he focused on N'lrem, since the latter seemed to be the man in charge. “I'm a soldier, so diplomacy is not really my line of expertise, but I'm sure we can find some sort of common ground on which a mutually beneficial arrangement between our worlds could be established.”

            Quiet murmurings rippled around the chamber.

            “If I might suggest though at this initial stage, that Doctor Jackson speak on behalf of the Tau'ri,” O’Neill went on, indicating Daniel as he spoke. “He is a far more eloquent and educated man than I and thus far better suited to the intricacies of diplomatic negotiation.”

            Another ripple of quiet murmurings went around the chamber. O'Neill caught the slightly raised-eyebrow look MacGyver shot him and sent silently. //Hey, I can do diplomatic when I have to, ya' know.//

            He saw the smile that twitched at the corner of his cousin’s mouth and the slight nod of acknowledgement as he heard Mac's voice resonate quietly in his mind with.

            //I know it, Jack.//

            “I have no objection. The young Keeper has spoken well so far.” N'lrem announced, his voice echoing around the chamber. His gaze roamed the room, clearly seeking out any dissension. There were murmurings, but no objections seemed to be forthcoming. His gaze alighted on O'Neill. “Your proposal is acceptable to the Circle, Honoured Warrior. The young Keeper may continue to speak for the Tau'ri at this time.”

            “Thank you, sir.” O’Neill inclined his head in what he hoped was a suitably respectful manner towards N'lrem. Then, to Daniel, he said cheerfully. “Okay, Danny-boy, you’re on,” and sat back down with a well-masked sense of relief.

            “Thanks, Jack,” Daniel returned dryly, before turning to face the waiting and quietly expectant assembly.

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

            Patience was not one of Jack O'Neill's strongest attributes, unless fish were involved. Consequently as time passed and Daniel continued talking with the robed assembly, a growing sense of restlessness began to niggle at the Air Force officer. He did his best to curb it and to keep his eyes from glazing over however. The fact that the negotiations that were going on seemed to be switching back and forth between English and something incomprehensible, didn't help.

            He was aware that MacGyver was trying to follow the proceedings, but was growing increasingly frustrated by the constant changing of languages. He knew that that frustration was partly intensified by the fact that diplomatic negotiations was an area in which his cousin had had some first-hand experience over the years and he was therefore keenly interested in observing how such things were conducted SG-1-style.

            The fact that the K'Rin'sha enhanced bond enabled a certain amount of clear telepathy between them, helped ease both their frustrations at their joint inability to keep track of what was going on. They could bitch silently to each other and did so, confident that their private comments would go unheard by those around them.

            Presently, Daniel sat down, which O'Neill took to mean that things were drawing to a conclusion.

            “Well?” He inquired quietly of the younger man.

            “No idea,” Daniel murmured back heavily but discreetly as N'lrem rose to his feet and surveyed all those assembled.

            “Tau'ri Guardians, your young Keeper has spoken well and given this assembly much to think on. We should now like to speak among ourselves and therefore request that you withdraw from us at this time.” The old man announced solemnly, his gaze resting on the trio of humans seated within the centre of the chamber. Then his gaze shifted to Seeba. “May the High Circle assume that the views of the Honoured Seer, S'Baya, remain unchanged in the matters which it must consider?”

            “You may indeed make that assumption, Honoured One,” Seeba answered with resonating yet respectful clarity.

            “Very well,” N'lrem inclined his head, then returned his gaze to the earth-born humans. “Honoured Ones of the Tau'ri, if you and the young Keeper would care to accompany S'Baya, we will advise you when the High Circle has reached a general consensus.”

            “Thank you, sir,” O’Neill rose to his feet and addressed N'lrem respectfully, recognising dismissal when he heard it.

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

            The three earth-born humans crossed to where Seeba/S'Baya stood waiting for them, at the edge of the circle at the open area directly opposite the small section of table behind which N'lrem sat. Seeba smiled warmly at the trio as they approached her and requested that they follow her.

            “Where?” O’Neill questioned, looking into the darkness beyond the illuminated circle now behind them.

            “I'm guessing here, but...,” Daniel observed, inclining his head slightly in the direction of a vertical circle of light that appeared out of nowhere ahead of them.

            “You are correct, Young One,” Seeba confirmed.

            “You okay?” O’Neill enquired, casting his cousin a concerned look as he heard MacGyver sigh heavily.

            “Yeah... Just not looking forward to those stairs again,” MacGyver answered. The expression that appeared on O'Neill's face denoted understanding, sympathy, and his own lack of enthusiasm for the climb back up the stairs by which they had reached the chamber.

            “Seeba, isn't there an easier way back up than those stairs?” It was Daniel, however, who gave voice to that particular question, just beating O'Neill to asking it.

            The blind woman just smiled enigmatically and once again requested that the three men follow her.

            “Guess that means 'no', huh?” O’Neill didn't look happy as Seeba moved off through the darkness towards the upright circle of light. He turned to MacGyver. “Okay, Mac, we'll take this slow an' easy, an' do it in stages.” MacGyver just nodded grimly back at him.

            Seeba reached the glowing light and stepped straight into it. The three men however, halted just in front of it. Daniel looked at his two companions, saw the barely perceptible nod O'Neill gave him and stepped through the light curtain. O'Neill then looked at MacGyver, who looked right back at him, meeting his gaze and offering no argument as the Air Force man reached out to place a steadying hand on his arm before, almost as one, they stepped into the light curtain.

            “Hey... This looks familiar.” The cousins heard Daniel Jackson observe in slightly surprised tones as they found themselves stepping into a corridor. They rapidly surveyed their surroundings themselves as the light curtain behind them winked out and revealed a solid rock wall in its place.

            “Isn't this... ?” MacGyver began in some bewilderment.

            “Yes,” Seeba smiled. “I thought you might like to relax and rest in your own quarters while the Circle confers.”

            “What?” O’Neill looked even more bewildered than his cousin, as he desperately tried to get his bearings.

            “Ah... This is the corridor outside our quarters, Jack,” Daniel offered helpfully. He received a silently mouthed 'Oh' and an unconvinced, confused look in return, before O'Neill scanned the corridor again, frowning and still trying to get his bearings.

            “So you do have... 'elevators' here,” the bewildered Colonel remarked.

            “In a manner of speaking,” Seeba smiled, turning and starting to lead the way down the corridor. The three men began to trail after her.

            “So why-?” O’Neill began, his tone on the tetchy side.

            “Only Acknowledged Guardians and those of the First and Second levels may enter and leave the High Circle Chamber as a matter of course by such means,” Seeba answered.

            “Does that mean we don't have to use that stairway in future?” Daniel asked. “I mean, well, I'm assuming The Circle might want to talk to us again.”

            “You have proven to The Circle that you are indeed what I informed them you are,” Seeba answered. She halted at the opening to the small anti-chamber-like area that formed the entrance way to the quarters that had been provided for the three Tau'ri. “Now we must wait while they consider the implications.”

            “Which are?” It was MacGyver who asked that question.

            “Many.” Seeba answered. She indicated the anti-chamber and the door beyond it. “Go and rest now, my friends. I will have refreshments brought for you.” With that, she turned and, her golden robes swishing about her, departed down the corridor at a brisk yet graceful pace.

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

            “So... Daniel,” O’Neill said, rummaging through the remnants of the medical pack that he had pulled out from beneath the bed upon which his cousin had just settled. “What did you offer them?”

            “What?” Daniel looked blankly at him from his seat at the fire dais. Then, just before O'Neill could let rip with the acidly smartass response Daniel could tell was about to be fired at him, the archaeologist said hurriedly. “Ah, well, actually they seemed more interested in how and why we got our Gate up and running and our encounters to date with the Goa'uld and our whole situation in general where the Goa'uld are concerned.”

            “And you told them...?” O’Neill questioned as he found what he was looking for and rose to his feet.

            “The truth as far as possible,” Daniel answered, watching as O'Neill poured water from a jug on the bedside unit into a glass, which he then handed to MacGyver along with the pills he'd retrieved from the paltry remains of the pack he'd been rummaging in. “You okay, Mac?” The archaeologist frowned dubiously. To his eyes the Phoenix man looked decidedly off-colour.

            “Just a...” MacGyver began.

            “Doozy of a headache,” O’Neill finished.

            “Shouldn't the crystal take care of that?” Daniel frowned, rising to his feet and walking over to the foot of the bed upon which MacGyver was sitting and gratefully resting his healing, aching leg.

            “I don't know,” MacGyver shrugged. He turned his left hand over, resting it on his thigh. The embedded crystal seemed dormant. “The light-headedness went like Phil said it would, but the headache seems to be settling in.”

            “If the aspirin don't shift it, maybe we should get someone to check you out,” O’Neill said, concern clearly visible in his dark eyes. He could feel the echoes of the discomfort his cousin was in and it was enough to tip him to just how bad MacGyver’s headache actually was.

            “Maybe it's a side-effect of using the crystal.”

            “What?” O’Neill looked at Daniel, who now stood with his arms folded across his chest and a pensive expression on his face that denoted he was thinking something through.

            “But I've been using it for the past three, four days without....” MacGyver began to object to the theory. Then his expression changed. O'Neill saw the 'light bulb' come on.

            “What?” The Air Force Colonel asked as Daniel and MacGyver looked at each other. “What?” O’Neill repeated impatiently, knowing he was missing something.

            “Healing mode makes me hungry. Light bulbs and opening doors,” MacGyver began.

            “Gives you headaches,” Daniel nodded.

            “What?” O’Neill repeated, looking back and forth between the two men.

            “The 'Healing mode' also gave you dizzy spells at first. You passed out the first time, remember?” Daniel's attention focused intently on MacGyver. “Though admittedly, you weren't a hundred percent to start with at the time, so that was probably a contributing factor.”

            “And the second time I used it I nearly passed out,” MacGyver nodded pensively. “Then D'Maya gave me some guidance the next coupla' times.”

            “And now it just makes you hungry because it burns up your energy reserves and you need to replace- ”

            “The energy expended,” MacGyver nodded.

            “Hel-lo...” O’Neill endeavoured to gain his comrades' attention. “Remember me?”

            “You probably need to eat something again,” Daniel said, looking around the room. “Or drink some charl. It's- ”

            “Sweet,” MacGyver nodded, his expression denoting that his mind was working along the same lines as Daniel's was.

            “What's the betting the 'refreshments' Seeba said she'd organize will include charl?” Daniel went on, suddenly moving to yank open the cupboard door of the small unit beside his own bed and pulling out his Air Force issue equipment vest. “Meanwhile,” he said, delving into one of the vest's pockets and producing something which he brandished triumphantly. “How about you nibble on this?” He tossed the item over to MacGyver, who fielded it easily. It was a type of candy bar that Daniel was rather partial to and which he always carried several of either in his vest pockets or in his pack when on missions, even though they weren't exactly 'standard military issue' and he and Jack had 'had words' more than once about their taking up precious pack-space that might better be served with spare ammunition clips.

            “Thanks, Daniel,” MacGyver said appreciatively as he began to tear the wrapper off the candy without preamble. “Should do the trick.”

            “Excuse me guys. Much as I hate to interrupt this cosy little rapport you two seem to have going here, but would one of you care to explain to this dumb old soldier just what the hell you're talking about?” O’Neill was getting decidedly cranky.

            “I need a sugar-fix, Jack,” MacGyver succinctly informed his cousin.

            “What?” O’Neill blinked at him as MacGyver bit off a chunk of the peanut candy and began to chew on it.

            “Any form of technology requires energy to operate, right, Jack?” Daniel began to explain as he stuffed his equipment vest back in the locker and closed the door.

            “Right,” O’Neill nodded slowly.

            “Okay. So where do you suppose that crystal derives its energy from when Mac uses it?” Daniel asked, rising and sitting on the edge of his own bed. He saw O'Neill frown.

            “So... it doesn't come with batteries included, I take it...” the Colonel ventured.

            “Apparently not,” Daniel smiled, knowing from O'Neill's expression that he was beginning to catch up.

            “So...” O’Neill went on, still frowning. “Oh...” he said, as the penny finally dropped. “Guess that explains the sweet tooth all of a sudden, huh?”

            “Guess so,” MacGyver nodded. “The headache should start to clear when the sugar kicks in.” He bit off another piece of candy and began chewing on it.

            “Okay... So how will we know which has done the trick, the aspirin or the candy?” O’Neill had definitely caught up.

            “Well, we won't for sure this time, but when we get home we can...” Daniel broke off as a distinct knock sounded at the doorway to their quarters. “I'll get that,” he volunteered since he was the nearest to the door.

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

            “We have sandwiches, pastries and some assorted cakes,” Daniel announced, regarding the heaped plates of edibles on the tray which had just been delivered and now resided on the ledge around the room's fire dais. He checked the two large jugs. Steam rose as he lifted each lid in turn. “We also have the local 'tea' and big surprise here, guys, we have charl.”

            Telling his cousin to stay put, O'Neill went to join Daniel as the younger man began pouring charl into one of the three large mugs that rested on the tray. The Colonel requested 'tea' for himself, then took the mug of charl and the plate of sandwiches over to where MacGyver was polishing off the last of the peanut candy. He handed the mug over to him, set the sandwiches down on the unit beside the bed and went back to collect his 'tea' and the plate of pastries. The latter he set down beside the sandwiches and then sat down on the edge of his own bed. Daniel arrived a moment later with his own 'tea' and the remaining plate of cakes. The bedside unit was getting a bit cluttered by then and he looked around, clearly trying to decide where to deposit the plate. O'Neill rescued him. Depositing his mug on the remaining available space on the bedside unit, the Colonel rose, fetched a chair, put it beside the hovering Daniel and returned to his seat on his own bed.

            “Ah...Right...” Daniel muttered, depositing the plate on the chair and then sitting down beside O'Neill.

            The sandwiches disappeared in short order, quickly followed by the pastries. A serious dent was then made to the platter of assorted cakes. The three men talked as they ate and washed their food down with their drinks. Daniel did most of the talking, giving his companions a pretty comprehensive rundown on what precisely he had said to 'The Circle', elaborating on his earlier statement about the interest the gathering had shown in the Tau'ri's various off-world activities. The rest was mostly pretty standard 'first contact with the local big-wigs and laying the ground-work for future negotiations' stuff.

            Wrapped up though he was in his enthusiasm for what he was telling his companions, Daniel was alert to the fact that MacGyver was gradually beginning to look drowsy, despite clearly being interested in what the archaeologist was saying. It didn't surprise him. He suspected it was as much to do with the events of the day so far as it was to do with the lack of sleep the man had had the previous night.

            Daniel was also aware of O'Neill's attention beginning to drift. Not that that surprised him either. He was well used to the Air Force Officer's lack of enthusiasm for lengthy reports on things which the man didn't see as being either immediately relevant to whatever situation he happened to be in at the time, or to his military outlook in general.

            “Listen, guys, why don't I just save the rest of this for my report to the General when we get back home?” Daniel suggested.

            “Good idea,” O’Neill responded. “Generals just love long boring reports.” The remark earned him a dirty look from Daniel, but it was basically water off a duck's back. As was the reproving look which MacGyver cast him.

            “How's the headache now, Mac?” Daniel inquired, directing his attention in the direction of the Phoenix operative.

            “Fine,” MacGyver responded. He smiled tiredly and ran his right hand up through his hair, sweeping stray bits back from his face. “Just seem to be having trouble keeping my eyes open now is all.”

            “Daniel has that effect on people,” O’Neill threw in helpfully. It earned him another dirty look from the archaeologist, which he ignored. “Best cure for insomnia known to man.”

            Daniel chose not to rise to O'Neill's baiting. Instead, he rose to his feet, his attention remaining intently focused on MacGyver. “Mac, I kind of got the impression that 'The Circle' could be debating things for quite a while. Maybe you should think about catching up on some sleep while we wait to hear from them, huh?”

            “Yeah,” MacGyver sighed with a drowsily pensive smile. “Think maybe you're right, Daniel.”

            “You too, Jack,” Daniel turned to regard O'Neill. “Or at least just take it easy for a while and let that crystal do its thing on both of you again.” He had noticed that while they had all been snacking, the crystal in MacGyver's hand had seemed to come to life again and was currently glowing a soft shade of restful green denoting it to be back in 'healing mode'.

            “Yes, Mom,” O’Neill muttered dryly as Daniel began to gather empty plates and mugs together. The Colonel went on to mutter something about domesticated archaeologists, but Daniel ignored him even as he heard MacGyver say.

            “He’s right, Jack.” There was a note in MacGyver's tone which expressed disapproval of the man's remarks to Daniel. As Daniel took the gathered crockery to the tray at the fire dais, he heard the Phoenix operative continue. “We should both try and get some rest.”

            Daniel heard creaking sounds that denoted someone was settling more comfortably. He glanced over his shoulder and saw that it was MacGyver. O'Neill was still sitting on the side of his own bed, but was wiping a hand over his face in a manner Daniel recognised; Jack was tired but having trouble admitting it to himself.

            After a momentary debate with himself, Daniel made a decision. Picking up the tray of dirty crockery, he took it to the door and discovered that there was a 'healer' sitting in the alcove bench in the anti-chamber.

            “Oh. Hello, D'Maya,” he smiled, recognising the woman immediately. He wasn't entirely surprised to find her there.

            “How fare your companions?” The woman enquired, genuine concern on her features as she rose to her feet.

            “Oh, they're fine,” Daniel answered as the tray was taken from him. “Just trying to get some rest now. That's why I thought I'd bring this out, save anyone coming in to get it and maybe disturbing them.”

            D'Maya nodded solicitously. “It is good that they rest,” she said, turning to set the tray down on the alcove seating. “They have been more active today than I, or the other Healers, expected them to be. Even for Guardians.” Turning back to Daniel she offered. “I will sit with them if you wish me to.”

            “Ah, thank you, but no. No. I think it'd probably be better if I stay with them for now.”

            “As you wish,” D'Maya inclined her head in acknowledgement. “I, or another, will be here if you or your companions have need of anything.”

            “Thank you,” Daniel gave her an appreciative little smile before retreating back into the room he and the others were sharing.

            Closing the door quietly behind him, Daniel silently surveyed his two companions. He was not in the least surprised to see that MacGyver was flat out, lying on his left side and appearing to be sound asleep. O'Neill had shifted so that he now sat with both feet up on his own bed and was slouching against pillows propped up between his back and the bed-head. His damaged right forearm was resting across his belly, partially and loosely cradled by his left hand. His head was resting back against the well-padded bed-head and his eyes were closed. He was a picture of tranquil relaxation. Daniel wasn't too sure whether Jack was actually asleep or not, but he suspected that if O'Neill wasn't, he soon would be as long as he wasn't disturbed.

            Smiling to himself, Daniel crossed silently to the fire dais, settled on the seating there, pulled his notebook from a pocket of his native attire and began to quietly review the copious notes he had made in the library earlier that day.

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

            Sam Malloy floated up through a sea of fuzzy detachment, idly wondering what the strange beeping noises were that he could hear in the far-off distance. He wished someone would switch them off, they were becoming quite irritating.

            “Easy now.” He heard an unfamiliar voice advise. He managed to persuade his eyelids to prise themselves open whereupon a face swam blurrily into view. It seemed to be smiling at him. “You're going to be fine, Mr. Malloy. Just take it easy.”

            It took him a moment to figure out that the voice belonged to the blurry face and that both belonged to the owner of the hand that touched his left shoulder in a gently reassuring manner. Sam wondered why his brain was so foggy. Why couldn't he think straight? There was something important he had to know... What was it?

            It came to him. Abruptly.

            “Sam... ?” He asked with a sudden sense of urgency. Some of the fog lifted as adrenaline surged briefly. “Is she okay?” He had to know. “Is Sam...okay?”

            “Captain Carter's just fine,” the voice assured him. It and the blurry face it belonged to, was definitely female, Sam's foggy brain decided. And there was white. She was dressed in white. A nurse? A doctor? That meant a hospital. He was in hospital. “And you're going to be just fine too. Now I want you to relax and just go back to sleep. Okay?”

            A hand touched Sam's forehead. It was every bit as gently soothing as the voice. It brushed some of his hair back from his face and, as it did so, knocked any sense of resistance from him.

            “Okay...” He vaguely heard himself agree before he sank back into the welcoming sea of fuzzy detachment. His last aware thought before he drifted back to sleep was a wish for someone to turn off whatever was beeping with such monotonous and irritating persistence.

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

            Doctor Janet Fraiser moved away from her civilian patient's bedside once she was satisfied that he was deeply asleep again, checked the various monitors and drips he was hooked up to and made some notations on the chart-file which she then hung on a rail at the foot of the bed. She then issued some instructions to a hovering nurse and left the room, nodding to the armed SF standing guard at the door.

            Fraiser was not entirely surprised to find Teal'c at the other side of the doorway, also standing guard. The Jaffa had taken up residence there immediately after Sam Malloy had come out of surgery and been installed in the side-ward.

            “Still here I see, Teal'c.” She smiled at the big warrior.

            “I am,” the Jaffa inclined his head slightly before enquiring. “How is the son of MacGyver?”

            “Oooh, he's doing just fine. He's going to be pretty sore for a while when he finally wakes up properly, but that won't be for several hours yet, at least,” Fraiser responded. “There's really nothing you can do here, you know.”

            “I will remain.” The alien warrior's quietly dignified, but firmly decisive manner informed Fraiser that nothing short of being incinerated by a Goa'uld mother-ship would remove him from his self-appointed post.

            Fraiser knew that arguing would be pointless. She had seen Teal'c in this 'protective mode' before, usually when one of his SG-1 team-mates was confined to the infirmary, either unconscious or otherwise incapable of defending themselves if the need should arise, even though he knew full well that they were safe within the SGC. She had even seen him do the same for MacGyver, albeit initially at O'Neill's request. Now he was doing it again for Sam Malloy without having even met the young man, simply, as far as she knew, because Malloy was MacGyver's son and therefore part of O'Neill's family and, by extrapolation, part of the close-knit 'family' that was SG-1.

            Nodding, Fraiser left Teal'c to his vigil and headed for her office, only to be intercepted en route by Carter, who announced that she was on her way to see the General about something and thought she'd look in to see how Malloy was doing.

            “He came through the surgery just fine,” Janet told her clearly anxious friend. “He'll be pretty sore for a while, but he should make a full recovery.” She saw the unmistakable relief that flooded across Sam Carter's face. Anticipating the next question, she went on. “He’s heavily sedated right now so I'm afraid you can't talk to him yet, but if you want to stick your head around the door for a moment, you can.”

            “Thanks, Janet.”

            “What exactly happened anyway?” Fraiser enquired. To date no-one had seemed able to give her the full story.

            “We were attacked at Colonel O'Neill's house, I don't know by whom. I guess maybe Sam's made some enemies in his travels,” Carter answered, deciding not to mention the photographs that had appeared to be the reason for the attack, since Hammond had made clear that that information was strictly need-to-know for the time being.

            “So you're sure it was him they were after?” Fraiser regarded Carter. She saw Sam aim a puzzled frown at her and so added. “Well, I expect Colonel O'Neill has made a few enemies himself over the years, given his background, I mean. MacGyver too, for that matter.”

            “No,” Carter shook her head adamantly. “No, they were definitely after Sam.”

            “Does Teal'c know this?”

            “Uh. Yeah. Why?”

            “Young Mr. Malloy seems to have acquired a very determined Jaffa bodyguard.” Fraiser smiled before excusing herself and resuming her original course for her office and the stack of reports that awaited her attention there.

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

            Carter halted outside the door to General Hammond's office, knocked on it, and waited for permission before stepping inside.

            “Ah, Captain.” The General looked up from hanging up his black telephone as Carter came to a halt in front of his desk. “I was just talking to Doctor Fraiser. Malloy is out of surgery and expected to make a full recovery.”

            “Yes, sir,” Carter agreed, having great difficulty in keeping a 'military neutral' expression in place, since a pleased and relieved one kept trying to usurp it.

            “Did you have any success with those photographs, Captain?” The General moved right along to business.

            “Some, sir,” Carter responded, becoming all-business herself as she focused on the immediate matter at hand. She set before her superior the folder she had brought with her. “I managed to clean them up and do some enhancements, but they still don't really give us very much. The angle of the third man's face is pretty bad to start with so there's a limit to what I can do with it. He was a lot clearer in some of the other shots that I saw.”

            She stood at parade rest while Hammond examined the contents of the file she had placed before him.

            “If I may ask, sir,” she ventured after a moment or two had elapsed. “Has security turned up anything at Colonel O'Neill's?”

            “Some broken furniture, but that's about all,” Hammond answered grimly. “Major Thomas reported that whoever attacked you and Malloy, they were thorough about cleaning up after themselves.”

            “Security found nothing?”

            “Major Thomas described it as a professional sanitation job.”

            “Wow. That was fast.”

            “Exceedingly,” Hammond agreed grimly.

            “N.I.D., sir?”

            “I made a few discreet calls.” Hammond looked up from the computer enhanced prints he had been studying. “Colonel Maybourne's current whereabouts are apparently 'classified' and the Senator is supposedly on vacation with his family somewhere in Wyoming.”

            “So... We're really no closer to figuring any of this out then, sir?”

            “And probably won't be until Malloy's able to talk to us, which Doctor Fraiser seems to think won't be until some time tomorrow,” Hammond answered. He regarded Carter. “Until we have a clearer idea of what exactly the Sam Hill is going on, all this,” the General tapped the computer enhanced prints in front of him, “remains strictly...”

            “‘Need-to-know'. Yes, sir,” Carter nodded in understanding.

            “For the time being.”

            “Yes, sir,” Carter responded, nodding again.

            “That will be all, Captain.”

            “Sir.” Carter turned and headed for the door, only to stop as she heard Hammond's voice again.

            “Captain Carter.”

            “Yes, sir?” She looked round.

            “Don't leave the base until I say otherwise, Captain.”

            “Yes, sir.” Carter recognised Hammond's tone. It was the one that brooked no debate. She heeded it and went obediently on her way.

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

            The increasing restlessness of his two sleeping companions distracted Daniel Jackson from his study of his notes. He looked across to the beds upon which they lay.

            “Guys? You okay?” He called. The inquiry seemed to have little or no effect on either of the troubled sleepers. Daniel hesitated for a moment, then set his notebook down on the padded bench, rose to his feet and moved quietly towards his companions, both of whom were muttering incoherently as they shifted and twitched with growing agitation and distress.

            Remembering only too clearly what had happened the previous night when he had tried to help MacGyver rouse O'Neill from a nightmare, Daniel hesitated, wondering on his safest course of action. If O'Neill was again being dragged into one of 'those' nightmares from last night, then Daniel knew he had to do something. It would be inhumane not to. He did not particularly fancy getting his jaw broken this time though. And MacGyver seemed to be locked in some dream that was anything but pleasant too. They both needed to be wakened.

            Cautiously, Daniel moved closer to O'Neill's bed, extended a hand towards one of his ankles and gave it a shake while calling Jack’s name. Daniel was prepared for an unpredictable reaction and he got one. He dodged back out of the way just in time to miss being booted in the stomach as the Air Force man let out an anguished sounding cry.

            “Well, that went about as well as expected...” he muttered dryly as O'Neill returned to restless shifting and muttering. Daniel edged nearer to MacGyver. As warily as he had reached to touch and shake O'Neill, he gave MacGyver's ankle a shake and tried calling the man's name in an urgent tone, acutely aware that behind him O'Neill's agitation was increasing.

            Daniel wasn't sure what sort of a reaction he expected his attempt to waken MacGyver to produce, but was relieved when the sleeping man didn't try to punch him out or attempt to deck him with a blindly aimed foot. All his attempt did produce was something of a strangled, incoherent cry. Emboldened, Daniel tried again, shaking MacGyver’s leg more firmly and calling his name again. He jumped reflexively back, startled, when the Phoenix man came abruptly awake, calling out his cousin's name and shooting bolt upright, exuding complete and total panic even as O'Neill did exactly the same thing at exactly the same moment.

            “Ah... Guys? You okay?” Daniel asked worriedly, regarding first one then the other from the relative safety of the space between the foot of the two beds. Seeing the way in which the two men blinked rather rapidly and blindly, Daniel realised that neither was quite 'with him' yet and decided to stay where he was lest they misconstrued his approach as some sort of threat. He knew how dangerous a 'threatened' O'Neill could be and he had little doubt that MacGyver could be equally dangerous despite the Phoenix man's normal demeanour being almost the opposite of his cousin's shoot-first-ask-questions-later military one. After giving the two men a moment, Daniel spoke cautiously as he saw them beginning to emerge from wherever they had mentally been. “Jack? MacGyver? You guys okay?”

            “Man... that was weird.” MacGyver and O'Neill announced almost as one even as they each wiped a slightly shaky hand over their respective faces.

            Daniel Jackson blinked at them, his jaw sagging slightly in surprise as the two men suddenly looked at each other, their expressions betraying a mixture of varying emotions as they said simultaneously.

            “Hiller's pond.”

            “What?” Daniel frowned, looking bewilderedly from one man to the other and back.

            “Aw man... Haven't had that one in years...” MacGyver muttered.

            “Me neither,” O’Neill muttered, blowing out a deep breath

            “Ah... Excuse me? Ah... Hiller's pond?” Daniel questioned, advancing a couple of paces and folding his arms across his chest as his two colleagues shifted to swing their legs over the sides of their respective beds to sit facing each other.

            “We were just kids,” MacGyver said, looking up at the curious archaeologist. “Jack saved my life.”

            “What... ah, happened?”

            “I... ah... fell in. Jack pulled me out.”

            “You couldn't swim?” Daniel's eyebrows rose in astonishment.

            “Oh... Yeah... I could swim.”

            “Like a fish,” O’Neill interjected helpfully.

            “Just not with half a tree on top of me,” MacGyver answered, smiling wryly.

            “Half a... tree... ?” Daniel's eyebrows rose further. He looked at O'Neill.

            “Courtesy of the Cassidy twins,” O’Neill said bleakly. Daniel caught a glimpse of a look in the Colonel's dark eyes that sent a chill hurtling down his spine. “Damn stupid prank meant for me, but it misfired, got Mac instead. I shoulda' seen it comin'.”

            “Hey, if either of us should have seen it comin', it shoulda' been me, Jack. You were only seven, I was older an' I knew what they were like.”

            “I gotta take a leak,” O’Neill announced abruptly, rising to his feet, pushing past Daniel and heading for the doorway to the right hand side of the fire dais.

            “So.” Daniel said after watching O'Neill's sudden departure and turning his attention back to MacGyver. “What happened? If you don't mind my asking, that is?”

            MacGyver sighed heavily, then began to speak. He told Daniel that the Cassidy twins were a couple of the local troublemakers when he was a boy. They had been about his own age and tended to pick on the younger kids. The incident at Hiller's pond had occurred during one long hot, Minnesota summer when Jack had been spending part of the holidays with his cousin. The twins had taken an instant dislike to the young Jack, whose quick Irish temper had had a tendency to get him into trouble even at that age. MacGyver had stepped in more than once in defence of his cousin and had usually managed to defuse the situation before violence broke out. One day his efforts failed and a brawl erupted.

            Before any of the parties concerned could inflict any real damage however, the situation had been broken up by the father of one of Mac's friends who had witnessed the whole thing and had seen one of the twins throw the first punch, which had been aimed at Jack and deflected by MacGyver before it made contact. The man had 'escorted' the two cousins home to Mac's place, explained their dishevelled appearance to Mac's mother, who had subsequently 'had words' with the twins' parents. The twins had been 'grounded' for two weeks and had used those two weeks to plot revenge.

            There was a massive old tree with enormous, sturdy branches, that stretched out over a swimming hole that the young MacGyver had permission to use over the summer, on a neighbour's property. Once their daily chores were done, MacGyver and Jack would head straight for the swimming hole and would often be joined by some of Mac's friends. That particular summer, the boys had strung a rope up over one of the branches and, as kids do, had had fun swinging out on the rope and dropping into the water.

            The twins knew all this. They also knew that of the two cousins, Jack was usually the first to hit the rope and swing out into the deepest part of the pond. One night they snuck out with a saw and cut nearly right through the branch from which the rope was suspended, concealing their handiwork by smearing some mud and dirt on the damaged section of the branch. The next morning, the cousins had headed for the pond, bright and early as usual. Jack had swung out on the rope, dropped into the water and swum back to dry land. The branch had creaked a bit, but it had held. Then MacGyver had taken his turn. Being just a few years older, he was just that bit taller and heavier than his cousin. The heavy branch, already weakened, gave way. It and Mac had dropped into the water, the branch following him down.

            “I don't really remember much after that,” MacGyver sighed. He was, by then, staring blankly past Daniel who had settled opposite him on the edge of O'Neill's vacated bed, as memories of the incident all those years back, floated through his mind. “But Jack dove in and pulled me out, somehow...”

            “Concussion, a broken collar bone and sixteen stitches as I recall.” Daniel jumped, startled by O'Neill's voice. He hadn't heard the Air Force man's quiet return from the bathroom and had been totally absorbed by what MacGyver had been telling him.

            “What?” Daniel looked at O'Neill as the man sat down beside his cousin.

            “That's what I woke up in the hospital with,” MacGyver answered the archaeologist's question. A wry smile crossed the Phoenix operative's face as he inclined his head slightly in O'Neill's direction and added. “He joined me a couple of days later with multiple bruises and contusions, a suspected concussion and five stitches.”

            “What?” Daniel's jaw dropped. He frowned. “How'd that happen?”

            “It was worth it,” O’Neill stated with a distinct aura of grim satisfaction.

            “It was stupid,” MacGyver informed his cousin.

            “It worked,” O’Neill pointed out.

            “It was still stupid,” MacGyver insisted.

            Daniel decided to jump in before a clearly developing round of 'was/wasn't' could get into full swing.

            “I take it the Cassidy twins were involved?” He ventured as the thought occurred.

            “Ohhh yeah.” O’Neill nodded.

            “Jack got them to admit to half the town that they were responsible for what happened to me at Hiller's pond. Tricked them into it.” Daniel saw a faint smile cross MacGyver's face.

            “I knew where there were a couple of walkie-talkie sets that Mac'd built, so me an' Billy Conners 'borrowed' them. Billy took one into the local soda fountain. I had the other. Taped the 'transmit' button down. The range of the sets was limited so...” O’Neill began to explain.

            “He lured the twins up the alley out back of the soda fountain,” MacGyver interjected.

            “Which wasn't difficult,” O’Neill confessed.

            “An' challenged them about Hiller's pond.”

            “An' bein' the knuckle-heads they were, they were only too happy to boast about what they'd done,” O’Neill continued. “Then they figured it'd be fun to pound the crap outta' me.”

            “By which time Sheriff Peterson had heard everything. He was in the soda fountain when Billy's walkie-talkie started broadcastin' full volume,” MacGyver interjected.

            “An' that was the end of the Cassidy twins for a while.”

            Daniel looked from one cousin to the other, amazement plastered across his face. Before he could give voice to any of the many thoughts buzzing through his brain, the sound of knocking emanated from the room's main door.

            “You want to get that, Daniel?” O’Neill inclined his head in the direction of the noise.

            “Huh?”

            “The door. Someone's knocking. Wanna' get it?” O’Neill said in the manner of one explaining something incredibly simple to a perversely slow child.

            “Oh. Right.” The archaeologist rose to his feet and headed for the door as the knocking was repeated.

            “How's the head?” O’Neill turned his attention to his cousin.

            “Oh, fine,” MacGyver answered truthfully. Then, sighing, he regarded O'Neill and said. “Man that dream was really weird. Never had Hiller's pond look like an active Stargate before.”

            “Me neither,” O’Neill confessed. Then he suggested brightly. “Hey, maybe we're just crackin' up in your old age.”

            Angus MacGyver's indignant splutter of a response was interrupted by Daniel calling across to the pair of them from the door.

            “Hey guys, it's Seeba and N'lrem.”

            “So wheel 'em in, Danny-boy,” O’Neill instructed lightly, rising to his feet and moving to hover in the area between the foot of the bed and the fire dais, aware of MacGyver following him to stand at his side.

            “Our apologies for disturbing your rest, my friends,” Seeba said as she preceded N'lrem into the room and Daniel closed the door behind them, “but we thought you would wish to be informed that the Circle has concluded its debating.”

            “That's okay, Seeba. We were awake anyway,” MacGyver responded with polite congeniality. “Have a seat,” he invited, gesturing towards the seating at the dais.

            “Thank you, old friend,” Seeba inclined her head graciously and settled herself on a section of the padded bench.

            “So. What great conclusion did the Circle come to?” O’Neill questioned, clearly anxious to move things along and get to the point.

            “That the Time of Awakening may indeed be upon us.” This solemn statement came from N'lrem, who had declined to sit and was standing beside his seated companion.

            “Uh-huh,” O’Neill said. His gaze automatically went to Daniel, standing a few feet away, with his arms crossed and a pensive expression on his face. “And this would be a Good Thing?” O’Neill ventured cautiously. He saw Daniel meet his gaze and nod almost imperceptibly.

            “The Circle requests that a small delegation be permitted to accompany you when you return to the Tau'ri,” N'lrem addressed himself to O'Neill and MacGyver. “We wish to meet with the one you call Hammond, whom this Young One,” N'lrem gestured in Daniel's direction, “informed us, is charged by your people with the protection of your Gateway, much as I am so charged here.”

            “Sure,” O’Neill nodded slowly, giving the matter rapid consideration from every angle he could think of. He glanced again at Daniel, whose blue eyes responded silently: I don't see any problem, Jack. These people could be powerful allies. Used to making quick decisions, O'Neill made one. “Okay... But ah, just how small of a delegation are we talking about?” He inquired warily. He had no idea what the K'Rin'sha might consider to be a 'small' delegation and he didn't think Hammond would be terribly happy if the entire High Circle and God-alone-knew-who-else came trooping out of the Gate at the SGC.

            “Only Guardian High Keeper R'Fyaa, myself, and a Novice to attend us,” Seeba answered. “This will be acceptable, yes?”

            “Sure,” O’Neill nodded again. “That would be fine.” He looked to MacGyver. “You got any problems with that, Mac?”

            Technically, until the trio actually got home, MacGyver was still 'in charge' of the current mission since Hammond hadn't actually issued any orders to the contrary when the two of them had spoken with him via the K'Rin'sha communications device. However, O'Neill was SGC personnel whereas, strictly speaking, Mac wasn't and this was technically SGC business which was being discussed, which was why Mac had kept silent and let O'Neill handle it. It was also why, back in the Guardian High Circle chamber and aside from the raging headache he'd been developing at the time, MacGyver had sat back and let O'Neill and Daniel take the lead. O'Neill was both acknowledging and expressing his appreciation of that with this apparent consultation and they both knew it.

            “No, no problems, but it might be an idea to warn the General we're bringing guests,” MacGyver responded. “Wouldn't want any misunderstandings with itchy fingers.”

            O'Neill nodded, immediately understanding and appreciating that MacGyver was concerned that strangers emerging through the Gate at the SGC might evoke an unpleasant, not to mention deadly, reaction from the security team that would be greeting them as a matter of course.

            “That's why we always go first when we're bringing new friends home to play,” O’Neill grinned at MacGyver and companionably clapped the Phoenix operative on the shoulder. He then turned to N'lrem, becoming businesslike again as he informed the man that the proposed K'Rin'sha delegation would be more than welcome to accompany himself and his companions back to Earth to meet with General Hammond.

            “My thanks to you,” N'lrem inclined his head with polite respect. “I shall so inform the Circle immediately.” With that pronouncement, he excused himself and departed, leaving Seeba alone with the three Tau'ri.

            “Ah, Seeba... If you don't mind my asking...” said Daniel, moving to sit beside the blind woman and frowning. “...how are you and R'Fyaa going to get back here? Our Gate doesn't have some of the glyphs- ”

            “Do not be concerned, Young One. Both R'Fyaa and I have travelled the system of Gateways many times. We know ways by which we may return home when our business with your General Hammond is concluded.” Seeba smiled and patted the archaeologist on the leg in a maternal manner. Her attention then switched to MacGyver and O'Neill. Jack was in the process of fetching the chair which had been serving as a makeshift table, while Mac had moved to sit on the foot of O'Neill's bed.

            “Something up?” MacGyver inquired as, rubbing absently at his cast-encased knee which was itching fiercely again, he became aware of her blind gaze focusing intently on him.

            Apparently oblivious to his question, Seeba rose to her feet and crossed to where Mac sat. Her sightless gaze still intently focused on him, she halted as he looked up at her. Extending a hand, she placed it, palm open, on his chest as he blinked at her in a bewildered manner.

            “What?” He inquired as she tilted her head slightly as if listening to something only she could hear. He shot a glance at O'Neill who, hovering several paces away, shrugged and shook his head expressively, clearly none the wiser than his cousin as to what Seeba was doing.

            After a few moments Seeba unhurriedly retrieved her hand and moved to stand directly in front of O'Neill. Raising her hand again, she placed it on his chest in the same manner as she had with MacGyver and in the same manner as he recalled her doing days before on P4X-994.

            O'Neill stood stock still, permitting the woman's touch, just as MacGyver had done and acutely aware of the odd 'rippling' feeling that seemed to dance on the edge of his senses. He had felt it the moment Seeba had touched his cousin, but then it had been almost like an oddly distant 'echo'. Now it was less 'echo'-like. Now it was stronger. Much stronger. More... personal. He had no idea what exactly it was, or what it meant, yet he felt unthreatened by it.

            Some moments elapsed before Seeba silently withdrew her hand and stepped back out of O'Neill's personal space, nodding thoughtfully to herself.

            “What did you just 'See’?” This question was voiced in tones of intrigued curiosity by Daniel, who had quietly risen to his feet and was now hovering a pace or so from Seeba's elbow, his arms folded and his expression intent.

            “It was not a 'Seeing' as such,” Seeba answered pensively. “More of...a hearing...an impression... It was not clear.”

            As O'Neill and MacGyver looked at each other in a manner denoting that each was silently inquiring of the other if he understood what was going on and responding in the negative, Seeba turned to Daniel. To the young archaeologist's surprise, her hand came up but she did not touch him immediately. Instead she asked. “May I?”

            When he nodded and unfolded his arms, she placed her hand on his chest as she had with his two companions. He had no idea what to expect and remained as still as the others had done before him. He saw Seeba tilt her head slightly and a brief frown cross her features before it was replaced by a gently knowing smile.

            “Yes...” The blind woman murmured enigmatically and patted Daniel gently a couple of times before drawing her hand back. She turned to face the still seated MacGyver. “Tomorrow, old friend,” she stated. “We should journey tomorrow.”

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

            Leaning on the ornate stone balustrade, MacGyver stared out over the moon-lit, snow-covered landscape of the valley below, lost in his own thoughts.

            After Seeba's pronouncement that the journey to Earth should be undertaken the following day, the woman had deftly side-stepped providing an explanation for that pronouncement. She had then invited the trio to share an evening meal with Alaeya and herself in her quarters later on, an invitation which they had accepted, whereupon she had taken her leave of them, saying that she would send Alaeya to fetch them in due course.

            Throughout the evening meal, the three Tau'ri had been kept distracted by the fact that they were not Seeba's only guests. Phil Sternwise was one of the handful of other guests and MacGyver had quite enjoyed renewing his acquaintance with the sharp-featured little man. O'Neill had finally obtained the full story behind his cousin's remark in the High Circle chamber about Phil and vacuum cleaners.

            Once the meal had concluded, everyone adjourned to the main living area and the various conversations that had started over dinner continued in a relaxed atmosphere. Little Melia who had earlier been put to bed, woke up and came wandering into the living area, yawning sleepily, to see what was going on. Upon realising O'Neill was present, the child had headed straight for him. Seeba had endeavoured to return Melia to her room, but the little girl had protested rather truculently over being prised away from the Air Force Colonel, whereupon O'Neill had volunteered to tuck the child back into her bed himself and to tell her a story.

            Some of Seeba's other guests had chosen to take their leave at that point. Sternwise had remained, as had a woman called T'Kara with whom he had arrived at Seeba's quarters, both being deep in debate with Daniel and Alaeya about the identity and origins of 'The Wise Ones'.

            Feeling the need of some time by himself, MacGyver had taken the opportunity to slip unnoticed from the room and make his way out onto the balcony area just outside Seeba's quarters. Thus he was leaning on the balustrade, taking in the chilly air, which was rousing him from the drowsy feeling that he had felt creeping up on him indoors. He was wrapped up in his own thoughts.

            The touch of a gentle hand on his back brought him back to the present, but didn't actually startle him. Somehow his senses had registered and identified the presence that now stood close at his side: Seeba. The blind woman said nothing, but her hand moved lightly on his spine, making a gentle circling motion between his shoulder blades. MacGyver found there was something oddly relaxing and companionable about her silent presence and her touch.

            After several moments had elapsed, MacGyver sighed softly, bowed his head and rubbed at his face with both hands.

            “You are tired,” Seeba observed, her tone one of kindly understanding.

            “Yeah...” MacGyver found himself admitting honestly as he resumed gazing out over the snowy, moon-lit landscape.

            “And troubled too, I think,” Seeba observed, her hand never pausing in its gentle motion on his back.

            “Yeah, that too,” Mac admitted. He looked over his shoulder at the blind woman. “I can't help wondering why you were so adamant earlier that we should head for Earth tomorrow.” His gaze shifted to his left palm and the crystal firmly embedded in his flesh. The crystal was emitting a very soft greenish-white glow at that moment. “And I still have no idea how to remove this, ya' know.”

            “Are you quite sure?” Seeba inquired. There was almost a tinge of amusement in her voice as she inclined her head slightly.

            “Excuse me?” MacGyver countered, straightening at last and turning to face her.

            “You have the knowledge, my friend, as does the other. You just do not yet remember,” Seeba smiled enigmatically. The hand with which she had been lightly rubbing his back now moved to rest gently on his arm. “It will come. Just be patient,” she advised.

            MacGyver sighed deeply, his frustration clearly evident. “Seeba...” he began.

            “It grows chilly out here. You should come back inside,” Seeba advised, smiling with warm encouragement.

            “Hey... So this is where you two are hiding.” O'Neill's voice intruded cheerfully.

            “Just getting some air, Jack,” MacGyver responded defensively.

            “Uh-huh,” O’Neill observed in a slightly sceptical but teasing manner as his dark eyes flickered pointedly to where Seeba's hand rested on his cousin's arm. Then, his hands in his pockets, he ambled forward. “So... I'm not interrupting anything then?” There was mischief in his voice, teasing innocence plastered across his face and a knowing glint in his eyes.

            “Ya' get Melia back to sleep?” MacGyver countered, well aware that his cousin's mind was heading for the gutter and endeavouring to distract him by changing the subject.

            “Oh yeah,” O’Neill answered, a soft warmth entering his eyes at the mention of the little girl who had, in a very short space of time, bulldozed her way past all his defences. “Told her the one about the Archaeologist, the Magic Pool and the Big Bad Snake. Worked like a charm. She was out like a light before I even got to the really cool bit about the snake an' the exploding pyramid.” He sounded vaguely disappointed as he uttered that last bit.

            MacGyver's jaw dropped slightly as he stared in disbelief at his cousin while his brain absorbed what the man had just said and made rapid connections to what he had been told of O'Neill's first mission, with Daniel, through the Stargate to a world called Abydos.

            “What?” O’Neill inquired, regarding MacGyver’s eloquently shocked expression.

            MacGyver made to speak, but ended up just shaking his head despairingly instead. He couldn't help it. Only O'Neill could come up with the totally-off-the-wall notion of turning something like that first Stargate mission into a fairy-tale suitable for sending a truculent five-year-old to sleep.

            “Hey... It worked,” O’Neill protested defensively, before trying to muffle a yawn.

            “You are both tired,” Seeba interjected at that point, her tone one of kindly concern, as she seemed to survey O'Neill critically with her sightless gaze. “You need to rest again.” Her 'gaze' returned to MacGyver and she squeezed his arm lightly as she advised. “Don't stay out here too long in this chill without a warm over-jacket.” Releasing her hold on his arm at last, she moved the couple of paces to where O'Neill hovered. “Either of you.” She added, casting her blind gaze up at the Air Force Colonel. “Your General Hammond will think poorly indeed of the K'Rin'sha if we return you to him with fevers and streaming colds.” With that, she patted O'Neill lightly on the arm, stepped past him and headed back into the warmth of her quarters.

            “Yes, Mom,” O’Neill called after the woman, before turning to regard his cousin. He inclined his head slightly and observed. “You like her, don't ya'?”

            “She's a pretty nice lady,” MacGyver responded, his dark-eyed gaze still focused on the doorway through which Seeba had just gone.

            “Uh-huh,” O’Neill remarked. Then, after a moment, his eyes twinkling, he added. “I get the impression she kinda' likes you too.”

            “Huh? What?” MacGyver blinked at him, catching his implication. “Aw, c'mon, Jack,” he glared in a don't-be-ridiculous manner, as he pushed off from the balustrade he'd been leaning back against. “Get real.” He began to head indoors.

            “Hey... I got eyes.”

            “Maybe ya' oughta get them tested then,” MacGyver threw over his shoulder.

            “Oohhh I think they're still workin' 20:20 okay...” O’Neill grinned as he sauntered after his indignantly bristling cousin. “Noticed you got to sit beside her at dinner, an' the pair of you seemed pretty cosy if ya' ask me.”

            “Ya' always did have an overly-active imagination, Jack.”

            “Danny got himself hitched first time through the Stargate, ya' know.”

            “Jaaack...” MacGyver warned.

            “Hey... I'm just sayin'...” O’Neill appeared to be enjoying teasing his cousin.

            “Well don't,” MacGyver advised.

            “Danny tell ya' about Sha're?” O’Neill asked, following MacGyver indoors.

            “Yeah. Told me about the Goa'uld taking her too.”

            “Hey, we'll get her back,” O’Neill said, his mood shifting from teasing to more serious. They had made their way through Seeba's dining area by that point and had reached the archway through into the living room. He halted as his cousin stopped and regarded him earnestly.

            “I hope ya' do. She means a lot to him.”

            “Yeah,” O’Neill sighed heavily. “I know.”

            MacGyver nodded and proceeded on into the sitting room.

            “Everything alright, MacGyver?” Phil Sternwise inquired, looking up from his still on-going debate with Daniel Jackson. Out of the corner of his eye he had spotted them pause at the archway through to the dining area.

            “Yeah, Phil. Fine,” MacGyver smiled amiably. “Listen, I think I'm gonna' go turn in. It's been kind of a long day,” he said, letting his gaze encompass Sternwise, T'Kara, Daniel and Alaeya, who were all seated together. Daniel was perched on the edge of the comfortable chair that O'Neill had occupied earlier that day after lunch and Alaeya was sitting on a rug on the floor at his feet, while Phil and T'Kara were sitting together on the big couch.

            “Think I'm gonna' hit the sack too,” O’Neill threw in, trying to stifle another yawn as the warmth of the room started having an effect. He saw the look that appeared on Daniel's face. It was one he recognised immediately. It was the one that always appeared when Daniel was torn between staying where he was to continue studying something fascinating and obeying 'orders' to accompany his team leader. “Hey, we can find the way by ourselves, Daniel, if ya' wanna' stay here debating ancient whatevers a while longer.”

            “Ah... Okay...” Daniel looked surprised yet pleased.

            MacGyver and O'Neill took their leave of the little group and made their way to the door where Seeba, who had been standing by the fire, had moved to see them out. They thanked her warmly for her hospitality.

            “I will see you in the Gate Chamber in the morning when you are ready to travel,” she told them. O'Neill didn't miss the way she rested a hand on MacGyver's arm again as she addressed them both, but he decided better of making a comment, for the time being at least. “Meantime, I hope your rest this night will be less troubled than last night's was.”

            “Amen to that,” O’Neill remarked with a certain amount of heart-felt honesty as he suppressed a shudder at the less than pleasant memory of the previous night's nightmares.

            “If you should have need of anything, there will still be a Healer keeping watch at your door,” Seeba continued.

            The two cousins assured Seeba that they would indeed call upon the Healer's services if the need should arise, thanked her once again for the excellent dinner she had provided them with and took their leave.

            The corridors were chilly compared to the warmth of the blind Seer's quarters, but were well illuminated and they had no problem navigating themselves back to their own room. They found a warmly clad Healer sitting with a lantern and a thick book outside their door and exchanged pleasantries with her, expressing concern about her welfare should the temperature drop during the night. She assured them she would be fine, only convincing them of the fact by pulling a small unit out from under her bench-like seat and demonstrating to them that it was in fact a very effective heating device.

            The two men finally bid her a good-night and, yawning, went on into their quarters where they discovered that not only had the curtains been closed in their absence and light-sticks left glowing brightly enough above the three beds for them to navigate the room without bumping into anything, but that the fire had been turned up and the room was comfortably warm. As they readied themselves for bed, O'Neill gently teased MacGyver about Seeba again and sharp banter was soon flowing rapidly, albeit sleepily, back and forth between them. Within moments of them settling in their beds and of their heads touching their respective pillows however, both were fast asleep.

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

            Daniel had no idea what time it was, locally, when he eventually took his own leave from Seeba's quarters and returned to the room he was sharing with O'Neill and MacGyver, but he knew it was pretty late. The corridors were as quiet as the grave and not much warmer. The Healer-in-attendance was dozing on the bench outside their quarters, a blanket wrapped about her. Her heater was set on the floor across the anti-chamber from where she sat and was throwing out a goodly amount of heat towards her. Daniel tried not to disturb her, but she stirred and bid him goodnight, a sentiment which he returned.

            As he closed the door behind him, he found himself reassured by the sounds of quiet snoring that greeted him from the general gloom, he had been more than concerned that O'Neill especially might have trouble sleeping and had half expected to find him still awake. The lights above the two occupied beds had been extinguished, but the one above his own was still alight, although not strongly. The illumination from both it and the still energetically dancing flames of the room's fire provided him with enough light to make himself ready for bed without falling over anything.

            Unlike his companions, he did not fall immediately asleep when his head hit his pillow. His mind kept turning over the day's various events and the things he had learned. Subconsciously he was also listening out for any indications of distress from either of his two companions. Eventually though, sleep won out and laid its claim on him. Not quite deeply enough however for him not to re-surface several times when the unmistakable sounds of restless stirrings penetrated his awareness.

            The disturbances, on the whole, were not nearly as dramatic as those of the previous night. Only once, O'Neill cried out a strangled plea of 'God, No!' and even as Daniel awoke abruptly, but before he had a chance to decide on how to react, he was aware that MacGyver was already out of his own bed and at the side of his cousin's. He didn't catch what the Phoenix operative murmured to Jack, but he saw a flare of glowing green and witnessed O'Neill begin to still almost immediately. Daniel stayed where he was and observed as best he could in the flickering gloom of firelight. Presently he saw the soothing green glow fade and MacGyver return to his own bed. Stifling a yawn, Daniel pulled his blankets more snugly about himself, closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

            At some point Daniel drifted into a deeper level of sleep, only to be dragged reluctantly out of it by someone shaking his shoulder and a familiar voice calling his name and insisting that it was time to wake up. “G'way...” he muttered.

            “C'mon, Danny-boy. Wakey-wakey, rise an' shine. Breakfast'll be here soon.”

            “Jack... G'way... Leave me alone...” Daniel muttered. “Tryin' to sleep...” He tried to turn over and snuggle further into his blankets.

            “Dammit, Daniel...” He heard the familiar and rather impatient exhortation as his blankets were suddenly torn away and a wave of chilly air hit him. “C'mon. Wakey-wakey!”

            “Hey!” Daniel protested indignantly, sitting up rapidly in pursuit of the blankets heading for the foot of his bed at a rate of knots.

            “You awake yet?”

            Daniel rubbed at his eyes, then blinked up at the camouflage-clad figure standing at the foot of his bed with blankets clutched triumphantly in hand.

            “I'm awake, Jack,” He yawned. Then realisation struck and he reached quickly for the pair of neatly folded glasses resting on the nightstand and put them on. “You okay?” He questioned, peering with sudden concern at the older man whom he could now see with much more clarity. The Colonel was clean-shaven, neatly combed and fully dressed. He looked tired and frayed around the edges, but Daniel had seen him look worse, much worse.

            “I'm fine.” O’Neill tossed the blankets back down onto the foot of his now-awake archaeologist's bed. “What time did you crawl in at then?” He inquired. “Ya' look like- ”

            “Where's Mac?” Daniel had suddenly realised the Phoenix operative was nowhere in immediate sight.

            “In the shower,” O’Neill answered. He realised there was no sound of running water from the bathroom. “Leastways he was. Might even have left ya' some hot water.” He saw Daniel yawn and rub a hand sleepily over his stubbled jaw. “Ya' sure you're awake?” He questioned. “You're not gonna' just crawl back into bed the minute my back's turned?” He'd seen Daniel do exactly that on more than one occasion in the past, even if they were off-world as they were now, somewhere where Daniel felt 'safe', unless there was steaming hot coffee readily to hand. The younger man was not exactly a shining example of a 'morning' person.

            “I'm awake, Jack!” Daniel retorted irritably. He wouldn't put it past O'Neill to deluge him with cold water if he didn't convince him he was awake. The Colonel had done it before now and had more than once indicated himself to be perfectly willing to do so again should the need arise.

            “Glad to hear it,” O’Neill responded. He was distracted from causing the archaeologist further annoyance by a knock at the door. “Ah, great. That'll be breakfast. I'm starving.” With that pronouncement, he went to investigate while Daniel yawned again and MacGyver emerged from the bathroom, clad only in the blue native-style, loose-fitting trousers provided by their hosts and rubbing briskly at his damp hair with a towel.

            “Morning, Daniel,” the Phoenix operative said cheerfully, heading for the foot of his own bed, where the rest of his borrowed 'native' attire was neatly piled.

            “Mac...” Daniel acknowledged with another yawn.

            “Breakfast's here.” This cheerful pronouncement came from O'Neill as he retreated back into the room followed by two brown-clad figures who were carrying large, heavily laden trays which they took to and set down upon, the fire dais. “Hey... ya' wanna' hit the shower before it gets cold, Danny-boy?” He paused then added. “Or Mac an' I eat it all.”

            Daniel finally hauled himself to his feet, grabbed his Air Force issue garb from his bedside locker and headed for the bathroom. When he reappeared a short while later, showered, shaved and fully dressed, he found MacGyver now also fully attired and sitting with O'Neill at the fire dais. They were demolishing stacked platters of food with obvious relish. Daniel investigated 'breakfast', quickly loaded up a plate and joined them.

            When the threesome had finished eating, Daniel and MacGyver began to gather together what remained of their gear, while O'Neill went to the door and arranged for word to be sent to Seeba and R'Fyaa that they would shortly be ready to head for the Gate chamber and Earth.

            “Hey... You're walking different!” Daniel suddenly exclaimed, surprise vying with a frown for prominence on his features as the three of them presently left their quarters and began to make their way along the corridor, the two older men taking the lead.

            “Excuse me?” O’Neill inquired archly, mischievous innuendo twinkling in his dark eyes as he shot a look over his shoulder at the archaeologist, who ignored him and waved a hand vaguely. Daniel frowned intently at MacGyver as if studying some ancient and wondrous artefact.

            “Mac...Your leg... You're bending your knee...” Daniel blinked at the Phoenix operative who smiled amusedly over his shoulder at him.

            “Yeah,” Mac admitted. “That cast stuff kinda' disintegrated off some time during the night. Woke up to a bed full of gritty dust this morning.”

            “So it's okay now, your knee?” Daniel looked fascinated.

            “Uh-huh.” MacGyver halted and gave a brief demonstration of knee-flexing. “Feels stiff yet, but otherwise as good as new.” He resumed walking. Daniel gawped briefly, then hurried after them.

            “But Jack's cast's still... um... I mean, it's still... er...” The archaeologist was frowning again. “Isn't it?”

            “Oh, yeah.” O’Neill admitted. “Still here.” He waved his right forearm slightly, wiggling his fingers expressively as he did so. The cast that partially encased his hand and disappeared under his jacket sleeve was clearly still there, though distinctly a lot greyer in hue than it had been even the previous day.

            That set Daniel off to speculating as to why O'Neill's 'cast' was still in place while Mac's 'cast' had come off and to theorizing that perhaps it was because O'Neill's arm had been in a much worse state than Mac's knee had been. O'Neill tuned out within moments, but MacGyver dropped back the few paces necessary to walk alongside Daniel and listen with interest to the younger man's speculations.

            N'lrem was already waiting for them when they reached the Gate chamber. Greeting the threesome, he informed them that the K'Rin'sha delegation that would travel with them would be there shortly.

            Seeba arrived only moments later, accompanied by Alaeya and little Melia, greeting everyone cheerfully. Melia ran immediately to O'Neill, who reflexively crouched down to be on her level as she babbled excitedly at him. He quickly caught the gist of what the child was trying to tell him and looked rather sharply up at Seeba, who was in the midst of telling Daniel and MacGyver that Alaeya would be accompanying R'Fyaa and herself as their attendant.

            “Seeba, you're intending on bringing Melia?” The Air Force Colonel questioned with surprised concern as he rose to his feet, Melia's right hand gently enfolded in his left.

            “I am,” Seeba stated. “She is young but she should know something of the world of the Tau'ri.” Then she smiled at O'Neill. “And who better to teach her than one who is both a Tau'ri Guardian and a trusted friend?”

            O'Neill stared at her, his jaw dropping slightly.

            “Ah...Seeba, are you sure that's such a good idea?” It was Daniel who posed the question, figuring it might be wise to leap in before O'Neill could come out with something rather less than diplomatic. “I mean the SGC's not exactly the best place for a young child,” he hastily added as Seeba's blind gaze flickered to him. “It's... ah... well... military.”

            “She may not be my blood, but she is nonetheless my daughter. She will travel with us,” Seeba said firmly. Her tone suggested that she had made up her mind on the matter and that was the end of it. Her blind gaze switched to O'Neill and she bestowed an enigmatic smile on him as she stated. “She will be safe.”

            “Ah... Of course she will,” Daniel jumped in quickly again, aware of the expression that had suddenly entered O'Neill's dark eyes, it said 'damn-right-she'll-be-safe'. “I didn't mean to imply otherwise,” he continued rapidly. “I just meant....It's a bit short on facilities for children, that's all. Being um... military.”

            Seeba inclined her head slightly, then nodded, as if acknowledging the archaeologist's effort to be diplomatic and reassuring, but the smile that was on her face was as enigmatic as ever.

            “I apologise if I am keeping everyone waiting,” a new male voice announced. A tall man in dark grey, almost black robes swept into the chamber, his manner brisk and business-like. “I had to deal with a minor crisis in the Keepers' Hall. Someone mislaid some documents of minor importance, but managed to turn it into a drama of epic proportions.” He smiled benevolently at everyone.

            O'Neill, being O'Neill, muttered something under his breath about good help being so hard to find anywhere these days, which earned him a despairing glare from Daniel.

            “Ah, my friends, you remember Guardian High Keeper R'Fyaa?” Seeba addressed the three Tau'ri and indicated the grey-black clad man.

            “From yesterday, yes, yes, of course,” Daniel nodded. He recognised the newcomer immediately as being one of the white-robed figures with whom he had conversed at length in the High Circle Chamber the previous day. Stepping forward and bowing his head respectfully, he greeted the man in K'Rin'sha 'primary'. Then, since MacGyver and O'Neill had not spoken personally with R'Fyaa the previous day, Daniel reverted to English and began to make formal introductions.

            “I look forward to setting foot on your world once again,” R'Fyaa cheerfully informed the two cousins as MacGyver, who had been standing talking with N'lrem, moved to stand beside O'Neill.

            “You've been to Earth before?” MacGyver asked, looking curious.

            “Yes, but not for many years,” R'Fyaa smiled congenially. “And never so openly, or in such august company.” He rubbed his hands in what was unmistakably gleeful anticipation. It rather reminded O'Neill of the aura that settled around Daniel whenever the young archaeologist had a brand new planet full of fascinating artefacts to explore. “If you are ready, shall we go?”

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

            General George Hammond was in the midst of a mission debriefing with SG-7 when he heard a distinctive rumble from the direction of the big alien ring in the huge chamber overlooked by the briefing room. It was a sound that was followed scant seconds later by the eruption of the base's 'red alert' klaxons and a voice over the PA system announcing that there was an off-world Gate activation in progress.

            “We'll finish this later, gentlemen,” Hammond told SG-7 as he rose to his feet and began to head for the stairs that led down to the Control room immediately below the briefing room.

            “Who is it?” The General demanded to know, coming to a halt at the duty controller's shoulder. He knew that none of the SG teams currently off-world were due to return yet and if one was about to return, it meant they'd run into trouble. Probably serious trouble.

            “No idea yet, sir,” the controller reported as his fingers flew over the keys on the board in front of him. “Picking up a G.D.O. signal, sir. It's SG-1's code, sir.”

            “What the-?” The General began. Scheduled check-in from the SG-1 members currently off-world was not for another couple of hours. He ordered the Gate iris to be opened.

            “We have an incoming traveller, sir.” The duty controller reported.

            That was all Hammond needed to hear. He was heading for the Gate room in the blink of an eye, entering the room in time to see Doctor Jackson emerge from the shimmering wormhole.

            “Doctor Jackson!” The General exclaimed as the bristling security personnel arrayed around the base of the ramp relaxed fractionally, but continued to aim their weaponry at the still-active Gate. “What happened? Where are...?”

            “Ah, hello, General. The others'll be right along. The Colonel thought I'd better come through first. We're bringing some guests with us.” The archaeologist's hands moved expressively as he descended the ramp towards the waiting Hammond.

            “Guests?” The General echoed bewilderedly, only to be distracted by more arrivals through the Gate. “What...?” He began as firstly, O'Neill appeared with a young child at his side who was tightly gripping his left hand. A tall, shaggy-haired figure in blue appeared only an instant later to the left of the child and the trio began to descend the ramp. “Welcome back, gentlemen,” Hammond didn't quite jump up and down and beam in delight at them, but he came damned close to it.

            “SG-1 reporting, General,” MacGyver announced amiably, throwing what could either be construed as the sloppiest salute in military history, or a vague civilian wave of greeting. “And returning your missing Colonel as ordered.”

            “Good to be back, sir,” O’Neill informed his superior.

            The General was just about to say something further when three more figures stepped through the still-shimmering Stargate. “Ahhh...?” Hammond looked past the two men before him to eye the three strangers with some degree of concern. Behind him the armed security personnel bristled tensely again.

            “Stand down, people.” O’Neill swiftly issued the order while MacGyver turned to indicate the newcomers and began to clue Hammond in on who the strangers were. As the trio began to descend the ramp, the Stargate shut down behind them.

            “Welcome to the SGC,” Hammond courteously greeted the three K'Rin'sha as MacGyver completed the introductions and Daniel helpfully chimed in with the information that Seeba/S'Baya was the woman who had helped them all on P4X-994. Smiling warmly at Seeba, Hammond addressed her directly. “It would seem the SGC owes you a considerable debt of gratitude, Ma'am.”

            Seeba inclined her head slightly.

            “And this is Melia, General,” O’Neill introduced the little girl who still clutched his hand tightly, but who had moved slightly behind him and was regarding the still-warily hovering SFs with some rather wide-eyed unease. “Seeba's adopted daughter and our friend. Melia, say hello to General Hammond.”

            Hammond looked down at the little girl who regarded him with her big green eyes from behind the safety of O'Neill. “Hello, Melia,” the General smiled kindly at the child as he would at one of his own grand-daughters. “Don't be afraid. No-one here will harm you.” He saw the child look up at O'Neill, who nodded reassuringly back at her. Clearly emboldened by O'Neill's silent encouragement, the little girl ventured out from behind her protector and said shyly.

            “Hello.”

            The General smiled back, then endeavoured to get things back to the business at hand, aware as he did so of Melia looking up at O'Neill again, the total trust in her eyes unmistakable.

            “While I can quite clearly see that your people have taken excellent care of my people, it is a matter of routine for all personnel coming through the Gate to report upon arrival to the infirmary,” Hammond addressed the SGC's guests with his best diplomatic courtesy.

            “Of course, General Hammond. This is not a problem. We were warned to expect such a request,” R'Fyaa responded, his manner equally courteous, but there was a glint of expectation in his eyes that Hammond found reminded him of Jackson when the archaeologist's curiosity about something had been stirred. “Indeed I am curious to speak with your Healers and learn from them.”

            “Then if you would be good enough to accompany Doctor Jackson...?” Hammond stood aside and gestured courteously.

            Daniel sprang immediately into the role of guide and proceeded to usher the SGC's guests in the direction of one of the Gate Room's exits.

            “We'll debrief when you're done, Colonel,” Hammond informed O'Neill. He did not miss the expression that flickered in the other man's eyes as O'Neill nodded before moving off, Melia contentedly at his side and beginning to ask him questions. “Mister MacGyver, a word if I may.” Hammond called as MacGyver made to depart on O'Neill's heels.

            “General?” MacGyver halted and regarded the General curiously as he saw the grim expression that had appeared on Hammond's face.

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

            Something made O'Neill halt at the Gate Room exit in the wake of hearing Hammond request a word with MacGyver. The wave of panicked emotion that washed over him, through him, seconds later threatened to swamp him. Looking to his cousin, he saw that all colour was rapidly draining from MacGyver's face and that he had an expression of shocked horror spreading across his features.

            “Colonel O'Neill! I just heard you were back. I thought you were staying on Sanctuary for another couple of days yet. It's good to see you, sir.” O’Neill vaguely heard and identified the voice as Sam Carter's and was equally vaguely aware of her approach. His attention however, was riveted on MacGyver, his senses all switching to full alert and the hairs on the back of his neck prickling.

            // SAM! // he heard the anguished cry resonate in his mind. O'Neill had never laid any claim to being particularly bright, but he didn't need to be an Einstein to rapidly put two and two together and come up with an accurate conclusion from the combination of emotions hammering through him courtesy of his ashen-faced cousin and the other man's silent cry in his mind.

            “Oh God... No... Not Sam too...” he gasped, a wave of numbing horror that was not entirely his cousin's, roaring through him. He sagged against the doorway.

            “Sir? Are you alright? Colonel O'Neill... ?” Carter's voice echoed distantly on O'Neill's awareness, as did the worried sounding voice of little Melia calling his first name.

            O'Neill snapped back to life as MacGyver abruptly erupted past General Hammond at a dead-run, heading for the doorway and hurtling past him like an exocet. Sam Carter barely managed to get out of MacGyver's way in time to avoid being flattened.

            “Honey,” O’Neill dropped to a crouch facing a visibly worried Melia. “I need to go after Mac. I want you to stay with Captain Carter. You remember Captain Carter, don't ya'?” At the little girl's anxious nod he continued swiftly. “Okay. It's nothing for you to worry about, but I need to go with Mac and you need to stay with Captain Carter. She'll bring you on up to the infirmary. Okay?” He struggled to keep his voice steady and to give the worried child reassurance. Melia nodded again. “Good girl.” O’Neill rose to his feet. “Sam, look after her,” he ordered, relinquishing the child's hand to his 2-I-C.

            “Yes, sir,” Carter responded bewilderedly. Then, as O'Neill took off down the corridor at top speed, bawling at a group of airmen who emerged from a side passage to get the hell out of his way, Sam saw the grim-faced General in the Gate Room and put two and two together with the same speed that Jack O'Neill had done.

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

            Sam Malloy stirred as the racket of klaxons penetrated the comfortable fog in which he was idly drifting. He had wakened before, admitted to being in some discomfort when asked by a white-clad male nurse who had been checking the monitors that he was hooked up to and then someone had administered something to the I.V. taped to his arm. The pain had eased almost immediately and he had drifted back to sleep again before gradually re-surfacing to drift contentedly in that pain-free twilight world that existed somewhere between wakefulness and drugged sleep.

            Sam blinked awake, wondering at such a ruckus in a hospital. His brain began to sluggishly kick into gear as the journalist in him wondered if the noise was due to some form of fire alarm going off, or a bomb alert or something. He reacted reflexively to those thoughts by trying to push himself up from his prone position.

            “Hey, hey, my patients don't go anywhere 'til I say so.” A female voice scolded and a hand on his good shoulder, combined with a sudden wave of dizziness and nausea, forced him back down on the bed.

            Sam groaned, screwed his eyes tightly shut and fought down the nausea and the pain that was surfacing high in the right side of his chest and through his shoulder.

            “Slow breaths,” the female voice advised. “Slow and steady now.”

            The nausea began to settle as he did as he was instructed. Sam opened his eyes again and blinked at the petite brunette who stood at his bedside, her hand still resting on his shoulder. He realised the racket had ceased and that the white-coated woman seemed totally unfazed about it having sounded at all.

            “What was... all that noise about?” Sam enquired as the brunette removed her hand and turned to open up a folder that was resting on the unit beside his bed.

            “Oh nothing to concern yourself about, Mr. Malloy,” the woman assured. “I don't imagine you remember me, but I'm Doctor Fraiser. How are you feeling?”

            “Confused...” Sam confessed. His brain wasn't quite firing on all cylinders yet, but he had noticed the Captain's bars on the lapels of the white coat the woman was wearing and the light blue uniform shirt under it. “Where am I exactly?” He blinked at his surroundings, seeing them clearly for the first time and observing that there was an armed figure in military garb standing by the doorway of the room he was in. The figure had sergeant's stripes on his arm, but no unit insignia that Sam could see. “What hospital?”

            “This is a military facility, Mr. Malloy.” The petite doctor confirmed what Sam was beginning to suspect. She then changed the subject as she checked his drip-lines by enquiring. “How's the pain now? Are the current meds helping?”

            “Ah, yeah...” Sam admitted. He tried a few more questions as the Doctor produced a pencil-torch and checked his pupil reflexes, then produced a stethoscope and listened to his heart. He noted that she deftly deflected his questions about the 'military facility' with ones of her own regarding his general medical well-being.

            Apparently satisfied as to the state of his vitals, the doctor proceeded to check his injuries. Sam tried to peek as the dressings were lifted and promptly wished he hadn't. A wave of nausea washed through him. Screwing his eyes shut and swallowing down the bile that threatened to rise, he moaned softly.

            “Easy now. Be all done here in a moment,” Fraiser soothed professionally as she changed the stained dressings for fresh ones. “This all looks fine, Mr. Malloy.”

            “Glad you... think so...”  Sam muttered through still-gritted teeth.

            “Relax, Mr. Malloy,” he heard Fraiser advise.

            “Easy for you to say,” Sam muttered, then he requested. “Sam. Just call me Sam.”

            “There we are. All done, Sam,” he heard. “You can look now.” Sam opened his eyes and squinted cautiously at his shoulder and chest. Starkly white dressings concealed the unpleasant sight of discoloured and raw-looking, but neatly stitched flesh. He relaxed and turned his attention to Fraiser, who cast him a reassuring smile as she scribbled some notations in the open file resting on the unit beside the bed.

            “Guess I'll live then, huh?” He ventured.

            “Oh yes,” the Doctor smiled. There was, Sam noticed, genuine warmth in her eyes as she smiled at him. “There will probably be some scarring, but I've done what I could to minimise it. You'll be up and about in no time, but you're going to be sore for a while. Meantime, I want you to get as much rest as you can. I'll be back to check on you again in while. Okay?”

            “Yeah...” Sam nodded and watched as Fraiser closed the file she had been scribbling in and, gathering it up, returned her pen to a pocket in her white coat.

            Sounds of a commotion somewhere drifted in through the open doorway.

            “What the...?” Sam heard Fraiser exclaim with irritable bewilderment. He also recognised a raised voice that was demanding to know of his whereabouts.

            “Dad?” Sam endeavoured to call out, but found he didn't have the energy to put much volume into it. Looking towards the door, he saw that the 'guard' was moving to effectively block it.

            “Don't move.” Fraiser issued what was unmistakably an order to her patient, backed it up with a look that had quelled even the most obstinate of military patients before now and headed quickly for the door. The 'guard' moved aside to let her pass, then blocked the doorway with his bulk again.

            Sam caught the barest glimpse of another man at the doorway. A large black man. Sam tried to raise himself up onto an elbow, but pain and weakness forced him to abort the attempt. He tried calling out again.

            “Dad?”

            For some several agonisingly long minutes Sam fidgeted with increasingly restless impatience and anxiety, during which time things on the other side of the door seemed to calm down and go frustratingly quiet. His gaze fixed on the doorway, Sam saw the built-like-a-very-large-house Sergeant relax and return to his post just inside the room. Sam tried asking him what was going on, but quickly found that he might have more success in getting blood out of a stone than getting any kind of verbal response from the man.

            Beginning to grow desperate to know what was going on; Sam attempted to try to push himself into something resembling a sitting position. Pain and nausea promptly washed through him again, the room began to spin alarmingly and his body just plain refused to co-operate properly. Sucking in deep breaths of air and inwardly cursing his whole situation, Sam fell back against his pillows and stayed there.

            Movement at the door again caught his attention. He discovered, as he blinked at the still wavering doorway, that the burly 'guard' hadn't moved. There was, however, a tall, shaggy-haired figure in strange blue almost robe-like garb, standing in the opening. Recognition kicked in as he heard an extremely anxious. “Oh, God... Sam... ”

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

            MacGyver stood for a moment, just staring in gut-wrenching relief at his son. The sheer terror that had ripped almost overwhelmingly through him when Hammond had told him that Sam had been shot and was in the base infirmary, was finally beginning to ease now that he could see for himself that his son was most definitely still alive, although quite clearly far from well. He hadn't waited long enough for Hammond to tell him how bad his son's injuries were. That Sam had been shot was basically all he had needed to hear.

            Two SFs had pounced on him and endeavoured to restrain him when he had erupted, panic stricken, into the infirmary demanding to see his son. Janet Fraiser had appeared from somewhere moments later and had threatened to sedate him if he didn't calm down. It hadn't, he had quickly realised, been an idle threat. Fraiser's tone and her whole manner, had been quite determined. He had made the effort and the SFs had released him at a nod from the good doctor, though they retreated only a couple of paces and had been clearly ready to grab him again at the first sign of any further near-hysterics on his part.

            Fraiser had then calmly assured him that Sam was going to be fine and had briefly outlined the extent of the young man's injuries, aware that he had enough personal experience of such things to understand what she was telling him, even if he was only half-listening to her, his mind still being in a hazy panic. The doctor had then told him that he could see Sam for a short while and pointed him towards the side-ward that had been his own abode for several long days the last time he had been within the confines of the SGC.

            “Oh, God... Sam...” he hissed, oblivious of doing so.

            “Dad?” That single wearily croaked query from his son galvanised MacGyver to life again. He was at his son's bedside in an instant.

            “Ah God, Sam. You scared the life out of me. When the General told me you'd been shot...” MacGyver's voice shook with emotion as he reached to gather his son's hand in both of his own.

            “Hey, I'm okay, Dad. Really. I'm okay.” The relief washing through Sam at the sight of his pale-faced, but clearly alive and well father, was matched only by his need to reassure the man that he was okay. Well maybe 'okay' was a bit of an exaggeration, but he could see how shaken his Dad was and knew the man needed the reassurance. “Maybe ya' should sit down Dad... Ya' don't look so hot.”

            Aware that his legs were feeling decidedly unsteady, but loathe to let go of his son even for the few moments it would take to find and haul over a chair, MacGyver eased himself into a semi-sitting, semi-perching position on the side of Sam's bed.

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

            “So. What the hell happened?” Jack O'Neill demanded, radiating cold fury. He had pursued his cousin to the infirmary, catching up with him there just in time to hear Fraiser briefly out-line the extent and nature of Sam Malloy's injuries. He had then waited until MacGyver had started to head for the side-ward to see Sam before he voiced his question.

            “I don't have all the details, Colonel,” Janet Fraiser responded with that half-truth. While it was true that she knew where the shooting had occurred, she really didn't want to be the one to tell the Colonel that it had happened at his house.

            Teal'c, however, appeared less reluctant. He had been 'on guard' outside Sam's room when MacGyver had arrived at the infirmary and had stood at Fraiser's back as she had been explaining things to the frantic Phoenix operative.

            “Sam Malloy was injured at your home, O’Neill.” The Jaffa stated matter-of-factly. “Captain Carter brought him to Doctor Fraiser, thereby saving his life.”

            “What?” O’Neill stared, his expression tightening perceptibly. “Carter found him...?”

            “On General Hammond's instructions, Captain Carter went to your home to deliver to SamMalloy the message which his father had sent through the Stargate for him. They were attacked by unknown assailants and the son of MacGyver was injured. They did however elude their attackers and Captain Carter brought SamMalloy here where we might ensure his safety from any further danger,” Teal'c explained.

            “Colonel, since you're here, I think you should come and let me check you over,” Fraiser began. She had been casting her professional eye over the man and, while being surprised at how relatively healthy he appeared to be in wake of what she had heard about the injuries he had suffered off-world, he definitely looked to be in need of some attention.

            “No. Later, Doc.” O’Neill didn't exactly snap at the woman, but his tone was one of determination that warned Fraiser she would have a major argument on her hands if she pursued the matter at that particular juncture. “Daniel’s bringing some 'guests' for ya' to check out.” With that, O'Neill stepped past Fraiser and Teal'c and headed for the side-room his cousin had vanished into.

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

            As MacGyver had done before him, Jack halted in the doorway to the small side-ward. The SF at the doorway glanced at him, began to stiffen to attention, but relaxed and stepped outside at slight head gesture from him.

            O'Neill blew out a quiet breath, fighting down a few old demons that were threatening to surface from the depths of memory as he observed MacGyver perched on the side of Sam Malloy's bed, holding his kid's hand. The two were sitting in silence and Malloy's eyes were closed.

            Then O'Neill saw MacGyver's left hand begin to move; saw the beginning of a greenish-tinged glow.

            // MAC, you can't! //

            MacGyver looked round sharply, the suddenness of his movement rousing Malloy, who began to blink sleepily.

            // Mac, you know you can't. // O'Neill warned.

            // Oh so I can save your life but I can't help my own son? // The angry response roared into O'Neill's brain and he saw the anguish and pain that flared in his cousin's dark eyes as he glared at him. He also saw a flare of red flicker in the green glow in the instant before MacGyver's left hand closed into a tight fist and was drawn back away from Malloy.

            // And we explain the miracle cure how exactly? // O'Neill responded harshly, hating himself for 'saying' it and knowing that were the situation reversed, were Malloy his son and he had the means to help the kid, he would instinctively want to do what MacGyver had just been about to do. Had he had the means to have saved Charlie... O'Neill fought down the remembered anguish, the remembered pain and helplessness, even as it tried to surface.

            “Hey... Jack...” Malloy croaked, endeavouring to smile cheerfully at the Air Force Colonel. “Dad said... you were back... too.”

            “Hey, kid,” O’Neill smiled back. “See ya' inherited your Dad's inability to stay outta' trouble, huh.” He slouched over to his young cousin's bedside, his hands sliding into his pockets. “Ya' know the guys did this to ya'?” He inquired.

            “Not... personally,” Malloy answered drowsily.

            “Uh-huh,” O’Neill nodded. He looked at MacGyver, who was still glaring daggers at him, then looked back to Sam. “We should let ya' get some rest, kid. We can talk some more when Fraiser's not got ya' quite so doped to the eyeballs. Whaddya' say, huh? 'Sides, your Dad an' I got a few things to straighten out.”

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

            “And this is our infirmary,” Daniel Jackson informed the SGC's 'guests' as he ushered them into the section in question. “Ah... Doctor Fraiser...” he said, spotting the white-coated woman in question. “This is our 'Healer' I was telling you about...” He told his companions as he led them in Fraiser's direction and began to quickly make the introductions. “Ah... would you excuse me a moment?” He requested as he saw a clearly furious MacGyver, accompanied by a very grim-faced O'Neill, emerge through a doorway which he had noticed Teal'c and an SF Sergeant appeared to be standing guard on.

            Leaving Seeba, R'Fyaa and Alaeya with Fraiser, Daniel hurried to find out what was going on. He had known something was up when, while standing with their K'Rin'sha guests by the elevator, he had seen MacGyver erupt out of the Gate-room and hurtle off down the corridor to disappear into a stairwell as if being pursued by the devil himself. Then he had seen Jack O'Neill hand little Melia over to Sam Carter and take off after the Phoenix operative. Before he had had a chance to call over to Carter to inquire about the uproar, the elevator doors had opened and he had been distracted by his duties as 'tour guide'.

            “Hey guys...What's up?” Daniel inquired, distinctly unsettled by the aura of outraged hostility that was radiating from MacGyver and which seemed to be directed at O'Neill. O'Neill meanwhile was radiating an aura which Daniel recognised from experience, it was one of pain and tightly controlled anger. Neither of them said a word, but Daniel saw them exchange a look which spoke volumes yet at the same time told him absolutely nothing. “Ah... Guys...?”

            “Some S.O.B. shot Sam,” O’Neill growled darkly.

            “Wh-what... ?” Bewilderment spread across Daniel's face. “But... but I saw Sam downstairs... You left Melia with her.”

            “Wrong Sam,” O’Neill said tersely as MacGyver strode away to fling himself into a chair in a quiet corner and bury his face in his hands.

            “Wrong... Sam...?” Daniel was totally confused.

            “Mac's kid,” O’Neill elaborated in the same terse tone, his gaze having followed and now resting on his seething cousin.

            “What? Here?” Horror began to replace Daniel's confusion.

            “No. At my house apparently.”

            “Oh, God, Jack. No.” Daniel gasped as the implications hit him like a sledge-hammer. “How bad?  I mean... He isn't...?”

            “No. Doc says he's gonna' be okay.”

            “Well, that's good,” Daniel said. Unease was still washing through him. There was something about the aura radiating from O'Neill that disturbed him. He looked over to MacGyver. The Phoenix operative was sitting with his arms resting on his knees, his hands clenched into tight fists and was staring at the floor. Cold fury was positively dripping off the man. Then Daniel saw his eyes come up and the look they radiated at O'Neill sent shivers hurtling up and down the archaeologist's spine.

            “Whoa...” Daniel murmured, feeling distinctly shaken. “Oh-kay...What's wrong?”

            O'Neill shook his head and turned away, clearly not trusting himself to speak, though his face had drained of all expression and had become the blank military mask that Daniel had learned the Colonel was only too adept at hiding behind. Daniel didn't miss the flare of pain that registered in his eyes however.

            “Jack...?” Daniel questioned, reaching to catch hold of the man's arm before he could go anywhere.

            “I stopped him using that damned crystal.”

            “Oh.” Daniel said. “OH.” He repeated as the significance of the Colonel's words sank in.

            “Yeah. That about covers it.” O’Neill shook his arm free from Daniel's grip and began to walk away.

            “Jack...” Daniel hurriedly planted himself in O'Neill's path, knowing as he did so that he was probably taking his life in his hands. “Jack. He's just not thinking straight right now.”

            “Out of the way, Daniel.” O’Neill's tone was as devoid of expression as his face. He made to step around the archaeologist, only to find Daniel blocking his path again.

            “And you would be, right?” Daniel challenged. He received a dark, expressionless stare in return. Then O'Neill simply reached out to take him by the arms and move him to one side. As the Colonel released him and began to walk on, Daniel said. “I remember a time you didn't use to think too straight, Jack.” He saw O'Neill freeze, saw his head snap around, saw the icy look that the man graced him with. Daniel held his ground. “You really think he would have let you stop him if he didn't know, somewhere deep down, you were probably right?” O’Neill appeared not to react, but Daniel knew he had his attention. He pressed on, making the most of the advantage while he had it. “Sam'll be okay without Mac using the crystal, right?  I mean he's not in any danger if we don't use the crystal...?”

            “The only one in danger around here is the S.O.B. who...” O’Neill began to growl venomously.

            “Yeah, Jack. Right.” Daniel nodded calmly. “But meanwhile, don't you think maybe...?” He inclined his head slightly in MacGyver's direction. He waited as he watched O'Neill appear to consider for a moment. Then he saw some of the tension drain from him and heard him sigh softly but deeply. A sense of relief washed through Daniel as he saw O'Neill nod slightly before turning to cross the room to where the still discernibly seething MacGyver had gone back to staring daggers at the infirmary floor and was rhythmically clenching and unclenching his fists like he wanted to punch the living daylights out of something, anything...

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

            O'Neill stood regarding his cousin for a moment before he turned around so that his back was to the wall behind MacGyver's chair. Leaning back, O'Neill slid himself down the wall until he was sitting on the floor at MacGyver’s side. He remained there in silence for some moments, trying to find the words he wanted and gratefully aware that Daniel was tactfully running interference, keeping everyone else well clear of MacGyver and himself.

            “Mac... I know you're pissed as hell, an' I don't blame ya'. If that was Charlie lying in there, an' it was me had that crystal-thingie, I'd probably've decked ya' if you'd've tried to stop me.”

            “I know.” MacGyver's response was little more than a whisper and it spoke volumes. It betrayed how perilously close he was to doing exactly that, decking his cousin.

            “Wouldn't blame ya', ya' know,” O’Neill said quietly. His forearms were resting on his upraised knees and he stared at his hands. “I know what it's like to- ”

            “I know ya' do,” MacGyver interrupted softly, continuing his scrutiny of the floor.

            “Guess it's kinduva Dad's natural instinct kinda' thing... ”

            “Yeah...” MacGyver sighed his agreement.

            O'Neill was silent for a moment, then he offered. “Maybe when the kid's had another dose of meds an' he's right outta' things an' the Doc's back's turned, we might be able to sorta' give things a bit of a kickstart... Ya' know... Mebbie just enough to help a bit without giving cause for questions from the kid.”

            MacGyver didn't answer. Instead he raised his hands, washed them over his face and up through his shaggy hair, straightening in his chair as he did so. Then he finally looked at his cousin. O'Neill looked up and met his dark-eyed gaze. A lot passed between the pair of them in that exchanged look.

            “You do know I was thinking exactly that, don't ya'?” MacGyver observed.

            “Yeah,” O’Neill confessed. He looked away for a moment, his gaze sweeping what he could see of the infirmary from where he sat on the floor, noting the general bustle of activity that was going on as the K'Rin'sha obligingly submitted themselves to some preliminary poking and prodding by Fraiser and her staff. He noted that Daniel was still effectively running interference while successfully avoiding being subjected to any tests himself in the process. Looking back to his cousin, he observed. “Of course ya' know the Doc's got eyes in the back of her head. We'll have to be sneaky.”

            “Always been kinda' good at sneaky,” MacGyver returned, the faintest trace of a smile gracing his features.

            “So... Are we okay?” O’Neill inquired. He saw his cousin look away and sweep the room with his gaze. Then the man's dark eyes returned to him.

            “Yeah, Jack. We're okay. If anything, I probably owe you an apology.” MacGyver's gaze went to the room where his injured son lay. “It's just... Where Sam's concerned I tend to kinda' overreact sometimes. Don't know what I'd do if anything... ya' know... were to happen to him.”

            “Oooh yeah. Been there, Mac.” O’Neill sighed heavily and with much feeling.

            “Oh God, Jack, I'm sorry.” MacGyver's expression was contrite as he looked back to his cousin again.

            “Hey, it's okay.” O’Neill responded, moving so that he was partially kneeling, partially crouching at his cousin's knee. He reached out to rest a hand on MacGyver's leg. “It's okay, Mac.”

            “Jack...” Raw emotion was clearly visible in MacGyver's eyes.

            “I know,” was all O'Neill said, trying to keep his own emotions under tight control. “C'mon,” he continued after a moment, giving his cousin's knee a squeeze before rising to his feet. “What say we see if we can sneak outta' here while the Doc's busy with our 'guests' an' go find Carter an' the General? Maybe they can give us some idea of exactly what the hell happened at my place, an' what the hell's happening about finding the S.O.B. put the kid in here.”

            “Sounds good to me,” MacGyver nodded. He accepted the hand O'Neill extended to him and rose to his feet with the pull he exerted to help him haul himself from the chair.

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

            O'Neill and MacGyver's plan to exit the infirmary before Fraiser could get her hands on them was effectively short-circuited by the timely arrival of General Hammond. Carter and little Melia were with him. Melia, as soon as she saw O'Neill, pulled her hand free of Carter's grasp and headed straight for the Air Force Colonel.

            “Jack! Jack!” She called, throwing herself into his arms as he reflexively crouched down to be on her level.

            “Hey, honey, you okay? Sorry I had to run off an' leave ya' with Carter like that, but I needed to come up here with Mac, an' he was in kinduva hurry,” O’Neill addressed the child in a gently paternal manner. Melia nodded at him and told him she was fine as, after a moment, she disentangled herself from him. Then she turned her big green eyes on MacGyver.

            “Captain Carter told me you have a son and you got told he's poorly and that's why Jack left me with her,” the little girl announced solemnly. “She said he's called Sam too, just like she is. Is he going to be alright?”

            “Yes, sweetheart,” MacGyver smiled down at the child, then dropped down on one knee to be on her level. “He’s going to be fine.”

            “I'm glad,” Melia told him and promptly flung her arms around his neck to bestow a big hug on him. He hugged her gently in return, visibly moved by her concern and struggling to keep his emotions in check.

            “Ah, General Hammond, sir. We were just coming to see you,” O’Neill announced, rising to his feet and deliberately distracting attention away from his cousin and the little girl as Hammond and Carter approached. He had his military neutral mask resolutely in place as he did so.

            “Doctor Fraiser through with you two already?” The General inquired, looking dubiously surprised. Beside him, Carter looked equally surprised.

            “No, sir, I'm not. In fact I've not even had a chance to so much as look at either of them yet.” Fraiser's disapproving voice sounded behind the them. “If I didn't know better, I'd say they were trying to avoid me.”

            “Aw c'mon, Doc, can't we do this later?” O’Neill endeavoured to postpone what he knew was the inevitable. “We're fine.”

            “I'm sure you are Colonel, but I'd like to ascertain that for myself if you don't mind.” Fraiser's tone indicated that she was quite determined that this was one battle O'Neill was predestined to lose, no matter how much he might protest.

            “I need to talk to you about what happened to Sam, sir,” MacGyver grimly told Hammond as, having been freed from Melia's hug by that point, he rose to his feet, the little girl holding onto his hand.

            “All in good time, son.” Hammond wasn't about to be swayed, though his expression betrayed understanding and sympathy. He allowed his gaze to encompass both cousins. “I want you both to submit yourselves to full medicals and as soon as the Doctor clears you, we'll talk.”

            “Sir...” O’Neill began to protest.

            “You might as well grin and bear it, Colonel. It's an order,” Hammond responded.

            “Sir...” O’Neill subsided, but his expression left no doubt as to his feelings on the subject and they weren't happy ones.

            “They're all yours, Doctor.” Hammond informed Fraiser.

            “Thank you, sir,” Fraiser responded with a self-satisfied air. The General smiled in a kindly fashion at Melia and invited her to accompany himself and Captain Carter across the room to where Seeba and the other two K'Rin'sha were.

            Melia looked up at MacGyver, who told her it was alright for her to go with Hammond and that he and Jack would see her later. She then looked up at O'Neill, who smiled and nodded affirmation. She then scrutinized the General for a moment in that critically appraising manner that only a child can manage, before releasing her hold on MacGyver's hand and accepting the hand which Hammond held out to her.

            “Okay, gentlemen, shall we get started?” Fraiser planted herself in front of O'Neill and MacGyver and indicated a couple of vacant beds as Hammond moved off with Melia starting to chatter happily to him. MacGyver sighed and began to head towards one of the beds. O'Neill however, looked past Fraiser as Carter made to follow after the General.

            “Carter.”

            “Sir?” Carter turned back.

            “There's a few things we need to talk about when Mac and I get done here, Captain.”

            “Yes, sir,” Carter nodded. The expression that flickered fleetingly across her face before she turned away again, betrayed that it was a conversation she was not particularly looking forward to, but knew she couldn't avoid.

            “Oh Daniel...” O’Neill then called over to Jackson who was still hovering over the SGC's off-world guests rather like a protective mother hen. Daniel looked over. O'Neill crooked a finger at him. The archaeologist excused himself to R'Fyaa with whom he had been talking, and crossed to where O'Neill and Fraiser were standing, a slightly curious expression on his face. O'Neill beamed wickedly at him. “The Doc here's just itching to stick us with lots of needles and generally indulge her sadistic tendencies again. Wouldn't want ya' to miss out.”

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

            “Thank you,” MacGyver murmured to the nurse as she placed a small ball of cotton wool over the puncture marks left in the crook of his arm, courtesy of her having just drawn a couple of vials of blood from him. She told him to keep his arm bent and, as he obeyed, she departed with her collection of needles and blood samples.

            Sighing softly, MacGyver tried to ignore the steady stream of complaints that were flowing freely in the curtained-off cubicle immediately adjacent to his own. The complaints ranged from objections about cold hands and freezing stethoscopes, through to blunt needles and very colourful comparisons between the Marquis de Sade and certain members of the medical profession. From the sounds of things though, Fraiser was giving as good as was being dished out.

            “Alright, Colonel O'Neill, we're done here for the moment, but I want you straight back once you've had an MRI.,” MacGyver heard Fraiser state.

            “Doc, you've already got enough pictures of my internal organs to wallpaper the entire base, an' then some!”

            “Well, I'd like a few more. Besides, I want to know what's going on under that cast.” Fraiser sounded adamant. “Who knows, we might even get lucky and discover a civil tongue lurking somewhere. MRI, Colonel. Now.”

            MacGyver heard some more rather colourful mutterings, but they were too subdued for him to catch in their entirety.  Which probably isn't an entirely bad thing, he mused to himself.

            “Oh-kaay...” Fraiser appeared around the curtain separating Mac's 'cubicle' from his so vocally eloquent cousin's. She looked slightly frazzled as she exchanged an extremely thick folder for one that was almost embarrassingly thin by comparison. “How are you doing, Mac?” She enquired, opening up the thin folder and setting it down atop the thicker one on the unit beside the bed.

            “Oh, I'm fine, Doc,” MacGyver responded as Fraiser produced a pen-light from the pocket of her white coat. “Jack always that cranky?”

            “I'm afraid so,” Fraiser said in a slightly long-suffering manner as she proceeded to check Mac's pupil responses. “Actually he was quite polite today.” She saw the look of sceptical disbelief that flitted across her current patient's face. “I only worry when he goes quiet on me. Generally, the crankier he is the healthier he is.” She smiled. “Okay. Pupil reaction is bang on.” Putting her pen-light back in her pocket she made a notation in the open file, then produced her stethoscope. “Top off please,” she requested.

            MacGyver obliged, peeling off the top half of the military issue infirmary garb which he had earlier been requested to change into. He saw Fraiser sweep her professional gaze over him.

            “I know,” he sighed in anticipation of the observation that he could see by her expression, she was about to make. “I dropped a few pounds again.”

            “So I notice,” Fraiser responded.

            “But I'm okay. Honest,” he insisted.

            He didn't miss the raised eyebrow, or the I'll-be-the-judge-of-that-thank-you-very-much look, which the Doctor bestowed on him as she warmed the business end of her stethoscope in her hand before she touched it to his chest and requested that he take a deep breath and hold it.

            MacGyver found he couldn't help smiling as it suddenly occurred to him that his cousin's complaints about the stethoscope always being freezing cold might just possibly be justified, because an icy stethoscope was, he knew, one of the simplest forms of medical revenge there was. He suspected Fraiser wasn't averse to bit of subtle 'pay-back' when O'Neill was being particularly belligerent towards her and her staff.

            “What?” Fraiser inquired, catching his smile. “Breathe out,” she instructed.

            “Revenge is sweet?” He suggested. The innocent expression on her face, accompanied by the knowing twinkle that flickered in Fraiser's eyes as she moved the stethoscope on his chest and requested he take another deep breath, quite eloquently answered his question.

            Although he was more than anxious to get things over and done with so he could get the heck out of there and start finding out exactly what had happened to his son, MacGyver endeavoured to be patient and not give Fraiser a hard time. The Doctor was, after all, only doing her job. And a very thorough one it was too. By the time she was done, Mac was positive there wasn't an inch of him that she had not meticulously poked, prodded, and closely inspected.

            As he was finally allowed to slip back into the infirmary garb and sat perched on the side-edge of the bed again, he watched Fraiser as she scribbled rapidly in the open folder some more. “Well, Doc... Ya' think I'll live?” He inquired.

            “Oh, I don't think there's any doubt about that,” Fraiser answered, still scribbling.

            “That mean I can have my clothes back?” MacGyver asked hopefully.

            “Ah, not just yet, Mac,” the good Doctor said, turning to regard him again. “I want some X-rays on that knee and- ”

            “The knee's fine, Doc. See? MacGyver protested, swinging his right leg gently in a demonstration of that statement. “I told you that already.”

            “I'm sure it is, given the way you came hurtling in here while ago, but I still want some X-rays,” Fraiser gave him a determined look.

            “Well if you insist, Doc, but- ”

            “Oh, I do insist,” Fraiser responded. She moved to where MacGyver was sitting and requested. “Now. Can I see that hand again, please?” She gestured to his left hand.

            MacGyver obligingly extended his hand, palm upward. The crystal embedded in his flesh appeared to be dormant.

            “This looks like it's embedded pretty deep...” Fraiser observed as she gently probed around the crystal with her fingers. “It's as if it's somehow fused with the very structure of your hand.” She looked up. “I think we should take a full scan of this, Mac, and I'd like a few samples of the tissue around it too. You okay with that?”

            “I guess,” MacGyver sighed. Much as he wanted out of there, he was curious as to what an MRI on his hand would reveal about the crystal.

            “Okay. We'll do that as soon as they're through with the Colonel,” Fraiser nodded, visibly relieved not to have a fight on her hands.

            “Speaking of Jack...” MacGyver regarded the petite medic. “He is okay, right?”

            “Amazingly so in view of what I've been told happened to him,” Fraiser said. “Actually, Mac, I rather wanted to talk to you about that. From what Captain Carter has told me, he was in a pretty bad way when you found him.”

            “Yeah, he was,” MacGyver admitted bleakly, wincing inwardly at the memory that flashed into his mind. He saw her incline her head slightly at him, her eyes encouraging him to continue. MacGyver just shook his head and looked away, sighing shakily as he did so. It was something he really didn't want to talk about.

            “Mac...” Fraiser's tone was business-like yet still kindly. “As you probably heard for yourself, all I got out of him was that he'd had a few bumps and bruises and broke his arm. None of which tallies with anything the Captain told me, or any of the reports that came through from Doctor Jackson while you were with the K'Rin'sha. And aside from clear evidence of some weight loss and that cast on his arm, there's not a mark on him that I've not seen before. Same as there's no sign of any of the scarring I expected to find on your leg.”

            “Yeah, I know,” Mac nodded, but refused to look at her

            “Mac,” Fraiser said patiently. “I can see it's something you're not ready to talk about yet and I'm not going to push you, but I need to know if- ”

            “There's anything to be watching out for,” MacGyver finished for her. He looked up and met her gaze again at last. He understood that she was concerned about post-traumatic-stress syndrome and the need to be alert for any tell-tale symptoms of that debilitating condition. “Don't worry, Doc. He'll be okay. I plan on being around for a while.” He looked away again.

            Fraiser frowned slightly at that last, slightly cryptic, to her at least, remark, but she nodded, deciding not to push it. She could see the man was starting to close off from her in much the same way as she was used to seeing Jack O'Neill close off whenever she touched on something he just did not want to discuss. Then she saw him seem to give himself a mental shake and come back from wherever he had been retreating to.

            “Sorry...” He smiled apologetically.

            “That's okay,” Fraiser reassured him. She reached out to gently touch his arm for a moment.

            “It's just...” he gestured helplessly, then Fraiser saw his gaze shift to the crystal embedded in his left hand. “He would've died if the K'Rin'sha hadn't given me this.” The crystal began to emit the softest of silvery-white glows.

            “Whoa...” Fraiser observed, clearly taken by surprise by the crystal's 'activity'.

            “It does that,” MacGyver said ruefully with a shrug.

            “Because... ?” Fraiser encouraged, her expression curious.

            “I have no idea,” MacGyver confessed, watching as the glow began to change to a soft green. “Ah. Now that I recognise. That's 'healing mode'.”

            “'Healing mode'?” Fraiser frowned, looking up. “Healing what? There's nothing wrong with you that I can see.”

            “Not me,” MacGyver shook his head slightly. “Jack.” He saw the look Fraiser gave him. “I know. I know,” he sighed, then added. “It also means I'll probably start getting hungry in while.”

            “So you're saying your metabolism increases when the...crystal...is active?” Fraiser frowned in scientific fascination.

            “I think so,” MacGyver nodded. “I've been eating like a horse the past few days but still- ”

            “You've lost the weight you were starting to put back on before you left. And then some,” Fraiser said pensively. She regarded MacGyver and met his dark eyed gaze. “I think we need to find a way of removing that crystal, Mac and soon.”

            “Yeah...” MacGyver said pensively.

            “What?” Fraiser asked. She hadn't missed his less than rampant enthusiasm for the idea.

            “Something Daniel said...” MacGyver murmured, staring intently at the crystal and starting to focus his mind. “Seeba too...”

            As Fraiser watched, the colour of the crystal's glow changed gradually back to silvery-white, then subsided gently until it was extinguished. To her astonishment, the crystal then seemed to slowly detach itself from her patient's flesh, to rest dormantly on his palm.

            “Did you just do that?” Fraiser inquired, looking up at MacGyver, her expression one of intrigued curiosity. She saw the man's concentration shatter, heard the soft hiss that escaped him and looked down at his hand again to see the crystal sinking back into his flesh where it began to glow a soft, greenish-white for a moment before going dormant. “Mac?” Fraiser questioned in concern as she observed that the man looked dazed. She quickly reached to check his pulse and found it was racing.

            “I'm okay...” MacGyver insisted, sucking in a couple of deep breaths.

            “You sure?” Fraiser was doubtful, but she could feel his pulse slowing, settling.

            “Yeah,” the man nodded and graced her with a positive smile. “Guess it's just not ready to part company with me yet. Maybe when the cast comes off of Jack's arm...” he frowned pensively. Then he regarded Fraiser. “You want to take those tissue samples now?” He inquired.

            “I'll do it now and the lab can get started on the analysis right away,” Fraiser told him.

            “When you're done, can I sit with Sam for while?”

            Fraiser was itching to start asking the myriad questions that were reeling around in her brain courtesy of what she had just witnessed. What she saw in the dark eyes being levelled at her however, made her decide they could wait.

            “Until the scanner's freed up, sure, Mac. I don't see why not,” she smiled in understanding. Then, moving to the end of the cubicle, she drew back the curtain, summoned a nurse and began to issue orders to fetch the various items she would require in order to obtain the tissue samples she wanted to take.

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

            Jack O'Neill bounced back into the main section of the infirmary, feeling rather pleased with himself. He had, quite successfully, managed to annoy the hell out of the on-staff radiologist and the scanner technicians who had performed the series of X-rays and scans on him that Fraiser had ordered. By the time he had finished with them, they had all but thrown him out on his ass and barely refrained from telling him never to darken their doors again. Definitely a job well done.

            He noted that the infirmary was now quiet and relatively deserted. The K'Rin'sha, Hammond, Carter and Daniel had all gone. A couple of confined-to-bed patients were still in residence and various members of Fraiser's staff were going about their sundry duties with quiet efficiency. O'Neill saw no sign of MacGyver, but the light 'buzz' on the very edges of his awareness told him he was still in the vicinity.

            It was at that point that O'Neill realised that Teal'c was still standing by the doorway leading into the side-ward where Sam Malloy was housed. The big Jaffa's demeanour was one which O'Neill recognised from experience. Teal'c was in 'protective' mode.

            “Hey, big guy,” O’Neill greeted as he headed over to the formidable-looking figure. “Whatcha' still doin' here? Figured you'd've left with the circus.”

            “Circus?” Teal'c raised an eyebrow, fractionally.

            “Never mind,” O’Neill waved a hand dismissively. “Mac in there?” He asked.

            “He is.” Teal'c inclined his head in affirmation. He watched O'Neill shift to peer past him into the room which he was guarding. Then O'Neill stepped back and regarded him as he observed.

            “I think the SFs can probably handle things here, Teal'c. The kid doesn't look like he's in any shape to try going anywhere for a while yet.”

            “I will remain and continue to offer my protection.” Teal'c stated with a determination O'Neill also recognised from experience.

            “Whoa, Teal'c. Back up. You wanna' run that by me again?” O’Neill queried, bestowing a slightly confused look on his friend. “Offer your 'protection'? Teal'c, this is the SGC. Whoever the hell the S.O.B. is who shot the kid, he can't get to him while he's in here.”

            “I cannot be sure of this, O'Neill,” Teal'c stated implacably. O'Neill stared, his confusion visibly growing.

            “Oh for cryin' out loud!”

            “Colonel Maybourne has access to this facility,” Teal'c interrupted flatly as if that statement explained everything.

            “Maybourne?” O’Neill's eyebrows shot up in surprise, but a darkly suspicious look entered his eyes.

            “What the hell has Maybourne got to do with it?”

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

            MacGyver sighed softly to himself as he watched his injured son shift restlessly. He did not miss the slight grimace that crossed the young man's features and knew that, despite the meds, it was pain that disturbed his sleep. He found himself thinking yet again about just how much he hated guns; about how he had lost too many people he cared about to the damn things over the years; about how close he had come to losing his son...

            Now that the initial panic and shock at hearing that Sam had been shot had faded to slow-burning anger and he knew that his son would heal, Mac found he was thinking more clearly about what had happened to him. He pondered on what Janet Fraiser had told him about Sam's injuries. Although he hadn't been listening too closely to a lot of what she had told him, his subconscious had absorbed much of what he had been too panic-stricken to consciously take in.

            Whoever had hurt Sam had not been using conventional ammunition. Whoever had shot him had used split-nosed ammunition, which was highly illegal. Split-nosed shells broke up on impact, fragmenting and causing considerably more internal damage to the human body than 'ordinary' bullets. As if 'ordinary' bullets don't do enough damage! MacGyver shook his head, unable to comprehend the mentality of a man who could use such a weapon against another human being.

            MacGyver knew Sam had been lucky. Incredibly lucky. Somehow the fragments from the 'doctored' bullet that he had been shot with had managed to miss anything vital, although the internal damage had still been considerable. Fraiser had told him one piece had just missed clipping a major artery; had in fact come to rest almost pressing against it. Another fragment had been perilously close to Sam's spine.

            But it all told MacGyver an awful lot. Split-nosed ammunition was specialist ammunition. One didn't just buy it over-the-counter at one's local hardware store. He was in the midst of pondering that fact when he heard the unmistakable sound of his cousin's voice raised in explosive fury.

            “SONUVABITCH!”

            MacGyver felt a surge of almost incandescent rage roar through his awareness, a rage that was not his own, though it added fire to his own quietly simmering anger over what had befallen his son. Even as Mac attempted to fend off the fury threatening to swamp his senses, he heard O'Neill uttering a stream of invectives, each more colourful and vicious than the one which preceded it. They all cast considerable doubt upon the lineage of someone called Maybourne, for several disreputable generations.

            “Dad...?” MacGyver somehow heard the uncertain query from his son despite the volcano in full eruption just outside the door.

            “'S'okay, Sam. Go back to sleep.” MacGyver urged, rising quickly to his feet and reaching out to rest his left hand gently on his son's chest. He saw Sam was struggling to open his eyes. “It's okay,” he reassured him. “I'm right here. Go back to sleep.” As he spoke, the crystal embedded in his left palm emitted a soft green glow. He paid it no heed though, being distracted as he was by the emotions continuing to wash through him from O’Neill, combined with the ruckus Jack was making and his own need to reassure his injured son.

            Sam made a vague sound and began to settle again, his eyes closing and his body relaxing. MacGyver watched him for a few moments, assuring himself that the young man was indeed sinking back into sleep, before he quietly drew back and headed quickly to the door.

            O'Neill was still cursing and had added back-and-forth pacing to the venting of his fury.

            “Jack, keep it down, willya'?” MacGyver requested tersely, jerking his head expressively in the direction of his injured son. O'Neill broke off in mid-expletive and spun around to look sharply at his cousin. Then he visibly took a deep breath and apology showed in his dark eyes.

            “How's the kid doing?” He asked.

            “Trying to sleep,” MacGyver responded pointedly. “What's got your cage rattled?”

            “We may have a lead on who did that to the kid,” O’Neill answered tautly. “C'mon,” he inclined his head in a distinct 'follow me' gesture as he turned away. “We need to find some clothes an' go have a chat with the General.”

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

            “Maybourne sounds like a piece of work,” MacGyver observed as the elevator doors opened and he followed his cousin inside. O'Neill had tracked down fresh fatigues for them both and, while they had swiftly dressed, the Colonel had filled Mac in on the subject of one Colonel Harold Maybourne, U.S.A.F. They were now en route to find and talk with General Hammond, having managed to escape the infirmary unchallenged: Fraiser having been called away to one of the labs by a med-tech and no-one else daring to attempt to stop the duo.

            “He's pond-scum,” O’Neill growled with much feeling as the elevator doors closed and he punched one of the buttons on the control panel. “No. I take that back,” he amended. “Comparing Maybourne to pond-scum is an insult to pond-scum. You've been around, Mac. You know what these 'dark-side' guys are like.”

            “Yeah,” MacGyver agreed, nodding slightly. He had encountered some distinctly unsavoury 'intelligence' types over the years one way or another.

            “I swear, one of these days I'm gonna' find out what rock that slime ball crawled out from under an' I'm gonna' bury him back under it, permanently.” O’Neill's tone and grim expression indicated that he meant every word.

            “Well, let's just find out what he has to do with this first, huh?” MacGyver suggested. “Sam's still too doped to make much sense, but he said something about some photographs he took.”

            “Yeah. So did Teal'c. Sounds like the kid caught Maybourne and Senator Kinsey with their heads together an' someone didn't like it,” O’Neill interjected as the elevator car came to a halt and the doors opened.

            “Senator Kinsey?” MacGyver frowned as he and O'Neill stepped out into the corridor.

            “Yeah. Another no-good, low-down, self-seeking rat,” O’Neill responded bitterly.

            “Kinsey... Kinsey...” MacGyver murmured pensively. “Isn't he on the military appropriations committee?”

            “Oh yeah,” O’Neill nodded, tight-lipped. “The sonuvabitch tried to shut us down earlier this year. We damn' near lost the entire planet to the Goa'uld because of that brain-dead, head-in-the-sand ass-hole.”

            “Yeah,” MacGyver interrupted the acidic tirade O'Neill was clearly about to launch into. “Daniel told me about that.”

            “He did?” O’Neill's surprise was evident in the change in his expression.

            “Yeah,” MacGyver confirmed. His tone suggested that Kinsey was unlikely to be making it onto his Christmas card list any time soon.

            The two men drew level with the open doorway to Hammond's office. A glance inside revealed the room to be empty, which surprised neither man since they could both hear the sounds of conversation emanating from the briefing room. Hammond's was one of the voices.

            The SF on duty inside the doorway of the briefing room did a double-take as the two cousins stepped past him. Neither O'Neill nor MacGyver noticed. Their minds were focused on rather more pressing matters.

            “Permission to barge in, General?” O’Neill inquired without breaking stride as he headed towards the group seated at the large conference table.

            “Come in, Colonel,” Hammond responded, endeavouring to keep a flicker of amusement at bay. His being in the middle of a conference had never stopped O'Neill from barging in in the past and he sincerely doubted it would stop his subordinate now. He looked over his shoulder and was not in the least surprised to see that the Colonel had company. “Mr. MacGyver,” he added with an acknowledging inclination of his head. “Take a seat, gentlemen.” He indicated the vacant seats at the lower end of the table.

            “Actually, General...” O’Neill began in a determined tone, making no move to take a seat.

            “I need to talk to you about what happened to my son, General,” MacGyver cut in. Like O’Neill he made no move to sit down. Instead he stood beside the seat in which Daniel Jackson was sitting. The archaeologist was near the top end of the table, in the chair immediately to the General's right. It was the seat O'Neill habitually occupied during SG-1 briefings and/or debriefings. Carter sat adjacent to Daniel, while Seeba sat directly opposite him and R'Fyaa was beside her. Alaeya sat beside the dark-robed man and little Melia was in the far corner of the room with Hammond's aide, Sergeant Davis, who was endeavouring to keep the happily chattering child occupied with a game on his computer screen.

            “So do I, sir,” O’Neill stated grimly, taking up a clearly supportive stance at his cousin's elbow. “Especially if Maybourne's involved.”

            “I realise you're busy, General, and I apologise if my timing here is lousy, but I need to know what happened with Sam and what's being done about finding those responsible,” MacGyver said. He had about him the aura of a man stubbornly determined not to leave until he had at least some of the answers he sought. “And Sam's not in much of a condition to tell me anything much right now.”

            “Me too, sir,” O’Neill threw in. His aura of determination matched MacGyver’s.

            Hammond was beginning to look irritable even though he understood how the two cousins, MacGyver especially, had to be feeling right about then. Before he could say anything on the matter however, Seeba announced with approving calm.

            “Which is as it should be.” Her sightless gaze alighted on the General as the man turned to look at her. “Blood is of great importance among the K'Rin'sha also. Perhaps, General Hammond, there is somewhere I and my companions might wait while you attend to this matter?”

            Hammond floundered for the barest of moments before regaining command of the situation. He aimed a look at MacGyver and O'Neill that dared either of them to argue with him. “My office,” he told them in his best 'command' tone. “Now.”

            “Sir,” O’Neill nodded, in a militarily respectful manner. He knew he and Mac had pushed Hammond as far as the General was going to allow them to push him and it was time to quit while they were ahead. He reached a hand to MacGyver’s and murmured his name quietly. “Mac...”

            “Thank you, General.” Appreciation showed in MacGyver's eyes and he nodded before turning to accompany Jack who was already beginning to move away.

            As MacGyver and O'Neill headed for his office, Hammond turned his attention back to the SGC's 'guests' and apologised to them for the interruption to their discussions. He then cordially invited them to remain where they were as he rose to his feet. “Doctor Jackson, will you look after our guests, please.” It was not a request however, but an instruction. Daniel, who was already halfway to his feet, sank back into his chair. His face radiated disappointment. “Captain Carter, my office,” Hammond went on to order before excusing himself to his 'guests' and heading purposefully towards his office. Carter shot to her feet, nodded politely to the seated K'Rin'sha and hurried after him.

            “Go, Young One,” Seeba told the quite discernibly unhappy Daniel Jackson.

            “But the General said...” Daniel began, his hands moving expressively. Being a civilian, following military orders was not his strong suit, but he had recognised Hammond's tone. The General had been in no mood to hold a debate.

            “I know, but it is a matter of Blood. You should be with them. Go on. We shall be fine.” Seeba's manner was kindly, but firmly insistent.

            “Ah ...Well... Er... If you're sure...?” Daniel was already halfway out of his chair again, but still clearly somewhat hesitant.

            “Go, Daniel. Your place is with the others right now,” Seeba insisted firmly. “Go,” she told him, making a distinct shooing gesture.

            Daniel needed no further encouragement. He went.

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

            “Close the door, Captain,” Hammond instructed as he stepped past the fidgeting duo already in residence in his office.

            “General, what-?” MacGyver pounced, clearly anxious to get on with things before Hammond even had a chance to park himself in his chair.

             “The hell happened with the kid?” O’Neill finished bluntly. “Sir,” he threw in as an afterthought.

            “Captain Carter?” Hammond looked to the young woman in question as she came to parade rest in front of his desk beside the men. He made a gesture that indicated that the floor was hers.

            Carter swallowed with sudden apprehension as two sets of hawk-like dark eyes fixed intently on her. She was just about to speak when Daniel slipped quietly into the room, clearly trying to be unobtrusive about doing so. Hammond however, didn't miss his arrival.

            “Doctor Jackson, I thought I asked that you- ” the General began, his annoyance at the much younger man's failure to follow orders apparent.

            “I, ah, need to be here, General,” Daniel interrupted with quiet determination. He crossed his arms across his chest.

            “General Hammond. Sir...” MacGyver's tone was taut with rapidly mounting impatience and he shifted with growing restlessness at the end of Hammond's desk.

            “How about we just cut to the chase here?” O’Neill suggested swiftly, but with more composure than he actually felt, as he recognised from experience that Daniel was going into stubborn mode and that the only way the younger man was leaving that room was if he was physically thrown out on his ear. He also knew that if MacGyver didn't start getting some answers and soon, the man was going to explode and it wasn't going to be pretty. He could feel the waves of tension emanating from his cousin. “Carter?” He prompted, looking to his second in command and ignoring the slightly irritable glare that Hammond was levelling at the room in general.

            Carter took a deep breath and launched into a succinct report on the events that had occurred at O'Neill's house the previous day.

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

            “That's Maybourne and Kinsey alright,” O’Neill confirmed grimly as he examined one of the several digitally enhanced reproductions of the two photographs that Sam Malloy had managed to salvage.

            “And it proves exactly nothing, Jack,” MacGyver pointed out, anger and frustration fairly oozing from his every pore as he leaned back against the General's filing cabinet and stared at the digital copy that he was holding. He looked at Hammond, who was sitting back in his chair, a grim expression on his face, watching them. “What do the cops say, General? Do they have anything?”

            Technically the incident at O'Neill's house was a civilian matter since it had occurred outside military jurisdiction, so it had had to be reported to the local civilian authorities and Hammond had duly done so. A couple of detectives had shown up at the front gates and Hammond had authorised Carter to go and give them a statement; a carefully worded statement. Indeed Hammond had spoken with the detectives himself and had assured them that though they couldn't speak with the actual victim of the shooting for the time being, he would see that they were sent at least an initial statement as soon as Malloy was up to making one and that they could speak to him in person as soon as he was able to leave the base infirmary to come up top to do so. The detectives had not been at all happy, but had realised that there was no way they were going to get past Hammond, or the base security, and had settled for making a lot of irate noise before heading back to town.

            “Nothing yet,” Hammond responded, his manner one of sympathetic understanding. He watched as the Phoenix operative's frustration bubbled over and the man spun around and slammed a fist into the defenceless filing cabinet.

            “Hey, that's government property you're damaging there, big guy,” O’Neill cast a glance at MacGyver. He rather felt like flattening something himself right about then, though Maybourne, rather than a filing cabinet, was more his idea of a justifiable target.

            “Maybe we'll find out more when Sam's, your Sam's, better able to talk to us,” Daniel Jackson offered, his tone reasonable as he watched MacGyver wincing and gingerly flexing his bruised hand.

            “So...” O’Neill vaguely flapped the photo he was still holding. “Do we have any idea when the kid took these?” He looked at Carter.

            “A couple of nights or so ago,” Carter answered.

            “Could I get a look at the original of that?” Daniel inquired, stepping forward from where he'd been standing by the door to the briefing room and indicating the photo O'Neill was still holding. It was Hammond who obliged.

            “And you've no idea who these guys were who attacked you?” O’Neill directed the question at Carter.

            “No, sir.” Carter shook her head.

            “What are you thinking, Daniel?” This question came from MacGyver, who had caught the expression that appeared on the younger man's face as he studied the picture Hammond had handed over.

            “Well, if this was taken only a couple of nights ago, then it had to have been taken- ”

            “Somewhere in the local area.” MacGyver bounced forward from the filing cabinet and slid smoothly past O'Neill to get to Daniel's side.

            “I already thought of that,” Carter offered as Hammond's black phone rang and he took the call. “The background looks familiar but I can't quite place it.”

            “It's that place you guys took me for my birthday!” Daniel cut in excitedly. “You know, that place out in the middle of nowhere.”

            “The High Winds Tavern?” O’Neill frowned, moving to peer over the archaeologist's shoulder.

            “He 's right, sir,” Carter said, also trying to peer at the picture.

            “So I go there and start asking a few questions,” MacGyver decided.

            “We go there and start asking a few questions,” O’Neill corrected. He looked to Hammond who was in the process of hanging up his phone again. “Sir, permission to- ”

            “Denied, Colonel,” Hammond interrupted. “The only place you are going is back to the infirmary. Both of you.” He aimed one of his more intimidating, I'm-the-guy-in-charge-around-here looks at the two men. Four sets of eyes stared in surprise at him. Then surprise changed rapidly to protest in the two sets of chocolate brown ones. Before anyone could do anything more than begin to make noises of indignant objection, Hammond rose to his feet and stated. “Doctor Fraiser didn't clear either of you to leave and she wants you both back in the infirmary.  Now.” His tone brooked no arguments. “Apparently some anomaly has shown up in your blood tests.”

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

            “Ah, gentlemen. There you are. Welcome back.” Janet Fraiser bestowed one of her more intimidating looks on her two errant patients as she saw them enter her domain. They were, she noted, accompanied by Sam Carter and two S.F.s. She smiled inwardly as she observed the S.F.s take up position by the infirmary door. The General, she mused to herself, was obviously taking no chances that O'Neill and MacGyver might a) fail to report to her or b) decline to follow orders to stay put until she cleared them to leave. It wasn't, after all, totally unheard of for O'Neill to go his own sweet way in the face of orders to the contrary. And MacGyver was a civilian. Civilians also had a tendency to go their own sweet way in the face of military orders, since they weren't actually subject to them unless there was a martial law situation in force.

            “I'm used to Colonel O'Neill trying to sneak off when my back's turned,” Fraiser scolded. “But somehow I expected better of you, Mac.” She fixed 'The Look' on the Phoenix operative. A distinct flush tinged the man's cheeks and he shifted uncomfortably like a naughty schoolboy caught with his fingers in the cookie jar.

            “It was important, Doc,” he endeavoured to mitigate.

            “So, what's all this about anomalies with our blood-tests, Doc?” O’Neill rescued his cousin. “Somebody screw up or what?”

            “Oh no-one screwed up, Colonel,” Fraiser reassured him, leading the way through the main infirmary to a small lab section. “I checked the results myself when they first came through.”

            “And?” It was MacGyver who prompted as he followed her into the small lab area with O'Neill and Carter in their wake.

            “And you both have in your blood, significant traces of a substance I have yet to identify.” The Doctor announced. She gestured to a microscope that was already set up with a slide. Carter promptly went to the microscope to take a look, while O'Neill slouched against a work-bench, hands in his pockets and a frown on his face. MacGyver hovered beside Fraiser, an expression on his face that was a mixture of impatience, concern and curiosity.

            “The same substance is also present in the blood samples our K'Rin'sha guests allowed us to take, but to a far greater degree,” Fraiser went on as Carter replaced the slide she was studying with another. “Oddly enough, Doctor Jackson's blood-work came back clear, as did that of the little girl, Melia.”

            “This looks similar to the blood-borne naquadah in Cassie's and my blood.” Carter looked up and round at Fraiser.

            “That's what I thought,” the medic responded. “But whatever it is, it's not naquadah. The tests came back negative.”

            “Can I take a look?” MacGyver asked, stepping over to hover at Carter's elbow. The Captain nodded and moved aside.

            “Is it harmful?” O’Neill wanted to know. To him, that was rather more important than knowing what the substance was.

            “Not as far as I can tell, Colonel,” Fraiser answered. “Curiously enough, there's more of it in Mac's blood than there is in yours.”

            “The crystal,” MacGyver announced suddenly, looking up from the microscope.

            “That's what I wondered,” Fraiser nodded.

            “What?” O’Neill said. Fraiser saw bewilderment cross his face.

            “Some form of neural transmitter?” MacGyver postulated, frowning pensively.

            “Neural transmitter?” This question came from Carter. She looked puzzled, but intrigued.

            MacGyver regarded her and explained the theory that Daniel had come up with about the crystal device being controlled by will-power exerted by the user. He displayed the crystal in his palm as he did so. It was glowing a very soft green colour again.

            “Wow...” Carter's eyes widened. She indicated his hand and enquired. “May I?” In response to MacGyver's nod of assent, she pounced on his hand for an up-close-and-personal look at the crystal. “Are you making it do this?”

            “Not that I'm aware of,” MacGyver confessed. “Although I'm inclined to agree with Daniel's theory, this thing also seems to have a mind of its own. Most of the time it seems to activate of its own accord, though I've been assured it gets easier to control with practice.”

            “That would make sense,” Carter nodded pensively. She looked around at Fraiser and O'Neill. “I have no control over that stuff we brought back from Cimmeria, yet I was able to fire that ribbon-device.”

            “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” O’Neill interjected dismissively. “What about the stuff floating around in our blood?”

            “The neural transmitter theory is as good as any,” Carter answered with the enthusiasm of a born-scientist hot on the trail of a good theory. “The substance may be necessary in order to facilitate the use of the- ”

            “Ah, much as I hate to rain on a good parade, Captain, might I point out that I don't have one of those crystal things,” O’Neill interjected

            “No, but you've had a lot of direct contact with one.” MacGyver waved his left hand, displaying the softly glowing crystal embedded there. “And Seeba keeps saying that you could use this.” As O'Neill stared disconcertedly at him, MacGyver continued. “In fact, you've had direct contact with several crystals. D'Maya and the other Healers all used crystal healing devices on you, admittedly with greatly varying degrees of success. This was the one you responded best to.”

            “Oh-kay,” O’Neill decided. “So we've both got this alien stuff floating around in our blood and it's got something to do with that, those, crystal whatevers.” He looked at Fraiser. “But it's not doing us any harm. Right?”

            “Not as far as I can tell,” Fraiser admitted cautiously.

            “And since Daniel and Melia don't have any of it, it's probably not contagious or anything. Right?” O’Neill pursued.

            “It doesn't appear to be,” Fraiser conceded.

            “Great. So Mac an' I can go now. Right?” O’Neill wanted to know, straightening and gesturing expressively as he did so. A chunk of the alien cast on his right forearm chose that moment to detach itself. Propelled by his movement, it flew the short distance to the bench beside which the others were standing, struck the door of a cabinet beneath the bench and disintegrated in a shower of fine grey dust.

            “Actually, Colonel, I'd rather you stayed in the infirmary a while longer,” Fraiser told him. “I have a few more tests I'd like to run.” O’Neill instantly began to protest, but Fraiser ignored him and turned to MacGyver. “And you, Mac, if I may remind you, are scheduled for some X-rays and a full MRI. We'll do those now.” As MacGyver began to add protests of his own to the rather more colourful ones already being voiced by Jack, Fraiser fixed one her most intimidating looks on the pair of them and quelled them both in one fell swoop by inquiring in a tone that indicated the implied threat to be no idle one. “Do I really need to get Teal'c to come sit on you both?”

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

            O'Neill shifted restlessly on the swivel chair, then rose to his feet and ambled quietly around the room, his hands stuffed in his pockets. He paused at the open door and looked out into the main body of the infirmary. He noted that SG-3 were in residence, undergoing pre-mission physicals that were being conducted with quiet efficiency by Fraiser's staff.

            Turning away after a moment with the intention of resuming pacing, O'Neill halted as he heard his name called. He looked round to see Robert Makepeace, the leader of SG-3 approaching the side-room. O'Neill gave him a 'What's up?' look.

            “How's MacGyver's kid doing?” Makepeace inquired, making a head-motion towards the room behind O'Neill.

            O'Neill didn't much like Makepeace, but the man was a damn good marine and a good man to have at your back in a fire-fight. O'Neill respected that, so, despite strong temptation to the contrary, he answered the man's query in a civil manner. “Doc says he'll be okay.”

            “Glad to hear it.” The marine nodded. “You tell MacGyver from me, he needs anyone's legs broken, SG-3's ready to oblige just as soon as we get back from P9G-485 tomorrow.”

            “Oh, I'll be sure to mention it.” O’Neill responded a tad dryly as Makepeace turned away to round up his team. “Not.” O’Neill added softly as soon as the marine was out of auditory range. If anyone was going to oblige MacGyver by breaking the legs of whoever the S.O.B. was who had shot Sam Malloy, it was going to be him, Jack O'Neill. The matter was personal and no jar-heads were invited to the party thank you very much.

            O'Neill returned to his young cousin's bedside, pulled the swivel-chair nearer, settled onto it again and wondered for the umpteenth time when Fraiser was going to allow him out of the infirmary. He glanced up at a wall-clock and wondered how much longer it was going to take for Fraiser to get through with the scans, X-rays and various other tests she was running on MacGyver. There were times when O'Neill could be patient. There were times when he could display patience a saint would envy. This, however, was not one of those times. He wanted to be doing something, anything, to track down whoever had hurt Sam Malloy. No-one messed with a member of his family without incurring dire consequences. O'Neill didn't care who they were. They were dead meat.

            A sound distracted Jack from the quietly simmering rage that he was inwardly stoking up. He looked to Malloy. The young man was stirring. He saw dark eyes blink open and fix on him as he moved closer so that he could be seen more easily. “Hey, kid. How're ya' doin'?” He inquired with congenial concern. He'd been shot enough times himself to have a pretty damn good idea of just exactly how the 'kid' was feeling right about then.

            “Little fuzzy...” Malloy answered, licking at his lips.

            “That'll be the meds. Bet you're kinda' thirsty too, huh?” O’Neill asked, reaching automatically for a glass of crushed ice that sat on a trolley beside the bed.

            “Hmmm...” Malloy nodded.

            With a gentle care that might have surprised anyone outside of his own team, O'Neill attended to Sam’s thirst, then set the glass of ice aside again.

            “Where's...?” Malloy questioned, looking around the room, his gaze becoming more alert.

            “Ah, your Dad's... ah... He'll be right back. Just stepped out for while. I said I'd keep an eye on ya' for him.” O’Neill exuded reassurance. “You just lie there an' take it easy. Okay? Or your Dad an' the Doc'll have my guts for garters.” He saw the hint of a smile that flickered across Malloy's face. Then he saw worry appear.

            “Jack, your house!” Malloy's distress was transparent. “I think it got trashed! I'm sorry, Jack, I...”

            “Hey, forget the house, kid. It was overdue for redecorating anyhow. Soon as the Doc throws ya' outta' here, I'll supply the paint an' ya' can get started.” O’Neill grinned. He saw Malloy relax and muster an attempted smile in return. He also saw San wince as he shifted position in the bed slightly. “Hurts, huh?”

            “Yeah...” Malloy admitted.

            “You want me to get someone?” O’Neill inquired.

            “No... Thanks...” Malloy shook his head. “I’m okay.”

            “Ya' sure?” O’Neill saw Malloy nod. Reaching out, he rested his hand on the much younger man's arm. Malloy shifted the limb slightly and reached for his hand. O'Neill smiled kindly and, recognising Sam's need, gently enfolded his hand in his own. “Try to relax and breathe slowly,” he advised. “It helps.”

            “It hurts,” Malloy contradicted.

            “Been there, kid,” O’Neill squeezed the younger man's hand. “I know. Believe me, I know.” He decided Malloy needed to think about something other than the hurt he was feeling. “Feel up to telling me what happened?” He asked.

            Slowly, Sam Malloy obliged, gently coaxed and encouraged along by the questions that the Air Force Colonel prompted him with from time to time. O'Neill displayed calm patience as he listened intently and continued to hold the younger man's hand. He also watched closely for the first indications that Sam was getting overly tired by talking and as soon as he saw them, he intervened.

            “Okay, Sam. I think that's maybe enough for now. You just leave everything to your Dad an' me. Okay?”

            “Hmmm...” Malloy conceded, yawning. Then he blinked at O'Neill and frowned. “Jack...?”

            “Yeah?”

            “Where exactly are we?” Malloy asked. “I know it's... military.” He tried to stifle another yawn. “But which base?”

            “Hey, I tell ya' that, I'll hafta shoot ya',” O’Neill quipped.

            “Somebody beat ya' to it,” Malloy retorted wearily in return.

            “Yeah.” O’Neill's expression sobered rapidly. An' they're sooo gonna' pay for it, he silently promised himself.

            “So... ?” Malloy pursued, blinking tiredly.

            “So for now it's not something ya' need to worry yourself about,” O’Neill answered. “All ya' gotta do is rest an' heal, an' do what the Doc tells ya'.” He gave Malloy's hand a reassuringly gentle squeeze. “Now, you gonna' get some sleep, or do I get someone in here to give ya' a shot of something?”

            “Ja-ack...” O’Neill found himself on the receiving end of a look that strongly reminded him of a certain archaeologist when said archaeologist was becoming particularly exasperated with him, usually over his failure to appreciate the wondrous significance of some particularly ugly old lump of rock.

            “Ah!” O’Neill brought his free hand up in a gesture that denoted further pursuit of the subject was going to get Malloy precisely nowhere. Sam, however, had inherited the family stubborn streak, not to mention his father's perceptiveness.

            “It's the Mountain... isn't it?” He asked, visibly struggling to keep his eyes open.

            “Ah!” O’Neill repeated, more emphatically this time.

            “Cool...” Malloy murmured in drowsy triumph. Then, as his eyes closed, he muttered. “Must be easier ways... to get a Press Pass... ”

            O'Neill stared, his jaw dropping slightly. It took him a moment to realise that the hand he was still holding had relaxed and that Malloy had quite unceremoniously just fallen asleep.

            “You're your father's son alright, kid,” the Colonel observed, shaking his head slightly as he carefully released Malloy's hand and manoeuvred it under the hospital sheet, which he then re-adjusted over Sam's bandaged chest in a paternal manner. “No doubt about it,” he murmured softly.

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

            Jack was fidgeting restlessly by his young cousin's bedside when the sense of 'a presence' accompanied by the unmistakable aroma of fresh coffee caught his attention. Looking round, he saw Daniel Jackson hovering in the doorway, a steaming mug clutched firmly in either hand. O'Neill cast a glance at Sam Malloy, assuring himself that he was still soundly asleep, before he rose and crossed to where Daniel hovered.

            “Hey, Daniel...”

            As usual, the archaeologist interpreted the inflection on those two simple words correctly. Whatcha doin' here?

            “Everyone's taking a break,” he said as he relinquished one of the coffee mugs. “So I thought I'd come and see what's happening up here. Are you and Mac okay? What was wrong with your blood tests?”

            “Oh we're fine, Daniel,” O’Neill endeavoured to alleviate the unmistakable concern that was being broadcast by the blue eyes that were regarding him. “Apparently we've got some wacky alien stuff floating around inside us. Doc thinks it's harmless, but she's taken more blood and God alone knows what obscure tests she's found to run on it now. An' Carter's having a field day with this stuff...” He made a gesture with his right arm. A faint cloud of grey dust accompanied the movement as more of what remained of the cast disintegrated as it rubbed against his partially rolled-up shirt-sleeve.

            “Hey, it's coming off. Your arm must be okay now then. Seeba said that's how we'd know you'd healed okay, the cast would flake off. Just like the one on Mac's knee did.” Daniel enthused with scientific fascination.

            “Yeah...well...it still itches like hell,” O’Neill grumbled. “You'd think a people who could make stuff that mends bones this quick could figure out a way of stopping it from itching while it's doin' it, wouldn't ya'?”

            Daniel drank some of his coffee in an effort to conceal a smile of amusement. “So... This stuff that showed up in your blood tests... Does Janet have any idea what it is?”

            “Nope. Big surprise there, huh? Since it didn't show up in yours, she an' Mac have some theory it's got something to do with that crystal he has. Something about a neurotic trans-something-or-other.”

            Daniel nearly choked on his coffee as his nimble brain tried to translate the O'Neill-ism. O'Neill solicitously thumped him on the back. Another fine cloud of grey dust filled the air. Daniel tried not to sneeze. “Ah... Neural transmitter?” He ventured as he rapidly devised and dismissed several possibilities from what he and MacGyver had already theorised about the K'Rin'sha crystals and how they functioned.

            “Yeah...Whatever,” O’Neill responded. He inadvertently waved his right hand around and another cloud of grey dust wafted through the air. Daniel sneezed and yelped as he slopped hot coffee over his own hand. O'Neill absently reached for and handed him some tissues from a box sitting on a unit beside the door.

            “So... I guess that means you and Mac are going to be stuck here for a while then?” Daniel ventured as he mopped coffee from his hand.

            “On the base at least,” O’Neill sighed heavily. After having drawn more blood from him and having subjected him to another round of assorted tests, Fraiser had told him he was free to leave the infirmary, but was restricted to the base until further notice. She had added that she would so inform Hammond. The implication had been that he could forget sneaking off anywhere, security would be on the alert for any such action on his part and the General would be royally pissed if he tried it. “Fraiser's people are still poking and prodding Mac. Thought they'd've been finished with him by now, but knowing Mac, he's probably thinking up a whole loada' new tests for 'em to try!” He shook his head despairingly and began to mutter uncomplimentary things about scientists in general, in between taking some sips of coffee from the mug clasped in his left hand.

            “How's...?” Daniel distracted O'Neill with the question and a tilt of the head in Sam Malloy's direction. As the Colonel turned to regard the sleeping Malloy, Daniel ventured nearer the bed for a better look at the pale-faced figure occupying it.

            “Asleep. He was awake for while earlier. Managed to tell me a bit about what happened,” O’Neill said, keeping his voice low so as to avoid disturbing Sam as he moved to stand beside Jackson. “You were right about the 'High Winds Tavern', Daniel,” he said. “Sam did take those photographs there. Seems he stumbled over Kinsey and Maybourne by accident. He'd been out taking some general scenic an' wildlife stuff most of the day, an' stopped at the Tavern to grab something to eat on his way back to my place. He recognised the Senator, knew he was reportedly in Wyoming on vacation, naturally wondered what he was doing here in Colorado instead and decided to take a few snaps on the off-chance he'd stumbled over something he might get a story out of. On his way out, a coupla' goons tried to kick his head in in the parking lot, but he got away. Sam seems to think they were the same guys turned up at my place yesterday.”

            “Look... Jack...” Daniel began pensively, chewing at his bottom lip. “Since you and Mac look like being stuck here for a while, why don't I take a drive out there and ask some questions? See if I can find out something about- ” he offered.

            “No! No way, Daniel,” O’Neill interjected, shaking his head. “You're not going anywhere near these people!” O’Neill was emphatic as he ushered Daniel away from Sam Malloy's bedside so that the young man wouldn't be disturbed by the erupting disagreement. He just knew that Daniel was going to argue with him. He wasn't disappointed.

            “Teal'c could go with me,” Daniel said reasonably, clearly confident that he'd be perfectly safe with the big Jaffa along to ride shotgun.

            “Ohhh not a chance in hell, Danny-boy,” O’Neill was adamant. He gave his team-mate and friend one of his best 'quelling the troops' looks. It never failed to work on military subordinates. Jackson, however, was not military. Nor did he consider himself subordinate.

            “Hey, I'd be perfectly safe if I took Teal'c along with me.” Daniel was not yet ready to give up, despite the aura of military menace being levelled, full-blast, at him.

            “You'd be perfectly safe if ya' took Teal'c along where?”

            The stubbornly persistent archaeologist and the darkly glowering Air Force Colonel looked round to find MacGyver standing in the doorway, regarding them both with an expression of intrigued curiosity. There was, however, something about the look in his dark eyes that suggested he had a pretty shrewd idea of exactly what he'd just interrupted.

            “I was right about where Sam, your Sam, took those pictures of Colonel Maybourne and the Senator, Mac,” Daniel jumped in immediately, eagerly.

            “And Sherlock here wants to go out there and nose around,” O’Neill said. His tone indicated his low opinion of the notion. As did his expression.

            “No way,” MacGyver shook his head. He clearly shared O'Neill's opinion.

            “That's what I said,” O’Neill said, glowering at Daniel.

            “Hey, look, guys. With Teal'c along, I'll be fine,” Daniel insisted. “We could even take a couple of zats with us, if that'd make you happier about it.”

            “Uh-uh,” MacGyver shook his head. “No way, Daniel. If the guys Sam tangled with are N.I.D., or some other shady government department, I don't want you going anywhere near them. That's my job.”

            “Ma-aac...” Daniel protested in a tone that suggested he had expected rather more support for his proposal than he was receiving from him.

            “He's right,” O’Neill said determinedly. “You're gonna' stay outta' this. Anyone goes out after these guys, it's gonna' be us.” He indicated Mac and himself.

            “Ja-ack,” Daniel protested, exasperated.

            “The Doc cleared you yet?” O’Neill ignored Daniel in favour of MacGyver.

            “No,” the Phoenix operative sighed heavily, his frustration evident. “Confined to base, just like you.”

            “Damn!” O’Neill swore. It looked like he and Mac were going to be sitting around on their butts, twiddling their thumbs, for a while longer. The idea did not appeal to the Colonel in the least. His need to be doing something was not diminishing with the passage of time.

            “So Teal'c and I- ” Daniel began, endeavouring to be the voice of logic and reason. As one, O'Neill and MacGyver fixed steely-eyed looks on him and chorused emphatically.

            “No, Daniel.”

            “We'll ah, just sit tight then, I guess...” Daniel flinched back from the twin glares being levelled at him.

            “No offence, but...” MacGyver began, his expression softening as he saw the younger man's reaction.

            “I'm just an archaeologist,” Daniel sighed, frustrated. “So naturally I can't be trusted to...”

            “It's not that at all,” MacGyver shook his head. “I know you can take care of yourself and handle dangerous situations, I've seen you do it. And we both know you wouldn't be on Jack's team if you couldn't. It's just...” He seemed to flounder as he tried to find the words to express what he wanted to say without causing offence.

            “I'm not Black Ops like you guys.” Daniel met the Phoenix operative's dark eyed gaze.

            “Hey, we all got our own fields of expertise,” O’Neill interjected, his dark eyes eloquent as Daniel's gaze switched to him. “An' yours is old rocks an' makin' nice with natives, not tangling with dark-side guys like whoever tried to take out Carter an' Sam.”

            “No better, no worse, just, different,” MacGyver added. His eyes pleaded with Jackson to understand that he meant him no disrespect and that while he appreciated Daniel's willingness to help, he wasn't prepared to allow the archaeologist to expose himself unnecessarily to the risks that might arise from pursuit, no matter how carefully undertaken, of the men who had injured Sam Malloy.

            “So... You're both just going to sit around and do what? Nothing?” Daniel regarded the two older men with open scepticism.

            “No. We're going to see if we can get some I.D. on these guys,” MacGyver smiled.

            “We are?” O’Neill aimed a sharp, slightly surprised look at his cousin, even as Daniel stared open-mouthed at the Phoenix man.

            “Uh-huh,” MacGyver's smile grew. “And all we need is Carter and a computer terminal with a hook-up to a secure line.”

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

            General George Hammond watched the defensive iris of the Stargate snap shut. SG-3 had just gone off-world on a scheduled mission and Hammond had taken the opportunity of the break in talking with the visiting K'Rin'sha delegation to see the team of marines depart.

            “Inform me when SG-3 checks in,” he told the Duty Controller, who nodded and responded with a crisp.

            “Yes, sir.”

            Hammond made his way to the stairs that led up to the briefing room and his office. He had just reached the top of the stairs when he saw O'Neill, MacGyver and Samantha Carter entering the briefing room. O'Neill was leading the way. The other two, following close on the Colonel's heels, appeared to be deep in discussion about something.

            “Gentlemen...Captain...There something I should know about?” Hammond inquired, noting the purposeful aura surrounding the trio. “Where's Doctor Jackson? I thought he- ”

            “Daniel's keeping an eye on young Sam while Teal'c does that Kel'no'reem thing for a coupla' hours, sir.” It was O'Neill who answered. A light cloud of fine grey dust erupted as he jerked a thumb in his cousin's direction. “Mac's got an idea for maybe getting some I.D. on our dark-side guys while we're waiting for the Doc to clear us to go off-base.”

            Hammond ignored the latter part of O'Neill's pronouncement, which he knew fine was the Colonel's idea of expressing subtle annoyance at being confined to base by Fraiser when he'd much rather be out breaking heads. The part about MacGyver having an idea on how to I.D. the perpetrators of the attack on Malloy and Carter, however, piqued his interest. He looked inquiringly at MacGyver.

            “Oh?”

            “The Phoenix Foundation's 'Facefinder' program ought to be able to help us out, sir,” MacGyver took over. “Several police departments here in the U.S. currently use it as a matter of routine and even some agencies in Europe have taken it on board too.” Hammond saw him gesture towards the far corner of the room where his aide, Sergeant Davis, was busily working at a computer terminal. “Jack said I could use the computer system. May I, General?”

            “By all means,” Hammond made a 'go-ahead' gesture.

            MacGyver headed in Davis' direction. O'Neill, Carter and the General trailed after him. Davis looked up quizzically as he realised a crowd was forming around his desk. At a slightly dust-enhanced gesture from O'Neill, the Sergeant quickly relinquished his seat. Dubious concern crossed Davis' face though when MacGyver, rather than O'Neill, settled into his vacated chair.

            “Sir?” Davis directed the anxious query at Hammond.

            “It's alright, Sergeant,” the General assured him calmly. Davis nodded and visibly relaxed. His anxious expression was replaced by one of curiosity, but he kept any questions he had on what was going on to himself.

            “I'll get you into the system, sir,” Carter volunteered, stepping up beside MacGyver with the intention of entering her access code into the computer.

            “Oh that's alright, Sam. I think I'll manage,” MacGyver answered, his fingers already busy on the keyboard.

            “Oh.” Carter looked slightly stunned and took a sudden step back as the legend 'Authorization Code Valid, Access Granted' flashed up on the computer monitor in place of the SGC logo that Davis had activated when he had, moments earlier, cleared the screen of what he had been working on. Sergeant Davis looked equally stunned and his jaw dropped. He shot a look at Hammond, who shook his head in return and made a hand gesture that clearly said 'Stand down, Mister'. Davis duly stood down, but made no attempt to hide his surprise at having just witnessed a civilian sit down and gain immediate and easy access to one of the most highly secure computer systems on the planet.

            Carter, hearing a quiet chuckle from O'Neill, looked to her superior and saw a broad grin spreading across the Colonel's face.

            “Give Mac a computer, an' he'll give ya' a serious run for your money, Captain,” the Colonel remarked, his dark eyes twinkling with amusement at her reaction to MacGyver’s deft entry into the highly-secured computer system. He looked to Hammond and thought he detected a faint smile attempting to break out on the General's face. He also noted that Hammond didn't seem quite as surprised as Carter or Davis. It occurred to him that perhaps Hammond knew, as he himself did, that MacGyver's unusually high, for a civilian, security clearance with the military, allowed the Phoenix man access to rather more than just certain highly restricted military bases when necessary. But that was classified information, so O'Neill kept his thoughts on the matter to himself. If the current company were not all privy to it, then he wasn't about to enlighten them.

            “You wanna grab a seat, Sam?” MacGyver said, tapping rapidly at more keys on the terminal before him. He glanced up at the hovering assembly. “This could take a while, folks,” he added. His tone and his expression, was unmistakably a polite suggestion that they all go away and leave Carter and himself to get on with the job at hand.

            Hammond took the hint. “Advise me when you get anything,” he instructed. He then consulted his wristwatch before looking to O'Neill and saying briskly. “I have some time before my next meeting with our K'Rin'sha guests. Step into my office, Colonel, and we'll debrief on your last mission.”

            “Now, sir?” O’Neill was caught flat-footed.

            “Now, Colonel,” Hammond confirmed, his tone indicating that he was not about to hold a debate on the matter. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw MacGyver look sharply around at O'Neill. He also saw his second in command flash a look back at MacGyver. Just exactly what it was that passed between the two men in that fleeting moment eluded him, but he sensed it was something fairly significant. He decided that it might not be appropriate to delve into it right at that moment, so he pretended not to have noticed it and turned to MacGyver. “Mr. MacGyver, we'll debrief later after you're done here and I've had my next meeting with our guests.”

            “Yes, sir.” He saw the Phoenix operative nod. He also saw his eyes flicker past him to O'Neill, before MacGyver returned his attention to the computer monitor as the logo for the Phoenix Foundation came up on the screen along with a request for a security access code. Once again Hammond had the strangest feeling that he'd both witnessed and yet missed, an entire conversation between the two men. He refrained from commenting however. Instead he gave O'Neill a 'follow me' look, before turning and heading in the direction of his office.

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

            Arms folded across his chest, Daniel Jackson chewed pensively at his bottom lip as he stood beside the sick-bed occupied by Sam Malloy. Keeping watch over ailing members of your family is definitely becoming a habit of late, Daniel found himself musing as he studied the sleeping features of the younger man. First it was your father, then it was Jack, now you. And Jack has the nerve to call me a trouble-magnet! Daniel shook his head slightly and smiled at that last thought. Then he sighed softly as he recalled the numerous times he had found himself waking up in the infirmary to discover a worried Jack O'Neill keeping a watchful vigil over him.

            Movement distracted Daniel. Glancing round, he saw a male nurse enter the room, armed with a clipboard. Daniel moved out of the man's way as the nurse began to check some of the monitors that young Malloy was still hooked up to.

            “You're new here, aren't you?” Daniel asked after a moment.

            “Sir?” The nurse looked round.

            “It's just I thought I knew most of the infirmary staff,” Daniel said. He'd spent plenty of time there after all, one way or another. He didn't know why, but he was suddenly feeling oddly ill at ease.

            “Oh. Yes, sir. Just transferred in, sir.” The nurse said courteously as he produced a syringe and administered the contents into Sam Malloy's I.V. line.

            “Ah... What's that you're giving him?” Daniel asked, frowning curiously.

            “Just antibiotics, sir. Nothing to be concerned about.” The nurse assured as he withdrew the syringe and recapped the needle.

            “Uh-huh,” Daniel nodded slowly. He just couldn't shake the odd feeling that something here was not all that it seemed. There was no apparent rationale for the feeling. Perhaps I've just been hanging around Jack O'Neill too long, he thought to himself. He watched the nurse as the man gathered up his clip-board and exited the room.

            On impulse, Daniel moved to the door. “Ah... Excuse me,” he quietly addressed the SF who was standing guard just outside. “You know that guy?” He inclined his head in the direction of the nurse who was making his way across the main body of the infirmary in a purposeful manner.

            “He's one of the infirmary staff, Doctor Jackson,” the SF answered, frowning, clearly puzzled by the archaeologist's inquiry.

            “Then you've seen him around before?” Daniel pursued, frowning as he continued to watch the nurse in question, who appeared to be heading for the main exit.

            “Well... Er...” the SF began uncertainly.

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

            “Okay,” MacGyver said as he reset the Facefinder program. “Two down, one to go.”

            “I really didn't get that good of a look at the third guy, S...Mac,” Sam Carter said apologetically, correcting herself last-minute to address the Phoenix operative by his name instead of as 'Sir', again. “I only glimpsed him from a distance.” She leaned forward to scrutinize the two computer generated hard-copy images that were resting on the desk beside the keyboard MacGyver was using. “But these are definitely the two guys who attacked Sam and I inside the Colonel's house.”

            The man beside whom she sat had talked her patiently through her memories of the two gunmen, meticulously coaxing her to remember details she'd had no idea she'd even registered. He had then manipulated the computer program to piece those memories together and she had been amazed to see how uncannily accurate the resultant images were that had slowly developed on the screen. When she had finally been satisfied with the results of each, MacGyver had saved then printed hard copies of them.

            “What say we give it a shot anyway?” MacGyver suggested. “You remembered more about those two,” he waved a hand at the hard-copies, “than you thought you did.”

            “I know, but I got a good look at both of them,” Sam responded. She looked at her companion, saw the encouragement in his eyes, took a deep breath and told him positively. “Okay. Let's give it a shot.”

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

            Meanwhile, in General Hammond's office, the General was patiently listening to Jack O'Neill's debriefing report on events on P4X-994 and was mostly allowing the Colonel to relate those events at his own pace and in his own way. O'Neill had just reached the part about being captured by the Ha'gell Goa'uld and taken to their encampment.

            Hammond noted the blank mask that crept across O'Neill's face and the restless way in which the man's fingers were twitching. He also noted the bleak expression that crept into his subordinate's dark eyes as his gaze seemed to fix on a point in space somewhere behind him.

            “Go on, Colonel,” the General encouraged. “Then what?”

            “Oh, you know, sir. The usual, tell us what we want to know or we beat the crap outta ya' stuff.,” O’Neill's face was giving nothing away. “They didn't seem too impressed with the standard name, rank and serial number stuff either.” The Colonel's gaze refocused on Hammond. “Things are a bit fuzzy for a while after that, but then Mac and SG-1 turned up, pulled me outta' there, an' the rest ya' probably already pretty much know, sir.”

            Hammond noted that the fingers of O'Neill's left hand had strayed to niggle at the alien cast on his right forearm and said cast was slowly disintegrating under the grim onslaught. He decided to let it pass without comment. He also decided, for the moment, to let the Colonel away with the neat gloss-job he was trying to pull about being tortured by the Ha'gell Goa'uld. The General fixed a business-like, yet also understanding look on his subordinate, which he knew fine would warn the Colonel that he knew when he was hearing a snow-job and they'd come back to that aspect of the man's report later.

            “Humour me and tell me the rest anyway, Colonel.”

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

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