TITLE: The Quality of Mercy
AUTHOR: ELG
CATEGORY: Action/Adventure, Drama, Angst.
SPOILERS: Major spoilers for Jolinar's Memories/The Devil You Know. Minor Spoilers for other first, second, and third season episodes up to 'Jolinar's Memories' and 'The Devil You Know'.
SEASON / SEQUEL: Season 3, second half. Takes place after 'The Devil You Know'.
RATING: R
CONTENT WARNINGS: Violence. Language. Physical and emotional cruelty to SG-1. Attempted rape of a major character. Description of a medical procedure performed upon a major character. Mention of previous minor character(s) death(s). Some romantic implications in relationship between Sam and Martouf. Plus, Jack and Daniel hold a few rather dubious conversations. Basically every member of SG-1 is traumatized and/or physically damaged in some way during the course of this story. On the upside, Daniel is naked for one scene, and SG-1 do all briefly wear pyjamas.
SUMMARY: Daniel's ill treatment by the priests of Onuris causes Jack and Teal'c to forget their own compassion. Unable to escape from a hostile world, it becomes increasingly apparent that SG-1 is trapped within a self-fulfilling prophecy of which only they are ignorant. But will their attempts to evade the wrath of a vengeful Goa'uld, free the people from a false god, or only bring about their own deaths?
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Many thanks to Cathy for pics, vidfiles, feedback, and editorial help; to the angelically patient Sue and Judy B for the medical beta (the medically correct bits are due to them, the mistakes are entirely my own work); to Anna, Bri, Cheryl, Joyce, Judy B, Judy M, Lisa D, Paula, Pen, Phee, and Sharon for their feedback and editorial help; to Holly who kept 'encouraging' me to finish it when I sneaked off to write other things; and to the lovely boys of the NG for advice on the way real men feel about glass-topped coffee tables (amongst many other useful pieces of information). Special thanks to Ranger Bob for the list of things we might find in SG-1's black vesty things. And, as always, particular thanks to my super-beta, and separated-at-birth-twin, Brenda, without whom my life would be so much poorer I don't even want to think about it, no story would ever get written at all, this one would still be a couple of chapters on my HDD.

Click to see collage created by Bri

Prologue

Colonel Jack O'Neill could feel faint vibrations from the old ship shivering through his injured leg as he breathed in deep draughts of air that smelt of metal, unwashed bodies, his own dried blood, and, most overpoweringly of all, relief. After so many hours in the noisome pit of Netu, a little honest human sweat smelt good to him right now, and even a thrumming pain in his staff-weapon seared leg just felt like fate's way of telling him the Goa'uld hadn't got them this time.

He felt he had good reason for celebration. They were all alive against all the odds. They'd completed their mission and more, and, anyway, how many men got to say they really had been to hell and back? This was definitely one for those memoirs he was never going to write that even if he did no one would ever be able to read.

The pain in his leg was lessening a little now too. Although the adrenalin of their escape had begun to ebb, the stuff he'd been given by Martouf's buddy was starting to kick in. So although he could still feel it, a wave of tingling that came in through the sole of his foot, traveled along his nerves and then flared at the wound before easing off again, it was growing fainter each time, like waves hitting a beach with less and less power as the tide receded.

O'Neill shifted, trying to get his leg more comfortable. Having first tended to Carter senior, Aldwin, the Tok'ra with the interesting bruise on his face, had given O'Neill something that he said had analgesic and restorative qualities, before wandering off a little dazedly to have another conversation with Teal'c. Teal'c really seemed to have impressed Aldwin, and not just with the power of his haymaker. O'Neill recognized the signs with a slight smile. He'd seen it so many times before.

Every now and then some other SG team asked to borrow Teal'c for a mission, and they always came back with that look on their faces; respect didn't really begin to cover it, it was more like embryonic hero-worship. O'Neill always got a kick out of how impressive Teal'c could be to the unsuspecting and then he got an extra kick because Teal'c was on his team. Now he came to think about it, people who saw Carter in action either in the field or when she got started on astrophysics tended to take a step back in amazement too, so he could get a little smug about having had the good sense to pick her for SG-1 as well. (And okay, he hadn't exactly 'picked' Carter, but nevertheless she was on his team now, and he was damned well taking the credit for it.)

As for the third member of his team, well, most of the other SG Teams didn't really 'get' Daniel. They liked him and respected him but they didn't really understand him and they seemed to be under the impression he'd be a lot of hard work to keep in one piece, and his team-leader might get a little tetchy if they allowed any harm to come to him. O'Neill couldn't think where anyone had got either of those ideas from, but as they prevented too many people putting in requests to borrow SG-1's anthropologist when they'd carelessly allowed something to happen to their own, he was quite happy for those unjustified rumors to stay in circulation.

At this moment, despite the dull ache in his injured leg and the sulfur fumes still coating the back of his throat, O'Neill was feeling particularly proud of SG-1. He was also starting to think that there were worse things than discovering he was redundant. Well, maybe not redundant, but discovering that sometimes his team could manage pretty well without him. He'd always had faith in his kids, of course, but all the same it was nice when they managed to surprise even him.

For instance he still had no idea how Teal'c had managed to outwit two gunships in a clapped-out tel'tak that could only run on half power, but the Jaffa seemed to have taken that in his stride. The same way he had taken shoving Aldwin into the cargo hold before maneuvering the ship into the exact position to save all their butts in his stride. The Tok'ra had come up with a feasible plan to blow Sokar straight to a hell that sadistic Goa'uld hadn't had custom-designed, and Aldwin had carried it out even in the teeth of Teal'c's quite formidable opposition – which, now it hadn't gotten them all killed after all, O'Neill was perfectly willing to be impressed by.

Carter had coped admirably with having a father dying in a place of eternal damnation while simultaneously juggling her own bad memories and someone else's, and had figured out a way to bust them out of jail free. No more than he'd expect of her, of course, but still nice to have it confirmed that when the chips were down his team could exceed even their ever-optimistic colonel's expectations. Then Martouf had managed to fake out Apophis very nicely – and that boy was full of surprises because up until then O'Neill hadn't thought the Tok'ra even knew how to cry.

Even Daniel, whom O'Neill would have half-expected to crumple from the strain of seeing Carter so upset, and Carter senior so clearly dying, and O'Neill having got shot right in front of him, and having the screams of the damned resounding in his ears for all those hours, had managed to hang on in there. He'd done a pretty good patch up job on his commanding officer's leg despite the fact his commanding officer had not been in the most co-operative of moods at the time. O'Neill had an idea he might have called Daniel a very bad word when the guy was binding up his leg. Still, what the hell, it had hurt and Daniel had pulled that damned tourniquet so tight and okay…he'd done it right and O'Neill had only snapped at him because he was pissed with himself for getting shot when they really all needed to be able-bodied if they were ever going to get out of there in one piece, but then, Daniel was a smart guy, O'Neill was sure he could work that out without needing an actual apology.

O'Neill was still a little surprised that Daniel hadn't started to lose it in that Pit because injured teammates and people being tortured all around him tended to eat into Daniel like an acid spill. And then, of course, having that confrontation with Apophis certainly couldn't have been easy for him, not to mention the little detail of having hallucinogenic glop poured down his throat so he could be made to relive an old memory…All in all, he would have half-expected Daniel to have been brought back to them pretty much a gibbering wreck. But the guy had managed to grab that communication device somehow, had helped him out of their dungeon and kept in touch with Teal'c so that their escape could be coordinated with the split second timing it needed, and hadn't even looked like falling apart.

In fact, thinking it over, the only member of SG-1 who had made no real contribution to their escape was Colonel Jack O'Neill himself. Although he had got himself first zapped by a ribbon device, and then shot by a staff weapon, with great efficiency, and had possibly stopped Daniel from losing it by making bad jokes at inappropriate moments to shock him back to the here and now, he hadn't done a lot else.

O'Neill closed his eyes and was immediately overwhelmed by a memory of the subterranean tunnels of Netu. Already coated with sweat, and the grime starting to settle on him like flies on a corpse; the stench of what was undeniably fire and brimstone in the air, chemicals clawing at his larynx, and that sudden emergence into a cavern like a Hieronymus Bosch painting. Tiers of suffering stretching apparently up to infinity as the red dark gave way to a red light still very much the color of blood.

He wasn't expecting the Damned to be the most civilized people he'd ever encountered, that was why he'd insisted Martouf let him and Carter bring their sidearms, but even he hadn't been prepared for this. He looked up, saw how many men, and the kind of men, they were dealing with, and realized he hadn't brought enough bullets. He was very aware of Carter appearing to be the only woman who existed in this place as anything other than a disembodied scream and his heart started to sink like an elevator going down. Then he noticed some big ugly hairy guy with a whole bunch of big ugly hairy friends looking Daniel over like he was the dessert tray, and the elevator became a cable car in free fall. Nothing like enough bullets and how the hell had Martouf persuaded him to come down here without Teal'c?

He couldn't protect them. There were too many bad guys and only one of him. He didn't have enough bullets. And he couldn't protect them.

That was the moment of realization and even now, safe on the tel'tak knowing that every one of those denizens who'd looked at his teammates and liked what he was seeing was incinerated in the fireball the Tok'ra had made of Netu, memories of that moment could still chill him.

When, a minute after Carter and Daniel had been thoroughly ogled, Bynarr had blasted him with the ribbon device then ordered them to be thrown into the Pit, it had actually come as something of a relief.

From then on it had been a series of the kind of events he liked least: people coming and taking members of his team away, and him not being able to do a damned thing to stop it. There was one hell of an irony about Apophis having saved Carter's life like that. O'Neill and the Snake God could now be said to go way back and if their grudge match wasn't quite up to the one Apophis had going with Daniel, no one could have called them the best of chums. The fact Apophis had saved one of O'Neill's team-members from what could definitely be designated 'certain death' was something O'Neill was really going to get a kick out of…in a few months time maybe, when the thought of how near Carter had come to being ribboned to death by Bynarr had stopped scaring the shit out of him quite so much.

He looked across at his so-nearly-ex-teammate then, just to reassure himself that she was indeed alive and well. Alive anyway. He wasn't sure how well anyone could be after having to go through what Jolinar had endured, even second-hand. And the trouble was it didn't feel second-hand when you had one of those memory devices stuck into your brain; it felt like it was happening now and to you. And given what kind of stuff Jolinar had been put through after her capture, that added up to a whole lot of bad memories for Carter which she was now going to have to carry around with her as well as her own. Like some difficult stepchild you really didn't want to take responsibility for. (And why was that making him think of Daniel, he wondered?)

O'Neill gave his head a shake to clear it, glancing back across at Carter while trying not to seem too anxious. She looked tired and more than a little frail. And grubby. O'Neill hadn't noticed how dirty they all were until now and looked down at his arms in mild surprise. That certainly wasn't his usual skin color. Well, he was giving Carter ten minutes when they got back to base then it was his and Daniel's turn to hit the showers. Actually, knowing Carter she'd probably want to scrape some of this gunk off their skin and stick it under a test-tube just in case Sokar had managed to synthesize some really interesting nasty chemicals on his little hell-away-from-home. Still, it was probably just as well O'Neill had got himself shot in the leg because at least that gave him a good reason to ask General Hammond to stand them down for a few weeks; which would give Carter a chance to take that vacation with her father. Although he hoped Jacob had been kidding about Alaska because O'Neill had been there twice before and unless you were really into getting frostbite it definitely sucked.

Aldwin had given Jacob a whole load of something restorative for Selmac before packing him off to a bunk, and Carter and Martouf were talking quietly in the corner about things O'Neill certainly didn't want to overhear. He'd worked out what Jolinar had done with Bynarr to get out of Netu, and knowing how the memory device worked that meant Carter had probably experienced every detail. Not something he wanted to think about and…

There were so many things he didn't want to think about. He'd worried a little that if by some slim chance they survived this trip, he might have childhood fears of the Hereafter awoken. The burning fiery furnace and the worm in the eye playing through his dreams the way they had when he was eight years old, and his own belief system was still influenced by some lingering remnants of his grandmother's faith. But he supposed he should always have known the hell you carried around with you would be the one there waiting for you in Sokar's life-sized mock-up.

Hell, for him, was always going to be the game of catch he'd never got to play with his son. Angry words he couldn't call back now, however many times he willed them never to have been said. He didn't know if it made it better or worse than even with that Blood of Sokar stuff inside him to cloud his mind, he'd known Charlie was dead. But he'd been prepared to bargain with his ghost, was still seeking absolution from his shade even now. He'd thought it was Sara's forgiveness he'd needed, but she had forgiven him, looked him in the eye so he could read for himself how she didn't blame him, hadn't left him because their child was dead, but only because when their child had died he hadn't allowed them to be any help to one another, and what kind of a marriage was it where you weren't allowed to help each other? And because she still loved him, she'd even forgiven him that as well. He'd always known she was way too good for him but it had taken Sara twenty years of marriage to realize she deserved better than he could offer her.

But it was only after Sara had granted him the absolution he'd thought he was seeking that O'Neill had realized the truth: that he still had that hole inside him only someone else's forgiveness could ever fill. It was then he'd realized whose forgiveness it was he'd always needed. But Charlie had never regained consciousness. Never had and never now could forgive him. And perhaps Apophis had stumbled on his enemy's Achilles' heel by chance, but he'd got it terribly right all the same. There was almost nothing Jack O'Neill wouldn't have done to obtain that longed for absolution from his dead son.

His leg was hurting again, a spiteful throb, purring and jolting in time to the tel'tak. How come the good guys always got the worst equipment? How come Sokar had ships with cloaking devices and the Tok'ra couldn't even run to one that had suspension? And…

And Daniel had been very quiet since they'd got back to the ship. Like eerily quiet. And if he was asleep – which was perfectly possible – that was fine, but if he wasn't…O'Neill cleared his throat before saying quietly, "Daniel?"

There was a long pause before he heard that, "Yes?"

"Nothing. Just wondered if you were okay?"

"I'm okay."

Yeah, sounds like it, Daniel.

At least he knew where the guy was now. Daniel hadn't moved from where he'd put himself when they first got back; up and directly behind O'Neill where he couldn't possibly see him unless he taught his head how to revolve. But Daniel was clearly not okay because if he was he would be sitting here with him, fussing over his leg, and the only reason he wasn't sitting here with him, fussing over his leg, was because his hands were obviously shaking too much for him to want O'Neill to see them.

O'Neill sighed. Daniel being quiet was never a good sign; it meant he was thinking. And if he wasn't thinking about how terrible a place Netu was and how nearly they had all died and how all those people had died – which would be his first guess – then he was probably thinking about whatever memory Apophis had been tormenting him with when he'd questioned him.

Thinking back, O'Neill realized he must have been drifting in and out of consciousness a lot while his teammates were being interrogated. It hadn't just been the Blood of Sokar still fizzing through his veins, but also the pain and blood loss from when Apophis' thugs had decided to do a little impromptu doctoring of his injured leg. The combination of faintness and nausea kept overwhelming him and then darkness would intervene for a while. It had been very disconcerting.

Apophis' heavies would come along and drag someone away and he'd still be in the middle of worrying about them when he'd wake up from having passed out again and find that he or she had been returned – usually in slightly shabbier shape than when they'd been removed – and another of his teammates had been taken away instead. Carter had come back that first time thinking she'd condemned her father to death. Martouf had come back crying for crying out loud, crocodile tears as it turned out, but still very unnerving. And Daniel…He had no memory of Daniel being taken away, just a vague recollection of waking up to hear Martouf asking why, when he thought he knew the address of the Tok'ra resistance, Apophis wanted to question Daniel at all? And that was when it had clicked into place what Apophis was after: the boy. Amaunet's child, or Sha're's child, the Harsesis who he'd told Daniel they could go look for next mission out.

His guts had turned over in that moment because he'd realized Apophis had no reason to feel well-disposed towards Daniel. When Apophis was dying, Daniel had told him he'd never find the boy; and then Daniel had taunted him with Amaunet's death only a few short hours before…

That was the point at which he'd started to feel relieved Apophis had found the memory device on Carter. Terrible as it had been to see Charlie again and know it wasn't Charlie; even though it had been like having his heart ripped out slowly, he was still glad that this was the route Apophis had chosen to make them talk. Because O'Neill hadn't even wanted to think about what the Snake God might have done to Daniel if there hadn't been this method so invitingly to hand. 

Which wasn't to say Daniel might not have preferred to be conventionally tortured. At the time when he'd been having to say 'no' to his dead son all over again, O'Neill had thought being sawn in half slowly would have had to hurt less than this; but at least when they'd shoved Daniel back into the cell with them he'd been on his feet and not bleeding. He'd looked a little dazed but then Daniel sometimes looked dazed on a good day, and none of them had come back exactly firing on all cylinders after having their brains screwed with by Apophis. Of course, the really big surprise was that Daniel had managed to grab back that communications device; a feat so sneaky that O'Neill was still impressed by it even now.

There had been no time to ask Daniel anything then because O'Neill seemed to remember all hell really had started breaking loose right after that, and he'd had to concentrate all his efforts on trying not to slow Daniel down too much as the guy helped him hop his way back to those nifty little ring things that might or might not be sending them straight to Sokar. So, there hadn't really been a moment before now in which he could say, "So, Daniel, which bad memory did you get to play with?"

Going by those fragmented murmurings from Carter and Martouf, not to mention his own experience with the Blood of Sokar, Apophis had chosen a moment of great significance between the one he was questioning and the person they loved or trusted most. So Carter had been forced to relive the moment when she'd forgiven her father for his part in her mother's death, and O'Neill had seen Charlie again, so real and so alive it was impossible to believe that this was just a figment of his imagination, that this child he missed so much was just a tool through which Apophis was hoping to destroy the Asgard. And Daniel…

Well there really wasn't any need to ask the guy what Apophis had put him through because O'Neill would have laid any money it was something to do with Sha're. Apophis would have had Sha're come and ask Daniel to tell him where her son was – just about the last thing in the world Daniel needed to hear right now. And, God, Daniel hadn't told her – or rather Apophis – had he?

"Daniel…?"

"Yes, Jack?"

Daniel sounded so weary. Not just with him – although that too, which was a little worrying, O'Neill had used to talk to his father that way when the guy was being particularly wearing – but with everything.

"Come and talk to me."

That wasn't what he'd been intending to say at all, but it seemed to work better than a more considered statement. He heard the soft thud of Daniel's feet hitting the floor and then Daniel was crouching next to him, looking anxious. "Are you okay? Is it that Blood of Sokar stuff? Are you still getting flashbacks?"

"Are you?"

"What?" Daniel had his dazed face on again. O'Neill knew the archaeologist was a clever guy, but Daniel sure didn't look it when he was wearing that expression.

"Are you getting flashbacks? You've been very quiet."

"No." Daniel folded his arms protectively across his chest, but then had to unfold them almost straight away to put his right palm back against his clearly aching cheekbone. "Are you?"

"No." O'Neill squinted in the low light, peering at Daniel's face. "Did someone hit you?"

Daniel shifted uncomfortably and there was another memory he could have done without. Did someone hit you, Charlie? Is someone bullying you? What happened to your allowance? How did your coat get torn like that? Charlie never would tell him who it was. He'd fought his own battles. And maybe O'Neill had never been a match for a really determined ten year-old but he was damned if he was going to take that kind of crap from Daniel. "Who hit you? Was it Apophis?"

"What does it matter?"

He hadn't been prepared for that response. "What?"

"Well what are you going to do, Jack? Go back to Netu and yell at someone? They're all dead. Apophis is dead. Sokar's dead. Everyone's dead."

Sha're's dead. O'Neill moistened his cracked lips before saying carefully, "We're not, Daniel. We're all alive, thanks to you."

Daniel's turn to frown. "Thanks to me?"

"You got the communication device back. Without it we'd be dead."

"I lost the communication device, Jack."

"You didn't lose it. It was taken from you." You didn't lose Sha're, Daniel; she was taken from you.

"So now you're going to nitpick over semantics?"

"I didn't lose you and Carter when Apophis had his goons come and grab you, I had you taken from me. It really pissed me off, but it wasn't my fault. You see the difference?"

Daniel gave him one of those sideways looks O'Neill had learned to hate; this was the expression Daniel always wore just before he said 'Checkmate'. "And that would be why you don't feel bad about it at all, would it?"

O'Neill heaved his best long-suffering sigh. "Why did Apophis hit you?"

"Because he was pissed off with me because I wouldn't tell him where the boy was. The guard hit me because I hit him."

"And you hit him because…?"

"I needed him to hit me back."

"Okay. That makes perfect sense. When they were hitting you, was it with really big clubs, maybe? The kind that cause permanent brain damage?"

Once Daniel had unwillingly made him a proper explanation in his best I-really-shouldn't-need-to-tell-you-something-this-obvious mutter, O'Neill did agree that Daniel's plan had made some kind of sense. Not a lot of sense, but a small amount of it. And the fact they were all now alive instead of all now dead lent an extra bit of weight to Daniel's argument that it had actually been rather a good plan. But he did wonder why it was all Daniel's cunning plans always seemed to involve Daniel risking his neck or getting hurt.

Daniel briefly took his hand away from his face again and O'Neill winced at the bruise coming out across the younger man's right cheekbone. It was a dull reddish-purple at the moment but it was going to be spectacular. O'Neill was going to be hobbling around on crutches for weeks and Daniel was going to be sporting a cheekbone that looked like it had been danced on by the Bolshoi in hobnailed boots, and the one of them who had probably had the worst time, Carter, wasn't going to have a scratch. Which didn't mean she was going to shake this off overnight. Experiencing someone else's torture at what must have felt like first-hand wasn't something you probably got over in a hurry, whereas having to carry around a memory of having sex with Bynarr…

O'Neill shuddered. Every time he closed his eyes he saw his son again, and when he could wrestle that image away, he was back in that red-lit chamber with those men eyeing up Carter and Daniel and him knowing there wasn't a damn thing he could do to stop them. And oh God, they would have made him and Martouf watch it, and it had all been too damned close…

"You okay, Jack?"

Daniel sat down next to him so they were shoulder to shoulder, the way they'd been down in that Pit, and now, as then, it was obscurely comforting. In a place like that he'd wanted Daniel under his eye, anyway, just so he knew he was safe, but it was probably the first time he'd also taken comfort from knowing that Daniel was close at hand to take care of him . He tried not to lean on Daniel too often in case the younger man couldn't take the weight, but it seemed to have done Daniel good to have O'Neill relying on him, had given him a focus, a way to keep his mind concentrated on something other than what a terrible place they were in and what terrible things were happening all around him. O'Neill wondered if he ought to lean on Daniel a little more often from here on in.

He almost said, 'I'm fine, Daniel,' the way he always did but then decided to be honest. "I don't suppose any of us are going to shake this one off in a hurry. Let's face it, this wasn't a fun trip."

He looked at Daniel to check his reaction and saw how upset he looked. Okay, perhaps Daniel hadn't been ready for quite that much honesty; perhaps a bad joke would have been a better idea. Daniel said tautly, "Jack, would you mind doing me a favor?"

"For you, Daniel? Anything." He said it with a grin, trying to lighten the atmosphere a little.

"Ask me where Sha're's son is."

"What?"

"Ask me where Sha're's son is."

"But you already told me. I know where he is. Daniel, I promise you, next trip out we're going to go and take a look at…"

"Jack!"

Daniel was all scrunched up inside, he could tell now he really looked at him, like his guts were clenched into a fist, trying to will the words out of him. Why ever it was Daniel needed this from him he obviously needed it badly, and ten minutes ago.

O'Neill said quickly, "Daniel, what's the name of the place where Sha're said Amaunet took the boy? She took him to a planet, right? Tell me where it is."

Daniel swallowed. "I already told you."

O'Neill frowned at him in perplexity. Daniel was gazing at him like a dog desperate to be taken for a walk and that fist was clearly still clenched in his viscera. Okay, so Daniel obviously still wanted something from him but he couldn't tell him what, O'Neill had to guess, and he was way too old for this shit, but…"Tell me again?" O'Neill pressed.

It was obviously the right thing to say because Daniel relaxed and said, "Kheb, Jack. Sha're said Amaunet took him to Kheb."

"Well thanks for reminding me. Can't think how I came to forget that." O'Neill looked at him curiously, itching to ask Daniel what the hell that was all about but knowing this wasn't the right moment. "You okay now?"

Daniel nodded and put a hand back to his face. O'Neill frowned and looked up as Aldwin came back into the bay. "You got any more of that painkiller stuff?"

He'd actually wanted the medicine for Daniel, but Daniel interpreted his request as the proof O'Neill was feverish and in pain and needed the dressing on his leg changed. By the time O'Neill had argued with him unsuccessfully on all those points, been forced to drink more Tok'ra glop, and then taught Daniel some brand new words as he was having his bandage changed, Daniel was looking a lot happier, as well as having had his vocabulary expanded, which, for a linguist, was probably always an extra bonus. O'Neill was also pleased to see an exhausted Carter had gone to sleep with her head on Martouf's shoulder, so that was two of his team in better shape than they'd been an hour before, and Teal'c was presumably happy as well, continuing to display his proficiency in flying tel'taks by taking them back to Vorash, where, hopefully, they could 'gate home and get back to the infirmary. He'd never thought he'd be glad to see the infirmary, but compared with Daniel after an Air Force First Aid refresher course, Janet Fraiser was Florence Nightingale.

"Will you stop with the fussing already, Daniel? I swear you are turning into my mother."

Daniel fastened the new bandage Aldwin had supplied with what was definitely over-finicky neatness and then sat back on his heels to look intently at his handiwork. "So Apophis is definitely dead, right?"

"Daniel, he transported up to Sokar's ship; a ship we saw get blown to pieces."

"There were transportation rings on the ship. He could have transported to Sokar's planet. He could still be alive."

O'Neill grimaced. It was difficult holding a conversation with someone who kept staring fixedly at your bandaged leg and having no expression to his voice while he was asking you if the person who had ruined his life forever was definitely dead this time. Even forty-eight hours before, he would have said, 'Trust me on this, Daniel, the guy is toast,' but for some reason he couldn't say that today.

"Well, let's look at it logically. Apophis went up to see Sokar armed with false information about the Tok'ra resistance. If Sokar bought that crock Marty sold Apophis, he may have made Apophis his representative on Netu, in which case, Apophis could have been free at the time the bomb hit Netu, and he could have made it to the transportation rings. If that happened – and presuming Sokar didn't do the same thing and really is dead – Apophis now has access to a sarcophagus and the remnants of Sokar's power base, in which case I'm sure the Tok'ra will hear about it very soon and pass it onto us. More likely, Sokar didn't believe him and was in the process of killing him when the bomb hit Netu in which case Apophis is now dead and we don't need to worry about him any more. Either way, sooner or later, I'm sure we'll find out. And if he didn't die this time, he'll die next time. But, personally, I think he's dead. I think we got him and I think he's dead."

Daniel was looking at him in surprise; clearly appreciating not being fobbed off with a platitude this time but equally clearly not too sure why he'd been given the grown-up treatment. O'Neill felt a twinge of guilt as he saw Daniel's expression. Did he usually treat him like a child then? No. Definitely not. An annoyingly smart kid brother, maybe, but not a child.

He had a sudden memory of Hadante. The four of them trapped in a prison with the scum of the galaxy prowling around on the lookout for fresh meat. There had been times when it had felt as if every eye and every erection in the place was turned in Daniel's direction. And what had O'Neill said to him? How had he clued Daniel in on their current situation and the specific danger he was in from these people? Oh, Danny…? You've got to trust me on this…Signs of weakness are not a good thing in prison…Well that had been clear and straightforward, hadn't it? Oh yes, and he'd taken Daniel's glasses off. Thereby making Daniel look so much less vulnerable, of course. It had probably stopped Daniel noticing the way all those guys with hard-ons were looking at him but other than that he didn't think it had done a whole lot of good.

Daniel said, "Thank you, Jack."

"You're welcome." He answered him automatically, not even sure what Daniel was thanking him for, brain still whirring in a way which said it didn't give a damn how tired the rest of him was it wasn't going to be shutting down any time soon.

Why hadn't he told Daniel the truth on Hadante? Why hadn't it occurred to him even for one second to just tell Daniel the real reason why they had to get the hell out of that place before he and Teal'c got so tired they had to sleep and so left him undefended?

Because you don't tell children about things like that. You protect them from finding out about things like that. You want them to hang onto their innocence for as long as possible.

That wasn't fair. Daniel being innocent was something everyone acknowledged. It was part of what made the guy special and he wasn't alone in wanting Daniel not to lose that aspect of his personality. It had nothing to do with him treating Daniel like a child. Which he didn't, in any case. And never had. After all, no one could accuse Teal'c of treating Daniel like a son substitute and Teal'c hadn't told Daniel what the guy had tried to grab him for on Hadante, had he? He'd just hauled the son-of-a-bitch off him and started squeezing his windpipe until his eyeballs popped.

No, because you'd made it clear you didn't want Daniel clued in, hadn't you?

And why the hell were those little voices in your head never on your side?

Anyway, if he had ever treated Daniel like a child, Daniel would have been sure to mention it. This was, after all, a guy who despite knowing twenty-three languages had never been able to grasp the concept of 'shut up' in any of them.

God, you never show me any respect!

And on a good day you can be a little…ignorant and condescending…

Okay. Okay. There had been the occasional complaint. But on both of those occasions Daniel had not been himself. And even then, with his brain screwed up by that damned sarcophagus or those stupid plants… I'm going to stick around and work on this quarantine thing with plant boy here...Okay, that had possibly been edging towards what could perhaps be called 'condescending' but the plants had been screwing with his head too. And the point was surely that even then Daniel had never actually said: 'Stop treating me like a surrogate son, Jack.'

He opened his mouth to say, "Daniel, have I ever treated you like a child?" but then closed it again. What if Daniel said yes?

When he tried to discern any year-old resentment on the younger man's still-grimy features he found Daniel oblivious of his concerns and looking across to where Carter was asleep. Daniel lowered his voice to murmur, "Do you think Sam's going to be okay?"

Sticking to his new policy of total honesty, O'Neill realized the truthful answer to that question was, 'I have no idea,' but he figured Daniel might have had enough honesty for one day and went for the kinder option instead. "She's going to be fine, Daniel. She and Jacob are going to go do some serious bonding while I'm hobbling around at home getting bored, and she is going to be fine."

Daniel took a last look at Carter then glanced back at the white bandage around O'Neill's leg as though it was some fascinating artifact in need of translating. "And are you going to be okay?"

"You already asked me that. Twice."

"You didn't answer me. Twice."

So Daniel had noticed that then? Damn. It was getting harder and harder to get things past the guy these days. "I'll let you know, Daniel," O'Neill said quietly. "I'll let you know."

***

"Jack…? Jack!"

Daniel was calling his name. They were holding Daniel down, shredding him, tearing into him; every now and then O'Neill would catch a glimpse of flesh, hear another blow, grunts of pleasure, thick laughter, while Daniel struggled desperately to no avail, screaming for help over and over, louder and louder. He was trying to get to Daniel, fighting to get loose and help him but that damned rope around his neck was squeezing the breath from his body…

"Damnit, Jack, wake up !"

He gasped into wakefulness to find Daniel using one hand to shake him with and the other to clasp across his mouth. The palm of Daniel's hand tasted salty – like you'd expect if he'd been rubbing the heel of his hand into his eyes to stop tears. God, Daniel had been crying?

O'Neill stared intently up into Daniel's face. Daniel did look distressed, it was true, and his eyes were suspiciously bright but there were no tear tracks on his face so…O'Neill became aware of the pinched wet feel of his own skin, the sting of drying tears overlaid by new trails of dampness. Suddenly the expression in Daniel's eyes began to make sense. Daniel was overflowing with compassion, not sorrow.

The hand was taken from his mouth and the water bottle proffered instead. Daniel's hand was a little shaky O'Neill noted clinically; more surprisingly, so was his own.

Daniel said quietly, "I think you may have a fever, Jack. You keep having these…awful dreams."

O'Neill took a deep swig from the water bottle and then wiped his mouth. "I don't remember them."

Glancing up at Daniel as he handed him back the water, O'Neill read in those blue eyes that Daniel had overheard way too much; shared pain that hadn't eased O'Neill's burden one little bit but had just dumped a whole load of crap on Daniel.

Although on waking he had been vaguely aware of a jumble of images, those had gone now, all he could remember was the last one, the one he really hoped Daniel hadn't heard enough to understand, and oh boy, looking at his expression, Daniel had both overheard and understood.

"Martouf said you should take this." Daniel was putting something in his hand, a white tablet.

O'Neill took it, washing it down with more water – was he ever going to drink enough water to wash the sulfur burn of Netu out of his lungs? Daniel moved to sit next to him so their shoulders were touching again. He spoke in a low voice: "Jack, if anything should ever…happen to me on a mission, you know it wouldn't be your fault."

"It might me by my fault, Daniel. If I screwed up and took you into a situation where you got hurt or killed, that would be my fault."

He was aware of Daniel shooting him a worried sideways glance. The younger man had his arms wrapped around himself to keep the rest of the world out and some comfort in. He wondered why the hell Daniel kept using that trick when he must know damn well by now it never worked.

Daniel said quietly, "Then let's just say I wouldn't blame you. If something happens to me on a mission, whosever 'fault' you want to think it is, I don't blame you for it. I forgive you in advance, Jack. I am offering you unconditional absolution."

He'd been begging Charlie for his forgiveness, saying he'd play catch with him, answer him anything, if Charlie would just tell him he forgave him. Daniel must have soothed him back to sleep since then. Which was when the second lot of nightmares had started, the ones back in the Pit and oh boy…he must have been calling out to Daniel, telling those men to let him go, to stop before they killed him, threatening them, pleading with them, begging them…Oh Christ, he still didn't know how much Daniel knew about that kind of stuff. Back on Hadante Daniel had been almost scarily clueless. This time he wasn't so sure. There had been a moment on Netu when he'd thought Daniel had understood the look in that ogling bastard's eyes, but he'd hoped he was mistaken.

Why? Still want him to be innocent more than you want him to be safe, O'Neill?

How would Daniel knowing what they wanted to do to him have made him any safer? Those sort of people could smell fear half a mile off. All being scared gets you in a place like that is dead.

So does being ignorant.

O'Neill moistened his cracked lips, very aware of the tears drying on his face, of the realization Daniel had been trying to stem the flow of them with his hands while pleading with him to wake up and shut up before he woke the whole damned ship. He took another sip of water but it didn't help.

Daniel spoke again, "And even as I'm giving it to you. Even as I am giving you my unconditional absolution for anything that might happen to me while I am under your 'protection', I know it isn't going to help. Because the person you have to square it with is such a mean, grudging son-of-a-bitch who has never cut you an inch of slack since the day you were born."

O'Neill looked up in surprise. He had never said word one to Daniel about his father. Or was Daniel going cosmic on him here, was he talking about God?

Daniel turned and looked at him then, saying intently, "I'm talking about you, Jack. You were a wonderful father to Charlie and he loved you. He would have forgiven you in the blink of an eye and you've always known it. The person who can't forgive you for what happened to him was always called Jack O'Neill. And he's the same guy who won't give you any peace if anything happens to Sam or Teal'c or me, but we don't want him on your case because of us. We never have and we never will. We like you way more than he does and we know you'd never let any of us down. If we die then it'll be because there was nothing you could do to save us." Daniel averted his eyes then and ran a hand through his hair. He spoke so quietly O'Neill could hardly hear him. "You know the best peace you could probably give Charlie is to stop torturing the father he loved for something which was never his fault."

O'Neill wondered if there was anyone else he would have sat there and taken that from without lashing out. Even now, and even though this was Daniel, and a Daniel who was a breath away from crying just out of compassion for him, there was a part of him that wanted to hit the guy for even saying Charlie's name to him. What made it worse was that of course Daniel knew that and had known it before he ever opened his mouth and didn't even care if he hit him or not. Which was another reason, of course, why hitting Daniel wasn't an option, which made everything he'd just said that much more annoying.

O'Neill said softly, "Do you know what my last nightmare was about?"

"Yes."

"About what those guys were doing to you?"

"Yes, I got it. I expect everyone else got it too, but it still didn't happen." Daniel reached across and took the water bottle back from him, not quite a snatch, but as close as someone like Daniel probably ever came. He gulped down a mouthful quickly.

O'Neill waited until Daniel had finished swallowing, wanting him to hear what he had to say. And not just because he wanted to punish Daniel for what he'd said about Charlie – although maybe that was part of it as well – but also because he thought it was about time they both looked this possibility in the eye. Time to start treating him like a grown-up, right? "But it could have happened."

"But it didn't!"

O'Neill reached out and grabbed him by the shoulder, digging his fingers in to make Daniel turn his head and look at him. He repeated the words carefully, "But it could have happened, Daniel."

"It still wouldn't have been your fault and I still wouldn't have blamed you for it, and I would still have wanted you to have a life afterwards."

"Even if you didn't? Even if yours ended there, like that, in that stinking pit, with a whole bunch of stinking men holding you down and…?"

"Yes, Jack. Even then. There is no way that anyone can kill me that I will blame you for it, okay? Sometimes people just die and it's nobody's fault. And I don't ever want you to wake up screaming because of me. I don't ever want to be part of the stuff you do to yourself. So, when you're totting up the list of Bad Things you have done that you deserve to suffer for, you can put any damned name on that list you like, however insane it might be, except mine. You have to promise me you'll never put my name on that list."

There was a long pause before O'Neill took the water bottle back from Daniel's hands and took another swig. "Don't die, Daniel," he said with a shrug. "Because that is the only way to keep off that list. Don't get yourself killed, or maimed, or tortured, or…whatevered and then I can't blame myself for it, can I?"

Daniel groaned and banged the back of his head gently against the embossed rim of the first tier of seating, gold hieroglyphs beating a faint tattoo onto the back of his skull. "You are such a stubborn unreasonable son-of-a-bitch sometimes."

O'Neill shrugged. "Sorry, Daniel, nice try but this one's on you. You don't want me to wake up screaming because of you, don't give me any cause to."

"Can't we just agree that if it happens, I won't blame you and you won't blame me?"

"But I will blame you, Daniel, and I'll blame me too, so don't let it happen and then I won't have to."

Daniel closed his eyes and shook his head. O'Neill smiled then because he didn't get to win arguments with Daniel very often but they both knew he'd won this one; which wasn't bad for a man wrestling with nightmares and fever and a staff weapon burn to his right leg. "Face it, Jackson, you are way out of your league here."

"But I'm right," Daniel protested faintly. "And we both know it."

O'Neill's smile got wider. "And since when has you being right ever made any difference to me? If I let a little detail like that start influencing me who knows where it would end?"

"Actually I was wrong once tonight," Daniel said conversationally. "You're a stubborn unreasonable son-of-a-bitch all the time."

"And you wouldn't want me any other way."

Daniel gave him a look that spoke volumes.

O'Neill shifted uncomfortably under that withering gaze. "Well, okay, maybe you would. But tough."

A proper little smile from Daniel at last. Good. He'd been thinking Daniel was never going to smile again. Daniel was dropping his head a little to try and hide it, not wanting to give O'Neill the satisfaction, but he'd seen it and he knew what it meant. Daniel was going to be okay. Carter was going to be okay. And Apophis might have bequeathed them a whole bunch of new bad memories as his parting gift to them, but hopefully that snake was finally dead this time, which had to help a whole hell of a lot, right?

O'Neill said quietly, "Yes, I am, Daniel."

Daniel gave a little jolt beside him and he wondered if the guy had just been drifting off. If he'd been keeping him up with his nightmares, he was probably tired, but still it had to be said.

"What?"

"You asked me if I was okay? Yes I am. We're all alive and I'm okay."

Daniel said drowsily, "Well I'm really tired, Jack, so shut up and let me get some sleep, will you?"

O'Neill realized that Daniel had managed to have the last word yet again. Then a heavy weight on his left shoulder told him Daniel had fallen asleep on him, which these days meant Daniel was feeling either very insecure, very protective, or was just so damned tired he didn't care where he was. Probably a mixture of all three in this instance. O'Neill looked around for a jacket to drape around him, realized there wasn't one within snagging range and so settled for putting his arm around his shoulders instead. Perhaps Daniel wasn't the only one feeling insecure and protective because he found it very comforting to have the guy under his hand like that. It had to be harder to have a nightmare about someone being dragged away from you and killed when you could feel his breath against your neck the whole time.

When he closed his eyes, he could still see Charlie standing there with that water-pistol in his hands, but he was damned if he was going to let Apophis hurt him with that image. His son hadn't been so very clear in his memory in a while now. He could actually remember the way his bangs had been cut so unevenly, that little overbite, the way he spoke, the fresh clean smell of him even, and that was a good thing, right? Because he sure as hell didn't ever want to forget one detail of the way his son had been. And the other stuff was just a combination of a slight fever and the after-effects of not having been able to protect Carter and Daniel; but actually Carter and Daniel had done fine without him, and Teal'c had done fine without him, and everything was okay. And what was more he'd decided that he now knew the definition of a successful mission for probably the first time in his life.

The fact they'd managed to save Carter's father, kill Apophis and blow Sokar out of the sky, well that was just the icing on the cake; that didn't make for a successful mission. The point was that they'd been to hell and come back from it, alive, in one piece, and pretty much the same people they'd been when they left, and maybe it was the age he'd got to now or maybe he'd just learned to expect less from life, but he now believed that any mission where he could check those three boxes could be counted as a success.

It was only as he drifted back to sleep that it occurred to O'Neill that whatever good they might do or aims they might accomplish, it also meant that any mission where he couldn't check those three boxes, would have to be counted as a failure.

***

Part One

As the Stargate dematerialized behind him, Daniel noticed what appeared to be a building a few hundred yards away up a short incline. There was a heavy mist rolling out from the trees which obscured much of the surrounding landscape, but the stark lines of the structure still emerged from wraiths of ground cloud, at once forbidding and magnetic. Cursing the mist, Daniel pulled out his binoculars. Even through the haze he could see the building was an odd mixture of pyramid and ziggurat, strongly suggestive of some cultural cross-pollination in the distant past. He adjusted the focus, trying to see if he could make out the markings on the walls but although there was clearly something inscribed upon the jointed blocks, with the mist still rolling in like a wolf pack, he couldn't tell if they were hieroglyphs proper or a cursive derivative.

It was two months since they'd escaped from Netu. Jack's leg was so well recovered there was only a faint pinkish-fawn line on his thigh where the staff weapon had burnt its reprimand into his skin, and he no longer had even the trace of a limp. But the memory of the moment when Apophis' henchman had just turned around and blasted Jack for no real reason; could have killed him as quickly and as pointlessly as that, was still an open wound in Daniel's memory. Sam had come so close to being murdered by Bynarr, and Jack had come so close to being killed right in front of his eyes. And if it hadn't been for Teal'c's superhuman determination to get them out of there, come what may, they would all have literally burned in hellfire when Netu erupted around them. Daniel wasn't sure that he was ever going to get over that.

As Jack had only been allowed out of the infirmary on condition he was given round-the-clock help and supervision, and as Daniel had felt Sam and Teal'c both really deserved a break after their recent exertions, Daniel had volunteered to be the one to spend a month as an unpaid home help to an injured Jack O'Neill.

It had gone better than Daniel had anticipated in that neither of them had killed the other, which, given how fraying to the nerves they had both found their trip into the underworld, and how unbelievably crabby Jack was when convalescing, he thought was a minor achievement in itself. The mornings were the trickiest, but he'd found if he staggered out of bed three hours earlier than he wanted to in order to throw breakfast at the guy like he was a hungry mastiff, pretended not to hear anything Jack said for the first hour of the day, didn't read the newspaper before Jack did (Jack liked his paper un crumpled as he remembered from when he'd first come back from Abydos), reminded himself at least once a day that inappropriate sarcasm, although annoying, hurt no one and Jack was probably in pain, and doubled his own caffeine intake from the moment he opened his eyes, they could live together reasonably well without the need for bloodshed.

Jack had threatened to throw his crutches at Daniel on the occasion when a particularly heated debate about why someone with an only half-healed burn on his right leg couldn't drive himself to a hockey game had culminated in Daniel hiding the keys to Jack's jeep. But although Jack had looked as though he meant it and Daniel had actually been getting ready to duck, Jack had settled for hopping angrily into the kitchen and opening and shutting all the drawers as loudly as possible to vent his frustration that way.

The next day Daniel had accepted the bag of chocolate walnut cookies Jack had limped down to the imported groceries store to buy him in the spirit of apology in which they were meant. Jack hardly ever actually said he was sorry, even when he'd been unspeakable, but he would indicate he was sorry by suggesting they watch the Discovery Channel instead of ESPN, or pointing out that there was a lecture on Egyptian hieroglyphs being given by one of Daniel's old colleagues in Boston and they could fly over there and heckle him if Daniel liked.

Apart from the fact he and Jack were getting worryingly like an old married couple by the time the month was up, Daniel felt that the taking-care-of-Jack duty had gone pretty well all things considered, and had helped work off some of the debt he felt he owed him for all the taking-care-of-Daniel duty Jack had done in the past. Sam had come back from her vacation with her father looking a lot less tired and worn than when she'd left, while Jacob, thanks to Selmac, had made a complete recovery from his ordeal in Netu. The only downside to looking after Jack (apart from the actual looking-after-Jack part of having to look after Jack which had been a downside all by itself) was that Daniel hadn't had as many opportunities as he would have liked to sit down with Sam and discuss how she was bearing up since Jolinar's memories had been tripped in her mind like a particularly nasty set of landmines. They had talked about Netu, and Jolinar, and even a little about Martouf, but Bynarr had remained undiscussed, and Daniel hadn't had the heart to ask her if she was waking up remembering the dead Goa'uld's leering face.

Looking across at Sam now as she fiddled with the panel of the DHD, speaking rapidly to Teal'c about Goa'uld technology while the Jaffa gravely nodded his head, he was reminded of his first meeting with her; how it had been like another kind of homecoming to suddenly find himself talking to someone who understood what he was saying; whose own mind could follow the ellipses his was always making and could make sense of his conclusions. It was as though after years of believing himself to be an orphaned only child, he'd suddenly discovered he had a twin sister he'd never met until now.

He wondered what the Sam who knew how it felt to be a Tok'ra thought of the Sam who'd leapt so eagerly through the Stargate that first time out and almost lost her lunch on the other side of the wormhole. He thought Sam probably had more pity than contempt for her earlier self; but for himself there were days when he thought that if you put him a room with the man he'd used to be, they wouldn't have a single thing left to say to each other.

Except, of course, they had those two things in common that would never change: absolute love for Sha're; absolute trust in Jack O'Neill. Even though Sha're was dead and unreachable; someone he had failed to save rather than someone he believed he would one day save, his love for her hadn't altered. And there was still something he could do for her; he could find her child and deliver him from the Goa'uld; protect the Harsesis from the danger his hereditary knowledge placed him in…

And, damn, he was still getting flashbacks to that Blood of Sokar stuff. He didn't know how long he'd been waiting to hear those words from Jack. Logic told him that it couldn't be more than four years, and as he hadn't really known the guy well enough to care that much about his opinion on their first meeting, it was more likely three years, at the most; but it felt like a lifetime.

All the same, he'd never thought for an instant that Apophis would know to choose that scene to try and trick him. Having overheard what Sam had said about what the Blood of Sokar did to your mind he'd been braced for a memory of Sha're, for those beautiful eyes gazing into his; that mouth he so missed whispering in his ear how much she loved him and how much she wanted to see her child again, asking him to tell her where he'd been taken, please, my Daniel, please…

But, of course, Apophis was clever, and Daniel had been given three long years to accustom himself to the idea that Sha're wasn't always Sha're, that Sha're was more often Amaunet, and Amaunet couldn't be trusted. Jack, however, could always be trusted. Jack could be trusted absolutely. Jack would never lie to him.

And then Jack had lied to him. Had asked him so nicely where the boy was that Daniel couldn't believe it at first. The conversation hadn't gone quite like this last time; something was wrong but…then he'd realized what it was: Jack was asking him what Apophis wanted to know. Jack was doing Apophis' work. Jack was lying to him…

Even though he'd known this couldn't really be Jack, how could he refuse him anything after what the man had just given him? How could he say 'no' to Jack when Jack had just told him he believed in him? Saying 'no' to Jack in that moment had felt like the hardest thing in the world.

He was still getting nightmares. Even two months later. It was ridiculous and he knew it, but a Jack who lied to him frightened him more than any Unas; a Jack he couldn't trust, who looked like Jack and sounded like Jack, and was so much Jack in every way but told him things that weren't true; that was real horror; that was the bottom ripped out of his world.

Even now, standing on a grey-green planet fifty thousand light years from the smoldering remains of Netu, feeling the mist dampening his hair and glistening on his skin, a glimmer of that false memory could still chill him to the bone.

Daniel had just about got to the stage in his post-Netu recovery where he didn't feel he had to have one of his teammates within sight at all times or else he started panicking, but he still found himself doing a quick inventory now, just to see that, yes, there they all were, alive and well. Sam and Teal'c were still looking at the DHD with keen attention, Jack was pointedly looking at his watch and yawning because the conversation was obviously miles over his head and consequently boring him rigid, while Daniel could feel that temple tugging at his right eyeball, demanding that he turn and gave it another glance. So everything seemed to be pretty much back to normal.

And that temple really was calling to him now and he wondered if he could just go up there and take a quick look round before anyone…

The sound of the Stargate re-engaging made him glance around in shock, but to his relief he saw only that Sam appeared to be doing some kind of test dial. However, just in case they were planning to turn around and go straight home again, he thought he'd better just point out the temple to them first. "Guys?"

Sam and Teal'c were still deep in their clearly very technical discussion about the DHD. As the wormhole disengaged and disappeared for a second time, he heard Sam say, "So, okay, at least we know we can dial out, my worry is…" Mist rolling across between them muffled the rest of her sentence and remembering the DHD they had once found smashed and inoperative, Daniel felt a twinge of unease. He hurried back over to them, stumbling on the uneven ground.

He was in time to hear Teal'c say, "I concur, Major Carter. If that were the case then it would be better if we could disconnect it ourselves."

"Everything okay?"

As neither Teal'c nor Sam answered him, Daniel turned to Jack who shrugged expressively. "It seems this DHD has an extra gizmo we haven't seen before. Apparently it works fine, but Carter just isn't going to sleep at night if she can't find out what the extra component does."

"Well, sir, I'd just hate to think the Goa'uld had something we didn't."

Daniel could see that this was going to take a while. Sam was nothing if not tenacious and she clearly wasn't going to stop experimenting with the DHD until she'd cracked the mystery of the extra component, while Teal'c had the quiet persistence of water wearing its way into rock. Jack, by comparison, was obviously already cold, bored, and likely to be getting irritable any time soon. Daniel's first instinct was to just leave them to it and go have a quick look at the temple on the hillside before anyone thought up a good reason why he shouldn't. However, commonsense told him not to just head off without telling anyone, although not perhaps as loudly as curiosity was telling him that he should.

"Carter, are you going to try every possible combination on that thing?"

Daniel winced at the exasperation in Jack's voice, realizing that this was clearly one of those times where if he asked if it was all right for him to examine an ancient building of cultural significance Jack would just tell him irritably to stay put. He said tentatively, "Jack, there's a really interesting – "

"Don't want to hear it, Daniel, and whatever it is, the answer's no." Jack blew on his fingers pointedly, making Daniel wonder not for the first time why the man always wore fingerless gloves instead of the ones that actually kept his hands warm. But now would probably not be a good time to ask that question either. A supposition confirmed as Jack raised his voice to shout, "Teal'c! Carter! Just how long is this likely to take because some of us are ageing here?"

As casually as he could, and turning his head so that the mist would swallow most of his words, Daniel murmured, "Fascinating temple up on the hill there – looks like it could maybe be Mesopotamian. I'm just going to go take a look at it. Okay?" Then he backed up the hill, turning around after a few yards to hurry towards the temple.

***

Daniel pushed open the double doors tentatively and found himself in a huge echoing chamber. He took out his flashlight and tentatively shone it around the walls, the powerful beam immediately revealing an enormous statue of what was clearly a god flanked by two stone lions. The deity was depicted carrying a spear and wearing a headdress consisting of four long plumes.

Daniel murmured to himself, "Anhur, also called Onuris, derived from the Egyptian word anhuret 'he who brings the far near', also called Inhert; consort of the lioness-goddess Mehit. Let me think – yes, first attested in the Thinite region in Upper Egypt but by the Late Period associated with the delta site of Sebennytos where a temple was dedicated to Onuris-Shu by Nectanebo the Second. Sometimes associated with the Greek God Ares – interesting – does that mean we're talking one Goa'uld or two? Did the Goa'uld adapt to gain new worshippers, move in on each other's territory, or is this something to do with one host dying and being replaced? Anhur. Onuris. The champion of Egypt who hunted and slew the enemies of Ra. Called by some the Son of Ra – not good news for those of us who killed him if Anhur should drop in to see how his worshippers are doing – often portrayed as an avenger, called also the 'lord of the lance'. So – vengeful, warlike, and an ally of Ra. So far, so not so good."

He turned to look at the walls and found them pockmarked with an incalculable number of alcoves in which stood pottery jars the color of blood, most of them broken into three or more pieces. It took Daniel a moment to recognize the red clay as execration texts, pictures of bound captives inscribed with hieratic cursing rituals. Here and there were changes in the pattern – jars not yet broken, or, more disconcertingly still, texts inscribed on broken and unbroken human skulls. Fascinated and yet also a little taken aback by the number of enemies being cursed in the name of Anhur, Daniel took off his glasses, wiped them on a corner of his jacket and put them back on. He shone his torch onto the nearest skull. "Nine bows," he murmured aloud, "the figure nine representing three times three which was the plurality of pluralities thus designating the entirety of all enemies. Okay, total destruction being invoked for everyone who has ticked off Anhur ever, so we're definitely not talking about a benevolent deity here, and maybe it might be a good idea for me to leave now."

As he turned to go his eye was caught by more hieratic text inscribed upon a pillar. Daniel translated aloud, " ' May I be granted power over the waters, for I am he who crosses the sky, I am the Lion, I am the Slayer.' That's interesting, that's from the Book of the Dead except they've cut the references to Seth and Ra. Maybe in this culture Anhur is supposed to be Ra, and I wonder if the lions here are supposed to be some kind of tribute to Anhur's mate, Mehit, or if this Goa'uld's version of the Anhur cult actually borrowed from Aker?"

As Daniel went to make his way back to the open doors he found himself face to face with men who wore lion manes for hoods, carried long spears, and had inscribed upon their foreheads the four long plumes that represented Anhur. Before Daniel could open his mouth to explain who he was, something struck him so hard that he was wrapped in darkness before he even hit the floor.

***

The plaintive cry of that bird of prey circling overhead gave him an unwanted reminder of P8X-873. As Teal'c and Carter worked on the DHD, O'Neill blew on his fingers and tried not to remember how light Sha're had felt in his arms as he carried her corpse back to the 'gate. Only the metal jewelry had given her weight, just as it was the only thing about her that was truly cold, truly lifeless. Her skin had still been warm. Just like Charlie had still been warm. But with Sha're there hadn't been any blood; just that hole in her midriff where the staff blast had gone right through her. At such close range that was what a staff did to a human body, but despite the terrible wound she'd still looked so beautiful. Eerily peaceful too. So calm. So lovely. And, unfortunately, so dead.

The picture which kept coming into his mind as he picked her up from the floor of Amaunet's tent and carried her out into the daylight was of Daniel, also with a dead Sha're in his arms, gaze fixed upon him with such trust, saying 'Wait for me.' On Ra's ship, Daniel had put Sha're in a sarcophagus and saved her. This time there was no sarcophagus. And perhaps too there was no will to bring her back. Not to this. To life as a host to that snakebitch Amaunet; someone who had just taken so much pleasure in using Sha're's hand to wield the ribbon device that had damned near killed Daniel. Daniel had passed out only a few seconds after O'Neill had entered the tent but even though he'd headed straight for him, Teal'c had still got there first.

He glanced over his shoulder to reassure himself he was still breathing and saw the younger man's chest rise and fall. Teal'c was carrying him, not in the usual fireman's lift, but the way you carried children. Perhaps that was why Daniel looked so rag-doll limp and defenseless with his seared face nestling against the Jaffa's shoulder. Teal'c had told him three times now that Daniel was going to be okay, but he sure as hell didn't look too good. He'd seen Daniel after he'd been in the grip of ribbon devices twice before, but this time the burn on his forehead and the bridge of his nose was much worse than when Klorel had tried to kill him. Which meant Amaunet must have got dangerously close to turning her host into a widow before Teal'c had made Daniel a widower.

Daniel a widower. He still couldn't take it in. All this time, all this effort, all that hope, all that belief, in Daniel's case, that sooner or later they would be bound to get Sha're back, and now it was over. He'd had such mixed feelings about her for so long. The sweet girl he'd barely met on Abydos whom Daniel loved transformed into the Goa'uld Queen who'd just stood there when Apophis knocked Daniel across the room on Chulak, before making another transition into the friend's wife who'd given birth to another man's child. An unwilling adulteress and equally unwilling murderess transformed by an alien parasite into someone who might so easily bring disaster upon them all. To O'Neill, if not to Daniel, she'd been the enemy as well as someone they needed to save. Someone he wanted to rescue for Daniel's sake yet knew if they did it would probably cost them. If they were lucky it might only cost them Daniel leaving SG-1 to go back to Abydos, but there had always been the fear a glimpse of Sha're in the distance would be the bait which lured Daniel to his death.

O'Neill stepped carefully over a Jaffa corpse as the wind tugged at Sha're long dark hair, making it lap and coil against his arm like a caress. It was perfumed and the scent of it was maddeningly sweet; a velvety contrast to the sharp tang of carbide still tainting the air. He raised her up a little higher and it was hard to believe there really wasn't a heartbeat to listen for any longer and never would be again; her face showed such extraordinary peace. He was almost grateful for the savagery of that wound. Sha're had the look of someone who could be coaxed back from this death so easily, but that staff blast carried a blistering finality. There were no more possibilities left to them now. The quest might have ended in tragedy and failure but at least it had ended, and he was grateful for the closure. He'd never thought a part of him could be consoled by the smell of burnt flesh.

As he raised her awkwardly, the sunlight glinted off her red and gold headdress, momentarily dazzling him.  Amaunet's headdress with its serpent emblem. But this wasn't Amaunet. This was Daniel's wife. Kasuf's daughter. Skaara's sister. A citizen of Abydos by birth, and Earth by marriage, who shouldn't spend another second burdened by the weight of Apophis' love tokens. O'Neill wasn't a fanciful man but he felt certain Sha're spirit was chafing at these dead gold bands, unable to be free while they still burned her skin. He pulled off the headdress and threw it to the ground, disordering those dark coils still further. He couldn't manage the ribbon device but Carter came and helped him. She eased it off the dead woman's hand gently then removed the gold armlet as well. When O'Neill looked over his shoulder to see how Daniel was doing, he received a gentle nod of approval from Teal'c.

Despite the fact it was a weapon she could use, Carter threw away the ribbon device then very gently smoothed back Sha're's hair. He'd known she was seeing what he was seeing when she said quickly, "Maybe one of Amaunet's Jaffa might still be alive. She must have had a sarcophagus somewhere, or maybe the Tok'ra…" She trailed off as he shook his head.

"It's over, Major," he said it quietly. "She's gone."

"I know, sir, it's just…Daniel…"

He followed her anxious gaze and so saw the look on Teal'c's face. One he recognized and not just from the Cor-ai when Teal'c had practically demanded to be put to death for his past crimes. He'd seen that expression in the shaving mirror way too many times to forget.

He said, "You did the right thing, Teal'c."

"I do believe I took the only appropriate action to save the life of Daniel Jackson, and given the same circumstances I would do it again." The Jaffa raised his gaze from Daniel's burnt face and didn't attempt to hide the bleakness in his eyes. "But Sha're is still dead because of me."

O'Neill grimaced. There was no answer to that and they both knew it. So much depended on Daniel now. Absolution couldn't come for anyone but him. Daniel had demonstrated his generosity, his compassion, and his fair-mindedness so many times in the past, but maybe this would be too much for even Daniel to forgive.

Silently, they made their way across the battleground to where the Stargate was shimmering, the last of the Abydonians already escorted to safety by the other SG teams.

Tightening his grip on the dead woman in preparation for stepping into the liquid blue light, O'Neill looked back the way they'd come. Another battlefield. Another set of corpses. The dead of the SGC would receive proper burial with honors but Amaunet's Jaffa would be left to rot. There was neither the manpower nor the will to bury them. He could see the tent in which Sha're had met her death, blue and gold pennants flapping in the breeze, the corpses scattered across the sandy soil, their blood adding salt and iron to the earth. And overhead one perfect silhouette against the sun; the first of the buzzards beginning a slow circular glide as it assessed the banquet spread out beneath its wings…

"Colonel?"

O'Neill gave himself a mental shake, blinking as he found himself cold and bored in the rain of a different alien world once more. "What?"

Carter was looking up from the DHD, brow creased with concern. He wondered what the problem was with the damned technology this time but sincerely hoped she wasn't going to attempt to explain it to him because life was definitely too short.

She was looking around like she'd lost something, before turning back to him with a hint of anxiety in her eyes. "Sir, where's Daniel?"

"He's right – " O'Neill turned to where he thought the younger man was then spun full circle as he found only empty space beside him. "He was right here."

Teal'c was gazing into the mist. "There is a large building on the brow of the hill which appears to be of early Earth design. Daniel Jackson may have wished to examine it."

Turning to look at the looming temple, O'Neill said, "Yeah, and the sea may be a little on the wet side this time of year. Did anyone else hear me tell him 'No'?" He put his hand up to his earpiece and said quietly, "Daniel?" As the silence lengthened, he grimaced. "Daniel? Daniel, if you're there, answer me. Daniel? Damnit!"

He exchanged a glance with Carter who immediately tapped her own earpiece and called Daniel's name herself. She shook her head. "But if Daniel is actually inside the building, he might not be able to hear us. Some kinds of stone do block radio waves."

O'Neill gave her a humorless smile and nodded at the DHD. "Yeah. Okay, Carter, leave that for now, let's just go find him before something else does."

They headed up the hill with more resignation than annoyance. O'Neill knew Carter would be secretly sympathizing with Daniel's desire to learn about ancient civilizations, Teal'c was as imperturbable as ever, and even O'Neill himself wasn't exactly surprised the archaeologist had proven incapable of resisting the lure of yet another big block of stone with some interesting squiggles on it. There were times, though – and this was definitely one of them – when he did wonder if he should just take the direct approach with Daniel, and on the next occasion when the archaeologist did something particularly annoying or dangerous, instead of patiently explaining to him the folly of his action, he should just clout him smartly around the back of the head. After all he'd been patiently reasoning with Daniel for three years now to no noticeable effect, perhaps it was time for a change of strategy. "Anyone know if he had a weapon with him?" he enquired wearily. "Or did he leave his sidearm on the ramp like that time when he stopped to tie his bootlace at the last minute?"

"He definitely had it with him," Carter said reassuringly.

"But whether or not it would occur to Daniel Jackson to use it if danger threatened is a different question," Teal'c put in.

"True," said O'Neill. "I've met rocking chairs with faster reflexes."

Teal'c looked at him sideways. "I meant rather that Daniel Jackson would be more inclined to try and converse with those who threatened him even if their attitude was unfriendly."

"I know. Why do you think we're hurrying?"

"I definitely think Daniel's got a lot better at looking after himself over the last couple of years, sir."

"Well he could hardly have got much worse, really, could he, Major?"

He grimaced after he said it, feeling their disapproval radiating back at him. Okay. They never mentioned Daniel's less than razor sharp reflexes. They never mentioned the fact that he wasn't a soldier and needed a little bit of extra protection on missions. Dissing Daniel simply wasn't done on SG-1. Yeah, well sometimes, a guy had to vent. And when Daniel scared them all silly putting himself in harm's way for no good reason was definitely one of those times.

As they reached the huge arched doorway, Teal'c glanced impassively at the sign over the lintel. "This is a temple to Onuris – a vengeful and warlike Goa'uld believed by many to be the son of Ra."

"Well let's just hope the chip off the old block isn't home because I am frankly too cold and wet to want to tangle with any Goa'ulds today, and particularly not ones whose fathers I blew to hell with a nuclear bomb."

Carter was examining the temple with close attention, running some device that looked like a Geiger counter over the entrance. "This is a stone I've never seen before, sir. It contains small quantities of naqadah, some iridium, some other elements I don't recognize which could…"

"Is it blocking our transmitters?"

She sighed resignedly at the interruption. "Yes."

"Then I'd say that was pretty conclusive evidence Daniel is in here somewhere. Let's see if we can't retrieve him while he's still in one piece."

Although O'Neill's tone was deliberately easy, he had his finger poised over the trigger of his MP-5 as he pushed open the door. Seeing how dark it was, he cautiously switched on his flashlight, ready to extinguish it in an instant if anyone fired at them. The beam picked out a towering statue of what he presumed to be an Egyptian god in funny headgear, and walls stuffed with bits of broken crockery. The light from Carter and Teal'c's flashlights was also raking the walls and floor. "Daniel?" O'Neill hissed. As there was no reply, he said more loudly, "Daniel?" He wasn't worried yet, he told himself; there was a concern, yes, just enough unnecessary anxiety inflicted upon him that the prospect of giving the archaeologist a good hard shake still had some appeal, but not yet truly worried. "Daniel!"

It was Teal'c's beam that bounced off the broken glass and O'Neill felt the tempo of his pulse change in that instant because he knew at once what it was.

The three of them crouched by the wall in silence looking at the broken spectacles. One lens was badly cracked, the other smashed. The metal frames dangled from Teal'c's fingers reflecting tiny streamers of light, the sidepieces looking wire thin and unexpectedly delicate in the Jaffa's powerful hands. Teal'c said, "They appear to have been knocked across the room, breaking on impact with the wall."

O'Neill said tautly, "Pretty much what you'd expect if someone had just hit the guy who was wearing them really, really hard."

"Sir, I don't think we should jump to conclusions," Carter put in at once. But he could tell by the catch in her voice that she was arguing with him not because she disagreed with his analysis of the situation but because she wanted to go on hoping for something better for a little longer.

"I think we should find Daniel as quickly as possible." O'Neill was already on his feet and raking the walls with his flashlight, trying to think what would have attracted the archaeologist's attention first. Looking up he saw a balcony ran around the top of the temple, two stone staircases carved diagonally into the walls leading up to it. It reminded him of a tier in a theatre, suggesting somewhere from which people could view the proceedings.

He had a horrible suspicion of what kind of proceedings would have been viewed. "Spread out, let's take a look around…" He jabbed a finger at the far end of the temple, getting a nod in return from Carter, then headed in the opposite direction. He knew what he was looking for, he just really hoped he wasn't going to find it.

A few minute's inspection, told him this wasn't going to be his lucky day. Beyond the towering statue, he found what looked suspiciously like a sacrificial altar; the metal rings in each corner of the capstone providing all the proof he needed. But he was given more anyway. Way more than he wanted. Something had stained the stone a dull red and when he looked on the floor beneath it, he saw the flagstones showed a similar rusty tinge. A discreet gutter led to a small drain. Somehow O'Neill didn't think it was for rainwater from a leaking roof tile. Bending down quickly, he put his hand to the gutter. It was dry. That was the only good news they'd had so far.

He remembered Daniel telling him about the so-called Slaughter Stone at Stonehenge in England. The one that looked as though it was stained with blood because of some kind of iron ore in the rock. He usually managed to tune Daniel out when he started telling him about ancient monuments but for some reason that explanation had stuck. Perhaps he'd been in a good mood that day and decided to humor the archaeologist, or more likely they'd just got Daniel back from the dead by the skin of his teeth and O'Neill had been ready to put up with anything, he was just so damned relieved to see him back in one piece…

O'Neill looked back at the altar, the metal rings, the gutter, the drain. The blood stains. He shivered. Definitely afraid for Daniel now, he turned to the walls, pulling out his knife and running the blade between each set of stones in the hope of tripping some kind of locking device.

When he glanced across at his teammates he saw Teal'c was trying to find anything he could turn, a hieroglyph that moved beneath his fingers, some mechanism that would persuade these planed blocks of sandstone to show them the inner door he knew must be concealed somewhere in this cavernous chamber. At the other end of the temple, Carter was doing the same thing, running her fingers over the raised symbols in the hope of finding one that would show them a door.

Having unsuccessfully searched every inch of the far wall, O'Neill joined the others. "I think these people might be into human sacrifices."

Teal'c went to examine the altar and came back looking grim. "I think you are correct, O'Neill."

When he looked at Carter he wasn't surprised to see she'd gone very pale. He was feeling pretty green around the gills himself.

She rallied before he did and her words surprised him. "That might actually be a good thing, sir."

He stared at her in disbelief. "Please, do tell me how?"

"Well, if they sacrifice trespassers to Onuris they'll have to bring Daniel back here to kill him. If they found him wandering around in here looking at the artifacts – "

"Which is so incredibly likely I think we'll just take it as read."

"Well then he'll probably be condemned to death for sacrilege." She turned to look to Teal'c for confirmation and the Jaffa nodded. Carter continued with more confidence, "They'll have to prepare him for sacrifice and then bring him to the temple to be killed on the altar. As long as we stay here, we can rescue him."

"And what if they take him somewhere else completely?"

"Why would they? If they believe that Daniel offended their god they'll want their god to witness how vigilant they are about punishing unbelievers."

"I believe Major Carter is correct," Teal'c observed. "They are probably preparing Daniel Jackson for sacrifice even as we speak."

"And that involves what exactly?"

"It varies from cult to cult but usually the would-be victim is bathed, dressed in sacrificial robes, and his head shaven in readiness."

"Oh great, two members of SG-1 with no hair, how's that going to look?"

"Sir – "

"Okay, Carter, least of our worries right now, I agree." O'Neill looked at the stone staircases again. "Right, let's go over these walls again, see if we can find a way to open them."

***

They searched every inch of the temple, using knives and fingers to try and find a mechanism to make one of those massive blocks slide aside and show them the way Daniel had been taken. All of them had determinedly insisted that if anyone had brought him outside of the temple they would have noticed it, despite the mist. But as the hours rolled past without them making any progress and there being no sign of their teammate, O'Neill couldn't help wondering if perhaps Daniel was ten miles away by now, or even already dead.

He pulled off his gloves to go over the wall again, just in case the mechanism could only be triggered by bare skin, trying to will one of these impervious blocks of strange stone to yield up something. Behind him he was aware of Carter and Teal'c doing the same; Teal'c exploring every hieroglyph with a look of grim concentration on his face; Carter trying to hang onto logic and hope when despair was doing its best to distract her.

When he closed his eyes to try to feel every stone edge more clearly he saw Daniel lying on that crisp white pillow with that 'Y' shaped burn marring his face, like the mark of Cain falsely branded on an innocent. He'd spent way too many hours in the infirmary waiting for Daniel to wake up over the years and by that point the place was really starting to get to him. He'd felt like a dog who'd had one too many trips to the vet and there was a part of him which just wanted to dig in his toes and never cross that threshold again. But leaving Daniel to wake up alone was marginally worse even than having to spend another mind-numbing, soul-deadening session by his bedside, so he'd pulled up a chair and borne it. Not without complaint, certainly, but borne it all the same.

He hated the antiseptic smell of the infirmary. The sound of all those damned machines bleeping as they told the nurses what Daniel's insides were doing now; his heart-rate, his oxygen level, his brain activity, his kidneys, his glucose levels, his mineral levels. Probably hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of the best equipment money could buy and not a single machine able to tell him squat about how Daniel was going to react when he woke up and found his wife was dead and Teal'c was the guy who'd killed her. O'Neill must have rehearsed a dozen different ways to tell him the bad news and in the end he hadn't needed any of them.

He thought he'd been prepared for anything. Confusion. Rage. Denial. Tears. He'd been ready to calm Daniel down, reason with him, or put his arms around him and let him sob out all his sorrow on his shoulder. What he hadn't been ready for was Daniel waking up and asking him to believe the impossible once again…

"Sir…?"

The warning hiss made him jump. O'Neill looked up to find Carter and Teal'c both listening intently, and then he heard it too. The tramp of footsteps on the ground. People approaching. Lots of people.

There were square pillars close to the walls, the space in between each one a welcome pocket of darkness and O'Neill gestured at Teal'c and Carter urgently, wanting it crystal clear. No engagement unless unavoidable. Find a shadow and blend into it. Keep within eyesight of everyone else. Stay close. Stay quiet. Stay afreakinlive, people. Pressing back against the wall, O'Neill could see Carter in the alcove to his right and Teal'c on his left, both of them trying as hard as he was to achieve invisibility.

O'Neill had his MP-5 raised in readiness as the double doors opened, spilling fading light and faded people into the temple. Hundreds of them, skin and hair color mostly middle-Eastern in appearance, although there were a few here and there with much lighter or darker hair and skin, all of them humming with the kind of suppressed excitement football crowds got before a really important game. He didn't speak the lingo but he could see the glitter in their eyes: even the air seemed electrified by the intensity of their anticipation. They were dressed in drab robes, and he could smell from a few feet away that these people didn't believe in soap and hot water. But they clearly took their pleasures seriously because they were packing the aisles here. He caught a glimpse of a lone blonde woman whose eyes were red-rimmed and shadowed. She alone seemed indifferent to the treat awaiting her. She looked the way Sara had in the weeks following Charlie's death. Existing in a waking nightmare where she operated on automatic pilot, hoping perhaps it was reality which was the dream. Someone jostled her as she went past the place where Carter was pressed into the shadows and she brushed the tip of Carter's MP-5 without even noticing she'd done so. Behind their pillars, O'Neill and Carter exchange an expressive glance. The crowd poured past their alcoves then seeped up the staircase like people finding their places in a theatre.

O'Neill winced as he realized the significance of that analogy. These people had turned up to see something. It was obviously nearly show time.

Right on cue, the stone wall on the far side of the temple from his hiding place slid back with the faintest grating noise, revealing a tunnel puddled with torchlight. MP-5 held in readiness, O'Neill wished vainly for a smoke canister to spread a little confusion when the moment came. He didn't like the idea of firing on probably unarmed priests but he liked the idea of Daniel being sacrificed to appease a vengeful Goa'uld even less. He could only hope that some way would present itself of their getting Daniel out of there without causing too much bloodshed.

As he stared intently at the place where the wall had opened up, he saw one priest with some fancy headgear followed by two priests without, and prayed for Daniel to be the next person he saw. When he was, his heart practically did a handstand with relief. That sensation stayed with him for approximately two and a half seconds before the anger set in as cold and bright as midwinter in Maine. "Damnit to hell," he said shortly.

"Oh my God," Carter breathed from the next alcove. "What have they done to him?"

Daniel still had all his hair, not to mention his own clothes, and there was just the one mark on his face presumably from the blow that had knocked his glasses across the room to smash against the wall; a bruise on his left cheekbone which was unsightly but clearly superficial. Apart from that the archaeologist didn't appear to have a scratch on him and yet his skin had gone past white to grey from some pain O'Neill didn't even want to guess at. Daniel seemed shocked almost to the point of death; someone at whom so much horror had been thrown that his mind had shut down. He staggered along between the priests, barely aware of his surroundings, apparently indifferent even to his imminent murder on the altar of Onuris, so stupefied by what had been done to him that death would clearly come only as a merciful release. When, at a nod from the one with the headdress, the two priests seized his arms to hold him still, Daniel didn't even seem to notice.

This was why these people had come to the temple, because they were eager to watch a blasphemer put to death on the altar, pouring eagerly into the chamber to witness the sacrifice to their God. There were more priests coming out of the same walls that had been so unyielding to their examination earlier, their skin also white and repulsively hairless. O'Neill thought they looked like maggots who lived perpetually underground. The one O'Neill took to be the High Priest, surveyed the assembly with evident satisfaction and shouted out a lot of words in Goa'uld the last of which was 'Shokmar!'

The crowd took up the High Priest's words, cheering and shouting, "Shokmar! Shokmar!"

"I thought you said this Goa'uld's name was 'Onuris'? And what the hell happened to Daniel?" O'Neill looked behind the pillar at Teal'c to see if he could throw any light upon Daniel's condition, and blanched. He'd thought himself as angry as it was possible for any sentient being to get until he glanced at the Jaffa and saw the expression in his eyes. This was a rage he had never seen before. For a second his friend almost frightened him. "Teal'c?"

"They have used Shokmar upon Daniel Jackson." Teal'c could barely speak for his fury.

O'Neill turned to Carter for enlightenment but she was staring in horror and pity at Daniel's pathetically dazed progress across the temple.

"What's Shokmar?" O'Neill demanded.

"The worst torture yet devised by the Goa'uld. The device for inflicting Shokmar was as yet unperfected when I was in the service of Apophis but I heard it spoken of many times. It was reputed to cause nerve pain like the blast from a zatnikatel but one that could be sustained for as long as the Goa'uld wished without killing the subject. Though the victim appears outwardly unharmed, every fiber of his being is left screaming in agony." Teal'c swung up his staff weapon and primed it.

Carter jerked her head round in disbelief. "You can't mean to kill these people in cold blood?"

"My blood is anything but cold, Major Carter."

"Teal'c, these people are slaves to the Goa'uld, they don't know what they’re doing."

"The priests of Onuris serve their master willingly for the wealth and power it brings them, just as they tortured one who had done them no harm for the advancement they hoped it would bring them. They are unfit to live."

"Sir?"

O'Neill wrenched his gaze away from Daniel with difficulty and saw Teal'c stride purposefully out from his alcove. Carter looked at him as Daniel had so often in the past: wanting him to make everything better without anyone getting hurt. Well Daniel had already been hurt. And it looked like he might have been hurt so badly they were never going to get him back. Whatever Teal'c had planned for the priests who'd done this to their teammate, O'Neill didn't think he was going to want to stop him.

He said flatly, "Keep up, Major," then followed Teal'c. And yes, Carter, I do mean with current events. When he glanced back over his shoulder to see if she was following, he saw her shoot another despairing look at Daniel as if she was hoping some miracle would have occurred to turn him back into the man they knew, before hurrying after him.

Teal'c was already advancing into the torch-lit center of the temple. As O'Neill caught up with him, Teal'c shouted, "Kree! Cravens of Onuris! You are worthy of the god you serve!"

The blast from the staff weapon hit the statue squarely in its massive chest, the stone head toppling from the broken shoulders as the body imploded beneath it with what seemed to be deliberate slowness, before shattering in several pieces on the ground. O'Neill hadn't realized the statue was holding up the ceiling until chunks of stone began to rain down around them.

Still firing with frightening calm, Teal's strode swiftly across the temple, the terrified priests scattering like flocking birds. Without their hands to hold him up, Daniel crumpled to the floor. Not even breaking stride, Teal'c dropped to one knee, hefted Daniel over his left shoulder and was back on his feet and firing again as he turned to come back, the last blast leaving the lower torso of Onuris rocking precariously on its stand.

"Teal'c!" O'Neill shouted the warning despairingly as the last of the statue crumbled and fell with a thunderous roar, the terrible object crushing several of its priests as it did so. The statue had torn a hole from the roof of the temple as it fell and the sky was visible, stones still raining down upon the worshippers of Onuris.

O'Neill flailed at the thick clouds of dust. "Teal'c!" he shouted hoarsely just as the Jaffa strode out of the chaos unscathed. A huge piece of stone rolled past him and chips of granite scattered about Carter and O'Neill like vicious hail, but Teal'c seemed indifferent to the destruction all around him. "Come, O'Neill," Teal'c said. "Let us take what remains of Daniel Jackson away from this place."

Carter hesitated again in the doorway, distress in her blue eyes. People were groaning and dying all around the chamber, the temple was a ruin, full of dust and the scent of blood. She gazed at O'Neill pleadingly. "Sir, we can't just leave them."

O'Neill looked at Daniel, slumped over Teal's broad shoulder, face so drained of color even his lips were grey. "Actually, I think we can." He followed Teal'c out into the mist.

***

As she dialed up, Carter was torn between her anxieties over Daniel – now so frighteningly still and pale over Teal'c's shoulder – and the people they'd left dead and dying in the ruined temple. She knew the Colonel couldn't really be as indifferent to the wounded as he was pretending, he was too compassionate for that. But this wasn't the first time she'd seen that shutter come down over his eyes, the one which said he was withdrawing all consideration from everyone and everything except his team. He'd done the same thing in Hadante. Horror had been happening all around them but all it had done was spur him into a more and more single-minded determination to get the four of them out of there, and to hell with everyone else. And in particular to get the four of them out of there before anything…untoward happened to Daniel.

Daniel. She hit the last symbol and waited for the blue light to flare. They'd get Daniel home. Janet would think of a way to coax him back from wherever this 'shokmar' had sent him. And as soon as Daniel was in the infirmary, was safe and being cared for, the Colonel's natural humanity would reassert itself. He would back her request for them to return to this world with a medical team to care for the wounded, she was sure of it.

It took her a few seconds to realize there was no event horizon. No 'waterspout'. No blue light. No wormhole. No way home.

"Major…?"

"I pressed the right symbols, sir," she assured him quickly, then dialed up again, each symbol lighting up as she touched it, that comforting heavy 'thunk' as the chevron was locked in place. It had taken her a while after they'd been thrown through the Antarctic gate to stop flinching in expectation of failure as she dialed the last chevron, half-expecting every 'gate to start acting the way that one had. But that was three years ago and she'd never encountered the problem since. Having got over the experience, she now confidently expected every 'gate to engage after the last symbol lit up. Still expected this 'gate to engage as she pressed down on the last chevron for the second time. It didn't.

The Colonel's voice told her all she needed to know about how frayed his nerves were: "Okay. Now put it back how it was."

She turned to look at him. "But I did, sir. It's exactly as it was when we arrived here."

"Except when we arrived here it worked." He darted a glance over his shoulder at the smoking temple. "We need to get Daniel out of here."

"I know." Carter was already pulling off the control panel to look at the crystals. "Sir, believe me, it should work."

Through what were all too plainly gritted teeth the Colonel said, "I want to believe you, Major, but the fact you're dialing and nothing's happening is starting to affect my trust."

Carter hastily checked the connections and then straightened back up; hitting the first six symbols quickly then offering a brief prayer before the last one. When she pressed the point of origin nothing happened.

The Colonel was gripping his MP-5 so tightly his knuckles were white. She could feel him willing her to make it work. And she would make it work. She had to. They needed to get off this world and get Daniel back to the infirmary. Except it should be working now and she couldn't find any immediate cause why it wasn't and what if she couldn't do it? What if it was like Antarctica and she just couldn't figure out what was wrong…?

So clearly it was as though he was standing by her shoulder, she remembered Martouf saying 'You have to.' She flinched now as she had then. It had come as such a shock when her mind was still half-wrapped in Jolinar's memories. She'd been feeling such tenderness for him, the realization of how much he and Jolinar had been in love still reverberating through her even as she recalled the sensation of their last kiss, the taste of his dry lips against hers, feeling so grateful for his silence, the tact he'd shown in not mentioning the danger which lay ahead of her…ahead of Jolinar…So difficult not to feel affection for someone a part of her had once loved, difficult also not to feel compassion for the man who'd loved Jolinar so very much. She'd felt a sudden rush of tenderness towards Martouf in that moment and even now she didn't know if it had come from Jolinar of Melkshur or Major Samantha Carter.

And then he'd been ordering her to remember, looking at her with eyes that saw only Samantha Carter, not Jolinar, his voice so brisk and impatient. It had felt as though he'd slapped her.

"Major…?"

It was the desperation in the Colonel's voice which sharpened her mind into focus and made her perceive the obvious. She wondered how she could have failed to notice that winking red light mocking her so spitefully. As she stared at the device on the DHD whose purpose she and Teal'c had not been able to fathom, her heart sank. "Sir, someone or some thing has activated the Goa'uld device."

"What?"

She pointed to it. "It’s the only thing that appears to be working."

"Well switch it off again."

"I'm not sure I – " Her eyes widened as she saw figures beginning to appear out of the ground cloud drifting across the grey hillside behind him. "People, sir, coming down from the temple."

As Teal'c raised his staff weapon, the Colonel caught his arm. "Let’s just get Daniel the hell out of sight."

A few scrubby trees and bushes so bent and gnarled it looked as though they spent their days in combat with the soil offered the only nearby cover and they ran for it, Teal'c effortlessly keeping pace with the Colonel's loping run despite the extra burden of weight he carried across his shoulder. Carter guarded their retreat, turning circles as she brought up the rear, hoping the mist would swallow them like bad memories before the wounded worshippers appeared.

As she slithered down into the undergrowth, the whip-thin twigs lashed at her face and she flinched. Thinking of that bruise on Daniel's face she dared a glance in his direction then flinched again. He looked the way her father had in Netu, chilled beyond the bone, death-white and stunned by the savagery of the pain he had been made to endure. She remembered how in the Pit Daniel had immediately taken off his jacket and given it to her for her father. How he'd looked so close to tears on their behalf: Jacob's suffering, her sorrow. When the Colonel had made some joke he'd been horrified, as though the man had tap-danced across a graveyard. She wondered if Daniel ever realized how much he needed the Colonel to make those jokes, to stop him getting so twisted up inside with the pain of others he couldn't even function.

Now she felt like she guessed he had in that moment. She would have given anything to have his pain transferred to her because anything was easier than standing there and watching him suffering. He looked so…null, as though there was barely enough of Daniel left inside for him to ever find his way back. She turned to Teal'c, trying to read something in those steady brown eyes that didn't speak of defeat. "How is he?"

"What's our situation?" the Colonel's question overlapped her own and drowned it.

Carter peered through the trailing stems of a thornbush to see a group of people gathering around the Stargate, grey silhouettes in the mist. They were all wailing and some of them were beating their breasts, crying out for what might well have been mercy.

"They don't appear to have seen us, sir, but we're cut off from the Stargate." Even saying the words chilled her. Cut off from the Stargate on any world was the one place none of them ever wanted to be.

Teal'c was about to lay Daniel down on the ground when O'Neill stopped him. "Wait, the grass is wet and we should probably try to keep him warm. I mean – he's in shock, right?" O'Neill pulled the emergency blanket from his vest and spread it out. Teal's placed the unconscious archaeologist on it as gently as though he was made of eggshell. O'Neill didn't want to see the look of sorrow on the Jaffa's face that told him there was no point in hoping, and he certainly didn't want to see Daniel like this, frail as paper, barely breathing; he could practically feel the younger man retreating further and further into himself, still trying to get away from the pain that had found its way to every cell. "Is he going to be okay?"

Teal'c's voice was grave. "I am sorry, O'Neill. I fear that very soon there will be only the husk of Daniel Jackson left to us. Shokmar destroys all those it touches and they say its flame, once ignited, goes on blazing for many hours."

"Like a third degree burn to the psyche." Carter's eyes were bright with pity and she looked very close to tears. "How could they do this?" she breathed, pulling the blanket from her own vest to place over him.

"Because they are evil," Teal'c returned flatly. He took off his jacket as he spoke and placed it under Daniel's head. "He will not return to consciousness until the pain recedes but that will not be for many hours, and by then it will be too late. His mind will have been dissolved b