Bar Coded

 

 

by Travelling One

 

 

email: travelling_one@yahoo.ca

Website: http://www.travellingone.com/

Summary: Separated and stranded offworld, Jack and Daniel search for each other.

Related episodes: None

Season: Any

May/05

---

 

What he wouldn't give to just click his heels and wake up in his own bed. There's no place like home.

 

What a stupid thing; Dorothy should have known that without a stargate, click travel was useless.

 

The darkness was cut by a glare from the nearly full moons, seeping through the cracks of the barn, and Jack scratched at his beard. Snores and sleeping groans of the others distracted him. MIA. The base would never know what had happened to them. Did anyone still care? Were Teal'c and Carter home? Was Daniel on some other world, treated okay, still alive?

 

Good thing Daniel wasn't here, though. He'd get in between those fights, try to get the guys to see logic. Another brawl had broken out that day, and Jack had moved as far out of range as possible. He had no death wish. Not yet.

 

If I live through this, pal, it's only for one reason. To find out what happened to you.

 

_____

 

P4T 287

Part 1: Arrival

 

As unexpected travellers, they'd been used to drawing crowds, but not to the ironic inconsistency of being both gawked at, and outrightly ignored. Some of these people were giving them too wide a berth for coincidence to be the assumption. Not averse to staring at them from afar, however, those who did take notice of their presence caused an uncomfortable uneasiness in the team.

 

"Do these folks seem a little tense to you?"

 

"When people on Earth see someone unusual, Jack, don't they also have a tendency to keep their distance?" Daniel reasoned. "Or to try to look without really looking like they're looking?"

 

"Okay, but… "

 

"What?"

 

"If they're not used to visitors, why's there a gate right on the edge of the fair? We're not so scary. Are we?" Jack looked from his mild-mannered scientist to the calm, unassuming military woman, and then to the large man beside him with the gold emblem on his face. He looked down at his own P90 dangling across his chest. Okay, point taken. "So, what now?"

 

Distancing himself from the gate pedestal, Daniel's attempt at approaching a small curious group fell flat as the onlookers backed away, keeping a safe distance. "Don't be afraid, we're peaceful expl…" but they were moving swiftly now, at the sound of his voice, and out of listening range. "…orers. Did you see those things on the back of their necks, Jack?" Daniel turned with a frown. "Sam?"

 

"I did, Daniel," Carter replied, closing the space between them. "Some sort of tattoo?"

 

"You tell me."

 

Sam just shrugged.

 

"What do you say we find someone who will talk to us?" Jack suggested. Their mission was to gather technological knowledge from this society. MALP visuals had already indicated a town that had low-rise buildings and transportation, large wagon-like vehicles with over-abundant tiny wheels. Likely they didn't see snow here.

 

"Sounds great, Jack. D'you have a plan?" One eyebrow lifting in mock curiosity, Daniel waited with smug cockiness. Jack's plans were usually 'forge ahead and see what happens'.

 

"Let's try that building. It's big; could be administrative."

 

"They're all big." Every direction spreading out from the fairgrounds or marketplace, with its stalls and vendors displaying colourful wares, clothing, and crafts, was crowded with structures. Lanes ran haphazardly among and between them, with patches of dry ground and grass springing up in the few otherwise bare spots.

 

"That one's bigger."

 

"Only because of the overhanging roofing."

 

"See? Fancier. Bet you twenty bucks it's a seat of government." Unless this is some sort of World's Fair and those are all the pavilions… Clicking his tongue and flicking a finger outward, Jack turned his back on the team.

 

Having no other plan of action, that one seemed good enough.

 

Until they approached the broad portico.

 

There's a flaw in complacency. A fallacy in thinking one is untouchable, just because one has travelled to too many worlds and survived. Just because no Goa'uld ship was perched on an apex, or arrogant bullying men didn't wander the lanes, carrying tattoos on their faces.

 

They should have known better than to think their attire and ways would be accepted without question.

 

They didn't even make it up the steps to the intricately carved wooden door.

 

Behind them a crowd had begun to appear; ahead of them alarms had been sounded. Too many factions were out and about on this workday, and an entire culture had been born and weaned on suspicion and guilt.

 

Before Jack could say crap, the travellers had been thrown to the ground and disarmed. Why it took sixteen men to take on a team of four was anybody's guess, but SG1 wasn't in a position to question authority.

 

"Crap."

 

The hands at their necks, pushing up their hair from behind, was unnerving. "They have none," growled a voice at Jack's back.

 

"That is not possible."

 

"Fellow! You insinuate I lie? Your own eyes cannot deceive!" There was not only anger in the tongue, but fear.

 

"They cannot be removed!"

 

The hand left Jack's neck, and the CO turned his head, cheek to the ground. The verbal war seemed to be between the apparent leader, red embroidery on his epaulettes, red buttons flowing down his seams like jelly, and another in a deep brown suit with white armbands.

 

"Hey! I speak English too, ya know," was all Jack could think to say. His present position of subservience and vulnerability had necessitated the need to retort.

 

"Uh, Jack - "

 

"Where are your identification strips?" Jack was now being addressed, as though the others had just realized he was a sentient and intelligent being.

 

"On the chain around my n - "

 

"To what do you refer?" interrupted Teal'c cautiously, before O'Neill could further respond.

 

"Identification strips!" the man shouted, his annoyance obvious, pressing a thumb tightly into the back of Teal'c's neck.

 

Okay, so patience wasn't a strong point. Jack thought inanely how much more fun it was to tick off a Goa'uld.

 

"Oh!" exclaimed Daniel, verbally jumping in to appease a potentially aggressive situation, vulnerability still an issue from his prone position. Those marks on the necks of the inhabitants were for identification? "We're from another place. We're travellers…"

 

"Identification!"

 

His face not far from Teal'c's, cheek pressed into the ground, Jack whispered, "So they speak English, but not an impressive vocabulary, eh?"

 

"We've just arrived from the stargate… Chapp'ai? The uh, the uh, um, big ring - " Daniel attempted an explanation.

 

"The Ring of Fortune?"

 

"Wheel of Fortune?" Jack couldn't help it.

 

"Yes," Daniel added hastily. "From that. We came to find out more about your culture."

 

"Even those from our outer colonies are fitted with the coding," the man continued to eye the team suspiciously. "Where are yours?"

 

What, like bar codes? Or those Bio-Thermo microchips people implant in their pets? "Uh, our world doesn't use them." On people.

 

"Do you think maybe you could let us get up now?" Jack tried to keep his manner pleasant, commending himself on his acting.

 

"You violate our laws!"

 

"We're explorers. We don't know of your laws, but we'd like to learn about them… to trade knowledge, if we can. If you don't want us here, we'll leave." Daniel tried again.

 

Without missing a beat, the man in charge ordered, "Lift them."

 

They were lifted to their feet.

 

"Follow!"

 

Nice to think that may have been a choice, but the large group of government or law-enforcing personnel prodding them onward with their own confiscated weapons left little room for contemplation.

 

The four teammates found themselves guided into the building along a wooden hallway, studded with carved locked doors. Personnel passing them on the way lifted right arms in fists towards their self-appointed guide, in what Jack assumed was a salute or greeting, rather than any threat. Realizing none of them had been introduced, he had no idea who the individual was who was leading them away from the Stargate, away from safety. "I'm Jack O'Neill, commanding officer of this team. And what may I call you?" he asked from behind.

 

The man's back didn't even pretend to acknowledge him. Jack's finger salute wasn't intended for his team to witness, or maybe it was, but the colonel was pissed. As the group pushed onward, from their position between the men, SG1 could see those strips - metallic? naquada…ic? - embedded into the necks of each of the uniformed men in front, below the rear hair length. Hair that was trimmed into a horseshoe shape, longer on the sides with the tag entirely visible in the center.

 

Finally stopping at a wall by a closed door, the commander reached into a large crevice and turned a crank, and the partition slid open. SG1 was roughly ushered inside. Sitting behind a large desk, two uniformed men seemed to be protecting a series of drawers set into the walls behind them. Tables piled with leather-bound books were rammed up against one side of the room; a flat machine covered in switches and tiny blinking lights hung on another.

 

Jack unsuccessfully tried to shrug off the arms so impolitely shoving him forward.

 

"Codes, Fellow," was all the leader said, but his instruction was understood. "Sections two, four, and five."

 

"Who are these?"

 

"Strangers. They've not been coded. They must have been hidden at birth."

 

"And they have shown themselves now? Fools. What plans have you been intending?"

 

When none of SG1 responded, the question was repeated with vehemence. "Fools! What plans have you been intending?"

 

"Just to learn about your people and to trade knowledge," Daniel looked from one to the other, fossilized faces in a moment that should have been on a television show instead of his life.

 

"We tell no one of ourselves but those bound to us. You will pledge yourselves now, and know all you want."

 

"Uh - no," Jack objected, not surprised to again be ignored.

 

Sliding back his squeaky wooden chair, one of the men limped over to the rear wall and cranked open three of the drawers. Reaching into the nearest, he withdrew a pair of inch-long metallic studs and placed them upside-down in his palms. Studs each with a long thin needle spiking out from their centers. As he handed them over, the second man retrieved similar devices from the other two wall boxes.

 

As four subordinates unhesitatingly turned towards SG1, realization dawned upon the teammates simultaneously.

 

"Don't touch us with those!' Jack commanded gruffly, struggling in the tight grasp, but the local men pressed forward as his own body was shoved up against a wall.

 

As the gate travellers rebelled against the hands pinning them face forward into the walls, it was only moments until SG1 had their own ID strips inserted deeply into the back of their necks.

 

_____

 

The sharp jolt had lasted for only a moment, and then they'd opened their eyes to find themselves back at the stargate at the end of a wide cordoned-off market lane, the dull throbbing under the skin itchy but bearable.

 

"Daniel?" Jack was walking towards him; Carter was slowly easing her way into a seated position by the DHD, Teal'c kneeling by her side. "You okay?"

 

Daniel struggled to remember what had happened as he lifted himself onto his elbows. The sun was higher in the sky than he last remembered, and in the foreground people were maneuvering around their stalls, rearranging their displays, purposely ignoring the team. "I think so. What happened?"

 

"We've been coded, apparently." He motioned towards the base of his own neck. "Brings the meaning of dog tags to a whole new level."

 

"Coded? Why? So they'll know us next time? And they're letting us go home now?"

 

"Uh, about that." Jack seemed troubled, and turned to where Carter and Teal'c were now in deep discussion.

 

"Jack?"

 

"The gate won't let us pass. Force field or something."

 

Daniel sat upright, leaning on the dry brown grass with one palm. "That's impossible."

 

"Trust me on that. Whenever we get close, we get scanned and some laser thing shoots us in the neck."

 

Daniel fingered the stud embedded in his skin. It seemed to have raised bumps, reminding him of Braille. "These? They're, what, security clearance?"

 

"Apparently. Yours and mine are blue, by the way. Teal'c's is green, Carter's is gray."

 

"None of us can get near the gate? Even open?"

 

"Can't open it. Same thing happens when we try to touch the DHD."

 

"So we wait for Hammond to contact us?" And then what? Get another team to arrive and dial out? But if the strips prevented them from approaching the gate… Daniel's mind was flashing at 100 terabytes per second.

 

"About that, Daniel," Jack wrinkled up his eyes, his features edgy.

 

Sighing, Daniel wondered at the size of the bush Jack was beating around. "Should I ask?"

 

"They've taken the MALP. And our weapons. And radios."

 

"So, no contact."

 

"Carter's trying to think of something. Could be a couple of days before the SGC tries sending another MALP through; we're not due to check in for forty-two hours. We have no food or supplies, by the way."

 

Daniel rubbed a finger over the device, then grasped it between his thumb and forefinger. Jack's hand caught him in motion.

 

"Don't."

 

The question in Daniel's eyes reflected his unspoken words, and Jack nodded.

 

"Zaps you. It'll put you out for another five minutes, at least."

 

"So, you've obviously been awake longer than me."

 

"Sir?" Carter and Teal'c had reached them. "I can't find a way for us to touch the DHD."

 

Jack had already assumed as much, but hoping had been more fun. "Then we find someone who can."

 

_____

 

But the one thing they had not expected upon once again approaching the doorway of that largest building, was to feel the severe zap of current.

 

"Daniel?" Jack was kneeling next to him, Carter sitting up only feet away.

 

Daniel blinked in the portico's shadows, realizing he was flat on the ground. "What happened?"

 

"The thing knocked you and Carter out for about ten minutes."

 

"Just me and Sam?"

 

"I didn't try to enter the building. Teal'c wasn't touched."

 

"What?" Daniel sat up, fully awake. "And why, by the way, am I always the last to awaken?"

 

Carter blinked almost apologetically. "I only woke seconds ago, Daniel."

 

"Why wasn't Teal'c knocked out?"

 

"Teal'c's green."

 

Shaking the confusion from his brain, clarity washed over the archaeologist. "Our IDs didn't let us in, but Teal'c's did? Why?"

 

"Don't know, Daniel, but we're going to try something. Come." Helping Daniel to his feet, Jack led the way back into the busy street. Life was moving at a steady pace; throughout the market grounds business was taking place, and people dropped in and out of sight amongst the many buildings of the main square. The packed dirt road was dusty and showed the tracks of sandals, moccasins, and bare feet.

 

"Why aren't any of those other people being knocked to the ground in front of the buildings?" Daniel puzzled out loud.

 

Carter stepped up beside him. "They must know where they can and can't go, Daniel. They live here."

 

Approaching another building, Jack motioned to Teal'c. "After you."

 

Teal'c walked uneventfully through the doorway.

 

As Jack followed, he let out a sharp gasp, grabbed his neck, and collapsed.

 

"Shit!" Daniel rushed over. "Jack?"

 

"Stand back, Daniel Jackson. You must not get so close to the entrance. O'Neill will be fine in several minutes."

 

"Why can you get into every building, and we can't?" Daniel glared, frowning, waiting for Jack to wake up. Several people stepped around the quartet, glaring angrily at the group half blocking the entranceway. Each of those people wore a green or gray neckpiece.

 

"Gray?" Sam looked around, and then attempted to step through the doorway, surprise escalating as she remained untouched.

 

"So just Jack and I can't get in?" Daniel stared, confused. "What's in there?"

 

"Remain here with O'Neill," Teal'c instructed his teammates. "and I will attempt to find out."

 

"I'm coming, Teal'c," Carter was already stepping over the threshold, and both disappeared into the hollows of the interior.

 

Moments later, Jack opened his eyes.

 

_____

 

They'd figured it out. By the end of a long tiring afternoon and evening, and some uncomfortable and time-wasting zaps later, along with much people-watching, SG1 had their answer. The identification strips allowed access to certain dwellings and functions, deterring trespassers. This society was one of caste and class; gender, size, and perceived strength played a large part. Carter could enter any building designed with a woman's needs or work conditions in mind: the birth room, kitchen, sewing, craft, and farming compounds. Jack and Daniel were allowed entry into the manual labour barns, mechanical shops, and factory. Teal'c was allowed into each of those, and also free to choose between administrative buildings and what appeared to be teaching facilities. Why, they could not assume, unless Teal'c's size and apparent strength, or the raised coding already on his forehead, had given him some advantage. All were able to access the soup halls, the open market areas, and the facilities specializing in, as Jack labelled it, bodily entertainment.

 

None of them could go anywhere near the DHD or Stargate.

 

"So what colour do the members of their colonies need, ya think, to come and go through the Wheel of Fortune?"

 

"That cannot be determined, O'Neill, without witnessing the arrival of such visitors." Whenever that might be. What difference would it make, anyway? Whatever the colour, each of theirs was wrong.

 

"So now what?" Daniel questioned uncomfortably, as his team sat in near darkness, the lights from the main building off the marketplace lending a glow to their misery. They had had no money to purchase food at the soup hall, and their MREs were among their confiscated packs. They had only what remained in their pockets - a couple of energy bars, and Aspirin.

 

"I guess we go back to that nice commander who gave us these souvenirs."

 

"They knew we'd be back," Carter whispered, as though the sound of her voice would make things more real.

 

"Uh huh." Jack had already figured that out. The building was closed for the night, though. They'd checked.

 

Again fingering the uncomfortable eyesore on his neck, Jack lay down on the dry ground at the edge of the marketplace. "Wake me in two."

 

_____

 

None of them had actually slept that night. Now hungry and thirsty, they perched on the steps of the main building, waiting for a man in red embroidery, or one of his employees, to open up.

 

By the time others had arrived, SG1 was hungrier and hot, not to mention lacking in patience. The sun was up, and the portico gave less shade than it pretended.

 

Finally, the man in brown arrived, noting the team sitting on the steps. His face indicated no surprise. "Come," he nodded to Teal'c, ignoring the others.

 

Teal'c did not budge. "My teammates are unable to accompany me."

 

"Of course not. They shall be attended to."

 

"Just give us our equipment and let us go home." Jack was on his feet, the others standing protectively, defiantly, at his side.

 

"For whatever reason you were not coded at birth is irrelevant to us now. You belong here and will be given positions." Before anyone could argue, he was gone.

 

"Damn it."

 

As SG1 contemplated what to do next, agreeing that Teal'c would have to go inside and find someone with whom to talk some sense, uniformed personnel with green neck strips burst forth from the doors, grabbing Jack, Daniel, and Carter.

 

"Hey!" Struggling against the armholds was futile, and three-quarters of SG1 found themselves being forcibly dragged away.

 

_____

 

Carter had been ushered into some lanes behind the busy stalls, and they had not caught sight of her since. By mid-morning, Daniel and Jack had found themselves in a primitive sort of mint, manned by dozens of others, stamping out coins with a hand press. From there, the day had not progressed with any more promise. Nonchalantly they had tried to walk out, to leave the premises, but their way had been blocked.

 

Yet, why were others allowed to come and go as they pleased? No one they spoke to chose to answer their questions -- no one chose to respond to them at all.

 

The work had been tiring and hot, harder than anticipated. Manually pressing out each coin and insignia from the thousands of molten alloys, burnt and strained fingers accompanied sighs of complaint at the end of the day. Each coin that was not perfect had been rejected, sent back for re-melting, and eventually molded again and re-stamped.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Daniel had seen the swift movement of Jack pocketing the odd coin. He knew why; without any money, they could never escape - and eat. So every now and then, he managed to pocket one as well. Not many; the four or five coins, from the thousands made that day by at least fifty workers, would never be missed.

 

_____

 

Sleep was a thing to be wished for and welcomed. Bed was a straw-filled mattress in the dusty room behind the mint, with fifty other workers.

 

"Here, Daniel." Jack had appropriated two mats together, hoping they hadn't been previously claimed. He needed to be beside Daniel, needed to make escape plans. They had to get home, not to mention he had no idea what job had been assigned to Carter. Neither cleaning, cooking, sewing, nor belly dancing would go over well with the female warrior and genius, he knew.

 

"Regh ghara!" ordered a gruff voice angrily towering above him. Looking up, Jack could tell he had assumed wrong; they were obviously being told to move, that these mats were already taken. Rising, he waited for all the other men to take their positions and sit down. The few remaining mattresses were scattered around the room, no two empty ones side by side.

 

Sighing, Jack touched Daniel's sleeve. "Find a mat, then I'll come visit," he whispered.

 

He didn't get the chance.

 

Marching into the room were security personnel wearing the clothing of the mint overseers, heading straight for the two newcomers.

 

"What's going on?" Jack asked innocently, as his jacket was grabbed from behind and yanked from his arms. Whoever was behind him was already rifling through any possible hiding places. Jack realized too late that he and Daniel were the only ones among these workers still wearing clothing with pockets.

 

_____

 

The pilfered coins had been discovered, and the two teammates had spent the night under guard, each on his own mat, where it was too dark and too far to even see each other's faces. They'd been allowed to keep their own t-shirts, but had been given navy stretch-waist cotton workpants.

 

And the more he thought about it, the more Jack convinced himself that this whole thing was a setup. Payback for having been hidden since birth? Apparently, those representatives of the state laws must still be convinced that his team was plotting something nefarious.

 

Now, morning having finally arrived, they were being herded into a long vehicle, a sort of train, along with a gang of desperate and unfortunate-looking souls. Tired and drooping and dirty, some bleeding and some obviously ill, the boxcar was already packed to over-capacity.

 

"Jack?" It had been a long time, couple of years, in fact, since Jack had seen Daniel looking so demoralized and powerless. Jack gently reached out and touched his friend's wrist. The train was full, the men all crammed together on the floor, huddling and nearly immobilized. The luckier ones had found a spot beneath a crack or hole in the wooden boards, where air might filter through. The atmosphere was already hot and dusty, the air thick and stale, and they had not even begun the journey. Or, perhaps, some of these men had been travelling for hours - or days - already.

 

"Come." Stepping over legs, receiving angry grunts and half-hearted kicks in return, Jack guided Daniel to a corner with barely room enough for one, beside a man lying lethargically against the wall, favouring his left side. The bruises and scars patterning his face undermined the assumption that he had seen better days. On their left was a shabby man with dazed eyes, staring and unseeing, and lying across the floor in front of them were those faces that had long-since given up. "I'll stand."

 

"We'll take turns."

 

But the ride was long, and the hot hours grew increasingly unbearable. Standing became less of an option; as the train lurched back and forth on those rollers it had for tracks, neither man had success keeping his balance, and the heat added to the strain. Finally, they were both forced to huddle down into the corner together, making the space hotter still. Groans and moans and sounds of vomiting and others relieving themselves in the corners assaulted them in the dimness, light filtering in only from cracks in the warping wood.

 

"I hope this corner wasn't meant for…that," Daniel muttered.

 

The train continued on its nauseatingly unsteady way.

 

"Got any water?" Jack finally whispered, fully aware that they were both dehydrating.

 

"Just the tin they gave me this morning," Daniel responded. "Do you need it?"

 

"No, I've got mine. Just checking. I think you'd better drink a bit."

 

"I don't think any of these men have any."

 

"So?"

 

"I can't drink in front of them."

 

"Oh, for crying out loud, Daniel. You'll have to at some point."

 

"I'll wait."

 

And the train rambled on. The heat was already unbearable, the only new air coming in from the few cracks in the walls and flooring. Even without his confiscated jacket, Daniel was sweating and yet beginning to shiver. "Jack? You okay?"

 

"Hot, Daniel. Hot."

 

"Are you finding it hard to breathe?" Daniel could feel Jack nodding. "I'm going to have to drink something."

 

"Me too." Gratefully, Jack watched Daniel remove the water tin tied below his shirt. He hadn't wanted to have any of his own, while Daniel was holding back. This had been breakfast.

 

The water left much to be desired, but would feel good on the dry throat. Their dehydrating bodies needed it.

 

Taking a sip of the warm water, Daniel could see the eyes staring, the men longingly watching the tin pass from his waist to his lips. Men who had been in this train longer than he had. The man with the scars, unable to sleep or find a comfortable place for his legs. All watching the tin, now tilted to his mouth.

 

He sipped again, then looked guiltily at Jack, passing it over.

 

"No, Daniel. I have some."

 

And Daniel passed it to the man beside him.

 

Gratefully, eyes finally acknowledging him and beaming with hopeful pleasure, the man took a long sip.

 

And then he passed it on.

 

The tin was small, but managed to hit the lips of eleven thirsty men, one small sip at a time. Not thirst-quenching nor likely even to be of any help at all, but the gesture was symbolic.

 

And then Jack took out his own, squeezed Daniel's hand, sighed, and did the same.

 

_____

 

They were half lying on each other, arms with nowhere else to go, legs cramped into awkwardly crooked positions, breathing heavily and drenched with sweat, when the train halted with a lurch. The door finally opened, letting in a fresh cool breeze, a gift from heaven. But no one was able to move.

 

"Out," bellowed the loud call from the doorway in a variety of languages, and then bodies were being dragged through the opening and thrown to the ground below. Few were moving on their own.

 

Legs came into view, three sets, and more space was freed up as the train was forcibly emptied. Daniel felt hands prying Jack off him, and then some on himself.

 

Thrown onto the ground amidst a tangle of limbs and bodies, he realized he was shivering hard in the cool air - air probably hot and humid, but cool compared to the inside of that train. The sun was gone, only stars and lanterns shredding the blackness of the night. Trying to move his legs, Daniel felt nauseous. His muscles weren't cooperating.

 

And audibly, the workers were counting the dead.

 

"Jack?" he whispered, but no reply was forthcoming, and Daniel closed his eyes and slept.

 

_____

 

There were hands on his back when he returned to consciousness. He was lying on his stomach, hard floor beneath him, and while the shivering had subsided, his legs and arms felt weak. The hands rubbed his back and shoulders, in a gentle soothing massage.

 

"Hello?" his voice was rough, throat dry.

 

"Daniel." The hands stopped their movement. "You awake?"

 

The nod hurt, so he opened his eyes instead. Jack was framed in darkness. "Think so."

 

"You scared me."

 

"I'm okay." Trying to rise, the nausea was overwhelming; closing his eyes once more, Daniel put his head back down on the hard floor.

 

"You need to drink something. Here."

 

"What is it?"

 

"They left some water."

 

"Soon."

 

"Now, Daniel." Jack gently helped his friend turn over, and lifted his head. The warm water tasted… wet.

 

Daniel took two small sips, and then two more, lying down again. "Thanks. Where are we?"

 

"In some holding cell I assume, with a dozen others. The rest didn't make it."

 

"Oh." And he'd scared Jack. Got it.

 

"Daniel. Wake up."

 

"What?" He'd fallen asleep again? Jack was shaking his arm, then rubbing his cheek.

 

"Stay awake. Drink some more."

 

"No."

 

"Yes." Lifting his teammate's head once more, Jack tipped the tin towards him. Daniel managed more sips this time. "Good. That's it." Releasing him, Jack watched his friend pensively. "Look, Daniel. I don't know what they have planned for us and I don't know how far we are from the gate, but we have to get away from here. And we have to stay together."

 

"Can't have anything good planned, Jack. We were caught stealing."

 

"I know." My fault, buddy. "I'm sorry."

 

"I did it too. We had to eat."

 

"Worked like a charm, huh?" The last time they'd eaten was when?

 

"You have to sleep too."

 

"After I know you're okay."

 

"I'm okay."

 

"Uh huh." Jack pulled himself over, lifting Daniel's head onto his shin. "Have some more water."

 

Complying, Daniel drank. And then he put his head down and slept.

 

_____

 

"How are you doing?"

 

Daniel had woken some hours later to find Jack asleep, and he'd watched over his friend. Feeling stronger, he'd managed the rest of his water. Didn't matter if they gave no more; he'd needed it all right away.

 

Jack was looking up at him now, in the light of a single ceiling lantern, and Daniel repeated his question. "How are you feeling?"

 

Jack nodded. "Okay, all things considered." He sat up, groaning, stretching his stiff muscles and looking around the bleak surroundings. The cell was large, and a dozen other men and their shadows were sleeping alongside the walls. "You?"

 

"Better. Thanks."

 

"What the hell was that, giving your water away?"

 

Daniel shrugged. "I had to."

 

"Didn't help a damn one of them."

 

"Yes it did. Didn't you see the looks in their eyes? Not one of them grabbed at it or took more than a fair share."

 

Yeah, he'd noticed that too. So what, a last offering to the dying? A final wish granted? Most of those men had ended up dead.

 

But Daniel was alive, and so was he, and that was all that really mattered. "We have to get away from here, Daniel."

 

"No argument there, Jack." Daniel sat beside him, legs stretched out, leaning against the wall. "How?"

 

"We'll have to look for a way as soon as they take us outside. Stay as close to me as possible."

 

_____

 

But any opportunity seemed to be long in coming. For two days there was little movement outside the cell. Twice a day, a rice and corn mixture was brought in, and water. One at a time they were taken from the enclosure by two guards, to a separate closet with a hole in the floor, and immediately brought back to the cell. One at a time, one at a time, one at a time. No way was Jack going to attempt a break-out without Daniel.

 

Things weren't looking up, and an unwelcome routine was starting to evolve.

 

"Jack? Think this is where they're going to keep us?"

 

Maybe. "No." Jack patted Daniel's knee. Was he convincing?

 

"Next time they take you… if there's a way, any way at all, Jack, go without me."

 

"Like hell I will."

 

"You can come back for me if you get the chance."

 

"No." Even if he could manage to somehow escape, they were too far from the Stargate. He could be searching for weeks, months even. And security would be bumped up; Daniel would never get out of here.

 

Intentionally changing the subject, trying to get his partner's mind away from the unacceptable and impossible, Jack lifted a finger to his lips with a frown. "Daniel, how come none of the prisoners speak English?" Several of the men had drifted to each other, but most remained solitary. "And how come those others did? If English is a modern language, why does anyone here speak it?"

 

"I think the Goa'uld brought English to Earth, Jack. It probably died out or was forbidden when they were banished. Some historian probably revived it in the Middle Ages thinking it was a dead language." Twisting his shoelace around his fingers, Daniel shrugged. "Maybe the leaders of this place have passed it along their lineage from when Goa'ulds ruled here. They probably pass on their positions as well, so those highest in power are those who speak the language."

 

"But they don't speak Goa'uld."

 

"Maybe they do."

 

"Can you understand what they're saying?" Jack nodded towards some of the prisoners who had congregated into a group of five, engrossed in a heated discussion.

 

"No." And too tired to try. It wasn't as though any of those men could offer them a way out. But maybe they could shed some light on this society, or where they were headed. If anywhere. They might all be cooped up in here for years. Daniel decided he'd work on the language later.

 

Jack steered his thoughts towards his two absent teammates. Hopefully Teal'c could find a way to get himself and Carter both home, if he had access to administrative buildings. But the big man had no idea where the two of them were. As much as Jack longed to get away from this place, he wanted Daniel out more. Too depressed and discouraged, his present teammate was going out of his mind with boredom. "Are you scared?"

 

"You want the truth, or what?"

 

"Me too." Being locked up for stealing some coins wasn't what he'd had in mind for the rest of his life. He was still too young, and Daniel was even younger. They both had too much left to do. He didn't want to lose even four more days, nevermind weeks or months. Been there, done that, and hadn't been able to escape that other time either.

 

"We'll get home."

 

Daniel didn't answer. There were no stars - just unnatural lighting and walls without windows - to wish on.

 

_____

 

"Daniel. Wake up."

 

The urgent voice was hushed and a hand was shaking him. Daniel sat up abruptly, squinting open his eyes. "What?"

 

"Voices, outside the cell. No idea what they're saying, but something's going on." All the other prisoners were alert and listening as well.

 

Jack held onto Daniel as the door opened and seven uniformed men entered, eyeing the prisoners. In a language Daniel didn't understand, they conversed, pointing to those among them. As six prisoners were removed and passed to more guards waiting by the exit, Jack stood close to Daniel's side, both teammates holding onto each other's t-shirts. "Stay with me, Daniel," Jack whispered, as though the other man did not know his partner's thoughts or worries.

 

As the officers and guards made their way towards the pair, the unfamiliar words bounced off each other unabsorbed and unassimilated. Though concentrating as intently as he could, Daniel still was unable to comprehend the spoken language.

 

Daniel couldn't hold his ground; backing up as they approached, he found himself surrounded and tightly grasped, and then he was being pulled away. Protesting, Jack reached out, only to be held back by two more uniformed bodies. "Daniel!" Struggling, he watched as Daniel's ID was zapped, watched helplessly as his friend fell to the floor unconscious. "Leave him alone!"

 

Jack looked on as Daniel's ID stub was matched by a second, a red one inserted above it, and the first was then tinkered with and gradually removed with a series of forked metallic tools. Drops of blood from a puncture mark were all that remained, and now Daniel's strip no longer matched his own. "Give me that!" Jack shouted, hoping somehow these men also understood English. "Give me a red one!" The arms held him as he struggled, and he knew this wasn't helping Daniel. He couldn't help Daniel; he couldn't even keep them together. And if ever they were removed from this place - which now seemed imminent - he knew he'd be separated from Daniel forever.

 

Within minutes Daniel awoke, the officers still standing over him, and his eyes caught Jack's. Scared, helpless eyes, in a devastated face. "What happened?"

 

"You have a red ID tag."

 

Realization and comprehension dawned in Daniel's own eyes, as the men pulled him to his feet. And as the two friends were prodded out of the cell, out of the hallway and the building and into the rainy day, they knew this was the last chance they'd have for escape. But there were too many hands against them, too many arms holding their own, and Jack watched as Daniel and those four other men with newly implanted red strips were forced into another boxcar. Struggling furiously, Jack shrugged away from his captors and bolted towards his friend, only to realize his implant wasn't coded to the entry. Damn that thing, if he could only remove it from his neck he might be able to reach Daniel…

 

But all attempts had proven futile, not like those Goa'uld memory devices that had not damaged the cerebral cortex. And all Jack could do was meet his friend's piercing stare, both men knowing they would never see each other again, or their homeland. And as he was recaptured and restrained, all he could do was watch as Daniel's eyes said good-bye. As much as Jack despised good-byes for their insinuation that two people would never meet again, he also knew that should that particular threat come true this time, he would forever curse himself for not having said as much to Daniel.

 

"Goodbye," he muttered, just loud enough for the sound to carry to the shutting door, and louder this time, a bellow for the sky and plains and strangers to hear and interpret and never give a damn, "I'll find you. I swear to God, Daniel, I'll find you. That's a promise."

 

And then Jack could do nothing more but stand there and watch in shock as the train door shut… and the whole thing left its rollers behind and disappeared into the sky.

 

_____

 

It had been two days, and Jack knew it was impossible to know how far away Daniel had been taken. Had no idea if he was anywhere on or even near this planet. Had no idea if he'd even survived the ride this time.

 

Who could have known these people had space travel?

 

Goa'uld technology? Didn't look like it, but they'd been bar coded, and Jack could only figure that that was a remnant left over from the Goa'uld. That, and the stargate itself. This society didn't appear that technologically savvy. Could the coded ones from the outer colonies be Jaffa? Jack flinched at the thought, his stomach muscles contracting; if that were the case, then Daniel might be on a Goa'uld world.

 

No. These people had coded Teal'c, even with that emblem on his face.

 

And as he was herded into another cell in a different building several hours down the road with the remainder of the men, Jack's worst fears surfaced as he succumbed to the realization that he had been left behind.

 

All of them had.

 

_____

 

Part two

 

There had been some stars here, but so far none of his wishes had materialized. And he'd only seen them a couple of times, as most nights he was locked up here in this place. Maybe you had to find the same star every night - or find the one your teammates were on, for anything concerning home to come true.

 

And he really had no idea which star that might be.

 

The boxcar had sped off into nothingness, and there was no light and no air and no cracks in the wood that wasn't wood, for this train was a spaceship. He knew the travel time had to have been at least two days, even without a watch, for he'd stayed up most of those hours. He had survived with no water and no food of his own, because this time water had been shared with him, from the knowing and thankful eyes of a fellow prisoner, and there were fewer of them this time, and Daniel had tried to start learning the language but found he couldn't concentrate. It was hard to focus, when he was so scared to death.

 

But that had been almost two weeks ago, and now he had food and water, or their facsimiles. Not completely geared to his taste buds but it would keep him alive and he could get used to it.

 

The accommodations left something to be desired, but what could a thief and criminal expect?

 

But most importantly, what had happened to Jack?

 

Daniel rolled over on the woven blanket that softened the cold stone tiles, pulling the thin cotton sheet up to his chin, and stared at the wall, the four other prisoners keeping to themselves, angry and afraid, just as he was. He could always hope that Teal'c and Sam were working on a plan; at least they were in the vicinity of the stargate - at last state of things, anyway - but every time he thought of Jack his gut clenched. Jack was somewhere on that planet too, but where? How far from the gate by train? How would he ever get home?

 

Daniel had no idea what planet he was on. Home wasn't even an idea.

 

No, at the moment the only plan was freedom, some day. But where would he go? He'd be a fugitive, on an unfamiliar world.

 

Here in this chilly cell, at least, he wasn't expected to pay for his own food.

 

Three of the four other prisoners were sick, and Daniel knew it would be only hours before he again followed the trend. He'd already figured out that it wasn't from the food; those inhalers had to be doing something, and now he knew what. His pleas of "Don't give me that!" had been futile, forcing him to take into his lungs whatever parasites or bacteria or viruses they were handing out that day. Had they even understood his language, they would not have given a damn. The researchers were only doing their jobs.

 

When the oxygen mask had been forcibly draped over his nose and mouth that first time and the air sprayed through, at first he'd thought it was their way of inducing the death sentence.

 

Again, the choral moanings had woken him during the night, and the rashes on those men were painful to see. He'd tried to help, but there wasn't much he could do, given the facilities and the language barrier. In the first days, when he'd tried to learn the language, they'd either laughed at his attempts, or ignored him. His lack of motivation in that respect was worrisome; it wasn't like him, not to want to learn a language. Until he realized that this time, learning the language meant accepting that he'd be here a while.

 

Anyway, the men weren't meant to be helped, he knew; that was what the subsequent inhalers were for, and eventually they'd either be cured, or die, and there was not a damn thing he could do about it.

 

And every one of them had red ID tags. Was that the symbol for being expendable?

 

Daniel lifted the loose stone tile from the floor below his old worn blanket, where he'd stashed his last personal belonging, careful not to let anyone see. The one thing he'd hidden when they'd taken away his pockets was a photo, taken at an SG1 homecoming, right after they'd exploded Apophis's ships. Himself with longer hair, Sam, Jack, and Teal'c, smiling at the camera, Teal'c not really smiling but all of them happy to be alive and together. He'd kept that in his pocket on missions, for good luck. And then, with no pockets, he'd hidden it downturned inside the bottom of his boot.

 

But he didn't trust that here. Not with all the experiments and observations. The picture was safer in the floor, even though he might one day find himself shifted to another cell. He had to take the risk. That photo was his last link to a home he'd never see again.

 

_____

 

Jack had been transferred again, to a workbarn this time. Best to keep the criminals labouring than wasting away doing nothing, no doubt. Not that he was complaining; there was at least fresh air here, on the walk from the manual sawmill to the barn, where they were all kept at night.

 

The leg chains, however, kept one from running away.

 

So many men, but why were they here? Had they stolen coins? Food? Had they injured or killed someone, broken some cultural rule? Spoken out of turn, chosen the wrong political party? Ragged, rough, bearded and worn, they had mostly all been here a long time it seemed, except for a couple who had come in with him on the most recent train. Quick to temper and quick to bend in the face of authority, they were depressed and withdrawn, occasionally loud, sometimes silent, but never had Jack yet seen them jovial or curious.

 

The saws kept them in line. Fights had broken out, but no losing prisoners involved had ever come out alive.

 

Good thing Daniel wasn't here; well, probably. He wouldn't have fit in, but Jack would at least have had someone to talk to. But by now, Daniel would be talking to those in his own environment, whatever that was; hopefully one not as hard as this place. Wherever it was; why had he been given a different ID? Why had they taken him to a different planet? One of their colonies? Why? To break up any plotting the two of them might have been doing together?

 

And what had happened to Carter, and Teal'c? At least he could hope they were being accepted as citizens, and allowed to wander at will. So near the stargate, he knew those two would never rest until they were home.

 

After three weeks, Jack had almost given up hope of escape. Was there even any point, any more?

 

_____

 

"Let me help you." Daniel had felt the discouragement of the man, bathed in sweat and kicking out at his nightmares or hallucinations, and even though the words were foreign, Daniel could no longer sit idly by and do nothing.

 

The others just sat and watched, themselves weak and angry and fearful.

 

But as Daniel knelt forward slowly, calm gentle hands reaching out to steady the man and offer a small degree of comfort, the legs reared up and kicked out, a frantic effort to stay in control and keep demons away.

 

Backing up quickly, Daniel ignored the low chuckles of the other men, waiting for a calm moment when he might once again be able to approach and lend support.

 

But several futile attempts later, Daniel lay down to sleep, hoping only that when his own time came, he would not react violently to any aid that might halfheartedly come his way.

 

_____

 

He was drained, again, weak and shivery. The rash along his limbs and torso itched and hurt, and it took a conscious effort not to rub. They had done nothing for the rash but give him another inhaler, then another, after yesterday's round of chemicals had caused him terrifying breathing problems. With nothing to do in here but stare and think, the long hours of pain and fear and boredom dragged on endlessly. Lying in the dark on his blanket throughout the night, he had not expected to awaken to see another day, and the thought filled Daniel with both acceptance and dread. He was acutely aware that no one had bothered to check on him; his death would have been nothing but a failed research project.

 

Daniel knew the samples and the inhaled sprays were tests, experimental cures against known diseases. But it was the illnesses they'd administered that were doing the most harm. This was already the third in only three weeks, and until they found results that pleased them he had to put up with both the symptoms and the side effects. Most of the experimental remedies had not helped at all, leaving him barely able to move off his blanket, the aches or rashes or heart palpitations or dizziness keeping him prone. Just days ago, so tired and weak and unable to think, he'd forgotten about the stone, and they'd almost caught him holding his photograph. He'd had to slip it under his waistband, that time.

 

He knew some of the other men were dying. There were a couple of new faces in the cell with him already, and two who had never returned.

 

He almost didn't care if his own time would soon be up. This was no life.

 

Daniel had to exert more strength this time, to release the stone. The photo was getting creased and scratched, and he dusted it off, under the safety of his sheet. He'd look at the smiling faces, Sam, Jack, and Teal'c's frown, and convince himself the three of them were all back together once more, in safety.

 

He smiled wistfully, thinking of Jack's words back on base, so long ago. "When I saw that staff blast wound, Daniel, I swear; I saw your life flash before my eyes." A joke of affection, betrayed by the grim tight lips.

 

And then he'd press his team to his chest and sleep for a while, waking up to replace his memories under the tile before they came for him again.

 

Only that once it had nearly not worked. He'd be more careful, from now on.

 

_____

 

The one thing really bugging him was the beard. At least now he looked like all the rest; if he ran, maybe they wouldn't know it was him?

 

Run, what a joke. With the chains he could move about as fast as a bowling ball in the gutter.

 

So what. They'd shoot first anyway, with those crude damn cannon big fiery things, and identify him later. Where would that get him?

 

Into peace, perhaps. Maybe he'd find Daniel up there one day. Wherever there was. No, Daniel was going to a better place than he was. Maybe one on a different planet, too.

 

Where was Daniel? Was he happy?

 

No. They don't make criminals happy, anywhere in the universe.

 

Sorry, buddy. So sorry. I couldn't protect you this time. Couldn't get you home.

 

I let them take you, alone. All alone.

 

What he wouldn't give to just click his heels and wake up in his own bed. There's no place like home.

 

What a stupid thing; Dorothy should have known that without a stargate, click travel was useless.

 

The darkness was cut by a glare from the nearly full moons, seeping through the cracks of the barn, and Jack scratched at his beard. Snores and sleeping groans of the others distracted him. MIA. The base would never know what had happened to them. Did anyone still care? Were Teal'c and Carter home? Was Daniel on some other world, treated okay, still alive?

 

Good thing Daniel wasn't here, though. He'd get in between those fights, try to get the guys to see logic. Another brawl had broken out that day, and Jack had moved as far out of range as possible. He had no death wish. Not yet.

 

If I live through this, pal, it's only for one reason. To find out what happened to you.

_____

 

"Jack?" Daniel woke suddenly, the partially-folded spare shirt half unrolled under his head, the sweat-soaked sheet tangled around his legs. He was shivering, his lungs aching as though a boulder was pressing on his chest. Where was he?

 

Clarity came within seconds; the artificial lighting offered little aid to his closed eyes, but the hard stone floor and moans of the other men gave away his situation. He hurt; his breathing was off again, thick and troubled, and his limbs were weighted. Eyes still closed, struggling to untangle himself from the sheet, he remembered Jack was nowhere near. None of his team, nor Janet, would be here to help him this time.

 

The sounds in the cell were wrong. Footsteps, low conversation. Forcing his eyes slightly open, Daniel saw the researchers, in their usual hazmat-like gear, removing the body of one of the prisoners. Finally; the man had been lying there since yesterday.

 

"Water?" Daniel grunted, hoping. His tin was empty but his throat was sore. Drained of energy, he lay back down unnoticed inside his semi-tangled sheet, weakly letting his thoughts drift into another troubled sleep.

 

It may have been minutes later or it may have been hours, when he was finally awoken by the hazmat men fitting another specimen mask over his face.

 

_____

 

The warm green waters curled around him, glittering, soothing, lulling him into a relaxed state of acceptance. And yet, he was finding it hard to swim, his legs unable to kick out, but Carter was up ahead under the sparkling waters waiting, smiling, urging him on. He reached out his hand, and the pull of Carter's own outstretched arm, beckoning, drew him forward in a smooth momentum. Realizing Daniel was pushing him gently from behind, he knew he would reach the aquarium by the time the show started, and he wasn't worried.

 

Schools of fish swam by, outfits of brilliant hues gracing their scales, and Jack looked down and saw that he matched. At his side, Daniel was blending into the green waters, fading in and out, and Jack called him back, called Daniel, Daniel, Don't Go and Daniel smiled, becoming a fish at Carter's side.

 

And the candles at the aquarium glowed and glimmered and shone across the waters. Jack walked into the lit chamber, asked what the candles were for and Teal'c said "It is your birthday O'Neill." And then Daniel was there, holding a dog in his arms, offering it. "Every member of my team has to have a dog," he smiled.

 

And Jack tried to walk to Daniel, tried to reach Daniel and the dog as they all sang Happy Birthday O'Neill, but the long leashes wrapped around his ankles wouldn't let him get very far.

 

He reached down, said "Let me take these off first" but they wouldn't come off and the harder he tried the louder the sound that was waking up the sleeping puppies.

 

Then abruptly he awoke, the shackles rattling as he ground his feet back and forth into the straw. The dream immediately was gone, and all Jack remembered was the dog in Daniel's arms.

 

And he saw it was nearly dawn again.

 

Waking up was the hardest part of the day, harder than the incessant sawing, or the inevitable muscle strain and exhaustion by work's end every evening. Harder than listening to growls and disputes in a language Jack didn't recognize, and harder than watching brawls end in bloodshed.

 

No, waking up meant that all dreams were false, that his home was gone along with his teammates, that the reality of this fucked up situation couldn't be denied or brushed away with an alarm clock. With every new morning came the sounds and odors and sights of a place he could not escape or deny. The brutality of that single realization hit with a force each and every moment upon awakening, and the shock did not yet seem to be wearing off.

 

And so, this morning as every other, the scowls and frowns and bad humour pertained as much to him as to all the others trapped in this place they did not want to be. And as he waited for the slow trek to the table line, where he would get bread or rice cakes and hot water to drink, Jack realized that the worst of the day was already over.

 

_____

 

The walls had rotated, swirling around him, faces floating and bodies where bodies shouldn't have been, eyes and mouths and tins of water on the ceiling and facing him and knocking together, merging into one and into colours, strange blended colours that made the room into nothing but a decadent neon wormhole.

 

And then slowly his disorientation and dizziness had passed, and for four days Daniel had barely been able to see. Though one of the treatments had finally combatted his symptoms, it had inflicted disturbing side effects. The drops and poultices only made his vision worse, with stinging eyes that had blurred the unnatural lighting into shades of gray. There wasn't too much he had to look at inside the cell or out, but what scared him most was the possibility that this could be permanent. There was no promise that any medicines were up to the task - which was why they were using prisoners for their research in the first place. Possible damage to his eyes was not something he could ever accept.

 

One of these days, they'd make that one final error that would cost him some part of himself, or his life. None of the prisoners had much of a lifespan in this place; he'd already figured that out.

 

For four days he'd stumbled about, feeling around for his blanket, his water, his photo that he could no longer see. His fingers had had to feel, had to imagine the smiling happy faces.

 

Today though, this afternoon, they had administered ice cold drops that had burned profusely, and then his vision had cleared, like fog burning off in the sunshine. Only those transparent little black dots remained, floating across his vision as he moved his eyes and blinked. Filled with euphoria, Daniel rejoiced internally, until he realized that those people wouldn't be satisfied until they discovered a remedy that would work without any side effects at all. His spirit plummeted with the thought that they'd be administering something new, either in the night or sometime the following day, and he'd be back to his fragile frightening world, where monsters were reality and illness was a normal state of being.

 

Tossed back into the cell earlier than usual, only one other prisoner had yet been returned. The man watched him enter with intense guilty eyes.

 

Perhaps this would be a good time to start learning the language.

 

Daniel sat on his blanket, legs crossed, and faced his cellmate. Without distractions, without words, there was nothing to do in here, and boredom manifested mostly in daydreams. There wasn't a lot of room to do much else.

 

"Hi. I'm Daniel."

 

The other man lowered his head, watching Daniel from the corner of his eye.

 

"You from around here?" Perhaps if he moved closer, he might be able to express his desire for friendship. But he might just as easily be misunderstood, and give the impression of intimidation. He stayed put.

 

When no further eye contact was forthcoming, Daniel sighed, too short on energy to put forth the effort. Communication could wait.

 

He reached under his blanket and felt around for the flat stone tile. He needed to see his friends.

 

They weren't there.

 

With sudden comprehension, Daniel sat upright, his voice louder and gruffer than he had intended. "Give it back."

 

The guilty look was there in the fellow's eyes, but he showed no intention of feigning comprehension.

 

Fear was greater than his anger, for that picture was all Daniel had left. He would share it if he had to, but he would never, never give it up. Holding out his hand, this time Daniel did move closer, trying to keep his voice steady and his hand from trembling. "Give it to me, please."

 

Backing away on his knees, snatching up the item he had been sitting on, his cellmate did not relinquish the photograph, clinging to it tightly. Daniel reached out, one hand now firmly on the man's shoulder. Grabbing the photo away would only damage it. He had to stay calm; after all, this man was not going anywhere.

 

Daniel slowly sat down beside him. "Daniel", he pointed to himself. Then he pointed at the photograph. "Daniel. Sam, Teal'c, Jack." It felt good to say their names out loud.

 

Hesitating, the other man pointed to himself. "Raujaman."

 

"Raujaman," Daniel smiled. "May I have my photograph?" He gently released the man's shoulder and held out his hand.

 

Several seconds passed. Finally, Raujaman slowly placed the photo into Daniel's upturned palm. As he did so, he leaned over, placing his mouth on Daniel's.

 

Pushing the man back, Daniel jumped up, his heart pounding. "No. No! I didn't mean to give you that idea." He backed away, back to his blanket, clutching the picture, and drew the sheet around himself.

 

Raujaman just glared, then retreated to his own territory in the corner.

 

_____

 

Daniel had been relieved when the others were brought back to the cell. He had not settled down, with Raujaman glaring at him for the longest hours he could remember. Daniel just hoped the others were not considering themselves Raujaman's friends; after all, they did speak the same language, although they had not yet seemed to seek each other's companionship.

 

This intermission between his treatments would last only hours, and soon he would be taken again, if his experimenters kept to their pattern. Daniel knew he would be too weak by tomorrow night to fight off Raujaman. He could hope only that Raujaman himself would be too weak to want either him or the photo of his team.

 

Tonight, Daniel didn't replace it under the tile. He curled up with it under his t-shirt, clutching it to his chest, and fell into a shallow, troubled sleep.

 

_____

 

Jolting suddenly awake, Daniel realized others were in there with him; others who didn't belong. Footsteps were surrounding him and voices were snickering angrily. Afraid of being ganged up on and attacked, his eyes flew open to a familiar sight, a light held by uniformed guards, a light aiming straight at him, and his sheet was jerked away. Daniel's arms were grabbed and he was pulled to his feet. This wasn't their regular test subject collection; this was a raid.

 

He saw what they were looking for.

 

The photo had fallen from his shirt, and as he reached down to grab for it it was torn from his fingers.

 

Raujaman was glaring at him from the corner, a man who spoke the language of the guards. And he had spoken with them when they'd brought the other three men back to the room, three prisoners who were now looking on in confusion and curiosity.

 

Revenge, Daniel, in a world where men had nothing.

 

And the guards knocked Daniel back down to the floor as they stared at the photograph, perhaps wondering what it was, wondering at the technology or the power that had created such a thing. And Daniel stared at them, glaring, until fingers had ripped it this way and that, shredding it to bits, then more bits, more and even smaller, and the miniscule pieces rained down on him, and they'd torn up Sam and Jack and Teal'c.

 

And somehow, Daniel waited until they left before the warm tears welled over onto his cheeks, and he covered his head with the sheet.

 

_____

 

Days turned monotonously into one another, and Jack continued to saw logs into bits. He never really knew what they were being used for; perhaps crude furniture, maybe pencils for all he knew. He still couldn't communicate, not with oral language. Where was Daniel when you needed him? Or even when you didn't? Where.

 

Now and then he'd be chained to the transport, a mini-train with dozens of small wheels instead of rollers, a wagon-like truck, and help carry the wood piles and longer logs into the market for sale. Not the same market grounds his team had gated to, though; that one was far far away, in some other direction.

 

Still, those were the better days. He couldn't help but look for some familiar face in the crowd; a woman with blond hair - getting longer by now - or a tall dark man with a golden tattoo. Not that they'd recognize him.

 

But he'd always end up back at the barn, hopes dashed and monotony once again settling in, with nothing to look forward to for another week or two, when he might again be chosen to search out faces at the market for one more afternoon.

 

_____

 

Daniel had woken early, his sleep restless and disturbed, filled with images he could no longer recall. Opening his eyes to an emotion that had tightened his chest, he had gently swept the scattered bits of shredded photograph into the small gouge in the floor and covered it for the last time with the stone. There, he would let his friends rest in peace.

 

But the photograph had been cause for unrest. Why they had cared, Daniel couldn't understand, unless they thought he was still stealing and hiding their property as well. What, where? Or maybe they thought he was communicating telepathically with those from his former life, through the photo, and his friends were coming to rescue him. Now, there was a dream. Maybe they were just realizing that he had feelings and emotions, and that made it harder - a bit - to experiment on him. He never had been able to learn their language. Maybe he hadn't tried hard enough. Maybe he had no reason to do so. There'd been no one to rescue but himself.

 

But for whatever reason, they'd had enough. They came for him that morning - he assumed it was morning - and Daniel found himself stuffed into a much smaller land vehicle and prepared for transport. He was escorted in the enclosed wagon by four large guards.

 

Taken by road for a few hours, the ride was less uncomfortable than either of the others had been, as there was a bit more room and the guards had stopped frequently to let in air. They had not been able to stand the heat and thick stale air within the interior of the vehicle. They had also eaten, and stopped for some drinks along the way.

 

All in all, Daniel figured he really hadn't travelled all that far.

 

This time, the transport took him to a small stone building with a high tower overlooking another marketplace and town. Daniel was escorted into the building, where a sharp-faced woman in long brown dress and shawl, along with four guards, were waiting.

 

Daniel was guided up a long, long narrow winding flight of stairs, to the top of the tower. The room was sparse; just another sheet and blanket, a hole in the corner of the floor leading into a drain, a tin of water, a dish, and a spare set of clothing. These would be his belongings from now on.

 

He was glad to be gone from that other prison - or lab, or whatever it had been; the antagonism that had set in made even his cell no longer a safe place. And he knew that it was only a matter of time until one of the inhaled viruses would have been incurable and fatal. Here, so far, only the guards were making him nervous.

 

But the thing that made Daniel smile was the small barred hole in the wall, a window to the outside world.

 

_____

 

Whatever the hell they had tracked in with those chests had made a lasting effect on the grimy floor and wooden shelving. Mud or hardened clay that had come off their boots, off their pack animals, or spilled from containers, had been left seemingly for years to decay and stain. The powders and scrubbing brushes were no match for the cleaning solutions of North America, that was for sure, but they bit at his skin and stung his eyes. By the end of each day, the soreness and redness and rashes had rivalled those induced by Daniel's so-called medical researchers. He had almost thought, with a moment of panic, that one of the illnesses had recurred.

 

And to make his misery complete, the dust and powders kept making him sneeze.

 

At least those bothersome little black dots had mostly faded from his vision. Only two or three were left now, floating around, and didn't show so badly in the dimly lit chambers.

 

The lone prisoner in the tall narrow lookout, Daniel's job was to clean the storerooms below. Down in the cellar, down by the kitchen, and down by the guards' quarters, the rooms were full of supplies and wares, kept for the townsfolk and for possible sale at the markets. True heaven for a thief, but he was searched each time he left those areas, even though he had no hiding places except for under his clothing. Even so, he was watched constantly, until the guards would get bored and drift away to partake in some personal diversions.

 

At those times he was locked into one of the storage rooms, and released when they came to check on his work pace, oftentimes hours later.

 

There was a never-ending lot to clean in the dark chambers; the goods were always changing, and the dirt and mud tracked in waged a constant battle. The dead insects seemed to propagate, and the rooms themselves reeked of urine. Scouring the stones of the walls and floor never seemed to make that much of a difference, to Daniel's eye. Years of grime and caked mud took more than a few hours to scrub off, and he was certain no one had held his position any time in the recent past.

 

But with the water for cleaning pumped out of the hallway pipes, Daniel could also wash himself, along with his change of old torn clothing, and for this he was almost grateful for the job.

 

Sometimes he'd have to work nearly through the night. Other times he'd be allowed to finish early and rest, although he never understood the reasoning behind his schedule. Every now and then, he'd even have a few hours off during daylight. It was those hours which rewarded him, which he looked forward to, for then he could study the people in the town below.

 

At night, he could sometimes see a few stars. Which to wish on? He had to get it right, for it could take a lifetime. No room for error, when wishing on a star.

 

No, they weren't stars at all, but planets, planets where people treated others as slaves. There was nothing to wish on; maybe none that were visible even held life. Where were his teammates? How far away were they? And where was he, on a colony of P4T 287? Yes, probably one of their outer - offworld - colonies, for these people also wore identification tags. And escaping and finding his way home was not even an option.

 

Daniel wished he still had a photograph, at least, of his friends.

 

_____

 

Another tish tish tish so softly Jack was sure only he heard it. He was the only one who bothered to notice, anyway, every night. Usually the loud sounds and vibrations of coughing, moaning, snoring, and the shifting of leg chains would scare the roaches away and the sounds would return only nearer to dawn.

 

It was a game, when he couldn't sleep. Reach out and try to grab one in a handful of hay, and in the blackness he could only tell if he'd scored by the tickle of movement in his closed palm. And then he'd let it go. Some nights he scored as high as twelve. Other nights he'd score only three or four. Those were the nights he'd fallen asleep.

 

This night had been rough, for both himself and the bugs. He was already up to eighteen, his highest count yet. They'd been out and about and didn't care about his restlessness; perhaps it was the dampness of the approaching rain, warning them to take shelter. The guards positioned outside had been pacing more than usual, by the sounds of their unsettled footsteps; maybe the mood was shared by all of nature tonight.

 

And the rain began to drip and then pound on the barn walls, and Jack lay awake, trying to convince himself he should be happy and thankful for the dry surroundings. But come tomorrow, he'd be out there no matter what, working, and he remembered this was not a storm of Earth.

 

Perhaps it was only the storm of his mind, and when he awoke he'd be home.

 

_____

 

From his lookout in the tower, Daniel watched over the market scene. This was better, this confinement, than his old cell. At least he had a small bit of natural light, and outside. It would get cold, it would get too hot, but at least he had people to observe and think about, things to imagine, and stories to make up. It passed the time, kept his mind active and alert.

 

Kept him from thinking about what he was doing here, and where his friends were. Kept him from worrying, too much. Too much.

 

There was the old woman, the one with the child on her head. The child sat there for most of the day, and Daniel had thought it was a doll, until she put it down and it had crawled off.

 

There was the man with the wheel, trying to ride on a lop-sided bar. If Daniel could reach him, he could teach of how to make a bicycle. Funny, how this place had trains and flying machines and a few wagon-trucks, but no bicycles or personal vehicles. He supposed the locals never really wanted to go too far from home.

 

There was the young girl, in colourful skirts, doing her swirls and twirls and dances. She'd flit around the men, and sometimes disappear with one of them for a while. More often than not, though, she'd spend the afternoon alone sitting under a tree.

 

Then there were the children. Five boys and a girl, always hopping around the customers, trying to sell whatever they had in hand. Fruit, sandals, belts, bells; it didn't matter. What they could find or acquire cheaply, they would sell to others, for those extra few coins.

 

Coins. The thought brought Daniel's reveries back to the present, and it saddened him, reminding him of his momentarily-forgotten situation. He looked around at his confined space with the barricaded door. It was a few coins that had gotten him into this mess; the SG teams never had local money when they went offworld. If only they hadn't lost their packs, their rations, they would not have needed money in the first place.

 

He'd still be with Jack, and Sam, and Teal'c. He'd be home, wouldn't he?

 

Reaching into his waistband he forgot, just for a second, that his picture was no longer there. Closing his eyes Daniel pictured his teammates, his friends. He could see them smiling, welcoming him home.

 

He saw Sam and Jack, home from Antarctica. Home from the Land of Light. Home from Chulak. Welcoming Jack back from Argos, after nearly dying of old age.

 

Sitting with Sam, after Jolinar had died.

 

Sitting with Sam, after her dad had gone to stay with the Tok'ra.

 

Sam and Jack and Teal'c, sitting with him after Shar'e had been lost to him, forever.

 

Daniel looked out the bars once more. Lives were going on out there at the market, as usual, as they did every day, oblivious to the man in the window. No one knew he was there. No one had any reason to care.

 

_____

 

The leg chains hampered his ability to walk, but at least it was one more day out. Ungracefully carrying the logs between them, Jack trudged behind his partner, and the view was obstructed. Still, when they put down their load, Jack searched the faces in the crowd. Every blond head caught his eye, and it was ominous and depressing to finally have to get back into the transport vehicle and give up for one more week.

 

How long could he carry on this way, fooling himself? He imagined himself an old frail man, limping along, still hoping for a glimpse of a teammate who would never even remember him.

 

Even after the poor young girl had swirled her scarves around him, making a play for a prisoner who could not have had her even if he'd wanted to, he'd imagined that was Daniel looking out the barred open window of the tower at him, making some joke about his beard. But that fellow was probably just laughing at him, ashamed of the prisoners coming into their marketplace. He'd certainly heard that enough.

 

That man, too, had a beard, and as Jack already knew, he looked like everyone else around here.

 

_____

 

"Pail." Daniel pointed to the bucket on the floor at his feet. "What do you call it?" Hoping to ease his loneliness in this solitary confinement, learning the language might also stimulate his mind and alleviate the monotony. His hopeful, interested eyes followed the woman as she stopped her survey of the freshly scrubbed room and turned to him, frowning. "Pail," he repeated.

 

Pointedly ignoring him, she resumed her scrutiny of his day's work. Stomping on an area that looked to Daniel the same as all the rest, she motioned for him to get back down to business.

 

"I've done that bit already," but he knew she couldn't understand. "Daniel," he said, pointing at his chest. "Daniel. You?"

 

As Daniel's finger turned to point towards the woman, her expression changed, darkening, her gray eyes filling with fury. In the quickest of motions she slapped him across the face, overturning the bucket of dirty water with a kick. It clanged across the stones, rolling into its own puddle, brushes and rags sloshing sloppily in the mess. Stomping out of the room, her sandals clicking on the hard stone surface and brown skirt swishing at her calves, she slammed the door, barricading it from the outside with the long wooden bar.

 

Daniel stood for a moment, eyes closed, then got down on his knees to resume his work.

 

_____

 

There was the lemon woman, with her cart. Maybe it wasn't lemons she was selling, but that's what they looked like. Back and forth she'd go, calling out something in that language.

 

There were the men in uniform, heading to the buildings Daniel could see in the busier streets beyond. They would traverse the marketplace, looking for something in particular, sometimes women.

 

He'd cleaned up the storage rooms today. He'd worked faster than usual, knowing his reward would be to watch the lanes, making up stories about the people, contemplating their lives. That was what now made him happy, if he could call it that. Funny, what he settled for these days.

 

Today, the long flight of stairs had bothered his knees. He'd been out of breath climbing back up; Daniel worried that maybe he was out of shape, or perhaps his illnesses had caused more permanent damage than he'd imagined. He'd have to start exercising again.

 

Back to the window. There were transport vehicles today.

 

Sometimes there were newcomers, arriving at the market in road transport. Mini trains on megawheels. These were business people, selling and buying goods.

 

Back and forth, rushing around, they seemed to disturb the rhythm of the marketplace. It was only they who were in a rush, out of touch with the song.

 

Then there were the prisoners, shackled and slow. The loggers or lumbermen came in every so often; Daniel had caught glimpses of their lumber being made into bowls and little wooden boxes. He watched as some of the men were foolishly followed by the young girl in her colourful skirts. The prisoners couldn't be with her, nor could they pay. He supposed she was just teasing them, laughing inside. And except for the beard, Daniel could even imagine that that one was Jack. The one with the black shirt, while everyone else wore navy.

 

He looked again.

 

His eyes were not so good, without his glasses.

 

Turn around… turn around …come on, let me see your face…

 

That one looked kind of like Jack.

 

"Jack!" Daniel's voice could not carry that far, not with all the bustle and noise of the market. "Damn it! Jack! Jack!" No, that was impossible. They weren't even on the same planet, were they?

 

He'd flown here… for two days. Had they flown Jack here, too? Or had the vehicle just been in orbit? Circling for some reason, or to throw him off, so he wouldn't try to escape and make it back to his friends? Was it more like an airplane, or helicopter, than a spaceship?

 

Had they been this close to each other all this time?

 

God, his mind couldn't rest. That couldn't have been Jack; it was just his mind playing tricks, fantasizing. Giving him something to hope for. It was funny what the psyche could do when it reached a maximum low point. No, all those prisoners looked alike, same clothing, beards. Jack would have a beard now, just like he did, wouldn't he? Damn damn damn.

 

He'd watch, every day until that lumber transport came again.

 

_____

 

But the next time it did, he was downstairs cleaning out the storage rooms.

 

Jack had looked up at the tower, but this time the barred window was empty.

 

And Daniel returned just in time to see a man he could have imagined to be Jack, stepping with his chained ankles into the back of the vehicle.

 

_____

 

Fearful that he'd miss it again, Daniel worked hard and quickly, determined to have his cleaning done by mid-afternoon on as many days as he could. Sometimes she would give him more, but sometimes he was back, watching the market, waiting, keeping his mind clear and alert. A week passed before he saw the vehicle again.

 

Please be Jack. Jack, please be here. Please. Please. Please.

 

Please.

 

His heart thumped, waiting in desperation for the face of an old friend, even one who was chained and in slavery. Just as he was.

 

What difference would it make if it was Jack? So near, yet still too far. Miles and miles apart. They'd never get to meet.

 

He'd have to let Jack know where he was.

 

Had to somehow get Jack's attention, without being obvious to the entire crowd below. What did he have, and what did he need?

 

Well, carrier pigeons would be a good start. Or maybe he should actually start with what he had. Like cleaning supplies… like what, toss a pail of white powder out the window? Come on, come on… he could make noise with his tin or a pail, but he wasn't allowed to take anything out of those rooms, and no one would hear him anyway. No, he had nothing to work with here.

 

Write "Hi Jack" on his shirt somehow, and fly it out the window? Huh. Possibly. And then what?

 

Four guards downstairs; two at the front door, two at the rear. One woman. He couldn't take them all on, during his trips down the stairs.

 

Trip down the stairs? Now that was a thought, if all else failed, he thought wryly.

 

Stairs… but he did have stairs. Push them down, and make a run for it?

 

Oh yeah, right.

 

Come on, Daniel. Think.

 

Lock them in one of those rooms down below? No, he could never get five of them in there together. Create a diversion? How? Come on, Daniel. That's Jack out there.

 

Maybe.

 

He'd never had to come up with an escape plan of his own before. Not one that included him possibly having to hurt somebody. Didn't know if he could realistically do that.

 

He had to get the guards out of the building somehow, while he was free from the room. He had to get outside, if only for a minute. If only to grab his buddy and tell him he was still alive and in the neighbourhood. He had to look Jack in the eye, one last time.

 

If only for a minute.

 

He could get sick… swallow some of that cleaning powder, and maybe they'd take him out of here, take him to some building with medical facilities, one with less security and no bars on the doors. Or they might just bring a healer of some sort up to the top of the tower… or let him die. Bad plan.

 

But if he was hurt, the woman would need help, right? Would she seek treatment, or leave him? If he pretended to be hurt, would she leave him alone for a moment? Or maybe send a guard for help? That would get one of them out of the building. He could lock her in the room… and that would still leave three.

 

But if he could do it without alerting the back door guards, that would only leave one. He could take on one guard, couldn't he? If he pretended to fall at the bottom of the stairs, he would be nearer the door. But too far to lock the woman into the barricaded tower room. No, this had to be done at the top.

 

Daniel's plan began to take shape, and this time he was almost certain that was Jack. And if it wasn't, then he'd still put his plan into action, and probably die trying to find out.

 

_____

 

Jack's hand slapped down, grasping number eleven. What a fun game. And yet… he'd so rather be watching a movie or playing golf.

 

Did they feel fear, being trapped and imprisoned in the darkness of his tunnel? Did they fear being crushed to death, unable to escape from a force beyond their control, one that they had neither anticipated nor deserved? Opening his palm, Jack released the creature into the darkness, not wishing to cause any more pain with his existence than he had to. Than he had already done.

 

Another tish tish into the dusty straw, and number eleven scampered off to freedom and family.

 

But in his own reality, he had not been able to keep Daniel from being stolen, and for that Jack feared he would never sleep soundly again.

_____

 

One week later, hoping the same vehicle would come this day, hoping Jack would be on it, the success of this plan relied on a lot of unstable and unpredictable factors. But if it worked, and if Jack arrived today, they'd get to speak, one last time. One last time, before he was whisked off to somewhere else, somewhere with no market to watch and keep him occupied. Either way, today would be his last day making up stories about these people. He just hoped the next place they put him wouldn't use him for experiments. The way he saw it, it was worth the risk.

 

Everything was ready. All that he needed was to be given work today, in time.

 

But that was something he could never count on. The timing had to be just right.

 

Just right…

 

And when the transport came that day, Daniel was still in the tower, and his spirits fell, hopes slashed to bits.

 

He also didn't know any more if that really was Jack or not. This time the prisoner had been wearing navy.

_____

 

"Fine! It's yours!" The words made no sense to the recipient, but Jack's show of throwing down the saw at the man's feet and backing away allowed the tension to deflate. The other machines contained broken teeth, broken like the other worker's own blade now, making the chores twice as difficult, but if it prevented a brawl, Jack could trade. What the hell; he wasn't in this for the popularity, nor a promotion. Oh wait; the pay was the same no matter how much work he could get done, and the going rate was life.

 

And yet, Jack had his suspicions that it was his lack of aggression, his potential trustworthiness, that bought him the privelege of going to the market nearly every week.

 

Not quite willing yet to turn his back on the man, Jack waited until the saw levelled at his chest was lowered, and his own had been retrieved from the ground. The shouts of the foremen signalled a speedy return to work.

 

Jack backed off, turning to choose the best from among the leftover damaged tools. This might be a very long year.

 

_____

 

Daniel was still willing to try, and would never give up hope. If that wasn't Jack, then this would be an escape attempt, one way or the other.

 

One way or another, he'd be leaving this place, a place not so bad compared to where he'd been before and where he might end up. Yet, no matter what, there was no pleasure in living out one's life in solitary confinement.

 

So exactly one week later, when Daniel was escorted downstairs to do the cleaning, he took his chances.

 

Hurrying through his work as quickly as he could, heart thumping with anxiety and hoping the woman would assign him no more tasks, Daniel waited anxiously for the final inspection.

 

As she wandered among the storage rooms, he closed his fist around the twisted and broken section of bucket handle, piercing his skin. She could not see the blood before it served his purpose.

 

Satisfied, she escorted him up the narrow winding stairs.

 

As near to the top as he dared, Daniel tripped, tumbling and lightly hitting his head on the stone steps, squeezing his bloody palm across his face before lying motionless atop the stairs. There was a moment of silence and then he heard her screaming for the guards, as she watched the blood drip past his eyes.

 

Some thundering heartbeats later he heard the guards rushing up the stairs towards him; at least two were coming. Still not a problem, he told himself. Not yet. Not unless they took him into the room and left him there, and then he would be back to square one, nothing lost and nothing gained.

 

But then the voices stopped. The guards were leaving, and within moments Daniel realized he was alone with the woman. He jumped up, so suddenly that the shocked woman was caught off guard. Throwing her over his shoulder, her fists beating at his back, he deposited her quickly into the room and onto the blanket. Too late she realized what was happening, as Daniel fled the chamber and snapped the barricade over the door from the outside, the thumps of his heart filling his entire body.

 

He leaned against the barrier, dazed, regaining his composure. Now, if he could get out the front door before the two back door guards discovered anything was wrong, he'd be on his way to Jack. Maybe Jack. Caution was better than more disappointment, he knew in his heart, and he warned himself not to get his hopes up.

 

He wasn't even certain that the transport was out there. But if it wasn't, he was prepared to find somewhere to hide until the day it arrived.

 

The woman was pounding on the door now, and yelling words that Daniel assumed were not too ladylike.

 

He was only halfway down the stairs when the running footsteps sounded, and two more guards dashed into view. One shocked look at a free Daniel, and they knew what had happened. Rushing towards him in anger they brandished their knives, intent only on subduing their prisoner by any means they could.

 

Daniel's exit was cut off, and he had no choice but to race back up the stairs, his back against the door where the woman was still pounding, his escape attempt over.

 

Slumping seated onto the floor, defeated and desperate, Daniel knew that within minutes he'd be either imprisoned for good, or dead.

 

He had only one choice, and no time to think about what he was doing. Lying down flat he kicked out with all his strength as the first guard neared him, catching the man on the shins. Grabbing wildly for support, the front guard fell backwards, toppling into the other coming up just behind him, and they both tumbled backwards down the long flight of stairs.

 

Motionless they lay, stuck two-thirds to the bottom at the twist in the winding staircase. One guard's neck had settled crookedly, the angle awkward, as the other man lay on top of him unconscious, his broken arm dangling over them both. These guards, Daniel could see now, sported yellow identification tags on the back of their necks.

 

On hands and knees, breathing heavily, Daniel leaned over the top stairs peering down. Everything had happened within seconds, without thought, a desperate act of self-defense.

 

What had he done?

 

Bought himself time. The woman had not quieted down, and Daniel knew he had to hurry before the other two guards returned. Racing down the stairs, jumping over the two fallen men, he grabbed the knives that had been tossed from their hands onto the stone landing.

 

Pulling open the heavy tower door, he lunged into the marketplace, into air, and daylight, and hope. It had been a long time since he had been free.

 

Daniel searched desperately for the lumber vehicle, trying to remain inconspicuous behind the market stalls. He swiped at the blood on his face, knowing he looked like a beggar, and hoped his hair covered the red tag on the back of his neck.

 

The truck was there, and Daniel's heart lurched. Searching frantically for the man he wanted so desperately to see, he'd forgotten to wonder if Jack would even recognize him. The thing that still worried him most, though, was the very possible fact that the person might not have been Jack at all.

 

But there he was, releasing a load of chopped wood.

 

His heart thundering, Daniel nonchalantly - hopefully inconspicuously - sauntered towards the prisoner. As he neared, he caught the fellow's sleeve, and the man looked up, into his eyes.

 

God. Jack.

 

"Jack."

 

Recognition came with the force of the saws he had so often thrust. The voice, the name…a harsher, scruffy bearded face, but he couldn't mistake the warm blue eyes. The guy had blood on his forehead. What had they done to him?

 

Jack's eyes burned. "Daniel? God, Daniel!" Without thinking, a hand flew to his friend's face before quickly dropping. He wanted to grab him, grab Daniel and hug the stuffing out of him and never let go, but he was expected back at the vehicle, and possibly under surveillance. "Next week?" We could make a plan. He saw the warmth flicker in his friend's eyes.

 

"Can't. This is it. Just had to let you know, I've been watching you from the tower."

 

That had been Daniel? God, oh god, no. "I can't run."

 

"I know. I just had to see you. They'll be looking for me." Daniel wanted to throw his arms around his friend, but they were supposed to look like strangers. The calm façade was killing him. "Here." He passed Jack a knife.

 

Snatching it, Jack knelt down, struggling at his chains, digging the blade between the cracks of a link. A loop broke, and his feet were unattached. "Let's go!" Grabbing Daniel's arm, he pulled his friend into a run, and without a second thought, Daniel took off. Neither man had thought beyond this moment, neither knew where they were going or how far they'd get. All they knew was that they were doing it together.

 

_____

 

Somehow, sheer determination outwitted their pursuers, people who hadn't known what was going on until the two men were into the lanes beyond. In the labyrinth of the marketplace, the fugitives ducked through a broken wall straight into a corner heaped with trash, keeping low and hoping anyone following them would just keep on going. There they knelt, listened, and waited.

 

Jack was in a daze. He hadn't had the fortune of knowing what Daniel was planning; hadn't even known Daniel was on this planet. And so, his friend and teammate hanging onto his arm, he looked through the semi-darkness of discarded wooden boxes and broken trinkets into eyes he had never expected to see again.

 

And then he grabbed Daniel into the strongest hug he could manage.

 

They held each other for as long as they dared, until the footsteps and angry voices had veered away and subsided, until their knees couldn't crouch any more, until they were sure it was safe to move. And even then, neither one was willing to let go.

 

Then Jack shifted positions, painfully stretching out, managing to remove more of the flapping coils attached to his ankles. Then together they sat in binding, absolute silence, leaning on each other for support in the tiny space, just waiting until darkness covered them better.

 

_____

 

"Let's go."

 

Daniel had liked those words before, and appreciated them even more now. The market was closed and packed up, so hopefully they were alone. Would the transport have left without Jack? Would they be back, with a full search party out looking for Daniel? "Which way?" While Jack had been around the countryside to some degree; all he knew was what he had seen from the tower.

 

"The hills." Jack motioned into the distance towards nothing Daniel could make out, far from the road he'd come in on every week. Far from the village and the saw mills. Far from the market and the tower. Far from any building that they both wouldn't be able to get into, with their differently coded ID studs. "Hopefully they won't see us from the tower in the dark."

 

"No. There aren't any windows facing this direction."

 

The rain began gently at first, a fresh gray mist dampening the soil and clothing, bare skin of arms and faces slick. Gradually, unable to tell when the drops had fallen harder, when the rain had become an encumbrance, their steps began to slow, the earth beneath their feet turning pulpy, their vision blurring with each successive drop.

 

Still, they ran on and on, through the night, hoping to deter and outdistance anyone foolish enough to have followed. Daniel realized his poor physical condition wasn't so bad after all, given the right motivation. Jack, on the other hand, seemed fitter and stronger than ever before. Only the small links still attached to his ankle rings had forced him to slow down.

 

Daniel glanced at his CO, catching his breath and trying to ease the cramps in his side. Jack was staring at him with concern, and at that moment Daniel realized the few breaks they had allowed themselves had been mostly for his sake. Albeit uncomfortably wet and dripping, Jack was barely even tired. Maybe Daniel's bouts of induced poor health had left him weak after all, but he was not about to be the cause of their capture. "Let's go," he stated loudly, determined not to be a burden on the escape route.

 

"We have time to stop and breathe," Jack reassured him calmly. "Don't push yourself."

 

"Just a cramp. I'm fine now."

 

Nodding, Jack decided, even with the rain now pelting down - an obstacle itself to their quest for freedom - to slow the pace that little bit more.

 

_____

 

Finally they reached the cover of the hills, clusters of trees, some overhanging rocks. "Let's camp."

 

"Camp?" Daniel repeated, swiping a slightly bloody hand across the bangs dripping into his eyes, trying not to be too obvious in catching his breath. "We have food?"

 

"Okay, stop and sleep," Jack corrected himself. They were far enough away from town by now. No one would have bothered to come after them all this way. Hopefully those ID strips didn't act like the radio devices of animals tracked in the wild. If so, there would never be anywhere far enough for them to run.

 

Sitting under the overhang, they were invisible to all but predators with a sense of smell. Even with the cooling temperatures in the wetness of the night, it felt good to sit and rest. Beyond the overhang, the overflow of water drops surged over the long stems and leaves above, creating a mini waterfall over their front porch.

 

And they looked at each other, in the darkness. The three moons were mostly obscured by cloud cover, but still shed some light and shadows across the foliage swaying in the brief wind gusts beyond.

 

"I can't believe you're here," Jack exclaimed emphatically but quietly. "I can touch you."

 

The wistful smile on Daniel's face compensated for his lack of words. He pulled Jack's hand between the two of his. "Kind of surprises me, too."

 

"You were bleeding." The question remained unasked.

 

"Oh. No, part of my escape plan. I'm okay."

 

"Okay."

 

Together they sat, shoulder to shoulder, waiting for the night to pass and hoping it wouldn't.

 

"I thought you were on some other planet."

 

Daniel lowered his head. So, still P4T 287. Closer to Sam and Teal'c. Closer to the stargate. "So did I."

 

The wind was whispering, remnants of the downpour still releasing water droplets off the layers of leaves, splashing gently onto the stones and plants at their feet. The night was cool, damp, but a hell of a lot better than a prison cell.

 

"I'd given up ever seeing you again." A water droplet trickled onto Jack's nose, and he brushed it off. Daniel's body jerked stiffly beside him at the sudden, unexpected movement. Tension reigned thick, slow to be released after months of barricaded fear.

 

"Same here, Jack."

 

Shifting to untangle his cramped legs, Jack squeezed Daniel's hand, a hand rough and dry from powerful cleaning powders and scrub towels. A hand that had freed them both. "You planned this? Meeting me?"

 

The other man nodded in the darkness. "I saw you from the tower. I wasn't positive it was you, but I was hoping."

 

"Thank you." Silence renewed the chill of the air, freshly reminding them of their fragile situation. Jack had a lot of questions, but didn't want to spook his friend. Right now he was grateful just to be here in Daniel's presence. "You were up there the whole time?"

 

"Uh…" How much was he willing to share right now? "No, I was moved there about two months ago, judging by how many times I saw you."

 

"So how'd you get out?"

 

"Tricked the keeper and her guards." Botched that up, too. Had to kill one of them, Daniel thought guiltily.

 

"Cool."

 

"Not really."

 

"Brilliant, then."

 

"I'm not proud of it, Jack." The guard had just been doing his job.

 

"Daniel, I was chained and kept in a workbarn for stealing about three dollars to feed my team. You were locked up for the same reason. How can you not be proud of getting us both out of there?"

 

When Daniel didn't answer, Jack put an arm around his friend's damp shoulder. "It doesn't matter. I'm just really glad you're here." And he knew there was not one damn thing he wouldn't do to keep them together this time.

 

_____

 

As Jack slept against him, Daniel finally realized his heart had stopped thundering, and tension from the past few weeks had released him from its self-imposed bondage. Now, he felt almost at peace, and tears that had been stored up for weeks threatened to mix with the drizzling rain. For the first time - in how long? when had they been captured, exactly? - life was looking up.

 

If this night ever ended, and if they were caught and sent back to wherever, at least he and his longed-for friend had had this time together. Nothing could change that. He had engineered his star, having seen and spoken to Jack one more time.

 

If the moon was out there, maybe the stars were too. Maybe it just took a bit longer for them to answer to wishes these days, what with all the people they had to service. Maybe now he could even dare to wish for home?

 

_____

 

They'd awoken stiff and sore, but together, and that truth remained the core of their future, of their motivation to defeat the odds. "I can't believe you're here," Jack took pleasure in saying another time or two, while Daniel just smiled that wistful smile beneath his scruffy facial growth.

 

Daniel picked up his knife from the soggy but drying ground. He'd run all the way with it in his hand, yesterday. "Jack? Could you, uh, kind of…"

 

"Want a haircut, Daniel?" Daniel's hair was flopping in his eyes. So was his, come to think of it. It bothered him nearly as much as the beard.

 

"No, just the beard."

 

Forty-five minutes later, beards had been trimmed - not gone, but looking better - and both men were now ready to continue on.

 

"Where are we headed?" Neither knew in which direction the stargate lay, even if they could go through it. All they knew was which way would lead to recapture, and that was not an option they wanted to chance.

 

"Wherever a river runs through… it. We need food and water, before anything else."

 

Daniel nodded. Somehow he felt a lot safer, with Jack beside him. He felt as though he could get through anything. "If they find us, Jack - "

 

"They won't."

 

"If we never get home - "

 

"Have to, I miss beer."

 

"Jack, if we can't find food - "

 

"We'll still be together."

 

"That's what I was going to say."

 

Jack nodded. He still couldn't believe he was out of that barn, thanks to his friend, nor could he believe Daniel was here with him, after all this time. That was something he never had counted on. But looking into those eyes, keen empathic eyes, everything they'd ever been through came surging back, and Jack knew he'd do everything in his power to get his friend home. Everything would be okay, with Daniel here.

 

_____

 

They sheltered under more rocks, leaning on each other again, knowing they were no closer to the stargate than the day before. They had also had no food nor water save for the few gulps of rain, and Jack feared they would die out there. But, as Teal'c had always liked to say, they would die free.

 

Resting his head on Daniel's, Jack held on tighter for warmth, both physical and emotional. They needed each other desperately now; they were all they had.

 

Jack tried to think back to the train ride. If only there had been some windows, he could have seen the terrain, seen where they'd been going.

 

It had been rocky, he knew that from the bumpy ride. If they…

 

Rocky? The train was on those roller tracks.

 

If they could find the trails, follow them…

 

And Jack thought he knew where he'd seen some.

 

_____

 

"It should take about a day to reach them," Jack estimated.

 

"We'll be going back through civilization."

 

"We will, yes." Jack studied Daniel's face, tired and drained and… tired. "Would you rather stay here?"

 

Daniel didn't know how to answer that, didn't know how Jack would feel hearing the truth. That he'd rather die out here together, than be caught and sent back to… somewhere, alone? Yes. Was he giving up? Maybe. Maybe it was better this way.

 

Jack didn't need words to understand that look on Daniel's face. He wouldn't make Daniel admit aloud to having been defeated. "We'll be careful."

 

"If they find us, I'll be treated as a murderer, Jack. I killed a guard."

 

Jack's eyes narrowed, the fear in his friend's voice cutting. "We'll be careful."

 

"Where will it get us? We can't use the gate."

 

"Food, maybe? Water? One step at a time. I can't live with myself if I don't try."

 

"Then live for me." But as the words were spoken, Daniel knew he was being unreasonable. He knew their lives were nothing, if all they did was exist, and hide. Closing his eyes, he nodded. "Okay, we'll be careful."

 

I'll take care of you. Jack really wanted to say the words, but he knew they might be false. He hadn't done so last time, and didn't know if he could keep to such a promise this time. "I won't let you go without a fight," and at least he knew that those words were the truth.

 

"Nor I you," promised Daniel.

 

_____

 

They'd found some wild berry bushes along the way back into town, the first food they'd had in nearly two days. They were still thirsty and dehydrated, but at least the fruit was something.

 

"How're you holding up?" Eyeing his friend, Jack knew Daniel wasn't in the best of health. The man had been holed up in a tower for at least two months, but wouldn't say what he'd been doing before that. Jack had had fresh air, and work; nothing like heavy labour to put on some muscles.

 

"Alright," Daniel nodded. Fearful, worried, depressed. He didn't want to face what the town might have to offer.

 

He felt an arm around his shoulder, pulling him close. "We have to try," Jack reiterated, "together."

 

By dusk, they had found the roller tracks for the train.

 

They were not far from a crossroads that Jack had often passed on his way to the market; he had noticed the rails eastward from this point, wondering what other unfortunate souls had died on this route.

 

"We'll follow these. Eventually we should get back to the town where we left Carter and Teal'c."

 

Carter and Teal'c. Neither man had chosen to say their names aloud until now. They'd fostered no hope of actually finding their teammates. But to Jack, this was as promising as his search in the marketplace. "Keep your eyes wide."

 

The train had taken hours, an estimate of sixteen hours to reach their second home, and while it had not been moving rapidly by any standards, Jack estimated at least two or three days' walking. Maybe even four. They would need to find water.

 

And that happened quite by accident.

 

Camped out along the railway by nightfall, Daniel and Jack had tried to keep walking for as many hours as they could, not stopping for sleep until the moons had moved across the sky. Their bodies ached to lie down, and Daniel was asleep for only moments before the whisper woke him.

 

"Daniel! Daniel, look." Jack was shaking him gently, aware of the need for rest and sleep, while at the same time an idea was taking hold.

 

"What?" Daniel jolted awake, afraid they'd been discovered.

 

There, in the moonlight, were two animals, wolflike creatures, jogging through the underbrush, in and out of their vision.

 

"So?"

 

"Animals need water, Daniel, and those don't look like pets." Jack rose as silently as he was able. "You want to stay here, or come?"

 

"I'm coming."

 

And they slowly followed the trail the animals left for them, out of the way of the train rails, detouring across the landscape in the direction the two men had neither been going nor coming from. And after two more long tiring hours of walking, they encountered the stream.

 

"Oh god, water." Daniel bent to let the cool liquid wet his lips and quench his thirst. In the silence of the night there was only one other sound, Jack's quiet, quick laughter.

 

_____

 

Early morning had them drinking their fill and unsuccessfully looking for some sort of container in which to carry more of the liquid. "We can't follow the stream, it's heading in the wrong direction," Jack commented unnecessarily. "But when we get closer to the town we might find a well."

 

But as Jack reluctantly left the water source and moved off to retrace their steps, he realized Daniel wasn't following.

 

"Daniel?" Half-turning back, Jack was hit by the conscious observation of Daniel's defeated posture, long shadows curling into the stream, the lament on his features, the dawn's blue-tinged half-light making him an almost surreal presence. Unaware of the impression he sent forth, Daniel looked completely lost, child of the earth, man of the sky, a piece of time and history spread out across the surface of their environment, plunked into the wrong place by circumstance.

 

The slow steps Jack retraced were those back to his comrade. "What's up?" Gazing straight into his friend's eyes, Jack saw more than fear. He saw a sorrow that screamed into his flesh and veins and molecules of human infinity.

 

Daniel knew only the certainty that he wasn't ready to be recaptured. "We can't go through the gate."

 

"I know that."

 

"We're walking into confinement. There's no other possible end to this day."

 

Jack paused. "Maybe."

 

Daniel's eyes closed, in a familiar show of composing himself, regrouping. And then they opened, but not with that determination Jack had been expecting to see. "So I want to stay here one more day."

 

"One more day?"

 

"With you."

 

"Oh."

 

Daniel was scraping at stones with his boot toe, scuffed boots that surprisingly had survived the three-month ordeal without being confiscated, footwear being a commodity and unworthy of bestowing upon prisoners. "We've had no one to talk to for three months, Jack. I can't face that again, right away."

 

"I see."

 

"You think I'm a coward."

 

"No, Daniel. Far from it. But we have no food."

 

"We have water. That's good enough for me right now."

 

Nodding, Jack laid his palms on Daniel's shoulders, face to face. "I didn't really want to mention it, myself."

 

"But?"

 

"I'm game. Come."

 

So arm against arm they sauntered aimlessly into the bush, looking for a place where they could rest and think, watch the wilderness, listen to whatever sounds might be signalling danger or providing comfort. A birdsong, a rustling leaf, a breaking twig. Most of all they eagerly awaited the low whispers of conversation that the new day promised. For that, hunger could wait.

 

_____

 

"Jack!" Daniel awoke with a start, his nightmares of running through thorns with a fiery hot breathing tube angled down his throat receding as semi-consciousness took over from sleep, and with a clenching gut he realized it had all been a dream. All of it; Jack was not here, and he was a prisoner in a cell of researchers bent on saving mankind while killing him. And Raujaman was in the corner, his wild eyes glaring in hatred.

 

"I'm here."

 

What? The voice slapped Daniel completely awake, the grogginess fading and clarity re-assuming possession. Slowly he remembered.

 

"Oh god, you are." Daniel's eyes opened to see Jack bending over him, silhouetted in the starlight. Reaching up a hand to Jack's neck, he pulled his friend into a hug. "You are."

 

_____

 

As the second day dawned, both men knew that stalling the inevitable would bring nothing but condensed fear, and seeking their fortunes, risking their futures, was all they had come to know over the past several years, the essence of their being. This was no different; they would try somehow to get home, and take care of each other in the meantime. Getting home this time, though, seemed to require some supernatural plan, some miracle or ingenious development that, at the moment, denied them access.

 

And so, with a last drink and wistful sigh, Daniel followed Jack as they retraced their steps towards town.

 

The rails were out in the open, with little shelter or cover. Few people walked this way, and no train passed them on their travels. But by late the following afternoon they were seeing the signs of civilization; distant sounds of animals and people, bits of wasted food - almost tempting them - on the ground, the odd bit of old clothing scattered by the wind. Then houses and buildings loomed in the distance, and, still unbearably thirsty and hungry, Jack had no choice but to reach out an arm to halt his friend. "Let's find somewhere to hide until dark." The only available cover was the bushes along the route, and finding a large enough patch to almost camouflage them entirely, they settled down for a few more hours. Once darkness had completely fallen, they would head into town and try to find the stargate.

 

And then what?

 

With legs cramping and back starting to ache, Daniel gazed at his surroundings. Hidden by a large canopy of bushes, flanked by an offworld railroad and fields of dry cracked ground, listening to far-off noises that might signal danger and a lifetime of imprisonment or hard labour, perhaps this time even death, Daniel looked at Jack with eyes of defiance and abdication, endurance and conciliation. Humility, confusion, and shame. "I have a Ph.D in archaeology and linguistics, Jack. What am I doing here?"

 

Unable to meet those eyes, Jack turned away. He had no answer; they were intruders into worlds they knew nothing about, explorers forging into territory that could be beneficial or dangerous at the flick of a switch. And, while fooling themselves into believing backup was just a few steps away at any given time, in truth he knew they were always really alone. "Rescuing a friend," was all he could come up with, knowing that wasn't what Daniel meant at all.

 

_____

 

Nighttime took forever to fall, but finally the two men removed themselves from their protective shelter and stretched familiarly sore muscles once again. They would head into town tonight, and take it from there.

 

But as they approached the dwellings, trying to keep a fair distance from those who might be awake at this hour of night, movement distracted them from their alert yet mechanical action of placing one foot in front of the other.

 

And it was at that moment that Jack knew his promises were useless; his quest to keep Daniel by his side and mission to never leave anyone behind was again to be challenged. He cursed his decision to come this way.

 

They'd been spotted, and now four uniforms were approaching. There was nowhere left to run.

 

Defeated, they stood their ground, knowing they were no match for these four armed men. I won't let you go without a fight seemed a rather worthless compromise.

 

And Daniel knew exactly what was playing through Jack's mind as Jack pulled his knife, and Daniel held tightly onto his own.

 

And their heartbeats matched, racing with tension and anxiety and dread. Within hours, perhaps minutes, they would no longer be together.

 

"I won't go with them."

 

At that moment, the stiff tension in Daniel's stance, and the determination on his face, told Jack how this night would end. He remembered his own self-promise, if I live through this, pal, it's only for one reason. To find out what happened to you.

 

Transferring his knife to his left hand, useless there save for one purpose, Daniel slipped his right arm around Jack's waist.

 

And with little pause, Jack's arm slid around Daniel.

 

The men approached warily, like predators to rabid prey. They stopped a short distance away, and then their pace picked up. Neither Jack nor Daniel moved, until Jack brandished his knife. Speaking in English, he didn't really care whether or not the men understood. His knife spoke a universal language. "I'm warning you, don't come any closer." Whether he would use it on them or on himself was a question that remained open to speculation.

 

The shout was like a siren in the wilderness, coffee pot in an Egyptian tomb. Too out of place to make sense, and Jack only caught the last of it. "…. s.g.c.?"

 

"What?" signals from Jack's brain were slow to reach his hand, as his grip on the knife remained strong. "What?" he echoed.

 

"Colonel O'Neill?" The men broke into a trot. "Doctor Jackson? God, finally," he heard one mutter, and suddenly clarity snapped him out of his trance.

 

Faces came fully into view. "Davidson?" Jack breathed out, lowering his knife and grabbing the man's arm. "What the hell?"

 

The stunned look of shock on Daniel's face was frozen, as he weakly lowered himself to his knees. The release of tension was sudden and overwhelming, and he found himself shaking. Moments ago he'd been preparing himself to say goodbye to Jack, for the final time.

 

"Dr. Jackson? Are you alright?"

 

"Daniel?" Jack was crouching by his side, and could see Daniel's eyes gleaming and wet in the moonlights. He squeezed his friend's arm. "It worked," he whispered, the meaning of which he knew only Daniel understood.

 

Renneguy was talking into his pocket. "SG9, come in. Meet back at the gate ASAP. We have O'Neill and Jackson."

 

"I don't understand. How did you know we'd be here?" Jack was looking confused, half standing, half leaning against Daniel.

 

"Know you'd be here?" Major Davidson chuckled darkly. "The teams have been replacing each other out here for weeks, patrolling the train route. Didn't expect a damn thing tonight."

 

"That predictable?"

 

"Sure," Davidson grinned. "Teal'c's idea. He saw you leave on the train."

 

"Keep low, gang, and let's get going. We'll rendezvous with SG9 in thirty minutes," Renneguy advised.

 

"We can't go through the gate," Daniel spoke softly, having quietly risen to his feet under the support of Jack. "We're coded."

 

"Annnnd… so are you…" Jack noticed the green bands on SG7's necks. Crap.

 

Reaching up to the back of his neck, Renneguy pulled off the tag. "It's glued," he explained.

 

"And plastic," added Captain McKenna.

 

"What?" How had they known? "Teal'c?" Suddenly Jack was infused with energy, hope sprinting into his spirit. "Carter?"

 

"Teal'c pretended to do business at the market by the gate until the SGC sent a second MALP through. SG5 arrived wearing these pieces as soon as the uniforms could be duplicated. They searched every soup hall for three days until they found Major Carter. They had to be inconspicuous and look like they belonged."

 

"Sam's home? Is she alright?" Daniel cut in anxiously.

 

"Yeah. She's been home since then. Hammond wouldn't let her return, her being a woman and all. She wouldn't get away with the green banding."

  

"How did Teal'c and Carter get through the gate?"

 

"Come, we'll talk on our way."

 

O'Neill and Daniel followed SG7 stealthily but quickly towards the gate, still uncertain as to how they would get home, but feeling a hell of a lot more confident and secure.

 

"Major Carter suggested covering the strips with a rubber amalgamation to dampen the electrical effects, but it didn't work. So then she figured if it wasn't electrical, it might be laser or light- oriented. She sent directions to rig up a covering of minute angled mirrors with prismatic edges that would bounce a laser, while breaking up and refracting light rays. Took the labs over two weeks to come up with something that worked. The scanning device gives off just a minor jolt now. Once she and Teal'c were back, Doc Fraiser surgically removed the inserts."

 

"So, can't just pull them out." Jack had been wondering. He'd tried more than once, and been zapped.

 

"Uh, wouldn't advise it, Colonel. The thing has a root that lodges directly into the spinal column. Pull it out while it's still joined to the core and you'd be paralyzed."

 

"Ah. That could get in the way of escaping."

 

They arrived at the gate in the now deserted marketplace without confrontation, and SG9 was waiting. Teal'c was with them.

 

"Hey, Teal'c," Jack couldn't contain his grin. "Nice job."

 

"This mission has taken far too much time, O'Neill." But Teal'c's frown began to smooth into a softer expression, and an almost-smile graced his lips. "And I am relieved it has now been completed."

 

"Good to see you too," Jack squeezed his teammate's forearm.

 

Teal'c bowed his head. "And you, O'Neill." His eyes met those of Daniel, deep eyes of resilience glinting with relief. "It is good to see you once again, Daniel Jackson."

 

"Same here, Teal'c. You have no idea."

 

"Doctor Jackson." Daniel looked up at McKenna. The man was holding an odd-looking 3-D object, attched to two strings. "Let me tie this around your neck." While Jack was being administered to by Davidson, McKenna tied the cover over Daniel's tag, as the wormhole opened.

 

It had been over three months since Daniel had last stepped through that thing, and he couldn't remember ever looking forward to it more. He was longing to get as far away from this planet as possible.

 

Jack came to stand by his side. "You doing good?"

 

"Yeah. You?"

 

"You bet. Ready?"

 

"You bet."

 

Upon their approach to the gate, the jolt brought both men to their knees. With McKenna supporting Daniel and Teal'c aiding O'Neill, they wearily stepped through the wormhole.

 

And arrived to the sound of silence… and then clapping. Standing at near-attention were at least four SG teams and General Hammond. Sam was at the foot of the ramp.

 

"Carter." Jack, able to now stand up straight, shrugged off Teal'c's support and strode down the grating towards her.

 

"Sir." She felt her eyes filling, in spite of having promised herself she'd be in complete control. "Oh boy. I was hoping this wouldn't happen."

 

"What, being glad to see me?" Jack put his arms around her and pulled her close. "It's good to see you, Major."

 

"You too, sir." She sniffed, wiping at her eyes as she let go and focussed on Daniel. "Daniel."

 

"Sam." Daniel grasped her in a tight embrace. "God, it's good to be home. Were you treated okay?"

 

"Could've been worse. Two weeks felt like a lifetime, until I came home knowing you two were still missing. The next ten felt like an eternity." Releasing her grip, she looked at Daniel deeply. "Even when they declared you MIA I never wanted to give up, Daniel, but I was losing hope."

 

He nodded. "So was I."

 

"Kids? Shall we have this reunion later? I'd so like to hit the showers. Oh, Daniel? Ten bucks says I can beat you getting the beard off."

 

"You're on."

_____

 

Showered, shaved, medically tested, and finally wearing clean clothes, Daniel sat among the trees above ground, savouring the feeling of fresh air, without any worry of having to run from the law. The breeze was cool, the trees were green. It was nice to see trees again. Even bees. His bottle of water rested on the ground beside him; it was nice to be able to drink at will, too.

 

"Hey."

 

"Hey." Daniel looked up as Jack came up beside him and sat down. The CO looked clean-shaven, refreshed, his hair still flopping down into his eyes a bit. Daniel knew his own hair was doing that too, but it just looked odder on Jack. But so had the beard.

 

The two sat in silence for a while, peacefully accepting their fate, listening to the birds.

 

"We were away a long time." Jack's quiet reverie broke the stillness.

 

"Yeah. Couple of months."

 

"Three."

 

"I'm glad Sam and Teal'c made it back. She seems okay."

 

"Two and a half weeks of one's life in bondage isn't as bad as thinking it may be forever."

 

Daniel sighed. "Yeah. It's the unknown and the assumptions that are the worst."

 

"Did you ever want to give up, Daniel?"

 

Daniel nodded, ripping out a clump of grass. "Kind of. You?"

 

"Kind of. But every time I went to that market I pretended I might find one of you guys there."

 

"You did?"

 

"Yah. Carter or Teal'c. Not you, I thought you were on another planet."

 

Daniel nodded. "So did I. I didn't think I could ever find any of you again. Even I had no idea where I was."

 

"That must've been hard." Jack looked up at the sky, then back at his teammate. "You were in a tower, cleaning. What about before that?"

 

His teammate looked away, and tore out more blades of grass.

 

"Daniel? I'll just read it in the report."

 

"Um, let's just say I contributed to the advancement of medical science."

 

"Crap, Daniel. They experimented on you?" The thoughts parading through Jack's mind were numbing.

 

"It was just for a month."

 

"Shit. Doc Fraiser say you're okay?"

 

"So far. She has more results to get back." And he'd asked her about the black dots. Just protein deposits separated from the vitreous drifting about, casting shadows on the retina. Nothing damaging or permanent, nothing to worry about.

 

Jack could sense the mixture of anxiety and relief in Daniel's voice, and he patted his friend's hand in reassurance. Daniel'd be okay; after all, that was over two months ago… right? "So why did they move you? Too healthy a specimen?" His humour held a tone of warmth for his friend, masking the anger of his true emotions.

 

"They …" Daniel stopped. They found me hiding a photo? That was embarrassing. "They found me hiding something. I guess they didn't trust having me around." A blessing, that had been.

 

"Food?"

 

"Food?" Daniel repeated in confusion. "No… no. No, not food. A photograph, Jack. I still had a photograph of SG1. From after we'd blown up Apophis's ships. Kept it with me for good luck."

 

Flinging a pebble into a cluster of trees, Jack sighed. Trapped seemingly alone on another planet, Daniel had managed to keep one reminder of home. Leave it to him. All Jack had had was the pretense of perhaps seeing a face in the crowd that looked like Carter. "They moved you for that? Good. So SG1 got you out of that place."

 

Daniel chuckled. He hadn't thought of it quite like that. "I guess you could say that."

 

More minutes passed, one man ripping the unfortunate grass beside him to bits, the other trying to skip stones off a tree trunk.

 

"You have a Ph.D. in archaeology and linguistics, Daniel. What were you doing over there?"

 

That was the last thing Daniel had expected to hear from Jack, at that moment. The conversation seemed to be turning a bit too moody. "Rescuing a friend?"

 

That wasn't exactly where he'd been going. Hesitating, Jack knew he didn't really want to ask the next question, but it had to be voiced, at some point. "Daniel, do you want off SG1?"

 

"Do you want me off?" he responded quietly.

 

"No, I want you safe. Offworld isn't safe."

 

"But you might need me again to rescue you, sometime."

 

"That I might," Jack chuckled. "Is that a no?"

 

"That's a no."

 

"Good," Jack nodded, sighing. "So do you still have it? The photo?"

 

"They ripped it up. So, no."

 

Of course they did. Couldn't allow a prisoner to have anything left of himself, could they. "So it's time for another one."

 

"Another what?"

 

"SG1 homecoming photo. It's about time to renew our good luck, eh?" Jack jumped up, offering a hand.

 

Daniel grabbed on, and pulled himself up. "Thanks."

 

"No, Daniel. Thank you. If you hadn't had that photo, you wouldn't have been transferred to the tower, right? And I'd still be chopping logs."

 

Staring at his friend in realization, Daniel nodded. "I'd say you're right, Jack. Time to renew that luck."

 

Slowly they walked towards the entrance of the mountain. "Anyway, Fraiser's about ready to cut these things out. You up to some surgery?"

 

Daniel sighed. "Perfect end to a perfect day. By the way, you look a lot better without the beard."

 

"Thought so. So do you. And I won, you know."

 

"I did."

 

"Ten bucks. Pay up."

 

"Promise not to lose me again and I'll triple that."

 

"You're on."

 

 

---

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