priceofchildren

Four For the Price of Children

by Travelling One

EMAIL: travelling_one@yahoo.ca

WEB:http://www.travellingone.com

SUMMARY: SG-1 must atone for an unfortunate offworld accident.

CATEGORY: Drama, adventure, angst, h/c

SEASON: Fourth

DISCLAIMER: The theme and main characters have been borrowed from the Stargate SG-1 tv series, and are copyright property of MGM-UA Worldwide Television, Gekko Film Corp, Glassner/Wright Double Secret Productions and Stargate SG-I Prod. Ltd. This story has been written for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement is intended.

04/04/02

"So, do we have a go, Sir?"

The MALP was sending back pictures of a vast open room, and while it was fairly dark in the interior, they could make out a significant number of large and eclectic objects, perhaps machinery. The DHD seemed unusually angled and a bit distant, but probably still close enough to the gate to properly function. After all, the local folks must know what they were doing. Daniel and Sam had been swivelling the probe for close to forty minutes, their excitement growing with each new discovery.

"Agreed." General Hammond was hoping, as usual, that this seemingly technological society would have something to help them in their fight against the Goa'uld, and from what they had seen so far, this one held out more promise than most. "You'll leave this afternoon at 1500 hours. Dismissed."

_____

"Be careful, SG1," Hammond advised as they stood at the base of the ramp. "We don't have any indication that the inhabitants are friendly."

No, thought Daniel. They never knew what they might be walking into, as the first contact team. They could never know.

"As careful as can be, General," O'Neill assured him with more confidence than he ever felt. What a show he knew he could put on for the benefit of, well, everyone else. He turned to Daniel. "Don't get your hopes up yet, Daniel. We don't even know if anyone still actually lives there."

Daniel gave Jack an indignant glance. "I could give you the same advice, Jack. I know it looked like there might be some useful technology, but we don't know for certain that that was a mural of Thor's Hammer, and those machines may not do anything more than, um, bake bread."

"My hopes? Nope, Daniel. The only thing I'm hoping for is getting back here safe and sound by dinner tomorrow." Jack straightened his cap, returned it to the exact position on his head he had just lifted it from, and took the first step towards the open wormhole.

_____

The matterstream deposited them into a room; a huge cavernous room thick with vibrant, ear-shattering screams and fleeing, panicking bodies. As the effects of the rapid transit quickly subsided, SG1 realized that the enormous chamber was no longer empty, nor dark.

"We must've sent the MALP through in their nighttime, Sir," was Carter's first comment.

"And," Daniel drew his breath in sharply, his expression horrified, "they weren't expecting us." The teammates followed his gesture towards the mosaic floor in front of the gate, where half a dozen pairs of small steaming legs stood unconnected to any bodies.

"Oh God."

After a moment of allowing the realization to sink in, the knowledge that a group of children - and at least two of the adults with them - had been caught unaware of the effects of the opening vortex, held them frozen to the spot. They looked up to see a group of uniformed men and women hesitantly approaching, from out behind the MALP and other machinery, arms outstretched, holding short weapons raised to chest level. More people - men, women, and children - dressed in a variety of everyday clothing, were watching from a safe distance. Children cowered behind their mothers' coats, and younger ones cried in their arms. No doubt some of these ill-fated ones had been family.

"Oh God."

"Why didn't they get out of the way?" Jack's voice betrayed his horror.

"Because…they didn't know. I think…." Daniel's suspicions were growing as he gazed around dismally, and he felt sick, "that we're in a museum." His whisper reached the ears of those beside him.

"This chappa'ai appears to be for display only," Teal'c said softly.

"They had no idea how this thing works?" Jack's question was a statement of certainty. In other words... they didn't know what an establishing vortex could do, they weren't regularly visited by Goa'ulds, possibly didn't know even who those snakeheads were, and SG1 had come… and killed those children… for nothing.

"Oh God."

O'Neill glanced solemnly at Carter's pale countenance. "You going to be okay?"

She finally found the ability to nod.

"You, Daniel?" But Daniel was already making his way over the mosaic floor to the cautiously approaching aliens.

"We're peaceful explorers," Daniel started, his voice cracking ever so gently. "We had no idea …I mean," his glance swept over the little pairs of partly filled shoes, "we didn't mean… this wasn't supposed to happen," he stumbled quietly over his words, eyes filling with a moist heaviness.

The uniformed adults - security guards, they appeared to be - pushed forward slowly with their weapons raised, motioning for SG-1 to move ahead. They did not appear to understand Daniel's words. The few commands hissed at each other were incomprehensible to the SGC linguist.

"Daniel. Good try, but I think we're in trouble here."

"We need to explain to them, apologize, do something," Daniel muttered worriedly. "How can we ever…" but he couldn't complete his thoughts. What? How could they ever make up for this accident? How could they reverse what had happened? Bring eight people back to life? The guilt and horror of what they had done was manifesting itself as a lead weight in his abdomen.

"Not this way, Daniel. We need a diplomatic team - or something. We have to contact Hammond."

As the guards closed in, Daniel whispered to Jack, "If they don't know how the Stargate works, maybe I can try to reach the DHD, push in Earth's symbols? If they're scientists and curious, they might let us dial out."

Jack pondered Daniel's suggestion. They might not get another chance to be so close to the DHD and the 'gate any time soon. And if this was a museum, the DHD might not actually even work at such an odd angle, in which case SG1 should really try to find that out now. "Okay, but be careful. Any sign of resistance, and leave it alone."

Dropping his pack, Daniel slowly raised his hands in the air, and motioned with his head over to the DHD. Very cautiously, he took a small step sideways, then carefully turned around and moved the forty or so feet to the dial home device. So far, the natives were just watching. Behind him, around him, was the machinery they'd observed on their feedback display, wall murals, unidentifiable objects on pedestals, and now, a host of frightened onlookers, sliding unobtrusively out of the way.

So far these aliens had not seemed overly hostile or violent, even in light of the fact that SG1 had just disposed of a group of tourists or schoolchildren on a regular day's outing. Daniel realized these people were being quite civil, really.

Daniel began to punch in the symbols. As the third chevron lit up, a stabbing pain shot through the center of his neck, and he heard someone screaming his name. He slumped over the dialing device, unable to reach out to control his slide to the floor. His senses blurring, Daniel could hear voices and a commotion over to one side, but couldn't make out the words. He was entirely unable to move.

"Daniel!" Sam and Jack had simultaneously seen the guard aim and their teammate fall, although they hadn't heard much of a sound nor seen the object that had hit him. Several guards were moving forward, lifting him, while the others motioned to SG1 to drop their weapons and vests and keep moving. Jack glanced behind to make sure Daniel was alive, and coming with. But his friend's eyes were closed, and he was making no movements. Teal'c followed slowly, keeping a concerned eye on his downed team member.

Daniel knew he was being carried, knew SG1 was in the group being marched forward, and then came the realization that he was aware of being aware. Why couldn't he move?

Several hallways later, past suites filled with objects on display, the four space explorers were deposited in a room cluttered with shelves layered with specimens in transparent containers, and given seats along one of the five walls. Daniel was placed on the floor. The guards did not seem to mind when Sam and Jack knelt by his side, nor did they care that Teal'c remained standing.

"Daniel? Can you hear me?" Jack prodded him gently.

Daniel heard his friend; he knew the voice but somehow the words did not make sense. He still was unable to move, though his eyes were now open.

Lifting Daniel's head gently, Major Carter checked the back of his neck. A tiny lump had formed, with a speck of smeared blood around a pinpricked center, no worse than an irritated insect bite. She carefully lowered him to the ground. "You'll be okay, Daniel.This doesn't look so bad," she reassured him. "Sir, there's no bleeding, and his eyes are responsive. I think this is likely some sort of drug."

"Temporary?" Jack asked hopefully.

Sam nodded. "I'm hoping. He seems to be aware, but unable to move. He also bumped his chin and his lip on the DHD when he fell." Her hand was placed on Daniel's forehead, then on the side of his neck. "His heart rate's slow." She sat down on the floor behind him, her back against the wall. Lifting his head onto her lap, she softly stroked the hair on his forehead. Jack leaned on the wall by Daniel's other side. No one spoke.

What a mess. Home by dinner tomorrow? Keep those positive thoughts coming, O'Neill.

The silence was finally broken by one of the four men in blue lab coats who had come into the room with the group. His words were meaningless to the three teammates.

"We need Daniel Jackson to be responsive. Perhaps he will be able to understand this language," Teal'c stated unnecessarily.

"Yeah. Well. That's not about to happen yet, is it."

So they sat, for what their watches told them was nearly two hours, long after the incomprehensible questioning had ended and the aliens had fallen silent as well.

______

Daniel finally began to stir. Slowly, his left arm moved, and all eyes turned to look at him. He rolled onto his right side, gently trying to push himself up, disregarding the leftover numbness. He felt a hand rest upon his, felt his entire body tingling and pricking with returning sensations. The hand on his arm hurt his sensitized skin.

"Uh." He groaned, finding it difficult to get his tongue around words. As sounds came into clearer focus, his body relaxing and starting to return to normal, Daniel was helped to sit up. They were all still in the specimen room, both his friends and their captors, one of whom was speaking to them again.

"Daniel, can you understand what he's saying?"

Daniel concentrated. While some of the sounds were a bit familiar, he couldn't comprehend the words. He shook his head. "No. Nothing meaningful," he managed.

Jack sighed. So much for that.

A voice at the door caused them all to turn, and a balding head poked itself in. Some dialogue was exchanged, and the lab coats and guards motioned for SG1 to stand and follow. Several guards waited to bring up the rear.

"You okay to stand, Daniel?"

Daniel raised himself onto his knees, then all the way to his feet, with the help of his teammates. "Just…slightly weak, Jack. I think most of it has passed." But ouch, his jaw ached.

The four detainees were led out into the chilly gray air and herded into large open vehicles that reminded Jack of over-sized golf carts. They were whisked across the grassy compound to another whitewashed building. The grounds were landscaped and decorative, with metallic sculptures and carved stone benches. The buildings themselves, of which there were six or seven across many acres of land, were multi-sided with rounded, gentle contours. Nothing about this planet seemed harsh.

Stopping in front of the smallest of the buildings, the team was brought into a brightly lit circular room, a conference hall of sorts, surrounded by enclosed partitions made of thick transparent material. Deposited here each into their own private cubicles, their glass doors were shut and locked behind them. Guards were left to stand outside each enclosed booth, facing inward. There would be little privacy in here, and no communication. But it didn't seem as though they would be here too long, there were no facilities and no furniture at all. If this was meant to be their prison, it was deemed so in haste. Their sudden arrival had likely taken the locals by surprise, raising questions as to what to do with them. Perhaps this would be a temporary confinement, until their removal to a more permanent location? Somehow, they would have to find a way to communicate.

Daniel's glass cell was on the extreme left, beside Sam's. While Jack paced two cubicles down, and Teal'c stood at his own door looking out directly at the men who guarded them, Daniel moved over to the windowed wall adjoining Carter's, and lowered himself onto the white carpeted floor. Sam did the same, meeting Daniel's disturbed gaze with concern of her own. They had nothing to do now but await their fates.

_____

And wait they did.

Through the early night while the lights were turned down, and into the following morning, the group shuffled restlessly about their small see-through chambers. Days turned in sixteen hour cycles here, it seemed. Sleep wouldn't come, restlessness and fear wouldn't retreat. If the wait was intended to make them nervous, it was working. The foursome had each been taken from their chambers twice, to see to bodily functions, and had been promptly returned to confinement. While being kept worried and bored, at least they had not been mistreated. Hope grew that within a dozen hours, Hammond would send out a team to check on them.

Jack propped himself up in his little booth, shifting into another not much more comfortable position against the large window. At least the floor was padded. He'd spent most of the six-hour night watching his teammates' restlessness. Each time their glances met through the heavy transparent panes, comprehending wistful eyes conveyed one another's thoughts. If this had happened on Earth - if intruders had killed an innocent group of children and their mentors inside an American museum - their faces would be plastered on the daily news around the country, and their hides would be hung to dry.

Then again, if a group of space travellers suddenly materialized inside an Earth museum, that would be world news, CNN material, and he knew those poor unsuspecting aliens would never make it back home, instruments for investigation, questioning, and a lifetime of experimentation.

So …what might their chances be here? Jack couldn't help wondering if there was a CNN facsimile on P6X whatever this place was.

As the morning lights came up, each prisoner was brought food, and their doors were quickly shut once more. On their plates were slices of bread with meat, and a ceramic vessel of what seemed to be cold tea. They ate sparingly, anxiety and nervousness dominating over appetite.

Daniel had tried to speak to the guards on his way to the facilities, and once again he made the effort through the glass as he tried to cope with his nerves and boredom. Not knowing if they could even hear him, for even Sam's voice was muffled beside him, Daniel dug into his repertoire of languages, hoping that perhaps these people could speak or at least understand one he knew. Yet there remained no response from the guards.

An hour after some of the food had been consumed, their doors were opened once again. It seemed a decision had been made, and the quartet of travellers was led back by wheeled vehicle to the museum, Daniel trying futilely one more time to converse with these people. Although they listened, no one seemed to comprehend, and they had finally resumed the brief journey in silence.

This time, SG1 was directed to a small two-level room with raised observation booths around three-quarters of the perimeter. The main walls of the room below the viewing areas were covered in shelving units, mostly shuttered from curious eyes. Encompassing the entire solid fourth wall of the open area was a large gray screen, not unlike the viewing screen of a movie theatre, and a body-length brown armchair; this, adorned with restraints and wires, was surrounded by numerous consoles cluttered with dials, switches, and metallic pads. Tables had been pushed to the sides, as though this room, too, had been prepared in haste. Was this the reason they had been detained on-site overnight? The four members of SG1 eyed the unpleasant machinery with trepidation as they were led to padded seats inside one of the upper observation booths, four guards remaining inside, four more on the outside of the small watchchamber.

"Reminds me of the zatarc detector," Sam commented with disgust, as she looked down below at the extended armchair.

Daniel had other ideas. "Nem's memory device." He couldn't take his eyes off the chair nor rid himself of the unpleasant flashbacks. How long ago was that now? Yet so clear, still so clear. Faces turned towards his. "Uh… that one had more curves," he finally offered.

"Reminds me of an electric chair," Jack stated grimly. He wasn't intending for that to be a joke. It really did make him think of the human killing apparatus, and he wasn't at all certain that it didn't serve a similar purpose.

His teammates turned shocked eyes towards him, and for a moment they pondered his words.

"You don't think they'd kill us?" Sam ventured quietly.

No one said a word, at first.

"We did kill those children," Daniel's barely audible admission was perhaps not really meant to be heard. They hadn't talked about what had happened; they didn't want to, yet.

"They can't think we intended to do that."

"Maybe what we intended doesn't matter."

There was little conversation from that point, but if thoughts could have been heard and seen, a terrible storm would have bared itself in the little room. Instead, the silence trod into minds that knew only of what they'd done, not what their captors were thinking nor what the next few hours would bring. They had only ideas, guesses, and an irrational or maybe rational terror that was building within. They had no way out of whatever was being planned for them, and no way to explain nor defend themselves. While not being innocent of a crime, they were indeed unintentional victims. Daniel, sitting between Sam and Jack, was absorbing his anxiety and turning it into intense fear in the blazing silence. He placed his hand over Sam's on the arm of her chair, seeking both to give and receive comfort. Hearts pounded and the silence remained.

_____

"They are approaching."

The others, along with Teal'c, had seen the five men in blue lab coats enter the far corner of the main room, and were following their approach to the doors of their own upper chamber with wary eyes. "Well kids, I'd guess we're about to find out what the big ugly chair's for."

Standing in the doorway, the five men gazed at the seated detainees. One nodded towards Daniel. Speaking to the guards positioned outside the door, he motioned for them to bring the traveller who had attempted all the conversations, incomprehensible as he had been.

The guards calmly took Daniel by the arms, and lifted him to his feet, prodding him forward. "No!" The archaeologist uttered defiantly, squirming away.

In a flash, Jack was up and had both hands around Daniel's right bicep. "Don't take him."

The inner guards stepped forward, and weapons stopped Teal'c and Sam from rising.

Jack felt a stab in his abdomen, and a numbness quickly engulfed his entire body. He had no control over his fall to the floor. His back hit someone's chair, but he felt nothing.

"Colonel!"

The guards positioned O'Neill limply on the tiles, propped against his vacated armchair.

Crap. The helplessness was disturbing, and his move had gotten him nowhere. Daniel was being removed from the room to be shown up close and personal the awaiting machinery, and Jack could do nothing but lie there motionless against the base of the furniture. He tried forcing his eyes open.

Daniel, worriedly looking back at the scene playing out behind him, watched until the closing door separated him from his teammates. "No, no," he repeated, struggling in the guards' grasps. "We didn't mean to hurt anyone…we're so sorry…"

There were different weapons, this time, replacing the dart guns he had experienced earlier. With barrels of varying sizes, these looked more powerful, more …permanent. But Daniel was still just guessing, as he was forced into the chair in the center of the room and his wrists and ankles secured by restraints built into the chair itself. A thick belt was connected around his waist, and his glasses removed.

"No." Daniel closed his eyes and whispered to no one who could understand, "Please don't kill me."

_____

In the little room, Jack could see what was happening, although his body was not yet completely under his control. There were pins and needles in his feet and fingers, limbs, torso, tingles and pricks of pain. His dose must not have been as strong as the one used earlier on Daniel, or less intensified in the abdomen or perhaps through clothing. He was already beginning to move as Daniel was placed into the chair. The Chair.

Jack turned his head away for a moment, his anger flaring. If only he could understand the intentions of these people. Were SG1 seen as threats? Murderers? What? These natives had acted benignly yet with great internal strength. Jack knew his team would be able to get away with nothing, and their only hope for release might be in actually communicating with these beings. But their only hope of communication was being strapped into some machine that would do … who knew what … to his mind or body.

As Teal'c stood in front of the doorway still locked and guarded, his features barely illustrated the concern and anger within him. He had failed to protect his teammate. He should have somehow offered himself for Daniel Jackson. It had all happened so fast… and now he remained helpless, along with the remainder of his team. If the others were to be soon taken, he must think of something … but they were highly outnumbered. There was nothing he could do.

Sam could barely contain the feelings of despair from overwhelming her, taking possession of her internal control. All they'd wanted was to meet these people. But they never, never knew what they were getting into when they opened that gate. All part of the job. Yes, all part of the job. Facing the unknown. God, Daniel. God, why did he have to be first? Sam shook her head. No, if Jack was right about what that contraption might do, wasn't it better to be first? How could any of them be forced to sit there and watch each other die? Face the chair knowing, knowing, what was in store? So Daniel was lucky…lucky, right. He was first. Maybe one death was all they wanted …and he was first… and his friends would have to live without him. Sam gripped her armrest, still feeling the gentle pressure of Daniel's scared hand on hers. God. Please help him.

_____

"Ow!" That felt too much like the Tok'ra memory enhancer. Pairs of wired plugs were secured into place into the back of Daniel's neck, his scalp, his palms, and two under his shirt above and below his heart. His jacket had been folded over a chair, and cold hands lifting his t-shirt, wiring him in like an inanimate object as he sat harnessed, caused a shiver to run the length of his torso, continuing as the plugs were activated. Fear gripped him tightly as swirling, electrical pulses began to bring prickling, tingling sensations through his body and into his mind. He felt like his brain was …itching. Daniel tried to stop trembling, succeeding only in becoming more aware of the terror winding its way into his psyche and the thumping of his blood through his veins. He only hoped that whatever was about to happen, would be over quickly.

Then, images started to find their way into his consciousness, and it seemed as though his mind was being invaded with questions, while answers were being pulled out from under his awareness. Daniel had no control over the thoughts playing within. He could sense a question, Who Are You? He could see his answer, Four travellers from the planet Earth.

"Colonel?" Sam's vision was riveted to the large screen in front of Daniel's chair. She needn't have tried to rouse the colonel, he was already watching intently, had been since the manhandling had slowly connected Daniel to alien circuitry. Most of the feeling having returned to his limbs, Jack had managed to place himself back in his armchair. He could see, through peripheral vision, that not only Teal'c but the guards as well, had their eyes glued to the screen.

And the pictures on it were of SG1 back in the gateroom at the SGC.

Then, a blue swirling vortex, and eight pairs of smoking shoes, filled halfway to the knees in a room of horrified screaming beings, threw their accusations back at them.

The point of vision changed. They were inside the museum now, and a group of children was on the mosiac floor, listening to a lecture from two museum employees. At least, that's what they looked like, in their beige lab coats. Perhaps they were teachers. Suddenly, the chevrons on the gate lit up, and young and old eyes alike all turned to stare.

The vortex swooshed open, then the six children and two adults were gone. Only the evidence remained.

The silence in that room had turned to sudden screaming, a flurry of activity and bodies caught trying to decide whether to inspect the little feet or get the hell as far away as possible, armed security scurrying into position behind whatever large equipment they could find. And as a group of green-clad invaders walked nonchalantly through the blue water, everyone froze, the few final screams lingering in the ensuing stillness.

And Daniel was softly sobbing.

The device and plugs were disconnected, leaving just tiny red punctures. The verdict was in. They had seen all they needed to see. Guilt.

His limbs were removed from the restraints, but Daniel remained where he sat, gripping the armrest and forcing himself to take deep breaths. The visions remained in his soul, as vivid as though he had created reality himself. As colourful and brilliant as if he was still there. Opening his eyes, he tried to focus on the scene around him, on blue coats, a now gray screen, consoles and wires and dials that left him breathing still. He trembled once more, and gave in to the ministrations of those now in charge of his life.

Daniel was lifted from the chair, and the three remaining members of SG1 were removed from their observation booth and guided to the lower level.

"Daniel." Sam looked at her morose teammate with empathic pain but a more hopeful heart. He was still alive, still with them. So that chair could enter their thoughts? At least there was hope of communication now, in a bizarre and hideous sort of way. She'd hated witnessing the event through the eyes of these people, but it was a start.

"You okay, Daniel?" As relieved as he was, Jack was concerned for his friend. There had been something a bit more traumatic in all of that, he believed, than any of them were yet aware of. Daniel nodded, still wiping his eyes, his glassses held in one trembling hand.

The team was led through the building, guarded on all sides. Where they were being taken this time was anybody's guess, confinement perhaps, but at least Daniel was still with them, looking spent and tired but very much alive, arms wrapped around himself as they marched on.

All four heads looked up when they entered the museum's "gateroom". The mosaic floor had been cleaned up. Museum personnel were off to the side with the MALP, taking it apart.

"Colonel?" Carter's voice held hope. Could they be sending the team home? Or …somewhere. They had no equipment, no GDO. But these people didn't know how to use the Stargate … did they? They hadn't known that an incoming vortex would sweep them away for good.

"This does seem promising, Major Carter."

"Yes, Teal'c, it does," Jack added with cheer in his tone. He stole a glance at Daniel, and was pleased to see brightness in the young man's eyes. Hope, expectancy. Yes, things were looking up.

So when Daniel was positioned by the guards to stand in front of the DHD, when he was motioned to start a dial up, as all eyes had witnessed him trying to do upon arrival in the museum, all four team members inwardly cheered. Jack smiled. Maybe they would get out of this more easily than they had first imagined. These people were not so bad after all.

Daniel pressed the first chevron to Cimmeria. He knew they could not gate home, straight away. And he didn't want to be tossed through the gate by an angry people too eager to be rid of them, when the iris at the SGC would be kept closed. But Daniel was not yet willing to get his hopes all the way up. Maybe these folks had decided they just wanted to see how the gate worked. Maybe SG-1 would not get to actually use it at all. Daniel kept his thoughts to himself. He lit the second chevron, third, fourth, as his three teammates were moved closer to the Stargate.

"Hey!"

Daniel looked up to see Jack frantically pushing a guard out of the way, and Sam's worried expression was nearly mirrored in Teal'c's. The guards backed off, but the longer, heavier weapons were kept focussed on SG1, threatening them into the direct line of the gate's vortex, when it should open.

The team now in place just three feet in front of the gate, the guards settled down to keep them there.

Daniel froze.

The agonized looks on his teammates' faces confirmed his own fears…this was no send-off, and no accidental positioning. It was retribution.

An eye for an eye.

The guards and the lab coats and the museum attendants all watched in a state of pacified suspension. Judgement had been passed, and so had the sentencing.

They were waiting for Daniel to press the next chevron. And Daniel's teammates were staring at him in stunned disbelief.

"No!" Daniel gasped, turning to face the guards whose weapons were pointed directly at him. "I won't do this." They understood, he knew they did.

Heads nodded towards the DHD; 'continue', they indicated.

Daniel shook his head, backing away. "No." He was not going to disintegrate his teammates. Oh god.

Glaring harshly at Daniel, a guard stepped up to the DHD and pressed a symbol himself, then another and another, but nothing happened. Daniel held his breath. How patient would these people be to keep on trying?

But the guard did not try again, and weapons were now being raised, coming closer. These were not the weapons of tranquilizer darts. Daniel didn't see a choice, at any rate. He was not going to open that gate.

"Daniel. Careful."

Daniel didn't move, his voice barely audible in the cavernous room. "How, Jack?"

For many moments there was only stillness. SG1 stood in the center of the gate stretch, guards on either side yet far enough out of the way of the incoming matterstream. Daniel stood frozen, not daring to move, barely daring to breathe. Museum personnel watched in stony silence, faces grim yet bordered with evident anger. These intruders had killed the children.

"Daniel!" The shouts of his friends were not in time, could not have helped anyway.

"God, Ow!" A weapon fired, hitting Daniel in the upper arm, throwing him violently backwards, into the DHD, onto the floor. Stunned for some moments, he cradled his stinging arm, hushing his gasps, sitting where he had landed, an oval rubber projectile still rolling nearby. A glance at his arm indicated a large, developing swelling and welt. As the weapons pointed now at his chest from a hazardously close distance, Daniel realized they could likely control the damage done to a body by the size of the projectile, and the distance from which it was aimed. As long as they kept away from his head or throat…. At the very least, this would feel like a bullet hitting a bullet-proof vest; while it would impact and subdue, they probably did not want to kill him …yet. After all, he knew how to make the great circular machine work. Threats, just threats.

Didn't matter anyway. They'd have to kill him, before he'd open the gate. "No," he repeated, making no move to return to the symbols behind him.

The voices spoke, but still Daniel could make out none of the speech. Movement behind him caused him to turn, and he saw his friends being directed away from the gate, then through the door from which they had entered. Daniel felt strong arms raising him from behind, then pushing him forward.

_____

Once again, Daniel was fastened into the chair and wired up while the others were herded behind the glass panels and seated in the armchairs. Eight wires and plug-ins, Daniel counted them off one at a time as he squeezed his eyes shut and prepared for whatever was to come. Death, this time? Or the humiliation of having his friends watch once more as he forced unwanted sights onto an adolescent IMAX wannabe, of losing control and shamelessly weeping with the fear that he was helpless and hooked up in eight different places on his body? But death was worse. The children had died, for nothing more than curiosity and the anticipation of an exciting day's outing, and he could understand the feelings of these aliens, if not their words. Hands probed under his t-shirt now, attaching the final two connections.

"Sir, do you think they'll do the same thing to Daniel as last time?" Sam whispered.

"No idea, Carter. Keep your fingers crossed."

"O'Neill…if Daniel Jackson had indeed done as they wished, what then would have become of him?"

"Shit, Teal'c, who knows. Execute him in the chair? Keep him for information, maybe as their new museum exhibit? Christ Teal'c. I don't want to think about it."

"If they'd seen the address for Cimmeria, Sir, they might have tried to stand Daniel in front of the gate while they opened it themselves."

"I said I don't want to talk about it, Carter."

The images started on the screen, as the questions bombarded Daniel's awareness in the form of itching visions…

Of his friends in front of the Stargate…

Daniel saw his teammates in position in full hit of the vortex. He saw the blue wave sweeping them up, full screen and larger than life…

Do You Understand What Will Happen?

They seemed to be asking. Suddenly his friends were gone … and the aliens had their answer. Yes, yes, of course he knew, knew exactly what the wave could do, would do to the uninformed, the naïve, the foolhardly, the …the innocent. Daniel sharply inhaled and tried not to cry out, but the images were so real, so real. And the pictures blazing on the screen were playing themselves out in Panavision's technicolour. Was this really a quest for information, or was this what they wanted to happen to SG1, and desired for them all to see it?

The next image was of Daniel himself …at the DHD…resistance, a refusal to open the gate… he was refusing to open the gate, and his friends were dying, hooked up to wires, more wires, and a surge of energy... sitting in this chair, they were sitting in this very chair… and Daniel saw his friends, one at a time …Teal'c, Sam, then Jack… dead.

They were imparting information to him, and the warnings were as clear as the images before him, in his brain, on a screen for SG1 and the roomful of witnesses to see.

If he refused again to cooperate, they would all die, right here in this room.

So.

This chair was used for other purposes. Jack had been right.

You Killed The Children

and Daniel saw the smoldering legs again and couldn't keep from gasping. "No! We didn't mean to!" The image of sorrow as they exited into the museum.

But You Knew What Would Happen In The Blue Air

"Yes, but we didn't know they were there!" The images, over and over, of SG-1 walking through an open Stargate, images of children being sucked into a blue wave and the attendants, parents, teachers screaming, running, and SG-1 walking through an open Stargate.

You Killed The Children

Daniel was sobbing. He couldn't help it, couldn't stop. Couldn't stop.

Again, they were released from this theatre as Daniel grasped at a semblance of control and tried to ease the trembling in his hands, in his shoulders, tried to ignore the buzzing vibrations in his brain, the visions that wouldn't fade. He was aware of the hands of friends that were placed gently on his neck, on his arms, and knew they were supposed to be comforting hands but those hands were about to be stilled forever and he couldn't help them, couldn't stop it from happening.

The route becoming too familiar by now, they were again directed into the museum room that housed the Stargate. Just why was that bit of equipment there in the first place, that piece of ancient technology that was the focus of their daily lives, their careers, their source of brilliant wonder and curiosity that was now the terror of their existence? Where had it come from, who had put it here? Why did any of that matter now? SG1 just wanted to go home.

This time, Daniel had been given an ultimatum. They'd wanted to make sure he understood. And as he was placed again in front of the DHD, his friends once again forced to stand in front of the Stargate, Daniel knew that if he didn't open this wormhole, they would not get a third chance. The chair would be used as an execution instrument, for they had been sentenced, and the patient locals were getting tired of playing this game. Daniel realized that that had always been their intended fate, right from the start.

But he wasn't going to dial out. He would not disintegrate his friends.

Daniel stood with his arms hugging his chest, his agonized gaze directed into the eyes of his three motionless team members, standing there, waiting…with no idea of what to do. The stillness in the room was palpable, the silence frightening. Daniel swayed, and grasped onto the DHD for support. Maybe it was fear, maybe it was exhaustion; how long had they been playing this game? A game with a solitary outcome, and the winner was predetermined.

Jack studied the panic in his friend's features, the pain, and realized it was mirrored in his own. If there was any way out of this, they had to come up with it now.

"Dial out, Daniel."

Daniel thought he hadn't really heard the quiet words, but he saw Sam turn her head to observe the colonel, and Teal'c was eying him peripherally. They had heard as well.

"What? No, Jack."

"Dial Cimmeria. Six chevrons. And on the seventh, we fall to the ground. Catch them off guard, they have no idea how many symbols you're going to press. As soon as the vortex falls back into place, we make a run for it."

This might work. "Yes …okay," came the breathy reply.

Daniel pressed the first chevron, and its corresponding symbol lit up. He pressed the second, with museum personnel and guards watching patiently, curiously. The third, fourth, fifth. Daniel's fingers hesitated on the sixth. He had to be ready. They had to be ready.

"Daniel? You okay? This will work, buddy."

Daniel nodded, pressing hard upon the sixth chevron. "Six, guys." The onlookers tensed in anticipation. Their ordeal would soon be over, and retribution paid.

Daniel took a deep breath. "Here goes. One …two …three," and his fingers pressed down on the seventh and final symbol.

Carter, O'Neill, and Teal'c threw themselves hard onto the floor as Daniel pressed the central control pad, and the vortex swooshed low overhead.

"GO!" Jack yelled, and Sam and Teal'c raced the few steps to the open wormhole, stopping momentarily to glance back. Jack was right behind them, as the unsuspecting guards mobilized themselves. Daniel dashed around the DHD, gasping as his sore arm was caught in the grip of one of the guards behind him. Struggling to break away and nearly succeeding, his jacket was grasped by a second, as a third guard fired his weapon at Daniel's leg. The archaeologist went down hard, three guards tripping over him, holding on.

"GO! NOW!"

"Sir?"

"NOW!" Jack ordered Carter and Teal'c, and, with pained grimaces, they obeyed and were gone.

"Jack, get out of here!" Daniel, still struggling and trapped, shouted fiercely to his friend. "Damn it Jack, GO!"

Jack hesitated.

"No," he calmly replied, moving towards Daniel as guards intercepted him, grabbing hold of his arms. A weapon now pointing at Daniel's throat, the fallen man had ceased struggling, grimacing against the deep throbbing of his right thigh. He lay there for several moments, catching his breath, calming his nerves, as guards looked down upon him, Jack watching with concern from his vantage point partway across the room.

Daniel's breathing slowed as he peered up at his captors. Turning his head to see Jack watching from his custody in the arms of two guards, Daniel slowly sat up, rubbing his throbbing leg. He found himself being jerked to his feet as museum personnel gazed suspiciously at the open wormhole, wondering, it seemed, how to turn it off. Daniel prayed these people were too distracted to note the address of Cimmeria before it blinked out.

Hushed voices conversed as the two teammates were pulled, not so benignly this time, towards the exit of the room. They both suspected what was in store for them now, and it wasn't visual imagery.

The look of sorrow in Daniel's eyes as he faced Jack revealed more than words ever could, but Jack kept his gaze on his friend calm and steady.

"You should've gone, Jack." A voice filled with the pain of impending loss and terror. "It didn't have to be both of us."

"Maybe not. But hey, this way we can explore the afterlife together."

Daniel's features told Jack that he did not find humour in his remark. Daniel just hung his head, staring at the polished museum floor as it passed below his slightly limping gait. "Two for the price of one."

"Don't expect me to leave you."

Daniel fought back the burning in his eyes.

"Maybe, Jack, in the grand scheme of things, we deserve this. Like Teal'c thought he deserved during his Cor'ai."

"Maybe. Not that I believe in giving up."

"Of course not."

"I just wish this didn't include you."

"At least Sam and Teal'c got away." Daniel felt relief in those words, still deeply and angrily concerned that Jack had not followed. So close … he had been so close. Daniel sighed.

Once again, the two men were placed in the room with the Chair, but this time they were both guided to the observation booth, their private death row, with comfortable front row seats. The sentencing had been passed, and they were awaiting their punishment. Guards were scattered around, and a group that had not been present before met to converse in the main chamber. The two remaining members of SG1 were left seated for what seemed an eternity.

"How's the arm?" Jack looked at the large painful red swelling covering Daniel's bicep, additional fingerprints where he had been tackled. "And the leg?" The swollen lip, at least, looked more comfortable than yesterday.

Daniel glared at the first site, frowning, and flexed his stiff tight fingers. "Hurts, but I'll live. If they don't kill me first."

The two teammates watched the diversions in the room a few steps below. It seemed as though debates were going on, preparations were being made.

"What did it look like, up close?" Jack broke the uncomfortable silence.

"What?" Daniel sounded irritable. Was he supposed to know what Jack was thinking?

"The chair, the panels. Did they look like the chair could be used to …you know."

"How should I know. It's what they showed me in their, uh, viewer. You saw."

"Should we believe them?"

"Do we have a choice? Tell you what, Jack. If I go first and they kill me, you'll have your answer, okay?"

"Quit it, Daniel." Jack knew it was frustration talking, and weariness. Daniel was afraid, and so was he. He knew Daniel didn't have those answers, and Jack himself was just rambling. Daniel should have realized that.

Daniel sighed, and closed his eyes. "Jack, I'm sorry. This is just …"

"Wrong?"

"Scary."

"I know."

"We never know what we might be messing up every time we step through that gate or even send a MALP through. We just barge on in any time we damn well feel like it."

"This was an accident, Daniel."

"Which could have happened any time, and could happen again."

"Yes, it could."

"Sam and Teal'c will be alive to tell them to be more careful from now on."

"Daniel -"

"But really, it's beyond our control, isn't it. Anyone could be standing there when the gate opens…"

"Daniel."

"Who are we to do this, Jack?"

"Daniel. Stop it. We couldn't help it. Drivers slide on ice; they can't help it. Tires blow, brakes falter, things fall on people, fires start, accidents happen. Daniel, we've been through the gate, along with over a dozen other teams, for four years. This hasn't happened before. Stop with the blame."

"It was our fault."

"Yes, it was. So we deserve to die?"

Daniel looked sharply at his friend, his eyes narrowed and intense. "No."

"Then don't make their job easier." For just a moment, Jack put his hand lightly on top of Daniel's, and gave a gentle squeeze. "Stay with me here. We're twelve hundred odd light years from home, and you're all I've got right now."

All he had. Flashing suddenly into Jack's memory was a worried Daniel upon his doorstep, one unwelcome day not that long ago, coming to find out what had gone wrong, coming to help. Daniel….

All he had left, after having intentionally pushed everyone else away. He saw the young man on his couch, trying desperately to reason with a friend who only pushed him further, insulted him and hurt him deeply for his troubles. "We drew straws; I lost." All he had.

They were all he had. Jack had given up all he had that time, forced them all away. Lied, hurt, and only he knew the truth. That none of it was true. He'd discovered, eventually, that all three of his teammates had been more than willing to try to help, to come by and talk, but they'd instinctively known that three against one would have been too overwhelming. For him, for them. So, they had drawn straws… and Daniel had won.

Won. Until the linguist had been metaphorically slapped in the face by the one he was trying to save, and Daniel had lost. The guilt still remained in Jack's subconscious, where little bits would come peeking out at inopportune moments, triggered by something as innocuous as a look on his best friend's face. Like Daniel was wearing now. No way would Jack leave him alone here, not now, not ever. Daniel was a damn good friend, a cosmic brother, and he deserved more than ending up like this, an innocent victim paying for the lives of innocent victims.

Could they be rescued? By whom? An angry group of SG teams armed with weapons? A diplomatic team who couldn't speak the language any more than Daniel could? Had Sam and Teal'c even made it back home yet? It had been barely two hours since they'd made their escape, and they would have had to get to the Cimmerian village to find Gairwyn and retrieve the newest Sagan box, then get home to debrief and decide on a strategy. Their time was rapidly running out.

Jack rested his arm across his friend's shoulders, needing the contact, needing to give the physical reassurance that come what may, they were in this to the end, together.

The room below was crowded now with men and women, some in uniform, most not, and several were approaching the booth that housed their two apprehensive intruders. The door to the small room was opened, and both men were removed from the grim surroundings. Pulled apart, Daniel reached out for Jack, a momentary contact bringing a sudden, sharp sensation of loss and heartache, sorrow and despair, as he fought the stinging in his eyes. He wouldn't give in to helplessness, didn't want the closest friend he'd had in half a lifetime to pity his weakness. He blinked quickly, turning his head away. I'm so sorry, Jack. The team needs you. You should never have stayed behind for me.

But instead of being placed in the chair, they were led in a new direction, down hallways to the front of the building and out onto the lawn….where a huge crowd of people were gathered in the cold; men, women, and children, old and young. Surrounding the perimeter of the area were glowing lights and pedestals, and in the center, commanding its own open space with reverence and humility, was a large golden trunk…a small casket… on the lid of which had been sculpted a row of golden shoes. Daniel and Jack both knew what lay inside.

"Oh ….Jack." Daniel was staring straight ahead, his voice barely a whisper, fighting back tears. For them both, the heartache was nearly unbearable. Daniel's shiver was only partly caused by his jacketless arms. Jack glanced at his friend…

…what was he doing?

Daniel had broken away from the guards, and was heading straight towards a woman who stood in front of the casket, hugging two small children to her waist and silently weeping. The guards did not follow, but the focussed attention of the crowd did.

As the crowd laid eyes upon the two men, hostilely following the movements of Daniel towards the object for which they were paying their respects, the tension began to heat, and one angry cry followed another. Had their custodians intended to bring them here to show Daniel and himself the consequences of their actions, or were they setting them up, feeding them to the irate public?

Daniel took no notice of the jeers aimed in his direction, of fists flying in the air and the rising of voices, ignoring the weak shoves and fingers pinching his arms as he passed, only one goal on his mind. Reaching the box, Daniel knelt by the woman, taking her hands in his. She did not pull away, but the children hid behind her in fear. She looked upon the man, warily, uncertainty in her narrowed eyes. Those surrounding her stepped forward but did not touch him.

"I'm so, so sorry," Daniel hesitantly proclaimed, looking deeply up into her eyes from his subservient position on one knee. "We didn't mean for this to happen, I'm so sorry. We're all so sorry." Daniel was allowing gentle tears to finally fall, and Jack found himself rubbing dampness from his own eyes, although Daniel's words were too low to be heard from where he was standing. The crowd was shouting now, and the looks they were throwing towards Daniel were venomous. Jack watched from the protection of the guards and museum employees, who seemed to have no intention of stepping forward should the crowd lose control.

Stop it. Jack could identify with their emotions, hell, he'd feel the same way if it had been his son who….

But he knew his own and Daniel's side of things as well, and couldn't accept their treatment of Daniel, of himself and his team. It had been an unfortunate accident, but no one other than himself and Daniel knew that. He didn't trust what this crowd might do.

Now, Daniel was letting go of the woman's hand, and, still kneeling, had turned and placed his elbows on the low lid of the gilded box, hands clasped together, fingertips touching his forehead. With eyes closed, he remained in this position, the crowd turning towards him.

Jack broke free of the guards and purposefully strode down the steps towards Daniel, trying not to jostle the bodies standing in the way. He did not want to unintentionally provoke anyone.

By the time he reached the casket, the crowd had quieted. Not a soul was moving now, no one but himself.

Jack stopped. Daniel's eyes remained closed, and he was voicing some words. Though Jack could not make out what his friend was saying, it was reminiscent of a prayer he had heard during the funeral for Sha're, and that of another day when Daniel had tried to set free the soul of a man long housed within an ancient body, grasped in the tentacles of the dying Apophis. Whatever Daniel was now saying, in whatever language he was using, it was being understood for what it was: a soulful prayer to innocent victims, both gone and living, caught in the ageless trap of unintentional sorrow and grief.

Jack knelt by Daniel's side. Copying his friend's position, Jack, too, clasped his hands together upon the golden box, and began his own quiet prayer, in words he knew. Words he had used once before, several years ago.

For many long minutes, neither of them looked up, nor did the onlookers move. Tears were accompanying the open prayers from all sides, adding a hushed chorus to Daniel's soft flowing voice.

Oblivious to the cold gray day, to the dampness of the drizzling rain on his arms or the wind blowing through his t-shirt, Daniel's voice continued gently, reaching out to the hushed souls separated by universes, bound by humanity.

Finally, Daniel's chant ended. Slowly he rose, and, meeting eyes with no one, he turned and headed back through the crowd towards the steps that would take him to the guards and his own fate. Jack followed. The only Stargate was inside that building, and it was their only way home. Would have been their only way home.

In silence the two friends were escorted back to the room with the Chair. Jack stood helplessly nearby as Daniel was strapped in for the last time. Daniel hoped they'd spare Jack, but knew he'd never actually know.

With a final look at his older teammate, Daniel's wide fearful eyes met Jack's, and he whispered, "Bye."

Jack took the four steps to his friend's side, ignoring the weapons that were being raised around him, then crouched by the chair, laying his hand over Daniel's. This time, it was Jack's turn to look up at the men in blue, and, with a dignified pleading stare, entreated, "Don't kill him."

But the wires were attached, and both men held their breaths. Jack remained kneeling, holding more tightly onto Daniel's hand. Maybe this way they could both go together.

Daniel turned away. He didn't want this to be last Jack would see of him.

The now familiar tingling and uncomfortable itchy vibrations surged inside Daniel's head.

What Is The Circle For?

An image of the open Stargate in his mind, he saw teams walking through, playing vividly on the large screen. SG-1 on Cimmeria, on Bedrosia. On Chulak, on Tollana. Goa'ulds, Asgard…and the observers gasped, eyes riveted to the screen.

Daniel tried to gain control of his thoughts. So much for keeping secrets. 'We're explorers,' he tried to tell them, 'and we try not to kill.' Daniel showed images of Argos, and of Abydos. Of the children on Orban. Of delivering babies, and cradling his own wife's child on Kheb. 'We're explorers. We don't want to kill.' And he wondered if they could understand.

Daniel formulated a question, envisioning the Stargate in the museum room, with no one going through. 'What do you know about your Circle?'

He received a thought, an answer, played out on the screen for all to see. A Stargate, being dug out with its DHD, from an ancient ruined monastery. The same gate, being brought to this museum and erected in the Main Hall of Oddities. No. No one had ever disappeared through it.

Daniel gave another message, a more important one, one last try. He envisioned the children he had been shown, standing in front of the gate, as the chevrons lit up. And then he put himself into the picture, all of SG1; he and Jack, Sam, and Teal'c, trying to warn them, to shove them out of the way. This was not as it had happened, yet the images appeared on the screen. 'We would not have harmed anyone…had we known.' They would have tried to save the children.

Jack understood the moving images he was seeing. Why couldn't they?

And the chair did not kill, not this time. Daniel was unrestrained, helped to his unsteady feet by Jack as he was handed his jacket, pushing away offers of aid from the guards. Daniel was weak, unsure of himself, dazed and trembling. Jack held on, in relief and concern.

"Where to now, d'you think?" he whispered in Daniel's ear. The gate would have shut down hours ago. Maybe these people had recorded the address of Cimmeria. But if they'd wanted them dead this time, they could have used the chair…no, an eye for an eye, vortex for vortex.

"God. I don't know," came the nervous reply. Daniel's hands were shaking slightly, as he closed his fingers around his punctured palms, and stuffed them in his pockets.

The two were led out through the hallways, avoiding the stares of museum personnel. As they marched on, more people followed. Pied Pipers for the universe.

Once again, Daniel and Jack found themselves in the room housing the Stargate. Once again, Daniel was ushered to the DHD. Leery this time, he held back. But Jack was not forced to stand in front of the looming ring. Daniel looked up with hope in his eyes.

A motion, a nod, from a blue coat to start dialing. Tentatively, Daniel dialed the first chevron for Cimmeria. Then the second, and Jack still was not being repositioned in front of the gate. The third, and the fourth.

Daniel hesitated. What if they had failed to get Cimmeria's address and were trying again, in order to open it themselves next time? In order to force both himself and Jack in the path of the incoming vortex, together?

There was no other choice; he had to take the chance that something else was going on here. Daniel pressed the fifth chevron, and paused. What if someone was standing in front of the gate on Cimmeria? No, those people knew what the gate was for, what the vortex would do.

A hand reached out towards Daniel, and in it was being offered one of their confiscated packs. What? Daniel looked up; there might be a GDO in there. Sixth symbol pressed, then, making sure Jack was nowhere near the incoming line of the matterstream, he slammed his hand onto the seventh chevron and the central pad. The wormhole swooshed open.

The hand that held the pack gestured to the two teammates, and pointed towards the Stargate. Their sentences had been lifted, their innocence understood.

They were free to go.

_____

"Let's first see if they're there. Hopefully stop Hammond from sending another team through." Jack stood beside his teammate at Cimmeria's DHD.

As Daniel input the first chevron that would get them from Cimmeria to Earth, hoping that Sam and Teal'c would already be home, he paused. Catching Jack's eye, the two friends gazed intently at one another.

"We have to somehow make amends, Jack."

"You did."

Daniel looked uncertainly at his team leader. "What?"

"You think they just had a change of heart, Daniel? Just decided to let the murderers go, since half the team had already escaped? Your prayers were heard loud and clear, my friend. No matter the language."

Daniel studied the symbols on the DHD, seeing none of them. "I don't think -"

"It wasn't just luck, Daniel," Jack cut him off. "You sent the right messages."

"I didn't know what I was doing."

"I think you did." He could see the doubt in Daniel's eyes, and laid a concerned, supportive hand on his friend's arm, a gesture of warmth and affection for a comrade he could not have faced losing."You going to be okay?"

Daniel pondered that question. We killed the children. He looked once more at the friend staring at him questioningly, thought of Sam and Teal'c waiting nervously for their uncertain return, and, with his good arm, Daniel pressed the chevrons that would take them home.

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