General George Hammond

"Tok'ra IDC, Sir."

"Open the iris."

Finally, an answer to Dr. Jackson's call for Jacob's assistance; and about damn time too. Major Carter should be about to begin, and just how she convinced O'Neill to let her attempt to use the healing device is beyond me. Her skill may be enough to help a dying Goa'uld, but this is a colleague, a friend. Just too risky in my opinion, and it had been hers too. I should never have agreed to this.

Selmak has more experience with this kind of thing; he did a fine job of helping Lt. Van Sickle, even if he couldn't completely heal him. Who could have known the boy carried some kind of genetic fluke that prevented it. Just bad luck.

I'm getting tired of bad luck.

My sudden anger pushed me into aggressive strides across the room and back before I could force myself into the calm role I knew I needed to display. Inwardly I still seethed, my eyes fastened on the blue glow below.

Jacob's familiar figure stepped out of the clingy luminescence. Help had arrived and I tossed my false calmness to the winds, spun about and headed down to the gate room. Dignity be hanged, one greeted a friend face-to-face; especially when the creature that he carried could turn this whole mess around. Maybe it wasn't too late to stop the major.

Busy with my footing, the loud snap-pop of the disconnecting wormhole didn't startle me as much as the figure that stood next to Jacob Carter. Anise. She was the Tok'ra equivalent of a bad luck penny; an ill feeling crept over me. Why was she here?

"George," Jacob stepped between the woman and I, a smile fixed to his face. "Hope we didn't drop in at an inconvenient time." He added.

I found myself dumbly staring at his offered hand before I raised my eyes to his and his smile faltered. "George?" This was why he could always beat the pants off me at poker; he was one of the few who could read me like a book.

"Jacob. Let's go up to the conference room. I'll explain what you apparently don't know."

Damn. Once again the Tok'ra have proved unreliable. Sure Jacob's here, but I'd bet my retirement that he never received Dr Jackson's message. Deliberately delayed, lost or just plain too much paranoia at their end for information to get from one point to another, it's just too hard to say. I know what Jack would claim - deliberate.

Our one-way allies must want something, but to get that they'll have to do something for us for a change. Stiffly I led the way, Jacob followed me, Anise meekly trailed in his wake, though not nearly meek enough in my opinion. That woman was trouble.

***

"Sam!"

I had expected surprise, just not at the identity of the person who would wield the device. His daughter was the only person on the planet that could even consider attempting to use it. Who else would it be? When he swiftly stood, hot on the heels of his exclamation, did I realize he was staring past me.

Major Carter.

Jacob hustled toward her, and I found myself standing too; the major looked pale, her eyes glassy. Fear gnawed at me as my friend escorted her to an empty chair and sat her down. Her failure to report unnerved me further and I knew something had shocked her badly. The military has ways of dealing with this problem and I snapped at her in my best drill sergeant voice.

"Major, report!"

Jacob glared up at me from where he crouched next to the chair his daughter occupied, I jerked my head and glared back. He knew what I was doing and to his credit he stood and moved away. He may be her father, but I was something more. Someone she was trained to obey. Someone who could lead her out of the shocked state she was in.

"Major?"

"Si... sir?"

I recognized the emotion on her face - grief. Despite what horrors that flitted through my very vivid imagination I pressed her for a report. She was of sterner stuff then what appeared before me now; she could do this. I schooled my face into the hard mask of command. When she stiffened in response, I knew that I was getting through to the airman.

"Sir. I regret to inform you... that, I failed. I... I, hurt him, sir."

With each word the major steadied herself, before my very eyes she pulled herself out of whatever hole she'd fallen into. I kept up the pressure, a mercy to her, my command a rock to cling to.

"His status?"

"Stable. According to Dr Frazer, he's fine, except... for, for his hand."

"His hand?"

"I hurt him."

"Not on purpose I'm sure."

"I still hurt him, sir!"

Self-loathing was liberally coated on those words and self-hate colored her pale face with scarlet anger.

"Sammy?"

Jacob apparently could no longer stay out of the conversation, he should have. She turned to him and that anger at herself morphed into anger at him.

"Where were you?"

The words were cold, and her face hard, memories of those years when daughter and father refused to speak or acknowledge one another's existence surfaced in my memory. This was so like the time she blamed Jacob for her mother's death. It was a raw hatred, a living thing in its own right. Something I never wanted see re-ignited between them, least of all, be the cause of it.

"Major Carter, Jacob never received Dr Jackson's message. He only found out within the last ten minutes that we were looking for his help. It's only by chance that he's here at all."

Her eyes never once flicked away from her father's face. He at least had the good sense to wipe any emotion but love and bewilderment from his expression. She stared at him hard, very hard. Then a few muscles in her jaw twitched, her face softened. Jacob answered with a few twitches of his own around his eyes. A face ballet erupted between them. Questions and answers flew with abandon, all completely silent, but with echoing shouts within any who happened to witness the fast and furious communication between them. The sudden movement towards one another and the fierce grip they held each other with was shocking in its suddenness and gratifying emotionally to see that a good resolution had been arrived at. I could feel my blood pressure dropping at the sight.

"Sammy, Sammy," Jacob rasped out, tightening his grip convulsively with each utterance of his endearment of the major.

Her answer was a few soft sobs. Jacob forced her chin up with a nudge of his own, eye-to-eye he reassured her.

"I'm here now."

With a nod she stepped from his embrace and just like that Major Carter was all Air Force once again. Though I'd swear I heard her tears, not even one marred her solemn face.

"Sir, with your permission."

"By all means, lead the man to where he is most needed. Dismissed."

With a perfect salute and a grim expression, she about-faced to sweep out an arm. Her invitation clear, Jacob was to precede her. As they hurried away I almost missed Anise following. I thought to call out to her, but refrained. What could be the harm? Better she cool her heels in Fraiser's Infirmary than here.

Reluctantly I returned to my office and my job. I had a base to run even if I really wanted to be elsewhere, with my friend.

I risked another word to the God I swore never to bother again. Perhaps he'd help. Perhaps he had a soft spot for airmen who have seen too much to believe anymore. Maybe just this once, I could believe.

Jacob Carter / Tok'ra Selmak

There shall be a reckoning for this.

'You can bet your sweet bippy there will be.'

You must not let anger distract you from your first priority...

'Sammy.'

I could feel her behind me, and thankfully that wall of pain and anger that had stood between us had not been re-erected over this, this...

Calm...

'Yes, Selmak.' Calm -- easy for him to say. His ghostly laughter floated across the back of my thoughts and I smiled. But for him, I would never have been reunited with my daughter, my son...

With me?

'Sometimes I think you are more woman than man. Or did you just inhabit one too long?' More laughter and images of a woman being loved and cherished flashed across my mind; like a memory, more than a memory, I could feel the excitement and the roughness of his skin again my own silkiness.

There are benefits. Do you not agree?

'Yes, I do.' The things that he has shown me gave the sex act new meaning. My only regret was that I could never share my new awareness with the one woman I really wished I could share it with. My wife. My lost love. That empty space that not even Selmak could fill.

Sorrow not. You have her greatest gift.

My love's greatest gift to me, the other woman in my life, my daughter - Sammy, and by extension, Jack O'Neill; quite possibly the love of my daughter's life, and my friend.

Our friend.

'Our friend,' I agreed and knew that Jack considered Selmak a friend. How he could do that and still have the opinion he did about the Tok'ra as a whole I couldn't imagine.

Ah, but you can, just as I can.

'Yes,' we both knew the limitations of the Tok'ra. Too young to totally escape the genes they shared with the Goa'uld, and not old enough to ignore them. Selmak's sudden silence was more answer than I needed. He tended to withdraw totally when he brooded upon the too close similarities, and the dying hope that one of Egeria's children would yet prove to be a queen, and his one hope to widen the gap further, to shake the evil from their dusty homeless feet, and leave behind the legacy of enslavement.

Our sudden arrival outside the Infirmary gave me other thoughts to dwell upon while I held the door for Sammy and Anise to enter. Dr Fraiser appeared like magic, concern written across her face and I feared the worse, but it seemed the concern was for my daughter, and belatedly I remembered they were good friends. Living as a Tok'ra denied me much when it came to family. It was no wonder that they preferred hosts without living family; not only for the idea that the host would outlive family and friends, but to prevent the pain of long separation from loved ones. Selmak did everything possible to see that I was given the opportunity to visit as often as possible. But Selmak is the oldest and most revered of his race, there is so much he needs to do and my desires seem so petty in the face of that. It is our only argument and neither of us wins. Circumstance does.

"General Carter?" The petite doctor's attention was suddenly on me. "Would it be possible for you to see Colonel O'Neill?"

"Sam, if you'll wait here..." Some silent communication passed between them, Sammy paled, but rallied when Fraiser smiled reassuringly. "This way sir."

"Doctor, I'm retired. Jacob will do just fine."

"This way then."

Dr Fraiser is pretty smart; she kept Sammy away from the object of her perceived failure. As she shooed O'Neill's watchful nurse out of the room, Anise approached the unconscious man and picked up his hand.

"This is a serious injury."

The doctor's glare at her told me that Sammy had indeed 'hurt him.' When neither of us responded to her abrupt statement she glanced our way, her eyes narrowed. I could feel Selmak's touch as he adjusted a few bodily functions to keep me from exploding. Dr Fraiser had no such advantage, except her training. If looks could kill, Anise would be dead before Freya's body could hit the floor.

"Anise."

Just the fact that it was Selmak that spoke her name was enough. She carefully tucked the injured hand back against O'Neill's side. Selmak and I both were very satisfied when a pained moan from him visibly startled her; she hurriedly stepped away from him. My hand prevented a move towards him by the doctor.

"Doctor. We'll need a little privacy," I said and nodded toward the door. When she didn't move I added, "He'll be okay. I promise."

She flicked a meaningful glance at Anise, but nodded her head in agreement and left.

'Selmak?'

There is little I cannot fix, Jacob; and that little that I cannot, Anise can.

'But...'

Despite her demeanor, the only pain she is capably of giving Jack O'Neill would be of the beneficial variety.

Unlike Goa'uld hosts, Tok'ra hosts can tune into their body's senses at will. It was very much like sitting in a theater and watching a movie in sense-o-vision. I could feel Selmak fumble around for the healing device that we seldom did not carry. My hand brushed at Jack's arm feeling for temperature. Carefully I lifted it and saw its ruined stated, could hear the pain from his lips. This was the same type of deep burn that a hand device delivered; only a healing device could do it in the twinkling of an eye. Control of one's emotions was extremely important while using the device. It was bastardized from the hand device, originally meant as a means to prolong torture. Both descended from some mythical Ancient device, so far back in time that even the long genetic memory of the Goa'uld cannot recall it.

'Jack's not gonna be too happy that someone other than Sammy is doing this,' I stated.

True, but waking him to try to convince him to allow this would be foolish of us. If not promptly attended, the hand would be beyond the capability of the hand device, and...

'Yeah, he'd never sit still for a visit to the nearest sarcophagus.'

"Forgive me Jack O'Neill. This is not what you agreed to."

Tok'ra Anise / Freya

He turned to me as I lightly touched his shoulder, his arm already raised and the device softly glowing. This was something they could not do, must not do.

"Anise?"

"Permit me Selmak," My voice low, inviting; my hand glided down his arm as I step closer, to me it is no more than an unconscious effort at communication, others see it as sensual. It is but how my host's people interact, nothing more.

"I do not understand."

"I may be thoughtless and single-minded often in my dealings with the Tau'ri and my desire for this one in particular clouds my judgment even further. But I know that he would see what you are about to do as a betrayal he would never forgive. If he must hate someone, let it be me."

Slowly my hand covered his, the device winked out as I tugged both snugly below my breasts. Safe there until I could convince him of my offer.

"I do this because to allow another would be betrayal."

"Perhaps, but he will only see that you denied his wishes and reduced him to the same level the Goa'uld hold his brethren, no more than property that has no right to determine their own destiny - cattle."

"I cannot. I do this at the behest of my host. To him my honor is bound."

"Giving my argument even more support. Jacob is the father of the woman I know he cares for, far more than he will admit or is permitted to. I will never understand such a taboo as Samantha Carter and Jack O'Neill honor with the refusal to seek each other out. Would you cast a pall over any future they may have by involving her father and his trusted friend in this?"

My finger's gentle constant insistence won free the device from Selmak, in his eyes I can see the emotion that Jacob would be more likely to have than this elder of my race. Though O'Neill had rejected me, I will always hold him fondly in my heart. I would see him have some happiness, even if it meant that he grows to hate me for it. And where there is life, there is hope, I wishfully believed.

"You must not heal him completely, only..."

"I understand," my hip firm against his, I placed my fingertips against his lips, preventing him from speaking so that I could explain. "The smaller the healing the less he will have to hold against the Tok'ra. But I will never understand his refusal to be taken to a sarcophagus; he has used one before. Its negative effects are rarely lasting in them as they are in us, only continual and constant use twists them."

"He has an innate distrust of science I understand."

"Yes, such a contradiction. All of that hidden knowledge... He knows much and uses it to great advantage. He would be a worthy host, an honored addition to our cause. I wish..."

"Yes..."

"Go, you must not be seen anywhere near him until this is done." Reluctantly I pulled away from the heat that he exuded; Freya would stay, she so missed the intimacy of her people. An intimacy I have learned to cherish, probably more than I should.

Selmak took a moment's time to gaze upon the object of our conversation and concern, and then abruptly left. The next few hours between him and Jacob would be heated. Jacob would have healed O'Neill entirely, saving him the pain and suffering, little knowing that for him it was needed for his full recovery. Though lacking in social skills, as the Tau'ri would recognize, I did understand the motivations behind their actions better than even they dreamed. I am a scientist after all, just not a very good friend - nor human.

Brazenly I laid hands upon my heart's desire, one that would never be fulfilled and took what I wished: the feel of his skin, the sight of his strong face and the taste of his exhalations. My heart quickened. I had no right and he had no desire, I am such a base creature to take from the helpless. But I was here to give. Yes, an unwanted gift and against his will, but he was needed.

His very existence excited many. The Asgard. The Nox. The Tollan, we and... the Goa'uld. He was the catalyst that our war of thousands of years had never had. O'Neill bound all to a single purpose, willingly and unwillingly. My wants and desire are as nothing in the face of the survival of a galaxy, if not a universe.

My lips clung to his as I pulled away from the only kiss I would ever experience with him. Not stolen, but taken in payment.

Raising my arms, one hand supporting the other that held the healing device, I positioned myself over his prone body and concentrated. The righting of the maimed hand took but seconds, and then there was the crude cast over the opposite arm between elbow and wrist, hiding a simple break. Each injury was corrected with a touch, but the last... My eyes closed and perspiration soon sheen-ed my skin, this would be the hardest healing I, or perhaps any, had ever preformed.

One proficient with the device could see into the body and evaluate the damage before encouraging the cells to rebuild the damaged areas. My level of skill is rare and took the span of three of my host's lives in its accomplishment, three long-lived hosts. Still this is not easy; more energy is expanded to see, than to heal.

Hopeless that it is, this will be a token of my deep feelings for this man. Never would he see me other than as kin to his hated enemy, but I would make this commitment. Silently I invoked the names of those long-lost hosts whose sacrifice allowed me this skill. Long agonizing minutes were spent in tracing circulation and nerve pathways, evaluating the scar tissue and the likelihood of more.

Two small adjustments would allow O'Neill to recover fully. Not quickly, not painlessly, but through hard work he would recover to resume his place. One small blood vessel choked by scar tissue and one small, but vital nerve bundle pressured by the same tissue. These two defects prevented him full and unencumbered use of his legs.

My focus needed to be sharp and discriminating; but my endurance had been nearly spent in the seeking. The healing needed precision. Only by the force of two wills - united as one - will I able to hold the healing beam on target. At times like this I rely on Freya, she held her own body upright and helped me to steady fatigue-shaky arms. How I wished O'Neill could experience this, he would then know I am not Goa'uld. Perhaps...

Concentrate or all will be lost, wisely commanded my host.

A fleeting touch to strengthen the vessel wall and all was done, as was the last of my strength; even Freya could not stop my slide to the floor completely. For an eternity we both clung to the side of the bed. We must not collapse; to be found helpless here would tell all. This must be concealed from O'Neill. He should only discover our deception when he is stronger, more able to vent his anger.

Thoughts of O'Neill's well being gave us the strength to stand and stagger from the room. Selmak was there, waiting, and with his help we found a private place in this underground warren the Tau'ri preferred. Selmak would watch over us.

I may never have O'Neill, but I could preserve him and see that he has happiness. Perhaps that will be enough?

I am with you. You are loved.

'Yes, but...'

Rest, Anise, my love. Even the worst of enemies can, over time, become the best of lovers.

'To have you... so lucky...'

Jacob Carter / Tok'ra Selmak

For two long days this base had been holding its collective breath, hushed and expectant, each individual waiting for one person to awaken. Anise assured me that Jack would recover fully, that any problems that might remain he would be able to overcome if he used that dogged determination he was so famous for.

I regret not being part of the hush, but during those long hours I've watched over a near comatose Anise and tired to talk sense into Sammy. I suspect that only talking to Jack will derail her guilt. She feels as if she had coerced him into something that he'd not wanted to do, something very much against his grain. It frightened her that she could take such a strong, private and stubborn man and bend him to what she saw as her selfish will. And she's even more frightened of just what he'll think about what she did or didn't do in this little Tok'ra rescue mission.

Sigh.

And I'm afraid too of what Jack will say, do, think and yell about what was done to him. I couldn't even find the words to tell Sammy about what occurred, that I didn't do as I'd promised. Jack's righteous anger will be the least of my worries. I promised Sammy that 'I' would help. And I didn't.

I cannot believe that O'Neill will not realize that only his well being was the sole object of motivation for all involved.

'I'm not so sure about that. Jack O'Neill has some pretty lofty ideals and plenty of experience to know that others are not motivated by them."

Is he so jaded that he cannot believe even those he trusts?

'That is not the term I would use, Selmak. Yes, he's world-weary, but he's also seen the scum of the earth do selfless acts on behalf of others. That doesn't mean he expects that to happen, he knows most people have only their own self-interest at heart.'

A hopeful cynic?

'For want of a better definition... yes.'

Our discussion was interrupted by Anise, haggard, but mobile. As if we were not even present she approached Jack O'Neill who has lain as if dead for two days since her healing; alarming Dr Fraiser, her staff and I, until Selmak enlightened us all with Anise's habit of instilling an enforced sleep in all whom she heals, especially after such a delicate healing as this one. More to allow the body to harden the area healed - like Jell-O sets as it cools.

Selmak's explanation did little to reassure the medical personnel, nor anyone else. Even I was troubled. Troubled enough for Selmak to repeatedly explain the situation and give me countless examples of Anise's successes. I found it hard to keep one thought from him: What of her failures? That led to examples of those also. I now know more about her experiences as a healer than I had ever wanted to know.

The violent sound of flesh striking flesh exploded me upright, and without conscious thought my hand caught Anise's wrist, upraised to strike at Jack again. So fast was my reaction that Selmak could do nothing to prevent me from wrenching her around.

"He must awaken," she stated; as in stereo, He must be awakened, echoed within my skull.

Jacob, she must rouse him. "I must awaken him."

"Hey, one at a time here," using more volume than I'd wanted as I tugged Anise closer, away from my helpless friend. Not at all sure just what was going on. Selmak was nothing more than background noise as my attention was focused on this unexpected threat.

"What? This is too much like something off of Star Trek. You have to hit him to wake him up? I just don't believe this!" Somehow I'd moved her further away and turned her around, we'd completely exchanged positions.

Anise was calm, too calm for what she had just done. Too calm for what I'd just done. Confusion was running high, and then I noticed a flicker of her eyes to the bed behind me. With a shove I released my hold on Anise and wrenched around to see what had caused her to break eye contact.

Jack was groggily probing at his reddened cheek; it took a few beats for him to notice us.

"What happening? Why does my face hurt?" Jack squinted up; blinked and you could see the moment he figured out who we were. "Jacob..."

"I have healed you Jack O'Neill," firmly stated Anise, she moved past me as I was too stunned to move, to prevent, to protect, or to soften what might came next.

Jack gingerly rubbed his face and exclaimed, "What?"

"I have healed you Jack O'Neill, Major Carter was unable to do so, and since I was available, I did it."

Jack looked stunned; I knew I was stunned at her bluntness.

"Not..."

"No, I remedied her mistake and your injury."

"Without my consent?" Jack's voice had that quality that every airman could recognize, that dangerous tone that proclaimed extreme caution.

"Yes," she spoke as if he were an especially dense child. "As for the bruise forming on your face, I struck you."

"You! What the Hell for?"

"To awaken you. Your laziness will prevent your recovery, a recovery that I worked very hard to accomplish for you."

If Anise's intent was to anger Jack, she succeeded in spades. He flung back the bedclothes that covered him, his feet hit the floor and he launched upwards just as I lunged for him. Together we teetered, not sure if one or both of us would fall.

For a man weakened by illness his grip was painful, his hands dug into my forearms, his eyes fastened to his bare feet. My eyes too were drawn there and I saw his toes wiggle stiffly. He didn't remain upright for long, I could feel him slipping, his knees began to bend and I guided him back to sit on the edge of his sick bed, his stunned gaze met mine.

"All Tau'ri are alike, rude and arrogant. Have you no words of thanks for the gift I have given you?"

I heard him mutter "Bitch!" Too much of a gentleman to say it loud enough for her to hear, but too much of a man to not think it, then he shoved me away.

"And you. Why didn't you stop her," shaking, eyes cold hard, Jack gripped the side cabinet, desperate to stay sitting. He was fighting a losing battle and I moved toward him. "Stay back," he commanded and I obeyed, his command presence that good. Even ex-generals jumped at his bark.

"He had no say in what was decided by the leadership of the Tok'ra. He is a host," Anise's words dripped disdainful venom. She sounded more Goa'uld than Tok'ra and I eyed her distrustfully, wondering just whose side she was on.

"Yeah, nasty little name that is. Isn't it?" Jack barked out with a venom all his own.

"What is going on here?" Dr Fraiser stood in the doorway, shock replaced the anger she had carried on it.

"None of your damned business," shouted O'Neill, his eyes never leaving Anise's haughty gaze. I'm not sure if he even realized who had stepped into the room and from the doctor's fast exit he wouldn't be finding out either.

"Jack..."

"Shut up!" Only he and Anise seemed to exist. Dr Fraiser slipped back into the room, hugging the wall as she made an indirect beeline for O'Neill.

"The Tok'ra deem it necessary to have you fully functioning O'Neill. Your permission was not required," Anise's words sharp even to my ears. Fraiser flashed her a sharp look before she slipped behind me and I slid closer to Jack who sputtered out an attempt to reply.

"Not... Who the Hell..."

"I am a member of a superior race that is who I am and you should be most grateful for what we have done," she swayed forward, all sexual aggression - regal.

Convulsively Jack pushed up from his sudden slump, never had I ever seen him this incensed. So angry he couldn't even speak. Fraiser bumped into me a couple of times. And the IV, that snaked to Jack's shaking vein-popped arm, which held him upright, quivered unnoticed. He only saw Anise.

'She distracts him.'

I could have kicked myself. That was exactly what she was doing, she had given Doctor Fraiser the opening to sedate Jack and the hand in the small of my back proved that revelation true. My forced stagger had me moving to catch Jack as he began to slide off the edge of the bed, a slurred, "What," forced from his throat.

Anise helped me support his sudden dead weight, words spilled from her.

"Stubborn man. You are precious to too many to allow such a small concession as free will if it means you are unable to carry the lance of freedom you willingly picked up. Your permission was a foregone conclusion. Hear me O'Neill, I am the only one you can blame." To my ears her words sounded like begging.

"Snake's a snake..." Jack's eyes rolled, and he blinked his eyelids slowly a few times and then they failed to rise again.

Dr Janet Fraiser

"Giving him the drug will slow his recovery and probably get him rotated off of active duty."

"But it will allow him to start to deal with his situation, and being prescribed for the short term doesn't necessarily create the stigma you imply," huffed Dr MacKenzie from his Infirmary bed. A bed he hoped to vacate the next day, he was entirely too close to the action here.

"And just how many officers in front line units remain in said units after having this show up in their records?

"Ah, ah..."

"Zero, isn't it?"

"I'm quite sure that it isn't zero."

"Then close enough that zero will do, surely you can suggest something besides drugs. Drugs is what got him into this position."

The man had the decency to look chastised, and surprisingly thoughtful.

"All right. If anti-depressants are out?" My glare answered that nicely. "There is something we could try..."

"I'm all ears."

Capt. Isiah Cochran

My conversation with General Hammond had been, well... difficult. He had lots to say, the man's no one's patsy, nor is he dimwitted. Not slow at all. Wish I coulda been chatty back, but Hammond knows why I can't and he's not telling. Gotta admire the man for that and the very fact he told me, a lowly captain in charge of quote-unquote document security, the details of a top secret transfer of prisoners tells me he suspects I'm not who I say I am. The man's no fool.

Why else would he reveal those very, very illegal surveillance tapes of the prisoners? And he never even blinked when I suggested that if he were that paranoid, why not take it all the way - DNA and blood samples. I'd love to know just how he's gonna do that. And he will, I have no doubt of that. He protects his people, just like Jack.

Jack O'Neill is the apple of his eye. About time Jack caught a break. He's getting the kind of support someone like him needs, deserves.

Only who protects our dashing colonel - friends, family, superiors, the Air Force, or maybe the President of these United States of America? Yeah. Who?

"Hey! Are you ready yet?"

"Captain, do I need to remind you of just to whom you speak?"

"Yeah, I know; captain to your colonel. Come on, Mac. Shake a leg. I know both of them still work. Don't have all day."

The mutterings from behind the bed curtain weren't necessarily audible, but I had an idea of what he was saying. Had to grin at some of the new words he musta been making use of.

MacKenzie is an okay guy, despite what Jack has to say about it. Mac's compassionate when he's not being arrogant, not too shabby. And I can understand that arrogance; he grew up with a mom who treated him like a servant, who lived beyond her means. Self-preservation forced him to carry that mask.

He's smart, very smart, but that mom and her ways denied him the opportunity to learn how to deal with other human beings, fenced him off from others; and his weird choice of vocation - then again, maybe its not. He's curious, bet he thought that becoming psychiatrist would give him a clue about people. I'm not saying he's totally clueless, just not really good at being with people - too clinical, too naive.

"Maaaaaccc...."

"I'll be ready when I'm ready, Captain."

That had me chuckling, that arrogance again. Though I must admit he is my superior officer. Who'd a thunk?

And he's my friend. I have no idea how that happened. Especially after reading what Jack had to say about him, I was pretty set that I'd hate him. Would want to shoot him just as much as Jack, but I should have known better, Jack can run black-and-white when it comes to things like loyally, honor, leaving people behind... MacKenzie's lucky he didn't shoot him.

Mr. High-and-Mighty Colonel Jonathan 'Jack' O'Neill needs to learn a few things still. I would have thought this last, and very final, encounter with Frank Cromwell might have given him a clue, but I guess not. Don't get me wrong. Jack is... well, my hero. I was just the neighborhood kid next door, only there half the year because of how the judge handled my folk's divorce. But, he and Frank treated me like one of the family. I may have been living with my dad, but he was hardly ever home, these guys were my family. I'm grateful that someone wanted me for those six months out of the year. I coulda wound up as part of the criminal element otherwise - almost did.

Jack and Frank were like brothers. Then Iraq happened. It took me a long time to decide how I felt; I was pissed at each of them at different times for changing my world like they did. They were both right and both wrong. And I found Jack's reaction understandable to a point. But could never accept that he could totally shut Frank out of the rest of his life. This is a man who had always shown a deep ability to forgive, or at least accept other's actions in the light of circumstance.

Frank was desperate to reconcile with Jack, but not as desperate as Jack was to totally forget what had happened to him in Iraq and that included the person he believed started that tragic string of events. The resumption of my half a year of loneliness was part of the fallout of the aftermath of an unavoidable mistake. If only...

"I thought we were in a hurry."

"You took so long I fell asleep. So sue me!"

And with that I carefully took his uninjured arm and steered him out of the Infirmary and towards his on-base quarters. He looked pale, and from the soft rattle of the bottle in his clenched hand, he was in pain and contemplating when he could take his next pain med. I intended to get him bedded down as soon as possible and then pop topside to watch the prisoners being transferred out.

We entered the elevator and Mac beat me to the buttons, with a spread of my fingers and a slight bow I backed off and allowed him the honor. MacKenzie hit the button for the E-Ticket ride to the surface and then turned to see my quizzical look.

"In for a penny, in for a pound. Besides I'll derive a great deal of satisfaction from watching them all trudge by in chains." he stated; and his smug look made him look infinitely better. I grinned like an idiot. Things were looking up.

"You feel the need for revenge," and I grinned broader, my colonel just admitted to a base feeling. Half assed-ly, but he did. He blustered and then proceeded to ignore me on the first leg of the ride up.

It wasn't until we were both alone in the elevator for the second leg that I caught him studying me.

"What!"

He looked harder; it was starting to irritate me; made me shuffle my feet like a guilty kid.

"How's the head?" Mac softly responded, with a vague wave of fingers towards his own head. Like I didn't know what the word meant. And if I hadn't, waving at his own head would have totally confused me. Like his question and that worried look he'd been wearing for a few days didn't already do that. I knew what his problem was.

"I'm fine." And to prove it I rapped my knuckles sharply against the side of my head, making him wince. "Like steel plate; bed pan proof."

"I... I..."

"Don't worry about it Mac, it was the thought that counted." He immediately began to study the floor. "This just means that I'll have to take you under my wing and do a little physical training. A little hand-to-hand, get you combat ready."

"Heaven forbid!"

If glares coulda killed his would have and I laughed out loud. He soon joined me. Once we had almost composed ourselves again, he timidly punched me in the arm. That got him an exaggerated, mouthed: Ouch!

Mac's first physical expression of friendship made me proud as a papa. I threw an arm across his shoulder and hung on. The man really needed a friend and he'd found one in me. I'm a sucker for a kicked pup and he was just that.

As soon as the car stopped at our destination I dropped my arm and took a half step away, he looked a little hurt at my move. But I smiled just as the door opened; he got so beautifully confused for two heartbeats and then smiled in return. The area around the elevators was crowded with personnel. He saw what I had done as a sign of mutual like, or respect. I didn't want to totally embarrass him in public - no, that I had to plan in great detail.

With an evil grin I plunged out of the car and into the crowd.

"Okay, outta the way. Injured hero here. Give us some room. No autographs. Keep your distance."

Mac's stuttering steps echoed behind me. Good, he was following. I really wanted to glance back, but I was too busy looking over the crowd and found just who I'd hoped would be there.

"CaptainCochran, ColonelMacKenzie"

"Teal'c, how's it hanging?" And give a little bow in return to his nod.

"Exceeding well," he answered without missing a beat. First time I'd asked that I got a precise measurement. Since then I've been very, very respectful.

Boy, I bet ol' Jack really loved to converse with this guy.

MacKenzie made it a point to keep me between him and the big Jaffa - my colonel the coward. Ah! And just as quickly I changed that thought, he had it in him to be more than a coward. His defense of Dr Jackson in that warehouse was proof of that; even his attempt to save my own ass was at odds with his attempt to avoid the big Jaffa. Maybe, he's not so dumb, nor so cowardly. Maybe he just picks his risks.

Teal'c was the talk of the base. How what he'd done to get confessions outta these two yahoos we came to wish a bon voyage to were legend. MacKenzie would have access to some of what had happened; maybe he even saw the video of the performance. Good enough reason to keep his distance as the Jaffa would undoubtedly know of O'Neill's extreme dislike of the psychiatrist.

As if it were announced, heads turned to the big freight elevator, its doors opened silently and a crowd of SFs, guns at the ready stood like a shield behind them. No one moved and no one breathed. As one the mass of well wishers moved back and away, opening up a clear path to the outer doors where a non-descript heavy-duty van idled with its own crowd of less obvious guards, probably just as well, if not better armed.

Teal'c moved forward to stand almost dead center of the now open space, the well wishers moved further back; a whiff of fear rode the artificial air currents as the crowd hugged the walls. Grabbing Mac by the elbow I pushed my way free to stand behind the big Jaffa. Mac pulled frantically away, but my grip was firm. He quit real quick once he noticed how out in the open we three were, I could feel him go still, and almost hear the sweat pop out on him. Bold moves were rough on him - poor guy.

In the elevator the SFs seemed satisfied, and like the brave men they must have been, they bore down on our position.

Means was trussed up in enough chains that if someone pushed him off a short pier he'd not need cement overshoes. I grinned wholehearted at that picture while I watched the man struggle to walk. I was certain that the SFs had short-chained him, and smirked at that idea.

A litter carried by two Teal'c-sized men, each with a P-90 dangling across their chests followed, their eyes everywhere. None of the SFs, members of the SGC, were taking any chances with these scum.

"That's Ma... Oof!"

An elbow to the stomach stopped Mac from blathering out what only he and I knew. That Mr. A. Whole was Manny Devine, hired and totally clueless muscle, only good for roughing up kids. Having almost been narrowly sucked into that kind of criminal family, I had a certain amount of charity for the man. Usually did when they cried on my shoulder. If only he'd met someone like Jack O'Neill early in his life.

What Manny had done I didn't like, but I understood why he did it. I understood who he was and where he was coming from. He would have been a likable guy given half a chance, I could still see the happy kid, the good-natured person he was, darkly through the lens of his struggle to survive. It's said that survival is better than death. But one has to wonder if giving up who you are is really worth the ability to draw breath.

The SFs where having a problem with Means, the closer he got to our little group the smaller his steps were. When he all but stopped his guard not so gently shoved him forward. Means' eyes were glued to Teal'c who stood at ease with the most unusual expression I'd ever seen on a human. And boy, I've seen more than I care to admit. That expression belonged on a shark, one about to snap up breakfast - fast and easy. That's something you don't see on the Animal Channel, only up-close and personal gets you that kind of view.

I have to admit the man is intimidating. He didn't move, just that expression that followed Means and his entourage. The prisoner tried his darnedest to distance himself from the big Jaffa, but those SFs just kept him on a straight and narrow path that put him within arm's length.

Means cringed in on himself, as if expecting a blow.

Manny and his stretcher followed. No cringing here, he was totally oblivious. I was glad about that. Poor Manny would have died from fright for sure. Since that first meeting I'd wondered if there was anything I could do to pry him from the life he lived, ever reminding myself that very few ever escaped it after living in it for long - too bad.

My eyes followed up the parade back to Means and I watched him relax just a tiny bit as he finally made it past Teal'c.

Teal'c noisily fell in at the rear of the parade and had me grinning. Means' head snapped around, his gait increased and he almost tripped. His SF had to grab an elbow to prevent it. I followed Teal'c's lead and heard Mac do the same. Means was gonna have self-inflicted whiplash trying to keep Teal'c in view and going where directed. I had no pity for him; unlike Manny he had no excuse.

Dr MacKenzie

Cochran grinned like the fool he is all the time the little party of prisoners and guards marched across the cavernous space to the door and the waiting van beyond. Every sound was like a gunshot in the artificial and expectant silence along the way. I do believe they were all waiting for Teal'c to do something. I could feel the wave of disappointment when nothing happened, all he did was step up to the rear of the column and calmly follow.

I had to scramble when Cochran copied that action, and I became the tail on a slow moving whip.

Sticking to Cochran's rear I wound up standing to one side as the head of the SF detail and Teal'c scrutinized the credentials of the nondescript hired guards that came with the van. Once they were satisfied Means and Manny were loaded into the van, Teal'c insured that both prisoners where manacled to the sturdy holding rings that studded the rubber-matted floor. Means face was white as chalk and he never moved while Teal'c did this checked his bonds. The new guards belted down the stretcher, and fastened a seat-belt looking restraint across Means' lap, who by this time looked to have gone almost as catatonic as Manny appeared.

One of the two rent-a-guards stayed in the back, locked behind armored doors. The other climbed inside the front, separated by a heavy grill from the back; similar grillwork extended around the side windows and windshield. Reminding me of those vehicles commonly seen in movies about some dire lawless futures, overkill in my opinion, the movies and this van. What did they expect? A rocket attack?

There were a lot of people in the parking lot around the van, more than had been there to see them exit the elevator. Some of the SFs had to open up a corridor in the throng for the van. When the way was clear the van sped off, faster than the SFs liked, more than one of them were on talkies to the front gate no doubt.

Cochran sauntered over and stood close by, not saying a thing, but with a thoughtful expression on his face I wondered about. The bad guys were gone, the plot stopped and their targets were safe - relatively.

With this crisis over I could return my attention to getting the man the help I was pretty sure he needed. Just because everything had worked out well, didn't mean he wasn't in need of counseling or rest. Something that had been tickling the back of my mind reared up and dampened my day. I'm not one to be depressed, first I don't have time for it and second I'm not disposed of it. But men like O'Neill and Cochran usually were, no matter how little time they have, they always have time to question their every decision.

After I get Cochran healthy, what happens? Sigh. He'll leave.

My surprised imaginations of how desolate my life would be if Cochran walked out of it was shattered when the third rude shrill beep of a talkie sounded, then patriotic tunes sprinkled with TV Sci-Fi tunes blaring from cells began. All of them belonged to SFs; the noisy summons was soon drowned out by shouts and exclamations. A general movement towards vehicles began.

What was going on?

Cochran hooked me by an arm and pulled me to into the path of a moving vehicle. Oh, no!

The man was still cracked. Pushing him away, or pulling away was futile. He was just too strong. I was going to die.

"Hey, Mac. Watch where you're going," shouted my manic friend. Like I had any power over where I was going.

We stood there as a vehicle bore down on us; there was no way it could stop. I couldn't even get my eyes closed fast enough to avoid seeing myself die.

Ooooh, nooooo!

[See Chapter Twenty-three]