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

Sam paused outside the door, taking a deep breath to compose herself. Opening her eyes and squaring her shoulders, she knocked, waiting to be invited before entering the room.

General Hammond looked up, frowning a bit. "Major. Is there something I can do for you?" he asked, waving her towards one of the waiting chairs.

She smiled in acknowledgement as she refused his offer. "Sir I was…" she broke off, swallowing down the threatening tears. "I was wondering if I could have a little time-"

"Of course," he cut her off. "He got up and walked around the desk, standing before her. "Take as much time as you want," he said, his voice softening considerably. "Would you like me to inform the rest of your team?"

Sam nodded. "I would appreciate that, sir," she said, forcing a watery smile onto her face.

"Consider it done." He gave her shoulders a reassuring squeeze. Sam turned to leave the room. "Major?"

She paused at the door and turned back. "Sir?"

"My sincerest condolences for Martouf. He was a very valuable ally and I know you cared for him. I truly wish there had been another way," he said sincerely.

"Me too sir. Me too." She turned and closed the door behind her. George watched through the glass as she left, not knowing that it would be the last time he would see his officer for a very long time.

<><><><><>

Jack leaned against the large tree, casually studying his team. Daniel and Teal'c were about half a mile away studying some carvings they'd found in a rock face. He saw Teal'c raise his head and gesture slightly with his staff weapon, as if he were aware of Jack's scrutiny.

Jack waved, then gestured at his watch. He saw Teal'c nod again, then step over to talk to Daniel. The Jaffa would have the archaeologist corralled and headed back to the gate on schedule. Jack turned, closing the distance between his leaning tree and the fourth member of his team. "Markham? You about done?"

Captain Leslye Markham turned her head to face him and Jack could almost see her squint behind her sunglasses. "Yes, sir." She capped a sample and slid it into the foam lined, hard plastic case. He watched her gracefully get to her feet, slinging the strap of the case over her shoulder. "Ready to go, sir."

Jack nodded and motioned her forward. The stargate on P3Y296 was located just on the other side of Daniel's ruins. All in all, it was a short, relatively easy mission. The UAV had detected a small village about ten miles away, but no signs of villagers within five miles of the gate. In an attempt to limit any contamination of the native culture, the decision had been made that they would have no contact with the indigenous people until it could be determined if the planet had enough naquadah to make the risk worth while.

At times, it did make Jack feel a bit odd to be exploring other peoples' homes while they weren't looking, so to speak. But after all the close calls they'd had over the years, avoiding the natives did have a certain appeal as well.

They joined up with Teal'c and Daniel, who Jack was happy to see, had all his things packed and ready to go. The quartet settled into what was becoming a familiar pattern. Teal'c on point, Jack in the rear with Daniel and Markham in the middle.

The brunette captain was starting to fit in, Jack had to admit. Even though she'd only been on his team a week. He knew he'd lucked out. He'd expected it to take months to find someone with both Carter's skill and adaptability to deal with all they did on a weekly basis. Markham however, had been the first officer they'd vetted.

Jack wondered if his former second was getting along ok and if she was planning to come back to work anytime soon. He knew Martouf's death had been hard on her. A bad situation compounded by their little 'talk' with Anise. He just hadn't expected her to take so much time off. She was more the type to bury herself in her work when she was upset, not run away from it all.

Promising to call her as soon as he got home, Jack stopped by the DHD, motioning Markham forward. "Dial us up, Captain," he ordered.

She quickly complied and just a few minutes later he was stomping down the ramp at the SGC.

"Welcome home, SG-1." General Hammond stood at the base of the ramp, a welcoming but serious look on his face.

"Sir." Jack frowned. "Is something wrong, General?"

George looked around the room. "We can debrief once you clear medical. Colonel, I would like a word with you in my office." Teal'c, Daniel and Leslye acknowledged the order and left while Jack followed the older man up to his office. "Shut the door, Jack," he said, standing behind his desk.

"If this is about that expense report, sir. Can I just say that no one gets between Teal'c and his hat-"

"I was wondering if you'd heard from Major Carter?"

"No, sir. Not since you told me she was taking time off," Jack said, fighting to keep his discomfort off his face.

"I called her house, since she wasn't specific about how much time she wanted. There was no answer. I send an airman over there and discovered that she apparently hasn't been home in several days, possibly since she left the mountain."

"Carter wouldn't do that," Jack said. "She might disappear for a few days, but not a week, not without at least calling in," Jack said. "Have you called her brother?"

George sighed. "He hasn't heard from her since Christmas," the older man said, his blue eyes anxious.

<><><><><>

They wouldn't have been able to break her if the cracks hadn't already been showing. They wouldn't have been able to make her forget if she hadn't already been willing. They wouldn't have been able to do what they did if part of her hadn't wanted it, if her mind hadn't yelled stop while her heart begged for more. It shouldn't have been that easy, but it was. The one thing they hadn't been able to do, however, no matter how hard they tried, was to make her disappear. Samantha Carter would always exist, even if she didn't know it herself.

<><><><><>

She had been here for as long as she could remember. These white walls her only friends. They supported her when her feet wouldn't, couldn't keep her standing; they were the peaceful oases when the colors of the world threatened to crush her. They were always there, and always the same. In her world where she couldn't even remember her own name sometimes, they were there, they never left.

Which was why she preferred their company to the Man. The one who came in every once in a while, would ask how she was feeling without waiting for an answer, and then start talking. Talking about the Then Time, the time before she could remember, asking her questions which she couldn't answer, because even though sometimes the words came to her, they brought along their friends. Friends like Classified, and Top Secret. The Man seemed more pleased when she said she couldn't remember anyway, and it was important to please the Man. Once she had displeased him, he kept asking the same questions she had gotten mad and lashed out and they had put her in a binding shirt and she couldn't move, not to eat, or wash her hands, or anything. They had to do it all for her, to touch her and lay their hands on her. And the touching went on forever and she couldn't stop them, couldn't move her hands, displeasing the Man was bad.

One day other people came in and they took her, but she fought them, wouldn't let the touching happen again, not while she had her hands. And they told her to be quiet, and they told her to be still, and she kept fighting them. They strapped her to a moving bed and sped down the hall all the while talking above her head and she screamed at them so they wouldn't forget she was there because if they did she might never see her white wall friends again. She didn't even really noticed when the black came.

<><><><><>

Doctor Alex Sturgeon sighed, reaching for his mug of coffee as he opened the top folder in a six-inch tall pile. If he and his staff weren't already overworked, now they had a dozen transfers to his already full facility. All courtesy of a careless camper and a book of matches.

The patients were from a small, private hospital two hundred miles away and had been transferred to Kilraven because of a large wildfire threatening their facility. Managing his own patients was tricky enough; his task was even harder now that he had twelve more diverse personalities thrown into the mix.
And what was going to make it even more challenging, he couldn't really treat the newcomers beyond keeping them medicated.

"Doctor?" Nurse Reynolds knocked then peered around the open door. "We need you."

"What's wrong?" Alex got to his feet, the files forgotten.

"We're having problems with one of the new patients, sir." He followed her down the hall and towards the common room. On the other side of the large room filled with various chairs, couches and tables, was a hallway leading to the individual rooms. Alex could hear a woman's voice echoing through the barren halls. "We were getting her into her room when she started to fight us, doctor."

"Fight you? I thought they'd tranquilized all the patients for the transfer?"

"Yes, sir. So did we but…"

The nurse trailed off as Alex reached the doorway. Two orderlies were restraining a woman; barely it seemed, able to control the struggling figure. Despite the fact that they were larger than her, the woman appeared to be holding her own. "Three megs of haldol," Alex ordered, holding out his hand. The nurse quickly handed him the syringe, obviously anticipating his request. He stepped closer, trusting the orderlies to hold the woman still.

"No!" she protested, struggling harder.

"Miss-" Alex tried to reason. "You need to calm down."

"No! Don't!" He grabbed her arm, quickly administering the sedative. She struggled for a few more seconds, then slumped.

"Take her to one of the private rooms," Alex ordered his men. "I don't want her to hurt herself."

He stepped back; carefully capping the syringe as they carried the blonde woman down the hall to one of the private padded rooms set aside for just such a purpose. 'Great,' he thought, running his fingers through his short sandy hair. Why the hell couldn't he have gotten the easy patients?

Excusing himself from the nurse, he headed back to his office resigning himself to a long night familiarizing himself with her file.

<><><><><>

Leslye hit the enter key one last time and printed off her report. Her third mission report with SG-1 and she was still as thrilled as she'd been the first time. She honestly could not believe her luck. When she'd first been transferred to the SGC three months ago, all she'd heard about had been the stories of SG-1, how they'd been one of the few teams to keep surviving trial after trial. People were either in awe of Colonel O'Neill's leadership skills, or openly scornful of their luck.

But she knew different. It wasn't just one person, it was all of them. The four of them worked like a well-oiled machine, sometimes seamlessly finishing the others' sentences or able to accurately predict someone's actions.

During their orientation, she remembered sitting at a table with her fellow recruits, talking about where they'd be assigned. She shook her head, remembering the open scorn on their faces when she'd announced her desire to be assigned to SG-1. They'd called her silly and accused her of having her head full of dreams.
Well, she was having the last laugh now. She WAS on SG-1, working and living with the best of the best while they were puttering around with planetary surveys to deserted planets.

Removing the paper from the printer, she slipped it into a folder and headed towards Colonel O'Neill's office. She'd proved them wrong, all those that had laughed at her. And she would consider to prove them wrong. She wasn't a dreamer, she was good enough to be among the best of the best.

<><><><><>

Alex looked through the small window then nodded at the orderly who opened the door. The woman was sitting on the padded floor; her unitarian blue scrubs the only color in the gray room. She had placed herself in the corner, her head resting on her updrawn knees, rocking slowly. According to the aides, she'd been that way ever since she'd woken up from the sedative several hours ago.

"How are we feeling this morning?" he asked, careful to keep his tone pleasant and conversational.

"I don't remember." She talked to her knees, unwilling or unable to look up at him.

"You don't remember how you're feeling?" His voice still carefully pleasant and hopefully calming.

"I don't remember," she repeated.

"Is there anything you do remember?"

She stopped rocking then, and looked up at him. "New place."

"Yes, this Kilraven Psychiatric Hospital. You were transferred from Glenwood last night. They evacuated because of a wild fire. Hopefully things will calm down and you can go back in a few days."

"No." It was something between a plea and a statement and he wasn't exactly sure what she meant.

"No, you don't want to go back, or no, you won't be able to go back?"

"I don't remember." She was talking to her knees again.

"Can you tell me your name?" he asked trying a different approach.

"I don't remember."

He opened the file in front of him. "It says here your name is Samantha Carter. Is that right?"

"I don't remember."

"Is there anything you do remember?" Her rocking quickened. "Samantha?"

She stopped rocking then, and he thought maybe he had gotten to her, but instead she put her hands over her ears and let out a keening wail, which made his teeth ache.

He stepped back, hearing the orderly outside turn the lock on the door. Fred, the orderly, opened the door and stepped aside, allowing Alex to leave the room.

"I'll be back later," Alex promised, watching Fred lock the door behind him.

<><><><><>

Jack lay on his bed, staring as the shadows waxed and waned on the ceiling of his bedroom. He was tired and he wanted to sleep. But his brain refused to shut down. He couldn't stop running every moment of the last two weeks before Carter disappeared through his head. Something told him that there had to be a clue in there, somewhere, some hint as to where she'd gone.

Hammond had pulled a few strings and they knew that her credit cards hadn't been used, and her bank account was still untouched. Which suggested that her leaving wasn't her idea, but also that whoever had been in on it, wasn't very smart or they'd have covered all the bases. A check of the airlines, bus stations and even the local hospitals had come up empty.

Fraiser had suggested, discretely of course, that it just might have something to do with what they'd 'left in the room'. But he couldn't help but think that the good doctor was wrong this time. Sam had been uncomfortable and embarrassed certainly, but she wasn't the type to sneak away in the night. In fact, she was more likely to bury herself in her lab rather than…

"You're gonna be late," Jack said, stepping into Sam's lab.

"Huh?" She looked up, a distracted look on her face.

"A treaty, the President, the Tok'ra," he prodded, shoving his hands into his pockets and rocking back on his heels. "We ship out to Vorash in half an hour."

"Oh. That's right. Could I give this one a pass, sir?"

"Excuse me? You're usually the first in line when we head to Tok'ra Town."

"I know. It's just…I really need to figure this out." She gestured towards her laptop.

"You got a hot game of solitaire going on?"

She smiled. "No. I just…there's been some anomalies lately and I need to figure them out."

"Anything serious?"

"No. At least I don't think so. I just…I'd feel better if I checked it out."

Jack shrugged. "Fine. Abandon me to Daniel AND Marty," he teased. "Hopefully, we'll be back in a few hours."

"Thank you, sir." She turned back to her laptop and he left the room.

Jack sat up in the bed. She'd never told him what she'd been looking for. Listening to his intuition, he picked up the phone, dialing Daniel's number from memory. Getting no answer at the man's home, he dialed his office on base, rolling his eyes when Daniel picked it up on the third ring. "Good, you're still there." Jack got out of bed, reaching for his discarded clothes.

"Aah, yeah."

"Look, Daniel. I need your help. Before the whole xanex mess, Carter was working on something. That's why she didn't come with us. Did she say anything to you?"

"No. Why?"

"I don't know yet. But if she was doing something on her laptop, there'd be a record of it, right?" Jack propped the phone on his shoulder and pulled on his jeans.

"There should be."

"Ok. I'm on my way in. Call whomever you need to call. I want to know what she was looking into."

"Do you think it has something to do with her disappearance?"

"I don't know. But it's an unanswered question. I'll be there in half an hour."

"Ok. I'll meet you in Sam's lab."

Jack hung up the phone and tossed the receiver onto the bed. Five minutes later, he was out the door, navigating his way through the dark streets.

<><><><><>

"We have a problem," the soft feminine voice said over crackling phone lines.

"What now?" the man asked, not bothering to keep the irritation out of his voice.

"We have lost the subject."

"How?"

"She has been transferred."

"Where to?"

"We are not sure. They were sent to several facilities."

The colonel sighed. "Do whatever you have to. We need another week."

"Understood." The woman hung up the phone. The colonel got up from his desk and peered out the small window. Close. They were so close. Too close to lose it all now.

<><><><><>

"Any luck?" Jack asked, balancing two mugs of coffee as he walked into Sam's lab. Daniel took one of them, gulping down the bitter brew in a way that made Jack glad it'd been a long walk from the commissary. It was bad enough that one member of his team was missing, he didn't need another out of commission with a scalded mouth.

"She did a lot of digging the night before the summit." Daniel pointed at rows of numbers on the screen. "And most of it was in the diagnostic archives."

"Looking for what?"

Daniel shook his head. "I don't know. Lots of…" he looked up ruefully. "Stuff I don't quite understand."

Jack sighed and pushed his fingers through his hair. "Who would?"

"Umm, sir?" The two men turned to see Captain Markham standing in the doorway, Teal'c at her side. "Maybe I can help?"

"You understand this stuff?"

"Maybe, sir. It depends on which part of the archives you're working with."

"It looks like Sam was looking through gate diagnostics, among other things," Daniel said.

"I can help."

"Ok." Jack looked at his watch. "Hammond should be in by now. Teal'c, why don't we go, check in with him and see if Carter told him anything. You two work on this."

Jack led the Jaffa from the room feeling, for the first time in days, a bit of hope.

<><><><><>

"Good morning Samantha." She wasn't huddled in the corner today but rather laying in a loose fetal position in the middle of the room with her back to the door.

"No." She said, surprising him. He hadn't asked a question and so hadn't expected an answer. He had ordered her medication lowered but it should have taken a least two or three days before any noticeable change.

"No? It's not a good morning?" At her silence he tried something else. "No, not Samantha?"

"Yes." He walked around her and knelt down motioning the orderly to step inside just in case.

"Would you prefer Sam?" That's when she actually looked at him in the eye. "Sam, can you tell me your last name?" She frowned concentrating.

"C-Carter?"

"Yes, that's right."

"Do you remember anything else?"

Gray eyes closing . . . She closed her eyes and pulled her knees up to her chest. She didn't want to remember that. Blue eyes closing, blue eyes flashing. She opened her eyes and looked at Alex.

"Dad?" she said hesitantly.

"You remember your father?"

Blue eyes flashing, blue eyes smiling, so proud of her. "Yes."

"Do you remember how he died?" He asked gently, they were making progress; at least he thought they were making progress.

"Died?" Blue eyes flashing, blue eyes smiling, blue eyes alive.

"Yes, he died of cancer, almost two years ago." There goes the progress theory.

Blue eyes so tired, so still in that hospital bed, don't die daddy, don't die yet. "No." The denial was weak, unsure.

Alex pulled a slip of paper from the file and handed her a small newspaper clipping. "This is his obituary." Hesitantly Sam took the clipping from his hand. Her pupils were dilated and she looked like she was having a hard time reading the print, but eventually she was able to make out the words. He saw shock and disbelief war for dominance on her pale face. "I'm sorry."

He closed the folder and walked from the room, leaving Sam alone.

Looking down at a pair of beautiful gray eyes as they slowly closed for the last time . . . looking down at a pair of gray eyes as they slowly closed for the last time . . . tired blue eyes of a tired old man in a hospital bed . . . tired blue eyes closing for the last time.

And Jacob Carter was dead.

<><><><><>

"We think we found something," Daniel said, walking into Jack's office, Leslye hot on his heels.
Jack looked up, hoping that it wasn't yet another false lead. They'd had a few of those in the last week, including a nightmarish trip to the county morgue to identify the body of a Jane Doe.

"Major Carter was looking into some anomalies we've had," Markham said.

"What sort of anomalies?"

"A few times in the last couple of weeks we've off-world teams saying that they've had trouble dialing in. Once or twice, we can explain it away as a misdial," she said, laying a sheaf of paper in front of Jack. "A couple of the teams were under fire and it was thought that the person simply panicked and pushed a wrong glyph," she explained.

"I've done it myself," Daniel said.

"But then it started to happen to teams returning normally. And with experienced dialers who swear that they didn't misdial."

"So, what does this mean?"

"It could be the first signs of some sort of problem. Major Carter had been running diagnostics on the gate, but there's nothing wrong."

"So…"

"Jack, the one thing all these misdials have in common…they were all teams returning off schedule, too early or returning late."

Jack shook his head. "So?"

"Well, what's the cliché for finding out that someone is hiding something from you?"

"Daniel…"

"You usually catch people when you show up unexpectedly. It's…sir, it's almost like someone is playing with the gate, depending on no one returning unexpectedly so no one notices. Either that, or I've been watching too much X-Files."

Jack frowned. "Ok. Keep digging," he ordered. "I need something more than a maybe to take to Hammond."

<><><><><>

Rusty wheels squeaked outside the door. Dinner. No clock, no way to mark time other than meals. But they forgot sometimes. She knew they forgot. Not as much here than in the other place. In the other place they forgot all the time. Or they didn't want to remember. She wasn't supposed to remember. They didn't want her to remember, not in the other place. But they wanted her to remember here. She liked it here, she liked Alex. He didn't yell, he didn't hurt. Not like the other guy.

If she could remember, maybe he'd let her stay. She wanted to stay here.

<><><><><>

Strong hands on hers. Grabbing her arms and giving her a shake. The same hands pulling her to safety, not letting go. Fiddling hands, caressing smooth steel. Stained with blood, sometimes his own, sometimes not. Cold, cramped hands holding hers under a too thin blanket, feeble comfort from a dying man.

Short fingernails, regulation short. Regulations. Barriers, obstacles. Too many barriers. Unsaid words forever etched in deep brown eyes. Other things she can't say, names, places. Forbidden names…Asgard, Nox…Jack. Secrets, things had to be kept secret.

"Sam?" a gentle hand settled on her shoulder.

"Colonel?" she whispered, letting herself hope.

"No. It's me, Doctor Sturgeon," Alex said.

"He should be here," she muttered, searching the barren room.

"Who? Who should be here?"

"The colonel…he…he visited Daniel."

"Daniel Jackson?"

She looked up. "Daniel's here?"

"No. He's dead."

She shook her head. "No. He's not…I…Shau'ri is but he's not."

"Shau'ri?"

"Wife."

Alex shook his head. "Doctor Jackson never married, at least not that this says." He held out a frayed newspaper clipping, yellowed with age. "Doctor Daniel Jackson was killed by tomb robbers ten years ago in Egypt."

"No. No. He's not," she said, struggling to focus on the bold print. "He was here…he…they thought he was crazy but he wasn't. It was Machello and…"

"There's never been a Daniel Jackson at this facility," he said.

"No…Ken…Kenzie. Kenzie knows. He put him there, he…put him…white not gray, it was so white, bright."

Wild blue eyes, quaking hands, bare feet. Over whelming pity and fear. Fear that she'd end up just like him. Fear that he'd hurt her, he tried to hurt her, lunging across the room, only Teal'c's strong arms forestalling his plans.

"T…" she started to say his name then stopped. No. Secret. He was a secret. Couldn't talk about him, extra super secret.

"What?" Alex asked.

She shook her head, trying to clear the fog. The name was there, elusive, just out of reach. Ken…no, more…ma…"Mack," she said. "Mackenzie."

"Mackenzie?" Alex asked skeptically.

She nodded, the names and feelings fading away again, pushed down by a wave of medications. Too tired to fight them, she surrendered, letting it pull her back into a nebulous dream world.

<><><><><>

"We found her."

"Where?"

"Kilraven."

"Do we have an operative there?"

"No."

"Get one and get her out of there."

"Where do I take her?"

There was a lengthy pause. "It's too dangerous now. People have been asking questions. Kill her."

<><><><><>

Leslye looked up from her computer screen, fighting back a grin at the sight of Daniel Jackson asleep, crouched over a pile of paper. They hadn't had much luck, despite searching the archives throughout the night. It looked like Major Carter's anomalies were just that, random anomalies.

She'd keep looking though. If that's what her team wanted her to do, that's what she'd do.

<><><><><>

Alex clicked through the pages of names, at once amazed and saddened at the sheer number. So many psychiatrists, and if even half of them carried the same patient load as he did, the numbers were staggering. So many lost souls.

Colonel. She'd said colonel. Narrowing his search to military personnel he leaned back, sipping at his now cold coffee. He'd been all through Sam's file and there was no mention of a Mackenzie in the delusions catalogued there.

She'd created quite a fantasy life, according to the file. He wondered if she'd known all the people in her dreams, or if she'd just plucked their names from obituaries or cemeteries.

However she'd created the fantasies, she had to be hiding from something rather upsetting to make such a detailed delusion.

His computer beeped, signaling the end of the search. "It could be worse," he muttered, reading the ten names listed. "It could have been Smith." Glancing at his watch, he picked up the phone and started dialing.

<><><><><>

Soft footsteps came into the room, the door barely opening, a harsh shaft of light from the hallway spilling in, cutting through the comforting darkness. The door shut and the figure became shadowy, its features indistinct.

Instinctively, she pulled back into the corner, trying to hide, trying to protect herself. Relentlessly, the figure came forward; hunting her like a cat hunts a mouse. "No. No. Don't," she begged.

Wordlessly, the figure knelt over her, roughly grabbing her arm. She kicked out, trying to pull away. "No," she said as she felt the sting of a needle piercing her skin.

<><><><><>

"I'm sorry to call you out so late," Alex said, matching his pace to the other doctor's. "I just have a funny feeling that this shouldn't wait."

"Believe me, this isn't the first time the phone's rang at an odd hour," Doctor Mackenzie said, shaking his head slightly. "You were vague on the phone."

"I've got a female patient, a transfer from another facility. She's…almost non-responsive, just keeps talking about how she can't remember, or isn't supposed to remember. She's created a rather elaborate delusion, using mainly deceased individuals, which in itself is rather unusual."

"Not as unusual as you may think," Mackenzie corrected. "Using deceased individuals is sometimes a way to deny their deaths."

Alex shrugged. "I suppose it's possible, however the patient's records don't indicate that she ever had contact with these people, except for her father of course." Alex paused outside the room. "She was initially combative, but in the last few days she's calmed down. I'm hoping that since she knew your name, you know her and can help."

"She specifically mentioned me by name?" Mackenzie asked while Alex fumbled for the keys.

"Something about you and a patient named Daniel." He reached to insert the key into the lock, frowning as the door swung open. Concern for his patient overwhelming his self-preservation, he pushed the door open, flooding the small room with light. "Who are you? What are you doing?" he demanded, the light revealing two people in the room, one of them obviously the patient, the other a stranger. The stranger was standing over the woman, obviously preparing to pick her up.

Obviously startled, he turned, letting her fall to the floor. "You don't work here," Alex said. "Who are you?" As he watched, the man's eyes darted around the room, looking for escape. With a frustrated growl, he pushed past the two doctors, running down the hall. "Security!" Alex screamed, chasing after him.

He ran down the hall, chasing him out one of the side doors. He disappeared quickly into the night, the fading tail lights of a waiting car the only sign that he'd ever existed.

Fearing for his patient, he hurried back into the hospital, hurrying towards the room. Mackenzie was kneeling over her, assessing her condition. Alex could see that she was unconscious, a faint smear of blood on her exposed arm explaining why. "What kind of meds have you been giving her?" Mackenzie demanded.

"What?"

"What medications is she on?" he demanded, looking up at Alex.

"Umm….just Haldol. I've actually lessened the dose she was receiving," Alex said.

"That explains it," Mackenzie said, standing up.

"Explains what?"

"She's got a very unique blood chemistry. "

"You know her?"

"She's not a patient of mine, but I do know her physician," Mackenzie said. "I'm taking her back with me."

"You can't do that," Alex protested. "She's under my care."

"No. She should never have been under your care," Mackenzie said.

"Excuse me?" Alex bristled. "We may not be the fanciest facility in the world but…"

"No. No," Mackenzie interrupted. "What I mean is that this woman is a member of the US Air Force. I have no idea what she's doing here, but I know that she doesn't belong here." Alex looked from the other doctor to the unconscious woman on the floor, feeling that somehow it all made sense now, that his feeling of something being 'off' was founded. "Will you help me or do I have to go get an orderly on my own?"

<><><><><>

Jack stood outside his car and looked at his watch again. This was stupid. Idiotic. Which pretty much described him at the moment. Some might say frantic if they didn't know him. Jack O'Neill was never frantic. Desperate maybe. After all, only desperate folks agreed to meet with someone they barely tolerated in the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere.

It'd been over two weeks now since they'd heard anything from Carter. Hammond had called the local police so many times they knew him by voice. Jack himself was now a close personal friend of attendants at the local hospitals and the morgue. Daniel and Markham's digging also had come up with the same non-results. It was almost like his friend had ceased to exist. And that idea brought up more possibilities that he didn't want to think of. There were places right here in the Springs that were remote enough that a body could be dumped and not found for years.

The headlights of an approaching car cut through his dark thoughts and he straightened up, fighting the urge to make sure that the gun he'd secreted in the small of his back was still there.

The car pulled along side him and he watched Robert Mackenzie unfasten his seat belt and step out of his car. "Colonel. Thank you for coming?"

"What's going on, Mackenzie?" Jack asked, letting his irritation show. He never much cared for psychiatrists on a good day, and liked Mackenzie even less after the man had been responsible for erroneously locking Daniel up in the nuthouse just a year ago.

"That's what I'm wondering, Colonel," Mackenzie said. "A few hours ago I got a call from a doctor at Kilraven Psychiatric Hospital. He had a patient and wanted my advice."

"So?" Jack interrupted.

"So, I think you know her," he said, pulling open the back car door. Curious, Jack stepped forward; frowning as he tried to make out the features of the blanket shrouded figure.

"What the hell?" Jack asked, pulling the blanket aside to reveal the pale face of his missing teammate. "What's going on?" he demanded, checking her pulse.

"I wish I knew, Colonel," Mackenzie said. "All I know is what I told you."

"What's wrong with her?"

"Just sedated, I think," Mackenzie said.

"You think?" Jack asked, turning to look at him.

Robert shrugged, an exasperated look on his face. "I didn't have time for a through exam. When I got there someone was trying to take her from the hospital. Ten minutes longer and she'd have been gone."

"What?"

"Colonel O'Neill, we've had our differences. And while I sincerely doubt your sanity at times…No one on SG-1 needs to be locked up in a facility…not yet anyway," the doctor said ironically. "Since I would be the one signing off on any member of the SGC's admission to Mental Health, I know that however she got there, she's not supposed to BE there." He handed a file to Jack. "These are her records. Technically, she was never there, and since she was never there, her record doesn't show it either." Jack ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. "They've been keeping her sedated," Mackenzie continued. "The problem is Major Carter's unique blood chemistry."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know how Haldol will react to the naquadah in her blood. I took a blood sample to test."

"What should I do with her?" Jack asked.

"I'll know more when I run a tox screen. If it's just Haldol, she should sleep it off. It may take a few days to get it out of her system but she should be fine," Mackenzie said.

"And if it's not Haldol?"

The doctor could do nothing but shrug. "I don't know."

Jack knelt back down by Sam and stared at her, trying to think of something. Maybe Mackenzie was right; maybe she'd just sleep it off and be perfectly fine. But maybe not. Maybe he was getting in way over his head. At the moment, he wanted nothing more than to get her back to the safety of the SGC and under Fraiser's care. But did he dare? What if the SGC wasn't a refuge but a source of danger? The list of people he'd pissed off was long and not so distinguished, and it'd grown even longer a year ago when he'd busted the rogue NID. To this day, he and Hammond weren't sure if they'd gotten all the players. And he knew they wouldn't think twice about getting even with him through his friends.

Making his decision, he reached in, awkwardly sliding her from the back seat and picking her up. "You got my cell?" he asked as Mackenzie opened the passenger door to his truck.

"Yeah."

Jack set his friend in the seat, struggling a bit to buckle the seat belt. "Call me with the results."

"Where are you going?"

"It's probably better that you don't know," Jack said, closing the door. "How do I know if something's wrong?"

"She should just be groggy, maybe have a headache when she wakes up. If she's nauseous or doesn't wake up in 12 hours or so, you better give me a call. Check her pulse every half-hour; make sure it doesn't change. If it starts to slow down, get her to a hospital immediately," he instructed. "The same if she starts to have trouble breathing."

"Ok," Jack said, rounding the truck and opening his door. Mackenzie turned, closing the back door to his sedan. "Mackenzie?" Jack called. The doctor turned around. "Thanks," he said. Robert nodded and opened the driver's door to his car. He nodded and got into his car, quickly driving off.

Jack waited until his taillights faded, then he started his truck, automatically hitting the button for the power door locks. Sliding his hand behind him, he pulled out his pistol and stuck it beside the seat, where it was easily accessible. Casting a quick glance at his unconscious passenger, he turned on the ignition and drove off.

<><><><><>

Sam slowly opened her eyes, struggling to bring the world into focus. She squinted at the faint sunlight streaming in through the crack between two faded curtains. Sunlight. She never got to see the sun, hadn't seen the sun for…for a while. Never warm sun, always cold and sterile fluorescent. Fluorescent bulbs that hummed and bubbled.

Warm sunlight that streamed across the bed. A bed. She hadn't slept in a bed since she'd last seen the sun. Or had she? She couldn't remember. Things were so jumbled, so mixed up. Where was she?

Slowly sitting up, she looked around the room. She'd never been here before. It was small, dingy, consisting of nothing more than a bed, and the barest of furnishings. A hotel? What was she doing in a hotel?

Her head hurt, maybe she was sick? Maybe she'd been in an accident. A key rattled in a lock and her eyes flew to the door. She heard the lock give and the door pushed open, a dark figure filling the doorway.
Suddenly afraid, she slid out of the bed, kneeling down behind it. He walked in, struggling to manage both the door and a large paper bag. Tossing the key onto the table by the door, he paused, frowning as he scanned the room. His face still in shadow from the open door, she saw him set down the bag and quickly stick his head into the tiny bathroom. "Carter?" he called, his voice oddly familiar.

She wanted to crawl under the bed and hide, but was thwarted by a wooden frame. She saw his eyes meet hers and a look of relief cross his face. "There you are. You ok?" he asked, walking over to her. "Just my luck I knew you had to wake up while I was gone, but I thought you might be hungry or something. Carter?" He knelt over her, his face coming into clear view for the first time.

The silent drive home from his son's funeral, back to the empty house with its blood stained floor. The people gathering below, carrying food as if food will fix it all. The wife taking comfort in her friends, the husband retreating, plodding up the stairs to the room. The rasp of a key in a lock, a lock secured too late to save the boy. The metallic click of a bullet sliding into the chamber, the steel cold in his callused hand. That tiny hole, the little black cave with death at the other end.

The almost painful knocking of the end of the barrel against his teeth, the small piece of metal cutting his lip as the pistol jerks when he cocks it. Blood dripping unheeded down the barrel. Brown eyes that close for the last time.

Guests that jump and scream as history repeats itself. Frantic footsteps, of a woman this time, pounding up the same stairs, a scream that chills the heart. This time it is the small hands of a wife that struggles to hold it all in, small hands that are soon coated with sticky, congealing blood. Blood that soaks into the already ruined carpet, mingling with his son's in a sick meshing of souls and fates.

"No," she choked, pulling away from him and backing herself into the corner.

"Carter?" he leaned forward, causing her to pull herself into a tiny, protective ball. His voice faded as she sank deeper and deeper into her mental refuge, to a place where ghosts and the dead couldn't hurt her.

<><><><><>

Leslye hurried through the halls, struggling to balance two cups of coffee, one for her, one for Daniel. She knew he'd need it, his love of the bitter brew being legendary among the SGC. He had still been sleeping when she'd finally taken a break to shower and grab a bite of breakfast before starting her day. They'd worked throughout the night and still hadn't come up with any answers. More than once, she'd bit her tongue to keep herself from wondering if they were barking up the wrong tree. What if the Major had gone AWOL and deserted? It wasn't totally unheard of for career officers to crack under the pressure and abandon their jobs.

It would really be too bad if her friends were working so hard to find her only to be bringing her back for a court martial. Promising herself to do all she could do to help her team, she walked back into Carter's lab, only to find Daniel missing.

Figuring that maybe he'd slipped away like she had to freshen up, she sat back down and started to look through the archives again.

<><><><><>

Jack stood at the door, glancing nervously over his shoulder. Carter was still where he'd left her, cowering in the corner of the room, rocking slightly. After her first outburst, he'd tried to calm her, thinking that physical contact would snap her out of it. Unfortunately, it had just the opposite effect. She'd pulled herself in tighter; afraid of him in a way he didn't know she was capable of being afraid.

Finally, worried that he was doing more harm than good, he called Daniel and Teal'c, thinking that maybe they'd be able to get to her and then done his best to stay as far from her as possible in the small confines of the hotel room.

Right now, he thoroughly regretted choosing not to take Sam to his home and instead settling for a small, roadside hotel. At the time his thought was that he'd just wait for her to wake up and hopefully give him some idea who was behind things.

He had no idea what was wrong with her, and even worse, an idea what could have happened to her. He knew it could be something as simple as her still being under the influence of the drugs she'd been given. Things effected her differently thanks to Jolinar. He knew that most sedatives, and therefore some painkillers, took longer to effect her, if they did at all. Which meant if they'd been keeping her sedated, they had to drug her to near overdose levels. In that case, all he'd have to do is wait it out until the drugs were flushed from her system.

There was another, not so benign, possibility. She was acting almost traumatized, and that scared him. He knew from experience just how vulnerable a woman was, and that was something that he thought of every time they left Earth, and even sometimes ON Earth. Yes, she could take care of herself, and yes she could kick butt…but there were times when even the strongest individual couldn't fight back.

Desperately praying that it was just a drug induced reaction; he sighed in relief, seeing Daniel's familiar car pull into the lot. "Jack? What's going on?" he asked, getting out as he pushed his sunglasses up on his head.

"Come inside," he instructed.

"O'Neill?"

"Did you tell anyone?" Jack demanded.

"No. You said not to. I didn't even tell Leslye."

"Good." Daniel and Teal'c walked past him.

"Oh my God, Sam." He hurried around the bed, anxious to get to his friend.

"Daniel, don't," Jack futilely tried to warn. Daniel knelt over her, reaching out to touch her arms.

"Sam?" He tried to get her attention, ignoring Jack's warnings. "Jack, what the hell's going on?" he asked, obviously distressed by her lack of response.

"I wish I knew, Daniel."

<><><><><>

Intruders. Sneaking in where they didn't belong, violence oozing from their pores. A startled awakening, the burst of fear, panicked hands struggling to find a weapon, any weapon. Loud voices, harsh words in an foreign language. Menace, hate, violence. The flash of a knife in the moonlight, a strangled cry that ends in a desperate gurgle. The thump of a body falling, cushioned by the cool sand. The heart, not realizing that it's creating its own doom, relentlessly pumping, pushing blood from the fading body. Blood that is soaked up by the ever thirsty sand. The wakening breeze of the dawn, gently blowing sand over the body, welcoming it back from whence it came, wrapping it in its loving arms.

The ghosts were still there; she could hear them talking, their sibilant whispers sending chills down her spine. Why? Why did they take her away from Alex? What did they want? Had she been bad? She tried to remember, Alex wanted her to remember. She'd tried, really tried, but there was nothing there. Maybe that's why he sent her away, let the ghosts take her. She'd been bad and now she was going to pay.

Fear and uncertainly overwhelming her, she pulled her legs up tighter, hoping that maybe they'd forget all about her. If they'd forget, maybe they'd leave. If they left, maybe she could find somewhere safe.

<><><><><>

Teal'c stood on the far side of the bed, keeping a cautious eye on his teammate. After seeing her reaction to Daniel Jackson, they'd all agreed to keep their distance to upset her as little as possible.

"I think we got no choice but to call Fraiser," O'Neill said.

"You haven't already?"

O'Neill shook his head. "When Mackenzie found her someone was trying to take her from the hospital. And someone kidnapped her in the first place. Right now…my trust level is at an all time low," he said, sarcasm evident in his voice.

A lack of trust was something Teal'c could understand. More than once he'd witnessed the duplicitous behavior of the Tau'ri. He knew that General Hammond and O'Neill were all that had kept him from falling into the hands of the NID four years before. And the recent discovery of a rogue operation proved that there were still those among the government that wished to control the power of the stargate for their own uses instead of for the good of the planet.

"You don't think Janet had anything to do with this?" Daniel Jackson asked incredulously.

O'Neill sighed. "I don't WANT to think she does but…even if she's innocent, we have an infirmary full of nurses and orderlies that might be.

"Perhaps Doctor Fraiser would agree to journey here?" Teal'c suggested.

"I'm sure she would, Jack," Daniel Jackson said. "Maybe she'd respond better to a woman," he suggested, his unspoken message clear. All of them shared the silent fear that their friend had been violated, and that her extreme fear was a response to that.

"Ok," O'Neill sighed. "My cell's battery is dead and I don't want to make the call from here. Teal'c, are you ok to stay with Carter? Daniel and I can go find a pay phone and call the doc."

"I shall remain," Teal'c said. O'Neill nodded and reached to his back, drawing out his weapon. "Use this if you have to," he instructed, handing it to Teal'c butt first. "We'll be back in a bit."

Teal'c watched them go, taking care to lock the door behind them. He carefully secured the weapon and turned his attention to his friend. He could see no obvious signs of abuse, other than a few bruises apparent on her arms. Some were new, others were old, a mottled green and yellow on her pale skin. Her hair was dull and stiff and obviously hadn't been cared for or washed for some time. As she rocked, he could see her shiver slightly. The hotel room was not incredibly cold, however it was not warm either. And since her and O'Neill's trials in the Antarctic, she had confessed to him that she'd grown 'cold blooded'. Thinking that if she were more comfortable she'd relax, he pulled the spread off the bed, approaching her slowly. He knelt before her, not failing to notice when she stiffened, cowering a bit more.

As gently as he could, he wrapped the spread around her. "I will not harm you, Samantha Carter," he said softly. When she didn't react as she had with O'Neill and Daniel Jackson, he remained close, hoping to bring her some comfort with his presence. Slowly he watched her relax, one hand grasping the spread and drawing it closer to her. "Daniel Jackson and O'Neill will not harm you either," he continued. "We have been searching for you for some time. You are safe," he promised. "Whoever harmed you will not be allowed to do so again."

Her only response was non-response, so he settled himself down beside her, hoping that his presence brought her some comfort. Right now, that appeared to be all he could do.

<><><><><>

Safe. Was any place truly safe anymore? She'd felt safe with Alex, but then she'd been taken away. Before that…no, not safe. Cold, mean. The man yelling at her, people with harsh hands. Not safe. Had she been safe before then? Safe with her friends, yes. But her friends didn't exist. Alex has said so. Her friends were all a dream, a fantasy. That's what he'd called it, a fantasy. They were ghosts, she was with ghosts. But not him. He didn't sound like a ghost. She didn't remember his death like she did the others. He didn't feel like a ghost. She felt something when he moved near, something more than death and blood. Something familiar, as comforting as it was terrifying, as reassuring as it was puzzling.

It calmed her. It made her feel safe. The fear receded a bit as the warmth from the spread started to envelop her. She'd missed blankets, being able to wrap herself up instead of lying exposed and vulnerable in the room.

Without realizing it, she slumped, leaning slightly. She didn't protest when she was wrapped in strong, gentle arms. She didn't feel trapped or threatened, instead she felt safe, safe for the first time in longer than she could remember.

<><><><><>

Teal'c sat on the floor, lightly meditating as his companion slept. O'Neill and Daniel had returned nearly an hour ago, and after seeing that Major Carter had finally fallen asleep, they'd went to the restaurant across the street to await the arrival of Doctor Fraiser.

It was going to take the doctor a few hours to arrive, the need for secrecy meaning that they couldn't tell her the true nature of her housecall.

He felt a little hope at his teammate's apparent trust in him. It seemed to suggest that she was still in there, just hiding for some reason. In humans, sleep often healed, and he hoped that the rest she was getting was helping her.

She stirred a bit and he prepared to drop his arms, lest she feel trapped. She pushed herself away from him, looking at him for the first time. Her eyes were still clouded with drug, her pupils looking larger than normal. Silently, she frowned, slowly straightening out her hand to rest lightly on his abdomen. He held himself still, not wanting to startle her. "J…junior?" she asked softly, struggling for the word.

"That is what O'Neill has christened my symbiote." He reached down and pulled up his shirt, revealing his pouch. "Do you wish to see it?"

She nodded slightly. He slid his hand into his pouch and pulled out the protesting creature. He watched her flinch, then reach out again, touching it with her fingers. "They said it wasn't real," she whispered.

"They?"

"Before…they said that it was all in my head, that I made it all up. But it's real, isn't it?"

"The Stargate program IS real. As is your involvement in it," he reassured.

She nodded and lowered her hand, letting junior slip back into his pouch. "Tired," she muttered, closing her eyes.

"You may find the bed more comfortable. Will you let me help you up there?" She nodded again and he pulled her to her feet, helping her to the bed. She lay down and curled up, still wrapped in the bedspread.
He waited until she was asleep, then took station in the chair beside the door to await the arrival of Doctor Fraiser.

<><><><><>

Janet walked into the diner, quickly picking out the two men sitting in a booth in the corner. From the cluttered state of the table and the annoyed looks from the waitress, they'd been waiting a while. Which sort of served them right. Yes, she liked the guys, and yes she considered them friends but she also couldn't just drop everything and run when they called. Especially when their call had been more than a little mysterious and came in the middle of a crisis.

"Doc?" Jack called her over.

She made her way across the diner and slid into the booth beside Daniel. "You rang, Colonel?"

"Did you tell anyone you were coming?"

"You told me not to," she reminded, studding each of them. Neither one looked hurt or in pain. "What's the big emergency?"

Jack looked to Daniel and sighed. "We found her," he said softly.

"What? Where is she?"

"Ssh," Jack hushed. "Across the street at a motel. Teal'c's with her."

"Is she ok?"

"That's what we need to find out."

"Doctor Mackenzie found her locked up in an asylum upstate," Daniel explained.

"What?"

"We think someone put her there," Jack said. "According to a chart Mackenzie got, she was transferred to this Kilraven from Glenwood because of a wildfire. Then someone broke into Kilraven and tried to kidnap her. That's when Mackenzie basically kidnapped her himself and broke her out." Jack handed the pilfered chart to Janet.

"If I read that right, she's spent most of the last week drugged to the gills, and probably the same before if the description of her condition upon arrival is right," Daniel said. Janet flipped through the pages, frowning a bit.

"She's not acting like herself, doc. She was out of it when Mackenzie handed her over to me. Then when she woke up it was like…" Jack broke off, his struggle to repress his emotions clear on his face.

"She didn't know us, Janet," Daniel said. "She's terrified of us."

"I wouldn't be surprised if she's acting weird," the doctor said.

"Doc?"

"Doctor Sturgeon has been giving her haldol, which is a common psychiatric sedative." She looked up. "The problem is, with her altered chemistry sometimes the most harmless drugs can be harmful. After Machello's goa'uld killers, we did a few tests," she continued. "One of the things we tested was sedatives. For Sam, the naquadah in her blood makes haldol, or any drugs in that family act like rohypnol…the date rape drug," she translated in response to their blank looks.

"What? You don't mean…"

"I don't know without an exam," she reassured. "What I mean is, haldol will not only tranquilize her, it also blocks or distorts her memory."

"Could it make her see things?"

Janet shrugged. "Maybe. In truth, sir, we never explored it that for or used as big of a dose as they were. Why do you ask?"

"She's acting like we scare her to death, literally," Daniel said.

"I need to examine her," Janet said. "If she's been overdosed or is going through some sort of withdrawal, she needs medical attention."

Jack nodded, sliding out of the booth. He pulled a twenty out of his pocket and tossed it on the table. "We'll take you to her."

<><><><><>

Sam slowly woke, once again relishing the feeling of warmth and softness. She sighed, then frowned as a familiar scent filled her nostrils. Grass, rain and soap, with a touch of sweat. She knew this scent. It meant safety and friendship.

"Sam?" A soft voice tried to pull her from her slumber. She resisted, trying to snuggle deeper into the pillows and under the covers. A stinging tug caught her attention as she felt a hand on her shoulder. "Sam? Come on. Wake up for me," a woman urged, shaking her slightly.

She knew her, knew that voice. It was like the scent on the pillows, comforting and familiar. "Come on, Sam. You've slept for twenty four hours, it's time to wake up." The hand shook her shoulder again, this time more insistent.

Resigned, she opened her eyes, blinking slowly to make them focus. A face came into view, dark and light blurs sharpening into familiar features. "So, you are still in there."

"Janet?"

"Yeah. How do you feel?"

Sam paused, mentally scanning her body. "Tired," she finally said, slowly closing her eyes.

"You've had enough sleep. It's time to get up," the doctor ordered, her voice kind but firm. "Open your eyes and drink this."

Obeying out of habit, Sam opened her eyes and let the doctor help her sit up. Maybe if she played along, Janet would let her get back to sleep. The room spun and she dug her hands into the covers in an effort to steady herself.

"Light headed?"

"Yeah."

"You're dehydrated, even with the IV. And lord knows the last time you ate." The doctor fussed. She held out a small glass of juice. Sam took it, noting for the first time the IV in the back of her left hand. "You've still got a lot of drugs in your blood," the doctor explained. "More than you can simply sleep off. It'll take a few days to flush them out of your system."

Sam nodded, looking around the room as she sipped the juice. "Where am I?"

"Colonel O'Neill's house."

"What? Why am I here? What happened?"

"You don't remember?"

"Remember what?"

"OK. We'll talk about this later. Why don't I go see if I can scare you up some toast," she suggested, her voice light.

"Janet. What happened?" Sam demanded, the sudden surge of energy from the juice clearing her head. "Why aren't I in the infirmary or at home?"

"Sam…"

"No. Janet, tell me."

The doctor sighed heavily, clearly not comfortable with the situation. "Two weeks ago, you asked General Hammond for some leave. You left the mountain and disappeared."

"Disappeared?"

"You asked for time off, then vanished. We tore the town apart but couldn't find a sign of you anywhere. The next thing we knew, Robert Mackenzie called Colonel O'Neill and told him that he found you in the Kilraven Psychiatric Hospital. That was two days ago."

Sam absorbed the doctor's words, the sinking feeling her stomach having nothing to do with it being unaccustomed to having anything in it.

Blue eyes closing for the last time

Warm; wet blood pooling over dry rusty stains.

Keening wind, slowly drawing the still body into its eternal embrace.

Samantha…please.

She frantically grabbed for Janet's hand. "Tell me they're not dead."

"Who?"

"My dad, the colonel, Daniel…"

"They're fine. They're downstairs if you want to see them. All but your dad of course, he's off world."

"So they…"

"They lied to you," Janet said. "The obituaries you saw were fake. They're. Not. Dead," she insisted.

Sam slumped in relief, pushing her fingers through her stiff hair. "It's like a really bad dream," she smiled slightly. "I even remember killing Martouf. What?" she asked as the doctor's face fell.

"Colonel O'Neill, Daniel and your father are all alive," she said deliberately.

"Martouf?"

"Sam…Martouf died," she said gently.

Sam shook her head. "No." Janet nodded. "NO!" Sam said loudly. Janet didn't respond. "No. He…" Tears spilled from her eyes.

Hurrying forward to catch him. Sliding the weapon off his limp fingers. Feeling his blood soak into her clothes. The pity in the eyes of everyone around her.

"He's dead?"

"Yeah?"

"And I killed him?"

"Yeah," Janet confirmed, pulling her friend into her arms and rocking her gently as she gave her grief form.

<><><><><>

Jack heard the distant squeak of the shower turning off and tensed, sitting up in his chair.

"Relax, Colonel," Janet said.

"Jack, she's going to feel uncomfortable enough coming down here," Daniel said. "If you're tense, you'll just make it worse." Jack looked at him sharply. "She's going to doubt everything, herself, her memories. She needs something to count on…and that something needs to be us," he said. "No matter what she says, give her the benefit of the doubt. She's going to second guess herself for a while, she needs us to trust her and support her…just not look like we're supporting her."

"What do you mean, Daniel?"

"It's harder to be sane than it is to be insane," he said.

"Daniel Jackson means we are to be readily available for Major Carter, while remaining at a sufficient distance to preserve her sense of self," Teal'c said.

"What he said," Janet agreed. "It's going to take several days for the drug to leave her system. And even then, it's unlikely that she'll remember anything, especially from that first week. Not to mention the trauma of Martouf's death," she continued. "Please don't expect things to be back to normal in a heartbeat, because it's not going to happen. It's going to take a while," she advised.

Jack sat back, letting the doctor's words sink in. At least bringing her back to his house had seemed to have a positive outcome. The doctor had been in favor of treating her in the infirmary where she'd be better prepared to deal with any complications, but he'd suggested that maybe his house was far less threatening to her than the mountain. Daniel had agreed, the last thing Sam needed was to be in yet another institutional setting.

As soon as they'd arrived, Jack had called the general, letting the older man know that while things weren't perfect, at least Carter was back in their possession. They hadn't come any closer in discovering why she'd been taken, the fact of the wildfire destroying Glenwood hospital and all the records complicating things even more.

A step creaked and they all turned their heads, watching her slowly come down the stairs. She paused, aware of their scrutiny. For a second it looked like she wanted to turn and go back upstairs. "Carter, you haven't been shy in front of us since P3X595," Jack said, standing up. He walked over to usher her down the stairs and into the living room. "Teal'c's learned to cook grilled cheese sandwiches and it's only fair that you get to sample them too."

Taking the hint from his pointed looks, Daniel, Teal'c and Janet retreated into the kitchen, presumably to actually teach Teal'c to make grilled cheese sandwiches while Jack ushered Sam over to the couch.

"Thanks," she said, settling down into one of the corners.

"Sure thing." He sat down in the armchair, staring while he tried not to look like he was staring. She was wearing a pair of sweats and a T-shirt they'd retrieved from her belongings. Her hair was still damp and unstyled, simply combed out. She was obviously uncomfortable, ignoring him to stare out the window. It was late afternoon, the setting sun casting a red glow through the curtains. "Do you remember what you were looking for in the gate diagnostics?" he asked, after several minutes of silence.

"What?"

"Right before the whole mess with Graham. You stayed behind to research an anomaly or something on the gate diagnostics. Do you remember what you found," he prompted.

"Umm…no. I was just starting to get into it when word came through about the assassination attempt. Why do you want to know?"

Jack shrugged. "We were looking for some clue. That was the only thing out of the ordinary that I could think of. Daniel and Markham have been digging into it but neither of them have come up with anything."

"Markham?" She shook her head.

"Captain Leslye Markham. She filled in for you while you were on leave. Which is where everyone thinks you've been, everyone outside of this group anyway. No one but us and Mackenzie knows about Kilraven," he reassured her.

"It just doesn't make any sense. Why would someone go to all the trouble of making up fake obituaries and all that? If I was in someone's way, why didn't they just kill me?"

"Maybe you weren't in anyone's way," Daniel suggested, walking out balancing a couple mugs of soup. He handed one to Sam. "Maybe they needed you alive." Teal'c followed, carrying a large plate of grilled cheese sandwiches while Janet brought up the rear with the remaining mugs of soup.

"It just doesn't make any sense," she said, cradling her mug.

"We'll figure it out," Jack said. "And then we're gonna kick their butts."

<><><><><>

Sam walked down the hall, acutely aware of Teal'c's presence at her side. Not for the first time, she was grateful for the Jaffa's stalwart presence. This time not in defense against enemies, but from the curious eyes of various SGC personnel. No matter how many times she told herself that they didn't know what had happened, where she'd spent the last three weeks, she still felt accusation in their gazes, still believed that they knew how she'd spent her time off. Every time she passed a bulletin board, she fought the irrational fear that she'd see something there, some proof that, yes, what folks have been saying along was true and she was a class one fruitcake.

"Major Carter?" She turned to see Teal'c standing in the hall a few yards behind her.

"Yeah."

"Are we not going to your lab?" he asked, pointing at the room she'd just walked past.

"Oh, right, sorry." She hurried back to him and walked into the room. "I guess I'm not paying much attention," she excused.

"That is most understandable." He followed her into the room, taking up station by the door. "Do you require my assistance?"

"Umm…I don't really know," she said, frowning a bit. "I'm not quite sure where to start," she said, looking around rather helplessly. On the surface, her lab was untouched, as if it had been kept just the way she'd left it, waiting for her return. But when she looked deeper, she could see things, little things that were different.
The screen saver on her computer had been changed, someone had left a couple of dirty mugs on her table, and her stool had somehow been exchanged for a different chair.

"O'Neill still believes that the anomalies you were researching may hold the key to your disappearance. Perhaps we should start there," he suggested.

"Sure," she shrugged. It was as good a place as any.

<><><><><>

Several hours later, she pulled into the driveway of her house feeling a mixture of relief and anxiety. The day had been incredibly normal, almost boringly so. Teal'c had kept her company most of the day, either helping her or simply sitting in the corner meditating. His presence had been comforting and more than a little reassuring. She knew that many people found the large Jaffa intimidating and tended to give him a wide berth. Which meant that as long as she was in his company, they'd do the same to her.

Which suited her just fine. She knew people meant well, but their well-meant platitudes were starting to grate on her nerves.

Nervously twisting in her seat, she looked around, squinting a bit in the dim light to see if she could see anyone. She still couldn't remember what had happened, but whoever had kidnapped her had to have done it from her home, since they'd found her car in her driveway. And if they could do it once, they could do it again.

General Hammond had offered to have a couple of SF's sit outside her house, but she'd turned him down. The was really no reason for her to be watched, at least no reason that could be made public. Her sense of independence also railed at needing a baby sitter. She'd killed gods with her bare hands, surely she could be safe in her own home.

Secure that no one was around, she got out of her car, hurrying to her front door. Quickly unlocking it, she slipped inside, breathing a sigh of relief. There. That hadn't been so hard. She had good locks and a security system. And worse comes to worse, she had her own protection, she thought, patting the 9mm weapon tucked into her belt.

Making one quick pass to double check that the doors and windows were all locked, she went upstairs, intent on a long hot, relaxing bath.

Sitting in the gathering twilight, running her fingers over the smooth glass of the goblet. She should get up, turn on some lights and find some food to counteract the wine. But that would take effort. And she wasn't up to expending any effort at the moment. Right now, the dark suited her fine. Things were always better in the dark, it was easier to hide. And that's what she needed, to hide. Hide from peoples' pitying eyes, from things she wasn't supposed to be feeling. Hide from her emotions until they were a little less raw, a little easier to deal with.

The doorbell rang, shattering the peaceful stillness of the coming night. Closing her eyes, she tried to ignore it. Go away. No one's home.

It rang again and she sighed, knowing that she'd get no peace. Pushing herself up, she got to her feet, swaying a bit from the effects of the wine. It had to be Daniel. Teal'c never left the base and the colonel…no. Hell would freeze over before he'd show up on her doorstep.

"Daniel. I'm not…" she started as she pulled the door open.

The glass slipped from her fingers, bouncing on the floor. She barely noticed the sensation of the liquid soaking into her pants leg as she stared in horror at the dart sticking out of her chest.

Sam sat straight up, her sweat soaked clothes sticking to her back. Breathing heavily, she tried to calm herself. So that was how it had happened? She tried to plumb her memories, desperately wanting to make out the face behind the dart. Male or female, friend or foe? She couldn't tell, it was just a dark shape.
Her eyes flew open and her heart jerked. Someone was in her house. She could hear them, the creak of the floorboard in the hall.

With shaking hands, she reached for her gun, sitting on the table by the bed, right where she'd left it when she went to sleep.

Flicking off the safety and cocking it in one smooth move, she quietly got out of bed. Padding down the hall in her bare feet, the avoided turning on any lights, not wanting to give her position away.

Methodically, she searched every room, finding nothing amiss. The door was still locked, the windows still secure. Too wired to sleep, she curled up on her couch, her sidearm nestled safely in her lap and awaited the comforting light of dawn.

<><><><><>

Jack sat at a table in the corner of the commissary, several file folders of reports retrieved from the Russian base scattered in front of him. To the casual observer, it looked like he was simply catching up on his paperwork.

Which was exactly how he wanted it to look.

In reality, he was studying the behavior of his second. Or more accurately, witnessing the slightly odd behavior of his second in command. She'd been back on duty for a week and, despite her exemplar behavior in Russia, he was starting to wonder if that had been too soon.

For the first couple of days, things were pretty normal. She hadn't blinked an eye at jumping out of the plane, or the nightmarish scene they'd found in the abandoned power plant. She'd been a little shaky, but who wouldn't be? Especially after all she'd been through.

But lately, however, lately she'd been acting strangely enough that people were starting to notice. Her eyes were shadowed, speaking of sleepless nights. She was jumpy, once even screaming when Daniel had surprised her in her lab. All very un-Carter like behavior.

Right now she was making her way through the serving line, her movements jerky and unsure. He'd seen behavior like hers before in other friends of his. Men that had been pushed past their endurance and to the breaking point. Sometimes they bounced back, their near breakdown just a low point in their lives.

Others…others never came back. They broke and were cast aside like broken toys, mere shadows of their former vibrant selves.

He didn't want that to happen to her. She had too promising of a future ahead of her to throw it away.
But that was what would happen if she sought help. It would be noted in her record and forever taint her career. Catch 22…a fork in the road where both options sucked.

"Sir?" He looked up. Captain Markham was standing by his table, clearly uncomfortable.

"Captain? What can I do for you?"

"I umm…Sir, this…I don't mean to overstep my bounds or anything…"

"Spit it out, Captain," he ordered.

She gestured towards a chair and he nodded, giving her permission to sit down. "Colonel," she said softly. "People have been talking."

"People always talk."

"No, sir, yes, sir. What I mean, sir, is that they're all talking about one thing," she said meaningfully.

Jack shook his head. "I know you're new here but I don't do subtle. Spit it out."

She sighed. "I've heard people talking, sir. About Major Carter."

He looked to her sharply. "What about Major Carter?"

"Surely, sir, you've noticed." Markham looked over her shoulder at Sam who was claiming a table, purposefully sitting to put her back to the wall. "Some people think she's lost it, sir. That killing the Tok'ra was too much. Which I totally understand. It had to be horrible to kill someone like that."

"No. Actually it's a barrel of laughs. What's your point?" Jack asked impatiently.

"Sir, with all due respect, if killing Martouf has been this hard on her, then you don't know how she'll act off world."

"Are you saying that you think she's unfit for duty?"

"I'm saying, sir, that she might not handle surprises very well right now."

"Carter's on my team. If I think she's unfit for duty, I'll say something," he said harshly.

"Of course, sir. I'm sorry," she apologized. She got to her feet. "I won't mention it again."

"See that you don't. Dismissed."

She turned and left and Jack centered his attention once again on Sam. She was hunched over her food, feigning disinterest. But he could see her almost constantly scanning the room, acting more like a person surrounded by enemies than friends.

If she was going to break, he'd know it…wouldn't he?

<><><><><>

Sam sat in the middle of her couch, staring at the shadows waxing and waning against the far wall. It was the same every night. She'd try to sleep, but it never lasted for more than a couple of hours until she'd wake, usually bathed in sweat from a dream. The moon was full now, and she could see its silvery light competing with the occasional flares from the headlights of passing cars.

She waited for the noise, the same sound she heard every night. The squeak of the floorboards, the sense that someone was in her house.

It was the same feeling that she fought on the base as well. The tingle down her spine that someone was watching her, the faint echoing footsteps in the cold corridors of the SGC. Sometimes, the faint smell of fresh coffee in her lab in the morning, as if someone had been there just before her.

But there was never anything she could show to someone, anything she could use to prove her claim. She looked at the phone, fighting the urge to pick it up and call Daniel and see if she could come over. No. No, she couldn't do that. She couldn't keep leaning on them. She couldn't trust them, as much as she wanted to.
Her secret wasn't a secret anymore. She'd over heard a couple of people talking in the bathroom. Talking about her, about how crazy she was acting. Maybe she was acting crazy. Or maybe she wasn't. She didn't know anymore.

She wanted to ask her friends why they betrayed her trust and told everyone. But she also didn't want to ask them, didn't want the confirmation that they had told. Or worse yet, have them lie to her.

She heard a sound and picked up her gun, quietly cocking it. A shadow crossed the front window and she spun, holding the heavy weapon steady. Someone WAS out there. She saw the shadow float across her front door and heard the faint squeak of the door knob turning. No. Not again. They wouldn't get her again.

She squeezed the trigger, the report of the weapon shattering the still of the night.

<><><><><>

Jack pulled his truck to the curb, frowning at the sight of two police cruisers and a smattering of curious neighbors. There was nothing like a good old-fashioned shooting to pique peoples' interests, even in the middle of the night.

Turning off the ignition and getting out of the trunk, he walked up to Carter's house, flashing his seldom used military ID to gain him access.

There was a decent sized hole in her front door, 9mm his practiced eye noted. This was likely why he'd been called out. Now all he needed was a reason.

"Colonel." He walked into her kitchen, following the murmur of voices. Sam was seated at the table in her pajamas while a patrolman and a detective kept her company.

"Carter."

"Colonel O'Neill, I presume," the detective said.

"Yes…"

"Detective Chavez," the man supplied. "Your friend and I were having a little chat." He nodded towards Sam.

"What about?"

"Oh, just that if you think someone is breaking in, calling 911 first is a good thing to do."

"I already told you. I saw someone outside. They were trying to get in. There wasn't time," Sam said, her tone exasperated.

Jack shot her a quelling look, then turned back to the detective. "We couldn't find any signs of an intruder," the man said. "We can come back and look in the morning, but there are no footprints or signs of attempted forced entry on the door," the man explained, the look on his face telling Jack that he was just humoring Sam.

"That would be nice, detective," Jack said. "Since the door appears to be the only casualty…"

"There's no legal issue here," the man said. "The major's gun is legally registered, and like you said, the door is the only injured party here." He turned to look Sam in the eyes. "I still urge you to call for help first, Major," he said, motioning at the officer. Both men got to their feet and left the room. Jack followed them to the door and said his good-byes, then returned to the kitchen.

"Sir, I'm sorry…"

Jack waved her silent. "What happened?" he asked, sitting beside her.

"I saw someone on my porch. They were trying to get in," she said.

"Why didn't you call the police?" She looked away. "Carter," he prodded.

She sighed, then looked back to him. "I they were trying to come and get me again," she said. "That's why I couldn't call the police."

Jack sighed heavily and ran his fingers through his hair. "No one's out to get you," he said.

"Colonel, you…"

"Carter," he interrupted. "There was a file in the stuff from the Russian base. I found it today. I was going to wait to show it to you tomorrow, but….anyway, they were behind your disappearance," he said.

She shook her head. "What? Why?"

"Your anomalies. You were going to find out about their program. They thought if they got you out of the way for a bit, they could buy enough time to get their program up and running," he explained, wincing a bit at how it all sounded. It was like a plot from a bad Saturday night movie.

"No. It…" she broke off and frowned.

"It's over," he soothed.

"That doesn't make any sense. I…"

"What?"

"Nothing," she replied, closing him out.

"Carter?"

"Like you said. It's over," she said, her face settling into a calm mask. "I'm sorry you got called out. Especially over nothing." She got to her feet. "If you'll excuse me, sir. I should try to get some sleep."

She ushered him towards the front door, pointedly opening it to speed his departure. "Look, Carter, why don't we make some coffee and talk…"

"I'm tired, sir. Good night." She gently pushed him out the door and shut it behind him. Standing on her porch, he heard the soft thunk of a dead bold sliding home. Torn between a strategic retreat or pounding on her door and reawakening her neighbors, he settled for the least obtrusive of the two options, promising himself to corner her in her office first thing in the morning.

<><><><><>

Sam walked into her lab, frowning a bit as she studied the room. Someone had been in here again. She'd deliberately not pushed her stool in, leaving it several inches out from the table. It was now neatly stowed away. There were other little signs. One of the file cabinet drawers she'd left slightly open was now securely shut.

She wasn't imaging things, someone WAS going through her things. She just couldn't prove it. Maybe a few weeks ago she could, but right now they'd never believe her, the colonel's words last night had been proof enough of that. They didn't trust her anymore.

Which was fine. She didn't trust them right now either. But they would. When she found proof, they'd have to believe her.

"Major?" She turned, slightly startled. General Hammond was standing in the doorway of her lab.

"Sir. Good morning."

"Good morning." He walked into the room. "I heard you had a little excitement last night."

"Oh. Just a…misunderstanding," she dismissed. Obviously the colonel had gotten an early start this morning. He'd certainly wasted no time telling everyone that she was nuts.

He nodded. "SG-1's scheduled to go on a mission today."

"Yes, sir. A planetary survey if I remember correctly," she confirmed.

"I was thinking, Major, that you might want to sit this one out," he said.

"Sir?"

"You obviously had a rather short night…"

"General, I'm fine," she interrupted. "Besides, Colonel O'Neill…"

"Colonel O'Neill didn't discharge his weapon in the middle of the night," he said. "You've had a rough time lately. There's nothing wrong with taking a little time off."

"General, with all due respect…"

"That's an order, Major. You're relieved of active duty for the next few days. Sam, go home, relax. We need you here, you're too valuable for us to lose you," he said.

"Yes, sir," she mumbled. He nodded and left the room. She watched him go, fighting the sudden tears that welled up. This was no coincidence. They didn't trust her anymore, didn't want her anymore. Obviously she was still good enough to work in the lab and run their tests, but not good enough to work with them.
Fine. That's how they wanted it, that's how it'd be.

She sat down and turned on her computer. Someone was still following her. And she'd prove it to them, if it was the last thing she ever did. Since her word wasn't good enough anymore, maybe they'd all listen to her when she gave them undeniable proof.

<><><><><>

Janet stood in the doorway, frowning a bit at the sight of her friend. Sam was hunched dejected over a pile of papers. Her friend had been scarce all week, keeping mostly to herself in her lab. Right after hearing that she'd been removed from active duty, Janet had tried to check on her. She knew that it had to be a blow to the major. Especially considering that she prided herself on her commitment to her duty and her job.
Janet had tried to get her to go out, maybe dinner and movie, but her every invitation had been politely refused.

She knew from the security logs that Sam was practically living on the base, only leaving once or twice during the week. That part hadn't surprised her, she'd witnessed the behavior of team mates left behind often enough to know that they hated being left behind.

What was worrying her was Sam's behavior. She hadn't even gone to the gateroom to see her team off and Janet knew that she'd deliberately left the control room when they were due to check in. It was almost as though she was going above and beyond the call of duty to avoid any mention of her team mates.

When they'd first left, Sam had been driven, working all day to the point that Janet had threatened to sedate her to get her to sleep. Now, she seemed to have slipped from manic to depressive, her demeanor uncharacteristically quiet.

When he'd first relieved her, Janet had argued against a psych consult, thinking that, especially after all that had happened, the last thing Sam needed was a psychiatrist. Now she wondered if she'd made a horrible mistake.

"Hey," she said, deliberately keeping her tone light.

"Hey," Sam replied, barely looking up.

Janet walked over to her table. "What are you doing?" she asked casually.

Sam sighed heavily and dropped her pen. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing," she said.

"Good. Then you will have no problem making it over for dinner tonight," the doctor invited.

"Thanks, Janet. But I think I'll just go home."

"You're going to leave me to the devices of my own cooking? What kind of friend are you?" she teased.

"Not a very good one," Sam muttered. "Janet, thank you for the invitation but, I need to think some things over."

"Thinking is usually easier over a bottle of wine and dinner from Mister Wong's," the doctor cajoled.

Sam shook her head. "I'm not very good company…" The klaxons blared, announcing an incoming wormhole. "And you have SG-1's post mission's to do," she said, getting up from her seat.

Janet looked at her watch while Sam gathered her papers. Sam was right, she'd lost track of time. SG-1 was scheduled to return today. "Look, they're on time so chances are nothing's wrong. I should be done in a couple of hours. We can still…"

Sam shook her head. "I'll see you in the morning," she dismissed, hurrying from the room.

With a heavy sigh, Janet watched her leave, then hurried from the room herself, promising that she'd have more than a few words with a certain colonel.

<><><><><>

Sam sat in the center of her bed, staring at the small pile of Polaroid pictures scattered in front of her. The photos had been taken by the clean up team that had secured the facility in Russia after they'd closed down the gate. She knew it had taken a fight, but eventually the Russians had agreed to let a team from the SGC come in, to search for any more threats the Russians might not have known about.

She'd taken this file from the colonel's office and knew he would not be happy if he found out. Hopefully, she'd be lucky and would be able to get the file back into his office in the morning. Or not. Right now, she really didn't care.

She picked up one of the Polaroid's and held it up, studying it closely. She knew him. Not by name, but she'd definitely seen him before. She closed her eyes, letting memories wash over her. The sting of the dart, her knees going weak and her legs collapsing. A figure leaning over her, picking her up and carrying her away. Him laying her carelessly into the trunk of a waiting car, the street light illuminating his features. He'd done it, he'd shot her and kidnapped her, carting her off to an asylum. And the whole plan was laid out in the folders as well.

The growing dissatisfaction with Maybourne's intelligence. Colonel Sukilov hearing Svetlana Markov talking about her, the plan to remove her from the SGC and lock her away.

They'd wanted to break her, to convince her that none of it was real. Convince her that Samantha Carter wasn't real, then send her over to Russia and plumb her knowledge for their own gain. And they'd been close to doing it, another week or two and she'd have been sent away to Russia. Only they hadn't counted on the wild fire, the frantic transfer of patients to other facilities and a curious doctor.

The colonel had been right. The conspiracy had died with the Russian SGC. If they had no program, they had no use for her.

Nothing had happened in the last week, there'd been no more incursions into her lab, nothing out of the ordinary. They'd been right after all; it had all been in her mind.

She sighed and closed the files, setting them on her bedside table. Now all she had to do was convince them that she wasn't as crazy as they thought she was.

<><><><><>

Janet studied the three patients occupying her infirmary and chuckled softly. You would think after all these years, they'd have learned to stick to rations. SG-1 had returned right on time yesterday, and had seemed perfectly healthy. Until about an hour after their return. That's how long it had taken the alien bacteria in the roasted meant they'd eaten in a farewell feast to effect their systems. Even Teal'c had felt slightly ill, although not to the extremes of Colonel O'Neill, Daniel and Leslye. The three human members of SG-1 had spent the night in the infirmary, just as a precautionary measure.

Sam should be glad she missed this one, the doctor thought, knowing full well that the major hated spending time in the infirmary.

"Hey, Janet." The object of her thoughts walked through the door. She was smiling slightly and there was a bounce in her steps that she hadn't had yesterday.

"Sam. You're in a good mood," she said, frowning a bit at the 180 degree turnaround in her friend's demeanor.

"A good night's sleep will do wonders. I heard the guys were sick."

Janet nodded. "I think you'll find the colonel a little stricter on sticking to rations in the future," she said.

Sam chuckled a bit. "I've heard that before. He usually has good intentions, then we meet up with someone and all of a sudden it becomes 'eat or mortally offend'. Do you need any help?"

"Actually, yes." Janet went into her office and came out with a key. "Captain Markham has a cat who's about sixteen hours overdue for its dinner. I was going to go over there on my lunch break," Janet said. Normally, she wouldn't worry too much about a pet. But she knew the captain was going through a bit of a hard time, having recently lost her boyfriend.

Sam took the key. "Let me. I've got nothing going on right now."

"That'd be great, Sam. Thanks."

<><><><><>

Sam entered Captain Markham's apartment, keeping a careful eye out for the woman's cat. If she really stretched she could find a silver lining in this whole relieved from duty thing…at least she hadn't spent the last twelve hours puking her guts out like the rest of her team.

Making her way into the kitchen, she searched through the cabinets, finally finding the canned food and a can opener. She set the food out and freshened the water, then wandered through the apartment a bit, curious about her replacement. Temporary replacement, she amended. If Captain Markham thought she was getting Sam's job, she was the crazy one.

The apartment was sparsely decorated, the furniture rather Unitarian and institutional looking, almost as if it had come with the apartment. The walls were a creamy white and adorned only with a few travel posters. There was a lack of clutter and knick-knacks, which really didn't surprise Sam. She'd lived in a few places like this, rentals meant to be places to sleep but not a real home.

There was a small photo album on the table and she picked it up, her curiosity winning out over her sense of privacy.

She flipped through the pages, smiling a bit at the snapshots. She recognized the scenery, the pictures having been taken in the Colorado Springs area. It looked like Markham had done the usual tourist thing, exploring the area's natural attractions.

She came to a picture of a couple posing at the Royal Gorge Bridge and frowned, moving over to the window to look at it in better light. The woman had to be Markham, but the man…she recognized him.
Her mind reeling with the ramifications, she turned and hurried from the apartment.

<><><><><>

Jack tied his boot, biting back a groan as his stomach muscles ached. He hated getting sick. And he hated throwing up even worse. Any more going away barbecues like the one they'd just had, and Jack promised himself that he'd turn vegetarian. Rations. They were going to stick to rations even if he had to start an intergalactic war to do it.

He eased his feet to the floor and slowly stood up, feeling more than a little weak in the knees.

"O'Neill? Are you decently attired?"

"Yeah, T." Jack pulled back the curtain, revealing the inscrutable Jaffa. "There are times, not many of them, but, there are times when I envy you junior," he said, rolling his eyes at his healthy looking teammate.
"Daniel, Markham, you two decent?"

"Yeah."

"Yes, sir." Two curtains were pulled back revealing the other two ailing members. Jack could at least take comfort in the fact that they both looked a little ragged around the edges.

"Let's get this briefing taken care of so I can go home and be miserable in front of a 36 inch TV," Jack said.

"You bitch!" Sam yelled, storming into the infirmary. She tossed a couple of items onto a bed and pushed a startled Markham up against the wall. "Just how far were you going to go?"

"Carter!"

"Sam!"

"Do you know what it was like? Do you? Did he pay you or did you just do it for love?" she demanded, punctuating her request by shoving the woman into the wall.

"Stand down, Major!" Jack ordered as Teal'c pulled a struggling Sam off the captain. The woman slumped against the wall, one hand rubbing her throat. "What the hell is going on?" he demanded.

"She did it," Sam said, her eyes glittering with rage.

"Did what?"

"She helped him," Sam said, trying to free herself from Teal'c's iron grasp.

"I didn't do anything," Leslye protested, accepting Daniel's helping hand.

"What's going on here?" Janet demanded. "Sam?"

"The man that took me, she helped him," Sam accused.

"You said you did not remember your abduction," Teal'c said.

"I didn't."

"Then how can you…"

"Until I saw the pictures of the bodies from the Russian base. I recognized a face."

"Why didn't you say anything?" Jack asked.

"You already knew it was the Russians. What did it matter if I knew which dead Russian did it?" she asked bitterly. "Anyway, you thought I was nuts, who was going to believe me."

"Sam," Daniel said. "I still don't see how this is Leslye's fault."

"She's finally gone crazy," the captain whispered, ignoring Jack's piercing look.

Sam turned her head to face Janet. "You asked me to feed her cat. While I was there, I poked around…"

"You did what?"

"You had no right to go through my stuff," Leslye protested.

"She had a picture of him, of the man that attacked me. She knows him," Sam accused, no longer struggling but still held firm in Teal'c's grip.

"I don't know anyone." Leslye lunged towards the small album, only to come up empty handed when Daniel beat her to it.

"Which picture?" he asked Sam.

"Royal Gorge, fourth, fifth one in," Sam said. "The Polaroid of the body's in there too."

"That's mine. You have no right to look through it." She made another grab for the book, missing it as Daniel maneuvered out of her way.

He found the right picture and frowned, studying it intensely. He then pulled out the Polaroid and placed the two side by side, trying to see the similarities between a smiling tanned man and the pale corpse.

"Maybourne wasn't the only leak," Sam said. "Someone else in this place had to be feeding him information. Duty rosters, mission reports. She transferred here three months ago, right before it all started."

"A lot of people started here then. That doesn't mean a thing," Leslye said. "Colonel O'Neill, she's just jealous that I'm on the team now and she isn't," she pleaded.

"Or she's right," Daniel said. He walked to Jack and held the pictures out to him. "They look like the same person to me."

Jack took the two items, trying to push his personal feelings aside and look at them objectively. The two men did bear a certain resemblance, but they didn't look exactly alike. Of course, differences could be easily explained by the different surroundings, Colorado in the summer, and Russia in the middle of winter. A person's looks could change a lot in that length of time. He desperately wanted to give Sam his complete trust. But what if she was wrong? What if these two men were just near twins? He couldn't let her wreck Markham's career on her accusation alone. And Carter's career too if this all went to court-martial. The stakes were too high to trust his gut only. "Teal'c, take Carter to your quarters and keep her there, tie her up if she gives you any grief. Markham, you are confined to quarters until we figure this all out." He waved the SF into the room. "He'll make sure you stay there. Either of you give us any trouble and I'll have you both locked up in the brig."

Both women were led away, leaving Jack alone with Janet and Daniel. "Now what?" Daniel asked.

"Now I go make Hammond's day," Jack answered, staring again at the pictures in his hands.

<><><><><>

Teal'c sat on the floor, watching his team mate pace, as she had non-stop for most of the last two hours they'd both been waiting O'Neill's further orders. "Physical exertion does not make time pass more quickly," he said to her.

She stopped pacing and looked down at him, a rueful expression on her face. "I screwed up, Teal'c," she said, pushing her hands through her hair.

"Do you speak of searching Captian Markham's domicile or assaulting her in the infirmary?"

"I should have just went to the General and asked his help," she said, sinking dejected down to the floor.

"Why did you not do that?"

"I…she…" Sam paused, clearly struggling to put her thoughts into words, still clearly upset. "She stole my life. They put me in that….place and then she just walked in and took my place and…she had no right!"

"No, she did not," he agreed. "However, there is the possibility that she was as much a victim in this as you are."

Sam shook her head. "There have been other things. I'd come into work in the morning and someone had been rearranging things in my lab. I thought I was going crazy." She looked him in the eyes. "Then nothing happened while you guys were gone."

"Why did you not say anything prior to this?"

"Everyone already thought I was crazy. I tried to tell the colonel the night someone tried to break in…he…"

"Did not believe you?"

"No. Although I really didn't try to convince him too hard." She sighed heavily, clearly defeated. "What am I gonna do, Teal'c?"

"You should not underestimate O'Neill and General Hammond," he advised.

She shook her head slowly. "Even if I'm right, I shouldn't have….attacked her like that."

"If Captain Markham had indeed perpetrated such an act against me, I would not have reacted as you did," he said, causing her to look up sharply. "I would have killed her on the spot."

As he had intended, she chuckled slightly, her dark mood alleviated a bit. The door opened and she started, scrambling to her feet. Teal'c also stood up, moving to stand at her side. "Sir?" she asked as O'Neill walked into the room.

"Come on," he said, stepping back.

"Colonel?"

"We'll discuss it in Hammond's office," he said, his tone brooking no further conversation.

Teal'c heard her sigh once, then straighten her shoulders. Silently they made their way down the hall and to General Hammond's office. Captain Markham was already there, seated in one of the chairs and Daniel stood with his back pressed against the window.

"Sir." Sam stood in front of the general's desk, her back straight and her face a bland mask.

"At ease, Major." Hammond waved her towards the other chair and she slowly sat down, pointedly ignoring Markham, who looked at her nervously. "I trust we're not going to have a repeat performance of what happened in the infirmary?"

"No, sir," Sam answered quietly.

Hammond nodded. "We sent a forensics team to Captain Markham's apartment. They found no evidence that anyone else had lived there." Sam's face fell. "However, they did find several sets of fingerprints that matched those of the dead Russian."

"Sir?"

"The cleanup team took fingerprints of all the bodies in an attempt to identify them. One of those sets of prints belonged to Markham's late boyfriend," O'Neill explained.

"I didn't know what they were going to do," Markham spoke up. "You have to believe me, Major. I didn't know what they'd done until just now. Everyone thought you'd just taken time off."

"You followed me. You searched my lab," Sam accused.

"Everyone was talking and they knew that there had to be an inside source. And you disappeared right after the Russian program started so I thought…"

"You thought I was the spy," Sam concluded. She nodded.

"We think this Sergi tapped into Leslye's computer. She used to get e-mail from him and we found a program on her hard drive that allowed for remote access," Daniel said.

"That's how the Russians were getting the schedules. They just downloaded whatever they wanted to know," O'Neill said.

"I've informed the Joint Chiefs and Captain Markham is willing to surrender to their authority. There is the small matter of the altercation in the infirmary…" Hammond said.

"I'm sorry," Sam interrupted. "I should have spoke to the general first but…"

"You were mad at me," Markham said.

"Yeah."

"I'm not pressing charges, General. If the major had done to me what I did to her…I'd be angry too. Besides, nothing really happened."

"Very well. In light of recent events, I'm postponing your mission report another twenty-four hours. The JAG officers should be here within the hour and I expect all of you to make yourselves available to them. Dismissed."

<><><><><>

Sam stepped out of the briefing room, taking a moment to lean against the wall, scrubbing her face with her hands. That was two hours of her life she was in no hurry to repeat. The two JAG officers had listened to her, and at least had the courtesy not to laugh in her face.

Most of it had sounded petty to her, trying to equate treason with rearranged desk drawers and changed screen savers. Her little 'vacation' hadn't come up, all parties agreeing that Sam recognizing the pictures was enough without bringing kidnapping into it.

It was over. Really and finally over. The lawyers didn't think anything too horrible would happen to the captain, especially since she was as much a victim as Sam in the whole thing. The one thing she was really guilty of was bad judgment. Chances were, she'd be transferred to a less sensitive facility, although Sam knew the captain's career would be forever haunted by her misjudgment.

"All done?" She looked up to see the rest of her team walking down the hall.

"Yes, sir. They're talking to the general now," she said, pushing herself away from the wall. "They said, chances are, Markham will just get transferred, maybe have her clearance knocked down a peg or two."

"That's good," Daniel said. "At least I guess that's good."

"Could be worse," Jack said. "We were going to go get some dinner," he invited. "Want to come?"

"Umm." She paused for a moment. She really wanted to go home, take a long hot bath and relax. But to do that, she'd have to be alone. And being alone is part of what got her into this whole mess in the first place.
"Sure. It sounds good," she said, falling into step as they turned, heading back towards the elevators. She could be alone later. "What did you guys have in mind?"

Jack swiped his card, summoning the elevator. "We were just discussing it."

"Arguing is more like it," Daniel said.

"Discussing is not arguing," Jack protested.

"It's arguing when you raise your voice," he said loudly.

The elevator arrived with a ping. "We, as of yet, had not reached a concensus, Major Carter," Teal'c said. "Perhaps you would like to choose?"

Sam stepped into the elevator, biting back a grin at her two bickering team mates. "You know, there is something I'm absolutely craving," she said as the door started to close.

Jack shrugged. "Lady's choice," he said. "Anything but…."

"Barbecue," Sam interrupted.

"…That," Jack finished.

"Sir?"

"I wanted pizza," Jack groused

"We always have pizza," Daniel said.

"No we don't."

"Yes, sir, we do," Sam said.

Jack looked to Teal'c who merely raised his eyebrow. "I like pizza."

"You did say lady's choice, O'Neill" Teal'c reminded.

"I didn't think she'd choose that," Jack whined.

"What'd you think she'd choose?"

"Pizza," Jack said, leading the way as the elevator arrived at level 11.

"Ok," Sam said, signing out and summoning the second elevator to the surface. "We'll have pizza…at my place," she invited.

"At your place?" Jack asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Sure. It's been a while since you guys have been over," she said, shrugging slightly. "And anyway, I have a new front door that needs to be hung."

~Fin~

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