“O’Neill.”

“Colonel Jack O’Neill?” The voice on the other end of the phone was young, female, and very nervous. “Jack O’Neill of Stargate Command, the commanding officer of SG-1?”

There was a brief silence as Colonel Jack O’Neill, silver-haired and handsome, stood with the phone in his hand and a slightly bemused expression on his face. “Who’s asking?” He questioned finally.

“My name is Addie Chevalier, Colonel, and I - I don’t blame you if you don’t trust me. I guess I wouldn’t either, in your shoes. But please, you have to believe me. You remember Martin Lloyd, right?”

“Yes,” Jack replied cautiously.

“I’ve gotten to know him, Colonel, and before you jump to conclusions, it’s not like he tells everybody he knows about the Stargate program. He’s in trouble, Colonel O’Neill - very serious trouble. There is an agency called, I believe, the N.I.D? They’re after him. He’s being watched 24-7 and he didn’t feel there was any way to reach you other than through me. I befriended him on the set of one of his shows and I guess he knew he could trust me.” The young woman on the other end of the phone was talking very quickly, as if to get in as much as she could before being cut off. She still sounded scared.

“He told you all this ... and you believed him?”

“Yes. He proved to me that his story was true, Colonel O’Neill, and I saw for myself how much trouble he’s in. He said you were the only person he could trust. Sir, he really needs your help.”

Jack O’Neill sighed, not quite sure whether to believe this young, frightened voice who had interrupted his paperwork on a completely ordinary Friday afternoon. The story sounded a little off, but he knew the N.I.D was capable of almost anything, and that they’d love to get their hands on a real, live alien like geeky Martin Lloyd. “Okay, Miss Chevalier, what exactly do you want me to do?”

She gave him a meeting place fairly close to the mountain and added, “If you could meet me within thirty minutes, sir, that would be great. Martin doesn’t have much time. He’s really gotten himself into it this time.”

After the young woman claiming to be Miss Chevalier hung up, Jack sat in silence for a moment, staring at the phone. Well, that was unusual. Nothing like SOS calls from old alien friends to make a day interesting, eh? He headed down to Carter’s lab, where she was undoubtedly in Heaven, studying some new really cool doohickey they’d brought back from their last mission.

The door was open, but he knocked on it anyway before stepping inside. “Hey, Carter.”

Completely engrossed in her research, O’Neill’s beautiful 2IC barely even looked up. “Hi, Sir.”

“I just got a really weird call.” Jack started fiddling with some undoubtedly very fragile piece of technology he found lying on Carter’s desk. “From some girl who said her name was Addie Chevalier. She knew about the Stargate Program, and that I’m the CO of SG-1.” Carter’s thingamajig had lost its allure; she was looking intently at her commanding officer’s face now.

“How, sir?” Carter asked the obvious question.

Jack blew out a long breath. “According to her, she befriended Martin Lloyd on the set of one of his shows, and he got her to contact me because he’s in trouble - the N.I.D’s after him. She wants me to meet her within half an hour.”

“You think she’s telling the truth?”

“No way of knowing that, Carter. She sounded sincere - and scared, plenty scared. Guess there’s only one way to find out. I’m gonna go meet her and find out what Martin’s gotten himself into, but I’ll keep an eye out in case there’s trouble.”

“You want me to come with you, sir?” Carter stood up immediately, not liking the idea of her CO going into a potentially dangerous situation without any backup. Sometimes it was easy to forget that he had once been in Black Ops and could hold his own in almost any type of dangerous situation, backup or no.

“Nah. Carter, I want you to see what you can find out about Martin Lloyd - where he’s been lately, whether he really does seem to be in trouble. I also want you to look up Addie Chevalier for me, see if the puzzle fits. Call me on my cell as soon as you find anything out.”

Carter nodded, but couldn’t quite wipe the anxious look off her face. She didn’t like the situation any more than O’Neill did - if the young woman had been telling the truth and Martin was being pursued by the N.I.D, this was a sticky mess, and if for some reason the girl was lying and attempting to lure O’Neill into some type of trap, the mess was undoubtedly even stickier.

Jack glanced at his watch - he really should get going, but before he did, he wanted to know one thing. “Where’s Daniel?”

“Last I knew, he was in his lab, working on translating the alien text we found on P9R-888.” Jack had absolutely no idea which planet P9R-888 was and could only assume it was the last planet they’d visited, almost a week ago. Teal’c was off visiting his son, not due back for a couple of days.

“Okay.” O’Neill nodded. “I guess I’m off to see the wizard.” He gave her a slight grin. “If I’m not back in a couple of days, you could always ... I dunno ... send Siler after me or somethin’.”

“Yes, sir.” Carter couldn’t resist a smile. “I’ll do that.”

Twenty-one minutes after his first contact with Addie Chevalier, Colonel Jack O’Neill pulled up at the meeting place she’d assigned. He spotted her immediately - she was black-haired, petite, and somewhat pretty, with skin the color of caramel and very dark brown eyes. She also looked extremely nervous.

“Colonel O’Neill?” She rushed up to him the moment he stepped out of his truck, then hesitated. “I’m - I’m Addie Chevalier.”

“So I figured,” he replied, his eyes searching the mostly empty street behind the young woman. No signs of a trap yet, but he wasn’t letting down his guard just yet. Too many years of dealing with aliens and non-aliens who were dead set on killing him at all costs, he thought.

Addie, who couldn’t possibly have been more than eighteen years old, took a deep breath and started to launch into another long-winded explanation just as Jack’s cell phone rang. He gave her an apologetic smile. “I’ll try to make it short,” he promised. “Could you just hang on a sec?” He stepped out of her earshot and answered. “Yeah?”

“Colonel?” It was Major Carter, sounding concerned and slightly out of breath. From the background noise he could tell that she was in a vehicle. “I looked up Martin Lloyd, sir. He’s nowhere near here and seems to be doing just fine. But what really caught my attention, sir, was when I looked up Addie Chevalier. She doesn’t exist.”

“Are you sure? I’m looking at her right now,” Jack replied wryly.

“You may be looking at a girl claiming to be named Addie Chevalier, sir, but that’s not her name,” Carter said seriously. “And I’d be willing to bet she doesn’t know Martin Lloyd. There’s something else going on here. Daniel and I are on our way over.”

“All right, Major. I haven’t sensed any danger yet - she seems to be alone and I don’t think she’s armed. I’d just like to know why exactly she’s here, how she knows what she knows, and who sent her.” He knew he couldn’t rule out the possibility that the seemingly innocent young woman was in fact being used by the N.I.D itself.

Disconnecting from his conversation with Carter, Jack turned back to the young woman claiming to be Addie Chevalier; she was watching him with an intent expression on her face, and to his surprise, she smiled, all traces of nervousness disappearing. “You’ve figured me out, have you? I anticipated that you’d have someone research my background. The whole ‘Martin Lloyd’s in trouble’ thing was my cover story - just a way to get you here.”

“Okay.” Jack shrugged expressively. “I’m here. So what do you want? Who sent you?”

“I need help,” she responded promptly, “and nobody sent me.”

Oh, that helps a lot, Jack thought sarcastically. Everything’s crystal clear now. I mean, I meet teenagers who know about the SGC every day! It’s a completely common occurrence!

“All right, before I commit to helping you or shooting you or anything else drastic, let’s start at the beginning, Miss Chevalier.” He emphasized her fake name. “How exactly do you know about the Stargate program?”

“It’s something of a long story, Colonel.” She smiled, displaying straight white teeth. She was pretty, but Jack couldn’t help thinking that the smile didn’t quite reach her dark brown eyes. Her gaze moved beyond him, and she added, “Maybe your friends can help you figure that out. Major Samantha Carter and Dr. Daniel Jackson, I assume?”

The blond Major and the brown-haired doctor of archaeology moved to stand beside Jack, carefully regarding the young woman facing them. Carter was the first to react. With a sudden gasp, she drew her gun and pointed it directly at the girl’s chest. Prompted by Colonel O’Neill’s questioning glance, Carter explained her actions.

“Sir - she’s a Goa’uld!”

The young woman’s reaction to Carter’s words was nothing short of utter annoyance. “I am not a Goa’uld,” she replied coolly. “I have a symbiote. There is a difference, Major Carter, as I’m sure you and your father know.” A slight smile touched her face. “I am, in fact, a Tok’ra.”

Sam’s pistol didn’t waver. “We’re supposed to believe that?”

The woman shrugged. “I can see why you’d doubt me, I suppose. My name is Katare and my symbiote is Da’ri, and if you’re wondering why I took a symbiote while still so young, it’s because I became deathly ill with a disease native to my home planet when I was thirteen. I was given the option of choosing a symbiote over death; I took the symbiote. That was four years ago and I’ve been working with the Tok’ra ever since.”

Carter still didn’t look convinced, so Katare continued with her story.

“Three days ago a man named Zerane transported himself to your planet using the same Asgard beaming technology employed by Osiris when she manipulated your dreams, Dr. Jackson.” She looked straight into Daniel’s eyes. “Zerane had been working with the Tok’ra for more than two years and we only recently became aware that he was a Goa’uld spy, a spy who had learned some very sensitive information.”

“And you were sent after him?” Sam was still pointing the gun and by her tone of voice, wasn’t convinced by Katare’s story.

Katare nodded. “Yes, Major Carter. It was our intention to dispose of Zerane quickly, with no need to alarm the people of your world, but he has proven quite adept at hiding among your people. When I finally admitted to my Tok’ra contact that I was not going to be able to apprehend Zerane by myself, he advised me to contact Colonel O’Neill.”

Jack took off his cap and ran his fingers through his silvering hair, exasperation clear on his face. “So I don’t suppose the Tok’ra found it necessary to inform us when a Goa’uld spy got loose on our planet? And what’s with the Martin Lloyd story? Why didn’t you just tell me the truth?”

Katare smiled again. “I didn’t tell you the truth, Colonel O’Neill, because I didn’t think you would believe me enough to come meet with me, and it appears that I was right.” The smile faded. “As I have mentioned before, we wished to dispose of Zerane quickly, and ... ” she shook her head slightly. “It is not the way of the Tok’ra to inform others, even their allies, of problems they feel are theirs alone.”

“Oh, don’t we know that,” Jack muttered under his breath, livid not for the first time at the sneaky “allies” who had hidden so much from them in the past.

“For this I apologize, Colonel O’Neill, but I had to find some way to get you here, and preferably your team with you. Zerane is in this area - very close, I am almost certain. Whether you believe my story or not, you must help me capture him.”

“Oh, no.” Jack shook his head emphatically. “We aren’t helping you do anything until we’ve contacted the Tok’ra and verified your story.”

She looked exasperated and angry. “Colonel O’Neill, I don’t think you understand just how much of a threat Zerane is to your people! Can you, in good conscience, allow a Goa’uld spy to run loose upon the face of your planet? I am not asking you to kill him, merely to capture him!”

“Katare,” Daniel said, speaking to her for the first time. He had a thoughtful expression on his face. “How can we be sure that you aren’t the Goa’uld spy and Zerane isn’t the Tok’ra searching for you? I mean, we have absolutely no proof other than your word.”

Katare was becoming more and more exasperated. “That is why I’m not asking you to kill anyone! After you have aided me in the capture of Zerane I will be happy to return to the SGC with you, in handcuffs if you so desire. I am willing to remain in a holding cell until you have contacted the Tok’ra and verified my story, but please, you must not allow Zerane to escape!” Her conviction was obvious.

Jack hesitated for a moment, obviously thoughtful, weighing the pros and cons of the options before him. Sam, caught between belief and disbelief, had lowered her gun slightly and was mulling over the situation when Katare spotted something behind O’Neill and her dark eyes flew wide, then flashed as Da’ri took over.

“Colonel, look out!” She jumped at him, shoving him off balance just as the sound of two gunshots split the air. O’Neill and Katare hit the pavement at the same time just as Major Carter returned fire, hitting the gunman fatally twice in the chest. He collapsed, his eyes glowing briefly, then fading back to normal as both host and symbiote died. Zerane, Sam realized as she rushed to O’Neill and the young woman who had saved his life.

Jack had hit his head on the pavement and was slightly dazed, but the bullets had missed him. Katare was not so lucky. She had been hit by both bullets, once in the chest and once in the stomach. It was obvious that the damage was too severe for even a symbiote to repair. The young woman was dying.

Her eyes opened, then flashed, establishing that the symbiote, Da’ri, was now speaking for her badly injured host. “Colonel O’Neill,” she said haltingly in the distorted symbiote voice. “I am sorry.” She stared straight into his eyes, her gaze unflinching. “I fear the damage is too severe for me to heal. My host is dying.” There was an appeal behind the words.

“No.” Jack shook his head in response to the symbiote’s unspoken request. “No, no, no!”

“Jack!” Daniel sounded more sympathetic to the Tok’ra symbiote’s plight. “She just saved your life; I think she proved herself. We can’t just let her die like this.”

“Well, what are we going to do, Daniel?” Jack fixed the linguist with an icy stare. “Stop one of the people walking by and ask, ‘Pardon, would you like to become host to a Tok’ra symbiote? We’ve got one right here if you want it!’ ”

“Jaaack ... ”

“Daniel!”

Katare’s breathing was becoming faint and labored. “I understand,” Da’ri whispered weakly, “if none of you wishes to become a temporary host. My mission here has been completed. I have done what I was sent to do.”

Daniel’s face set in an expression of determination, his wordless resolve strong enough that Jack picked it up right away. “Daniel, no. No!”

“Jack!” Daniel shot back. “It’s not like I’m making a permanent commitment! It’s just until another host can be found. I promise.” He was shaking slightly but he’d obviously made up his mind. “We can’t just let her die,” he added, his voice softening. “Jack, you know we can’t just let her die.”

Jack chewed on his lip, his expression telling of the conflict going on inside his head. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want Daniel to become a host - such an ugly word, host. But it didn’t look like he had much choice - Daniel had made up his mind, and Jack couldn’t very well stop him considering that Da’ri had saved his life and he owed her.

“Okay,” he said, his voice barely a whisper, then turned away, unable to watch.

However temporary it may be, Dr. Daniel Jackson was about to become host to a Tok’ra symbiote.

Daniel didn’t regain consciousness until after he had been returned to the SGC, along with the dead Goa’uld, Zerane, and the body of Katare, Da’ri’s former host.

Daniel had just been taken to the infirmary when his eyes opened and glowed white, causing Jack, who had been leaning over his unconscious friend, to jump back so suddenly that he hit his already sore head on the wall.

“I understand your discomfort at my presence, Colonel O’Neill,” Da’ri’s distorted voice said somewhat wryly. “I assure you I will leave Dr. Jackson as soon as another host is found.”

“You’d damn well better,” Jack muttered, then demanded, “Let me talk to Daniel!”

The familiar blue eyes returned to normal and took on a slightly bewildered expression. “Jack?” Daniel whispered hoarsely.

“Daniel.” Jack knew he should be mad, but he felt concerned instead. “How are you feeling?”

Daniel cleared his throat, and his voice was stronger when he replied, “Weird. But okay.” He hesitated for a moment, cocking his head slightly sideways, as he seemed to listen to something Da’ri was saying. “It feels really, really ... odd to be sharing my head with someone else.”

“You can tell what she’s thinking, right, Daniel? Is she telling us the truth?” Sam still felt uneasy about the whole affair.

Daniel’s expression was one of absolute certainty. “Yes, she’s definitely who she says she is. She’s really sad about losing Katare, Jack. You wouldn’t believe how attached a symbiote can get to her host.”

“Colonel O’Neill?” General Hammond appeared in the room, his eyes rapidly sweeping the scene. “Care to tell me what’s going on here? I was told you’d brought in a dead Goa’uld spy, as well as the deceased Tok’ra who was hunting him.”

“Yes, sir.” Jack nodded. “Long story short, sir - the girl I told you about, the one claiming to be a friend of Martin Lloyd, was actually the Tok’ra. She wanted me to help her hunt down the Goa’uld, but he hunted us down first. The Tok’ra saw him, I didn’t, she took two bullets for me. Daniel,” he glared at the younger man, “being the good guy he is, offered a temporary home to the Tok’ra symbiote so she wouldn’t die along with her host, and here we are.”

Daniel looked slightly guilty. “I’m sorry, General, but there wasn’t much time and I couldn’t come up with a better plan.”

Hammond looked slightly shell-shocked. “Dr. Jackson, you mean to tell me you are now the host to a Tok’ra symbiote?”

“Yes, sir, but it’s only temporary. Just until another host can be found.”

“Sir, I suggest we try to contact the Tok’ra right away,” Sam put in. General Hammond nodded his agreement.

Dr. Janet Fraiser bustled into the room, having just completed her treatment of an injured member of SG-7. She was given the abbreviated version of recent events, and she quickly showed everyone out of the room so she could examine her patient - or was it her patients?

“He’s perfectly healthy, sir,” Dr. Fraiser announced to General Hammond some twenty minutes later. “He seems to be dealing with it well and I honestly don’t see any reason to keep him in the infirmary.”

The General turned to Daniel, who had on his best pleading puppy dog face in an attempt to secure his release. Symbiote or no symbiote, the man was still unmistakably Daniel Jackson, Hammond thought with an inward smile.

“All right, Dr. Jackson, you may leave the infirmary, but you’re not to exit the compound,” General Hammond said. “We haven’t managed to contact the Tok’ra yet, but we’re going to keep trying.”

“Yes!” Daniel hopped off the bed he’d been sitting on, grinning happily. “Maybe now I can finally finish that translation from P9R-888. I bet Da’ri can help me with it; I think the language is related to Goa’uld.” Without further ado he made a beeline straight for his lab.

It was late - later than Jack had intended to stay up - when he finally completed the paperwork he’d started just before Katare had called. Whistling softly and tunelessly to himself, Jack headed out into the deserted corridor. He still wasn’t entirely happy with the situation - hell, his best friend had a snake in his head, how could he be happy? - but as long as they found another host reasonably soon, everything would be all right. The Tok’ra still hadn’t responded to the Tau’ri attempts to contact them, which was beginning to get on Jack’s nerves.

“Hey, Jack, wait up!”

Jack turned, somewhat surprised to see Daniel jogging down the corridor behind him. He would have thought Daniel would be in bed in one of the VIP rooms by now, but evidently the archaeologist/linguist had stayed up late working on his precious translation. What else was new?

“You going home?” Daniel enquired, stopping just before he reached O’Neill.

“Yeah.” Jack nodded. “I do still have time to get a few hours of sleep, you know.” He turned his back toward Daniel and took a few more steps toward the elevator before a soft click froze him in his tracks. With prickles running up and down his spine, he slowly turned back toward his friend.

Daniel stood, his expression completely unreadable, facing O’Neill from a distance of five or six feet. He was holding a pistol, its barrel pointed straight at Jack’s chest. Numbly, the Colonel took in the silencer screwed onto the end of the barrel.

“Daniel?” He said softly. Jackson’s eyes glowed in response.

Not Daniel. Da’ri.

“Goodbye, Jack,” the symbiote said quietly, and Dr. Daniel Jackson fired two silenced shots into the chest of his best friend.

He really should get a new bed.

His mattress had been in bad shape for a while, but he didn’t remember it being this hard. It felt cold under his cheek, too, cold and smooth, almost like ...

A floor.

Maybe I rolled off the bed, he thought hopefully, knowing all along it wasn’t true. He had carpet in his room. This was somewhere else entirely, and if he was lying on the floor, the situation couldn’t be good.

His clothes were wet.

Soaked completely through, actually, with a wetness too sticky to be water, and it didn’t smell like coffee. How in the hell would he have ended up unconscious on the floor in a puddle of coffee, anyway? No, it made much more sense for the liquid to be blood.

Which meant that something had gone horribly wrong.

Trying to force his fuzzy mind to focus, Jack went over the events of the previous day. Paperwork, he’d been doing paperwork. The phone had rung; that girl, a friend of Martin Lloyd ... no, not a friend of Martin Lloyd, a Tok’ra.

Memory hit him like a physical blow.

Not Tok’ra.

Goa’uld.

And now she had Daniel.

By all rights, Jack knew he should be dead. Somehow he had survived two shots to the chest at close range, but if the size of the puddle he was lying in was any indication, he wouldn’t be cheating death much longer.

The snake in Daniel’s head - Da’ri, if that was really her name - would try to escape through the Stargate. Of this Jack had no doubt, and he was certain of one thing: they had to stop her. Because if she got away, she took Dr. Daniel Jackson with her, and Jack was damned if he was going to let that happen.

Slowly, cursing in a low monotone at the tearing agony in his chest, Colonel Jack O’Neill began to crawl.

Da’ri had planned her escape carefully - she quietly and efficiently chloroformed everyone she met on her way to the ’gate room. An announcement of “unscheduled offworld activation” before she reached level 28 gave her cause for some concern, and she searched the mind of Dr. Daniel Jackson to determine whether any teams were due back. It was with some irritation that she realized he didn’t know.

So far the plan was working flawlessly and it had to remain that way. She disabled the technicians around the dialing computer, then began dialing the address of her destination, a Goa’uld home world. By the time anyone still conscious could reach the ’gate room, Da’ri would be long gone, taking with her the brilliant mind and extensive knowledge of Daniel Jackson. What an asset he could prove to be.

Chevron seven locked with a solid ‘thunk’ and the event horizon was formed, shimmering beautifully, waiting for Da’ri to cross through. Smiling, knowing that her plan had succeeded and that she would be greatly rewarded for that success, Da’ri turned ...

... and was immediately rendered unconscious by a single shot from a zat’n’ktel.

Teal’c, having arrived back early from visiting his son, had sensed something wrong from the moment DanielJackson had stalked purposefully into the room, even though he was not close enough to detect the presence of the symbiote.

Rather than going forward to greet his Tau’ri friend, Teal’c had hid himself from view and watched in silence as Dr. Jackson rendered everyone in sight unconscious, then began dialing an unfamiliar address.

By the time the wormhole was established, the Jaffa had made his way close enough to Daniel to realize that the young Tau’ri scholar was being controlled by a Goa’uld. There had been no time to puzzle over the mystery of DanielJackson being taken over by a symbiote on his own world; Teal’c had done the only thing he knew to do.

He had lifted his zat’n’ktel and incapacitated both Da’ri and DanielJackson with a single shot.

“This isn’t working,” Jack O’Neill informed the wall, his breath coming in ragged gasps. So far he had traveled a whopping ten feet and his strength, if he had ever had any, was waning rapidly.

Painfully turning his head to see how far he’d come, Jack took in the large, congealing pool of blood where he’d lain and the smeared red streak where he had crawled. So much blood. He really should be dead by now.

Guess you’re on your own, Danny, he thought regretfully just before the world spun away.

After securing DanielJackson well enough that not even the strength of a Goa’uld could free him, Teal’c set out in search of answers in general and Colonel Jack O’Neill in specific. He wanted to know what had happened and how DanielJackson had come to host a Goa’uld.

At this time of night, there were not many people left at the SGC, and it appeared that DanielJackson - or rather, the Goa’uld controlling DanielJackson - had succeeded in rendering most if not all of them unconscious. Teal’c expected to find O’Neill lying on the floor, unconscious from the effects of chloroform, just like everyone else.

What he found was much more horrific.

Jack O’Neill was lying facedown on the cold floor, barely drawing breath, his lips and fingernails turning blue from lack of blood, his face clammy to the touch. He was dying, and the only people who knew how to save him were all unconscious.

Resolving to do whatever was necessary to bring the medical personnel out of their chloroform-induced unconsciousness, Teal’c lifted the limp, bloody form of O’Neill into his arms and headed for the infirmary as fast as he could go.

Beth Anderson did not want to wake up.

She was having a nice dream, a really, really nice dream, about the drop-dead gorgeous guy who had moved in next door two weeks ago. She tried very hard to ignore the persistent voice telling her she must awaken, which she later regretted, because the owner of the voice gave up trying to talk her awake and dumped a large glass of ice-cold water in her face.

She gasped, spluttered and opened her eyes. Being doused in ice water was not a nice way to awaken, and it was even worse when the first thing you saw was a very large, frowning Jaffa with blood all over his clothes.

“Mr. Teal’c!” Beth scrambled to her feet, aware that her head was pounding, she was dizzy, and there was an extremely disgusting taste in her mouth. She had been transferred to the SGC nearly two months ago, but she still felt very intimidated by Teal’c.

“O’Neill has been injured very seriously, NurseAnderson,” Teal’c said - Beth hadn’t realized he even knew her name. She struggled to make her mind focus - Colonel O’Neill? Injured? At this time of night? She got a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Beth wouldn’t have admitted it, but she had quite a crush on O’Neill, who was possibly the only man she’d ever met who was more gorgeous than the new guy next door.

When she saw the Colonel, the pounding in Beth’s head was immediately forgotten and she set to work attempting to stabilize the patient. It was a miracle he was still alive. Don’t die, Colonel O’Neill, Beth pleaded inwardly, feeling panicked when she realized the rest of the infirmary staff was unconscious.

Knowing that the nurse would need help if she was to save O’Neill’s life, Teal’c set to work reviving the other medical personnel the same way he had awakened Beth, filling and refilling the water glass he’d found.

“We need Dr. Fraiser, and she isn’t due in for several hours!” Beth called to Teal’c as she worked over Jack’s limp and failing form.

“Are you aware of DoctorFraiser’s home telephone number?” Teal’c questioned. Beth gave it to him, and he left to find a phone, hoping with all his heart that O’Neill would hang on until the doctor arrived.

“H’lo?” Janet Fraiser mumbled sleepily, glancing at her clock. It was more than two hours before her alarm went off and she desperately hoped the call was just a wrong number.

“DoctorFraiser.” The petite doctor immediately recognized Teal’c’s voice. “You are needed immediately at the SGC. O’Neill has been very severely injured.”

Squashing the phone between her face and shoulder, Janet jumped out of bed and scrambled for clothes and shoes. “What happened, Teal’c?” She asked as she tugged a shirt over her head, her mind reeling with the possibilities. Colonel O’Neill, severely injured at this time of night? Maybe an accident of some kind?

There was a brief hesitation on the other end. “I am not entirely certain,” the Jaffa said finally. “I have just returned from visiting Ryac and Bra’tac, and O’Neill was injured when I arrived. He appeared to have been shot and had lost a great deal of blood.”

Janet finished tying her left shoe and headed for the door. “I’m on my way, Teal’c,” she said before hanging up the phone and yelling a brief explanation to a groggy Cassie.

She broke every speed limit in existence on her way to the SGC.

Teal’c heard alarms begin to sound and waited for the usual announcement of “Unauthorized offworld activation!”, only to remember that all the people who usually said that were currently unconscious. Reluctantly, he left the infirmary and headed toward the ’gate room, arriving just before the wormhole had been established. He might have considered closing the iris if not for the fact that he had no idea how to.

There was no need to close the iris, however; the Tok’ra signal was readily recognized and several moments later the familiar form of Anise stepped through. “Teal’c,” she said, bowing her head briefly in greeting. “I have been told that the people of the Tau’ri have been attempting to contact the Tok’ra. How can I provide assistance?”

Teal’c did not beat around the bush. “I have just returned from visiting my son and I do not know the details surrounding the incident, but it appears that DanielJackson has been taken over by a Goa’uld symbiote.”

“On this planet? How could this possibly have happened?” Anise questioned, becoming somewhat agitated; she had long had a crush on the handsome Dr. Jackson. Her head bowed briefly and the host, Freya, who was somewhat calmer, took over.

“I apologize for Anise,” the host said in her much softer voice. “She has become quite fond of Dr. Jackson. Have you managed to capture the Goa’uld?” She cast a glance at the area around the dialing computer, which was still littered with unconscious bodies. Obviously the symbiote had managed to do some damage.

Teal’c nodded. “Yes, the Goa’uld is currently being kept in a holding cell, but he did accomplish his goal of inflicting damage before his capture. The personnel you see are merely unconscious, but O’Neill was very severely injured.”

At this point Freya, who was a bit more than fond of O’Neill, panicked and the symbiote took back over, not bothering to apologize for her host. “Is his condition currently serious?” Anise asked.

“I am afraid so. He has two wounds from a Tau’ri weapon and has lost a great deal of blood.”

“The Tau’ri do still possess a healing device, do they not?” The Tok’ra questioned.

Teal’c nodded. “I shall attempt to procure it for you. I fear that O’Neill may not have much time.” He knew that they would have to get DanielJackson to the Tok’ra for the symbiote to be removed, but right now the priority was to save O’Neill’s life.

“Oh, my God,” Dr. Fraiser gasped upon seeing Jack O’Neill’s condition. “What happened?”

“I don’t have any idea, ma’am,” Nurse Anderson responded nervously. “I remember being in the infirmary, and the next thing I knew Mr. Teal’c threw water in my face and told me I had to help Colonel O’Neill. Everybody else was unconscious too. None of us know what happened.”

Janet didn’t miss the telltale tearstains at the edge of the young nurse’s eyes but she tactfully didn’t comment, having long known that Nurse Anderson had quite a crush on O’Neill, who was old enough to be her father.

The doctor started calling out orders, observing that both bullets had gone completely through O’Neill’s chest. She had just begun to work on him when the heart monitor began to scream desperately.

It took nearly two full minutes to revive the injured man, and Janet’s expression was grim by the time a normal sinus rhythm was finally established. The Colonel’s chances didn’t look good. He had lost too much blood and the damage was too severe. He needed immediate surgery, but she doubted he would survive it. Basically she had two options: do nothing and allow him to die, or operate and lose him on the table.

“DoctorFraiser!”

Teal’c barreled into the room, ignoring all attempts to restrain him. He was followed by a third option Janet hadn’t known existed - the Tok’ra Anise, with a healing device on her hand.

Thanking God a million miles a minute, Dr. Fraiser moved away from her patient and allowed the Tok’ra to stand over him, assessing the damage. “I do not know whether I can save him,” Anise admitted. “The injury is very severe.”

“You have to try,” Janet said firmly. “We can’t save him. If you can’t stabilize him, he will die.”

Anise nodded, then closed her eyes, concentrating intensely, and extended the hand device over O’Neill’s chest. It began to glow, and while everyone in the room held their breath, continued to do so for several minutes before the glow died away and Anise’s eyes opened again.

“I have done what I can,” she said simply. “He is not entirely healed but his condition should be much more stable now. With your permission I shall see what can be done for Dr. Jackson.”

Dr. Fraiser was confused, but before she could ask a question, both Teal’c and Anise had left the room. Was Daniel injured, too? Janet wondered, then suddenly remembered that he had become a temporary host for a Tok’ra symbiote.

Oh God.

What if the symbiote wasn’t Tok’ra after all?

What if it had done this to Colonel O’Neill?

As she examined her patient to determine whether he still needed surgery, Janet inwardly prayed that it wasn’t so.

“I am sorry,” Anise said, her voice sincere. “I am afraid I must return to the Tok’ra base; I am needed there. However, before I go, I will attempt to use the healing device on Colonel O’Neill one last time.” Although Jack’s condition had stabilized due to the first healing attempt, he was still seriously injured and could definitely benefit from more help.

During the last fifteen minutes, Teal’c had tried several times to contact MajorCarter and GeneralHammond, with no response from either party. With half the SGC personnel still unconscious, it was up to the quiet Jaffa to make decisions regarding O’Neill and DanielJackson.

Teal’c instructed two SFs, who had recently recovered from their chloroforming, to escort DanielJackson to the embarkation room, taking all possible precautions to ensure that he did not escape. He then accompanied Anise to the infirmary.

When she had done all she could, the Tok’ra woman slipped off the hand device and gave it back to Teal’c. “He should be on his way to recovery now,” she said. “I would expect him to regain consciousness sometime within the next two or three of your hours.”

Teal’c bowed slightly. “We are most grateful for your assistance.”

Anise nodded just before alarms began to sound.

The two of them ran toward Da’ri’s isolation cell, finding two unconscious, bloody SFs, the sight proving Teal’c’s greatest fears: DanielJackson had escaped and was probably already outside of the base.

There was a Goa’uld loose in Colorado.

After breaking her restraints, Da’ri had found it quite simple to escape; she had lashed out at the still-groggy SFs as soon as they had entered her cell, knocking both of them unconscious before they could so much as call out. Due to her host’s extensive knowledge of the base, Da’ri knew just how to escape.

Once out into the parking lot, she climbed into Dr. Jackson’s car and quietly drove away, heading into Colorado Springs and wishing, not for the first time, that she still had access to the ship that had beamed her down to the Tau’ri planet. It would have been so much more simple to beam back up out of sight once her objectives were completed, but she was confident she could still escape through the Chaapa’ai.

She need only procure one thing, and her mission would be all but completed ...

Blissfully unaware that the phone had rung repeatedly while she couldn’t hear it, Samantha Carter stepped out of the shower, dripping wet. She dried off, shivering a little in the chilly air, then dressed and briskly toweled her short blond hair. She was halfway through putting on her makeup when the doorbell rang.

“Daniel.” Sam’s surprise showed on her face. “I thought you weren’t supposed to leave the base until we contacted the Tok’ra?”

Rather than responding, Dr. Jackson pushed by her into the house. His movements were quick and agitated. “Jack’s been shot, Sam,” he said without turning to face her.

Sam’s mouth dropped open. “Colonel O’Neill? How?”

“I shot him,” Daniel said simply, his tone so bland he might as well have been reciting the weather forecast. Sam knew something was wrong, terribly wrong. Her Daniel would not have been so cool and unaffected. Her Daniel would have been hugging himself and probably crying.

“Why, Daniel?” She asked softly, edging toward her bedroom, wishing she hadn’t left her sidearm on the bedside table.

He grabbed her arm in a bone-crushing grip, causing her to gasp in pain, and his eyes glowed white.

“Da’ri,” Sam said quietly, everything becoming sickeningly clear in her mind. “You aren’t a Tok’ra at all, and we never have talked to Daniel since you entered him, have we?”

The symbiote smiled, making a grotesque mockery of the boyish Daniel grin Sam knew and loved. “You are very perceptive, Tau’ri,” Da’ri said. “I was chosen to carry out a dangerous plan which, I must say, has been most successful.”

“You’re an Ashrak, sent to kill Colonel O’Neill,” Sam stated flatly. “The whole damn thing was a set-up and we fell for it.” She shook her head in disbelief. “I can’t believe I was so stupid.”

“My host, Dr. Jackson, seems to share your opinion, Major Carter,” Da’ri sneered. “He was especially upset when I killed Colonel O’Neill. It seems that they are very close friends - or I suppose I should say they were very close friends.”

Sam angrily tried to jerk her arm away, unable to accept that her CO was dead, but the Goa’uld’s hold was too strong. “If your plan worked so well,” she spat, “why are you here instead of through the Stargate somewhere?”

Da’ri’s eyes flashed angrily, and the last thing Sam saw was the butt of a gun headed for her face.

With the unconscious Major Carter as a hostage, Da’ri was able to get back into the SGC. Once inside, she made a beeline for the ’gate room, dragging along Samantha Carter, who was gradually beginning to regain consciousness and was struggling weakly.

Teal’c stiffened when he saw DanielJackson barge into the embarkation room, dragging along a semiconscious MajorCarter. The Goa’uld had a gun, its barrel pressed against the base of MajorCarter’s skull. Sam’s eyelashes fluttered and she looked straight into Teal’c’s face, her blue eyes wide. There was a dark bruise on her left cheek.

“Shut down the base - no one in or out - and order all personnel to the ’gate room,” DanielJackson’s symbiote ordered in a calm, normal-sounding voice. When Teal’c did not respond, the Goa’uld jammed the gun barrel hard into MajorCarter’s neck and shouted, “Do it!”

Unwilling to sacrifice the life of MajorCarter, but still desperately trying to think of a way to prevent the Goa’uld from escaping while preserving the lives of both hostage and host, Teal’c did as he was told.

The ceiling above Colonel Jack O’Neill’s head was white. He considered this fact for some time, debating its immediate importance to his situation, before deciding that it really wasn’t that noteworthy. The persistent beeping of monitors next to his bed was significant, however. It meant he was in the infirmary. Again.

In flashes, memory returned: the telephone call from that girl who had turned out to be a Tok’ra - no, not Tok’ra, Goa’uld. The whole damn thing had to have been a set-up. He wasn’t sure how, but somehow that slimy little snake had arranged to sacrifice her host in order to gain access to a member of SG-1, and they’d all fallen for the act, hook, line, and sinker.

Dammit.

The most puzzling thing about Jack’s current situation, other than the fact that there was a distinct lack of motion in the infirmary around him, was the fact that he was alive and not in severe pain, and he didn’t seem to be on heavy painkillers. His chest still hurt when he tried to move but it felt like an old, half-healed wound.

He didn’t really even want to consider the significance of that.

How long have I been here?

Jack needed some answers, and he needed them now. He wanted to know where Daniel was, whether the snake had been removed, and why exactly he seemed to be so alone here. He pressed the call button, waited a few minutes, pressed it again. When that didn’t work, he resorted to shouting hoarsely. “Doc! Hey, doc!”

No answer.

This was really getting weird.

Knowing that the Doc would absolutely murder him if she caught him, Jack carefully swung his feet to the floor and stood up. The room did some really weird twirly things around his head for a minute or two, but when everything settled back into normal position, he was still on his feet. That, he figured, was an accomplishment.

Now, step after careful step, he set out to figure out exactly what was going on, feeling as if he had been caught in some kind of time warp; maybe it was weeks after he’d been shot, and the Goa’uld had managed to wipe out the entire SGC, and he was all by himself.

No, Jack, think positive. ‘Everybody else is dead’ is definitely not positive thinking.

Forget positive thinking. Something was wrong.

He could feel it. Too many years in the Black Ops, maybe, but he could definitely feel it.

Armory. He needed some kind of weapon; a zat would be really good. Turning, Jack O’Neill headed unsteadily for the armory, praying inwardly that he wouldn’t meet Dr. Fraiser on the way.

Zat’n’ktel in hand, Jack decided to head for the ’gate room; he was almost there when he heard the familiar sound of the Stargate dialing. There was a strange lack of sound from the area - no chattering voices, no last-minute instructions to a departing team, no “SG so-and-so, you have a go.”

Yep. Definitely something weird about this whole situation.

Moving quietly despite his nagging weakness, Jack peered down into the ’gate room, his eyes widening at what he saw. Dr. Daniel Jackson was standing in front of the ramp, just out of reach of the Stargate’s vortex, and he was holding Major Samantha Carter hostage, a gun pressed to her head. Jack swallowed hard. Oh, he remembered that gun; his chest ached at the mere sight of it.

Okay, time to act.

There were a lot of people in the ’gate room; he recognized Dr. Fraiser and the rest of the infirmary staff among them. They stood quietly, afraid to make a move lest Sam be killed by the Goa’uld who held her hostage. Teal’c was there, too, staring at Daniel with a pained expression on his face.

Da’ri’s one mistake was overconfidence; she had been so certain of Jack O’Neill’s death that she had made certain every member of the SGC was in the embarkation room - except him. Sure he had died from the two shots to the chest, Da’ri hadn’t even thought of him while she labored to escape.

The door to the ’gate room was standing open, and because Da’ri’s back was too the door, Jack’s course of action was fairly simple: he walked quietly through the doorway, praying none of the assembled personnel would see him and accidentally give his presence away. He pointed his zat gun at Daniel Jackson’s back and waited for the perfect moment. He was afraid of shooting while Da’ri held the gun directly against Sam’s head.

His opportunity was not long in coming; Da’ri snapped something at Teal’c and gestured widely with the gun just as the wormhole was established.

Silently asking forgiveness of Carter, Jack pulled the trigger and watched as both Daniel and Sam crumpled silently to the floor, their bodies encircled by bands of sparking blue light. Jack’s head started spinning and he grabbed for the wall and missed, having just enough time to think dang before he hit the ground and blacked out.

Three hours later, Daniel Jackson and the Goa’uld who had control of his body were in a holding cell under heavy guard, Sam Carter had regained consciousness and forgiven her CO for effectively shooting her with a zat’n’ktel, and Jack O’Neill was back in the infirmary having been given a long-winded lecture by Dr. Fraiser.

Exhausted, Sam sat down next to Colonel O’Neill’s bed and gave him a faint smile. “Guess I owe you one, sir,” she said. “I don’t think the Goa’uld intended to let me go anytime soon. I got the feeling I was intended to go through the ’gate with him - uh, her.”

“All in a day’s work, Carter.” He grinned impishly at her, then stretched, wincing only a little as the mostly healed wound on his chest stretched. “Those healing devices are great, aren’t they?”

“Yes, sir, they are.” Carter couldn’t resist a mischievous smile as she asked, “Sir, were you aware which Tok’ra used the device on you?”

“No, but I figure I owe him one. Was it your dad?”

Carter, having observed Freya’s extreme fascination with her CO, worked hard to keep her face straight as she said, “Anise.”

The look of panic on Jack’s face was every bit worth it. Looking ready to run, he sent a careful glance around the infirmary as if to make sure no one was actually the Tok’ra in disguise. “She isn’t here any more, is she?” He asked hopefully.

Sam had to laugh. “No, sir, but she might be with the group that comes to escort Daniel. Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll get a chance to thank her.”

The stricken expression on his face was priceless.

Daniel was waking up.

He had no idea where he was at first, or what had happened; only a vague uneasy feeling clued him in to the fact that something was very wrong.

It seemed to take a tremendous amount of energy to open his eyes, which for some reason was immensely disturbing, but eventually they responded. Everything was blurry, but he felt oddly triumphant at having opened his own eyes, because ... why?

Jack.

He remembered Jack, turning to face him, eyes darkening, tone careful. He remembered his own finger pulling a trigger, Jack reeling back with blood spurting, Jack ...

Dying.

Jack was dead, and it was his fault.

Samantha Carter had been reading in the chair next to Daniel’s bed, half asleep, and she nearly had a heart attack when he shot straight up, pulling loose all kinds of IV lines, and tried to take off. “Daniel,” she said, thinking he was still disoriented, and when he didn’t reply - “Daniel!”

She grabbed his arms but he struggled desperately, no longer the skinny archaeologist he had been when she first met him, and her yells changed to “Teal’c!”

The Jaffa heard Major Carter’s call for assistance and abandoned his post outside DanielJackson’s room, where he had been standing guard, defying anyone or anything to attempt to harm his unconscious teammate.

Gently but firmly Teal’c deposited Daniel back on the bed, holding him firmly by the shoulders so he couldn’t escape again. “DanielJackson,” he said as soothingly as he could manage, “there is no reason to be frightened. You are safe now. The symbiote has been removed, and you are back at Stargate Command.”

To Sam’s surprise, Daniel became even more distraught. He stopped struggling physically but began to nearly hyperventilate, gasping, “Jack ... I killed ... ”

“Daniel.” Sam took his face in her hands and forced him to look at her. “You did not do anything wrong, do you hear me? You aren’t responsible for something Da’ri did, any more than Sha’re was responsible for what Amaunet did.” He seemed to calm a little as Sam continued, “Anyway, Colonel O’Neill is - ”

“Did I hear my name?” A voice called cheerfully from the doorway, and Jack O’Neill walked, albeit very carefully, into the room. “Hey, Danny,” he greeted, overlooking the wide eyes and shell-shocked face of his teammate and close friend.

“J – J – J,” Daniel stuttered.

Jack sat down in another uncomfortable chair next to Daniel’s bed, grimacing a little as he did. “If you’re trying to say ‘Jack’, then last time I checked, that’s me,” he said. “But if you’re trying to say ‘Janet’, I think I could get her for you. She’s got these big new needles she’s wanting to try on - ”

“No!”

Dr. Janet Fraiser approached just in time to hear the last part of O’Neill’s statement, and she gave him a glare as she entered the room. “Colonel, what have I said about upsetting my patients?” She questioned, affection evident beneath her annoyed tone.

O’Neill put on his best innocent face, which seemed to work on most people not named Fraiser or Hammond. Predictably, it did absolutely no good.

“Jack,” Daniel wheezed, finally having regained his voice, “you’re not - ”

“Dead? Kaput? Gone bye-bye?” Jack grinned. “Nah, Danny boy, the snake underestimated me. And the power of a Tok’ra healing device, but that’s a different story altogether.”

“One involving Anise,” Carter added with a smile that could only be described as purely evil. Jack sent her a withering glance.

Daniel leaned his head back against the pillow, letting his breath out slowly. “The whole damn thing was a set-up, Jack, and I fell for it. I’m sorry.”

“Daniel.” Jack’s voice was dead serious, and he waited to continue until the archaeologist was looking at him again. “We all fell for it, myself included. If you beat yourself up over this, I will kill you.”

Daniel had to look at Jack for a moment to determine that he was really not serious.

Carter cleared her throat, breaking the silence. “Um, Daniel, I have a question. I know this was a set-up, and a pretty brilliant one at that - sorry, sir - but how did a Goa’uld know about Martin Lloyd and the N.I.D?”

Daniel’s face scrunched up thoughtfully as he struggled to recall memories that weren’t really his own. Suddenly his eyes flew wide in obvious horror. “Oh. Oh, no!”

“What?” Sam asked, not looking forward to the answer.

Dr. Jackson looked extremely disturbed and didn’t quite meet her eyes. “You remember those ‘friends’ of Martin Lloyd’s, the ones we let get away? They didn’t ... quite ... get away.”

“Oh,” Carter said, seeing that Daniel really didn’t want to talk about it any more. If the escapees had been captured by a Goa’uld and had revealed everything they’d known, then Daniel’s recovered memories could not have been pleasant.

After another moment of slightly awkward silence, Sam’s face took on a sad cast. “I wonder who she was,” she mused quietly. When Daniel looked up, confused, she clarified, “Katare - the host. I wonder who she was, why she became a host at such a young age. I wonder if her name really was Katare.”

Daniel shook his head. “I have no idea, Sam. I do know that the whole thing was planned, every last detail. Zerane was working with Da’ri. They were sent on a mission to take one of us over, and if the one taken over wasn’t Jack, to kill him.”

“All’s well that ends well, Daniel,” Jack said quietly, for once resisting the urge to add another cliché that had absolutely nothing to do at the situation at hand, thus drawing the younger man into a cliché battle.

“Dr. Jackson needs to get some rest, as do you, Colonel,” Dr. Fraiser said sternly. “Just because you had a healing device used on you doesn’t mean you’re completely recovered.” When Jack started to complain, she held up her hand. “You’ll be allowed to come back later, Colonel, but right now you’re to go back to your own bed. Doctor’s orders.”

With a muttered comment about people who behaved like Napoleon, O’Neill carefully lifted himself out of the chair and followed his teammates, stopping in the doorway to turn and look back at Daniel one last time, a faint smile touching his face when he saw that the archaeologist had already fallen asleep.