Email: travelling_one@yahoo.ca
Website: http://www.travellingone.com/
Season: 4
Summary: Stranded, alone, and presumed dead, Daniel realizes that no knowledge is worth attaining if one can never share it.
Minor references to Torment of Tantalus, The Fifth Race, Maternal Instinct, Window of Opportunity.

September 2009

MALP transmissions, sometimes unfortunately, didn't lie. Or at least hadn't, since Urgo. This room held true to its promise, as had all others; dark was still dark and clutter was still clutter. It wasn't, however, what was in the room that had attracted SGC attention, it was what decorated it. Strips along each of these very high walls were golden - etched in hieroglyphs, ultra Goa'uld giveaway. While gating to a Goa'uld ship would generally not be in the running for a mission, the MALP details also showed chips broken off from the walls, the entire area in a visible state of disrepair. Whatever this place had been, this gate did not appear to be in recent use. If this was a Goa'uld mothership, it - or parts of it - might still be salvageable. If one wanted to talk pros and cons, the gate address had not been familiar to Teal'c, which was the pro that had won them over. 

The first of the team to step through the wormhole, Jack was already taking a critical look around, infrared goggles removed but flashlight extended, aiming first ahead and then above. Ceilings were high here. The chamber didn't fare any better in person than it had on a computer monitor, but seemed even darker if that were possible, the air stale. Suddenly three more flashlights were illuminating the decor and furnishings, but it was Carter's exclamation that raised goosebumps. “Sir, the DHD!”

Three teammates swiveled at the sharp words, but what they saw didn't register, not right away. The DHD was in ruins, an enormous chunk gone from its upper pedestal.

“What the - ”

“I'm positive it wasn't like that on the feedback visuals.…I know it wasn't,” Daniel insisted, his shock palpable. Removing his own goggles, he shone his light directly on the pedestal, moving in for a closer examination. “It was in good condition on the MALP telemetry.” They would never have come otherwise, not without a naquada generator or proof of another power source.

“DHDs don't just fall apart,” Jack growled in protest. “It's been here for what, hundreds - thousands? - of years; it's going to break up in an hour? Damn it.” But even Jack had noted its condition on the telemetry; the DHD was one of the first things he always checked out. And Daniel was right; it had not looked like this.

“It will if it's in the way of an opening vortex, Sir.”

“What?” Clearly, the DHD had tilted too close to the incoming wormhole; they could see that now. But… “Carter, we opened the gate twice already. It was fine.”

“Yes, it was,” Daniel nodded vehemently, his worry escalating. They would never make such a dire mistake; DHDs, next to immediate threats or ambush, were the single most important variable they'd learned to look for before heading through a wormhole. Learned that the hard way, they had. Nearly being stuck in a castle that was about to fall into a raging ocean would put careful scrutiny at the top of anyone's list.

Which meant only one thing. If the DHD had somehow slipped towards the gate in just a couple of hours, this mothership, or pyramid, or whatever it was… couldn't be stable.

“Crap. Okay, Hammond gave us a day. That means the SGC will call in within twenty-four hours to see what's happened to us; we'll ask for a naquada generator and dial out by hand. We'll be fine that long, right?” Barring any not-dead Jaffa or Goa'uld on the upper or lower levels, and if this fusty air didn't choke them to death. His question was supposed to be rhetorical.

“Indeed.”

“Hopefully.”

“Until I know what's going on here, Sir, I can't say - ”

“As we have no choice but to remain, O'Neill, twenty-four hours will be satisfactory.”

“Yes, it will.” Lovely. Hopefully they weren't somewhere out in space, flying haphazardly through a wild meteor shower. More than likely, Jack figured, they were on some long-lost planet in an earthquake zone, minor aftershocks all they had to worry about. Right? After several hundred years? Right. “Maybe it was just the vibration of the stargate that did it and it won't happen again. This place is old.” But they'd seen old before. There was old… and there was dangerous.

“Yes, Sir.” Maybe. Whatever the reason, no use in worrying them all with theories. They couldn't do anything about their predicament for the next twenty-four hours, so why make things worse? Sam decided to wait until she could look out a window; that would hopefully explain everything, the explanation a welcome one or not.

“I'll go with that theory, Jack.” But if such a vibration could dislodge a DHD, they'd better be very, very careful. Who could know what this vessel was balancing on, or what the next opening of the wormhole would do? They'd have to experience at least two more, one of those a manual dial-out; in twenty-four hours, they'd better be ready to pull out fast.

O'Neill was having similar concerns. “Stay alert. Who knows what else is loose around here.” He scanned the room 360, vision settling on the hieroglyphs. “So, kids. We have maybe twenty-four hours to explore.” He waved a hand at the wall. “Have fun, Daniel.” One thing was hopeful; if this place was too old for its gate to be in use, then more than likely it wasn't inhabited by anything creepier than rodents or roaches. "Anyone find the lights yet?" Again more of a rhetorical hint than a question, seeing as they were still mired in the dark, surrounded by flashlight beams. Daniel already had his nose buried in some still-intact hieroglyphs on the wall, his eyes squinting and straining behind his lenses. Right, lights; and they'd still be working, why? Jack scoffed at the irony of his request. If he left his house for a thousand years, more than likely his electricity would be turned off by the time he got back. He'd hate to see the bill otherwise.

Judging from Daniel and Teal'c's preoccupation with other things, Carter assumed the hint had been mostly directed at her. "No, Sir." She shied away as the colonel's light inadvertently flashed into her bare eyes.

“Sorry, Carter.” Swearing under his breath as his knee bumped into an overturned object - some sort of chair, he determined - Jack wandered over to Daniel, who appeared to be transfixed by a segment of wall, deeply mired in the translation of some obscenely important information. "What's it say?"

"Um… that's just it; absolutely nothing." Daniel paused in his perusal, turning temporarily to Jack with a puzzled expression and a shrug.

"Nothing, huh? Always thought so."

"No, Jack - Goa'uld ha'taks and pyramids always have meaningful script on their walls. This one doesn't."

"And that means…?”

"This isn't Goa'uld."

In the ensuing silence, Jack let Daniel's revelation sink in before issuing the challenge. "So what is it?"

"I have no idea. Somebody went to a lot of trouble to copy the Goa'uld, but didn't really know how to get it right. Obviously they knew of the Goa'uld but had never really communicated with them or spent much time with them.”

“That's a good thing, right?”

“Depends on how far they went to copy them.” And why.

“Oy.”

“Daniel?” Sam found her interest piquing, anxiety building right along with it. She wandered over, as though proximity would make the response more succinct or tangible. “Does it say anything?”

“No, just random hieroglyphs. Some aren't even real hieroglyphs at all; at least, none that I've ever seen before.”

“O'Neill.”

“Yeah, what do you have, Teal'c?”

“I, too, do not believe this to be a Goa'uld vessel.”

“Gathered that. Any ideas?”

“None.”

“And your reasoning would be?”

“The Goa'uld would not have adorned their ha'taks with trivial accoutrements.” Teal'c was handling a small golden mother-with-child sculpture. “This room contains many, although most have not fared well.”

There was also fancy bench seating around the edges of the room - a waiting room for stargate passengers, maybe? Other than that, and a few tall golden columns - many damaged and fallen - the chamber held nothing of major significance.

"Colonel, there's a doorway." Cluttered with debris, it was nearly blocked. Getting through the opening would be tricky.

“We're right behind you, Carter.”

The lop-sided door itself was wedged across the exit, hanging off its framework and too jammed in and heavy to dislodge. As she crouched down, sliding carefully through the small space between unintentional barriers, only her flashlight beam preparing the way ahead, Sam's pause was weighty. "Oh. Guys? You need to see this."

“Yeah, plan on doing that, if you let us pass.”

With Sam having managed to vacate the doorway, a quick flashing glance at Daniel found Jack crawling under the barrier next, guided by Carter's light and then his own. Daniel and Teal'c followed as quickly as they were able.

This room was in even greater disarray than the first, as though items had been knocked about and left that way in haste; no momentary shift caused by gate vibration could explain it, that was for sure. But Jack saw what had Carter so flabbergasted; this was no waiting room or Stargate terminal. It appeared, instead, to have been a huge dining or meeting hall. Long golden tables were set out, most overturned, each with a dozen scattered seats. Although adorned in gold, the regal, or garish, effect was broken by the smashed clay dishes, cracked crystal torches lining the walls, overturned and broken chairs. Paraphernalia had been crushed under several massive columns, now tilted or lying flat on top of it all.

The six broken skeletons poking out from under them didn't help the mood.

“Geez.”

Was all this the result of a crash? But if this structure wasn't a ha'tak… what was it? Whose was it? Where was it?

"It appears as though a battle has taken place in this room," Teal'c observed with a frown.

"Or something." And a something was creeping up Jack's spine, a sort-of worry that maybe this wasn't all kosher and his team should have been making their retreat instead of standing there gaping, had they had a working DHD. But all indications pointed to this having happened very long ago; no present danger. The question was, why? And could that threat still exist?

"Jack? If this isn't an abandoned Goa'uld ship, we might be in some building on some Goa'uld allied planet, and anything could be happening out there, planetside, right now.” Just because this structure was no longer occupied didn't mean the planet itself wasn't. Maybe this building was off limits…condemned?... and whoever lived nearby just didn't use the Stargate any more.

“And we can't do anything about that at the moment, Daniel. This might be the safest place to be.”

"At least we know the Stargate's been unused for some time, Sir. So there likely isn't any danger of anyone finding us while we're in here," Sam agreed.

"What, no daily maid service? How about security cameras?" They might be safe for the time being, but they needed to keep their eyes wide and stay intensively alert. Jack was getting bad feelings about this place, even apart from the destruction and trapped bodies. He sauntered over to a closed door at the end of the room, against which had fallen a partly upright golden beam. Maybe not Goa'uld, but these people did seem to have picked up their interior decorations from Goa'uld Home Depot. Or, more to the point, Halloween Depot. The wall hangings, which now mostly covered the floor, were black as coal. Fire, or decades of dirt?

Daniel was investigating the skeletons, or the bones and skulls that were poking out from downed furniture; remnants of beaded jewelery adorned their bodies and lay scattered around them, most of the clothing having disintegrated. “They're old.”

“You're good.”

Daniel looked up. “That wasn't quite what I… oh, never mind.”

Teal'c was examining the gold-peeling tables, finding them not to be metal at all, but a painted pseudo plastic. One could still make out intricate designs etched into the topsides, if one flashed a light on the right spot.

“Help me move this. Let's see what we've got in there.” Jack grasped the golden post that leaned against the door, as Teal'c and Daniel joined him, lending a hand. With a few heaves it was pulled to the ground and shoved away until it was intercepted by an overturned table, most of the latter's thick ornate legs having given way. “That should do it.”

Daniel suddenly stood bolt upright. Shining his beam around the room, he whispered, “Did you hear that?”

“What?”

“Sshh. Listen.”

The other three stood absolutely still, hearing nothing but a slight, distant trickling of water, as though a tap was running. “Water?”

“What?”

“I heard water. It's stopped now.”

“No, Jack. I meant the voices.”

Three faces shot up to scan Daniel's; he was deadly serious. “I didn't hear anything, Daniel.” Not even water. Sam frowned anyway.

“Nor did I.”

“I thought I heard low, very quiet voices. Chatter. I couldn't make out words. Lasted only a few seconds.” He was still whispering.

Jack stared intently at his teammate. “I think you're letting this place get to you, my friend.”

Daniel furrowed his brow at Jack's tone; was that condescension, or worry? “I was positive…” Or maybe not, any more. It hadn't been water, though.

“Great. Ghosts.” Jack shook his head, hoping for ghosts; that was better than being trapped in this place for the next twenty-three hours by possibly hostile aliens, or Daniel losing his mind. For all they knew, this could be an ambush. Or the hideout of some clandestine, illegal, cult. Jack suppressed a shiver. What exactly was waiting beyond that closed door? “Think we should keep going?”

“Or what, Jack? Sit here under a table until tomorrow?”

Jack tilted his head, pretending to consider.

Carter voiced what they'd all been too reluctant to say, but had been thinking nonetheless. “Sir, there's very little air in this room, and a lot of dust. With the four of us, it's going to get uncomfortable.”

Already was. “Yeah. Noticed that. So… here goes.” Taking hold of an upraised symbol - reminiscent of door locks on Goa'uld ships, yet not exactly a serpent - Jack twisted. The door slid an inch and stopped. “Okay. Need a hand here.”

“Sir, be careful not to cause any more disturbance. Some of these columns look ready to fall,” Sam neglected, intentionally, to complete the sentence with 'on us', but the message was implicit; there was nowhere else for them to land.

Teal'c slid his fingers into the narrow opening, the beams of both Daniel's and Sam's lights shedding sufficient illumination, and pushed. The door creaked slowly to a position wide enough for them to squeeze through. To Jack's relief, they were not met with weapons' fire… no axes or spears, or, for that matter, any living being. Nothing greeted them but more darkness, and even staler, mustier air. No ventilation, no open windows, nothing allowing access to the outside world. Did that mean this was a spaceship after all?

Jack was the first one into the room; shining his light around, it lingered on an expanse of blackness, and for a moment he didn't understand what he was witnessing.

Daniel's appearance at his side, and sounds behind him indicating the arrival of the rest of his team, broke the spell.

“Oy.”

An intake of breath beside him, then Daniel's voice.

"So.” Daniel bit his lip. “This is a ship. Just - "

“Not a flying one,” Jack finished, nodding but not taking his eyes off the view.

The room was a disaster. Fallen plaster and chips of gold partially blocked the next exit. The floor was piled high with smashed glass and pottery. Three more skeletons in the center of the room laid the final decor accoutrements.

But the main and most overwhelming visual was the blackness of the lefthand wall, slowly revealing itself to be filmy depths of murky water wavering beyond the massive window along one entire length of the chamber. Window, or force field? The water seemed close enough to touch.

"A shipwreck." Daniel was the one to say it aloud. And they were on the bottom of the sea.

______

“Crap. Leave it to us to gate to the Titanic.”

“Or something,” Daniel was still staring out the vast ceiling-to-floor window, heart hammering in subdued shock. There seemed to be no surface in sight, no natural light filtering down to them. Just those… what were they, and where were they coming from? He leaned up into the flat window - not a force field - but couldn't make out what was out there. No wonder there was so little air down here; how long had this vessel been submerged? In the years since it's misadventure, this ship, however, had had no one breathing the last of its oxygen. They could… would… manage down here until Hammond opened their way home. They had no choice.

Four team members stood there, gaping out the window, their minds trying to make sense of the murky, indistinct shapes spreading out from the sea bed. Oddly, their beams of light did not reflect off the glass but instead penetrated it, acting like outer headlights. Jack tentatively reached out to touch the window… it gave slightly under the pressure, a tingling buzz running up his arm. “Agh!' Unable to stifle the utterance and concurrent recoil, he shrugged apologetically.

Debris from the vessel lay within view, piled as scrap on the sea floor. Rotting and teaming with tiny specimens of underwater life, an unnatural light filtering down from above shed a dim illumination on the bizarre but distressing scene. “There must be a power source working in an upper level,” Carter surmised.

“So this didn't happen so long ago?” Daniel questioned.

“Not necessarily, Daniel,” Sam shook her head. “The people who built this ship - given that they had a Stargate down here - might have had a power source that could last for an infinite period of time, if powered by naquada.”

“Yeah, what about that? Why a Stargate on board a ship… boat… thing?”

“Perhaps they were transporting it to another continent on this world.”

“Or it was acting as a lifeboat,” Daniel suggested.

“What, in case of an accident, just gate out?” Jack retorted caustically. “Oh, the irony of it. Who'd've guessed.” Actually… not such a bad idea, now that he thought about it.

“So nine people just didn't make it out in time?” Sam asked.

Jack shrugged, as Daniel's breath hitched and he raised a hand for everyone to stop talking. “There it is again,” he whispered.

“I think I heard something too,” Sam said quietly.

Daniel inaudibly released a relieved huff of air. At least he wasn't going crazy. “Singing?”

“I might've heard water,” Jack admitted. “But just for a second.” That made a bit more sense now; a leak? Damn, that was so not a happy thought. Hundreds of years, he reminded himself. Or, at least dozens. Unless that Stargate's activation really had jarred something major, but that was not worth thinking about right now.

Daniel scanned the shadowy faces of his teammates. “The voices were faint, but I could have sworn they were right in this room.”

“What?” Jack turned to meet Daniel's eyes, oddly fluorescent in the minimal lighting from beyond the window. Creepy.

“As was the dripping water. I heard it as well,” Teal'c concurred.

“So, we've got leaking.” Jack had stalled, trying not to suggest that out loud. Wouldn't really do them any good to know, would it? “Nothing to worry about, though, right?” More useless, rhetorical words; how were they to know more than he did, yet?

“It's lasted this long, Jack,” Daniel concurred optimistically.

Sam, however, needed to voice her contradictions. “So did the DHD, Daniel. We have no idea what happened in the hour before we came through, or what else the activating wormholes might have dislodged. Our Stargate used to shake a hell of a lot without the frequency dampers, and this one's vibrations could have been magnified in the partial vacuum, especially if the entire structure is unstable. With a Stargate on board or not, I doubt they expected this ship to withstand such rigorous conditions.”

“What, ya think they didn't plan this little disaster?” Jack shrugged sardonically.

Sam ignored the remark. “What now, Sir?”

“We have approximately twenty-two hours here, Major. I suggest we try to find a large room with enough oxygen to last that long. Then, maybe beer and cake. You?”

“Well, Sir,” she looked down self-consciously, “seeing as we have the time, I'd like to see if there's any interesting technology around. I'm getting high naquada readings; I think it might be incorporated into the structure of the ship itself.”

“Indestructible, huh?” Jack scoffed, his grin disparaging.

“Maybe we can also find out something about these people,” Daniel shrugged. “There has to be an engine room here somewhere, a ship's log, maybe a library for passing the time on board. If nothing else, we could find the kitchen and see what they ate,” he suggested hopefully. “Seeing as that might have been the dining room.” Daniel thumbed back towards the second room they'd encountered, with all the overturned tables.

Jack stared at his scientists, knowing they were all stuck between a rock and a hard place. As little as foreign culture interested him right now, he knew they might as well make the best use of their time here. It would stave off boredom for at least two of his team members, and they might very well find a power source that would help them dial the gate manually. After all, that was all they needed, right? “Fine. But if we can get out of here before Hammond contacts us, that's the plan.”

It was definitely clear this was no Goa'uld vessel; the layout was too linear. The next room - no, section - revealed sleeping chambers, eighteen by their count, all with raised plastic-type triple bunks along each of the two long walls. The ship had accommodated at least fifty-four people.

“Oh!” Carter shrunk back with a hiss.

One bunk exposed a skeleton still in bed, remnants of bed covers resembling sawdust.

“So, not bad if all but ten folks got out,” Jack spouted cheerfully. “Good sign they used the Stargate.”

“Or lifeboats.” Daniel drew in closer, peering under the berth for some personal belongings or paraphernalia that might have escaped disintegration. Suddenly he jerked up; he could almost have sworn that skeleton was watching him. And the soft, whispery singing was back, barely audible.

The good thing was that this time Jack and Teal'c thought they'd heard it too.

_____

Talk about creepy. Jack could think of a lot more places he'd rather spend four hours of sleep than in a dark sitting room in a sunken ship filled with ghosts, and three more skeletons in the corner. Thirteen. Had they been crew, left behind on a sinking vessel, or passengers, who hadn't made it to safety? Slaves maybe, left behind intentionally? This was, however, marginally better than spending the night in one of those partly-occupied claustrophobic and mostly airless sleeping chambers. Either way, sharing the night with skeletons may not have been his idea of a good time, but they had no choice. This room was large enough to give them a few hours of oxygen, possibly even the full eighteen that remained. The voices and sounds of dripping water were occurring infrequently in here, on and off with long periods of time between; a recurring, gentle, audio breeze. Daniel said he still could not make out any words. At least they were pretty certain nothing alive was in here, poised to attack. Jack had made sure, checking under every bit of broken and intact furniture. Still, he couldn't ward off that creepy feeling the Linvris had cemented within him; warnings of voices and auditory hallucinations kept sneaking to the front of his psyche.

Daniel lay awake, eyes open in the near-blackness, watching the shadows from Teal'c's flashlight play off the dislocated furniture. Every time he moved, huge shapes would loom up and flitter around the walls; Daniel had never been afraid of ghosts, yet the effect was unnerving. He knew he ought to get some sleep before his watch, but every time he began to lightly doze, barely audible whispers of singing serenaded his ears. Where it was coming from he couldn't tell; it was all around, everywhere and nowhere all at once. Focus, he challenged himself. Listen. But the words weren't words; they were mumbles and moans and clicking noises. Rhythms, patterns, highs and lows, so quiet and gentle and soft that they weren't anything at all, a language too alien to interpret. If he didn't know better… not that he did, given he was on an alien planet thousands of light years from Earth… he'd swear the furniture was cautioning him away.

With that last thought in his head, he jumped at Teal'c's hand on his shoulder. “God, Teal'c!”

“It is your watch, Daniel Jackson.” One hour each, and three hours of sleep… if one managed to fall asleep at all.

His heart still thumping, Daniel sat up and turned on his flashlight, before Teal'c's could plunge them into darkness.

_____

Daniel sat perfectly still, watching, listening. By bits of remains, he'd been able to note that the unfortunate beings on this ship had been wearing regal clothing, thick, good quality, tiny prints embedded into the layers of dust and dirt like fossilized shells. Along with gemstones and bead work of earrings and bracelets, they appeared to be of upper class; so, not slaves, left behind to tend a dying vessel. Still, one's notion of upper class was relative and subjective, and this was a foreign culture far removed from the familiarities of Earth. Not all the skeletons, however, had been adults; two had been children. This was evidently not a military ship, unless the crew had brought along their families.

At least someone had fallen asleep. Daniel listened to the sounds of deep breathing - hoping it all belonged to his teammates - as he quietly rose again and wandered the room, his flashlight playing on the walls and in the corners, on the decaying furniture. Some of these skeletons had long braids and small bits of something silken miraculously remaining at their sides, along with metallic-rubbery soles by their feet. Huddling, they seemed to be waiting for this ship to rise once more, so they could end this never-ending Twilight Zone of a journey and finally arrive at their destination.

He hoped their souls weren't locked in here forever with their bodies.

“Daniel.”

Daniel swung around, heart up in his throat. “Damn it, Jack,” he whispered to the man standing behind him. “You scared the life out of me.”

“Sorry. But hey, you know we're here.”

“Supposedly sleeping.”

“It's my watch.”

Daniel stared for a moment; had it been an hour already? “Oh.”

“Hear any more voices?”

“No. You?”

“Wasn't hearing them in the first place.”

'Jack - ”

“Get some sleep, Daniel. We get up in one more hour.”

Then fourteen hours to search the rest of this seemingly massive ship, before making their way back to the gate room. There was no way he was going to fall asleep.

Especially since that skeleton in the corner was now talking to him.

“Uh…” frozen in place, Daniel took some moments trying to unrattle his nerves. It wasn't working.

Cautiously moving towards it, Daniel was certain the voice was growing a tiny bit louder. The hand on his shoulder scared the daylights out of him, again, and he swung around.

“Jack!” he hissed. “Quit doing that.”

“I hear it.” Together they moved closer, and Daniel slowly bent down. “Careful, Daniel.” Jack's hand still rested on his shoulder, possibly even a slight bit tighter.

Taking a few deep breaths, and closely leaning over the remains of a long-haired body adorned in detailed gold beading, Daniel half-expected the bony arms to reach up and pull him into a death hug. He could hear low, stifled humming, or hissing, clicking, but could make out nothing intelligible.

“I heard those sounds earlier,” Jack relayed. “Didn't realize that's the talking you were… talking about.”

Daniel grimaced. “What,” he whispered, “you expected a Shakespearean soliloquy?”

“I expected words.”

“In English?”

Maybe. “Good point.”

The loudest sounds were coming from the skull. Well… right; that made sense, didn't it? Daniel straightened up suddenly, staring down at the flashlight-illuminated garish eye sockets, Jack stepping back quickly to avoid a knock to his chin. He let go of Daniel.

“Scared?” He whispered.

“No.” Daniel stood there, leaning close to him.

“Right.”

“She's talking,” Daniel whispered back; unable to move. His light was aimed at the long-forgotten face, eye sockets bathed in shadow, gaping mouth still but not so silent.

“I know.” Jack was not moving, either, his arm brushing up against Daniel's as if doubling their body mass might make them seem more formidable… to a skeleton, for crying out loud.

“Right.” Together they waited, and minutes passed.

“So we just stand here?”

Daniel waved a hand towards Jack. “If you have another idea, be my guest.”

“Talk back to it.”

“What?”

“You know. It's what you do.”

Daniel turned slowly, enough to meet Jack's eyes, his CO's face oddly shadowed and highlighted in the reflecting beam. He flinched involuntarily, almost seeing a skull embedded in Jack's face. The low series of clicks startled him, and he turned quickly back to the skeleton.

“Some form of code?” Jack whispered.

“How the hell do I know?” Daniel shook his head, finally coming to a decision. Hesitantly lowering himself to the floor, he knelt at the skeleton's body. A low moan had him bolting upright once again, this time bumping into Jack on his way up.

“Ow…” Jack's flashlight was already panning the site, as another quiet moan came from across the room. “Geez! Carter's dreaming.” Turning back to Daniel, he noted the unnatural wideness of his teammate's eyes. “Scare ya?” He couldn't help that little bit of a grin. Some comic relief had re-linked him with a momentary return to reality.

Hissing at his CO, Daniel turned back to the skeleton, crouching again by its side. What he was about to do would have had his sanity in question back on Earth, fellow archeologists gaping at him with amusement and ridicule… but the reality of their situation was that this wasn't Earth, and who knew what long-dead aliens were capable of. “Who are you?” he whispered to it, hoping for no answer, but heard more clicks and wheezing in response. That definitely was not Sam. The sound seemed to be emanating from behind it… under it… or inside its head. He reached under the skeleton, raising the skull.

“What are you doing?” Jack asked nervously, realizing reality was an alien ship thousands of light years from Earth. What the hell were four normal people playing at? When would they realize they might be out of their element, with this gate travel stuff?

“Lifting her. I think she wants to sit,” Daniel retorted, very aware that Jack couldn't see his grin.

“She told you that?” Jack asked incredulously. He had the greatest faith in Daniel's skills, but unless the man was possessed, that was a little too odd.

“Uh huh. Gets boring lying in one position for centuries. Shine the light down here, will you?” With the movement, the bones fragmented in his fingers, and Daniel instinctively pulled back. But there, lying in the shards of skull, was revealed what he'd been looking for - an object, this one round and metallic - and it was emitting bursts of static and low voices. “A radio transmitter.” Daniel reached out with a grin, holding it up for Jack to see.

“Knew it.”

“Oh, right.”

Ignoring the insinuation, Jack asked, “So… some sort of implant?”

“Or earphone. It would have fallen off as the flesh decomposed. They must have all been wearing them; the voices were only audible in the rooms with the skeletons.”

“So, what, the communication's coming from the surface?” Hadn't anyone on land ever wanted to retrieve the Stargate from under the sea, or was it a task they couldn't achieve? Maybe land was miles away.

“No idea. Yet.”

“Damn, no ghosts.”

“Disappointed?” Daniel rose to his feet, a fleeting grin shadowing his face.

Jack shrugged, knowing Daniel was not in the position to see his own smirk. “Really wanted to hear you communicate, you know.”

_____

“I can't say what this substance is.”

“Meaning what, Carter?”

Sam shrugged. “My sensors seemed to indicate these walls are made from naquada, but it doesn't give consistent readings. I think it's a naquada-based substance, but something else is in the mix. Some sort of alloy.”

“So we've found another new element?”

“Not necessarily, Daniel. Just some substance I can't figure out yet.” Carter continued checking out the room, the largest they'd so far encountered; this one had remnants of a type of opaque screen along parts of the walls. That is, the sections that weren't glass… ish, giving a disturbing view of underwater scenery, seemed to be screen…ish. Some sort of viewing deck? They had followed the transmissions here after passing through many long, narrow corridors; the broadcasts were becoming more distinct. Exploration of this chamber had already taken thirty minutes and Jack was lounging on the floor, bored, surrounded by gear and weapons; this was his contribution - guarding their supplies, he'd tried to have them believe. The quip had earned him a scowl from Daniel and a lifted eyebrown from Teal'c. Carter had had the gracious decency to smile. “Sir?”

Ah, but now she needed him; he could finally relinquish his oh so exciting chore and turn to his true calling - giving advice. Jack motioned Daniel to check out the screens before sauntering up to her side, Teal'c behind him. “What have you got, Carter?”

“I think I've found the broadcast system.” Having moved some pieces of unfamiliar equipment, Carter's light beam now shone on a long metallic panel, itself covered with small tiles, some of which were open and flashing. The sounds were coming straight from within. “Seeing as there's no one left here to communicate with, I assume this isn't coming from the surface in present time. They must have been broadcasting pre-recorded messages when the ship went down.” Still transmitting a garbled something, after all these years - many more years than the people had originally planned on, apparently.

“So it happened suddenly.”

“Or the message might be instructions for evacuation, which someone left on,” Sam stared wide-eyed at her commanding officer.

“Evacuation through the Stargate?”

“That's li - ”

“Jack! Teal'c - ” Daniel's shout was too late; the sounds of water dripping had not alerted them to the real danger coming from this room, a leak that intensified abruptly with the shift of balance caused by movement in a vessel un-accessed for possibly hundreds of years.

The room rocked -

A force field, somewhere, shut down -

And the chamber imploded with a thunderous crash of incoming sea water.

_____

Far beyond his control, for he was only half conscious, Jack found himself sucked through a doorway and swept along, his mouth gaining an occasional moment above water and urgent suction of breath. Slammed into a wall and then back out into the openness of a room, furniture knocking around with him, it was only when he caught himself actually breathing, coughing and choking up water, that he realized he was spread out on dryness. The roaring in his ears gave way to an unnatural stillness and silence. Nearly unconscious, it took him many long minutes to open his eyes and understand what he was seeing. Only the top few inches of doorway were visible, water obscuring the rest, reaching out towards his feet with inviting calm. Midway across the floor of this chamber, water crept to his lopsided boots, filling almost half the room, gently lapping. Yet his end, where he'd been dragging his water-heavy limbs almost against gravity it seemed, was water-free. And how was that possible?

Not caring so much for explanations as getting his own breathing under control, Jack turned over to lie flat on his back, arms spread, eyes closed, gasping in gallons of air. He still had the sensation of falling. Sliding. Drowning. He coughed harder.

“O'Neill.” An arm pressed onto his leg, and the sliding stopped.

And then Jack remembered where he was. Remembered his teammates, and he shot up, sitting, dizziness engaging his skewed sense of balance. “Ow. God. Teal'c?” Jack partly opened one eye, and the room seemed to tilt. Large hands caught him again, holding him down. The coughing fit became wheezing breaths.

“I am here, as is Major Carter.”

“Daniel?”

“He is not.”

Both of Jack's eyes flashed open, and he realized he could see without the artificial light of his flashlight. Daylight was streaming in from a row of small, round upper windows, crooked windows. Windows very near the ceiling... a ceiling which, close to the flooded doorway, rose only a few feet above his head as it angled downwards. Teal'c was leaning on him, and finally Jack understood the reason for the half-flooded room and his own disorientation; this floor was tilting upwards at a slant of at least thirty degrees. If Teal'c let go, he'd likely slide down on this smooth blue foundation towards that pulsing, ebbing, waterlogged exit.

Twisting around painfully, Jack saw Sam behind him panting heavily, hanging on to a wall with both hands tensed and stiff, her face pale, shocky, eyes wide blue.

“We're above water.” Him, and Carter. Teal'c.

“Indeed.”

But not Daniel.

Damn it to hell.

There was no way to get back to him, no way they could fight that surging torrent and swim back to a room that likely no longer even existed.

Jack lay back down, flinging a wet arm across his eyes, and bent his knees, heels flat to keep from sliding back into the sea.

_____

Teal'c had tried to swim through that water-filled doorway when the surge had settled, but nothing could be seen in the inky black water. Jack had made his own weary attempts, had even tried calling Daniel's name. They hadn't expected a response.

Teal'c aided Sam, O'Neill limping slowly on his own, bodies heavy in their wet clothes and bruises as they trudged out the opposite end of the room, silently, along the uphill walkway, holding onto the rail of this bright tunnel for balance. For some reason, this part of the ship had not sunk, but remained suspended at an odd, difficult to navigate, angle. They followed the corridor, windows intact and sunlight filtering through, hoping for a place to sit and regain their composure and wits. Hoping for more of the air that seemed to be blowing in on a breeze in the sunshine.

Their slow, strenuous trek brought them through a bright cylindrical enclosure to an unobstructed doorway - open to an outside walkway and the airy smell of daylight, where beneath them white water turbulence created the impression of a series of mini waterfalls. Up ahead, stretching into the trees beyond and below, lay a grassy, rolling, glittering landmass, specked with wildflowers and bordered by forest.

The team stood on the small outdoor platform gazing down the steps, the crisp air made even colder by their damp attire, more in shock from their latest brush with near-death than from the unexpected scene spreading out before their eyes. Moments passed without movement or sound.

Then, Jack became leader once more and took the first step towards their future.

As the team descended the three-story gem-encrusted staircase, Jack finally dared to look back. All around this huge metallic monster of the structure they had just exited - cylindrical and jutting with open stairs and ladders, its diagonal enclosed corridor dropping into oblivion below water level - lay the blue-gray sea, rough around the rapids but gentle closer to shore. Ahead of them, past these stairs, another open walkway joined itself to the top of a high bank and the land itself. Cold spray caught O'Neill in the face and he shuddered, turning back to the tree-studded meadows extending before them.

Safe, and stranded.

Without Daniel.

Damn it to hell.

_____

Sam stumbled, her arm caught in a firm, steady grip as Teal'c held her upright.

“You okay, Carter?” Jack's hand reached out for an elbow. His own body felt like he'd been hit by a truck. Or at least a wall or two.

It was a moment before Sam nodded, realizing a question had been asked and required a response, her head slowly turning towards her CO. Jack noted the distant look in her eyes, the slight tremor in Sam's hand as she held tightly to the railing. Her face was clouded with shock and horror. There was nothing O'Neill could say to lighten the mood; 'we'll find him' didn't cut it this time. So Jack remained by Sam's side, Teal'c's protection firm and close behind her, as they desolately descended the remainder of the stairs and followed the open walkway over the sea to the fields and wooded areas just up ahead. Not planning to wander far, all Jack wanted was a place to sit down and think. A place to clear his head and ponder survival. A place to set up what little camp they had, what with their gear having met a watery demise, and get warm and dry. He'd have plenty of time, soon enough, to mourn.

“There.” Jack indicated a clump of trees, the first of many at their disposal. In continued silence, still dripping wet, Teal'c and Carter allowed him to lead the way. Stopping at the grove he dropped heavily onto the grassy ground by a thick tree. Leaning his head on his palms, he heaved out a loud exhalation.

“O'Neill.”

Jack ignored his teammate. He wasn't ready to talk.

“There was nothing you could have done.”

Except maybe pay attention to all that dripping. “And?” The single word escaped as a low grunt.

And Teal'c was not so naive as to think there would be anything he could say right now, to ease the pain. “We must consider how to return to the Stargate.”

Jack's stare was nearly contemptuous. “Unless you can walk on water or have some hidden gear, that won't be happening.”

Teal'c knew that. But his intent was to distract O'Neill, bring him back to the present situation, his mind - at least for a moment - removed from his lost teammate. They were all in this together; they were all stranded, and they had all lost someone very important to them. O'Neill was not alone.

_____

Oh, thank God.

The relieved thought persisted, his body finally having risen out of the deluge, as Daniel struggled to breath. Deep coughs wracked a body that was too sore to move, a sharp persistent pain somewhere to his left nearly causing him to pass out again. His stomach rolled with unwanted motion; was it just him, or was the ground beneath him unstable? Jack's voice again, concerned, yelling - no, whispering - his name, more than once. Turning his head and expelling more water-choked breaths, Daniel's eyes fluttered open to a sun-lit pattern on the floor by his head, Jack's voice fading away into silence. No, not silence but a roaring in his ears. The pain in his side filtered out any further observations, and his eyes closed tightly with a mind of their own.

“Jack?” His voice came out hoarse in his throat's soreness. But realizing Jack had been nowhere in sight, he stumbled back to nearly complete consciousness. Where am I?

Memory flooded back, like the water through which he'd been propelled. The room had collapsed, forcing him into the wall. Or out through the wall at the far side, one of those screen doorways, into another corridor. He'd been flushed out of there like a stone down a toilet.

Good… ihh, he coughed, jolting his aches, eyes fighting to stay open, image.

A sharp pain to his left. Couldn't quite place it yet. Something about his arm, his left arm. Again he coughed fiercely, water trying to expel through his nose. He felt like a beached whale.

Another good image, and this time Daniel managed to get his eyes propped open. Blood was running from cuts on his left arm, and he knew the poor lighting masked bruises. That, however, wasn't the entire problem; he suspected more than just surface damage. He was pretty sure the arm wasn't broken, but from the pain upon movement he figured something must be torn inside. Tendons, maybe, near his shoulder.

For the first time, Daniel noticed the blue shiny flooring he was lying on… visible only under the portholes in this faintly-lit corridor. Sunlight? His body had not completely cleared the water that had brought him here; it pulsed before him, under his legs, up to his knees. Being flushed into this corridor was the only thing that had saved his life. His life? A sudden, furious blaze of panic struck him in the gut.

“Sam!...Jack? Teal'c?” He called, but the sound of his own pitiful voice was all he heard above the gurgling pat of subsiding water.

“Hello? Anyone?” God, how he hated when this happened.

This time, though, there was no Stargate, and no aliens with whom to communicate. Just dead skeletons, if the rest of this ship was anything like that which he'd already seen.

God.

He couldn't deny the agonizing thoughts parading through his mind. His friends had either drowned, or been buried in the rubble. In the murky lighting Daniel squinted at the black water stretching out in front of him, way down to the far end of this corridor. The doorway itself was filled with debris that had followed in his wake, the impromptu dam probably the only thing that had kept it from flooding completely and drowning him. There was no way to get back to whatever remained of his team.

And if he lingered here much longer, there was a good chance that dam might burst.

Forcing himself up on unsteady legs, Daniel hobbled to a porthole and looked out. Even without hidden injuries, walking would have been difficult; this corridor seemed to angle upwards, slightly.

The top portion of the little window was above water. Miles and miles of sea stretched before him, sparkling in sunlight. In the distance, an island. A closed causeway - almost like a bridge - snaking out of the water and heading towards land, but abruptly ending. The porthole did not give enough of a vista to see what lay beyond all that, but one puzzling thing was becoming clear: this was not a ship.

Daniel, still shivering from his near-drowning and the traumatic loss of his friends, realizing he was now completely cut off from the Stargate and from home, forced himself through the next doorway and into another matching corridor, now tilting downwards. Dam be damned, he lowered himself down to the smooth flooring below another porthole, this one completely underwater, laying his head against the wall and closing his tired eyes. Unable and unwilling to move - exactly where was there to go, anyway? - hours passed, as approaching dusk spray-painted the sky with deepening gray, for any eyes that were able to see it. Too exhausted and shell-shocked to go on, the damp, musty corridor would have to shelter him through the night.

_____

Behind the jutting cylindrical tower, beyond the turbulent waters, a series of unusual enclosed walkways paraded in and out of the sea for as far as the eye could see, branching off one from another, a zigzag of snaking bridges connecting islands to mainland. Some stretches were on pillars, some seemingly rested on the surface of the water itself, and other sections dipped into and disappeared below the waterline, not to resurface for what looked like miles, leaving a sea of emptiness. Jack stood on the stones where the shore began, the muddy path having taken him to the base of the small cliff, and stared out at the vast expanse of deep blue. On the bank above, he suspected his teammates were keeping an eye on him, but they had allowed him this space, a moment to muse and ponder. Daylight had begun to desert them hours ago; camp was nothing more than a pile of leaves. Not that there'd be sleep, so it made little difference what surface padded his butt. But there were fruits high on the trees, a good thing as their backpacks and weapons were somewhere under twenty or more feet of water or debris. Great job he'd done, protecting their equipment. They'd - no, he'd - go back and see what he could salvage, maybe tomorrow. A quick swim into that communications room might also reveal Daniel's body.

The thought brought a sharp, lingering stab of pain. Again. Still.

He could sense his teammates waiting on the cliff above. They knew better than to point out he'd been standing there for most of the afternoon. They knew better than to point out that if Daniel hadn't yet appeared, he was unlikely to do so. They knew better than to point out there was no way of getting home.

Right now, Teal'c knew better than to engage him in any conversation whatsoever, and Carter was probably too wrapped up in her own miseries to want to challenge him to a discussion. That was fine; when he got a grip he'd find out how she was doing, but right now he was of no use to either of them. If he hadn't told Daniel to check out the screens, if he'd waited just one more minute, if he'd let Daniel see what Carter had found, let him remain beside him… if if if, what ifs, if there was some great cosmic revenge at play here, the universe could just go screw itself.

As for the rest of his team… what did they have, and what did they need? Well, they knew where the Stargate was, vaguely. All they had to do was find a way back into a crushed, imploded tunnel and find it, then dial out with no power source - if the gate itself wasn't under water. That was all. Piece of cake… or about as easy as baking one, given the circumstances.

Jack was in no hurry to get back up to their clearing. Right now, self-preservation wasn't taking precedence.

Maybe in the morning, but not now.

_____

There were trees, there were flowers, and there were stones. Large ones. With writing.

After Sam had adamantly relocated camp to a stand of bushes housing fewer spider webs, they had noticed these large rocks, camouflaged in moss and ferns.

Their pilings of dried grass lay between these boulders that served as footrests and headrests for their beds, supporting the twigs and branches which offered three tiny shelters from the elements. More aptly, Jack muttered, for no one else's ears, “More like headstones.” Headstones with epitaphs on their faces.

“O'Neill. I believe this writing is that of the Ancients. It is similar to that which we encountered on P4X 639.” Malikai's planet of corona emissions and time loops. They'd come across bits and pieces of it on other planets as well.

The language he'd had downloaded into his brain and reversed by the Asgard. The language he'd helped Daniel decipher more than once, more or less involuntarily. “The Ancients were here?” Jack repeated incredulously. “Why?” So phlegmatic, that Teal'c.

“If I were able to decipher the inscriptions, perhaps I could tell you.”

The man they needed for that was Daniel. And Daniel was…

“Doesn't matter what it says. They're not here now. And we're spending the night here.” Wasn't even an option. The place could be a radioactive test zone, and it would make no difference.

“Colonel!”

Jack looked up slowly at the exclamation. Whatever it was that had Sam spooked, he probably couldn't do all that much about it. 

On second thought... “Whoa.” He hastily jumped to his feet, privately cursing the bruises intent on making him pay for moving so fast.

With darkness falling around them, Jack had been prepared to spend a dark forbidding night - or many - out here in the shelter by the woods, with or without animals, definitely without the weapons they'd lost while trying not to drown, hopefully with enough of the fruits from the trees to fight off hunger. He had not been expecting to spend the time, however, with … other humans.

Sort of.

“Where did they come from?” So soundlessly. Sam was standing by her little nest, on edge, more alert than she'd been for hours.

“I believe they dropped from the trees.”

“Yeah… I think you're right.” Unnoticed before, due to the camouflage of their leafy garments, Jack now saw eyes staring down at him from a tree beyond the one from whose base he'd been gathering twigs. “They've been watching us the whole time?” he shuddered. “Creepy.”

At least four heads were making themselves visible from up in the trees, and now two more bodies were peeking out cautiously from behind another grove. One alien had stepped fully out of hiding, taking two steps forward before pausing shyly, an expression of fear shadowing his features. A second stepped out beside him, this one a woman.

Both figures were clad only from the mid-chest down, covered in tied leaves and decorative shells. They carried no weapons. They were short and squat, with slightly large heads. The most remarkable feature, however, was their arms… or, arm. Jutting out from two heavy-boned shoulders, a thick stump wound around from each, merging and tapering off in front to form one single, centered, supple limb. This limb ended in a cupped, enclosed palm, with three wide digits above and below… not unlike the trunk of an elephant, but with six working, partly webbed, fingers.

Daniel, you're on… Jack stared at the figures, and they stared back, the large eyes their second most prominent feature. “Hi,” he attempted. “Don't suppose you mind us dropping in for the night?” Or many.

The aliens just stared, shifting apprehensively.

“Guess they won't be inviting us home with them,” he muttered to Sam, who was now hovering by his side.

“Would that make you more comfortable, Sir?” Without Daniel to initiate communication? She knew his response; he was happier out in the open, even without any weapons.

“I see no houses, O'Neill.”

“We didn't search the area all that well.” No, just took it for granted there was no one around. Just birds, and spiders… “How do they get into the trees with one arm?”

“Most likely as swiftly as they descended. The arm appears strong and versatile.”

Jack had not taken his eyes from their unexpected guests, nor they from his. At least they blink. “We just going to stare at each other all night, ya think?” He wondered if they were nocturnal.

“If they are now choosing to be seen, perhaps they have an interest in communicating.”

“Where the hell's Daniel when you need h…” Jack's voice trailed off, regretting the utterance as soon as it left his lips.

The others knew better than to respond.

Fine, let's get the show on the road. “Hi,” he repeated. “I'm Jack O'Neill.”

The aliens just kept surveying them.

“We're just going to spend the night here, if you don't mind.” Jack indicated the pitiful, personal shelters they'd erected. “Been a long day, y'know?”

There was still no response. From behind, another alien dropped from a tree, and Jack turned swiftly, hand groping for a non-existent weapon.

There was a large yellow fruit in the man's single hand, and he held it out.

“Uh…” Jack hesitated a moment, then advanced slowly and accepted the offering, turning it over absently. “Thanks. Got nothing to trade, though.”

After several long uncomfortable moments of more standing and staring, the aliens began to retreat, disappearing up trees and into the woods. The three members of SG-1 again found themselves alone, the sensation of being watched persistent.

“Think they're sleeping up there, keeping an eye on us?”

“I would assume it wise to keep watch tonight, O'Neill.”

“Yeah. I would have suggested that.” Jack knelt down by his small, partly obscured bed, and crawled under the supported twigs. “Carter, you're first. Wake me in three.”

_____

Daniel awoke with a start; in spite of the restless night, he'd managed to catch some sleep, waking over and over with a sick dread in the pit of his stomach and despair scraping the back of his mind. Sleep had made the intolerable tolerable, on and off for a couple of hours, but now Daniel knew he'd have to move on. Staying in a partially flooded, mostly dark, interior walkway wasn't an option. He wished desperately that his flashlight had not been swept from his hand and lost in the deluge.

Although his arm seemed to have scabbed and stopped bleeding, it still ached mercilessly. Touching it gingerly, he gasped and pulled back. The tenderness indicated more than just cuts and bruises. Forcing his heavy body upright, Daniel felt his way along the corridor, a banged-up leg precipitating a limp. The route seemed to weave in and out from the surface of the water, sometimes dipping, sometimes rising, and he had to hold the wall for support. As he trudged along the sun again began to shine through, the floor becoming less wet, and opportunities arose to check out the few portholes along the way. Vantage points offered little more in the way of information than he'd had the previous day and, without his glasses, nothing was all that clear anyway.

Stepping almost heedlessly through yet another portal, Daniel froze, a sense of dread and danger washing through him. There was no light at all in this room, no portholes, nor was it a corridor with a wall to guide and steady him but instead a seemingly large and open space; every step could be a hazard. With no idea what lay before him, or even if the floor itself was intact, he had no choice but to venture ahead.

Sliding his feet carefully in front of him inch by inch, feeling around with his right arm spread outward, his toe bumped into a low object and he hissed out an involuntary groan. The impact of the situation struck him forcefully; there was no one here to either hear or help if he damaged himself further, probably no one around for miles - or light years. This was serious business, this being alone, the last person on planet 3PS 280. He'd have to carefully make his way around this room and every other room on this pseudo ship or pedestrian bridge, whatever the hell it was. Ow. Damn. More detritus; he'd better follow his advice asap and quit daydreaming. The room was an obstacle course, and he had no idea what he was bumping into or stepping on. Hopefully, not human remains. Without sight, Daniel's nose and skin took note of the stuffy, dusty air, sticking in his already raw throat and causing a cough to bubble. His sense of despair grew, heartened only by the thought that this room had to end somewhere. He had no guarantee, though, that whatever lay in wait would be any better.

_____

Sam listened to the distant hoots and nearer frogs, trying to relax her nerves, still her mind, ignore her aches, and allow herself some comfort in the grasses. Comfort, though, was relative, for even an orthopedic bed and down duvet wouldn't have eased her pain. It was hard knowing she had to keep up a front, the expectation of self-preservation along with the survival of the colonel and Teal'c mandatory; she was, technically, still on duty. But her heart was warring with her brain, and emotion had a way of ganging up on even the most determined mind. It had been Daniel who'd once questioned her need to stay detached; what happens when it's Daniel who's at the heart of her sorrow?

Night had finally come upon them, and with it the opportunity to escape her teammates' scrutiny. She could hear their thoughts: How're you holding up, Carter? Don't let it get to you, Carter, we still have to get out of here. Plenty of time to grieve when we get back, Carter. You are a warrior, Major Carter. You will do what is necessary to survive. She didn't need to hear the words to know what they were thinking. She hated putting on a front; why couldn't the colonel and Teal'c just admit their own emotions and get them out in the open without pretending?

At least now with her watch over she could lie in the darkness, in her privacy, away from prying eyes, and allow her heart to take her where she needed most to go. She hoped the night would be very, very long.

_____

The short cool night passed uneventfully, and although catching little sleep, eventually Jack had let down his guard. Upon rising with the approaching dawn, however, he wondered if that lapse had been wise. The natives had apparently been by.

“I presume those didn't walk here by themselves,” Jack approached Teal'c, who was already staring at the small pile of purple banana-like fruits a few meters from where they had been sleeping. Comically perched on top of the mini mound was a thumb-sized reddish-orange bird, proudly laying claim to its treasure.

“Indeed.” As he stepped forward, the bird trilled and reluctantly flew off, alighting only meters away on a nearby rock, watching the action surrounding its lucky find. Perhaps this was a bird that did not like the heights of trees where the fruit grew? "Yet I saw no one."

“I didn't hear anyone either, Sir,” Sam rustled wearily up from her bed of leaves and branches. She had fallen soundly asleep only when the night had begun to fade. Her watch told her she'd slept for only forty-five minutes. Her stiff, sore muscles, though, told her she'd been lying there for too long.

Dawn was gently turning the sky a pale pink, and beyond the round cylindrical protrusion sitting in the bay, they could see land at a distance. This was more likely a very large lake or wide river than a sea.

“Carter, do those look like buildings to you?”

“They do, Sir. I can't tell too well from here, but they don't seem to be in very good condition.” Unless the asymmetrical lopsidedness was innovative architecture.

“Might be civilization though.” A better place to spend the rest of one's days than on this semi-deserted island. Or rather, an island filled with primitive natives who live in trees and seem to have no language. “Someone built those bridges, and it wasn't this crowd.”

“We'd need a boat,” she reminded him distractedly, not that there was a chance he'd forgotten that little fact.

“Lots of trees around.”

“Oh, of course; I guess you still have your pocket knife.”

Jack eyed her sharply. Sarcasm wasn't her forte. But at least today she was talking, so he bit back his own response. “The natives might have tools,” he replied almost apologetically. So the plan had some holes in it; he'd rather spend three years cutting down a tree with a pocket knife than a lifetime sitting under that tree, doing nothing.

“They live in the trees, Colonel. I doubt they cut them down to build boats and houses.”

Jack stared at the major; she was in a foul mood, and likely just needed to let off steam. No matter how realistic her objections, she wasn't one to just give up. He decided to say nothing more. Where the heck had Teal'c wandered off to, anyway?

_____

This was either the never-ending room, or he was going in circles trying to find an opposite doorway. For that matter, Daniel had no idea if there even was a door out of here, or that it was not completely blocked with debris. He was only guessing that this structure was linear, as the rest of this experience had been, and that there was a way out at the other end. This might be the end, for all he knew. Or, in his attempts to keep from falling onto objects, he'd completely lost his sense of direction. In the light, this room was probably no more formidable than any of the others his team had come across, but in the dark it was an elusive maze. Got lots of time, Daniel reminded himself, forcing down impending panic. Lots of time. With no water, food, or any way home. Maybe that sea water was potable… if he couldn't find a way out of here, he could always backtrack and try to drink some of that floodwater in the other room. For some reason, the thought repelled him. I'll just continue. Not too thirsty yet.

_____

While communication remained nonexistent, the natives made a second appearance that day. More sustenance had been brought to the remaining members of SG-1, in the form of fruits and flowers, and laid in a pile not too close to where SG-1 stood conversing. The team had been uncertain whether to eat the flowers or wear them, until the aliens had taken a mouthful of petals and sucked.

Still, both Teal'c and Jack had thought it prudent to abstain from that particular variety of nourishment. Sam remained quiet and aloof, almost disinterested.

Jack watched her with apprehension, unobtrusively. Maybe it would be better to have a group therapy session, let her get out what she was feeling, but instinct told him to carry on with their own survival mission, and that meant scouring the island both for danger and for any means to get to the other side of the river. Right now, the less said about Daniel the better, but that was likely just due to his own private way of dealing with stress, guilt, and anguish. For some reason, it had always been easier to talk to Daniel about what was bothering him, than to bare his own soul to Carter or Teal'c. Maybe, because they were military - whether from Earth or Chulak - he felt obligated to keep up the bravado, his feelings under lock and key. On the other hand, how long had he known these people? They were, in all respects, his closest friends.

But he couldn't bring himself to say it, and simpler words issued from his lips. “Let's explore.” Turning his back on the others, his bruised knee complaining less than it had the previous day, Jack strode off in the direction in which the natives had disappeared.

_____

A lengthy walk around much of the island uncovered a few clay and bark longhouses, where more natives of all ages stopped and stared at SG-1's approach. Children cuddled up to their mothers, peeking shyly, but other motion ceased. There was disconcertingly no sound amongst the tribe, although bird chatter was in abundance.

“Don't mind us,” Jack announced to all and none. “We're the new neighbours. Would appreciate if anyone here has a phone though. Or a boat.”

If there was a reaction, it was not visible on their faces.

“They built these dwellings with one arm? Daniel would….” Ah, never mind.

“Indeed,” Teal'c agreed softly, nearly inaudibly. “He would.”

Enough. Jack had had enough. “Crap, Teal'c. What the hell happened? Luck of the draw? Fate had it in for him? He just happened to be on the wrong side of the filing cabinet?” Because I sent him there? “Why did we make it instead of him?” At that, Jack finally turned to stare the other man down. He couldn't miss the startled, pained expression on Carter's face, her eyes too bright as she turned away, while remaining within listening distance. Eavesdropping was not against the rules.

“That is not a question I am able to answer.”

“I don't care. Answer it anyway. Talk to me. Daniel was hearing noises all night. We all heard water dripping. Why didn't we figure it out?”

“We could have done nothing, O'Neill. There was no way home until the allotted time was up.”

“Yeah, well, time was up quicker for Daniel, wasn't it,” Jack finished bitterly, kicking a deeply embedded rock and stifling the wince, then headed back towards their own pitiful sleeping shelters at the mouth of the woods with his guilt intact. They were no closer to getting away from here than they'd been yesterday. By now, the SGC had called in and found a gate that either would not open, or one that was swimming in water. There'd be no rescue from that end, with SG-1 sadly declared MIA.

_____

Eternal ones.

No… 'knowing ones'. Is that what it said? Old ones. First Ones? No, that didn't seem right. Wisdom? Knowledge? Old Ones Fought the Tide. The river? What the hell was that supposed to mean, anyway? It must have been important, to be so significantly inscribed along the walls. We Learned. We Learn Still. The sign, the messages, skimming the upper quarter of the corridor's lengths, in huge symbols printed in four languages, putting the Rosetta stone to shame. The languages of Heliopolis, only now he could read much of it, albeit slowly, thanks to Jack and a recent time loop ordeal. Something was off, though; it wasn't exactly the same.

One of the languages looked almost like that of those they referred to as Ancients, yet exact translation escaped him. But somehow, Daniel knew he was right. And this room was saying… what? More words, around this perimeter. “Since the Old Ones - large ones. Keepers of Knowledge. No, Keepers of Nature. Land? Destiny lies in our hands.” Daniel frowned. He had nothing to work with, nothing to make anything make sense. But would it matter? Did this walkway lead anywhere but to a dead end in the sea? Since exiting the dark room, he'd investigated more hallways and this present room, thankfully with enough window light to prevent him from bumping into things. But this room had nothing in it but seats. Seats, everywhere. He'd found a stack of thick, clear light green pages, pressed polished jade, covered with what looked like signatures. Thousands of them. Guests? Was this a waiting room?

Sighing, Daniel knew he had to keep going as quickly as possible. The view out the window showed partial land bridges, above the water and then submerging. Were they meant to be doing that? Were all the walkways as flooded as the section where he'd lost the rest of SG….

Daniel closed his eyes. He knew he had to find civilization; remaining on this waterway in some enclosed bridge was not an option. Hunger and thirst plagued him; try as he might to ignore the need for liquid and food, his body kept betraying his wishes. He had the odd sensation that he was in an aquarium… and he'd give anything to have people looking in at him, right about now. From a boat. With Jack, Sam, and Teal'c waving at him from the outside.

Shaking himself from the reverie, the surge of loneliness that engulfed him took his breath away. Despair could sink him into hell, or he could keep on going, with the aim of one day finding his way back home. While the latter meant pushing heavy legs forward with optimism nil, the first option meant sitting here in terror until he died of dehydration. First, he'd get water. He could contemplate dying of loneliness later.

_____

“I'm going back in.”

“Why?” Carter's first word in at least an hour sounded more like an accusation than curious interest. Jack decided it was fear in her voice that made it waver like that.

“I want to look for our gear.”

“There's a lot of water in there.” Her voice was so soft, he didn't know if it was even meant for him to hear.

“I'm a good swimmer, Major. Don't worry.” Jack regarded Sam's downcast gaze, and the slight frown in Teal'c's brows. “You too,” he nodded at the former Jaffa. “I'll be fine.”

“I will accompany you, O'Neill.”

A momentary pause, and Jack nodded.

“Me too.”

“No.”

“Sir - ”

“Carter, I don't want to be worrying about anyone else today. I won't be long.”

“And I don't want to be here alone… Jack.”

Jack's head shot up. The way Carter was staring him down, her tone… and the use of his first name, caused a blatant realization that his team was no longer on duty. They were lost, afraid, and needed each other. Carter needed more than a standing order from a home base they might never see again, and more than an arbitrary set of orders from a senior officer. She needed a friend. How long they could survive out here was in question, although there did seem to be a food supply, if the natives were willing to share indefinitely and if he could catch the occasional fish. Boredom and loss of identity and purpose were more the long term concern, however. A sharp pang of loss flooded through him at the brief thought that Daniel's skills would make things so much easier right about now. “Come, but I'm the only one going under.” Jack's tone signified that no matter what, he was still in charge.

_____

Daniel had to stop staring.

He would.

At some point, his will would take him forward to investigate, but right now he was frozen where he stood, gaping at the walls covered in blocks of dusty jade - or at least something that looked like jade, rows and rows of inscribed manuscripts. Preserved for eternity, in their thick semi-translucent panels. And this time, light filtered in from the dozens of small transparent squares of glass embedded in the low ceiling, light specifically aimed at each and every section of interest, minimizing reflection upon the array.

Finally focusing, Daniel stepped towards the first panel, wiping tracks of dust free with his good arm. Well, the better arm, anyway. Both had suffered bruises, but it was only the left arm that had tendon damage and compromised mobility. Upon closer inspection under better lighting, Daniel had discovered the extreme tenderness was the result of slivers of something bluish wedged under the skin. Not wooden splinters but maybe a type of plastic. They'd have to remain; he'd eased his arm into the loop of belt fastened across his opposite shoulder and around his neck like a sling.

Daniel had to squint, again longing for his glasses. Words, sentences, paragraphs, stories, in that near-Ancient script; this would take time… and Daniel had a lot of that, and none. None to spare until he found food and water, but if this veritable library could point him to any of that, his quest might be easier. He needed to know what he was heading into, or away from. But studying these panels, finding that information, could take him hours, days, or weeks, and that sort of time was only a luxury, not a given. Weighing the odds of finding the information he needed quickly enough, or moving on, Daniel reluctantly departed, taking a lingering look back, as he limped through yet another doorway. There had been no major damage in the last few rooms and corridors, just the wear and tear of ages. All these latest rooms seemed to be above water; had that section with the Stargate been part of this labyrinth, or was it really a ship of some sort, maybe living quarters, or some stopover point, for those making the journey under the sea? No, definitely not a ship, or he would have died within its walls.

This exit found him in a small vestibule, empty and open at both ends, shafts of daylight pouring through and filtering into the library. Eight feet away the second open doorway beckoned invitingly, innocently, for Daniel to step through.

When he did, his sharp intake of breath caught in a dry throat. The stunning, shocking sight before him mingled with the only emotion his body and psyche could muster: solid, soul-sinking despair, draining him of all thoughts, hope, and optimism.

This was so not good.

_____

Jack sputtered up out of the water for the fourth time. This time he'd made it back into what he thought was the room of implosion, and from what he could see, there was no sign of anything familiar. Much of the room was gone, walls blown out into more acres of water leading directly into the sea or to somewhere unidentifiable. If their packs were there, they were buried under rubble, but most likely they'd been carried out to the river. If Daniel was there… he was destined to remain in a watery grave. For that, Jack was almost grateful. The last thing he really wanted to do was swim the bloated, unrecognizable body of his closest friend into view of Carter. Part of him, though, registered intense wretchedness; Daniel deserved better. He deserved a burial with words and meanings only a close friend could adequately impart, but Jack knew he couldn't have done justice to such a life. Still, he comforted himself with the vow that they'd give Daniel a memorial, soon. With or without a body.

More than likely, though, Daniel had been sucked out with the waves through that gaping open hole where a screenish thing had once probably been, although it was hard to tell just what had been there. If they had to remain in this place, on this island, on this planet… they might some day come across his body, washed up on shore. Whatever was left of it.

As he heaved in some deep breaths, Jack caught sight of the others, their faces downcast. Not that they'd been expecting much, but always a small amount of hope lingered. He shook his head at their expectant, silent inquiry. “Nothing.” They knew this had been the final chance.

As Jack was pulled from the now dirty water of the tilting corridor by the strong supportive hands of Teal'c, he took a moment to regain his balance, bracing himself against his teammate's arm. Sam, too, was steadying herself against a wall with one hand. Jack futilely brushed excess water from his face and hair with a dripping arm, accepting from Teal'c the dry clothing he'd removed. “This whole place is underwater.” No way to get back to the Stargate. No way home. “Let's just get out of here.”

_____

“No.”

This wasn't what Daniel had wanted to see. The hard fiberglass-type floor upon which he now stood was the only part of this room still intact, still above water, turning it into a wall-less outdoor observation deck, a porch, and nothing more lay beyond but the sea. Whatever this section of pedestrian bridge had once been, it was now in ruins, the remains of which were cracking beneath his feet even as he stood there. Water lapped over the edges on all three sides, surrounding him, and puddled up through the cracks of the flooring.

His journey ended, here. There was nowhere else to go.

His vision blurring, the cries of a distant seabird, sounds of gentle waves lapping at the deck, could not penetrate the raging silence within Daniel's soul. Senses ceased to exist; time slowed to nothing. The wetness on his cheek was nonexistent to one who could not feel.

The sea stretched out around him, held him in its center, a small entity pinpointing the last microcosm of life from a planet thousands of light years away, a planet with millions of people unaware that this small speck of sentience was standing here, forlornly out of hope.

Minutes passed. Maybe close to an hour.

Eventually necessity overcomes all else, and time resumes, whether or not one wills it.

The feel of wet spray on his face triggered his return to perception, and that, his need for drink.

There were more walkways in the distance, poking up from the water, vanishing back into its depths. A crisscrossing snake of damaged bridges, forming the only visible connections between landmasses, stretched to the horizon as far as the eye could see. In places the water was rough, white water surging around rocks, and along some of the remote shoreline appeared to be cliffs and pencil-thin waterfalls. Even barring the unknown presence of predatory water creatures, there was little hope of anyone but a strong, seasoned swimmer making it from one bridge to another; with Daniel's arm in bad shape, it wasn't possible.

He bent down, close enough to the water spilling now and again up over the floor that held him, as small waves sloshed against the unsteady platform. Without the support of a low broken portion of leftover wall, just inches high, Daniel would've found himself in the sea.

He touched the cold water with trembling fingertips, putting them to his lips. He had no way of knowing if this water was clean, safe, but at least it wasn't salty. Kneeling on this unsteady, rickety foundation, he leaned forward and drank.

_____

There was nothing left to do but spend his last days in this pentagonal library.

'Library'; be careful what you wish for, Daniel chastised himself condescendingly. Wasn't this what he had wanted, back on that first day, arriving with SG-1? At least it would alleviate the boredom, if not his hunger, if he could only get his thoughts to settle and his mind to concentrate. Each time he began to focus, he'd realize his thoughts had again drifted back to the quick death of his three teammates, and his own dismal future. Was it only the night before last that Jack had been teasing him about talking to skeletons?

Why hadn't he heeded the warning signs of dripping water? Would there have been anything they could have done?

Probably not. No sense in pondering 'what ifs'. There was nothing he could do about it now, and that much was fact.

_____

The lack of a plan of action was already wearing him down, and they'd only been back at “camp” for two hours. Camp still consisted of three nests of grasses and leaves and sticks, and now a small pile of purple bananas and some green round juicy things that were apparently edible. This wasn't the first time Jack had been forced to believe he'd be retiring with local aliens, as thoughts of Edora mixed both fondly and nervously in his memory, but at least he'd been with people who were enough like him, and who could speak his language, to consider them friends. Ambiguity plagued his emotions; selfishly glad, this time, for the company of his two teammates, still he was remorseful that they had to experience this loss and isolation with him. While Teal'c was already over a hundred years old, Carter had so much left to give the world - Earth - and so much living left to do.

“Guess we should try building something more permanent,” Jack suggested heavily, looking around for a sheltered spot. “And dry. I'm sure it must rain here.” A shelter in an area the locals would allow, realizing the three strangers were here to stay, at least for a while. Would their hospitality be challenged, now? If those people had tools - no matter how primitive - with which to build their longhouses, then those same tools might be useful for making a boat or raft, although such implements might not be strong enough to cut up fresh wood, if the natives even permitted them to try that. They seemed like environmentalist, nature-loving souls. Normally that would go over well with Jack, but not this time.

There were birds, lots of them, in a variety of colours... they might be edible. If that loud distant one they'd heard earlier had been a water bird, there might also be fish. The one thing Jack knew he'd have to try, and soon, was making some sort of fishing line. They - or at least he - couldn't survive happily on fruit for the rest of his life, nor did he think he could climb those trees to get it down. And if the locals lived here, they must be drinking safely from the river, unless their immune systems were just more adapted to the water quality.

Well.

First, survival. Then they'd turn their thoughts to leaving this place.

_____

Daniel had found where the story started, albeit more like an ending, and it took many restarts before he accepted the confusion and continued. Maybe it would all make sense when he was done.

But the more he read, the more he felt that this was not the history of a people at all, not the story of a civilization, but a story of fiction. It started with a highly advanced race that did business with what he could only think of as Ancients, and ended with a people of short, squat stature and only a single, central limb in place of arms, living in self-imposed solitude.

Daylight had turned to night, and night into the next day, with forced sleep due to the onset of natural darkness and not so natural eye strain. Water was just beyond the exit, but food was unavailable, and hunger tore at his belly. Daniel stood just outside the doorway, holding on to the frame so as not to be swept into the water by the wind or a wave. Darkness surrounded him, broken only by a sky full of unfamiliar stars. There was no light along the shore; either the former villages were gone, uninhabited, or the indigenous people used no artificial lighting. More than likely there was no one around; this network of water-walkways was old and out of commission.

Who the heck had built these bridges? And where were they now?

_____

Thank goodness nights here were short. Perhaps they'd be longer in another season, but Daniel knew he wouldn't live to see that. The sounds of near-silence throughout the night, only the faint whispers of water lapping around an almost sound-proof library kept his mind aware and awake. He loved to be out in the wilderness, experience new environments, but not alone. Never so totally alone, and not with the threat - no, the knowledge - of death lingering over his shoulder. Starving had never been on his list of things to do before he died.

Again, he found himself wishing he'd been lost with his teammates; it would have been so much easier than this. God, Jack, Sam… Teal'c. Give me a sign you're looking out for me. That you'll be waiting to take me with you, wherever you are. Whenever I get there.

Sure. One could only hope the ancient Egyptians knew something about the afterlife. While his brief contact with a glowy being named Oma Desala and her meditative keeper on Kheb had alerted him to at least one other plane of existence, it told him nothing about dying, really; enlightenment was just another dimension, and one needed to be far more spiritually advanced than himself in order to get there.

Today, he'd tackle the walls again. Maybe something would make sense about the evolution of life in the science fiction fairy tale of this world.

_____

Teal'c sat cross-legged by the trunk of a tree, listening to the soft lap of the tide as it swept the rocks below, fingering the item he'd found floating on the pooled water of the corridor the previous day. The natives had not hidden in the trees again, but had brought more fruits to share and had promptly disappeared. SG-1 had nothing to offer in return, which, although guilt-inducing for himself as well as for O'Neill and Major Carter, would have distressed Daniel Jackson to a much greater extent. But Daniel Jackson would likely, by now, have found a way to make up for the indiscretion. He would have become friendly with the natives, of that Teal'c had no doubt.

O'Neill and Major Carter slept. There was no real need to keep further watch, yet still they upheld the tradition. Even if there was some malicious intent on the part of these indigenous beings, or if wild animals lay lurking in the woods, SG-1 had no weapons with which to fend them off. A short thick tree limb lay at his side, at the sides of his sleeping team members as well, for those were all they had with which to defend themselves. It would take a while before any of them gave in to the realization that defense was no longer necessary, although Major Carter would most reasonably be the first to accept that likelihood. Already she was showing signs of indifference, apathy, disinterest, her demeanor at times almost distant and withdrawn. While their stranded situation was dire, Major Carter was feeling alone in the loss of her closest friend and confidant, and the heaviness was weighing greatly upon her. Had there appeared a danger on this island, Teal'c was certain she could be counted on for support, for she was an accomplished and trustworthy warrior. But they knew in their hearts this was not the case; this island posed no threat.

Yet she was not isolated in her emotional distraction, not at all. Teal'c knew O'Neill was putting forth a false front. The warrior leader was reluctant to admit that this time there would be no eleventh hour rescue for their friend, no sarcophagus, and no mirror to bring him back from an alternate world. Teal'c could see the strain in O'Neill's body language, could detect the abruptness in his tone. O'Neill felt, more than any of them, the need to remain strong. Yet he felt the guilt more so than either he or Major Carter as well, for O'Neill believed he had let them all down. He shouldered the responsibility for the loss of one of their own, and for leading his team to this island in the first place, to become stranded, to allow the death of one under his supervision.

For this reason, Teal'c would never give O'Neill the article he'd found in the flooded corridor, floating on the water. O'Neill had gone under without noticing it; Major Carter had been too tense to clearly be aware of anything but O'Neill's danger. It had been a swift, easy move, his back to Major Carter, when he grabbed Daniel Jackson's glasses in his large hand and shoved them into a pocket. The glasses changed nothing. His remaining teammates did not need to see the last physical evidence of a devoted friend. Perhaps Major Carter would want this as a memento, but Teal'c thought it best to just move on and leave the pain behind. As for O'Neill… the man did not need the eternal reminder of a duty failed.

And as for himself…

Teal'c stepped closer to the cliff's edge, the urge to say a prayer and toss the item into the sea motivating his movements. And yet he resisted. Ignoring the reasons for keeping his find from his two remaining teammates, the fact was that the glasses were already in his possession; selfishly, he could not bring himself to lose the last connection he had to one of his own closest friends. Folding the handles, he gently and carefully put the glasses back in his pocket.

The nights were not long, here. He would allow both O'Neill and Major Carter to rest undisturbed. They could sleep without needing to wake at first light; there was not much to do during the days ahead but learn to live off the land and survive.

_____

Normally, this would have jolted Daniel from his bed at the earliest hour, would have motivated him to rise and shine and begin the day with anticipation. Would have been the seed for optimism, cheer, and enthusiastic energy. Today, though, the manuscripts surrounding him fed no pleasure into his waking soul. Realization set upon him this morning hard and strong; as Ernest Littlefield had once so wearily pointed out, what was the thrill of gaining knowledge if one could never share it?

Daniel tried to ignore the growling of his stomach, tried to fill himself with water and pretend that would be all he ever needed. It would, in fact, be all he could ever get. Were there fish in this sea? If so, could he figure out how to catch one? Could he survive long enough for his arm to mend so that he could attempt a swim to the next walkway, and the next, and the next? Would there be anything on that large landmass worth surviving for?

Maybe these walls would tell him. Maybe there was a good reason to get himself up off the hard floor and continue to decipher what this library was trying to offer him. Maybe he could pretend that voice in his head trying to kick him into an upright position didn't just sound like Jack, but really was. Maybe he could pretend his friends were waiting for him to figure out a way to cross over to them… on that stretch of land with the odd-looking buildings. Maybe he could pretend the heartache wasn't trying to devour him from the inside.

Maybe he shouldn't give up, quite yet.

_____

He couldn't watch her do that any more.

Sam was staring out at the water, a pose she'd adopted yesterday, or maybe the day before, and Jack could almost see that wall rising around her, almost halfway built by now. Guilt plagued him; the loss of Daniel, the fact that they were stranded on this useless piece of land in the middle of nowhere… the loss of Daniel.

He'd be damned if he'd lose Carter too.

Approaching from behind, his steps were soft, hesitant, almost as deceptively calm as his voice. “Sam?”

She turned only a degree, not enough to see his face, just enough to acknowledge his presence and that he had spoken. The use of her given name had her attention; the col… Jack… had used it on occasion, but not often. He was reaching out to her. “Sir?”

The touch on her arm was so light she could hardly feel it. “We need to talk.”

_____

Legends were nice, entertaining, thought-provoking, when one wasn't consumed by the agony of loss, the dread of an abbreviated, alarming future, the ache of isolation, and the physical pain of hunger. In short, when one's mind wasn't wandering dismally to other places, the mythical origins of an unknown race could have kept Daniel intrigued for days. So could the learning of the new languages on these Rosetta walls. But all this knowledge would take him nowhere, allow him to share with no one, and consume far more hours and days than he had, no matter how willing his mind or spirit. The physical body just could not overcome the growing sensations of neglect, even if his mind had been able to conquer its depression.

But for lack of any other plan, anything else to keep his mind off his fate, Daniel kept up the translations. He was midway through the fourth of the five walls when he realized he'd been sitting there staring blankly for a period he couldn't even recall. Not caring, in spite of the persistent, nagging tug on his psyche that this wasn't a good idea, lying down just seemed far more conducive to his frame of mind than completing the translations.

Sleep here had never been comfortable nor had it come easily, but this time Daniel's thoughts blanked out as quickly as he could close his tired eyes. Sensation ceased, and with that, the hunger that had plagued him for four days now. Lying here, uncaring, on this smooth bare floor felt almost good.

Daylight still streamed in through the skylights.

_____

Side by side they sat, his arm no longer around her shoulder but the sense of companionship remaining. No matter what happened, they were in this together, for as many years as it took. There could be no hard feelings, no disruptive guilt. Jack had thought he was taking a step towards healing Carter when this friendly chat had been initiated, but he realized she'd gone a long way to easing his own demons. He'd just been too apprehensive and foolish to see that she'd been willing to do this days ago. He knew Teal'c understood, and right now was giving them space. Sometimes it scared him, how much Teal'c understood, or how much he'd relied on his teammates… all three of them… to pull each other through hard times.

The water glittered with unattainable diamonds, a river laced with remnants of once state-of-the-art bridges, complete with resting stations, dining rooms, and sleep halls, most having now collapsed and submerged, cutting these natives off from the cities that lay beyond. Had this happened so long ago that these inhabitants no longer knew of their ancestors across the way? Had the people in the cities abandoned them here, perhaps because they were physically different or incapable of speech? Were there perhaps people across the water who could help him and his two teammates live a more normal life?

“How far to the Stargate d'you suppose, Carter?” Jack stared out across the water, the solitude disconcerting against a backdrop of what once signified life and vitality.

“Judging from the distance we walked through the tunnels and the force of the deluge, I'd say about a third of the way across the river.”

“That's about what I figured, too.”

“Whatever you're thinking, Sir, we can't get back to it. It's on the bottom of the river.”

“There has to be a way.”

“Not without diving equipment.” Sam's body tensed, easing slightly out of her sitting position.

“Sam?”

Frowning, Carter pointed to the flowing waters down below, shoving herself up stiffly from the position she'd been in for almost two hours.

“What is it?”

“Sir…”

“'Jack''s fine from now on, Carter… Sam.” Hard as it was to relinquish the duty of looking out for his team, of being the one to protect them, of being a commanding officer, they were all equals here. The task of protection would never be taken lightly nor relinquished, for any of them; Carter had to know that she was as important here as he was, as Teal'c was, and always had been, whether or not there were any astrophysical anomalies to figure out. She was needed as a friend.

“Right.” But Sam was distracted, something having caught her undivided attention. “Colonel, there's a lot of floating debris out there.”

“I know.”

“We might find something strong enough to use as a raft or two.”

Jack was instantly on his feet, searching for a quick way to the base of the low cliff. Giving up on a path, he took a diagonal direction and began to half trek, half slide down the mud and over the rocks, Sam not far behind.

Seeing them disappear over the lip of the bank, Teal'c set out to see what had captured the sudden attention of his teammates.

_____

If the thought of starving to death had frightened him, there was something about dying in this storm that was even worse. Not the fact, really, that it could happen or that it was rekindling the memory of almost drowning in the deluge only days ago, but the fact that it was now and Daniel wasn't prepared, yet, to die tonight.

The storm itself might not have been so bad on land, but the splashing of the waves in the downpour rocked the barely-above-surface deck beyond the library and adjoining vestibule, vibrating the foundation of the library itself. The tremors were slight but consistent, and the open doorways invited both the wind and water spray, making for a damp, uncomfortable, tremulous shelter. Each burst of lightning splattered ghosts and shadows across the skylights and the jade panels; each clap of thunder threatened to turn this library into a sunken history itself. Daniel had no trust that this foundation would hold.

Perhaps it was a good thing, his fear. Perhaps it meant he still cared about something after all.

He could move further back into the tunnel, into the dark musty rooms and corridors where the wind and water would not reach, but the thought of this bridge collapsing, of being trapped in the airless darkness, scared him more than he wanted to admit. Better to be in the open, in the freedom of space, to die with nature at one's side, than in the inner bowels of a stifling manmade contraption where starvation, dehydration, and oxygen deprivation would battle for equal rights to his life.

Upright, resisting the urge to tumble in the shaky movements below his feet, the floor slippery with puddles, Daniel held onto the wall until his fingers reached the door frame. Half in and half out on the inundated deck, pelted with rain, Daniel watched the waves splash over the nearly submerged floor of the demolished room, lightning illuminating the foamy squalls for miles.

A distant roar and suddenly surging waters, many seconds of large waves nearly sweeping him under, signified something worse than thunder. Daniel jumped back into the library as a wave crashed through the doorway, soaking but not pulling him out with its recession. He realized, more than likely, somewhere another section of bridge had just become an underwater tunnel or debris field.

Venturing to the rear of the library, not completely out of the cold wind and rain, Daniel sat huddled with his back against a manuscript panel, knees up, listening to the eerie groans and creaks of angry floorboards, centuries of weathering, and debris being flung into the sides of his haven. At least, with his eyes tightly shut, he couldn't see the shifting shadows of leering ghosts, the remains of a history buried at sea. Flashes of light, though, still penetrated closed lids. Odds of survival through the night were anyone's guess.

_____

Even the natives knew that sheltering under trees during a storm was not a great idea, and before they knew it, SG-1 had been herded into one of the longhouses in the center of a clearing in the woods.

Now the team sat there, on grassy mats on the floor, legs crossed, watching the aliens sleep. Watching sporadically, as they couldn't see much except in the brief flashes of lightning that found their way through minuscule cracks in the walls, and even then it was only shadows. This shelter was sturdy and solid, small open holes along the upper rim allowed air in but the outer overhang of bark kept the wind and rain out. Light, too, with the doorways shielded, and were it not for the sounds of breathing, SG-1 could almost imagine they were alone.

Trusting, these people. Not that SG-1 had done anything threatening in the few days they'd been here, and not that they were going anywhere. It wasn't as though they could abscond with the meager threads, or piles of fruit and frogs. Along with the frogs, SG-1 had been offered a taste of fish tonight; local fishing methods were something Jack intended to unearth. Once again, SG-1 felt the mild pangs of guilt at being able to offer nothing; then again, there were only three of them to forty or fifty aliens, not a great burden on these people and more than likely a welcome diversion from the boring tedium of life here.

_____

The storm battered the bridge and the sea for another couple of hours that night, but even after it had all calmed down Daniel remained vigilant, propped against the display panels but now with his legs straightened out, having cramped from his original awkward, tense posture.

What day was this, dawning? Day 5? Daniel wasn't certain, but each daybreak brought him ten years closer to forever. He was still alive; the library remained intact, suspended above water. This must be a reason to celebrate, but was there a reason to get up?

Yes, he was thirsty. That need he could satisfy. He really ought to be drinking more than he had been. But what was the point, if just to keep him barely alive a few weeks longer?

Stiffly heaving himself up, poking his head out the battered doorway, the sea almost looked content and harmless. In the distance, all was normal… except for the lack of one small bridge connection that had been there until yesterday. A slab of something blue floated by, bobbing on the slow current. Daniel knelt forward, holding onto his last remaining chunk of upright wall, and bent forward to drink, hoping this sea hadn't been the burial grounds for thousands of bodies caught in the sudden destruction of a series of pedestrian bridges, centuries ago. The sea… or perhaps this was a lake or river… kept on moving, so likely it was safe enough, unknown pollution notwithstanding. But, in the end, what would it matter? If he hadn't died yet from dysentery or worse, he probably wouldn't. He had other choices when it came to dying, and they were all at war for his attention. Hunger, though, didn't seem nearly as compelling and all-intrusive as it had. He didn't really notice it any more.

In spite of the damaged tendons in his arm, the healing cuts, faded bruising, and sensitive raw skin where splinters still gave him grief, Daniel almost considered giving a swim a try. If he drowned along the way, at least he would know he hadn't just sat there uselessly waiting, doing nothing.

Maybe. He had nothing to lose, except a tiny bit of time, of life. What was a couple of weeks more or less, in the grand scheme of things? Given another week or two, he knew he'd be far too weak to even think about thinking about making a swim for shore.

Still, in his heart, he knew he wasn't a strong enough swimmer to tackle the river. Sea. Whatever it was. He'd never swum nearly as far as even the next bridge, not even in the best of health with two good arms and legs and up-to-date meals in his stomach. Even if he somehow managed to reach another bridge, he'd have no way of getting up to or into it, except from an underwater entrance, and that was out of the question. He'd be setting out for certain death by exhaustion and drowning. He may as well just have jumped into the water during the night's torrent.

Damned if you do, damned if you don't. Feeling the chill of a cool post-storm breeze frisk his arms and face, he tried to figure out which damned he'd rather be.

_____

There was a lot more debris around today. Either it had washed up in high waves and been trapped by the rocks along the base of the cliff, or something else had collapsed during that storm.

Either way, SG-1 had a new mission, a plan to bring some enthusiasm into their lives, some optimism. Even if they couldn't really create a raft to safely get them across a river strewn with white water, rocks, and submerged land bridges, it was at least a goal to give them spirit, to keep them occupied for a couple of days. That was more hope than they'd had in nearly a week, and it meant a lot.

“I like this plan, Carter. Good thinking.”

“Yes, Sir.” Sam knew the idea was nothing more than the others would have come up with in a day or two and might yet amount to nothing, but she inwardly smiled, appreciating the colonel's gesture of acknowledgment. The plan itself made no difference; he was just relieved to have one at all, and for her teammates' improved state of mind, she was glad she'd had a small part to play.

They'd collected bits of an insoluble fiberglass-like flooring, some large enough to hold two people. Unidentifiable parts of furniture had washed up, lengths of wood, sections of glass panels. Sam stared at their pile, unmindful of the curious gazes aimed their way from a row of natives perched along the crest of the bank. “I have no idea what we can do with this, Colonel.”

Jack stopped his hauling, pants rolled to the knees but still wet from his calf-high entry into the water, slight waves at times catching him closer to the hips, and twisted his face into a pretense of deep thought, a large piece of wood in his grip. “You will.” He captured Sam's frown with a soft smile. “By sundown, Carter, I predict you'll have an ark built.” Ignoring her scowl, he continued, “until then, I'll keep looking for the steering wheel.” He tossed the wood onto the pile with the rest of their unnamed treasures.

“Or maybe another oar, Sir.”

_____

“I don't care how pathetic it looks, as long as you think it'll work.” He wasn't a boat builder, but he was willing to test this contraption. If Carter's calculations said it would hold two of them, he'd give it a try. And then he'd give this one to Carter and Teal'c, and just find something of his own to float along on, hoping to make it to the opposite shore.

“A few more vines should tighten it nicely, Colonel.” If this blue pseudo-fiberglass was strong enough to be used as a flooring material, it could hold two people. If they could lash together another couple of pieces, with those lengths of wood along the edges underneath, it ought to remain upright while bobbing, raised from the water, and support the three of them. Sam wasn't about to let one of her teammates set off on his own, surrounded by white water. A few more bits of debris fitted and tied around the upper sides so they wouldn't be tossed off or take on water, and it should work - provided they didn't end up in another of those storms. With two of them paddling at a time, taking turns to ward off exhaustion, they ought to make it to the opposite shore in four or five hours, barring unforeseen circumstances. There were risks - a good many - but they only had a single hope, and this was it. 

So far this substance hadn't cracked under pressure, so O'Neill pounded another hole into the corner with his penknife, his chin dripping with sweat but his spirit infused with the satisfied feeling of accomplishment. Finally, they were getting somewhere. It was a good feeling, this. What they'd find on the opposite shore he had no idea, but it had to be more than here. They'd cross that bridge when they came to it… and would have done so already, had the bridge still been standing, he thought wryly.

This wouldn't take more than a couple more hours to complete; he'd give it a trial run a few dozen meters out, and tomorrow, they'd set forth to test their destiny.

_____

Daniel was standing on the rickety deck, or what he had labeled a deck, seeing as the walls and ceiling had long ago been demolished, once more deciding his choice of future. If he were going to attempt a swim, it would have to be today. He could feel the weakness in his body, the lethargy in his bones. He doubted he had the stamina to go far, but would he rather curl up in that library and drop into nothingness with only the ghosts of a civilization long past to comfort him? He didn't know if he had the courage to drop into that water, though. It was cold enough to comfortably drink, and might chill him more quickly than natural given his malnourished state. Six days without food were taking their toll with headaches and lightheadedness; he could easily convince himself to lie down and sleep the day away. Why put forth an effort that was sure to be suicidal, just to put one's soul to rest? To whom would he be able to say, 'I tried, I did my best'? Who was there left to care?

So with that final consideration, Daniel gingerly cradled his sore arm to his body, and ducked back inside his little hovel on the water. There was no real reason to leave here, to put himself through that; he wouldn't make it anywhere else but the bottom of the river. At least here he could give himself a tiny bit of comfort in the minimal warmth and dryness, a final gift to himself when all else was gone from his life. Here, he could spend his last weeks reading, maybe even scratch some words into this floor, leaving a message for someone one day, perhaps, to find. Someone who might realize that underneath his bones lay a last word about who he was… who he'd been, and who he'd left behind, something his three teammates could no longer do from their watery graves. He needed to prolong their memory, in any way he could.

But first, he'd catch up on some sleep.

_____

“Colonel, did you see that?”

“See what?”

“Someone's up there.” The figure had been there for only a moment, then had vanished. Sam squinted into the sunlight; she was almost positive her eyes weren't playing tricks. “Teal'c?”

“I did not.”

No, her teammates had been too busy paddling against the fast-flowing water; they were looking only at the distant shore, their destination.

O'Neill followed her eyes, but that truncated land bridge was a bit far east of their position and their intended course. The quickest route, avoiding white water, was straight ahead north, then northeast. They couldn't afford any unnecessary detours, just to check out some native who'd probably swum out there for some privacy or a better place to fish. “Probably debris fluttering out a doorway,” he rationalized.

Still, Carter frowned, staring in that direction. Her turn to steer had not yet come, so she kept on the lookout for dangerous debris in their way or protruding rocks. “No Sir, I'm pretty sure it was a person.”

These rafts were holding up well enough… those natives might almost have been a sea-faring people, if Jack didn't think otherwise. Seeing that the three teammates really had been intent on setting out on that fiberglass contraption, the locals had ventured down the cliff and put their single hands to use. While it had set the team back two days it was well worth the time; incorporating the wood and faux fiberglass plus some other junk the natives had brought from their own collections, a sturdier mini vessel had replaced the flimsy one SG-1 had nearly used. Still, Jack didn't want to be out here when the sun went down, and anything could happen between now and then. It had only been an hour and they were making less headway than they'd hoped, without the current in their favour. “Good, so if there are people around out here, there are more than likely people in that city.” And if it's one of those one-armed tribesmen, he's probably just spying on us for a good laugh. Do they laugh?

“O'Neill, if there are indeed people on these bridges, is it not likely that somewhere down below there may be tunnels connecting to land?”

Jack frowned. Hadn't thought of that.

Which would make this rafting a totally unnecessary danger. “Yeah… okay. Can't argue with that. So there'd be a tunnel where that bridge drops off into the water, right?” Already he and Teal'c were shifting directions. If they didn't have to go by way of water, it could not only save them energy and unnecessary risk, but would also give them a dry warm place to sleep tonight. And the current would be more in their favour, with the shift in direction.

“I can paddle for a while, Colonel. Teal'c?”

“Not yet. Let's get to the bridge, and if it leads nowhere you can grab a stick. That route'll add a good hour or more to the crossing.”

_____

It didn't look very stable, this deck, and for all Jack could tell, the underwater tunnel connection between this bridge and their destination was severed. There was also a possibility, however, that this walkway ran at an angle to the one they'd been thrown from, in which case it would only lead them back to the flooded corridor of their first days here. Although they hadn't seen an alternate passageway while down there, they hadn't really been looking; who knew how these tunnels and bridges all connected to each other. They'd found no map within those ancient chambers.

Sam was the first to clamber out. With her back turned to the doorway as she helped secure the raft to the partly submerged walkway with lengths of twisted vine, she was still speaking before she realized the colonel and Teal'c were staring behind her, their faces frozen in shock.

What seemed like the slow motion of minutes was rather only a scant few seconds, but the single name that bounced off Jack's lips was echoed by her own, as she turned slowly to see what had the two men so intrigued.

“Oh my God. Daniel!?”

_____

The voices were hazy, a figment of a disheartened mind no doubt; his weakened state caused time to meld into itself so that day was night and night was any time he felt like sleeping. Waking from a dream of friends and safety into a diluted reverie in which reality toyed with the subconscious, Daniel wondered at first where he was. But the hard floor and skylights overhead brought the library to abrupt consciousness in a vivid rush, and Daniel felt hope plummet inside him like an anchor.

The voices, however, hadn't faded into the back of his mind. Nor did they seem like dream-induced fantasies any longer, neither seagulls nor water mammals. Human company would be water in a desert right now. The irony of it all was that his desert was filled with water, and he'd rather have sand. 

Lethargically, Daniel tried twice to raise himself up, settling finally for crawling towards the vestibule and the sunlit doorway just beyond. Dizziness and headaches had taken the place of the hunger that had deserted him days ago; being upright compounded the intensity. Had he just dozed off again during daylight hours? While he seemed to recall having moved just minutes ago from the outer deck, it might have been half a day; he knew his hours of alertness had been steadily diminishing.

Nearly falling flat and worriedly lacking the energy or will to pull himself up, Daniel crept to the second doorway and poked his head out.

“Daniel!?”

Daniel blinked furiously in the sunshine.

Um… huh? There really were people out there? For a moment Daniel's flustered mind suggested his dead friends had come to retrieve him and take him to another dimension entirely.

Jack didn't wait for the raft to be secured, nor did he think of assisting Carter. She, too, had forgotten the task, the vine held tight in closed fingers as she twisted her body around. It was Teal'c who took command of that situation, yet even his mind was running through improbable scenarios, one after the other. How the hell had Daniel Jackson come to be here?

Jack got to him first, Sam only a moment behind, once the rope was mysteriously gone from her grasp. She didn't check back to see what had become of it.

“No way,” Jack kept repeating, his mind numb, thoughts completely stalled. One hand on Daniel's upper arm - the arm not tucked into a belt loop - and the other on his waist, lifting the dazed man to a near-sitting position against the empty door frame, he couldn't remove his own eyes from Daniel's droopy lids. “No way.”

“Oh God, Daniel. We were sure you were dead.”

Two people were on the ground, kneeling in residual puddles, another upright and hovering, staring in wide-eyed disbelief at the fourth dishevelled figure, so obviously alive.

“Jack??” The voice cracked, sleepy, questioning, confused.

Jack snapped back to Real Time, realizing he had both his hands on his dead friend. “Daniel? How the…?... What the hell are you doing here?”

Daniel stared back, almost unable to relinquish his own uncertainty. “Um… what?”

This time, Jack tugged him into an embrace, feeling the uneasiness and fear leave his friend's body as Daniel's right arm wrapped around his waist. Another set of arms reached around them both, and Daniel felt a hand rest on his head for some moments, before all three of his friends pulled reluctantly away.

“Are you well, Daniel Jackson?” As he studied his friend, the question appeared to be a foolish one; Teal'c released his soothing grip on Daniel and clasped both hands behind his back.

Daniel lifted his head up to more clearly see the tall man who loomed above him, still too dazed and mired in unreality to utter more than a single syllable. “Teal'c?” His eyes dropped lower. Before him was Sam, looking like an angel.

“Daniel, what on Earth are you doing here?” Jack repeated. Was there a tunnel? No, of course not, or else Daniel had gone in completely the wrong direction. There was no boat; had someone left him here? That didn't make sense. Daniel was dead… drowned, in a watery implosion. He hadn't made it out with the rest of the team… Jack's brows furrowed. Had he swum here?

Daniel turned his eyes back to Jack's. Dying, is what I'm doing here. “I thought you died,” he managed. “All of you. Didn't you die?”

“Um, no, and same here. How didn't you, by the way?” Three teammates were now silently, impatiently, waiting for the answer. Did it really matter? Daniel was here… and he wasn't dead. Not washed up on shore with the furniture.

When the reply didn't come, Jack interrupted the silence himself. “Gotta tell you, you're a sight for sore eyes, you know that? Even if you do need a shave.” With a smile he squeezed Daniel's shoulder, shifting him back against the door frame. His eyes rested on skin below a torn tee-shirt sleeve, skin that was red and purple and blue. Ow. Nothing they could do about that right now, but it had to smart. The arm, though, had obviously been the least of Daniel's troubles. Jack peered through the doorway into a darkened chamber. “Does this place lead anywhere?” Realizing his hands still, or again, rested on Daniel, he gave the man a gentle shake and let one hand go, cupping his friend's roughly stubbled chin with a palm instead. “Hey. Does this place go anywhere?”

Blue eyes slowly focused on the concerned faces before him, and realization dawned; his friends were here, and they needed answers. They were speaking; he needed to reply. He had company, now. He had rescuers. He had the very people who had meant so much to him the past few years. The same ones he'd believed to be dead for the past week. His teammates, alive and well. No dream. No mirage. “Uh, no. Back to the flooded rooms. You're not dead?” As soon as the words were spoken this time, he knew how ridiculous it sounded. They'd somehow escaped the same way he had, their paths never crossing until this moment. "I need a shave? Look who's talking." With a wry chuckle, he grabbed hold of Jack's shoulder. “Help me up.”

Helping Daniel stand wasn't difficult; keeping him there was another story. Jack motioned towards the raft, his grasp tight and strong. “That thing big enough for the four of us?”

“If not, O'Neill, I will remain behind.”

“Like hell you will.”

“I can stay. Been planning to anyway,” Daniel muttered, half coherently.

Three voices topped each other, “No way.” “No.” “Over my dead body.” Wincing, Jack turned apologetically to Daniel, realizing the impact of his instinctive, poorly-chosen phrase. “Sorry, buddy.”

“Forget it.” Not gonna happen. Not this time. Not again. Daniel clung to Jack's shirt, partly to steady his balance, partly to wallow in the companionship he'd missed for so many days.

“Getting into that will be tricky, Daniel.” It had been easier when the raft was stable, on the stony beach. Now, the pseudo-boat was bobbing on the small ripples of water. “Carter, Teal'c, you two get in, help him. I'll help from this side.” If Daniel lost his balance, digging him out from the water would not be easy. Not to mention they had no change of clothes.

“I can do it,” Daniel insisted. A pleasant degree of alertness had returned with the fresh air and reinstated hope, along with the adrenaline rush that comes with potential survival when all had been thought lost; the unexpected return of his teammates was what had hampered Daniel's earlier comprehension, he was sure. What he had not thought possible, the one thing he had truly believed - that his teammates were gone forever - more so than his own anticipation of death, had thrown him into an unprecedented shock at seeing them standing there. Thoughts of his own rescue had receded to the back of his mind as his psyche tried to make sense of the reality before him. He might have thought they were clever apparitions of his own altered state, had Jack's and Sam's warm hands not been holding him in place. “I'm okay.”

But Daniel was limping and favouring his arm considerably; apart from the vagueness, the disorientation, he was physically not okay. His teammates studiously scrutinized him, and didn't let go.

The floating vessel dipped, bounced, bobbed, but remained upright. The fit was a little tighter now, the craft dipped lower into the water with the additional weight, but hearts were lighter and more eager to reach their destination, an energy spreading outward that hadn't been there before. They'd lost some time by turning this direction and the extra weight would make the journey slower still, but it was time well spent, a circuitous route well worth the taking. Jack shuddered to consider what would have happened to his friend had he not listened to Carter, or if she hadn't noticed Daniel's momentary shadow. An extra couple of hours was nothing, in exchange for Daniel's life. They'd make it to the opposite shore one way or another, all of them intact, no matter how late in the day or how dark the sky. All concerns were pushed to the other side of caring; the retrieval of Daniel was the only thing that mattered. All else would be accomplished in its own time. Now, there was enthusiasm where none had existed, for one burden of guilt had been relinquished and that was a release more immediate and powerful than any small uncertainties.

Reaching into the little cache of fruit they'd taken along, given them as a departing gift, Teal'c held out a purple banana. “Are you hungry, Daniel Jackson?”

Mirage in the desert. Time paused; for a moment the words didn't make sense, but the image returned like the ultimate quest, infinite, the subconscious goal of a lifetime. Daniel's head lifted, his eyes alighting on the offering with unequivocal elation. “Oh my God, food,” he whispered. Something he never thought he'd see again… even if he'd never seen anything quite like this before. A shaking hand reached out to touch the reality of a mirage; Teal'c steadied the hand with his own, placing the fruit gently in Daniel's palm.

Ahead of them, Jack and Carter exchanged a look, then continued paddling with more fervor than before.

Daniel savored each bite as it filled him, and if he might be sorry later, right now it was the second most perfect thing in the world.

_____

They took turns paddling, all but Daniel. Sam crept a little closer to her newly found teammate each time her hands were free. When it wasn't Jack's turn to steer, his hand would occasionally roam briefly to Daniel's elbow or knee, offering physical support, keeping him safe, renewing a friendship he'd considered lost. Teal'c gave Daniel Jackson physical space, as much as possible in the cramped conditions, but eyed him frequently, assessing the toll a week - eight days - had taken on his friend. Although occasionally disoriented and sleepy, Daniel tried to remain alert and cheerful for much of the voyage.

There wasn't a lot of talking in the craft, with all attention and energy allocated to arriving at their destination safely. A few detours were unavoidable, rocks popping up unexpectedly here and there, along with floating debris. These bridges seemed to have held up well over the ages, but with parts beginning to collapse, other supports were losing strength. Hearts rose into throats and were swallowed with each bump of the small vessel, those spine-chilling moments of panic when it seemed they were bound to capsize. Small waves would send water splashing over the edges, soaking them, but much to their relief, never did the raft threaten to sink or overturn.

The journey, though, was finally over. Dusk was falling, and as they reached shore in the surrogate boat, they could make out only battered buildings in the filmy orange sunset, the fiery colour contrasting with blackened holes where walls had caved in or doors and windows lost. Although most of the buildings were three or four story dome-roofed cubes, the construction materials seemed unlike anything of Earth. Walls were smooth and shiny, where the grime of ages hadn't covered them. The ground had crept up to their lowest windows, revealing the passage of time.

“It was true?” Daniel whispered. The legends had told of a damaged city… of many demolished cities around the continents.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Need a hand?” Not waiting for a reply, Jack grasped Daniel under his good elbow, supporting him as he stepped off the craft. Knees nearly buckling at his lightheadedness and sudden weight, Daniel smiled a tired thank you. Teal'c was last out, pulling the boat further up the beach stones and sand and leaving it unsecured. Hopefully they would no longer be needing it.

Daniel glanced around. He'd read about internal warfare, discontent. Had it been historical fiction, or not? Who had told the story, written those documents, after the war had ended? Was it someone who'd then left through the Stargate? Or had the telling of the story just been coincidental, life imitating art? Too many parts of it were implausible; where did one separate fact from fiction?

“Well.” Jack looked resolutely at their surroundings. Had to be someplace nearby where they could sleep, but it was looking less and less likely there'd be anyone here to help them. The more he studied the destruction in the streets up ahead, the more he thought any local residents might actually not be so friendly anyway, and his anxiety upped a notch. “I don't know that I care to sleep on the beach tonight.” Rocks. No shelter. Nothing.

“I say we explore, Sir. We probably have an hour of dusk left.”

“Agreed. You can wait here with Teal'c if you want,” Jack regarded Daniel apprehensively, but the other man shook his head.

“No.”

“Then let's see where that road leads.” Jack was eying a cylindrical building that seemed to sweep down from what once was a road, into the river. Another partly submerged bridge? A tunnel entrance? Where might it lead? Not that he really wanted to know; he'd had about as much of the river as he could take for a while.

They carved their own path up the beach to an old sand-covered track close to the densest area of structures. Downtown?

“Which way, Sir?”

Jack watched Daniel, who he knew was tired and hurting, admittedly or not. They ought to find somewhere to rest pretty soon. With a nod of his head he indicated a nearby collection of asymmetrical buildings, the tallest ones in the vicinity at close to six stories, Earth dimensions, although it didn't really look like those buildings had differentiated stories at all. “There. We'll set up for the night, out of the elements.” It might be a bit arduous to enter the complexes, ground level and sand having half swallowed up the doors. The silence was eerie as they walked, only the distant cry of a seabird to be heard. What seemed so strange, though, was the absence of traffic or pedestrians. Not an abandoned vehicle was in sight. Whatever had happened, they'd sure done a number on this town.

They approached what looked like the main street, but as Jack was deciding which of the structures across the roadway to check out first, Sam noticed an entrance on the riverside, up what used to be stairs, heading into what looked like the descent to a tunnel. She'd seen the curious structure from the river, angling downward, disappearing below water level. It would, logically, be heading under the beach. “Sir?” She pointed. “Care to check it out?”

“Want to sleep in an underground tunnel again with no air?” Jack squinted, not particularly cherishing the thought. He'd rather sleep on the beach, if it came to that. Except for the storms.

“Might be sleeping quarters in there,” Daniel suggested.

“With more skeletons?”

“So close to shore, everyone would've gotten out,” Daniel speculated.

“Alright, here's the deal. We take a quick look; if it's creepy and smelly we head that way,” Jack thumbed in the direction of a set of buildings across the sandy roadway.

Descending into the tunnel's corridor, the smell of stale water growing stronger and the air mustier, it was only a short distance before a wide room opened up, once lavish in its decor. The chamber wasn't completely underground, with a bit of light filtering in through high skylights. Silver hieroglyphs covered the walls, and a few fallen chairs lay broken in corners while others remained intact.

“Deja vu,” Jack muttered.

“You can say that again,” Daniel agreed. But his earlier indifference to this place had been false bravado. Flashes of fear were taking hold: scenes of water inundating them, carrying his team away, and Daniel had the urge to turn and run. Much as he longed to lay his body down, to eat something and sleep for two days, he really didn't want to spend the night under the sea. “Uh, - ”

“Who could have built all this?” Sam pondered.

“Wasn't the one-armed folks, you can bet that,” Jack stated. Where had those people come from? Why did they survive, instead of whoever had lived here? Was their presence on the island the reason for their continued survival, or were they casualties of whatever had happened here? A natural disaster, or not? Acidic fallout? Radiation? If it wasn't just the bridge that had suddenly collapsed but the entire infrastructure of this city, had these people all managed to relocate through the Stargate? Had those island natives been too far from the gate or had they not attempted to flee? Were they the last survivors? Jack's musings were interrupted by Daniel's startled, single question.

“What did you say?” Daniel turned abruptly to face Jack, his mind racing, exhaustion put on hold by a final rush of adrenaline.

“What? I said something?” Jack realized he was too tired to think any more today, too.

“One-armed folks?”

Teal'c was growing curious about the intensity of Daniel's expression, his sudden interest when before he had appeared only sluggish and fatigued, the antithesis of the Daniel Jackson who so often could work tirelessly into the night when confronted with a new culture or language. This Daniel was clearly close to exhaustion, in need of food, rest, and medical attention. Yet something now had him captivated. “The natives we encountered on the island had only a single arm, Daniel Jackson, proportioned in front of their bodies.”

“Island?” Daniel turned now to Teal'c.

“Indeed. We exited a tunnel leading onto a small forested island.”

“Filled with natives with one arm? No technology?” Daniel's agitation and vehemence indicated more than a mild curiosity, much to the consternation of his teammates. Or was this just Daniel being Daniel, in spite of everything that had happened?

“Yes and no, Daniel. First of all, not going back so you can meet them. Wished you were there at the time, but you weren't. Secondly, not much to tell about them; primitive, no apparent language, lived in huts. Anything else can wait 'til later; right now we have to find somewhere to sleep.” Not to mention somewhere to spend the rest of our lives. Hopefully this city wasn't filled with anything radioactive or otherwise deadly; Carter had no instruments to measure any health hazards.

“No, no, that's not why I'm asking. I thought… oh my God.” Closing his eyes to get a handle on this new discovery, Daniel pinched the bridge of his nose. He needed to think. Needed to remember, but he'd been so out of it at the time, so mired in worry and distress.

“Daniel?” Sam was rubbing his arm, but her face wasn't the only one deepening with shadows of concern. “What is it?”

Daniel opened his eyes, still peering at the floor. Bringing his gaze to rest upon Sam, then Jack, he pulled himself straighter. His aches and pains could wait another few hours; this was important, a major piece of the puzzle. But how could that be? It wasn't fiction? Those hadn't been just ancient legends, mythical characters? “I think I know what happened here.”

“You do? How?” Jack's interest was more than slightly piqued.

“It was written on manuscripts, plastered all over the walls where you found me. The history of these people, this planet.”

“Let's see, you were dying, but managed to study the history of an entire race,” Jack deadpanned. “Why does that not surprise me?” He shook his head. Inwardly, though, he was smiling; he'd missed this. “Anyway,” he patted Daniel's arm, “tell us tomorrow.”

“Shall we remain here for the night, O'Neill?”

The floors were covered in dust, but there were a number of intact silver lounge-style seats, with arm and head rests. The stuffing had long ago disintegrated, but it was still better than lying on the floor or out on the street. “As good a place as any.”

Daniel's heart sped up; in his opinion, any other place might be better than this. “Uh - ”

“Just grab a chair or two and make yourselves comfortable, folks.”

As Sam eagerly headed for a spot where she could lay her exhausted body down for a few hours and Teal'c commandeered a corner of the floor where he could kel'no'reem, Jack sauntered over to Daniel, who seemed the most lethargic yet was making no move to find accommodation. He held out the large hollowed-out gourd given them by the natives. “Have the rest of the fruit, Daniel. And sit down before you fall down.”

Daniel eyed the last contents of the container hungrily. “We can share.”

“You haven't eaten for a week.”

“I ate in the boat.”

“Daniel. Take it.”

It didn't take much urging; having put something into his stomach in the boat, Daniel was newly feeling the pangs of hunger which had deserted him days ago. One simple helping of fruit had reestablished the need for sustenance. His body had reacted with more energy, and he was feeling physically better than he had in days. “Thanks.” Still, a sullen nervousness emanated from the archeologist, and it had Jack worried.

“How's the arm?” With a grimace, Jack eyed the scabbed cuts and puffy blue splinters, and the way Daniel held the arm close to his body. He needed medical attention. “And the leg?”

Daniel seemed to respond without thinking, his distracted expression proof that his thoughts were elsewhere. “They'll be fine. You?”

“Me? I'm fine.” Had to be; they had no choice. “So what else is wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Daniel.”

There was dejection in Daniel's eyes, a pleading that took Jack aback. “It's this tunnel, okay? You said if it was 'creepy', we could leave.”

“It's not so bad, considering.” They'd been overnight in worse.

“Considering what, that the last time we were in a tunnel like this it imploded?”

“Oh.” Jack studied Daniel's taut features, the lines pulling at his eyes, realizing the harsh memories these tunnels brought to mind. Daniel had spent a week alone, believing he would die right where they had found him, sheltered in the middle of a river. He took Daniel's good arm, guiding him to one side of the room. “Look, this room isn't fully underwater. And you can stay by me. If the walls go, we go together this time.” With a sheepish grin, knowing his best consolation under the circumstances really wasn't all that comforting, he gave a small tug on Daniel's wrist, urging his friend into a chair as he pulled up another directly beside him, silver armrests touching. “You're not alone now, buddy.” While wishing he could get Daniel home, grimly aware the man needed medical attention they might never have access to again, this sorry accommodation was the best he could offer.

“And I don't want to be again, Jack.”

“It'll be fine tonight, Daniel. You'll be fine. We all will,” he added. “Tomorrow, we'll check out the town.”

“No,” Daniel hesitated, hating what he was about to say but knowing it was imperative. His suggestion would pull them further into these horrid tunnels, and anxiety caused his heart to speed. “Tomorrow we'll continue into the tunnel. I think we might be able to reach the Stargate.”

Surprise claiming rights to his brain, Jack was about to question Daniel's theory when he remembered his own advice; tomorrow they could hear more. Now, Daniel needed plenty of sleep.

_____

They were canoing on a river, a never-ending waterway snaking in and out of mangroves. Daniel stood at the bow, pointing out birds perched in the treetops.

“Sit down, you're going to end up in the water,” Jack admonished. Is that where everyone else had disappeared to, he wondered as he paddled. He put the paddles down, and stood up behind his friend, oblivious to the rocking of the canoe. “Look, tell me tomorrow. The birds can wait. Let's eat.” He tossed a grapefruit to his rowing partner, their last one, but the shot went wide, splashing far out into the water. Daniel stared at the sinking fruit, sorrow painting his face. “I was hungry, Jack.”

Jack woke with a start, emotions twisting with dread. What the -

Realization flowed into his consciousness quickly; they were still stranded, again in a worthless tunnel stretching under the river. This time, though, Daniel was beside him, safe in an armchair. Jack tilted his head towards his slumbering friend; all was still and silent in the room, and in the darkness he could only imagine and hope that Daniel looked peaceful. The dream, though, what he could remember of it, rattled his nerves, leaving him unsettled. They'd need food, all of them. That was their first priority. Exploring a tunnel would have to wait.

_____

Jack didn't get back to sleep, but morning wasn't about to arrive and spare him the agony of impatience. Not morning, but almost two hours into the rest of the night, the storm began.

It was the sharp flash that shocked him first, his eyes already accustomed to the darkness. He'd been aware of Daniel next to him, the subtle twitches now and again of a lightly disturbed sleep but one the other man wouldn't remember in the morning. The sudden, unexpected flash of brilliant light out the small squares of window in the ceiling initiated a reflexive jump, and the resulting burst of thunder had his teammates jolting awake.

“What was that?”

“Thunder, Daniel. Go back to sleep.” Like he'd take his own advice. He knew Daniel would be resting uneasily until this storm passed, visions of the walls around them collapsing. But if the river inundated them this time, it wouldn't fill the place or shoot them outwards… would it? This chamber was at least partly above water level, the skylights proved that. And these walls were a lot sturdier than those windows had been in that communications room.

“I think we're safe here, Daniel,” Sam consoled, her voice gentle from somewhere nearby. “The other room was disturbed by the opening of the gate. The only sections affected by the storms are the above-ground bridges.” I think. She was not going to contribute to Daniel's agitation if she could help it.

“I don't think we ought to be underground at all.” Another eruption rattled the skies. The rain pouring down above them sounded like a waterfall on the small panes of glass.

“Relax, Daniel. From what I could see of most of those other buildings, you wouldn't want to be in them either. And I don't suggest sleeping out on the beach in this.”

Daniel said nothing more, but Jack could sense the tension in his friend. Jack laid his hand on Daniel's right arm, as it clung tightly to its armrest. “It's just a thunderstorm. It'll pass soon.”

Daniel closed his eyes, trying to forget the last storm which had threatened to shake the library apart. It, too, had held. The flashes again registered on his closed eyelids, but this time he knew he wasn't alone. He knew it, because his friend's hand was warm and real upon his own. Leave it there, Jack, he wanted to say, but self-consciousness held him back. But when the comforting touch remained, he knew Jack understood.

The storm continued, and in spite of Jack's earlier words to Daniel, he was also uneasy. This wasn't the greatest place to be at a time like this; Jack convinced himself that this structure had possibly remained standing for hundreds of years, even through whatever natural or warlike destruction had demolished the rest of the city. It wasn't about to collapse around them now. Keep telling yourself that, O'Neill.

When it was clear none of them would get any more sleep that night, he opted for another solution. “Tell us a bedtime story, Daniel.”

“A what?”

“The history of this land.” Jack couldn't believe he was asking. “Might put us to sleep.” But in reality, he thought it would put Daniel at ease to relate what he had learned, make things seem more normal. For the truth was, if he, too, couldn't get past the fact that Daniel had been missing and presumed dead for days, believing his team had all perished, living alone without food and knowing he was helpless to save his own life, then neither could the rest of them. They all needed something to reinstate a bit of normality.

Daniel hardly knew where to begin. The Reader's Digest version would be a challenge. “The manuscripts were written in four languages. I only knew one. Sort of.” He coughed; the air in here was seeming more stale than before.

“One's good.”

“I thought it was only a legend. What I was reading.”

“Why would that be, Daniel Jackson?” came the disembodied voice from the other side of the room.

“Because those one armed beings you met were featured in them. And I didn't believe they existed.”

Sam spoke up softly. “It's okay, Daniel. We can see how you wouldn't have believed they were real.”

“And I can see how you believed they were primitive,” Daniel said. He didn't know how to say this… didn't know if he believed it himself. But if they were real, and now he knew they were, why not the rest? Only, how could he relate this … this 'history'… without his teammates thinking he'd dreamed the whole thing, in a weakened, overwrought state of mind? The pause must have been long, because he felt a gentle pressure on his arm where Jack's hand still rested.

“But…?”

“But they're not primitive. They're the most advanced species we've - well, you've - so far come across. Wish I'd met them,” he added quietly.

Three sets of breathing stilled, or so it seemed, and an abbreviated chuckle seemed to emanate from Jack.

“Right. Sure they are.”

“They can levitate.”

“Uh huh.” Although, Jack admitted, the folks did seem to have an abundance of those fruits that grew so high in the trees. But they were good climbers, weren't they? “Doing parlor tricks doesn't make them advanced.”

Daniel sighed. “The people who lived here were a highly advanced race, with all sorts of technology; they'd populated this planet for millions of years. They built the - "

"Millions?" Sam repeated. Daniel imagined her rewinding the tape, right about then.

"Yes. They built the bridge network between the island and mainland a long long time ago - I'm talking thousands of years - as a sort of an underground city, with shops, dining rooms, sleeping quarters, bathing areas and pools, libraries. Islands, like the one you were on, were considered to be paradise, havens, retreats for the rich and… well, everyone was rich. The islands weren't inhabited. Everyone lived in one of the large cities, and each city had resort islands connected to it by a bridge system. Travellers could sleep along the route, as the journey by foot took several hours. Some enjoyed the journey as much as their time on the island, like going to a spa resort, meeting up with friends for a few days along the way.” This was the way Daniel had read it; closing his eyes he could almost see the words as he translated them, see the lands and the travelers and the adventure. He was relaxing, and sensed either that the storm was abating or he was losing himself in the tale of the cities.

“Continue, Daniel Jackson.”

“Land vehicles and boats - any advanced technology - weren't allowed on the islands. Life there was meant to be simple, a true getaway from the hectic pace of city living.”

“Like my cabin.”

Daniel couldn't stop a lip from twitching upward. “So you must've felt right at home there, hmm?”

Jack changed the subject. “So what was the Stargate for?”

“Right. Getting to that. Each main city had one, so people could take holidays on the different islands. Walking the entire system by bridge would be impossible, since the cities were located on different landmasses. Although most of the islands were pretty similar, traveling allowed for a sense of adventure.”

“Sunquest Holidays?”

“Something like that.

“Why the Goa'ulded gate room?”

“No, not Goa'uld. Gold. Regal. Most important place on the planet. These people were allies with the Ancients; I assume the Goa'uld saw similar rooms elsewhere much later on and ended up stealing the design.”

“So the gate - gates - were only used for island travel, Daniel? They had more than one Stargate in use at a time?” Sam was fascinated.

So far, Daniel thought, his teammates weren't questioning his sanity. No, this was the easy part. If they bought this, maybe he could ease them into the rest, the part he was no longer certain was myth. “They knew how to manipulate the gates. Don't ask me how.”

“Okay. Go on.”

“So, the cities were pretty far apart. We won't find another gate near here, by the way,” Daniel added. “Anyway, there was a disagreement. Differences of opinion. Some factions wanted to leave the islands the way they were, in their natural state, while others wanted to build them up with technology… the way I imagine it, a sort of Disneyland adventure. Technology was their downfall; they accidentally blew each other up." He paused, listening for reaction. "People ran to the Stargates, trying to get to the other cities, not realizing the same thing was happening all over. Tunnels and bridges collapsed.”

“Did they all perish, Daniel Jackson?” 

“Um… they journeyed to enlightenment.”

“What?” Jack, abruptly attentive, was having second thoughts about this bedtime story, all of a sudden.

“Like that monk at Kheb was telling you about, Daniel?” Sam urged him on.

“Yes. From what I could decipher, they called it Ascension.”

“All these people knew how to do that?” Jack queried dubiously.

“Apparently.”

“So they all went glowy.”

“Um, some of them also decided to come back. From Ascension.”

“Not all it was cracked up to be?”

“I wouldn't know.”

There was a pause, then, from Sam - “Daniel, are you saying - ”

“They realized they'd had paradise all along, and destroyed it. So they chose a form that would ensure that technology would not rule them, one that would require cooperation instead of aggressive competition. One with which it would not only be much more difficult to be destructive, but in order to accomplish the most important tasks, individuals would be forced to work together. Bodies with only a single arm. Your primitive islanders chose to be the way they are, Jack. And they've reached enlightenment - and returned.”

Jack coughed, and Daniel felt his cheeks warming. But he'd read this, translated it, albeit hesitantly; no mirage on jade tablets, no hallucination or illusion. He knew it for the truth, now that the reality of the one-armed citizens had been established. He pushed on. “There's more.”

“Of course there is.”

“I didn't write the manuscripts, Jack,” Daniel reminded him. Don't shoot the messenger. “Those single-armed natives did, though, after the cities were destroyed. By the way, the one language I could read? It was very similar to Ancient.”

“The language Thor got out of my head, right?”

“Yes. The language you taught me after the time loop.”

“But those natives couldn't speak.”

“They could. You just couldn't hear the sounds.”

“Oh.”

“There's more.”

Jack waited a few beats, deliberating. “I know I'll regret this… but I'll bite.”

“It's not the first time they've changed forms. Our human form wasn't their first.”

This time, in the silence, it was Teal'c who spoke up. “What was the nature of their earlier forms, Daniel Jackson?”

“Large beings lacking growth-halting genes and hormones. Small heads, bodies that became huge and ungainly; they just kept on growing. Growth inhibitors were never even considered before that. As a consequence, they needed to eat far too much, sometimes each other, nearly destroying their environment because of it. Decided they'd have to go a different route.”

“If I didn't know better,” Sam stated casually, “I'd be thinking dinosaurs.”

There was no humour in Daniel's tone. “That occurred to me.”

Jack swore under his breath. “Kidding, right?”

“No.”

“You making this up?”

“No. And we never say impossible any more, do we, Jack.”

“Dinosaurs died out sixty million years ago, Daniel.”

“On Earth. And maybe they didn't just die out.”

“Oh, what, they ascended? Then came back looking like us?”

“I wouldn't jump to that conclusion.”

“And that one-arms will be our next stage of evolution?”

“No. We aren't enlightened enough to change our forms at will. And we haven't blown ourselves up yet.”

The room became still, and Daniel wondered what his teammates were really thinking. Was this akin to believing in Santa Claus? Was he too gullible? Did they believe he might have made the whole thing up, in his isolated loneliness and loss?

What mattered were Jack's next words. “So tell me why you think we should search down here for the Stargate, instead of going out to look for food.”

“Because if any of that was true, then the rest might be too.” Daniel delved deep into the memories activated by that acknowledgment. “The Stargate tunnels stretched from mainland to island. The entrance from the town was adorned in silver…that means we might be in the right tunnel, right now. This section might still be connected to the gate room.”

“It's flooded.”

“You don't know that.”

“We have no power source.”

“I know where we might find one.” A gamble, but they'd cross that bridge when they came to it. More bridges; Daniel sighed. If they became trapped in these tunnels, with no way back, it would be their final shot. This wasn't a journey he was looking forward to.

“It's miles across the river. It'll take a few hours to walk the distance.”

“Then we'd better get started.”

“We have no flashlights. The rooms will be dark.” In the process of playing Devil's Advocate, of making sure Daniel realized exactly what they'd be walking into, Jack found himself becoming more wary of the journey himself - a staggering, unwelcome side effect. But it was a journey that had to be undertaken.

Daniel had no comeback for that. His own experience with these dark rooms one he did not particularly wish to relive, he was asking his teammates to put a lot of faith in his role as translator, and in his gullibility. If anything happened while they were down there, another implosion, a tunnel collapse behind them, they'd be trapped in the tunnels with no way out. “Yes, they will,” he said softly.

“So we keep going, even if it's a dead end and we waste a lot of time?”

“Yes.”

Somehow, Jack understood his friend's emotional tug of war. “Daniel?”

“Yes?”

“If you're okay with this, so are we. We trust you.” Up 'til now, Jack had heard no complaints or doubts from his other two team members. If they were having reservations, this would be the time to speak up, but there remained only silence.

Daniel sighed deeply, reflexively. “Thank you.” That trust meant a lot.

_____

The storm had finally passed, leaving dawn breaking with the filtered light of a pale new morning. None of them had slept again, so they were all ready to move as soon as they knew a quick retreat wouldn't be necessary. It wasn't daylight they required for that reassurance, though; there'd be none of that on their way through the tunnels. It was peace of mind that the storm wouldn't break through these walls.

Having no choice, hunger was ignored as the four teammates ventured through dark and dilapidated rooms and corridors. Holding onto each other, Teal'c led the way; whichever path he carved out for them, they'd follow his steps. In Teal'c's hand was Sam's; in hers, Daniel's. Jack brought up the rear, hand fisted in Daniel's tee-shirt at the waist, below his injured arm still strapped in a belt. It was the blind leading the blind, only Teal'c was better at it than Jack had been, when he'd given it a try. While Sam was willing to take the reins, she was, at present, comfortable with Teal'c in the role. Daniel was content to let someone else lead the way, and even in the darkness, he was really glad to have his glasses back. The feel of them on his face contributed to a sense of security, removed a degree of vulnerability from his situation. He felt as though he could see, even if it was just the dark being amplified.

It was late in the afternoon when they noticed a light up ahead; the next room, for some odd reason, loomed brighter. The team slowed down.

“What do you think's causing that, Carter?” Jack asked suspiciously. There was no way there'd be a light on here; the only electrical lighting they'd seen on this planet since they'd arrived was the one that had been glowing up above in the river that first day. Thinking back on it now, Jack felt certain it had been diverted sunlight after all.

“No idea, Sir.”

“I'm taking point on this one, Teal'c.” With those words said, Jack let go of Daniel and pushed to the front of their line. Peeking through a debris-strewn doorway, he inhaled harshly. “What the - ”

“Jack? What?” But there was no response; Jack was laughing.

As Jack disappeared through the aperture, Sam was close on his heels. Teal'c waited for Daniel to safely follow before joining them in the chamber. His size caused him a bit more trouble fitting through the doorway, but once there, Teal'c stopped, stunned at the sight.

Daniel was staring in disbelief.

“Another SG team came looking for us,” Sam declared breathlessly, although the obvious need not have been stated. There, in front of the Stargate but not close enough to be disintegrated should a vortex open from the other side, was not only the MALP that had accompanied them on this mission, but a naquada generator, attached to a rigged lighting system. On the floor was a GDO.

“They're not here,” more of the obvious. Just a bit further on, the rest of the way would be pretty well flooded.

“They left. But hoped we might find our way back here,” Daniel chimed in, his exultation in tune with the others. If the obvious was making them giddy, he was as guilty as the rest.

“Well, Daniel, at least the part about the silver room and the Stargate proved true,” Jack patted Daniel on the back.

As for the rest…?

“Jack, if those aliens are the descendants of themselves, and they were among or allied with the Gatebuiders, the Ancients - ”

“Not going back there,” Jack cut him off, his eyes on Carter as she manipulated the generator cables.

“Ever?”

“They can't talk. To us,” Jack amended.

“They can write. I can read what they write - ”

“No.”

“Jack.”

“Maybe sometime in the future.” Distant, distant, future, like maybe after he retired. After all of them retired. “Right now, we all need food and sleep.” When Daniel's expression didn't contradict him, Jack released a grin. “Let's go home, kids.” Home. The most descriptive four-letter word in his vocabulary. “And get you attended to, Daniel. You need that belt around your pants, not your arm; you've lost weight.”

But Daniel was staring at the Stargate. Yet another not-mirage. What a difference a day made. He nodded. “I'm ready.” There was plenty of time… plenty of it, to find a way back to those one-armed folks and a library detailing the history of ages past. His more immediate future contained dreams of only a mattress, blanket, and pillow.

And maybe a steak or two.

The vortex billowed outward, and the room vibrated. Jack caught hold of Daniel as Sam plugged in the digits on the GDO. The foursome plunged through the wormhole as one, without looking back.

  back home

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Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of MGM, etc. I've written this story for entertainment purposes only.