"They Call Me Daniel"

[kellifer]

Title: They Call Me Daniel
Author: kellifer_fic
Movie Adapted: Bourne Identity
Genre: Slash, action/adventure.
Characters/Pairings: Cameron/Daniel
Rating: Adult themes
Word Count: 5,734
Warnings: none.
Summary: Written for reel_sg1. A man is picked up by a fishing boat, bullet-riddled and without memory, then races to elude assassins and recover from amnesia.
Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended; fair use only. Not created for profit.
Notes: Thanks to shaedowcat for the beta!

The man we pulled from the water looked like he was dead, right up until he tried to strangle me with my own stethoscope.

He had bullet wounds in his back but luckily lodged shallow, probably from a small calibre weapon. Not a lot of penetration. Still, the way he moved with such injuries…

He sounds like an American, yet I get the feeling he understands when we speak in the mother tongue. He would only accept bed rest for the first few days, insisting on working alongside the men when he could stand by himself.

He takes to any task you give him with ease, almost disconcertingly so. He gets along with the other men well enough, but keeps mostly to himself.

He does not remember who he is, and while I would usually think a tale of amnesia would be too convenient – especially if he were running from the authorities – I can see his frustration and know it is real.

Yanic has proposed we hand him over to the police when we dock but I don’t know…I think that would be a mistake.

000

“Was that French I heard?”

The man didn’t startle like most would, simply looked over his shoulder. Kurt wondered if this man was ever taken by surprise, but then the bullets in the back would indicate it was possible. The man, christened Nathaniel by the other fishermen, rubbed a hand over his face.

“I don’t know, was it?”

Kurt could tell he was genuinely puzzled and smiled gently. “It’s coming back,” he assured, noting the way Nathaniel had turned back to his reflection, as if staring at his face for long enough would give him answers.

“It’s not!” Nathaniel insisted, pure frustration colouring his tone. He leant forward and smacked a flat palm to the mirror’s surface. “I can dress myself, tie any kind of knot you could ask for…” Nathaniel held up rope that had a dozen different knots down its length. “I know the alphabet and I think about five different languages and that I hate goat’s cheese for some reason, but nothing really specific.”

“I’m not a shrink, but I’d say it was the shock. When you fully heal and are around familiar - ”

“Nothing’s familiar,” Nathaniel spat with such vehemence that he almost immediately looked contrite. “I’m sorry Mueller. I didn’t mean to raise my voice.”

“I get cursed at all day. It takes a lot to offend me,” Kurt assured, putting a hand out and patting Nathaniel lightly on the shoulder. He felt Nathaniel tense under his touch and pulled his hand back. “Here, I wanted to give you something,” he added, holding out his hand.

Nathaniel took the proffered object and turned it over and over with his fingers. “What’s this?” he asked. It was a small, almost flat metallic disc like a silver locket with no clasp. Kurt had made sure that none of the other crew had seen it.

“I was hoping you could tell me. It was in your hip.”

“My - ?” Nathaniel blinked, a hand straying automatically to his right flank. Kurt had found the hard object under Nathaniel’s skin and had removed it, thinking it was old shrapnel. He’d come to realise that it had been placed under the skin, most likely on purpose and far earlier than when Nathaniel had been shot.

“When you touch the bottom and top like so - ” Kurt gestured with his fingers, pinching them together. “A series of numbers are reflected.”

Nathaniel did as Kurt had demonstrated and made a surprised huff when blue numbers appeared on the wall opposite. “It’s coordinates and…something else,” he said, brow furrowed. He turned and started shuffling through the maps spread out on the bolted-in desk behind him. “Huh.”

“Yes? It means something?”

“Possibly,” Nathaniel admitted. “I mean, I can find the place. It’s somewhere to start anyway.”

“Well, maybe this will help you,” Kurt said, digging into his pockets and coming up with a wad of cash. Nathaniel stepped back with his hands up.

“I can’t take your money.”

“Unless you have money imbedded on your person like that coin, then I would think it would be difficult to make your way without this. I’m on a boat for months at a time and have little in the way of expenses. You’ve brought a little excitement to my life so I insist.”

Nathaniel smiled, lines lending character to his face. Kurt nodded as he was relieved of the money.

For the strangest reason, he had the feeling that their odd cargo had little reason to ever smile.

000

Cameron was screwed.

He’d thought maybe the American consulate would be a little helpful considering he’d lost all of his money, visa, everything, but their default position seemed to be suspicion. They would help him, eventually, but for the time being he was stuck in Switzerland and he had no way of getting home.

Maybe if he hadn’t actually told them the truth – admitted that he was mugged when he thought he was getting lucky – they would’ve stopped laughing long enough to be of assistance. Cam flipped the dozen or so forms he’d been told he’d have to fill out onto the hood of his rental and sighed heavily. It was snowing and he didn’t even have enough for a hotel room. The mini he’d rented at the airport – the only car there’d been left in the lot – had no working heat, and had started making a fairly disturbing whining noise on the way to the consulate.

“Excuse me?”

Cam looked up. Although he could’ve sworn there’d been no one in the alley he was parked in a second ago, a man stood there now, a bag slung over his shoulder. He had what looked like a passport in his hand, and was turning it over and over in his fingers.

“Yeah, what’s up buddy?” Cam asked, his automatic polite kicking in even if he’d had the crappiest day ever. There were always people worse off, and his Grandma had raised a kid who knew how to lend a hand when it was needed.

“You need to get back to the U.S?” the guy asked, and Cam raised an eyebrow at him. He didn’t remember seeing the guy inside the consulate, but he must have been there. Cam looked at the forms fanned out on his hood and back again.

“Yeah, so?”

“I need a ride to Paris,” the man said, and Cam almost laughed. Neither of them were going to get very far on the three bucks worth of gas he had left in the tank…but as he thought it, the man stepped forward, digging through his bag and bringing out a thick wad of cash. “Ten thousand dollars if you don’t ask me any questions. Another ten grand when we get to Paris if you forget you ever saw me.”

Cam blinked, automatically catching the stack of bills thrown in his direction. He didn’t think he’d ever held so much as a thousand dollars in his hands before, let alone ten. As he opened his mouth to ask if he was on some kind of weird candid camera, the sound of a police siren echoed down the alleyway, and the guy stepped backwards until he was hidden from the street by a jut of wall.

Ah.

“Listen, I don’t know what you’re into, but I’m not some kind of mule,” Cam said, gathering his forms with his free hand. “You can keep this…it’s probably counterfeit or dirty or something anyway,” Cam added, making to throw the money back, but the guy held his hands up, palms out.

“I’m sure you don’t want to spend the next week sleeping in the consulate’s waiting room, and I need a ride. Anything hinky starts to happen and you can throw me out: keep the first ten grand,” the guy said. He hadn’t stepped closer, made no threatening moves whatsoever. Cam was pretty sure that if he was holding funny money then he’d find out the first time he stopped for gas. He was pretty desperate, and people had been telling him lately that he was too safe. He had his life mapped out, no deviations. It’s why he’d taken the trip to Europe in the first place, to do something just for the hell of doing it.

“Okay, but the first sign of any funny business and your ass is on the road. I won’t even slow down.”

A grin surfaced on the man’s face and he nodded, and Cam was struck by how good-looking he was. With a solemn expression he looked almost sinister – certainly dangerous – but a smile brought out lines around his eyes and mouth that leant character to his face, taking away the blunt edges.

“Deal,” the man said.

“What’s your name?” Cam asked as he approached. The man seemed to hesitate for a second, passport still held in his hand clamped down onto more firmly before he said, “Daniel. I’m…it’s Daniel.”

000

“So, what’s in Paris?” Cam asked. They’d been driving for a few hours, Cam talking for most of it just to fill the silence. While he believed that Daniel was listening to every word he was saying, he wasn’t contributing much, an occasional head nod or non-committal “Hm,” not withstanding.

“I think…I mean I live there,” Daniel said, and Cam thought he was making definite progress because it was the longest sentence he’d managed to get out of the guy.

“Sorry, I babble when I’m…well, pretty much all the time. If I’m bugging you, let me know.”

“No,” Daniel replied, finally tearing his gaze away from the passing scenery and looking at him. Cam thought he looked tired, deep shadows under his eyes and a tightness to his face like he was fighting exhaustion. “I have a headache but you’re talking…it’s helping.”

“Really? I’ve been told my talking gave someone a headache but never that it alleviated one,” Cam said, a wry grin turning up his mouth. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Wasn’t part of our deal to not ask any questions?” Daniel said, scooting further down in his seat and resting his knees against the dash. Cam had noticed that he and Daniel were of a height, and he knew his back had been screaming from the cramped quarters of the mini after only an hour. He could only imagine Daniel would be worse.

“You didn’t stop me when I asked what was in Paris. Give me an inch and I’ll take a mile.”

“Alright, but I might not answer.”

“I get that. There’s risk in everything,” Cam said and he saw the faint grin on Daniel’s face again. He wondered what a full-on smile looked like. “Who pays a guy they just met on the street twenty thousand dollars to drive them to Paris?”

“I said ten.”

“You said ten now and ten at the end.”

Daniel rolled his eyes, but looked mildly amused. “Fine, twenty.”

“I mean, you could’ve just bought a car for ten. Not even that. Hell, you could’ve bought this car off me for ten.”

“It’s a rental,” Daniel pointed out.

“Yeah, but you didn’t know that when you met me and I wouldn’t have elaborated,” Cam said, waggling his eyebrows.

“I needed someone to travel with. There are people…I’m pretty sure there are people looking for me.”

“I figured, what with you ducking and covering when the cops went by back outside the consulate.”

“They’d be looking for a man on his own. At least I think - ”

“You keep saying I think or I assume. Is there anything you’re sure of?” Cam asked. It was confusing the hell out of Cam how Daniel sounded sincere despite the vague answers.

“Not much,” Daniel admitted and Cam let out a snort.

“So, all I know about you is that you apparently have cash to burn and your name is Daniel - ”

“I’m not…that’s not something I’m one hundred percent sure of either.”

“What? Your name?”

“I mean,” Daniel said, reaching between his legs to pull the bag he’d been carrying when Cam first saw him onto his lap. “I have a passport with the name Daniel Jackson and the picture is me but for two weeks prior to this I was being called Nathaniel by a bunch of fisherman and before that…” Daniel let the sentence hang.

“You’re not going to tell me you have amnesia or something like that are you?” Cam asked levelly, not really believing his ears. “That’s just so soap opera.”

“I know, it’s pretty cliché but it’s…it’s the truth.”

“Wait, you’re serious?”

“I was pulled out of the ocean a couple of weeks ago, and I have no idea what happened, who I am, or what the hell is going on. I had the details of a numbered account…on me and apparently a safety deposit box full of cash and passports. After that, all I know is I was inside the consulate and all these armed guards came out of nowhere like they recognised me.”

“How’d you get out of there then?” Cam asked, incredulous. It was one thing to be daring, take risks. It was completely another to blithely accept the fantastical story he was being told.

“How about we stop for some food?” Daniel suggested. Cam looked across at him and then at the rest stop sign they were coming up on. Cam nodded.

“Okay, sure.”

000

There was a crappy diner next to the gas station they pulled up to. When they entered and Cam made for a booth, Daniel gently lead them sideways to a regular table, then nudged Cam aside when he went to sit in the chair facing the doorway.

When they finally settled, Daniel took off his jacket, did a quick scan of the room and then looked straight at Cam. “There are twenty-three people in this place,” he said and Cam blinked at him.

“What?”

“The best place to look for a gun is under the counter and it’s probably a sawn-off. The cook looks half-asleep but he’d know how to use it. I can tell you the number plates of the other five cars outside.”

“What the hell are you - ?”

“I was pulled out of the ocean a few weeks ago and there’s all these things I can do that means I’m half-terrified of who I might turn out to be. There are people after me and I was shot in the back, and you were my best hope of reaching Paris.”

“Wow, you’re actually serious,” Cam said, sitting back in his chair.

“I am. You can believe I’m crazy if it makes you feel better, but everything I’ve told you is true.”

“You think maybe there’s family or something in Paris?”

“I don’t know. At first I thought so, but I’m starting to think that I won’t find anyone there, except maybe myself.”

Cam tapped the table with his fingertips for a few moments, letting everything he’d been told sink in. Again he pondered the fact that there was a difference between taking a risk in your life and doing something completely crazy, and he was starting to think that picking up Daniel meant he was closer to the crazy side of the equation. “You don’t really…look dangerous,” he said eventually, waving a hand in Daniel’s direction. It was true that he looked vaguely threatening in the alleyway when he’d first laid eyes on him, but since then he’d just looked tired.

“The most dangerous people don’t,” Daniel said, almost in an offhand way, scrubbing a hand over the back of his head.

“You might be a cop or something. They’re trained to do the type of thing you’re talking about.”

“Maybe,” Daniel allowed, not looking reassured.

“How about we get something to go?” Cam proposed, feeling unsettled. “The sooner we get to Paris…”

Daniel nodded, the skin tightening around his eyes. “Sure, yeah. Of course.”

000

“Are you sure this is you?” Cam asked, watching Daniel hold down the door buzzer. The apartment building looked nice with a large grilled door on the front. “Maybe you’re not home?”

Daniel looked over his shoulder and scowled as Cam grinned at him. He’d been meaning to make the drop-off in Paris his end of the line – ask for the second half of his money and just take off – but he’d seen Daniel looking pensive, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth and he just hadn’t been able to do it. Instead he’d unbuckled his own seatbelt when they’d stopped and the look of relief Daniel had tried to hide had been worth it.

Daniel was going back through his bag when he came up with a notebook. Taped to the inside cover was a key. He gave Cam a look and then tore the key free, slotting it into the security door. The door swung open.

What they assumed was Daniel’s apartment was on the third floor. Daniel went in first, making Cam wait outside while he did a quick scan of the place and Cam rolled his eyes when Daniel came back to get him. “Expecting booby-traps or something?” Cam asked.

“Or something,” Daniel said without elaborating.

“Whatever, I would kill for a shower. Tell me you paid your water bill.”

“I have no idea,” Daniel replied with a shrug, and Cam made straight for the bathroom to test it out. The place was neat as he poked his head into a few rooms on his way. It barely looked lived in, not much furniture and what little there was had an impersonal, almost utilitarian look to it.

In the bathroom Cam found a stack of towels folded neatly and a number of toiletries, all still in their packets. If anything, the place looked like a hotel room. “I don’t think anyone actually lives here,” Cam called, then shrugged when he didn’t hear a response. He turned the water on in the shower instead, twisting the hot tap as far as it would go and standing for a few minutes with his forearm thrust under the water. When it remained stubbornly freezing, he knew he was either going to have to brave a cold shower or find out where the switch box was so he could turn the heat on.

“No hot water!” Cam called, helping himself to a toothbrush still in the plastic. He unwrapped it and dug further into the cupboard until he found toothpaste as well. After he’d tugged his shirt off and kicked his boots away, he also found a pack of high-end disposable razors and soaped his face, grimacing at the bristles he rubbed the wrong way. His beard when it grew in was always thick and stiff, a horror to shave if he let it go for more than a few days.

“What?” Daniel’s voice floated in from the other room and Cam grinned at his reflection. Daniel appeared and leaned in the doorway, looking like a homeless person in what Cam could only assume were borrowed clothes from the fishing trawler that had picked him up. Daniel was looking at him with something akin to contemplation, and Cam straightened a little. He was half-naked and while Daniel’s gaze felt more curious than anything, he was suddenly a little self-conscious.

“You should see if you have any clothes in the place,” Cam prompted, and Daniel looked down at himself, plucked at the tattered sweater, and nodded.

“Might be an idea,” he agreed and disappeared.

Cam shaved and then brushed the taste of his diner burger from his mouth, ducking his head under the cold tap for a moment to try and dislodge at least some of the road grime. He was about to yell out to Daniel, hoping there was a spare shirt for him as well because he’d left his bag in the car, when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Cam turned, expecting Daniel again, but there was a tall man with bleach-blonde hair standing in the doorway, gun trained on him.

Hands came up over the man’s shoulders just as he thumbed the gun’s safety free, one arm coming around the man’s throat and the other pushing the gun-hand sideways. Cam’s paralysis was broken by the shot that was meant for him going wide, smashing the mirror to his right instead. He saw Daniel emerge behind the man, his face a grim blank. There was a brief struggle, and the gun clattered to the floor.

The two tumbled out of the doorway and Cam followed, grabbing the gun and watching them fight. There was a series of short, brutal hits and neither of them shied away, coming at each other again and again, not afraid to take a hit, moving faster than Cam would have believed. Daniel landed a quick one-two punch to the man’s mid-section and he stumbled but feinted sideways and caught Daniel under the jaw. Cam wanted to help but something in him told him he’d just get in the way. Daniel deflected a hit that would’ve caught him in the side and turned the man, using his own momentum to propel him into a room that looked like a study.

The man was wearing a messenger bag and Daniel managed to twist it up and off, flinging it in Cam’s direction as he brought the man to the floor and slammed his head against the rug hard enough to make a hollow sound. “Who do you work for?” Daniel asked, and Cam was amazed that he was hardly even breathing heavy.

The man’s hands came up, but instead of lashing out, he brought a hand down on his own throat, and there was a metallic clack. The man’s body went rigid for a second, then he slumped. Daniel pushed himself away with a curse.

“What just happened?” Cam asked, only realising he still had the gun held loosely in one hand when Daniel reached for it. He relinquished his hold as Daniel stood.

“See what’s in his bag, would you?” Daniel asked, like he would ask someone to pass the peas. Cam just stared at him until Daniel looked up. “What?”

“That guy was going to shoot me.”

“Yes, probably,” Daniel agreed. He was gathering a pile of cash on the desk in the room and not just one but a couple of passports into a black satchel.

“Just shoot me, without even saying anything,” Cam added, not really ready to go past that fact.

“What would you have wanted him to say? Maybe give you a countdown?” Daniel asked with a raised eyebrow. Cam glared.

“Is this funny to you?”

“Not in the least, but that guy just killed himself rather than have any chance of telling us who he was working for, and that says something very bad. We have to get out of here, and it would really help if you’d dump out his bag and tell me if there’s anything useful while I pack.” Cam hadn’t really been in a position to notice, but he saw now Daniel had changed into a pair of jeans and a cream-coloured sweater. There was a black overcoat slung over the back of the desk chair, and he retrieved it.

Cam hunkered down and turned the man’s bag upside down, dumping its contents onto the floor. He sifted through and came up with a cell phone, some cash and a couple of fax pages. He smoothed one out, and stared at the picture of himself, looking like it had been taken from inside the US embassy. The picture was distorted from being blown-up, but it was definitely him. There was one of Daniel as well, and a description of his rental car and the plates.

“This says kill on sight,” Cam said, holding the page up.

“Okay, yeah, we’ve really got to go,” Daniel said, nodding to himself. He looked up. “Get dressed, we’re leaving now.”

“They’re not just looking for you,” Cam said as Daniel herded him back towards the bathroom.

“No,” Daniel replied.

“They were going to kill me. Why - ?”

“Because you let me get in the car.”

“Oh.”

Daniel stopped for a moment, and Cam looked at him. Daniel’s eyes flicked over his face, as if searching for something…then he nodded and touched Cam lightly on the shoulder.

“C’mon, we’ve gotta go.”

Cam blew out a breath.

“Sure.”

000

“We’ve got two choices,” Daniel said. He tossed the black bag onto one of the two single beds in the tiny hotel room they’d checked into, the kind of classy establishment that would also take bookings by the hour. Cam had blushed bright red when the clerk had given them a knowing smirk.

Cam sat on the edge of one of the beds, pawing through his own duffle. He still had a shower with his name on it and as he brought out a shirt and sniffed it to make sure it was clean, Daniel stepped in front of him, legs in his line of vision so he had to look up.

“We can either run blind or we can find out just what the hell is going on.”

“So the argument against running would be…?”

“We don’t know who we’re running from, or how far their influence reaches. We might be fine in another state or need to go to another country or have complete reconstructive plastic surgery. I’d like to know how extremely we have to run.”

“So your vote would be for the finding out option?”

“At least so we know enough to make an informed decision about our future.”

“You keep saying our,” Cam grumbled, pulling a spare pair of jeans free of his bag as well. By now he was pretty sure the pair he had on would be able to stand up by themselves. Maybe boogey a little.

“I figured we were in this together,” Daniel said, sounding unsure. “At least for the time being.”

“You do realise that the only thing we have in common is that neither of us know who you are, right?” Cam said, coming to his feet. He hadn’t realised how close Daniel was standing until Daniel had to take a step back when he rose. As it was, they were still close enough to practically breathe each other’s air, but again Cam got the feeling that Daniel wasn’t really aware of what he was doing…there was no real intent behind it. As he suspected, Daniel made to step away further, but Cam reached out and grasped his elbow, stilling his movement.

Daniel looked down at Cam’s hand and then back up, that gentle curiosity in place as always. Cam leaned forward a little and when Daniel didn’t lean back, he closed the final few inches that brought their lips together.

At first there was no reaction, like Daniel wasn’t sure what to do. Cam leaned away and looked at him, tilting his head a little. “I’m sorry, I - ” Cam began, but Daniel’s hands came up and framed his face, thumbs grazing his cheek bones. He wrinkled his nose a little, and the corners of his mouth turned up in a half-grin. “We both really need a shower.”

“You sayin’ I stink?” Cam asked, trying to sound affronted, but he supposed the chuckle he let slip ruined the effect.

“I’ll scrub your back,” Daniel offered, and Cam laughed.

000

Cam woke and then sat up when the space beside him in the bed was cold and empty. He spotted Daniel sitting by the solitary window wearing only jeans and his hair mussed. His bare feet were propped up on the sill and he was leaning back in his chair.

“Maybe I don’t want to know,” Daniel murmured, even though Cam was pretty sure he hadn’t made enough noise to tell Daniel he was awake and alert.

“Sure you do,” Cam replied, snagging the top blanket off the bed and wrapping it around himself like a toga. He approached the window and put a hand gently against the side of Daniel’s neck, trailing his thumb up and down the tendon. Cam was fit, but he’d discovered Daniel was in ridiculous shape. He was all hard angles, nothing at all soft.

“There was a gun in the safety deposit box,” Daniel said. “It was the only thing I left behind but when that guy…my first thought was that I should’ve had it on me.”

“Of course it would be,” Cam said, pulling the other chair by the room’s only small table around so he could sit. He leant over so he could rest his forehead on Daniel’s shoulder and he felt Daniel rub a hand through his hair and then sigh.

“I automatically reached for a gun, like I normally carry one. What does that tell you about me?”

“Absolutely nothing,” Cam argued, knowing that Daniel was drifting dangerously close to a very bad place. “You could be military or a cop or anything.”

“I don’t feel…I’d like to think you’re right.”

000

Cam left Daniel sleeping, having correctly assumed that he’d hardly gotten any the night before. He found what he was looking for only a few blocks from their hotel: an internet café. Cam entered and took a booth towards the back. The computer monitor had a piece of chewed gum pressed in one corner, but it was the only desk without another one directly behind it…Cam assumed that Daniel’s cautious nature was rubbing off.

Cam brought up a search engine and clicked around for a while, looking at missing person sites and local law enforcement notice pages. Nothing seemed to fit, and Cam scrubbed a hand over his face and sat back. After he’d ordered a coffee he surfed for a while longer, keeping half an eye on the clock so he could get back to the room before Daniel woke.

Cam was just going to log off when something caught his eye, a news story that had the hairs on the back of his neck rising. There had been an attempted assassination of a decorated US Air Force General on a yacht. The General – a man named Hammond – had been apparently saved by quick-thinking security, who had chased the would-be assassin off the boat, certain that they had shot the assailant in the back. The body had not been found but the assassin was assumed deceased.

Cam dropped his forehead onto the scratched tabletop for a moment and just breathed. He supposed it could be a coincidence but it would be a pretty damn big one. The timing of the incident matched up, the details, everything. Cam printed off a copy of the story and made his way back to the hotel.

000

“You know what this means, right?” Daniel asked, looking down at the paper cradled in his lap. He had the bed clothes across his legs and his chest was bare. He looked ridiculously young when he rubbed his knuckles into his eyes, and even though Cam knew just exactly what that story was telling him, he couldn’t reconcile it with who he had gotten to know.

“It doesn’t matter what that says,” Cam snapped, yanking the paper back to himself and then flinging it across the room. “We have your money and passports. We can go anywhere, be anything.”

“You’d do that?”

“We can leave here, find somewhere warm where they won’t ever find us,” Cam told him, dropping down onto the bed beside Daniel and placing his hands on either side of his face. He tilted Daniel’s head up until they were eye to eye. “This says who you were. It doesn’t have to be who you are.”

Daniel nodded jerkily, still looking a little uncertain. “We can run, no friends, nothing familiar. Keep our heads down.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“You really think so?” Daniel asked, sounding resigned. “You sure I can leave that guy behind?” Daniel pointed across the room at where the paper had landed and Cam nodded. Daniel’s eyes cleared and his mouth tipped up in a grin.

“I’ve always wanted to see Egypt…at least, I think I have.”

000

“The Internal Oversight Committee briefing,” Doctor Samantha Carter said, looking at her consultant, retired Air Force Colonel Jack O’Neill. He nodded and let her pass through the set of large double-doors ahead of him. On the other side was a semi-circular room. A panel of eleven men and women sat at one end of the room and O’Neill and Carter took their places at a long table on the other side.

General George Hammond sat in the center of the panel, scowling down at his paperwork.

“How did this happen, exactly?” he asked, flicking pages with an air of impatience.

“We can call it a training exercise gone wrong,” O’Neill said from his place. He hadn’t even bothered to open the folders he’d had shoved in front of him by Carter. She glanced at him sideways.

“I don’t know what you people thought you were doing but it backfired spectacularly. The man tried to kill me.”

“The results for the adaptation of the Goa’uld technique for suggestion-based training were unexpected, granted.”

“Unexpected?” Hammond huffed.

“We thought it would make a good training platform and the subject met all our criteria. I’d like to fine-tune the program and revisit.” Carter replied. O’Neill just raised an eyebrow and shrugged when Hammond turned his way.

“You believe this will eventually be a good way to detect Goa’uld presence and terminate on Earth?”

“Oh sir, it is a good way to detect Goa’uld presence. It’s the termination aspect that we will need to improve.”

Hammond’s mouth dropped open as security personnel filed into the room, weapons trained on him. His eyes flashed gold as he saw his exists were blocked. As he was apprehended, O’Neill spun his chair around to face Carter and cocked his head. “So are we still looking for Jackson?”

“We should,” Carter answered, nodding. “I know Goa’uld operatives will be. We haven’t perfected the za’tarc conditioning as yet, but he was our best and brightest candidate. Any Goa’uld comes within his range, he will automatically try to take them out. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not have talent like that wasted.” O’Neill nodded.

“Good enough.”