Closure, a Stargate story by Glacis. Rated NC17, no copyright infringement intended. Set around and spoilers for the episode "The Curse."

1989

The idea simply wouldn't go away.

Daniel Jackson had been working under Doctor Jordan for almost four years, and the realization had been growing all that time. He couldn't call it a hunch; it was too strong to be merely a belief. It had to be the truth.

Ancient Egyptian civilization went back much further than current scholarship would allow. Thousands of years further back. And the bedrock of that realization had as its cornerstone an even more untenable truth. That civilization did not have earthly origins.

He couldn't quite bring himself to spring his theories on Doctor Jordan yet. His mentor thought highly of him, was always interested in his ideas and loved to debate them with him. But this ... this was so far out in left field it was a completely different ball game. He wandered into the bedroom and perched on the edge of the bed. Steven was still sleeping, wiped out from a transatlantic flight, in from Heathrow the previous afternoon. Daniel wanted to run his ideas by his friend before he laid them out for his mentor. Two in the morning might not be the best time for it, but he couldn't wait any longer.

There were two things Steven was impressively good at. One was blowing holes in theories, and Daniel was counting on that. The more angles he looked at this from, the stronger a defense he could mount against the incredulity he knew would meet him.

A hand crept over his thigh and finger-walked under the edge of his shorts. Daniel came out of his preoccupation with a jolt, staring down at sleepy brown eyes and a wicked smile. The fingers slid up his boxers until they traced the edge of his cock, teasing it as Daniel instinctively opened his knees to give Steven better access.

With a slither that would have made any southwestern sidewinder proud, Steven was across the bed and had his head in Daniel's lap before Daniel could so much as blink. Hands drew his waistband down and a talented mouth settled over him, sucking him into full hardness. The same tongue that could cut through academic bullshit like a scythe or spread it like a shovel played him like a fine instrument. He curled over, burying his hands in Steven's hair and yelping involuntarily as he came.

Without breaking skin-to-skin contact, Steven trailed his mouth up Daniel's chest, along the side of his throat, across his jaw and settled over his lips, tongue as knowing in his mouth as it had been on his cock. Daniel sank into the kiss, kicking his boxers the rest of the way off as he climbed on the bed to join Steven atop the blanket. Steven broke the kiss, leaned down and pecked the end of Daniel's nose.

"Good to be home," he whispered. "Tell ya about the inscriptions later."

"I'll hold you to that," Daniel whispered back, his throat clenching as Steven's hand roamed over and into his ass. Then he rolled over onto his belly and pushed himself up to his knees, dipping his head and biting the pillow as Steven worked his way gently into him. It had been a long three weeks, and Daniel was as glad as Steven that the other man was finally home. Sweet heat stole over him as Steven rode him steadily, driving him to hardness again, then stealing that away with a talented fist as he came in him and collapsed against him. Borne to the bed under Steven's weight, Daniel smiled into the pillow at the kisses Steven scattered along his shoulders.

That was the second thing Steven was impressively good at.

Wide awake, body thrumming from the lovemaking and mind humming with ideas, Daniel turned in Steven's arms and started to ask him about the trip. About the ruins. Started to blurt out the incredible ideas that wouldn't leave him in peace.

Heavy dark lashes were closed over the dark eyes, and Steven was sound asleep. Daniel grinned despite his disappointment and dropped a light kiss on Steven's forehead. It would keep.

For a little while, at least.

1992

"Don't do this, goddamnit!" Steven jerked away from Daniel's embrace and threw himself from the bed. Stalking naked over to the far wall, he planted his feet, crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Daniel. If looks could scorch, Daniel would have spontaneously combusted. As it was, he could feel his skin burn.

That was probably the anger. Not to mention the humiliation. If he couldn't count on the guy he was sleeping with to support him, there was no way in hell the greater mass of archaeologists out there would ever believe him.

"You're throwing away your entire fucking life, Daniel." Steven's voice was low, gravelly, barely-controlled. He looked like he wanted to beat Daniel senseless. The thought made Daniel shake his head.

No, as far as Steven was concerned, Daniel was already senseless. Completely out of his mind.

"If you'll just consider the evidence -- " he tried for the thousandth time.

"What evidence?" Steven yelled at him, as usual before he could complete the sentence. "It's not science, it's the worst kind of pseudo-science!" His voice dropped suddenly, from anger to pleading. "Think about it, damnit. This isn't archaeology, it's Close Encounters. This is your life, Daniel, not a science fiction movie. If you do this, you'll lose everything. God," his voice rose again, and his arms came down, hands reaching out to Daniel from across the room. "Look at what your grandfather went through! Do you really want to go through that kind of hell? For what?" The last word was practically a wail.

"For the truth," he said as calmly as possible with his voice shaking so hard he could barely speak. Steven made an inarticulate sound full of frustration and rage, turned on his heel and stormed out of the bedroom.

Daniel slumped against the headboard, staring miserably after Steven, wishing for a single moment of open communication. Ever since he'd first presented his theories, after Steven stopped laughing and realized he was serious, he'd gotten nothing but disbelief followed rapidly by horror. Against weeks of advice, he'd gone to Doctor Jordan and laid his theories out.

Doctor Jordan hadn't laughed. He hadn't been horrified, but he hadn't believed, either. He'd given Daniel time, and shunted research money his way, and even did damage control when Daniel didn't keep a tight-enough lid on some of his theories during a few academic conferences. He was of the personal opinion that Daniel was pursuing theories with no serious scientific merit, but he also considered Daniel the most brilliant student he'd ever had. He was willing to give Daniel the rope to hang himself with ... and the day of the hanging was about to dawn.

At least according to Steven.

Daniel dragged himself out of bed, not bothering with his robe, and followed Steven out to the living room. Steven was sprawled on the couch, scowling fiercely, refusing to look at him. Daniel stood uncertainly in the middle of the room for a few moments before taking a deep breath and trying one more time.

Taking the last few steps to bring him to the side of the sofa, he dropped to his knees and leaned against the cushions, bringing his face close to Steven's. Running one hand lightly along Steven's arm, he ended the caress by lacing his fingers over Steven's, squeezing gently.

"You know me," he said quietly. "This isn't a half-baked idea that sprang out of nowhere. This is a theory based on solid research. I know it sounds crazy. But it's true. If you'd just listen -- "

Steven pulled his hand away and glared at him. "This isn't solid research, Daniel. It's insanity."

His hand felt cold. His fingers balled into a fist, and he forced them to relax. Reaching out to cup Steven's chin in his palm, he leaned forward until their mouths met. He tried to deepen the contact, but Steven's lips remained firmly closed. Frustrated, he dropped his hand and sat back on his heels.

"Steven, you know me!"

Swinging his legs over the side of the cushions, brushing Daniel back out of the way as he stood, Steven continued to glare fiercely at him. "I used to. I don't anymore."

Pushing past, he knocked Daniel off-balance. Daniel landed on his butt, staring up over his shoulder at Steven's retreating back. It was stiff and straight, radiating disapproval and disavowing him along with his crack-brained theories. Daniel sat there, stunned, as Steven came back out of the bedroom moments later, hastily dressed.

"I'm going to the lab." His voice was arctic. "If you're bound and determined to destroy yourself, you can do it on your own." Grabbing his jacket and keys, he paused at the door. "It's your choice, Daniel. Forget this insanity, or get out and stay out."

He didn't look back. Daniel stared at the framed photographs shaking against the wall from the force of the slammed door. He and Steven in better times. Two brave souls discovering the ancient world and making their mark on the academic world.

Looked like Steven didn't want to be around when he made his mark. Didn't want to be caught in the mud slide that would follow. Didn't believe in, or care enough for, Daniel to support him. In any way.

He had his things packed and stuffed in the trunk of his car within the hour. It was a good thing most of his books were at his office.

Three days of icy silence later, he did something he'd never done before. He went to a bar a few blocks from the University, found a quiet table near the back, and drank himself blind. When he woke up, he didn't recognize the bed.

He did recognize the blonde tucked up against him.

Sarah was from Oxford. She'd been trying to get him to go out for two years. Gay lovers didn't even slow her down. Daniel lifted a shaking hand to a head that felt like it was going to explode at any moment, and squinted blearily down at her.

She smiled up at him. "Water, aspirin, and the hair of the dog that bit you," she told him with entirely too much cheer. Then she stretched up and kissed him.

It was easier to accept than it was to fight. Easier to allow his private life, such as it was, to be managed for him, while every ounce of energy he had went into his research. Easier to hide behind Sarah than accept that Steven had walked away from him as if their years together meant less than nothing.

He couldn't fight battles on all fronts at the same time. So he picked the one that mattered, and let the rest of his life fall apart.

"You have such passion," she told him, as she listened to him, encouraged him. "Such fire. You truly believe this." She didn't, but he didn't notice. One by one his colleagues turned away, and she stayed true.

Or he thought she had.

1994

"Oh, darling, you're not serious about presenting this paper, are you?" There was a hint of laughter running under her words. He looked at her as if she was speaking a language he didn't understand instead of the Queen's English.

"Of course I am," he answered warily, packing the last of his files in his briefcase preparatory to going to the lecture hall the next morning. Rain beat against the windows, and suddenly the room seemed darker than it had only moments before. "I've been working on this for years. It's been announced, I'm going to be there ... why are you acting like this is a surprise?"

She ran her fingers through his hair, brushing it back off his forehead and dropping a light kiss on his lips. "I didn't really think you'd let it get this far."

The briefcase thumped against the floor as his fingers lost feeling. The world was going in strange little circles, and for a minute he thought he was actually going to pass out. She was the only support system he had left; even Doctor Jordan couldn't keep making excuses for him, and had reluctantly refused to attend his lecture. Daniel blinked.

"Not get this far?" he echoed, his voice sounding strangled to his own ears. "What on earth do you mean?"

The look she gave him was equal parts reproach and laughter. He could handle the first; the second made his stomach clench.

"You know if you go through with this, you'll be a laughingstock. Surely you must admit that."

"My theories are based on solid research -- "

She cut him off the same way Steven used to. The way Doctor Jordan had begun to. The way that made his temples throb and his teeth hurt from clenching his jaw hard enough to hear the enamel crack.

"Well, I won't be there to watch you commit professional suicide, darling."

He took a deep breath. "Oh? Where will you be?"

Her look transmuted to pure innocence. "Doctor Jordan is taking me to examine the cylinder seals on loan from the Granton expedition. Oh, Steven may go, as well."

He wasn't sure if the stab of betrayal that shivered through him was from hearing Steven's name or realizing what Sarah had actually been up to for the past two years. "This isn't about me. Or my theories. Is it? This is about opportunity. What you see as an opportunity to take my place working with Doctor Jordan."

She chuckled. "Take your place? Daniel, I have been working with Doctor Jordan for the past year. I didn't need to take your place, love. You gave it up. I merely stepped into the vacuum you left behind."

"You bitch." It came out weaker than he'd hoped, because he couldn't breathe. She sent him a look of outrage. He didn't know if it was real or feigned. Couldn't tell. At the moment, he didn't know if anything was real or not. His world was off-kilter, on the eve of the most important presentation of his life.

Her timing was impeccable.

"If you're going to be unpleasant --"

This time, he cut her off. "I can't believe it. I always knew you were ambitious, but I didn't think you'd actually sleep with somebody to get ahead. I don't know, Sarah -- I may be crazy, but at least I'm not a whore." He couldn't believe the words he heard coming out of his mouth even as they were pouring out. This time he knew the outrage was real.

She slapped him hard enough to knock his glasses off his face.

"Sarah!"

She was nearly out the door.

"I'm sorry," he told her quietly. She paused momentarily, but didn't look back at him, and didn't turn around. The door didn't slam, as it had with Steven, but it was just as final. Daniel looked down at the briefcase leaning against his shin and wondered if it was worth it. Sinking down on the edge of the armchair, he closed his eyes and rested his face in his hands.

It had to be. He had given up everything for it. He had nothing left to give but the truth as he understood it.

He could only hope the world was ready.

Sleep was impossible that night. Sarah didn't come home. The rain never let up. By four in the morning he gave up, got up, showered, and went over his notes again. He had them memorized, but it gave him something to do until it was time to go to the lecture hall.

He recognized many of the faces in the audience when he finally began his presentation. To his surprise, it was a full house. Energy buzzed in the air. He smiled nervously, wiped his hands on his slacks, and started to speak.

Less than a fourth of the way through his paper, the audience defined hostile.

Less than halfway through, the hall was empty.

Voice dying out, he licked his lips and swallowed around the lump in his throat. A single figure stood, leaning his shoulder against the back wall, staring at him. Daniel stared back.

Steven shook his head once, turned on his heel, and left him alone.

Again.

2000

He'd known he was out of the loop, but he hadn't realized he was so far out of the loop that it would take a tabloid newsrag to tell him his mentor had been killed.

General Hammond granted family emergency leave, since Doctor Jordan was closer to a father than anyone to Daniel ... aside from himself, and he probably didn't know that. At least, Daniel didn't think he did. The flight back to Chicago was over much too fast, and he wasn't quite prepared for what he found when he got to the cemetery. He'd managed to be late, and walked up to the graveside service just as Steven was finishing the eulogy.

Steven.

He looked good. His voice stuttered when he caught sight of Daniel, and he made certain that he looked directly at Daniel when he talked about Doctor Jordan's disappointments. His actions made it crystal clear that he had neither forgotten nor forgiven Daniel for following his truth and leaving him behind.

Daniel hadn't expected anything different. When Steven greeted him with "The prodigal son!" he knew it was going to be as bad as he'd expected. Sarah came over and gave him a hug. Considering how they'd parted, he wasn't quite sure whether to hug her back or dodge the knife. Cautiously, he hugged her, letting go quickly. Unsure what to say to either of his ex-lovers, Daniel walked over to the casket and stared unseeing at the contrast between the burnished wood and the bright flowers draped over it.

"What happened?" There had to be more to it than a nebulous curse. Osiris was either a myth or a Goa'uld. Whichever he had been, he hadn't killed Doctor Jordan. Had he?

Steven answered, looking past him at the flowers. Speaking to the dead to avoid speaking with the living. "According to the police, there was a slow gas leak in the lab, and something must have caused a spark. The whole place went up. He was killed instantly."

Sarah piped up, "We would have called you, but nobody knew where to find you."

No surprise. "That's ... that's okay." The fact that they'd tried, or at least she had, meant that not all of his bridges were burnt.

"I'm glad you're here," she continued. He restrained a pained smile. That would make one of them. "So, how long has it been? Four years?"

As if she didn't know. To the day. "Five."

"What have you been up to?" Steven sounded abrupt, but he also sounded genuinely interested, which was more than Daniel expected.

Not quite sure how to respond to that without receiving a scornful brush-off or violating national security, he glanced at Steven then looked back at his shoes. "Uhm, I've been ... busy."

Leave it to Sarah to point out the obvious. Rub it in, even. "Really? I've looked for signs of you out on the fringes. There've been no papers, no research projects. It's like you fell of the face of the earth."

Under different circumstances, Daniel would have laughed at the unwitting irony. "Yeah, it is a little like that, isn't it?"

"As I recall, the last time I saw you, you were giving a lecture to an empty room." Steven could give Sarah a master class on rubbing it in. Daniel managed not to wince.

"Oh. Well, it was full when I started."

Of course, Steven couldn't leave it at that. "Well, maybe the world wasn't ready to hear that the pyramids were built by aliens, or was it men from Atlantis?"

Sarah jumped in before Daniel could answer. "Steven, please."

Words he'd used before under very different circumstances. He couldn't quite keep the sarcasm out of his voice as he echoed, "Yes, Steven. Please."

"Why did you come?" The question was harsher than perhaps Steven meant. His expression was closed, but emotion bled through, and there was pain along with the recrimination there. Daniel felt a headache coming on. It complemented the heartache nicely. Steven went on, "You managed to stay away all this time. If you're looking for closure, Daniel, I'd say you're a little late."

The words hit him like a punch to the solar plexus. Before Daniel could get his breath back, Steven stalked away to his BMW. With one last glare over at them, he ducked into the car and drove off.

"Always a pleasure, Steven," Daniel called out. When at a complete loss, fall back on sarcasm. It worked for Jack. Maybe it was contagious. Sarah hadn't moved. Daniel stared after Steven for a second then asked whimsically, "So, you doing anything?"

She actually laughed. "No. I'm all yours."

Never. But she'd tried. For a little while, at least. Regardless of her motives.

They walked to a bench and sat in the sunshine, trying to figure out what to say to one another. Sarah, as usual, went straight to the core of the problem, in her perspective.

"I have to admit, I thought you didn't come back because of me."

He looked directly at her and told her, honestly, "No. No, that's not it."

"We could have ended it better than we did."

He couldn't tell if she was sincere or fishing for compliments. He glanced at her, then looked away, unable to maintain eye contact. She was staring right through him. "Maybe." Unable to leave it at that, he added, "The truth is, I got caught up in something incredible."

Her enthusiasm surprised him a little. "You found something, didn't you? Something that supports your theory? Tell me. Come on."

He felt like a tease. "I can't."

She obviously felt teased. "Daniel!" He couldn't quite control his grin. They'd put him in hell, between the two of them. While he couldn't say much, he had to say something.

"Okay. Let's just say that what the world knows about ancient Egypt barely scratches the surface. The truth is more incredible than any of us ever imagined."

"Now, that's the Daniel I know."

He shook his head at her. She had no idea.

To his vague surprise, she invited him back to take a look at their current project. At loose ends, admitting if only to himself that he was looking for closure as Steven had accused him, he took her up on the invitation. The artifacts were amazing, and he told her so. She got distracted, and he asked her what was wrong.

"Something's missing."

The amulet distracted her from stories of mold spores masquerading as curses and sent Daniel off on a trip to the basement. The curator, a helpful, bustling and overworked woman who barely came to his shoulder, glanced up at him over the top of her glasses.

"So what am I looking for?"

"An artifact that went missing from the Stuart Expedition." She was nodding before he finished the sentence.

"The Isis Jar."

He blinked at her and frowned. "No, uhm, actually, I'm referring to a gold amulet with a little ebony ... " He checked the inventory Sarah had pressed in his hands before sending him downstairs. "It's listed as item 14C."

She gave him a suspicious look. "That was sent up to Dr. Jordan along with the rest of the artifacts."

According to Sarah, it wasn't there now. "You're sure?"

Suspicion gave way to a hint of defensiveness. "I sent it myself. I can show you the paperwork."

He waved her off. He didn't need any more paperwork. "No." But she had mentioned something interesting. "What's this, uhm, Isis Jar you were talking about?"

"I'll show you." She trotted around the corner. "The damn crate was mislabeled when it came in. I only found it a couple days ago." Standing on tiptoes she still wasn't able to reach the jar. Daniel, at eye level with it, reached out and plucked it from the shelf with no difficulty.

"This one?"

His chivalry, and height, garnished him the first truly friendly look he'd gotten from her. "Oh, yeah. Never seen those symbols before, have you?"

There were some standard Egyptian hieroglyphs on it. There was also a string of Goa'uld characters carved down the front of it. Daniel swallowed. "Uhm, yes. I'm going to need to do a translation."

She seemed happy to leave it with him. "Well, if you need me, I'll be in the back cataloging the Polynesian death masks."

He watched until she was safely around a corner, then took off in the opposite direction. Checking carefully to ensure that he was alone, he pulled out his cell phone.

"Carter."

"Sam, it's me."

"Hang on a sec." He could hear her thanking someone, and gave a moment's thought to what project she was working on now. With Sam, it could be anything from a deep-space observatory module to a chapter on theoretical physics to rebuilding a Harley engine. "Where are you?" she asked him.

"I'm still in Chicago. I'm in the basement of a museum with what appears to be an Egyptian burial jar ... " He paused, not sure how to explain what he thought he'd found on an unsecured line, even if there wasn't anyone listening in.

"Okay... " A clear, if patient, hint to get on with it. He pushed his glasses further up his nose and frowned at the canopic urn.

"Which may not be out of the ordinary in a museum, granted, but there's something else beside the usual hieroglyphs. There's a second set of markings." He bit his lip. "They're Goa'uld symbols."

"How can I help?" she asked immediately. He took a deep breath.

"I couldn't get hold of Teal'c."

Her voice caught on a choked laugh. "He's, er, fishing. With Colonel O'Neill."

He grinned a little. Wondered how that was getting on. "Do you have his number? Or some way to get in contact with him? I need some help with this translation." She rattled off a number and he sketched it in his mind's eye. "Thanks, Sam."

"Let me know if you need anything else, okay?"

"I will. Thanks." Pressing the button to end one call and start the next, he reflected on how refreshing it was to talk to people who actually believed him. He'd forgotten, or repressed, how bad it had been before he'd finally been run out of academia. The cell phone rang for a surprisingly long time before Jack answered.

"What?!" Closer to a snarl than a greeting.

Daniel blinked. "Uhm, hi, Jack. Is Teal'c available?"

The answer was sarcastic in the extreme. "Yes, Daniel. He's right here. Please hold."

Daniel lifted an eyebrow and wondered just how bad the fishing must be to put Jack in such a royal snit.

"DanielJackson."

His other eyebrow went up to match the first. Teal'c actually sounded almost enthused to hear from him. "Hi, Teal'c. Uh, how's the fishing? Catch anything yet?"

The answer made no sense. "We have caught nothing. We are fishing."

He could hear the quotes around the last word. What on earth was Jack doing to Teal'c? Shaking his head, Daniel got back to the matter at hand. "Right. Uhm, listen, I need a little help with a translation. I've got a line here that reads Hakorr kra terak shree."

A smacking sound made him jump before Teal'c answered morosely, "Banished to oblivion."

"Right. Okay, uhm ... thank you." He felt like he should say something else, but hadn't the foggiest idea what.

"If you require assistance, I would be more than happy to return to the SGC."

Daniel cocked his head to the side. If he hadn't known better, he'd have thought that was a plea. Except Teal'c didn't plead. Did he? Completely confused, he replied, "No, thanks. I think I can take it from here."

"Are you certain?" There was no doubting the quiet desperation in the words. Before Daniel could come up with a viable excuse to get Teal'c out of whatever Jack had gotten him into, Jack's exceedingly grumpy voice came over the line.

"Gimme that!" Then directly in his ear at an indecently loud volume, "Goodbye, Daniel!"

"No, wait -- " Before he could finish the sentence, Jack hung up on him. Firmly. Daniel looked at the telephone in disbelief. Even his best friend was cutting him off.

All of his friends were cutting him off.

Unaccountably depressed by how little some things changed, Daniel tucked his phone away and stared down at the jar in his hands. Oblivion. Banishment.

Time to head back to the Mountain.

Sneaking the urn out of the museum and aboard the plane was depressingly easy. He stopped at his apartment long enough to feed the fish and toss fresh underwear in his bag, since he was heading back to the Museum soon, and headed out to the base. As soon as he got to the lab, Janet called Sam and Sam called General Hammond. By the time the general got there, Daniel had a background briefing ready for him.

"The hieroglyphs identify the jar as belonging to Isis, who was the Egyptian mother goddess."

Sam asked, "A Goa'uld?"

Probably. Aloud, Daniel answered, "That's possible. You see, Isis was a consort of Osiris, supposedly the first Pharaoh of Egypt. Now according to legend, he was placed in a magic box," he glanced down at the canopic jar, "and dumped into the Nile by his brother Seth."

General Hammond stared hard at him. "Now, that name I recognize."

He went on with his impromptu briefing. "The Goa'uld symbols indicate that Isis and Osiris suffered some sort of punishment, or banishment."

"Where to?" Sam, again with the salient question. To which Daniel had no answer whatsoever.

"I have no idea."

"Major, I want the contents analyzed." General Hammond wasn't taking any chances.

"Yes, sir."

Daniel took a breath. "I'd be careful if I were you. For all we know, it could be some sort of Goa'uld bobby-trap left behind by Osiris as a means of revenge." He winced a little. "Also, it's ... it's cursed, so -- "

Sam took him seriously. Thank god somebody did. "Thanks for the warning."

He left it in her capable hands, grabbed his bag, and headed back to the airport. It was late by the time he got to the museum. He locked his stuff in the trunk of his rental car and headed down to the basement. Unsurprisingly, it was dark and empty. However, when he tried to turn the lights on, it stayed dark. That was a surprise.

"Hellooo?" No one answered, but a shadow moved. Daniel grabbed a flashlight from the workbench and headed deeper into the bowels of the basement.

"What are you doing here?" His flashlight beam landed on Steven. Just the person he didn't need to see.

"What are you doing here?" Hostile, at that.

"I asked you first." Not to mention the fact that he brought out the juvenile delinquent in Daniel.

"I work here!"

He gave up. "I'm looking for the breaker box."

So was Steven. Daniel had neither the patience nor the time to get into another rumble with Steven, so he started off on his own search. The other man dogged his footsteps. Daniel finally threw him a bone.

"I needed some information on items from the Stuart Expedition. There's something missing."

"There's nothing missing." Steven was determined to be difficult. Daniel couldn't really blame him, but there was a possibility of Goa'uld involvement here, and he didn't have time for pissing contests.

"A canopic jar with some hieroglyphs, and some unusual markings."

"The Osiris Jar." Complete confidence, as if it was the only possible choice. Daniel wondered about that. Steven must not have known about the Isis Jar. Just as well, since it was now twenty stories deep inside a mountain being dissected by the finest minds in the Air Force.

"Yes."

"Destroyed in the explosion," Steven informed him promptly. Too promptly?

"You're sure about that?"

"Yes, positive."

Faced with such confidence, Daniel had to let it rest. For the moment. "Okay. Well, what about this gold amulet?"

Steven's reply went beyond irritable to outright snappishness. If Daniel hadn't known better he'd've thought he was jealous.

"Daniel, if you're looking to get back together with Sarah, you know, that's your business. I really couldn't care less. But I do have a problem with you coming here and involving yourself in my work."

Protesting too much, Steven, Daniel sniped silently. He couldn't let the second part of the statement pass, though. "Don't you mean Doctor Jordan's work?"

"No! My work!" Steven barked back. "Sarah and I were Dr. Jordan's assistants. You haven't been involved since you walked out on him."

That hurt more than he wanted to admit. "I didn't walk out on him. I was ... trying to protect him."

"You mean you distanced yourself in order to spare him the embarrassment of being associated with you." Scornful dismissal, and that hurt almost as much, because it contained a large kernel of truth as well. This trip home had been one joy after another. "Daniel, you really should not have come back."

Daniel couldn't help but agree.

He finally located the breaker box. Flipped the lights on. And made the thoroughly unpleasant discovery of the body of the curator, lying on the floor of the elevator with her head smashed in.

"Oh god!" Steven sounded like he was going to throw up. Daniel had seen more dead bodies, so he controlled his reaction a little better.

That is, until the police showed up and Steven did everything but switch on a bright neon sign over his head flashing "Killer!" There were a lot of trust and anger issues working through his old friend, but this wasn't the time for it. Daniel finally took the detective aside, called Hammond on his cell phone, and let the two of them thresh it out between them.

It was close to one in the morning before he made it to the motel, but he was too wired to sleep. He considered writing in his journal, but what could he say? Back home. Everybody hates me. Nobody wants me. Think I'll go eat worms. If somebody else hasn't already, and the worm's name is Osiris.

A peremptory knock startled him. "Who is it?"

"Steven."

Daniel stared at the door in disbelief.

"C'mon, Daniel, let me in."

"Why should I? You did your best to get me arrested for a murder I couldn't possibly have committed." He covered the fact that still hurt with outrage he didn't have to fake.

"We can discuss this through the door until the front desk calls the cops on us for disturbing the peace, or you can let me in." Steven didn't sound like he was going anywhere any time soon. Daniel heaved an impatient sigh and yanked the door open.

Steven looked exhausted. He brushed past Daniel, head bowed, hands stuck in his pockets, a posture Daniel recognized immediately. The man was near the end of his rope. The knowledge softened his anger, but didn't wipe it away completely. He closed the door and leaned back against it.

"What do you want, Steven?" His voice was gentle, and it must have surprised Steven, who turned and looked over at him.

"Why did you come back, Daniel?" Steven asked as softly. "I was getting on with it. Getting past it. As much as I could, missing you, being around other people who were missing you almost as much as I was. I'd nearly convinced myself that you were dead, when you showed up. Out of nowhere."

Daniel looked away. "You were right. I needed to get some kind of closure." He heard the footsteps as Steven walked over to him, but he didn't look up until Steven put his hand under his chin and raised it until they were face to face.

"From Doctor Jordan? From Sarah?" Steven's voice dropped and he moved closer. "Or from me?"

"From everything," Daniel whispered. He could feel Steven's breath on his mouth. This hadn't been what he'd returned for, but a small hidden part of him had been hoping for it. Waiting for it.

Maybe expecting it.

"What do you want, Steven?" he tried to ask. Steven covered his mouth with his own before he could complete the question.

"Oblivion," Steven answered roughly when he broke the kiss. "For a little while, at least. Can you give me that?"

Daniel was too distracted by Steven's hands sliding inside his shirt to answer. All the emotions, all the memories and the conflicting needs that had been churning in him since he'd seen the report of Doctor Jordan's death boiled up, washing away the perfectly legitimate logical reasons why there was no way in hell he should do this. Steven's desperation matched his own, and neither one of them bothered to talk.

Their bodies were doing an excellent job without words, driven by instinct and need. Steven trailed biting kisses from Daniel's mouth to his neck, hands busily stripping away clothing as Daniel writhed against the door. It had been too long since anyone had touched him like that, and he went up like a flare.

The kisses lengthened, roughened, as they roamed over his chest and down his torso. Steven had his trousers open and his shorts around his knees, and all Daniel could do was scrabble for a hold, one hand in Steven's hair, the other fisted against the door, as Steven wrapped his arms around Daniel's hips and swallowed him whole. He was unaware of the needy moans coming from his throat as Steven licked and sucked him, hands as busy as mouth and tongue, squeezing his ass, stroking his balls, scissoring into him.

He was coming before he was ready for it, primed by need and adrenaline and memories. Steven pulled back, catching Daniel's seed in his hand, staring up at his face as Daniel bucked against him. Then Steven caught him as he sagged, trembling, and turned him to face the door. Daniel raised shaking arms to cross them against the door, turning his head and pillowing his cheekbone against his forearm. Steven was radiating heat behind him, hands strong on him, one holding his hip steady, the other working him open.

The first thrust made him scream, and he stifled it against his arm. There was as much pain as passion in the movement, on both sides. Daniel pushed back as Steven pressed in, meeting the pain and fighting it into sharp-edged pleasure. Steven was muttering, but with all the languages Daniel spoke he still couldn't understand him. So he concentrated on the movement, the hand curled around his cock, which hadn't completely softened and was responding to the stimulation by filling again. Steven communicated as well with his body as he did with his words; better, sometimes, especially with Daniel.

Too soon, again, too fast, too much, and he was coming a second time, arching back against Steven and forward into his hand. Steven held him through it, then pumped a few more times before his own climax hit. Daniel leaned against the door and took the weight settling against his back, wondering how long his legs would hold up before his knees gave out.

He didn't have to worry about it. Steven ghosted a kiss across the nape of his neck, so softly he almost didn't feel it, then withdrew carefully. Daniel hissed a little, but didn't protest as Steven turned him in his arms. Daniel nearly laughed. He was stripped from neck to knees.

Steven had his fly open. Hadn't even undone his tie. As he stepped back, tucked his spent cock back in his boxers and zipped up, damned if he didn't look like he was ready for a board meeting.

The laugh caught in his throat as Steven stared up at him. The shadows under his eyes were, if anything, deeper than they'd been before. Impulsively, Daniel told him, "You could stay here for what's left of the night. If you'd like."

A harsh "Bad idea" was the only answer he got to the invitation. Before he could ask why, Steven reached out and took him by the arms. Moved him out of the way and opened the door. Daniel clutched at his trousers and peered around the door as Steven started to walk down the hall. Over his shoulder, barely loud enough for Daniel to make out the words, Steven said, "This was all a very bad idea." Then he stomped away.

Daniel stared at the empty hallway for a long moment, then slowly shut the door. Kicking off his shoes, stripping what was left of his clothing off, he dropped everything on the floor next to his shirt and wandered back to the bathroom naked. Taking off his glasses and leaning in close to the mirror, he stared at his reflection for a very long time, thoughts wandering between the past and the present. He found no answers in the face staring back at him. Giving it up as a bad idea, agreeing with Steven for a change, he went to bed.

He finally fell asleep as dawn was breaking, only to dream about glowing eyes and migraine headaches before screaming himself awake before eight. He wasn't at his best when he joined Sarah in Doctor Jordan's office a little after nine. He didn't want to get into Steven with Sarah, not with the history they shared, specifically him. That would lead them down tangential paths he didn't have time to address. So he gave her a throwaway comment about 'knowing people' and went directly to the topic of his gravest concern.

"Do you have any pictures of the Osiris Jar? The one that was destroyed in the explosion?"

"Yes, here." She handed him two photographs. Both jars were topped with depictions of godheads, one male, one female. He squinted at them, but couldn't decipher the Goa'uld writing on the missing jar.

"I can't make out the inscription around the collar."

"We were unable to identify the symbols," not a surprise, since only he and Teal'c were fluent in Goa'uld, and Sarah had undoubtedly never seen it before, "but Dr. Jordan copied them in his note book." Bless him. Daniel had gotten his journal habit from Doctor Jordan. "Those markings are unlike anything we've ever seen. They're not Egyptian."

He played dumb. "No, they're not Egyptian."

"So, what are they?" She stared at him intently.

Since playing dumb hadn't worked, he tried stalling. "What are they?"

That didn't work, either. Sarah verbally pounced on him. "You know! How?"

Classified. I could tell you but then Jack would have to shoot you. Daniel took a deep breath. "Let's just say I can't really go into it right now, but this is really important. Did Dr. Jordan do any kind of preliminary tests on the jar?" Redirection might work where his acting skills had failed miserably.

"Not that I know of, but he kept all his lab results on the computer." She turned away from staring at his face to stare at the computer monitor and he gave a silent sigh of relief. She was almost as good as Steven at reading him.

She muttered something about Doctor Jordan's computer being wiped clean, and his back-up disks being stolen. Daniel was getting a very bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. Missing jar with Goa'uld implications, wiped hard drive, dead scientist and curator, even the email was deleted ... Sarah muttered some more computer-speak that Daniel didn't quite follow, but she was able to retrieve the email at least.

"He had one email message on the night he died. He probably didn't have time to read it." She opened it, and Daniel peered over her shoulder.

"It's the results of the carbon dating analysis done on the ebony portion of item 14C." The results were what he expected, but they astonished Sarah.

"The missing gold amulet. Oh, my God! Daniel! It's over ten thousand years old. This means you were right all along."

How to answer that? He stuck with as little response as possible. "Yeah, I know."

Sarah was still staring at the analysis report, mouth hanging open slightly. "Egyptian civilization must be thousands of years older that we've ever assumed!"

She had no idea. And she wouldn't get any ideas. Not if he could help it. "Sarah. You can't tell anyone about this."

The look she gave him said quite eloquently that he was nuts. He was used to that. "What are you talking about? This is exactly the evidence you've been looking for. It completely validates your theories."

There was no way she could know he wasn't looking for validation, but for secrecy. So he went for the scientific disclaimer. "Look, all we've got are the results of one carbon dating on a missing artifact."

"So, we can contact the technician who performed the analysis." She stopped abruptly, staring at the screen with surprise. He glanced at it, then at her.

"What?"

"Doctor Jordan wasn't the only one to get these results." She nodded at the header. There was a CC after Doctor Jordan's name. "Steven."

Damnit. That was, to put it in Jack vernacular, so not good. "Uhm, I have to ... take a look at some of the artifacts in the basement. Do you need me here?"

She gave him a searching look, but let him go. He went directly from the museum to Steven's apartment. One of the skills he'd learned from Jack during down time between missions was highly illegal but really came in handy. He picked the lock and let himself in. The place was quite an improvement over the one they'd shared eight years before. Original art on the walls, teak and chrome and leather everywhere. Comfortable, classy, and damned expensive. A lot like Steven.

Who was nowhere to be found.

Old habits died hard, and Daniel found when he reconnoitered the bedroom that Steven still left his bag and his passport in the same places. The corner of the closet had a knapsack-sized clear space on the floor. A scattering of money in four different currencies, a stub from the King's Cross tube station in London and a sherd from the Temple of Hatshepsut proclaimed the absence of his passport from the small drawer in the bedside table. He slumped on the side of the bed and wondered what he was supposed to do next.

His cell phone rang in his pocket, startling him, and he jumped. Shaking his head at his reaction, he pulled it out, flipped it open and brought it to his ear. "Jackson."

"Doctor Jackson, this is Detective Mulane. We met last night."

Over the corpse of the curator. Once he'd gotten off the phone with General Hammond, he'd been much friendlier. Seemed he was ex-USAF himself. The change in attitude hadn't made Steven very happy, a fact which in itself did a lot to brighten Daniel's night. He had no idea if it had contributed to the later nocturnal visit. "What can I do for you, detective?"

"You asked to be kept informed if there was any further suspicious activity around the museum. Well, there's been another murder."

Daniel froze. "Sarah?" He'd just left her. Pain started up in his left temple and he closed his eyes against it. "Steven?"

"No, sir, a lab technician."

His eyes drifted open as the cop continued with his report. It was short and not sweet. Daniel recognized the name as the man who'd sent the email to Doctor Jordan about the carbon dating on the amulet. Thanking the detective automatically, Daniel slowly closed the phone and stared blankly at the far wall.

He didn't like where his thoughts were taking him, but a few conclusions were coming clear. Steven had acted vindictively, then with a desire that was somewhat out of character given the way they'd parted years ago, then fled. Out of the country, probably. He'd taken the amulet with him. He might have killed the curator. The lab technician. Doctor Jordan. He might not be Steven anymore.

He might be Osiris using Steven's body.

The thought caused pain to rip through his chest and for a moment he honestly thought he was having a heart attack. Several deep breaths later he regained his composure. This was insane. Were the goddamned Goa'uld going to take over every lover he'd ever had? Not that there were that many, but still ... between the Goa'uld jumping him, and the Goa'uld taking over the people he'd been intimate with, it felt like a galactic conspiracy to infect every sex partner he took with a damned symbiote.

It took more deep breathing to get himself calm again. Clamping down on his emotional reaction, he concentrated on the job at hand. First, he had to see if there were any other clues in the artifacts remaining from the Stuart expedition, any Goa'uld technology that might give them a clue where Osiris would go, if Osiris had taken over Steven. The pain hit again, not debilitating, but still agonizing, and he gritted his teeth and scowled through it. Leaving the apartment, carefully locking it behind him, he went back to his rental car. Rummaged through his bag until he found the naquadah detector he'd brought back from the base, then drove back to the museum, went down to the basement, and got to work.

Three hours of painstakingly meticulous checking later, he had zip. Sarah's voice calling his name interrupted him, and he climbed down from the stepladder, stuffing the detector in his pocket so she wouldn't ask any awkward questions.

Of course she did, anyway. And he couldn't answer any of them. She had also gone to Steven's place, and found the same thing Daniel already knew. She was bound and determined to go after him, and Daniel was even more determined that she wouldn't. She had no idea what sort of danger she faced. Finally, he said a little desperately, "Sarah, there have been three deaths already."

She looked askance at him. "Three?"

He looked away. "They found the body of the technician who did the carbon dating on the amulet."

Her head was shaking denial of the implication before he finished the sentence. "Daniel, I know Steven." He refrained from pointing out that one, he knew Steven a hell of a lot better than she did, and two, it might not be Steven they were talking about. "He may be capable of a lot of things, but he's no murderer."

Unable to contain himself, Daniel muttered, "Well, you may not know him as well as you think you do. At least, not anymore."

Her hands flew up and she gave an irritated snort. "What's that supposed to mean? Oh, let me guess, you can't explain, right?" The sarcasm was thick enough to cut with a dull knife. Daniel raised a placating hand.

"Sarah -- "

So much for placation. She lost her temper, her voice rising as she let him have it. "Well, what do you expect, Daniel? You show up after five years, but you can't say where you've been! You've got this mysterious ability to be able to read an ancient language nobody's ever seen before, but you can't explain how!" He dropped his head, staring at his feet. "Then, when we finally find the evidence that's able to vindicate you to the entire archeological community, you want to cover it up. What is going on?" She took a deep breath, and he risked a glance at her. More calmly, she said, "This is me, Daniel."

As it that made a difference. "I know." That much, he knew. He didn't know if Steven was still Steven, but he knew Sarah was still Sarah.

Frustration overrode irritation. "Then why can't you trust me? What have you been doing for the past five years?"

"I want to tell you, Sarah. I do, believe me." He didn't know how to convince her without telling her the truth, and there was no way he could do that. He tried giving her his most sincere look. "I wish you could see some of the things I've seen, but the world is not ready to know, not yet."

Her response was reasonable. "I'm not asking you to tell the world, I'm asking you to tell me." Unfortunately, he couldn't. "This is my life's work, too, Daniel." Unable to answer that, he slid past her and started to leave. He was afraid if he opened his mouth he would say too much. Her voice followed him.

"So, you're working for the government? What? Daniel!"

There wasn't a damned thing he could say. Except, "I'm sorry."

It wasn't enough. "You're just going to disappear again, aren't you?" It was an accusation, and a true one. He nodded once.

"Yes."

"I think Steven was right. You never should have come back." She stalked past him, and he let her go.

Perhaps he shouldn't have come back. But if he hadn't, then Osiris would still be loose, and no one would be the wiser. He might have come back for a sense of closure, but what he'd actually done was opened a can of worms. His mind flashed to the canopic jar.

Well, somebody had opened a can of worms. Literally. And it was up to him to clean up the mess. He tried not to think of Sarah, or Steven, or losing them both all over again, on the flight back to Colorado. He didn't bother with the stop at home this time.

Life felt relatively sane again in the familiar confines of the base. He, Sam and General Hammond watched Doctor Fraiser fill little darts with golden liquid similar to that they'd discovered in the Isis jar, along with the fresh corpse of an adult Goa'uld. As difficult as events in Chicago had been, at least Daniel hadn't had to watch her do the autopsy.

"I managed to synthesize the liquid from the jar, so on its own, it should act as a powerful sedative. One dart should be more than enough to knock out an adult Goa'uld."

The Isis jar had been good for a couple things. It had proven that there was an anesthetic that worked on Goa'uld, and given them a very strong indication that Osiris really was awake and out there. The symbiote in the Isis jar had been the victim of a broken seal that had upset the power supply in the urn. No one had any idea why the pair had allowed themselves to be confined, but figured they hadn't gone willingly. So not only was Osiris free after ten thousand years, he was probably on the war path.

Sam asked Janet, "Do we really want this thing alive?"

Daniel'd asked himself the same question, and come up with an answer. Of sorts. He didn't want to admit out loud that his main objection to killing Osiris was that he didn't want to kill Steven. So he covered with an explanation the Intel types would buy. "Well, even though it's been in stasis for several thousand years, it could still be a valuable source of information."

General Hammond put his troops first. He ordered them firmly, "I want you to hold that option in reserve. Your priority is to stop the Goa'uld with minimum risk to yourselves."

The wall phone rang and Janet answered it. "Frasier. Yes, he's right here. Sir?"

He left Daniel and Sam staring at the darts as he went over to take the phone from her. "Hammond. Yes, all right. Thank you." Hanging up, he hustled back to them. "We've got a lead on Steven Rayner. He boarded a flight to Cairo four hours ago."

Of course. Daniel wondered why he hadn't thought of that. Too much going on all at once, probably. Informational and emotional overload. "He could be headed back to the temple in Egypt where the jars were discovered. If we move fast, we could head him off, sir."

They could, and they did. The flight took too damned long, and the ride out across the dunes took even longer. Janet and Sam accompanied him, but it was Daniel's old stomping ground, so he did the talking and the driving. Janet made a comment about understanding the lack of tourists, and Daniel shrugged one shoulder. The really important sites in Egypt weren't the tourist Meccas, at least not as far as he was concerned. Out in the middle of nowhere ... that was the best place to find a Goa'uld temple.

Which was precisely where they went, and precisely what they found. There was a battered green Rover parked at the entrance, and Daniel pulled in behind it. Sam took point, with Daniel second. One scampered to each side of the doorway and Sam covered him while Daniel loaded the rifle with the trank dart. When they were armed and ready, Janet came up beside him with her medical kit, one hand hovering over the grip of her pistol.

Guns up and flashlights sweeping, they entered the dusty tomb. Daniel saw the body before the women, but Sam was the first to approach.

Daniel confirmed, "it's Steven!" Not moving. God, not dead. Please. He held his breath. Sam knelt next to the body, calling on the remnants of Johlinar to examine him.

"I'm not sensing anything. He's not Goa'uld."

She backed away and Janet took her place, starting her own examination, this time for threats to his health instead of theirs. Daniel knelt in front of Steven. He looked like hell. Pale, with blood dripping from his mouth and bruises all over his face. He wasn't Osiris, but somebody had beaten the crap out of him. What was going on?

"Steven," Daniel called softly. Janet looked over at him.

"He's bleeding internally."

God. "Steven, it's me."

"Daniel?" The voice was weak, but coherent. Daniel felt his chest relax and took a grateful breath.

"What happened?"

Dazed dark eyes opened and stared up at him. "I took the amulet. It's over ten thousand years old. Your theory was right all along. I'm sorry." He sounded like he meant it. Then he gasped in pain, and meant that too.

"Just take it easy, okay?" Janet rested a hand on his back and gave Daniel a 'talk to him!' look. "I need you to hold still."

Daniel quickly reassured him. "It's okay. She's a friend." Steven settled down and Daniel asked urgently, "What about the jar?"

Steven looked completely confused, and it wasn't just his injuries. "Huh?" Obviously he had no idea what Daniel was talking about.

Waving one hand ineffectually, fighting the urge to pet Steven, Daniel clarified, "The Osiris Jar. Did you open it?"

The confusion remained but the answer was solid. "No."

That didn't make sense. If not, then ... "Why did you come here?"

Steven took a short, painful breath. "I figured out the amulet was a key. There's a hidden chamber. I wanted to make the discovery."

Of course. Not Goa'uld. Archaeologist. Steven had finally seen the proof he needed to actually believe Daniel, and now he wanted in on it. Only he'd gotten a hell of a lot more than he'd bargained for, and it had nearly killed him.

Janet interrupted his train of thought. "Daniel, we have to get him out of here."

It might yet kill him. With even more urgency than before, Daniel pressed on. "Steven, who did this to you?"

Footsteps, too close, distracted him. A figure in white draperies, limned in the dusty sunlight shining through the broken wall of the tomb, walked toward them.

Its eyes were glowing.

"I did." Sarah.

Not Sarah.

Osiris.

Sam and Janet brought up their weapons and got thrown against the far wall for their efforts, crashing into it with sickening thuds and sliding, unconscious, to the ground. Daniel whipped the rifle up and shot it, but the hand device activated a personal shield, and it rebounded off harmlessly. Osiris grabbed him by the throat, terrifying strength in the slender hand. He scrabbled at fingers cutting off his air and Osiris tossed him contemptuously to the ground.

"This temple was once filled with my worshippers."

The voice was obscene coming from Sarah's mouth. Daniel shifted, trying to draw the Goa'uld's attention away from the injured man and the rest of his team. Give them a chance, but not rely on them. Running through possibilities, Daniel kept his eyes on the Goa'uld and answered with meticulous arrogance,"Yeah? Well, times have changed."

Osiris glared over at him. "So I have observed. Where is my brother, Setesh?"

He heard an echo of Sarah's voice in the question and it hit him, hard, that the whole time he'd been with her since the funeral it hadn't been Sarah. He'd been so sure ... he'd been so wrong. "Ah. You mean Seth. He's dead. We killed him."

The golden head whipped around and pinned him with an imperious look Sarah had never managed. "You lie."

He shook his head, stalling, hoping Sam would wake up or another plan would present itself. Then one did, and he knew what he had to do. He also knew it was going to hurt. A lot.

Drawing the Goa'uld in, he taunted, "No. We also killed Ra. And Hathor. And who else? Uhm, Sokar."

Osiris nodded regally at him, stepping closer. Precisely what Daniel was working toward. "Then you have done me a great favor. I will rule without opposition."

He shook his head again. C'mon, you son of a bitch, get a little bit closer. "No. No, you won't rule at all. See, we don't worship false gods anymore."

The contempt was unmistakable, but the figure did draw closer. "You have come far, it is true. But you are still weak." Another step. "Even now you are torn between your desire to kill me, and your concern for my host, she who freed me from my long sleep. What do you know of my queen?"

The abrupt change of subject was exactly the opening he'd been waiting for. "Well, she was trapped, like you. We have the jar."

"Where is it?" Avid and demanding. And almost close enough.

"I'm not gonna tell you." If that didn't do it, nothing would.

It did.

"You are mistaken."

The ribbon device activated and intense waves of agony struck him as Osiris aimed it at his forehead. The angry eyes were riveted to his face, so the Goa'uld didn't notice as Daniel carefully pulled a single trank dart out of the pack on his hip. He knew he'd only have one chance. The pain was incredible and he grimaced, trying not to scream, not to lose his vision as the world grew red and hazy. Determined to keep his rapidly-numbing fingers working long enough to do what he had to do. Before Osiris killed all of them.

"Where is my queen? Tell me!"

He lunged with the last of his strength, stabbing the dart into her abdomen. To his everlasting gratitude, the ribbon device shut off and he curled up into a ball of excruciating agony and wrapped his arms around his head, certain his skull was going to explode any minute.

"What is this? What have you done?"

There was a tiny clatter and he pried one tearing eye open to see that Osiris had pulled the dart out and tossed it to the ground. "You will pay for this impudence."

She was staggering as she went over to the altar, and this would have been the perfect time to jump her and take her down, but he couldn't have moved if his life had depended on it. His head was going to fall off at any moment, and he was torn between throwing up until he passed out or passing out and waiting to throw up until he regained consciousness.

Through the waves of pain twisting his brain in a knot he heard a click. She'd placed the amulet against the front of the altar and a control panel rose up from it. Raising the ribbon device unsteadily, she pointed it at the crystals. The ground shook, intensifying the throw-up-or-pass-out dilemma for Daniel. He was still trying to find enough left of his mind to make up when the Goa'uld staggered back past him. Turning to face him, she gave him a patented Goa'uld intimidation glare that would have worked much better if he'd been able to actually see anything through the red haze in front of his eyes.

"Make no mistake. Osiris will return, and the rivers of the Earth will run red with blood."

Rings dropped. Carter came up beside him and emptied her clip at the rings to no avail as the bullets bounced off in all directions. Daniel dropped his head and clutched his hair with both hands as the echoing ricochet did nothing for his massive headache.

Sam collapsed next to him, patting his knee tentatively. "You all right?"

In between gasps for breath, he lied through his teeth, "Oh, yeah! Yeah! I think I'm... getting used to that thing!"

Janet joined the party, looking almost as pale as Steven. "Where's Osiris?"

Daniel couldn't answer, so it was a good thing Sam did. "Gone."

He looked over at the body still sprawled before them. "Steven?" he reminded Janet.

She'd been eyeballing him, but she did a closer check and pronounced, "If we get him out of here right now, I think he'll make it."

Daniel rolled back up into a ball. It was easier to hold his head on his shoulders that way. "In the meantime I guess we'd better... think up a story to tell him." Eventually. When his brain uncramped. If it ever did.

Sam drove. Janet sat in the back, Steven curled up next to her where she could steady him. Daniel held on to Steven with one hand and his head with the other. It was a hellish ride that lasted forever. Three miles in Daniel hung his head over the side and threw up. Two miles later, he passed out. Nine miles after that he woke up and threw up again. By the time they got to the airport, he was eyeing Sam's gun, wondering if she'd miss it if he took it so he could eat it. Steven didn't make any noise, just got progressively paler as they went. He opened his eyes, twice, Janet said, but Daniel was unconscious and missed it.

The military medical personnel waiting for them were quite unhappy with both of them. Janet took control, and Daniel happily passed out in the bed next to Steven's.

The original plan had been to leave Steven at the military hospital until he was well enough to swallow a well-constructed lie, then take him home and hope he forgot all about it.

There were two problems with that plan. First, Daniel couldn't think of a convincing enough lie that Steven would swallow, even after he stopped throwing up, passing out, and seeing triple. Then, Steven contracted a fever and started talking.

Daniel was sitting beside the hospital bed, absently patting Steven's hand and staring fuzzily at nothing in particular. Janet had given him something to settle the last of the pain in his head and to unwind the knots of tension in his back and shoulders from fighting the ribbon device, and it was working all too well. So at first Daniel had the slightly stoned impression that he was hearing his own thoughts in Steven's voice.

"God. Oh, god. Sarah. Why? How? Fuck, that hurts. Don't hit me again. Please."

Daniel blinked. Hit him? She hadn't hit him. She'd strangled him and tried to liquify his brain, but she hadn't beaten him. A moan of pain brought his wandering attention to focus on the man now shifting under his hand.

"Why are you doing this? What's wrong with your voice? My god, your eyes! Your eyes! Sarah! No! Leave him alone! Stop hurting Daniel!"

The words escalated into a scream, and Daniel had Steven in his arms and was murmuring calming words when the nurse trotted into the room. The SP at the door swept the scene with an alert look, but didn't come in when he saw that Daniel had the situation in hand. Literally.

The nurse was jabbering medicalese at Janet, who'd come in on her heels. Janet bustled around the bed doing obscure things with needles and IV bags, efficiently turning knobs and peering with contained worry at Steven. Daniel didn't pay much attention; his concentration was torn between the drugs making him float and the implications of Steven's words pulling him down to earth with a thud.

He'd seen a hell of a lot more than they'd thought he'd seen.

The sedatives kicked in, but before Steven went under, his eyes opened and focused on Daniel. Terror and confusion cleared away slightly and he tried to smile. Daniel smiled back hesitantly.

"It's going to be okay, Steven."

Bleary brown eyes stared into his, calling him a liar, then closed as Steven fell asleep. Daniel climbed back off the side of the bed, unsure precisely when he'd climbed on, and followed Janet somewhat unsteadily out into the corridor.

"I think we have a problem," he told her quietly. She cocked a brow at him. "Steven was awake during the attack on us," he continued, carefully not saying Osiris' name. Her eyes widened.

"Perhaps we can explain it away as a fever hallucination. Delirium."
He was shaking his head no before she finished the sentence. "I know Steven very well. He's not going to buy that." He closed his eyes and leaned against the wall, smiling a little as he felt her fingers go around his wrist, checking his pulse. "I'm fine, but I think as soon as we can move Steven without hurting him, we need to get him home."

"How will taking him to Chicago address possible security leaks?" she asked, confused.

He shook his head again, gently, since it started the war drums up in his skull when he moved too fast. "Not Chicago. Colorado."

Her eyes met his with perfect understanding. Isolation until they could determine the extent and ramifications of what he remembered. Twenty minutes later on the telephone, General Hammond agreed.

Security cranked up for the next few days, until Steven was out of danger. No uncleared personnel were allowed in the room, even medical personnel, and it was a good thing, because he continued to talk, and the more he said, the more concerned Daniel became.

Steven's body had been in agony, but his mind had been clear and his ears and eyes had been working fine. He'd been a front row spectator to a confrontation between an old friend whose theories he'd heard from the earliest development, and a Goa'uld in the form of another friend who'd nearly killed both of them. He'd seen the transport through the rings, seen the bullets bouncing off the personal shield, seen the ribbon device used several different ways.

Seen too much for anyone's comfort. Daniel slumped in a chair next to the bed, staring at Steven and wondering how the man would feel about losing his book contract, his Porsche and his place in academia in order to come roam the galaxy in obscurity. Then he wondered how the SGC would react to Steven. He'd known the man extremely well, and felt in many ways he still did. It would be a toss-up between the true scientist who, having seen the truth, wouldn't be able to lie to himself or anyone else, and the skeptic who enjoyed the respect of his peers, his popular fame, and his healthy bank account.

Daniel was still kicking it all around when Steven's fever broke. He was coherent but not talkative, and still very groggy when they loaded him on a transport plane. Most of the time he spent staring at Daniel. There was more in the look than Steven had ever said. Conjecture. Curiosity. Residual pain, both physical and emotional.

Conviction.

It was the last emotion that worried Daniel the most. For all his skepticism, Steven was an outstanding scholar, and once a truth was presented to him, and he believed it, he wasn't the type to cover it up, lie about it, pretend it didn't exist. Not to himself, and not to others. It was up to Daniel to convince him that he had two choices.

Either lie through his teeth, or go into exile.

Neither was a choice Steven was bound to make with any equanimity.

Jack and Teal'c were still fishing when they got back to the SGC. Sam went off to debrief and Janet settled Steven in a secure room of the local hospital, SPs at his door. His eyes had followed Daniel all the way out the door, and he knew he had to have something concrete to offer before he returned, or Steven would hound him to death. That feeling added urgency to his meeting with General Hammond.

"So you're saying, in essence, he knows too much and you don't trust him to keep it to himself?"

He ground his teeth in frustration. "Not precisely, sir. Steven's a scientist. He'll believe what can be proven to him, and what has been proven to him, overwhelmingly, is that the theories he decried the whole time I was forming them are true. He saw Sarah taken over by a Goa'uld. She nearly killed him. He saw Sam and Janet tossed against the wall like rag dolls, and he saw Sarah use a ribbon device on me, call a scout ship, and use the rings to transport out. He knows there are aliens, he knows they called themselves gods thousands of years ago in Egypt, he's seen the concrete proof in the artifacts, both living and material. He's not going to let it go."

"You're sure of this?" The general was looking at the same alternatives Daniel had faced, and was looking for reassurance. Daniel gave it to him.

"Completely."

"So what do you suggest, Doctor Jackson?" Hammond knew, and Daniel knew he did, but it had to be formal, so Daniel made it so.

"I recommend that Doctor Rayner be debriefed, invited to join the SGC as a civilian researcher, and required to sign the requisite security assurances."

General Hammond nodded. "That's what I thought you were going to say, son. I've already got the paperwork in progress."

Daniel gave him a quick, involuntary smile. Then his expression darkened, and he licked his lips. "General, there's something you need to know."

"About Doctor Rayner?" Caution showed in the general's bright blue eyes. Daniel nodded slowly.

"And myself." He got up, walked to the door and closed it. "Can this be ... off the record?"

"I can't promise it stays that way if it affects this command or national security, you know that." Caution grew to concern.

Sitting down again, Daniel fought not to fidget. "I don't believe it will. But then, I'm not in the military, and I don't think by regulations. Just ask Jack." That got a quick smile out of Hammond, but Daniel's serious expression killed it just as quickly.

"What's going on, son?"

He took a deep breath and met Hammond's eyes. He saw reassurance along with the concern, and he licked his lips. "Steven's gay. Will that be a problem?"

General Hammond sat back. "Not necessarily," he said very slowly, staring hard back at Daniel. "Is it a concern for you? Is that why you bring it up?"

"No." Not quite able to contain the squirm, absolutely hating discussing his private life with anyone, particularly a man he looked to as a surrogate father, Daniel swallowed and cleared his throat. "We lived together for four years."

Another nod from Hammond. "It was in your file that he was your roommate until you moved in with the young lady Osiris took over."

"Not roommate," Daniel clarified reluctantly. "We lived together." Read the subtext, he urged mentally. General Hammond's eyes widened, then narrowed, and understanding dawned. "Will this be a problem?"

Warmth ramped up in the general's expression. "Doctor Jackson, you bring talents to this program that are unique, absolutely vital to the mission, and your contributions have been the heart of the success of this program. As long as you don't tell me about it, you could have conjugal relations with a sheep and I wouldn't care."

The mental image distracted Daniel for a moment, and he had to shake his head to clear it. "A sheep?" he murmured. "Anyway," he continued firmly, "the fact is that Steven is who he is, and I need to know if this will keep him out before I ask him to come in."

"What do you see as the alternative?"

"I believe if we don't offer him a place in the program, he'll continue his studies independently. I have great respect for Steven's abilities as a researcher, and now that he knows what to look for, I think he'll find archaeological evidence to vindicate my theories just as I did with linguistic evidence. He's one of the few people on this planet, along with Catherine and Sam, who have actually read my papers, and he knows my theories. Even when he was ridiculing them, he was paying attention. Now that he knows I'm not insane, he'll explore them, and come to many of the same conclusions I did."

"So you think he's going to run with this whether he's in the SGC or not." It wasn't a question, but Daniel nodded yes anyway. "In that case, it's up to him." Daniel pursed his lips and looked a question of his own. Hammond shook his head. "His personal life is no concern of mine, as long as his actions don't undermine the activities of this command. If he's as good as you say he is, and I trust your judgment, then he could bring a lot to our work. Will he do it?"

Daniel shrugged helplessly. "That's the decision he has to make. He makes a good living as an author and lecturer. He'll have to walk away from that if he comes here."

"Which do you think he'll choose?"

"With your permission, I'll have to ask him." Daniel saw the decision in Hammond's face.

"You do that, Doctor Jackson. You do that."

Steven was staring at the door when Daniel came through it. He knew that look of old. Playtime was over. Steven wanted answers.

Before the deluge could begin, he put up a hand. Steven closed his mouth and sat back against the pillow, giving Daniel the go-ahead to explain.

"Nothing I say goes out of this room. We have to agree to that before I say a word, or I leave right now and that's the end of it."

That got him a dirty look. "You'll disappear again, you mean."

He nodded. "It has to be that way, Steven. I know you don't understand, but the only way you can is for me to explain, and the only way I can explain is if you promise you'll keep quiet."

"How did we end up in a Joseph Heller novel, Daniel?" The mild question broke the tension and made Daniel grin.

"The same way I ended up living in a science fiction movie, Steven," he answered truthfully. Steven shook his head.

"I won't say anything. Now tell me what the hell's going on."

That was what he'd hoped to hear. Daniel pulled out the paperwork Steven had to sign agreeing to the principles of silence for the sake of national security and explained them. Steven looked at him like he had rocks in his head, but he read them through and signed them. When he handed them back, Daniel walked over and locked the door, earning a quizzical "What?" from Steven. He shrugged.

"I don't want a nurse wandering in while I'm in the middle of this to take your temperature or give you drugs or whatever."

"I have a feeling I won't need drugs to end up in la-la land today," Steven told him dryly. Daniel gave him another quick grin, more an involuntary twitch than a full-blown expression. Steven pinned him with a look. "Talk to me, Daniel."

This time, he was listening. Daniel settled his hip on the edge of the bed and said quietly, "I was right."

"I gathered that, right about the time Sarah took the amulet from me, morphed into a vengeful ancient Egyptian god, and started beating the crap out of the lot of us. What were you right about?"

"Everything." He told Steven about Catherine Langford. The 'Gate. The Goa'uld.

"Shit," Steven groaned. "Sarah's as good as dead, isn't she?" Daniel took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He didn't have to answer. Steven reached over and took his hand. "I'm sorry, Daniel."

Daniel turned his hand until their palms met, lacing his fingers through Steven's. "We're in the middle of a war, Steven. A battle for our lives, and the future of the entire planet." He went on, concentrating on the salient points and leaving out some of their stranger allies. Steven would have time to take in the Tok'ra, the Nox, the Asgard, and the others after he'd been through the 'Gate and seen the truth for himself.

Not that he took anything for gospel. Steven never did. He debated with Daniel, and Daniel rebutted every point, with solid experience and evidence to back him up. By the time he was finished, Steven was ready to sign on the dotted line.

"It means walking away from everything you've built up," Daniel reminded him. Steven looked at him like he'd lost his mind.

"Pass up the single greatest archaeological opportunity in history for a book contract? For more books about a history I know now is fabricated? What kind of moron do you think I am?" Daniel looked at him. Steven put his free hand over Daniel's mouth. "Don't answer that."

Daniel kissed the fingers touching his lips. Steven stared at him, expression darkening with a mixture of apprehension and lust.

"That's another thing. This whole program's under the aegis of the military. How are they going to feel about a queer in their midst?"

Another soft kiss, and Daniel drew the hand away long enough to answer, "As long as you keep your sex life off the base, and do good work for the SGC, I have it on good authority you could fuck a sheep and nobody'd care."

Steven finally stopped laughing when his stomach hurt too much to continue. Daniel waited him out patiently.

"Seriously, you've never had a problem being discreet about your personal life, and I don't think that's going to change now, is it?" Steven shook his head, staring at him intently. "What?"

"Do you want me to do this?"

Daniel frowned at him, letting go of Steven's hand and sitting back a little way away from him on the bed. "What do you mean?"

"Do you want me back?"

The frown smoothed out. "I have a new life, Steven. I want you to be part of it, but we can't be what we once were. It ... wouldn't work." Daniel hadn't even told him about Shau're. Sarah had been enough of a shock. The rest of the story could wait.

"Okay. With one caveat."

Daniel looked at him suspiciously. Steven beckoned him closer. He leaned in, expecting a whisper, and got a kiss instead.

Steven still did a magnificent job of it. By the time he let Daniel go, they were both short of breath. He traced Daniel's upper lip with his fingertips.

"Even if we don't go back to what we were, we don't deny it, either. All the past shouldn't be forgotten, even if it isn't relived."

Daniel licked his lips. Steven watched him like a hawk. Then Daniel leaned forward and kissed him gently, drawing back when Steven would have deepened it.

"I can live with that."

Jack had the reaction Daniel expected.

"Another geek? This one's another bone digger. Great."

Sam began explaining, yet again, how Steven had come to join the SGC. Jack glanced over at Daniel, ignoring her. Yet again.

"He's more of a pot digger than a bone digger," Daniel clarified. Jack ignored him, too.

"You were feeling outnumbered on the geek front and wanted back-up, is that it? So you went out recruiting."

Daniel had to laugh. "Must've been it, Jack. That'll teach you to throw away the battery on the cell phone. Next time, keep in touch!"

Teal'c looked over at him solemnly. "Colonel O'Neill informed me that the ringing of the telephone interrupted the fish. As we saw only one fish during our entire stay, and it did not appear perturbed, I found his assertion difficult to believe."

He sounded downright grouchy, for Teal'c. Jack started to argue with him about the merits of relaxation, Teal'c defended kel no reem against mosquitoes and inactivity, and Sam dropped her head in her hands. Daniel looked around the table.

Steven was going to fit in perfectly fine.

end