Chapter Text
Disclaimer: Stargate SG1 and all affiliated characters and terms do not belong to me. I’m only borrowing them, and am making no money from this. Just having some fun.
AN: I’ve been writing fanfic for over 20 years, but never got around to writing SG1 until very recently. A rewatch has given me a ton of ideas, and my muse picked this one for my first longer story. Set between episodes 2 and 3 of S8, which will be explained in the opening. More a mystery than an adventure, staring all of SG1, and saying anything else gives it away. Canon-compliant.
Enjoy! Reviews and constructive criticisms, or guesses on what is going on, are always welcome.
Daniel glanced over at the newly promoted General Jack O’Neill as SG-1 drew within sight of the DHD and the Stargate on P1N-420, remembering the look on his friend’s face as they all sat around talking about his possible promotion the other day.
The look he’d had when he said he didn’t know if he was ready to give up going through the gate.
It was the same look that had been flicking onto Jack’s face more and more over the last hour, as they got closer to the end of Jack’s last mission as leader of SG-1 and closer to his officially being the head of the SGC.
Daniel thought about how he’d have reacted to a similar offer; if with Elizabeth’s sudden shift to Atlantis it had been decided by someone or other that the SGC still needed to be under civilian leadership. Not that he thought he’d be offered the job after all the disagreements he’d had with various people and agencies over the years, and he certainly didn’t want it, but if he’d been offered it more or less out of the blue like Jack had, knowing the consequences if he said no, what would he have done?
Probably exactly what Jack did.
Because in the end there hadn’t been a choice, not really. Although Sam had worded it poorly during their discussion the other day, they’d all understood what she meant. No one who hadn’t been part of the SGC since the early days could understand what they were facing, could be fit to lead them, and if Jack said no then someone would be brought in that wasn’t family. Someone who couldn’t understand, someone they didn’t know and couldn’t trust.
Jack had accepted the promotion, but had used the paperwork as an excuse to delay fully taking command of the SGC. SG-1 was going on one last mission before Jack found himself chained to a desk, as he’d put it, and he’d wanted to hear “Godspeed” one more time before deciding what his own catchphrase would be.
Daniel already dreaded whatever he would pick.
Jack had been joking about their good luck on his last regularly scheduled trip through the Stargate, which should have been a sign that something was about to go spectacularly wrong.
When almost five minutes had passed without anything actually going wrong, and they were only about ten meters from the gate, Daniel had almost been convinced that the newly minted one-star hadn’t cursed them with his words. That relief had lasted until a projectile of some kind had nicked his arm and they’d all been diving for cover, not that there was much to be found in the open field around the gate here.
It was strange to see Jack being the one to dial the DHD, but him and Sam had been lagging behind a little, caught up in a conversation about what they wanted to do with Cassie this coming weekend, and they’d all been a little lax after over two days here had shown no sign of any native inhabitants, or in fact any other people on the planet at all.
Jack had been the best positioned to dial as the others kept up cover fire, and Daniel couldn’t help but be frustrated by how long it took the other man to locate the symbols. There was a reason Jack was typically the last choice to dial the DHD, but it wasn’t as if they had a choice at the moment.
Daniel caught the vortex exploding from the gate out of the corner of his eye, but the relief was short-lived as at that exact moment he also felt a sharp prick in his shoulder.
It didn’t feel like another glancing blow, and he had a second to panic as he noted a dart of some kind embedded in his upper bicep before he felt a wash of warmth and haziness flow through him. His muscles suddenly relaxed, and he slumped sideways against Sam, trying to warn her of what he could only assume was a tranquilizer dart and uncertain if he was successful or not.
His hearing was already gone and his vision was fading, and he knew he was close to losing consciousness from whatever was in the dart he’d been shot with, but he was fairly certain he saw Teal’c manage to drag Jack’s collapsing body through the Stargate, and he could only pray that his friend had been hit with a sedative and not something else.
A second later he saw, and thought, nothing at all
Ω
A drumming pattern against his jawline brought Daniel vaguely back to consciousness, at least he assumed he was conscious, as Jack’s drumming against his cheek was one of the five things other than his alarm clock or the sun that he was used to being awaked by.
A strong but gentle hand on his shoulder and a deep, serious voice meant Teal’c had reached him first. Fingers feathering over the side of his neck, usually accompanied by a soft, soothing murmur, meant that Sam was tending him. And drumming against his cheek, or on rare occasions a hand cupping the back of his neck, meant Jack was there.
Beyond his three teammates, the fourth way was to the beeps and soft voices of the infirmary, which always caused mixed feelings. He had yet again survived something he probably shouldn’t have, or had some crazy unexplained thing happen to him, but at least, hopefully, he was safe and home.
The fifth way other than safe in his bed that he’s most used to being awakened to is hurting and in a jail cell, and since he’s already done that once today he’d rather there be a variation on it this time.
At least he thinks he’s already done that once today, he has vague memories of talking to a guy who claimed to be a bounty hunter before being drugged again, but he’s not sure if he can trust those memories. He’s not even sure if Jack is really here.
“Jack?” He manages to mumble, already feeling whatever he’d been drugged with dragging him back into darkness. He knows Jack hadn’t been in the cell with him, but it takes him a long second to remember that someone else was. “Sam?”
“We’ve got her, and you too.”
Daniel could feel his body being shifted, caught a glance of Teal’c as he felt himself being lifted into his friend’s arms, and couldn’t even summon the words to complain. He managed to tilt his head enough to see another soldier, he thought the man was part of SG-15, lift Sam over his shoulder, and then they were moving.
Daniel blinked his eyes, and realized he must have passed out again when he noticed that instead of being in the cell they were now at the Stargate, although he had no idea how long he’d been out.
“Teal’c.” He managed to say, raising his voice enough for the Jaffa to hear him from when he hung in a fireman’s carry over his shoulders. It wasn’t the first time Daniel had woken up in this position, and he was still dazed enough from the drugs to know he couldn’t stand at the moment, let alone walk. He vaguely remembered Jack telling him Sam was okay, but couldn’t help but ask again. “Sam?”
“She is fine, Daniel Jackson.” Teal’c replied immediately. “As are you.”
Daniel could feel the drugs bringing him under yet again, and tried to shift his head towards the DHD, unable to understand what was taking so long. They weren’t under fire, but he could hear Jack arguing with someone and strained to see what was going on. Without his glasses he couldn’t read the symbols on the DHD, but he watched as the officer Jack had been arguing with pressed seven symbols before hitting the center one. The center did not light up, although Daniel thought the symbols themselves had.
Jack yelled something Daniel figured it was probably best he didn’t hear, before shoving the other soldier out of the way and punching various symbols on the DHD himself.
Daniel passed out again before he could see if it had worked this time.
Ω
The next time Daniel drifted towards consciousness, he recognized the sounds and scents of the SGC infirmary, and relaxed slightly even as he tried to make his foggy mind focus enough to open his eyes. He didn’t remember exactly what had happened or how he’d ended up here, although he had confusing flashes of Sam and a prison cell and maybe of Jack and Teal’c rescuing them.
The memory of him and Sam in the prison cell was the strongest, and he forced himself to rasp her name even as he finally forced his eyes open, unsurprised to find Teal’c and his reassuring expression in his line of sight. They didn’t just take shifts with injured team members for their own reassurance, they did it so that no matter when the person woke, they did so to a face they trusted. When you woke in bad places often enough, the first few seconds of awareness were very important.
“You are both fine, Daniel Jackson.” Teal’c said in his normal calm tone. “O’Neill and I were both hit with tranquilizer darts as well, and I regret that I could drag only him through the Chappa’ai before I also succumbed briefly to the drug. We returned for you as soon as we were able.”
“I’m sure you did.” Daniel said, hearing the rasp in his voice and nodding his thanks when Teal’c wordlessly passed him a cup of water. He sipped the water slowly, wishing it was coffee, and let his eyes shift to the other beds, relief flowing through him when he saw Sam sleeping peacefully off to his left. It wasn’t that he doubted his friend’s word, but seeing someone always made things more real. Then he saw Jack sleeping in the bed beyond Sam’s and turned worried eyes back to Teal’c.
“O’Neill merely exerted himself too quickly after being drugged.”
Daniel snorted, relieved and also unsurprised. All four of them had gone on rescue missions they really shouldn’t have because it was a member of SG-1 that was missing, and he knew their team were hardly the only ones who did so. “How long?”
“It took us eight hours to locate you, and we have been back on Earth for nearly five more.”
“It felt like longer.” Daniel sighed, finishing off the water. He’d been basically sleeping for thirteen hours and he felt like he could use another eight. At least his mind didn’t feel like it was covered in fog, not as much as before anyway, he thought with relief as memories of not only the rescue but the time in the cell became clearer.
“Doctor Jackson, welcome back.” Dr. Brightman came up on the other side of his bed, probably drawn by their quiet voices.
“Thanks.” Daniel replied, eyes closing wearily after glancing at Sam and Jack again for reassurance. “So, what’s the word?”
“Other than a strong sedative and muscle relaxant that is finally clearing your system, neither you nor Colonel Carter had any injuries.” She answered even as her eyes flitted between the monitors her patients were hooked-up to. “Well, other than a few minor cuts and bruises.”
“They were, uh, bounty hunters I guess is the best term.” Daniel replied, hearing the unspoken question and having seen it in Teal’c’s eyes as well. It wasn’t that anyone ever wanted to see that their teammates had been interrogated or tortured, but it was almost suspicious when it didn’t occur. “Other than gloating over how rich we were going to make them, they didn’t really say much, or let me talk, they just drugged us again.”
“Did they say who you were being sold to?” Teal’c asked at once.
Daniel shook his head briefly, stopping when it made his headache worse. He’d been confused and shaky when he woke in the cell, and tried to piece the memories together. “Sorry, I’m trying to remember, but I don’t think so. I was still disoriented, and Sam had just woken up and was even worse off, but uh, but I don’t think they said anything about who wanted us. If this was years ago it could be any number of Goa’uld, but now…”
“We have made other enemies.” Teal’c offered.
Daniel knew Teal’c meant SG-1 in particular as much as the SGC as a whole, which made him realize something. “He never called us by name, or even SG-1. He just gloated that they had captured warriors of the Tau’ri.”
“And you heard or saw nothing else that could be useful?”
Daniel closed his eyes briefly, trying to go over it in his head, then had to force his eyes open again as a wave of dizziness and sleep flowed over him yet again. “I don’t think so.”
“The drug is still clearing your system.” Dr. Brightman leaned over him, checking an IV drip in the back of his hand before patting it briefly. “I want you to sleep here for at least a few more hours until it’s completely gone, and then I’ll release you.”
Daniel was asleep again before she finished talking.
Ω
Hours later, Daniel let out a sigh as he settled down at his desk, reaching out automatically to turn his computer on.
Despite having been basically sleeping for sixteen hours, Daniel still felt tired, but he also really wanted to sleep in his own bed tonight. He had his own quarters on base, yet missions where he was captured always left him wanting to get out of the mountain for a little while, and he knew Sam and Jack usually felt the same way.
Normally they would have been cleared to go once they were released from the infirmary, but there’d been an issue with the power on the floor the lab was on, so they weren’t cleared to leave the base until the last few tests were run.
Daniel opened his desk drawer absently, pulling out one of the half-dozen spare pairs of glasses that lived there at the moment, wondering how long they’d last him.
He shook his head even as his computer finished booting up, shaking away the stray thoughts and starting to mentally compile his report. They weren’t debriefing until tomorrow morning, but as long as he couldn’t leave he might as well get something done. He was about to enter his system password when his gaze shifted to the couple of framed photos on the corner of his desk, and he abruptly lifted his fingers from the keyboard.
There were three photos, and two of them were slightly different than he remembered. The fourth one he’d added only a few months ago was nowhere to be found, which was even more concerning.
He cast his gaze sideways, eyes absently shifting over one of his many bookshelves, and noticed an artifact perched on one of the shelves he’d never seen before. More worrisome was that an artifact Catherine had given him years ago for his birthday, an almost perfectly preserved Mesopotamian ceremonial chalice, was supposed to be there and wasn’t. Nor was it anywhere on his shelves, Daniel ascertained after a quick check. He’d mostly cured Jack of moving his artifacts around, but it still happened on occasion.
Having been in too many strange and seemingly impossible circumstances to disregard even the smallest indication that something was wrong, he didn’t enter his password into the computer.
Instead, he rose and crossed to the table that held his coffee pot, making a fresh pot automatically even as he cast his gaze in what he hoped was a casual manner over some of his other bookcases. He almost immediately noticed two other artifacts he wasn’t familiar with, and several others that should be there and weren’t.
Daniel moved back towards his desk, thoughts whirling even as his gaze darted to other parts of his office. Parts of it were exactly as he remembered it, others had differences, artifacts and books missing or rearranged or that he didn’t recognize.
He leaned back against his desk even as he took his first sip of coffee, trying to look relaxed even as his mind contemplated how many things weren’t how he remembered them.
A knock on the doorframe of his office made him look that way, his eyes narrowing and focusing on the figure of Sam as she walked in.
It was rare for her to visit him this soon after a mission, they usually waited until they were off-base and had had a few hours to process before they discussed things. The sudden change concerned him, until his worried eyes shifted from her to his bookcases and back again.
Maybe she had noticed something erroneous too. Maybe, if something was wrong like it had been in the past, he wouldn’t be alone.
“Hey, Sam.” Daniel greeted her as she walked in, his thoughts racing. If he could trust anyone in whatever was going on right now, it would be Sam, but he was still confused enough to be cautious. Especially as he wasn’t certain his memories of their imprisonment, or even of them being rescued, could be trusted. He wasn’t sure of anything right now.
Sam glanced around his office before looking at him, and there was a long pause as each of them tried their best to read the other. “Hey, Daniel. Are you feeling more like Chinese or Italian for dinner once we’re cleared?”
Daniel’s gaze shifted down to his desk, easily reading in her eyes and tense body language that something was wrong. Taking a deep breath, he looked over from the artifacts he’d been considering curiously. “I’m not sure.”
The fact that she flicked her eyes towards the security camera covering his desk even as she walked in made him more confident, and he hoped he managed to look normal and casual as he shifted to lean against that desk while also angling himself to keep the camera from seeing his face. They both knew that the cameras had no sound, so when she also casually oriented herself where her lips couldn’t be read over the live feed, his hopes began to grow that they were in whatever this was together.
“I’m not sure either.” Sam’s words were tentative, but he knew her well enough to strongly suspect she had the same feeling he did. He also knew she was likely running through the same quick friend or foe analysis he’d done when she walked into his office.
“Something is wrong.” He offered softly, knowing one of them had to take the first step, had to be the first to trust.
Sam nodded even her body language stayed relaxed, her eyes darting over his shelves as he had done a moment ago before she turned to look at him again, and spoke in a voice soft enough that he could barely hear her even though they were only a few feet from each other. “There are two alien devices in my lab, and the computer has notes on my ongoing studies of them. I’ve never seen them and don’t remember making the notes.”
“There are artifacts on my shelves I’ve never seen before, and ones that should be there that aren’t.” His eyes flicked down to the farthest corner of the desk from him, and the few framed pictures there that were always kept clear of the mess his desk could become. “Other things are different too.”
Daniel watched Sam’s eyes shift down towards the pictures, and saw them widen as she noticed a difference, before asking softly, “So what are we thinking? What’s the last thing you remember before waking up in the infirmary?”
“We were ambushed just before we dialed the gate on, uh, on P1N-420. I got hit by something, it felt like a needle jab in my back, and then I woke up in a jail cell with you.”
“And after hours alone in the cell, someone came in and told us they were basically bounty hunters waiting for the client to come and collect.” Daniel continued the story when she paused. “I have vague memories of Jack, Teal’c and SG15 rescuing us, I think, but they’re like flashes and dreams. And I could have sworn I saw Teal’c drag Jack through the gate right before I passed out the first time, but then our jailor was talking about other prisoners so I wondered if they’d been captured after all.”
“I don’t remember anything after that second blow dart until I woke up in the infirmary.” Sam admitted, which didn’t surprise him as being the smallest on the team almost always meant she woke up last from anything that knocked them out. “But yeah, I thought they made it through the gate too, although I also thought the DHD was glowing more than normal, so I wasn’t sure either when he mentioned other prisoners. And I mean, clearly they weren’t caught, although…”
“The DHD was glowing more than normal?” Daniel cast his mind back, trying to picture it. He remembered watching Jack start to dial, but he’d had to turn away part way through to lay down cover fire, and hadn’t seen it once the wormhole was open.
“Maybe? I thought so at the time, but I wasn’t exactly thinking straight, or hearing or seeing correctly, so I’m not sure.” Sam admitted. “Honestly I’m not sure of anything right now, except that, well, that something is wrong.”
“So, options.”
“Our memories are wrong.” Sam said immediately.
“Well, it wouldn’t be the first time.” Daniel tried for flippant and mostly managed it, even as he thought about it. “But I can’t find a rhyme or reason to the changes in my artifacts. The missing ones, well, I got them from different places at different times, and they weren’t all from the same culture or time period either; other than being artifacts they had nothing in common.”
“It could be a virtual environment like the gamekeeper.” Sam started thinking aloud, and he briefly clasped and squeezed her hand in reassurance. Neither of them liked being reminded of that incident.
“Although if the goal is to make us think everything is normal, it’s clearly got a few bugs in it.” Daniel commented with a wry grin, shifting to casually scan the field journals lining his shelves. All of them had been scanned and saved to the computers, of course, but he preferred reading from the original books whenever he could. It had the added benefit now that he wouldn’t have to enter passwords into the computer. He chose a journal at random and opened it the same way, eyes scanning the page.
Sam nodded in agreement, still thinking. “It could also be some kind of hallucination, or someone probing our memories somehow, in which case one of us might not even be real.”
“There’s a cheerful thought.” Daniel deadpanned, eyes still flying over the journal pages. Everything matched up to what he remembered until he got to one particular account, and he briefly had to push away the memory of hundreds of enraged and howling Unas. Sam had just started on a different idea when he cut her off. “Sam, do you remember P3X-403?”
Even he didn’t remember every planet designation, and didn’t expect Sam to, but the ones where they’d lost SCG personnel always stuck, whether it was a mission you were on or not, so he wasn’t surprised when after a brief moment of thought she answered affirmatively.
“Of course.”
Daniel passed her the journal, his face creased in worry and confusion. “Is this how you remember it going?”
She started reading, eyes widening in clear confusion the further along she got. “No, it’s not.”
Daniel was already paging rapidly through another journal, this one not chosen at random. He’d just found what he was looking for when his phone rang, and he picked it up distractedly even as he continued to read. “Hello? Uh, yeah, she’s here. Why?”
Sam stopped reading as she caught movement out of the corner of her eye, looking up to find two SF’s in the doorway, both of them carrying holstered zat guns. She set the journal down on the desk slowly even as she elbowed Daniel lightly in the side.
He looked up immediately, registering the voice of Dr. Brightman in his ear saying that there must have been some kind of mix up with their blood work and they needed to come to the infirmary. He confirmed and hung up the phone, putting the journal down just as slowly as Sam had. “They’re our escort to the infirmary Sam, something about a mix-up with blood work.”
She caught Daniel’s eye, thoughts and plans and ideas passing silently between them, but in the end they decided they didn’t know enough to take any kind of action. The SF’s were just protocol any time there was an issue with blood work, or any of the other dozen tests they were subjected to every time they came back through the gate.
It was possible whatever they’d been drugged with had messed with their memories, and they really were home and their friends were trying to help them. Hell, for all she knew she was still unconscious in a jail cell and this was just a dream. Although if it was, what she did wouldn’t matter, and she didn’t have nearly enough information to put that to the test yet.
Daniel didn’t know exactly what Sam was thinking as they walked silently side by side down the hallways, following one burly SF and well aware of the other close behind them, but he knew she’d be considering theories and angles on the situation just as he was.
It was possible something had affected their memories, it wouldn’t be the first time. It wouldn’t even be the first time more than one person had the same false memories, although Daniel couldn’t think what anyone could gain from changing only certain memories of their past, at least one of which was nearly a decade old.
He pushed that thought away as quickly as it came, and the memory with it, knowing if he didn’t he’d be caught in an endless loop of whether his memory or what he had just read in the journal was worse and he knew he just had to put it aside for now.
So, altered memories was a possibility, maybe unintentionally, his mind went off on a tangent, as a side effect of the tranquilizing drug. But no, Daniel realized at once, then it was almost impossible their memories would be altered in the same way.
Although he didn’t know if it was the same, his brain helpfully prompted him a second later, and he ran over their brief conversation again as he continued to walk down the long utilitarian hallways next to Sam.
She’d agreed the entry in his journal didn’t match her memory of P3X-403, just as his didn’t, but that didn’t mean their memories matched each other’s. He didn’t know what devices in her lab she was talking about that she didn’t remember working on; she hadn’t mentioned any particular artifact he’d noticed shouldn’t be there. Her eyes had widened at seeing the three pictures in the corner of his desk, but he didn’t know if it had been because she expected a fourth to be there, as he had assumed, or for another reason.
He really wished they’d had a few more minutes to talk about specifics.
So, both altered memories, intentionally or unintentionally, was possible.
By the time they reached the infirmary, Daniel had added dream, hallucination, and various forms of information extraction by some unknown alien technology or ability, to the list, along with the artificial environment one they’d discussed earlier.
Thinking it might be a dream or something else in just his mind, thinking that Sam wasn’t real, while as he’d said earlier not a cheery thought, was something he knew he had to consider. Although if that was the case, it didn’t really change much, unless this was a form of information extraction and he was meant to trust her. Then it could change everything, particularly if it meant him entering passwords, IDC codes, or gate addresses.
But if she was real, even if they were both together in one of their minds as they had been on P7J-989, then he couldn’t afford to not trust her, they would need to work together as they always had.
His mind was still muddled with possibilities, and far more unordered thoughts than theories, when they arrived at the infirmary.
“Don’t worry, you know it’s just SOP.” Dr. Brightman smiled at both Sam and Daniel as they entered the room, clearly noticing how they’d eyed the SF’s taking up position at the door.
“I know, but what’s wrong?” Sam asked, hopping up to sit on one of the beds, putting the SF’s on the door off to her right instead of behind her. She noticed Daniel stay on his feet, and stay between her and the door, even as he slowly began to take his jacket off. She did the same as the doctor approached her with a tray.
“It has to just be a mix-up with paperwork or samples, although I’m not sure how it happened on only one test and none of the others.” Dr. Brightman replied in her soft monotone, her body language clearly confused, yet unconcerned.
Daniel cast Sam a troubled glance even as he laid his jacket on the bed beside hers, his thoughts even more muddled than they’d been a few minutes ago. Mix-ups happened on occasion, but if that really was all this was then it didn’t explain what was going on with his and Sam’s memories. “What test?”
Dr. Brightman glanced back at him for a moment before turning her eyes down to Sam’s arm and tying a rubber tourniquet around her bicep. “The naquadah markers left in the blood by, by the uh, Tok’ra.”
Daniel smiled kindly when she glanced at him again, knowing she was still getting used to all the crazy things that went on in the SGC. “Jolinar of Malkshur.”
“Yes, uh, Jolinar.”
“What about them?” Sam asked as the other woman swabbed the crook of her elbow with iodine.
Dr. Brightman shook her head, a wry almost smile coming to her lips as she glanced back and forth between them. “Well, if you want to believe the labs, the naquadah markers are in the wrong person.”
Daniel and Sam stared at each other in shock, their minds suddenly beginning to sort through, discard, and create new theories.
Daniel was so busy sorting theories, memory changes was out because that couldn’t change the naquadah markers, dream was still in, and so on, that it took him a moment to register that Sam had asked a question, and it was one he couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of before he started sorting.
They knew at least some things weren’t how they remembered, and there was no way of knowing how many differences there were, or how large they were. And so now he waited for the answer to Sam’s question with bated breath.
“Which of us are you considering the wrong person?”
TBC…
Also published on ffn under same author name. I've been reading on AO3 for years but never published here, thought I'd give it a try as the SG community here is more active.