Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 belongs to Glanser/Wright Productions and Gekko Film Corp, it is not mine. Dark Angel is the creation of James Cameron. Note: the story picks up shortly after where “For Your Eyes Only” left off. Written for crossovers100 prompt #66 rain.

“Petals in a Windstorm” by Karen

No sooner than he had made his appearance at the Jam Pony beer counter delivered his whispered warning, than Zack was gone. Not that Max was entirely surprised by this, the guy could stand in for the picture next to the dictionary entry on 'paranoid. She didn't blame him for that, after their shared and individual experiences with the Manticore project and their subsequent escape, they all dealt with it in different ways.


Max got up from her bar-stool and thumped her empty glass of whiskey on the counter, turning around and figuring that it was time she got back to Logan's place. Outside, through the gritty and rain-streaked windows she could see that the night sky was slowly making the transition from night into day, a few stars glimpsed through the dirty white rain clouds.

Max strolled over to the wall near the entrance where she'd hung her leather jacket, snagged it off the hook and put it on, then opened the door and went back outside. The rain had lessened while she'd be sitting and talking with Zack, but it seemed to never truly let up in Seattle.

She didn't exactly mind the rain, it gave the sharper defined edges of things a softer muted appearance, it also gave the air a clearer smell, while she stood thinking about this, she glanced down onto the concrete sliver of the dirt-packed road beneath her feet, noticing that the raindrops that plonked down on the roofs and streets and made concentric rainbow -colored rings on the ground.

Max shook her head and straddled her bike, starting the engine, then she pulled out of the side street and back on the main thoroughfare.



Meanwhile Logan Cale, dressed in a bathrobe and slippers, waited in his kitchenette of his apartment sipping a cup of tea and reading through the late edition of the Seattle Daily Times. Beside his left shoulder was a rather worn and thumbed-through copy of a Sudoku book, a much-reduced pencil resting on top of it.

When Max arrived at Logan’s apartment, he had a big smile plastered on his face, he was always happy to see her, despite the many obstacles that seemed to be thrown up in the way of their relationship. Max, for the moment, let down her guard and shoved Zack’s warning to a back corner of her mind.

“Hello, Max,” Logan said. “You’re looking well, come on, inside out of the rain, I’ve got some hot coffee brewing, if you’d like some.”

“Sure,” replied Max, laying down the parking break of her bike as she got off and leaned it up against the doorframe, then went inside, while Logan held the door open for her. That was one of the main things that she appreciated and liked about Logan. He was always the ideal gentlemen, and no matter how weird of dangerous things got for them, he hardly ever lost that intent, determined and studied equanimity. It made for a nice mix,” she thought.

“It’s not fair,” Max suddenly burst out. “I mean, It’s not fair that it feels that we have to live the way we do, sulking about and only seeing each other on the rare occasions when you’ve got a job for me, or when I’ve got some down time.”

“What do you want me to say to that?” sighed Logan, running his hands through the thick strands of her dark hair, as the sat on the over-stuffed leather couch in his living room.

Interlude
Colorado, present day

General Hammond of the SG command sat at the briefing table at the Cheyenne Mountain Base with the members of SG-1, his arms folded on top of the table and that same studied calm on his face.

“Thank you all for coming, and while Senator Kinsey is here on an inspection tour, we’ll have to make the best of things, I’m sure you all understand what I mean by that?”

“I hate politicians,” Jack O’Neill muttered under his breath, while he looked around and shared a significant exchange of glances with his fellow members of his squad. Returning his attention to General Hammond. “We understand, Sir. We don’t have to like it, but I guess for the duration of his stay, we’ll tolerate him as best we can.”

“Just to be certain, I want you all to do more than ‘tolerate’ him, if Kinsey has his way, he does have the ear of the President, and a lot of pull in Washington, and let’s face, without funding we just me get shut down.” Hammond sighed. “After everything that we’ve been through, I would hate for it all to end because of the inevitable ‘budget cuts.” That would be a terrible way to go out.”

“Indeed, General Hammond,” Teal’C earnestly said while attempting to suppress a mischievous grin.

“The word is that our pal. Mr. Kinsey has been allocating funds for several unannounced side trips to the West Coast, specifically Seattle, Washington. And ordinarily we would leave such matters to the appropriate authorities, except for one niggling little detail, he’s got the NID backing his little project. It’s supposed to be very hush-hush.”

“What’s that got to do with us?” asked Major Carter as she drummed the surface of the table with one fingernail.

“According to my latest intelligence it seems Kinsey has for the moment, given up thoughts of trying to shut us down by cutting off our funding, instead he’s been trying to go about trying to replace us.”

”I’d like to see him try,” Colonel O’Neill flashed a malicious and wry grin of his own.

“Indeed, Colonel O’Neill,” replied, “There’s just one problem with that scenario, Kinsey has been making waves in the wrong circles, and there’s one phrase that keeps coming up…”

“And what is that one word?” Doctor Jackson asked.

“Manticore.”

“Doesn’t mean a thing to me but if you hum a few bars maybe I’ll pick up the tune,” replied Major Carter.

“Me either, that’s way I’m sending you to Seattle on a commercial flight leaving Colorado in six hours, your cover is tourists. I want you to find out whatever you can about Manticore and its operations and why Kinsey is so hot and bothered about. Just kept it on the down-low if you get my meaning. Any questions?” None. Good.” Hammond and then declared the briefing concluded.
***

At the warehouse district, down by Seattle’s docks, the woman known as Original Cindy tried to talk her way out of a difficult situation. To her way of thinking, she could easily take these goons, but did she really want to risk it, and from her experience, ‘bastards always have brothers, I think I remember hearing that line from some old western movie marathon,” she muttered under her breath, ‘but then I’ve got a lot going for me, too. If these guys force the issue, we’ll they’ll get more than expect and that’s no mistake.”
She took up a fighting stance, her fists up and a determined look on her dark skinned face.

It had been raining steadily off in the city of Seattle for the better part of three weeks, so when she felt the first pinpricks of rain splattering on the top of her head, Cindy didn’t even look up. She liked the rain, it was soothing and cool.

The group of armed men, wearing flak and leather jackets, and armed with what appeared to be semi-automatic rifles, of a type that she had never seen before, closed ranks and moved in on her position.

In a back corner of her mind, the black woman known as Original Cindy, thought, :”This is damn incontinent, and I was having such a nice day, too, I just hope Max got my call, or this might turn out a whole lot different. Now that I stop to think about it, something about this whole setup isn’t right, this isn’t Manticore’s
style. What gives?’

For their part the armed men seemed willing to wait her out and then when the moment came, take advantage of an opening in her defenses before they captured and subdued her. Cindy didn’t like the situation one bit, but she was not being given much choice in the matter.

One man’s cell phone rang and he stepped aside in order to answer it.

Cindy’s hearing was more acute than most peoples so was able to split her attention while still keeping her eyes trained on her opponents. She caught one side of the conversation, but enough to understand that she had been ‘made.

Somebody or something had sold her out, but who. It wasn’t as if she didn’t trust all of her extended X-5 family, she would have trusted any and all of them with her life, but at any time any of them could have been compromised, White and Manticore, had a lot of pull, in a lot of different circles; anything could have tripped her up. While she listened to the man’s conversation, she caught one word, more an acronym than an actual word, NID, Chyenne, and Senator Kinsey, and the words ‘you’ve got yourself a deal.’


**

At Logan’s apartment, Max’s cell phone vibrated from where it rested in her hip pocket of her jeans.

“I’m sorry,” Max said, “I’ve got to take this.” She got up from the couch and took out her phone, flipping it open and pressing the green answer button. “Talk to me.”

“Max, it’s Cindy, I’ve run into a spot of trouble and I could really use your help down by the docks. It’s urgent that when you get this message, you meet at Pier #17. Thanks a ton.”

That was the end of the recorded message, Max turned off the phone and turned around to look at Logan. “Cindy’s in trouble, I have to go.”

Logan did not reply at first then he nodded. “I understand, do you want me to come along. I could drive you in my car.”

“No, thank you, but no, you understand when one of my ‘family is in trouble, I have to do this alone, right?”

“I understand, Max, “ Logan sighed, “I don’t have to like it, but I do understand why you have to do it. Good luck.”

“Thanks,” Max replied as she strode forward and kissed him on the lips.

****
Later at the docks Max arrived at the designated pier expecting that Cindy would be there waiting for her.

Instead she found only an empty wind-swept dock and rain coming down in almost vertical sheets, plastering her leather coat to her body and her to her head. She had learned long ago never to trust that deceptive lull, the proverbial calm before the storm. Max left her bike and began prowling up and down the stretch of the harbor looking for signs of a struggle or other indications of where her friend and fellow X5 sister might have gone, or worse, been taken.

Max, in the back of her mind while she searched and kept a wary eye out for trouble, realized that White and the other Manticore goons likely would not have given them up that easily. After all the trouble they had individually and collectively caused for White and his agenda, it was only a matter of time before he resurfaced.

Max finally picked up the trail, following the lines of tire tracks and a piece of Cindy’s leather boots left lying on the pavement of the street.


The unmarked van with the blacked out tinted windows pulled up, three man got out and bent down to wrestle a large heavy bag into the open rear doors of the vehicle. Inside the bag, Cindy, heavily sedate and only partially conscious struggled against her bounds, the drug coursing through her system, and the anger at the situation. The men finally got her into the back of the van, walked around to the passenger side doors and climbed inside the van.

Max arrived at that very instant, circling around and planting herself squarely in front of the building, she had grabbed a loose metal pipe and held it in her hand like a quarter staff. “Going somewhere, boys?” she asked in a casually deceptive tone of voice. “I think you might have something in there that doesn’t belong to you. And I would very much appreciate if you gave it back to me.”

“I think you should turn around and leave, little girl,” the foremost man replied, thumbing the charging button on his wicked looking weapon. It had a snake’s head, and it was of type that neither Max nor Cindy had ever seen before. “This doesn’t concern you, and we have our orders.”

“Well, then, since you put it so nicely, I think I will stay around a little longer,” Max replied, moving a few steps closer. “That’s a friend of mine you’ve got tied up in there, and that makes it my business.”

“Max!” Cindy yelled, groggily coming out of her sedated state. Inside the back of the van Cindy continued to struggle and finally loosened her bounds enough to wriggled free of the sack. She sat up and promptly bumped her head on the crates, boxes stacked haphazardly inside.

“Damn it!” she cursed and sat bolt upright, this time with a little more care. She sidled forward to the front of the van, leaned over, and reached for the nearest man, grabbed a handful of his flannel shirt and yanked her up and over.

With that task accomplished, Cindy jumped into the front passenger seat and socked the driver, then she looked around for more targets, her adrenaline pumping. In the back of her mind she wondered where Max might be, she had heard Max earlier, taunting her captors into coming at her and making that one slip that would allow her the upper hand.

Sounds of a skirmish and weapons fire from farther away and behind momentarily distracted Max, but she wouldn‘t allow it do so for long. She had been trained and been at this too long to allow that to happen. Out of the corner of her peripheral vision she saw Original Cindy clamber out of the front of the van where she had apparently been bound and gagged.

Max allowed a small sigh of relief to see that her friend and X- 5 sister was not alive but still in one piece. She smiled and Cindy returned it, and with a brief nod separated to cover more ground; now these goons, no matter how many and how heavily armed would double trouble. Just as that thought crossed her mind Max saw more people entering the steadily crowded warehouse. “It’s getting that I can’t hear myself think in here, just how many people did these idiots invite to this party? We really should do something about crossing them off the list.’

The rain continued unabated throughout plastering her long hair to her face and scalp and the leather jack to her body like a second skin. She didn’t mind the rain, it was simply was another force of nature, just as she was a force of nature. Whatever else one wished to say about Manticore; they knew what they were doing when the had created the X-5’s.

As Max thought over what her next move should be she was momentarily distracted by the sounds of a scuffle breaking out and raised voices. Her opponents and those surrounding her friend split off and went over to the corner of the warehouse where the noises were the loudest. With an exchange of glances both women followed at a discreet distance.

It was at that instant that Max discovered that a new group, armed with snake-headed guns were taking care of her opponents quite nicely, and at the moment she had just begun to protest this intrusion on what she considered her turf a stray blasts from the snake-headed weapons hit her in the stomach and she toppled over onto her back. Cindy had been hit as well, and her last thought right up until the moment that the blackness of unconsciousness descended was: “It is getting entirely too crowded in here, so what the hell do I do about it? And what do they want with us, anyway?’
****


Colonel Jack O’Neil escorted the two women through the corridors of the base to the Medical Lab. The fact that the they were one up on the NID pleased him with the way things had turned out; it was not every day that the military arm got the upper hand on the civilian one. Colonel Harry Maybourne had not yet made an appearance nor made his displeasure known, and for that Jack was very content to let sleeping dogs lie.

At the Cheyenne Mountain base, in the medical bay,

Neither of the two female patients recently brought in by an escort of base security personnel and the members of SG-1 were conscious at the time of their arrival, but that was something that Doctor Janet Fraiser usually took in stride. However, both women evidenced signs of having been in a fire fight, and had multiple contusions and third-degree burns on their upper arms and hands.

Dr. Fraiser treated them for and saved her own opinions and theories about the readings that showed up on her computer monitors for the debriefing scheduled at 0800 hours the following morning. If her readings were correct and her mind was not playing tricks her, these two, when they regained consciousness were going to have a lot of questions to answer, starting with, why someone or something had gone to all the trouble to modify their DNA sequences, not to mention a whole host of another physical and physiological profiles.

In the back of her mind she began to suspect that General Hammond’s suspicions
regarding a certain Washington D.C politician might actually have been on the mark and if so, it would have a lot more consequences for all of them then just a possible financial shutdown of all activities touching upon of the Stargate Program.

The thing that worried Janet the most was the two almost identical bar codes stamped directly into the skin at the back of the women’s necks. Different numbers for each women, but bearing an uncanny and possibly dangerous resemblance to one another.

Best case scenario, “ Janet dictated into her hand-held recording device, “they’re just part of some sort of international human smuggling/trafficking ring, the victims most likely, or worse, there’s a lot more going on here than meets the eye and if so, what do we do about it?’



Conclusion
3 days later

“I’m not sure what to make of this Manticore,” said Sam thoughtfully, “One the one hand the idea that a private organizing not only would have the nerve, wherewithal and the ability to pull a top-secret super soldier breeding program is one thing,” she paused and brushed strands of blonde hair away from her eyes,” but to think it actually worked.”

“Aside from the problem I’m having with the idea,” Jack added, standing with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Is there anything Janet can do about the virus Guevara’s carrying, it appears to be dormant at this point, but with the Tok’ra’s advanced medicine, we might be able to help her.”

“I’m not sure, Doctor Jackson, “ Hammond replied. “It’s something that we’ll definitely look into it. Given what we now know about the X-5s and the information provided by Ms. Guevara, it’s within the realm of possibility.”

“I think, super fancy genes or not,” O’Neill added, “I think, when you boil it all down to the nitty-gritty, I think they just want to be left alone, to live as normal as life as possible for them.”

“Do you think that’s even possible,” asked Daniel.

“I’m not entirely clear in my mind, and this is not a clear-cut case of right and wrong. Manticore, from what I understand is an independent genetic research operation, and it’s got it assets covered, so we can’t just storm the place and shut it down,” Colonel O’Neill said. “As far as anyone knows it does not officially exist.”

“What about Ms. Guevara and Cindy?” Doctor Daniel Jackson asked.

“We could send them to the beta side of the Gate, for their own protection,” Carter suggested, but from what I’ve gathered so far, I very much doubt they would want to go.”


“They have a better than even chance,” Teal’C replied, thinking that the X-5’s and their current troubles seemed not that much different from the troubles of his own people with their former masters, the Gou’ald and the circumstances that had brought him to the attention of SG-1.

In the back of his mind, he thought,’ Things happen for a reason, I must believe that, for how else do you explain why we fight and life, and life to fight another day.’

Title: For Your Eyes Only
Author: karen
Fandoms: Stargate SG-1/Dark Angel
Rating: PG
Claim: Stargate, general series
Disclaimer: Dark Angel is the creation of James Cameron
Stargate SG-1 belongs to Gekko Film Corp, Glasner/wright
Productions; it is not mine

Prompt #002 Middles
Crossposted to FIC on Demand.
Notes: it's more of a fusion than a strict crossover, but we're going
with that Set during the 2nd season of Dark Angel.

recipient: written for meredevochan's multifandom 'ends' request.
Request Details: http://community.livejournal.com/fic_on_demand/659134.html




"For Your Eyes Only" by Karen

Logan Cale has seen and done much in his lifetime, some of which he can point to say and say, yes, I have nothing to be ashamed or to hide. It's been a while since he lost the use of his legs, and sometimes, it is a burning inside of his core and one, which drives him onward. He doesn't blame the natural disaster like the Pulse for his situation; it is an impersonal and indifferent fact of their world and existence. It happened, life goes on, so deal with it.

If not for his own self-appointed crusade, the project that he built from bare bones to a growing concern, Eyes Only, Logan might not know what else he would occupy his time. Max Guevara and her fellow Manticore X-5 siblings are one possibility

Max stops her forward momentum longs enough to wait for the traffic light on the congested cross-town freeway to turn green. She blocked out the distractions of honking horns, shouting motorists, along with the screeching of wheels on the rain-soaked concrete.

Slung across the back of her bicycle is her trademark duffel bag containing all of her belongings and the container that had once held her latest delivery? Max is not the type to snoop or peer too closely into the contents or the details of her missions.

Any good courier could do a straightforward drop and deliver, it took a special kind of personality to do so with a degree of professionalism and promptness that her employer Eyes Only, and her boss, Logan Cale, demanded. It was also a point of personal pride. Besides, she wasn't entirely certain that her current non-working relationship was at a level that she could be comfortable with.

It was more than mere proximity, more than the knowledge that they both held back secrets, both were unwilling to make the first move. If she had been the type to analyze the nuances of their relationship, Max would have to see they'd hit a proverbial snag. The problem was, she didn't know if she wanted to go to the work of untangling that snag. Manticore and the secrets it held would always be a wall between them, one they had once believed they could scale, not Max is not as certain as she once was.

In recent weeks Max had developed a decided groove in the skin in the back of her neck, from the constant turning to snatch guarded glances back over her shoulder. She is positive someone is following her, or at least some one is keeping track of her movements, it’s annoying and she should be angry about it, but she's just too damn tired to do anything about it right now.

She has always had enemies, it's just something that comes with the job. Then she recalled readings something in the local circular pulp newspapers she'd picked up at the Jam Pony, that the paranoid would inherit the earth." Well, no matter how much else in thier rag is sheer rubbish, they got at least one thing right," Max muttered, tapping the tips of her boots against the wet pavement. The light turned green and she pedaled forward, along with the other motorists.

Several car lengths away and in the opposite lane, the driver of 1988 Chrysler Impala the windows tinted, crossed into the lane opposite of the bike path and drove onto the shoulder. He had spiky black brown hair, the eyes covered by dark glasses, and a thin-lipped mouth. He had the cord of a wireless phone in one ear, freeing up his hands to drive. Coming off the freeway he drove his car onto the edge of the bottom off ramp and pulled over to a stop. White spoke into the phone for several minutes before stopping to listen to whatever the other party on line had to say, nodding in apparent agreement.

Elsewhere

Senator Kinsey knows that his presence is not welcome among the senior staff of the SGC, and he also knows how best to take advantage of a situation that will drive his personal, self-appointed nemesis, Colonel Jack O'Neill crazy.

He does not consider himself a bad person, he simply a determined and patriotic man trying to do what he considers best for the general interests of the United States government and the American people. When the NID contacted him via his private line at the White House office with information of a West Coast based secret solider project and he, of course, was skeptical. A project code-named Manticore. "Someone obviously thinks quite well of themselves, perhaps overly so." Kinsey said.

Kinsey is aware that such things might conceivably occur, when was a young man drafted during the Cold War, and the Russians certainly concocted enough crazy plans like that, but history proved that super solider programs have a high tendency to backfire on the creators.

His skepticism is health and well-founded, and seasoned with a good dollop of paranoia, which is why the folks running the Star Gate program probably liken him to an old troll who can't see the value of continuing the funding to back exploration through the Gate.

The fact that the President would not agree to pull the plug on the Gate project even after reading his extensive and lengthy documented report on the cost, and the immediate request to deny any further funding to the project was denied.

"That hurt," Kinsey thought to himself, waiting in the mostly empty coffee shop, sipping his iced cappuccino, reading the late edition of the Seattle Tribune newspaper, and wondering if the contact he had be assigned to meet with, a certain Mr. White, would ever show up. Kinsey hoped that wasn't actually the man's name, merely a cover.

Right when he was about to give up waiting, and write it off, the man called White walked into the coffee shop, darting hasty but through glance in all directions, in the manner of a ferret. The man was medium height, medium build, and dark average clothes. Overall impression: White appeared bland and none-descriptive, just like his name. If Kinsey were pressed on the matter, he would have to say that the man's face was that of one someone you would never stand out in a crowd, one the average person would never remark upon.

And in a sudden flash, Kinsey realized that very blandness was what the man called White counted on, and that made him dangerous.

Meanwhile Max showed up at the Jam Pony shortly before midnight and the bar/store closed. She came to a halt, got off her bike and parked it the stall by the entrance grabbed her duffel back, rummaging around for the lock and key for her bike.

The rain had not let up and the leather of her jacket had molded to her like a second skin. She didn't mind, but it was a little uncomfortable. Walking towards the front door and noticed that crowd was thinning out, checking her watch Max realized that it is getting close to midnight and the bar closed. Alec sat at the far end nursing what appeared to his first and last drink of the evening, the half-full wine bottle resting at his elbow.

Alec was there, nursing what appeared to his first and last drink of the evening, and a wine bottle sat at his elbow, still half-full.

White nodded and removed a card from his the pocket of his coat. Kinsey nodded and waved for the other man to join him at his table. "I do hope you are not expecting a campaign donation, Senator." White quietly said.

"Very funny, but if that were all we hoped to accomplish by this meeting, than you might as well have wired the money." Kinsey replied, tapping his fingernails on the edge of his empty coffee cup. "I hate the rain, does horrible things to my arthritis, why anyone would want to live in Seattle is beyond me. Speaking of which, I saw the reports, I also reviewed the documents and photos of the project's leading lady, as it were."

"Direct and to the point, I like that, " White replied.

"Some of that initial doubt from when my associates and I first contacted your office must have worn enough to get you out here. I apologize for the rain, it never stops." White sighed. "But getting back to business, I can deliver everything I promised and more, but you have to understand that there is one minor snag in the plan."

"One minor snag?" Kinsey echoed.

"The lady in question."

"My god, you allowed the test subjects to escape!" Kinsey whispered.

"Allowed is not the word I would have picked," White warned in a lone hissing whisper. "And before we proceed any further you have to understand, it was not my project. "It was the creators of the program that screwed up there, which allowed all of the test subjects to engineer their own escape."

"Have there been an attempts to round them up again," Kinsey thought, appalled at the image of a bunch of unsupervised and undisciplined super soldiers running around the streets of Seattle. He couldn't imagine and briefly considered ordering another coffee, then discarded it, he had to leave early the following morning to catch his plane back to D.C, he didn't to be wired from the over dose of caffeine intake. His blood pressure couldn't handle it.

"Let me worry about that," White sneered.

"If you'll pardon the expression, I feel like a man you are trying to sell a piece of the Brooklyn Bridge, that it’s too good to be true. How I can be absolutely certain everything that you offered is as advertised?" Kinsey demanded.

"Trust me." White replied. "Whether you like or not, Senator you've gone too far to back out now. "Why don't we discuss the matter of payment?"

"Don't worry, that's all been arranged, and you don't get paid until we receive delivery of the goods. If she's been damaged in any way…."

White interrupted the rest of what Kinsey would have said with a timely and well-placed palm over the older man's mouth. "I wouldn't complete that sentence if I were you.
This isn't a threat, or a demand, or even a means to try to get more back for your buck. I merely want to avoid any fuss or confusion for both interested parties."

"In other words, if I don't do what you want, you'll ruin me?"

"Hardly," but it's a tempting possibility. "From what I understand you have certainly have
more than a few rivals that would like to see you fail." White replied.

"How dare you!" Kinsey exclaimed, moving forward in his chair, fists clenched.

"I have my moments. Sorry, I do have my moments. " You'll get your X-5, although I must admit I am personally reluctant to part with the prize package. I'll be sorry to see her go."

****
Interlude
Shortly after Max got her jacket off and hung off the back of a chair, that's when the bartender Zack, tonight serving double duty this late for the owner, notices her and with a nod a crook of his finger, beckons her over to the serving counter. She strides over, noticing in passing but ignoring the inquiring stares of other late-night patrons. "What's up?"

"Look, this might be an unconfirmed rumor and I don't want to worry you, but I've got a vibe that you've just made somebody's to do list." And guess what, Max-baby, rumor has it that you're on the top of the list." Zack announces this last bit in both an excited and hushed tone, darting cautious glances around the half-empty bar as afraid he would be overheard.

"That's not news," Max shrugged. "That's just another day at the office." Max sat down at one of the barstools, and Zack picks up a glass filling it up with her favorite frothy brew from the nearby tap then slid it over to her. "Thanks, for this. Something wet going down to make up for the wetness outside. Do you know, it's still pouring out there?"

"Yeah. Look, this rumor, they're after you, after all of us, actually. But then when have our previous 'employers' not been after all us?" It's been more than a year since her escape, and she has gotten to the point where she can handle the psychological trauma of what Manticore did here and the other X-5 siblings. The scars are mostly faint white lines now, but the ones on the inside will take much longer to heal. She's gotten past the anger, the desperation; not it is more of a determination to never let it happen again.

Maybe, maybe not." Zack shrugs, but you and I both you, that's not the usual roundup of a search and retrieve, this is hunting bear."

"Possibly, but I can handle White."

"Maybe, I recall that too long ago, it looked pretty bleak, and it's not White I'm worried about."

"Then who are you worried about?"

"I sent out feelers, and the intel that they brought back is pretty interesting.
"Seems White is out-sourcing."

"What the hell are you driving at, Zack," Max demanded, her patience running out, her enjoyment of her beer somewhat lessened by Zack's talk of unconfirmed rumors and military lingo, and conspiracy theories.

"I'm saying, White was last seen talking to high muckety-muck senator from D.C."

Max finished the last of her beer before she replied. "Maybe he was, maybe he wasn't. Did you ever stop to consider that he might need to butter up the politicians to get more money for his projects?" Maybe that's all it was, so you can stop worrying about me."

"Okay, okay, I give. I'll back down, but promise me something, Max, be careful, will ya?"

"I promise. I gotta get going, it's getting late, and I have a date with my pillow." See ya, Zack, and take care."

Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 belongs to MGM Productions, Gekko Film Corp. Glasner/Wright Productions, as do all of the characters; they are not mine. Dark Angel is the creation of James Cameron and UPN television network. Note: the story picks up where "Petals in a Windstorm" left off; written for the crossovers100 livejournal challenge, prompt #24 family. The title was inspired by the song of the same name.

"Shiny Happy People" by Karen

The flag, flapping the early morning breeze above their small compound, is a welcoming sign for it meant that there is still hope for her people. And they have been her people, in more ways than one. It was now, after everything that went before, that they have a renewed of shared need and belonging.

Max Guevara knew the value of a symbol when she saw one.

‘It's been a long road but when has anything worth doing ever been easy?‘ Max mused as she stepped around the cracks in the uneven ground.

The rain predicted for this area by as yet not shown any signs of making an appearance, and this early in the morning. She knew that most of the small community’s inhabitants would not stir from their beds until at least another half hour. As far as Max was
concerned it's an ideal time to go for a quick run around the neighborhood/

She needed to get a feel for the place, and this way she could avoid a confrontation with Alec.

As she began running, settling into a comfortable rhythm and stride, she allowed her
thoughts to wander, wondering, if she could really afford to allow herself to relax
almost a lifetime's worth of caution and paranoia, go so easily.

They now had their little enclave complete with all of the former X-5 operatives and Manticore refugees that she Alec, and Logan Cale had managed to find and rescue over time; but were they really safe?

Alec might think otherwise and Asha might agree with him. "Now there's an image
I don't want to be carrying around in my head all day," Max muttered under her breath as her tennis shoes making a wet splashing sound on the concrete sidewalks.

Under ordinary circumstances she would have taken her concerns and observations
to Logan, but given the fact that she still harbored the virus, that was not an
option.

***
That same evening, Colonel Jack O'Neill, or to be more accurate his younger incarnation
wandered the streets of down-town Seattle with some idea of trying to talk his way
into getting the owners of the local watering holes and night-clubs into giving him
free drinks.

This was made more difficult by the fact that he currently looked to be under the legal drinking age. It really would do his case much good to try and explain that he was in reality the younger cloned version of an Air Force Colonel in his forties or fifties that had been clone and de-aged by a race of gray-skinned aliens known as the Asgard; yet still retained all of the accumulated knowledge, skills and wherewithal of the original Jack O'Neill.

While he had come to accept that, on a genetic level, the two of them were bascially
the same, there were distinct and subtle differences.

A clone was a clone, was a clone. Jack cursed under his breath and tried to forcibly excise any thoughts of the lyrics to send in the clowns from his memory.

Doctor Daniel Jackson had put that idea in his head shortly before it was agreed that it would better in the long term, for all considered to let him live his own life, apart from the SGC; and it was in the interests of fostering that he was here in Seattle, checking out the town, while his new school was in summer recess, and now, looking for a place to hang out.

The wind picked up from the west, blowing in off the nearby Pacific Ocean, causing the teenager to draw his leather jacket tighter around his slender frame, it also blow dirt, grit, and accumulated trash swirling down the street while he had been considering all of this.

A piece of loose leaf paper came unstuck from the a telephone pole where it had been pasted, among others, advertising and or promoting everything from a used-car sale, poetry readings, student protests, including what caught his attention the most, a drinks special at a bar called the Jam Pony. It was a very near thing, Mini-Jack almost lost his grip on the paper to the insistent tug of the wind.


Encounter

The interior of the Jam Pony was crowded, but at least the patrons were not packed into the establishment so one could barely breathe; instead it was busy, but not too busy, and they did not have a bouncer at the door, asking for identification, or checking to see if he was of legal drinking age. In the back of his mind mini-Jack, heaving a sigh or relief,: ‘One crisis at a time, I’ll think of something; I always do.”

He selected a table near the back of the room and sat down, perusing the list of drinks available. He was absorbed in doing, raising his head every now and then, to do a little people watching, when a young man dressed in earth-colored slacks and shirts sat down at his table.

“”Hey!” Mini-Jack exclaimed. “What do you think you’re doing?”

The man had dark hair, intent, pale, handsome features, and air of studied arrogance about him that he thought pretty well of himself. “Hey, yourself,” replied the stranger.

“You know the password?” he suddenly asked with a wry grin curving the corners of his mouth.

“Look, I don’t know who you are, or what you want, “ replied Jack, pulling back in his chair and nearly upsetting in the process. “So, just get the hell out of my face!”

“Wrong. Try again. I can be a patient man,” he cocked his head to one side as if thinking something through. Despite his irritation and impatience with the man and the situation in general, Jack could not help but draw comparison between that small gesture and the Jaffa Teal’c’s habit of doing the same thing, minus the raising of one dark eyebrow.

“Oh, relax,” the man finally said, smiling. “I’m not here to hurt you. In fact, if that was my intent I could have done so before you could even blink or have time to scream.”

“Why am I not reassured by that?” Jack muttered under his breath. “What the hell do you want?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” the older man shrugged. “A few brew skies, some good food, a little conversation. It couldn’t hurt, you know? And who knows you might learn something.”

“I’m game for the beers and the food,” Jack replied, “As for learning anything, what could I possibly learn from you, pretty boy? How to be a jerk?”

“Tough words, coming from a scrawny kid, like you. By the way, the names, Alec. Alec McDowell.” He held out his outstretched offering his hand to Jack, who hesitated before clasping and shaking it.

“Aren’t you worried about buying beer for a minor?” Jack asked as if didn’t really bother him.

“Nah,” Alec shrugged again. “Believe me, around here, no one will care, at least not the regulars. And if I’m right about you, neither will you. We good?”

“Yeah, we’re good.” Jack sighed and slumped back in his chair, causing it to make a scrapping sound on the polished wood floor of the bar.

“You got a name?” asked Alec as he turned his head and shouted out an order for two Pabst Blue Ribbons beer in a pitcher along with two glasses to the bartender, who shouted back that they were on tap and coming up. He turned back to face Jack once more obviously expecting an reply of some sort.

“Jack O’Neill,” he replied, “and thanks for the beer. I’ve been a long time dry.”

“I do hope that just means you’re thirsty,” Alec replied, “And not that you’re a recovering alcoholic.”

“As if,” Jack replied.

“Good.” Alec replied and then he took the two glasses as the waiter brought them over to their table and poured the foamy amber-colored brew into the glasses and shoved one of them over to Jack’s side of the table.

While he was doing that, the sleeve of his shiny white shirt rolled up exposing for a few seconds his strong, pale wrist, and more disturbing to Jack’s way of thinking, the puckered skin that meant either were a tattoo had been removed, or scars. Alec, at first, did not seem to notice or care, but after finished pouring and reaching for his own glass and taking his first sip, gave Jack a penetrating stare.

Jack, intently curious, but wise enough not to seem to interested in the scars, said nothing about it, but suddenly, since his arrival in Seattle, wondered what in the hell he gotten himself mixed up in; it would not be the first time.

If there was anyone who could managed to land in a heap of trouble without actively searching it out, or doing anything to encourage, it was his namesake, and by extension, himself. It was as if Trouble, with a capital T, just a found a way to follow him around.

****
Max, on one her nightly patrols brought her motorcycle to a halt, all of her honed instincts telling her to either fight or flee.

The dark hairs on the back of her neck were standing on end. Yet, the troubling thinking about it, was she could neither hear, see, smell, or otherwise detect any sign of danger.

Max’s instincts and training had very rarely let her down and this time was no exception.

She gunned the motor and took off in the direction where the impression of danger was the strongest. In the tenement projects near the eastern docks. Max realized that it was getting late, and she should have either called or radioed in with Logan or Alec, if the other was not available. But this she was a big girl, and this was a hunch that she wanted to follow up on her own.

Meanwhile Teal’c, staggered out of yet another dank and foul-smelling alley in a city he did not recognize or recall the means by which he had arrived there. His head pounded and skin burned as if with a fever, yet his body shook from head to foot. It was an very strange, the sicker and the weaker he felt, the stronger the instinct to doggedly search for something, anything that would take away the pain.

He did not recognize his surroundings but he was not so far gone that he did not realize that he was on Earth and not off-world; he had just enough wits about him to cover up the distinguishing mark of his time as on the Jaffa to Goua’ld Ra, before stumbling into a few of the locals of this unfamiliar city. Even when was not feeling sick, nauseous and disoriented he knew that the sigil etched onto his forehead would occasion more than a few passing remarks and draw unwanted and undue attention to his presence.

The city was gritty and grey and sometimes as he staggered from shelter to open spaces and back to shelter again, he often growled and swatted at the splattering of raindrops that fell upon his fevered skin.

It alternately cooled and angered him, but at this point Teal’c was not all certain which he preferred. The symbiote in his belly was making its insistent demands upon his body and he could only ignore the needs of his own body and those of the symbiote at his own risk.

Nearby, unobserved by the lost Teal’c another pair of dark eyes watched his staggering, looping progress with a great deal of curiosity and even a little bit of sympathy. Jousha, one of the survivors from the project known as Manticore, crouched down in the shadows by the docks, where it appeared that big black man with the golden tattoo seemed to be heading, and wondered whether or not to make his presence known.

He had already seen with his own eyes just how strong the stranger was, and while he was not afraid, Joshua preferred not to fight; fighting was for the likes of Max, Alec, and Zack, and the other members of their rather strange family. However a part of him, felt a sort of kinship to this lost stranger, and he wanted to help. Jousha cocked his head to one side and thought over exactly what he could do to help, and after a few seconds of agonized indecision, fumbling around in the pocket of his worn jeans came up with a crumbling but still edible chocolate and granola bar.


Teal’C staggered into the empty, square and quite dusty building that he only dimly registered as a abandoned warehouse by the docks. His skin felt hot to the touch and he very badly wanted, no, needed to latch out and hit something. He snarled and tried to punch the floor that unaccountably seemed to try to rise up and defy his efforts when his body decided that it had had more than enough and he collapsed, unconscious to the hard floor, blackness descending over his vision.

**
Joshua, decision made, crept to the entrance of the abandoned warehouse careful not to make any noise that wake the sleeping big man, who even unconscious moaned and groaned. Joshua kept moving, wondering if he should just leave the granola bar and then come back with water and rags, for even from where he crouched a few feet away he could tell that the big man was burning up with a high fever. “I don’t you who are, or even what your story is,’ Joshua smiled and rocked back on his heels, “Tell you what, it does not matter. No one should be alone to suffer through whatever it is you are suffering from. I’m here to help.”


***
Meanwhile, on the opposite of the warehouse district just outside of the docks a similar but quite different conversation was taking place. Seattle was the last place that the SG-1 team had expected to locate Teal’c after he had disappeared from the Cheyenne mountain base weeks ago, but nothing daunted they would find him, no matter what it took.

“Friends of yours?” Alec asked, beating Max to the punch as usual, which, she did not seem to mind and Alec almost demanded to know outright what was going on with her, but decided that it did not really matter at this point.

“We’ve been through this once already, if memory serves,” the blond woman addressed as Major Samantha Carter remarked, her tone sharply reproving.

“”Yeah, Max,” replied, “Back when those creepy government guys tried to nab me and Original Cindy.”

“Why do you call her that?” Jack asked.

“It’s a long story,” Max sighed, turning to regard the teenager with wistful fondness, while at the same time resisting the urge to reach down and ruffled his curly blondish brown hair. “However, to answer your question, if you Cindy and her rather, forceful personality, and everything we’ve been through.”

“There’s only like her,” Alec interrupted.

“We have a pretty good idea of what you’ve been through. And I think I speak for all concerned,” Doctor Daniel Jackson chimed in, “That we’re relieved that Manticore is no longer a going concern.”

“For crying out loud,’ Colonel Jack O’Neill, the adult incarnation interrupted. “If we’re going to do our friends any good at all, we’d best get a move on. You guys, want to help, fine, just don’t get in my way.”

“Charming, isn’t he?” Max remarked wryly. I still can’t over the fact that it’s you, Jack, as an adult.

“It’s not really like that,” Mini-Jack flushed in the wake of Max’s intent brown stare, he’s the original; I’m just the clone.”

“I guess we had something in common,” Alec added. “I refrain from saying ‘I told you so,’ Max.”

“You can take your ‘I told you so, Alec,” Max replied with a toss of her head. “And stick it where the sun don’t shine.”

“Whoa,’ Jackson muttered.

“Like whoa,” Mini-Jack grinned. He was really beginning to take a shine to very attractive and resourceful Max Guevara. And suddenly, he wanted very much, to be a little bit older, because in ways he had yet determined he knew that Max liked him, but in the way an older sister cares for a younger brother. “Damn it,” he muttered under his breath.

“Let’s just keep searching for Teal’C and Joshua,” Max said,

***
The small group of had agreed to split up, figuring they would be able to cover more ground in less amount of time that way. Max, Daniel, and mini-Jack went west toward the center of town; meanwhile, Jack, Alec, and Sam went east toward the harbor.


Conclusion

Continued in chapter 4: “Children of the Revolution”

Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 belongs to Gekko Film Corp, MGM Studios,  and Renaissance Pictures as do all of the characters who appear here or are mentioned; they are not mine.  Dark Angel and all of the characters who appear here or are mentioned are the creation of

James Cameron; again, they are not mine. The story picks up shortly after where “Shiny Happy People” left off.

     “ Children of the Revolution" by Karen
         
Sam Carter had believed that she held a more than reasonable idea of what she would find once they located Teal'C, but she should have known better than to make assumptions.  

As they climbed down the rickety musty smelling ladder that led down to sewers beneath the city of Seattle Sam suddenly realized that whatever else happened between now and when they got Teal'c back home, that the might need to bring him back from the brink of

something far worse than running and hiding.   

That realization came from not so much as reasoned logic as from a kind of warning that made the short blond hairs at the nape of her neck stand on end.  It was foolish to feel this way, but nevertheless her instincts were screaming at her that Teal’c was in danger, and to be

fair, that meant that this Jousha might also be in danger as well. They would do whatever it took to save both men.

To her immediate left the clone of Colonel Jack O'Neill was waving a electric torch from side in the gloom and scowling at everyone around him and his surroundings in general. "For cryin' out loud. Are you absolutely certain they’re down here?" he demanded of Max

Guevarra.

Max shrugged.  “The big guy knows his way around down through and around through the tunnels. We’ve already combed through the abandoned buildings in the warehouse district. Unless I miss my guess,” she paused and leaned forward in a manner similar to a hunting hunt

on the point, sniffing the air. “I think they’re together.”

“In other words,” interrupted Alec unhelpfully and with that cocky devil-may-care grin that O’Neill found so damn annoying, “We find the one, we find the other.”

Max ignored and reached up to brush back a strand of loose dark hair that had fallen down over her eyes.

As O’Neill looked on he realized that instead of  a hunting dog she resembled more something sleeker, something deadlier, more like a mountain cat.  In the back of his mind he thought, “While I appreciate they’re help finding Teal’c I wouldn’t want to cross these people. I

just want to find the big guy, and bring him home with us.’

Sam was still undecided of what she felt about Guevarra and her fellow bio-engineered family, but she did have to admit that instincts, training or whatever else, she had been as good as her word.

Taking the lead from O’Neill Max strode forward deeper into the gloom and shadows shaking the tangled mane of her brown hair away from her eyes. “Once we found Jousha, you had best let me speak to him alone. He isn’t exactly a people person and your presence might

inadvertently frighten him away.”

“Wonderful, just wonderful,” muttered mini- Jack under his breath.
***
Joshua had learned more than a little about caring for the unfortunates and castaways and the unwanted in his time he had spent underground, but the man with the gold tattoo inscribed on his forehead was proving to be an even more difficult patient than could deal with alone.

He had brought the fever down to a  manageable level to the point where it was still high but not high enough that he the thrashed and  cried out in his sleep.

He bent over him dipping and changing the wet rags. When well the stranger was obviously strong and quite capable but whatever illness he had succumbed too had quickly sapped him of his strength.  

It was only a sensible precaution to strap down to the narrow cot that served as his bed.  Joshua started and ears pricked in the manner of a forest animal startled by a sudden noise or the approach of a hunter.  He turned around and started for the entryway to the tunnels

through the sewers. “Do not worry. I go to check out something. I will return shortly.” With that he left and went out and began to check all the tunnels leading into and away from his underground sanctuary.

Lying on the narrow cot, finally deep in a dreamless sleep that did not stem from his fever Teal’C  tried to move, but the response from his body was sluggish and indefinite.  He was vaguely aware of the events of the past several days; but in the manner of a series of images

overlapped one over the other.  

He remembered running, running until the air burned in his lungs but he could not recall if he was running to or away from something that threatened.  He remembered the distinctive salty smell of blood, and metal, and then a white hot pain stabbing through his nerve endings,

and then a soothing voice and hands that had carried him away from it all and then a deep tidal wave of blackness that he had gone under, and nothing.

Trying to remember what had happened to him after succumbing to the blackness made his head hurt, so for the moment he realized that he would have to let it go for now.  

***
Joshua pried open the door leading to another section of the sewers when the sudden noise of boots clomping along overhead froze him in mid-motion. He concentrated on isolating the sound, separating it from all the others, water dripping and pooling, and realized that what

he heard was a search party.

Levering himself up until only his head and shoulders were above the rim of the grate he narrowed his eyes and concentrated on making out any identifying markings or other indications of who felt so free to wander around down here.  

The men carried packs on their backs, and bulky non-descript coats slacks, and jackets. In the dim interior lighting he could just make out a marking on their sleeves of their jackets.  Even without that visual recognition Joshua might have been able to identify them, White and

his witch hunters.  It seemed that Manticore or whoever had taken up the slack since Max, Alec and the remaining members of their X’5 had escaped; had not given up on them yet.  

Joshua growled under his breath and though, “Why can’t they leave us alone?”
For a second he considered jumping out of concealment and showing them in no uncertain terms to reconsider going after him and the others, but then thought better of it.
He could not afford any unnecessary risks and there was another factor to take into consideration as well; he still had his patient’s welfare to consider.

With that in mind he turned around and slipped back into the shadows in the direction that he had come from, leaving barely a ripple in the air, ground, and walls in his passing.
**
Max led the way seeming to know her way underneath the city streets almost as well as she could navigate the streets aboveground. Jack did not feel like objecting the point considering that all of the twists and turns they had taken in the past half hour just made his head spin.

She paused at a junction of corridors, one leading straight ahead in their path, the two branching off to the left and one to the right. Max took them left and the went in after her.

As Sam brought up the rear of the little column the short blond hairs at the nape of her neck stood straight up as she sensed the approach of something big moving in the shadows behind her but from another branching corridor, and then with a whoosh of air it blew by her in a

dark smear that nearly knocked her off her feet.  

“What was that?” she gasped when she had regained her balance and her breath.

“Dunno,” Jack replied. “Did you see something?”

The dark smear resolved into a tall figure crouched down at the intersection of the branching corridors. Jack had raised his rifle and had settled it onto his shoulder when Alec neatly stepped over to him and plucked it out of his hands as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

“Do not do anything stupid, or anything that you might regret later.”

Jack glared at him but Alec was unfazed but the older man. “I’ll believe when I see it.”

Sam sighed. “I think you’d better do as he says, for now, Sir.”
Max went over to the crouched figure and said, “It’s all right. You can come out now. These are friends.”

“Max?” the big man asked seemingly still quite wary but mollified that he believed what she was saying.

“Yeah, it’s me,” replied Max and then looked back over his shoulder at where Alec, Jack and Sam stood. “Try not to kill each other, will you, why I try to find out whether Joshua has seen your friend, okay?”

“Huh,” replied Jack rubbing his left shoulder where he could a bruise coming on. Alec was a lot stronger than he looked. “Easy for you to say. For cryin’ out loud, Carter, I say it’s high time we ditched these guys and found Teal’C on our own.”

The big man that Max had referred to as Joshua stood up and fully upright he was well over six feet tall and had hair all over; on his head, his forearms, his legs. “I know where your friend is. He was very ill and I have tried all I could think to do cure him, but I doubt that can

be moved at the moment.”

“Makes me wish Daniel were here,” Sam muttered under her breath.

“Me, too. Jack  sighed. “Too bad he’s on leave just now.”  He shrugged. “Can’t be helped I suppose.”  He then walked over to where Max and Joshua stood. “Can you take us to our friend?”

Joshua stared. “Just you and Max. …… I,  I am not comfortable around large groups of people.”

Max nodded. “Agreed.”  It might be a good idea if while we’re checking on your friend that the rest of you stand guard outside.  Joshua tells me there’s another search party wandering through the sewers in addition to ours.”  She  folded her arms over her chest and favored

them all with  a rather predatory and anticipatory grin. “And if we’re right about who these guys are then I make no guarantees of their ‘good’ intentions.”

“We get the message,” Sam replied.

“They’re hostiles,” Jack added.

“Oh, let me at them,”: Alec replied, ”They don’t know the meaning of the world hostile; but they’ll learn.”

Max stepped away from Joshua in one smooth move seeming to cover the distance that separated her and Alec in a  matter of seconds and grabbed his arm. “Don’t you dare, Alec! I don’t want you to do anything foolish that will jeopardize us or even our ‘friends’ just

because you feel like the need to blow off some steam or because you feel you have something to prove. Do I  make myself perfectly clear!”

O’Neill and Carter forgotten for the moment in the heat of the argument exchanged significant glances with one another. “What was ‘that’ all about.”

Alec’s blue eyes widened in mingled fury and shock and then seemed to realize that pushing the point with Max right now was not only wrong it was also stupid. Alec nodded and replied. “Perfectly.”

Max eyed him for a few seconds and then finally released his arm. With a gesture she indicated that Jack was to accompany her and Joshua down and into where Teal’c was resting.
**
White was beginning very impatient he and his troops had been tramping all over the sewers for almost five hours and still no sign of either the X-5’s that had been reported to be active in the area.

The other target, the one whose tracks criss-crossed and at times even overlapped those of the X-5’s  above in the abandoned warehouse district were all too clear.  

Obscured now but the heavy drenching downpour but he did not need them. His source had tipped him off.  The fact that this other man was not an escapee of Manticore did not matter; all that mattered was his eventual capture was what his client wanted and had promised a

substantial payoff once it was accomplished.   

In fact, if what he had been led to believe about the man known as Teal’c was true; and there was no reason to believe that Kinsey had lied to him about it; then he might even be worth keeping around for the lab boys to study before he handed him over to the feds.

In the back of his mind White thought. “Aliens, sounds like something out the old days at area 51 and Roswell’ Still, any job worth doing is worth doing well. What the feds do with the guy after I’m done with him, ain’t my problem’.

***
Max, Jack followed Joshua into his living space; Jack forced to blink several times as his eyes adjusting to the sudden change in lighting. When he could finally see he glanced around the room fixing on the occupant of a narrow cot.

Teal’C was sitting up in the cot the blankets pulled up to his naked chest. “Colonel Jack O’Neill, it is good to see you.”

“Teal’c, old buddy, boy am I glad to you back among the living.”

“I would hold off on celebrating just yet sir,” Teal’C said.

“He was very ill,” Joshua added. “I did what I could…””
Jack held up his hand and the other man trailed off uncertainly. “I have a pretty good hunch at what’s happened here, but we need to get him out of here and back to a better equipped medical facility.”

“How are you going to do that,” asked Max, “if he can’t be moved.”

“I can walk, barely. I have been attempting to take small steps around the room while you were gone.” Teal’c said in Joshua’s general direction.”

Max nodded. “Whatever’s wrong with him. He can’t stay here. Even if White and his goons weren’t looking for him, and we can’t afford to assume that it just us that’s he’s after.”

Mini-Jack nodded, a bit distracted. “Go back out and ask Carter to call, uh, 911, in the meantime I’ll see what we can do about clearing out of here.”

“You take orders from a kid?”

Teal’c nodded and smiled. “It is, well, it is a bit complicated.”

He let his clutch on the blankets slip and sat up straighter in the cot. “It’s the symbiote. I do not understand why it is reacting the way that it is, but I can feel it moving around inside of me.”

“It’s never acted this way before?” Jack asked nervously rubbing the growth of dark stubble on his chin, wondering, for the first time since Teal’C’s disappearance if they might not already be too late to save him. “DeMint! I’m not giving up and neither are you.”

“As you say, Sir,” Teal’C replied and then broke off into a fit of coughing.

Max came back in and said “Carter’s called 911 but I don’t see how much good that’s going to do us if we’re still down here in the sewers.”

“Nor do I. We need to get back above ground.”

Alec and I will help you carry him,  and whatever else happens I don’t want Joshua involved. He’s already done enough.”

“Agreed. Let’s get to work.”

Max glared at him  and then went over to the cot. Teal’c eased out of the cot, one foot hitting the floor and a few seconds later the other joined it. His chest was bare but the ragged remains of his uniform slacks still covered most of his long legs and he still wore boots on his

feet.  He tried to stand upright and after several attempts that appeared as if he would topple over like a felled tree, managed to stay upright and stagger over to where they stood at the entrance to the room. “We must go. I do not which to bring harm down on the one who

saved me.”

“I guess you’re feeling better, big guy,” Jack replied. “You’re still lucid enough”

“I am. I owe Joshua for that. It was a very near thing.”

Max nodded. “We have go.” Turning to Joshua she reached out and placed one slender hand on his shoulder. “Thank you. But I whatever else happens I want you to stay out of it and stay save. Promise me.”

Joshua nodded. “I promise.”

***
The small group now with the addition of Teal’C turned around and continued back in the direction they had followed coming in Max again in the lead.

Again the twists and turns just made Jack’s head spin but his concern now was to make certain that everyone made it out in one piece and while he had learned more than a little about this shadowy civilian organization called Manticore than he would have liked or even would

be comfortable with; he could not stomach the idea of anyone getting captured by them. “Not on my watch, not if I can help it,” he muttered under his breath and then shoved the thought to a back corner of his mind.

**
It took them a little longer coming out and back above ground then it had coming in mostly because of the precautions that Max took and the fact that on more than a few occasions they had to adjust their pace to Teal”C’s still recovering state.

Sam stepped over to Max and reached out to the other woman. “Thank you. For everything. But we can get Teal’c to somewhere safe.  Maybe that way it will give you time to escape, or least we split their attention from you.”

Max shook her head but looked Sam squarely in the eye. “I know you mean that, but you don’t know this White fellow like I do. He won’t ever give up.”

“There must be something we can do to help them, Colonel!” Sam exclaimed.

“As wrong, misguided and just utterly rotten as the White and what he represents is, Carter,” Jack sighed and trailed off for a few moments. “You know that well, the authorities, or our case the government can’t act without proof.”

“Typical,” Alec glumly remarked. “Get your friend to where he can get the medical attention he needs. We’re done with you guys. We took care of White and his goons before you guys ever appeared on the scene.” He shrugged. “We can do so again.”

“Yeah, maybe. But I wouldn’t want to lay odds on it.”  Jack replied elbowing the younger man. “But for what it’s worth, thanks for the help back there.

It was more Max’s idea then mine, but you’re welcome. Now get out of here before I change my mind.”

Max stepped forward. “Don’t let the devil-may-care attitude fool you, O’Neill, for all of his tough guy act, Alec’s really a big softie at heart.”

“Max!

“Yeah, I get that,” Sam replied. “I got a response for that, uh, 911 call I placed earlier, Sir. They’re on their way.  ETA, half an hour. We best move to another area, where we can see them coming.”

“You think White is still down in the sewers looking for us?” Alec asked.

“Yeah, but that gives us an edge,” Max replied.

“Take care of yourselves,” Jack added.

“Always do,” Max replied. “Now we'd  best get while the getting’s good.”