Gen. Drama, missing scene, hurt/comfort.

PG-13 (mild language)

Epilogue to "Menace"

The aftermath of "Menace" from Janet's point of view.

Spoilers: anything up through "Menace" (and hints very vaguely at "Meridian"); "A Time for Killing" (the first story in the duology; read it first here)

Many thanks to my husband, and especially to Redbyrd, who caught my mistakes and gave me several useful ideas.

Disclaimers:

Stargate SG-1 and its characters belong to Showtime, Gekko, MGM-UA, Glassner/Wright Double Secret Productions, Stargate SG-1 Prod. Ltd. Partnership, and probably other persons or entities whom I've forgotten. No copyright infringement is intended. In fact, this story makes no sense if you haven't seen the show, so I encourage you to watch! And buy all the DVDs! Just like I do! Dialogue and plot (such as they are) are my own.

Oh, and the title belongs to Ecclesiastes, Chapter 3.

". . . and a Time for Healing"

by Aelfgyfu

Janet Frasier examined the injured airman in front of her, trying not to think too much about what some of the wounded, and the people who brought them in, were telling her. The auto-destruct had been set and aborted—some said at the last moment, but that might be exaggeration. Varying numbers of wounded and dead were being tossed around; she hoped they'd have an accurate count in an hour or less. And the robot had been killed—they said one shot to the heart had taken her out, just as it would a real person. Janet found that disturbing. If it looks like a human and talks like a human, is it a human? If it dies like a human. . . .

She pushed back her memory of meeting Reese briefly shortly after the android was activated, or woke up, or whatever one called it. It was better just to concentrate on the patient in front of her. This young man had multiple second-degree burns and some contusions, but nothing warranting surgery. The injuries were painful and would be for some time, but he was on an IV with saline and pain-killers, and he could wait a little while for treatment. She was grateful for that. He barely looked old enough to have enlisted, let alone to have gotten a post here at the SGC.

Janet had just finished with his chart and taken a deep breath when an energetic young nurse jogged up to her. "Colonel O'Neill on the line for you, ma'am," Lt. Coleman said.

Janet hoped it wasn't more casualties. She glanced at the two others waiting for her attention and decided a few moments wouldn't hurt them; she nodded to the nurse to start examining one. "Colonel?" she asked as soon as she had the phone, keeping one eye on her patients.

"Hey, Doc. I know you're busy down there right now," O'Neill started with uncharacteristic hesitance, "but I, uh, wanted to check—is Daniel there?"

Janet frowned. "I haven't seen him, but I'll check. Hold on a moment. You need to talk to him?" She waved the nurse back and leaned against the wall for a moment to grab a moment of rest.

"No! No, Carter said . . . I just want to be sure that. . . ." Janet missed a few words as she covered the mouthpiece and whispered to the nurse to find Doctor Jackson. He departed quickly.

"Why?" Janet asked sharply and straightened up fast as she realized that O'Neill wasn't asking for Daniel's assistance. "He was hurt again?"

"Yeah. His arm, I think, or wrist." There was a slight pause. "He was holding it kinda funny."

Janet glanced at her watch. "And this would have an hour ago or more?" she demanded.

The pause this time was longer. "A little under an hour. Look, it wasn't anything serious, or—"

"Or you'd have brought him in yourself? Or at least asked. . . ?" Janet took a deep breath and tried to keep the accusation out of her voice. Then she remembered O'Neill needling Daniel while she stitched the latter's scalp, and she let him have some of her anger. "He looked like he'd been hurt, and you left him injured, asked no questions, and didn't make sure that anyone saw him to the infirmary?" She didn't add: and now you feel guilty. Good.

"Look, I had to lead the sweep of the base—we need to do more—I didn't even think he was hurt at the time." She let silence convey her disapproval. "But," O'Neill continued after a moment, "I started to think about it, and the more I thought about it, the more I thought maybe. . . . He's not answering his office phone, but I doubt he's doing sweeps, so. . . ."

"Was he acting . . . out of the ordinary?" she demanded. "Should I be rechecking that head injury?" The nurse reappeared in front of Janet and mouthed "radiology" exaggeratedly so that she couldn't miss it. He put on fresh gloves and returned to the patients a few feet away.

"Nooo," the Colonel drew out his answer. "He was acting . . . very Daniel. Look, he was really upset, and I wanted to make sure he didn't go hole up in his office or anything. Do I need to go looking for him?"

Janet relented. "Coleman says he's in radiology. For what, Lieutenant?" She didn't cover the mouthpiece on the phone.

"He's waiting outside radiology, actually." called the nurse over his shoulder. "There're a few casualties ahead of him. It's his wrist or forearm. Left arm," he added, working to cut a tough BDU jacket off a bloodied patient in front of him as he spoke.

"Did he say anything?" Janet asked.

"Said he was okay, others are hurt worse."

Typical, Janet thought. Well, it sounds like the Colonel's right, and he's more or less normal. "Colonel?"

"Yeah, I caught that. Thanks, Janet. I gotta go." The click prevented Janet from saying anything further. She hung up with a little more force than necessary and went back to where she'd left off on triage, burying her anger and her worries about absent men under her concern for present ones.

More than two hours had flown by before Janet had finished sorting her share of the casualties and treating a few of the injured herself. Lt. Coleman appeared at her side as she looked around to make sure she hadn't missed anyone.

"Doctor Jackson has had his wrist set and casted," he told her quietly, "but I thought you might like to examine him before we let him go. I saw from his chart you treated him yesterday for a head injury."

Coleman didn't need to remind her of the phone call. She thanked the lieutenant and let him get some rest; his shift had ended hours ago, as the bags under the lanky man's eyes testified. He'd probably been on his way out when the base was locked down. She'd send him home, but they were keeping the base under lockdown while they completed the sweeps. They couldn't afford any mistakes.

Janet grabbed some tea to keep herself going and went where Coleman had indicated. The regular beds had filled, and Daniel was on a gurney in an otherwise empty hallway, sitting propped against pillows and still in his BDU pants and black t-shirt. He was just staring into space, not trying to leave or get anyone's attention. They'd probably have given him only a local anesthetic for the reduction of the injury, so drugs shouldn't be affecting him. She decided on a business-like approach and flipped open his chart.

"Broken?" she asked unnecessarily. He nodded. She was surprised to see what looked like the tracks of dried tears on his face. For someone who felt so deeply, he cried surprisingly little. She had been quite concerned after the death of his wife, in fact; even hearing that he had already mourned for what seemed like weeks before they got him to her infirmary for real did not dispel all her unease at the time. She gave the fiberglass cast a quick once-over; Daniel raised his eyebrows but didn't ask why she was there, though he must realize she wasn't really doing anything medical.

"Colonel O'Neill called a while ago," she said, setting the chart on the gurney by his leg. "He was worried about you."

Daniel frowned in puzzlement. "Why?" he asked dully.

"Because you were hurt!" Janet answered in exasperation. Why did he think Jack might be worried? Perhaps because his friend had been thrown into a wall and then given himself up to the mercies of deadly machines on a rampage?

"I wasn't hurt badly," Daniel said quietly, looking down at his knees. "I didn't know Jack even noticed my wrist. A lot of others were hurt worse." He turned his head slightly and lifted his gaze to hers but hesitated and licked his lips before asking in a tone of careful neutrality, "How bad were the casualties?"

Janet took a long sip. She was surprised that no one had told him, but perhaps he hadn't asked before, especially with everyone rushing around. "One SF died." She watched his reaction closely. Daniel's jaw tightened, but he didn't look away. "It looks like just over a dozen men and women injured. Two needed surgery; we're waiting to see on one. Several have second-degree burns from that acid those things spray. At least one has serious eye injuries." She forced a small smile and added, "And over the next couple of days a few Marines will dribble in with injuries they thought weren't bad enough to warrant attention but that won't get better on their own."

Daniel let out a breath that was probably meant to be a chuckle. "And Jack thought I'd pull a Marine and not come in?"

"He said you were upset." Janet sipped her tea again, glad of a small distraction.

"He killed her right in front of me!" Janet sloshed a little tea on her hand at Daniel's sudden outburst. "I promised her—I promised that she'd be safe, we'd just put her to sleep, I would wake her back up. I promised," he repeated. "And the moment Jack got in the room, did he ask me where things stood? He didn't give me a second! He didn't even give me time to step out of the way!" Janet wiped her hand unobtrusively on her lab coat. Daniel loosed another hollow laugh, this one just audible. "If I'd been a few inches farther over, he'd have had to shoot through me to get to her."

Janet glared silently until Daniel dropped his gaze, flushing slightly. "Sorry," he muttered softly. "That's not fair. I know. And . . . I didn't know the self-destruct had been activated—the alarms didn't sound 'cause they'd isolated it. Ferretti told me after. . . ."

"He's worried about you," Janet reiterated, leaning against the edge of the bed.

Confusion played across Daniel's face for a moment. "Ferretti? Oh, Jack." She made a mental note to check his head again. "Look, Janet, I know other people need help more than I do," Daniel finally said. "In fact, you probably need this bed." He sat up all the way, away from the pillows, pushing up with his right arm.

"Trying to get rid of me? It's a gurney, and we've got all the wounded taken care of for the moment, except for the one still in surgery right now. With just a broken wrist, you must have been about the last in line for treatment." Daniel's glance darted from side to side but returned to her this time. "Look, I'm worried too."

"Why? The medic said it was a clean break, and it's all set now. I've had worse."

Janet preferred physical ailments. Psych was not her strong point. But she was more concerned now about Daniel's state of mind—and Colonel O'Neill's—than about a Colle's fracture.

Daniel noticed her lack of response. "You're worried because Jack is worried? Why would he even bother to worry about me?" The disbelief in his voice was clear. "Last I knew, he was really pissed at me."

"And why would that be?" Janet sighed.

Daniel smiled briefly before wincing slightly. "Well, maybe because about the last thing I said to him was, 'You stupid son of a bitch.'" He looked back down at his knees.

Janet snickered involuntarily. "I'm sure he's heard worse." She didn't miss the look of surprise on Daniel's face as he looked at her again. "Probably even from you."

"That's a tough one," Daniel said seriously despite her attempt to lighten the mood. He looked at his right hand, turning it over to examine his palm. "I once told him, 'You can be arrogant and condescending, and that's on a good day.'" He bent his index finger towards his palm. "I've said a few other rude things, but not all in languages he knows." He bent in the other fingers one at a time. "No, I think 'you stupid son of a bitch' still has all those beat." He began to run the index finger of his right hand around the edge of the cast.

"Colonel O'Neill does not get worked up about what people call him," Janet pointed out, automatically reaching out to stop his finger.

"Well. . . . " Daniel conceded, pulling back from contact with her but continuing to speak, slowly and quietly. "I mean, partly it was that I said that right after he killed Reese—he thought he'd saved my life. I know he thought I should be . . . relieved. Grateful. But she wasn't going to kill me! She said she didn't want me to die. The last thing she did as she was dying was to shut them all down!" Daniel pushed up his glasses and rubbed his eyes with his right hand. "For . . . me," he added in wonder. He leaned back against the pillows a little.

"Did Colonel O'Neill know that?" Janet asked in surprise.

"No." He looked out from under his hand, letting his glasses fall back into place and rubbing his forehead a little as he continued, "I told him she'd been shutting them down, but he doesn't believe me, I think." Daniel raised his right knee and leaned forward onto it, rocking very slightly as he went on, "It's not really lack of gratitude that has him pissed anyway. I mean, someone died! Two, maybe three, need surgery? Other injuries, maybe permanent disabilities. . . ."

Daniel waved his right hand and squeezed his eyes shut. "I wanted to bring her back. I wanted to turn her on. I wanted to. . . ." Daniel banged his uninjured fist into the wall, making Janet jump again. "I was the one who talked to her, and—"

She grabbed his right hand and refused to release it; though Daniel tried to pull back, he did not try hard, and she held him still and kept her eyes on him. "As I recall, Sam wanted to bring her back and turn her on even more than you did," she said sharply. "And you did nothing wrong! She was a machine, Daniel, and she. . . ." Janet had more to say, but she stopped and flinched at the look of shock and horror that appeared on Daniel's face. She should have anticipated that. She knew he didn't consider her a machine.

"She was a person! Just a little girl, emotionally! You must have seen that!" he appealed to her.

"She certainly had child-like qualities," Janet hedged, letting his hand go when she was sure he wouldn't hurt himself further.

"She was like a little kid! They don't understand consequences; they lie, they misbehave, they have tantrums. But they do love, and they expect us to love them all the same! And we have to!"

"And you did," Janet said in a low tone as she realized fully why Daniel had been crying. She sipped some more tea to cover her surprise. She knew he was fond of the android, but she thought he wanted her knowledge of the past. Daniel had talked about what Reese might know, how she might help them defeat the Replicators. But first and foremost, Reese was to him an abandoned child in need of love . . . as badly as Cassie had once been. Janet had been swayed by Sam's talk of the android as a machine enough that she hadn't seen it. But Daniel's gentle tone with the robot should have reminded her of how he spoke to Cassie when she was first trying to fit in on Earth and get used to a new mother.

"She just wanted friends! She said she'd never had one! She liked me. She let me into the Gateroom; the Replicators parted like the damned Red Sea to let me through, to her! She had lost everyone. She had a father, even if he wasn't biologically her father. Did you see the first thing she made? Before she made the Replicators, she showed me a figure she'd made of a larger person holding a smaller one—a father with his child."

Janet's hand went to her mouth as she remembered her patient's past as both an orphan and a widower. Daniel's eyes were still pleading for understanding. He must be exhausted, or desperate, to speak so openly with her. Janet hadn't seen, or even heard about, the figurine. But she remembered another child, whom Daniel had delivered though the boy's father was his worst enemy. Daniel loved that boy. Giving Shifu up to Oma Desala the first time had been hard, but surely he had hoped to play a role in his life when the boy was older and needed more human interaction. Discovering that Shifu seemed to get all he needed in a few hours with Daniel, most of which the latter spent living his worst nightmare, had been a severe blow.

Janet looked away, at the far wall, though it wasn't far enough. At times like these, she felt the weight of the mountain and the smallness of the space inside. She wished she knew what to say.

After a long silence, Daniel spoke again, wrapping his right arm around his knee. "Why couldn't you see? She was scared; she was crying." There was no blame now, just pain and exhaustion in his voice. "Jack insisted she was a machine," he said, now in a monotone. "And everybody . . . just went along with that."

Recovering, Janet tried to make up for her earlier failure of empathy. "Daniel, I'm so sorry that she died. You know . . . I might not have seen her as you did, but I never wanted. . . ." Her life was devoted to saving lives, not killing. Even if she hadn't seen Reese as Daniel did at first, she could now—now that it was too late.

"I know," Daniel said, closing his eyes.

"But if she had lived, how many more might have died? Or been killed? If her dying act was to shut down the Replicators—well, did she do it because it was the very last thing she could do?"

Daniel's eyes opened again; his eyebrows went up for a moment, then furrowed. He considered Janet's question but didn't answer it.

She continued, "You were looking out for her, and you did the best job, the very best job, you could. But Colonel O'Neill had to look out for you, and for everyone else on this base."

Daniel nodded at the truth of her words. "I know. Jack, Jack said as much, and I even kind of . . . agreed. But . . . she's dead. . . ."

"And you need to mourn her." Janet blurted out as she realized it herself.

The guilt and hurt dropped away for a moment, replaced by an open-eyed look of surprise. Then Daniel frowned again and nodded slowly. "But I failed. I needed—I needed to reach her better, sooner, so it never came to this. Before anyone died—"

"It's not your fault," Janet insisted. "I saw you with her, remember. You were amazing. You got her to open up to you." The more Janet recalled, the more she could see Reese as the child Daniel saw.

"For all the good it did," Daniel said in exasperation. "I opened her up to hurt and betrayal—and death. I betrayed her, for God's sake; I told her I'd protect her." He shook his head. "Jack would say I should have known better." Janet tried to respond, but he waved a hand to cut her off. "And he'd be right."

Janet wasn't sure what the right answer was here, but she didn't think that was it. "You tried to shut her down. She might have survived; it would have been the best thing for her. Maybe afterwards. . . ."

"Yeah." Daniel smiled bitterly. "I tried to trick her into letting me closer to shut her down. That's how I earned this." He lifted the cast and let it drop gently back onto his left leg, wincing slightly. "If I'd been honest, maybe I could have persuaded her sooner—if she'd shut the Replicators down and gone to sleep before Jack got into the room, he wouldn't have shot her." He started to toy with the edge of the cast again. "I've had some time to think about how I screwed up." He shook his head again. "But while I talked to her, I started to believe myself, that I could protect her. I betrayed her when I tried to turn her off, and I betrayed her when I didn't protect her."

Janet shook her head. "You did not betray her," she said forcefully, grabbing his right hand once more and clasping it. "You're right: she was a child. And sometimes we do lie to children to make them do what they need to do. We tell them that injections and tests won't hurt when we know they do. We tell them that if they ever play with the power tools we'll know and they'll spend the rest of their lives in their room, because telling them the power tools are dangerous makes no impression. We tell them that of course Mr. Smith doesn't really dislike them, even though Smith is a bitter old goat who hates everyone."

Daniel's mouth had fallen open and he gaped unselfconsciously. He'd stopped trying to pull back from her. Janet's heart ached. Daniel would be a wonderful father, if only he could someday have a chance! But he would have a lot to learn about parenting.

"So yes, you lied to her. What parent doesn't?" Oh, God, she couldn't believe she'd said that out loud. Daniel shut his eyes again. She rushed on, hoping to distract him; that wasn't just a tactic reserved for children. "But you also opened her up to love, again, and to . . . to curiosity, to wanting to learn. Given time, maybe she could have learned to . . . do better. To be better. Not to hurt. It's not your fault she didn't have that time."

Janet changed her approach to try to get a positive answer out of Daniel. "Do you regret spending your time with her? Talking with her?"

He opened his eyes, though he didn't look at her right away. "No. At least someone got to know her, a little bit. But if I'd reached her faster. . . . Or if I'd convinced Jack and Sam so that Reese felt she had other friends—"

"You couldn't. It's Sam's job to see her as a machine, to figure out how the machine works. And it's Colonel O'Neill's job to see her as a threat, to protect others."

"Well, I knew she could hurt. But I could still see her as a child! Why couldn't Jack?" He kept coming back to that, naturally. His inability to reach his best friend could only add to his guilt and frustration. "Cassie came here with a bomb inside her, for God's sake! Rya'c had been brainwashed and had bio-weapons that he was going to activate himself! Jack didn't—he confined them, but he'd never . . . !" Daniel couldn't even complete the thought.

He took a breath, and something between a laugh and a sigh escaped his lips. "And it's not just bombs. Kasuf told me stories of Skaara and Sha're as kids. He thought Sha're and I . . . he said he had some fatherly advice I needed to know: children come into this world with two missions in life: to destroy themselves, and to destroy your things."

More to herself than to her patient, Janet started, "Oh, but Jack knows better than any of us—" just as Daniel continued his thought, "And Jack was a parent, so. . . ." She caught Daniel's eyes the moment before both of them looked away as the memory of Charlie hit them; neither had ever met the real boy, but they knew what he meant to Jack.

Daniel reclaimed his hand and pressed himself back into the pillows, almost lying down. His face betrayed more guilt and grief than Janet could remember him showing in years. "Oh, God. How could I be so stupid! He could only see her as a threat, because that's his job, to identify threats. And if he saw her as a girl too. . . . He had to insist she was a machine, nothing more, and I kept shoving in his face that she was a child. Even after he'd done it, after she was dead."

Janet didn't know what to say to that. She drank her tea to excuse her silence.

"No wonder's he's pissed," Daniel added eventually, lifting his head a little to watch Janet's reaction. "Did you see him with Rya'c when we 'rescued' him from Apophis? Teal'c was really pissed. Jack wouldn't trust Rya'c, and Teal'c was furious—until you found the fake teeth with the viruses inside."

Janet nodded. Daniel sighed slightly. "That's why he's been like that from the start, isn't it? He hates stuff involving kids, especially if they might pose a threat. I mean, he doesn't really want to shove me through a wall most of the time, does he?" Daniel tried to smile but couldn't quite manage it.

Janet, however, could manage an honest smile. "Maybe once in a very long while," she said. She took one last mouthful of her drink. "I couldn't believe he said that either. But you're right: now it makes sense."

"Great." Daniel's voice sounded rough, almost raw now. "I can talk to Unas, I can forge a deal between the Enkarans and the Gadmeer, I can achieve some kind of understanding with the chief Replicator, for God's sake, and I can't reach my own—team." Janet was startled—no, disappointed—by his sudden change in direction; she had expected him to say "friend" or "friends."

"We've all had a long day," she consoled him. "We've all . . . we've all said things we regret." Unable to think of much else, and certain Daniel must be exhausted, she stood up and put her professional face back on. Leaving the empty cup on the gurney for a moment, she ordered, "Let me check your head again, and if you're doing all right, I won't make you stay in the infirmary as long as promise to you go straight to bed."

"Yes," Daniel muttered, "I think I definitely need my head examined."

Janet checked the stitches and then Daniel's pupils and asked a few questions. She insisted he use the sling an orderly had given him. She felt a little better, immersed in these ordinary activities, and she hoped Daniel did too; she was pretty sure he was done talking for now. She pulled his boots from the little shelf under the gurney and said, "Colonel O'Neill has enough mourning on his plate. And it's not as if you don't have enough on yours," she added hastily as Daniel took the boots from her with wide eyes. "What I'm trying to say is—she was unique, and she was alive, and you cared for her. It's okay to mourn, even if others can't or don't."

Daniel nodded and looked like he might say something, but he ended up only pulling his boots onto his feet awkwardly, and with her help, in the end.

"And I'll—I'll mourn her with you. Because I can feel what she meant to you, even if I didn't get to know her as well as you did."

Daniel had grabbed the laces in his right hand, but he let them drop. "Thank you," he said. Janet did his laces quickly and helped him off the gurney.

Eventually, of course, the other boot dropped. Janet had just finished seeing a pair of late-arriving walking wounded when Jack O'Neill walked into the infirmary. He looked tired and sweaty, his hair greasy and disheveled.

"He's not here," said Janet without asking. "I sent him to get some rest. And maybe this time he even went to do it."

"Good," O'Neill said uncertainly. He shifted his weight from one foot to another.

"Something else I can help you with, Colonel?" There had damned well better be. She wasn't going to volunteer information, because if he didn't ask about Daniel's condition, she was going to have to tell Hammond there was a serious problem with his lead team.

"Well, how is he?" Jack asked impatiently.

"If I know Daniel, he's not asleep yet. Ask him yourself," she said with a little bitterness as she thought of his earlier treatment of his friend and teammate.

"Oh, I don't think he wants to see me." Anger underlaid his voice; if she hadn't known him well, Janet might have missed it. She just wasn't sure if it was directed at Daniel or back at himself.

"You think he's mad at you? Funny, that's what he said about you."

"That I'm mad at me?" O'Neill's quick comeback misfired, the smile leaving his face before it really took hold. It was true. "Uh. . . ."

"He said you were mad at him," Janet said with more patience than she felt.

"Hey, he insulted me."

"I know that. I also know that before it became a crisis, you told him that most of the time you feel like pushing him through a wall, and you didn't have the excuse of a split scalp or a broken wrist!"

That brought O'Neill up short. "I didn't say that!" He scowled. "Did I?"

"While I was stitching up his head," Janet said with extra emphasis. She glanced around at the sleeping men and one woman. "Let's take this into my office."

"Hey, there's nothing to take anywhere. Just tell me he's okay, and I'm gone." Jack gave a forced smile. "He is okay, right? You wouldn't have let him leave the infirmary if he wasn't. I mean, I know he can whine. . . ."

Janet stepped past the colonel while keeping her eyes on him and beckoned for him to come. She felt her own jaw tightening as the man trailed off. "Doctor Jackson waited a couple of hours with a broken wrist. They probably gave him minimal pain relief when they set it. I didn't hear any whining."

"That's not what I—I meant he wouldn't want to stay in the infirmary." They stopped at Janet's office door. Janet held her arm out, directing the colonel through first. She wasn't giving him a chance to back out of it.

He sat down heavily in a chair. "So is there something wrong, that we have to talk here?"

"Daniel has a simple fracture of the wrist," Janet said, sitting in a chair next to him rather than the one behind her desk. "It's one of the most common fractures we see. It should heal fine in less than six weeks, assuming we can get him into some physical therapy for it, though we'll need to keep checking it weekly. He shows no aftereffects from the head injury other than a sore scalp. He'll have a small scar, but his hair will hide it."

"Cassie said she didn't recognize him with hair." When Janet gaped, Jack explained, "When we went to the future. She might have been messing with him, though. It doesn't seem to be receding or anything. He probably won't even go gray for years." He tugged on his own hair, trying to pull the short strands in front of his eyes so that he could look at them.

Janet found herself still staring at him. Was this exhaustion talking, or avoidance? Colonel O'Neill did have a well-known tendency to digress.

"I suppose if future Cassie saw him, then he's gotta be around long enough to make me start losing my hair. Right? But she didn't mention me going bald, so maybe it just stays gray." Janet frowned. Had she lost the thread of this conversation, or had he?

"So the upshot is, Daniel's fine, right? But no missions for the next six weeks." He gave an exasperated sigh and stretched his legs out.

"Is that all you care about?" Janet moved behind her desk in a contained fury. "Here, let me put a Post-It on Daniel's chart: let Colonel O'Neill know as soon as he can return to active field duty!" She started plowing through the files on her desk, though Daniel's probably wouldn't even be there yet. Her usually rock-steady hands shook slightly from anger and exhaustion.

A hand caught hers as she continued to rake through the folders on her desk. "Of course that's not all I care about!" O'Neill shouted, much to her relief. He pulled his hand away. "I just—look, I came here asking for you to tell me about Daniel, and all you want to tell me is medical stuff, so I . . . I don't know, I thought I'd say something . . . professional. Sounding." He smirked. Both hands disappeared into his pockets. "Professional-sounding. Guess I did it too well."

"Daniel thinks you're pissed at him—his word, not mine. And you're not doing anything to dispel that impression. You're obviously here as his team leader, so why should I tell you anything beyond that?" When O'Neill didn't respond, she added, "If you're here as anything more than his team leader, why don't you go talk to him?"

"I already told you," he answered deliberately, and more coldly than she expected, "he doesn't want to see me. I killed that thing, that he thinks of as Little Girl Lost, right in front of him. Do you really think he wants to see me tonight? Or tomorrow? And he wants me to be sorry, but I'm just relieved it wasn't worse! He says he was talking her out of it, but time was up." His eyes and face were hard, but there pain, and maybe doubt, in his voice. He held her gaze. "Maybe if I wait a while, he can look at me without thinking, 'There's that child murderer.'"

Janet dropped into her chair. That certainly wasn't what she expected him to say; she'd been hoping that he still thought of Reese as only a machine. Was he saying he felt no remorse to convince himself, or her? "Daniel doesn't think that. You should know he doesn't think that."

"He said as much to me! He called me—"

"Stupid son of a bitch?"

Jack was clearly surprised. "He told you?"

"He regrets it."

"He said so?"

"Not in so many words. But he—" Janet slapped a file folder dismissively. Daniel hadn't opened up to her for her to pass it all on to Colonel O'Neill. "And that's hardly the same as . . . child killer. Did you know that Daniel promised her safety? That he personally guaranteed it?"

Jack's shoulders tightened. "I . . . didn't. Of course he would. He meant to keep her alive." Jack sat down again too. "He tried really hard. And I killed her. Right in front of him." He wiped a hand over his face. "God, I'm tired. I'm repeating myself."

"I think, Colonel," Janet said quietly, "that Daniel does know why you did it, and . . . that you didn't do it lightly." She added, "You need to talk to him. Tomorrow, when you've both rested."

"Moving in on MacKenzie's territory?" Jack asked with another smirk.

"Don't mess with me, mister," she said tiredly, pushing some loose hairs back more or less where she wanted them to go with one hand. "I was supposed to get off shift"—she checked her watch—"oh, about one shift ago. I'm not talking as your doctor. I'm talking as your friend. And I think the two of you need to talk as friends." Jack's smirk was gone, but now he had a poker face. "Surely you're still friends?"

The surprise and confusion that flickered over his features that she even asked came as a relief to her. She raised a hand as he opened his mouth; she didn't need to hear his answer now. "We lost a man today. A number of men and women needed treatment; one or two may never fully recover. For God's sake, sir—Jack—we could all have died today. And Daniel was closest to danger of any of us. He went into a room full of Replicators and was close enough for Reese to break his wrist! She could have broken his neck!"

Jack scowled again. "And he wonders why I'm mad at him?"

"Oh, no, Colonel," Janet answered with just a touch of sarcasm. "He doesn't wonder. He thinks you're mad at him for bringing the android to base, for letting it do the harm it did, for making promises he couldn't keep, for leaving you in a situation where you had to shoot her, and, last and surely least, for insulting you because he couldn't keep promises he shouldn't have made." Janet took a deep breath and allowed herself to relax a little. "I think that about covers it."

Jack shook his head and smiled a little. "Figures." He shook his head again. "Any point even trying to tell him where he's wrong?"

"Probably not. But don't avoid him because of it. He's hurting. Don't . . . don't let it fester. Don't argue with him. Don't let him argue with you." That brought another slight smile from the Colonel. "He's mourning, Jack. Let him mourn. And then, when he's tired and frustrated with himself, and with the cast . . . it sounds trite, sir, but be there for him. SG-1 has been together longer than any other team on base, longer than any team I've ever known, and that's not just because you work well together. We had a tragedy here today. Don't let it destroy any more than it already has."

Jack nodded. He sat in the chair a moment longer before standing up in silence and going to the door. "Get some sleep, Doc," he said without turning around as he left.

Janet hadn't gotten very much of that sleep before she needed to check on patients again. Then she barely had time to complete her rounds before she was summoned. The general was insistent: he wanted a status report from everyone. She got out of the elevator to find herself behind Daniel, uncharacteristically dragging his feet. He had some papers clutched in his right hand, but she was glad to see his left arm properly positioned in the sling.

"Oh, hi, Janet," he said, turning as he heard her quick steps behind him. "You got dragged out of the infirmary for this?"

She nodded to him. "Well, it beats hearing Marines moan about how tough they are and how they don't need to be in the infirmary." He smiled a little. "How are you this morning?"

"Um, actually, I think it's afternoon."

Janet checked her watch. He was right. It was 1:00. But he had dodged her question. "Time flies when you're having fun," she sighed as they reached the briefing room. She stepped in front of him quickly to open the door for him. He smiled and stepped through, but then he caught the door awkwardly with his left elbow, pushing against the sling, to hold it for her. That door would stay open on its own, but he smiled tiredly again, and she took it as a small thanks for her concern for him.

"Glad you could join us, doctors," said General Hammond, who was already in his place at the head of the table. Everyone else seemed to be there already, though some personnel were still getting notes in order, and one was just sitting down with coffee. Daniel's usual seat had been left empty. He dropped the papers he was carrying onto the table to free his hand to push back his chair before anyone could help him with it, though the General and Sam both moved to do so.

Janet walked farther down the table, sitting in the seat at the far end opposite the general, and looked around at the gathered personnel, especially Jack O'Neill, who looked like he had showered but not slept. He was fidgeting with a pen. That was the worst thing about meetings involving SG-1: virtually non-stop fidgeting from both sides of the table. Pens, bits of paper, coffee cups and mugs. . . . Daniel didn't have his usual coffee, probably because he couldn't carry it with those papers.

The General cleared his throat and everyone stopped shuffling files and notes. Some of the others looked like they hadn't slept either, and the man on Janet's left had definitely not showered. O'Neill continued to twirl his pen. Janet once asked Sam if she'd ever snatched anything from her teammates when they did things like that. Sam just giggled and wouldn't answer.

"I thought it would be useful to take a few minutes from clean-up to catch everyone up on where things stand," the General said. "Colonel O'Neill, tell us about the sweeps."

The Colonel dropped his pen and quickly grabbed it. "We've searched the base twice since the last sweep on which we found any Replicator parts, which makes it"—he wrinkled his forehead and looked at the ceiling for a moment—"five sweeps total, I think. There were no energy readings to guide us, so it had to be done manually. All available personnel have been pulled for it."

"So you're confident there are no pieces unaccounted for, and we can end the lockdown?"

"Actually, sir, I think we need to do more work on the conduits, checking all the walls, maybe even opening up equipment. I'm sure Siler will have something to say about that." He tossed the sergeant a half-hearted grin.

"And Colonel, I know we'll all be doing detailed reports over the next few days, but I wondered if you could tell us at this point: how close were the Replicators to escaping this base?"

Daniel's head jerked up from his notes. He lowered his head again a little and looked at the General and then at O'Neill through the tops of his glasses.

"In my judgment, sir, the Replicators were making no attempt to leave the base." Jack lifted his gaze from the table and looked at Hammond, whose eyebrows had gone up. "I was surprised too, sir. I'd have thought that would be a priority for them. But they were concentrated on the lowest levels, mostly around the Gateroom itself. They seem to have been focused on defending the android and getting to the Gate themselves."

"So you're saying Earth was not a target?"

"Despite her curiosity—" Daniel butted in and then bit his lip and dropped his gaze to the table again.

O'Neill glanced at Daniel before turning back to Hammond. "No, sir. Despite the robot's interest in Earth, they seem to have decided to abandon it. They had gotten into shafts—but none of them were moving up. They could have climbed elevator shafts, or emergency shafts, or just taken the stairs, but none of them seemed to be going up." He drew a deep breath. "They did, however, show some signs of strategy. They were heavily concentrated around the Armory. And a number of them tried to break into the room with the auto-destruct, as you know."

Some hadn't known. Janet heard a gasp that might have come from Daniel. He frowned deeply, clearly considering whether to speak or not. As the silence continued, Daniel asked tentatively, "But they were starting to act . . . independently, you said?" He was still hunched over the table, but he was looking at Jack.

Jack waved his hands and let them fall back on the table. "Carter?"

His second glanced at notes she had spread out neatly in front of her. "We didn't see enough of their behavior, and we're trying to reconstruct it from the locations of individual pieces. The android brought all the cameras down, so we have no record of a lot, especially at the end. We can't tell with certainty whether she was directing all of them or some were showing their own initiative." Sam's answers started out crisp and clear, though she too looked very tired. But then she faltered. "At the self-destruct—I was sure that one that stopped and then came in again had gone independent."

She looked to the General, and he nodded. "I agreed with your assessment at the time, Major. But you're not certain now?"

"No, I'm not . . . anymore." Daniel sat stock still, looking at Sam a little sideways, not quite directly.

"You said—" O'Neill's voice was unemotional, but his lips had tightened.

"I know what I said, sir," Sam answered, cutting off her superior in the nervousness she was trying so hard to keep under control. "But I can't find any other evidence. Now that I've heard a little about what happened outside the one room where the General and I. . . . I don't know if that one did act on its own, or if its hesitation was a reflection of . . . her confusion or indecision in the Gateroom. We'd lost contact with the Gateroom several minutes earlier. We had no way of knowing what was happening there. The last I saw, Daniel was . . . down. . . ."

"And you had to assume the worst," O'Neill supplied, nodding slowly. "You couldn't know that Daniel got back up and was talking to her again." He nodded towards the archaeologist.

Janet couldn't help but think that Daniel seemed to have won his point too late: Reese was no longer an "it" to Jack and Sam.

"From what I've heard so far, no other Replicators are known to have hesitated," Sam continued. "Of course, things may look different when we got complete reports. Bottom line, sirs: I just don't know either way." Sam bowed her head, obviously aware of how tense her teammates were even if she hadn't spoken with them much.

Janet considered Sam a close friend, and usually she was the first on the team really to talk to Janet after a rough mission. Janet felt both relief that Sam hadn't come to her yet, since dealing with just half of SG-1 had been so draining, and guilt at feeling so relieved.

The General ended the short silence. "Of course, reports must be completed and reviews conducted. And I'm sure my own decisions will be reviewed. But it seems to me at this point, people"— the General looked around the table, making eye contact with each person in turn—"that everyone did good work, given the very limited information each of us had during the crisis."

Daniel's head snapped from Sam to the general and then back to his contemplation of his notes or the table. Janet fought the urge to tell him she'd better not be treating him for whiplash next.

"You're heads of various key areas at the SGC, and I want you each to pass on to your people that I am confident we have done well so far, considering the circumstances, and that we will soon be back to normal operations."

Several people relaxed a little, leaning back in their chairs, including Sam. Her teammates were very still.

"Sir, if I may?" Daniel asked very quietly. "Why was the auto-destruct set at all, if there were no signs that the Replicators were trying to leave the base?"

"Of course, Doctor Jackson," said Hammond. He spoke even more slowly than usual. "Major Carter and I were monitoring events in the Gateroom. We saw you attempt to deactivate the android, and then you were on the ground. We knew you weren't dead when the cameras went out, but the last thing she said before they went off was 'You lied, and lying is bad.' Or something like that. Major?"

"Yes, Sir," Sam confirmed quickly.

"We notified Colonel O'Neill that you were down and activated the self-destruct. Without the cameras, we couldn't tell