CHAPTER 2

LA California

This was the year when everything became so…complicated. Chuck Bartowski had been a lowly Nerd-Herder, a lonely Nerd-Herder with but two friends in all the wide world. One was his sister, Ellie Bartowski, a doctor, and Significant Other of the Awesome Captain Awesome. The other was Morgan Grimes, fellow Gamer, and all-around best friend. But not even Ellie and Morgan could help Chuck with what another so-called friend had done to him.

Bryce Larkin; some friend he was. Stole my girlfriend, got me kicked out of Stanford, downloaded all the government's secrets into my brain…

And the complications just kept on coming. Fulcrum wanted him-either to claim the secrets in his brain, or to kill him-Chuck wasn't sure which would be worse, and he certainly didn't want to find out.

Even so, it wasn'tall bad. He had made some new friends…

Sarah Walker…

She was a friend; perhaps she was more than that. Maybe, just maybe, she was the woman of his dreams.

If they could get through the fact she was a CIA agent, sent in to protect him…

His other new friend had been sent by the NSA. Major John Casey, one of the hardest men alive, now reduced to selling DVDs, Toasters, and grills-he had a real flair for selling the Beast master Model, btw-all as a cover for his role in protecting the Intersect.

Sarah was accepting of Chuck's very real drawbacks in the spy career. He hadn't asked for this, hadn't wanted the drama, or the excitement; and Walker understood that. She was gentle with him…

There was no gentleness in John Casey; none whatsoever…

Casey was a one-man killing machine, and his opinion of Chuck, of his relationship with Sarah, was painfully clear. For a while, Chuck had actually wondered if Casey had a soul.

Well…Ilsa's appearance had changed all that. Chuck had seen Casey in love, in despair, drunk, and listening to Neil Diamond, of all things.

So, maybe Casey had a soul after all…

But, he still sneered at his charge at every opportunity, and there were plenty of those because Chuck wasn't a one-man killing machine.

So, he had John Casey to keep him…humble in his new-found role of Intersect, and all-around keeper of dangerous Intel…

But he also had Sarah Walker; and-despite all the Secret Agent stuff going on all around them, all the acting-the connection between them was real…

In fact, there she was, entering the Buy More, wearing her Weinerlicious uniform, bringing lunch for the Intersect, and his NSA protector.

Chuck watched her approach, feeling this funny mix of emotions-part amusement, part pride-as Jeff, Lester, and all the others, looked from Sarah Walker, back to Chuck; the geek who made good…

Morgan Grimes, in particular, looked proud that a Nerd-Herder had not only aspired to such heights, but not been shot down. Of course, Morgan Grimes didn't know why Sarah Walker had come into Chuck's life. That was the one thing he could never know…

What they don't know can't kill them. I hope…

Of course, Ellie Bartowski had almost died because of what she didn't know, and Chuck knew, by now, that there was no such thing as true safety for the Intersect's friends. But Walker and Casey did their level best to keep everyone safe.

"Hey, Chuck," Sarah walked up to him, smiling brightly. "Hungry?'

"You bet," ever the courteous gentleman, Chuck lifted the large bag from her hands, offering his arm as they strolled into the Theater Room.

"About time you showed up, Walker," John Casey growled at the pair. "I'm starving!"

"Okay," Chuck opened the bag of Weinerlicious goodies, took out two Wieners With the Works, and a large, black coffee. "Gotta feed the beast. Here. Happy now?"

The NSA agent grunted something that might have been thanks, then headed away with his lunch, giving Sarah and Chuck some privacy.

Chuck ate quietly, unable to take his eyes off the CIA agent. She was so beautiful; way out of his league. Of course, the relationship had started as a cover for Walker, a way for her to stay close to the Intersect. But, as with everything else in Chuck's life lately, there had been complications…

He had fallen in love with her; and-even more amazing-she had fallen in love with him; even though Chuck was quite certain this was breaking all the rules in the CIA agent's handbook of rules and guidelines…

So, now, here they both were, eating their hot dogs, and gazing lovingly into each other's eyes.

"I'm gonna be sick," John Casey announced. "You two are getting all…sappy…"

"Still jealous…"Chuck sent a brilliant grin in Casey's direction. "…Sugar Bear?"

Chuck heard Sarah'ssnerk, as she tried-unsuccessfully-to convert her laughter into a cough. Casey, for his part, growled once more-#3, with addedthreat of dire physical harm-then left the room.

Chuck and Sarah looked at each other, then burst out laughing.

"You really shouldn't needle Casey like that," Sarah wiped her eyes.

"I know," Chuck agreed. "But, he makes such an inviting target sometimes. Don't worry; he'll make me regret every last word before the day is done. Remember; we're car-pooling."

"Ah…" Sarah's eyes held a glint of amusement. "Poor you…"

Colorado Springs

General Jack O'Neill wasn't in a very good mood right now. Something had entered the Solar System a short while ago, under an impenetrable Cloaking Shield; and was coyly keeping itself hidden from all and sundry.

O'Neill's favorite team-SG-1-was away, too, out on a mission involving delicate diplomatic negotiations, so they couldn't be pulled out for this.

There was a knock on the door…

"Come in!" his voice sounded snappish even to his own ears.

The door opened, and Colonel Dave Dixon stood inside the doorway.

"Sir," he saluted easily. "They said you needed me?"

"Yeah…Come in, Dave. We have ourselves a bit of a situation."

"I heard," Dixon took a seat, stretching his long legs. "Any news about our shy friend?"

"Not Tok'ra, or Asgard," O'Neill scratched the back of his neck. "Could be Go'uald, or…"

O'Neill's voice trailed off.

"Or something new?" Dixon tilted his head.

"Dear lord, I hope not," there was a fervent tone in O'Neill's voice. "There are too many players in this game already. I'm beginning to lose track."

"So, one more will make a difference…how?"

"Shut up, Dave. I've cancelled SG-15's missions for the duration. I'll need you guys here, until we determine exactly who, or what, our shy visitor is."

"What are you thinking it could be, sir?"

"I don't know!" O'Neill stood, began to pace. "Invading hordes, plagues of locusts, Replicators, Apophis; it could be anything, and I don't want us to get caught with our pants down."

"Yes, sir," Dixon stood up. "SG-15 is here for you."

LA

John Casey heaved a sigh of relief. Another day at the Buy More over and done with; another day of dealing with clueless morons and idiots, over and done with.

If I have to talk to one more pimple-faced kid…

He shook himself back into wakefulness. His shift at the Buy More was done. But his work day was far from over. Now, it was time to see the Intersect safely home; and that meant car-pooling with the geek, and his best friend, Morgan Grimes. He shuddered at the thought of being exposed to yet more Gaming inanity.

Morrowind…World of Warcraft…Eve Online…Guild Wars…

I wish I had my Crown Vic. If only Bartowski…

Well…no. That was being unfair. If not for the Intersect's quick actions that day, all three members of Team Chuck would've been very dead. It still rankled, though. That Crown Vic had been Casey's Dream Car, and the geek had killed it…

Casey had wanted to hate him for that; but Chuck wasn't an easy man to hate…

Chuck Bartowski was…nice…

Bartowski was unschooled in the ways of hiding his emotions; his face, and body were an open book for anyone to read; and he had this freely trusting nature that the NSA agent was utterly unused to dealing with.

In the course of almost twenty years with the NSA, John Casey had been exposed to all the sordid viciousness humanity was capable of; prostitution, drugs, murder, terrorism, and counter-terrorism. Those, John Casey knew how to deal with; usually succinctly, with a bullet between the eyes of whatever villain he happened to be facing at the time.

But Chuck Bartowski was a good and decent man; just like all the countless millions Casey had taken Oath to protect and defend; to die for, if necessary…

He was also the Intersect; the man Casey had been ordered to protect. The man he would be ordered to kill when the Beta Intersect came online…

And that was something that bothered John Casey far more than he would ever admit, to anyone. Just what would he do if he actually got the order to kill Bartowski? Now, that was a question Casey didn't want to answer…

There the geek was, ambling along with Sarah Walker, one arm around Walker's shoulder, and Casey felt a brief stab of…well…yes…jealousy.

Bartowski had Walker, and Walker had Bartowski.

And I have…what…the NSA?

He shook himself again. Now was not a good time to indulge in self-pity.

Then, Casey's instincts, honed by twenty years in the NSA, went into high gear. Something was…off…about the people in the parking lot. His eyes scanned the crowd, searching for the anomaly, his hands reaching for the gun at his back, tucked under his green Buy More shirt.

He knew most of the people by sight; fellow employees from the Buy More, others from the Weinerlicious, and all the people who shopped in the mall. There were also four men, led by a man who looked African-American, and strode across the pavement as if he ruled the world,

Bartowski had stopped. He was staring at the man, with that deer-in-the-headlights look that always spelled trouble for Casey and Walker.

Bartowski was Flashing…

If the look on the geek's face was anything to go by, this man was very bad news indeed. Love hadn't blinded the CIA agent. Under the guise of laying her head on Bartowski's shoulder, she slowly began to guide him away from those four men, her eyes catching Casey's. Casey allowed himself an imperceptible nod as he moved; keeping watchful eyes on the four strangers that had frightened the Intersect.

Then, the men moved…

All the man did was raise his hand; and a bolt of light flashed out, striking Agent Walker.

"Sarah!" Casey heard Bartowski's cry, but there was really no time to deal with that. The man was turning to face him, and the NSA agent barely ducked the bolt of light sent his way. Ducking behind a car, he peered out at the scene.

Bartowski was cradling Walker in his arms, and Casey couldn't tell, from this distance, whether she was alive or not.

Definitely incapacitated…

This would have to be handled with care…

Apophis! Oh god, Apophis…

In the instant he had seen that man; a flood of data had swamped Chuck Bartowski. In less that a minute, he had learned all about Stargates, and the Go'uald. All things being equal, he could have done without the knowledge quite happily.

Holding Sarah Walker, he was relieved to see she was alive; pulse strong, and breathing normally.

They stunned her, that's all…

"All right!" a Security Guard was there, gun drawn. "Hands up! You're under arrest!"

"Surely, you jest," Apophis chuckled, as if amused by the temerity of this man. "The Go'uald do not obey the commands of slaves."

Yep… Chuck thought disjointedly. The Go'uald are in the house, and they're here…for me?

In spite of now-mortal terror, he moved to grab Sarah walker, to drag her away to something faintly approximating safety. Apophis grabbed the back of his neck, hauled him to his feet. The pain lancing down Chuck's arms and legs was almost paralyzing. Casey was somewhere in the background, perhaps trying to get a clear place for those kill-shots he was so good at. And the Security Guard was right in front of them.

"I said raise your hands," the guard ordered. "Now."

One of Apophis' men moved, and the cop whirled to face him; far too late. It looked like a hand-gun, but, instead of bullets, energy bolts streaked out, striking the Security Guard in the chest. Chuck saw the man die, smelled the smell of scorched fabric, and burnt flesh.

Two gunshots rang out, and the killer went down, bullet-holes in his back. Chuck saw Casey whirl behind a parked truck, hiding until he was ready to pop out and kill another of Apophis' henchmen. But, Apophis apparently understood that strategy too.

"Flush him out," he ordered.

So, the other two men drew their weapons, also energy weapons, and began blasting away at cars, minivans, and trucks in the parking lot. It was the fourth, a SUV, that brought John Casey out of hiding; and Chuck was appalled at the situation. Three targets, and if Casey went for any of them, the other two would get him. Perhaps, Casey realized that two. He had the look of one preparing for one last desperate charge…

"No!" Chuck yelled. "Don't do it! Please don't!"

"The young man speaks true," Apophis said. "You can not win this. Lay down your gun, or this man dies now."

Chuck stood there; nothing else he could do, really. The man's grip was like a Vulcan Nerve Pinch. He literally couldn't move his arms or legs. But, he could pray…

Please, Casey; don't get yourself killed…

The NSA agent met Chuck's gaze; a question there, in those blue eyes. He glanced around, assessing the situation, calculating chances. Then, his shoulders slumped. With an audible snarl, he knelt, placing his gun on the pavement.

"Good," Apophis nodded. "Move away from the weapon. You interest me almost as much as the Intersect does."

"How did you…" Chuck felt pure horror rise up within him. The Go'uald knew about the Intersect?

"No matter," Still gripping Chuck by the back of the neck, he casually brought his other hand up again.

Chuck saw Casey's eyes widen, as he started to lunge for his gun. He didn't make it. The energy bolt struck him, flinging him to the ground.

"No!" Chuck screamed, trying to break free of the paralyzing grip on his neck.

"Your warrior friend lives," Apophis spoke in a soothing voice. "He interests me; and he would make a fine Host for my Brethren."

Apophis' men holstered their weapons, and walked up to where Casey lay sprawled on the pavement. They hauled him up, bearing his weight between them.

"Very well," Apophis looked around. "We are done here."

Stunned, unable to move, but aware of everything, Sarah Walker watched, despairingly, as the men hauled John Casey's unconscious form up. The NSAagent's head lolled as they supported him between them.

Then, the group…disappeared.

The attackers, John Casey, and Chuck; they just disappeared…

She could hear sirens in the distance; the police-late, as usual-and coming closer.

Walker forced herself to move, hearing voices all around her.

"Who were those guys?"

"They killed Eddie! Did you see that?"

"What would they want with two Buy More peons?"

"Sarah, you okay?"

That was Morgan Grimes, looking white as a sheet.

"They took Chuck!" He was almost in tears. "What are we gonna tell Ellie? And…they took Casey too. What could they possibly want with him?"

"It was a botched robbery attempt." That was a pathetic lie, but it would have to do. "I'm feeling wobbly, Morgan…"

"Let me take you to the theater room," Morgan was even geekier than Chuck, in oh so many ways. But, like Chuck, he had a good heart.

Besides, the theater room was exactly where she needed to go. Her boss and Casey's too, would need to be informed of this unexpected turn of events….

Colorado Springs

"Let me get this straight," Jack O'Neill stared at the Comm screen, at the two people at the other end. "There's this guy you've been protecting, a regular nerdy guy, who just happens to have all our government's secrets downloaded into his brain; and the CIA, and the NSA have been baby-sitting him. And, now, these kidnappers-one of who bears a striking resemblance to Apophis-have managed to kidnap your boy, and the NSA agent."

"That about sums it up," Director Graham spoke evenly.

"Okay…" O'Neill rubbed his eyes, feeling one of those headaches coming on. "And you want us to find them…how, exactly? It's a big galaxy out there, and way more populous than previously expected."

"Their watches," General Beckman said.

"Uh…come again?"

"Charles Bartowski and John Casey both wear watches equipped with GPS."

"Which would be fine if they were on Earth; but they're not. Our mysterious visitor, err…warped…out of here just a few minutes after the kidnapping. Your errant pair could be anywhere."

"Even so," Beckman put her hands in her lap. "Some technology gleaned by the Stargate Program has managed to trickle down to us; and I've been told by our tech experts, that it should be possible to adapt the Stargate to search for specific GPS codes. Once they've been found, it will just be a matter of sending SG-1 in to rescue them, and everything-"

"Hold up there," O'Neill raised a hand. "SG-1 isn't available. However, you'll be pleased to know that SG-15 has been put on Alert Status, and they'll be ready to go whenever they're needed."

General Beckman's features went still.

"That is unacceptable," she spoke flatly.

"What have you got against Colonel Dixon?"

"Nothing, Jack. But-"

"Look," Director Graham interrupted. "We haven't even found Bartowski, or Casey, yet. I'm sending our CIA operative, Sarah Walker, with the GPS codes for the watches. I trust you'll show her every courtesy?"

"All right, Director Graham," O'Neill barely managed to rein his temper in. "I look forward to meeting her…"

He switched the screen off.

"Not," he added, glaring at the blank screen.

"I wonder what she has against you," he looked back at Colonel Dixon.

Dixon had been standing quietly at the back of the room, out of sight, out of mind.

"I don't know," the Colonel sat down, looking thoughtful. "I've met her before, though; years ago, at my brother's funeral."

"Yeah," O'Neill narrowed his eyes. "I had heard about that. Crashed jet fighter, wasn't it?"

"In eighty-eight," Dixon nodded. "She didn't speak to me at all. She spoke to my Mom, attended the funeral, left, and that was it."

Sarah Walker was feeling far less scrambled now. The cover story, that both Chuck and Casey had been kidnapped in a botched mugging attempt had been put out, and the cops in LA were investigating that. Morgan and Captain Awesome were taking care of Ellie Bartowski; the poor woman was climbing the walls in her worry over her little brother; and Walker was sent to Colorado Springs, with the GPS codes to help the Stargate people locate Chuck and Casey.

The flight out had been uneventful, and Walker had taken that opportunity to rest, to clear the last of that stun bolt out of her system.

The fact that she was being sent to Stargate Command spoke volumes about the situation. The kidnappers were of extraterrestrial origin; and they knew about the Intersect.

How did they find out?

At least John Casey was there; if they hadn't killed him…

At the airport, she was met by men in military fatigues, who took her, by jeep, the rest of the way. Apparently that meant traveling deep underground, through a truly labyrinthine series of twists and turns.

Finally, after a having been very deeply scrutinized as to her identity, Sarah Walker found herself sitting in General O'Neill's office; the codes for the GPS transponders in Chuck's and Casey's watches in the briefcase sitting on her lap. The meeting was brief, a mere formality. Then, a Lieutenant escorted Walker to Stargate Control.

Sergeant Walter Harriman reminded her of Chuck, in a way; a thoroughly affable guy, he understood tech on almost an instinctive level. A Military Geek; who would a thunkit?

When the transponder codes were inputted, Harriman set the Stargate to cycle through all the known planets, and/or moons in Stargate's Registry of Planets.

"That's it," he patted the console. "Now, we wait. The kidnap victims, they're friends of yours?"

"Ah…yes. How long do you think it'll take?"

"I don't know," Harriman admitted. "They came by ship, so there's no guarantee they will be going to a planet with a Stargate…"

Walker felt her face fall at that news, and she heard Harriman's voice trail off.

Then the man spoke again.

"Don't worry, Ms. Walker. We're Miracle People here. We'll find your friends and bring them back; safe and sound."

He's trying to cheep me up. How sweet…

It meant something to her, Harriman's trying to ease her worry; and she was worried about her friends. Casey occupied her thoughts almost as much as Chuck, she was surprised to realize. When had that come about? She loved Chuck, even though she could never admit that to her superiors. But, whence came this concern over John Casey?

Perhaps it was as simple as the fact that they were partners now.

And the last she had seen of him, the NSA agent had been in no position to protect himself…

Location Unknown

Chuck Bartowski had never felt so terrified in his life. Not even with the FULCRUM agent holding a gun to his head; when Bryce Larkin had asked him-in Klingon-if he was wearing a bullet-proof vest.

The starship had gone into hyperspace almost as soon as they were aboard. They had also separated Chuck and Casey-who was still unconscious.

They dropped Chuck in this little white cell-no furnishings at all, not even a cot-and left him there for a few hours.

Then, when he was beginning to think they had forgotten all about him, the cell-door opened again, and he was escorted back to Apophis.

"Where's Casey?" Chuck asked one of the guards.

"Be quiet, slave," the man commanded.

So, Chuck obeyed.

They took him to the Transporter Room, and this was nothing like the Star Trek shows. These…rings…fell down around him and the guards. When the blinding light faded, they were on land, and Chuck, looking up, seeing the Sun, and two moons, knew they were on another world…

This was a world of vast, and disturbing, extremes. There was high tech, and opulent luxury, all of it cheek-by-jowl with abject poverty such as Chuck had only seen in Third World Countries. But this wasn't Earth. His Flashes had told him everything he needed to know…

This was a Go'uald world, and Apophis ruled it absolutely, with an iron fist. All the people bowed deeply to their lord and master; prostrating themselves before him like an Eastern Potentate.

Where are you, Casey?

He heard a snapping of fingers.

"Come here, Intersect," Apophis commanded.

Chuck took a few hesitant steps into the luxurious chamber, just looking around.

Shades of Taylor and Burton, he thought. People really do live like this?

"You wanted to see me?" he squeaked, hearing, and hating that squeak.

"Ah, yes…" Apophis strode up, smiling fiercely. "To think that all of Earth's secrets lie within your head…"

"How did you-"

"We had people inFULCRUM," Apophis laughed. "We took one man called Bryce Larkin."

"You took…" Chuck had to clear his throat. "Bryce…where is he?"

'Dead," Apophis brushed it all aside. "He was a broken thing after the interrogation."

Bryce Larkin…dead…

All of a sudden, Chuck was on his knees, heaving his guts out,

"How unpleasant," Apophis murmured, stepping around the mess. He snapped a finger, spoke in a language the Nerd-Herder didn't know. A slave bowed then went to get other slaves to clean the floor.

Chuck knelt there, tears streaming down his cheeks, and he knew what he would have to do…

"I can't let you have it," he said.

"You will not succeed," Apophis turned back to the Intersect. "In the end, it will be for you as it was for Bryce Larkin. You will beg to die, to be released from your torment. In the end, you will spill your very soul…"

Thing was, Chuck knew Apophis was right. He wasn't cut out for this. But he had to fight this; even if the resistance he could put up only amounted to a token resistance.

He heard Apophis talking to a guard.

"Take him, tie him, and put him in the cell."

It was done quickly; his wrists and ankles bound with stout rope. Then, a guard-the man was larger than Casey-hefted Chuck over his shoulder, and toted him through a dizzying series of hall, side-doors, and tunnels, coming, at last, to the Dungeon. There, he was dropped in a cell, slamming the door shut behind him, leaving him in almost total darkness.

Chuck was able to hold it together for a while. Then, the true seriousness of his situation came to him. Bryce Larkin was dead; and John Casey was probably dead too; and there was no one left who could save him this time.

I'm going to die here.

He couldn't stop the whimper, the tears welling in his eyes…

For John Casey, there had been the memory of putting his gun on the ground. With Walker down, and Casey surrounded, their options had suddenly become very limited. So, Casey had surrendered, hoping to talk to the guy, maybe keep him occupied until the cops came. But the man clearly had other ideas…

Casey saw him raise his hand, the same hand that had, somehow, fired an energy bolt at Agent Walker. Casey didn't have time to reach his gun. He didn't even have time to think oh, shit…

It felt like electrocution, like pure current sizzling through his body, dropping him to the ground like a pole-axed mule. He had heard Chuck scream; and, after that, darkness…

…He opened his eyes to almost complete darkness, feeling vaguely surprised he was still alive. In this darkness, he tried to take stock of his situation. His hands had been tied behind his back, and his ankles bound together as well; the ropes biting into wrists and ankles. His head was pounding dully; probably a by-product of whatever had knocked him out.

He wasn't alone in this cell. He could hear the sound of whimpering, barely-controlled sobs…

"Oh, god, Bartowski," he grumped. "Will you please stop that sniveling?"

"C-Casey?" Bartowski sounded like a terrified child. "Is that you?"

"'Course it's me, you moron. Now, shut up and let me do this."

"Do what?"

"What did I just say? Shut your trap, Bartowski."

The geek fell silent, except for the occasional sniffle. Casey concentrated on his wrists. Fortunately, they hadn't taken his watch. Not that he had any hopes of friendlies locating him, or Chuck, through the GPS transponders. But Casey's watch was special in another way entirely. He flexed his wrist, and a little, but razor-sharp knife slipped out of the watch-band, falling right into his palm.

It took a few minutes, and a few gashes. But, finally, the ropes binding Casey's wrists parted. He sat up quickly, and started on the ropes at his ankles; a much quicker job.

"I'm free, Bartowski," he whispered. "Gimme a moment and I'll get you free too."

"Sweet," Chuck whispered. "I was beginning to think-"

"Shh!" Casey ordered. There were footsteps, coming closer…

The NSA agent flattened himself against the wall, fingers closing around the little knife's hilt. It wasn't much of a weapon; but it was all he had right now, so it would have to do…

The footsteps stopped at the cell-door, and Casey held his breath. The lock turned, and the cell-door opened slowly, letting in brilliant light, making Bartowski's pupils constrict, as the geek closed his eyes against the sudden glare.

Only one man was there, and he took one step inside, attention focused on the Intersect; a mistake which was to prove fatal for this man. Casey crept up behind him, one arm immobilizing him, knife-hand coming up to his throat. The killing occurred in absolute silence, and Casey was glad Bartowski had closed his eyes, and kept them closed, through all of that. Casey eased the body to the floor, frisked it quickly.

The search yielded one gun, and a set of keys…

Good; we can get out of this place…I hope…

"Okay, Bartowski," he quickly freed the Intersect. "Let's go."

As the geek got to his feet, Casey, feeling better now that he had a gun-even if it looked to be one of those energy bolt weapons-edged to the half-open door and peered out. The hall had only one exit, a closed door at the end. Muttering orders for Bartowski to stay close, Casey stepped out into the hall, and moved to the closed door. It was locked, but one of the keys fit.

Again, he peered out and around. Nobody was there. Not even a guard…

Thank god for lax security…

After that, it was simply a matter of staying within the shadows whenever possible, moving as carefully as a pair of mice in a house of cats.

Finally, they were outside, in the light of day. Casey guided them to what looked like a forest.

"Forests are pretty good places to hide in." he told Bartowski.

"Unless they're using scanners," Bartowski was still shaking.

"You got a better idea?"

The geek flinched at his tone, and Casey sighed.

"Look, Bartowski," his voice was less harsh this time. "Right now, we are so far up the creek, the Eskimos are waving us goodbye. I know you're scared. Just try to hold it together; all right?"

"Bryce Larkin is dead,"

Casey stopped, turning to face Bartowski.

"These people?" he shook his head. "How would they-"

"They had people inFULCRUM," Chuck spoke tonelessly. "They took Bryce, and they tortured him to death. That's how they found out about me."

"I…" right then, Casey literally had no idea what to say. He had never liked Larkin; even after his status as a rogue agent had been resolved. But Chuck had thought of Larkin as a friend once; a very dear friend, at that.

"I'm…sorry," the NSA agent felt truly awkward saying that, and Bartowski looked up at him in surprise. "I know he was a friend of yours."

"Yeah…" Bartowski muttered.

"Look at me," Casey commanded. "You want to survive this?"

Bartowski nodded mutely.

"Then, we have to go, into that forest. Before they find out we've escaped."

They set off, Casey in the lead. Neither man noticed his watch was blinking…

Colorado Springs

"We've fount them; both of them!" Sgt. Harriman whispered excitedly as he Commed O'Neill.

"That's great," O'Neill's voice came back over the Comm. "But why are you whispering?"

"Ms. Walker has fallen asleep," Harriman looked over at Walker, curled up in her chair, snoring softly. "She's had a very rough day."

SG-15 was assembling in the Stargate Chamber when General O'Neill came down.

"Your team ready, Dave?"

'Yes, sir," Dixon was all business now. "We are locked and loaded."

"Okay," O'Neill regarded the group. "You're looking for two people; a Nerd, and an NSA Agent. Given the paranoid nature of most secret service agencies these days, it shouldn't surprise anyone that we only have a photo of the geek."

Copies of the photo were handed out.

"So," Dixon's Second-in-Command, Major Jane Devereaux, raised her hand. "How do we identify the Agent-guy?"

"Hopefully he'll be with the geek," O'Neill replied. "If he isn't, it'll be your call, Dave, as to whether you search for him or not. The NSA, and the CIA, have made it clear the Geek is their top priority."

"The agent is expendable?" Dixon gave a disgusted look.

"To them, yes"

"Well," Dixon took a deep breath, let it out. "Let's go find them."

"Good luck," O'Neill nodded. "And Godspeed, people."

Stargate Control opened the Gate; SG-15 passed inside, and was gone from view. When the Gate closed, Sarah Walker awoke with a snort.

"What happened?" she was clearly trying to regain her bearings.

"We've located your friends," Harriman smiled at the look of pure relief that lightened Walker's features.

"So," Walker looked down at the closed Gate. "When do you send the Marines in?"

"Already done," the Gate Controller smirked. "SG-15 went through only a minute ago. They'll find your friends in no time."

General O'Neill, General Beckman is here to see you.

Walker looked up at the PA announcement.

"What the hell is she doing here?" she muttered.

"Let's find out," Harriman got to his feet. "I have a coffee break coming anyway."

He led Walker in the general direction of the cafeteria; another Controller taking his place at the Console.

Sarah Walker followed Sergeant Harriman through some halls, until they came upon General Jack O'Neill. O'Neill wasn't alone…

"Look," O'Neill was in a thoroughly foul mood by now. "It's too late; SG-15 went through just a few minutes ago."

Judging by the color draining from Beckman's face, one might've thought O'Neill had just announced the coming of the Apocalypse.

"Damn…" Beckman muttered under her breath.

"Will you please tell me what you've got against Colonel Dixon?" O'Neill had clearly had it up to here. "Yeah, he's a smart-ass. He's also a truly exceptional officer. If anyone can bring both of your missing people back, it'll be him, and SG-15. So…why?"

Beckman closed her eyes, sighing.

"I have nothing against Colonel Dixon," she said at last. "May we speak privately?"

"Uh…yeah…" O'Neill glared at Walker and Harriman. "We seem to have picked up an audience."

"Yes," Beckman glared daggers at Walker.

"I expected better ofyou," she accused.

"Ma'am," Walker smiled sweetly. "I thought you knew I was a spy…"

"Come on, Beckman," O'Neill gestured to his office. "I know you don't want to have to explain to Director Graham just why you assaulted one of his agents."

After the two generals had disappeared inside O'Neill's office, Walker stood in silence for a moment.

"I wonder what's she's got against Colonel Dixon." Walker finally said.

"I don't know," Harriman steered her in the direction of the cafeteria. "But she looks like a pretty tough customer…."

Location Unknown

Apophis stood there, in the cell that had lately held two prisoners from Earth. The Go'uald Lord was furious. His two prisoners had managed to escape. More, one of the guards had been found dead. His throat had been slit with an exquisite nicety; the blue-eyed warrior, he was sure.

Walking out of the cell, he looked at the row of guards kneeling before him, a long row of heads touching the stone floor.

"I should have each of you flayed alive for your stupidity!" he roared. "Why did you not search the warrior for hidden weapons?"

"But we did!" the leader groveled before him. "He had no hidden weapons!"

"So the poor fool in the cell obliged them by slitting his own throat?"

"No, my lord, no!" the leader threw himself back down to the floor. "I beg mercy, lord! We erred…we erred…"

"If you wish mercy, you must fix your mistake," Apophis commanded. "Take a troop of men, and find my prisoners."

"What of the warrior? He is armed in truth now."

"The Intersect is the only one of interest to me. Him, you must take alive. As for the warrior…"

A pity…Apophis mused. He could have proved…useful…

"As for the warrior," he continued. "Kill him."

SG-15 stepped out into a summery-looking day. Everyone looked around; looking for signs their presence had been noticed. This was, after all, a world occupied by the Go'uald; although in what strength, no one could say for sure.

"Start scanning for those GPS codes, Sergeant Plummer," Dixon ordered. "Maybe this will be a quick in-and-out…"

Sgt Plummer held the scanner, adapted to recognize GPS transponder codes.

"Got them!" Plummer announced. "They're together, and it looks like they're about a day's travel from here; possibly that forest over there."

"Think they managed to escape?" Devereaux asked.

"It's very likely," Dixon nodded. "I got a little info on this John Casey. Seems he's sudden death with any weapon, or none at all. And it would be natural to try to hide in the woods. Even if the Go'uald are using scanners, it would be harder to track them down in a forest; harder to capture them."

"Then, I respectfully suggest we hoof it," Devereaux said. "Get to our friends before the Go'uald do."

"Right," Dixon picked up his pace. "Lock and load, folks; let's move it."

SG-15 moved out, heading for the forest; Devereaux by his side.

"Sir," she asked. "Do you know anything more about the people we're supposed to find?"

"The geek is some kind of computer-nerd," Dixon was fairly sure there was more to it than that. "Apparently, both the CIA, and the NSA have been baby-sitting this guy."

"He must be pretty important to have two agencies looking after him like that, sir."

"Yeah, tell me about it," Dixon grunted sourly. "Another thing; how did the Go'uald find out about him?"

"Either a leak," Devereaux looked up at him. "Or there were spies among all the spies."

"Now, that's a happy-making thought," Dixon turned, raised his voice. "Move it, people."

The group fanned out, weapons drawn and ready, as Sgt. Plummer operated his scanner, looking for a lost geek and NSA agent…

"Aren't you scared, Casey?"

Casey looked at Bartowski, sitting against the bole of a tree. Casey was resting too, leaning against another tree. He considered the geek's question.

Am I scared?

He looked up, at the two moons in the sky. The smaller moon, heading for the horizon, looked to be roughly the size of Earth's moon; but the larger moon…

Even Casey felt a touch nervous looking up at that monstrous thing…

So, am I scared? Hell, yeah…

"Bartowski," he said. "It's not being afraid that's bad. It's what you do with your fear that's key."

"I'm not sure," the geek spoke hesitantly. "But did you just admit you were scared?"

The NSA agent snorted, feeling dangerously at the end of his fuse.

"Look, Toto," he almost snarled. "We're not in Kansas anymore. See that honkin' huge moon up there? I don't know about you, but most folks I know would not be happy about this. Speaking of which; you've been Flashing, haven't you?"

"Y-yeah…"

"Now, what did I tell you about not leaving me out of the loop? Talk, Bartowski."

The geek reluctantly began to talk; and it was as if someone had opened the flood-gates.

Stargates…alien invasions…the Go'uald, and their very real link to Ancient Egypt. The whole thing was a conspiracy theorist's wet dream; including the fact that, through Stargate Command, Earth was conducting diplomatic relations with scores of extraterrestrial civilizations…

Casey's head was spinning with all the information.

Does General Beckman know about this?

"All human worlds?" he asked. "No little green men?"

"Well…" Bartowski shrugged. "There's the Asgard; and if you saw them, you would say they were little, and…Actually, they're gray, not green. But they do look like your stereotypical X-Files Alien…"

"All right," Casey was trying to put all the pieces together. Knowledge was power; and, in this case, knowledge would keep them alive. "The people who brought us here; those are the Go'uald?"

"Yeah," the geek nodded. "But they're not human; not exactly, that is…"

Casey raised an eyebrow at that.

"Now, either they are human, or they're not, Chuck," he said. "They've got to be one or the other."

"No, Casey; theydon't," Bartowski shuddered. "Actually, the Go'uald are kind of like these slugs; like Ceti Eels?"

"Never heard of Ceti Eels," Casey folded his arms across his chest.

"Not a Trekkie then, o-kaay…" Bartowski continued. "Well, the Go'uald are slug-like creatures, and they get…inside…people, and take them over."

Casey snorted.

"Now, that's thestupidest thing I've ever heard," he growled. "You're telling me-"

"It's true, Casey! I'm not making this up. The Go'uald used to be here on Earth. A boy got possessed by this Go'uald, started calling himself Ra, and tried to enslave all of Earth. But there was a rebellion, and we Terrans broke free. Then, this Stargate was discovered, and Dr. Daniel Jackson translated the…operation instructions…"

"Let me guess, Ra found out?"

"Well, SG-1 did kind of come knocking on his front door. Ra's dead now." Bartowski looked thoughtful. "But Apophis, the guy who kidnapped us, is sort of his heir."

"And he's like this Ra character; a human with a slug inside?"

Bartowski nodded, and then continued.

"Actually, there's another group of people…with slugs inside. And they're friends with Earth."

"And, why is that?"

"The Tok'ra," Chuck explained. "They have this really wonderful relationship with each other, the slug and humans. It's too bad you're not a Trekkie; I could've told you they were like the Trill, and that would've explained everything."

"Well, I'm not," Casey growled. "So you're gonna have to explain everything."

"They simply treat each other as equals," Chuck almost smiled. "It's a man-and-slug Friendship."

"That's totally nuts," Casey muttered.

"It does have its benefits," Bartowski said. He looked more animated than he had since they had come here. "The slugs gain the ability to communicate to other species, and the humans get better health, strength, and constitution. It's win/win for the Tok'ra. Hey, your watch is blinking. Mine is too…"

"Thank god," Casey closed his eyes in pure relief. "Our friends have found us."

"Really?" Bartowski's smile was wide. "We'll be able to go home?"

"It sure looks that way," Casey got to his feet, looking at his blinking watch. "Time to get a move on, soldier…"

That was when the blaster-bolt streaked out, hitting John Casey squarely in the chest…

"Casey!"

The impact knocked Casey back against the tree. For a horrifying second, he hung there, then, his legs buckled…

Chuck had never moved so fast in his life. Somehow, he got there, caught Casey's body in his arms, the man's weight driving them both down to the ground. Chuck sat up slowly, still holding Casey…

The NSA agent's eyes were half-open, glassy and unfocused. Bloody froth trickled from mouth and nose; but he was still breathing; harsh-sounding gasps that were too fast, and too shallow, for Chuck's comfort.

Ohgodohgodohgod…

Then, Chuck became aware that they were surrounded. The leader of the force strode up, looking down at Chuck as he cradled Casey in his arms.

"Put him down, Intersect," the man said. "That I may kill him and receive my lord's favor."

Chuck had never felt such anger, such hate before.

"Not a chance in hell," he whispered.

"Very well," the man nodded. "Then he shall die in your arms."

Chuck felt completely powerless. He knew that-if their places had been switched-Casey would've done something.

But, I don't know how to fight. I don't know how to kill; not even in self-defense. Forgive me, John. All I can do is die with you…

He closed his eyes, awaiting the inevitable…

There was a short burst of gunfire. Not blaster-bolts; gunfire. Guns with bullets in them; and something fell on top of him, rolling away to the ground. Chuck opened one eye, saw the man who was going to kill Casey, lying face up, eyes staring blankly.

Then, it became a real, honest-to-goodness firefight; bullets against blaster-bolts. Chuck didn't dare move. He held on to John Casey, talking to him, babbling, really…

"I think they're here, Casey. Someone's come to our rescue, and they're fighting the people who shot you. Just hang on, okay? Don't die, please, don't die…"

Those ragged gasps for air were the only response, and Chuck was terrified. He realized he was beginning to whimper again.

The rescuers were driving the Go'uald away, he realized, the sounds of battle drifting away…

"Mr. Bartowski?" he looked up at the dark-skinned Marine. She looked back down at him.

"I'm Major Jane Devereaux," she said. "SG-15 is taking care of the baddies right now. Colonel Dixon wants you to know we'll be heading home ASAP. Is this John Casey?"

"Let's see how bad it is," she knelt, eyes moving from Casey's chest, up to his face. "It's a bad chest-wound, so we'll tape him up as quickly as…holy mother of god…"

She pulled out her communicator.

"Colonel Dixon, sir? Yes…Chuck Bartowski's fine. The agent's here. He's been injured; a bad chest wound. And, sir…you need to see him. I mean it, sir. You really need to see him."

After that, she looked up at Chuck.

"You and I are gonna tape him up, so he doesn't lost any more blood."

She tore Casey's green Buy More shirt wide open. Then, she took out rolls of gauze and tape. Chuck took one look at Casey's bare chest, at the wound. Then he quickly looked away, bile rising in his throat…

"Now, what's up with the agent, and why do I need to see him?"

The man's voice, coming from behind, jarred Chuck right down to his toes.

It sounded like John Casey's voice.

But Casey was lying, and quite possibly dying, in Chuck Bartowski's arms.

Then, the man walked around, and stood over him. Chuck looked up at the man; and he couldn't believe his eyes. The face was John Casey's face. The eyes were John Casey's eyes. But, the inhabiting soul that lived behind those blue eyes; that wasn't John Casey; not John Casey at all…

"The Go'uald party has been destroyed," he announced. "We'll have to move it before they mount a counter-offensive. Guy well enough to walk?"

"No, sir, he's unconscious. Either we leave him behind, or-"

"No!" Chuck couldn't believe the snarl that erupted from his throat. "We don't leave Casey behind!"

"I was about to add," Devereaux gave Chuck a settle down glare. "Someone could carry him. But, he's a big man; so it would have to be you, Colonel. Also, sir, look at him."

"Why should I…" Dixon looked down at Casey, and his voice just trailed off.

"Jesus…" he knelt, reached out a hesitant hand, trembling fingers touching theNSA agent's forehead. "Johnny?"

And Chuck Flashed once again…

Two brothers…twins, as alike in face and form as two peas from the same pod. There were school grades, psych evaluations, SAT scores; there were school photos, Yearbook photos. Two brothers in the Marines…And one obituary notice, for one John Dixon, killed in a tragic jet crash in Eighty-Eight…

"Oh…god," Chuck whispered. "I'm so sorry…so sorry…"

He had seen the recognition turn to shock, to anger, to grief…

"Are you all right, sir?" Devereaux's voice shattered the sudden silence.

"All right," Dixon took a deep breath, and there was the merest hint of a hitch in that breath. "I'll carry him. We're not leaving anyone behind. Ready to go?"

"Yeah…"

Chuck watched as Dixon lifted Casey, hauling him, as gently as possible, over his shoulder. Then, he headed to the rest of his trop, Chuck and Major Devereaux right behind.

Colonel Dixon set the unconscious man down gently, and then stretched his aching back. John Casey was a heavy burden for anyone to carry; and Dixon was very likely the only one with the size, and strength to do it. As he stretched, he saw the geek-a truly nice man, he realized-come over and slip out of his jacket.

As Chuck Bartowski draped his jacket over John Casey-Johnny Dixon-hot fury whipped its way through the Colonel.

It was a lie; Johnny's death was a lie…

Shivering, Dixon pulled out his binoculars, and looked at the Stargate, lying just in sight. It was not unattended. There were three guards there; each fully armed, and certain to give an alarm if they saw anyone.

"Damn…" he muttered, adjusting his binoculars to search around the immediate area.

Well…there was good news of a sort…

"Okay," he said. "It's just the three guards. Nobody else is in sight. I need your mad skills, Devereaux."

"What skills?" Bartowski asked from his place at John Casey's side.

"Sniping," Devereaux moved to a rock, hefting her long-range rifle. "Give me a few minutes, Colonel."

"Sure," Dixon turned back to Bartowski and Casey…

Casey hadn't stirred at all; despite being slung over Dixon's shoulder for most of the day. He was barely breathing now; chest scarcely moving; and the way the geek was staring at him, the grief and horror, was terrible to see.

"It's not your fault," Dixon tried to soothe the kid.

"If only I had been more observant," Bartowski laid a hand on Casey's shoulder. "If I had, we wouldn't be here, and Casey wouldn't be dying."

"Don't say that!" the words were out of Dixon before he fully registered what he was saying. Bartowski gave him such a compassionate look; he had to turn away from it. It just hurt too much.

Why didn't anyone tell me he was alive?

Looking at Devereaux, because he didn't want to look at Casey, or Bartowski-the kid's compassion was threatening to completely shatter him-he saw she was now ready to commence. Her rifle was set now; scope and silencer in place. As Dixon watched, she calmly took out all three of the guards; one right after the other.

Damn, she's good…

"Call HQ," he ordered Plummer. "Tell them we've found both of them and one of them's hurt badly.

While SGT. Plummer was carrying out his orders, Dixon walked back to Bartowski, and…Casey.

"It's time," he hoisted Casey over his shoulders one more time.

They reached the Stargate without incident. Plummer had just started the dialing sequence when several blaster-bolts streaked out. No one was hit this time.

"Bartowski!" Dixon ordered. "When the Gate is open, you run on through. We'll cover you-"

"I can't leave Casey!" Bartowski protested. "If he-"

"The quicker you get through, the quicker everyone will get through," Dixon glanced at Bartowski. "Now, move. That's an order, soldier."

The kid obeyed, running through the open Gate. The anguish Dixon saw in Bartowski's eyes would stay with him for a good long while. But, the kid was safe now, on the Earth side of the Gate.

He looked down at theNSA agent.

"Okay, Johnny," he murmured. "We're going home now."

"Devereaux," he called out. "I'll carry him in. Cover me, and run in as soon as I'm clear. Absolutely no heroics this time; got it?"

"Yes, sir," he heard his people settling their weapons as he hauled Casey over his shoulders.

One last time…

"Now, sir!" As the sound of renewed gunfire erupted behind him, he headed for the Stargate…

Dixon had long since become used to that here-there-everywhere feeling he always got going through those things. When everything became real again, he was back in the Stargate Chamber, safe and sound. He turned slightly, saw the rest of SG15 coming though. Everyone was in.

Bartowski was in this blonde woman, crying in her arms. Dr. Fraiser was there, with a stretcher and four of her aides. Dixon laid Casey down upon the stretcher, stepped back, and watched the experts get to work.

"He's flat-lined," an aide said, sliding a ventilator-tube down Casey's throat, while another aide started CPR…

All of a sudden, Dixon felt dazed, all the voices around him melting into a meaningless babble. He looked up, saw O'Neill; and, next to him, General Beckman.

I remember you. You were there, at Johnny's funeral. You knew he was alive…

Colorado Springs

General Jack O'Neill was in his office, along with General Beckman. Everyone was back, safe and sound; with the possible exception of the NSA agent, who was very likely going to die of his injuries; a blaster-bolt to the chest was no laughing matter. But the Intersect, at least, was safe. At least for now…

Colonel Dixon was the problem now…

He had been mourning his twin brother's death for almost twenty years now.

Helluva thing to find your brother alive, after all these years…

Especially since that brother was not expected to survive…

The door knocked, and Dixon strode in; blue eyes, full of icy fury, going right to General Beckman.

"Colonel Dixon," O'Neill kept his tone conversational. "This is General Beckman. I've just been telling her of your success in bringing Mr. Bartowski, and Major John Casey back, safe and sound."

"One of them, anyway…"Dixon's mutter was barely audible. He saluted Beckman; blue eyes still furious…

"You have every right to be angry," Beckman met those eyes squarely; "Major Casey is one of our finest assets."

"Well, ma'am," Dixon snarled. "Before he was an asset of yours, before he was Major Casey, he was Johnny Dixon. He was my family. What gave you the right to take him away from us? To this day, I believe it was Johnny's so-called death that killed our mother."

"I remember," Beckman nodded. "And John will carry those regrets for as long as he lives…"

"Which might not be all that long now," O'Neill flinched at the bitterness in Dixon's voice

"Even so," Beckman continued on. "John understood it was his duty to make that sacrifice; to forsake family, home, and hearth; to protect the Greater Good, you might say."

"Yeah," Dixon grunted. "But…working for the NSA?"

"Colonel Dixon, the Armed Forces always try to make the best possible use of its assets; those who serve. You, for example… Your Psych evaluation shows you have an exceptionally strong grounding in family. Home, and Hearth, are your touchstones, what you fight for. Your brother, John, was made of different stuff…"

"Yeah," Dixon's eyes held a distant cast, remembering years past. "They all said he was the bad boy…"

"Not bad," Beckman said. "Just grounded in different values and needs. The married life, family life, didn't appeal to him, he liked action; and, apologies, Colonel, but he was a stone-cold killer. It was far better to harness all that, put it to good use, than to sit and wait for him to get into trouble."

"He wouldn't have!" Dixon protested.

"It would have happened, Colonel, and Leavenworth would have been the least of his worries."

O'Neill closed his eyes. This was almost more than he could bear. But someone had to be here, to mediate between the two; and, perhaps, also to bear witness...

Sarah Walker sat by the bed. Chuck had finally fallen asleep, after telling her everything. Walker, herself, felt drained.

Bryce Larkin was dead. That bit of news had brought tears to her eyes as well; and-proof of Chuck's innate goodness-he had held her for a bit as she cried over the news.

Now, Chuck was sleeping, and Walker found an extra blanket, and tucked him him in snugly, kissing him on the forehead…

She knew she should report to Director Graham as soon as possible. But her mind just refused to function right now.

I should see Casey, she realized.

The word was that he wasn't expected to live. That hurt like a fist in the gut. So, she had to see him; before he died…

The ICU was quiet, only the one patient in there; and the only sounds Walker heard were thebeep-beep-beep of the heart monitor, and the sighing sound of the mechanical ventilator. Bracing herself, Walker looked down at him.

She had never expected to see John Casey like this; eyelids taped shut, tubes up his nose, and down his throat; there were even EEG leads attached to his scalp…

He lay motionless, arms still at his sides; and Walker gently laid a hand on his shoulder, hoping to see him tense up a little. He didn't like being touched. But there was no response to the hand gently caressing his shoulder.

"Please wake up," she murmured. "I can't protect Chuck all on my own. I trust you, John. You're the only partner I would ever want. You understand. I know this now. You're the only one who can keep me, and Chuck, on an even keel. Please, come back to us…"

Sighing, Walker turned away, the sound of the heart monitor and ventilator following her out of the ICU.

Maybe Chuck is right. Maybe I should pray…