Disclaimer: Not mine. Set: Season 7, pre-Chimera.
Rating: PG13. Some sex is mentioned, nothing really graphic, though.... (as a note, this was mostly written before the ficathon story....)

The Ten Plagues of... Estonia?
by Ana Lyssie Cotton

A week.

How was it possible that one man could infuriate him to the point where he was throwing coffee mugs around. In just. One. Week?

It wasn't. Really, it wasn't.

In fact, Dr. Daniel Jackson was absolutely positively willing to stake his life that it wasn't possible (and he'd died a handfull of times, so maybe his life was cheap, but that was beside the point).

Colonel Jack O'Neill was driving him insane.

It wasn't big things. It was little ones. Like the morning he'd come in to find the coffee had been left on all night, and he KNEW he'd turned it off, which meant Jack had wondered in at some point and turned it back on and then left it on and now he had to clean an inch of sludge out of his antique Morroccan porcelain caraffe.

Or the morning he realized that his office was too clean. Too tidy.

He'd arrived with Major Sam Carter, the two of them conversing about their currently on leave teammate Teal'c, and whether he was whiping the floor with the other rebel jaffa (at poker, most likely. Teal'c could play professionally).

"It's clean."

"Mm." Sam took a sip of her coffee and examined the now tidy office. "Looks nice."

He'd stared at her, then waved a hand, "No. Sam, it's CLEAN."

"Yes, Daniel, you said that."

Frustrated, he'd given up trying to explain. It wasn't until later that it occured to him he could have asked her how she'd have felt if her lab had been 'cleaned'. By then he was knee-deep in trying to find a translation that they needed in ten minutes because there was a treaty waiting to be signed, and he couldn't find it because his office had been cleaned.

And now he was throwing coffee mugs at the floor.

There were other little things. Moments when Jack would simply ask stupid and inane questions, and Daniel was slowly getting to the point where he was seriously wondering if he could kill the other man and hide the body. Maybe Sam would help.

"SG-1 to General Hammond's office." The page jerked his gaze from the shards of coffee mug, and he groaned. Great. What had Jack done now?

A frog landed on his head. "GAH!"

Then more appeared, dropping from mid-air.

Frogs?

Great.

On the way to the general's office, Daniel dodged more frogs, and discovered that he definitely hated Jack O'Neill. The pen, the one that he ALWAYS had, was gone. Jack, that damned klepto, must have walked off with it. How the hell was he supposed to make proper notes without that pen? It was ergonomically fitted for his fingers!

Sadly, Jack was not at Hammond's office when he arrived.

"Dr. Jackson."

"General."

The bald man from Texas eyed him. Daniel wondered if he was exhibiting signs of the stress he'd been under.

"So..." Daniel pushed up his glasses and tried to look interested. "Wanna tell me what's up while we wait?"

"Normally, I would wait, but this problam appears to be spreading quickly." Hammond knocked a frog off his desk. "Dr. Jackson, do you know why it's raining frogs in my base?"

For a moment, Daniel gaped at him, then he snapped, "Do I look like a meterologist to you?"

Hammond just stared at him for a moment.

Daniel relented, sighing. "No, sir, I don't. I'm not the second coming of Christ. Just because I ascended doesn't mean I know all of the secrets of the universe, and--" He stopped, remembering something.

There'd been an artifact, something goa'uldish. SG-15 had brought it back. No one had been able to figure out how it worked, and Jack had said something about it being a goa'uld souvenir, or the fruit cake passed around every Christmas that you always dread to get. Sam had been inspecting it, last he knew.

And neither Sam nor Jack had yet appeared in answer to the page.

"Erm. General, sir, I might have an idea." Daniel raised a finger. "I'll call you."

--

The small round device with blinking lights and shiny etchings was not in Sam's lab. Neither was Sam. Which meant Jack had absconded with both device and Major.

Frogs was one of the ten plagues of Egypt. Of course, the first had been blood, although some obscure texts claimed that was the second. He'd look it up, but Jack had also put all of his books in alphabetical order. Which firmed his determination. Jack was going down. He might take Sam with him, but she was an acceptable loss.

He picked up the phone. "General? I think I may have found the problem. Meet me at the storage closet on level 19."

--

As he'd known it was (having broken it himself two days before in a fit of pique) the lock on the storage closet was broken. Thus, Hammond, the SF with him, Siler, and Daniel were treated to a very interesting view.

Colonel Jack O'Neill had his hands down Major Carter's pants while his lips suckled at her neck.

Deciding it was best for his brain, Daniel refused to notice exactly what state Sam was in. She was nearly his sister after all. And he really didn't need to know what she looked like when--yeah. Not going there.

"Oh, GOD." Sam's voice was breathy, but the words were directed at the ceiling.

Hammond got his voice back. "COLONEL! Just what in the name of God's green apples are you doing?"

The occupied pair jerked apart, both whirling to stare.

"Lost my pen, sir." Jack's voice was also slightly breathy.

Daniel wasn't gonna think about that.

"Down Major Carter's pants?"

"Yes, sir. It's a..."

Hammond seemed to be waiting. Daniel was kind of not paying attention anymore, since it was keeping all of his attention just to stay upright. This was SO better than short-sheeting a bed. Helpless laughter convulsed him and he leaned against the wall and fought to stay silent.

Inside the storage closet, Sam Carter was flushed with more than passion. "Sir..."

"Carter, did you know you're blushing all the way down to--"

Her booted foot caught the Colonel in the shin, and he yelped. Just because he could still see through her half-buttoned uniform top to the fact that her t-shirt was, strangely, missing didn't give him the right to comment on it. Besides, she was SO never speaking to him again anyway, because General Hammond would have them thrown in jail, and-- "General, sir. Pen, yes."

"Ah. So. Where is it now, Major?"

She shook her leg, "A bit further down. I'll, uh, go remove it in a moment. Sir."

There was a choking sound from the hallway, and Sam's eyes narrowed. "Daniel?"

"Dr. Jackson believes that the reason the SGC has been pelted with frogs has something to do with this storage closet."

"Frogs, sir?" She hadn't noticed any frogs. Hell, she'd been only noticing Jack's hands, fingers, tongue... And the whole being jerked away from orgasmic bliss because Daniel brought the General down. "Daniel!"

Apparently, Daniel had found his voice again. "That's right, General. The plagues of Egypt have come to herald armageddon because, because--" A sputter of laughter escaped him. "--Colonel O'Neill is, is--" His voice cut off into gales of laughter again.

The Colonel took that moment to try to move away from her. Unfortunately, when they'd jumped apart, a mop had fallen. He went down like the proverbial ton of bricks. TA broom followed him down. here were further sputters from the hall when Sam kicked a bucket at the downed man.

"Hey! Man down, here!"

"Sorry, sir." She didn't feel sorry at all. Didn't sound it, either.

"Major?"

Ignoring the General for the moment, Sam focused on the Judas in the hall. "DANIEL!"

"Sorry, Sam. You were an acceptable loss." More laughter erupted from the beleagured archeologist.

"Acceptable loss?!" She sputtered. "I'll lose you in an UNacceptable manner, Daniel Jackson!" And she moved to step over the sprawled Colonel.

Daniel's shoes squeaked as he took off. But she wasn't noticing that. She was more noticing the whole tripping on the same mop which had felled the Colonel and landing half on him and half on the floor.

"OW! Damnit, Carter--"

Digging an elbow into him, she shoved away. "Sorry, SIR."

"Major, Colonel," Hammond was eyeing them with something that could have been amusement. Siler was doing his best poker face. The one he'd done that New Year's when she'd accidentally flashed the gateroom. She'd been drunk. And it had been Daniel's fault. EVERYthing was Daniel's fault. "I expect you to help us locate the source of the problem."

"Right, sir." Muttered the Colonel, who was now clutching his knee.

Sam stood up, "I'm going to kill Daniel, first, General. Then I'll help you." And she stalked out.

--

Major General George Hammond wasn't given often to hysterics. But the current antics of his flagship team were nearly driving him to it. Not, of course, that he didn't enjoy the laugh provided by them. He'd had to wait until Siler and the SF left him at his office before putting his head in his hands and laughing at the image of the Colonel entangled in mops, buckets, and Major.

A man could retire, if he had blackmail photos like that.

Sadly, there might be more serious matters to deal with. The frogs, for instance. One of them chose that moment to ribbit at him. He sighed. This could be a long day. A very long day.

Thirty minutes later, he was placing a call to Dr. Frasier. Things were really getting out of hand.

--

"Frasier." Massaging the back of her neck, Janet winced. If she wasn't careful, she'd get a tension headache. And she only had one person to treat! So far, Sergeant Siler had been the only casualty. His garbled account of blood in a water fountain and surprise and a conduit he backed into had made her worry for the poor man's sanity. Luckily, he was now sleeping off the nearly hundredth electrical burn she'd had to treat him for.

"Doctor, I'm afraid I'm going to need your help." General Hammond's voice sounded tired.

"Sir?"

"As you may have noticed, there is a situation going on inside this base. Dr. Jackson claims to know the key. Unfortunately, my SFs inform me that he's locked in a storage closet on level 23 with Major Carter trying to kick the door in."

"Major Carter is trying to what?"

"I believe she's upset about an indiscretion of his." The tone of voice said he wasn't going to explain further. However much her rampant curiosty might want him to. Janet considered reminding the General that she was in charge of his physicals. But then he continued. "I need you to talk her down, and then talk the solution out of Dr. Jackson before we get more 'plagues' called down on us."

"Plagues... of Egypt, sir?" Janet guessed.

"That would be what Dr. Bellman and Professor Waterfield have speculated. The ten plagues of Egypt."

"So, we've had frogs. What's next?"

"Frogs and blood, Doctor. Next up is gnats, if biblical texts are correct."

Gnats. Dear GOD, she hated gnats. And the frogs had been irritating. "Right sir. I'm on my way."

"Doctor, for reference, the next plagues are gnats, flies, and boils. I suggest you get this solved before the latter appear."

Boils. Great. Just. Great. "I will, sir."

"Thank you, Doctor."

--

"Daniel." THUNK "When I get in there." THUNK "They won't be able." THUNK "To FIND all of you." THUNK

Janet turned the corner and found Sam Carter pounding on the storage closet door with a sledgehammer. She was swinging it in a fairly nice arc, too. There was a cluster of SFs watching the proceedings. Most of them looked rather horrified. One or two looked kind of... entertained. Or proud.

"But, Sam," Daniel's voice came from inside the slightly bent and battered door. "Jack, he's, Jack--"

"I." THUNK "Don't." THUNK "CARE!" THUNK The Major stopped and ran a hand over her brow, mopping up sweat. "You said--Daniel, you said I was an acceptable loss!"

A giggle came from the room.

Daniel? Giggling? Janet wondered if there was something wrong with him.

"Oh, come on, Sam," there was suddenly something sly in the tone. "You're just pissed because we interrupted at the wrong moment."

If anything, the Major's thunks became more energetic. "Seven years, Daniel. Seven. GOD. Damn. YEARS."

"Sam, it's not MY fault if you've been saving yourself like some kind of vestal virgin ready for sacrifice."

"Vestal--" Snarling escaped the Major, and the sledgehammer slammed into the door.

More giggling came from the room.

Janet decided that she'd been entertained enough. "Sam?"

The voice apparently distracted the irate Major. She stopped swinging, and eyed Janet. "What?"

"I need to talk to Daniel, Sam."

"You can speak to his remains."

"Now, Sam--"

"He made a fool of me, Janet."

"Ok. Look, Sam," Janet grabbed the Major by the arm and dragged her away from the dented door. "You can have him after I've found the solution to the sudden influx of plagues."

"Plagues?"

"The frogs, Sam."

"Oh." Suddenly flushing, Sam looked away. "I, uh..." A sigh escaped her. "All right. Talk to Daniel."

"Thank you."

Daniel was sitting in a corner, his gaze watching the door with a tension that filled the room. He relaxed when he saw it was only her.

"Hey, Daniel."

"Janet."

"General Hammond says that you know the cause of the current problems the SGC is having?"

"Oh? Oh. Yeah. Yup. I do."

Janet set her hands on her hips. "Mind telling me what it is?"

"I d'no."

"Daniel."

"Jack was driving me insane, Janet, I--"

"Daniel." She knew the look she was giving him had quelled even Colonel O'Neill. Teal'c was the only one immune, and that was because Teal'c was not stupid enough to disobey the Chief Medical Officer of Stargate Command.

He cracked like an over-ripe grape. "It's the thingie SG-15 brought back. I think it's probably the cause of the original plagues of Egypt. It probably... materalizes matter at a certain rate. Jack swiped it from Sam's lab, and probably bumped it while getting his hands down her pants." He paused and shuddered, "And I never want to think that again."

"Ok. So, he turned it on by bumping it?"

"Yeah. Jack has armageddon in his pocket." Daniel giggled.

"How do we turn it off?"

"I don't know. I haven't seen it working, so... I can only guess that a button might be pressed."

"Okay. Fine. Let's go find Colonel O'Neill."

"Sam's going to kill me. I think I'll stay here."

"Sam is not going to kill you."

"Yes I am."

"No you're not."

"Yes--"

"CHILDREN!"

They both stared at her, open-mouthed. "Shut up. We need to find the Colonel, and we need to put a stop to this insane plague. NOW."

--

"Hello?" Jack tried for perhaps the thousandth time. He was really getting bored. And cold. And there were only so many times he could lick his fingers before that got stupid (plus, they stopped tasting like Carter after the second time). Besides, anyone noticing would raise their eyebrows. A lot.

Normally, he would have been standing up, walking around, doing the normal, Colonel-y duties that he did. Keeping Daniel entertained, for instance.

But he couldn't move. Both legs were tangled with mops, and his right knee was telling him the Carter's bucket had been painfully aimed. Damnit, he might even have to get x-rays. Or someone talking about physical therapy. Or maybe worse: no red jell-o.

So he was trying to get the passing attention of anyone who happened by. Because he sort of needed to stand.

"Colonel?"

He looked up at the SF that had appeared. "Finally. Some help?"

"Right, sir."

Several minutes later, he was standing, albeit with a lot of cursing and grimacing.

"Infirmary, sir?"

"Doc'll make me bleed."

"Uh... right, sir."

They maneuvered into the hall.

--

Janet really didn't want to conduct a base-wide search for Colonel O'Neill. But there would soon be gnats, and the frogs were still irritating, and her coffee was now warm blood. Yep. Definitely time to find the man, turn off the device, then stick him with the largest needles she had for this inconvenience.

"Dr. Frasier?"

Coming out of her thoughts, Janet found that Colonel O'Neill was being helped towards her by an SF. "Airman. Colonel." There were icicles dripping on her words.

"Doc. Think I got bruised." The man made a face. "Just gimme some pain pills and send me on my way."

"Oh, no, Colonel. We need to x-ray you, bandage, staple," Janet paused. "But first, Colonel. Hand over the device you took from Major Carter's lab."

"Device?" He was trying for his best innocent 10 year old boy look.

"Now, Colonel."

Apparently her I Will Hurt You Soon tone of voice reached him, because he slumped slightly. "All right, all right." He stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out a round disc thing with raised buttons. There were blinking lights on it, and one of them was flashing green. "Huh. Wasn't doing that before."

Pulling it from his fingers, Janet tilted it this way and that, "How did you turn it on, Colonel."

"I didn't."

She fixed him with a Look.

"Honest, Doc!" He ran a hand through his hair. "I just picked it up, put it in my pocket... Oh."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Oh?"

"Musta bumped it when I was... finding my pen."

"Finding your pen. Uh-huh. Would this have anything to do with the reason Major Carter was stalking Dr. Jackson?"

"Maybe."

"Right." Rolling her eyes and deciding that the sex lives of SG-1 could be ignored like the sex lives of the rest of the base, Janet turned to the SF. "Get him to the infirmary."

"But, Doc--"

"No arguments, Colonel. And don't even think of leaving."

"Yes, Napoleon."

--

Daniel had finally decided that having have the light off was boring. And there were things in his office that he was sure he probably wanted to inspect and decipher, and SG-21 had brought some texts back from a place claiming to be an outpost of the library at Alexandria. With care, he stuck his head out into the corridor and looked both ways.

No Sam.

Perhaps Janet had taken Sam with her. Or perhaps not. With a feeling of great virtue, Daniel went to his office.

"Sir!" The SF approaching him was panting. "Dr. Frasier needs you to meet her in Major Carter's lab right away."

"Sam's lab? Oh, I don't think so, airman."

The young man straightened. "She said you'd be safe."

"Uh-huh. And she's also been known to say that innoculation shots won't hurt a bit."

For a moment, the kid seemed to consider it, then he shook his head. "I'm supposed to escort you, Dr. Jackson."

Daniel let out a sigh. "Fine, fine. Take me to my death."

--

It was, General Hammond decided, a damned good thing SG-1 were so lucky. Even without Teal'c. Because if they hadn't been, if Dr. Jackson wasn't that good with deciphering things, if Major Carter weren't so good at deciphering technology, and if Colonel O'Neill weren't so good at stupidly pushing the wrong thing... The SGC would now be knee-deep in flies.

They'd almost gotten gnats. George Hammond hated gnats.

The frogs were still being cleaned up, and most of the water turned into blood had been dumped down drains. A few people in the shower were going to have to be scheduled for sessions with Dr. Phelps the new stress counselor. And Colonel O'Neill and Major Carter were certain he was going to track them down and have a talk with them about the 'pen' down her pants.

Sometimes, it made his head hurt to run the SGC.

And sometimes, there were things that made him smirk evilly.

He was going to give them a day or two, and then gently point out that they hadn't really seen anything. And it certainly wasn't compromising their work as field officers in the AF. And that Teal'c had been doing separate reviews on both of them for the last seven years. Sometimes, having a jaffa in the hole was worth two Air Force officers in the bush.

And he was also going to have to keep Major Carter from killing Dr. Jackson. Perhaps a case of chicken pox or shingles. He'd talk to Dr. Frasier about that.

His final duty, once Teal'c was back (the next morning, and thank GOD for that) was to make it a set in stone rule that Teal'c wasn't allowed off-base without the rest of SG-1 for longer than 3 days. It would be hard for the poor man, but it was harder on the rest of the SGC.

Sometimes, sacrifices had to be made.

-finis-