"That's the last of it," Colonel O'Neill said grimly, stowing away a Goa'uld bauble into a hastily dumped out suitcase. Clothing could, and currently was, being shipped home via the postal service to make room for their newly acquired souvenirs. There was no way that O'Neill or anyone else on his team was going to allow all the toys of the late 'god' to head back to StarGate Command in any but their own closely held possession. For one thing, O'Neill didn't think that the contents would pass postal regulations regarding hazardous items. For another, he didn't relish explaining to General Hammond how Teknet's hand jewel got lost in the mail. He heaved, using his shoulder muscles instead of thighs, and jammed the soft-sided pack into the insubstantial trunk of the SUV. His knee still protested the activity, but at least it stayed attached to his body. O'Neill gave thanks for small mercies. It was going some when he could consider himself to be in the best physical condition of the entire teams of both SG-1 and -12.
He suspected that Teal'c felt the opposite of his commander. The Jaffa had several bright and angry red marks across his brow, leftovers from Teknet's little brain-washing toy. Junior must be working over-time to erase the effects, O'Neill thought sourly, because according to the Jaffa the nuclear inferno that had been going on inside Teal'c's head had diminished to a mere kilo of C-4. Teal'c had attempted to help them gather up Teknet's stash but three steps later he sank to the floor of the cave beside Daniel. Major Vincent grunted and stepped around him sympathetically. The major's own physique wasn't much better.
And neither was Daniel. O'Neill had rescued his P-90 from his civilian's hand, fearing that the archeologist would drop it with the gun going off and spraying the cavern with lead. That would be bad. Then they would all look like Daniel, who simply stared off into the distance silently with a very empty expression. Or Teknet, sprawled on his belly with blood leaking out of his lifeless body. They all gave the carcass a healthy distance, just in case the Goa'uld symbiote decided to crawl out and look for another host. This host was finished, but no one wanted to take a chance on being Teknet's next victim.
Carter looked the best of them all but that was due to two reasons: first, she had some new technology to play with and second, Carter always looked damn good no matter whether she was all gussied up for an occasion or hauling herself out of a foxhole with blood splashed all around. Either way, O'Neill liked to look at his second in command, even when she winced when a rib that had turned into two halves grated against itself.
Vincent accepted the last package from Banner, slamming the trunk closed on his own SUV. Two of the girls were already cloistered inside, Croft keeping a bead on them with his P-90, but the fight had gone out of them with the passing of the Goa'uld. Somehow all of the Goa'uld technology that the girls had been using had been tied to the Goa'uld himself and the bracelets had slipped off as the breathing of the host terminated. Carter was convinced that she could discover their secrets, persuade the toys to work again, but O'Neill himself wasn't so certain. System lords tended to be suspicious types, and designing stuff that wouldn't work after your death sounded right up Snakes' Alley. But Carter, despite her aches and pains, helped load up every scrap of off-world technology that they could find.
"C'mon, Daniel," O'Neill said, hooking a hand under his civilian's arm. He left the larger Jaffa for the two sergeants to tackle. This might be the only opportunity for the non-com's to boast that they had man-handled Teal'c, and O'Neill and his aching knee decided to let them make the most of it. "Up and at 'em. Vincent and his men want to apologize to you. Lassiter too, from what I hear."
Daniel looked around in bewilderment, still barely able to believe that it was over, that the tuvatka're was now in Carter's hands being stuffed into a lead-lined box in the SUV. He was barely able to think. He leaned on O'Neill's shoulder, grimacing when Major Vincent stepped in to shore up the other side of him. Knees turned to jelly.
"I think this rescue more than makes up for it," he said, the first words he had uttered since the SG teams had found him, and quietly slipped back into his own patch of darkness.
Daniel blinked. The blurry face slowly coming into focus a few inches from his nose wasn't gray-haired. Neither did it possess blonde hair, or even bald like a certain well-regarded Jaffa of his acquaintance.
This wasn't right. The normal order of things when Dr. Daniel Jackson found himself waking up in the infirmary was for one or more of his team, usually Jack, to be sitting by his bedside, waiting for him to awaken and enlighten them on some minor detail of whatever mission Jack had just successfully maneuvered an escape from. And the detail would turn out to be a major crux of the whole ordeal instead of a minor point of interest and would result in the mission turning into a major success instead of a blatant failure.
He blinked again. The face resolved into the craggy and dark features of Colonel Lassiter. Again Daniel tried to re-order reality in his mind. Last time he looked, Lassiter had been wheeled off into surgery again and Vincent and his two non-coms were venting their dismay on—hey! Wasn't that the rest of SG-12 behind Lassiter? Daniel tensed.
"Welcome back, Daniel."
Now, that just wasn't fair. That was Jack's voice, coming from the vicinity of Colonel Lassiter. Daniel wished whole-heartedly that the rest of consciousness would damn well hurry up and arrive so that he could figure out what was going on.
Janet Frasier's voice also floated in to join the fray. "He's still a bit loopy from the narcotics that I gave him, colonel. He should be fine in an hour or so."
"Loopy?" O'Neill replied. "Is that a medical term, doc?"
"It is now."
"Are you sure he's gonna be all right? I mean, that Goa'uld had him for almost two days."
"Yes, colonel, he's going to be fine despite the fact that you had him riding in a car for six hours getting back here. In fact, this will be one of his shorter stays in my care, which is surprising the heck out of me and my staff. Take him home tonight and get him out of my hair. I'm tired from all the excitement," Frasier finished, glaring at Lassiter who had the grace to redden. "In fact, I may schedule another surgery just to get some rest."
"No, ma'am," Lassiter said hastily. "Had enough surgeries here to last me a lifetime."
O'Neill subdued a smile. "I guess this means that we are going to listen to Dr. Jackson's boring lectures more carefully next time, aren't we, colonel?"
"Yes, colonel, we are. We are going to listen very closely, and we are going to leave all the ladies strictly alone when the good doctor tells us to."
"And our seconds are going to refrain from rearranging my civilian's office decorations, correct?"
Carter sat up. "When did I do that? Sir?" she hastily tacked on.
"Flowers, Carter. Daisies. They were very out of place in that musty mausoleum Daniel calls an office."
"Not a problem," Daniel mumbled. "Vase is cracked."
"You're so right it's not a problem, because two very contrite sergeants will be looking for a replacement on the next world they visit. Right, gentlemen?"
"Yes, sir."
"I would recommend against that, O'Neill," was Teal'c's contribution. "Knowing DanielJackson's propensity for acquiring items of dubious safety, any artifact that Sergeants Banner and Croft retrieve will likely contain yet another Goa'uld shopping list."
"Or something equally as noxious," Vincent put in. "Don't know about you, sir, but I found it pretty damaging to my ego and other body parts going up against those kids. Colonel Lassiter, I'd like to volunteer for the next mission to a Jaffa-filled planet. Sounds safer."
O'Neill sighed dramatically. "Anywhere where Daniel isn't, is safer, major. That's the one thing I've learned over the past few years: Daniel equals trouble magnet. Doesn't matter if we're off-world or on-." He gestured. "Teknet couldn't leave him alone. Kept coming after him."
"He will now," Daniel grumbled. The image of the fallen host, crumpled and bleeding on the cave floor, was one of the few scenes that he could remember, and with it came a certain sense of satisfaction. "Damn Goa'uld."