Disclaimer
The characters of 'Starsky and Hutch', 'Stargate SG-1', and all show-related places, people and facts don't belong to me. I just mixed them up a bit. The OC's however, are mine.

Category
Crossover, AU, Humor, Angst.
S and H: Hutch hurt/comfort. Starsky hurt.
SG-1: Daniel whumping. Spoilers for 'There but for the Grace of God', 'Point of View', 'Meridian', 'Fallen', Menace, and '1969'.

Warning
Some graphic scenes. Massive confusion. g.

A word of thanks
There are a couple of people without whom this story would not have happened. First, Starsky's Strut, who, like Wuemsel, valiantly keeps reading this story even though she knows precious little about SG-1. She helps keeping me from drowning in countless different storylines, timelines, and science & mythology facts. Also thanks to Monika, Elisa and Wuemsel for their continuing support and encouragement, and to some of my listsibs at 'Ancient Obsessions' for expressing their interest in this story. Also a big hug for my sis 'Skandranon' for helping me keep Jack in character.

This story is being betaed by Kate (CMT). And can I say that I was thrilled to find someone who knows how to write about both Starsky & Hutch and Daniel & Jack. As I am a non-native English writer, her beta work is a great learning experience for me. Thank you, Kate...

Author's note
Tempus Fugit is a Crossover story between Starsky and Hutch and Stargate SG-1. As I had to choose a point of view, this is written as a Starsky and Hutch story with Daniel and Jack as guests. It does help to know a bit about both shows, though. Please give it a chance and tell me what you think.

Enjoy!

Tempus Fugit
By Kreek©June06

Prologue

Bay City area, California. February 14, 1976

It had been a while since the sarcophagus had been opened. Century old dust lay thickly on top of the casket, covering the carved-in Egyptian face so that only the outline of its features was visible.

Rodney Templeton ran a finger over the stone slab, scattering a trace of soft yellow dust in its wake. With a head full of close-cropped black curls and pale blue eyes that didn't hold a shred of mercy, Rodney wasn't a handsome man. His bronzed skin looked dull resulting in a faded complexion caused by too many hours stuck inside an office. It's beautiful, he thought, admiring the symbols on either side of the stone rectangle box. Who would have thought something like this would lay hidden beneath my old man's house?

A few days ago he'd received a letter at his estate near London. The writer, a U.S. attorney told him that his father had passed away. She conveyed her condolences, then proceeded to tell him he had inherited all his father's possessions, including the old man's house located on the West Coast near Bay City. Instead of being shocked, the message had pleasantly surprised Rodney.

He'd never really known his old man. His mother, Estelle had divorced him soon after Rodney's birth when it became apparent his father valued his house more than he did her. The rackety old wooden building they'd lived in was draughty, mouldy and impossible to heat. All in all not a very good environment for a new born baby. Estelle had wanted to move. But his father, Robert had refused. He talked about an age-old duty, one that prevented him from ever selling the house.

His parents' fights got nastier every day, escalating when he, as a baby, caught a terrible cold, and his father still refused to leave the place. He didn't remember the night his mother had taken him out of his crib and left for England, her home country. But he did recall the bitterness in her words when he tried to talk to her about it as soon as he was old enough.

They'd never spoken about his father again.

Rodney was surprised his old man still owned the house. Upon seeing it for the first time in over thirty years, the word that sprung to mind was… condemned. Still, he had come all this way from Europe and decided that, before he sold it, a quick tour of the inside wouldn't hurt him. Who knows… maybe his father did have something to hide.

The stairs leading down into the cellar seemed to go on forever. Once there he had expected to find some valuable heirlooms or perhaps a room full of wine, decades old, and maybe even hidden money. But not this…

A sarcophagus…

So this was what his father had been hiding for all those years. How did it get here? Who's inside? Frowning, he tried to dig up memories of his family's past. All his mother had ever told him was that he was British. His obscure Egyptian heritage, the part of his lineage shrouded in mystery, was never spoken of.

Damn. One of my ancestors could be in that thing, he mused. And my father protected it, kept it safe in his basement. God, how sick is that! The unsettling thought freaked him out. A shudder ran up his spine. Guess mom was right. My old man was crazy. Suppressing sudden anxiety, he continued caressing the casket. Well, crazy or not, this thing is going to make me a fortune. He already knew of a couple of buyers who might be interested. But first he wanted to open it. See if there were more riches to be found inside.

His hand suddenly touched something that felt like a button. He pressed it and jumped back, startled, when the top of the sarcophagus parted in the middle, a whoosh of escaping air indicating that the sarcophagus had been thoroughly sealed. Slowly, the two arms swung to each side. Curiosity got the better of him, and he leaned in so he could get a clearer view.

…A snake?

As fast as a whip, the two-foot long snake-like creature lunged at his throat. Before he could scream it had reached the nape of his neck where it mercilessly pierced through skin and flesh to work its way inside. He opened his mouth in agony when the creature wrapped itself around his spinal cord, viciously hacking into his central nervous system. Then, as quickly as the horror had risen it disappeared when the spirit that was Rodney Templeton quickly faded beneath the powerful mind now possessing his body, a mind that left no room for him to exist.

In his final moments, the creature, the Goa'uld, as it called itself, shared its thoughts with him and revealed a frightening truth. His father hadn't been protecting the sarcophagus. He had been guarding it. Guarding the prisoner it held inside. And now this pure evil, this Goa'uld had been released again. Set free upon an unsuspecting world.

Close to death, four words emerged from his broken mind.

What have I done…

Chapter 1


Bay City area, California. Two days later

"Starsky, will you please turn that down!" Not for the first time that morning detective Kenneth Hutchinson fervently wished they'd taken his car. He braced himself against the dashboard as his energetic partner veered his bright red Torino onto the highway too fast, but that wasn't what bothered him.

"C'mon, Hutch," his friend yelled over the noise of what Hutch supposed his partner thought of as music. It even drowned out the loud roar of the engine. Starsky shifted the car into a higher gear. "How can you not love this?" To emphasise his point he turned the radio up a notch.

Hutch's groan went completely unheard. How does he do it? Being so energetic so early in the morning with nothing in his stomach but a dead burrito and the couple of glasses of beer we had last night? The combination of too much beer and two girls, who seemed to have disappeared during the evening, didn't agree with the health shake that Hutch had this morning. He felt queasy and his partner's driving style wasn't helping. "Starsky! I got a headache the size of our beat here!"

"But it's modern science! The latest state of the art radio, speakers and all! I had Merle install it for just over twenty bucks! It's a bargain!"

"You sound just like Huggy," Hutch muttered, referring to their usual source of information pertaining to the city's shadier side; a guy who ran a bar called The Pits.

"WHAT?" Starsky sped up the car to overtake a slow moving orange Datsun in front of him.

"I SAID," Hutch yelled in answer, "YOU SOUND JUST LIKE HUGGY!" He was rewarded with a big grin.

"Yeah, I do sometimes, don't I?"

Not hearing a word of what his partner just said, but getting the jest of it, Hutch tried to knock some sense into his friend's head, "Starsk!"

"All right, All right!" Starsky relented and took one hand of the wheel to turn the radio down. "You're no fun at all sometimes, you know that."

Hutch sighed with relief. "Thank you."

Mumbling a few grumpy words to the effect of having a caveman for a partner, Starsky turned his attention back to the road. The weather was beautiful. A soft spring breeze wafted in through the half open windows of the Torino. Both men had dressed accordingly in jeans and simple shirts, Starsky with his deep brown curls wore dark blue, while Hutch with his Nordic features, blond-haired and blue-eyed, wore a lighter shade of the same color.

"Aw come on, Starsk," Hutch started to defend himself. "What good is all this new technology gonna do you anyway? People don't take the time to watch the sunset anymore. Instead, they stare at a television screen for hours on end. Whatever happened to reading a good book or a walk along the beach?"

"Take a dog," Starsky retorted, cranky.

"No really," Hutch continued without pause. "We've become slaves of the commercial industry, Starsk. Whenever they come up with a new gadget, we run to the store like lemmings run from cliffs. There's no time for beauty anymore, or humanity for that matter."

Starsky rolled his eyes at the blue sky. "Is that why you drive that old tub you call a car? 'Cause you're afraid you'll lose your humanity?"

Before Hutch could answer, the police radio crackled into life.

"Hear that, blondie? Modern technology… Ain't it beautiful?"

Choosing to ignore his friend's last remark, Hutch yanked the receiver out of its holder. "Zebra Three here. Go ahead."

A shrill woman's voice echoed through the Torino's interior, "Please, check out a missing persons report made by the British embassy regarding a Rodney Templeton."

"Missing person?" Hutch frowned. "Mildred… unless he's dead, we're not the right …"

"Yes Hutch, I know you're homicide, but Templeton owns a very important business conglomerate. The British embassy is breathing down our necks on this one, and you're the only detective unit currently available."

Pressing the button on the receiver again, Hutch asked, "Last known address?"

"225 Mandalay Hill. Report says the house belonged to his recently deceased father. Rodney came over to the States to sell the place. He's not been heard from since."

"All right, we'll look into it. Zebra Three out."

"People actually live on Mandalay Hill? I thought the place was deserted?" Starsky chimed in as he turned the Torino to an off ramp leading towards a smaller coastal road.

"Guess we don't know the area as well as we thought, Starsk."

Mandalay Hill was a region located between a residential neighbourhood and Bay City's large industrial area. The dusty, bushy grounds rose steeply into a huge crest comprising the northern slope of a hill, which dominated the countryside. The dense woodland clinging to its steep slopes created an inhospitable atmosphere. No one liked to live here, with the smoke of countless industries polluting the air, so the grounds were underdeveloped. Hutch didn't doubt that this would change in the near future. For now the area was devoid of human occupation. After they'd driven a couple of minutes, Hutch suggested, "Better go slow. I bet there's a dirt road somewhere nearby."

Starsky nodded and mused, "I wonder what else this hill hides we don't know about?"

"Well, we'll soon find out, there's the turn off."

Slowing the Torino down, Starsky turned the car onto the small dirt road. Branches and leaves hit both sides of the large Ford as the lane wound up and around the massive hill. As much as Hutch loved the countryside, a sudden chill ran down his spine. The woodland seemed to swallow them whole. He didn't know Bay City still had roads on which you could disappear. Maybe it was the headache, but suddenly the still air, only broken by the roar of the Torino's engine, caused a shiver to run down his spine. Like the silence before a storm.

Starsky had fallen quiet.

The sudden tense atmosphere started to get to him. Don't be ridiculous, Hutchinson. We're just going to check if Templeton is here… His eyes locked onto the dark patches underneath the trees. Huge branches intertwined overhead, closing in the car that struggled to travel upwards. The roar of the engine echoed off the canopy overhead. Involuntarily Hutch's hand moved towards the Magnum holstered beneath his left arm. Where ever 'here' is…

Cheyenne Mountain complex, Colorado; Stargate Command, February 16, 2004

"Teal'c, what 'ya doing?"

Dressed in the dark blue army fatigues the rest of his team was also wearing, Colonel Jack O'Neill, amazingly, found himself in the rare situation of having too much time on his hands. His greying hair betrayed the fact that he was well in his fifties and the lines on his face told the troublesome story of the burden of command. However, the childlike spark in his warm brown eyes made up for it. Usually his days were filled with going off planet through the Stargate, writing reports or preparing for the next mission, which included making sure his team was prepped and ready to go.

The Stargate was the U.S military's best-kept secret. The large round circular device was discovered in 1928 Egypt, but it wasn't until recently that Doctor Jackson had managed to decipher the symbols on the gate. In essence they were the letters in an address. Seven symbols were needed to get the gate to dial. When the address was valid, a stable wormhole would form inside the gate's perimeter that, when stepped through, led to another world. Different combinations led to different worlds. So, the military had set up a command centre, deep beneath Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado, known as Stargate Command, run by General Hammond. Several teams were created to explore the new worlds, the first of which was SG-1, Jack's team.

Wandering aimlessly through the military grey corridors deep beneath the Mountain, Jack pondered his sudden freedom. No new missions for a while, all reports have been written; what else is a man to do but to annoy the kitchen staff?

His team had been ordered to stay on the base, so going fishing, Jack's favourite pass time, was out of the question. Running over his three team-members once again, he disregarded the idea of paying Carter -his second in command- a visit. She was probably busy fixing that bike of hers, and if that were the case he'd only be in the way. Daniel… Well, as grateful as he was for having the archaeologist back in one piece – for all intents and purposes Daniel had come back from the dead – listening to his friend prattle on about stuffy books and ancient cultures was not how he wanted to spend his free time. That had left Teal'c, the dark-skinned alien member of his team, and the kitchen; not necessarily in that order. Grinning mischievously, he had decided to raid the mess hall first.

Now, with three cakes in his stomach, one still in hand, and an encounter with a very angry supply sergeant behind him, Jack stood in the doorway to Teal'c's quarters. His friend had compensated for the base's metal walls and lack of windows by filling his room with dozens of candles. Finding the warrior sitting cross-legged in the middle of all those bright little lights wasn't surprising. However, finding the television set on the floor in front of him was. Jack eyed the object, suspiciously. "Teal'c?"

His friend looked up. "O'Neill, I decided that your continuing mention of the names 'Starsky and Hutch' warranted further study."

"Oh?" Amused, Jack took a bite of the cake. It was true that he frequently joked around using those names, mostly to lighten the mood in a tense situation.

Teal'c remarked seriously, "They must have been great warriors for you to refer to them so often."

Jack nearly choked on the cake he'd been about to swallow. A full blown coughing fit was the result. "T," he spoke hoarsely when the coughs finally subsided, tears still clouding his eyes. "It's a television show."

"I beg to differ. I can understand your fascination. The show has power."

"Power?" He wasn't sure where Teal'c was going with this. Although being a warrior at heart, Teal'c also had a remarkable grasp of humanity at times and didn't hesitate to voice his opinion.

Teal'c nodded at the screen. "The friendship between the two main characters is almost tangible. They seem to be as close as the four of us are within SG-1, yet are not as awkward as us when it comes to showing it."

"That's 'cos they're gay."

Beneath the gold emblem on his forehead, Teal'c lifted an eyebrow.

"You know… gay. When two men…"

"I understand the concept, O'Neill. However, I do not agree with your assessment. Their friendship is what gives both Starsky and Hutch their greatest power. I believe this strength to be greatly underestimated in humans, and it is this power that will eventually lead us to victory over our enemy The Goa'uld."

The Goa'uld were a parasitic, alien, snake-like race, no larger than two foot long that took humans to serve as hosts. Aggressively working themselves inside through the mouth or neck, they would wrap their worm-like bodies around the spinal chord to entirely take over their victim; nothing of the host's identity survived.

Jack blinked a couple of times and countered exasperatedly, "Teal'c, they're gay!" He turned around at hearing a noise behind him.

Major Samantha Carter, blonde, blue-eyed, and as pretty as she was brilliant, pushed past Jack through the entrance and walked in. Apparently, she'd picked up on the last words her commanding officer had spoken and went to stand beside Teal'c to see what he was watching. "They're not gay," she said, sounding slightly affronted. "They're just… not afraid to show how much they care."

Before Jack could open his mouth, Teal'c voiced his agreement. "I have found that women often have a deeper understanding of such matters."

Jack couldn't help but notice the twinkle in Sam's bright blue eyes as they darted away from the screen to settle on the warrior sitting on the floor. "Thank you," she said, humor clear in her voice.

Looking from one to the other, Jack exclaimed, "Oh for cryin' out loud! They're gay! The way they," he waved at the screen, "fraternise with each other is not… normal."

"Sir," Sam started, giving her commanding officer a sharp look. "With all do respect, who's to say what's normal? I don't think there's anything wrong with being able to show others how you feel, especially in times of stress."

Feeling decidedly uncomfortable, Jack fell back on the rulebook. "Carter, we're a military organization with a clear chain of command structure," he said, thinking she was referring to the attraction they had both always felt towards one another but were unable to act upon. "What you're suggesting is highly inappropriate."

Sam rolled her eyes at the ceiling. "I'm not talking about us, Sir. That's… different. I'm talking about simple friendship."

Jack could tell by her agitated tone this was something that had been bothering her for quite a while. Usually, he refused to listen to her. Feelings tended to confuse you, they tended to get in the way of rational decision making, and as the one responsible for his team's well being, he could not afford to let that happen. Not when a bad choice could result in the death of one of them. However, he also cared too much for the Major to cut her off now.

"Why is it," she continued fervently. "That we wait until people are seriously injured, or die, before we tell them how we really feel? Why do we always hold back?"

Jack sighed. The whole subject started to annoy him.

Sam pushed on. "Okay, forget about me for a second. What about you and Teal'c? You both care what happens to the other, right?"

"You know I do, Carter," he replied surly. "What's your point?"

"Teal'c?" She asked, ignoring Jack's question for the moment. She turned her attention towards the heavier man on the floor.

"I do." Teal'c answered warmly. "As much as I care for you, Major Carter, and Daniel Jackson.

Sam looked at her commanding officer again. "Sir, when Daniel-"

"I don't want to talk about that," Jack interrupted her rudely.

"Sir…"

"Carter! Don't… go there!" He turned, knowing full well he was avoiding talking once again. He was a man of action, always had been, always would be. He didn't need this. Didn't need to be reminded of the effect Daniel's so called death had had on him. He still had to convince himself that Daniel was here. Very much alive and part of the team again. At first he tended to pinch his friend on occasion, until one day Daniel had snapped his hand out of mid-air and ordered, "Don't." After that, all Jack could do was accept that his friend was real. Let the past be buried. Irately he backed out of the room, only to run head long into the current subject of discussion.

Narrowly avoiding a collision, Daniel held him off at arm's length and jumped out of the way. "Wow, Jack." Behind his glasses, Daniel's blue eyes pierced Jack's with a mix of compassion and annoyance.

"Daniel," Jack greeted his archaeologist who doubled as his linguist. He proceeded to angrily pace away, but then turned as a thought suddenly occurred to him. "Were you looking for us?"

"Well, yes actually." His friend frowned. Apparently Jack's bad mood hadn't escaped him.

Jack couldn't care less.

Obviously sensing that it would be unwise to pursue the reason behind Jack's irate behaviour at this point, Daniel continued his answer, "General Hammond wants to see all of us in the briefing room in five minutes. It sounded quite urgent."

Jack nodded. Then looked over at Carter and Teal'c to sharply point a finger at them. "They're gay! Nothing else."

Marching away, he couldn't prevent a smile from forming on his lips when, behind him, he heard Daniel directing a confused question at Teal'c and Sam, "You're gay?"

Tbc