All publicly recognisable characters and places are the property of MGM, World Gekko Corp and Double Secret Productions. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended. Previously unrecognised characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Spoilers for The First Ones, Fire and Water and Need. Think that's it.

Rated PG13 for language, violence

 

 Mistaken Identity - Another untold tale from the diaries of Dr Daniel Jackson

Extract from the Daniel's Diary

SG-1 is off on a new mission tomorrow, but I have very mixed feelings about it. Part of me is thrilled – the planet we’re visiting is home to a group of people who apparently hold beliefs similar to those of the Celtic peoples of Northern Europe. It will be fascinating to see how far the myths of the Ancient Britons are recognisable in the society. My enthusiasm is blunted, however by the fact that this mission should’ve belong to SG-11. I get seem to shake the morbid idea that we're somehow stepping into dead men's shoes.

 

Casualties. They were inevitable when you were at war, but that didn't make them sit any easier with Jack. He stared up at the Stargate, his thoughts on the costs the SGC had paid over the years since it had first been opened. Good men and women had given their lives fighting the Goa'uld. Yet more had fallen victim to other dangers, both natural and human. And for everyone who survived there was still a price to pay - often a heavy one.

 

He sensed movement around him. His team was ready to move out - Daniel at his right shoulder, Carter and Teal'c to his left - the familiar frisson of excitement and wary anticipation swirling around them at the prospect of a new mission muted by the knowledge this mission should've been SG-11's. They’d made first contact with the Caledans and they should've been making this routine return - a mission that would ordinarily have taken place several weeks ago. Sadly, checking up on the Caledans had fallen through a team-sized crack thanks to the disastrous events of SG-11’s last deadly mission. Of course, there was now another SG-11 - currently off-world doing their thing - but of the original team, the one that had made first contact with the Caledans, two were dead. The team commander, Colonel Brun, had retired on medical grounds. The fourth team member, a previously gung-ho Irish sergeant, had resigned his commission and taken a job selling real estate in Florida. Jack couldn't blame him. Watching your team-mates being tortured and killed by Jaffa had a way of ruining your taste for action and adventure.

 

"Jack? You okay?" Daniel was watching him with concerned eyes as they waited for the seven chevrons on the 'gate to lock into place.

 

With effort, Jack nodded. "Yes, I'm fine."

 

He patted Daniel's shoulder as the wormhole spat its ferocious blue energy towards them, trying to make the action seem casual. He wanted to tell the archaeologist to be careful, but the words stuck in his throat. It was something he'd stopped doing months ago - in fact ever since Daniel had proven the hours he'd spent in the gym and on the target range had turned him into, well, not a soldier exactly, but someone Jack could rely on to shoot straight or run hard when things got ugly. Besides, sometimes it wasn't about being careful, it was about being lucky. SG-11 had been unlucky - walking into a platoon of Jaffa two weeks into an otherwise peaceful mission.

 

Daniel was giving him that quizzical look again, and now both Carter and Teal'c were watching. Jack forced himself to sound cheerful, pushing his morbid thoughts into a dark corner.

 

"Let's go see if the Caledans remember us."

 

********************

 

 

Well. This wasn't exactly the welcome Daniel had expected. He surveyed the faces of the people crowded around SG-1, and surreptitiously wiped the dampness from his hands by rubbing them down the back of his pants. It had been a hard five-mile trudge from the 'gate over rough terrain, and despite the coolness of the air he'd worked up quite a sweat. Apparently the Caledans kept well away from the ‘gate except on feast days. Six months ago, it had been just coincidence that SG-11 had stepped through on the evening before the most important festival in the Caledan year and found the entire village camped out at the foot of the steps.

 

Daniel had read the report twice, noting the emphasis Colonel Brun had placed on how peaceful the Caledans were and how welcome support from the SGC would be, even though the Goa'uld hadn't visited the planet in years. From what SG-11 had gleaned, the Caledan's traditions bore a similarity to those of the Celtic races of northern Europe, even down to the Beltaine-like festival they had been engaged in. The local people were governed by an overlord named Manan, but the real power was in the hands of his father, a druidic-like advisor named Tiber.

 

The prospect of seeing a living, breathing Celtic society had driven Daniel to his text books with the kind of enthusiasm that had immediately put the rest of SG-1 on 'feed the archaeologist' alert. Now that he was here, he could barely wait to start asking questions. Only there was one slight problem. Daniel very much wanted to know why three dark-haired Caledans at the back of the group were eyeing him as though he smelled bad. Of course, he probably didn't smell all that great after that walk from the gate but - he risked a quick look at Jack, Sam and Teal'c. No, they definitely weren't getting the kind of looks he was receiving. Oh, great. Maybe he shouldn't have used that citrus shower gel this morning. It would be just his luck to encounter a race of people who considered the aroma of citronella to be a curse or something. Sam had caught him attempting to tease Jack about the prospect of bugs and had thrust it into his hand, giving him a withering look when he objected that he didn't particularly want to smell like a girl. That of course had guaranteed he would use it, even if Jack had snickered loud enough for most of the SGC to hear.

 

"Daniel?" Jack raised his eyebrows meaningfully.

 

"Jack?"  Daniel's eyebrows mirrored Jack's, his thoughts still on the hostile vibes he was getting.

 

"An introduction would be nice, don't you think?"

 

"Oh." Daniel hadn't realised the unwelcome scrutiny had distracted him quite so badly. He licked his lips nervously and then stepped forward.

 

"Hello. I'm…"

 

"We know who you are." A young man with wild, bushy curls haloing his head stepped forward. The hair, combined with the bulk of his muscles, gave Daniel the impression a human haystack was looming over him, although in truth the man probably had no more than a couple of inches in height over the archaeologist.

 

"You do?" Daniel asked, trying not to sound intimidated.

 

Daniel sensed, rather than saw, Jack step forward. He could imagine the colonel's hand shifting up the grip of the P-90, an image he found suddenly comforting. The haystack clearly caught the movement. He turned a dark gaze on Jack.

 

"Come. My father will wish to meet with you."

 

Daniel could see the information registering with Jack. "Your father? Then you must be Cal'senja." Daniel blinked in surprise that Jack had not only read SG-11's report, he’d remembered the names and managed to pull off a decent pronunciation.

 

Cal'senja wasn't impressed, though. He rewarded Jack with another dark look. "I am. And you are?"

 

"O'Neill. Colonel Jack O'Neill."

 

"You were not here before."

 

"No, I wasn't."

 

Daniel frowned. That was odd. The young man had just said he knew who they were and now Jack was doing introductions. Jack waved a hand around his team "Major Samantha Carter. Teal'c and…"

 

Cal'senja turned away before Jack could introduce Daniel. "Come."

 

Jack's eyes met with Daniel's. He raised his eyebrows, clearly thinking their host was being a little rude. Daniel grimaced in response. Something wasn't right. He could feel it, whatever it was, niggling away at the back of his neck.

 

Jack had already fallen in step behind Cal'senja, and Daniel followed suit, painfully aware of dark eyes on him as he did so. The burly young man led them through the village to one of three slightly larger buildings, and then ushered them through the doorway.

 

"Father - the Tau'ri have returned through the Great Circle."

 

A tall man dressed in animal skins whirled round at their entrance. His eyes swept rapidly over Jack and Daniel, reflected a hint of respect at the sight of Teal'c, and rested lasciviously on Sam. A calculating smile twisted his lips upwards. "Welcome."

 

"Thank you," Jack replied, pointedly stepping in front of Sam. "I take it you're Manan?"

 

The warrior inclined his head. "Manan of the Wetlands."

 

"O'Neill of the Windy City," Jack replied. 

 

As Daniel's eyes began to adjust to the gloom, he found himself being studied by a wrinkled old man who was sitting on a bed piled high with blankets. This had to be Tiber. Their eyes met and the druid nodded in acknowledgement of his presence. "So you have come back at last."

 

"Ummm - yes." Daniel stepped forward. "I'm Daniel. This is Jack…"

 

Tiber interruption was a hostile hiss. "It would seem the word of the Tau'ri is worth little."

 

Jack's head swung round. "Excuse me?"

 

The old man slowly extricated himself from the bed, accepting Manan's assistance. "You promised to return within four turns of the moon."

 

"Ah - well see, about that…"

 

The old man moved to stand in front of Daniel, cutting off Jack's explanation as he scrutinised the archaeologist carefully. "The time of betru' te is past. You are ill-advised to return now."

 

"Betru'te?" Daniel asked.

 

"Is past," the man repeated unhelpfully. "Now there is merely what was and what is to come, instead of what might have been." He turned towards Jack. "Come. We will eat and then we will talk of the treaty between the Tau'ri and the Caledan. That is why you are here, is it not?"

 

Jack pulled in an audible breath, rocking lightly on the balls of his feet. "Yes. That's why we're here."

 

As the old man turned towards the door, flanked by Manan on his right and Cal'senja to his left, Manan inclined his head towards SG-1. "Please follow us to meeting hall. The evening meal has already been prepared, and there is food enough for all."

 

Daniel fell in step with Jack as they did as they were asked, his voice a low, urgent whisper. "Jack, I got the distinct impression he thinks I've been here before."

 

"He's an old man, Daniel. Old people get confused."

 

"And what about Cal'senja?" Daniel glanced nervously at the young man's back.

 

Jack shrugged. "Getting a little jittery, Daniel?"

 

"Yes actually. Cal'senja said he knew who I was."

 

"Well, we both know that's impossible. Come on, Daniel, he clearly didn't mean you personally. He just recognised the uniform."

 

"But…"

 

"Daniel, relax. You read Brun's report. These people are friendly. They want a treaty with us. Just follow Teal'c's lead and make nice with people."

 

Daniel's gaze drifted to Teal'c, whose was wearing his characteristic stony expression. "Right."

 

 

******************

 

Despite Jack's obvious dislike of their host's insistence they leave their weapons out of reach on a high platform at the back of the hall, Daniel's unease had slowly drifted away. The meal had turned out to be a delicious stew reminiscent of a dish Sha're used to prepare on special occasions - all fragrant spices and rich juices. It had been served with freshly-baked flat bread, and washed down with a strong wine the colour and sweetness of over-ripe plums. He knew it was probably the wine making him lower his guard. A combination of thirst from the long march and Manan's daughters constantly refilling his glass meant he'd probably drunk more than he should have. His request for water had been met with polite amusement; clearly the men of this village did not consider it a suitable beverage to accompany dinner.

 

Across the table he could see Jack was having similar problems fending off the wine bearers, while Sam seemed to be having more trouble fending off Manan than the alcohol. Thank goodness for Teal'c. The Jaffa's refusal of alcohol had been accepted with grace, no doubt because of his inherent alienism.

 

Daniel tried to stifle a yawn. An over-heated room, too much wine, and a long march were taking their toll. Another bodily urge was also making itself aware to him; he really needed to pee. Climbing to his feet he politely excused himself, indicating the door and that he would be right back. The cold night air came as a shock as he stepped outside, and he immediately regretted leaving his jacket behind. His short-sleeved t-shirt offered little protection against the wind, and he wrapped his arms around his chest for warmth, grimacing at the chilling raindrops splashing against his skin. As he peered through the unwelcome weather, it occurred to Daniel he had no idea what sanitary arrangements the Caledan's employed. Did each dwelling have a latrine or was there one for the entire village somewhere?

 

He hesitated for a moment and then decided the bushes a few yards behind the nearest house would have to do. It was too cold and wet to be stumbling around on his own looking for a washroom. However, he’d barely covered half the distance when a figure suddenly loomed in front of him. Daniel looked up and found himself staring into the face of one of the men who had scrutinised him so severely on his arrival. His stomach muscles tightened with instinctive anxiety as he forced himself to smile politely.

 

"Hi. I was just - "

 

A back-handed slap whipped across his cheek, snapping his head painfully to the left and driving him backwards. A pair of gorilla-like arms folded around his chest from behind, pinning his own arms to his side. Hot breath accompanied the words threatening something distinctly unpleasant in his right ear. Unable to break the hold, Daniel did what Jack had trained him to do. He slammed his head backwards, heard the sickening sound of breaking cartilage, and then hollered Jack's name.

 

***********************

 

Jack's head jerked up. His eyes swept the table, registering Daniel's absence and the fact Teal'c was already on his feet, his face thunderous.  The distinctive sound of a fist making contact with bare skin, followed by a muffled cry, reached Jack's ears through the open window behind him. Damn it! Jack knew instinctively Daniel was the one in trouble. He was on his feet and moving towards his P-90 only to realise the platform was now empty. "Where the hell's my weapon?"

 

He rounded on Manan who merely bowed his head. "Your weapons are safe. They will be returned to you in the morning."

 

Teal'c was already through the door and Carter had climbed to her feet, concern written across her face. Jack chased after Teal'c as another cry of pain sounded. Yep, definitely Daniel. His stomach muscles tightened in reaction. He'd had the misfortune to hear Daniel vocalise pain often enough to recognise that tone and the sharp intake of breath.

 

"O'Neill!" Teal'c called his name, just as a large dark-haired man came stumbling past, clearly having been on the receiving end of a Jaffa-swung punch. With Carter on his heels, Jack rounded the corner of the house just in time to see Teal'c knock a second man to the ground. A third immediately raised his hands, backing away from - oh shit! Daniel was on the ground, his arms wrapped protectively over his head, knees drawn up to his chest to protect vital parts of his anatomy.

 

Jack vaulted over Daniel's body and laid into the third attacker. The man crumpled beneath a barrage of blows, but the sound of fighting had drawn others and Jack was driven to the ground by two large male bodies catapulting into him at speed. A foot caught him in the midriff, driving his breath from him. Strong hands folded around his biceps, and then much to his fury he was yanked to his feet, his right arm twisted painfully up his back.

 

Crap! Teal'c was surrounded by men wielding pitchforks, and Carter was on the wrong end of a wicked looking scythe. To his right, Daniel hissed in pain as he too was pulled unceremoniously to his feet, his arms yanked viciously behind his back as one of the men started to bind his wrists with far more force than was necessary.

 

"Hey!" The protest was out of Jack's mouth before he could stop it, and earned him a sharp twist on his arm. Mentally cursing his stupidity at being separated from his P-90, Jack met the gaze of the nearest villager. "Somebody want to tell me what's going on?"

 

His demand was met by movement in the gathered crowd, and then Tiber stepped forward, once again flanked by Manan and Cal'senja. All three of them were looking at the man tying Daniel, but it was Manan who spoke first. "Cra'th, what is the meaning of this? I gave you permission to begin Har'suk, not to start a brawl."

 

The man responded by tightening a final knot in the rope around Daniel's wrists, eliciting a grimace from the archaeologist. "He resisted us."

 

Manan's expression suggested he found that an unlikely explanation, but he turned away and gestured towards the others. "Lower your weapons. We have no quarrel with these."

 

Jack sucked in a hiss of pain as his arm was suddenly released from the vice-like grip pinning it up his back. His gaze held Manan's. "You have no quarrel with Daniel either."

 

It was Tiber who responded to that. "You are wrong, Colonel." He beckoned to a young woman, who reluctantly stepped forward. Even wearing the loose nightwear that covered her from neck to ankles, it was clear she was several months pregnant. Jack raised an eyebrow in question.

 

From behind Daniel, Cra'th spat angry words. "Tell them, Kyrin. Tell them how this Shin'tak has shamed you." He shoved Daniel hard in the back, driving him to his knees.

 

Jack instinctively stepped forward to protest the rough treatment, but a worried look from Carter made him halt. He could guess what she was thinking. An all-out brawl was going to result in people getting hurt, with the most likely victim being Daniel. His gaze swung back to Kyrin whose eyes were wide with fear as she looked at Cra'th, then Daniel, and finally Tiber. As the old man nodded his consent, she raised a shaky hand and pointed towards Daniel. "It is true. He is the one who dishonoured me and brought shame upon my brothers."

 

"W… www... what?" Daniel's jaw dropped open in protest. His gaze swung towards Jack.

 

"Don't deny it," Cra'th snarled, moving to stand in front of him. "The last time you came through the Great Ring, you promised to return before the time for betru' te was passed."

 

"Be-tru'te?" Daniel repeated the word slowly. "Be truth?" His eyes widened. "Betrothal?"

 

The man shot Daniel a murderous look and gestured at Kyrin. "You promised to take her as your wife."

 

Jack attempted to regain charge of the situation. "Listen, there's some mistake. Daniel has never been here before, and he sure as hell isn't responsible for that." He in turn waved an arm at the swollen belly of the woman.

 

Cra'th swivelled his attention to Jack, favouring the colonel with an equally murderous look, before finally turning to Tiber. "He is lying. I have the right of Har'suk."

 

For a moment Jack thought he saw some dark emotion, almost a hunger, flicker in the old man's eyes, but as Tiber looked towards Daniel his expression was shuttered. Tiber nodded slowly. "Har'suk is your right."

 

In response Cra'th made a move towards Daniel, his intention clearly not friendly. Jack, who had been slowly edging forward throughout the whole confrontation, immediately lurched forward to place himself between Cra'th and Daniel. He held his hands up, fingers splayed in a non-aggressive gesture to diffuse the tension. "Whoa! Hold up. You want to tell us what this hard soak is, because if it involves slapping Daniel around some more you can forget it."

 

Cra'th met his gaze coolly. "Har'suk is the right to take the life of the one who has stolen honour." He tossed his head towards Daniel, who was still kneeling in the dirt. "The manner of his death is for me to decide."

 

Jack bit down on the urge to plant his fist in the man's face. "You aren't about to decide anything concerning my team." He addressed Tiber. "Let's get one thing straight, shall we? Until today, Daniel had never been to this planet. You're going to have to look some other place for a scapegoat."

 

Tiber studied Jack thoughtfully. "I understand your wish to defend one under your command. But it is your word against that of Kyrin's…"

 

Daniel's voice - his tone one of tight control - cut through the discussion. "Do you think *I* might say something?"

 

All eyes swivelled towards him as he climbed awkwardly to his feet. He chewed at his bottom lip for a moment before speaking. "Obviously someone is responsible for - " He hesitated a moment, grimacing slightly, his eloquence clearly hampered by his inability to communicate with his hands. "Ummm, you know - the baby and everything."

 

"Daniel," Jack interrupted, not without sympathy. "If you have a point?"

 

"Yes, I do. Have a point, that is. SG-11 was here before, right? Is it not possible that one of them…"

 

"There you go," Jack rounded on Tiber triumphantly, seeing where Daniel was going. "You've got yourself a simple case of mistaken identity."

 

"N…n…no." Kyrin's voice quavered but then grew strong. "I am not mistaken. He is the one."

 

Agreement immediately rippled through the crowd.  Jack shook his head in exasperation and turned towards her, only to spin back as Daniel yelped his name. Oh shit! Cra'th and his goons had Daniel firmly in their grasp once again and were dragging him towards the thick wooden post outside Tiber's house. He pushed forward but was immediately held back by several pairs of strong hands. A frustrated growl from Teal'c met his ears.

 

"Tiber!" he yelled. "You can stop this."

 

The old man shook his head. "I cannot."

 

Jack watched in horror as more rope appeared. "No!" he protested as Cra'th looped a coil around Daniel's neck. Oh God. Were they going to hang Daniel? His gaze swept over the post as he tried to reassure himself such an act wasn't possible given its shape and size. It looked more like a whipping post, a thought that provided absolutely no comfort. However, as Cra'th tightened the rope around Daniel's neck and moved to secure the other end to the post, it became clear neither hanging or whipping were on the evening's entertainment. The post was simply there to provide a convenient tethering point, no doubt similar in intent to the stocks of medieval times. Seconds later though Jack realised an alternative danger as a gust of icy wind drove rain into his face.  "You can't leave him there all night! He'll die of exposure."

 

Manan addressed Tiber in a low tone. "He is right, Father. Such treatment is not part of the Har'suk." As Tiber nodded, Manan stepped forward. "Cra'th! Wait."

 

Crath spun round, his face venomous. "What?!"

 

"Would you have him die of the cold tonight?" Manan asked.

 

An expression flickered across Crath's face that said 'yes, that would fit in with his plan quite nicely', but then a much crueller edge sharpened his features. "No. The Spring solstice is but a few days from now. Morrigan can feast upon his blood at the festival."

 

Manan inclined his head in acknowledgement. "Than have your men put him in the barn, otherwise he will not survive to the solstice."

 

Cra'th considered the suggestion for a moment, his eyes boring angrily into Daniel. Finally he gave a curt nod and tossed the tail-end of the rope to the nearest man. "Do as Manan suggests. Tether him with the cattle."

 

Jack renewed his effort to break free of the hands holding him as a sharp tug on the rope almost jerked Daniel off his feet. Daniel's attempt to look back earned him a cuff around the head, no doubt adding to the bruises he'd already gained, and his shoulders slumped in defeat as he was led towards a low-roofed building that presumably acted as some kind of animal shelter.

 

Manan stepped in front of Jack and gestured once again for his release. He nodded towards Daniel as he was pushed through a doorway and out of sight. "I will see that no harm comes to him tonight." He clicked his fingers at Cal'senja and barked something in a dialect Jack didn't understand. In response, his son headed after Daniel's captors.

 

"He's spending the night tied up in a freezing cold barn." Jack ground the words out angrily. "You'll excuse me if I don't find your reassurance exactly comforting." He sucked in a deep breath and forced himself to be calm. "So what is this Hard Soak thing anyway?"

 

"Come. I will explain while we finish our meal."

 

Jack hesitated as Manan moved towards the main building. The crowd was dispersing now and Carter and Teal'c quickly moved to his side.

 

"Sir?" Carter encapsulated at least ten questions into the single word.

 

"Manan says no harm will come to Daniel tonight."

 

Carter's gaze drifted to the doorway of the barn. "You mean other than sleeping in cold, damp clothes, sir? He doesn’t even have his jacket."

 

Jack grimaced. "I don't like it either, Major, but right now, particularly given the fact we don't have any weapons, I think we should try to explore the diplomatic route. Then in the morning if they refuse to let Daniel go…" He gave Carter and Teal'c a meaningful look.

 

"Yes, Sir."

 

"I agree, O'Neill."

 

"Right." Jack's gaze returned to the retreating figure of Manan. "Can't say I have much of an appetite left, but let's go play nice with the natives. For Daniel's sake."

 

*********************

 

Inside the main hall, the Caledans were chattering nosily as they resumed their seats. Jack, Carter and Teal'c were ushered back inside and returned to their places, aware of the scrutiny they were under. Curiosity. Hostility. Amusement. The whole gamut of emotional responses was represented in the room.

 

Jack glanced around, trying to decide what his next move should be. At the head table, Tiber was in an animated discussion with two men of similar age. Jack felt a shiver run down his spine as he watched them. He couldn't be sure, but he sensed they were delighted by the events of the evening, and that the prospect of the Har'suk was welcome.

 

Manan was sitting at a smaller table to the right, his gaze concentrated on the contents of his glass. Jack considered the man for a moment, recalling how attentive he had been to Carter before things turned ugly, and the way he had protected Daniel from a night in the open. His mind made up, he picked up his wine in one hand and Daniel’s jacket in the other, headed round the room, and slipped into a seat next to the warrior. He laid the jacket across the table. "So, Manan, any chance of getting this to Daniel?”

 

Manan picked up his glass, drained its contents, and then gestured to a serving woman. As she refilled his glass, he muttered something unintelligible to Jack. The woman's placid expression didn't show any response to his words, but she scooped Daniel's jacket over her arm as she moved away.

 

“Thank you,” Jack said, hoping the jacket was actually heading towards Daniel, and that the woman hadn't just been given the best tip of the evening. “So, about this Har’suk thing?” He paused, but Manan appeared to be reluctant to do anything other than drink. "Look, we didn't come here looking for a fight. And Daniel certainly didn't come here expecting to get slapped with a paternity suite, so how about we all take a deep breath and figure out a solution to this that keeps everyone happy?"

 

"What is there to 'figure out'?" Manan asked. "I have seen with my own eyes that this one you now call Daniel is who Kyrin claims him to be."

 

"Well, where we come from, when someone is accused of doing something wrong, such as getting a young girl pregnant, they have a right to speak for themselves. Now in Daniel's case, he'd be able to explain that he wasn't responsible because he's never been on your planet before." Jack took a deep breath and congratulated himself on being remarkably restrained, given that he was resisting the urge to hunt out his P-90.

 

Manan frowned. "You think Kyrin does not know the father of her child?"

 

"I think Kyrin may be a little confused," Jack replied carefully.

 

"Am I confused? Is my father?" Manan's eyes narrowed. "He is the one. I recognised him myself."

 

“See there’s the problem. How can you have recognised Daniel when he’s never been here before?”

 

“I have eyes, O’Neill. You call him by a different name, but I can see who he is.”

 

Jack reluctantly let that go, realising pushing the issue with Manan, given the man’s alcohol-tempered mood, wasn’t going to get him anywhere. He decided to try a different tack. "So, tell me about this Har'suk thing."

 

"What do you wish to know?"

 

"Well, that guy Cra'th said something about getting to decide what happens to Daniel. Is there some kind of time frame to all this?"

 

"Yes. Tomorrow Cra'th will publicly announce his claim to Har'suk before the council of elders. On the second day they will announce their decision to allow his claim and on the third…"

 

"Whoa. Just back up a minute. The council of elders get to say whether or not Cra'th can do what he wants with Daniel?"

 

"Yes."

 

"So all we have to do is convince them that Daniel isn't the guilty party."

 

Manan frowned. "The council has never denied a right to Har'suk. That they will have a human sacrifice for the Spring solstice…” His voice trailed off, but then he added as though convincing himself. “The evidence of guilt is before all of us. One only has to look at his face…"

 

There it was again. This assurance that Daniel was guilty because of the way he looked.  Jack’s mind was already formulating a plan of action. "Who presides over the council? No, let me guess, your father does."

 

Manan nodded and Jack pushed himself to his feet, intending to speak with Tiber. Manan's hand on his arm stopped him.

 

"O'Neill, did you mean what you said about finding a solution that would keep everyone happy?"

 

Jack slid back into his seat, studying the warrior cautiously before slowly saying, "Yes."

 

Manan's eyes flickered towards Carter. "Then perhaps we can help one another. I could speak favourably to my father…" His attention returned to Jack, his expression questioning.

 

Oh boy! Carter was not going to thank him for this. Jack nodded. "I'm sure I could find some good things to say about you to the major."

 

The warrior swallowed another mouthful of wine. "What would you wish me to ask of Tiber?"

 

Jack didn't even hesitate. "We want time. Time to prove Daniel is innocent."

 

*******************

 

Voices outside the barn door caught Daniel's attention, giving him a welcome distraction from his discomfort. After being manhandled into the barn, his captors had thrown him against the wall of the nearest stall and tied the rope round his neck to a large metal ring fixed securely into the wall. Judging from the smell of the soiled straw on the floor, Daniel gathered the stall was normally home to a horse. The aroma was the least of his problems, though. He was sitting with his back to the wall, but with his hands still tied behind him it was just about impossible to find a comfortable position. No matter what he did, one set of muscles or another would start protesting after a few minutes. He’d also realised the tether around his neck was too short to allow him to lie down without choking himself, so he was stuck with sitting or standing. Not that he was likely to sleep anyway. He was already shivering with the cold, his rain-soaked pants and t-shirt providing little in the way of warmth. He was definitely in for a long, miserable night. And, damn it all, he was totally innocent of what he'd been accused of doing.

 

He pushed that thought aside as he strained to hear the conversation taking place outside the door. A soft feminine voice was clearly appealing to his guards. He couldn’t make out the words, but it sounded a lot like Sam. In which case, was it too much to hope that she'd come to get him released? He closed his eyes and sent a whispered prayer into the void, a childhood habit that crept out of the closet every now and again, despite his discovery that the vast majority of Earth's mythological gods were little more than alien parasites. Please, please let this be freedom on its way. His back ached, the rope around his neck had already chafed his skin, his hands were numb, and he was probably going to be hypothermic by daybreak. Oh yeah, and he really, really needed to pee. So, God, if you're up there anywhere…

 

A warm perfume, sweet and floral, cut through the sour stench of horse piss. Daniel opened his eyes, Sam's name forming on his lips. And found himself looking up at Kyrin. As their eyes met, she looked away, a spot on the floor just in front of his feet proving fascinating as her face flamed hot. Daniel stared at her for a moment, his disappointment causing angry words to race towards his tongue, but there was something fragile about her that made him bite them back before they hit the air. Perhaps it was the way her swollen belly reminded him of Sha're, hurt and distressed with Apophis' child within her, or perhaps it was the dark curls that framed her face. He sighed, his anger cooling as fast as it had flared. When he spoke, the only emotion that escaped him was weariness. "What do you want?"

 

Her voice was soft, the tone apologetic, almost fearful. “I brought your outer garment.” She put his jacket on the ground beside him, and then held out the bowl she was carrying. "And I brought Ty root. I thought, perhaps… it will help with the bruising." She brushed her fingers against her own cheek, the action one of empathy for the fresh bruises Daniel knew he sported.

 

His bound hands making movement difficult, Daniel pushed himself more upright, his eyebrows dancing as he considered her words. "Ty root?"

 

Kyrin nodded and crouched before him, holding the bowl so he could see the paste it contained. "It will numb the pain."

 

"How thoughtful." The snipe was out of his mouth before he could stop, part of him still all too aware that she was responsible for his current position.

 

"Please," Kyrin's tone was pleading. "Let me help you."

 

"You want to help me?" Daniel struggled to keep his anger under control. "How about telling your people the truth?"

 

She ducked her head, her words little more than a whisper. "I cannot."

 

"Why?" Daniel demanded. "We both know I'm not the father of your baby. Why can't you tell them?"

 

Her eyes darted away from him and she shook her head. "You don't understand."

 

"No, I don't," Daniel replied, trying to keep the exasperation out of his voice. "So why don't you explain it to me. Apparently I'm not going anywhere any time soon."

 

Hurt flickered over her face and she looked away, while he battled with feeling guilty for his snarkiness and the thought that she deserved that and more. "I'm sorry," he said, partly with genuine contriteness and partly because he knew he wasn't doing his own cause any good by alienating her further.

 

"You have a right to be angry," she replied, meeting his gaze again. "And you have a right to know."

 

"Kyrin!" Her name was barked from the door.

 

Daniel jerked his head round, wincing as the rope chafed his already raw skin. Cal'senja was standing in the doorway, scowling at them. The tall warrior stepped towards them.

 

"Do you want Cra'th to find you here? Hurry up, woman!"

 

Kyrin inclined her head and hurriedly set her bowl on the floor. As Cal'senja watched, she tugged at Daniel’s t-shirt, rolling the hem upwards, her eyes widening at the sight of the bruises marring his rib cage. She met his gaze, apology in her eyes.

 

"This will help," she whispered, dipping her fingers into the paste in the bowl.

 

Daniel sucked in a breath as she smeared cold, damp pulp onto his skin. Almost immediately, though, a warm numbness began to spread across his chest and down into his abdomen.

 

"Better?" she enquired shyly.

 

He nodded, wanting to ask what she'd been about to tell him, but aware both of Cal'senja's presence and that the paste was doing more than simply driving away the pain. His eyelids were beginning to feel heavy and an irrisistable drowsiness was stealing over him. His head bowed towards his chest, the rope pulling taut against his windpipe. No! He jerked his head back up. Was this her intention? To drug him so he strangled himself?

 

"Kyrin?" He forced her name through lips that no longer seemed to be under his control.

 

"What is wrong?" she asked.

 

"Can't…" Daniel desperately tried to fight the lethargy that was creeping over him, stealing his control over his limbs. His head was too heavy to hold upright, and his chin met his chest again. The noose around his neck pulled tighter still. "Can't… move. Can't breathe."

 

Kyrin's eyes widened in horror, and she cupped his face in her hands, desperately trying to tilt his head back against the wall. "No! The Ty Root is not meant to do this!"

 

It was impossible to stay upright, despite the fact the rope was choking him. His whole body was numb, and gravity was dancing gleefully on his shoulders, pressing him ever nearer to the soiled floor. Dust to dust, ashes to ashes, water to horse piss. Part of his mind was taking note of the fact he was being strangled, but the other part, the much larger part, was determined to shut down. He just needed to close his eyes and sleep, because then the burning round his neck and in his lungs would stop torturing him.

 

"Cal!" Kyrin's cry was shrill as she turned towards the warrior and gabbled something Daniel was no longer capable of translating. Large hands slid beneath his arms, pulling him upright. He saw the flash of a knife blade and then, to his relief, the tautness on the rope suddenly vanished. Cold air filled his lungs, making him cough, then as the hands released him, he slid inelegantly sideways before flopping forward onto his stomach. He rested his head on the straw, grateful that it provided a pillow of sorts, no longer caring that it stank. He could hear Kyrin apologising over and over, but her voice was growing distant. With a soft moan, he succumbed to unconsciousness.

 

************************

Part 2

*************

 

"I don't understand it, sir." Carter returned to the table SG-1 was occupying. She slid into a seat opposite Jack, her face despondent. "They all seem convinced Daniel has been here before."

 

Teal'c raised an eyebrow. "Is it possible our cloned versions visited this planet?"

 

Jack shook his head. "I'm sure robot Daniel has many talents, but despite being anatomically correct, getting a girl pregnant is something only our Daniel is capable of."

 

Carter tilted her head, her expression thoughtful. "Well, we don't actually know that, sir."

 

"We don't know what?"

 

"Whether our Daniel is actually capable of fathering a child. After all, he was on Abydos for a year and Sha're didn't get…" She stopped and pushed her half-full wine glass away, her cheeks colouring. "That's probably not important right now."

 

“No, Major, it isn’t.” Jack couldn't quite believe she'd raised the subject of Daniel’s fertility in the first place. Boy! Was that the kind of thing the SGC women gossiped about? "So, returning to the issue in hand," he said, immediately wishing he hadn't chosen that particular phrase. "What can we do to convince these people Daniel isn't who they think he is?"

 

Before either Teal’c or Carter could reply, Tiber's voice called Jack's name across the hubbub of conversation. Jack glanced up and saw the elder beckoning him towards the top table. Shooting his team-mates an optimistic look, he climbed to his feet and went to join him, accepting yet another glass of wine as he took a seat. Tiber raised his glass towards him, then drank deeply. He set the glass down, gave a generous belch, and then fixed Jack with a beady eye. "My son has requested that I listen to your petition. What would you ask of me, O'Neill?"

 

The direct question almost caught Jack off guard, but he quickly marshalled his thoughts. "Well, at this Har'Suk thing, I'd like an opportunity to explain why it is impossible for Daniel to be the father that baby."

 

"I see." Tiber continued to study him intently. "Do you not think it strange, O'Neill, that many in the village recognise him, yet you and your team deny his identity?"

 

"Yes, I think that's strange," Jack replied cautiously.

 

"And would not a simple explanation be that you are lying about who he is to protect him from facing judgement?"

 

"As simple an explanation as Kyrin and her brothers looking for a convenient scapegoat."

 

"Scapegoat?" Tiber asked. "You used this word earlier. I am not familiar with it."

 

"It means someone who is blamed for something he hasn't done."

 

"Indeed," Tiber replied. "However, all have seen him and all know that he is the one responsible."

 

Jack blew out an exasperated breath. "Okay. I can't explain why you all seem to think Daniel has been here before. But at least give us a chance to prove he hasn't, because believe me, you have the wrong man tied up in the barn."

 

"Then what exactly do you want, O'Neill?"

 

"Let me send Major Carter back through the Stargate to see if she can find a reason for the confusion over Daniel’s identity."

 

Tiber considered for a long moment. "Very well. You may send her. But I do not understand what you hope to achieve."

 

"What I hope to achieve is some way of convincing you Daniel isn’t the man you want," Jack said. He stood and inclined his head. "Thank you."

 

" Your gratitude is not required.” Tiber picked up his wine glass and eyed Jack coolly. “Morrigan has clearly blessed us with a suitable sacrifice for the spring solstice. The Har'Suk will continue, O'Neill, and the one you now call Daniel Jackson will be put to death. "

 

*******************

 

The three free members of SG-1 were awake before dawn the following day. Jack had slept badly, his dreams punctuated with nightmare images of Daniel dying. The archaeologist had unfortunately given his imagination plenty of fodder - throwing himself in front of a staff weapon on the very first mission to Abydos, being crushed to death beneath a rock fall in an alien mine, apparently vapourised by a volcanic vent on Nem's world. Jack shivered. Daniel had been dead far too many times already. This mission was not going to add to his gallery of one hundred and one different ways to take the life of an archaeologist.

 

He scrubbed a hand across his face in an effort to make himself more alert, and then turned his attention to Carter, who was standing at the door ready to leave.

 

"Change of plan," he said abruptly, causing her to swing round to face him.

 

"Sir?"

 

"I want Teal'c to go to the 'Gate with you." Jack winced as a tremor of premonition danced along his shoulders. "If one Kyrin's brothers gets wind of what you're up to, they just might try to stop you. Let's not take any risks, okay?"

 

Protest flittered across Carter's face, presumably because she didn't feel she needed a chaperone, but she bit down on the emotion and nodded. "Yes, sir."

 

Jack turned towards Teal'c. "Stay at the 'Gate until Carter returns, then make sure you both get back here safely."

 

Teal'c nodded, then frowned. "I do not like travelling without my staff weapon."

 

"I know," Jack said. "But somehow I don't think the Caledans are going to hand us back our weapons while they've still got Daniel tied up in that barn. They know only too well we'd blast our way straight in there and get him out."

 

"I concur," Teal'c said.

 

Carter nodded. “We can bring more weapons back, sir. Or even reinforcements…”

 

“I suspect any weapons you bring back will be confiscated the moment you step through the ‘Gate. As for reinforcements,” Jack considered for a moment. “Explain the situation to Hammond. I’m still hoping we can find a diplomatic solution to this, but if we can’t, then tell him a back-up plan would be appreciated.”

 

“Yes, sir.” She pushed the door open then looked back. “Tell Daniel we won’t let him down.”

 

Jack had no reply to that. He simply nodded, then moved to the doorway and watched them set off in the direction of the Stargate. He glanced at his watch, estimating how long it would take them to cover the five miles of rough terrain. It had to be at least a two-hour walk.

 

He was just about to go back into the hut that had been assigned to SG-1 when he saw signs of movement in the main hall. Moments later Manan appeared with Cal'senja at his side. He strode up to Jack with an air of urgency.

 

"You must come immediately. The Har'suk will begin as soon as the sun rises and Cal'senja cannot rouse your friend."

 

"What?" Jack felt his stomach lurch. "You said Daniel would be fine!"

 

"I watched over him all night," Cal'senja protested. "He slept peacefully, but this morning I can't wake him."

 

"Crap." Jack muttered a few additional swearwords under his breath as he headed towards the barn. With Manan and Cal’senja in his wake, Kyrin’s brothers did not attempt to block his path, and he burst unimpeded through the guarded doorway, frowning at the dark interior and grimacing at the stench. "Where is he?"

 

"Here." Cal'senja stepped past Jack to indicate the stall.

 

Quickly Jack pushed by him, sucking in an angry breath as he saw Daniel lying face down on the soiled straw, his jacket thrown over his shoulders, and his hands still bound behind his back. He dropped quickly to his knees, checking for breath signs and a pulse. To all intents and purposes, it appeared Daniel was simply slumbering like a baby on a feather mattress. Cautiously Jack ran his hands over Daniel's body feeling for any obvious injuries such as broken bones. Everything seemed fine, so he risked rolling Daniel onto his side. That at least elicited a mumbled protest, but still Daniel didn't wake.

 

"C'mon, Danny. Rise and shine." Jack gently patted Daniel's right cheek.

 

Nothing.

 

He tried again, a little harder on the cheek and louder with the voice. Still nothing.

 

Manan edged closer. "O'Neill! Time is passing."

 

Jack shot Manan a dark look. "I don't suppose you have an alarm clock?" He vainly patted the archaeologist's face once more. “Daniel!” Dark thoughts about internal injuries and shock sneaked into his mind. Daniel could be a heavy sleeper at the best of times, but this morning he was way beyond that; he seemed to be totally dead to the world. What the hell was going on? Jack glanced up at Cal’senja, who was watching his attempts to rouse Daniel with a detached air.

 

"He's been like this all night?" Jack demanded.

 

The young man nodded. "Tiber's wine can be too strong for those not familiar with it."

 

"Right," Jack muttered under his breath. "Blame it on a hangover and not the fact he had the crap beaten out of him last night."

 

"You must wake him now," Manan said, his tone urgent. "The Har'suk requires his presence when the sun is fully risen."

 

"Yeah, yeah, so you keep telling me." Jack started over with his physical examination of Daniel. Airway fine. Heart rate slow but steady. He pushed Daniel’s t-shirt up, his eyes narrowing at the bruising on Daniel’s torso as he carefully checked for broken ribs and evidence of internal injury. A smear of dark green pulp on Daniel’s chest made him briefly wonder what Daniel had been rolling around in the previous evening, and how whatever it was had gotten under his shirt. More importantly, though, there didn’t seem to be any evidence that Daniel was injured beyond the darkening bruises.

 

Jack blew out an exasperated breath, partially relieved at not finding anything obviously wrong, but still concerned at Daniel's unresponsiveness. Perhaps Cal'senja was right about the wine. After all Daniel's tolerance for alcohol was often impaired by the allergy shots Fraiser gave him, and Jack knew she'd been trying something new on him recently.

 

"Hurry, O'Neill!" Manan urged him again. "It will do him no favour to keep the council waiting."

 

Uncertain what to do next, Jack's gaze fell on a bucket of water standing near the animals' drinking trough. He grimaced to himself as the obvious course of action formed in his mind. No, he couldn't do that, could he? He wrinkled his nose at the stench in the stall, and couldn't help but observe Daniel smelled none to sweet himself. Of course with his hands tied behind his back, there were certain personal functions Daniel couldn't be expected to perform, and sometimes needs must.

 

Okay, that settled it. He'd be doing Daniel a favour, and he really couldn't think of any other course of action. His mind made up, Jack didn't hesitate any longer. Under Manan's watchful eye, he flicked Daniel’s jacket to one side with his foot, then picked up the bucket and emptied its contents over him. There was a long moment of silence, then the air filled with some extremely colourful Abydonian expletives.

 

"Good morning, Daniel," Jack said, hiding his relief under a heavy layer of fake casualness. The swearing stopped and an extremely pissed off Daniel pushed himself awkwardly into a sitting position. "Sleep well?"

 

Daniel blinked up at him with an expression that suggested Jack was a dead man walking before replying slowly, "Yeah, just great. Remind me to add this place to my holiday guide.” He licked his lips, his gaze sliding to Manan, then back to Jack. "Something tells me you haven't come to let me go."

 

"Errr… no. Your presence is required at the Hard Soak, although I guess we've kind of already done the soaking part," Jack tapped at the empty bucket with his toe, and shot Daniel an apologetic look.

 

"S…s..sam and Teal'c?" Daniel's teeth began to chatter thanks to the cold air and his damp t-shirt.

 

"Carter's gone back to the SGC to see what she can find out about SG-11's mission. Teal'c is playing chaperone between here and the ‘Gate." Jack leaned forward and helped Daniel to his feet, addressing Manan as he did so. "Is it really necessary to keep him trussed up like this?" He scooped up the discarded jacket, and wrapped it round Daniel's shoulders as best he could, feeling guilty at being responsible for adding to Daniel’s trials.

 

"You will have to appeal to Cra'th regarding the manner in which he is held during Har'suk," Manan replied. "Now come quickly."

 

"What's going on, Jack?" Daniel asked as he followed Manan towards the door.

 

"Apparently Cra'th gets to announce your crime to everyone this morning. The good news is that Tiber agreed to Carter's little expedition. She's going to find some way to prove your innocence."

 

"You know I’ve been thinking of suggesting to Hammond that we limit ‘Gate travel to worlds that have heard of innocent until proven guilty,” Daniel complained. “Remind me to send him a memo.”

 

Jack grimaced. "We're going to get you out of here, Daniel. Right now, though, I'm just trying to figure out how to do it without killing a whole lot of other innocent people, okay?"

 

Daniel swallowed and nodded. "Not killing people would be good. Not being killed is pretty good too." He blinked as he stepped into bright sunlight. “Whoa! Kind of bright.”

 

Jack’s fingers had already folded around his sunglasses, but as he caught Daniel’s reaction to the light, he quickly dropped them back into his pocket, not wanting to further emphasise the difference in their situations. Instead he joined Daniel in squinting as, ahead of them, Manan gestured towards a footpath that led into the trees immediately behind the barn.

 

"Hey, hold up!" Jack stopped, catching Daniel's arm. He loosened the rope around Daniel's neck, lifted it over his head, and threw it back through the barn doorway. "I think we can manage without that."

 

"Thanks," Daniel murmured.

 

Jack's eyes narrowed as he caught sight of the chafed skin around Daniel's neck. "You okay?"

 

"Oh yeah," Daniel replied quickly, stretching his shoulder muscles as best he could. "Feeling much better now."

 

Manan was setting a brisk pace, and aware that Daniel was hampered by his hands being tied behind his back, Jack hovered at his side in case he required a steadying hand. For a few minutes they walked in silence, Jack trying to convince himself the cause of the rope burn was innocent. Trying and failing.

 

"Things get a little rough last night?" he asked, uncertain that he wanted to hear Daniel’s reply, but needing to know exactly what his team-mate had suffered.

 

"Actually…" A furrow appeared between Daniel's eyes as he frowned.  "Listen, Jack, there's something I need you to do."

 

"Yeah?" Jack didn't miss the fact Daniel hadn't answered his question.

 

"Speak with Kyrin for me."

 

"Kyrin? The woman with the…" Jack mimed having a large belly.

 

"Yeah, her." Daniel glanced towards him. "She came to see me last night. I think she was going to tell me something about what had gone on when SG-11 were here, but Cal'senja interrupted before she got a chance."

 

"Daniel, she's the one who condemned you!"

 

"I know! But… there's something about her, Jack. I just get the feeling that…" Any further coherent conversation from Daniel came to an abrupt end as his gaze fell on their destination. In the centre of a clearing was a ring of standing stones, but unlike similar circles on Earth that were weather-worn and battered, these stones were like new, their corners perfect ninety-degree angles and their surfaces etched with runes.

 

"A druidic circle," Daniel breathed the words with more than a hint of awe, excitement lighting up his face. "This is… Jack, do you realise… wow, look at that… Not even in Brittany, not even in Carnac itself are there stones with such complete inscriptions." Their path had led them into the circle and Daniel spun round on the balls of his feet, trying to take it all in. "This is absolutely amazing. If I could just get a few photographs…"

 

Jack shook his head in disbelief that Daniel could forget the seriousness of his situation quite so completely. For a moment he was tempted to let him enjoy a moment of wonder, but movement in the trees quickly dashed that idea.

 

"Daniel! Hard though this may be for you, this really isn’t the time for an archaeological orgasm!" Jack caught him by the shoulders and turned him to face a large block of stone that looked far too much like a sacrificial alter for Jack's comfort. "We have company."

 

*********************

 

"Major Carter, what's going on?" General Hammond demanded as she stepped through the event horizon into the Gateroom.

 

"It's Daniel, sir." She hurried down the ramp towards him. "He's in trouble and I need SG-11's personnel files and mission logs. The old SG-11, that is, sir."

 

"I have them in my office, Major. You can explain why you need them on the way."

 

"Yes, sir."

 

A few minutes later, Sam was sitting on the far side of the general's desk, four thick folders sitting on the smooth wooden surface in front of her. She picked up the top folder, which was labelled Colonel Josiah Brun. The front cover opened to reveal a photograph of a forty-five-year-old man with brownish-red hair cut into a typical military style. Quickly she began to scan over his details.

 

"Do you have any idea what we're looking for, Major?" Hammond picked up the next folder.

 

Sam shook her head. "Not really."

 

A knock at the door stopped her expanding on that thought. Technician Harriman walked in, a pile of folders in his arm. "You wanted SG-11's mission reports, sir?"

 

"Put them here, Airman." Hammond indicated a clear spot on his desk.

 

Sam sighed at the sight of them. There was at least two feet of paper to wade through. This was going to take time, something Daniel had very little of. She turned her attention back to the file in her hand, scanning through the details as quickly as she dared. Nothing jumped out at her so she put it back on the desk and took the next one, wincing inwardly at the word 'deceased' that was stamped across the name details.

 

"Captain Mark Hawes," she said. "I didn’t really know him."

 

"A fine officer," Hammond replied. "A great loss to the SGC."

 

Sam flipped the file open and stared at the photograph inside. Mark Hawes had been about twenty-eight years old when he was killed. He'd been a good-looking young man, short light brown hair with well-defined features. A strong nose. Generous lips. Light blue eyes behind wire-framed glasses. "Glasses!"

 

"Major?" Hammond looked up, questioningly.

 

In response, she turned the file round and slid it across the desk. "Mark Hawes wore glasses."

 

Hammond stared down at the image for a long moment. "And?"

 

"And so does Daniel." She quickly flipped through Hawes's file. "Similar height. Similar weight. Both of them wear glasses. Same colour hair. Sir, the Caledans don't have any way to record images. It's entirely possible that after six months their memory of what Captain Hawes looked like would be hazy enough that when Daniel stepped through the 'Gate looking vaguely similar, they simply saw the glasses and assumed he was the same man."

 

Hammond didn't look convinced. "But Major, from what you've told me Hawes was intimate with one of the local women. Surely she would know the difference."

 

That pulled Sam up short. "Well, you'd think so, sir.” She considered a moment, trying to come up with a logical explanation. “Those brothers of hers appear to be pretty mean characters, though. Maybe by naming Daniel as the father of her child she was deflecting a lot of unpleasant attention. Or something."

 

"Well, even if you're correct, Major, how are we going to convince the Caledans that Doctor Jackson isn't the man they want? Captain Hawes is dead and somehow I don't think taking a photograph of him through the 'Gate will sway these people."

 

"No, sir, I don't think it will either." She picked up Colonel Brun's file. "But I have an idea…"

 

  ********************

 

Jack nudged Daniel in the ribs - again. Damn it, what was with him? All this religious mumbo jumbo should've had Daniel in a paroxysm of anthropological delight, instead of which he seemed incapable of keeping his eyes open for more than ten minutes at a time.

 

"Daniel!" he hissed. "Wake up!"

 

"W... what?" Daniel jerked too, blinking at the spectacle in front of him. "Oh. Sorry."

 

"What’s with the catnaps?" Jack asked pointedly. “Something happened last night, didn’t it?

 

Daniel shot him a sharp look. "No."

 

The response made Jack even more determined to know what had happened. He fixed Daniel with his best don’t-mess-with-me expression. "Want me to *order* you to share?"

 

That elicited a sigh. "Okay, but you’re not going to like it.”

 

Jack’s stomach flip-flopped. “Just tell me Daniel.”

 

“Kyrin rubbed some kind of analgesic paste on me last night. It has an unfortunate side-effect."

 

"You let the woman who condemned you to death rub some kind of gloop all over you? Daniel! What the hell were you thinking of?"

 

"She just wanted to help."

 

Jack's eyebrows nearly left his face at that comment.

 

"I was a bit tied up at the time," Daniel snapped. "Shhh… I think Tiber's getting to the point."

 

"About time," Jack grumbled, reluctant to let the subject of the previous evening drop, but realising from Daniel’s expression that he wasn’t going to be any more forthcoming. He glanced at his watch. The ceremony had been going on for nearly three hours already, and the novelty of watching Tiber pour perfectly good wine into the ground had worn thin a long time ago. It was like being at some masochistic version of an AA meeting. Hey guys, look at this lovely red wine. Oops, spilled it again.

 

"Oh yes," Daniel said. "Definitely getting to the point."

 

"What's he saying?"

 

“He’s welcoming Morrigan.” A small furrow formed between Daniel’s eyebrows as he concentrated on translating. “Dark Raven, Great Queen of Death, your children offer you welcome. We call to you in the fruiting branch. We call to you by the golden scythe. We call you forth from the beauty of the apple blossom and the sharpness of the blackberry thorn. We offer you water, pure and clean from the Spring of Gwain.”

 

“Fascinating,” Jack said wearily, watching Tiber pour water into a bowl and then out onto the ground. Perhaps the real plan here was to turn the depressed ground within the stone circle into a lake. Or a swimming pool. Every Celtic village should really have a municipal baths.

 

Tiber began to pull the petals off a red flower, and Daniel resumed his translation, his voice a soft murmur. “Morrigan the Prophetess, the Enticer, the Joy and Bane of Heroes, the Great Devourer, we call to you. We would deck you in blossoms and welcome you to our sacred Grove.” The petals went into the bowl before being thrown up into the air, where the breeze caught them, scattering them around the stone circle to lie like tiny pools of blood on the damp brown earth.

 

Jack leaned closer to Daniel. “Any idea how much longer all this back to nature stuff is going to go on for?”

 

Daniel shook his head. “Not really, but there seems to be a pattern to each part of the ceremony. Have you noticed Tiber seems to make the offerings in sets of three?”

 

“What I’ve noticed,” Jack commented sourly, “Is that these people seem to worship a lot of deities. What have they done so far? The four points of the compass, the wind, the sun, the sky…”

 

“I think inviting Morrigan to the gathering is the high point of the ceremony,” Daniel observed. “Tiber’s getting quite… umm… poetic.”

 

“Oh?” Jack couldn’t tell any difference from the previous chanting.

 

“Descend in beauty, O Morrigan,” Daniel translated. “You whose flesh is firm and sweet.” Jack shook his head in bemusement. “We offer you the seat of honour in our Sacred Grove. Bring to us your blessings as we pour red wine for you.” More wine splashed onto the ground.

 

“You know there should be a law against wasting perfectly good wine,” Jack whispered.

 

“Oh.” Daniel said with a slight hint of alarm. He stopped translating out loud but it was clear he was still intently following Tiber’s dialogue.

 

“What?” Jack’s eyes moved from Tiber to Daniel and then up at the two men who were striding across the circle towards them.

 

"I think this is where I... Oww!" Before Daniel had chance to finish, he was pulled roughly from his position sitting next to Jack on the grass. His jacket fell from his shoulders, and was kicked back in Jack’s direction as Daniel was yanked into the middle of the circle. The two men, Kyrin's brothers Jack realised, held Daniel in place, their hands digging into his bare biceps. Cra'th now climbed to his feet and stood in front of him, letting loose a stream of words in his own language.

 

Whatever it was he said, Daniel clearly didn't like it. The archaeologist's gaze moved to where Kyrin was sitting, then back to Cra'th. Oh-uh. Jack could see from the look on Daniel's face that something rash was about to spill off his tongue. Sure enough, Daniel opened his mouth and unleashed a short, but clearly pointed, volley of words back at Cra'th. The Caledan's eyes narrowed, then without warning he pulled back his right arm and slapped Daniel hard across the face. Daniel turned his face back with deliberate slowness, held Cra'th's gaze for a long moment, and spat a mouthful of blood-flecked saliva onto the grass. Whatever he said next was received with the same degree of welcome as his previous comment, but this time a barked command from Tiber saved Daniel from a second slap.

 

The elder moved forward, stepping around the altar behind which he had been officiating in the lengthy ritual of his cult. Jack gritted his teeth as he saw Tiber was carrying a wicked looking knife and the same small bowl he’d used to make all the offerings. Tiber stepped between the two men, then nodded to the brother on Daniel's right. The man moved behind Daniel and deftly untied the knots in the ropes around Daniel's wrists. Jack had barely allowed himself to hope this was good sign before Daniel's right arm was yanked forward. Oh no, definitely not a good thing. Jack tried to get to his feet, but suddenly found Manan’s hands on his shoulders, keeping him in place.

 

“Do not interfere unless you wish to suffer the same fate as your friend,” Manan warned softly but firmly.

 

Jack shrugged Manan’s hands off, and turned back to the spectacle in the middle of the stone circle just in time to see Tiber draw the knife blade across Daniel's forearm, opening up a three-inch gash. “Damn it!” he muttered, totally frustrated.

 

Daniel muffled a cry as he instinctively tried to pull away, but was held in place. The muscles of his forearm formed smooth contours as his wrist was twisted inwards to lock the elbow joint, and Tiber calmly collected blood from the dripping wound. When he was satisfied, he nodded to Cra'th, who willing held his own arm out. The knife blade flashed again and Cra'th's blood joined Daniel's in the bowl.

 

Jack gave vent to his feelings as Daniel was dumped unceremoniously back on the grass next to him. "What the hell was that all about?" He began fumbling through the pockets of his vest for a dressing. "Give me your arm."

 

"Jack, the ceremony…"

 

"Screw the ceremony. Give me your arm!"

 

His reluctance clear, Daniel held out his forearm. "It's a ceremony of bonding," he said, hissing in pain as Jack pinched the edges of the wound together.

 

"This needs stitching."

 

Daniel ignored him, his eyes widening as he stared across the stone circle. "Morrigan!”

 

“What?” Jack glanced up and grimaced as he saw Tiber hold out the bowl to a bird. “It’s just a raven, Daniel.”

 

“The raven is the sacred symbol of Morrigan,” Daniel said quietly.

 

“Yeah, whatever,” Jack replied, more interested in patching Daniel’s arm. However, the awed behaviour of the crowd sent a shiver down his spine and he found himself unable to look away, despite the need to tape the wound on Daniel’s arm.

 

 The raven eyed the bowl for a long moment, then dipped its beak into the blood. A savage smile broke out on Tiber's face and he turned to the gathered assembly and shouted something that sounded victorious even to Jack's uninitiated ears. He turned back to Daniel, who was suddenly looking rather green. "What did he say?"

 

Daniel stared down at the wound on his arm, Jack’s fingers still holding the flesh together. "That in four days the raven will drink blood directly from my veins."

 

*********************

Part 3

*****************

 

Colonel Josiah Brun clearly had no desire to be reminded of his time with the SGC. Having reluctantly agreed to see Sam, he ushered her into his house as though he was inviting the devil through the doorway.

 

"Let's get one thing straight before we begin this conversation, Major Carter. I'm retired. Medically retired. And digging up the past is not high on my list of priorities."

 

"I appreciate that, sir," Sam replied, maintaining a respectful tone. "And please believe me, I wouldn't have troubled you if it wasn't a matter of utmost urgency."

 

The colonel settled himself into an easy chair with some difficulty. The injuries he'd received while being tortured by Apophis' Jaffa had reduced his once athletic body to a crippled shell. "Speak!" he commanded, gesturing at Sam with a gnarled hand.

 

As he hadn't offered her a seat, Sam remained standing, the fact that he was a senior officer making her subconsciously hold herself to attention. "Sir, do you remember a mission to Caleda?"

 

"Caleda?" Brun frowned as he thought.

 

"You believed the indigenous population descended from the Celts. When you arrived they were preparing to celebrate one of their annual festivals. You said in your report it reminded you…"

 

"Yes, Major. I remember. It's my body that crippled not my mind. What of it?"

 

Sam flinched at his harsh tone. "SG-1 returned to Caleda and, well, sir, things haven't gone well. Doctor Jackson has been accused of getting one of the local women pregnant and…"

 

Brun snorted. "Never could keep his pants zipped, could he?"

 

Sam bristled at the slur but maintained her respectful tone. "Sir, the woman in question is several months along and Doctor Jackson didn't set foot on the planet until this week.”

 

Brun shook his head. "What's the problem? Jackson ticked at the prospect of paying maintenance for a brat that isn’t his?"

 

"No, sir. It's rather more serious than that. Doctor Jackson's life is on the line."

 

Sam was relieved to see that her words stopped Brun's sardonic comments. He stared at her for a long moment. "You'd best tell me more, young woman."

 

"Yes, sir." Sam pulled in a deep breath and quickly but thoroughly brought Brun up to date on SG-1's mission. "So you see, sir, if I don't return with proof of Daniel's innocence, he’ll be killed."

 

Brun was silent for a long moment. "You'd better sit down, Major. I'll tell you what you need to know."

 

"Thank you, sir." Relieved to finally get some co-operation, Sam sank into the nearest seat.

 

"SG-11's mission to Caleda was a routine first contact mission. The team was made up of myself, Captain Mark Hawes, Sergeant…"

 

"With all due respect, I read the mission reports." Sam shot him an apologetic look. "And as time is rather key here, if you could just fill me in on what they didn't include."

 

"Of course." Brun stopped, hesitated for a moment and then began again. "To be as brief as possible. Captain Hawes fell in love with one of the young Caledan women.”

 

“Then I was right. Daniel has been mistaken for Captain Hawes.”

 

Brun shook his head. “I don’t see why he should be. I never noticed much of a similarity.”

 

“I think it’s the fact they both wore glasses,” Sam explained. “That and they did share a similar build and colouring.”

 

A frown formed lines across Brun’s forehead as he considered that. “I suppose that’s possible. Anyway, you wanted to know what happened. I'm afraid I can't remember the girl’s name. Hawes was a sneaky son of a bitch, managed to the relationship out of my line of sight on the planet until right before we returned through the 'Gate. Then he comes clean and tells me he wants to stay on Caleda with her. Naturally I ordered him back to the SGC."

 

"I see." Sam couldn't help but remember the stories she had heard about Daniel falling in love with Sha're and staying on Abydos. How different all their lives might have been if Colonel O'Neill had ordered him to return to Earth?

 

"Once back through the 'Gate, Hawes came to see me. He wanted to resign his commission and return to Caleda. He said he'd promised to marry this girl." Brun shook his head. "I thought it was nothing but romantic hogwash and told him so. Eventually I persuaded him to remain at the SGC for one more mission. If he still felt the same after that, I agreed to speak to General Hammond on his behalf."

 

Sam's mind was already putting together the pieces. "But he didn't come back from that mission." 

 

"No, he didn't." Brun raised his withered hand, his gaze bitter. "And I had other things on my mind. I had no idea…"

 

"Sir, I need you to come back to Caleda. To tell them what you just told me."

 

Brun paled. "No!"

 

"But Sir…"

 

"No, damnit! You can't ask me to walk through the Stargate again. Not after all I've been through."

 

"Colonel Brun!" Sam's voice was strident. "A man's life is at stake here. If you don't return to Caleda with me, Daniel Jackson will be killed. And to all intends and purposes, your name will be on his death warrant.”

 

**********************

 

With Daniel back under guard in the barn, Jack was playing stalker. He watched as Kyrin moved around the village, fetching water from the river, preparing food for her brothers and mingling on the edge of the groups of women. Any time now he was sure he would spot the right moment to catch her alone.

 

Yes, perfect. He watched as she excused herself from the two women she was speaking with and headed in the direction of her hut. Cautiously, he circled around the main gathering area in the centre of the village, his eyes on the doorway to Kyrin's dwelling. He was barely five yards away from it when a large hand dropped onto his shoulder.

 

"Colonel O'Neill."

 

Damn it. He spun round to see who had managed to sneak up on him so effectively. It was Manan. A hint of amusement played in the warrior's expression. "You would be ill-advised to be found alone with Crath's sister." Manan jerked his head towards the shadows cast by the thatched roof of the barn.

 

Jack's eyes narrowed as he realised he was being observed by two of Kyrin's brothers. What was with these people? Did they all have eyes in the backs of the heads? He knew he'd been careful to avoid scrutiny. He bluffed it out, shrugging nonchalantly. "I was just out strolling." He gestured towards the sky, which was a perfect cloudless blue. "Nice afternoon, don't you think?

 

"Of course," Manan replied smoothly. His expression turned more serious. "I have news for you." Jack's stomach muscles clenched as his gaze automatically went back to the barn and Daniel's captors. He was convinced any one of them wouldn't hesitate to slit Daniel's throat now if they thought they could get away with it. Manan continued, apparently reading his thoughts. "Good news. Major Carter has returned through the Great Circle." Jack immediately glanced around the communal area, looking for her.

 

"No," Manan said. "She is still many strides from the village."

 

"Oh." Jack's eyes narrowed. "Then how do you know she is back?"

 

"I have received word."

 

"Really?" Jack didn't like the idea of Manan's men spying on Carter, but he wasn't surprised to learn it had happened. At least Manan was admitting it. That had to be a positive.

 

"She is with a man," Manan commented, sounding like a disapproving Victorian chaperone.

 

"Teal'c. I sent him along for protection."

 

Manan inclined his head. "The same reason I sent men."

 

"Of course," Jack replied sarcastically, even as he privately acknowledged the possible truth behind Manan's words. The warrior did seem enamoured by Carter. Her blonde hair and blue eyes no doubt gave her an exotic appeal compared to the local women.

 

"However, I was not speaking of the dark-skinned warrior. She travels with another older man of frail body."

 

There was only one man likely to fit that description, Colonel Brun of SG-11. Jack felt his spirits lighten. Carter had obviously made some kind of progress towards getting Daniel out of hot water. "How far from the village are they?"

 

"At the pace they are travelling, perhaps half a day."

 

"Half a day." Jack blew out an exasperated breath. They really were moving slowly. "I'll go and meet them."

 

"One of my men will accompany you," Manan immediately said. He held Jack's gaze, clearly expecting a protest. "To ensure you do not miss each other on the path."

 

"Of course," Jack muttered. "What other reason could there be?

 

 

****************

 

 

Daniel was fast learning to be grateful for small things, such as the fact someone had cleaned out the stall he was being kept in. The fresh straw smelled sweet and was a whole lot more comfortable to lie on. Jack, in a fit of remorse for dumping the bucket of water over him, had traded his t-shirt for Daniel's damp one. He was also wearing his jacket properly instead of just having it around his shoulders, which meant although he was still cold, he wasn’t totally chilled to the bone. He was, however, still tied up, but even that indignity had been improved. His hands, now bound in front of him, were tethered to the ring in the wall by a rope that was long enough to not only allow him to lie down, but gave him the freedom to relieve himself. They'd even provided him with a bucket. Hopefully Jack could resist the urge to dump the contents of that over him.

 

Of course, there was still the minor problem of them wanting to kill him to contend with, but viewing life on a minute-to-minute basis, which right now seemed to be preferable to dwelling on exactly how they were going to kill him, things were definitely looking up.

 

Voices at the doorway of the barn reminded him that he was still being guarded, and that SG-1 was being allowed limited access to him. It had been a while since he'd seen Jack and he was nervously waiting for Sam's return. However, the slender form that stepped through the doorway was Kyrin.

 

He was once again sitting with his back to the outer wall of the barn, and she moved towards him cautiously, apparently uncertain of her welcome. She held out the wooden bowl she was carrying.

 

"If that's more Ty root, I think I'll pass," Daniel said sharply.

 

She shook her head. "No, not Ty root. I thought you might be hungry."

 

The thought of food, immediately followed by the scent of stewed meat reaching his nose, made Daniel's stomach rumble. He nodded his gratitude, and she approached, setting the bowl by his side.

 

"Thank you." Daniel contemplated his bound hands and the spoon in the bowl. His wrists were tied together so that the bottoms of his palms were pressed together, great for praying but not terribly helpful for manipulating the spoon. However, the appetising smell of the food and the fact he hadn’t eaten all day made him throw caution to the wind. He reached out, grabbed the spoon with his right hand, and awkwardly twisted his arms to bring it to his mouth. He was just about to deliver a generous spoonful of meat and gravy into his mouth when a muscle spasm abruptly shot a tremor down his left arm. His hand jerked, the spoon tilted, and the hot stew deposited itself inside his jacket.

 

“Arggghhh! Damn it!” He threw the spoon across the stall, tugging at his t-shirt as hot gravy made its presence known against his skin.

 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Kyrin’s litany finally penetrated his self-absorption with the idea he was not only going to go hungry, now he had burnt skin to cope with.

 

He blew out an exasperated breath, and somehow managed to scoop the worst of the spill from his clothes. For a brief moment he considered throwing the food after the spoon, but then he thought better of it, and shoved it into his mouth, licking the gravy from his fingers as his hunger got the better of him.

 

"Please,” Kyrin’s voice was barely more than a whisper. “Let me?" She rescued the spoon and gestured her willingness to feed him.

 

A wave of indignation washed over Daniel at not being able to feed himself, but then he shrugged. It was a small price to pay for a full stomach, and the stew was too good to waste. Somewhat shyly, Kyrin scooped up a spoonful and held it for him. He hadn’t really tasted the mouthful rescued from his shirt, and now he discovered the stew really was delicious, rich with meat and vegetables and fragrant with herbs. Daniel tilted his head against the wall, closed his eyes and chewed, letting his anger dissipate. Little things were definitely becoming important.

 

When he opened his eyes to take a second mouthful, he found she was studying him, her expression one of distress. She immediately looked away, scooping up more stew for him.

 

"Kyrin, talk to me," he said softly, leaning forward for the food.

 

She shook her head, her gaze once again on the bowl as he chewed. "I'm sorry."

 

Daniel glanced down at his gravy-stained clothes. “It really wasn’t your fault.” He took another mouthful.

 

She shook her head. "I meant for what has happened. For allowing you…"

 

He chewed and swallowed, no longer tasting the meal. "Kyrin, you said there was something I had a right to know." Daniel's gaze flicked towards the doorway as he prayed against any interruptions. "I know you're frightened, but…"

 

She held the spoon up again, but he ignored it, capturing her eyes with his own.

 

"Please, Kyrin. I need to know. I need to understand why you're doing this."

 

She sucked in a ragged breath, looked down at the ground, but then began to speak hesitantly. "Your people came through the circle on the night of the festival. We believed it was a sign of favour from Morrigan and we made them welcome. There was one… he was so… different… unlike any man in my village. So much so at first he seemed like a god." She smiled at the memory. "Of course, I soon realised he was a man, just like all others, but I loved him and he said he loved me. We spent every moment we could together talking of the life we would have. He wanted children, lots of children…" Her hand went to her belly. "When it was time for him to leave, he promised he would return and make me his betrothed." A single tear tracked down her cheek. "He did not."

 

Memories of military funerals and wrecked lives assailed Daniel. “I’m sorry,” he said, intending to ask her which member of SG-11 she was talking about. Before he had a chance, though, she continued.

 

“When a woman is dishonoured as I am…” She began to cry in earnest. "The gods demand blood. If I tell the council the truth…" She hesitated, glancing towards the door before continuing, her voice no more than a whisper. "If I tell them you are not the father of this baby, then it will be my life that is sacrificed. Mine and that of my unborn child."

 

Daniel felt his stomach twist as the meaning of her words sank in. "They will kill you?"

 

Kyrin nodded. "If it was just my life…" Her hand went to her swollen belly as she looked at him. "If there was any other way…" Her tears were falling freely now. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

 

"Shhh." Daniel twisted his wrists against their bonds, wishing he could comfort her. His mind was whirling. His life or that of Kyrin and her baby? Her action in blaming him for something he had no part of didn't sit easily on his shoulders, but he could empathise with her situation. She was obviously still in her teens - barely old enough to be called a woman - just a child really. A terrified young girl who had apparently been let down by the man she loved, and thrown into an impossible nightmare. No wonder she'd grasped at a chance to save herself.

 

“I’ll marry you,” he blurted out, suddenly seeing an obvious and immediate solution.

 

“What?” She stared at him in amazement.

 

“I’ll marry you,” Daniel repeated. “Then you won’t be dishonoured.”

 

She shook her head. “It is too late.”

 

“Why?” he demanded.

 

“A joining can only take place after the Festivals of Dark or Light, but before the moon has come and gone two times in the sky. Even if we married at the next Festival, even if Tiber was to seek and win Morrigan's approval for such a union, my child would still be born outside her blessing. Only a blood sacrifice will salve her anger."

 

"Kyrin!" Cra'th appeared in the doorway. He muttered an oath as he strode across the barn, his dark gaze taking in the scene.

 

Hastily Kyrin climbed to her feet, wiping her face and trying to calm her breathing.

 

"What is going on?" he demanded, angrily. He glared down at Daniel. "What have you done?"

 

"He hasn't done anything," Kyrin said quickly. "We were simply talking."

 

"Talking?!" Cra'th grabbed Kyrin's face in his hands, his thumbs wiping across her tear-stained cheeks. "Go home!"

 

"Cra'th…" Kyrin's voice was fearful.

 

"Go home now, Kyrin!"

 

She shot Daniel a frightened look, then turned and ran.

 

Nervously Daniel licked his lips as Cra'th towered over him. "There was no reason to shout at her. She was upset." He was silenced by Cra'th folding his fists into the lapels of his jacket, pulling him upwards and then slamming him hard into the barn wall. The back of Daniel's head impacted with the rough stone, sending sharp messages of pain reverberating through his skull.

 

"She has no reason to be upset," Cra'th hissed, his tone menacing. "I don't know what you are trying to do, but understand one thing. You are going to put right the wrong done to her. It's your blood that's going to spill across the alter stone, not my sister's."

 

He shoved Daniel one last time, turned to walk away, and then saw the bowl of stew. He shot Daniel a malicious look as he kicked it over, spilling its contents onto the straw. “Enjoy the rest of your meal.”

 

Hurt and exhausted, Daniel slid down the wall to a sitting position. To his dismay, he found he was trembling. It was the lack of food making him shake, he told himself severely, his gaze drifting hungrily to his ruined meal, spilled and out of reach. He knew the truth, though. For one nightmare moment he had seen the murderous intent in Cra'th's eyes and known he was powerless to defend himself if the Caledan decided to beat the crap out of him there and then. Now the danger was gone, the adrenaline rush had vanished leaving him weak and shivering.

 

He drew his legs up to his chest, wrapped his arms around his shins and rested his forehead on his knees. For a couple of minutes he concentrated on calming his breathing, then he shoved the thought of Cra'th and his brothers away. Pondering on his possible fate was pointless. He needed to do something positive. Like figure out which one of SG-11 was the father of Kyrin’s child. Colonel Brun was an unlikely candidate. He didn’t strike Daniel as the type to be swayed by a pretty face on a mission. Sergeant O’Connell had a brood of kids, and worshipped the ground they walked on. He wasn’t likely to have indulged in an off-world affair with a young girl either. Daniel closed his eyes as he recalled the military funerals of the two remaining team members. Captain Mark Hawes and Sergeant David Matthews. It had to be one of them. The unwelcome knowledge that the child's father was most likely dead sent Daniel's mind down a different route.

 

Somebody was going to have to tell Kyrin.

 

************

 

"Carter! Teal'c!" Jack shouted to attract their attention, then vaulted over a fallen log and jogged towards them. Cal'senja followed a couple of paces behind him, his role as guide now fulfilled.

 

"Colonel." Carter pulled to a halt and gestured towards the third member of the group, who had been leaning heavily on Teal'c as he walked. "I believe you know Colonel Brun."

 

"Josiah, how's it going?" Jack thrust out his hand.

 

Brun was breathing heavily, his face red with the exertion. He straightened up and took Jack's hand, his grip weak. "I hear your boy has got himself in a spot of bother."

 

"Well, actually the trouble found Daniel," Jack replied, keeping his emotions reined in and his tone deliberately conversational.  His gaze moved to Carter, his expression questioning.

 

"We believe Daniel has been mistaken for Captain Hawes," she said, quickly filling Jack in on the details of Hawes' romance with Kyrin.

 

"Hawes?" Jack repeated the name, searching his memory for a face. Ah yes, he had it. "Really?" From what he recalled Hawes was a good few years younger than Daniel, and he'd never noticed any resemblance.

 

"We think there were enough similarities between them for the confusion to arise. Height, build, colouring, and the fact they both wore glasses."

 

"Lots of people wear glasses, Major."

 

"Not on Caleda, Sir."

 

"Good point," Jack conceded. He wasn't really bothered which of Daniel's physical attributes had landed him in trouble, he was simply relieved to have the mystery solved. "So, Colonel Brun, do you think you can convince these people Daniel isn't the person they think he is?"

 

Brun nodded, and tugged at his own reddish brown hair. "I think they'll remember me well enough. And when they see I was left virtually crippled by our last mission, hopefully they'll believe me when I tell them Captain Hawes had every intention of returning before his death."

 

Jack nodded. "I appreciate you coming through the 'Gate. It can't have been easy for you."

 

"No, it wasn't." Brun shot Carter a rueful glance. "However, the major can be very persuasive."

 

"That she can," Jack replied, shooting Carter a brief look of approval. He turned towards the village. "Shall we?"

 

 

 

******************

 

Cal'senja loomed over Daniel, his strong fingers working the knots that tied Daniel's tether to the wallring. "The council requires your presence."

 

"Why?" Daniel asked, pushing himself to his feet as the rope came free.

 

"The woman has returned through the circle."

 

"Sam?" Daniel felt a thrill of nervous apprehension. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

 

Cal'senja didn't reply. He simply nodded towards the doorway and waited for Daniel to move.

 

A few minutes later, Daniel was once again led into the stone circle. This time, though, everyone had congregated already. His gaze immediately fell on Sam, who was sitting to one side with Jack, Teal'c and a tall, older man Daniel didn't immediately recognise. Sam smiled at him encouragingly. In response he inclined his head as he was led to the far side, noting as he moved that Jack looked more relaxed than he had since their first night on Caleda.

 

Tiber and the two other elders were standing behind the altar stone, which was draped with red blossoms. Kyrin and her brothers were to their right. Daniel was brought to a halt in the middle of the circle and then pushed to his knees. With his hands still bound in front of him the fact that he was a sacrificial lamb hit him hard and fast. He couldn’t help but stare at the altar stone, imagining what it would be like to lie on its rough stone surface knowing at any moment a knife blade would be plunged into his body, to spill his blood into the narrow grooved channels that ran along its edge. Damn it, Daniel, the words sound in his head with Jack’s intonation. No need to be quite that morbid yet.

 

The sound of the ram's horn rang out and Tiber stepped forward, his long druidic robes drifting around him in the light breeze. Lightheaded from lack of food, Daniel struggled to follow what was going on as Tiber's rituals drifted on the wind, the sing-song tones of the Celtic incantations almost soothing. There seemed to be a large number of offerings to be made – grain, bread, fruits of various kind, and of course, the pouring of endless samples of wine and water into the ground.

 

Daniel felt himself fading out as Tiber indulged in a prolonged ritual that was apparently designed to turn some of the flower petals into a sticky red paste. Quite what that was about Daniel couldn’t decipher, but at least it seemed harmless.

 

Eventually, though, Jack was beckoned forward. He briefly introduced both Sam and Colonel Brun. Daniel's spirits rose as he realised who the man was. Jack then made a pointed comment about Daniel’s innocence before gesturing to Sam to take to the floor. She explained why she had travelled back through the ‘Gate, and then made way for Colonel Brun.

 

It was clear many of the Caledans recognised Brun despite the disfigurement of his body since his visit. Daniel, however, couldn't tear his gaze away from Kyrin. The young woman had paled visibly at the sight of Brun, her fingers twisted an agitated pattern into the cloth of the loose blouse covering her swollen stomach. She looked incredibly young and vulnerable. And frightened.

 

Daniel felt dizzy as Brun began to speak. His mind was racing ahead, trying to second guess what the colonel was going to say. Brun would point the finger at Hawes, explain that Daniel's involvement was simply a case of mistaken identity, and, in so doing, condemn Kyrin and the baby. Kyrin had been adamant that only a ritual blood sacrifice would appease Morrigan, and Daniel was sure the fact Hawes was already dead would not be accepted in lieu.

 

His gaze swept around the stone circle. Jack was looking relieved, Sam was nodding intently in time to Brun's speech patterns, Teal'c was as passive as ever, but Daniel knew him well enough to recognise he wasn’t as tense as he had been over the past few days. Then there were the Caledans - Cal'senja, dark and brooding, Cra'th with his angry eyes, Manan as impartial as ever, and Tiber, preceding over the event like a hooded crow, knowing that no matter what he would soon be taking a human life to appease his precious Goddess.

 

Daniel closed his eyes and swallowed hard. He couldn't allow it to happen. As Brun turned towards him, clearly ready to announce his innocence, Daniel pushed himself to his feet. "Please stop. I can't let you do this."

 

"Daniel?" Jack's voice reached him ahead of the shocked murmur than rippled around the circle.

 

"Doctor Jackson?" Colonel Brun blinked at him uncertainly.

 

Daniel hesitated for a moment, gathering his thoughts, then turned towards Tiber. His voice was clear and steady. The words formed in his mind, the translation difficult but not impossible. "Mi bi mar athair dhe an leeanabh. Dean comhla ri mi cho thu miann."

 

From the silence that followed, Daniel was terrified he’d said the wrong thing, that his newly acquired understanding of the Caledans’ unique form of Gaelic had failed him, and he’d just informed Tiber he would like a sirloin steak, medium rare, with all the trimmings.

 

Jack was on his feet instantly, ignoring Manan’s warning look. "Daniel! What the hell did you just say?”

 

Still watching for Tiber’s reaction, Daniel translated. "That I’m the father of the child and they can do with me as they wish."

 

*****************

<Part 4>

****************

 

A strangled noise from Jack’s direction pulled Daniel’s attention round to him. Oh shit. Looked like he didn’t need to worry about Tiber’s reaction. From Jack’s expression, it seemed the colonel was about to leap across the circle and murder Daniel himself.

 

“Why?!” Jack managed to wrap a dozen different emotions into the single word. Disbelief. Anger. Distress. Not to mention the idea that Daniel had clearly gone nuts.

 

An odd sensation of calm settled on Daniel’s shoulders as he replied. “I’m saving two lives, Jack.”

 

Whatever else Jack said was drowned out by a tumult of noise as everyone gave voice to their opinion of Daniel's admission. Daniel let it all wash over him. A wild, crazy plan had half-formed in his mind in the night, and now he was sifting through the details, checking and re-checking his assumptions. He'd always been willing to take risks for what he believed was right. Now he was preparing to take probably the biggest risk of all, but as he looked at Kyrin and saw the confused, yet troubled, gratitude on her face he decided it was worth the gamble.

 

"Silence!" Tiber shrieked the word and the gathering subsided into an expectant hush. "He has condemned himself by his own confession, freely given."

 

"Don't listen to him!" Jack protested. “He’s clearly insane!”

 

"Jack, please." Daniel's desperate appeal cut across the circle. He held Jack's gaze and shook his head, silently begging for co-operation. He was rewarded by an exasperated look as Jack fell silent.

 

The druidic leader moved from behind the stone alter, gathering up a small wooden bowl and a flat-bladed knife. Daniel held his ground as Tiber stepped in front of him. Holding the bowl in his left hand, Tiber dipped the knife blade into the thick red paste, then he began to chant. Daniel's mind automatically began to translate some of the phrases, but as the knife blade suddenly flashed in front of his face his mind went blank.

 

Oh God. What had he done?

 

His stomach churning and his legs threatening to fold from under him, he was actually relieved when strong hands encircled his biceps as Cra'th and his brother suddenly appeared at his side. He was held in place as once again the knife blade hissed through the air, barely an inch from his nose. The irony that thanks to Cra’th he didn’t have to worry about embarrassing himself by falling over wasn’t lost on him. The blade swishing was accompanied by more chanting and then abruptly Tiber held the knife motionless in the air between them, the dark red paste glistening on the metal with a malevolent promise

 

"The mark of the raven," Tiber intoned rhythmically in his native language as he pressed the flat of the blade against Daniel's right cheek smearing the paste across his skin in an elongated 'M' - like a child's attempt to depict a flying bird in a drawing.

 

"The mark of death." The blade pressed against Daniel's left cheek, leaving behind a single vertical streak. Tiber bowed his head, then looked Daniel in the eye. "In three days, as the sun sets, you will meet with Morrigan."

 

 

****************

 

"Have you completely lost your mind?" Jack hissed as he fell into step with Daniel on the way back to the village. He glowered at the two men who were escorting Daniel, daring them to challenge his presence. Wisely, they backed off, satisfying their need to establish their dominance by snarling at Daniel to get a move on.

 

Daniel kept his head down, his attention on the rough pathway. "No."

 

"Well that's not what it looks like from here," Jack snapped. His fists were clenched again, but this time to stop himself grabbing Daniel's lapels to shake sense into him. The home run had been in their sights. All Daniel had to do was keep his mouth shut. Yeah, right. When did Daniel ever keep his mouth shut? In hindsight Jack was wishing he'd suggested to Tiber that they gag Daniel instead of wasting his breath arguing that Daniel didn't need to be bound. He swore softly to himself. "Stupid, Daniel, real stupid."

 

"You don't understand," Daniel murmured.

 

"No, I don't. Want to enlighten me?"

 

A soft breath, almost a sigh, escaped Daniel's lips. "When we're alone."

 

"Right." Jack's gaze went to the two goons either side of Daniel. "I'll book a room for Curly and Mo too, shall I?" His sarcasm went uncommented on and he trudged silently beside Daniel.

 

Back in the barn, he stood impatiently to one side, reining in his temper as Kyrin’s brothers manhandled Daniel back into place, his wrists once again leashed to the ring in the rear wall of the far stall. Daniel sank gratefully to the floor, back to the wall, his long legs stretched across the straw and his bound hands in his lap. A brief non-verbal conversation between Jack and the brothers had the desired effect of getting them to leave him alone with Daniel - amazing what could be achieved with a look and a gesture.

 

"So," Jack said slowly. "Enlighten me." Daniel tilted his head against the wall and closed his eyes, apparently gathering his thoughts, but in so doing giving Jack an unwelcome opportunity to scrutinise the blood red stains on his skin. The sight brought back unwelcome memories of another mission when he thought he’d lost Daniel. “Just a minute.” He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, dampened it in the animal’s water trough and then handed it to Daniel. “The marked for death thing is a little bit old, don’t you think?” He gestured to his own cheeks.

 

Daniel blinked at him, then looked down at the handkerchief, confused. Belatedly he realised what Jack meant. “Oh.” He scrubbed ineffectually at his right cheek.

 

“Give me that,” Jack said impatiently. He snatched the handkerchief back, crouched in front of Daniel and quickly rubbed the two marks away.

 

“God!” Daniel protested. “I’m not a six-year-old.”

 

“Damn right you’re not,” Jack retorted. “A six-year-old would have more sense than to pull the stunt you just pulled.”

 

Daniel glared at him. "If Brun had succeeded back there, they'd simply kill Kyrin in my place. I couldn't let them do that."

 

"Why the hell not?" The words were out of Jack's mouth before he could stop them. "She wasn't exactly leaping forward to save you."

 

Daniel’s expression mutated to one of disgust. "I can't believe you said that. Is that really what you want? An innocent young girl and an unborn child to be killed?"

 

Jack knew he was being irrational, but after the tension of the past few days he didn't care. All the waiting around for Carter to come up with the goods had strained his nerves, and to have Daniel simply wipe out all the ground they'd gained with a lie was more than he could stand. His frustration got the better of him. "What I want, Daniel, is for you to still be alive in four days’ time. For your information I've attended your funeral enough times already, and black isn't my colour!"

 

“Yes, well for your information, I don’t think black is your colour either! It makes you look old.”

 

They stared at each other for a moment, the preposterousness of their bickering suddenly becoming clear. Daniel looked away, the adrenaline visibly draining from him. “I have a plan.”

 

"Great," Jack said sarcastically. "You have a plan." He shook his head. "Well, it had better be good because Carter and Brun had a pretty damn watertight one until you sprung it a leak." Daniel simply stared at him, clearly waiting for him to finish his rant. "Go on then," he added irritably.

 

"Well…" Daniel licked his lips nervously and Jack knew immediately he wasn't going to like the plan. "Obviously I have to die…”

 

“Well, that so isn’t a plan,” Jack interrupted immediately.

 

“Jack, please.” Daniel said wearily. Jack shook his head in exasperation and gestured him to continue. “As I was saying, obviously I have to die…” Jack bit down on his tongue as Daniel deliberately paused, clearly expecting him to butt in again. Jack consoled himself with the thought that Daniel was going to die a whole lot sooner than he expected if he kept up the attitude. “But, I was thinking maybe actually I didn't really have to, as in not completely. Die, that is. What I thought was, there may be some way to make it seem like I was dead when actually I'm not, but as far as anyone who checks things like whether I'm breathing or have a pulse is concerned…"

 

"You want to fake your death?" Jack asked slowly, desperately trying to keep up with the babble from Daniel's mouth.

 

"Yes, like in Romeo and Juliet. That's where I got the idea from. This whole thing is a tale of star-crossed lovers and… Well, no actually that's not true, where I got the idea from, I mean. That came when I thought I was choking to death, but then I realised it was the Ty root that was making me pass out and that the rope around my neck..." He gave a soft snicker. "Funny, that. It being the Ty root rather than tied rope…"

 

"Daniel!" His frustration getting the better of him, Jack wasn’t sure how much longer he could restrain himself from doing Daniel serious harm. It crossed his mind that if he just throttled Daniel now it would save everyone a lot of trouble. Except of course General Hammond would no doubt get pissy about it and court-marshall him. He pulled in a deep breath. "Let's just take this one step at a time okay?"

 

"Okay," Daniel said slowly. “The Ty root that Kyrin smeared on me had some kind of anaesthetic effect. Then I remembered reading about mandrake. In Ancient Egypt there were a lot of stories about Ra and mandrake. They believed it to an aphrodisiac. But more importantly, the Ancient Greeks used it with wine as an anaesthetic, and the story is that mandrake was what Shakespeare had in mind when he wrote the whole scene with Juliet faking her death. And so I got thinking that maybe Ty root and mandrake were one and the same, or at least very similar. But it doesn’t really matter because if we, or rather if you, can get hold of some then…

 

“Daniel!”  Jack cut him off again. He’d got the gist of the conversation, despite Daniel wrapping the key point in a babble of apparently irrelevant detail. "You do realise what they're going to do to you, don’t you?"

 

Daniel blinked at him.

 

This whole thing was surreal, Jack decided, and he was way past the point of being subtle. "Daniel, that knife Tiber was waving around today? He's going to use it to cut your throat."

 

"Ah, yes." Daniel nodded as though Jack had just informed him he was wearing odd socks.

 

"Ah, yes?!" Jack’s eyebrows danced. “That’s all you can say?”

 

Daniel was eerily calm. "Well, that is the major flaw in my plan. You're going to have to persuade him not to do that."

 

"Right.” Jack couldn’t believe his ears. Daniel was definitely a few fries short of a happy meal. He couldn’t resist one more dig. “Well, see, Major Brun was about to do that when you jumped up and embraced parenthood."

 

"Jack, please. One step at a time, right?"

 

Jack pulled in another deep breath. "Right."

 

"Okay," Daniel relaxed again. "First you have to persuade Tiber to poison me instead of..." He gestured towards his throat, making Jack flinch.

 

"Why?"

 

"I just told you,” Daniel said irritably. “Because there really is a substance that can make the body mimic death. Somebody has to go back through the 'Gate to see Janet. She'll know what it is and you can bring it back. I swallow it and everyone thinks I'm dead. You take my body back through the 'Gate so Janet can do her reviving thing, and voila!"

 

"That's your plan?"

 

Daniel eyed him calmly. "I'm open to other suggestions."

 

Jack gazed around the stall for inspiration, but found none. "How about I get SG-3 and SG-2 to come through the 'Gate and drag your sorry butt out of here?"

 

"And how many people will die in addition to Kyrin?" Daniel asked coolly. “Because this isn’t just about me anymore. If you grab me, you have to grab her too. And somehow I don’t think we’re going to make it five miles to the ‘Gate ahead of a band of irate Morrigan worshippers if we have a pregnant woman in tow.”

 

Jack gave him a sour look. "I don't like your plan. In fact, I hate your plan. Loathe it, even."

 

"Well, I can't say I'm exactly thrilled either." Daniel buried his face in his hands. When he lifted his head again he looked as though the weight of the world was on his shoulders. "I couldn't let them kill her, Jack. I just couldn't."

 

Daniel's obvious anguish cut into Jack's frustration. Wearily, he sat down on the ground next to Daniel, his left shoulder brushing Daniel's right as he leaned against the wall. He didn't want to think about any of this. His brain was already supplying him with one hundred and one ways in which Daniel was going to end up dead. "How's your arm?" he asked, both through genuine concern and to distract himself from his morbid thoughts. Daniel held up his bound hands, and Jack pushed the sleeve of Daniel's jacket up. The taped wound was an angry red. Wordlessly Jack fumbled through his vest pockets and pulled out an antiseptic wipe.

 

"Got anything edible in there?" Daniel asked hopefully.

 

Jack stopped fussing with the wipe long enough to produce an energy bar. To his surprise, Daniel immediately tore open the wrapper and bit off a large mouthful, sighing happily.

 

"Crap! Haven't they fed you?"

 

"Kinda did," Daniel mumbled, his mouth full. He chewed, swallowed and then took another large bite.

 

"Hold still, will ya?" Jack complained, still trying to wipe Daniel's forearm.

 

"Sorry." Daniel pushed the last of the bar into his mouth, and gave himself up to Jack's ministration.

 

"So," Jack said, digging through his pockets for something else edible. He produced an ancient and badly squashed Snickers bar, which Daniel snatched from him with a barely disguised whoop of delight. "Let's discuss this lunatic plan of yours." 

Part 2