"General O'Neill is an anomaly." Janet rubbed a weary hand over her eyes. "He's not sharing any of the symptoms that everyone else has. No petechial hemorrhaging, no bleeding from anywhere, no respiratory or pulmonary distress, no organ degeneration. He has the virus in him, yet there's no physical evidence of it affecting him, other than the coma."

"Could it be a mutated strain?" Sam asked, her hand clutching Jack's over the sheet. They had gathered in the isolation room, which had been sanitized after the Cupidian's had lost their battle to live. Jack had been given the room due to his abnormal symptoms, though they hadn't seen the point in initiating quarantine procedures. "Or a natural immune defense kicking in?"

"No."

The doctor's and colonel's heads swung around to Annika. The redhead was sitting on one of the plastic molded chairs leaning into the bed, her arms crossed on the edge of the mattress with her chin resting on top. Janet and Sam exchanged quick looks as they recognized the glazed expression on the psychic's face.

"No to which theory?" Sam asked, pressing for more information before the psychic moment ended.

"Both."

"That makes no sense," Janet murmured. "It has to be one or the other. There has to be a reason that Jack's symptoms vary so greatly to the rest of the personnel."

"Ignore us."

"Ignore?" Sam raised an eyebrow. Ignore the vision? Or was she referring to the earlier 'second guessing' download?

"We're not important." Annika's eyes refocused for a moment, her brow puckering into a frown. "Wait, that came out wrong." Her eyes closed as she tried replay the words that had been flitting across her third eye, which was hard to do because she was feeling oddly detached from the entire situation. "You need to take us out of the equation."

"Us?"

"Did I say us?" At their nod Annika's frown deepened. "Give me a sec...'us' as in SG-1...ignore us. We're different."

Janet jumped in. "If you're different it could be an immunity..."

"No." She shook her head. "There's a third variable. I can't see what it is, but whatever it is, it's unimportant as far as finding a cure for the others. I don't know why we're different, but our symptoms will only confuse your conclusions...and this difference won't be a help to anyone else."

Every word the psychic uttered only added another piece of the puzzle that didn't fit, yet there were a couple of rays of hope. Sam grabbed at them. Annika was still speaking of a cure, so that was good, there was still a chance. There was another snippet her heart found more important. "So this difference is a good thing for Jack?"

"I don't understand how," Annika shrugged helplessly, frustration marring her tone. "How is being in a coma a good thing?"

"Comas are a healing process," the doctor explained. "It's like the body shuts down and runs on emergency power so it can use that excess to heal whatever is wrong." She paused hating to voice the possible outcome. "Sometimes it works, sometimes the damage or trauma is too great."

Sam's hand unconsciously tightened around the hand laying limply in hers. Something Annika had said tugged at her mind. "Annika, you said 'we, as in SG-1'."

The redhead's eyes widened as the significance of that statement hit her. "So you and I..."

"Could drop just as suddenly as Jack," Sam said softly.

Janet's focus switched to the two women. "The general mentioned feeling numb just before he collapsed. Are either of you experiencing that?"

The two friends exchanged questioning looks. Annika was the first to nod.

"I've been feeling very...detached...since we went to the Cupidian's planet." She remembered Jack's response when she mentioned it. "Jack was feeling it then too. We thought it was just shock having just seen the villages." She sighed. "But it's getting worse."

Sam's head bobbed slowly up and down. "My fingers and toes have felt like they've been falling asleep on and off since the early afternoon."

Janet felt like the rug had been swept out from beneath her. It was one thing to have the base in lockdown with a deadly disease. It was a totally different kettle of fish to realize that her friends, whom she used as a sounding board and more importantly for emotional support, could literally be taken out of the picture in the blink of an eye. She couldn't do this alone. She may have some of her med team, but it wasn't the same. The doctor drew in a steadying breath. "I'm going to check on how Jenkins' latest test results are going."

"She's impressive, isn't she?" Maybourne's voice was clear through the headphones.

Daniel gave a shrug. He assumed Harry was referring to the helicopter, which had lifted off under the cover of the predawn darkness from the park. It was small as far as he was concerned, compared to the usual military helo. If all of SG-1 had been on the mission it would have been a very tight fit. Although he had noticed that the sound of the rotors as it had powered up was significantly lower than the others he had flown in. "It's a helicopter."

"It's not just a helicopter." Harry was indignant. "This is 'the Quiet One'...only one in existence." When he received only a blank look from the archaeologist he sighed. "And you call yourself a historian."

"The helicopter 'the Quiet One', also known as the Hughes 500P, the 'P' standing for Penetrator, was used for one covert mission during the Vietnam War," Teal'c recited as though he were reading from a textbook. "A wiretap was successfully placed to gather intelligence from the North Vietnamese. It is said that the results of that intelligence played a part in all parties signing a peace pact."

"Why am I not surprised that you know that?" Harry's tone was droll.

"Military history is of interest to me," Teal'c replied. "It was also said that the modifications made, such as the forward-looking infrared camera, extra fuel tanks in the rear passenger compartment, an alcohol-water injection system to boost the engine's power output for short periods, an engine exhaust muffler, lead-vinyl pads to deaden skin noise, and a baffle to block noise slipping out the air intake, were removed shortly thereafter and there is no record of the helicopter after 1973."

"Yeah, I wouldn't believe everything that you read, big guy," Harry waved his hand around indicating the craft itself. "It's amazing how the paper pushers don't question a signed report stating the work has been done. They assume and occasionally a few enterprising people reap the benefits."

Neither member of SG-1 was really impressed. Considering the Goa'uld vessels they had become accustomed to flying, which had more bells and whistles than you could poke a stick at, their attitude really wasn't surprising. Teal'c had no qualms of telling their 'host' so. "It is a primitive piece of equipment by Goa'uld standards. However, for the technology of the era of this world it is quite an achievement."

Harry wasn't to be deterred. "Come on, you're sitting in a piece of American history," he exclaimed to Daniel in particular. "Show a spark of patriotism."

"That's rich coming from you," Daniel scoffed.

"Hey, whatever I did, I did because I thought it was for the best for the country."

Daniel gave a snort of disbelief. "And I suppose the money you were paid had nothing to do with it."

"Of course it did," Harry agreed a little indignantly. "It wouldn't be American if I didn't try to make a buck or two."

Daniel waved the argument aside. "Tell us more about this bunker. Like where it is exactly."

Maybourne pulled a map from his back pocket and twisted around from the front passenger seat to pass it to Daniel and Teal'c. "It's here." He pointed to the Rocky Mountain range near a small town called Buckskin Joe. There were two red marks slightly north of it. "This is where the bunker is." He indicated the first mark. "The other is the clearing where Kinsey’s helo is waiting. There are two armed pilots with it."

"I didn't know the military had any facilities out here," Daniel mused. "I didn't think there was anything out here." He saw Teal'c give a nod in agreement to his statement. Knew that when Teal'c had researched the military history of Earth, he had also investigated the terrain surrounding the SGC, which to him meant the entire state of Colorado.

"The military don't. This bunker dates back to the Prohibition. It was a bootlegging 'still. It's totally off the grid, both in official and unofficial circles."

"How did you find out about it?" Daniel's curiosity was piqued.

"Let's just call me a history buff....especially where the history of my enemies are concerned. Kinsey's grandfather had quite the reputation for his brand of moonshine." Harry wasn't going to admit how difficult it had been to find out that little snippet. Kinsey's father had done a very good job of erasing his history, at least the nefarious parts, but ultimately the job hadn't been good enough for someone as determined as Harry had been.

"How many men are inside the bunker?" Teal'c asked.

"At least three besides Kinsey and the mercs."

Daniel asked the next logical question. "How many men have you got?"

"Team of four. Two are watching the bunker. One's watching Kinsey's helo and," Harry motioned with his head to the pilot.

"So there's five of us on the ground at the bunker against at least ten of them."

"We have faced worse odds," Teal'c murmured.

Daniel gave a nod of agreement as he accepted a digital camera from Maybourne. The display screen showed a picture of a rusted chain link fence with equally old barbed wire crisscrossing it. The focal point of the photo was a hinged gated with a chain and a padlock.

"The lock appears old," Daniel commented.

"'Appears' being the operative word." Maybourne motioned for Daniel to click to the next picture. It showed a close up of the lock with a small scratch mark down the side. The rust scraped away to revealed shiny silver steel beneath. "It's been doused in betina, an aging product home renovators use to make things look old."

"Not a very sophisticated security system." Daniel frowned, especially considering a Goa'uld would be able to snap that with his bare hands.

"This is just to keep the average person away. Put a shiny new lock on something and people wonder what's in there to be hidden. We picked the lock to get a closer look. The fun stuff is inside."

At Harry's gesture Daniel clicked to the next picture. It showed a cave like entrance, seemingly unguarded. The next photo was from the same angle but was bathed almost completely in a greenish black except for thin neon green lines.

"Motion sensors." Teal'c immediately recognized them.

"Sweeping motion sensors, random pattern," Maybourne clarified as Daniel clicked through four more frames, each one showing the laser lines in a different position. "My men have observed small critters, rats and mice, go in and out without setting them off."

"Where is the control panel located?" Teal'c asked, though it was a needless question as the next photo revealed just that. The small panel was five feet into the entrance.

"There is a delay before the alarm sounds. A warning sounds the moment one of the lasers is tripped. There's a ten second delay to enter the correct code before cyanide gas is released."

"How can you possibly know that?" Daniel demanded.

"We tested it," Maybourne shrugged.

"With who?"

"Oh yea of little faith. We used a jackrabbit."

Daniel eyed him suspiciously, not entirely sure whether to believe him or not.

Maybourne found it amusing that the archaeologist thought so badly of him. Teal'c spoiled his fun.

"Daniel Jackson, had they used a person it would have roused suspicion."

"Plus it's so hard to find good help these days," Maybourne quipped.

"Don't suppose you have the code?" Daniel asked hopefully.

"No. And in all likelihood there is a second control panel further in for the return trip, one that is deep enough in that not even Carl Lewis could get out of there in ten seconds."

"Cyanide would only render a Goa'uld unconscious," Teal'c confirmed what Maybourne had suspected. "Does the gas release automatically reset?"

Maybourne shook his head. "A two man team were sent out to investigate our test, they manually reset the alarm."

"Well, I guess that's one thing in our favor," Daniel heaved a sigh.

Fifteen minutes later, the pilot, who hadn't said a word since they had boarded, spoke. "Drop off point in five minutes."

Maybourne nodded. "Roger that." He twisted back to his passengers. "There's a harness vest under your seats. We'll be rappelling in three hundred yards from the bunker, from a height of thirty feet."

"Kind of close, isn't it?" Daniel tugged the webbed vest out and began putting it on.

"That's the beauty of this machine. It was built for stealth for quick insertion and extraction. There's an extra main rotor blade to reduce blade vortex interaction, so besides being fifty percent quieter than a normal bird, the pitch of the rotors is different." Maybourne was also pulling on a vest. "Unless you've heard it before the human ear won't identify it as a helo even for those military trained. It's also difficult to identify the exact direction it's coming in from. Since there's only one of these babies, which hasn't been used since 'Nam, the likelihood of Kinsey's men knowing it is slim. Two hundred yards is the approximate eye visual, we're making it three hundred to be safe, coming in from the opposite side of where Kinsey's helo landed." He paused when he saw Teal'c fumbled with the vest, then asked both men. "You have rappelled on the fly before, haven't you?"

"Nice time to be asking," Daniel groused with a nod.

"It is a wiser method of descent than parachuting from a plane." Teal'c snapped the last buckle in place and began threading the climbing rope through the carabiner making sure it ran correctly through its spine so it wouldn't twist or cause it to unlock under the pressure of his body weight.

Maybourne hid a sigh of relief as it became obvious they were at ease and confident with the equipment from the way they double checked their lines and harnesses. He gave instructions to the pilot to land in a small clearing that had been scouted earlier to wait for word on their pick up, before slipping off his headset.

When the pilot gave the thumbs up that they were hovering as close to the tree tops as was safe, the three men slid down the rope, 'the Quiet One's' infrared lights the only illumination to guide their way to the ground.

Sam sat staring at Jack's hand nestled in hers, not really seeing it. He had been unconscious for a hour now. Not long by comparison to some of the others in the later phases of the virus, yet seeing him like this scared her more than the goriness of the rest of the personnel. At least with them you could see the virus, its effects; there were moans and groans and as hard as they were to hear at least it proved they were still alive. With Jack it was like he was simply sleeping, and she had to really strain to see the rise and fall of his chest to assure herself he was still breathing. The virus was a silent invisible killer that at any moment could make his heart stop beating forever without warning. Janet assured her that there were no signs of organ failure or internal bleeding, but she was still at a loss to explain why he had fallen into a coma. The steady beep of the heart monitor he was hooked up to became Sam's lifeline.

Mentally and physically drained, Sam couldn't even muster an acknowledgement to Janet when she entered and began to check Jack's vitals. Wasn't aware Janet was speaking to her until she felt a gentle shake to her shoulder. She blinked to see the doctor peering anxiously at her. Flinched when the penlight Janet held in her other hand flashed in her right eye. "I'm okay, Janet."

The doctor didn't try to hide her sigh of relief. She'd seen enough cases of shock and waking catatonic states that she was worried about the blonde. "You scared me for a moment there."

"Sorry, I just zoned out." She tried to push the sense of hopelessness away. "What were you asking me?"

Janet gestured to the colonel's hand grasping her fiancé's. "Are you still feeling his temperature fluctuations?"

Sam nodded. It was perhaps Jack's most bizarre symptom. Without any noticeable change to his core body temperature, at least not according to the thermometer, Jack's skin was slowly throbbing from hot like he was sunburnt to icy cold. "I've never heard of any sickness causing that. It's like something is pulsing through him."

"Any signs of change?"

"None." Sam paused. "Totally off topic, but did you see the lights brighten a few seconds ago?"

Janet shook her head. "No."

"Maybe I imagined it," Sam shrugged. Wouldn't admit that when it had happened she had almost had a panic attack. Jack's condition being what it was, she'd thought it was the bright light of one of the Ascended; Oma coming to help Jack cross over. "If it happens again I'll get Siler to check out the generators."

"The last thing we need is for the power to fail," Janet sighed.

There was a soft rap on the door and Colonel Reynolds, dressed in his haz mat suit, entered with a sheaf of paper in his hand. "Three more personnel have progressed to phase four. I've set them up in the last room on level twenty-four." He appeared torn as to which of the women to give the list to. Finally passed it over to Sam.

"Thank you, Colonel." Sam took it, glancing at the names. Seeing the last of the technicians was second on the list. "Looks like I'll be checking the generator myself."

"Level twenty-three now has no one posted to watch the patients," Reynolds said. "I'll take care of it."

Sam frowned. His last words had been phrased as a question not as a statement. "Why are you telling me, Colonel? Doctor Fraiser's the CMO and you're the ranking officer."

"Yes, ma'am." His suit crinkled when he nodded. "But you're the ranking officer of SG-1."

Janet saw the surprise on the blonde's face at being elevated to acting CO. The 'promotion' had been an automatic reflex by the personnel, turning to the primary team or who was left able of the primary team, for leadership, especially now that Sam had been promoted. If the situation on base hadn't have been so serious, Janet would have laughed at her friend's bewilderment. "When the Colonel's right, he's right."

Sapphire blue eyes shot towards her at hearing the CMO, who by rules and regulations should have been in charge in the medical crisis, defer to her. She gave Janet a tight smile then replied to the team leader of SG-3. "Thank you, Colonel, that would be a great help. Let Doctor Fraiser or myself know if the patients' conditions change."

"Yes, ma'am." Reynolds strode from the room.

Before either woman could say anything, Dodger's voice crackled through the radio.

"Doc, Ferretti's trying to dance again."

Janet grimaced at Sam then was striding out herself, heading for the elevator, her hand pulling out the radio in the pocket of her lab coat. "I'm on my way, Captain."

Sam watched her friend go then glanced back at the still form of Jack. Realized she didn't have the luxury of being allowed to wallow in her fears and worries. She bent down to place a gentle kiss to her lover's cheek, noting that it was once again icy cold. "Well, General, I'd better get back to work."

With the list of the latest patients still gripped in her hand, she headed into the corridor. In her head she was trying to work out a rotation of the remaining able bodied personnel to look after the sick. Three of the medical staff she dismissed from the group because their skills were better spent analyzing the results of the effects of the antivirals they had been experimenting with. She couldn't remember the exact number of who was still mobile. Not waiting for the lift, she headed for the stairwell, hurrying down the flights to Hammond's office where Jack had left the list of people before he had collapsed. Ignoring how dishearteningly short the list was, especially now that there were three more names to be taken off, she got to work. Knowing that there would probably be a lot of rearranging before she had maximized the few people left in the most efficient way, she ducked into the briefing room and wrote the names on the whiteboard.

Thinking of the staff's strengths and skills she was on her second draft when the nagging in her mind started. The longer she rearranged the names the more she felt that she was missing something. Stepping over to the second whiteboard she began a new list using the same names, thoughts of the rotation totally forgotten.

While in the lift, Janet pressed the radio speaker button. "Captain, anyone else giving you trouble?"

"Nope."

When the doors slid apart, Janet saw Dodger trying unsuccessfully to direct his team leader back to his room. Ferretti seemed oblivious to the young man, using his drip stand as a dance partner, twirling in what could possibly be a waltz. He was also drunkenly singing 'Beautiful Dreamer', what lyrics his drugged fogged mind couldn't grasp he hummed loudly.

Janet tried not to wince at the sight of her friend in such a state, consoling herself with the knowledge that at least the morphine she'd administered earlier was letting him feel no pain. The downside was that the drug made him high as a kite, and twice now in his drug induced haze he had tried to 'escape'. Both times no one except for herself had been able to convince him to go back to his room. She strode purposefully up to the delirious man. "Okay, Major, why don't we get you back into bed?"

"Doc! Was just coming to see you!" Ferretti stopped short in mid twirl and almost toppled over; only Dodger's quick reflexes stopped his fall. "I gotta tell ya' something."

"You can tell me once you're back in bed." She grabbed the wobbling IV pole and managed to duck under Ferretti's arm to support him around the waist.

"No, no, it can't wait," he declared.

As before, once Janet had arrived, he let her lead him back down the corridor, much to the frustration of Dodger, who had been trying to do the same thing for the last five minutes.

"Okay, so what's so important?" Janet maneuvered man and drip through the doorway, catching sight of Annika helping Brooklyn get back into his bed. She surmised that the third member of SG-2, despite his own condition, had attempted to help Dodger with their wayward leader. Automatically her eyes glanced to the room's third bed where Nyan twitched in a restless sleep.

"I love ya', Doc," Ferretti slurred.

If I had a dollar for every time I’ve heard that from patients doped up to the eyeballs on morphine! "I'm sure you're loving everyone right about now." She gently nudged him to sit on the bed.

"Nuh uh," he vehemently shook his head. "I don't love Cupid."

"Whistler, I'm crushed," Annika quipped, making sure Brooklyn's IV line wasn't snagged anywhere. In desperation she had been going around to each of the patients, trying to force a psychic flash that could steer them in the right direction for the cure. She hadn't had any luck by the time she'd made it to this level and been 'distracted' by trying to help Dodger contain the major.

"Well, I love ya'," Ferretti hastily backtracked. "I just don't love love ya'."

"Thanks for the clarification," she replied drolly. From Brooklyn's bedside she watched Janet's reaction, knew that the captain beside her was doing the same.

"And I don't love Dodger or Brooklyn or Nyan, 'cause that would make me homicidal... wait that's not right." He gave his head another shake. "...Would make me homo-sapien...nope, that's not it, give me a sec...."

"Take as long as you like, Major," Janet pushed against his shoulder, making him lie down. "As long as you figure it out from your bed."

He gave a finger snap. "Gay! I ain't gay. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but it ain't me."

"I'm sure it's not." Janet lifted his legs to lay him flat on the bed.

"I love you, Doc. No point denying it since I'm gonna die."

"You're not going to die."

"Yep, I am, so it doesn't matter if you know now.

"The only danger you have of dying is if I catch you out of bed again." The teasing was forced passed the sudden lump in her throat.

Ferretti's hands reached up to cup her face. "I love you, and there's not a damned thing anyone can do about it."

"I love you too, Major," she placated. "Now promise me you'll remain in bed."

Instead of exacting the desired promise, one of Ferretti's hands flapped at Brooklyn and Annika. "Ya' hear that? The Doc loves me back!"

"We heard, Lou," Brooklyn's voice was slightly strangled.

Ferretti's hand flopped onto the covers. "I can die a happy man."

"You're not going to die." Janet's tone was sharper than intended, her hand grasping his chin to draw her attention back to her. "Do you hear me?"

"Okay, Doc," he agreed happily, patting her cheek. He then frowned at the smear of blood his fingertips left on her skin. "Oh, fuck, I went and infected you. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Major," she tried to console the look of sheer panic and guilt in his red eyes. "You didn't infect me."

"Sure?"

"Positive," she assured, tucking his free hand beneath the sheet.

"Well, that's good," he sighed. "Couldn't live with that."

Janet stepped back, trying to focus on the IV dispenser, speaking over her shoulder to Dodger who had been watching from the doorway. "I'll up his dosage a little. Hopefully it will knock him out."

"Thanks, Doc," Dodger said relieved.

She turned to her only other conscious patient in the room. "How are you feeling, Captain?"

"I'm okay."

Janet's head tilted at the bizarre tone from Brooklyn. "You're sure? I can up your dosage as well."

"Nope, I'm good." He winced as his answer was drowned out by Ferretti starting up a new rendition of 'Beautiful Dreamer', this time substituting the word 'dreamer' for 'brown eyes'. "Don't suppose you got any earplugs?"

She plastered a smile on her lips. "I'll see what I can do." She glanced back at Ferretti who was dazedly singing to the ceiling. Inexplicably her throat closed up and she couldn't bear to be in the room a second longer. "Excuse me," she managed to choke out before spinning on her heel and racing out. She didn't wait for the elevator, taking the stairs to the nearest private bathroom.

Closing the door behind her she staggered to the sink, gripping the basin tightly to support her suddenly weak knees. Janet knew it was impossible, but she could still hear the major's delirious ramblings in her ears. Tears leaked unbidden from her eyes. She didn't know how long she silently sobbed when a soft rap on the door forced the doctor to pull herself together. "I'll be out in a minute."

However, the door was already opening and Annika hesitantly poked her head around. "Janet, are you okay?"

The automatic assurance died on Janet's lips when she realized the psychic could see the truth. "I don't know what's the matter with me. I don't normally fall apart until the crisis is over."

"I have a theory, if you want to hear it." Annika stepped inside, reaching for a moist towelette to clean the smudge of blood from Janet's cheek.

"Because this time it seems so hopeless?" Janet didn't mean to sound so dejected, but so far everything they tried had come up naught. They were no closer to finding a cure than when the first member of SG-5 had first shown symptoms.

"No."

"Because the virus in me is affecting my emotional state?"

Annika wiped the towel across Janet's cheek. "Because this time someone you hold close to your heart is at stake."

Janet dismissed the idea. "SG-1 is the closest I have to family besides Cassie, and you've been in as dire situations as this and I haven't lost it..."

"I wasn't talking about anyone from SG-1," Annika said softly, pulling her hand back and indicating the tissue with Ferretti's blood.

Annoyingly Janet felt her eyes well again. "Lou's just a friend."

"Is that all he is?"

"Of course, what else would he be?"

"You know, Whistler told you the truth."

For a moment Janet had to fight back nausea, thinking that Annika was referring to his insistence that he was going to die. Then she realized what she was really speaking of. "It was the morphine talking."

Annika saw from the stubborn tilt to Janet's chin that she wasn't in the right frame of mind to accept the truth right now, but she could give the doctor something to think about. "Okay, but mull this over. In all his drugged induced rambling, Whistler wasn't telling everyone he loved them. He declared his love to only one person."

Janet couldn't meet Annika's gaze. She replayed her friend's last words over in her mind, searching for any sign that she was joking, that it wasn't true. Gave an almost hysterical laugh when the quiet voice of her subconscious shockingly rejoiced when she found none. No, no, no, Lou...Major Ferretti...is just a friend. He gambled, he drank, had boasted numerous times about the 'sweet young things' he picked up at bars...Jeez, I've seen the hickeys and scratch marks and smelled the lingering perfume during his med checks on the mornings he tumbled from the bed of his latest conquest and came straight to the base. Admittedly that passionate evidence hadn't been present for quite a few months, but that was beside the point. He was a practical joker, never took anything seriously...He was the base jokester...made her laugh at the drop of a hat. And had made her cry into her pillow because of his recent behavior...had made her shed more tears today because he was dying and there was nothing she could do except watch.

The doctor was never more grateful to hear Sam page her name and Annika's over the speaker to report to the briefing room. Sucking in another calming breath she pushed off the sink. "Let's go."

When Janet and Annika entered the briefing room, it was to see Sam leaning against the table looking at the whiteboard with a thoughtful yet cautiously optimistic expression. The crease to her brow told the pair that she hadn't quite figured out whatever the puzzle was, but she was close.

"We've been looking at this wrong," the colonel announced, pointing to the list of names.

"In what way?" Janet jumped at the idea of a new perspective. They had passed being desperate long ago. They were down to the last of the Earth treatments and so far it was looking like it would be as ineffective as the others.

"This is a list of the able bodied people left on base. These people don't have the virus because they were never exposed to it." The blonde drew a red line through the names of SG-3 and the medical team who had arrived from the Alpha site before SG-5 returned. "Everyone else has the virus in them." She then drew a line through her own and Annika's names. "And removing us because according to Annika's vision, we're 'unimportant' to the cure, that leaves twelve people." Sam changed markers and crossed out the names of nine more people, including Janet's. "These all have varying degrees of the virus symptoms. Most of them are women, which is in line with the females being more resilient. But these three..." She circled the last three remaining names that were grouped together. "They're not showing any symptoms at all." She turned to face her friends. "Why?"

Annika and Janet frowned at the names.

Sha're. Kasuf. Skaara.

"It makes no sense," Janet hesitantly spoke. "Logically they should have been one of the first to succumb. Their immune systems are still weakened from the repeated Entropic Cascade Failure."

"And yet they haven't." Annika felt the first stirrings of hope in her gut. "Could mirror travel have something to do with it? The ECF gave them some kind of immunity?"

"Not an immunity," Janet absently corrected. "They have the virus, it's just not affecting them. A vaccine."

"Or they were exposed to the vaccine in one of the alternate realities." Sam's eyes were sparkling. "Something like cow pox combating small pox here."

Within a minute the Abydonians had been urgently paged to the briefing room.

Annika noticed when they arrived that Skaara's cocky swagger was now a little less self-assured.

"You require our assistance?" Kasuf asked.

Sam quickly outlined the theory they had come up with and then looked expectantly at the trio. "In any of the realities you visited, did you ever get sick besides from the ECF?"

The family exchanged looks and spoke quietly in their native tongue.

Sam, Janet and Annika waited with baited breath, pinning their hopes and the fate of their SGC family on the answer. Finally the three broke from their huddle. The look on Kasuf's face told them the verdict.

"We were never ill other than the ECF."

"Are you sure?" Janet asked anxiously. "It might have been barely noticeable, maybe something like an allergy?"

"Al-er-gee?" Skaara asked.

"Like what Daniel had when he first went through the 'gate," Sam explained. "Sneezing, runny nose from the different atmosphere." The blonde paused, "I'm assuming the Daniel of your reality had the same travel allergies as ours does."

The Abydonians nodded in understanding, then once again conversed. However, again they shook their heads.

Janet desperately rattled off more innocuous symptoms. "Watery eyes, dizziness, nausea, itching, a rash..."

The last symptom gave the three pause, then they excitedly began speaking again in Abydonian, Sha're absently gesturing to the top of her left arm. When the two men nodded in agreement the women of the SGC felt a surge of hope.

Annika leant over to whisper in Sam's ear. "Next dialect of Goa'uld I learn is Abydonian."

Sha're was the one to speak this time. "We did have a small rash form, but it was not due to an allergy or from the different air. It was from an in...inoc..." She struggled with the correct translation.

"Inoculation?" Janet prompted.

"Yes!" Her head bobbed up and down.

"Do you know what it was for?" Janet leant closer in anticipation.

"We only stayed in that reality for less than an hour," Skaara recounted the experience. "We came through only minutes before a Goa'uld attack on the base. We offered to stay and fight, but the Samantha Carter of that universe said that Sha're was still alive there." The young man was careful not to glance at his sister when he spoke. He had overheard part of a conversation that the Goa'uld attacking had been Amaunet, using the body of 'Daniel's wife', and he had managed to keep that knowledge from Sha're for many moons. "We had to leave, but before we did, their Dok'tor told us that they were recovering from a plague. As a safety measure so we did not risk infecting other universes she injected us with a serum. It caused us itching for a short time."

"Did they elaborate what this plague was?"

All three shook their heads.

"There was no time," Kasuf replied apologetically. "And we saw no sick people so we cannot describe the illness."

"Will you let us take samples of your blood?" Janet asked.

"Of course." Kasuf spoke for all of his family. "If you think it would assist."

Sam's eyes were troubled. The doctor was asking permission to experiment on one of their own, knew that she hadn't made the suggestion lightly. "What's your best estimate on how long they could survive if we don't come up with something else?"

"Lieutenant Whittiker has maybe a few hours before his organs will be too degenerated to repair."

"Do it."

Janet was on her feet before the words had finished leaving the colonel's lips. "Come with me." She set off, the three Abydonians having to practically run to match her pace.

Sam had been watching Annika from the corner of her eye during the whole conversation, hoping for a psychic heads up that they were on the right track. "Annika, how are you feeling about this turn of events?"

"I don't feel anything," the redhead admitted. "I'm not even feeling scared anymore. When you mentioned the Abydonians there was a spark that they are part of the solution, but I've got nothing as to whether this specific action is the right thing to do." She flexed her fingers; the numbness was slowly getting worse. "Maybe this numbness is affecting my abilities."

"Could this be the 'not what you think' warning you received?" Sam hated to press, for she knew that if Annika had been 'given' that information she would have said so. She just didn't want to get their hopes up anymore than they were already.

"Sam, I honestly don't know," Annika sighed. "For the sake of Lieutenant Whittiker and everyone else, I hope not."