Note: This is the third (and last) in a series of stories (Retribution and Face of a Friend were the first two).  It will make a whole lot more sense if you've read those stories first.

No Second Chances, Part 1

Lieutenant Chris Adams picked up the handset, put it down again, then picked it up once more.  With a furtive look outside the phone booth, he began to dial.  His call was picked up on the first ring.

"They're going out of town tomorrow," he said to the man who picked up the phone.   "Camping.  For a week."

"Camping - are you sure?"

"I overheard them talking in Dr. Jackson's office," Adams replied.  A car drove by and he crouched in closer to the phone, watching until it turned at the corner and disappeared.  "Plus SG-1 is off the roster for off-world missions for the next ten days.  They've even sent Teal'c with SG-15 for a mission."

"Looks like your skulking around the halls of the SGC finally paid off.  Good work, Adams," the voice said.

"So that's it - we're even," Adams said nervously to his former commander.

"I always keep my promises.  Your secret's safe with me," he answered mockingly.

"I've been clean since that night, Pirelli," he said.  "You know that."

"It's a shame how the past just won't leave you in peace, isn't it, Lieutenant?" he said, before hanging up.

Daniel bent lower to look at the script encircling the column, brushing away the vines that were tangling around it.  Above him, the canopy of the jungle's vegetation threw a wild pattern of shadows and light onto the stone symbols, almost giving the impression that the graceful designs were in motion.  The language was as intriguing as it was beautiful; a mixture of symbols that was tantalizing in its closeness to languages he knew, yet just different enough to keep him from understanding it.  He reached back to get his camera, and it was shoved into his hand gently. 

He turned and met Jack's eyes briefly.  "Thanks," he mumbled, before switching it on and turning back to the column.  He tried to ignore the ripping sound of velcro as Jack pulled back the cover on his watch's face to check the time - again.

"How much longer you plan to be here?" Jack said.  

Daniel looked impatiently over his shoulder to where Jack sat on another fallen column.  "Just let me get this on tape, and then we can go find Sam and Teal'c."  As badly as he wanted to stay and give this site the attention it was due, Jack's eagerness to get off this planet made it impossible.  He resigned himself to ruining his eyesight over a tape of the script in his windowless office rather than spending an afternoon with the real thing in the tropical warmth of P71-092.  He finished, and clicked off the camera a little harder than necessary.  Climbing to his feet, he scooped up his bag, shoving it inside.  

Jack got to his feet, eyeing him critically.  "Everything okay?"

"Just fine, Jack," he said tightly.  "I think you wanted to go?"

"I don't think you've been "fine" since that whole mess with Pirelli," Jack said, not moving from where he stood.  When Daniel stopped but didn't speak, he continued.  "You want to talk about it?" 

Daniel clenched his jaw shut.  "No, I don't want to talk about it," he mumbled, pushing past Jack.

"You know, we're trying, Daniel.  How could we have known..."

"You should have known!" Daniel said, rounding to face him.  The vehemence in his voice startled him a little.  When did I become this angry?  he thought briefly before continuing.  "God, Jack, you've all known me for years.  You didn't sense this guy wasn't me?"  he finished.

"We're soldiers, not psychics, Daniel," Jack said.

"It didn't take a psychic - it took a friend.  I would have known if he'd tried impersonating you, Jack," Daniel finished bitterly.  "He couldn't have fooled me into thinking it was you, trusting it was you."  He turned away so that he couldn't see Jack's face.

Jack paused, looking down at the ground.  "You so sure about that, Daniel?"

Something in the way his voice changed caused Daniel to frown.  "What do you mean?"

"You think you know O'Neill that well?" he continued.

Daniel turned slowly, meeting Jack's eyes.  They stared back at him with a cold amusement.  "That's not funny, Jack."

"You know, Jackson," he said, casually fitting his hand into the P-90's trigger, "It amazes me how you and O'Neill keep underestimating just how good I am at this."  Without another word, he slipped his hand inside his jacket, and as Daniel watched, the image of Jack shimmered and disappeared, leaving him staring in shock at Nick Pirelli.

Daniel took a step back in surprise, then turned and ran headlong into the jungle, tearing through the vegetation in a panicked attempt to get away.   Vines seem to twist themselves around his arms, impeding his progress as he flung himself forward.  He finally stepped into a shallow hole, his balance thrown off so that he twisted around almost 180 degrees.  The next moment a fist connected with his jaw and he fell backwards, the air forced from his lungs as he landed hard on his back.

Pirelli planted his knee on Daniel's chest.  "O'Neill thought there would be no second chance for me," he said, pulling up the P-90 and aiming it carefully at Daniel's heart.  "Wrong," he whispered, as he fired.

Daniel sat up in bed, his breath coming in panicked gasps.  His hand clutched his chest reflexively, but the only thing he felt was the pounding of his own heart.  No blood, no gunshot wound.  He ran a hand over his face in relief.

It had been so real... he thought.  He squinted over at the clock, then sighed.  4:00 am.  He swung his legs over the side of the bed and got up, stripping off his damp t-shirt and tossing it into a corner of the bedroom as he made his way to the bathroom.  He leaned heavily on the sink as he turned on the water, splashing it over his face before wearily looking up into the mirror.

There had been times in his life when he'd actually been able to sleep through the night, he mused, splashing more water onto his face methodically.  But after his parents had died, it seemed his fate to see the middle of every night at least once.  Even on Abydos, when he'd been at peace, in love, accepted - there had been times when he'd awoken in the middle of the night, Shar'e curled close to his side, and felt his heart racing in fear.  Since coming back to Earth, sleep had become elusive again, and only when he succumbed to exhaustion had he been able to sleep through the night.  Too many nightmares to keep him awake.  It seemed ironic, however, that the nightmare haunting him now didn't have anything to do with the Goa'uld.

Pirelli.  As much as he pushed the memories back into his subconscious, they were still there.  Somewhere out there was a man prowling around who could assume his or Jack's identity at will, do as much harm as he chose - and he couldn't do anything about it.  Despite the updates, the assurances from the military that they were closing in, that he would be in custody soon, the fact still remained that he was out there, and he knew without question he'd be back.  The only question was when - and how.

They'd taken all the precautions they could, of course.  Jack had suggested that they use their mutual knowledge of the ancients' language they'd learned through the recent time loops as a way to verify that they were who they said they were.  Figuring out the bad jokes Jack told him each morning had advanced his knowledge of the language faster than he'd ever thought possible.  He'd have to remember that trick if he ever went back to teaching.  

But were the precautions they'd taken enough?  Pirelli had managed to slip inside the SGC, and into his shoes, once before.  Was there something else they hadn't thought of, that he could exploit?  Even though he wouldn't admit it to his team, to Jack - his dreams clearly showed that at least subconsciously, he thought Pirelli would be back.  The possibility hung over him like a shadow.

He gave the mirror one more glance before going wearily back to bed.  "God, I hope we were right about this vacation," he mumbled to himself as he climbed back under the covers.

Jack couldn't keep a smile of satisfaction off his face as he packed his bag.  Vacation - a whole week off to enjoy the last warm days of summer.  Boy, he needed it after these last few missions.  Being held prisoner by a crazy Unas trader and zapped with a pain stick.  Witnessing the destruction of Tollana, not to mention the return of Tanith.  Trapped in a tomb with a flesh-eating monster and a Goa'uld.  Not to mention that Pirelli had almost managed to put Daniel away for good.

Pirelli.  The thought that he was still out there somewhere nagged at Jack every day.  He couldn't forget how Pirelli was able to deceive them into thinking Daniel was trying to kill them. Nor could he forget or forgive him for all the pain he inflicted on Daniel directly. It was only just this past month Daniel was finally able to piece back together some semblance of his life. The government was able to retrieve what money Pirelli tried swiping from all of his accounts.  He'd sold the SUV when the search for his cherished hatchback failed to turn up anything, and forced himself to buy a new car - well, a car built within the last decade was new to Daniel.  New safeguards were put in place inside the mountain - foolproof ones, he hoped.  He couldn't help but think back to the day they came up with their plan for safeguarding the SGC.

"Until we find Pirelli - and I expect that to be soon - we'll need to enact a plan to prevent this from happening again," General Hammond looked around at SG-1 expectantly, and not surprisingly, his eyes came to rest on Major Carter.

"Well.." she paused.  "We know that Area 51 managed to eliminate the vulnerability of the devices to certain sonic frequencies.  And we also know that the devices are non-metallic and won't show up on a conventional x-ray or set off a metal detector.  It would be helpful to have the research they completed..."

"I've requested it, Major, but frankly, I don't trust Area 51's information right now," Hammond said.

"Short of a full body search each time they enter the mountain, I'm not sure what else we could do to be sure," Sam continued, then backed down when she saw the look on her teammates' faces.  "Of course, there has to be something else," she finished.

"So we use something that Area 51 doesn't know about," Jack said with a shrug.

"I'm listening," Hammond said, leaning back in his chair.

"When we were going through those time loops, we learned that language," Jack started.

"The language of the ancients'," Daniel said, his eyes lighting up.

"Teal'c and I know the language, and Daniel is..well...basically fluent," Jack continued, enjoying the look on Daniel's face.  "We can use that - come up with some sort of password or something."

Teal'c nodded.  "Since no one knows this speech, simply a random phrase and an answer - ones that cannot be anticipated by others - would be sufficient."

"It could work," Daniel agreed.  "We'll just have to make any documentation on the language classified."

"Jokes!" Jack said, giving them all a smile. 

So the decision was made - being able to speak to one another in this language was a sure way to tell if they were who they said they were.  And although he was sure it rankled Daniel to learn a language by figuring out off-color jokes, the idea was working just fine.

Vacation - think about vacation, Jack.  A whole week of nothing more strenuous than fishing.  His head shot up as the doorbell rang.  He ignored it, but whoever it was didn't want to give up.

"Alright, I'm coming," he grumbled as he walked toward the door.  "And whatever it is, I don't want any."  Jack opened the door, looking at Daniel in surprise.  "Wasn't I supposed to pick you up?" he said.

"Hello to you too, Jack," he said, walking in.

"In about an hour?" Jack continued, as he followed Daniel to the living room.

"Yeah, well - about that," Daniel said, looking uncomfortable.  "I've been thinking about this whole camping thing."

"A week at my cabin by the lake - fishing, drinking beer, fishing.  What's to think about?  In fact, I forbid you to think for the next week.  Thinking's off-limits."

"I mean..." Daniel stopped, digging his hands into his pockets.  "Camping seems so much like...work."

"Work?" Jack said in surprise.

"Technically, we're camping every time we go through the Stargate, right?"

"Daniel, if you think that's camping, you need a vacation more than I thought."

Daniel didn't say anything, but after a moment turned on his heel and went back to the door.  Jack was at his side in a second.  "Listen - I was kidding, okay?"  Jack frowned as Daniel reached for the doorknob.  "Get up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?"

"Just...forget it, Jack.  It doesn't matter.  Have a nice time at your cabin," he said, pulling open the door.  

Jack caught the edge, preventing him from going outside.  "I get the impression that more is going on here than a reluctance to go camping," he said.  Daniel released the door, and he closed it, then watched as Daniel walked away from him, not meeting his eyes.  "Daniel?"

"Can I get a beer or something?" he asked, his back still to Jack.  

Jack paused for a moment, weighing whether or not to continue this conversation, then relented.   "Yeah - have a seat," he said, walking toward the kitchen.  This was starting a little early, he thought, as he pulled two bottles out of the refrigerator, and fumbled through a drawer for the bottle opener.  

He'd planned to ease into this, to get Daniel to talk about why he was on edge, walking on eggshells, keeping Jack and the rest of the team at arm's length.  Jack knew that the combined effect of Daniel being taken prisoner by Pirelli and Pirelli managing to fool all of them into thinking he was Daniel was something that Daniel hadn't quite come to terms with yet.  Hell - neither had he.  He'd thought a thousand times over how he'd managed to let the whole thing happen, and still didn't have an explanation he was satisfied with.

He found the opener, popped the caps on both bottles, and scooped them up before turning.  He took an involuntarily step backward as he saw Daniel standing directly in his path.  He'd come up so silently that Jack hadn't heard him.  There was an awkward second of silence, then Jack held out a bottle.  Daniel reached forward, but instead of grabbing the bottle, he grabbed Jack's wrist and hurled him into a nearby counter, twisting the arm behind his back painfully.  The bottles fell to the floor, breaking into pieces on the tiles and  splattering beer on the nearby cabinet doors.  Jack was maneuvered against the kitchen wall, his arm and shoulder shrieking in pain.

"You're getting soft, O'Neill," Jack heard.  His arm was twisted further up his back, wringing a short grunt of pain from him.  "Pirelli," he ground out, trying to twist away.  "You bastard."

"Is that any way to greet an old friend?" Pirelli said, his words giving Daniel's voice a sarcastic edge that made Jack bristle with anger.

"I was hoping I'd never see you again," Jack said.

"Then why did you have every police and military unit in the U.S. on alert to capture me?" he replied, turning Jack around so that he could look at his face - and the 9mm in his other hand.  "We need to talk," he said.

Daniel looked at his watch as the doorbell rang, and took his time as he went to answer it.  "Jack," he said, waving him inside.  "What happened to the concept of military time?"

"Yeah, I'm late, I know, I know," Jack rambled, as he came inside.  "Started my vacation a little early, I guess."

"It's okay," Daniel said, going to get his own bag.  "I guess you can't be late for vacation."

"Exactly what I was thinking," Jack said.  "So - you ready for this?"

"I was thinking about that this morning, and I've decided - yes.  I'm definitely ready for this," Daniel said firmly.

"Because, you know - we could do something else.  We don't have to go camping," Jack said.

"Excuse me?" Daniel said in surprise.

"You don't think camping would be - I don't know - too much like work?" Jack asked.

Daniel thought a moment.  "Will we be sleeping in a tent that's only five feet long, standing watch, eating MREs, and digging our own latrines, Jack?" he said.

"Well, no - but..."

"Do you want to drive, or should I?" Daniel said, hauling his duffel bag onto his shoulder and walking past Jack to the door.

"Okay, then - camping," Jack said, turning to follow him.

"Jack, since when did the road to your cabin include a detour through the outskirts of Pueblo?" Daniel asked, watching as the interstate receded into the distance.   The road they were on became narrower as they turned into an area where several old warehouses and concrete buildings were located.

"I know," he said.  "I have to pick up some bait."

"Bait?" Daniel said skeptically.

"Bait," Jack confirmed, then relented a moment later.  "Okay, Daniel.  I didn't come here for bait." He pulled the truck over and stopped.  After a moment of silence, he spoke.  "Someone came to see me today - someone we both know a little too well."

"Who?" Daniel asked cautiously.

"Pirelli," Jack said with a sigh.  "Seems he's back in town.  Before you ask," he continued, noticing Daniel's concerned look, "I'm fine.  He just wanted to talk."

"About what?" Daniel asked suspiciously.

"Oh, about what we could do for him.  He's being dogged by every law enforcement agency in the U.S., not to mention the military.  He wants out - to start a new life."

"Why would we bargain with him?" Daniel asked.

"Because he can still impersonate either one of us at will, Daniel.  And he's threatening to go public about the Stargate program - and he's got some nifty little gadgets to back up his story.  I had to hear him out."

Daniel leaned his head back and closed his eyes.  "So what does he want?"

"He wants to go through the Stargate.  Back to some tropical planet...."

"P98-463.  SG-11 loved that place," Daniel mumbled.  "The SGC will never agree to this, Jack.  You know that."

"I know," he said.  "But..."  he stopped for a moment, his attention focused on some point outside the truck's cab.  "You and  I could get him off-world.  As one of us.  We could get him off-world, then he could go wherever he wanted."

"And we'd spend the rest of our lives in prison," Daniel said.  "Why haven't you gone to General Hammond with this..."

"Because you're right - they'll never agree to what Pirelli wants."  He paused.  "When the SGC finds out what was at stake, I think they'd forgive us.  Look what they've forgiven us for in the past," Jack said.  "They've had months to catch this guy and they've come up empty.  You want to live with this the rest of your life?  Because I don't."

Daniel was silent a moment, then shook his head.  "I can't Jack.  I can't do it."

"Daniel, we can make this problem go away or we can watch him on national TV, telling the world about the Stargate.  Your choice," Jack said, his voice harsh.

"There's got to be another way," Daniel said.

"Well, there isn't, okay?  Not from where I'm sitting.  He's out there, and he's not going away."

"He never should have gotten "out there" in the first place," Daniel blurted out, then stopped.  "I'm sorry, Jack.  That wasn't..."

"You're thinking we should have caught on - that he shouldn't have been able to put one over on us so easily."

Daniel rolled down the window to get some fresh air into the stuffy cab of the truck, his eyes not meeting Jack's.  "That's not important now..."

"I think it is," Jack said.  "But what you don't know is that Pirelli did a damn good job of impersonating you those two weeks, Daniel.  There wasn't any way I could have seen it coming."

Despite himself, Daniel felt a little ache in the pit of his stomach at Jack's words.  "Yeah," he said, "How could you?"  

"I'm trying to fix this, Daniel.  Help me," Jack pleaded.

Daniel was silent a moment before speaking.  "You really think this is the right thing to do?" 

"I think it's the only thing we can do.  I'll take the heat for it.  He can go off-world disguised as you - I'll tie you up so that you can say you had no part in it.  At least he'll be gone.  For good - no GDO.  No second chances."

"Don't let guilt over what happened cause you to do something you'll regret, Jack," Daniel said.

"It's not guilt - it's the overwhelming desire to get this guy the hell out of my life," Jack said.  When Daniel didn't speak, he continued.  "At least go with me - hear what Pirelli has to say."

"He's here?" Daniel said with concern.

"In that warehouse.  He promised it would be just him, no tricks."  

"Jack, you have to be kidding!" Daniel said.  "You can't trust him."

"Daniel...."

"I can't believe we're even talking about this," Daniel said.  He opened the truck door, and walked away, putting some distance between himself and Jack.  He took several deep breaths as he walked, making his way over the broken asphalt until he'd walked into an area where what was left of the road gave way to uneven ground covered with dusty grass and weeds.  He stopped then, standing silently a moment, his hands clasped behind his head as he tried to order his thoughts and push down the anger he felt.  To even suggest that they should give in to Pirelli, negotiate with him on anything....

He pushed the anger away.  Jack was trying to help - in his own way.  It was ironic that he was taking a position of "let's talk about this" when all Daniel could think of was getting the bastard once and for all - talking optional.  They needed to talk about it - come up with some other way.  And if they knew Pirelli was here, they needed to get some backup - fast.

"But just where are we?" he mumbled to himself.  The area was quiet, and looked mostly deserted.  He could barely make out the line of traffic and the faint noises of the interstate, and a few buildings way in the distance seemed to have some activity going on around them.  The area he was in was barren; its buildings had seen better days.  They weren't in a state of disrepair so much as benign neglect.  Their stark facades with spray-painted numbers were free of graffiti but appeared as if they hadn't been touched in years.

And it was quiet - a little too quiet.  He looked back to where Jack had parked the truck, but saw no one around.  He walked back, his pace quickening as he got closer.  He hoped that Jack hadn't gone ahead to talk with Pirelli, alone.  Not that he was such great backup, but at least it would have been the two of them.

He stopped when he reached Jack's truck, walking around it.  No Jack, and a quick view of the area didn't give him any indications as to where he might have gone.  A prickle of unease went through him, and he reached for the truck door.  Jack might be okay, but he would feel a lot better if they had some backup, and his phone was in his jacket.

Locked.  He pulled on the door again to make sure, then tried the other door just for good measure.  Both locked.  He looked around again, turning around in a circle.  The deserted buildings stared back at him impassively.  He drew in a breath.  "Jack?" he called out.  Silence.  "Jack?"

He debated briefly breaking a window on the truck, then shook his head.  Jack was probably just letting off some steam, just as he had done.  He'd be back.  He'd be back any time.  He did another full circle turn, looking all around for any signs of life.  There were no other vehicles in the area that he could see.  He glanced into the truck's bed, looking over the supplies that Jack had packed.  It was an amazing collection for just a week's trip.  How many of the boxes held firmly under the tarps and rope were cases of beer?  he wondered absently.

Another object in the back of the truck caught his eye, and he leaned closer.  A long bundle lay beside the other neatly secured supplies, the tarp it was wrapped in wrinkled and awkwardly bound with rope.  Its contents were lumpy, irregular, and Daniel leaned in over the side of the truck, reaching out his hand to touch it.  He couldn't reach it, and walked around to the rear of the truck, climbing up on the bumper and getting into the truck bed.  He stepped over the bundle, straddling it awkwardly, one hand on the side of the truck bed to steady himself.  The bundle wouldn't move easily when he tugged on it, so he reached down and pressed his hand to it, and jerked back in shock.

The bundle gave slightly under his touch, and its consistency was....No, Daniel, he told himself, yet still continued to inspect the bundle, pulling at the ropes binding it.  It can't be that...

He finally managed to pull an edge of the tarp free, and part of the bundle was shaken loose.  A white, limp hand peeked out from the edge of the tarp.  Daniel hissed out a curse, and stumbled backwards, half-falling over the collection of supplies as he shakily climbed out of the truck and began to back away.   Before he had gone two steps away from the truck, he was struck from behind, a jagged burst of pain slicing through the back of his head.  He lurched forward, his forehead coming into contact hard with the truck's tailgate before he slid awkwardly to the ground.  
         
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