Title: BrigaDOH!

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Author's Notes: Full disclaimer in Part 1. In Part 6 evvybuddah say AWWW!

Part 6/6

They'd woken a few hours later and helped (or hindered) each other dress quickly in the chill night air without a trace of the awkwardness they'd each feared might plague them. The moon had risen high in the sky, leaving them with much less light to work with than earlier. After a few attempts to stow her gear in her pack had devolved into make-out sessions, they abandoned it altogether and ran for the village, gasping with laughter.

The plaza was empty when they arrived, save for Oscar and Teal'c who had stayed behind to mind the fire until dawn. Oscar had clearly been trying to imitate Teal'c in his kel'no'rim, but at some point had slumped over, his cheek pressed against the barrel.

"We missed the dancing!" Sam said, with a trace of disappointment.

"Darn!" Jack snapped his fingers.

"You don't dance?"

"Uh . . . White guy here, Carter. Not pretty."

"It's easy!" She insisted, stopping and tugging on his arm.

He turned toward her, his face resigned, "Ok. One dance. And you'd better hope that Teal'c isn't peeking."

She smiled up at him, reaching for his shoulder. He grabbed her waist, pulling her close with a dramatic flourish. Taking her other hand, he pressed her fingers to his lips as she laid her head against his shoulder. They shuffled in slow circles, mostly in silence interspersed with quiet chat, both too aware of the sun climbing over the horizon.

Sam lifted her head as she heard a door open behind her. Jack held her a moment longer, pressing a deliberate, possessive kiss on her brow before releasing her. "Morning, Sid."

"Jack. Sam." Sid shielded his eyes even from the weak dawn light as he scuffed his way to the well. With effort, he released the crank, wincing as the pulley squealed loudly and the bucket hit bottom with a thump and a splash. .

"Little help?" Jack wandered to peer down the well.

"Go ‘way. You're an abomination."

"Because I'm not hung over?"

"Yes. Bastard. Get thee behind me."

"Sid, you look like hell. Sit. Jack'll bring you water," Sam took Sid's arm, walking him to the nearest bench.

"Oh, will I?"

"Be nice," She hissed, moving toward him.

"Fine." Jack drew the bucket up, rinsing an abandoned mug thoroughly and filling it with fresh water. As Sid accepted it from him, he looked up at Jack, sympathy evident in his face, in spite of the greenish hue. Jack looked away, "Waning moon, eh?" he asked in a low voice. Sid nodded.

"Can we . . ." Sam's voice wavered just slightly. She laid a hand on Jack's back as he put his arm around her shoulders. "Can we ask you some more questions?"

"Yeah, we've got time," Sid winced with the effort of swallowing. "Provided you ask quietly."

Jack dragged another bench over and settled in next to Sam, holding her hand tightly.

"Grace . . ."

Sid smiled through the hangover. "She's a great kid. Gorgeous, smart. You said she's Jack's so I assume she is, but you wouldn't know it to look at her."

"But what's she doing here," Sam broke in before Jack snap a reply back. "I mean . . . why would be bring her here if we knew it was Goa'uld occupied."

"You didn't. You didn't know it was occupied at all. And as far as the Tau'ri knew, the Goa'uld had been completely eradicated."

"So we were exploring?" Jack asked, wanting to hear the details in spite of himself.

"Scouting. Once things settled down and post-Goa'uld alliances shook themselves out, SG-1 was charged with scouting out habitable planets as potential colonies."

"And the Goa'uld were holed up in a time bubble licking their wounds?" Jack looked skeptical.

"They thought they could manipulate the time dynamics here. Thought they could rebuild their empire in the one nearly undetectable place in the universe. As far as they knew, the people they'd relocated from Earth millennia ago had just up and disappeared. They were just tickled when they stumbled on to thousands ready-made slaves and potential hosts."

"Thousands?" Sam's mind was busily making calculations. At most the villagers numbered about 100.

"Yeah," Sid took a long gulp of water.

"Not much of a victory, then," Jack mumbled thinking about that fool statue.

"It was, Jack. No one thinks otherwise. Cara's people were sick, exhausted---broken when you got her. You guys freed them. Gave them a chance. There's a reason they tell stories about you all."

"Sid . . . about the time dynamics," Sam began.

He clutched his head, holding a hand out to her, "Please, Sam. No physics. I'm begging you."

"No, no physics. Just a hunch---time doesn't behave the same way for any two people here, does it? Danann is just a little girl, but Colin's already a young man . . . they must . . ."

"Time does what it needs to do here, that's all I know." Sid added hastily before she could jump again, "And yes, I know it doesn't make sense. I know it redefines physics and makes it rain toads. All I can tell you is what I see."

"Ok," Sam smiled, clearly reining her curiosity in with difficulty. "Do you . . . want to lie down? You don't look good."

"No time," Sid sighed, looking very put upon.

As if on cue, Teal'c roused himself from his meditative state. A moment later, a cottage door opened and Daniel stepped through, squinting as he slipped on his glasses and looked stealthily around the plaza. He needn't have bothered, given that Bridget pushed past him almost immediately, making her way toward Sam and Jack with her arms outstretched.

"Sam! Jack! We missed you last night!" She hugged each of them in turn, then glanced coyly over her shoulder at Daniel, "For a while."

"Bridget! Indoor voice, please!" Sid begged her, holding his head in his hands.

"Oh, you," She swatted him good-naturedly with her apron, linking her arm through Daniel's as he wandered up.

Jack raised an eyebrow, casting a significant look toward Bridget. Daniel blushed slightly, then made a similar gesture to where his and Sam's hands were laced together, resting on the bench. Jack coughed and looked away. Teal'c approached and beamed at the four of them with his characteristic subdued approval.

"Jack?"

"Yeah, Sid?"

"Can you count people for me? I think there are too many."

"Three Tau'ri, one Jaffa. Three of you guys."

"That's . . ." there was an extended pause. "All of SG-1?"

"Yup."

"Ok. Time to go."

"What? Now?" Daniel looked distraught.

"Yup. Gotta be at the gate by noon."

"But . . ."

"Daniel!" Sid said sharply. "Have you got another 10 years to spare right now?"

"No . . . but," he gestured helplessly toward Bridget, who was looking stoic.

"Bridget will be here. You will have fat babies. It's all good." Sid said impatiently. "Now, someone whose head is not going to fall off please lean down and grab the small keg that is stowed artfully under this bench."

Teal'c handily fetched the small barrel, balancing it on his shoulder. "I have always liked you best, Teal'c" Sid said, rising with difficulty and patting the Jaffa on the arm, "Are we all geared up?"

"My pack's all ready. Sam's . . ."

"I'll . . . run ahead and get it packed up, sir."

"Yeah. C'mere first." He held his arms out to her. She stepped into them and they held each other tightly, "Not too long now, right?" He said quietly in her ear.

"No, not too long at all." She whispered back. They broke apart reluctantly, oblivious to Daniel's uncomfortable fidgeting and Teal'c's positively beatific smile.

"Can we say good-bye?" Sam asked a little tearfully.

"Sam, don't be cruel. Pretty much everyone except Bridget is as bad off as I am." Sid rolled his eyes. Adding more gently, "They know, Sam. You'll all be back."


"I just wish you'd have told me," Jack said sourly.

"Hammond knows. It's not a problem. It never occurred to me to mention it to you." Sid snapped back.

"Jack, what's the big deal? We bring strangers back all the time." Daniel said.

"And who has to fill out the ARFs in quintuplicate, Daniel?"

"ARFs?"

"Alien refugee forms," Sam said in a low voice, hoping to deflect the conversation in a duller, less contentious direction.

"I'm not a refugee. I'm a tourist. Also not an alien if you want to get technical about it . . ."

"What?" Sam and Jack asked in unison.

"Well, we're all Tau'ri under the skin, right?"

"Actually, in Antarctica . . ." Daniel began.

"It's rhetorical, Daniel. Sid's gotta secret." Jack said.

"O'Neill!" Teal'c said sharply, impatient with the arguments and delays. "It is very nearly twelve hundred hours. We should dial the gate."

"Yeah." Jack stole a glance at Sam. She smiled bravely. "Ok. Dial it up, T."

"Ok, folks, we dash on my signal." Sid tucked his keg more firmly under his arm as the gate splashed out toward them. "And . . . "

"Hey," Jack looked around suddenly, "Where's my . . ."

"Now!" Sid shouted, making a break for the stairway.

"Statue?" Jack finished as he stepped out on to the gate ramp. He scanned the room, making sure his team was all present and accounted for. Taking a deep breath, he looked to the bottom of the ramp where he knew Hammond would be and met his CO's eyes.

"General!"

"Colonel. Did you enjoy your holiday?" Hammond asked in a neutral tone.

"Immensely. Court-martialably. But I'm guessing you knew that." He turned to Sid, his eyes wide. "Why do I still know that? Not that I am not really really glad to still know that," he added hastily to Sam in a low voice.

"Give it a bit, Jack. No worries," Sid made his way down the ramp to shake the General's hand. "Good to see you, George."

"It's been too long, Sid. Not for you, I suppose," Hammond said with a smile.

"General. Permission to debrief in the morning?" Jack looked from one weary face to another. "It's been a weird . . .mission."

"Denied, Colonel. I'm sorry, but SG-1 will need to accompany me and Sid back to my house."

"Your house, sir?" Daniel asked.

"A belated St. Patrick's Day gathering, SG-1. Attendance is not optional. There are cars waiting on the surface."


Daniel and Teal'c pointedly ducked into the same car and slammed the door. Sam blushed, averting her face from General Hammond as they waited for the next vehicle to arrive.

"You two go on ahead," the General said, trying to reassure her with a smile, "Sid and I have some business."

Jack held the door open for Sam, sliding in after her. He leaned forward to the driver, "Hey, can you put that thing up?" The driver wordlessly punched a button and the divider rose smoothly.

"Excellent," Jack said, rubbing his hands together as he realized that it was a one-way mirror.

"So," Sam said, reaching for his hand and staring straight ahead.

"So. I guess this is gonna be it. Whatever happens'll happen at Hammond's place."

"Yeah," Sam smiled sadly. "Guess so."

"Wanna make out?"

"God, yes," She clambered into his lap.


The mood at Hammond's was surprisingly upbeat, given the knowledge hanging over everyone's heads. They traded stories about Cara, the villagers, the feast---and of course, the statue. Sam was horrified to learn that Daniel had video footage of the pedestal that he insisted on sharing with the General who only just barely maintained his disapproving scowl.

Sam and Jack shared a loveseat, tentative glances and stolen touches having grown bolder throughout the night as they realized they had the General's tacit approval for the evening. Daniel mooned over Bridget a bit, but it was a cheerful, self-conscious kind of melancholy. The saddest note of the evening came when Teal'c raised a toast to Bra'tac, extending his honorary Irish status until . . . whatever happened.

In the early morning hours, Sid caught Hammond's eye and signaled for the General to join him in the kitchen. He was tapping the barrel when Hammond made his way in.

"That time already?" He asked.

"''Fraid so, George."

Hammond looked wistfully out over the comfortable scene in the living room.

"It seems a shame. They've been through some rough times these last few years. I haven't seen them this content . . . well, I've never seen them this content, I suppose."

"And there's a lot ahead. It's up to you to keep them on track, George. Thank God you're good with this time stuff."

"Right," the General replied grimly.

"Chin up, George. In the grand scheme of things, it won't be long before you're telling Grace the story."

"That's what gets me through, Sid. Hope. But what have they got?"

Sid smiled, "Maybe more than you think."

Hammond eyed him warily, knowing he'd never get a straight answer if he asked. "All right, Sid. Let's do this."

They each grabbed three mugs and made their way into the living room. A hush fell as they handed the mugs around.

"This is it, then?" Jack asked. Sid nodded. "Okie dokie. What do we drink to?"

"Hope, George?" Sid suggested.

"To hope," Hammond agreed.

"Hear, hear!" They chorused, clinking their glasses.


THE END.
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