"All right, then...Yes...Our flight gets in at 1437...uh, that would be...2:37, Chicago time," Jack told his sister Siobhan over the phone. "Yes... the Allerton...Daniel is also staying there...I don't know, but I'll call you when we get settled... Thanks, we will. See you later today...Okay...Bye." And with that Jack hung up the phone. He looked over the two members of SG1 in his office, Daniel and Sam. "Okay," Jack said slapping his hands together. "I guess we're ready to leave. Daniel, why don't you go get your stuff and we'll take off."

"I have it right here," Daniel informed him, pointing to his suit carrier.

Jack glanced at it. "Okay, then go say goodbye to Teal'c," Jack told him, beginning to get frustrated.

"I saw him on the way in."

"Daniel," Sam stepped in sensing the impending irritation in Jack. She smiled at Daniel and rolled her eyes. "I think what the colonel is asking is for you to leave the office, so he can..." she tipped her head, gesturing toward Jack. "You know."

Daniel squinted his eyes.

Sam pointed to Jack and herself.

"Ooooh. Right. Sorry." Daniel uttered, leaving the office.

Jack sat on the edge of his desk, his feet crossed at the ankles. "So, Major. Wish you could join us," he said softly.

Sam positioned herself between Jack and the door. "I do, too. But there's a whole list of calibrations I need to check. Plus we have the new buffers for the gate. I want to put them through their paces. If they work out, the time-distance ratio..."

Jack went slack-jawed while he massaged his temples.

Sam smiled understanding she had just gone too far in her explanation. "Maybe I can go next time."

Jack held her gaze, wanting to tell her how much he would miss her and those beautiful baby-blues.

"Give Siobhan a kiss for me."

"I will."

"Have a good flight, sir," she responded, firmly back in her military mode.

Jack appreciated the way Sam was able to keep her distance, especially these days when he wasn't quite sure where their relationship was going. With his sister's illness, Jack felt like his life was already complicated enough. Either way, whenever he heard Sam use his rank or his title of respect in a conversation not of a military basis, it made his heart drop a little. But for her sake and the sake of the Stargate program, he accepted it.

"Thank you, Major," he said as he picked up his carry-on and stepped around to the front of his desk where he grabbed his dress-blues jacket off the back of his chair and threw it over his arm.

Sam picked up his hat and handed it to him, lightly grazing her finger against the palm of his hand. She glanced up at him, aware of the affect such contact had on him, on them both.

"Whew! Okay," Jack uttered. He tossed his hat on top of his head and avoided any eye contact with his 2IC for fear of spontaneous combustion. Jack crossed to his door, allowed Sam the right of way, and then stepped out into the corridor to lock his office.

"We'll see you when you get back, Colonel," Sam stated.

Daniel was outside the office, leaning against the wall, cleaning his glasses.

"We'll see you, Carter," he called to her.

Daniel tossed his glasses in the breast pocket of his sport coat and caught up with Jack. Daniel turned to walk backwards in order to address his fellow scientist. "Bye, Sam," he waved. "I'll bring you back some Wrigley's Spearmint Gum."

Sam giggled at the thought.

"Have fun calibrating, Major!" Jack added, never breaking stride.

"God, Jack, that was romantic," Daniel sarcastically stated in a very quiet voice so only Jack could hear.

The colonel pelted him with a cantankerous eye. Once inside the elevator, Jack told the airman to take them to the surface where a car was waiting to transport the Colonel and SGC's chief Archeologist to their awaiting flight.

*****

"What time is our meeting with Dr. Rayner?" Jack asked fastening his seat belt.

Daniel closed his laptop, returned his tray to its upright position, and pulled his Palm Pilot out of his jacket. "We're meeting Steven at...4:30 in his office at the university," Daniel told the colonel, scrolling down the display.

"Tell me again the story you and Sam concocted for him," Jack asked brushing the lint off the top of his hat.

"Let's see. I think we said that Sarah..."

"Sara?"

"Dr. Gardner, our newly obtained host...ess," Daniel corrected, aware of their proximity to other passengers. "We told Steven that she had gone Patty Hearst on us, and she and her group now had their hands on some sensitive if not deadly technology, the kind with which she had used to take out Steven."

"And he bought that?"

"Well, that was more palpable than what he thought he had witnessed," Daniel went on.

"Which was?"

"An alien device that spewed oscillating energy directed into his head." Daniel creased his brow and grimaced acknowledging the fact that that was exactly what Steven had seen.

"Yeah, I can see where that would be rather unbelievable," Jack testified. "So, you think he'll be interested in joining our program?"

"If put to him in the correct way, yes. If you tell him about it, no."

Jack gave Daniel a petulant sneer.

"It's just that Steven and I speak the same lingo. I know what he'll want to hear, and if he's interested, good."

"And you're sure he's qualified to join us."

"On paper, he's the best there is."

"Yeah, but you and I both know that which is on paper doesn't always transfer to the field."

"This is true."

"You have misgivings about Rayner, don't you?" Jack inquired, sensing the turbulence behind Daniel's eyes.

"Steven and I...our history is..."

"Let me guess. This is about a woman, isn't it?" Jack guessed caustically.

Daniel squirmed slightly in his seat. "Not 'a' woman. Sarah."

"The...," Jack pointed to the back of his neck and made a slithering sound."...woman?"

"Yeees, that one," Daniel answered, slightly appalled by Jack's disconcerting imagery. "Steven had her tagged, as he put it, when they first met. I showed up a couple weeks later, Sarah and I hit it off, and Steven has never quite forgiven me. I think he blames me for her...change of careers."

"Flight crew," the voice over the intercom spoke. "Prepare for landing."

Daniel tilted toward Jack to finish his thought. "Anyway, Steven isn't one to forgive easily. He may not be able to get past his anger to see the big picture. And we don't need anybody who can't see the forest for the trees."

"And there are always trees. Lots and lots of trees. And why is that, Daniel?" Jack asked, his curiosity piqued.

Daniel rubbed his eyes. It was astounding to him how Jack could separate one word from an entire sentence and skew it to meet his thoughts. Thoughts that very rarely corresponded with the actual conversation.

It was all part of the magic that was Jack O'Neill.

*****

The cold marble walls in corridors of academic buildings from your years gone past. Strange how you used to walk through these hallways, your thoughts and aspirations soaking into the striated sheen, careening off the ornamental mouldings. Your life was spent passing through here, leaving your energy traces, scattering your DNA. The building seemed as much a part of you as you it back then. It seemed to embrace you with its constant cool temperature, always waiting for your return, and welcoming you silently as you entered. Here was the step down to the lecture hall that you sat on, waiting for class to begin; the bulletin board where you posted grades; the awkward corner where the vestibular dome arches met, just perfectly dark enough for stolen kisses. And here was the door that used to carry your name.

The fickleness of time and the ever-changing population of a university and its structures. Just one more place where you used to belong, where you used to feel at home. Where now, no sign that you were ever here exists. Now you feel invisible. Now you feel the apathy and crushing insouciance. Now, once again, you are alone.

Daniel felt a tremor course through his body.

"Daniel? You going to knock or shall I?" Jack asked, bending at the waist, his hands folded behind his back.

Daniel pulled up out of his memories and knocked on Dr. Steven Rayner's office door. Daniel glanced at Jack who was bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet.

"Daniel. Right on time, as usual," observed Steven holding the door open for the two men.

Jack looked at Daniel incredulously. Surely punctuality and Daniel had not just been uttered in the same breath.

"Colonel O'Neill, I presume."

"Correct," Jack answered removing his hat.

"Pleasure to meet you," Steven said offering his hand.

"Doctor Rayner." Jack shook Steven's hand and found a seat amongst the boxes of newly published books.

"Well, Steven," Daniel began, offering the obligatory hand shake. "You seem to have recuperated."

Steven placed a hand on his abdomen. "Yes, all better now. Which reminds me. Did Sarah ever show up?"

Daniel blinked his eyes.

Jack tipped his head waiting for Daniel's response. "No. No, she never did. But she will."

"How can you be so sure?" Steven asked dubiously.

"It's the nature of the beast," Jack offered with a squint of the eyes and a smirk.

"Pardon me?" Steven asked.

Daniel quickly picked up the conversation and turned it away from Jack's double entendre. "Steven, we're here in part because of what transpired in Egypt." Daniel took a seat next to Jack.

Steven crossed behind his desk, sat down and put his feet casually on top of the mahogany surface. "Yes, well, I have some questions," he started.

"I'm sure you do," Daniel said.

"Listen, Steven. Steve?" Jack asked. Steven shook his head. "Fine. Daniel and I have come to you with an offer..."

"A position, really..."

"...to join our program."

"Program." Steven echoed, reservedly looking at the two men.

"Yes. We have an opening on one of our units for an archeologist," Daniel began.

Steven pressed his fingertips together and listened intently.

"I brought up your name as a potential candidate, someone who has the required background and expertise to fill this position."

"And I'm sure it doesn't hurt that I saw whatever I saw," Steven interjected.

"That's part of it. Call it damage control," Jack told him.

Steven clenched his teeth, pushed out his lower jaw, tossed his head back and forth, stared at Daniel and then at Jack. "So, what's in it for me?"

"You will be part of history in the making," Daniel told him. "You will see ruins and artifacts the kinds of which you cannot possibly conceive. You will be part of excavations that will and have turned the archeological world upside down, inside out, and well..."

"What we encounter on a day to day basis most rock-collectors scoff at," Jack said, not as impressed with Steven's credentials as was Steven.

"It sounds...amazing." Steven drew his hands through his hair. He grabbed the back corners of his oversized leather chair. "What's the down side?"

"If we do our job well, no one will ever know what we see or do." Daniel told him, point blank. He waited for Steven to react. "You will never be able to share your findings with your associates outside the program, your friends or family; you will never be able to talk about your experiences with anyone outside the program; the level of personal danger can be very high; you will be gone for days, weeks, and months at a time, and you will not be allowed to divulge your whereabouts to anyone; there are very few of us in the program who have been married, and of those marriages, few have...survived. What I'm describing, Steven, are the things dreams are made of. And nightmares. But make no mistake, the work we do is of the highest level of importance." Daniel concluded, searching Steven's face for signs of comprehension.

"I don't know if you're trying to scare me or entice me," Steven said quietly, fairly overwhelmed by the picture that had been hastily painted for him.

"Both," Jack said.

"I'd have to think about it," Steven told the men.

"Certainly. We leave Sunday," Daniel told him.

"Wow, 48 hours to make a life-altering decision." Steven rubbed the top of his head.

"Less than that, actually. We leave at noon."

"I have so many questions..."

"And we may not be able to answer them at this point," Daniel said.

"On Sunday, if you can give us with a firm answer, we will start the process of bringing you into the program. Then and only then can we begin to answer your questions," Jack told him dispassionately.

"So let's say I agree to join your program, " Steven began. "What happens next?"

"You'd be relocated to the base where you'd be given basic military training," said Daniel, straightening his tie. This information seemed to interest Steven markedly.

"Does that mean I'll learn to use a gun?"

"Will that be a problem?" asked Jack.

"No. No! Daniel, you carry a gun on digs?"

"Yes, I do."

"You ever have to use it?"

"I..."

"That would fall under the 'need to know' category," Jack informed Steven. He squinted his eyes, pursed his lips and sent him a "stop now" look.

"Oh, certainly," Steven raised his hand, gesturing that he understood the colonel's warning. "So, Daniel. Are you packing heat now?"

"Again, need to know, Doctor," Jack reminded him, becoming annoyed with this line of questioning.

"I ask because..."

"Need."

"You won't tell me?"

"No."

Steven threw up his hands, surrendering to Jack's insistence.

Daniel pushed up his glasses nervously.

A heavy silence lay before them, triangulated by the diverging vectors of personal reasoning: Glory, duty, and quest.

"Well, I think that just about says it all," Jack stated, rising from his chair, tossing his hat over and catching the brim. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have another appointment." He stepped to the door. "Doctor," he said shaking Steven's hand. "Daniel," he said tapping the brim of his hat.

Daniel wiggled his fingers at Jack, a decidedly non-military salutation.

Jack rolled his eyes and left.

"He's a little...intense," Steven remarked shutting the door.

Daniel could agree to that statement in part. "He's military, Steven. That's his job."

"Daniel, I know you told me Sarah had been abducted and brainwashed, but is that really the whole story?" Steven asked, taking the seat next to Daniel.

Daniel, his legs crossed, picked at the crease in his trousers. "It's all I can tell you at this time."

"Come on, Daniel. The colonel's gone. What really happened?" he asked leaning in, smiling surreptitiously.

"Steven, it's like I told you. She and the...people she became involved with have hold of some technology that we need to reign in."

Steven sat back, his expression changed from morbid curiosity to indignation. "So, it's the technology you're after. Not Sarah."

"Sarah, too," Daniel answered.

"But only as a means to an end," Steven remarked bitterly.

"Look, Steven, I'm not sure where you're going with this, but..."

"Forget it." Steven stood up, walked to his window and looked out onto the grounds below him. "This is a beautiful campus, isn't it?" he asked looking over the newly blossoming trees, the pockets of hyacinths and crocuses.

Daniel dropped his head.

"I think this used to be your office."

"Um, yes, I believe it was," Daniel answered closing his eyes. Since his return to the university for his professor's funeral, the distance between the former colleagues had never fully coalesced. Daniel prepared himself for what he knew was going to be a long, aggravating weekend at his expense.

"You owned this place, Daniel. I hope what you're doing now is worth throwing away the brass ring that was all but in your hand," Steven asked never turning from the window.

"It is," Daniel affirmed tipping his head, wondering if he really believed his own statement. More and more he understood the enormous responsibility of the project, but it came at a price he was finding harder and harder to pay. He couldn't remember when his life, every waking moment, every thought had become the SGC. A part of him longed just to be a day-to-day working stiff. A working stiff, like Steven, with a Porsche. Ouch! "So when do I get to meet this fiance of yours?" he asked , changing the subject.

Steven turned to him, his face conveying the difference in his disposition. "Right now, if you want," Steven said taking his jacket from the coat tree. "She's just across campus in the music department. Her rehearsal should be just about over. Let's walk," he suggested.

Daniel agreed and the two archeologists left Steven's office.

"What does your fiance do?" Daniel asked as they made their way down the sparsely lit corridor.

"She's on staff in the music department. She has a performance coming up, so she's in rehearsal," Steven informed Daniel, holding the door for him to lead the way.

"I hear your book is doing well," Daniel casually slid into the conversation.

Steven threw back his head and smiled. "Well, if you consider the Porsche and my home in Oak Park as a book doing well, then yes, it is."

"Then I'm happy for you, Steven."

"Well, we all make choices," Steven sniped. "Some of us stay the course, others of us walk... down a different road."

"Yes, we do, Steven." Daniel didn't want to be a party to this baiting. He let the comments roll off him, as he had so often.

"So, Daniel, I take it from your comments back in my office that you've been married."

"Yes, I was," Daniel answered matter of factly.

"What happened? You walk away from her as well?"

It was an unnecessary shot that stung. Daniel stopped where he was, his hands clenched in anger inside his pockets.

Steven stopped a few paces ahead, turned and smirked at his attempt at a biting joke.

"Actually, I was...with her when she died." Daniel stared hard at Steven, knowing the truth would hopefully slap Steven out of his rakish attitude.

Steven's face lost its color.

Good, thought Daniel.

"God, Daniel. I didn't know."

"How could you? I disappeared. I mean, if you had, maybe you wouldn't have made such a callous, disparaging, offensive comment about my marriage... and about my wife."

Steven squirmed a little under the glare. "Look, Daniel,..."

"No, Steven. You look. I came to you as a colleague with this proposal. But your conduct here has yet to instill any sense of confidence in me that you fully understand the gravity of the situation. Doors are closing to you, Steven, with every inane, off-handed, priggish remark you make. What happened years ago happened. Let it go. I'm telling you as a fellow archeologist, as a former colleague, watch what you say, or this opportunity will pass you by."

Steven blanched.

Daniel, fully satisfied that he'd been able to enlighten Steven, began to walk again toward the music department.

Steven turned and walked with him, the rest of the trek made in silence.

The sidewalk that lead to the music department was lined with hyacinths- creamy whites, blush pinks, deep violets. The perfume that rose from them mingled with the sweetly cacophonous sounds of voices and instruments, all playing, all tuning at the same time. From the collection of noises an instrument would rise above the clamor, exclaim its presence with a note or two, and then retreat into the group. A voice would be heard sailing above, holding a note so pure and resounding, it seemed ethereal.

As the two men entered the building and walked through the halls, Daniel felt a ripple of comfort swelling through him. Like a passing of silk over the skin, it flowed over him, barely perceptible, but enough to cause him to wonder. He walked cautiously through the halls, loathe to disturb the ambiance. Down a set of stairs, past a room littered with tattered car seats and the tattered musicians who occupied them, Steven and Daniel came to a door.

"This is the rehearsal room," Steven told Daniel as he took off his glasses and looked through the small double-paned window.

Daniel took in the small practice room. It seemed more like a lecture hall to him, complete with levels for chairs or music stands, he supposed. Back in the corner was a baby grand piano on casters.

From just above the stand Daniel could see the pianist's head weaving to the muted rhythm of the music. The pianist stood up, gathered her music from the piano and placed it in a back pack. Daniel's mouth gaped. Not only did Steven have a Porsche, he also had a stunning fiance. Long, straight auburn hair that was held behind her ears by glasses; soft green eyes that drew in the light and sent it back out gloriously; strong, slender limbs that seemed to be conducting a silent overture. The woman looked up to see Daniel in the window. She held his gaze and turned her head to speak without taking her eyes off of the stranger.

"Is that her?" Daniel asked.

Steven poked his head next to Daniel's. "Oh, no. That's Corey, Celia's accompanist," Steven told him.

Daniel felt a warmth bubbling through his chest.

"There's my Celia!"

Daniel took a peak into the room at the new figure standing next to the piano. Celia. So that's Celia. Tall, angular, with perfectly coiffed hair. Her feet turned out to precise 45 degree angles. She was telling her accompanist something in a very animated way. Corey glanced up from her visual hold on the piano keys to find Daniel's eyes once again on her. She turned to Celia and pointed toward the door. Celia of the red lipstick and pearl earrings, slowly, dramatically turned to face the door. With one eyebrow raised in annoyance, she began to prowl toward the door to confront the stranger beyond the window.

Steven nudged Daniel out from in front of the window and waved to Celia. She threw her arms open wide and squealed in delight, the expression muted for the men by the soundproofing in the room. In an instance, the door was thrown open and two pale arms preceded the affected woman.

"Oh, Stevey!" she gushed, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Steven attempted to kiss her on the lips, but she turned her face so he would catch her cheek instead.

She returned the kiss and uncoiled her arms. "Let me get that," she said wiping a smudge of lipstick from his face.

"Ce-ce, this is an old friend," Steven started.

Celia wrapped her arm around Steven's waist and turned to face Daniel.

"Dr. Daniel Jackson, meet the love of my life, Dr. Celia Dale."

Daniel was almost immediately overcome by the aura of perfume that pushed out from her.

"How do you do, Dr. Jackson," she said in a higher than average voice.

Daniel couldn't help thinking of cartoon characters upon hearing it. Daniel blinked his eyes affecting nonchalance to hide his bemusement. "Very well, thank you," he said taking her noncommittal grip.

Corey attempted to slide behind the three. Steven stopped her.

Daniel was very thankful. He didn't know how he was going to explain why he had run away from Celia moments after meeting her, but he knew he had better not let this other woman out of his sight for long.

"Wait, Corey. I'd like you to meet an old colleague of mine. Dr. Daniel Jackson, this is Dr. Cordelia Barnett," Steven said.

Daniel held out his hand to her, his heart rate beginning to speed up with the anticipation of her touch. "Um, hi," Daniel said.

She took his hand in a warm, supple embrace. "Hi," she smiled.

Daniel felt himself grinning, using muscles in his face that had been neglected for far too long.

"Please. Call me Corey."

"Um, Daniel," he said, patting his chest.

She squinted her eyes at him, looked at her hand still in his, and, smiling, gently pulled her hand away.

Daniel, flustered, let out a little sound and shook his head apologetically.

Steven took stock of the situation and pulled Celia from between them.

"Daniel, Celia and I were wondering if you'd like to have dinner with us," Steven asked, trying to gain Daniel's attention and finding that easier said than done. "Daniel?"

Daniel continued to smile foolishly at Corey.

"Jackson! Snap out of it!"

Daniel turned to Steven, his face blooming with color.

"Dinner? Do you want to have dinner with us?"

Daniel regained his composure, but found that words were not so much at his disposal.

Steven raised the corner of his mouth and understood the problem. "Corey, would you like to join us?"

"Yes, Cordelia. Do," offered Celia, routing through he newly procured purse in search of her lipstick.

Corey searched Daniel's eyes. He answered her by fluttering his eyelids.

"Well...I really need to run, but..." Corey smiled at Daniel, humored by his inability to speak. "I guess I can...that is, maybe I...you know, at the very least..."

"That's Cordelia-ese for she'll join us," Celia explained haughtily. She began to lead the way out of the basement of the practice building. "Well? Are you all coming?"

Steven caught up to Celia, leaving Corey and Daniel to walk together.

"I thought we'd go to La Bouchon"Celia said, striding through the halls.

"That sounds fine. How about it, Daniel? Corey? French food tonight?" Steven asked taking Celia's briefcase.

Daniel shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged his shoulders.

Corey giggled. "Yeah, that sounds great," she answered for both of them.

Daniel nodded, the smile never leaving his face.

"I'll take that as a yes."

Daniel pushed his glasses up his nose and took a deep breath. "Yes, it is," Daniel finally said. He put his hand gently on her back and motioned for her to lead the way.

*****

Jack never felt at ease in the convent. It's dark oak paneling seemed far too cold for his comfort. But with each passing visit to it, the icons and other religious pieces became familiar to him. They were a constant in this place where his sister seemed to be changing with each passing day.

In the last few months he had watched Siobhan's body cruelly and irreversibly being transformed by the ALS. First her ability to walk left her, then her ability to fully use her upper body. On some visits Jack would stand outside her door bracing himself for what he would find inside.

He always had a hope that one day he would walk in and Siobhan would be up, brushing her hair long hair, rolling from her toes to the her heals and back again. It was a foolish hope, indeed, but he held onto it. Some days it was the only thing he could hold onto.

Siobhan had informed him earlier in the week that he would find her in her new chair when he visited. She said he'd like it because of its "space age design." Siobhan was always joking with Jack about the things in her world constructed of "space age design," like her toaster, her electric toothbrush, her shower. It put him at ease, knowing she was comfortable enough with it to joke. It did not, however, take away his growing panic and grief. But that would have to be put aside until he were home in Colorado, safe from the pressing reality of his sister's illness.

He tapped his fingers on the door knob nervously, took in a deep breath, and gathered his strength. He knocked softly on the door. It opened quickly. Jack's heart leapt. For a brief moment he thought he would find Bonnie holding the door open for him. The dream passed as the face of Sister Mary Catherine appeared.

"Afternoon, Colonel," the diminutive nun softly greeted Jack.

"Sister."

"Sister Margaret Therese is sleeping. Why don't you go on in. She should be awake soon," she told him, grabbing his elbow and pushing him gently in the door.

Jack acquiesced and entered the room.

"By the way, Colonel," Sister Mary Catherine added before she left. "It would be nice to see you in church. God would like to have you in His presence," she told him, wagging a finger at him as she exited.

"Yeah, I get that a lot from gods," Jack ironically rejoined. He removed his hat and placed it on Siobhan's bed.

Siobhan was asleep, sitting upright in her recliner, covered to her chin in blankets.

Jack silently crossed the few steps to her and kissed her lightly on the forehead.

"Hey, there, flyboy," Siobhan whispered, her eyes half-open. The thin voice surprised him.

"Howdy, ma�am," Jack drawled, producing a crooked smile. He leaned over and enveloped his sister in a warm embrace.

"Glad you're here, Jack," she said, her voice only a few decibels higher than moments before.

"Me, too," Jack smiled kissing her on the cheek. He pulled up a desk chair and sat very close to his younger sister. "I see you cut your hair," he mentioned, taking note of the cropped hair. Gone was the long chestnut hair that she loved, even when her superiors told her she should cut it as a sign of humility. The convent was never able to instill the necessary humility in Siobhan; ALS did.

"Easier to care for," she said sliding her hand out from under the blanket. Of all the traits the O'Neill siblings inherited, the biting sarcasm, the ability to build impenetrable walls around them, the one that was their saving grace was the understanding of the importance of touch. It bridged gaps when words wouldn't nor couldn't help; it expressed joy, relief and sorrow for them, emotions that Siobhan had allowed herself to explore, but Jack found difficult. Touch was their salve, their sanctuary, their language. And they both knew that when that day arrived where words no longer could be heard nor spoken, their hands would be joined, passing along the sense of love and warmth shared by two siblings who decided long ago to be each other's confidant.

Jack took Siobhan's hand, slightly curled, softly in his two. He caressed the smooth cool skin and gently drew each finger to its full length.

"Haven't seen you in the Class A's since ...Charlie's funeral," Siobhan told him.

Jack winced. "I didn't get a chance to go to the hotel yet," he reported, stroking the top of her hand. "How are you feeling this afternoon? You look tired."

"I am," she said tilting her head slightly on the headrest of her chair. "Had a good morning. Made it to Mass. But I've been coughing all afternoon. Takes a lot out of me. Tough on the voice."

"I bet." Jack watched as his sister gazed lazily out the window. "How's the bed working out?"

"Good. Can't roll over by myself anymore. Helps to change positions. Hey, Jack?"

"Yeah."

Siobhan took a long, slow intake of air. "There's a box under the desk." Siobhan told him in her halting manner.

Jack bent down and picked up the plastic storage box. He sat back down and put the box on his lap. "What is it?" he asked.

"Open it," Siobhan said, lifting her chin slightly.

Jack lifted the lid off the box and peered inside. He sorted through a few things, but none of it seemed familiar. "What is all this stuff, Bonnie?" he asked.

"Family things. Photos. Newspaper clippings. Like that. Just O'Neill stuff."

Jack looked further and pulled out a small photo album. He placed the box on the ground and began to flip through the pages of the album, smiling. "Wow, look how thin I was. What a geek!" he chortled seeing a picture of himself in 1968 standing next to a 1955 Dodge pick-up truck. "I'll give you all the money in my pockets if you never show these to Sam or Daniel."

"I'm sure it's not enough," she grinned.

"Gees, look at that. Ha!"

Siobhan smiled watching her brother enjoy the old photos. Page after page brought subdued exclamations of embarrassment, glee, bewilderment, and renewed memories.

But one photo seemed to capture him. It extracted him from the carefree nostalgia of old photos to a time when nostalgia was being created. He pulled it out of the yellowed plastic sheath and held it carefully by the corners. Slowly a melancholy smile formed as he turned the picture for Siobhan to see. The colors were slightly skewed, the focus less than sharp, but the image was clear. A young man in an Air Force uniform joyfully swinging a little girl at the end of his arms one bright summer day.

Siobhan gazed upon it thoughtfully. She looked up and smiled at Jack who seemed to be somewhere between happiness and regret.

"You loved to twirl," Jack remembered softly.

"Take whatever you want," Siobhan nodded and smiled.

Jack looked at the photo again and put it in his inner pocket.

He put the album aside and from the container pulled out a small, leather box. The joint of the box creaked as he lifted the lid. Inside was a ring he knew to be Siobhan's and before that his mother's and before that his grandmother's. A simple Claddagh. Jack held it between his thumb and finger.

"Great Grandma came from Galway. Married an O'Neill from Cork. Came down the pike to me. Now it's yours," Siobhan said, passing on the family history.

Jack clenched his teeth, uncomfortable to be holding such a precious treasure in his hand.

"I can't wear it. Claddaghs need to be given. Yours to give."

Jack put the ring back in its container and touched the box to his lips. He never should have been in possession of this ring. Bonnie should have worn it for years. After all, it was their mother who had given it to Siobhan before she died. The same circumstances were now placing the ring in his hands, and the realization was terrifying. He put the ring aside not knowing what he wanted to do with the gift.

Jack next opened a small prayer book. Inside the cover was a small stack of cards depicting washed-out portraits of saints. Turning over each card, Jack found the dates of births and deaths of all the family members that had gone before. Funeral cards. One for each aunt, uncle, grandparent and parent. And one for Charlie. Jack rubbed his hand through his hair.

"Do you still have one?"

"I never took one," Jack told her bitterly. "Didn't think I needed a reminder of those dates." He placed the card back in the pile and shut the book. Finished with the trip through his personal, familial history, Jack pushed the box aside and leaned over to hold Siobhan's hand again. "Why don't you sleep, Bon. I'll stay for a while," he told her, stroking her hand.

Siobhan closed her eyes. "Really tired today," she told him.

Jack dropped his head. He despised seeing evidence that Siobhan was slowing down, that the disease was winning.

"Jack?"

"What, Bonnie?"

"Don't wear the Class A's to my..." Siobhan took a small breath in order to finish. "...funeral. You hide too well...behind it."

Jack squinted his eyes, felt a sting of sadness penetrate his heart. "I don't own a suit," he told her trying to change the essence of the conversation.

"Wear your fishing gear. Hockey uniform. Not the blues." She attempted to move her body with a slight groan.

Jack bolted to her side.

"What can I do? You want to lie down?"

Siobhan nodded.

Jack drew the covers back from her and slid his hands under her arms. Pulling her small body towards him, he easily lifted her from her chair. She lay her head against his chest and breathed rapidly. The intimacy of holding his sister's wasting body was more than Jack could often bear. With every visit her frame was more frail, less responsive, becoming surreally light. He turned her toward the bed and lifted her slightly. Gingerly he lowered her head to the pillow and then lifted her knees onto the bed. Siobhan smiled, thankful for the assistance, but truly appreciative of the contact, the warmth and love. He covered her, arranged her pillows and kissed her lightly.

"Rest. I'll stay here for a while," he said.

Siobhan held his gaze momentarily and then, smiling, closed her eyes.

Sitting on the edge of her bed, Jack could almost see in Siobhan's face the little girl he had twirled endlessly a lifetime ago. He could see her pigtails floating in the wind, her smile as wide as the love she held in her heart for her older brother, and the trust in her eyes that she knew her brother would never let her go.

At least some things never change.

*****

"Garcon. L'addition, s'il vous plait," Celia called to the waiter passing by.

It had been "French for the Well-Read Tourist" all night, and Daniel never felt like informing Celia that along the line she had mangled a few verbs and dislocated a sentence structure here and there. Any other time he would have taken a great deal of joy in correcting the translation, but tonight with Corey seated next to him, he didn't seem to mind the superciliousness of Steven nor Celia.

"Anyhow, I'm not Celia's recital accompanist anymore," Corey began.

"Goodness, no!" Celia retorted, applying a fresh coat of crimson to her lips. "Cordelia is my practice accompanist. I'll be performing with the Chicago Light Opera next week, and Cordelia was assisting me with rehearsals until I'm able to practice with the full orchestra."

Corey raised one fed-up eyebrow and rolled her eyes. "Celia is a wonder," Corey sarcastically intoned.

"Speaking of wonders, Daniel here used to be the wunderkind before he went off to work for the Air Force..." Steven began.

"Steven? Do you hear a door closing?" Daniel asked sending Steven an incredulous glare.

Corey glanced over to Daniel.

"Sorry, buddy. All I meant to say was Daniel has dual PhD's. Archeology and linguistics." Steven swayed in his seat having drunk too much pinot anything and everything.

"Thank you, Steven. Should I pull out my resume now?"

"And," Steven went on obstreperously, "he's a single guy once again, Corey."

Daniel jumped into the fray in an attempt to poke his finger through the hole of the dam named Steven. "Yes, thank you for pointing that out, Steven," he glared. Daniel turned to Corey, hoping his change in attention would shut Steven up. "So, you're leaving Chicago."

Corey began to respond only to be quashed by Celia.

"Yes. And she could have had a great career here, but the woods call her," Celia spat out, joining her fiancé in their shared state of inebriation.

"Alas, the woods do call," Corey said rising from her seat. "Thank you, Steven, Celia, for dinner. But I have packing to do."

Daniel rose as well. "Um, do you, well, can I help?" he asked.

Corey smiled. "Sure," she said.

Daniel took out his wallet.

"Your money's no good. Anyway, how much can the military be paying you?" Steven slurred.

"Shut up, Steven," Daniel said throwing a few bills on the table. He followed Corey to the door.

Once on the street level, Corey began to pull on her leather backpack. Daniel helped her with the last strap.

"I hope Steven isn't a good friend of yours," she said sheepishly.

"No, not at all," Daniel responded. "He's an..."

"Ass? Yeah, I've always thought so."

"How about Celia?"

Corey took a long slow stride toward the direction of her apartment. "Well, Celia and I have been musical partners for a long time now. We started off together in our Master's programs. But Celia is a soprano, a coloratura soprano at that, and you know what they say about sopranos..."

Daniel tilted his head toward her.

"They have resonance where their brains should be."

Daniel tossed his head back and laughed, a soul cleansing laugh.

Corey smiled as they continued down the street lamp-lit street.

"So, your name-Cordelia. As in- 'I love your majesty according to my bond; no more nor less'- Cordelia?" Daniel asked, trying to regale her with his erudition.

"Ah, yes. Very impressive, Dr. Jackson," said Cordelia. "You know your 'King Lear.' "

"It was a lucky guess," Daniel said, trying to regale her with his humility. She giggled. "Do you have any sisters? And are they named Goneril or Regan?" he asked, going back to the "woo her with literary facts."

"Actually I have a two brothers, also characters from great books, or so my mother would have you believe," she told him. "My mother taught high school English, and my father taught high school math. So, she got to name us, and he got to decide on how many of us there would be. Kind of a nice division of labor, if you think about it. How about you? Any siblings?"

"No, no. Oldest and only here," he reported.

"That's too bad. It's good to have siblings. Actually I met my husband through my brother," Corey said, kicking a pebble down the sidewalk.

Daniel cocked his head to one side and hoped she hadn't just said she was currently married.

Corey took stock of his expression. "Oh, I should have said 'ex-husband,' huh?"

Daniel bounced his head back and forth.

"My brother Holden and my...ex-husband Bill were, are buddies. Holden thought we'd be great together; I thought we'd be great together; Bill thought we'd be great together. Together, well, we sucked. We gave it 18 months. We were young and stupid. Live and learn. How about you?"

"Oh, well, it's not..." Daniel stammered and grimaced.

"Bad break-up?" Corey asked turning her head to him, cringing.

"Bad...death," Daniel explained, taking his glasses off and putting them in his jacket.

Corey stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, stunned by the information. "Daniel, I'm so sorry," she choked.

Daniel was touched by her show of compassion. "It's okay. Thanks," he said running a hand down the back of her arm.

"How long ago did she die?"

"Um, just over a year ago," he told her blinking his eyes at the realization of the passing time.

"How are you?" Corey asked, holding the straps of her backpack.

Daniel took a deep breath and smiled slightly. "I'm good," he told her. He placed a hand on her elbow and prodded her to continue walking. He wanted to tell her about Sha're, but knew he wouldn't be able to if she were looking directly at him. He pushed his hands into his pockets and walked alongside.

"How did she die?"

"Oh," Daniel thought about it. Anyone else who had ever asked worked at the SGC and could be told the truth. Corey was a civilian, but more importantly Daniel didn't want to scare her away. "Sha're was killed. I was with her when it happened."

Corey stopped again in the middle of the walkway. She covered her mouth with her hand and closed her eyes.

"From the moment I walked into her life, to the moment she left mine, my wife was a gift. Before she died, she gave me one last gift: she taught me how to forgive and let go, and that life goes on. She taught me to believe I'd be able to go on."

"She sounds amazing," Corey said, lowering her face.

"She was," Daniel agreed, tapping the heal of his shoe on the ground.

"I never expected something so awful happening to such a nice man," she said.

"Either did I. Why don't we talk about something else?" he asked, gently taking her hand and guiding her down the sidewalk. "So, you're leaving Chicago?"

Corey let out an enormous feigned sob and then laughed.

Daniel put his arm around her shoulders and walked with her contentedly to her apartment building. Along the way Daniel wondered when it was acceptable to touch someone who you had only recently met. When was it allowable to spill into their personal boundaries and connect with that person? Obviously he had jumped all sorts of plateaus by strolling down the sidewalk with her, but somehow it felt comfortable to him. And comforting.

When they reached Corey's building, a pristine row house, she stepped onto the first landing and came eye to eye with Daniel. She smiled sweetly at him, taking in the azure eyes, the supple lips. "You want to come up?" she asked.

Daniel dropped his head for a moment, and then lifted it askance, one eye closed. "Better not. Can I see you tomorrow?" Daniel asked. "I'm only in town until Sunday, but I'd like to see you again. If possible."

"Very possible," she said. "How about lunch? I have some running to do in the morning."

"Great. I'll be back here, say, 11:30?"

"Perfect," she answered. "Daniel, I'm so glad we...I mean it's...what I want to say is,..." Corey looked through the tree limbs to the starry sky and tried to find the right word.

"Me, too," he answered. He understood, even if it was Cordelia-ese. It sounded a lot like Daniel-ese.

She nodded. "So, lunch it is," she said as she took his hand gently. She began to walk up the steps, holding his hand as she ascended. "Lunch will be great. Dinner would be wonderful. Brunch on Sunday would be lovely. A night at the opera, sublime. A week in Aruba..." she dreamed as she reached the top of the steps.

Daniel looked up at her, framed by the doorway lights.

Corey held him in her gaze for a brief, contented moment. "Goodnight, Dr. Jackson."

"Goodnight, Dr. Barnett," he answered, and watched as she entered her building. Daniel placed a hand over his heart and smiled to himself. It felt good to know the old ticker was still working. Other things, too.

*****

"Yes, hello. What," Jack said into the receiver of his cell phone. He picked up the TV remote and turned the volume off.

"Jack?"

"Daniel?"

"What?"

"Daniel." Jack sat heavily in the upholstered chair next to the window in his hotel room.

"So, Jack, I didn't make it back for dinner," Daniel said.

"So I noticed," Jack told him pushing the drapes from the window and watching the traffic line up on Michigan Avenue.

"I... well, I met someone."

"Really?" Jack answered, his mind not altogether engaged in the conversation.

"Yeah. I mean she's beautiful, smart, funny. Jack, she thinks I'm a nice man!" Daniel laughed.

"Well, that's great, Daniel. Me, I had a hotdog from a Coney place down the block."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing? I mean, well, your culinary tastes are, let's face it, eclectic," Daniel said searching for the right word.

"It was fine."

"How's Siobhan?"

"Tired. She had a...bad day," Jack told him rubbing his eyes. "I'm going to be there earlier than I expected, so if you have time in your newly exciting life, why don't we plan on breakfast at..." Jack flipped open the cover on his watch. "...eight."

"Fine."

There was a long silence as Jack tossed the remote over and over in his hand. "Daniel?"

"Yes."

"Is there anything else?"

"Oh, no. I guess not. Hey, Jack."

"Daniel."

"Her name is Cordelia."

"Sweet."

"She's a pianist."

" 'Scuse me?"

"A piano player, Jack."

"Ah," Jack uttered propping up his feet on the bed. "Anything else?"

"No. No, I guess that's it."

"Okay, then. See you in the morning."

"Uh, yeah. Okay, yeah, I'll see you...tomorrow."

Jack switched off his phone. He picked up the remote and turned the volume back on. The Red Wings had just scored during his conversation with Daniel. Jack sat aghast at missing the play. His phone rang again. He turned off the volume again.

"What?!" Jack barked.

"Should I meet you at your room or down in the lobby?" Daniel asked.

"If I said my room, you'd call me in two minutes asking what number I'm in. If I say the lobby, do you think you can remember that?" Jack said scowling.

"Yeah. Lobby at..."

"Eiiiiiggghhhtt."

"Right. 'Night!" Daniel hung up the phone.

Jack turned the volume back up and listened to the post-game summary. He threw his hands up in exasperation having missed not only the winning goal but the end of the game as well. The phone rang again. Jack picked up the phone, held it in his hand seething, ready to tear into Daniel, let it ring a good five times before answering it.

"Daniel, you lousy..."

"Jack?" Sam said.

Jack shook his head, surprised at the voice. He sat back in the chair and let Sam's voice carry his frustrations away. "Hey," he said exhaling.

"Hey, yourself. How are you?" Sam asked.

Jack turned the TV off and propped his feet up once again. He lay his head against the back of the chair. "Hanging in," he told her.

"Did you get to see Siobhan?"

"Yeah, I spent a couple hours there. She was sleeping for most of it."

"You okay?"

Jack thought about his answer. As much as he wanted to let Sam be a part of his heart, he found he was still unable to hand it to her. And so he chose not to answer at all.

Sam understood the silence. "Got it," she said.

"Thanks. So, how's the calibrating going?"

"I'll do you a favor and put it to you this way: we need to engineer a part." Sam told him, knowing the long, involved answer would elicit a negative response from Jack.

Jack snickered.

"Hey, guess who came by today?"

"Hard to say."

"Dad."

"Oh, yeah? How's Dad?"

"He had a few days between meetings," she said surreptitiously. "So, he came into town to see Mark and the kids. Jack?"

"Yeah, I'm listening."

"He asked about Siobhan."

Jack let his feet fall off the bed as he sat forward, leaning his elbows on his knees.

"Sam, we've talked about this..."

"Just hear me out, Jack. I, I, I know you don't like to talk about it, but if Dad can help her at all it has to be soon, or she'll be too sick to make the trip."

"I know that, Sam. I just don't think I can live with the thought of my sister having a...you know, in her head."

"But this isn't about you, Jack. It's about your sister. Jack, you'd never have to see her..." Sam stopped to rephrase her argument. "She'd outlive you, Jack."

Jack screwed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. Never having to see her suffer this disease; never having to listen to her cough, gasping for breath as she slept; never having to help her eat again; never having to attend her funeral. These were all perfectly suitable arguments for the Tok'ra's plan of action.

"Let me think about it," he answered quietly. "Does Hammond know about this?"

"Yes. Dad and I pulled him in on the conversation. Apparently one of the council members is not well, so there's some urgency here. General Hammond said you have permission to talk to Siobhan about it."

Jack shook his head. It was bad enough that Daniel, Sam and Jacob knew his personal business. Now his CO knew, a position Jack didn't want to be in, extenuating circumstances or not. "Ah, Sam. I'll think it over."

"Okay. Anyway, is Daniel with you?" Sam asked.

"No. He met someone tonight. Gordie, Cornelius, something like that."

"Daniel met a man?"

Jack tried to discern where she had come up with that question. When it hit him that he had rattled off two men's names, he tried to clarify. "No. He told me her name, but, you know, I don't really listen to Daniel all that well," he grimaced. "Apparently she thinks he's nice." Jack blanched and rolled his eyes

"He is nice," Sam agreed. "Hey, Colonel?"

"Yes, Major?"

"I miss you." Sam told him sweetly and quietly.

"I miss you, too." Jack asked laying down on the bed. He crossed one arm under his head, resting the phone in the crook of his shoulder. Jack reached for the small leather box on the bedside table. "Sam?"

"Yeah?"

Jack took the ring from the box. He paused thinking about what he wanted to say next. "I wish you were here."

"Jack, is everything all right?"

Jack felt tired and confused and alone. "Yeah, I'm fine. I think I'll turn in. 'Night, Sam."

"Okay. Goodnight, Sweetie."

Jack switched off his phone and tossed it aside. He looked at the ring in his hand.

By giving a ring with this symbolism to Sam, would he be able to give her everything else that went with it? Was he ready to share his friendship, honor and love with her? Hadn't he been doing that for the past five years? But could he do that forever?

Forever suddenly didn't seem as long as it used to.

*****

"Jack, let me ask you something," Daniel asked, lifting his coffee cup so that the steam danced around his face. "How long was it after you and Sara broke up that you decided it was time to get back out there?"

"Aw, gees, Daniel. Do we really have to have these kinds of conversations?" Jack asked clanking his fork down on his plate.

"Well, who else am I going to talk to?" Daniel asked.

"Anyone else. The waitress. Teal'c, for god sakes."

"No, come on. Just tell me. When did you feel like you wanted to, you know, start..." Daniel nervously rubbed his forehead, sending furtive glances to either side of him. "...start dating again?"

"Okay. There it is! Hate, hate, hate that word." Jack motioned for the waitress to bring him more coffee.

"Really. I mean it. When did you decide it was time to start meeting other people?" Daniel asked as the waitress topped of their coffees.

"Daniel, if you remember correctly, Sara didn't leave me because I was a social butterfly. She left me because I was more of a social..."

"Reject?"

"I think that's an..."

"Understatement?"

"You want me to help you here?"

"Yes. Sorry."

"Anyway, the thing is, when we split, it was never my intention to find anyone to replace Sara. I held out the hope that one day we'd get back together. But, that didn't happen, so I decided I'd probably be alone the rest of my life." Jack said, stirring his coffee with the handle of his fork.

"But then came Sam," Daniel interjected.

"Yeah. How about them apples?"

"You're speaking metaphorically, not euphemistically I hope..."

"Possibly, if I had any idea what the hell you were talking about." Jack answered him, taking a long draw on his coffee. "Daniel, Sam and I are a fluke. It never should have happened; it probably still shouldn't happen. I can't explain it. I guess I'm not much help here."

"No, you are, in your own.." Daniel lifted his eyes to the ceiling. ".. enigmatic way. It's just that I met this great woman, and I'm not sure if the timing's right."

"I guess I don't believe in timing anymore," Jack told him.

Daniel nodded, understanding. "Okay," Daniel rubbed the back of his neck. "You going right over to Siobhan's?"

"Yeah. Sam called last night. Apparently Jacob thinks Bonnie would be a valuable member of his organization," Jack stated as his tilted his head, not sure if he believed Jacob's assessment.

Daniel stared at Jack sympathetically.

"Hammond gave me the go-ahead to discuss it with her."

"And are you?" Daniel asked.

Jack blinked his eyes, glanced at Daniel, and then stared into his coffee. "It's going to be a strange conversation."

Daniel nodded in agreement. "With surreal ramifications," Daniel carried on. "At the very least, she'll know what you do."

"Yes, she will. Not sure that's a good thing. I wouldn't want her to worry."

"Sometimes not knowing is much worse, Jack."

Jack nodded.

"You want me to go with you?"

Jack held Daniel's gaze thinking about it, and then shook his head. "No. Probably ought to fly solo on this one," he said taking out his wallet. "What are your plans today?"

Daniel sat up straight in his chair and smiled.

"Space monkey! Is that a certifiable smile on your usually perplexed face?"

"Well,..." Daniel began to blush.

"Just don't do anything I wouldn't do," Jack instructed the younger man.

"Which would be what?" Daniel asked, pursing his lips and furrowing his brow.

Jack thought about the list of things he wouldn't do and decided Daniel should reign in his activities much closer to accepted social mores. "Okay, don't do anything Sam wouldn't do."

"Now, that I can...or can't ..." Daniel looked confused. He closed his eyes momentarily. "Right. Anyway, I'll call you later," he said standing up.

Jack held up his hand as Daniel started to take out his wallet.

This one's on the Government," said Jack, taking out his card.

Daniel pulled on his jacket and took a final sip of coffee. "Give Siobhan my best," he said patting Jack on the shoulder.

Jack nodded his acceptance and handed the waitress his card.

While he waited for the server to return it, Jack finished his coffee and tried to run a mock conversation in his head. Bonnie, I have to tell you something. What, Jack? I go through this sideways puddle to other planets where I...No. Okay. Bonnie, remember when I said I worked in a highly classified program? Well,...Oh, God. He rubbed his face vigorously. Maybe I should have had Daniel help him me out, he thought.

He turned to see if Daniel were still in the restaurant, but Daniel was already out the door and on his way to Corey's. Jack would have to find the words on his own, words he wasn't sure he wanted Siobhan to hear. Words that could save her life. Words that could complicate things.

"Son of a bitch," Jack uttered as the waitress handed him his receipt. He looked up at her and smiled, trying to convey the fact that his utterance had nothing to do with the bill. She seemed neither amused nor accepting of his apologetic expression, so Jack signed the receipt and handed it back to her as quickly as he could.

She slapped his copy down on the table and, in a huff, stormed away.

"I gave you 15%. More...actually," he stated as she fled to the servers' workstation. Jack stored the receipt in his pocket and made his way out of the restaurant and on his way to Siobhan's where he hoped she would be too tired to talk.

*****

Sitting on the stoop outside Corey's building, Daniel glanced at his watch. He was almost an hour earlier than he said he would be there, and when he arrived he found her not home. He had been anxiously waiting for Corey when he looked casually down the block. He noticed a woman in a baseball hat, sport bra, and running tights approaching. She had her hands on her hips, obviously cooling down after a run. Her abdomen was taut, muscles like gentle waves glided under her glistening skin. When the runner was within 10 feet, Daniel noticed the small gold ring tucked enticingly in the pinched opening of her navel. His eyes were focused on the ornamental jewelry when the runner spoke to him.

"You're early," she said.

Daniel looked into the flushed face of Corey.

She smiled at him through bright, slightly damp eyes.

Daniel was thunderstruck.

"I thought you said 11:30?" she said leaning against the landing post to stretch her Achilles.

"Uh, well, I, that is, my friend had an appointment, so I,...You run." Daniel stated.

Corey pulled out a chain with a key on it from around her neck.

"Oh, well, you know."

"How...how far did you run?" asked Daniel, curious to see how his fitness matched up with her own.

"Today's an easy run. Six-miles at eight-minute pace. I would have asked you to join me..."

"No no no. I...well, besides the fact that I didn't bring my running...stuff to Chicago, there's that added problem with not actually owning running stuff," he told her puffing out his cheeks with air.

Corey laughed.

"So, let me get this straight. I'm going to be spending the day with a woman who not only, from the looks of things, could take me to the mats, but could outrun me if I tried to chase her down?"

Corey bounced up the steps to her door, Daniel close behind. She unlocked the door and turned to him. "True. But you could probably hold your own intellectually," she said as she kissed him. The kiss took them both by surprise. Corey covered her mouth with her hand.

Daniel blinked.

"Sorry. Endorphins," she explained and then entered the building.

Daniel shrugged his shoulders. She really hadn't needed an excuse, he thought.

She turned to him half-way up the steps. "Come on up. I have to shower and change, then we can go."

Inside the apartment, Daniel found what he had expected: a life's worth of boxes and crates, all neatly stacked at the end of a room. He had moved enough to know this scenario, and upon seeing it again, he felt an inkling of regret. He had only just met this woman, and soon he would have to say goodbye. Possibly forever.

"I'm going to get a drink. Would you like something?" she asked taking off her cap.

"Sure, whatever you're having," said Daniel. He noticed the piano in the corner. "Nice piano."

"Do you play?" Corey asked returning with two bottles of water.

"A little. My mom taught me."

"Is she a musician?"

"My parents were archeologists, actually," Daniel told her, tightening the muscles in his face.

"They must be very proud of you for following in their footsteps."

"Ah, I...Actually, my parents died when I was eight," he cautiously told her.

Corey stared at him, open mouthed. "I'm sorry, Daniel."

"That's okay. It was a long time ago."

"Do you ever get over losing your parents?"

Daniel thought about it. "You don't necessarily get over it, but you can live with it," he told her, suddenly finding a morsel of sadness laying heavily on his heart. He hadn't thought of his parents' deaths in a long time. It usually came to bear on him when something important happened: realizing his findings about the Stargate were correct; falling in love with Sha're; losing Sha're. And now here, in the boxed up living room of this beautiful woman. He didn't understand why he felt the loss more acutely. He shook his head, pinched his lip, and changed the subject. "What are we going to do today?"

Corey stopped staring at him, blinked a few times, and wiped the towel across the back of her neck.

Daniel took notice of the sleek, striated muscles in her arms.

"I don't know. Why don't we just explore. See where we end up, " she told him smiling. She had said the right word, explore, and Daniel felt a tingle of excited camaraderie. "Daniel, Steven said you work for the military. In what capacity?" she asked taking a gulp of water.

"Steven's an idiot. I work for the Air Force as a civilian contractor. That's all. I do translations for them," Daniel told her, giving her the bare-minimum of his job description, the only thing he could say now that Steven had so idiotically opened up the subject.

"Like a code breaker?" she asked, pulling her foot behind her to stretch out her quadriceps.

"No, that would be something for a math person, and that's definitely not me, " he told her, becoming uncomfortable with the subject. "So, tell me about this new job of yours?"

Corey switched legs. "It's a small school of music. I'll be heading up the Piano Pedagogy department."

"Sounds like a dog show," Daniel said, a slight smile dangling across his lips.

"Very similar. And you said you have a degree in linguistics from what university?" she countered sarcastically, looking at him sidelong.

Daniel grinned.

"It's close to my hometown, plus I'll be in a string quartet with my brother Phin."

"As an accompanist?"

"No, as a cellist. My BA and MA's are in piano and cello performance," she told him rubbing down her arms with the towel.

"Wow," Daniel exclaimed.

"Oh, please, Mr. Dual PhD's Before I Was Potty-Trained."

"Well, before I learned to ride a bike..."

"So you took time off for fun? Seriously, how old were you?" she asked, turning toward the hall, making her way to the shower.

Daniel absent-mindedly followed her down the hall. "Let's see. Twenty-two for the archeology PhD. Twenty-three for the linguistics," he said walking behind her, his hands in his pockets.

She turned toward him smiling. "Daniel, are you going to follow me into the shower as well?" she asked coyly.

Daniel looked at her mildly confused, batted his eyes and stepped back.

"Be out in a minute," she told him.

Daniel almost wished she hadn't stopped him. He waited outside the bathroom, standing against the wall.

"So how old were you when you graduated from high school?" she asked from inside the bathroom.

Daniel heard the shower water turn on. "Fifteen," he told her, speaking loud enough to be heard over the jets of water.

"Wowzer! Who pushed you so hard to graduate that early?" she asked stepping inside the shower stall.

"The City of New York Foster Care Program...actually," he told her, trailing off in the end. "After my parents died I was placed in foster care. My foster parents were great, really...great, but my parents had home-schooled me. I mean, by the time they died, I already knew five languages. So when I went to my first day of public schools, I was three years ahead of the other kids. At least. My foster parents did their best, but, educationally, it wasn't a good mix. I skipped a few grades and graduated early. I was given a full-ride at NYU to pursue my undergrad, blah blah blah, here I am."

"So," came the voice from inside the shower, "should I call you 'Good Daniel Hunting'?"

"No, that would be my friend, Samantha Carter," Daniel said, caught up in the memory of years spent bored in PS 135. He had had many conversations with Sam about sitting in classrooms, bored to a point of lowered heart rates. They figured that that was as close to Kel No Reem as they had every been. The shower turned off, and Daniel heard the familiar rolling of a shower door being opened. "Anyway, that's my story."

Corey popped her head out the door, her hair falling around her face in wet streams. "You really are the heartbreak kid, aren't you?" she asked, compassion in her eyes.

Daniel furrowed his brow and gently smiled. "I'm hoping my luck is changing," he told her.

"I think it is," she told him. "Come here."

Daniel pushed himself from against the wall.

Corey reached a moist arm out through the door and grabbed the front of his cream pullover. She pulled him toward her and kissed him gently.

Daniel felt the steam of the shower brush against his face as Corey's liquid lips pressed against his. "That's for luck," she said, touching his face. She smiled and closed the door to the bathroom.

Daniel took a deep breath. "I've just been kissed by a naked woman," he said under his breath, unable to move from his spot, just a few inches from the closed door. "My luck is changing all ready!"

*****

"Look at you!" Jack intoned, pleasantly surprised to see Siobhan dressed and sitting in her chair. He leaned over and kissed her cheek.

"I had a good night," she told him, kissing him back.

Jack sat on the edge of her desk and looked her over. He had the power to end all this. Why was he being so selfish? "Bonnie, is there someplace we can talk?" Jack asked.

"Why not here?" Siobhan asked looking around the accommodations of her sparse room.

"I mean someplace where we can talk in strictest confidence." Jack looked at her, trying to convey the gravity of the words.

Siobhan read his look of concern and decided on a place. "The Sacristy," she told him.

Jack spun around behind her and pushed her out of her room toward the room off the side of the chapel that held the Eucharist.

Rounding the corner into the small enclave, Jack closed the doors behind them. He pushed Siobhan to the far side of the room and placed himself on a short pew next to her.

Siobhan looked incredulously at Jack. Here they were, in the presence of the Eucharist, and Jack had barely noticed it. Obviously she could no longer show the proper respect, but Jack certainly could. "Would it kill you to kneel, Jack?"

He looked at her in confusion, glanced over to the Tabernacle, made the connection and rolled his eyes. All those times when Seth and Cronus and Apophis and any other Goa'uld pishers had made him kneel in compliance, the resentment he felt stemmed right back to his earlier life growing up Catholic. Kneeling. Judas priest, he thought. More kneeling. No wonder my knees are shot.

"Well, no, I guess it wouldn't kill me," he said hastily hitting a knee in front of the Tabernacle and making the Sign of the Cross, solely for Siobhan. His faith in the Church had long ago left him, but for his sister's sake, he would perform the obligatory rituals. He sat back down next to Siobhan. "There's something I need to discuss with you, Bonnie. It's about what I do." He watched her eyes for any sort of reaction.

She only looked at him, concerned, listening.

Jack scrubbed his silver hair trying to find the words to begin. "I work at a classified project called Stargate Command. It's our mission to contact other worlds, form alliances, and obtain technology."

"Other worlds like countries?" she asked.

"No, like planets."

"You're kidding me, right?"

"No, honey. I'm not," he told her.

"Jack, we're in a sacred place. Show a little respect and don't lie to me," she warned him.

"We're in a sacred place because I'm trying to tell you the truth, a highly classified truth. Bonnie, what we do at the SGC...There are only a handful of people on Earth who have any idea of its existence."

She stared at him, lost to the meanings of his words.

"One of the races we've become associated with is called the Tok'ra. We have an alliance with them."

"Who? The Air Force?" she asked trying to understand.

"No, honey. Earth."

Siobhan rested her head against the back of her chair. "Oh, for crying out loud, Jack. What are you telling me?"

"Bonnie, the Tok'ra are a group of people in resistance to an enemy called the Goa'uld. The Goa'uld are a race of...aliens, impersonating gods, who would imprison and enslave the galaxy. The Tok'ra are our best defense against the Goa'uld."

"I don't understand why you're telling me this," Bonnie said, her voice shaking.

Jack held her hand. "Because, Bonnie, they can help you. They can cure your ALS." There. He had said it. He had offered up the magic bullet that would change Siobhan's life from here on end.

"How is that possible, Jack?" she asked, her eyes beginning to tear up. Too many times she had held out false-hope only to be crushed by the reality of her illness.

"The Tok'ra are people who share their bodies with another person. Well, being. No...Yes...Bonnie, it's complicated. The being with whom they share their body is called the symbiote, and the human becomes the host body. It's a true blending of two distinctly separate individuals."

"Like conjoined twins?" she offered, trying to make sense of it.

"More like split-personalities. Think of the symbiote as a soul of a person, while the host body retains his own soul as well. In return for, well, let's say renting the space, the symbiote cures the host body of illnesses, plus it extends the natural life of the host body."

Siobhan shook her head as well as she could. "I don't...I don't understand," she whimpered.

"Honey, Sam's dad is a general in the Air Force. Three years ago he was dying of cancer. During a mission with the Tok'ra we were asked if any of our personnel would be interested in becoming a host to a symbiote whose host body had reached the end of its life. Sam asked her dad the same thing I'm asking you. He agreed, and today he is cancer free."

"He carries inside him a..."

"A symbiote, yes. General Carter is now a liaison between the Tok'ra and Earth, and a very important figure in that alliance."

"And where does he live?"

"He lives with the Tok'ra."

"On another..."

"..Planet."

"That's what I thought. Jack, you realize this sounds like an episode of 'Star Trek,' right?" she told him, trying to stave off the panic and confusion she felt.

"I know, Bonnie. But here's the deal straight out: One of the Tok'ra, a member of the High Council, is in need of a new host body. General Carter and Sam called me last night to ask if I'd consider telling ...Bonnie, you wouldn't have to go through another day with ALS."

"I'd become a...Tok'ra?" she asked.

Jack dropped his head and stroked her hand. He nodded.

"Jack, would you do it if you were in my place?"

The older sibling looked deep into the eyes of his sister. He knew she deserved the truth, but the truth may dissuade her from accepting the offer.

"Jack. Would you?"

"No, Bonnie. I wouldn't. But I don't know the day-to-day agony you're in. If I did, maybe I'd have a different opinion."

"If I did take them up on their offer, would I live on..."

"Off-world is how we refer to it," Jack informed her. He clenched his jaw and squinted his dark eyes, suddenly overcome by the thought of Siobhan living beyond an event horizon on a different planet.

"How do you...I mean, if you wanted to see me,..." began Siobhan, finding it difficult to glean the appropriate words.

"On base is a thing called a Stargate. It's a gateway to a wormhole that can be dialed to take us to any destination in the galaxy that has another Stargate," he told her, finding it disconcerting to be sharing this top-level classified information with a civilian. "When we dial out to another planet, we step into a...well, it looks like an up-right puddle of water surrounded by a metal ring, and within a few seconds the wormhole has transported us to another side of the galaxy. It's actually a piece of cake," he told her.

"You're telling me you've been on different planets, Jack?" Her eyes were huge, the dark orbs becoming black with the comprehension.

"Too many to count, Bonnie," Jack said.

"And Sam and Daniel?"

"They're part of my team. Actually without Daniel, we wouldn't have known there were other addresses. And without Sam..." Jack dropped his head trying to find how to tell Siobhan how important Sam was to the program, to the world. "Sam is brilliant, you know that."

"I know." Siobhan closed her eyes. "Jack, I think my pockets are full. I'm overwhelmed by what you've told me."

"I understand. It's a lot to take in. Bonnie, I'm sure I don't have to remind you of the nature of this information," he said grimacing.

"Who would believe me even if I did say something?" she snorted.

Jack nodded his head in agreement with the statement. "You want to go back to your room?"

"Oh, yeah," she told him. Fatigue was beginning to set in. "Jack? When do you need to know?"

Jack pushed a lock of hair from her forehead. "Soon, sweetie. As soon as possible."

She closed her eyes and said a silent prayer asking for knowledge and discernment.

Jack stepped behind her and wheeled her back to her room within the confines of the convent.

*****

"Come on in. I think I can scare up some coffee or tea," Corey said, leaving her key on the small table next to her door.

Daniel followed her and shut the door behind him. They had spent the day seeing things in Chicago that you always say you'll get around to, but somehow, the years pass and you haven't done them. They went to the top of the Sears Tower, not Daniel's favorite. He didn't think Corey would be very impressed if he suddenly blacked-out while leaning over the railing and looking down through the window of the second-highest building in the world. He chose to stand against the inner walls, watching Corey do it, and feeling light-headed just the same. Then they explored the Chicago Institute of Art where Daniel was able to impress Corey by demonstrating his knowledge of Egyptian artifacts, and how the Art Institute had placed them incorrectly in the displays. They ate at Ed Debevic's, had dessert at a coffee shop near the university, and walked, hand in hand around Navy Pier. For the first time in years, Daniel's mind was completely void of thoughts about the Stargate, the Goa'uld, and his losses. He immersed himself in the enjoyment and lightness of being happy. Of being content with Corey.

He watched her search through the empty cupboards in her kitchen.

"Or would you rather have some wine?" Corey asked Daniel, just inside the archway to her kitchen.

Daniel stepped in front of her, placed his hands within a breath of her arms, slid his finger tips down to her hands, and grasped them gently. He closed his eyes gathering his thoughts.

Corey's heart raced feeling him so near her.

"Corey, I want to say thank you," Daniel told her, tilting his head to the side. "I haven't had a day like this in too long, and I'm...well..." he shook his head and smiled tenderly. "Thank you."

"It was a good day, wasn't it?" she said breathlessly. She cocked her head to one side in order to find his gaze. "You and I, we deserve to be happy." She felt a stinging in her nose and eyes. "How do people do this everyday? Find someone who makes them feel..." Corey scanned his face, marveling at the depth of blue in his eyes. She felt the green in her own eyes become washed with tears. "I feel like I've been given this great opportunity to be happy, and tomorrow you'll leave, and my chance will be over."

Daniel cradled her face in his hands and brushed a straggling tear away.

"How do people meet and fall in love and live happily ever after? It isn't possible, I don't think."

"Yes, it is," Daniel whispered, kissing the tears from her eyes.

She laid her hands on his chest and tried to breathe as she felt his soft lips press against her eyes, her cheeks, her nose. Corey slid her hands up to his neck and raked her fingers through the back of his hair.

Daniel's lips met hers, delicately enveloping them in velvet warmth. His hands glided over her shoulders, under her arms with a touch a whisper away from ticklish. Coming to rest on Corey's back, Daniel's hands drew her closer to him until the two bodies shared one space. The tenderness with which he continued to kiss her, hold her, made Corey's knees weak.

She lowered her head, panting for breath.

Daniel rested his forehead against hers, still holding onto this woman, this serendipitous treasure. He wondered if he had pushed his luck, had overstepped his boundaries. He closed his eyes, clenched his jaw and released her. "Maybe I should go," Daniel said, finding it difficult to voice the words.

"No. No, don't," Corey managed, pulling the front of his sweater into her fists. "Stay. Have a glass of wine with me," she said looking into his eyes.

"Okay." Daniel lightly rubbed her shoulders, so strong and warm under the crisp white blouse.

"Daniel, promise me I'll see you again after tomorrow."

"You will. I promise," he told her, pushing her long hair off her shoulders. "I'll call as soon as I get home."

"Telephones lie," she said. "Tell me I'll see you again."

Daniel smiled. "In the words of a good friend, 'undomesticated equines' could not keep me away."

Corey tightened her brow line in confusion.

"Wild horses, Corey. Wild horses."

The tension in her face lifted and was replaced with a sigh and a full force grin. "Good," she said, and turned to secure an unpacked pair of wine glasses and a bottle of wine.

Daniel walked into the living room and unearthed the couch from its avalanche of boxes. "Corey, you know what? You never told me where you're moving to," Daniel called to her, taking a furtive peak inside one box.

"It's right outside my hometown. It's called the Lamont School of Music. It's associated with the University of Denver," she said twisting the cork screw.

Suddenly Daniel was swinging her around to face him. He was grinning and trying to speak. He took her face in his hands and kissed her in lieu of words.

"What? What did I say?"

Daniel shook his head laughing. "Corey, " he started, finding the air had left his lungs. "I live in Colorado Springs."

She stared at him in disbelief. "I thought you worked for the Air Force," she uttered.

"I do, in..."

"...Colorado Springs. The Air Force Academy. Oh, my God!" she screamed as she jumped up into his arms and wrapped her long legs around his waist.

Daniel held on to her tightly, laughing. "It's just that I... And then when you..."

"I know!"

"...But then I thought...Well, maybe you'd...."

"I know!"

"So, we can..."

"Yes," he told her emphatically, kissing her face and hair.

She coiled her arms around his neck and laughed. "This means...And then..." she sputtered. "I thought..."

Daniel pulled her eyes to his and held her with his gaze. "I know," Daniel softly told her. "I know." The excited movement slowed as they held each other.

"You do understand, don't you," she realized, lowering her legs, holding him nonetheless.

Daniel buried his smile in the softness of her neck. "I do. Corey, I really do."

The world opened to them at that moment. And so they opened to each other, placing kisses where once were hollowed out spaces of loneliness; touching, caressing each other with hands eager to remember the way. Needful arms reached and ached, embracing, encircling, lifting. They shared laughter and smiles, half-spoken words ripe with compassion and need. Devotional gestures full of heat and urgency. Waves of frenetic passion spilled into moments of quiet comfort. With trusting hearts and tender eyes, they let fingers wash away hours and days and months of sorrow and despair.

Their bodies sweat-soaked and glistening, limbs intertwined, they gave way to sleep. They slumbered in the sweet solace of knowing this would not be their last night together.

It was the beginning.

*****

Jack stayed in Siobhan's room long after she had fallen asleep. He hunkered down in the easy chair next to the window, watching the shadows created by the full moon engrave the courtyard. Each time he came to visit, there was less time to talk, more time to think, to contemplate.

She was twelve-years his junior and had, for all intents and purposes, grown up alone. By the time she was 12, Jack had already been married. When she was 18 and just entering the convent, Jack was an officer. At 24, having accepted the sacrament of religious life, he visited her.

They hadn't seen each other since before Jack was given his orders to ship out to Kuwait. He arrived at the Mother house, thin and pale. His eyes were black and sunken. He tried to dismiss her inquiries, but when she forced him to sit with her, when he looked into her face and found a depth of strength and compassion he never knew existed, he crumbled.

He could barely remember the hours she spent holding him, soothing his soul. He trembled. She held him. He tried to tell her about the months of unimaginable horrors he had endured, but could only gasp for air between convulsive sobs. She held him, wiping his brow and assuring him that one day he'd be able to stand without shaking. That one day he'd remember how to be a husband and father again. He was utterly lost and needed to believe her. So he did. And she was right.

But then Charlie found his gun, and that one bullet killed his son and shattered his soul. He blamed himself, and he blamed her for convincing him that life would go on, because here was the irrefutable evidence that it did not.

At the funeral Mass, she betrayed him again by shedding tears for his son, tears he couldn't find in himself. He resigned from the Air Force and from all those relationships wanting to aid in his sorrow.

Years passed before he returned her calls and letters. When he agreed to see her, the chasm that he had created was just too vast to cross. He hid behind the obligatory duties of an older sibling, never regaining that level of intimacy that they had shared. Until ALS forced them, once again, to find the depths of strength and compassion in each other's eyes.

Jack turned his head lethargically and found Siobhan watching him. "How long have you been awake?" he asked quietly.

"Not long."

"Bonnie?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"We grew up with the same parents. Parents who told us that no one wanted to hear our problems, and tears wouldn't do the dead any good," he said. Jack's face took on a tormented expression. "You cried at my son's funeral. How...how did you do that?"

"Oh, Jack," she sighed. "Mom told us all sorts of things out of fear. I heard that and decided to disregard it. You heard it and apparently took it to heart. But you also heard what she couldn't say."

"Which was what?"

"I think she believed the amount of tears you shed for a person is directly related to how much you loved them. If she started to cry she'd..."

"...never stop. You're right. That's what I learned," Jack told her, nodding sadly. "I couldn't cry for Charlie because I thought I'd never stop crying. But you..." Jack swallowed hard.

"I wept, and I still do, from time to time. It takes too much energy not to respond to pain. So I cried."

"I was angry with you that day," he said in a hushed voice.

"I know."

"He was my son, Bonnie. And I couldn't cry."

"You still can."

"I don't know how."

"Well, learn, dammit," she demanded.

Jack was stunned by her tone.

"I expect you to mourn me. I want you to cry and wail and grieve me, Jack. And then I want you to wake up, breathe, talk about your pain when you need to, but most of all, I want you to get over it," she told him. "The tears will end, Jack. So will the sadness. I promise. But you'll never be able to remember me joyfully if you don't mourn me fully."

Jack covered his face with his hands, crushed his teeth together, and felt the pit in his stomach spread through his chest and arms, legs and back. "Bonnie. Bonnie." Jack took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. "Does this mean you're not going back to the base with me?"

"I can't," she told him.

Jack rose from his seat and sat along the edge of her bed. "I didn't think you would," he said holding her hand.

"I've spent my entire life believing in the promise of the Eucharist. The Host is my symbiote. Each time I take communion I share in the promise of everlasting life. He heals my wounds and restores my life. I've already been blended. Can you understand that?"

"At one time, I could."

"This disease is not all I am. And it can't touch the most important part of me. I'm sorry you have to see me go through it, but when the ALS does take that final breath from me, I'll be at peace. I'll be with the Holy Family. Jack, I'll be with Charlie." A tear crawled down the side of her cheek illuminated by the ambient moonlight. Jack brushed it away. "I have a feeling he could use some help watching out over his dad." Siobhan smiled dolefully at her brother.

Jack attempted to return her expression. He leaned over, kissed her cheek and rested his head next to her. "I miss him, Bon."

"I know," she whispered brushing his hand with one finger, kissing his ear.

"I'll miss you, too," he said, barely able to contain his sorrow.

"You always know where to find me," she told him. "I'll be in your heart with your son."

*****

Daniel woke the next morning to the soulful cries of a cello being played. He blinked the sleep from his eyes, wondering if it were a radio he was hearing or someone actually playing the cello. Silently he swiveled his legs off the side of the bed, found his jeans and pulled them on. He padded out of Corey's bedroom, into the hall, called by the mournful noise.

In the second bedroom he found her, bathed in a cascade of morning light, specks of dust dancing, sparkling around her.

Corey sat in the middle of the desolate room, an amber cello was cradled between her legs. The long black neck and scroll work seemed to reach up and rest tenderly against the sweet hollow of her neck, grateful for the loving attention it was being shown.

Her eyes were closed, and her face mirrored the wrenching torment of the piece. She was in union with the music, arching with the heartbreaking notes, stooping over the cello, feeling the drama of the resonance deeply within her own body. Her left hand manipulated the thick strings, gliding, running down the neck of the cello, stopping to massage a note, producing tones of utter pathos and yearning. She held the bow in her right hand with the grace of a dancer, pulling, pushing it seductively across the strings, swaying as she gave rich, visceral sound to the instrument.

Daniel watched her silently, fascinated and enthralled by the way she assaulted the cello and then, with the hands of a lover atoning for her sins, caressed the strings gently, receiving its forgiveness.

And then his heart began to hear the cry of the music which beckoned him to grieve along with it.

The piece stated its mournful theme, winding its way through key shifts and waves of oscillating rhythms. Her fingers created a pattern, first advancing, then stumbling back, undulations of deepest woe and angst, each time falling farther, lower in timbre until she drew out one note that reached deep into Daniel's soul and gripped his heart. She pulled the bow slowly across the string, giving full expression to the music's sorrow, whispering out the low moan. Searching for reassurance through the somber key, Corey subdued the emotions, soothing the music as if its pain had been overcome.

But just as Daniel's heart began to ease, the haunting theme returned, rising laboriously, an anthem of unrestrained anguish, pausing momentarily as if to plead for mercy. Twice it cried out, dissonantly articulating its fervent desperation. From the middle of its register, the notes rose in a frantic, pitiful ascent, crashing through the numb countenance of sorrow, straining to press forward, crying painfully, resplendently on a note of gripping height and intensity, exposing the ache within Daniel.

That final, wrenching note hung in the air long after Corey stopped playing. It was the same sound Daniel's heart had made months ago on Abydos. It was a cry of despair, of loss, of abandonment.

Corey had given musical voice to that tortured utterance, brutally, passionately, with a purity and fullness that made him wonder if she had been able to look into his soul and find his private burden.

Daniel stared at her, unable to breathe.

She lowered her bow, draped her arm around the front of the cello, and opened her eyes. She found him in the doorway, shaking.

"Daniel?" Corey hastily rested the cello on her chair and stepped to his side. "Daniel? What's wrong?" she asked lightly touching his face.

He shook his head, blinked his eyes, and tried to put words to his thoughts. "That music," he managed.

She nodded. "Elgar. It tears my heart out, too." She kissed him delicately and encircled his body with her arms.

He laid his head upon her shoulder and held her. "I'm sorry. It's just that...it caught me off guard."

"Music is the purest expression of emotion. It speaks to us in a language sometimes only our hearts understand," Corey compassionately explained.

Daniel lifted his head and took a deep, cleansing breath. "That is does. That is does," he said as he placed a lock of hair behind her ear.

There were so many stories of loss and redemption in his past. So many times where he alone carried the world on his shoulders. The music seemed to be aware of all of them and display them in front of Daniel. He pushed the remaining affects aside. There were more pressing issues than his past. There was his future. "Look, I have to meet with Steven this morning. What are your plans?"

Corey locked her hands behind him and leaned away from him. "Today's moving day. But not after I spend as much time as possible with you," she smiled, relieved to see the heaviness falling away from his face.

"Corey, what would you say about a passenger on your way to Colorado?" Daniel asked, squinting his eyes.

"I'd say it just keeps getting better and better, Jackson," Corey told him, flirting with him, inviting him to kiss her, to find happiness with her.

Daniel accepted the invitation willingly.

Steven would have to wait.

*****

"Bonnie, time to go," Jack said putting his shoes on.

Siobhan turned her head lethargically toward her brother and yawned. "I thought you'd go to Mass with me," she said.

Jack winced. "Can't."

"Can't or won't?"

Jack scratched his head and tried to determine which verb best described his unwillingness to attend the religious ceremony with his sister. "I have to meet Daniel later on."

"Not for a couple hours. Come on. Go to Mass with me."

"Bonnie..."

"You don't have to take communion."

"Bonnie..."

"When's the last time you went?"

"Bonnie!" Jack growled.

Siobhan stopped short, surprised by his vehemence.

Jack looked at her, shook his head and then finished tying his shoes. "I just can't."

"Then I'm satisfied," she told him, smiling gently.

Jack glanced up at her, his eyebrows arched. "'Scuse me?"

"I'm satisfied your faith is intact."

"How do you figure that?"

"If it weren't, you'd take me to Mass and sit there bored, just because I asked you to. But you know the power of the celebration. You remember the visceral spirituality of the Eucharist. It's too bad that you can't bring yourself to find peace in it, but at least you still understand it."

Jack sat back heavily in the chair and pulled a hand across his unshaven face.

"Mass is very emotional. And you know that."

Jack looked out the window a long time lost in thought. No one in the world, in the universe, for that matter, could look into Jack's soul and divine the inner-most workings like his sister. The Tok'ra had nothing on Siobhan. "You would have made one helluva liaison, Sister," said Jack, smiling ruefully.

"I hope St. Peter feels the same way," said Siobhan. "Thanks, Jack."

"For what?"

"For being honest with me. For the offer. I'm sorry I couldn't take it."

Jack stood up, pulled on his jacket, and kissed Siobhan. "We'll see you in a few weeks," he promised.

"Everything goes so quickly. The time we spend together. A life. Don't let your opportunity to find peace and contentment slip away, Jack. You'll regret it." Hear me, Jack. Listen with that part of you that still understands, she thought and prayed.

Jack pulled air noisily through his teeth. "Anything else?" he asked.

"No, I guess that's it. For now."

Jack leaned over and enveloped her in his arms. "I'm not sure I could have dealt with you as a Tok'ra. You're already too smart," he told her sarcastically.

"I love you, Jack."

"I love you, Bonnie. I'll see you soon." Jack stood up and touched her face tenderly. "You have the number on base, right?"

"Yup."

Jack nodded, took one final glance at her and smiled. "Bye." And he stepped through the door into the corridor of the silent convent.

On his way out of the building, Jack pondered his sister's final message. Would he regret it if he didn't let Sam know how he felt? Would he regret it if he continued maintaining a modicum of distance in the name of propriety? Would he regret not allowing himself to fully give his friendship and his loyalty completely to Sam?

The answer was simple. He already had given her those things. It was a matter of trusting her with his heart, a heart that was held together by sheer determination. Could he give her his heart and trust that she would hold it gently? Love was a gift, a gift to be given. And received. Jack wondered if he had the courage to be on either end.

He put the ring back in his pocket and walked back to his hotel.

*****

"That's odd. Daniel's not usually this late," Steven said peering out his office door.

Jack sat uncomfortably in his class-A's, his hat in his lap, looking at his watch.

A galloping sound came from down the long hallway, culminating in the breathless appearance of an unshaven, same clothes-as-yesterday Dr. Daniel Jackson.

Jack looked over the younger man.

"Daniel. What happened to you?" asked Steven noticing his disheveled countenance.

Daniel pointed out the door, at Steven, to himself, all in an attempt to catch his breath. "I was...and..." Daniel caught the bemused look on Jack's face. Obviously Jack was aware that he never showed up for dinner last night. Or breakfast this morning. Nor did he call Jack. Oh, God, Daniel thought. He knows. "Anyway, what did you decide, Steven?" he asked, taking a seat next to Jack.

Jack shifted in his chair so that he could pester Daniel with his constant incredulous stare.

Daniel unsuccesfully tried to avoid Jack's stare.

Steven sat in his leather wingback ready to ease into his lengthy explanation.

"Well, gentlemen, I am grateful for this opportunity, but I don't think I can take it, because..."

Daniel jumped up from his chair, grabbed Jack under the arm, and thrust out his hand to Steven. "That's okay, Steven. You have to do what's right for you and...your lovely fiance, Celia." Daniel pulled Jack to the door.

Steven rose from his chair in shock.

"Wait. That's it?" he asked.

"Pretty much," Jack answered.

"Hey, I'll send you an invitation to the wedding, Daniel. Corey will be invited. Maybe you two can see each other again. You guys seemed to hit it off."

Daniel turned to Steven, looking at him askance, knowing Steven was totally clueless, as usual. Daniel smiled. "Sure. That might be nice."

"So, should I send it to your home or to the base?"

"Oh, probably to the base."

"Okay. So what's the address?" Steven asked picking up a pen.

Daniel shot Jack a look.

Jack turned to Steven to answer his query. "That would fall under the need to know category, Doctor. Thank you for your time," he said, and the two men quickly exited the office.

Daniel began to run down the hall.

"Whoa, rock-boy," Jack called.

Daniel stopped and motioned for Jack to catch up to him.

The colonel sauntered up to Daniel. "What's the hurry?"

Daniel put his hand on Jack's chest which garnered a blistering glare from Jack. "I'm not flying back with you, Jack," Daniel told him, desperately trying to put a kibosh on a body-embracing grin. "I'm driving to Colorado with Corey. I called Hammond and told him I'm taking a few days off."

"You dog. Are you...well, are you sure about this?" Jack asked.

"Jack, I feel like if I don't take this chance...well, I may never get another one." Daniel looked strange to Jack.

Jack squinted his eyes and searched Daniel's face for the answer. The answer was clear: Daniel was happy. After all that Daniel had been through in the past year and a half, and he still had the pluck to get back out there, risk it all again. Jack felt oddly envious and proud of him. He chucked Daniel on the shoulder. "Bonnie would love to hear that," Jack said.

Daniel suddenly changed expression. "Jack, what did Siobhan say?" he asked.

"Looks like I�m flying back home alone," Jack answered him carefully.

Daniel pursed his lips together, lines formed over his glasses. "I�m sorry about that, Jack."

"It was the right decision," Jack told him, knowing that now he would have to see his sister go through every tortuous affect of the ALS. But he had great confidence that if anyone could do it, Siobhan could. And he would be with her when it was over. However, now was a time to be happy for Daniel, and Jack genuinely was. "This piano-player. She sounds great. I'm glad for you, Daniel."

"Thanks. I am, too. You'd like Corey, Jack. Oh, and remember that training program you've always wanted me to start?"

"Yeah?"

"Ah, well, maybe we should start it," Daniel said through half-opened eyes.

Jack nodded in confused agreement.

Daniel put out his hand and shook Jack's. As he turned to run down the hall he called out to Jack. "I'll stop by to see Siobhan before we leave! Have a good flight. Tell Sam I have her gum!" And he disappeared down the steps.

Jack stood still, listening to the clamorous footsteps becoming quieter and quieter. Casually Jack made his way down the deserted hallway, down the granite steps, and into the sleepy surroundings of a college campus on a Sunday. Once outside he placed his hat on his head and looked around him.

These early spring days held such hope for things to come. It was a time of renewal and of rebirth. Daniel had been a recipient of that gift. Daniel deserved it. Jack thought about the gifts his sister had given him these past days. Could Jack accept them? Did he feel he deserved the same kinds of graces?

He breathed in the cool, sweet air, heavy with the perfume of lilacs and magnolias. A smile slowly found its way to his lips. He took his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed her number.

"Sam? What are you doing today? Can you meet me for dinner later on? I have something for you."