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Tempus Fugit

By Kreek©January06

Prologue

Bay City area, California. February 14, 1976

It had been a while since the sarcophagus had been opened. Century old dust lay thickly on top of the casket, covering the carved-in Egyptian face so that only the outline of its features was visible.

Rodney Templeton ran a finger over the stone slab, scattering a trace of soft yellow dust in its wake. With a head full of close-cropped black curls and pale blue eyes that didn’t hold a shred of mercy, Rodney wasn’t a handsome man. His bronzed skin looked dull resulting in a faded complexion caused by too many hours stuck inside an office. It’s beautiful, he thought, admiring the symbols on either side of the stone rectangle box. Who would have thought something like this would lay hidden beneath my old man’s house?

A few days ago he’d received a letter at his estate near London. The writer, a U.S. attorney told him that his father had passed away. She conveyed her condolences, then proceeded to tell him he had inherited all his father’s possessions, including the old man’s house located on the West Coast near Bay City. Instead of being shocked, the message had pleasantly surprised Rodney.

He’d never really known his old man. His mother, Estelle had divorced him soon after Rodney’s birth when it became apparent his father valued his house more than he did her. The rackety old wooden building they’d lived in was draughty, mouldy and impossible to heat. All in all not a very good environment for a new born baby. Estelle had wanted to move. But his father, Robert had refused. He talked about an age-old duty, one that prevented him from ever selling the house.

His parents’ fights got nastier every day, escalating when he, as a baby, caught a terrible cold, and his father still refused to leave the place. He didn’t remember the night his mother had taken him out of his crib and left for England, her home country. But he did recall the bitterness in her words when he tried to talk to her about it as soon as he was old enough.

They’d never spoken about his father again.

Rodney was surprised his old man still owned the house. Upon seeing it for the first time in over thirty years, the word that sprung to mind was… condemned. Still, he had come all this way from Europe and decided that, before he sold it, a quick tour of the inside wouldn’t hurt him. Who knows… maybe his father did have something to hide.

The stairs leading down into the cellar seemed to go on forever. Once there he had expected to find some valuable heirlooms or perhaps a room full of wine, decades old, and maybe even hidden money. But not this…

A sarcophagus…

So this was what his father had been hiding for all those years. How did it get here? Who’s inside? Frowning, he tried to dig up memories of his family’s past. All his mother had ever told him was that he was British. His obscure Egyptian heritage, the part of his lineage shrouded in mystery, was never spoken of.

Damn. One of my ancestors could be in that thing, he mused. And my father protected it, kept it safe in his basement. God, how sick is that! The unsettling thought freaked him out. A shudder ran up his spine. Guess mom was right. My old man was crazy. Suppressing sudden anxiety, he continued caressing the casket. Well, crazy or not, this thing is going to make me a fortune. He already knew of a couple of buyers who might be interested. But first he wanted to open it. See if there were more riches to be found inside.

His hand suddenly touched something that felt like a button. He pressed it and jumped back, startled, when the top of the sarcophagus parted in the middle, a whoosh of escaping air indicating that the sarcophagus had been thoroughly sealed. Slowly, the two arms swung to each side. Curiosity got the better of him, and he leaned in so he could get a clearer view.

…A snake?

As fast as a whip, the two-foot long snake-like creature lunged at his throat. Before he could scream it had reached the nape of his neck where it mercilessly pierced through skin and flesh to work its way inside. He opened his mouth in agony when the creature wrapped itself around his spinal cord, viciously hacking into his central nervous system. Then, as quickly as the horror had risen it disappeared when the spirit that was Rodney Templeton quickly faded beneath the powerful mind now possessing his body, a mind that left no room for him to exist.

In his final moments, the creature, the Goa’uld, as it called itself, shared its thoughts with him and revealed a frightening truth. His father hadn’t been protecting the sarcophagus. He had been guarding it. Guarding the prisoner it held inside. And now this pure evil, this Goa’uld had been released again. Set free upon an unsuspecting world.

Close to death, four words emerged from his broken mind.

What have I done…

XXXXX

Chapter 1

Bay City area, California. Two days later

“Starsky, will you please turn that down!” Not for the first time that morning detective Kenneth Hutchinson fervently wished they’d taken his car. He braced himself against the dashboard as his energetic partner veered his bright red Torino onto the highway too fast, but that wasn’t what bothered him.

“C’mon, Hutch,” his friend yelled over the noise of what Hutch supposed his partner thought of as music. It even drowned out the loud roar of the engine. Starsky shifted the car into a higher gear. “How can you not love this?” To emphasise his point he turned the radio up a notch.

Hutch’s groan went completely unheard. How does he do it? Being so energetic so early in the morning with nothing in his stomach but a dead burrito and the couple of glasses of beer we had last night? The combination of too much beer and two girls, who seemed to have disappeared during the evening, didn’t agree with the health shake that Hutch had this morning. He felt queasy and his partner’s driving style wasn’t helping. “Starsky! I got a headache the size of our beat here!”

“But it’s modern science! The latest state of the art radio, speakers and all! I had Merle install it for just over twenty bucks! It’s a bargain!”

“You sound just like Huggy,” Hutch muttered, referring to their usual source of information pertaining to the city’s shadier side; a guy who ran a bar called The Pits.

“WHAT?” Starsky sped up the car to overtake a slow moving orange Datsun in front of him.

“I SAID,” Hutch yelled in answer, “YOU SOUND JUST LIKE HUGGY!” He was rewarded with a big grin.

“Yeah, I do sometimes, don’t I?”

Not hearing a word of what his partner just said, but getting the jest of it, Hutch tried to knock some sense into his friend’s head, “Starsk!”

“All right, All right!” Starsky relented and took one hand of the wheel to turn the radio down. “You’re no fun at all sometimes, you know that.”

Hutch sighed with relief. “Thank you.”

Mumbling a few grumpy words to the effect of having a caveman for a partner, Starsky turned his attention back to the road. The weather was beautiful. A soft spring breeze wafted in through the half open windows of the Torino. Both men had dressed accordingly in jeans and simple shirts, Starsky with his deep brown curls wore dark blue, while Hutch with his Nordic features, blond-haired and blue-eyed, wore a lighter shade of the same color.

“Aw come on, Starsk,” Hutch started to defend himself. “What good is all this new technology gonna do you anyway? People don’t take the time to watch the sunset anymore. Instead, they stare at a television screen for hours on end. Whatever happened to reading a good book or a walk along the beach?”

“Take a dog,” Starsky retorted, cranky.

“No really,” Hutch continued without pause. “We’ve become slaves of the commercial industry, Starsk. Whenever they come up with a new gadget, we run to the store like lemmings run from cliffs. There’s no time for beauty anymore, or humanity for that matter.”

Starsky rolled his eyes at the blue sky. “Is that why you drive that old tub you call a car? ‘Cause you’re afraid you’ll lose your humanity?”

Before Hutch could answer, the police radio crackled into life.

“Hear that, blondie? Modern technology… Ain’t it beautiful?”

Choosing to ignore his friend’s last remark, Hutch yanked the receiver out of its holder. “Zebra Three here. Go ahead.”

A shrill woman’s voice echoed through the Torino’s interior, “Please, check out a missing persons report made by the British embassy regarding a Rodney Templeton.”

“Missing person?” Hutch frowned. “Mildred… unless he’s dead, we’re not the right …”

“Yes Hutch, I know you’re homicide, but Templeton owns a very important business conglomerate. The British embassy is breathing down our necks on this one, and you’re the only detective unit currently available.”

Pressing the button on the receiver again, Hutch asked, “Last known address?”

“225 Mandalay Hill. Report says the house belonged to his recently deceased father. Rodney came over to the States to sell the place. He’s not been heard from since.”

“All right, we’ll look into it. Zebra Three out.”

“People actually live on Mandalay Hill? I thought the place was deserted?” Starsky chimed in as he turned the Torino to an off ramp leading toward a smaller coastal road.

“Guess we don’t know the area as well as we thought, Starsk.”

Mandalay Hill was a region located between a residential neighbourhood and Bay City’s large industrial area. The dusty, bushy grounds rose steeply into a huge crest comprising the northern slope of a hill, which dominated the countryside. The dense woodland clinging to its steep slopes created an inhospitable atmosphere. No one liked to live here, with the smoke of countless industries polluting the air, so the grounds were underdeveloped. Hutch didn’t doubt that this would change in the near future. For now the area was devoid of human occupation. After they’d driven a couple of minutes, Hutch suggested, “Better go slow. I bet there’s a dirt road somewhere nearby.”

Starsky nodded and mused, “I wonder what else this hill hides we don’t know about?”

“Well, we’ll soon find out, there’s the turn off.”

Slowing the Torino down, Starsky turned the car onto the small dirt road. Branches and leaves hit both sides of the large Ford as the lane wound up and around the massive hill. As much as Hutch loved the countryside, a sudden chill ran down his spine. The woodland seemed to swallow them whole. He didn’t know Bay City still had roads on which you could disappear. Maybe it was the headache, but suddenly the still air, only broken by the roar of the Torino’s engine, caused a shiver to run down his spine. Like the silence before a storm.

Starsky had fallen quiet.

The sudden tense atmosphere started to get to him. Don’t be ridiculous, Hutchinson. We’re just going to check if Templeton is here… His eyes locked onto the dark patches underneath the trees. Huge branches intertwined overhead, closing in the car that struggled to travel upwards. The roar of the engine echoed off the canopy overhead. Involuntarily Hutch’s hand moved toward the Magnum holstered beneath his left arm. Where ever ‘here’ is…

XXXXX

Cheyenne Mountain complex, Colorado; Stargate Command, February 16, 2004

“Teal’c, what ‘ya doing?”

Dressed in the dark blue army fatigues the rest of his team was also wearing, Colonel Jack O’Neill, amazingly, found himself in the rare situation of having too much time on his hands. His greying hair betrayed the fact that he was well in his fifties and the lines on his face told the troublesome story of the burden of command. However, the childlike spark in his warm brown eyes made up for it. Usually his days were filled with going off planet through the Stargate, writing reports or preparing for the next mission, which included making sure his team was prepped and ready to go.

The Stargate was the U.S military’s best-kept secret. The large round circular device was discovered in 1928 Egypt, but it wasn’t until recently that Doctor Jackson had managed to decipher the symbols on the gate. In essence they were the letters in an address. Seven symbols were needed to get the gate to dial. When the address was valid, a stable wormhole would form inside the gate’s perimeter that, when stepped through, led to another world. Different combinations led to different worlds. So, the military had set up a command centre, deep beneath Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado, known as Stargate Command, run by General Hammond. Several teams were created to explore the new worlds, the first of which was SG-1, Jack’s team.

Wandering aimlessly through the military grey corridors deep beneath the Mountain, Jack pondered his sudden freedom. No new missions for a while, all reports have been written; what else is a man to do but to annoy the kitchen staff?

His team had been ordered to stay on the base, so going fishing, Jack’s favourite pass time, was out of the question. Running over his three team-members once again, he disregarded the idea of paying Carter -his second in command- a visit. She was probably busy fixing that bike of hers, and if that were the case he’d only be in the way. Daniel… Well, as grateful as he was for having the archaeologist back in one piece – for all intents and purposes Daniel had come back from the dead – listening to his friend prattle on about stuffy books and ancient cultures was not how he wanted to spend his free time. That had left Teal’c, the dark-skinned alien member of his team, and the kitchen; not necessarily in that order. Grinning mischievously, he had decided to raid the mess hall first.

Now, with three cakes in his stomach, one still in hand, and an encounter with a very angry supply sergeant behind him, Jack stood in the doorway to Teal’c’s quarters. His friend had compensated for the base’s metal walls and lack of windows by filling his room with dozens of candles. Finding the warrior sitting cross-legged in the middle of all those bright little lights wasn’t surprising. However, finding the television set on the floor in front of him was. Jack eyed the object, suspiciously. “Teal’c?”

His friend looked up. “O’Neill, I decided that your continuing mention of the names ‘Starsky and Hutch’ warranted further study.”

“Oh?” Amused, Jack took a bite of the cake. It was true that he frequently joked around using those names, mostly to lighten the mood in a tense situation.

Teal’c remarked seriously, “They must have been great warriors for you to refer to them so often.”

Jack nearly choked on the cake he’d been about to swallow. A full blown coughing fit was the result. “T,” he spoke hoarsely when the coughs finally subsided, tears still clouding his eyes. “It’s a television show.”

“I beg to differ. I can understand your fascination. The show has power.”

“Power?” He wasn’t sure where Teal’c was going with this. Although being a warrior at heart, Teal’c also had a remarkable grasp of humanity at times and didn’t hesitate to voice his opinion.

Teal’c nodded at the screen. “The friendship between the two main characters is almost tangible. They seem to be as close as the four of us are within SG-1, yet are not as awkward as us when it comes to showing it.”

“That’s ‘cos they’re gay.”

Beneath the gold emblem on his forehead, Teal’c lifted an eyebrow.

“You know… gay. When two men…”

“I understand the concept, O’Neill. However, I do not agree with your assessment. Their friendship is what gives both Starsky and Hutch their greatest power. I believe this strength to be greatly underestimated in humans, and it is this power that will eventually lead us to victory over our enemy The Goa’uld.”

The Goa’uld were a parasitic, alien, snake-like race, no larger than two foot long that took humans to serve as hosts. Aggressively working themselves inside through the mouth or neck, they would wrap their worm-like bodies around the spinal chord to entirely take over their victim; nothing of the host’s identity survived.

Jack blinked a couple of times and countered exasperatedly, “Teal’c, they’re gay!” He turned around at hearing a noise behind him.

Major Samantha Carter, blonde, blue-eyed, and as pretty as she was brilliant, pushed past Jack through the entrance and walked in. Apparently, she’d picked up on the last words her commanding officer had spoken and went to stand beside Teal’c to see what he was watching. “They’re not gay,” she said, sounding slightly affronted. “They’re just… not afraid to show how much they care.”

Before Jack could open his mouth, Teal’c voiced his agreement. “I have found that women often have a deeper understanding of such matters.”

Jack couldn’t help but notice the twinkle in Sam’s bright blue eyes as they darted away from the screen to settle on the warrior sitting on the floor. “Thank you,” she said, humor clear in her voice.

Looking from one to the other, Jack exclaimed, “Oh for cryin’ out loud! They’re gay! The way they,” he waved at the screen, “fraternise with each other is not… normal.”

“Sir,” Sam started, giving her commanding officer a sharp look. “With all do respect, who’s to say what’s normal? I don’t think there’s anything wrong with being able to show others how you feel, especially in times of stress.”

Feeling decidedly uncomfortable, Jack fell back on the rulebook. “Carter, we’re a military organization with a clear chain of command structure,” he said, thinking she was referring to the attraction they had both always felt toward one another but were unable to act upon. “What you’re suggesting is highly inappropriate.”

Sam rolled her eyes at the ceiling. “I’m not talking about us, Sir. That’s… different. I’m talking about simple friendship.”

Jack could tell by her agitated tone this was something that had been bothering her for quite a while. Usually, he refused to listen to her. Feelings tended to confuse you, they tended to get in the way of rational decision making, and as the one responsible for his team’s well being, he could not afford to let that happen. Not when a bad choice could result in the death of one of them. However, he also cared too much for the Major to cut her off now.

“Why is it,” she continued fervently. “That we wait until people are seriously injured, or die, before we tell them how we really feel? Why do we always hold back?”

Jack sighed. The whole subject started to annoy him.

Sam pushed on. “Okay, forget about me for a second. What about you and Teal’c? You both care what happens to the other, right?”

“You know I do, Carter,” he replied surly. “What’s your point?”

“Teal’c?” She asked, ignoring Jack’s question for the moment. She turned her attention toward the heavier man on the floor.

“I do.” Teal’c answered warmly. “As much as I care for you, Major Carter, and Daniel Jackson.

Sam looked at her commanding officer again. “Sir, when Daniel-”

“I don’t want to talk about that,” Jack interrupted her rudely.

“Sir…”

“Carter! Don’t… go there!” He turned, knowing full well he was avoiding talking once again. He was a man of action, always had been, always would be. He didn’t need this. Didn’t need to be reminded of the effect Daniel’s so called death had had on him. He still had to convince himself that Daniel was here. Very much alive and part of the team again. At first he tended to pinch his friend on occasion, until one day Daniel had snapped his hand out of mid-air and ordered, “Don’t.” After that, all Jack could do was accept that his friend was real. Let the past be buried. Irately he backed out of the room, only to run head long into the current subject of discussion.

Narrowly avoiding a collision, Daniel held him off at arm’s length and jumped out of the way. “Wow, Jack.” Behind his glasses, Daniel’s blue eyes pierced Jack’s with a mix of compassion and annoyance.

“Daniel,” Jack greeted his archaeologist who doubled as his linguist. He proceeded to angrily pace away, but then turned as a thought suddenly occurred to him. “Were you looking for us?”

“Well, yes actually.” His friend frowned. Apparently Jack’s bad mood hadn’t escaped him.

Jack couldn’t care less.

Obviously sensing that it would be unwise to pursue the reason behind Jack’s irate behaviour at this point, Daniel continued his answer, “General Hammond wants to see all of us in the briefing room in five minutes. It sounded quite urgent.”

Jack nodded. Then looked over at Carter and Teal’c to sharply point a finger at them. “They’re gay! Nothing else.”

Marching away, he couldn’t prevent a smile from forming on his lips when, behind him, he heard Daniel directing a confused question at Teal’c and Sam, “You’re gay?”

XXXXX

Chapter 2

Bay City February 16, 1978

Blinking furiously, the Goa’uld Helios opened his eyes; eyes that had once belonged to Rodney. Deeply inhaling the stuffy air, he tentatively began testing his new body.

Taste… His mouth was dry. He smacked his lips, detecting a bitter flavour on his dry tongue.

Touch…His skin touched something hard, making him feel cold all through. He was lying on a concrete floor.

Sound…Nothing. All he could hear was the blood running through his host’s veins and the steady pound of his heartbeat.

Smell… Fear, dust, mold and dog hair. Dog hair?

Cerberus!

Memories spanning a lifetime that already lasted for over thousands of years came flooding back to him: Ancient Egypt and Greece, where he had been a God among the humans; his slow decline in power over the centuries; the uprising off his underlings; the betrayal of their God. They’d dared to attack him! Cut off from the Stargate he was forced to flee to another continent. The memories accumulated into a pivotal moment when the Hellhound Cerberus had found him and killed Helios’ former body by using a poison he couldn’t counter. Cerberus’ master, a Temple Knight, had ruthlessly extracted him from the dying body, and then proceeded to put him into a sarcophagus rigged as a stasis chamber.

For all those years that he’d been asleep, the dog and the Temple Knight were guarding the coffin, or so he gathered from the scattered information embedded in his new host’s brain. I seem to have taken over one of my guards, that only leaves…

His eyes flew wide open as the implication hit him.

Sight… all he saw was darkness until he looked up. A soft light filtered into the room coming from a square opening located at the top of a set of wooden stairs, which seemed to gradually descend in his direction, disappearing into shadow. Elated at finding a way out of the room, Helios knew he shouldn’t fool himself. Getting out wasn’t as easy as it seemed.

Carefully, he sat up to peer into his surroundings. The humans weren’t the problem. The real threat, the one that had caused his downfall in the first place should still be here in this room. Instinctively, he focussed his sight on the stairs where a pair of light yellow eyes blinked into existence.

Though Helios didn’t detect a sound, a deep, low voice entered his mind, “Two full days it took you to wake up. My…you are getting old, aren’t you?”

Helios smiled, grimly, as his eyes adjusted to his surroundings. Slowly, he started to discern the shape of the sarcophagus next to him, of the stairs… and of the outline of a large dog sitting halfway up on one of the treads, effectively blocking his escape. The pair of yellow eyes studied him, amused. A glimmer of red and white appeared underneath them as the dog opened his mouth to let its tongue loll out. It would have looked endearing if it weren’t for the poisonous green saliva Helios spotted on the fangs. If he listened, closely, he could actually hear it dripping on the floor. His bite’s what killed my last body. Better not make the mistake again.

When Helios spoke it was with Rodney’s voice. Only now his host’s timbre was laced with the deep distorted base tone of his own. “Cerberus… at last, we meet again.”

XXXXX

Hutch stared in awe at the house coming into view as the Torino gradually cleared the forest and roared into open space.

The house was huge. Three stories high, excluding the attic and easily over seventy feet wide. The brick wall facing the North was completely ivy-grown. The plant even covered the few sash windows located on that side. The rest of the house wasn’t in much better shape. The woodwork looked like it was going to fall apart any second now and badly needed a good paint job. The porch didn’t look much better. As Starsky brought the Torino to a halt, Hutch suspiciously eyed the decking leading up to the front door.

There were no other cars in sight. If Rodney Templeton had come here, he must have taken a cab or he’d stashed his car at the rear of the house.

They put on their jackets while exiting the Torino and carefully walked up to the porch. The house was covered in silence, as if no one had been in there for years. Taking a deep breath, Starsky used the knocker on the black wood of the front door. The sudden sound shattered the still air. The knocking pushed the door inward, and a dark hallway beckoned them. They both stepped back in surprise.

“Now what?” Starsky hissed.

“Doesn’t look like anyone’s here, Starsk. HELLO, ANYONE IN THERE?”

“If that doesn’t wake up the dead, nothing will,” Starsky chimed.

“We better go in and check if Templeton is here,” Hutch stated when no one came to welcome them. He pulled out the Magnum.

Taking his Beretta out of its holster, Starsky followed him in. There were a couple of doors lining the spacious but dilapidated hallway. A combination of dark panelling and walnut-stained hardwood floors sucked up all the light coming in from the front door. Hutch walked slowly, peering into each room on one side of the hall, while his partner covered the other.

A scraping noise came from beneath them.

Starsky motioned with his head to what was obviously the cellar door hidden closely near the entrance.

Carefully, Hutch moved toward it. The door was open, and he peered inside. A small landing opened onto a flight of stairs, which went a long way down by the look of it.

Starsky pulled him back. “Wait here.” His friend kept his voice low. “I’m gonna get the flashlight.”

It wasn’t long before Hutch saw him returning from the Torino with the light in hand. Exchanging a look, the blond indicated he was going to take the first few steps down.

Starsky nodded, giving him the assurance of a proper backup. Holding the cellar door open with his foot, Starsky turned on the light. His other hand still held the Beretta.

As Hutch stepped onto the landing, the wood beneath his feet creaked dangerously. The beam from the flashlight reflected off the plain concrete walls and the dark surface of a full-length mirror placed just inside the door. A mirror? He studied the ebony frame, which was laced with intricate carvings. Why would someone place a vanity object like that on a small landing like this?

Discarding the mirror as unimportant, Hutch concentrated on the stairs leading down into the basement. Carefully, he put one foot on the top step. The creaking increased but the tread held. Gun held high with both hands, he shifted his weight forward to take another step. No sounds came from downstairs. The pitch-black darkness didn’t look very inviting. Hutch was glad for the light Starsky provided. He took a deep breath and was about to proceed with caution, when suddenly the whole staircase gave way beneath him.

In reflex he groped for the wooden banister nailed into the concrete wall. His feet flailed while large pieces of wood fell away and crashed onto the hidden floor beneath him. To his horror the age-old handrail wasn’t strong enough to hold his weight and loosened from the wall. Hutch’s frantic mind did the calculations: judging by the time it took the wood to reach the bottom, the floor was a long way down.

The banister broke free.

With a cry Hutch dropped with it, free falling into the darkness beyond. His arm was nearly ripped out of its socket when Starsky’s hand clasped his wrist in an iron-like grip, abruptly halting his descent. “Umph.” The sudden stop sucked the air out of his lungs.

With his hand locked onto Starsky’s wrist and his body swinging back and forth, Hutch’s heart beat a drum roll in his chest. His feet dangled unseen in mid-air. In an effort to save him, his partner had let go of the door. It must have fallen shut for the darkness had increased. The dropped flashlight illuminated Starsky’s face as he lay flat out on the floor.

And Hutch had dropped the Magnum.

Starsky’s fingers dug deep into his flesh; pain shot up his strained muscles toward his shoulder. Smoke from the fallen stairs welled up, filling his lungs with fine particles, making him cough a few times.

“Hutch, are you okay?”

Still reeling from the physical shock, it took a while for Hutch’s fogged mind to register his partner’s voice.

Starsky sounded more frantic, “Hutch!”

“Yeah…” he hurried to say. “Can you… Can you pull me up?”

“I can try.”

Starsky tightened his grip. Then Hutch felt his friend’s other hand joined the first, securely holding him in place. It unnerved him that he couldn’t see Starsky at all, even though his eyes had adjusted to the darkness. The strain on his arm- and shoulder muscle increased as his partner tried to pull him up with a loud grunt.

Hutch knew he was far heavier than his light-on-his-feet partner was. His friend couldn’t lift him on his best day, and this sure wasn’t one of those. Sure enough Starsky had to give up the attempt.

XXXXX

“What is this thing doing here?” Jack demanded, walking into the briefing room.

Sitting at the opposite end of the table, General George Hammond quickly stifled an amused expression at Jack’s annoyance. Running Stargate command with smooth efficiency, Hammond, bald and dressed in the blues of his General uniform, had a soft spot for their leading team SG-1, though he would never admit it to any one of them.

On one side, the room had a terrific view of the Stargate, which stood in a large hangar spread out two stories below them. O’Neill didn’t spare the gate room one thought, though. Instead he stared at a sheet-covered object located at the head of the large oval conference table, obviously having no doubt as to what was underneath that sheet and not liking it one bit.

Daniel walked in. As usual he had his nose in a book, but stopped short behind Jack as he spotted the white-sheeted item. “General,” he asked, taken aback. “Didn’t you order the ‘quantum mirror’ destroyed?”

Lean and muscular as any soldier, his physical condition didn’t fit the description of the average bookworm. Hammond really admired the way Doctor Jackson had grown from a stuffy geek to an archaeologist with an attitude. Being the only civilian on the team, Daniel didn’t always follow the soldier’s rulebook, and much to Jack’s frustration, frequently got into trouble.

“Yes.” Hammond halted all questions in his deep, authoritative voice. “If you’d please sit down, Gentlemen, I’ll explain.”

Teal’c entered and gave the General a respectful nod.

Hammond answered it with one of his own. “As you all know this mirror, found on one of your off world expeditions is-”

“Far too dangerous to keep around,” Jack hissed. “The last time it showed us a reality in which Carter and I were married for cryin’ out loud!” The reproachful look he got from Samantha Carter who just walked in settled him down. “Anyway… the point is… touch its surface and it makes you switch diamonds just like that.”

“Dimensions…” Daniel muttered under his breath.

“Right… What he said.”

“General,” Daniel voiced his opinion. “I agree with Jack on this. That mirror can transport us to other realities, hostile realities where the earth is occupied entirely by Goa’uld. As long as we have the mirror, they can come to us as easily as we can go to them.”

Hammond nodded, “That’s exactly why I ordered Area 51 to destroy it.”

“They obviously did not succeed,” Teal’c remarked dryly.

Sam spoke up, for apart from being army-bred, she was also a brilliant scientist. “The material it’s made of turned out to be exceptionally strong. The scientists at Area 51 were unable to destroy it. In the end it was decided to ship the mirror back to Stargate Command so we could take it through the stargate, and drop it off on a lava-planet. I have no idea why that hasn’t happened yet.”

“Because an hour ago it turned itself on, and we can’t shut it off,” Hammond explained. “The mirror’s surface is dark. However, all readings indicate that it is active. And it’s far too dangerous to transport through the stargate now.”

Sam jumped in, “I agree with you, Sir. An active mirror could mess up the wormhole the Stargate creates in order to get from this planet to another. There’s no telling where you’ll end up if you step through the gate with the mirror turned on.”

“Right,” Hammond concurred. He nodded at the mirror standing ominously beneath its sheet at the head of the table. “Major Carter?”

As ordered, Sam stood up to uncover the device, her scientific curiosity peaked.

The white sheet fell away to the floor. Everyone in the room, including Teal’c gaped at the sight. The mirror’s surface was no longer black. Instead it showed a scene containing two very familiar shapes.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Jack exclaimed.

XXXXX

Chapter 3

Starsky held firm. He was not about to let his partner fall. Sharp, splintered edges of the broken landing dug into his chest as he lay flat on his stomach. “Hey, maybe it’s not that deep,” he grunted.

“Starsk… get… me… up,” the irate reply sounded.

“Try reaching me with your other hand.”

Hutch lunged for him with his free hand, causing Starsky to nearly lose his grip on his friend. Another frantic lunge and he felt both of Hutch’s hands tighten around his wrist. “Hang on,” Starsky coerced under his breath. “ All right… now…climb up.”

“What?”

“Climb! Grab my arm higher up, then get a hold of my shoulders!”

If it wasn’t so dark, Starsky knew he would see a pissed off Hutch looking up at him. “Listen buddy, I can’t pull you up.” Lying on the floor like this doesn’t exactly help matters. Maybe if I can lock my feet around something, then I could generate the strength. “You’re too heavy, you have to do it yourself!”

“Okay…” Hutch’s voice echoed huskily.

Starsky felt him adjusting his weight as his friend got ready to reach upwards.

“Let me just… STARSK!”

A hair-raising growl came from deep beneath them accompanying Hutch’s unexpected fear-riddled call and a sudden jerk downwards. One of Hutch’s hands ripped free while the other slipped through Starsky’s sweaty fingers. To prevent both of them from falling, Starsky let go with his right hand in order to grab onto the edge of the landing; its splintered tip pierced his skin. “What the hell’s that!” He yelled, anxiously.

Another growl and another lurch down, hard and vicious.

“Hutch… I can’t… hold… on… to you!”

His friend’s panicked voice shot back, “Something’s pulling me down!”

The statement sent Starsky’s already heightened anxiety through the roof. Forcing himself to calm down he yelled, “Hang on!” Adjusting his weight, he let go of the landing and reached for his Beretta lying on the floor next to him.

“What… d’you think… I’ve been doing… all this time!”

“I said, hang on. Don’t move!”

“Wait… wait a minute. What are you doing? Starsk, you’re left handed! You can’t…!”

Without warning, Starsky felt the blond’s weight double again.

Hutch yelled out in pain.

Something was down there and it wanted his partner. Well… he was damned if he was going to let it. “Close your eyes!” He warned, holding onto Hutch’s arm with an almost possessive strength. Trying to create a stable base, he planted his feet firmly on the mirror surface, lying as steady on the floor as possible. He aimed, shutting out the weight and the darkness, the pain and the fear emanating from his partner.

He fired.

An immediate lessening of weight followed the blinding flash and deafening noise of the gun.

“Hutch!” Starsky yelled again.

“I’m all right,” the blond answered hoarsely. “Little deaf, maybe.”

“Sorry, buddy. Can you try to make your way up now?” He put the Beretta down to get a better grip on his partner. His friend grabbed onto him tightly with both hands.

Hutch climbed up, helped by Starsky who grabbed him by the shoulders until his partner found a foothold. One last heave and they both lay panting on the landing.

XXXXX

“Okay, so…. What are we looking at?” Daniel stood up and walked forward, careful not to touch the mirror’s surface. “Is this real?”

Jack tore his gaze from the mirror where within its frame, two men lay panting on some sort of landing. If he hadn’t just been watching them on television he never would have recognized them. “It’s Starsky and Hutch,” he stated, superfluously.

“Indeed,” Teal’c confirmed.

“Who?”

Taken aback by Daniel’s innocent question, Jack gave him a wide-eyed look. “You’ve never heard of Starsky and Hutch?” At the blank expression he got in return he elaborated, “Two cops… television show… the seventies?” The moment he voiced the last words Jack cursed inwardly for he already knew the answer. Right…your parents were already dead by then, and you were stuck in a t.v.-less orphanage at that time. “There are reruns on even now,” he added, cheerfully. “Teal’c just watched one of them.”

All heads turned toward Teal’c.

“Can we go back to the matter at hand here, folks.” Hammond cut off the current conversation. “Major Carter, from what I’m seeing now, and from what I know of the show, those men in that mirror are living in the seventies. Is there any chance we are looking at past events here?”

Sam looked truly mystified. “All our research confirms that this mirror is not a time-device. Starsky and Hutch should be … older. Something else must be affecting the range of this device.”

Jack usually kept quiet when it came to scientific mumbo jumbo but now raised a hand. “Carter, I may not fully understand what you just said, but I know one thing. Starsky and Hutch don’t exist in our universe. They’re a television show. We should be looking at the actors playing them, at light, at cameras, annoying directors. I don’t see any of that.”

Daniel frowned, “So we are looking at a different reality; one in which Starsky and Hutch are real? It still doesn’t explain why we’re looking at them in the seventies, though.”

“Can they see us?” Jack asked, waving his hand at the mirror.

Sam shook her head. “It’s too dark.”

“I believe we should just watch for a while,” Teal’c spoke, calming the excitement in the room. “Maybe the answers will present themselves automatically.”

Hammond nodded his assent.

XXXXX

“You know,” Starsky said, gasping for air. Heavily strained muscles started to tremble when his body relaxed. “I can’t take you anywhere these days.” He pushed the door open and light flooded in.

Hutch, fairly shaken, tried to sit up. “It had an… iron grip, Starsk,” he breathed. “It damn near tore my leg off.”

“Are you all right?” he asked, worriedly studying his friend’s torn trouser leg.

“Yeah,” Hutch put his mind at ease. “No harm done.”

Bewildered, Starsky looked in his partner’s eyes. “What was that?”

“I don’t know.” Hutch got up from the floor. “But I’m not going to find out before proper backup arrives.”

“Can you walk?”

“Yeah, I’ll manage. It’s not too bad, don’t worry about it.”

In your dreams pal. Knowing Hutch would be too stubborn to accept his help, he watched as his friend reached for the door and carefully walked out into the hallway. It wasn’t too bad. Hutch was favouring his left leg a bit but was able to walk just fine. Satisfied that the wounds weren’t serious, Starsky stood up and stared down into the darkness of the deep pit.

“You comin’?” Hutch asked, holding the door open.

“Yeah,” he answered, trying to get rid of the cold seeping into his system. Tearing his attention away from the gaping hole next to him, Starsky turned and followed his partner out the door.

XXXXX

Cerberus shook his head. Green drool splashed on the dark walls as he banished the cobwebs in his mind. He blinked furiously against the residual effect of the blinding flash, which made him see spots as large as the moon. To his utter dismay times had changed. The last time humans invaded this Goa’uld prison, they did not have guns. Although technically it took much more to kill him, a bullet still hurt considerably.

That bloody human had shot him. For a second he was confused as to why he didn’t feel any pain…

He wasn’t hit.

Dread consumed him when he thought of the white flash he thought had originated from the gun, but obviously hadn’t. It’d come from the mirror, his second line of defense on top of the stairs. Mister trigger-happy must have touched its surface! And it turned on!

A thought hit him.

Whipping around on all four paws his dread took on massive proportions when he found the sarcophagus behind him open… and empty. All that trouble to get the Goa’uld back inside the coffin, and now Helios had escaped due to those two men!

A terrible mistake… He had to correct it, and soon.

He hesitated, pondering over whom he should track first: Helios or the two humans? Since he didn’t have a clue where Helios was, or how long ago he escaped, the answer was simple. He’d heard of them, the cops, the blond and the brunet. Two do-gooders like that couldn’t possibly go unnoticed for long. The taste of blood from the blond he had bitten lingered in his mouth. He smacked his lips. It wouldn’t be hard to track his scent, especially since his victim would fall ill pretty soon. He snarled. The human it was then. Gathering all his strength, Cerberus prepared to jump.

XXXX

Chapter 4

They made their way back to the front door.

Hutch limped through the dilapidated hallway. The whole ordeal left him shaken. For a moment he had been certain it wasn’t one of God’s creatures that had pulled him down. It had teeth and it had taken a firm hold of him until Starsky shot it. If his leg didn’t hurt so much -the pain mainly pinpointed around his ankle- he could’ve sworn he’d dreamed it all. The entire scene felt ridiculously unrealistic. It must have been a dog. A large dog, starved and gone crazy from being in that cellar for so long, he kept saying to himself. The owner should be arrested.

He was in such a hurry to get out of the house that he dismissed the small changes evident all around him: telltale signs of aging; the dust that had settled everywhere, the cobwebs filling up corners and crannies, and the musty smell of decaying wood. It wasn’t until he came to the front door and exited that Starsky’s scream abruptly snapped him back to reality.

“Where’s my car!”

Standing behind his partner on the porch, Hutch eyed their surroundings. The forest and the dirt road winding downhill were there. But the Torino was gone.

“We left it right here! I know we did!” Jumping off the porch, Starsky started to franticly search the area. He even tore apart some of the undergrowth lining the forest.

“Starsky, will you calm down?” In the silent surroundings Hutch’s pitched voice easily carried from the veranda over to where his friend stood near the tree line. “Maybe someone stole it. I keep telling you not to leave your keys in the ignition.”

His partner marched up to him and stopped short of the porch, blue eyes blazing. “You’re telling me that while we were in there, this two bit punk Rodney stole the Torino?”

Hutch sighed. Starsky had an amazingly large blind spot when it came to his car. At times like these he managed to forget about Hutch altogether. His friend turned and started walking down the dirt road, anger obvious in every step.

Still standing on the porch, Hutch called, “Starsk… Starsky!”

His partner stopped, casting a furious look over his shoulder. “What?”

“The tracks… You’re messing up the tracks.”

“What? Oh.” Gazing down at his feet, he proceeded to examine the dirt with scrutinized precision.

Hutch hobbled off the porch to join him in his search.

“That’s weird,” Starsky muttered.

“… No tracks,” Hutch finished, staring down the descending lane lazily winding its way around a couple of large boulders to disappear beneath the forest’s canopy. For a road that just had the Torino on it, the ground was remarkably undisturbed.

Starsky followed his gaze. “It looks like nobody’s been using this road for months.”

“Maybe our quarry is cleverer than we give him credit for,” Hutch chipped in. “Could be he erased all the tracks.”

Starsky threw him a ‘yeah, sure’ look and sat down on one of the boulders strewn along the side of the road. “That’s great. That’s just great. We’re stranded here in the middle of nowhere. Not only do I get my car stolen, but we can’t call for backup to help us with whatever it was that attacked you, either.” He looked up. “Are you sure your leg’s okay?”

Hutch, who still stood in the middle of the road, staring in the distance, turned toward his partner. “Yeah, it’s fine. It didn’t bite me that hard.”

“Bit you!” Starsky’s eyebrows shot upwards. “I thought something grabbed you?”

“Nope,” Hutch limped over to his partner and propped his foot on the rock. Carefully, he rolled up his pant leg.

Starsky stared at the two red puncture wounds just above the ankle.

“It was probably a dog, Starsk.” Hutch deducted, rolling his jeans down and planting both feet on the ground again.

“Probably.” Starsky did not sound convinced at all. “So, what do you want to do?”

“I guess we walk.”

His partner’s midnight-blue eyes softened in worry, his anger momentarily forgotten. “Are you sure you’re up to it? It’s a long way down hill.”

Hutch stated more cheerfully than he felt, “In that case we better get started.” He slapped his brooding friend on his shoulder. “C’mon.”

Starsky stood up to lend him a supporting hand.

Hutch took it, commenting under his breath, “I knew we should’ve taken my car.”

XXXXX

Daniel recoiled from the mirror when the top half of a large growling creature suddenly jumped into view. Hanging from the wooden decking, it drove its front claws deeply into the boards in an attempt to pull itself up. The snarling echoed through the mirror and into the briefing room.

Behind him, Jack voiced his shock. “What the hell is that!”

The view was strangely distorted. Daniel moved in for a closer look.

Startled, Sam warned, “Daniel, don’t…”

He waved her concern aside. “It looks like a dog,” he assessed. The scratching from nails on wood intensified when the dog-like creature managed to get all four paws beneath him on the decking. Daniel frowned. “Although…”

“What?”

Jack’s impatient question urged him to say, “The image is wavering… It’s almost like the mirror can’t get a lock.” The creature jumped into full view. The picture cleared, three heads slowly dissolved into one.

“A Rottweiler,” Sam exclaimed when the mirror framed the sturdy black and brown body of the dog. Reigning in her sudden burst of enthusiasm, she explained, “I used to have one when I was a kid. She didn’t hurt a fly.”

“Somehow,” Jack stated wisely, “I doubt this one’s friendly, I mean look at the…” He abruptly fell silent when the dog turned toward the mirror.

Unnatural yellow eyes nailed Daniel to the floor. Two gleaming incisors, covered with a layer of green saliva, seemed way too close for comfort. The dog let out an angry growl.

“Damn,” Jack spoke, respectfully.

Teal’c lifted an eyebrow, “Apparently it can see us.”

Vaguely aware that Jack whisked a gun out of a nearby guard’s holster, Daniel attempted to tear his eyes away from the dog’s mesmerising stare.

“Well, well, well, Doctor Jackson, I presume?”

He snapped around at the British accent echoing inside his head, and found Jack standing beside him. His commanding officer aimed a Beretta at the threat visible on the black surface. Quickly lifting a hand to stop his friend from firing, he shouted, “No, wait! Did you hear that?”

The dog’s yellow eyes drifted from Daniel to Jack.

“Hear what?” Jack snapped, his aim never wavering. “In case you hadn’t noticed, nothing is keeping that monster from jumping over to our side-”

A cracking sound interrupted his words.

Between one second and the next, the dog stood on their side of the mirror. Daniel scrambled backwards from the large Rottweiler but was too late. Before Jack could fire, the dog whipped around and grabbed Daniel by his pant leg to yank him in his friend’s firing range.

Daniel lost his footing, the powerful grip of the dog’s jaws adding to his fall. He flinched before hitting the floor, anticipating Jack’s bullets ripping through him.

“Jezus!” he heard his friend’s curse and knew Jack had snapped the Beretta away, narrowly avoiding shooting him.

Another loud crack and Daniel collided hard with the decking on the other side of the mirror. A small part of his mind deduced that the dog must have touched the mirror’s surface and jumped back to the landing again. It stood over him, snarling in his ear, a foul stench originating from the large muzzle. He curled in protectively against the powerful fangs and desperately tried to roll away.

A cry from Jack followed by an ear-piercing howl made him open his eyes and look up. He was just in time to see the dog shove his friend into the frame of the mirror with the bulk of its body, before it took off through the open door. The soft blue energy patterns winding through the mirror’s ebony frame flickered and died.

The mirror shut itself off.

“Jack, are you all right?” He heaved.

His friend lay spent against the frame, the blow having knocked the wind out of him. “Dammit Daniel…” the miffed answer came, “Why do these things always happen to you!?”

Painfully Daniel pulled himself up on all fours and crawled toward him. “Thanks,” he said, ignoring Jack’s outburst, “for coming after me.”

“Well I didn’t exactly have a hell of a lot of time to make that decision. Hammond’s probably having a fit right now. You okay?”

“Yeah, it didn’t bite me.” Disgusted, he wiped portions of green drool from his army fatigue. “The mirror is off.”

“I know. Damn dog jumped at me the moment I set foot in this place.” Moaning, Jack stood up. “I don’t think it liked my gun much.”

Getting up on his feet, Daniel turned his attention to the full-length mirror.

Jack asked, hesitantly, “Can you get it working again?”

“I dunno.” He fell silent and concentrated on the frame. “It looks pretty dead to me.”

“C’mon, this thing must have an on-switch somewhere?” Jack pushed some of the symbols carved on the frame. Nothing happened.

“Jack, if I can’t open this thing-”

“We’re trapped here. I know, I know.”

XXXXX

Chapter 5

It wasn’t far back to the city, but that wasn’t their main goal. Their goal was a pay phone Starsky had spotted on the way over. The phone was located at the dirt lane’s turn off to the main road, which connected with the highway a few miles ahead. A bench and bus stop, located across the street, stood out in the desolate landscape.

Having supported his friend all the way down hill, Starsky let go of his partner when Hutch waved at the bench and bus stop in puzzlement. “I don’t remember these on the way over.”

“Who cares. You gotta dime?”

Still eyeing the inanimate objects with suspicion, Hutch reached inside his pant pocket and tossed him the money.

Glad to be back in the civilised world, Starsky energetically headed for the phone, while his friend wearily walked across the street to sit down on the bench.

The phone was new; not one Starsky had ever seen before. “Okay, where does the money go?” He squinted. The only slot he found had a small sign nailed above it, telling him to ‘insert his card’. “Can you believe this?” He exclaimed. Unable to find any other slot, he ripped the doors open and got out. Angrily he paced across the road toward his partner.

Hutch, sitting with stretched out legs on the bench, shot him a questioning look.

“It says: ‘insert card’, Starsky answered the unspoken request.

“What?”

“Insert card! Not money… Insert card! What idiot came up with the idea to install a pay phone that only uses cards!”

“Oh, well,” Hutch grimaced. “Modern technology, Starsk. Isn’t it great?”

Giving his partner an ice-cold look, Starsky dropped down on the bench and sighed, “T’riffic.” Ever since they’d exited that house, he had the unnerving feeling that something was wrong. He knew Hutch felt it too, making them both behave slightly on edge. Despite his irritation, he was more concerned about the bite Hutch had received.

If he were to ask Hutch about it, he knew Hutch would deny the pain he was in. Even though it was obvious that every step Hutch took hurt him a considerable deal. Unfortunately, apart from having that leg checked out by a doctor as soon as possible, there wasn’t much he could do about it right now.

“So, any ideas?” Hutch asked.

“One…” Starsky said resolutely. He nodded at the bus stop. “We take the bus.”

“Yeah, well, I hope they accept money, partner. Or you and I have a long walk ahead of us.”

XXXXX

“I need a flashlight,” Daniel demanded softly.

Jack, who’d been peering down into the cellar, looked up at his friend’s words. “Why? Door’s open, you can see the mirror just fine.” He checked his watch. Daniel had been trying to decipher the symbols on the mirror for over half an hour now. “Any progress?”

“Well,” Daniel sat back from the mirror and took a deep breath. “Most of the symbols on this object are identical to the symbols on the mirror we have back home in the briefing room. Except for this one. He pointed at a carved symbol repeated on each corner of the mirror’s frame: a large cross with the top and bottom ends connected through a horizontal line. “Judging by what we know, I’d say these are hour glasses.”

“And what do we know?”

Daniel spoke quickly, “We were mystified as to how we were able to witness a

‘Starsky and Hutch’ in the seventies. What if this mirror is a time device, hence the hour glasses?”

“This mirror can transport us through time?”

“Much as ours transports us through different realities, yes.” Seeing Jack’s blank expression, Daniel elaborated, “Our mirror back at Stargate command -let’s call it mirror number one- looks at different realities. For instance a reality in which you and I never met.”

“Or a reality in which Major Carter and I got married,” Jack couldn’t help but bring that up again.

“Right. Now this mirror,” Daniel pointed at the object in front of them, “-let’s call it mirror number two- looks at different points in time. It can make us see and transport us to our past or our future.”

“Daniel, as much as I’d like them to be, in my past, Starsky and Hutch weren’t real.”

“I know. But what if both mirrors somehow connected, like um… the mirrors in the early telescopes for instance. Working together, they made us see both a different time and reality. One in which Starsky and Hutch are real.”

“Okay, so you simply get mirror number two to connect with mirror number one again and you and I can go home. Right?”

“Wrong.”

“Daniel?” Jack spoke dangerously, not liking where this conversation was heading.

“I think you inadvertently broke this one, -mirror number two- when you fell into it, trying to rescue… me.”

Jack blinked.

The frame shows a couple of fractures. “See?”

Jack didn’t even look at it. “Are you saying that by stepping through, we got stuck in the seventies?” His face fell, but then a highly amusing thought cheered him up, “We got transported to a time and reality where two cops really are driving a tomato on wheels?”

“Don’t forget large dogs with deadly fangs.” Daniel murmured. “Did you bring your cell phone with you?”

“What good will that do? It wouldn’t work in the seventies anyway.”

“There is another option Jack. Yes, we could be transported to the cops’ reality. But it’s also possible we stayed right where we belong. Since we know Starsky and Hutch were here on this same landing a few minutes ago it would mean…”

“What?”

“That they got transported to our time and reality instead of us going to theirs. If the cell phone works we’d know for sure where we are. Did you bring it?

Jack gave him an irate look. “I didn’t exactly have time to pack. All I have is one Beretta, some sweets and the clothes on my back. How ‘bout you?”

“I broke my glasses in the fight, but I think I got a knife here somewhere.” Searching his pockets he summed up, “A wallet, a pen and a notebook. That’s it.”

“Great, well at least we can write home.” Jack sighed. “Okay, we better find out where we are and work from there.” He peered down into the dark cellar again. “Starting with where the hell that dog came from.” He looked up. “We need a flashlight,” he opted as if his friend hadn’t requested the very item a few minutes earlier. “Wait here, I’ll be right back.”

XXXXX

Chapter 6

“This is bad. This is very, very bad,” Daniel whispered. His gaze locked on the object down in the cellar, illuminated by the flashlight.

Jack had found it in a drawer in the kitchen. Having assessed the state of the house and doubting anyone still lived here, he had done a thorough search of the place. Unfortunately he hadn’t been able to find anything to confirm the current date. The whole house breathed a nineteenth century atmosphere. No television, no technology whatsoever. He was lucky to find a flashlight at all. Since they had no rope to help them descend into the basement, they remained on the landing. The flashlight revealed all they needed to know. “If that is what I think it is,” Jack added to his archaeologist’s concerns. “Our day just got a whole lot worse.”

Daniel stated, taken aback, “A Goa’uld sarcophagus.”

“An open Goa’uld sarcophagus,” Jack corrected.

“Which means that whoever was in there, is out now. Jack, the Goa’uld could be inside the dog!”

Jack nodded, “Might explain why that Rottweiler looked kinda… unnatural.”

“It doesn’t make sense though,” Daniel continued. “Any Goa’uld I know would have killed us given the chance. This dog simply dragged me through the mirror and then ran.”

“So? Maybe you just don’t taste well.”

“No, I don’t think that’s it. If the Goa’uld is not inside the dog, it’s inside somebody else. Startled, Daniel looked up at Jack. “There were only two other people close enough to the sarcophagus for one of them to become a host.”

Jack’s face turned grim. “Starsky and Hutch.”

Daniel nodded. “We need to find them. And fast.”

XXXXX

People were staring at them.

It wasn’t all that obvious at first, but gradually Starsky began noticing the turned heads and the smiles thrown at them. The bus wasn’t full. They sat near the back. Starsky, unconsciously protecting his hurting partner, sat closest to the isle, while Hutch had taken the window seat.

An old lady, sitting three rows in front of them turned around and waved with her purse in hand. Starsky returned the friendly smile. Now that he thought of it, even the bus driver had acted like he’d seen a ghost when they’d entered.

The bus, of course, was new.

Starsky prodded his partner’s arm. “Hey, Hutch…”

“Hmm?” Hutch, who’d been staring out the window, turned toward him. Having unbuttoned his light blue shirt, revealing a white T-shirt underneath, Starsky could tell the man sweated profusely.

“Check the inside. People are acting really weird.”

“Check the outside, Starsk.” His voice sounded low and colored with worry. He nodded out the window.

Sitting up straight to gaze past his partner, Starsky looked through the thick glass. The bus veered onto the highway. The landscape was as it had always been, barren and dry. In contrast the road signs seemed fairly new. “Someone’s been upgrading the roads?”

Unexpectedly, a bus-like car past them. Starsky made out the sign ‘Minivan’ etched on the smooth metal above the licence plate. A dark grey car followed the red one. Judging by the symbol on the trunk, it definitely was a Ford, but not one Starsky had ever seen before.

Shocked, Starsky’s eyes shifted to Hutch to notice that his partner was equally startled. His attention drifted to the outside again. The cars passing them were sleek, silent, fast things on wheels, not resembling anything he had ever seen before.

Slowly, Starsky sat back in his seat.

“Hutch, tell me I’m dreaming,” he whispered. “I fell down into that cellar with you, and now I’m hallucinating.” He glanced sideways at his friend, who stared stiffly in front of him, obviously in denial over what he’d just seen.

Hutch’s voice sounded anxious. “What’s going on here?”

What else could he do but shake his head in a negative answer? He didn’t know. Desperately trying to get a grip on reality, Starsky felt just like his friend did an hour ago when the whole staircase had given way beneath him. Fear made its way into his stomach and set up shop.

Hutch sat back, closing his eyes.

To Starsky his sudden tiredness was palpable. “Hey, are you all right?”

Nodding, the blond squeezed the bridge of his nose in an effort to relax, then waved his partner’s concerns away. “Yeah, I just got a bit dizzy, that’s all.”

Starsky frowned. Focussing on his not too well partner kept him from thinking he was going insane. Houses and buildings he didn’t recognize appeared alongside the road, causing the lump of fear and nausea inside his stomach to grow.

Wearily, his partner also watched the unknown objects pass by. The look on his face betrayed him.

Starsky knew he felt just as he did… completely lost. Trying to regain control of the situation, he turned to the thing he knew he was good at. Detective-mode kicked in. I don’t know what’s going on here, buddy. But I’m gonna find out. Resolutely, he stood up and headed toward the front of the bus. From one of the seats he picked up a discarded newspaper and went back. Keeping himself steady with one hand on the backrest of his seat he stood and read at the same time. What he saw made him sit down in shock. Not acknowledging the day or the month; it was the year leaping up at him in big fat letters: 2004.

“Hutch… the year. It’s two thousand and four.” Upset he put down the paper to look at his partner. “It’s two thousand and four!” He stopped his loud whispers at his friend’s non-responsiveness.

Hutch had sunk down further in the chair, his cheeks carrying a fevered glow. “Great, Starsk.” He tried to smile at his partner but obviously failed and gave up the attempt.

Dropping the paper in his lap, Starsky turned to touch his forehead. “You’re running a temperature,” he spoke worriedly. Damn, he’s too feverish, too fast. “As soon as we get back in town, we’ll have a doctor check you out.”

“D ‘you think there are still doctors in two thousand and four, Starsk?”

Watching the sign ‘Welcome to Bay City’ glide by, Starsky answered, “ Well, Bay City is still here. So no doubt Memorial will…” The breath caught in his throat as large constructions, skyscrapers and immense buildings, many gleaming with glass, rose into view. The city had expanded, was unrecognizably changed. He swallowed away the bile of fear now working its way up his throat. “… still be there,” he finished.

XXXXX

Chapter 7

“Well, Toto…” Jack smirked, surveying the surrounding woodland with a soldier’s eye. “I guess we’re not in Kansas anymore.” He hopped off the porch.

“Any idea where we are?” Daniel asked, emerging from the house.

“I think it’s a safe bet we’re probably somewhere in the Bay City area.” Upon seeing his linguist’s confusion, he explained, “It’s where Starsky and Hutch do their cop… thing.”

“Right, well I see no tire tracks… which means there is no car here. So we walk, huh?” Daniel started walking toward the dirt road that would take them down hill.

“Wait. Daniel!” Catching up, Jack ripped both the SG-1 and army insignia from his friend’s blue sleeve, then did the same with his own. “You can’t be too careful.”

“Guess we have to find ourselves a new outfit too.” Daniel spoke as they continued walking.

On his guard, Jack kept eyeing the dark undergrowth lining the path. “Yeah, we kinda stand out in these.”

“Have you thought about what to do once we find those cops?”

Jack glanced sideways. He hated decisions like these, but they had to be made. “If one of them is a Goa’uld, there’s only one thing to do, Daniel. You know that.”

“Kill it.”

“Before it kills us.”

Daniel nodded, “Well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. From what you told me and from what I saw in the mirror earlier those two seem pretty close. It might do more harm than good.”

Jack didn’t answer, knowing his friend was right. He’d seen enough of the show to know that if he took out one, the other would retaliate. The consequences of such an action could be dire.

Jack contemplated his options once more and came to the disturbing conclusion that letting a Goa’uld roam free in any reality was a bad idea. He had to make sure the alien creature didn’t escape. If it did, it could wreck havoc, which in turn would prevent them from ever getting home in one piece, assuming they were stuck in Starsky and Hutch’s reality. He had to protect his team members, in this case Daniel, and secure their way home. When it came down to it, forced to choose between the life of a television character and his own reality, no matter how real the cop seemed in this universe, his home turf took precedence.

And he would do everything… to save it.

XXXXX

Starsky led Hutch through the hospital’s electronic double door. The emergency room was full. Full of patients, full of noise and full of people too busy to notice them coming inside. Rows of plastic chairs lined the walls, randomly occupied by a variety of patients who were waiting their turn. Starsky’s attention was drawn to a large counter, taking up a wide space on the adjacent wall. He had been in emergency rooms often enough to know he should check in and calmly wait until an on-call doctor or nurse would be ready to see them. But ‘calm’ was a not a word he’d use to describe his state of mind right now.

“Starsk,” Hutch whispered.

Starsky tried to attract one of the nurse’s attention. She motioned him to a chair and told him she’d be with him in a minute. He turned toward his friend, “Yeah?”

“I think I’m gonna sit down right here.”

Worriedly, Starsky studied Hutch’s pale complexion and the faded shade of blue in his eyes. He noticed the shivers running down his partner’s arms and pressed his lips together in frustration. Right now he didn’t care where he was or how he got here, he just wanted his partner treated. This seemed more than just a dog bite.

Hutch sank down into one of the plastic chairs.

“Just hold on buddy,” Starsky spoke softly. He squeezed his partner’s shoulder and went for help.

Walking over toward the counter he grabbed the first nurse he came across. She looked at the hand rudely clasping her upper arm. Though Starsky couldn’t think of a reason why, the fierce look washing over her tanned features changed into a startled one of recognition when she met his eyes. If he’d ever met this nurse, he would have remembered. His memories, when it came to the female kind, were quite acute. She was small and slender with long hair as brown as Starsky’s own. On any other day, she would have charmed him, but now her obvious familiarity with him only confused him. “Listen, my friend is really sick. He needs help right away.”

The answer was not one he expected, “My God,” Her voice was riddled with shock. “You could be him.”

“Him? Him who?” Frustrated Starsky continued his effort, “Look lady, all day long people have been actin’ funny ‘round us. I’ve had it up to here with all the stares and whispers. I just want to get my partner treated.”

She looked at him in the most peculiar way. “You’ve even got his temper.”

Starsky refrained from forcefully dragging her over to Hutch. He let go of her arm and peered at her nametag pinned on her white coat. “Bonnie,” he tried to keep his voice calm. “Please take a look at him?”

Apparently she noticed his distress and nodded. Slightly relieved, he led her over to his partner.

She paled slightly upon setting eyes on the blond. Nevertheless, her voice sounded quite professional when she asked, “What happened?”

“It’s his leg, he’s been bitten,” Starsky answered before Hutch could utter a word.

“When?”

“A few hours ago.”

“Dog?” She knelt down to examine the bite mark on Hutch’s ankle. When she didn’t get a reply, she looked up at him and asked demandingly, “Was it a dog?”

“I uh…” Starsky hesitated not sure if it had been a dog. “Well, it was dark.”

Clearly unsatisfied, she shifted her eyes to Hutch.

“Probably a dog, ma’am,” Hutch answered, his voice unsteady.

There it was again: the slight shock washing over her features upon hearing his partner’s voice. She suppressed it quickly enough though. “Follow me into one of the small rooms at the back, and I’ll get you treated.” She grabbed Hutch’s hand and helped him up.

Hutch threw her a smile, making her soft cheeks blush a bright red.

Hmmpf, Starsky thought, watching the chemistry at work. Trust Hutch to get the girl, despite the fact that we’re lost, desperate and confused. He followed the two of them to a larger area near the counter, where a couple of doors marked a few secluded rooms. She opened the door to one of them and helped settle Hutch on the nearest bed. Then she gave Starsky some forms to fill out and proceeded to close the curtain on him.

Surprised, Starsky stared at the blue fabric hanging between him and Hutch. For a second he contemplated ripping the offending cloth out of the way. But there wasn’t much that could happen between Hutch and the nurse. Nothing bad anyway. Taking a deep breath, he resigned to fill out the form.

The sound of the curtain being ripped open made him look up. His eyes searched out his partner’s, badly needing the confirmation that Hutch was here… in one piece, even though there was no reason to suspect otherwise. If anything, his partner’s complexion had paled. He guessed the treatment the nurse had given him must have been quite painful. Hutch’s securing smile, nothing more than a slight twitch of his lip, didn’t put his mind his ease. He returned it with a soft smile of his own.

“So,” Bonnie said, cleaning up after having finished her administration. “I guess you’re here for the look-a-like contest?”

Starsky’s attention snapped toward her. “What?”

Bonnie closed a drawer and looked up. Innocent brown eyes met his. “The Starsky and Hutch look-a-like contest,” She explained casually.

Both men stared at her as if she’d turned into a green giant.

Hutch was the first to regain his voice. “The what?” He snapped.

The question caused her to frown. “You’re not…?”

Starsky shared a confused look with his partner. This is getting weirder all the time. “Okay.” He spoke, quelling the bitter bile of fear rising in his throat. “Why would anyone want to do a… a Starsky and Hutch contest.” His voice lowered in barely concealed threat. “And how come you know our names,” he hissed.

She stared at him. Obviously startled by his hostile reaction toward what she’d thought was a superficial question.

“Starsk.” Hutch soothed.

“No, I’ve had it up to here with this mysterious mumbo, jumbo.” Starsky slammed the form down on a table and walked over to the poor nurse. “Answer the question, how’d you know our names!”

She squeaked, helplessly, “Your names?”

Starsky pointed at himself, “Starsky.” Then at his friend, “Hutch.”

Smiling nervously, she said, “You’re joking, right?”

“Lady, I’ve never been so serious in my entire life,” Starsky retorted.

Her smile faded. “You can stop acting now. You’ve convinced me. You sure are the most convincing pair of look-a-likes I’ve come across so far.”

Hutch’s hand shot out, locking firmly around her arm. The surprise in her eyes was almost funny to watch as the blond spoke in a dangerous velvet voice. “We’re not acting.”

She tugged herself free. “Oh come on. What are your real names? Not the ones from the television show, but your real names?”

Starsky stared at her, “T.V. show?”

He could see she was losing her patience. “Yeah, T.V. show… in the seventies… buddy cop show.”

Looking at Hutch, Starsky could tell his partner felt as confused as he was.

“Bonnie,” Hutch said getting off the bed, “What’s the date?”

Busy cleaning up, she answered, “February the eighteenth.”

“The year?” Starsky asked carefully, hoping this was all a bad dream and the date on the paper he’d found in the bus was wrong.

She turned and cocked her head. “Two thousand and four.”

Starsky took a step closer toward Hutch.

His friend paled even more, but then took a deep breath and pulled himself together. “Can I be released?”

Bonnie nodded. “You can go.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

She tapped her nametag, “Actually, it’s ‘Doctor’, Mister… Hutchinson.”

He smiled.

Upon seeing her blush once again, Starsky just shook his head, then followed Hutch out of the emergency room.

XXXXX

Chapter 8

“Hello?”

Jack’s head perked up at hearing Major Samantha Carter’s voice through the phone. He figured they weren’t in the seventies when they found the card slot on the pay phone located at the turn off. They didn’t have card slots back then. Carter’s voice flooded him with instant relief, confirming that he and Daniel were indeed where they belonged in the year two thousand and four. “Carter! It’s me!” He greeted her joyfully.

There was a short silence in which Jack could hear the humming of a dozen computers in the background. No doubt Sam was in her lab at Stargate Command trying to figure out what happened to him and Daniel. “Colonel, where are you?”

“Bay City… I think.”

“Is Daniel with you?”

“Yes, we’re all right. Carter, just to verify that Daniel and me didn’t jump to another reality. We’re not married are we?”

“Nope.”

“I jumped through that mirror, right?”

“After the dog pulled Daniel in, yes Sir.”

“Hammond is still in charge?”

“Yep.”

“Teal’c’s still part of the team?”

“Very much so, Sir.”

“So, I guess it’s safe to assume Daniel and I are where we’re suppose to be?”

“I can’t be sure until I run some tests on you, but yes. From the sound of it, you merely transported over to Bay City and neither jumped through time nor reality.”

Jack turned in the small confines of the phone booth. Absentmindedly, he fumbled with the edges of Daniel’s inserted card, careful not to pull it out. “Okay, in that case we have a Goa’uld on the loose.”

“What?” She sounded shocked.

He explained about the sarcophagus they found in the cellar.

“I better go talk to General Hammond about this. Sir, if what you say is true we might have to close off Bay City.”

“Just… hold that thought, Carter. Give me a little more time. We don’t want to alert the Goa’uld that we’re on to him.”

“You think it might be inside either Starsky or Hutch, don’t you?” She guessed.

“It might. Look… let me track them down first. The dog’s here… somewhere, so it’s a safe bet they’re here too.”

“If they are, then the mirrors must have worked together to transport them to our time and place. Sir, they don’t belong here, and are in way over their heads.”

“Yeah, especially if one of them is playing host to a Goa’uld.”

“That doesn’t have to be the case, Colonel.”

“I know. At any rate, start working on a plan to get them home.”

“Can’t we just use both mirrors again to get them back to their own reality? It’s probably the way they got here in the first place.”

“Not really. I kinda… broke mirror number two.”

There was a slight pause. “Right, I’m on to it.”

“Anything else?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. Are you sure neither you nor Daniel got bitten by that dog?”

Jack’s eyes centered on Daniel who was pacing restlessly up and down the road. “Pretty sure, why?”

“I’ve analyzed the dog’s saliva we found on the floor of the briefing room.”

“And?”

“Sir, it’s not good.”

“And by that you mean…”

“Among other things I found traces of Mandrake root and thus a measurable amount of Atropa Belladonna.”

Jack didn’t have a clue what she was talking about, so he just repeated his first question, “And by that you mean…”

“Poison.”

“As in… the deadly kind?”

“I’m afraid so. There’s more, Sir. The saliva also contains chemicals that acts as a conductor.”

“A conductor? To what?”

“I’m still working on that.”

“Wait a minute, Carter. Didn’t one of the cops got bitten by that dog?”

“Hutch… The blond.”

Jack couldn’t help but brag slightly, “I know Hutch is the blond, Major.”

“It all depends on how much of it got into his system. Judging from what we’ve seen, the dog got him pretty good, so it’s safe to say a fair amount found its way in. You can tell by the change in eye color. Belladonna will darken the irises. Not taking into account the unknown variables such as the conductive chemicals-”

Jack was getting impatient. “Carter… just bottom line this for me, will you?”

“Detective Hutchinson will die within the next couple of hours, Sir.”

XXXXX

Hutch felt extremely tired. He had to concentrate to keep both feet on the ground. His head hurt, dizzy spells kept happening, and his stomach couldn’t decide whether it should empty its contents through his throat. Still limping, he walked across the busy emergency room toward the exit. They led to an anteroom where a pair of revolving doors led outside.

Apart from his physical ordeal Hutch also felt damn disorientated, as if he had trouble waking up from a dream. He felt like he’d taken ten rounds of roller coaster rides. He stopped walking when the solid walls of the anteroom suddenly started spinning and shivers of intense cold froze him in his steps.

“Hey.”

Hutch turned to stare at his partner, the only person in this world who felt real to him. Trying to answer the worried look his friend shot him, he only succeeded in getting more nauseous. He put an arm against the wall. Leaning forward, he closed his eyes to steady himself.

“Medicine’s not helping?” Starsky asked calmly, referring to the two pills Bonnie had made Hutch swallow earlier.

Without looking up Hutch shook his head, deeply inhaled and exhaled, and then swallowed a couple of times in an effort to get rid of the queasy feeling.

“I’ll go and get Bonnie.”

“No,” Hutch snapped. “No… just… stay here will ya?” He didn’t know why, but the thought of staying behind, alone, even if it was just a couple of minutes, scared the crap out of him. “Stay here,” he stated again, forcing his thoughts outward on his partner instead of on how miserable he was feeling. He looked up. Starsky’s eyes had softened. It always amazed Hutch how a man with Starsky’s hot temper and bursts of anger was capable of such peaceful quietness when it came to the ones he loved. It made him feel better and he regained some sense of balance. The room stopped spinning, his stomach settled down and the shivers stopped.

Starsky’s eyes never left him. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Nodding more firmly, “Yeah.” He took a deep breath. “Starsk,” he asked, turning around to lean against the same wall with his arms behind his back. “Where the hell are we?”

Intelligent blue eyes beneath dark curls drifted from Hutch over to the revolving doors. “I don’t know.”

“C’mon, Starsk. You’re the one who reads those magnificent believe-it-or-not books.”

“Well…” Starsky sighed as he stared at a normal door next to the revolving one. It opened automatically to let a man in an electric wheelchair enter. The man and his chair disappeared inside through the sliding doors. “Apparently, it’s the year two thousand and four.” He looked back at Hutch. “And there’s suppose to be this look-a-like contest based on a T.V. show… on us… back in the seventies.”

Hutch managed a smile, “I’m not so sure you’d win it, buddy. You look like hell.”

“Yeah,” Starsky laughed, then his smile faded.

Hutch sighed, “It doesn’t make much sense, does it?”

“Nope,” his partner agreed, “but sense or not, I’m hungry. Come on, I noticed a diner close by. Think you can make that?”

Hutch nodded. Pushing himself of the wall, he thought grimly, well, at least your stomach is still working.

XXXXX

Chapter 9

“I’m not taking the bus.”

It was suppose to be an adamant command decision. But the childlike whine in Jack’s voice, which Daniel picked up on, ruined that completely. The archaeologist rolled his eyes at the clouded sky overhead and waited. More was coming.

Sure enough Jack continued, “Look, it says the next one won’t be here for another… fifty five minutes!

Daniel stared at his friend who was standing next to the bus stop, pointing at the schedule pinned underneath the sign. “Okay, so what do you want to do. Walk?”

“For starters. Or we could hitch a ride with someone.”

“Nobody in their right minds would pick up two strange guys in the middle of nowhere.”

“Just go… ” Jack paused, looking to the left for a full second before turning abruptly to the right. “…That way. I think.”

Reluctantly, the archaeologist started to walk down the road, followed closely by Jack.

“Daniel, don’t you think it’s strange that the dog didn’t bite you?”

The question bothered the archaeologist too. “Yes, I’ve been thinking about that. From what Sam told us, this dog easily could have killed me. It was like he was holding back.”

Jack sounded incredulous. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but that implies a certain amount of intelligence.”

Deep in thought, Daniel tried to put the pieces together. “Didn’t you hear the voice?”

Clearly having lost Daniel’s trail of thought, Jack trotted up to his friend, falling in beside him. “Voice? Well… if you call all that growling a voi-”

“No, I mean a real voice,” Daniel interrupted, “Back in the briefing room. There was this English accent calling me by name. It said something like: ‘Well, well, well, Doctor Jackson.’ Like it was surprised to see me.”

“It?”

“The dog.”

“Daniel…” There was a slight pause. “You’re sure it didn’t bite you?”

“I’m not crazy, Jack.”

“Dogs don’t talk.” His friend emphasised.

Daniel barely heard him as his mind wandered back to the past, to the days he’d spent studying the history and mythology of countless ancient cultures. “Remember… when we first saw the dog in the quantum mirror?” He mused.

Jack answered sourly. “Unfortunately that particular moment is burned in my mind.”

“When it emerged, at first… it appeared to have three heads.”

“I thought Carter told us that was because the mirror had trouble getting a lock. It took a while before it was able to send us a proper picture.”

“It might’ve had trouble locking on, yes. That’s what we assumed. But what if it wasn’t the mirror? What if it was the dog itself?”

Jack just raised his eyebrow at him.

“There’s something unnatural about it, Jack. Its poisonous saliva alone proves its not a normal dog.”

“So what do you think it is?”

“A guard.”

Jack stopped walking. “To guard the sarcophagus?”

“Or the Goa’uld inside it. Yes. When it found the sarcophagus empty, it had to leave the basement to find the two persons it thought were responsible. Jack, if I’m right, we’re not the only ones on Starsky and Hutch’s trail.”

If this unrealistic scenario came as a surprise to Daniel’s commanding officer, it didn’t show. During their time working for the Stargate program, they’d both been through and had seen too much to act startled now. Jack’s glare conveyed careful acceptance. “I take it you already know what, or who this ‘dog’ is we’re dealing with?”

Daniel suppressed a grin. You know me too well. “Well, according to ancient mythology there’s this three headed dog guarding the gates to-“

“Will you get to the point?”

“The stories must have been based on something,” he mumbled, staring down at the road.

“Daniel!”

His head snapped up. “I think it’s Cerberus.”

Jack stared at him for two long seconds, then spoke, “You’re sayin’ I pissed off a Hellhound?”

Daniel nodded vigorously. “The Hellhound. There’s only one, Jack… That we know off,” he added quickly.

After another second of staring, Jack’s eyes started to twinkle. “Cool,” he said.

“Jack this is serious! If it’s as intelligent as I believe, Starsky and Hutch won’t stand a chance.”

“I know,” Jack said, all playfulness gone. “Come on, we better hurry.”

XXXXX

The diner was small, mainly serving coffee and sandwiches. In hindsight it was a diner they’d visited often in the past but now was unrecognizably changed. Hutch sat down in the far corner at a table located between a large plant and the wall. He shot his partner a surprised look when Starsky sat down next to him on the bench, instead of across from him. His glare didn’t make his friend budge, though.

“We oughta go back to that house, Hutch. Find some answers to what happened.”

“I lost my gun in there,” Hutch mumbled. Feeling extremely tired, he absentmindedly toyed with the menu card.

“Yeah, and I lost my car. Well, not lost it, if you think about it. We’re just twenty-five years into the future. The car’s probably still there, in nineteen seventy-six.”

Hutch stared at him, the card forgotten. “I’ve been wondering about that… I don’t think we’re just twenty-five years into the future.”

Starsky, one hand on the table and one hand on the backrest of the bench, sat back to listen.

“Think about it… about what Bonnie said. A seventies cop show?”

“So?”

“Starsk, apparently, we,” he pointed at the both of them, “are part of a television show that ran in the seventies.”

For a second Starsky’s face was devoid of all expression, then a wide grin began to spread. “Hey now that’s something else! Love to meet the actors… love to see the one who’s actin’ you, Blintz. I mean you’re not exactly-”

“Starsky!” Hutch interrupted him rudely. “Don’t you know what this means?”

His partner’s smile faded. “It means that not only are we twenty-five years into the future. We’re also twenty-five years in somebody else’s future. It means this isn’t our time, our place or our world. It means we’re lost and I don’t have a damn clue how we got here or how to get us back.”

Hutch stared at him, at the sparkling intelligence behind blue eyes, which never ceased to impress him. “Yeah,” he confirmed. “Yeah.”

“Hutch, I still think we oughta go back to that house.”

“I’m not going back there without backup.”

“There is no backup. We’re alone. We’re not even cops. I can get arrested for carrying my gun. There’s no Huggy and no Dobey.”

A rush of fear slithered up Hutch’s spine. No one they knew. No one who knew them. The city wasn’t their city anymore. The streets they’d known so well were gone. The short walk it took to get to the diner had proven very tiresome. Hutch had the constant feeling of living in a nightmare. Starsky was still Starsky, but he could tell the events were starting to affect his friend as well. “So what do we do?” he whispered.

“First things first,” Starsky said decidedly, snatching the menu from Hutch’s hands. “We eat. After that we go back to that house.”

XXXXX

Hutch ate… a bit.

The food was fine. It was a good thing their money still carried value, a good thing Starsky had a couple of hundred bucks in his pocket. He’d been scheduled to pay off Merle today, the mechanic who’d installed the new radio in his Torino, and had the extra cash in reserve as a result.

Hutch felt better after lunch. “Wanna grab a cab?” he asked, standing on the curb watching the streets in confusion. They looked so much busier than they had back in the seventies.

“Hutch, will you take a look at these cars!”

He eyed Starsky with suspicion. “You’re not enjoying this, are you?”

“Oh, come on. Aren’t you the least bit curious? Hey, maybe we could try and find Metro.”

“There is no Metro, Starsk. We’re a t.v. show.”

A car, looking incredibly futuristic with its sleek metallic outlining raced by. Honking the horn, the boys inside it screamed their names.

Starsky stared after them in notable shock. Then he turned and started to walk in the direction of Bay City’s boulevards and entertainment areas.

“Where are you going!” Hutch yelled.

His partner’s raised voice was barely audible above the traffic noise. “This ‘look-a-like contest’, Hutch. Bonnie said it’s held at a hotel near the theatre!”

“Starsk!”

People stopped walking to stare at them. Hutch cursed inwardly and hurried to catch up with his partner.

“If I remember correctly,” Starsky continued as soon as Hutch came into hearing range. “It’s not too far from here.”

“Starsky,” Hutch spoke, trying to make his point to his fast walking partner. “I just want to find out what happened. I’m not interested in seeing a whole bunch of Starsky’s right now! You’re a hand-full enough as it is.”

“How ‘bout a whole bunch of Hutchinsons?” Starsky stopped dead in his tracks at the frightening thought. He looked up. “Right, I see your point.” His attention drifted again for he mumbled, “I wonder who the judges will be?”

Hutch put his hands in his back pockets and gazed down the busy street. “I really don’t care, I-” He stopped when he noticed Starsky had gone out of hearing range once again.

“Hutch, would you take a look at that!” His partner’s excited voice came from up ahead.

Walking over, Hutch found him staring into a shopping window. It wasn’t hard to figure out why Starsky had gone from simply excited to plain love struck. The newest gadgets from television land were displayed for all to see: Color t.v.’s with large screens as big as a huge painting.

Hutch attempted to drag him away from the window. “Come on.”

For a second his friend seemed glued to the spot. After a deep sigh, he reluctantly complied. “Okay…” With drooping shoulders and a sparkle of excitement in his eyes, Starsky trailed after his partner. When they rounded a corner he asked, “What’s that smell?”

“Pollution,” Hutch answered. He looked up and, along with his partner, froze to a sudden standstill. The theatre was there all right. It had their names in neon signs all over it, together with what Hutch assumed were the lead actors.

All he could do was whisper, “Starsky, who the hell are Stiller and Wilson?”

XXXXX

Chapter 10

“Now what?” Daniel asked, watching their ride disappear down Bay City’s main street.

A real estate broker scouting Mandalay Hill for possible urban development had picked them up in a white sedan. The man, wearing a black business suit, seemed amused at finding them stranded alongside the road. Beneath black, curly bangs his inquisitive blue eyes sparkled playfully when he’d asked for an explanation.

“Car broke down,” was all Jack revealed.

Apparently, the answer satisfied their ride, either that or Curly was wise enough to stop asking questions because he brought them all the way back to Bay City without further word.

Now having been dropped off on the busy sidewalk, Jack turned to watch the shops on his left-hand side. “We should go get us some decent clothing.”

Daniel nodded. “Finding Starsky and Hutch will be easy enough, I suppose.”

“Yep, not too many men fit their descriptions. Finding them should be a piece of cake. Then we simply pick them up.”

“Jack, they’re not objects. We can’t just pluck them off the streets.”

His commanding officer stared at him for a moment, then stated, “They’re not real. It’s better for all of us if we get them out of here as soon as possible.”

“Not real to us, no. Not real on our plain of existence, but that’s not what it is like for them. Think about it Jack. If they actually live the lives of those two cops you hold in… in such high regard? Think of how they must feel right now. Think on how they will act when you come barging in with your gun drawn?”

He could see understanding dawning in his commander’s eyes. “All right, so we’ll be careful when we-”

“We have no right to treat them that way.”

Jack sighed in frustration, walked away and turned back again. “Daniel, you of all people should know there’s a bigger picture to keep in mind here.”

“Yes, I know that. And if one of ‘em turns out to be a Goa’uld you do what you have to do, but until then…” he hesitated. I’m not telling you anything new here. We’ve dealt with something like this before. Back then you accepted the reality from that other universe quite readily. Squinting he eyed Jack, noting his odd behaviour. The man seemed on edge. That wasn’t like him. “Why are you fighting me on this?”

Jack stared at him with an unreadable expression on his face. “Fine,” he said, clearly avoiding Daniel’s underlying concern. “We’ll do this your way.”

XXXXX

Starsky stared at the theatre’s billboards, his eyes large with disbelief. Beside him his partner looked equally stunned.

His initial shock passed and his face split into a wide grin. “Hey, you wanna go to the movies tonight?”

“That’s not funny, Starsk! That’s absolutely not funny!”

Energetically, Starsky started to make his way across the street, heading toward the theatre. “Come on, let’s check it out.”

His friend stayed put.

It took him a couple of seconds to realize Hutch hadn’t follow. Starsky turned. “Come on!”

“I’m not going in there! We need to find a way out of this mess, Starsk. Can’t you see how wrong this…” Hutch abruptly staggered backward against a shopping window.

Already halfway across the street, Starsky instantly felt his enthusiasm drain, leaving a cold sense of worry. He quickly made his way back through honking traffic. Finally reaching the sidewalk, he went to hover over his partner. “Hutch, are you okay?” He supported his friend into a more or less upright position. “Hey, Hutch!”

“Yeah, I’m all right. I’m just so damn tired all the time.”

Starsky looked around and spotted a large hotel at the end of the street, probably the one where the contest was being held. “D’you think you can walk over to that hotel?”

Hutch peered down the street. “We can’t afford a room in there, Starsk.”

“You worry about walking, I worry about the room ‘kay?”

Hutch nodded, obvious feeling too tired to fight him on this.

XXXXX

Although pollution clouded the scent of his query, the man he’d bitten was easy to follow. However, finding his way through the humans’ settlement turned out to be a lot harder. Confused, Cerberus sat down on his butt to watch Memorial’s entrance from across the street. A hospital! My, my, how society has progressed. It won’t do the blond any good though.

This could pose a problem. He doubted he could stroll into Memorial without attracting attention. After all, his outward appearance was still one of a large black Rottweiler and to the best of his knowledge, dogs weren’t allowed in hospitals. Sitting still for a few minutes he studied the people walking in and out, his ears twitching as he attempted to adjust to the higher sound level in the city. He picked up voices, but nothing of any interest to him. A breeze grazed his nostrils. Instinctively, he threw his nose in the air and was promptly gripped by three loud sneezes. Each consecutive one worse than the last.

Dammit, Cerberus! Mind the pollution. Keep your sensitive nose on the ground! How many times do I have to remind myself! Nose on the….

His thoughts halted when the afternoon air suddenly carried a familiar scent of sweat and blood. Careful not to make the same mistake twice, Cerberus kept his nose close to the pavement trying to determine where the scent would lead him.

Close.

The two men… the blond he’d chased and the brunet, they were close. He looked back over his shoulder at the direction he’d come from. Doctor Jackson and his friend weren’t far behind. If he played his cards right, they’d all walk into his trap tonight. With any luck he’d kill four birds with one stone.

His master would be pleased.

Good.

XXXXX

Starsky led Hutch through the huge revolving doors of a well lit lobby, lushly covered with red carpet. Leather armchairs and comfortable beige sofas were scattered spaciously throughout the wide hall of the Sheridan hotel. Some of them were occupied.

Sitting close to the doors, a couple watched them enter. As he put Hutch down on the nearest sofa, Starsky heard the young girl whisper elatedly to her boyfriend. “Wow, they sure look like them. These could be the winners.”

Ignoring the annoying couple, Starsky focused a worried look on his partner. “I’m gonna try and arrange us a room.” Hutch gave him a tired glance. Ocean blue eyes had changed to midnight blue. Starsky looked startled at his partner’s darkened irises, struggling to keep his fright from showing. Hutch’s eyes looked normal back at the hospital, albeit a bit pale. He was sure of that. “Are you gonna be all right here for a while?”

Hutch nodded, his face looking pale as he sank back into the cushions of the comfortable couch. Starsky could tell that his partner wasn’t acknowledging his surroundings at all.

“Hurry up,” Hutch replied hoarsely.

Remembering his friend’s reluctance to be left alone a few hours ago, Starsky squeezed his shoulder. “Hang in there, buddy.” He turned, giving the madly whispering couple a deadly stare.

They stopped talking, freezing on the spot beneath the brunet’s cold glare.

Darting past them, Starsky headed for the reception area on the far side of the lobby. He looked back over his shoulder and noticed the couple had resumed their whispers. Luckily, they left Hutch alone. His eyes locked onto his partner who sat slummed on the sofa. With one elbow leaning on an armrest and his hand supporting his head, Hutch didn’t look so good. Starsky’s view of him was blocked when he encircled a large palm decorating the centre of the lobby.

He reached the front desk.

The girl in charge of reception –Julia, judging by her nametag- was neatly dressed in the hotel’s colors of red and dark blue. Looking at a small screen, which function Starsky could only guess at, she droned with a carefully made up smile, “Welcome to The Sheridan, sir. How may I help you?” She looked away from the screen, her large brown eyes settling on him.

Before Starsky could start the speech he intended to throw at her, using a considerable amount of charm, Julia added, “Oh, you must be here for the look-a-like contest. We have a room reserved for you.” She ducked and disappeared beneath the counter. Surfacing again, she presented him with a room key.

“Uh, thanks…” Starsky managed to say, unable to believe his good fortune. “What do I owe you?”

Julia gave him a quizzical look. “These rooms are all paid for by the network sponsoring the contest, off course. Just sign here.”

“Off course.” Too baffled to say anything more, he signed using an alias and headed back to his partner. On his approach, the soft talking couple once again fell silent. He frowned when he noticed Hutch had fallen asleep, his head still resting on his arm. “Hey Hutch,” he kept his voice low, making sure the boy and girl couldn’t hear him.

Hutch raised his head.

“Come on, pal. I’ve got us a room.” Starsky grabbed his friend by his arm and pulled him up, then proceeded to drag him over to the elevators. A few minutes later he opened the door of a luxurious hotel suite. He didn’t really pay much attention to the room. For now, all he noticed was the thick beige carpet, the two large beds, and the smell of a fresh breeze coming from two wide open French doors across from him. He settled his friend down on one of the beds.

Hutch immediately fell asleep.

Worried, Starsky stared at him. Taking in a deep breath, he tore his eyes away from his friend and walked over to the French doors. Before closing them, he looked down on the busy traffic. In 1976 he’d known this area like the back of his hand. But now the foreign street below might as well be located in a city he’d never visited, like Houston or Denver. Grimly he watched the people going about their business three floors down.

Hutch is getting sicker by the minute. He’s right. We have to get out of here. Despite Starsky’s excited behaviour earlier, which he mainly kept up as a front for Hutch, the feeling of being at the wrong place in the wrong time became ever pressing, pushing all other awareness aside. And since his friend was out of commission for a while, he knew it was up to him to find some answers.

XXXXX

Chapter 11

“I guess now we know why that store clerk thought we were joking,” Jack remarked dryly.

Once they had changed into a couple of jeans and black shirts, the storeowner had laughingly obliged them with the info they wanted. They were bound to find what they were looking for at the Sheridan hotel.

Evening had fallen and both SG-1 members were standing in front of a bulletin board inside Sheridan’s main hall. Jack looked up, eyeing his friend who read the announcement out loud with his hands buried in his pants’ pockets. The board occupied a quiet corner next to the elevators.

“The Starsky and Hutch look-a-like contest, Saturday 7-9 P.M., Lincoln hall.”

“That’s tonight.” Jack concluded.

Daniel pursed his lips mockingly. “That means lots of guys fitting their description, Jack.”

“I know.”

“Lots and lots,” his archaeologist kept pointing out.

“Daniel-”

His friend interrupted him. “So, what do we do? Pick ‘em all up?”

Jack smirked and walked away. At least the chances of finding them had increased significantly.

Behind him, Daniel asked surprised, “Where are you going?”

Jack pivoted on his heels. “Oh, just checking out the check in. You comin’?”

XXXXX

The water felt cool to his skin as Starsky splashed luscious amounts of it on his face. The liquid woke him up, made him feel whole again. He turned to lean against the marble basin, wiping his face with a soft beige towel. His eyes fell on the printed word ‘Sheridan’ embroidered in one corner of the cloth. He shook his head in incomprehension. This bathroom was twice as large as his back home. Its main feature was a tremendous whirlpool and a shower cabinet with multiple showerheads.

It wasn’t like him to despair. Optimistic as he usually was, he always managed to find solutions when need be, and when answers weren’t readily available, he found it best to simply go with the flow. Only this time the flow was murky. The racing rapids ran as if heading toward a waterfall. He was tossed around in the stream; the current doing its best to pull him and his partner under. Gaining some sort of control, meant he should go and do some investigating, but that also meant leaving Hutch behind. A bad idea, or so his gut feeling kept telling him.

A bout of dizziness caught him off guard. Staggering, Starsky covered his face with his hands when a sense of vertigo hit him. Nausea rose like it had back in the bus. Back then, he’d thought it was caused by fear. What if I’m having whatever ailment Hutch is having?

Nah, it can’t be. I’m not the one who got bitten. Besides, he didn’t feel feverish. In an attempt to pull himself together, he squeezed his eyes shut.

Leaning against the basin, Starsky waited for the nausea to leave his system.

XXXXX

His dreams were a blur of nightmarish images of fire, of gaping holes and monstrous fangs. Someone tugged at his heartstrings and gradually Hutch regained consciousness. “Starsky?’ He croaked in a voice barely more than a whisper.

“Yeah, I’m here.” The soothing answer came from somewhere close by.

After a few blinks, Hutch opened his eyes. A wet cloth touched his forehead. He wiped it away, focussing on his partner sitting on the bedside.

Starsky gave a faint smile. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he answered in reflex, his mind clearing.

Putting the cloth down, his friend spoke worriedly, “How are you feeling?”

Pondering the question, Hutch’s attention drew inward for a moment. “Better, I think.” He did feel pretty well. Energized and not nearly as sick anymore. “How long was I out?” He sat up with a grunt.

“A couple of hours. It’s early in the evening.”

Hutch looked around the luxurious suite. There were two large beds, one of which he occupied. To his left was an aged wooden desk next to two large French doors leading onto a small balcony. On his right side, apart from Starsky’s bed, a large closet occupied most of the space. A comfortable couch and a small coffee table completed the interior. It wasn’t unlike any other hotel room he’d ever been in except for the small screen and keyboard located on a smaller desk next to the bathroom door in front of him. “I’d hoped it was all a bad dream.”

“Yeah, I know the feelin’. The good news is that your fever broke.” Starsky jumped off the bed and headed for a cart near the foot of his bed. “Feel like eatin’ something?” His partner removed a couple of silver colored lids from a tray on top of the cart. To Hutch’s surprise the tray contained an assortment of food.

“Starving.” He smiled, sitting up straighter.

Rolling the cart near Hutch, Starsky nudged, “Go ahead, knock yourself out. I’ve already had some.” There were fruit, pastries, assorted vegetables and potatoes, and even three different fruit juices to choose from.

Although Hutch wasn’t up to eating much, he decided to put on a good show for his partner. The relief oozing from Starsky when he actually ate something was worth the extra effort. Now if only he could keep the grub inside his stomach for a while.

Valiantly he loaded some applesauce and mash potatoes on a white dinner plate carrying the Sheridan’s symbol along its rim. Settling in to eat, Hutch suddenly noticed that Starsky, who had sat down on his own bed, stared quietly at him. Their gazes met briefly. It was enough for Hutch to know Starsky felt lousy, perhaps even sick. His partner looked pale, or was that his imagination? “What’s the matter?” He asked casually.

His friend sounded deceptively calm, “I need to go out Hutch. Find some answers.”

Worried that his partner’s purposefully misinterpreted the question, Hutch decided to play along. He took a bite of a luscious red apple before stating in a muffled voice, “If you wanna go, go.”

“You sure you don’t mind stayin’ here on your own?”

Yeah. Yeah he did. It scared the crap out of him. The luxurious suite was nothing more than a golden cage in which he felt trapped and barely able to breathe. Although the fever and nausea were gone, the shivers were still there as were the dizzy spells.

However, studying his partner’s eyes, Hutch could tell Starsky desperately needed to do something in order to keep his sanity. It certainly would make his friend feel better. So, he said, “It’s not too bad here. I got me a nice room, good food. I’ll manage for a while. Go.” Making a shooing motion, he added.” Find some damn answers.”

Taking a deep breath, his friend jumped off the bed. “Are ya sure you’re all right?”

“Starsky.”

His friend smiled weakly, probably uncertain whether or not he was doing the right thing by leaving for a few hours. “Okay. Just… keep the door locked.”

“Yes, mum.”

Ignoring the pun, his partner grabbed his jacket, walked to the door and opened it. He turned. “Hutch… when I get back…”

Hutch bit his lip, watching him. For a few seconds they just stared at each other. A strange feeling choked him. One of being left behind, of fear, of foreboding, but he squashed it. And he knew Starsky did the same. “When you get back, we’ll go home,” he finished.

Starsky nodded and closed the door behind him.

XXXXX

Standing behind the check in counter Julia looked at Jack as if he’d lost his mind.

Daniel couldn’t blame her.

Jack tried again, “Has anyone registered who you’d think looked the most like them? One blond, one curly?” A thought seemed to enter his mind. “One might be limping.” At the receptionist’s blank expression he added, “Look, if they’re smart, they wouldn’t register as Starsky and Hutch, they would use undercover names on the register form. How about Rafferty and O’Brien or… Night and Day? No? Hack and Zack?”

Daniel shook his head in bemusement at Jack’s familiarity with the show. He must have loved it to remember these names so well.

The smile surfacing on Julia’s pretty face was one of suppressed irritation more than it was politeness. “I’m not at liberty to divulge such information, sir.”

“Oh for cryin’ out loud. Daniel, give her your ID.”

Diplomacy had never been Jack’s strong point and right now his friend was in dire need of saving. Daniel gave him a stern look, upon which the Colonel took a step back, and then pulled his airforce ID from his wallet.

Having given the thing a thorough check, Julia looked up. Ignoring Jack completely she inquired, “What can I do for you, Doctor Jackson?”

He pointed at a book placed on the counter and asked innocently, “Can I have a look at your register, please?”

“Well, certainly, Doctor.” She slid the red book under his nose. When Jack moved in for a closer look, she glared at him and then moved off to assist a businessman waiting in line.

Daniel pretended not to notice and focused on the small writing in the book. “Jack, only two guests registered today,” he pointed out. “A mister Night… and Day.” He looked up incredulously.

“That’s them,” Jack stated. “What room?”

“302”

XXXXX

“You’ve got five minutes, Daniel.” Jack flashed five fingers into his linguist’s face. In the past he would have barged into that room to find out by brute force whether either Starsky or Hutch was a Goa’uld; he had the authority and the capacity to do so. In the past he hadn’t cared too much about the overall picture, only about accomplishing goals and getting his team out alive. Of course, that was back before he met Daniel. “Five, to try and talk to them. After that I’m taking them in.”

Making sure his Beretta was within easy reach, Jack lifted a hand to knock on the white door with the gold plated ‘302’ nailed on it.

His archaeologist had just given him an affirmative nod when the door suddenly opened.

“Hutch… when I get back…”

That voice! He recognised it from television. It was Starsky’s.

Coming from inside the room, someone finished Starsky’s sentence. It sounded like Hutch. These are the right guys, all right. Not wanting to get caught in the hallway, Jack pushed Daniel to the far end of the corridor whispering urgently, “Go. Go.”

They rounded a corner and Jack chanced a peek back. Starsky left the room and headed for the elevator. “They’re splitting up.” Great… now what?

Answering Jack’s unspoken question, Daniel spoke softly, “Stay with him. I’ll try talking to the other one.”

Jack snapped his head back at his linguist. “And leave you here with a possible Goa’uld? Think again.”

“Jack, we need to talk to them anyway. You know that. Nothing will happen. At the first sign of trouble I’ll bail out.”

There was a short silence. Jack knew his friend. Daniel was headstrong and would go on trying to save the blond even if Hutch was taken as a host.

“You’re gonna lose the brunet.” Daniel pointed out.

The only reason he was about to agree was because over the years he’d learned to trust in his friend’s diplomatic abilities. “All right, all right.” Jack pressed the Beretta into Daniel’s hand and reluctantly walked off.

“I don’t need…”

Waiting at the elevator, Jack commanded, “At the first sign, Daniel!”

The nod he got in return did nothing to relieve his worries. Reluctantly, Jack stepped inside the elevator.

“Good luck.” Daniel spoke aloud.

“Yeah…” Jack retorted worriedly. Then the elevator doors closed. As the cart moved down he finished softly, “You too.”

Chapter 12

As soon as Starsky closed the door behind him, Hutch pushed away his plate. Fighting to keep the food inside, he took a couple of deep breaths and sat unmoving for a few seconds, not really seeing anything.

A knock on the door startled him out of his stupor. In reflex he reached for his Magnum but it wasn’t there. Worse, Starsky had taken the Beretta. Don’t act so on edge, Hutchinson. It’s probably room service returning for the cart. “Just a moment!” When he’d fallen asleep on the bed, Starsky had removed his footwear, but otherwise had left him fully clothed. He swung his feet over the bedside, put on his socks and shoes and straightened his blue shirt.

Another knock.

“Yeah, Yeah, I’m coming.” As he unsteadily hopped over to the door, he grabbed one of the kitchen knifes from the food tray. Can’t be too careful these days.

Just as Hutch reached for the handle, someone ruthlessly kicked the door in from the other side. It slammed into his upper chest, the impact knocking all the air out of his lungs and throwing him sideways. He collided with the sofa where his hand broke the fall, causing him to drop the knife. A throbbing pain shot into arm, temporarily immobilizing him. Struggling to breathe he gripped it in agony.

Having regained his senses, Hutch looked up into the muzzle of a gun. His eyes shifted from the arm and chest area -his attacker wore a black business suit- to the man’s face; The close cropped black hair and bronzed complexion betrayed the man’s Middle Eastern’s forefathers. In that regard, the stale blue eyes, which gave the guy a cold and dangerous aura, seemed out of place. The features rang a bell. They fit the description of the guy he and Starsky had set out to find in the first place: Rodney Templeton.

The ice blue eyes suddenly flashed a bright yellow. Hutch blinked, not too sure if he’d seen that right.

“Where is he?” Rodney’s voice sounded off key, low and distorted.

Hutch blinked again, uncertain if this man was looking for his partner. Feigning ignorance, he bit back with a question of his own, “Where’s… who?”

“Doctor Jackson.”

Not Starsky then. Confused, he stated between one painful breath and the next, “Don’t know who you’re talking about.”

The man leaned in, pressing the gun against Hutch’s chest. “Don’t play games with me. I dropped him and his friend off and then followed him all the way up to this room. His friend left. I’ve been waiting for this moment. He’s here. Alone.”

The low voice had an echo to it.

Yep, definitely a larynx problem.

Hutch shifted his position slightly, hoping Rodney wouldn’t notice. To distract him, he started to say, “Search the room if you don’t believe-.” Unexpectedly, he kicked hard with both legs, knocking his attacker off his feet. Hutch’s injured ankle screamed in protest as he jumped on top of Rodney to get the gun. He grabbed Templeton’s wrist, pinning it and the weapon to the ground. Sitting on top of the man, he looked into his eyes, which unexpectedly flashed bright yellow again; simultaneously a low unnatural growl resonated from Templeton’s throat.

An iron grip latched onto his upper arm. Rodney easily lifted him with his free hand and violently threw him off like a rag doll. He crash-landed into the desk near the French doors, several feet away, the furniture breaking apart on impact. Groggily, he lay paralysed between what was left of the wooden desk, astonished at the man’s strength.

Templeton squatted in front of the rubble, prodding him with the gun. “You,” he spoke way too calmly, “Cannot hope to defeat me.”

Hutch moaned, unable to move. He tried to regulate his breathing but had to work hard to get some air inside. Panicking slightly, he concluded that the damn dog-bite was as much to blame for this as the fall he just took.

Rodney’s thin lips parted in a cruel smile. “You might as well tell me now where Doctor Jack-”

“I’m right here.”

Squinting, Hutch discerned a dark blond man, about his age standing behind his attacker. This new player wasn’t joking as he aimed a Beretta at Rodney’s head. Doesn’t look much like a Doctor to me. Hutch thought wearily.

Templeton looked over his shoulder, then turned back to Hutch and smiled. “You might as well drop the gun, Doctor Jackson. You know what will happen if you shoot me.”

Jackson’s voice sounded steady. “I know what will happen if I don’t.”

That doesn’t sound too good. Hutch thought, then let out a soft cry as feeling returned to his extremities. He tried to get up and painfully discovered that his right arm stopped working all together. All he managed to do was lift himself slightly off the floor with his left hand.

Rodney’s face betrayed his amusement. He lifted a finger and Hutch felt a sharp sting as the man ran a nail down his cheek, drawing blood that dripped down his chin. Templeton suddenly hissed and snapped back his hand. “You bear his mark! You’re tainted!

Hutch snarled, “What mark?” He defiantly peered around Templeton to catch Doctor Jackson’s eye. “Look, if you could just explain what you two mean by-”

“It means,” Rodney interrupted, gripping Hutch’s chin and rudely turning his face back in his direction, “The damn hound got to you. Your body is of no use to me as a host. So now I’m forced to kill you.” Hutch froze as Templeton put the gun against his temple.

“NO!” Jackson took a step closer.

“Then drop the gun, Doctor.”

So that’s what this is all about. Rodney wants Jackson here. Sweat trickled down Hutch’s forehead, both from pain and exhaustion as he thought, just one major flaw in his big plan though. There’s no reason at all why the Doc here should comply. I’ve never seen the man before in my life! Why should he care whether I live or die?

Jackson’s eyes showed no uncertainty as he kept pointing his weapon at Rodney’s head and took a step closer.

Whoever he is, he’s holding the Beretta in a professional grip. He’s done this before.

Templeton took off the safety. “You’ve got five seconds before I blow his head off. NOW DROP IT!”

Jackson hesitated, shooting Hutch a calculating look as if not sure if he was worth lowering his defenses for or not. Intelligence shone behind blue eyes as the man tried to assess him. All Hutch could do was stare back at him.

“I take it you’re Hutch?” Jackson suddenly asked.

Hutch looked at him in surprise.

“Hi, I’m Doctor Jackson. But you can call me Daniel.”

Rodney increased the painful pressure on the gun against his temple. “Your decision, Doctor!”

Hutch closed his eyes as Templeton’s off key voice added an unreal dimension to his already befuddled mind. God, how he hated this helplessness. If only he could move, but his body refused to co-operate. Then he heard something falling on the ground. He looked up to notice with relief that this ‘Daniel’ had dropped the gun.

Rodney’s face twisted with crude satisfaction. “A wise choice, Doctor. Now…” He suddenly turned on his heels, changing his target from Hutch to the man who just saved his life. Jackson backed off as Rodney slowly stood up. “Tell me…” He took the few steps that separated him from Daniel, who quickly put his hands up in surrender. “Where is the Stargate?”

“The what?” Both Hutch and Daniel replied at the same time.

To Hutch’s surprise Rodney casually tucked his gun inside the front of his pants. Before either of them could make a move, he caught Jackson by his throat. As easily as he’d thrown Hutch off earlier, he pushed his victim backward and pinned him against the wall.

Daniel’s hands locked onto Rodney’s arm, gripping it in a desperate attempt to get air into his lungs.

“The Stargate, Doctor Jackson.”

“I… don’t … know.” Daniel’s eyes grew hard, stubborn: a telltale sign of a man who had been through much and managed to come out alive. If Hutch were any judge of character, this guy would rather die than talk.

Years of interrogating suspects, of reading a criminal’s mind had taught Hutch the tricks of the trade. He could tell when people were lying, and that Jackson knew very well what his attacker was talking about. Whether or not his motivation to lie was an honorable one remained to be seen. He didn’t read any dishonesty in those eyes, though, just a deep faith and a hint of tiredness. So… no criminal then. Maybe he has ties with the government? That made sense. ‘The Stargate’ could be the name of some sort of project.

“Don’t be a fool, Doctor. You don’t want to die, do you?” Rodney squeezed a bit harder.

“Been… there. Done… that.” Daniel wheezed and started sliding down the wall, held up only by Templeton’s iron grip.

From his position on the floor, Hutch saw Jackson gasping for air. Get up, Hutch. GET UP. Fighting the urge to sleep, he scrambled onto his knees, not understanding where this overwhelming exhaustion came from; it felt like his body simply refused to wake up. In a daze of pain, he watched Daniel fighting a losing battle. I wonder who he is? If he has family, friends? Trying to move quickly, Hutch managed to stand up on both his feet.

Even so, he seriously doubted he would be on time.

XXXXX

Starsky hesitated.

Not only because he kept bumping into people who bore an uncanny resemblance to him or Hutch, but also because he just stumbled onto a stall near the elevators that held all kinds of ‘Starsky and Hutch’ merchandise: from cups, to plates, to perfect replica’s of his Torino. Under the watchful eye of the flirtatious saleslady, he picked up one of the cars. It was surprisingly heavy and complete in every detail, down to the wire connecting the mars-light on top to the dashboard. By now subtle slivers of fright had replaced his childlike amazement.

This wasn’t funny anymore.

Feeling trapped in one of those Stephen King books he put the car down. Answers, I need some damn answers. Not acknowledging the saleslady presence, he backed away from the stall, turned and headed through the main hall, straight outside.

There he paused.

A soft breeze touched his face. Starsky stood well within the warm, yellow illumination of Sheridan’s entrance. Evening had turned on a festival of light in the busy street and he took a moment to let its alien appearance sink in. His attention drifted upward and he took the few steps needed to clear the elaborate portico. He was awarded with a clear view of the hotel, and after a short search, found the window of the room he and Hutch occupied. The light behind it beckoned him to come back.

Disregarding the sudden pull to turn around and head back upstairs, Starsky started to walk. He had a vague idea of where he should go first. In his ‘Bay City’, the side entrance to the library wasn’t far off. Assuming the lay out of the streets were rudimentary the same, he knew just the short cut to get there.

XXXXX

Hidden in the darkness the Hellhound watched the detective go. As swift as a snake he followed, staying close to the walls, merging with the blackness the moonless evening provided. When Starsky turned into a small empty street lined with garbage containers, Cerberus knew the time had come.

Ready to pounce, he crept closer.

Chapter 13

Daniel recognized his attacker as the real estate broker, who had given him and Jack a ride to Bay City in his white sedan. All this time we looked for the Goa’uld, we were sitting right next to him in the car. The hand encased his throat, solid as concrete. He panicked when his efforts to gain some precious oxygen were in vain. Fright turned into that wonderful daze of non-feeling. Gasping, he floated away on white mists, on peaceful memories that beckoned him to follow. He longed for them, for the escape. It would be so easy…

Too easy.

He’d been down this road before, followed it all the way to the end. Only to find out it wasn’t worth the pain he’d put his friends through. So he fought where others might have given up. Resisted the pull toward non-existence.

Fought… and failed.

He slipped into darkness.

So close now.

Then the grip on his throat fell away. He sucked in the fresh life-giving air and sank to the ground as his legs were unable to hold him upright. Rubbing his sore windpipe, Daniel looked up to find the blond cop standing over the unconscious man. Apparently, Hutch had knocked him out with Jack’s Beretta, which Daniel had dropped a moment ago.

“Thanks,” Daniel croaked. “I owe you one.”

Hutch looked up, while emptying Beretta and throwing it on the bed. “I don’t know who you are, but for starters you could give me an explanation.”

“Yeah, okay. But first…” Daniel took in a couple of long deep breaths then waved with his hand at the fallen Goa’uld. “You better tie him up. He won’t be out for long,” he suggested.

“Listen, Doc.”

“Daniel.” With a grunt he put his legs underneath him and stood up using the door as support.

Ignoring the correction, Hutch went on. “That knock would render an elephant unconscious. Trust me, I know how to-”

Their supposedly unconscious attacker suddenly shot upright and gained his footing.

Before Daniel could react, he was knocked out of the way.

The Goa’uld made a run for the door and disappeared through the opening.

“We can’t let him get away!” Daniel shouted, and reached for the doorknob.

“Yes, we can.”

“You don’t understand, it’s dangerous. It can-”

“Look, buddy! I’ve been threatened, bitten, shot at, poked at, thrown across the room and I don’t like it!”

“Bitten… Right.”

“What?”

Puzzled, Daniel observed the blond. “I don’t mean to scare you or anything, but that bite contained a poison... A potentially lethal one.”

Hutch’s eyes went wide. “How the hell d’ you know what bit me?” he snapped.

Finding it hard to give the detective an explanation that made sense, Daniel hesitated to reply.

Obviously figuring that waiting for an answer was a luxury he couldn’t afford right now, Hutch asked quickly, “Never mind. How long do I have?”

“Not long. An hour at most.” He expected the detective to be shocked by the news. Instead, Hutch limped toward him, visibly determined.

“I’m not easily scared, and when I am, you don’t want to be around,” Hutch threatened. “Now I want the full story and since, according to you, I don’t have that much time left, I’d rather have the truth sooner than later!”

“The dog that bit you was located down in the cellar of an abandoned house close to Bay City, right?” Daniel explained, trying not to show the intimidation worked.

He held up his hands when Hutch opened his mouth to say something. “Don’t ask me how I know you were there. Anyway that’s not the point. The point is that after you got out of that place, the ‘dog’ managed to get up on the landing and escape the house. After it pulled me through the mirror. I still can’t figure out why it didn’t kill me. “I have a hunch it probably went after you.”

Hutch backed off and sank down on the bed. “Now why would it do that? Once out of the house it could have gone anywhere. If it escaped like you said, it probably went scavenging for food.”

“This is a highly intelligent uh… creature. It’s not a normal dog. I believe that once it has tasted blood, in this case yours, it will go after you or anyone carrying your scent.”

Hutch’s head shot up. “What?!” Daniel was startled by the fierce protectiveness suddenly burning in the blond’s eyes. “You’re saying it could be after Starsky, right now!”

Daniel nodded. “Don’t worry. A friend of mine is-” He would have said more, but Hutch, as sick as he must feel, was already out the door.

XXXXX

Jack walked carefully between the various bookcases and through the narrow isles the stacks of books created. You gotta hand it to the man, he thought, trying to locate Starsky’s whereabouts. He sure knows his way around. Who’d ever thought that door was a side entrance to the largest library in town? Trouble was, the moment he’d followed him inside, he’d lost the cop when the man disappeared behind the checkout counter into a large public area. The spacious hall was filled with bookcases and the little crooks and crannies librarians loved so much.

Good thing Daniel isn’t with me. He’d have a field day in here! Jack stopped on a crossroad of isles. He was sure Starsky had headed off to this section housing ‘local history.’ A smart move, he would have done the same in his place: try to find out more about that freakin’ house on the hill. Finding himself all the way in the back and down some stairs inside a half lit secluded part of the library, Jack listened quietly for footsteps.

Nothing… just rows and rows of dusty books that hadn’t been moved in ages. He took a left turn and passed his hand over the numerous covers, barely able to make out their titles in the soft lighting: ‘Bay City in Pictures,’ ‘From Harbour to Business Heaven,’ ‘BCPD, An Insider’s View,’ ‘Local Alien Sightings.’ He couldn’t help but reach out for that one.

A click made him freeze his hand around the black binding. He straightened when someone pressed a gun between his shoulder blades.

Starsky spoke threateningly low in his ear, “Why are you following me?”

In these cases, denial was usually the best strategy. “Following? I’m just doing some research-”

“Cut the crap, pal. You’ve been on my tail ever since I left the hotel!” Starsky interrupted him. “And I wanna know why,” he hissed angrily.

Usually…the best strategy. Yeah, right. To Jack, Starsky wasn’t real. He was a part of a story, created by a money-driven power to entertain the masses. He kept forgetting that this Starsky was a force to be reckoned with; one of the best detectives in his field and not some stuffed up actor playing a part. Cursing for letting himself get caught off guard by someone that dangerous, he decided to tell the truth. “Name’s O’Neill.” Without asking for permission he turned around to look straight into Starsky’s eyes. “Colonel Jack O’Neill.”

In the dim light, Starsky narrowed his eyes. “Army?”

“Airforce.”

Silence.

Jack waited, observing Starsky’s reaction, searching for a sign of a Goa’uld hidden behind the man’s damp features. The detective looked ill.

Starsky took a step back, but kept his hands, white knuckled and sweaty, locked steady around his gun. “What’s the military gotta do with all this?”

Jack raised his hands a little. “Well… It’s kinda complicated. I can get ya home. If that’s what you want to hear.”

“Why should I trust you?”

“For one thing I know you’re not feeling well… Nauseous?” He took a step forward.

“Stand back!” Starsky shouted rigidly. He had to lean against the sturdy bookcase to reinforce his command.

Jack had no doubt that despite his lack of health, the man was perfectly capable of shooting him or at the very least rendering him immobile. Wisely, he stopped walking. “For another,” he started to explain, deducting at the same time that Starsky wasn’t the Goa’uld they were looking for. These creatures were ridiculously healthy and made sure their host’s body remained that way too. “There are worse things on your tail than a military officer who doesn’t really like talkin’ to begin with. Can’t we just skip this whole conversat-”

“Like what?” Starsky interrupted him, slightly lowering his gun.

“Excuse me?”

“What else is after me… us?”

“Well, there’s… things.” Jack really had no way of explaining, without sounding like a lunatic.

“Things?”

“Yeah. Things, like-”

A growl, so low it shook the wooden floor, vibrated through the dusty air.

Startled, Jack whipped around. Floorboards creaked ominously. The sound came from down the isle, closing in with every passing second. A foul breath’s odour reached his nostrils. It was a breath he’d smelled before. The hairs in Jack’s neck started to rise as he discerned something creeping up to them.

Starsky, unable to suppress his sudden fright, changed his aim with quick precision from Jack to the large shadow moving toward them.

It grew in size.

Yellow eyes appeared in the midst of a form that gradually took shape. A dog, huge and unnatural looking, with its green saliva dripping from lethal fangs, targeted them in absolute silence.

Jack swallowed. “… Like that.” There wasn’t time to say more, before the dog jumped.

XXXXX

Chapter 14

The shadow congealed into a solid mass. It was the largest Rottweiler Starsky had ever seen. Before he could do so much as gasp, it was all over him. Huge paws knocked him over. Stacks of books rolled out of the bookcase behind him as they impacted with the shelves. The heavy reading material landed on top of him, hitting his head and blurring his vision. The dog locked its white fangs around the Beretta and ripped it out of his hands. He lifted his arms in an attempt to shield himself against the overwhelming force now lunging for his flesh.

Falling onto his back, Starsky frantically gripped its neck. Powerful muscles rolled beneath his fingers. However, his palms were slippery with the dog’s mucus, and he failed to keep its jaws in check Teeth grazed his shoulder. Claws sliced his jacket, raking his skin. Knowing he was mere moments away from getting his artery ripped out, he panicked and started beating and kicking the Rottweiler on top of him. The dog pulled back for a second, its eyes conveying that it prepared for another lunge.

The Colonel’s casual voice broke through Starsky’s fright. “Did you know that dog’s are my favorite people?”

Opening his mouth to yell a ‘I don’t care. Do something!’ at the colonel, Starsky suddenly realized O’Neill was talking to the dog, not to him.

“And according to Daniel, you’re suppose to be quite… intelligent,” O’Neill boldly continued. “So, I’m taking a wild guess here, and assume that you understand me perfectly well, when I tell you,” his voice lowered, “to get the hell off of him if you don’t want me to decorate these books with your brains.”

Amazingly, the dog froze. Starsky had to suppress the urge to gag at the Rottweiler’s foul breath clogging his nostrils as its jaws hovered only inches above his face. Two massive paws pinned him down, its weight crushing his chest, making it hard to breathe. Claws dug in, but didn’t break his skin. Afraid to make any sudden movement, he lay dead still on the floor.

Looking upward, he could make out O’Neill squatting close to his ear, aiming the Beretta at the Rottweiler’s head. The dog’s yellow eyes flicked to the Colonel, as if it was assessing the situation, as if it understood the threat.

Then, to Starsky’s utter surprise, the Rottweiler stepped back and sat down on its haunches. He didn’t need permission to move and violently backpedaled away from the fearsome creature, coming to a stop when he hit the bookcase behind him. Wiping sweat and dog drool off his face with one quick swipe of his arm, he managed to get his fast beating heart and rapid breathing under control.

“There’s no need for all this violence. It wasn’t going to hurt or anything.”

The English accented voice resonating in his head didn’t sound like the Colonel’s. Starsky watched the dog in awe, unable to convince himself that it had actually spoken to him.

“Could you please ask ‘Colonel trigger-happy’ over there to lower the gun? I’ve been shot once. It’s not an experience worth repeating. But…” At this point the dog unmistakably gave him a bemused grin. The slightly parting jaws looked very disconcerting. “I don’t have to tell you that, do I?”

Tearing his eyes away from the dog, Starsky focussed on O’Neill, who didn’t seem to have heard the voice.

The elder man caught his glance. “What?”

“It talks,” was all Starsky could say.

O’Neill stared at him. “It does? What’s it say?”

Self consciously, Starsky straightened his shirt and jacket. “It want’s you to lower your gun…” He frowned, regaining some of his wits. “My gun.”

“Really.” O’Neill eyed the dog with suspicion, obviously having no intention of doing such a thing. “So how come I can’t hear him?”

A valid question. Why should the Colonel believe him while he could hardly believe it himself?

“I tried, he has barriers.”

Starsky’s attention shifted back to the dog. “Barriers?” he repeated.

“Has to do with what happened to Doctor Jackson.” The dog shrugged, which looked absolutely hilarious.

Starsky had trouble keeping his composure. He guessed it was a release of tension more than anything, but he couldn’t prevent a nervous smile from showing.

“Well?” O’Neill demanded.

Looking back at the Colonel, Starsky suddenly realized he hadn’t spoken out loud. “Uh… It says you have barriers that have to do with some Doctor.”

A startled flicker of fear sparked in O’Neill’s eyes. He moved in closer to the dog, took off the safety and addressed the creature directly. “What about Daniel?” he spoke threateningly.

“You don’t accept death, so you can’t hear me. It is that simple.”

Starsky translated.

A look off pain crossed the Colonel’s features. “Listen ‘Kirby’, I’m NOT-”

“Kirby?” Starsky eyed the dog again. “You know each other?”

Yellow eyes observed him. “We met… briefly. Not in the best of circumstances I’m afraid. Name’s Cerberus… perhaps you’ve heard of me?” His face twisted in what looked like a frown. “No one’s ever called me Kirby before.”

“It’s his name,” O’Neill explained at the same time. He waved the gun at the dog. “I kinda shortened it.” He looked extremely proud at the achievement. “Anyway, you might know him as-”

“Cerberus, really?” Starsky said. T’riffic, as if things weren’t confusing enough I now have this mythical… dog, drooling all over my favorite shirt. He eyed the creature with suspicion. “Are you the one that bit my partner?”

Both the large Rottweiler and O’Neill nodded. O’Neill, answering his first question, was obviously impressed at his knowledge. The dog, answering the one about his partner, wore an innocent expression, which didn’t fit a vicious hellhound at all. Starsky looked from one to the other. Carrying on two conversations at the same time gave him a headache.

Cerberus stood up, his stance changing from innocent to threatening, and lifted his upper lip. “And if the Colonel here had let me, I would’ve gotten you too,” he growled through two sharp incisors.

Startled, Starsky jumped up from the floor.

O’Neill, who couldn’t hear the dog talking but had no trouble interpreting the threat, waved the gun to draw attention. “I’m still armed here, you know.”

Cerberus looked over his shoulder. “Ri-ght.” With a thud, the dog sat back down again.

Starsky’s tired sigh of relief ended in a cough. Cerberus’ breath had a pungent sting to it. One that he suspected would stay with him even after he showered. It raised his nausea with a vengeance. Dizziness caught up with him. Attempting to clear his head, he wiped his face again.

“Uhm… I’d be careful if I were you.” O’Neill warned, his aim steady on the dog. “The drool’s all poison.”

Starsky’s hand jerked away from his face. A surge of deep worry instantly washed away his fear of the hellhound. “Poison,” he stated, franticly trying to grasp the implication for Hutch.

O’Neill confirmed his fears. “Yeah, quite deadly too, if-”

A stone cold feeling settled deep inside his stomach. Not waiting for the Colonel to finish his sentence, Starsky swiveled back to the dog. “Antidote,” he demanded.

“Who needs an antidote,” Cerberus mocked. “Besid-”

Squatting, Starsky got up close in no time and locked Cerberus’ jaws tightly together with both hands. The dog’s thoughts ended in a muffled tone, and did he hear a shocked yelp? With their faces only inches apart, he enforced each word with a powerful jerk of the snout. “If Hutch dies, so will you.”

Cerberus managed to lift a corner of his lip.

The resulting growl didn’t deter Starsky in the slightest. He retorted with a growl of his own. “The antidote! Or I swear I’ll-”

“There is none! It wouldn’t work anyway,” Cerberus interrupted, madly trying to pull himself free.

The sincerity relayed through those words raised Starsky’s panic a notch. It took a tremendous effort to keep calm. He let go of the snout and looked up at Jack. “You knew about the poison. How ‘bout the antidote?”

“I probably could have some people cook something up. But… it’ll take a few days.”

“Your partner has less than an hour left, before-”

The stone in his stomach plummeted to rock bottom. One hour! The nightmare he found himself in suddenly became frighteningly real, its images unfolding into a shocked conclusion Starsky was not prepared to see. The need to hurry washed over him. “You deal with him, I’ve gotta get back!” he shouted at O’Neill. He should never have left Hutch alone. Not in his condition.

Jack straightened. “What? No… wait! A friend of mine is with him! If there’s a way to help him, he’ll-”

A total stranger is with him right now? Oh God. Who knows what that guy’ll do to him. Especially if he’s military just like Jack here. Starsky shot the Colonel a death glare, rudely interrupting him. “He better not be there when I get back,” he threatened, before darting off.

Rushing for the exit, Starsky heard O’Neill yell at him again. “Wait, Dammit!” It was followed by a sharp command, obviously directed at Cerberus, whom Starsky could picture had tried to make a move. “You stay put!”

He knew he shouldn’t let O’Neill keep his gun. However, his common sense was drowned out by the overwhelming pull back to Hutch. Starsky hoped the Colonel and Cerberus would keep each other occupied for a while. Hang in there, Hutch. I won’t let you… He couldn’t finish his thoughts, refusing to give shape to the image of Hutch dying alone in this nightmarish world. Just… hang in there.

XXXXX

“If you’re a Doctor, can’t you do something about this rotten sickness the damn dog bite causes me?” Hutch asked, trying to clear his vision, while taking the steps down as quickly as he could. Not bothering to wait for the elevator, he’d immediately headed for the stairwell. As much as he would like to, running was out of the question. His sight kept blurring, and he had trouble moving his injured leg. The area around the bite felt frozen, causing him to limp forward. It didn’t hurt though. Unlike his arm, which had cushioned his impact with the desk. His biceps burned and throbbed every time he took a step. It was the kind of ache he could ignore though.

“Sorry, I’m not that kind of doctor,” Daniel answered, hoarsely, rubbing his sore throat.

Seeing double, Hutch stopped on the landing between the third and second floor. Catching his breath, he tried to get a clear picture of the man following him down. The double vision congealed into a hazy white mist. Hutch blinked, trying to get rid of the cobwebs in his head.

Daniel misinterpreted the silence. “I have a doctorate in Archaeology and several languages,” he quickly added.

The surprising statement got Hutch out of his stupor. “Archaeology?” he repeated incredulously. What the hell was an archaeologist doing, saving his ass? “An archaeologist… with a gun?”

“Yep.”

Wonderful, Starsky’s never gonna let me live this one down. If I ever get to see him again, that is. The frightening thought pushed away the white fog in his mind, and he hesitantly continued down the stairs. Sheer willpower kept him putting one foot in front of the other. “So, who was that guy attacking me?” Talking kept him from focussing on how miserable he felt.

“As you must have figured out by now, you’re no longer in the Bay City you knew. It’s a different time and a different place… a different reality.” Daniel walked in pace beside him, watching Hutch but careful not to crowd him.

“We had a hunch,” Hutch muttered, relieved the archaeologist didn’t ask every few steps if he was all right, because it must have been clear that he wasn’t. Sweat dripped off his brow. It was hard to refuse the demands of his body, which told him to lie down.

“Right. The thing that transported you here, was the mirror on top of the landing above the cellar. Your partner must have touched it at some point,” Daniel continued.

“Sure,” Hutch continued muttering to himself. “The mirror. Why not?” Typical Starsky. Always touching stuff he shouldn’t. Failing to see the connection between two cops and a man specialized in dissecting century old dust, he stopped again, this time on the second floor. “So, you- an archaeologist- decided to come after us, to get us back where we belong?” He swayed on his feet.

“Are you all right?” Daniel asked. “Maybe we should head up again. You’re in no condition to…”

Hutch blinked and managed to focus on the archaeologist’s bright blue eyes. There had to be a simple explanation. All he could think of was his first hunch. Daniel probably was linked to the government. He wished Starsky were here. His friend could spot a military man a mile away. “You haven’t answered my question.”

Daniel gave him a thoughtful look before answering. “The ‘dog’ was guarding… something. An entity that’s been ‘sleeping’ in that cellar for thousands of years. You just met it.”

Thousands of years? That explains an archaeologist’s involvement. “Rodney Templeton? The guy who attacked us?”

Daniel shrugged. “It believes I can get it off this planet.”

“Can you?” Hutch asked, not really expecting an answer.

“Yes,” Daniel answered to Hutch’s amazement. “I can.”

So his first hunch was right. Daniel’s connections ran high. Hutch suddenly had the feeling he’d become a pawn in some alien conspiracy theory. The ones Starsky always talked about. The thought of his friend made him stagger forward again, down to the first floor.

“But I won’t,” Daniel rattled on. “The entity, a Goa’uld, is evil. It can easily take over a human body as it has done with that man you call ‘Templeton.’ I and a friend of mine were sent to stop it.”

“That still doesn’t explain why you felt the need to track me down.”

“We needed to make sure you weren’t taken as a host. Since the Goa’uld has obviously taken residence inside Templeton, it’s safe to say you and your partner are still… you.”

At least that’s something.

“There’s something else,” Daniel continued to Hutch’s surprise. “The dizzy spells and delirium you are experiencing?”

“Were caused by the dog bite, I know, I know.”

“Cerberus’ bite is probably the reason Templeton left you alone. The poison is lethal and causes nausea and fever, yes. But it’s not solely responsible for the ‘feeling of disconnection,’ which I’m sure you have been experiencing?”

Halfway between the second and first landing, Hutch was forced to stop again. Disorientated he glanced back upstairs, then downstairs. Sit down… that sounded good right now. “It… isn’t?”

“No, I’ve seen this before. You don’t belong here, and this universe is making an effort to throw you out so to speak. In the end it will…” The archaeologist hesitated.

Hutch watched him through blurring vision. “What? Kill me?”

Daniel nodded, gravely.

“But… what about Starsky? How come he’s not affected? Isn’t he? You sensed it Hutchinson, you knew he didn’t feel well the moment he came out of that bathroom, but you blamed it on something as subjectively as lack of control.

“He will be.”

The statement sent a bone chilling coldness through his spine, unexpectedly sapping the strength out of his legs. Try as he might, Hutch couldn’t stay upright. The intense cold made him moan. Involuntarily, and with a low grunt, he sank down on his knees. Overwhelming fatigue nailed him to the floor, his fingers twitching as he reached out for the wall beside him.

“I better get you back upstairs,” a presence next to him spoke.

No! He had to get to Starsky. It was important. It was…Confused he blinked at the steps leading down to the first floor. His vision wavered, the steps transforming into an abyss he was sure he had to cross… somehow. Get up! Hutchinson. Get up!

“C’mon, I’ll get you up,” a voice echoed in his thoughts. Hands were trying to keep him steady.

This wasn’t Starsky talking to him, was it? This man had helped him. He knew that much… Daniel. Yes, that was his name. Where was Starsky? Why wasn’t he here? Disillusioned, he shrugged off the stranger’s hands and tried to stand up. Ceiling lights projected an eerie glow, turning the red carpet into a fiery haze.

Warmth called to him, sending dark enticing fingers through his fogged mind, eagerly devouring the cold and pain in his enflamed muscles. Peaceful drowsiness compelled him to give in. He consciously made an effort to shove away the warmth rolling over him like a blanket. Instantly, he felt torn apart, arms and limbs shaking uncontrollably, as if outside forces battled for dominance over his body. He opened his mouth in shock, but couldn’t scream, just groan in a desperate plea for the pain to go away. In answer, a merciful numbness spread over his body.

The first floor rushed up to meet him as he fell head long down the stairs. Then all encompassing darkness knocked out his awareness.

XXXXX

Chapter 15

Daniel rushed after the fallen detective, cursing that he hadn’t been able to prevent the tumble down the stairs. A bitter taste had risen to his mouth when he saw Hutch fall down the stairs. Conflicting feelings surfaced unannounced. Feelings he thought he’d quelled sufficiently in the past months since returning to SG-1, one year ago.

Innocent bystanders kept paying the price for SG-1’s meddling into alien affairs. Daniel wished he could have saved them all. Most importantly his wife, who died after being taken as a host a couple of years back. Flashes of other people laying down their lives during the last seven years burned his mind’s inner eye.

Ever since he’d lost his wife, Sha’re, he’d been fighting windmills. Oh, he kept going through the Stargate with O’Neill and the rest of the team, but when they encountered an alien race, and conflict did arise, Jack didn’t always see the point Daniel was making. Daniel’s ability to see the greater good, coupled with his need to solve things peacefully or die trying, clashed with Jack’s military perceptions.

On those occasions when Jack did follow his lead, Daniel found that his diplomatic and linguistic skills only caused more lives to suffer and perish. Instead of making a difference, whole off-planet civilizations diminished in the wake of his failure. Their downfall wrecking havoc on his soul and his will to carry on.

In a rush of emotion, he recalled his verbal battles with Jack, his frustration, and the final incident that led him to save an entire civilization, but had cost him his life.

Daniel’s office at Stargate Command was larger than Teal’c’s. Mainly because he needed the space to study the ancient artefacts that were brought back through the Stargate by SG-teams. He stood trembling near his desk, its top cluttered with paperwork and books. Fighting to hold back his rage, he glared at Jack with undisguised contempt.

His friend had just killed an alien girl ‘Reese,’ whose trust Daniel was so close to gaining. They had picked her up on one of their missions.

All Daniel ever wanted to do was to understand her.

Even when she turned out to be responsible for the death of every living soul on her planet, he still had refused to give up on her. Daniel had been so sure he could stop her from wiping out all life on Earth. If only he’d been given time to get through to her. But Jack had taken that chance away from him. He’d shot her point-blank in the Gate room, because in another second she might have killed Daniel and turned Earth into a wasteland.

A wet film clouded his eyes. Daniel could barely make out his friend standing just inside the door. He clenched his hands into fists. “That last second could have made a difference, Jack,” he spoke through grinding teeth. “I could’ve saved Reese! I got through to her!”

“You know damn well that if you failed, we, as in ‘humanity on this planet’ would be royally screwed!” his friend retorted in anger.

“So, that’s it. You simply don’t trust me enough to give me a chance? After all we’ve been through?” It was a blow below the belt and Daniel knew it. But right now he didn’t care. Having lost another ‘life’ was the proverbial drop that sent him careening over the edge of reason.

Jack stopped him, raised his hand before Daniel could finish his accusation. “For the record, I do trust you. I know you. You would’ve saved her at all costs!”

“We could’ve learned so much from her!”

“It was not worth the risk! Not worth…” Jack caught himself, as if the words were too difficult to speak out loud. Finally he pointed a finger, fervidly telling him the truth. “Too far, Daniel! You went too far trying to save her life!”

The shock in Jack’s voice had driven home how much the commander feared losing him. Daniel understood, but at the same time couldn’t suppress his altruistic nature. Reese’s sad ending was the proverbial drop that pushed him over the edge. So, when the opportunity came to escape life, while saving an entire world in the process, he took it.

He liked to think that crashing through a window, in order to get into a radiation packed research room was an act of pure bravery. Shut down the reactor and save the people of Kelowna. However, the truth was a lot less heroic. He’d acted without ever thinking about those who cared about him. All he felt was the need to do some good, once in his life. It didn’t matter whether he died or not. It didn’t matter because he didn’t care.

If the reactor blew up, it would take half the planet of Kelowna with it. So, while absorbing enough radiation to kill him ten times over, he managed to turn the device off. After that he did remember dying… He remembered Sam and Teal’c… saying their goodbyes. But Jack… he’d needed permission from his friend to let him go.

And only when Jack gave it, did he realize how well Jack understood him, how much his death would affect him. But by then it was too late.

Even though it seemed like a lifetime, reliving the memory only took mere moments and upon reaching Hutch’s side, the ghosts of his past made way for the harsh reality in front of him.

He checked the detective’s artery and was relieved to find him alive.

There wasn’t much he could do out here on the landing. His only option was to get help. The reception area was just down the stairs and to his right. Reluctantly, he put Hutch in a more comfortable and stable position before rushing off to the lobby. This’ll only take a moment. I’ll be right back.

XXXXX

Awareness flooded his senses, startling him back to consciousness. Hutch groaned, confused as to what had happened. His stomach rebelled and he retched convulsively, barely managing to keep his food inside. Light flooded in through teary eyes, adding to the headache throbbing against the inside of his skull. A low moan escaped him as he tried to put his feet beneath his body. The area on leg around the dog bite was swollen and sensitive to the touch. Dragging himself onto the stairs beside him, Hutch managed to sit up on the third step. Heaving with exertion, he lowered his face in his hands, protecting his overly sensitive eyes against the bright reddish light poring into his mind.

God. What the hell happened? Where am I? He vaguely remembered he was in some sort of hotel, but he didn’t have a clue what he was doing in the stairwell. The headache subsided and Hutch risked removing his hands to try and see clearly again, just to get his bearings. The steps began to spin around him, and he sagged against the wall to prevent from sliding down.

Noises reached him. Footsteps sounded, coming from upstairs. He hoped they were Starsky’s, but as they got closer, he realized at least two or more strangers came down toward where he sat. Feeling ill at ease, Hutch tried to get up, but his leg wouldn’t cooperate. A rush of dizziness made him drop down again.

A man ran past him, followed by a woman who stopped for a second. “Look at this, evening’s barely started and this one’s already drunk,” she spoke in disgust.

Hutch wanted to deny that statement, but was sure as soon as he opened his mouth more than words would come pouring out. So he refrained from looking at the couple and rested wearily against the wall thinking about what the woman had said. Did I have too much to drink last night? That still didn’t explain why Starsky was nowhere in sight though.

“Just leave him, Lizzy,” the man who stood a few feet away from him said urgently. “Come on. We’re late enough for the contest as it is. I don’t want to miss the opening.”

She snorted and headed after the guy. The couple proceeded down the stairs. A moment later Hutch heard a door open and close with a loud bang.

This is like a bad dream. Concentrating, he vaguely recalled a sense of foreboding. The feelings were saturated with deep worry for his partner, stimulating a slight panic and the urgency to move. Catching his breath, Hutch decided to give it another go. He pulled himself up, using the wall as support. It took some effort, but he remained standing. He stood still for a while, waiting for the pain in his leg to subside to an acceptable level.

The sound of more footsteps closed in.

Before Hutch could turn, someone ran past him heading toward the ground floor, obviously in a hurry. “Out of the way, Blondie.”

The words clogged his ears as if someone was speaking to him underwater. The voice was familiar. Shaking his head to clear his mind, he groggily caught sight of the guy from behind. “S…Starsk?” He would recognize those brown curls and that brown leather jacket anywhere. Why was his partner running away from him? Had he done something wrong? Maybe this was Starsky’s revenge for Hutch getting drunk last night. Carefully, he followed his partner down the stairs. He felt like he was floating, a cushion of clouds seemingly catching his every step.

Once past the heavy door, he lost sight of his friend. A festivity of lights and colors greeted him. People rushed by, all heading in the same direction. Hutch was swept up in the flow, only managing to stand aside when he reached a large hall. On the opposite side a crowd pushed and shoved to get pass a couple of huge entrance doors, behind which he caught sight of a much larger room and a stage.

Feeling sick, it was all he could do to remain standing just inside the hall, leaning against the wall. By now fever had drenched his shirt in sweat, and he had a hard time focussing on his surroundings. His vision blurred around the edges, making the crowded hall turn nightmarish in appearance. If only he could find his partner. Suddenly he spotted him again, a couple of feet to his right. His friend disappeared in a small passageway devoid of people.

Why didn’t his friend notice him? Why did he keep walking away? Hutch felt like he was in a tunnel but couldn’t catch up with his partner, no matter how fast he ran. If I don’t get to him in time, then… Then he would lose him. Of that he was sure.

Delirious, he pushed away from the wall and set off for the passageway, trailing after his friend to get some answers. Reaching the well-lit corridor, he was relieved to find Starsky talking to another guy just a few feet away. A sign dangling from the ceiling indicated that two restrooms were situated to the right of them.

Hutch staggered closer, but stopped short when Starsky suddenly turned. He gasped. The body, the clothing, and the hair all resembled that of his closest friend, but the face was completely different.

He looked at the man in utter confusion.

Before either one of the strangers could say something to him, Hutch fled into the men’s restroom. There he stood heaving in front of the mirror, desperately trying to collect his thoughts. He looked down into the basin, breathing heavily, fighting to keep his food inside. Was it really Starsky he’d seen on the stairs? Or was it yet another look-a-like? Dammit…he couldn’t tell anymore. Nurtured by the alien environment and the cobwebs in his head, fear held him in a solid grip.

An arm as solid as concrete suddenly encased his throat. He struggled in shock, his hands wrapping around corded muscles that wouldn’t move an inch. In a flash the mirror’s surface showed ‘Templeton’ standing behind him, his attacker’s face contorted with a vicious snarl, his eyes flashing a poisonous yellow as the ‘alien entity’ proceeded to crush the life out of him.

Hutch’s frantic attempts to stave off death, ended in a soft choking sound, then he lost consciousness.

XXXXX

Fifteen minutes after leaving the library, Starsky entered Sheridan’s main hall. In an effort to get to the elevators as quickly as possible, he squashed his illness and determinedly pushed his way through numerous people crowding the lobby and connecting hallways.

Unexpectedly he spotted Hutch from behind, standing in the crowd over to his left. He grabbed the man’s shirt, only to find it was a stranger wearing a bad blond wig. The guy shrugged himself loose.

Starsky stood frozen on the spot and blinked, watching the crowd as if seeing its faces for the first time. Turning his head slowly, he noticed look-a-likes of him and Hutch everywhere. Some were fat, some skinny, some too short or too tall. And why were some of the blonds having fake mustaches? He hoped it didn’t mean Hutch would adorn one in the near future. If we even have a future that is. The thought of his partner urged him to move on and with relief he dived into the nearest elevator.

Their door wasn’t locked. “Hutch!” he called, stepping inside the room. He halted at the mess spread out in front of him. Broken pieces of wood from what had once been a desk littered the floor in an obvious sign of a desperate struggle. “Hutch!” Thinking his partner might be in the bathroom, he carefully proceeded to check it. After making certain that neither Hutch, nor the perpetrator were in there, he worriedly focussed on the main room again.

His eyes caught on a Beretta, lying discarded on his bed. Finding it empty, he searched the floor and found the bullets scattered all over the carpet near the door. He also found a knife from the food cart near the couch. Luckily it had no blood on it. What the hell’s happened here?

Wait. Didn’t Jack say that a friend of his had paid Hutch a visit? If this guy had taken Hutch, he couldn’t have gotten far. Not with the condition his partner was in. They might still be inside the hotel. Well, whatever the military wants with my partner, they can’t have ‘im!

Grimly, he reloaded the Beretta and holstered it beneath his jacket, which still showed the deep gashes from where Cerberus had, purposefully or not, thoroughly sliced the brown leather. Underneath, his skin burned in red flaming scratches where the claws had hit their mark. He staggered a bit with a sudden bout of dizziness, then straightened as a rush of adrenaline helped him regain his footing. Extremely worried now, he prayed that the poison flowing through Hutch’s bloodstream had not done its job, that he wasn’t already too late.

In that case, this friend of yours, Jack. Is mine.

Determined to find Hutch at any cost, Starsky turned and left the room.

XXXXX

Chapter 16

Helios needed a secluded spot. Someplace where he was sure Doctor Jackson would find him, but where the general public wouldn’t disturb them. With his arm locked around the blond’s throat, he dragged the unconscious man out of the restroom. Heading toward the busy hallways and large conference room was a bad idea right now, so he proceeded in the opposite direction, toward the quieter backstage area.

Inwardly, Helios fumed. After all this time he’d let the archaeologist, one of the few people who could lead him to the Stargate, get away. It had taken him twenty years to locate the Gate’s whereabouts and learn enough about the Stargate program to know Doctor Daniel Jackson was one of its primary members.

I had him! I let my one chance to escape through the Gate, slip through my fingers! Of course, he hadn’t counted on the resiliency of the blond guy, whose room he had entered. The man had been far less weak than he’d imagined. It was a mistake to ignore you once Jackson entered. He looked down upon the blond head, bobbing against his chest. Not so lucky this time, are you? He smirked.

In the twenty years he’d been stuck on this planet, Helios had become a pretty good judge of character. Though he wasn’t sure of the exact connection between Doctor Jackson and this guy, he knew the archaeologist would look for him. He opened a door that led backstage. A dark passageway greeted him. Ah, this is more like it. Without breaking a sweat, he carried the blond further into the depths behind the stage.

XXXXX

“JACK!” Daniel shouted through the emptying lobby upon seeing his commanding officer walk through the entrance doors. It still hurt to talk, but his voice didn’t sound nearly as hoarse anymore. He rushed toward him.

His friend looked up. “Hey, Danny boy. Any luck?”

Daniel caught his breath. “Well, yes and no. Hutchinson collapsed in the stairwell, and I went to get some help. But when I got back he was go-.” He stopped abruptly when he noticed the Rottweiler standing forlornly behind the Colonel. “Uh… That… That is…” He swallowed. “Made a new friend, Jack?” he finally managed to say.

The Colonel stepped aside. “Daniel, meet Cerberus. Kirby, meet Daniel.” Despite the dog’s grim appearance it looked utterly miserable. This was probably due to Jack’s belt, serving as a leash. “Apparently he talks, but I can’t hear him, so I’ve only got Mr. Starsky’s word for that,” Jack continued.

Daniel took a step back. “Jack, that’s Cerberus. The Cerberus,” he whispered urgently. He looked from the dog to his friend. “You cannot put a Hellhound on a leash,” he emphasized louder.

His friend straightened and waved accusingly at the doorman in self-defense. “He wouldn’t let me in here, otherwise!”

“I’ve never been so humiliated in my entire life.”

The male voice with the British accent was the same Daniel had heard back in the Gate room. He hadn’t imagined it. This was the legendary Hellhound, the one who guarded the gates to the underworld. It seemed that those stories had a truth to them. The hound was probably sent to guard the Goa’uld. Cerberus was known for its three heads, each more vicious than the other. Right now, the one head looking up at him had its ears pressed flat against its head. Cerberus’ shoulders and tail drooped in misery.

“And trust me, I’ve had a long one. Hello, Doctor Jackson.”

“Uh… Hello.” Daniel waved stupidly at the hound.

“You can hear him?” Jack asked hurt. “That’s great. Okay, just... keep the conversation out loud will ya. This staring back and forth is giving me the creeps.”

“I’ll try. Where did you find it…him?”

“In the library. He attacked Starsky, would have ripped him apart if I hadn’t intervened.”

“I would have done no such thing!” Cerberus growled, looking offended.

Apparently Jack understood the body language quite well. He turned on the hound. “Well, it sure looked that way! What else would you call jumping a guy from out of nowhere and then trying to rip his throat out?”

“My goodness, you humans can be so stupid, sometimes.”

Jack wanted to say more, but Daniel interrupted him. “If you weren’t attacking, what were you doing?”

Cerberus sighed deeply. “Well, trying to save him, off course.”

XXXXX

Starsky took the stairs down two at a time. He halted when a loud crackle came from overhead. Looking up, he distinguished a speaker built into the white ceiling tiles.

“Five minutes to the Starsky & Hutch Contest time. Five minutes to contest time!” a woman announced over the public address system of the hotel.

The contest, that’s gotta be where Hutch is. It’s the best place for Jack’s friend to hide him, unless he’s already been taken away. He had no idea where to start looking if Hutch was no longer in the hotel. He shivered. No, he had to believe his partner was nearby. The contest was worth checking out.

He didn’t want to confront all those look-a-likes again. The thought alone made him nauseous and he wiped the sweat from his brow, his skin feeling hot to the touch. Still, despite his misgivings, he knew all he needed was one glance at the contestants.

One glance to know if his partner was among of them.

XXXXX

“Save him? That’s ridiculous,” Jack shouted incredulously after Daniel translated the words. “It didn’t look remotely like a rescue attempt to me! You scared the crap out of us!”

“Wait a second, Jack,” Daniel raised a hand to halt his friend’s ranting. “Give me some time to figure this out.” He looked at Cerberus. “From what I can tell, Hutch is dying from the poison in your bite.”

“He’s not dying, he’s adjusting,” Cerberus said, sitting down.

“Adjusting?” Now it was his turn to be surprised.

“Yes, to this reality. My saliva contains a poison as well as a conductive enzyme. It’s deadly to a Goa’uld, but in Detective Hutchinson the enzyme acts as a catalyst. He will get pretty sick at first, but after that, the enzyme will help him to survive in this alternate world.”

“Soooo… you attacked Starsky, because you wanted to give him that same protection?” Daniel asked.

Cerberus nodded. “Without it, he will die, as you well know. So you see, I had to bite him,” he spoke gleefully.

“Is the enzyme the reason, you are able to survive here as well?”

Cerberus tugged his lip in what looked like a grin. “Yes, the enzyme is part of my system. It would have to be, since dimension jumping is part of my job. You’re smart, Doctor Jackson. That’s one of the reasons I abducted you.”

“No, I don’t think so,” Daniel spoke thoughtfully. “You abducted me…” he crouched, “… because you needed help.”

“Daniel?” his friend asked.

Daniel translated what he’d heard so far.

Jack looked down at the hound. “Let me get this straight. You messed up and want us to you help fix it?”

“Well…” Cerberus looked away. “If you would like to see it that way. Yes. I needed help tracking down the Goa’uld Helios, and Starsky and Hutch. I couldn’t handle all of them on my own.”

“Helios? Yes, he is mentioned in our myths. Tell me more.” Daniel demanded.

“O-kay,” Cerberus sighed deeply. “I’ll explain, but you better sit down. This will take a while.”

Daniel motioned Jack to one of the sofas, and they both took a seat.

Cerberus sat down in front of them. “Helios originally came from ‘this’ reality,” he started to explain. “When I caught him, it was decided to imprison him in a sarcophagus. That sarcophagus would be located in a place of our choosing.”

“Let me guess,” Daniel said. “The cellar.”

“Right. The cellar is a migrating room, existing where we want it to be. We figured it would be the ideal prison, and we locked the room to Starsky and Hutch’s reality, thinking it was secure. I was to function as the jailer… the guard. The mirror on top of the stairs is capable of transporting you through time. But you already knew that. It is my failsafe. If the Goa’uld was to escape when I’m gone, I could travel back in time to catch him in the act.”

Daniel nodded in understanding.

“Over the thousands of years the Goa’uld was imprisoned, many tried to free him, but I’ve always thwarted their attempts. Now, due to an incredible set of circumstances, those meddlesome detectives stumbled onto the cellar. So, when the two cops came in, I assumed their intentions were… shall we say, less than honorary, and I attacked. Then Starsky hit the mirror, turning both it and unfortunately also the mirror at Stargate Command on. During the struggle, the detective touched its surface, and we all went flying through to your time and reality.”

“By ‘all,’ you mean you, and both detectives.”

Cerberus nodded. “I was ‘holding on’ to Hutchinson at the time,” he grimaced. Starsky touched him, he touched me… the rest is history. When I looked back at the sarcophagus, Helios was gone. Which came as no surprise, really. He must have woken up during the last twenty years and found me gone.”

Daniel relayed the explanation to his friend and then frowned. “It doesn’t make sense, though. You ‘all’ flew to ‘this’ time and reality. Helios, as you call him, did not. So how come, the Goa’uld showed up here, in this hotel?”

“It did?” Jack snapped.

“As I said before, Helios originally came from here. We just imprisoned him in Starsky and Hutch’s reality. But we hadn’t anticipated the second mirror at Stargate Command. The lock on the cellar, which keeps the migrating room in Starsky and Hutch’s reality, broke when my mirror connected to yours. And the whole thing, cellar and all, reset to its original reality. This one.”

Jack lifted his hand. “Just for the record, who’s this ‘we’ you keep talking about?”

“Oh, you know… the forces of good and evil and such. You really don’t need to know more.”

“Believe me,” Jack stated after Daniel’s translation. “I don’t even wanna know more.”

Daniel was about to agree when Jack turned to him in warning. “That doesn’t apply to you! I want to know exactly what happened with this Helios charac-”

“Five minutes to the Starsky & Hutch Contest time. Five minutes to contest time!” A woman using the overhead com-system interrupted him.

“There isn’t much more to tell,” Daniel quickly added, purposefully leaving out the part about the Goa’uld almost killing him. “All I know is that Hutchinson is somewhere in this hotel, and we need to find him before Helios does. The Goa’uld will use him to get to us.”

“If Helios has been here, I can track his scent,” Cerberus supplied.

Daniel repeated Cerberus’ words.

Jack nodded at his friend. “All right, I’ll check out upstairs with Kirby here, maybe he can track Helios from there. You go after Hutchinson. It might be a good idea to check out the-”

“Auditorium, I know.” Daniel finished.

“Right,” Jack confirmed. “I’ll meet you there as soon as I can.”

XXXXX

Chapter 17

Starsky walked inside the auditorium. A woman his age stood beside the entrance. She motioned him to step aside and closed the door behind him.

The auditorium was huge; containing over six hundred seats, all filled at the moment. A pair of crystal chandeliers dangled from the high ceiling, illuminating the place in bright yellow. On the floor, the familiar red carpet spread out in front of him. To his right, all the way in the back, Starsky spotted a table with rows and rows of technical gadgets. He figured the equipment was used to control the sound and lighting, among other things. His gaze drifted toward the stage to his left. Lining the auditorium, he noticed a couple of television cameras and a speaker system. On the large stage, which spanned the width of the room, a mammoth screen served as a backdrop.

The lights suddenly dimmed and the screen came to life, displaying several announcements. Starsky stared at it in awe. The depth and sharpness of the picture, together with the incredible sound system blew him away. The backdrop went dark, only to come alive again with a shimmering image, accompanied by a song he’d never heard before but which sounded beautifully advanced. The picture cleared.

All blood drained from his face.

Scenes of him and Hutch were shown, changing to the beat and lyrics of the tune. Their whole lives flashed by in a matter of minutes: Highs and lows, ups and downs, climaxing along with the music. The ending showed a mixture of deep feelings, which resonated with the song’s meaningful words. The evidence of how much he loved his partner and visa versa clearly showed, thrown to the public for all to see.

When the show was over and the lights turned on, Starsky felt emotionally gutted. During the loud applause he sank back against the wall, trying desperately to slow the vortex of conflicting feelings. Eddies in his heart turned into a sickening nausea. The crowd around him seemed to close in. All those people homing in on his relationship with Hutch. Something he thought was special. A part of his life he was not prepared to share. He was about to bolt out of the room when the voice of a little girl pulled him back to reality.

“Why are you here, Mister?”

He squinted, noticing a five-year-old, she couldn’t be much older, standing right beside him. Swallowing away his fears, he crouched. “Well, I want to see the look-a-like contest. How about you?”

She nodded. “Me too. Are you in it?”

Starsky smiled. “Do you think I could win? Do I look like a bit like the man you just saw on the big screen?”

She watched him with a peculiar expression. “You are the man on the screen.”

He felt the smile freeze on his face. “No honey, I just resemble him an awful lot,” Starsky spoke with a softened voice.

After studying him some more, she fervidly shook her head. “You are him.” She pointed at the screen. “I can tell. You have the same…” She struggled to find the right word. “You’re him,” she finally stated affirmatively. “Why are you here?”

Starsky dropped his pretense. He’d read somewhere that little children up to a certain age were capable of only seeing the truth. Perhaps this was such an occasion. “To find my friend. You haven’t seen him, have you?”

“Hutch?”

He nodded.

She shook her head again. “No.”

“Maggy!” Her mother suddenly hissed from a nearby seat. “Quit bothering that man and sit down!”

She waved goodbye.

He returned the gesture and watched her run back to her seat. Feeling a little better, he settled back against the wall, waiting for the contestants to show up.

XXXXX

On the other side of the auditorium, closer to the stage, Daniel watched the music video in silence, arms folded across his chest. I hope neither Starsky nor Hutch sees this. It must be frightening to see your whole life unfold on screen like that.

For a brief moment, he wondered if there could actually be a universe in which he was a television character. A world where people had watched Jack deal his death; where Daniel’s return could be contributed to nothing more than ‘powers that be’ firing and rehiring the actor all in the name of gaining good ratings.

Daniel certainly hoped not. It would mean the conflicting pains he’d felt, which lead up to his death were thought up. It meant that heartless people fabricated had Jack’s icy demeanor. Well, it’s damn real from where I stand. If there’s a universe where this is true, the guys holding the strings are worse than any Goa’uld I’ve ever met.

His attention was drawn to the stage where a presenter stepped into the limelight.

“Ladies and Gentlemen!” The man announced loudly for the benefit of all. “Welcome to the Starsky and Hutch look-a-like contest!”

XXXXX

Uproar pulled Hutch back to consciousness. At first he thought his ears were ringing, but then he realized the noise came from outside. The sound grated on his pounding headache, making it worse by the second. He groaned and instantly regretted the action. His throat felt battered and sore. All he could produce was a hoarse whisper, which hurt like hell.

The irritating uproar continued to grow louder. Gradually, he distinguished words, and it wasn’t long before the noise congealed into entire sentences.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, we are proud to tell you that the Starsky and Hutch look-a-like contest 2004 has drawn no less than twenty-five contestants! And here they are, in random order!”

The deafening round of applause following the announcement woke Hutch completely. It took him a few seconds to realize he was in some sort of green room behind the stage. Except for the couch he was lying on, and a small desk and chair next to the door, the small chamber was empty. Above him a faded poster of an obvious long since obsolete play decorated the gray walls. The exit was right in front of him, through it he spotted an empty area with a ramp leading up to what must be the stage. Craning his neck, careful not to make a sound, he glanced at his attacker, who sat slouched in the desk chair. The man drummed his fingers impatiently on the armrest, while staring surly at the lifeless scenery behind the door. Obviously waiting for something, or someone.

Silently, Hutch swung his legs off the couch and drew himself into an upward position. He expected a bout of dizziness, but it didn’t come. To his surprise, he felt better than he had in days. Luckily, the ongoing music on stage hid the sound of his movements. Carefully he stood up.

The fever had left him weak and shaking, as if he’d just run a thousand miles and spent every last bit of energy trying to make it to the finish line. At the same time it seemed an underlying current of adrenaline tripled his awareness, made his heart bounce in his sore throat and shoved him into a hyperactive state, which pushed his already battered body to the limits. The last time he’d felt like this was when he’d run haphazardly through the streets of Bay City after Forest had drugged him, and he’d managed to escape. He’d been out of his mind back then, but still clear enough to know he should find his partner.

Right now he expected he looked the part too. Disheveled, dizzy, and hardly able to walk let alone run.

Groggily he crept behind Templeton, or whoever was sitting with his back turned toward him. Putting all of his strength in the effort, he hit the man hard in the neck. His attacker fell off the chair, sinking to the ground silently but not losing consciousness. Hutch cursed inwardly, recalling knocking the man out hadn’t worked back in the hotel room either. Daniel was right. These aliens were resilient.

The man looked up with venom in his eyes. They flashed a bright yellow as an evil grin spread across his features.

Hutch punched him square in the face.

Templeton flew backward. Figuring this punch would be as non-effective as the previous one, Hutch ran, heading for the stage. Behind him, a loud roar made it clear Templeton felt thwarted and angry. He would be after him in seconds.

An exit, he needed an exit.

Sweating profusely at the sudden action, Hutch tried to think straight. It wasn’t easy because the surroundings started spinning in his head. It didn’t occur to him to push through the black curtains, which closed off the backstage area on all sides. His befuddled mind latched onto the one clear way out and he bolted for the ramp.

“You!” The alien’s distorted voice sounded behind him. “Are far more trouble than you’re worth!”

The cold voice dripped with the intention of killing. If Templeton got hold of him again, it was all over. He had seen the strength of the man when he got up after the blow Hutch had delivered. He had felt the guy’s resolve when he’d pushed Daniel up the wall by his throat like a rag doll. Panic stricken, Hutch ran up the wooden slope, not caring where it would lead him.

Out, he needed to get out.

Every second, Hutch expected clawing fingers to catch his feet, to trip head long on the ramp. Then this ‘thing’ would proceed to crush the air out of his lungs, and all Starsky would find was a corpse. This world would then extinguish his partner’s spirit, as slowly as Templeton had killed him.

The thunder of feet on wood closed in. Franticly, Hutch forced himself to take longer strides. The upward slope drained his energy. His vision swam. Light and sound drifted downward from the top.

He reached for it.

XXXXX

He shouldn’t be standing here, waiting for his partner to show up. What was he thinking? One glance at the contestants taught him Hutch wasn’t one of them. Cursing inwardly, Starsky headed for the door. Way to go David. Standing here, twiddling my thumbs, gave Jack’s friend ample time to take Hutch away! He could be anywhere by now.

The crowd started cheering.

Involuntarily he focused on the stage. Someone dashed across it. A shiver of recognition ran up his spine. Goosebumps raised the hairs on the back of his hands. Hutch! There was no doubt in his mind. No question that this was his friend who elbowed his way past all the other contestants, looking and acting like he had not too long ago when Starsky found him fevered and sick on the streets from the drugs Forest had given him.

Starsky bolted for the stage, noticing another guy closing in on his partner. By now he could tell from Hutch’s body language that he desperately tried to escape the man.

Jack’s friend.

As Starsky made his way toward Hutch, the crowd around him kept cheering, clapping and whistling at his staggering partner. With a sinking feeling he realized that back here their dealings with Forest must have been an episode, and the people believed Hutch was re-enacting that scene. The thought made him feel sick.

Reaching the stage, he climbed up and was just in time to see his partner make it to the other side and disappear into the curtains. From his vantage point, Starsky witnessed Hutch’s pursuer grab him. Horrified, he saw both men fall off the raised platform and out of view. He forgot all about the people around him, the contestants, and the bright lights overhead. The certainty that Hutch would be dead in seconds drained all other awareness.

“Huuuuuuuuutch!” he yelled, running across the stage.

Behind him, the crowd went mad. Hooting and clapping, stomping their feet on the ground. Starsky ignored it; focused only on the place where he’d seen Hutch last, and dreading what he would find when he reached it.

XXXXX

Making his way through the crowded room to get closer to the stage, Daniel looked up at the sudden commotion. Spotting Hutch dashing across the stage, he figured for a second that this must be part of the show, even though for an actor the man looked pretty sick. Then he noticed Helios, and when Starsky bolted after them, all doubt washed away.

The crowd around him went wild. If the situation weren’t so grim, Daniel would have joined them in thinking that these look-a-likes did a fantastic job of pretending they were the real Starsky and Hutch. The people loved the act. Except Daniel knew this wasn’t a play. This was a situation that should never have taken place. This… was his fault. His… and all the people responsible for the Stargate project.

The presenter waited for Starsky to disappear behind the curtains. “Sorry folks!” He yelled over the roar of the audience at the contestants, all looking surly and unhappy. They knew that they didn’t stand a chance after such a performance. “But I wouldn’t be surprised if these guys are the winners, who, of course, will have the chance to meet Mr. Glaser and Mr. Soul in person!”

Already on the same side of the stage as Starsky, Hutch, and Helios, Daniel simply pushed toward the exit and slipped out of the conference room.

Silence descended.

Grimly, Daniel hurried backstage. He couldn’t let the Goa’uld kill the two cops. They were too important too history, and to Jack.

It was time to give Helios what he wanted.

Him.

XXXXX

Chapter 18

Hutch fell a good four feet before the impact with the concrete floor beneath the stage knocked all the air out of his lungs. By the time the dark spots in his vision vanished and breathing became easy again, the Goa’uld was all over him. Templeton flipped him over, forcing his hands behind his back with inhuman strength. Hutch wrenched an arm free and grabbed the man’s collar in an attempt to tip his balance. The weight on his back lessened as Templeton fell aside with a furious growl.

He’d expected the Goa’uld to let him go, but instead the grip on his pulse fastened and with a yelp of pain, Hutch was pulled along in the fall and roughly spun around like a yo-yo. Templeton’s momentum yanked him off the floor. For a second he was airborne. Pain burned through nearly dislocated ligaments in his wrists, but before he could focus on it, he crash-landed hard into his nemesis.

Briefly, all feeling left him, but then it returned. Instantly his eyes watered at the throbbing pain in his arm, which his adversary still held firmly in his grip. Templeton moved quickly and yanked on his wrist, forcing him up on his knees. Hutch bit his lip to prevent from crying out. He glared at his captor in defiance.

“Okay, buddy. Hold it right there,” Starsky’s soft threatening voice cut through the sweat-laden air.

Templeton froze.

Hutch glared over the man’s shoulder. Through a wet film he spotted his partner standing closely behind the Goa’uld, holding him at gunpoint. A rush of relief passed through him. But it was short lived.

A loud roar came from overhead as the audience beyond the stage broke into a deafening applause. Templeton swung around at the same time, grabbing the gun. Starsky didn’t let go. But Hutch could tell he was shocked by the speed. His partner struggled to keep possession, his eyes widening at the Goa’uld’s unnatural strength. Air-shattering music suddenly droned through the backstage area. The floor resonating with the thunderous beat.

The gun went off.

Hutch’s heart beat a staccato in his throat, in synch with the soul-pounding synthesized drums. He sought out his partner’s eyes; Starsky stared at him in shock.

The music stopped.

“Oh, crap,” Daniel’s voice came from the shadows. With a thud, he staggered into the ramp’s woodwork.

“Daniel!” Hutch yelled, just as Starsky whipped around. He leaped to his feet and dashed over to the archaeologist who was now sinking to the floor.

XXXXX

Daniel crept closer as the struggle between Hutch’s partner and Helios proceeded. He was about to intervene when a shot rang through the backstage area. He froze, staring at the blond detective, whose eyes were fixed on his partner’s. The fear he read in them sent shivers up his spine. More, he could sense the unspoken communication between Hutch and his partner, even though Starsky sat with his back turned. Mesmerized, he captured the depth of their friendship; their honest approach and the ‘monsters’ they were willing to face to keep it preserved.

He sensed a stir within himself. A memory buried beneath feelings of pain and confusion.

When his physical body had died, Daniel’s spirit ascended to a higher plain of existence. Trouble was, in that non-corporeal state he wasn’t allowed to help his friends at all. At first he had abided. But then Jack had gotten himself captured… and he had intervened. Teal’c, his alien teammate, had gotten into trouble, and he had intervened. And when the Goa’uld invaded his wife’s home planet, with Jack stuck in the middle of it, he’d not only intervened, he’d gone on the all out attack.

You intervened, Daniel Jackson! You tried to influence the fate of the mortals! The voice of a higher being had rung through his head.

He remembered arguing with it. These are my friends! I couldn’t stand by and let them die!

And that’s when they punished him, by sending him back with no memories as to why he’d chosen to return to his physical body. Now, watching the two detectives, he knew… his link with Jack had scared the pants out of these higher beings. They didn’t understand it… despite their high morality and their view of the ‘bigger picture,’ they feared the concept of friendship… they… had a lot to learn. Be that as it may, they’d dropped him in his body in some woods for his friends to find him.

And Jack had.

A heart throbbing pain welled up from inside as he recalled Jack’s struggle to welcome him back. Even now, Daniel still felt he didn’t connect with the man like he’d used to. The pain became insistent and he looked down. His hand felt warm and wet as he clenched his lower abdomen. He lifted it and looked at his fingers, shocked to find them drenched in blood.

“Oh, crap,” he uttered.

Daniel didn’t remember falling over, one minute he was standing up and the next he found himself lying on the floor. His lower body went numb. Hands were suddenly all over him. At first he thought it was Jack. “J… Jack,” he croaked. Someone answered him, but it sounded like gibberish. He felt a hand grab his.

“Come on. Stay with me,” Hutch’s voice penetrated his fogged mind.

Snapping out of shock, Daniel felt the pain return full force and started to shake all over. He fought the hands, which unceremoniously unbuttoned his shirt. They suddenly held his fingers in a tight grip.

“Daniel, you have to trust me,” Hutch urged.

He calmed down. Nodding his assent. “Just… hurry up, please.”

XXXXX

The fight left him drained. Heaving, Starsky sat on his knees for a while to gain some strength. He felt awful. Sort of carsick, like he did when he was a kid and his father took him and his brother for a ride in his police cruiser. Over the years, he’d outgrown it, but this time he couldn’t seem to shake free of the nausea and bolts of vertigo.

The guy Starsky had assumed was Jack’s friend, Daniel, watched the scene in bemusement. In the glare of a drifting stage light, Starsky stared at Hutch’s attacker in confusion. The man casually pointed the Beretta at him. Smoke billowed from it, the smell of gunpowder wafting through the air.

“Whoops,” the guy stated in a distorted voice at having accidentally shot the newcomer. He didn’t seem to be in any hurry to put a stop to Hutch’s care though.

Starsky desperately tried to make sense of the situation. If Daniel was the one who got shot, then who the hell was this guy? If he looked closely, the man bore an uncanny resemblance to the description fitting Rodney Templeton. But he was pretty sure that with the unnatural strength and the distorted voice, this guy wasn’t remotely human. He recalled Jack telling him there were things after them. Things as in plural, so, not just Cerberus apparently. Where the hell was that damn dog anyway? The way this rescue was digressing, he could use the backup right now.

With a start, he remembered why he’d been worried about Hutch in the first place. He’d been poisoned. So, why was he still alive? He studied Hutch, who made an attempt to stop the bleeding in Daniel’s lower abdomen by wrapping it in strips of cloth, which he’d created by tearing up nearby clothing he’d found on a rack.