Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Dark Angel or Stargate, they are the property of MGM & the Fox Network. All other characters are my own creation.

AN: This is set just after the events of the Dark Angel novel ‘Skin Game’. However the opening scene was inspired from a chapter in the book.

A New Life

By EMI

Prologue

The flickering screen of the television was the only illumination in the darkened room; as the images of a barricaded city and a nation of people under siege, were played out in the small silver box.

The TV’s camera’s zoomed in on a small corner of the city’s metal fencing, where a group of drunken men had nothing better to do than throw flaming bottles of liqueur over the fence, and scream with laughter as they watched them shatter and set fire to the nearby buildings.

A man sauntered out from between some of those blazing buildings on the other side of the fence. And calmly spoke to the drunken individuals; but whatever he said made no difference as they just laughed and continued to toss their home made Molotov cocktails over the fence. One of the bottles smashing mere inches away from the solitary man, as watched from his side of the barricade. The flames from the fire licked up, and cast his face into light and shadow, as the orange glow revealed an almost sinister quality to the handsome face.

The watcher leaned forward in his chair, and watched intently as the man turned his head towards a shadowed corner behind him, and shrugged his shoulders before turning back to the men before him and jumping the eight foot fence with an almost cat-like grace.

The second he landed on the other side, he became a whirling dervish of disaster and pain, as he punched, kicked and incapacitated everyone that had stood before him.

Within thirty seconds, he was the only one still standing, as those that had infringed upon his territory lay in broken and bloodied heaps at his feet.

Rolling his shoulders and with a decidedly devilish smirk on his face, he cracked his knuckles and dusted of his hands, before turning and jumping the fence once again. Looking over his shoulder as he landed, he simply shook his head, stood up and waited as a small, lithe figure stepped out from the shelter of the shadows; before they both turned as one and disappeared back into the night.

Clicking off the television, the watcher leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling for a moment. After a while the blue eyes began to twinkle and a sigh of relief filled the large oval room, as the President of the United States reached for the telephone.

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General Jack O’Neil was slumped over his desk, softly snoring and dreaming about dancing Tealc’s and Tokra’s in pink tutus, when he was rudely jerked awake by the loud and really annoying ring of his telephone. Sitting up in his chair he discreetly wiped the drool from his mouth, as he reached over and picked up the phone.

Twenty minutes later, he was in the elevator and headed towards the topside of the Cheyenne Mountain complex; with Tealc at his side. After more than nearly twenty years as the head of Stargate Command, Jack knew that physically he hadn’t altered that much. There was maybe more grey in his short hair than there used to be, and he had to work out twice as hard at the gym than he once had to. But for a guy of his age he knew was still pretty youthful compared to some of his old Air force buddies.

Glancing in the direction of his stoic companion though, he couldn’t help but feel a little miffed. After all Tealc was a hundred and plus years, and he had yet to get a single damn wrinkle anywhere on his body. ‘It was so not fair’, he silently muttered.

“Is there something wrong O’Neil?”, Tealc enquired of the man next to him.

“Huh!? What?!, Jack asked before shaking his head and slapping him on his back,

“No man, I’m fine. Just thinking.” At that Tealc found it impossible not to quirk an eyebrow at the last remark. Catching that look out of the corner of his eye Jack muttered “Hey, I think!”.

Just then the elevator came to a holt and the doors slid open, to reveal Lt. Kellman. “General. Tealc.”, he saluted.

“At ease soldier” Jack said as he stepped out.

“If you’ll follow me Sir, I have a car waiting to take us to the airstrip”, Kellman said, as he started to make his way out of the building.

“I have the files you requested Sir. As well as some of the archive footage from years ago, and the most recent video from a month ago”. He babbled away happily “You’ll be able to view everything on the plane Sir.”

Jack nodded his head, and tried to suppress the smirk that threatened to wash over his face, at the eagerness of the young airman. “Thank you Lieutenant.”

As the trio stepped out into the sunlight, Jack had to blink his eyes a couple of times as they readjusted to the natural light. He paused for a moment as he sucked in a lungful of clean, fresh mountain air; for a brief second he had to actually stop and think about how long it had been since the last time he’d been topside; before sighing and pushing the thought away, as he clambered into the awaiting jeep.

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Dalton was bored.

Dalton was tired.

But more importantly Dalton was starving.

He’d been on sentry duty now for the last three hours, and during that time he’d actually taken to having conversations with his stomach; whenever it made its grumbling disgust of the situation apparent. But what could he do, he was soldier, and soldiers did not leave their posts just because they wanted something to eat. But seriously if he saw one more goddamn sector cop guzzle coffee and eat another doughnut, he was not going to be held responsible for his actions, he thought mutinously to himself.

Scanning the perimeter, he suddenly noticed some increased activity amongst the police that were surrounding Terminal City’s fence. Using his telescopic sight, he zoomed in on the area where he knew the senior officer’s were. The dark skinned Detective he knew to be Clemente was gesturing at his two subordinates, and trying to listen to his cellphone.

Placing his tongue between his teeth, and flaring his nostrils, Dalton picked up the distinct scent of agitation and resentment. But underneath it all, was the sharply scented layer of relief.

Suddenly Dalton’s head snapped up from the men he’d been watching, and he cocked it to the side as he heard the familiarly distinct sound of military Humvees, as he watched three of the black vehicles turn the corner and head in the direction TC. Grabbing his walkie talkie, he called base to let them know that company was coming.

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During their flight Jack had indeed looked at and reviewed nearly everything that the Lieutenant had provided for him; even if it had left him feeling somewhat sick to his stomach. ‘For God sake you’re a fucking soldier Jack’, he silently told himself.

But of course he knew the answer to that. Charlie. Charlie his son, who he’d never seen grow up because he’d played with a gun ‘Not just any gun though. My gun’, and had shot himself. Now here Jack was on his way to talk to a bunch of kids ‘soldiers’ he mentally corrected himself, who were barely out of their teens, but who had seen probably as much combat and death in their short lives, as he had in his.

He couldn’t help but feel angry at the government and the military, for destroying these kids ‘No these soldiers’ lives, and leaving him to pick up the tattered pieces.

But maybe, just maybe what he was going to offer them, would make up for all the torture, abuse and brainwashing that they had endured. Just maybe, he could convince them that what he was offering was the answer to they’re prayers.