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He whined. Doc, when can I get out of here? I wanna go home. He fidgetted, and he wriggled. Imprisoned in the infirmary he was like an infant, a pouting, squawling, insufferable infant. And a Jaffa could only put up with so much. He glared over the chessboard, the patient sitting up in bed, tubes sticking out in all directions. It had been close. The sacrifice had almost been ultimate. He moved a pawn. There was a shout of glee, and O’Neill pounced on the board, taking his queen. And Teal’c knew He was happy to have him alive even if… He whined. **********
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