The SGC is beginning to feel familiar.

The map of the maze-like corridors is locked safe within his mind; his meditations, candle-lit, smoke-hazed, shift to encompass images of this new world.

He's learning names and faces. Making friends.

"-- day spent fighting the fucking Jaffa -- lost Smitty did you hear? Yeah, P5X-997, total fucking bloodbath -- and the last thing I fucking need is to walk into that black bastard with that fucking tattoo coming out of the gym. God, O'Neill can say he's tame all he wants, but I tell you --"

Teal'c closes his door; lights another candle.

Familiar. Not home.

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