A new story based very, very loosely on 'Beneath the Surface' (the general plot line). Stargate and its characters are not mine nor ever will be - all other characters are mine.

I hope you enjoy!

He woke up with a groan. His first thought was it must have been some kind of party! He had a headache that radiated from the top of his head to his toes. His mouth tasted like a sewer – although how a sewer tasted, or even what it was he wasn't quite sure. All he knew was that he felt terrible. He groaned again.

"How are you feeling Aden?" a voice reverberated through his skull, causing him to lift his hands to his his head. "Not well I see", the voice said with some humor. "Come, drink this. It will help."

The next thing he knew hands had appeared and seemed to be trying to make him sit up. He groaned a third time and tried to speak, but his mouth was so dry the words wouldn't come.

"Drink first, then you can speak", whoever owned that voice said.

He finally allowed himself to be pulled to a seated position – although the spikes being driven through his brain made it difficult, if not almost impossible. Finally he was sitting up and a cup appeared at his lips. A part of him worried about drinking something foreign, but his thirst was such he opened his mouth and took a sip.

The taste was pleasant, slightly tart and slightly sweet. I reminded him of – something – he couldn't put his finger on what it was. He slowly sipped and after a few seconds reached up and took the cup in his own hands. By the time he was finished drinking he started to feel slightly better.

There was silence in the room for a few minutes as he allowed the pain to recede and the world to stop swirling. Eventually he lifted his head to look at the man standing by his bed.

"Better now?" the man smiled and spoke to him.

"Hmmm", he grunted and handed the cup back to the smiling man. "Where – am I?" He started to look around the room but didn't recognize anything.

"Uh – you are home Aden. Do you – do you know me?" the man asked hesitantly.

"You? No – should I?" he asked. Although feeling better physically, something else was starting to worry him, although what that was, he wasn't sure.

"My name is Caleb", the man answered. He turned around and grabbed a rough-looking wooden chair, pulled it up to the bed and sat down. "We are friends", he said softly. "You and I have known each other since we were children", he explained. "Do you remember anything?" This was asked with extreme gentleness.

"Remember? Of course I –" He stopped and stared at – Caleb. God – he couldn't – he couldn't remember anything. He tried to force his mind to think of one thing, anything – but nothing came. He didn't know where he was or even who he was. Everything he knew was here, now, in this room. He looked in panic at Caleb. "Who am I?" he asked, suddenly terrified.

"I told you – you are my friend Aden. This is your home" he motioned around the room. "Do not worry – you will be fine. You have been ill and often one of the symptoms of the disease is loss of memory. I was worried about that. But we are all here to help you - you will be fine."

"How long until my memory returns?" he asked, still frightened although comforted by the fact that at least he was among friends.

"Uh", the man looked down, not wanting to meet his eyes. "It – sometimes it will return but often – it does not." He finally looked back up at the man in the bed. "It is hard, I know, but it will be alright. You are here, with friends and family and we will explain things to you."

He felt his stomach drop in fear – he felt lost and frightened. The assurances of the other man somehow no longer helped. There was something horrible – terrifying – in not knowing who or what or where you were. He slowly leaned back until he was again lying down and stared at the ceiling.

"Aden", the other man said softly. "I will bring you some food – that will make you feel better. After that we can talk and I will tell you more." When the man in the bed didn't respond Caleb stood up. With a last glance at his friend he turned and exited the room, knowing this would be difficult.

'Aden' lay there quietly, not moving for the longest time. He kept trying to remember something, anything, but nothing came at all. It was as if life had started for him the moment he opened his eyes. Everything was a horrifying 'blank'.

He didn't know how much time had passed before he heard a soft 'knock' and the door opened. Caleb had returned and was holding a bowl with something hot and steaming.

"I brought you some soup", he said. "You need to eat", he continued. "Come, sit up Aden. How are you feeling?"

Physically he was feeling fine, if a little weak. It was emotionally that he wasn't doing well. He sat up anyway, knowing that it wasn't helping to lie in bed. Maybe if he ate, if he got up and moved around, he'd start to remember. He couldn't believe that all his memories were gone.

He moved to the small table on the other side of the small room, and sat down. Caleb pushed the bowl in front of him and he took the offered spoon. Without saying anything he began to eat.

"Would you like me to tell you about the village and about you?"

He nodded, although he found himself feeling nervous about what was to come.

"Well, this village is Calia. There are about 50 people who live here – we are a small community – although there are other villages a day or more walk from here. Mostly we are farmers", he continued, "although there are a few others with other skills."

"Me?" he asked.

"You?" Aden laughed. "You are also a farmer. You have always loved it here and never wanted to leave. I, on the other hand, always yearned for adventure. When we were young I tried to get you to go exploring, but you refused, saying you had everything you needed right here."

He didn't know why – he didn't know anything about himself – but somehow that seemed – wrong. The thought of adventure, of travel – that appealed to him. Maybe it was just that he knew nothing and wanted to find out about his world.

"What – what planet are we on?" he finally asked, not realizing how strange that might sound.

"Planet? I do not know what you mean."

Aden looked at him in surprise. "World – what world are we on?"

Caleb answered, looking puzzled. "This is our world. There is no other. There is only Calia and the other villages."

That too felt wrong, but he didn't know why. Maybe everything would feel that way until his memory came back. He refused to believe that it wouldn't. "So – what about me?" he asked.

"You?' Caleb laughed again. "I told you – you are a farmer and you have lived here your whole life. You are my friend."

"Family?"

Caleb's smile left at this. "Your family – your parents – died a few years ago in the plague. Many of us lost family at that time. You also", he paused, "you also lost your wife and child. I am so sorry to have to tell you that."

That was the first thing Caleb told him that felt right – although it felt terribly sad. Yes, he could believe that he had lost his family. Although he couldn't remember, he was pretty sure there was a hole in his heart left over from that.

"But you found happiness again Aden", Caleb quickly continued. "Life is good for you now."

"It is?" he smiled ironically, "Except I can't remember that, can I?"

"I know it is difficult", Caleb answered. "You caught the Malmoria." Caleb suddenly shook his head. "I am sorry – you do not know what that is, do you?" He didn't wait for an answer, but continued. "Every few years there is an outbreak. We do not know where it comes from, or why it affects certain people and not others. People who catch it can be sick for a long time – many die. Of those that survive, most end up with no memories. That is what happened to you."

"How – how long have I been sick?" he asked.

"It has been about two months since you came down with it."

"Was I the only one, or were there others?"

"There were two others", Caleb answered. "Both survived."

"Did they lose their memories as well?" Aden asked.

"I – do not know, I have not seen them. I expect they are even now regaining consciousness. I will see those who are looking after them soon and will find out."

"O –kay. So, what else can you tell me about myself or my life here?"

"There is really not a lot to tell", Caleb answered. "You are a farmer, I told you. We lead a simple life here. We work hard – sometimes the harvest is good, sometimes it is not. Those times are difficult but we survive. Our village is peaceful and we live in harmony. You have many friends here, although it will take a while for you to get to know them again. People have been very worried about you."

"But what am I like?" Aden asked. "What kind of man am I?"

"You are a good man, a strong man. I – you can be obstinate but you are kind. I really don't want to say too much on that, though. I think it's best for you to discover that for yourself."

"Yeah – well at least I'm not a mass murderer or anything!" Aden laughed softly. He was quite surprised when the other man looked slightly panicked. "I was just kidding."

Caleb smiled, although it looked forced. "I know – that is also like you. It is just – many have died from the plague and it is not something we 'joke' about."

"I'm sorry", he apologized. "It's – hard, and I'll probably say all sorts of inappropriate things since I can't remember anything", he said in frustration.

"I know", Caleb's smile turned gentle. "Do not worry – we do understand. This has happened before so we know what to expect. I would just not speak of – death."

"Okay."

"There is one other thing Aden." Caleb stopped, again looking rather uncomfortable.

"What? Is there something else I need to know about myself?" He suddenly felt frightened again. What or who was he?

"Yes – yes there is", Caleb answered. He raised his eyes and looked at his friend. "You are married."

Aden lay back on his bed, alone and still trying to make sense of everything. His head had started to ache again, although he figured it was more from frustration and fear than from any physical cause. Married! Hell, now what was he going to do? He didn't remember himself, let alone a wife! According to Caleb she too had gotten sick with this Mal – thing. She was recuperating somewhere else. His – friend – didn't know if she had lost her memory or not. If she had, he thought with a small bit of humor – it was going to make for an interesting relationship.

He'd asked about kids – but was told that no, they didn't have any. "You and Bethany have not been married for long", Caleb explained. "You went for many years alone after you lost your wife and child. We all felt very badly and were happy when you married Bethany and started a new life with her."

"I – see. How long have we been married?"

"Only a few months before the illness struck", Caleb answered. He then grinned. "Just think, you can have another honeymoon!" It was only when Aden didn't smile in return that he seemed to realize his humor might be misplaced. "I am sorry Aden – I should not joke about this. I know it must be difficult." He stood up. "I will leave you now to rest. I will also find out about Bethany."

Aden nodded and had watched as the other man left. He had immediately gone back to bed and had lain here until now.

"You'd better find out what the hell is going on Aden", he said to himself as he finally sat up. He hated the fact that even his own name seemed wrong. It was as if he wanted to call himself something different and had to force out the name. Still, he had no idea what else he would call himself.

Sighing, he stood up and decided to do a bit of a recon – he frowned – what the hell was that? He shook his head and started again. He was going to snoop around and see what - his – place was like.

There was only one smallish wardrobe – he clearly wasn't rich. He opened the cupboard to see a few shirts – roughly made – and pants hanging. There was also a shelf with what must be underwear and a heavy sweater. On the other side of the same wardrobe were a number of women's dresses – long and also rough. On another shelf were clearly a woman's under things, a shawl and heavy socks.

Okay – this seemed to confirm the marriage bit – although the thought terrified him. How the hell was he to deal with a wife when he didn't even know who he was?

He continued to wander through the small, one room cottage. It was very plain – a cabin made by hand, simple and basic. There was a little kitchen area with an antique looking stove. He stopped – 'antique'? Why these thoughts kept popping up he couldn't fathom. Anyway – there was a wood stove, a sink with a manual pump, a small box – he opened it and crinkled his nose – there was food in there that had definitely gone bad. This must be some kind of refrigerator or ice box.

Other than that, there was the table with two chairs, a wooden rocking chair with a knit blanket thrown over the back, and a trunk at the end of the – rather small – bed. He walked over and opened it. Inside were piles of blankets and a few other items. There were metal candlestick holders, some baby clothes – he wondered if those had belonged to his child or did they belong to his present wife? Was this some kind of 'hope chest' or were they things he'd owned. He closed the lid, suddenly uncomfortable about looking through it.

There were a few other knickknack kind of things lying about, but all in all it was pretty sparse. So – pretty poor. Well, there seemed to be food and a community so he supposed it could be worse. He turned and took one last look at that bed. God, it was small for him (his feet hung over the end) – how in hell was he supposed to fit in there with a wife?

She woke up feeling disoriented and sick. She must have made a small sound because suddenly a person was beside her, speaking softly. It took a few seconds before she understood the words.

"Bethany, how are you?" the voice repeated.

"Uh?" she didn't quite know.

"Here – take this drink. It will make you feel better."

She took the offered cup and slowly sipped the sweet liquid. It was true – after a few minutes she began to feel better, although she was still confused. Where was she?

"There, are you feeling better?" the woman asked.

"Uh – yes", she answered softly. "I – guess so. Where am I?" she asked looking around.

"You are in Calia", the woman answered. "Do you not remember?"

"No – no I don't remember anything. Who are you?"

"I am Hannah", the woman answered. "I am your sister."

"My – my sister? But I don't have a sister", she exclaimed. She tried to think and only then realized that not only did she not remember the woman beside her, she couldn't remember anything. She began to panic, and to try and force herself to remember. She clutched her head – what was wrong? Who was she? What was she doing here?

"Do not worry", the other woman came and sat on the bed beside her. "You have been ill – that is why you cannot remember. You are safe here and nothing will happen to you. Just relax and things will be fine."

"But – but who am I? What am I doing here?" she asked, not calmed by the other woman's assurances.

"You are Bethany – my sister. We live in the village of Calia – it is a small community but we are close. We are farmers, for the most part. As I said, my name is Hannah – I am married to Caleb and you are in my house. You have been sick for many weeks and we worried that we would lose you but you are better now, and soon will be well. I will look after you, so do not worry."

"How long – how long until my memory comes back?" she asked.

The other woman was silent and looked down. After a few seconds she lifted her head. "I do not know", she replied. "It may not ever return – that is often the way of this sickness. But soon you will get to know everyone and your life here and you will be fine."

"Never? No – I have to remember! I – this isn't right – I don't belong here. I don't live here."

"No", the other woman reached out and gently grasped hold of her arms. "No, you do not live here, in this house. You were only brought here when you became ill. You have a home of your own – when you are well you will return there."

"My own -?"

"Yes, your own home." Hannah paused and then took a deep breath, as if fearful to continue. "You also have a family of your own – or at least a husband. You are married."

"Married?" she looked at the other woman. "No – I – I don't think I'm married."

"I know it may seem strange, but it is true. You have not been married for long – just a few months. That may be why it feels strange. Your husband also became sick, that is why he is not here. He is in your home, recuperating from the same illness, but he will be fine. My husband is with him and tells me he is better." She stopped again. "He too has lost his memory – it is common."

'Bethany' laughed ironically. So, she was married to a man who she didn't remember – and who didn't remember her. What a great way to start married life together. She wondered briefly what this man was like but then her mind returned to her predicament. She had to remember – she had to. Things felt wrong, they felt 'off' as if this couldn't possibly be her life. She looked around but nothing seemed familiar, or right. It seemed too plain, too simple. It was as if this was another time – one that was not hers.

She turned to face the woman sitting beside her and tried to see something familiar in her but again, there was nothing. She did not recognize the woman, nor did she feel any sense of closeness or warmth. If this was her sister, shouldn't she feel something? Maybe she and her sister didn't get along? That was always possible – that sometimes happened in families. She had a flash of – something – then. It was as if she had experienced some kind of family alienation. Maybe it was with this woman – although it felt more like it had been with a man. She hoped it wasn't her husband or that really was going to be difficult.

"Do I – have any other family?" she asked, hesitatingly.

"No, no other family. Our village experienced a plague some years ago and many died. Our parents died – you were only a child at the time. I had just married Caleb and so took you in – you are more of a daughter to me than a sister", she smiled. "You husband – he lost his wife and child in the plague and was alone for many years. He is older than you but a good man. You got married 6 months ago and were very happy, until the sickness hit."

"How – how did we both become sick? Were there others?"

"We do not know where it comes from. It appears every few years and different people are affected. Many die and of those who don't most lose their memories. Only one other besides you and your husband was affected and he too is recovering."

"My husband – what is his name?" she finally asked. "And what is he like?"

Hannah smiled. "His name is Aden, and you love him very much. As I said, he is older, but he is very strong. He is a handsome man – you will have beautiful children. As for what he is like – he is a kind man, a good man – but anymore you will have to discover yourself. Think of this as an opportunity to get to know and love each other all over again."

Bethany sat there knowing that Hannah was trying to help. The problem was, all she could think of was what if she didn't like her husband. What if she didn't grow to love him again? She lay back and closed her eyes, hoping that sleep would remove the terror, even for a short time.

His eyes snapped open and he looked around the room quickly, his heart beating so hard he felt like he'd been running. He saw an old woman sitting in the corner – it looked like she was knitting. The room itself was plain – made of wood and containing sparse furnishings. Other than the floor, which was also wood, it could have been a cabin from the early 17th century America. At that time, he knew, they usually had rough dirt floors – unless the occupants were wealthy. Based on the items in the room, the owner was far from wealthy.

His thoughts suddenly stopped – 17th century? America? What the hell were those things? He shook his head, confused, although stopped suddenly when the ache in his head grew to a ferocious stabbing pain. He closed his eyes and groaned – which immediately brought the old woman to his side.

"So you're finally awake", she asked. "It's about time!" A hand touched his forehead – it felt cool and offered some comfort. "I will get you something to drink – it will help that headache of yours."

He lay there while she moved around the room. He heard the sound of liquid pouring and soon she returned.

"Here, you have to sit up to drink this."

He struggled until he was leaning up against the back of the bed and took the proffered cup. He drank it quickly – it was pleasant – and soon began to feel better.

"Where am I", he asked, looking around the room, studying all the objects and trying to place them.

"You are in my cabin", the old woman replied. "I've been looking after you." She stopped and studied him for a moment. Then, with a frown, she continued. "You are a curious one, aren't you?"

"Curious?" he asked, turning to look at her. "Shouldn't I be?"

"It might get you in trouble", she said softly. "Best to just accept."

"Accept? Accept what?"

"What the Lord has planned for you. You're here – you live here – and so you might as well just let be. Don't go trying to find out more than you need to survive."

"Isn't there something beyond simple survival?" he asked.

"No – not here, not in Calia. In Calia survival is what is important – in fact, it is all there is."

"That sounds – harsh."

"It is – and so is life. How are you feeling now?"

"Better – the drink helped – but where – I still" He put his hand to his head. "I don't know - who I am." Suddenly he was frightened. He couldn't remember – didn't know who or what he was. Something was very, very wrong.

"You are David – you are my son. You have been ill for a long time but are getting better. The sickness caused memory loss. You may never remember anything, but you are at home and in Calia – that is really all you need to know anyway."

"But – but who am I? Not just my name – but what do I do? What is important to me – why am I here?"

"Yes, I was right – you are a curious one." She stood up and moved away. "Who you are is David, my son. You are a member of this community – you work, you survive. There is not anything else you need to know. Rest now and I will return. When you are better you can meet the others."

"Others?" he said as she left. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. "What others? What is this about? What is happening to me?" As he faded back into sleep he had a passing thought – he needed Jack – Jack would figure it out. Who or what 'Jack' was, he had no idea.