Colonel Jack O'Neill was bored, there was no other word for it. Since giving up trying to sleep sometime before dawn, he had been sitting in his office tapping his pen on a pad of lined paper in an effort to catch up on some very overdue correspondence. Something he never enjoyed doing at the best of times and now there seemed so much waiting to be said. Henry Boyd, Frank Cromwell. Hell, he couldn't remember the last time he'd replied to any of the letters from Kawalsky's family, and that was so long ago, it shouldn't still hurt so much, should it?
In the background a small television droned on incessantly, O'Neill had tuned into the news channel to get an update on the latest conflicts in Europe and the Middle East. It had been repeating the same reports constantly since breakfast time, but somehow Jack couldn't bring himself to turn it off, it was his only connection to reality for the moment.
Throwing his pen onto the desk, Jack rubbed his dark brown eyes wearily, not that he had any reason to be tired, but lack of activity always wore him out. He frowned at the blank pad in front of him and the pile of screwed up sheets surrounding the waste basket he had been practising shots at all morning. At times like these, Jack wondered if it was all worth it, especially after the latest fiasco. They had nearly killed off an entire planet's population because of some stupid model plane crashing into the plant life. Not to mention the destruction it had almost caused between him and Daniel!
Now they had been put on a week's downtime and he couldn't help feel he was being punished, and maybe rightly so, he was the leader of SG1, someone had to take the blame! The General's last comment still riled him, though. O'Neill had requested to accompany Daniel and Teal'c back to Abydos, where they were going to check if any Goa'ulds had been back to look for Sha're/Amonette's child, to get an indication of how much Apophis had been forced to reveal during his capture and torture at the hands of Sokar. But Hammond had flatly denied him permission, telling Jack, "Not this time Colonel, this is supposed to be a covert mission, you don't exactly blend in well among the Abydonian people. Teal'c will be the best protection for Dr Jackson whilst he's there."
So now he can't even protect his own team? What if the General was right? Getting thoroughly worked up with himself, O'Neill stood abruptly, letting the plastic chair crash backwards against the wall as he stormed out of the office and slammed the door. In the deserted corridor his anger deflated, leaving Jack sheepishly attempting to calm down as he stepped into the elevator car.
And all because of some damned aircraft! Jack thought again as he turned into the gateroom, curious to see how Carter was spending her morning. He stopped short when his brain registered what the Captain was tinkering with, "For crying out loud, not another model airplane!"
Startled, Sam looked up guiltily, having hoped to complete the test flight for her modified craft without Jack finding out, knowing how much it was likely to annoy him at present. "Colonel! I thought you had a ton of paperwork to deal with?"
"Yeah, finished that!" Jack lied, changing the subject quickly, "Is this the one from PJ2445?" He asked, trying to feign interest to mask his resentment at the inanimate object's presence.
"No, this is a new version, with a Trinium strength coating on the wings and nose, but it's lighter than the last model and we've also fitted it with boomerang programming," Sam explained, her head hidden somewhere beneath the undercarriage.
"Boom what?" Jack asked in mild exasperation.
"Boomerang programming," Sam smiled. Always relishing an opportunity to blind the Colonel with science, she slipped easily into her stride, "With the different atmospherics encountered on each planet, it's tricky to calculate the exact range each flight is capable of, so we've programmed the craft with a level of intelligence that will allow it to automatically adjust it's flying time to use exactly half of the fuel supply before turning back to the gate. Like a boomerang!"
"Oh," Jack nodded, vaguely understanding what she had said, which was about all he ever hoped for.
"We're testing it shortly, Sir, if you want to stick around and watch," Sam said, excitement shining in her bright blue eyes.
O'Neill envied the Captain, at least she had her science projects to keep her busy on base, he hadn't even been able to find anyone to play street hockey with, the rest of the teams were on assignment and the ground staff were avoiding him, knowing how competitive he got. Still at least Daniel should be back by the middle of the week, maybe they could get off the mountain for awhile and catch a game, do a bit of repair work to their badly dented friendship?
"Sir?" Captain Carter interrupted his thoughts, "We need to wait in the control room, during blast off."
Jack followed her out of the side entrance and up the stairs into the computer room overlooking the gate, trying to keep out of the way of all the technicians busying themselves with countdown preparations. O'Neill looked at his watch, wondering if it was lunchtime yet, but the morning was dragging by slowly and he had no excuse to avoid watching yet another infernal model aircraft fly over what would undoubtedly be an endless forest of trees on some backwater planet.
Wouldn't it be far more interesting if it were flying over the backyard of one of those dictators currently monopolising the news with reports of their latest atrocities being inflicted on humanity? But maybe that was why he had become so frustrated with his current assignment? Here he was wandering around distant galaxies, being diplomatic and surveying populations, when the people of his own planet were busily tearing it apart as if they wanted to make absolutely certain that the end of the world would indeed arrive in time for the next millennium. Or maybe it was just some huge conspiracy to avoid paying for all those excessive party celebrations they kept mentioning on CNN in between war bulletins?
It had been bothering Jack for a while, after all he was a soldier, maybe he should get back to proper soldiering? He'd given himself this week to think about it, a good opportunity to sort out what he really wanted, but standing here staring at millions of dollars worth of technology about to be secretly blasted off the face of the earth, Jack realised that deep in the back of his mind, he knew what his answer would be and that it was the right thing to do, even if it was going to hurt.
O'Neill was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of a rocket launching, he winced at the noise, all too often a reminder of his last mission with Major Kawalsky, when his friend had saved them from the Goa'uld by knocking out an attack craft with a direct hit from an RPG. Maybe he should get back to his letter writing? There were a few words that he would like Kawalsky's family to hear, after all. Jack glanced once more at the excited group gathered around the blonde Captain, who was seated at a computer monitor displaying a bird's eye view from the aircraft as it soared over an endless expanse of trees, then he turned and slipped quietly from the room.
Jack dawdled back slowly, stopping at the armoury located behind the control room, for some idle banter with one of the supply clerks, a kindred spirit in the world of ice hockey. But even she looked busy and harassed behind the friendly smile and he couldn't justify disrupting her for long, eventually drifting away to head up to his office.
Colonel O'Neill was still waiting impatiently for the elevator car to arrive, when he heard someone shout his name. "Colonel, General Hammond wants to see you immediately!" It was Lieutenant Simmons, looking a bit flushed, but then he usually did whenever Sam Carter was around!
Jack smiled at the thought, then huffed loudly, hitting the elevator call button one last time in frustration, before heading back along the corridor, wondering what punishment Hammond had dreamed up for him this time. That's what you get for procrastinating, Jack, he told himself irritably.
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"Oh, for crying out loud!" Captain Carter winced at Jack's not unexpected outburst when the General broke the news to him. "You're kidding right?" O'Neill asked hopefully, praying this was all a bad joke at his expense.
"No, Colonel, I'm sorry!" But Hammond didn't look sympathetic, in fact he looked like he was enjoying himself. "You and Captain Carter are the only SG team members still on base and we must retrieve the downed aircraft as soon as possible."
Jack couldn't believe what he was hearing. The model plane had crashed, AGAIN, and he was being sent after it, AGAIN! "General with all due respect, Sir," O'Neill piled it on thick, "After what happened the last time you sent us to recover one of these aircraft, is it really worth it? Wouldn't it be less costly if we just popped down to the Pentagon's hobby shop and bought a new one to play with?"
"Colonel, as you well know, those aircraft cost millions of taxpayers dollars. We cannot afford to lose one of them without knowing why. Besides," Hammond argued reasonably, "wouldn't you rather we were able to send these aircraft out to do long range reconnaissance of uninhabited worlds, rather than send an SG team each time. It saves a lot of leg work, after all."
"Maybe it does to you, Sir, but you've just asked me to do a sixty mile round trip to recover a piece of scrap metal!" Even so, Jack knew he wasn't going to dissuade the General, no matter how heated the argument got. He sighed deeply, telling himself resignedly that he could write as many letters out there as he was ever going to get written here and at least he would be getting fresh air and exercise at the same time. "When do we go?" He asked, glaring at Carter for getting them into this mess.
"Saddle up and be ready to ship out in one hour," Hammond smiled, trying not to look too smug. As Colonel O'Neill disappeared out the door, the General's expression changed to one of sympathy as he turned to Sam, "Sorry, Captain!"
"What for, Sir?" Carter asked in confusion.
"I'm afraid you'll be bearing the brunt of this one!" Hammond said, knowing Jack wouldn't let her off the hook easily and it could make for a very long walk.
"Don't worry, Sir," Carter grinned, "The Colonel's a teddy bear really, I'm sure I can handle him!"
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"Permission to speak freely, Sir?" Carter formally requested her commanding officer.
Jack turned back to look at her quizzically, "Yes of course, Captain, always! You know that."
"I was wondering, Sir, whether you would be shutting up soon, Sir?" Carter asked in exasperation, having put up with several hours of O'Neill's grumbling as they trekked through another vast expanse of tall green forest, the dense leafy canopy blocking out much of the light and warmth from the sun. Even so, Sam couldn't help smiling at O'Neill's jaw-dropped expression in response to her request. He actually managed to look hurt, which, to Carter, only served to prove her point, that the Colonel really was just a big teddy bear at heart. Still, she wondered if maybe she had gone too far, when he simply turned away and continued walking without another word.
After three hours of silence, Sam was beginning to feel very uncomfortable, peace was certainly not something she was used to on their usual missions, Dr Jackson always more than made up for anyone else's lack of vocals!
"Sir?" She called once again, but this time, O'Neill didn't stop or turn around. "Sir, permission to speak freely?" Sam knew he wouldn't be able to refuse another formal request.
"Carry on, Captain," the Colonel responded distantly, frowning at the shady darkness ahead, his eyes too unfocused to see it clearly.
"Sir, I was wondering whether you would be talking to me again, this trip?" Sam said despondently, reaching a hand out to catch his arm, seeking a few civil words in response.
Jack stopped so suddenly she almost rammed his backpack, turning with such a sharp frown on his face, that she stepped back involuntarily. Catching a glimpse of fright in her eyes, O'Neill focused on her, his expression melting into a slight grin. "Sorry, Captain, I was miles away," he apologised.
"No, that's all right," Carter replied, somewhat unnerved. "I'm the one who should be sorry, Sir, I got you into this mess."
Jack studied her, "It's not your fault, Carter, these things happen. I'm sure we've both had our fair share of seemingly pointless assignments over the years! Let's just enjoy the fresh air, okay?" He finished with false joviality.
Sam was confused for a moment, trying to figure out what else she had done lately, "Well, if it isn't the fact that my aircraft test blew up in our faces, Sir, what is wrong?"
"Nothing important, Captain," O'Neill shrugged it off and turned back to blaze a trail through the uninhabited forest.
Carter frowned, but couldn't let it drop, something was bothering him and she was certain it must have been something she had done. Sam strode quickly after him and grabbed his arm again, pulling him to another sudden halt. O'Neill looked at her in surprise, "Captain?"
"Colonel, if I've done something wrong, at least tell me what it is, so I can fix it," Sam demanded.
"What makes you think...? Oh!" O'Neill trailed off, remembering what he had been thinking when Sam interrupted earlier, "Carter, it wasn't anything to do with you."
"Then what is it, Sir?" Carter asked inquisitively, her confusion deepening.
Jack shrugged uncomfortably, "I was struggling with a decision, that's all. Just something tricky I was trying to get my head around." Not wishing to expand on his statement, he turned away again, but Carter still held his arm tightly and didn't want to let go just yet.
"Maybe I can help, Sir?" She offered.
O'Neill looked at her restraining hand, then at her earnest face and sighed, figuring she might as well find out sooner rather than later. "I'm going to put in for a transfer out of SGC," he explained simply.
Deeply shocked, it took Sam a minute to find her voice, "But why?"
"I need to go somewhere I can be useful for a change," the Colonel shrugged again, "I'm going to ask for a transfer to European intelligence, maybe they can use my experience there."
"The Balkans! But, Sir, we need you here!" Carter exclaimed, suddenly afraid for him as well as for the future of her team.
"Not anymore you don't, I've been here long enough. There's nothing else I can teach you or the rest of the teams," O'Neill said determinedly. "I'm going to recommend to General Hammond that you take over as head of SG1."
"But, Colonel!" Sam pleaded.
Jack held up his hand and cut short her outburst, "No arguments, Carter. My mind's made up." With that he lifted her hand from his arm and strode quickly ahead as she stared after him, stunned by his announcement. As the distance rapidly increased between them, Sam turned to follow in reluctant silence, vowing to work on him over the next few days, but with a dreadful feeling of certainty that once the Colonel's mind was set, nothing she said would change it.
Trailing after him, Sam tried to imagine what life would be like without the Colonel at their side, but somehow she couldn't see it. Even though she had always known their team wouldn't last forever, that in traditional military fashion, sooner or later someone would be gone, whether through happy or tragic circumstances. Somehow she had always hoped that what they were doing was important enough to keep them together and to keep them alive.
They continued on in silence for miles, walking at a steady pace until night fell and they could no longer travel safely in the increasing darkness of the dense forest. By the time he made camp, Colonel O'Neill was half a mile ahead and when Sam finally reached their base for the night, he had already lit a small controlled fire to protect against the cold and damp creeping through the trees.
Curled up on his poncho, cosily wrapped in a survival blanket, Jack pretended to snore loudly, so she would not attempt to engage him in conversation. With a deep sigh, Sam followed suit, realising how tired she felt as she lay down, the soft undergrowth making a pleasant mattress, and fell asleep within minutes.
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"Morning, Captain," O'Neill gently shook her shoulder as he wafted a mug of steaming coffee under her nose.
Sam groaned loudly, leaning on her elbow to reach for the proffered cup. "How far do you think we walked yesterday, Sir," she asked, sitting up stiffly, trying to figure out why she ached so much.
"About ten miles, I reckon, Captain. If we keep up the pace, we should reach the aircraft tomorrow morning." With that, the Colonel stamped out the small fire and pulled his rucksack onto his back, standing up to adjust the weight, before striding away through the trees, stepping over jutting roots carefully as he went. Sam watched incredulously, before jumping up quickly and grabbing her gear, hoping he wouldn't get too far ahead as she struggled with her boots.
They trekked in peace the entire day, barely exchanging words even when they stopped for food, munching on C rations in awkward silence. Each time Sam tried to begin a conversation, O'Neill would simply pack up his gear and move out, until eventually she gave up in frustration, exclaiming, once she thought he was out of earshot, "God, you can be so pigheaded and rude sometimes!"
"I heard that, Captain!" O'Neill shouted back over his shoulder, his voice carrying a long way in the stillness.
As night fell, they made camp again, deep within the dense forest, the constant cool, damp air and surrounding darkness beginning to wear them both down. Still they probably only had a few miles to go the next morning, although Carter was starting to wonder how they would ever find the aircraft wreckage amidst the thick foliage and ground cover.
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When Carter woke up, she ached terribly and couldn't figure out why the Colonel didn't appear to be suffering so badly from the long trek. As she tried to sit up, she doubled over from a cramp in her stomach, "Ugh, I feel sick!" Sam exclaimed, swallowing back the burning discomfort flaring bitterly in her throat.
Jack glanced at her irritably, "Not pregnant are you, Captain?" He quipped unsympathetically.
"Chance would be a fine thing!" Sam muttered under her breath, then she flushed angrily and glared at the Colonel, "Exactly what are you implying, Sir?"
Realising he had overstepped the mark, Jack attempted to backtrack quickly, "Sorry Carter, that was out of order, I didn't mean to offend."
After his behaviour of the last two days, Sam wasn't going to let him off easily, instead relishing the chance to put him in his place, "What makes you think it would be any of your business anyway, Sir?"
Jack looked flustered, "I don't, I mean..." he gestured helplessly, "I just figured you of all people, must have some kind of social life, I mean... unlike the rest of us."
Sam felt her anger diminish slightly at the sight of this man of few words, struggling to find enough to explain himself, "And what makes you think that?" She asked, her curiosity piqued.
"You're a beautiful, intelligent woman, Carter, it would be a waste if you didn't!"
O'Neill's simple statement of fact was out before he realised, causing the young woman to stare at him in astonishment, a smile dimpling her cheeks as the Colonel squirmed uncomfortably under her unabashed gaze. "Hate to disappoint you, Sir, but lately, I think I've been letting the side down! My social life has been about as non-existent as everyone elses."
"What about Lieutenant Simmons?" Jack smiled innocently.
"God, no! He's far too sweet!" Sam exclaimed, "I need someone who might at least put up a fair fight!" Her wicked grin turned to a wince as the feeling of nausea returned sourly and she clasped her cramping stomach.
O'Neill watched in concern, "Maybe something you ate?" He asked more seriously.
"I guess. It must have been that macaroni cheese last night, I knew it didn't taste right." Carter accepted the Colonel's helping hand to stand upright unsteadily.
"Taste like chicken?" Jack knew from experience.
"More like the innards of a chicken!" Sam winced as her vision swam, she leaned a hand on the Colonel's shoulder, eyes squeezed tightly shut, until the roaring in her head cleared.
"You going to be okay the rest of the way?" O'Neill asked, noticing the pallor of her face.
Sam simply nodded, unwilling to risk opening her mouth, the thought of throwing up on the Colonel's boots really too much to bear. Eventually the dizziness subsided and she began to feel a little better, although the pain in the pit of her stomach wasn't going anywhere. She swallowed from the canteen O'Neill offered her. "I guess I'd better lay off the coffee this morning," she managed a weak smile. "Got any paracetamols?" Jack nodded and pulled his first aid kit from a side pocket of his rucksack, offering her a tab of twelve capsules.
"You sure you'll be okay?" He asked, concerned, "I mean, I can go on alone and be back by tonight."
"No, really, Sir, I'll be fine, just give me a minute." With that, Carter swallowed some painkillers, gathered her resolve and her backpack and moved out after him.
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By mid morning, they had reached the approximate point at which contact was lost with the aircraft, the foliage was still densely packed, allowing little sunlight to penetrate the forest canopy. O'Neill was becoming increasingly annoyed with the futility of the whole mission and was wondering whether the General actually expected them to be able to retrieve the aircraft or whether they were really out there as punishment.
Still it didn't seem fair on Carter, she hadn't done anything wrong except eat some suspect food and now she was dragging half a mile behind, having insisted he go on ahead when she stopped to rest and, the Colonel suspected, obtain a bit of privacy to throw up behind any one of the thousands of trees enclosing them claustrophobically.
O'Neill slowed his pace so the Captain would catch up, worrying about her condition. It wasn't like Carter to get sick, but a mild touch of food poisoning would hopefully pass by the next morning. If not it was going to be a slow tortuous walk back. Damn those C rations, you'd think the military would try a bit harder to keep its soldiers healthy, Jack cursed to himself.
Trudging through the forest, constantly checking over his shoulder to ensure the Captain was reducing the gap between them, O'Neill sensed the ground suddenly disappear beneath his front foot. Arms flailing to regain his balance, Jack grabbed the nearest tree, staring in stunned horror at the dizzying two hundred foot drop directly below. A deep, narrow chasm slicing the forest floor, dividing it into two halves on an endless path, perhaps only forty feet across, but successfully obstructing further passage.
Where Jack stood, hanging onto a thick sturdy branch, he could lean out far enough to see a ribbon of crystal blue water flowing along the base, far more gently than when it had probably rushed downhill cutting a deep swathe through the land to form this river gorge, perhaps thousands of years earlier. As he contemplated the geological origins of the ravine, O'Neill heard the rustling sound of Carter's approach, not far behind him now. "Captain, we've got a slight problem here," he shouted back through the trees.
At his words, Sam increased her pace, arriving breathlessly, moments later, "What is it, Sir?"
O'Neill simply waved his free hand, signalling downwards, before he grabbed her arm as she moved forward. "Not too close, Captain, it's a long drop!"
"Wow!" Sam exclaimed as she gazed down into the ravine.
"So, how come the surveillance photos from the plane never gave any indication of this?" The Colonel asked disgustedly.
Carter considered the dimensions, "Well, Sir, it's very narrow, my guess is it simply wasn't detectable on the long range photos. This is about where we lost contact, it may be what caused the plane to malfunction," Sam deliberated, "If it hit an air pocket directly above..." She grabbed a branch of her own and leaned out as far as she dared, trying to ignore the dizziness and stomach churning caused by the vertigo inducing drop.
"So, how are we supposed to get across to continue searching for the plane?" O'Neill asked.
"Er, we don't need to, Sir," Carter said soberly, pointing down with her free hand, "The aircraft crashed right there!"
"For crying out loud!" O'Neill shook his head disgustedly as he spotted the wreckage at the base of the cliff, close to the river's edge. It looked like the plane had taken a high speed dive, tearing the trinium coated wings off to lie intact directly below them, before the more fragile fuselage had broken apart on impact, spreading pieces along the ravine as far as the eye could see. Jack grimaced, "That's it then, Captain, that's the end of this mission. We might as well turn back now!"
"But, Sir!" Carter objected, "We have to retrieve it, we've come too far to just leave it here."
"Oh? And how do you suggest we do that, Carter?" The Colonel asked irritably.
"We climb down!" Sam announced.
"That simple, huh?" O'Neill asked incredulously, "Might I point out to you, Captain, that you just spent the last three hours blazing your own trail through the forest by throwing up behind half a dozen trees!" Carter flushed in embarrassment, unaware that he had been counting. "You're in no fit state to climb a two hundred foot cliff and I'm certainly not planning on leaving you up here, whilst I go solo!"
"But, Colonel, I'm fine," Sam argued, "I feel much better now that I've got all that out of my system! And I can climb as well as you, Sir!"
"I'm sure you can, Captain, probably better, but I still think it's a bad idea," Jack said sternly, "We haven't even got any equipment."
"But, Sir, if we don't salvage what we can of the aircraft, you know General Hammond will just send us back the next time we have a few days free!" Carter knew she had hit upon a convincing argument, "Imagine having to go through all this a second time."
O'Neill considered her statement carefully, looking her over and trying to see through the brave front she was putting on.
"I can do it, Sir, honest," Sam assured him. "Give me a chance to prove it."
"Aw, for crying out loud!" O'Neill shrugged resignedly, giving into her appeals, "Don't make me regret this, Carter," he pleaded, stepping back from the edge and hefting his rucksack off his shoulders. "How much rope do you have in your pack?"
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With their two lengths of nylon rope tied together and looped around the nearest tree, O'Neill led the way over the side of the ravine, climbing expertly downwards as he found hand and footholds in the craggy rock surface. It was a simple enough exercise for anyone with experience, even though Jack had not needed his climbing skills for several years. "Piece of cake," he muttered to himself, glancing up to see how the Captain was doing.
They gradually progressed lower into the cool air and dark shadows where the sun only reached at the height of summer. Here the cliff was damp, slippery with condensation where water seeped through from the green forest high above.
Fifty feet from the base the rope ran out. O'Neill found a solid perch and waited for Carter to reach him, watching her descend steadily, eyes fixed on the rock face in grim determination. "Another ten feet and you'll be right above me, Captain," Jack warned as she got nearer, "Find a firm hold and take a break, we're three quarters of the way there."
Hearing his words, Sam looked down reflexively and O'Neill saw the shock hit her as she stared at the long drop. "Take it easy, Captain, focus on your hands," he called soothingly. "That's an order, Carter!" The Colonel raised his voice when she didn't respond, relieved to see her wide eyed gaze eventually pull away from the floor of the ravine, back to the rope in front of her. What worried him now was the way she held it so tightly that her knuckles were white and he could see beads of sweat on her brow. "Captain, how you doing?" He asked gently.
"I'm okay, Sir," Carter swallowed hard, "Just a little dizzy. I'll be fine in a minute."
O'Neill watched patiently, he had seen this reaction in plenty of training exercises in the past, hell he had probably had the same feeling himself a few times. It wasn't necessarily fear that brought it on, it was more like too much imagination about what could happen, that was enough to paralyse anybody. The only way out was to take your mind off it and think about something else entirely, course it didn't exactly help your concentration! Still it was worth a try, "So, Captain, you don't think the General actually expects us to bring the whole aircraft back, do you? I mean, with all those fragments, there must be some bits that are more important than others."
Carter continued to stare at her hands, but managed a coherent response, "The most vital piece will be the flight data recorder."
"You mean, that little thing has one of those black box doohickies in it?" O'Neill asked innocently, trying to entice the Captain into one of her mini science lectures.
"Well, it's not actually black," Sam began, relaxing the grip of her hands just enough so the rope was no longer cutting into her palms, "It's silver, covered in a reflective coating, so it can easily be picked up by radar or metal detector. It has a bunch of wires protruding from one side, which connect up to the various flight control elements, recording speed, height, angle, wind velocity, all that sort of stuff."
"Guess it's kind of useful then," Jack observed.
Carter grinned slightly, finally realising what he was trying to do, "It's okay, Sir, I think I'm ready to move again now."
"If you insist, Captain," O'Neill responded lightly, even though he knew he wasn't fooling her anymore, "Me, I could hang around a bit longer, you know, I'm kind of enjoying the break. But if you're sure, we'll carry on down."
Sam nodded gratefully and Jack began to descend again, passing the end of the rope and continuing steadily, but slower now, careful to stay within a few feet of the Captain in case she got into further difficulty.
With thirty feet to go their luck ran out. Carter shifted onto her left foot and the rocky outcrop it was perched on broke away from the cliff face. Sam screamed as her legs dropped out from under her, arms jarring under the sudden weight as she scrambled frantically for a toehold.
Glancing up at her startled cry, O'Neill caught the full force of falling stone in a painful blow to his right temple, leaving him dazed and fighting to stay conscious or fall himself. Jack shook his head dizzily, warm blood trickling down the side of his face as he looked up again to see the blonde Captain desperately clinging on by her fingertips. "Hang on, Carter, I'm coming," he shouted passed the roaring in his head, blindly feeling for new handholds as his vision blurred.
"Colonel, I'm slipping!" Sam yelled in growing panic, getting a good glimpse of the drop below as she dangled precariously.
"A few more seconds!" O'Neill blinked rapidly, trying to clear blood from his right eye to see through the pink haze, barely in time to duck as her dangerously swinging boot missed his head by an inch.
But Sam's bruised fingers could no longer hold the slick surface, losing grip without warning. Carter fell, her strangled scream cut short as Jack snatched desperately at her arm, somehow catching her right wrist. The abrupt halt of her body nearly yanking his own arm from its socket and almost dislodging his precarious grasp on the damp rock.
"I've got you, Carter," Jack gasped. "Reach up and grab on, that's all you have to do," he urged. But Sam's eyes were fixed on the horrifying drop below, her body swinging like a pendulum marking time, the shifting weight loosening O'Neill's grip on both her wrist and his own inadequate handhold.
"Captain! Grab onto something, that's an order!" Jack yelled through gritted teeth, trying to hide his growing panic as his fingers slipped again. "SAM!" He shouted, tightly clenching her sliding palm. "Reach up with your other hand, PLEASE!" O'Neill pleaded.
The desperation in his voice finally penetrated and the Captain lifted her head, eyes clearing as she saw his flimsy grasp and realised they were both about to fall. "Carter?" O'Neill locked his gaze with hers, surprised by the calmness in her blue eyes.
Sam glanced down once more, then back up at him, her thoughts so transparent that Jack knew what she was going to do a split second before she acted. Even then he was too late. The young Captain simply squeezed her fingers together to allow them to slip through his hand, silently dropping away from him.
"CARTER!" Jack yelled in horror, hopelessly snatching at her shoulder, before he turned to grasp the solid rock wall, burying his head with a strangled gasp.
The pitiful cry as Sam hit the ground spurred him into action, quickly scrambling down the remaining thirty feet of rock to reach the bottom. Breathing raggedly, Jack turned to examine the Captain's still body, her left ankle twisted at an awkward angle, her head rested at the base of a large boulder. A few inches closer and... O'Neill shook away the thought, praying Carter's rucksack had helped cushion her fall.
"Sam?" He bent down, reaching a shaking hand to check her pupils, before holding his dirt stained fingertips against her neck. Her pulse was weak but steady. Jack patted her cheek, his perpetual tan a stark contrast to the paleness of her skin, "Captain?" He urged worriedly.
Carter shifted slightly, wincing in pain. "Ouch!" She managed to gasp, gingerly reaching a hand to the back of her head to probe where something hard was impressing her skull. Without opening her eyes, she could feel the dampness of blood on her fingers.
Jack saw the dark red stain on her hand, his soft voice penetrating the haze, "How's your back? Can you sit up?"
Sam reached out blindly and felt the Colonel take her arm, gently supporting her neck to lean her against his shoulder, whilst he examined her head. There was a large swollen lump beneath the cut, matting her blonde hair with already congealing blood, but it didn't look deep. "Maybe a mild concussion, but I think you'll live, Captain," O'Neill declared positively. "Anything else hurt, other than your ankle?"
Eyes still closed, Carter groaned as she recognised the source of the dull ache in her leg. "No," she tried not to shake her head, "I think I'm okay," her voice was dry and hoarse, but she attempted a grin, "It was a broken ankle that got me into this mess!" Jack regarded her quizzically as she went on to explain, "I fell out of a tree when I was ten. Been nervous of heights ever since! Help me up," she reached out with her hand.
"Not until I've put a splint on it." O'Neill removed the battered rucksack from Sam's shoulders and carefully leaned her head back against it. "Lie still, while I check it out." Gently examining what looked, to his untrained eye, like a nice clean fracture, Jack was amazed that the young woman had escaped so lightly. Maybe she was a cat in a former life, he considered ruefully.
The Colonel sat back on his heels and glanced around him. A few feet away the river flowed steadily, about ten metres wide at this point, the water clear enough to see the bottom, but impossible to gauge how deep in the shadows of the ravine. Stretched out along the bank upstream, were the ghostly white remains of the broken model aircraft and O'Neill now stood, heading for the closest remnants in search of something to form a splint.
Returning with two broken pieces from the tail of the fuselage, along with both wings which he hoped could serve as crutches, Jack unsheathed his knife and cut some of the webbing from Carter's backpack to fasten the makeshift support around her ankle, trying not to jar the broken bone. The Captain lay quietly as ordered, eyes tightly shut and teeth gritted, until he was finished.
"It'll do," O'Neill finally decided, "Do you want something for the pain?"
Carter opened her eyes and stared at her ankle. "No, not yet," she decided with an involuntary, but painful, shake of the head, which left her on the verge of changing her mind.
"Sure?" Jack asked, seeing the doubt clouding her eyes.
Instead Sam focused on him, "Colonel, you're bleeding." She moved a hand towards his face, but he shied away from her touch, his own fingertips curiously probing his battered temple.
"Oh yeah," Jack murmured, vaguely remembering the falling rock. "Always knew I'd need my head examined sooner or later!" He quipped lightly. "Guess, I'd better get us both cleaned up," he added, rummaging in his rucksack for a first aid kit.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Declared fit and ready to move out by her new personal medic, Sam was helped slowly to her feet, leaning on the makeshift trinium crutches whilst Jack transferred equipment from her rucksack into his own so they could leave one behind, cramming the contents into whatever tiny gap remained in the already full pack.
"How are we going to carry the aircraft?" Sam asked curiously, watching him as she hung her head dizzily, trying to stop herself from swaying.
"We're not, Captain," the Colonel responded without looking up, "Retrieving the plane is out of the question. Our only objective now is to get you back to the Stargate, that will be hard enough."
"But, Sir! We have to at least find the black box, or all this will be for nothing," Carter protested weakly. "We're so close! Besides, I'm absolutely fine, another hour isn't going to make a difference!"
O'Neill pondered her words, knowing how important this was to her and after what she had already been through, it would be nice for the mission not to be a complete disaster. Against his better judgement, Jack gave in, "Okay, Captain, but if we don't find it within the hour, we turn back and head downstream, towards the gate. Understood?"
"Yes, Sir," Carter mumbled, her head still hanging, staring at the ground as she tried to focus.
Jack hefted the bulging rucksack, contemplating leaving it there to collect on the way back, before he decided it would be safer to keep it with him. "Okay, Captain, let's go."
Picking their way slowly upstream, searching for any fragment of the broken aircraft, Sam stopped at each piece they found, examining it carefully and insisting it be recorded before they could continue.
The Colonel pressed on ahead, desperately seeking the black box that would herald the end of their futile search. He heard a muffled groan behind him, turning in time to see the Captain doubled up in pain, her makeshift crutches clattering to the ground as she keeled over.
"Carter!" He shouted worriedly, running back to her side. Jack gently examined the young woman, unable to fathom what had happened, what injury he had missed. Placing a hand on her forehead to check her pupils, he realised she was burning up. He pulled up her sleeve to take a pulse, feeling the Captain's palm cold and clammy, but her heart was racing. "Captain, wake up! Sam?" He urged desperately, needing her help to determine what was wrong.
Carter's eyelids flickered slightly and she began to come round. "Hurts!" She managed weakly through clenched teeth, eyes screwing tightly shut against the pain.
"Where, Carter? Where does it hurt?" Jack asked gently.
With her eyes still closed, Sam reached her fingers to the base of her stomach and the Colonel inwardly groaned, remembering her supposed food poisoning and wondering what the hell was going on. He pulled his rucksack off and rested Carter's wounded head on it, then he kneeled beside her and tried to warm his cold hands before unzipping Sam's jacket and pulling her t-shirt out from the waistband.
"Sorry, Captain, but I have to do this," he apologised as he slipped his hands beneath the cotton material and pressed his fingers against the bare skin of her midriff, working his way from one side to the other, just as he'd been taught years before in some almost forgotten first aid course. When he pushed down on her lower right quadrant, she screamed in pain, fists clenching tightly.
Jack lifted his fingers hurriedly and held his shaking hand against her hot forehead, brushing blonde hair back from her face. "It's okay, Sam, I'm done," he said, his heart thumping hard as the extent of their predicament sank in. It had to be appendicitis! The Colonel rocked back on his heels, turning his face away to hide his shock as he smothered a curse with his hand.
They were classic signs, he had seen them before. Fifteen year's ago, on a field exercise, a young Lieutenant in his squad had gone down with the same symptoms, two days out from base camp, in torrential rain and with the batteries dying on their radio. Jack shivered involuntarily at the awful memory, the helplessness he had felt back then, watching the young man in pain from every movement as they attempted to stretcher him back across the rugged terrain. It had taken nearly two days to get him to hospital, by which time his appendix had burst. He could still recall the screams vividly. Now here they were, at least three days away from the Stargate, assuming they could escape the ravine, and all because of some damned model aircraft!
Carter's voiced hissed painfully in the growing darkness, breaking into his thoughts as if she had read his mind, "Colonel, I had my appendix out when I was ten. The cast was still on my broken ankle at the time! Boy," she exclaimed ruefully, "that was a bumper summer!"
O'Neill's relief was short-lived, "Then, what the hell is it?" He struggled to hide his anguish, as helpless as he was mystified. He pulled a small penlight from his inside pocket to examine her visually. Twisting the head to a narrow beam, he shone it on her stomach and lifted the bottom of her black t-shirt, catching sight of a strange red stain marking her pale skin like an unfinished tattoo, stretching down her right side in thin spidery branches to terminate at the base of her abdomen.
Gingerly pushing the cotton shirt higher up her chest, O'Neill traced the lines with his flashlight as far as her armpit. When a thought struck him and he shifted to her right wrist, turning it over and pushing up her jacket sleeve to reveal a large swollen bump, halfway down Carter's forearm, from where an inflamed red line tracked upwards, towards the crook of her elbow and beyond, following the path of a vein until it snaked from view beneath her clothes.
"What is it?" Carter murmured feebly.
"Some kind of insect bite maybe?" O'Neill wondered, trying to get a better look at the point of origin. "There's still something imbedded here," he peered closer before digging in another pocket for his Swiss army knife. Withdrawing a set of tweezers from it, Jack clasped the penlight between his teeth and gently lifted her wrist again to extract the foreign object. Grasping the sliver on his fourth attempt, he placed it on the white cloth of a clean handkerchief to examine, reaching in the rucksack with his other hand to find one of Carter's empty soil sample bags to place it into. "I'm no botanist, but it looks like plant matter." He glanced at the Captain, seeing her memory jogged by his comment.
"The day before yesterday I snagged my sleeve on a bush, it was just a scratch!" Sam gasped at the sudden explosion of violent pain, writhing in agony and clutching her stomach until it finally began to subside again, leaving her barely conscious and whimpering softly.
Jack stared helplessly at the blonde woman, "Oh, Sam, why didn't you say something sooner?" He said to himself quietly, realising she had been suffering in silence until now.
Carter heard him and tried to smile, "Too pigheaded!"
"Yeah, I know I am!" O'Neill admitted unhappily.
"Not you. Me!" Sam hissed, "I didn't want to be the reason for you not retrieving the aircraft," she explained weakly, tears of pain and frustration in her eyes.
"God, Carter, that thing isn't worth a life!" Jack exclaimed, falling suddenly silent as he realised he had not exactly stated the seriousness of their situation very gently.
The Captain winced as if slapped, "I'm sorry, Sir," she said miserably, "but I knew you'd get into more trouble with the General if you returned without it and then you'd definitely leave SG1."
O'Neill rocked back on his heels, staring at her in the dusky light, unsure how to react. "Carter, I can fight my own battles, you know," he said quietly, realising that perhaps he had been dragging the rest of them down with him lately, instead of doing the right thing and ending his ties to the Stargate program, quickly and efficiently.
Another cry from Carter focused his resolve and he leaned over to rummage in the rucksack for a medical kit. "Captain, I'm going to give you a shot of morphine, then I'll get you back to the gate."
Carter grasped his arm, fixing him with pain filled eyes. "You have to find the... flight data... recorder!" She gasped through gritted teeth. Jack gave her a look of disbelief, unable to understand why it was still important, but she met his gaze so determinedly he reluctantly nodded. Satisfied, Sam released his wrist so he could inject the morphine, relaxing as it took effect.
Colonel O'Neill placed her hand at her side and covered her with a rain poncho, stooping down to whisper in her ear, despite knowing she was probably too far away to hear, "I won't be long, Captain." Then he quickly set off along the river bank, praying he would be able to spot the black box before darkness completely descended.
Jack still had the mini camcorder that was such a favourite toy of Daniel's, so he filmed each new fragment he passed, purely for the Captain's benefit. Assuming she lived long enough, the Colonel reminded himself grimly, attempting to evaluate the situation.
He had no idea of the consequences or effects of her illness, but if he could at least get Sam back to the SGC, she would have a chance of treatment and, if it was poison, maybe the doctors could come up with an antitoxin. But they were thirty miles from the Stargate, assuming he could find a way out of the ravine, and despite the Captain's slim frame, he would be unable to carry her that far. He could use the trinium crutches as a stretcher, if he could strap the two lightweight pieces together. Maybe they would even float, he wondered flippantly. If only the plane had been equipped with a life raft!
It had taken two days to get here and it would take a lot longer to get the Captain back to the gate, even if they could travel through the night. Then there was the drug supply. Between their standard medical kits would be a total of ten morphine capsules, but Jack knew from personal experience that the effect of each injection diminished as the pain increased, requiring more frequent administering if Carter's condition continued to deteriorate. O'Neill tried various extrapolations, but he couldn't fathom how long the supply might last and he found himself wishing that Sam were there to figure it out for him as usual. If only there weren't so many variables.......
"Well, I'll just have to get her back to the gate before it runs out, won't I?" Jack declared aloud, stopping dead in his tracks as he spotted a silvery reflection a few feet ahead on the edge of the river bank. The black box flight recorder, still attached to what looked like part of the nose cone, thin wires connecting to sensory probes at the front. He lifted the whole array and hurried back to the unconscious Captain, barely able to see the path ahead as night finally descended.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Since two hours before dawn, they had been travelling along the cool, shady ravine, where the sun's warmth was unable to penetrate, with only the hands of his watch to indicate the inexorable passage of distance and time. The high cliff walls around them infinitely unchanging, until Jack began to wonder whether they would ever find a way out. At least their path still swung in a long curve, taking them closer to the location of the Stargate with each passing hour.
For the umpteenth time, Colonel O'Neill stopped to lift the wing tip up over a rockfall, noticing the light beginning to fade. It had been a painfully slow day, but he had managed to maintain a steady pace until now, with night descending upon them, forcing Jack to ease up and pick a careful path along the rock strewn river bank.
Still he continued for several more hours, increasing speed again slightly as an almost full moon climbed high enough to shed a pale glow over the way ahead, and not before time as the dull beam of his small flashlight was beginning to wane after four hours continuous use. Jack estimated they had probably travelled about nine miles, but now he was rapidly reaching a point of exhaustion and he knew if he didn't rest soon it would only slow them up further throughout the following day.
"Colonel?" Carter was awake again, her muffled whisper behind him.
Jack gently lowered the makeshift stretcher and knelt stiffly beside her, pulling a glove off to reach for Sam's trembling fingers beneath the blanket. "Yes Captain, what is it?" He asked gently, hoping her last shot of morphine hadn't run out already.
"Rest," Carter said through dry pale lips. "You need to rest, Sir," she repeated insistently.
"Just a bit further," O'Neill declared.
"No," Carter held his hand as tightly as she could. "Too cold," she admitted. Jack felt her fingers beneath his and realised they were freezing, even though her forehead still glistened feverishly.
"Okay, Captain," he agreed reluctantly, "We'll camp here for awhile. I'll make a fire, just hang in there a few more minutes."
"I promise I won't go anywhere!" Sam managed a weak smile.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Colonel O'Neill was dragged abruptly from the welcoming arms of sleep, having managed to doze with one eye open for the last few hours. He sat up with the fleeting hope that it had all been a dream, then he noticed the fire was almost out and poked it gently to encourage the flames. The flickering light reflected on Carter's sleeping face, colouring her pale features in a deceptively pink glow. She murmured again and Jack recognised what had wakened him.
He couldn't make out what she was saying and he wasn't sure he wanted to, her haunted expression and the clenching of her fingers against the blanket, told him the Captain's feverish dreams were far from pleasant. The signs were all too familiar, having lived with them personally for the last two decades and seen them increasingly in Daniel Jackson over the past two years as events took their toll on his young mind.
Even so, despite her condition, O'Neill was surprised to see Carter so caught in the midst of her own terrifying nightmare. On the numerous times he had been on watch over SG1's camp, he had never known Sam to succumb to anything more than the restful sleep of a clear conscience, almost as easily as Teal'c, in fact. Jack wondered if she needed another morphine shot, knowing with their limited supply it would be better to wait until she was awake, consciously in pain, but that didn't mean he had to watch her suffer.
Restlessly, O'Neill regarded the dying fire, deciding to continue his futile search for the scarce fuel whilst the flames were still high enough to provide some light. He stood up and moved away from the sleeping Captain, frozen in his tracks as she cried out suddenly, "Jack! Don't leave!"
Startled, the Colonel spun round, heart thumping in his chest. He stared at Sam's softly lit features, but her eyes were tightly shut and she was still visibly in the grip of some nightmare. He gazed at her for a long time, but she didn't cry out again and eventually he turned and headed for the dark reaches of the ravine.
Arms clutching the few precious pieces of firewood he had been able to find up ahead on this spartan rock floor, Jack was carefully working his way back towards the flickering light, concentrating on avoiding the river and the large boulders looming in the darkness, when he heard another helpless cry from Carter, "Colonel!"
Assuming the Captain was talking in her sleep again, O'Neill didn't answer at first, until the calls became more pitiful, "Colonel? Where are you?"
"Carter, I'm here, it's okay!" He dropped the dead wood by the fire and knelt beside the frightened woman, placing a hand on her shoulder, "It's okay, I'm still here, Sam."
"Oh, god!" Carter exclaimed shakily, emotionally vulnerable after her pain induced nightmare, "Colonel, I thought you were gone!"
O'Neill reassured her with a quizzical smile, recognising her panic as a by-product of the drugs and pain, "Come on, Captain, you know I'm not going to leave you here."
"No, but you will as soon as we get back, won't you?" Sam said softly, unable to stop a single tear from escaping down her cheek. "IF we get back!" She added helplessly.
"Captain, we ARE going to make it home," Jack said determinedly, avoiding any response to her first statement. "We've been in worse situations," He gently brushed her tear away and held her chin, forcing her to look at him, "Remember?" Sam nodded feebly. "Are you ready to travel?" O'Neill asked, deciding that neither of them were likely to sleep anymore tonight. That got him another nod and Jack started to stand, but Carter grabbed his wrist with surprising strength and he turned back to meet her earnest gaze.
"Promise you won't leave!" She whispered pleadingly.
"Captain, you know I can't do that!" Jack said quietly, surprised by the desperation in her voice, "Besides, it's not like you're in a very strong bargaining position, what are you going to do if I don't promise?" He pointed out lightly, the smile dying on his lips with her next shocking statement.
"I'll stop fighting!"
O'Neill looked into her pain filled eyes for a long moment, unable to understand where this was all coming from. "You wouldn't do that, Sam, I know you. You're a born survivor! You've got everything to live for." Carter shook her head fiercely. "Captain, it's just the morphine talking. You won't even remember any of this in the morning!"
"Then it won't hurt to promise, will it?" She argued stubbornly.
"I'm not going to lie to you, Carter! Look," Jack took her hand in his, feeling a feverish tremor in her fingers, "I promise I'll reconsider my decision, when we get home, okay? But you have to make it back for me to keep my word!" The blonde woman nodded, satisfied with the compromise, finally releasing him, so he could break camp ready to move out again on their interminable journey.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By late afternoon, Jack estimated they had covered about fifteen miles and somehow he kept going, ignoring his exhaustion, determined to continue right through till nightfall before he would allow himself to collapse for a few hours. Sometime after giving Carter his reluctant promise, he had made one for himself, vowing that he would get them both home alive, if it was his last act as a member of SG1.
He had stopped twice to get some food and drugs into Carter, waking her from a semiconscious delirium, but Jack had struggled to swallow anything himself, except water and a few glucose tablets, feeling nauseous from the exertion. Now his head was pounding again, presumably because of the painful bump on his head, and he finally relented, pausing briefly to toss back some paracetamols.
"Maybe I'm getting too old for all this?" O'Neill said to himself as he blinked cold sweat from his eyes and stared along the endless ravine, wishing he could see a light at the end of the tunnel. It had been nearly forty eight hours since Carter had collapsed in pain and so far she had managed on five shots of morphine. He belatedly wondered what the danger of addiction might be, then realised that was a bridge they would have to cross if they made it home. WHEN they made it home, he corrected himself.
Jack had been in worse situations than this, but always when he was only responsible for his own survival. Never before had the life of a friend been solely in his hands in such a dire way and it left him feeling helpless, out of control, as if fate was finally paying him back for carefully honing his own selfish survival instincts over the years.
Even so, they were more than halfway there in two days, that was more than he had initially hoped for. O'Neill pulled harder on the nylon webbing, cut from Carter's discarded rucksack to use for rope, dragging the rudimentary stretcher behind him with renewed determination, ignoring the blisters developing on his fingers despite the gloves. Continuing on until he collapsed exhaustedly not long after nightfall, not that it was easy to tell that exact point in the deep ravine, but when he realised he could no longer see, Jack knew the sun had fully set.
Given the scarcity of firewood, O'Neill had gathered any he could find along the way and he now unstrapped the meagre bundle from the bottom of his rucksack. With barely enough energy to stoop down and build it into a fire, the Colonel fumbled in the darkness to find his waterproof matches and get the dry sticks burning. Before long it was hot enough to heat water and he mixed some powdered soup, then woke Captain Carter from her feverish stupor and forced her to drink, even though the smell was making his own stomach do backflips. Sam needed the warmth and energy no matter how unappetising it looked!
"So, Carter, you ready for that marathon I've entered you in next week?" O'Neill asked lightly, helping her sip from the tin mug and pushing damp blonde hair from her eyes to place a hand on her forehead and check her fever.
"Colonel, please don't make me laugh, you know it will hurt!" Carter admonished him weakly.
"Sorry, I didn't realise my jokes were that painful," Jack responded, his dark brown eyes twinkling in the firelight, masking his concern at her high temperature.
Sam managed a smile that reached her own pain dulled eyes and continued to sip at the soup, "What flavour is this anyway?"
"Macaroni cheese!" Jack laughed.
"Ha ha, very funny!" Carter mirrored his grin, before her face became serious as she asked softly, "How are you doing?"
O'Neill hoped she couldn't see how exhausted he felt in the dim firelight, "Peachy, thanks! And we're well over halfway there already," he said positively.
"Really!" Carter's face lit up for a moment, giving Jack a warm glow and a renewed sense that they would make it back, if he ignored the nagging reminder that they were still trapped in a deep ravine.
"Yeah!" The Colonel took the empty mug from her, "How about you? Do you need another shot yet?"
Carter frowned for a moment, then shook her head, "No, I'd rather save it," she decided, a dark shadow crossed her eyes and Jack realised she knew what could happen as well as he did.
"Okay, get some rest, Captain. We move out in six hours." Jack helped her settle back onto the makeshift stretcher, which he had attempted to pad out with her demolished rucksack to stop the coldness of the metal from seeping through. She had both their blankets wrapped over her body and covered by a waterproof poncho, held in place across her legs and chest by the remaining straps off her pack.
He watched her eyes close, waiting for her to succumb to sleep before moving away to delve into his rucksack with a shaking hand, the effects of dehydration and lack of food cramping his stomach and legs. He found a packet of glucose capsules and some purification tablets, then collected the empty tin pot and headed across to the river bank to rinse and refill it with icy water that numbed his fingers.
Although it looked clean, the water would need boiling and purifying before it was usable, so he had saved the remainder of their last canteen for Carter, not wishing to make her condition even worse by giving her tainted fluids.
Chewing on a couple of glucose sweets, O'Neill heated the pan over the fire, adding purification tablets and trying not to nod off as he waited for the water to boil. Feeling cramp in his legs again, Jack chased down the sugary capsules with some salt tablets, realising too late what a terrible mixture that was when his stomach rebelled. Stumbling away from the sleeping Captain, he leaned on a convenient boulder and threw up behind it, his whole body shaking from exhaustion.
Still nauseous, the Colonel knew he needed to get some food and water inside him, but he also knew that right now it wouldn't stay there for long. In the end, he settled for a few sips of hot, freshly purified stream water, which calmed the shakes sufficiently for him to try and get some sleep, hoping that, in a few hours, he would be strong enough to get some food inside him before they had to set off again.
Jack's body clock woke him three hours later and he rolled over with a shiver, throwing some more wood onto the fire, giving him enough light to see by as he sat up stiffly, glancing over to make sure the Captain was still sleeping. Sam's face was shadowed with pain, her eyes tightly shut, but her breathing was deep, she would need another shot of morphine when she awoke, but hopefully that wouldn't be for a while yet.
Unscrewing the cap of one of the canteens he had filled with purified water, Jack sipped slowly, then risked chewing on a single glucose tablet, before he settled back down, hoping to get a bit more sleep. Instead he tossed and turned uncomfortably for an hour, the stiffness and cramp in his legs and arms getting worse the longer he lay still.
Eventually he rummaged in one of his pockets and pulled out the salt tablets again, squinting at the small container with a look of disgust, before he tipped a couple into his hand and swallowed reluctantly, sipping more water to try and wash them down. In a final effort to get to sleep quickly before his stomach started to react again, Jack set the timer on his watch to countdown two hours, placing his hand under his head as a pillow, so he would hear the alarm without disturbing Carter.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The persistent beeping slowly dragged Jack to the surface, his fingers reflexively scrabbling around to locate the source of the alarm, as it turned his final sleeping moments into a vividly familiar nightmare of a stark hospital room housing his broken body, surrounded by monitors, which beeped incessantly as if to remind him he was still alive, to entice him from the dark hole he had retreated to.
O'Neill awoke with a strangled cry, his whole body trembling. He sat up too fast, trying to escape the dreadful image in his head, and a feeling of nausea overwhelmed him, driving his weary mind back to another time. Another experience of deteriorating physical shape, where, after four months in an Iraqi prison, dehydration and malnutrition had become a comforting companion, something he could rely upon for stability against the madness surrounding him.
Jack pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, gasping for air, digging clenched knuckles into his temples to push away the memories as he fought for equilibrium, to empty his thoughts and focus on calming his churning stomach.
When he finally felt composed enough to lower his hands, he found himself staring directly into Sam Carter's concerned blue eyes. "Colonel, are you all right?" She asked softly, glad to concentrate on something other than the pain that now seemed to have spread like fire throughout her entire body.
Startled, Jack looked at her, breathing hard and struggling to control the shudders as he vaguely wondered how long she had been watching. Eventually, he lowered his eyes, avoiding her gaze as he tried to keep his voice even, "Sorry Carter, I'd hoped the alarm wouldn't wake you."
"It didn't Colonel, I was already awake, but I didn't want to disturb your sleep." Sam frowned, adding quietly, "Although, I think it was already disturbed." She looked at him with puzzled concern.
O'Neill flushed guiltily, unable to dismiss the uncomfortable feeling that the Captain had gotten an unwanted glimpse into the depths of his soul. He stared at her wordlessly, wondering what she could see as she held his gaze so fearlessly. Finally, he glanced away from her piercing blue eyes and broke the silence, "We'd better get moving."
"Colonel," Carter's voice wavered, "How much morphine is left?"
Jack studied her face, seeing the pain in her features now and he knew she had probably woken because of it. "Plenty," he told her, reaching into his rucksack to pull out the medical kit, "There's still five left." He crawled around the edge of the small fire, feeling its beneficial glow against his back, and reached for Carter's left arm, gently easing it out from under the blankets before he slipped the jacket off her shoulder and pulled the sleeve of her t-shirt out of the way.
The Captain could not feel the needle prick amidst the agony emanating from her stomach, but the morphine worked quickly, spreading throughout her body to dull her senses. With the extra courage that preceded the drug filled haze she lifted her left hand to O'Neill's face, touching his cheek lightly, certain that she felt a tremor beneath her fingertips. "Jack, are you okay?" Sam asked softly, not missing the shadow that crossed his dark brown eyes at her question. She waited patiently for an answer, until he eventually met her gaze and nodded almost imperceptibly, swallowing hard.
Jack closed his hand over hers for a heartbeat, then lifted it from his cheek, feeling her fingers wrap around his own and squeeze feebly as he tucked her back up in the blankets. "Sleep well, Sam," O'Neill's husky voice was barely audible, "I'll try not to jog you about too much," he promised hopefully, watching her eyelids flutter shut.
Standing slowly and stiffly, he attempted to stretch the cramp from his body and control the nausea. Taking a few sips from the canteen of purified water, Jack forced himself to chew two more glucose tablets, praying they would stay down. He broke camp, gathering their gear, before stamping out the remains of the fire. By the time they moved out, the first signs of daylight were creeping into the ravine, feebly lighting the tops of the high cliff walls above them.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Recognising the need to pace himself carefully, the Colonel decided to stop for ten minutes at the end of each two hour period. Using the time to check on Captain Carter, sip some water and choose, with increasing reluctance, between swallowing salt tablets or chewing glucose pastilles.
The air felt even chillier this morning than on previous days and was not getting any warmer as the sun rose, leaving Jack cold and shivery to add to his misery. At least Carter was well wrapped up, he consoled himself. What he'd give to be back on Abydos with Daniel right now, at least there he could enjoy the hot sun for a change. Of course, that careless thought simply served to make him feel even worse as the Colonel remembered why he had not been allowed to accompany Dr Jackson in the first place. And now this! Why was he so incapable of protecting his own team? How could he even consider he would be of help in a conflict on Earth, if he was unable to safeguard his men?
With a heartfelt sigh, Jack pushed all future deliberations to the back of his mind and concentrated on getting them home. Fortunately, Sam was still asleep when he finished his third break, by which time it was late morning and O'Neill calculated that they had hopefully travelled over twenty miles in total. Another nine or so and they would be home free. "Easy huh?" He said hopefully, trying not to glance up at the high prison-like walls of the chasm surrounding them.
Before he got moving again, Jack checked Carter's pulse for the second time in ten minutes, then placed his blistered hand on her forehead, trying to figure whether he was just imagining that she seemed to be burning up even worse than before. He gazed at her helplessly, wondering whether she was asleep or unconscious, knowing all he could do was get her to medical help as soon as possible.
It was mid afternoon when O'Neill noticed it was getting dark already, checking his watch reflexively before glancing upwards. The foreboding sight took his breath away, gun metal grey clouds scudded across the sky, angrily fighting for supremacy, powered by a strong wind that could not be felt deep in the ravine, but he could see the treetops above swaying in the strengthening gusts. Beneath the black clouds were small patches of wispy white trapped beneath the brewing storm, like the white tops of a choppy sea, every now and then swallowed up from above by a turbulent expanding funnel.
Jack grimaced, wondering what they had done to deserve this on top of everything else, trying to decide whether to simply wrap up against the impending storm or attempt to make a shelter. Either way, he knew the rain would remove any lingering thoughts he had of climbing the steep sides of the ravine today and it took all his reserves not to collapse in a defeated heap as his hopes for a speedy end to this torturous journey demolished at the sight of swirling darkness.
O'Neill stood staring at the clouds indecisively, until the first sharp crack of thunder sounded directly overhead, serving to focus his thoughts. He moved across to the Captain and checked her covers, wrapping the rain poncho round her tighter and tucking it up to her chin, before rummaging in the rucksack for a hat to protect her head. With his patient taken care of, the Colonel put on his own waterproof, pulling his cap down tightly, feeling it press against the painful bruise on his temple.
They were ready to move out again as the first large drops of rain began to stain the dusty ground around them, making soft splashing noises as they hit O'Neill's head and dripped down the back of his neck, making him shiver and pull the poncho's hood up over his cap.
Jack gripped the now sodden straps of the stretcher and began to haul it forward again, but the blisters on his hands were bleeding and his fingers kept slipping and sliding inside his wet gloves each time he pulled, forcing him to wrap the straps even tighter around his hands until they cut off the circulation. Then, as the storm let loose its full force, the ground became awash with rainwater and he felt the stretcher begin to slide more easily over the slick ground. Now he only had to avoid the deepening puddles.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The torrential rain had stopped about an hour before, when Jack decided to make camp for the night, no longer able to see in front of him and afraid that the seven hours of heavy rainfall may have left more dangerous obstacles in their path than a few boulders. He had already watched in awe as a tree slid down the side of the ravine in a torrent of mud, crashing down silently onto the opposite river bank less than a hundred yards ahead. The thud of it hitting the ground could only be felt, smothered by the noise of the raging storm.
Now the Colonel tried desperately to get damp wood to burn, shivering in the colder air that had descended upon them after the storm finally abated, counting the cost of its passage. He had barely managed more than two miles since afternoon, the driving rain and deep puddles making it difficult to see to traverse the rocky path. And maybe it was just the noise of the storm disturbing her sleep, but Carter's condition seemed worse, constantly shifting beneath the straps that were holding her onto the stretcher. Since the storm had quietened, he could hear her crying out in her sleep, whimpering in pain and delirious, but now there were only four capsules of morphine left and Jack had to decide whether to risk using one of the precious doses when it was conceivable that the Captain was still unaware of her pain.
As a hard sought spark flickered and died, Jack's exhausted mind concluded several things at once. If fire was unavailable there would be no hot food, so there was no point in waking Carter, and if she stayed asleep there was no need to waste drugs. He would wait until morning and perhaps the wood might be dry enough by then. Instead, O'Neill curled up on the ground next to the stretcher and tried to control his shivering, reaching his fingers beneath the Captain's blankets to close around her clenched fist, feeling the benefit of the feverish heat emanating within as he made reassuring noises to quieten her delirious cries.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jack had been awake since two hours before dawn, well aware of the need to get moving, given that there was still about seven miles to travel, not to mention finding a way out of the ravine. Not that he'd ever been very asleep in the first place, having spent the night dozing fitfully beside his feverish patient, surfacing every time she cried out loud, ready to administer another dose of drugs if the pain had become unbearable.
When he finally gave up on sleep, O'Neill managed to entice a spark into a flame, until he had a roaring fire burning, warming his shattered body as he heated some soup, hoping he could get Carter conscious long enough to get the hot food inside her. The Captain had begun to quieten at last and it occurred to Jack that perhaps it was because her body no longer had to rely on a fever as its only source of warmth.
Even so, it took him ten minutes to coax her awake and when Sam finally fluttered her eyelids open, he told her not to talk, to save her strength, watching her paindulled eyes blink some semblance of understanding. O'Neill helped her sip the soup, making her drink every drop whilst he made positive noises about how far they had come and how little distance was left to go.
Finally, praying that God wouldn't make a liar out of him, Jack promised they'd be home within twenty four hours, before settling her down and injecting one of the morphine capsules, seeing the depth of trust in her eyes as she drifted back into the arms of sleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Warm again at last and strengthened by the need to keep his promise, Jack was making good time, covering almost three miles in the six hours before he stopped for a third break. Sitting on a boulder, chewing his way into the last packet of glucose pastilles, O'Neill's eyes were drawn to the river. He could have sworn it was actually lower than yesterday morning, despite the heavy rains of the storm and surely it was not flowing as rapidly. It was an idle thought, that he soon forgot as he completed his rest period and stiffly hauled himself to his feet.
Four more hours and two more miles passed without incident and Jack was beginning to believe in the divine influence when the hands of his watch reached a quarter past four in the afternoon and his final remnants of hope were shattered by a piercing shriek from behind him. Captain Carter was dragged from a semiconscious stupor as her mysterious illness reached its final phase, invisibly launching an all out chemical assault on the protective linings of her major organs, heart, liver, kidneys, attempting to penetrate the stomach wall and threatening to rupture the diaphragm.
Colonel O'Neill had already dropped his rucksack onto the ground beside the makeshift stretcher by the time he reached the Captain, grabbing the medical kit from the top of the pack and clutching a morphine capsule with one hand as he pulled clothing away from her shoulder with the other. Revealing enough bare skin to inject the drug as quickly as possible, he knelt down at her side, trying to soothe the excruciating pain as they waited for it to take effect.
Too shocked to speak, the young Captain simply stared at him with terrified eyes, tears of pain spilling down over ghostly white cheeks to wash a path through the accumulated dirt and grime. "It's okay, Sam," Jack whispered soothingly, brushing hair from her forehead as he felt the tremendous heat of fever boiling there. He gently wiped her tears away with his fingertips, "We're nearly home, it's going to be all right," he told her, meeting her gaze more positively than he felt.
Carter quietened down as the morphine dulled her pain temporarily, but Jack knew it would not be for long and there were only two doses left in the medical kit, with four more hours of travelling before he could no longer avoid the make or break decision about getting out of the ravine. He leaned over and lightly brushed his shaking fingers over Sam's eyelids, feeling them close willingly to an unconscious sleep, before he let his own fear show, deeply etched in his exhausted face.
Soon it would be the end of the line, if they found no way out in the next two miles, Jack would have to leave her and climb out alone to go for help. But what if he couldn't make it? The thought of a long climb without the aid of equipment or rope was daunting enough on a good day, but now he was physically exhausted, completely spent. Yet he couldn't afford to wait another minute, let alone another day.
For one horrible second, Jack was too paralysed to move, his heart pounding in his chest as fear finally took over. Facing inevitable failure head on, the terrifying reality of the situation overpowered his senses until he wanted to scream as loudly as Sam had. To shake his fists at the gods who had ultimately led them here to die, because of their travels through the Stargate in the fight against the Goa'uld. Well he wasn't going to let them beat him, he was too close for that!
With renewed determination built on the need for revenge, retribution for all the damage done to his team, his friends, O'Neill forced himself up off the ground. He pulled the rucksack onto his aching shoulders and dug his heels into the rocky ground, wrapping blistered hands around the strap, to drag the stretcher forward. The clock was ticking and this time he had to beat it!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Three hours later, O'Neill's resolve disappeared, along with his fleeting hope, as he faced the end of the line, looming darkly ahead. The ravine walls had finally changed, but not for the better. A hundred yards in front of them, the river suddenly changed course, veering sharply away from the direction of the Stargate, forced off its natural path by the smooth glassy outcrop before him.
It was jet black. Perhaps granite or marble eroded to a gleaming polished surface over the course of millennia. Or maybe obsidian, molten lava rapidly cooled above the planet's crust to form an impenetrable barrier, solid, but strangely mirrorlike. God alone knew what geological disruption had occurred to position it here. All the Colonel knew for sure was that it was now or never. The light would be fading soon and there was no time left to reconnoitre further around the corner of the ravine. If he was going to attempt to climb out it would have to be here, along the short stretch remaining before the walls became hard and smooth as polished ebony.
He knelt down beside the unconscious Captain and slipped a hand beneath the blankets to grasp her fingers, whispering in her ear and praying she could hear him, somewhere deep within. "Sam, we made it, we're not far from the Stargate now. I'm just going to climb out of the ravine and get some help, okay? I won't be gone long, wait for me here. That's an order, Captain!" He sat back on his heels and gazed at the sleeping woman, deciding to give her one of the last morphine capsules before he left, hoping she would stay asleep until he returned.
He injected it quickly, before leaning over and brushing his lips against her hot forehead, "Promise me you won't go anywhere, Sam, okay?" He squeezed her fingers one last time, placed the final precious dose of morphine into a zip pocket on the arm of her jacket and emptied anything else from his rucksack that he might conceivably need, filling his own pockets with the items. He took a final look around the ravine floor, barely noticing the river at this point had reduced to a mere trickle, then, with a deep calming breath, Jack stepped towards the rocky cliff face and reached up to gain his first handhold of the long climb.
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By the time he was halfway up, it was beginning to get dark on the ravine floor, not that it really made a difference, O'Neill's eyesight had started to blur sometime before and he was mostly climbing by feel alone. But now he was having trouble making out the figure of Captain Carter in the deep shadows below and he could no longer hear her either.
Sam had started whimpering in pain about an hour earlier, but Jack had been able to see she was still asleep, or unconscious, tossing and turning as her agony increased, crying out pitifully when it became unbearable, a sound that slowly tore him apart. But now it was too dark to see and he was too high up to hear and he kept praying for some sign, a scream or a cry, anything to assure him that she was still alive, that his torturous climb would not be for nothing.
The blisters on Jack's hands were bleeding again and his fingers slid inside his gloves when he tried to pull himself up. Occasional trickles of blood ran down his wrist to make a path through the damp dirt and grime rubbing off onto his forearms from the cliff face which was still dripping water, soaking through from the ground above after the long hours of torrential rain the previous day.
When he stopped to catch his breath, O'Neill watched with detached curiosity as another wet red stain dried quickly on his arm and he gradually became aware of a cold breeze against his skin, noticeably growing stronger even as he clung to the rockface like a limpet. With the wind magnifying, Jack flattened himself against the cliff wall, feeling the gusts buffeting his body, increasingly forceful in attempting to dislodge him from his perch.
Jack stared up at the sky, praying fervently that this did not signal the onset of another storm. But the evening sky was clear, a few clouds drifted gently and the treetops showed no sign of strengthening winds. O'Neill suppressed a shudder, knowing something was seriously wrong, but unable to figure out what yet. Then the constant roaring noise that had been inside his head almost since he was first hit by a falling rock four days before, slowly shifted in pitch, growing into a thunderous external onslaught. Suddenly it all clicked into place. The low water level, gale force winds confined to the ravine, a rushing noise growing louder and louder...
"CARTER!" Jack knew his shout was futile, but his mind had run out of options and he knew he had failed his teammate. This was it, this was the moment he had always known would someday come. He had just never pictured his death to be so meaningless, but it had to happen sooner or later and he had always promised himself he would face it with eyes wide open...
O'Neill forced himself to turn his head, chilled to the bone by the terrifying sight. A vast wall of water rushed around the last bend of the ravine. Filling his view with an immense tidal wave, sweeping up everything in its path and flooding the breadth of the chasm to a height some distance above the Colonel's head.
His mind gripped with fear, Jack flinched, squeezing his eyes tightly shut as he tried to gasp his last breath. His final thought, a prayer for the Captain somewhere below, that she at least would never know what hit her. In the split second before it struck, the Colonel's training took over, his hands clenching to tighten his grip on the cliff as he took a huge lung full of air.
The wall of water smashed into his side, hammering him against the rock face and knocking the wind out of him before tossing his body into the air like a rag doll, to be caught within the pounding waves. Survival instinct alone forced a flailing of arms and kicking of feet in a desperate attempt to get his head above the waves before the lack of oxygen caused him to pass out, or worse still, take panicky gulps and allow water to flood his lungs until he drowned. But milliseconds stretched into hours until darkness overcame him and Jack finally gave up his fight for life.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The nightmare was over in seconds. The unrelenting tidal wave met its match in the unyielding glassy stack one hundred yards ahead, an annual battle fought between water and rock following every storm with deadly regularity, slamming into the jet black wall with an incomprehensible force, generated nowhere else in nature since the igneous outcrop was created millions of years before, when lava burst forth from deep within the bowels of the planet in a malignant mass, hissing and bubbling to swiftly cool into the impenetrable volcanic barrier.
With all its strength expelled, the water separated into unruly waves, crashing together between the walls of the ravine until they found their escape route, slowly draining around the bend of the river or flooding back the way they came, releasing their collection of assorted debris in their path. Littering the rocky floor with the remains of the natural dam that had held back the body of water somewhere upstream for the last twenty four hours. Whole trees and huge leafy branches, boulders, twigs and clods of earth. And two battered bodies, buried amongst the clutter, barely recognisable as human forms.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jack did not remember the thunderous shockwave that signalled a halt to the tidal wave's passage, nor the pounding thud as his body slammed against the solid black cliff. He didn't even recall the strange anticlimactic conclusion of gently floating down to earth as the water beneath him ebbed away. But when he came around, coughing for air with more agony than he had ever experienced in his life, O'Neill was fairly certain that neither heaven nor hell could possibly be this damp. And it did not require a doctor to tell him his ribcage had borne the brunt of some shattering impact, although with what he could not say, nor did he have time to wonder, as he gasped for breath, desperate to feed oxygen into his starving lungs.
Gritting his teeth, he pushed away the tempting pull of darkness and rolled onto his side, needing to empty the water from his throat before he choked, but without resorting to the painful hacking cough that had woken him. Still even that slight movement threatened to unhinge him and O'Neill's remaining breath was wasted in a scream of painfilled anger, unable to believe that he had been kept alive simply to suffocate to death as his lungs drowned in fluid.
In a desperate last resort, Jack turned his face to the floor and forced a long dirt ground finger down his throat until he gagged on it, painfully spewing out the watery contents of his stomach and chest. Physically spent, O'Neill drifted back into the welcoming arms of unconsciousness, leaving his brain to readjust his breathing until there was enough air pumped into his injured lungs to allow him to function again.
When Jack gradually resurfaced once more, he noticed it was almost dark and he couldn't stop shivering in his soaking wet clothes, despite the pain it was causing. He let his gaze roam the area around him rather than try to move his body. In close proximity was a mass of black spiky shapes silhouetted against the night sky, uprooted trees, twigs and rocks dumped unceremoniously on the ground with nothing left to do but drip water, a persistent splashing noise in the still night.
As O'Neill's eyes took in his altered surroundings, his mind examined his body, noting the crushing pain emanating from his left ankle, twisted beneath the discarded trunk of an unearthed tree. Aside from that and several cracked ribs, he was surprisingly unscathed, except for a few more dents in his skull that purely served to exacerbate the concussive headache of the original. Jack's subconscious decided not to mention the punctured lung, figuring his brain already knew about it and had chosen to ignore it.
Carefully, the Colonel attempted to extricate his boot from beneath the heavy branch, concentrating on trying to decide which pain was worse, the one in his chest, his head or his ankle. It was a tricky choice to make, which clouded his mind in sufficient haze that he forgot to either cry out or cough at the agonising movements of his body.
Sitting up on his elbows, Jack raised his head higher, trying to spot the final resting point of Captain Carter's body, all the time pretending that there was still hope for her also, instead of listening to the nagging voice in his head that was telling him she was certainly dead by now. Finally he caught a glimpse of something ghostly, out of place in the darkness. An unprompted image of white winged chariots popped up in his battered mind and he struggled to ignore the connotations, convincing himself that the effort of trying to reach her really would be worthwhile.
As it turned out, the discarded tree that had damaged his ankle would come in useful after all. Jack crawled towards it, levering himself up on his good leg to perch on the thick trunk as he selected a suitable crutch sized offshoot. Pausing to catch his breath before he smashed his right foot down to break off the branch with a sickening crunch, felt by him as much as the tree.
Gingerly assessing the damage, he decided his ankle was probably not broken, just badly sprained, but as he stood up to test the weight on his foot, Jack realised that in the greater scheme of things, it probably wasn't going to make a lot of difference. Finally admitting to himself that not only were several of his ribs broken, but judging by the way he was struggling to breathe, he may also be heading for a collapsed lung.
Still, now he was standing it would be a waste to simply sit back down again, so O'Neill began the interminable task of manoeuvring across the field of debris, slowly hobbling towards the obscure white shape. The sheer effort of each step causing him to wish for a rapid end to it all or at least a bout of amnesia so he would never be able to recall such excruciating pain at a later date, in the unlikely event that a "later" ever arose.
After what seemed like an eternity, Jack was finally close enough to make out the figure of Captain Carter, astonished to see she was still securely strapped to the aircraft wings, the soaking wet blankets and rain poncho clinging to her body. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he marvelled at the fact that she had landed upright and seemingly unscathed, reminding himself that the wings were hollow and made of trinium. Sam's makeshift stretcher acting remarkably like a floating raft, strong enough to absorb a hammering, so long as it took the direct impact, rather than the young woman.
With an indescribable relief, O'Neill heard a faint whimper, proving that against all the odds she was still alive. In tremendous difficulty he knelt down to examine her, amazed to find that apart from being completely drenched, Sam had not been injured further by her watery encounter. Even her lungs seemed relatively unimpaired, perhaps saved by the shallowness of her breathing. But Jack's ease was shortlived, as he realised it was all inconsequential, they may have survived a wall of water, but they were still trapped within these walls of rock with absolutely no chance of escape.
Accepting reality was O'Neill's final crushing blow. He collapsed onto the damp ground, unmindful of the twisting of his ankle or the jolt to his ribs, broken and defeated, with nothing left to do but wait for the end. He expelled his last reserves of energy with a despairing cry, "God! What the hell did I do to deserve this fate?" He shouted to the heavens, thumping the ground with a bloodied, gloved hand as if to punctuate his question. But before any divine influence could speak, he had already answered himself, silently knowing, as he had always known, that there were dark deeds in his past that would come back to haunt him one day.
Even so, there were still some things that Jack had to ask, "But why now, here of all places? And why her?" His final word was almost a sob, turned into a rasping cough as the precious air in his lungs began to dissipate, leaving him wheezing painfully.
"Jack?" The sudden sound of Sam's frightened tone rocked him to the core, his heart thudding painfully in his chest as he turned to examine her ghostly white face, positive he had imagined her voice. But a pair of terrified blue eyes stared back at him, the morphine having worn off until eventually the pain had forced her to resurface. "I'm scared," she admitted softly, her expression revealing that she knew the truth, that they weren't going to make it home after all.
O'Neill's eyes filled with shame, unable to ignore the implications of his failure, he looked away, vaguely noticing a full moon reflected in the flooded puddles around them, trying not to register the tragic irony that went with that event as it spread a bright shining light, clearly illuminating the walls of the ravine, too late to save them now.
"Colonel, I don't want to die like this! There's so much I haven't done yet," Sam whispered sadly.
Jack forced himself up on one elbow, reaching his free hand beneath the soggy blankets to wrap around her shivering fingers. "I'm sorry, Sam, you deserve better," he swallowed painfully, struggling to face her frightened gaze as Carter's hand weakly clutched his own, "I failed you."
The blonde woman shook her head ferociously, "No, Sir, you saved me," she said quietly, "I would have given up long before now, if it hadn't been for your perpetual hope." Sam gasped, finding the words difficult, "When you told me you were leaving the SGC, the thought of losing your friendship hurt more than dying ever will." She fixed him with a determined gaze, "I always assumed I'd have a family of my own someday, but you and the rest of SG1 are my family, Colonel." Her fading voice was barely audible with her final words, "In a way, I'm glad I'll be the first to leave."
Carter's hand tightened around his reflexively as her agonising pain could no longer be ignored. Remembering the last capsule of morphine, O'Neill fumbled with the zip pocket on her sleeve, his numb, blistered fingers stiff and inflexible, his own breath reduced to shallow gasps, each movement of his chest an excruciating reminder of their fate. Jack leaned across and injected the drug into the base of Sam's glistening neck, feverish and pale against the dark cloth of her soaking wet shirt.
Dropping the empty capsule onto the blankets, O'Neill swallowed, reaching a shaking hand to brush her cheek, wordlessly. Eternal understanding passed between them as Sam blinked at him for the final time, before closing her eyes, giving in to unconsciousness, both of them knowing she would never awaken.
He stared at her face for a long while, eyes dull with pain and grief. Eventually he lowered the elbow he was propped upon and rested his head against her shoulder, his hand on hers, feeling her faint pulse beneath his fingertips beating time with the shallow rise and fall of his battered chest, marking their slow ebb towards eternity.
Unaware of how long he had been out, Jack fleetingly resurfaced from warm dreams to remember guiltily who he had left behind, murmuring an indistinct apology to his wife Sarah for everything he should have said. His last thoughts before nothingness were for Daniel Jackson, who would have to continue his search alone. Numbly O'Neill prayed his friend would never give up hope in his quest to find Sha're and Skaara, to return them safe and well to their own world. Promising the young man that somehow he would find a way to be there by his side, always.
In the foggy haze of his dying breath, O'Neill smiled slightly, imagining that he could hear Daniel's voice, softly responding to his words, "Don't worry, Jack. I'm not going to let you off that easily."
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A persistent, monotonous beeping dragged him reluctantly from the depths of pleasant dreams, pausing to linger momentarily in that nightmarish layer of unconsciousness where the mind is controlled purely by past events and recent horrors. Jack fought to escape, needing no reminder of harrowing memories still so fresh. No longer caring which way he went, he knew there was nothing left that could be done in the present, so he let go quietly, seeking refuge in the darkness beyond thought. Until something urged him back towards the surface, a steady pumping of life into his chest, an effort not of his own making, for he was certain his breathing had stopped long before.
It was simple curiosity that caused Jack to open his eyes, slowly at first, blinking in the hazy white light, which, with mild surprise, he assumed to be heaven, enveloping him in all its glory. Confirmed by the fact that the temperature had increased and he felt strangely warm and comfortable, free from the pain in his chest. Before his sight was able to focus or his mind register anything further about his surroundings, a friendly voice came to him across the ether.
"Hey Jack, how are you feeling?" Daniel asked softly.
O'Neill was struck with horror and confusion, unable to comprehend what his friend was doing there with him. Daniel wasn't supposed to be dead, Jack had left him behind to continue the fight! He tried to open his mouth to ask, but something was blocking his throat and when he went to lift his hand to move it, he felt someone holding him back, warm fingers firmly wrapped over his forearm. Too weak to struggle against them, Jack relaxed, closing his eyes again and telling himself he was imagining it all.
But the voice was eager for him to wake up at long last, "You have a tube down your throat, it's helping you breathe," Dr Jackson explained quietly, "Jack, you're in the infirmary, at the SGC."
The shock caused Jack to gasp too deeply and he started to choke against the plastic, unable to get enough oxygen into his lungs to draw breath. Amidst his panic, he heard a familiar calming voice, felt a soothing hand on his shoulder and tried to follow her instructions and promise of relief. Dr Frasier told him to exhale slowly, whilst she withdrew the intubation tube from his throat, hoping that he could breathe sufficiently on his own, now that he was finally awake.
"There, that's better isn't it, Colonel?" Janet asked with practised cheer.
Opening his eyes and blinking them into focus, Jack could only gape at the faces of friends he had believed he would never live to see again. He sipped thirstily at cool, fresh water, through a straw the doctor held to his mouth, savouring the clean taste like pure nectar. Janet removed the cup before he could empty it, "Not too much, Colonel, you're still dehydrated."
"How?" Was all O'Neill could manage in a hoarse whisper, his mind numb with confusion as he stared at Daniel standing by the bed with a huge grin on his relieved face. Jack paled, remembering his last semiconscious thoughts and the feeling of the Captain's pulse fading beneath his fingertips. "Sam! Is she...?" He couldn't voice the fear tightening its grip on his thudding heart.
"Sam's going to be okay, Jack," Daniel was still smiling, tiredness showing in dark circles beneath his deep blue eyes, "Thanks to you."
"I failed her," Jack's voice shook as he closed his eyes against the image.
Daniel rested a hand on O'Neill's shoulder gently, "No you didn't, Jack," he said quietly. "If it wasn't for you, Sam would be dead by now. You got close enough to the Stargate for us to find you and make it back here in time to save you both."
Dr Jackson suppressed a shudder at the memory of a last resort, when after two days of three teams searching for the missing SG1 members had come up empty, Daniel had gone off in the opposite direction out of sheer inconsolable despair. Almost falling headlong into a hidden ravine two miles from the Stargate in spite of a bright full moon, before spotting the bodies of his friends far below. He remembered well the lengthy wait for equipment to lower them down the two hundred foot drop, terrified that Jack and Sam would both be dead as he knelt beside his friends to grimly complete the formality, searching for a pulse and about to give up, when he had found the faintest heartbeat.
Nor would he easily forget the close calls both had suffered since his agonising discovery three days ago. It had been touch and go, but now at least one of them was finally awake. Jack's bruised face regarded him with numerous questions, but only managed to repeat one simple syllable, "How?"
Daniel looked bashful, reluctant to admit what had happened, but Dr Frasier filled in the details with a happy smile, as she noted down Colonel O'Neill's promising vital signs on a chart. "Dr Jackson found you in a ravine, Colonel, two days after you were declared overdue and despite three skilled SG teams failing to turn up any clues searching the forest." Jack looked at Daniel curiously, but the young man simply shrugged sheepishly, a little embarrassed by what had occurred.
"So," the doctor continued, "after they abandoned the search for another night, Daniel got a LITTLE upset," Janet raised an eyebrow in his direction, knowing that was an extreme understatement, "and decided to take off on his own, closely followed by Teal'c, of course, ignoring a direct order to return to base. He nearly took a dive into a ravine, then got curious about something white reflecting in the moonlight. Thank God for Daniel's endless curiosity!" She smiled at Dr Jackson gratefully.
"Daniel?" A questioning smile spread across the Colonel's gaunt face, brightening his dull eyes.
"Er, well, Jack, you know I can be a bit impetuous at times," Daniel wrapped his arms across his chest awkwardly.
"Yeah, that sounds like you," O'Neill nodded, a distant look in his eyes as he remembered how close to the arms of death they had been this time. "Thanks, Daniel," Jack said quietly, emphasising his words with a smile of such deep gratitude that Dr Jackson's face flushed bright pink.
"Well, Colonel," Dr Frasier rescued Daniel from his embarrassment, "You'll be pleased to know that you're going to be fine. Apart from malnutrition, dehydration and mild hypothermia, you just have a few broken ribs and a very swollen ankle." She tapped the chart in front of her with a ballpoint pen, not really needing the notes to remind herself of his latest list of injuries. "Oh, not to mention some pretty extreme blisters on your hands, those alone will get you light duties for the next week or two. Then, of course, there's the collapsed left lung, which we've pretty much sorted out, and a bad concussion or three that will keep your head pounding for days."
She paused for breath, smiling at the result of her handiwork, "By the way, Colonel, the bruises that go with the headaches? Not a pretty sight! You won't want to visit any ageing grandmothers without dark glasses and heavy make up!" She sighed tiredly, checking her list again to ensure she hadn't missed anything, finally adding, almost to herself, "All in all, there'll be no running marathons anytime soon!"
Jack smiled faintly at her final comment, a memory springing into his head of something he had told Captain Carter. "What about Sam?" He asked, fixing the doctor with an earnest gaze in an effort to show he was ready for the whole truth.
"Well, actually, she's not bad considering, and much better now that she's responding to the antitoxin." Janet smiled reassuringly, "I guess she's got you to thank for keeping her strength up? But what I don't get is how come she isn't suffering any of the dehydration and malnutrition you are?" Jack's sheepish look mirrored Daniel's earlier discomfort. The doctor regarded him, deciding not to delve any deeper. She had been O'Neill's physician for two years, no great length of time under normal circumstances, but he was hardly doing a normal job and had become a far too frequent patient. Janet probably knew him now as well as he would ever let her and that included knowing when not to ask. He would explain in time, if he wanted to.
"Anyway, Sam's still unconscious, but her signs are good, she'll wake up in her own time, probably in the next day or so." Dr Frasier glanced across at Daniel who was still standing beside the bed, a dark look in his eyes. He nodded, understanding that there was little need for either Jack or Sam to ever know how close to death they both were when they had arrived back through the Stargate.
It was a sight that Janet would not forget quickly. The utterly distraught look on Daniel's face and the deliberate blankness of Teal'c's features, both believing they were too late in finding their friends, spoke volumes for the injured pair's condition, even before she examined their unconscious bodies. And she had never seen so much damage, internally and externally to two people who were still alive, barely.
Dr Frasier returned her thoughts to Jack's current state, "Right now, Colonel, you need to rest." She held up a hand before he could protest, answering his unspoken question, "I'll inform you as soon as Captain Carter wakes up."
"Promise?" O'Neill asked sleepily.
"Yes, I promise, Jack." Janet made sure he had settled back down before she left the room, signalling Daniel to follow her.
"Dr Jackson, I suggest you also grab some sleep, you can stretch out on the next bed, if you don't want to leave the infirmary," she urged the exhausted man gently, repeating her frequent vow, "I'll come and fetch you if anything changes, okay?"
"Will you let Teal'c know that Jack woke up? He's still with Sam." Daniel asked with a huge yawn, the lack of sleep catching up fast as he began to relax slightly, now he was more convinced they were going to be fine after all.
Janet nodded, "I'm heading there right now, I'll tell him," she assured the young man, relieved that things were finally turning out okay for her favourite team.
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The small hospital room was dimly lit when Jack woke again, the light filtering in through the window blinds and the glow of digital readouts from his monitors were enough to reveal the sleeping form of his friend, and saviour, lying fully clothed on the next bed.
Jack had slept long enough and had woken alert to a gnawing fear that he needed to act upon before he would be able to rest again. He sat up slowly, feeling the pressure of broken ribs against his heavily bandaged chest. He carefully slid his legs from under crisp sheets, vaguely wondering how come he felt clean after so long without a shower, and dropped his feet to the smooth concrete floor.
Gingerly, he stood up, feeling tight strapping keeping his left ankle immobile. He put all his weight on his right foot and reached up to the monitors to switch off the alarms before he removed all the electrodes and needles from his body with practised ease. He had been used for a human pin cushion more times than he cared to remember and he was definitely getting too old for this stuff, his body felt like it had been to hell and back! Jack smiled ruefully to himself, wondering if that was, in fact, where he had been.
There was a hospital robe lying on the end of the bed, which Jack pulled on with difficulty, his shoulders so aching and stiff he could barely move them. His legs weren't very obedient either, but, supporting himself on the furniture, he managed to hobble awkwardly across to the door and open it quietly, glancing back at the snoring figure of Daniel to ensure he hadn't been disturbed.
Poking his head out into the corridor, Jack was relieved to find it empty. He turned right, the direction he had noticed Dr Frasier going when she left him earlier, hopeful that he would find Sam Carter in one of the rooms nearby. Clutching one arm across his aching chest, the Colonel limped slowly down the hall, using the wall to lean on as he peered through the cracks in the window blinds of each room. Careful to take shallow, calm breaths, not wishing to overexert his lungs or set back his recovery, the novelty of hospital treatment having worn off long before.
The second room along was occupied by the pale figure of Captain Carter, surrounded by even more monitors. He left the door ajar behind him, so he might hear any approaching footsteps and hide, reluctant to get caught. He sat down in a chair beside Sam's bed, relieved to get the weight off his sprained ankle, and gazed at her pale features painfully, dimly realising that she also had become much cleaner since they were last together, the yellowness of her blonde hair apparent again, instead of being dull and dirt streaked, although her skin seemed even whiter now that the grime had been removed.
Jack felt her forehead, finding it warm, but no longer feverish, and brushed his shaking hand softly against Sam's cheek, noticing for the first time that several of his fingers were wrapped in white bandages. He covered her hand with his palm, squeezing gently as he began to talk, needing to tell her that he had kept his promise, that he had reconsidered and he was not going to leave the SGC after all. It had taken the dreadful events of the last week for him to realise that his work here was important and that SG1 was like a family to him too, that he wanted to be there for them the way they had been for him.
Outside the door, Teal'c stood silently, returning from a short break to find Colonel O'Neill up and about, presumably against doctor's orders. But when he heard Jack's low voice, speaking in soft, earnest tones, the Jaffa decided not to disturb him, instead waiting patiently in the hallway until he was finished. He listened to O'Neill telling Captain Carter that he had decided not to leave the SGC, that he wanted to stay and help Dr Jackson find Sha're and Skaara, as he had promised he would almost two years ago, although he wasn't sure that Daniel actually needed his help anymore, "He can look after himself," Teal'c heard him say.
Jack laughed softly as he told Sam how embarrassed Daniel had been for admitting he had rescued them by disobeying orders, "I mean the guy saves our lives and he's feeling sheepish!" O'Neill exclaimed quietly, patting Carter's hand. Then he grew serious again, gazing at the sleeping woman, "Anyway, Sam, I also realised that although I may have nothing left to teach you all, I've still got a lot to learn from both you and Daniel." Jack finished, wondering why it was always easier to spill his guts to someone who couldn't hear him, who wouldn't remember anything he had said come morning. He leaned over and kissed Sam's forehead fondly, gently brushing hair from her eyes.
Still watching, Teal'c decided it would be more appropriate to disappear again, allowing Jack to get back to his own room without the knowledge that he had been overheard. The Jaffa turned silently and headed away down the corridor, marking time slowly until it felt safe to return.
It was nearly an hour later when he peered through the window blinds of Captain Carter's room once more, surprised to see the Colonel still present, until he realised that O'Neill was now silent, his head resting in sleep on the edge of Sam's pillow, his bruised face a stark contrast against the white cloth, his hand still curled around her's as he slept easily for the first time in days.
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Somewhere deep in her subconscious, Sam realised that she was dreaming, which seemed an odd thing for a dead person to be doing. Still it was a pleasant warm feeling, not something she wanted to rush away from too quickly. Her mind was clear for the first time in days, she could actually think straight, albeit unconsciously, that last shot of morphine the Colonel had given her must have worn off, but her body felt comfortable, free of pain. This must be heaven, the Captain thought to herself, what other explanation was there. A strange feeling of contentment settled over her, the knowledge that she had reached the other side, that she didn't need to fight against it anymore. Now she just wanted to see what it was like.
Sam opened her eyelids a slit, peeking out through the pinkish haze to see what lay beyond. All she could see was a white sky, fuzzy and shadowy, as if filled with ethereal spirits, but it seemed to fit in with her notions of the afterlife, she had nothing to fear. She opened her eyes fully and gazed about, blinking slowly to bring the silhouettes into focus. Sam felt a guiding hand on hers, warm and gentle and she looked down, recognising the top of Jack's tousled head resting beside her. Carter was glad he was here with her, although she would have preferred him to live to fight another day, at least he wasn't stuck somewhere dark, a fear that had gnawed at her in those last desperate hours.
She turned her hand over to touch his fingertips, marvelling at how much she could feel and she remembered Jack's voice telling her he wasn't going to leave after all, that he had kept his promise to her, that they were like family. Sam smiled at the warm memories, then closed her eyes again, safe in the knowledge that all was well in heaven.
Jack stirred as he felt something tickle his palm, opening his eyes slowly, trying to remember where he was and what had happened. Then he noticed his fingers covering the Captain's hand and he was certain it had moved, maybe turned in her sleep, but that was a good sign, perhaps she was ready to wake.
Lifting his head slowly, he gazed at the blonde woman. "Sam?" Jack spoke softly, almost afraid to disturb her. He felt her fingertips barely brush against his own, "Sam, you can wake up now. You're safe, we're in the SGC," he gently touched her cheek. "We're alive!" As if to convince her, he lifted her hand and held it to his chest, feeling his heart thudding beneath her fingers.
Sam opened her eyes slowly, blinking at him as her blue eyes widened in surprise. He brushed a confused frown from her forehead, watching a smile form on her lips as the reality began to sink in and she remembered something else she had heard him say, "Daniel found us!" She breathed, her voice barely audible.
Jack's own smile turned quizzical, "How did you know?" He asked softly.
"You told me!" She beamed warmly, enjoying the look on his face, a mixture of surprise and delight that she had never seen there before. He caught her watching him and squeezed her hand, dipping his chin to brush his lips against her soft fingers, before he placed her hand back onto the sheets.
"I'll tell you all about it when you get better," O'Neill promised. "Now, you need to rest." He stood stiffly, leaning against the edge of the bed with his right leg taking the weight.
Sam nodded tiredly, feeling as if she hadn't slept in days. Then she remembered something important, "Jack?" She reached her hand back to his fingers before he could go, "I'm glad you're not leaving!"
O'Neill's eyes widened, unable to believe that she could possibly have heard everything he'd told her earlier, that somehow his words had registered in the depths of her mind for later extraction and use against him. Oh well, maybe it wasn't such a bad thing after all, Jack decided, gazing at his friend.
He shrugged, feeling the stiffness in his shoulders, "I couldn't desert my family!" Jack admitted with a soft grin.
Sam smiled again, an expression that lit up her face, making her blue eyes shine brightly. O'Neill leaned over and kissed her forehead, enjoying the sight of her smile after their harrowing week. He brushed his hand over her eyelids, so lightly that he could barely feel the tickle of her lashes against his palm. She closed her eyes as ordered. "Now get some sleep, Captain."
"Yes, Colonel," Sam grinned sleepily, snuggling against the warm pillow appreciatively, heading quickly back to pleasant dreams.
For a long moment, Jack gazed at the woman he had never expected to see alive again, before eventually turning to limp out of the room. Glancing back to assure himself that Sam was sleeping soundly, he pulled the door closed and turned left to head back down the corridor, almost jumping out of his skin when he came face to face with Dr Frasier, who was waiting patiently outside.
"Good morning, Colonel!" Janet greeted him with mock sternness, keeping her voice decently low, "I was wondering why your bed appears to be in use by Mr Teal'c at present," she smiled. "I take it Sam woke up?"
Jack nodded sheepishly, gladly accepting the doctor's shoulder as she moved to his left side and slipped her arm around his waist gently, acting as a crutch to help him limp slowly back to his own room. "She's sleeping again now," he said quietly, unable to hide the relief from his face.
Janet glanced up at him, able to tell from his expression how improved Captain Carter's condition was that morning. She mirrored his smile and relaxed a little, the weight of two days of not knowing, followed by three days of worry, lifting from her shoulders as she recognised that all was well with SG1. In fact, in some ways they were probably in better shape than they had ever been before.
Jack saw the look in Janet's smiling brown eyes, understanding immediately. For a brief second, he tightened his grip around her shoulders, squeezing lightly to show his gratitude, "Sam looks great, Doc, you did a good job, thanks."
"Well, I must admit it was touch and go at first," Janet cast her mind back to those initial frantic hours, "When we examined Captain Carter, we didn't know what was going on, we could only assume it was an alien virus. Internally, it was acting like some kind of hot agent. We were afraid we had a major containment problem on our hands. Then we found the sample bag in your jacket pocket. After that it was easy really," her simple statement belied the difficult task they had faced to manufacture an antitoxin for the fast acting organic poison, with so little time left before it succeeded in liquefying the young woman's internal organs. Janet suppressed a shiver at the memory, deciding there were definitely some details it was better for the Colonel to be without.
"You know you're going to have to stay off this ankle to let it heal," Dr Frasier changed the subject quickly, admonishing her troublesome patient as they slowly entered Jack's hospital room. "I'll have to ground you for awhile, Colonel," she frowned, knowing how bored he got from lack of activity.
"It's okay, Janet, I think I've had enough excitement for a few weeks," Jack assured her with a warm smile. "Besides, I've got plenty of correspondence to catch up on," he added softly, remembering there were some things that should no longer be left unsaid, now that he had been given one more chance to say them.
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The End.
Story Notes: Email: Elaine.Stouse@Virgin.Net
Summary: Set shortly after One False Step, Colonel O'Neill and Captain Carter get into trouble on a routine retrieval mission
Spoilers: Children of the Gods - Season 1, A Matter of Time - Season 2, Serpents Song - Season 2, One False Step - Season 2
Status: Completed
Rating: G - General
Category: Drama
Disclaimer: Stargate Sg-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author.
Author's Notes: I wrote this from start to finish in April 1999 in response to the amount of Danny-whumping going on at Heliopolis and the distinct lack of Sam-whumping. I then discarded the main plot device after severe criticism from my "editor" Paul (bless) and ended up with a start and end, but no middle. It took a long holiday and a spot of writer's block to finally come up with what is hopefully a much better central storyline and it's been suffering paranoidal polishing for at least a month since. So here it is finally posted and hopefully not too awful. Feedback is adored.....
Summary: Set shortly after One False Step, Colonel O'Neill and Captain Carter get into trouble on a routine retrieval mission
Spoilers: Children of the Gods - Season 1, A Matter of Time - Season 2, Serpents Song - Season 2, One False Step - Season 2
Status: Completed
Rating: G - General
Category: Drama
Disclaimer: Stargate Sg-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author.
Author's Notes: I wrote this from start to finish in April 1999 in response to the amount of Danny-whumping going on at Heliopolis and the distinct lack of Sam-whumping. I then discarded the main plot device after severe criticism from my "editor" Paul (bless) and ended up with a start and end, but no middle. It took a long holiday and a spot of writer's block to finally come up with what is hopefully a much better central storyline and it's been suffering paranoidal polishing for at least a month since. So here it is finally posted and hopefully not too awful. Feedback is adored.....
DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognisable characters, settings, etc, are the property of their respective owners. Any original characters and plots are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended. ... [ read more ]