"The End of the Line"

Author: Sally Reeve

Email: reevesally@hotmail.com

Rating: PG-13

Classification: A/A, angst, S/J romance.

Warning: SEVERE Jack whumping! You have been warned...

Spoilers: None

Archive: SJA and Heliopolis. Anyone else, please let me know so I can find you.

Summary: When SG-1 are sent to extract Mayborne from a Goa'uld slave camp, the consequences of the mission have lasting repercussions for the team.

Notes: Although this story works as a stand-alone piece, it also forms the third and final part of my "Crossing the Line" and "Holding the Line" series. If you would like to read either of these you can find them at my website: http://uk.geocities.com/mystories_uk/

Thanks: As always, to Marcy for beta reading. And also to Erika and Lynn for their very helpful comments. Cheers, guys!

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and places are the property of MGM, World Gekko Corp and Double Secret Productions. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended. Previously unrecognized characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

"The End of the Line"
by Sally Reeve

PROLOGUE

P3T-850 was hot, damp, and humid. Insects buzzed in the heavily scented air and filled the night with their song. As Jack sat near the entrance to the low-roofed cave, looking out from atop a small, rocky outcrop, he let his mind drift along with the exotic music of the night.

The irony of his being on this particular planet, for this particular reason, on this particular night was not lost on him. Neither was the fact that he should have been on leave. But when SG-3 had returned to the SGC two days ago, with a report of seeing Harry Mayborne being held as a Goa'uld slave on '850, SG-1 had been dispatched to bring him home.

"Can't we just leave him there?" Jack had pleaded, only half joking, to the General.

Hammond had frowned, but Jack had seen a glimmer of understanding in his eyes when he'd said, "I know what he did to your team, Colonel. But I'm sure you appreciate the security risk presented by having him running around out there."

Jack had appreciated it, and despite the way Sam's face had turned as pale and rigid as marble, he'd taken the mission. After all, there were a few things he wanted to say to Mayborne in person - quite a few, and none of them nice.

Thinking of Mayborne drew him back to the irony of the timing - for today was an anniversary of sorts. One year ago, this very night, a kind of madness had taken hold of him. For a few short hours it had forced the good sense out of his head, silenced all the voices of reason, and persuaded him to give in to temptation. With trembling anticipation he'd taken Sam in his arms to tell her, without the need for words, everything that was in his heart. And it had been incredible in its tender passion, a night he could never want to forget, despite its repercussions. The memory of her touch, her sweetness, and the overwhelming tenderness he'd felt still haunted his dreams, both sleeping and waking.

But the joy had been bitter in many ways. Aside from the painful, silent parting the following morning that had left him achingly empty, their indiscretion had almost destroyed them - all of them, the whole team, and potentially the whole SGC. For although a year ago she'd been in his arms, three months later he'd nearly died at her hands, a victim of the Goa'uld Hakraa, but a victim too of their indiscretion. It was a mistake that Mayborne had discovered and easily exploited, using it to lure Sam into the Goa'uld trap that had so nearly destroyed her and everything for which she fought.

Shaking away the memories, Jack sat up a little straighter and reached for the water canteen at his side. Damn, but this place was hot. Even in the relative cool of the cave the heat was oppressive.

As he moved, his eyes were drawn to Sam who lay sleeping nearby, and he smiled. He often watched her sleep these days, tracing the lines of her face with his eyes and remembering how her skin had felt under his fingertips. But it was an illicit pleasure, stolen in the dead of night when he was on watch or unable to sleep, for in the cold light of day their relationship was as rigidly professional as ever. More so, in fact. Daniel's accusation of favoritism had stung him like a slap in the face; the last thing he ever wanted was to damage SG-1. Working with these people was probably the best thing that had ever happened to him and he would cut off his own right arm before he deliberately harmed what they had built up together. And so a tacit understanding had developed between him and Sam, in which they tried to put their feelings aside and to move on together as a team. Which was exactly what he'd spent the past nine months doing; working on the team, trying to rebuild the trust he was so afraid he'd lost. He knew it was the right thing to do, but he still missed her. Missed the intimate smiles, the few shared moments of honesty, the occasional touch that meant so much more than its innocent appearance. Hell, they'd hardly been alone together in months and he missed her company, pure and simple.

Returning his attention to the jungle beyond the cave mouth, he forced his thoughts back to the present. They were only a couple of hours from the Goa'uld encampment, but he'd decided that trying to force their way through the tangling jungle in the dark wasn't smart. So they'd camped for the night, much to his irritation. He wanted to get this damn mission over with and get home. He glanced down at his watch, its face glowing gently in the dark: oh-one- thirty. Tuesday already. He figured they'd locate Mayborne today, work out an extraction plan and execute it that night, leaving them the best part of twenty-four hours to get back to the gate. That would put them home sometime late on Wednesday, which would just give him enough time. George would postpone the debrief if necessary, given the circumstances.

He sighed as he thought about Thursday. It was the one day of the year where he absolutely *had* to be on Earth, and at the Mountain View Garden of Rest at precisely fourteen-thirty. And nothing either Mayborne or his Goa'uld captor could throw at him was going to keep him away. Nothing.

***

The heat drew Sam from a restless sleep and she found herself suddenly wide-awake. Beside her she heard Daniel's soft snoring, while at the entrance to the cave she saw O'Neill fidgeting slightly amid the shadows. As she watched him, her hand automatically reached for the necklace she wore, the one he'd given her last year for her birthday. The golden chain was a silent testament to something that could no longer be admitted between them and as such it was one of her most treasured possessions.

As her fingers curled around the necklace, she wondered if he had remembered the significance of the date. Most guys wouldn't, she was sure. Hell, most guys forgot birthdays and anniversaries as if it were some kind of badge of honor. She knew *that* from experience! So, she told herself, she wouldn't be surprised if he had forgotten. But she couldn't help wondering....

Jack fidgeted again and glanced at his watch, prompting Sam to do the same. Huh, she thought, one thirty. Not long until her watch. She toyed with the idea of trying to get back to sleep, but she was too alert now and knew it would be futile. And besides, a quiet conversation with the Colonel seemed rather appealing, tonight of all nights. It had been too long since they'd talked.

Quietly she sat up. The planet was so stiflingly hot that her skin was damp with sweat, causing everything to stick to her horribly. She grimaced as she stood up, stooping to avoid the low ceiling, and made her way towards the entrance. Jack turned as soon as she took a step and watched her approach curiously.

"You're early," he said quietly as she sat down next to him.

"Couldn't sleep," she explained. "Too hot."

"No kidding," Jack agreed staring out into the night.

"If you wanna turn in," Sam offered, "it's all right with me."

He was silent for a moment, but when he spoke his voice was very soft. "I think I'll keep you company for a while, if that's okay?"

"Sure," she nodded, pleased and oddly affected by his unusually gentle tone.

They lapsed into silence then, and her mind started drifting back to that night a year ago. It had been cold. A crisp fall evening laced with the scent of wood smoke, and so clear that the stars had filled the night with their pale light. She sighed, remembering the feel of his warm lips against her cool skin as he'd kissed her for the first time. It had been...magical.

"It's been a long year," Jack said suddenly, as if reading her mind.

She turned to him, a warmth steeling over her as she realized that he had remembered, and glad of the darkness that hid the flush in her cheeks. "Yes, sir," she replied quietly.

"'Sir'?" he echoed, shaking his head slightly.

Sam grimaced. "That's the way it is," she murmured.

He nodded in obvious frustration, and frowned as if biting back words. Then, with another shake of his head, he reached for his canteen and took a long drink. As he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand he took a deep breath and said, "So, you okay with this Mayborne thing?"

"Not really," she told him honestly, "but I guess someone has to drag him out of here."

Jack laughed quietly. "Yeah - never thought *I'd* be saving his ass again. Last time I saw him I swore I was gonna kill him."

"You did?"

He nodded. "He made a house call while we were in Hakraa's cells - looked pretty damn smug about it too. I swear, if I hadn't been so beat-up...," he trailed off, frowning slightly. He never spoke much about the effects of the torture he'd endured, and she knew it was for her benefit, to try and shield her from the worst. Not that she didn't know everything - after all, she'd watched through her own eyes as Hakraa had driven him screaming to the floor in agony. She shivered at the memory despite the heat, and drew her legs up towards her chest. Those were bad times, nightmarish memories.

"I promised to kill him too," she said quietly, watching Jack out of the corner of her eye. "When I realized what they were going to do to me, and what he'd already done."

Jack nodded. "Sometimes," he said quietly, shifting a little closer so that their hips just touched, "sometimes I wish I wasn't so good at following orders - of all the slime-balls I've known, no one deserves a bullet in the back of the head like Mayborne."

Sam nodded. "A conscience is a terrible thing," she said with a grim smile.

"A conscience?" Jack asked her, meeting her smile with something infinitely darker. "Is that what you think this is?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Isn't it?"

"If you think I'd suffer a second's guilt at icing Mayborne, you're wrong Carter. I'd do it like that," he said, snapping his fingers.

"They why don't you?" she asked, a little disconcerted by the frost in his voice.

He shrugged. "Regulations," he said, his lips quirking towards a bitter smile. "Orders. Discipline. Our orders are to bring him home, so that's what I'm gonna do."

"Lucky for Mayborne then, I guess," she said.

"I guess," he agreed. And then after a moment his smile broadened, "Although from what I know about prisons, it won't be such a picnic for a nice boy like Harry."

Sam chuckled slightly at the thought. "I guess that gives me a *little* satisfaction," she replied.

"And his cell mate will probably be a lifer called Rocco who hasn't seen a woman in twenty years," Jack assured her. "In fact, I might have words," he said, rolling his eyes skyward, "just to see what I can arrange."

"You couldn't!" Sam gasped. "Could you?"

Jack shrugged. "Well, I can try."

Giving him a skeptical look, Sam shook her head and smiled, not at all sure she believed him, but just enjoying the rare moment's warmth between them. It had been too long, and she'd missed him. She'd missed this.

She looked over at him then and grinned, a real, heartfelt grin that always made him smile. This time was no different. In the starlight his eyes glittered darkly, and there was an emotion in their depths that set her heart racing. Involuntarily, her fingers touched the chain around her neck and he smiled, almost sadly, as his eyes dipped to her throat. But all he said was, "I think it's your watch now, Carter."

She nodded. "Sleep well, sir."

"Yeah," he murmured, lifting his eyes back to hers and holding her gaze for a long moment. "Happy New Year, Carter," he said quietly as he stood up.

Sam smiled up at him. "You too," she said. "Let's hope it's a better one."

"It's hard to see how it could be worse," he said, returning her smile. "'Night, Carter."

"'Night, sir."

And then he turned away and ducked back into the cave. Sam didn't watch him as he rustled around in the darkness, but settling herself for what remained of her watch, she just stared up into the dark, starry sky and wondered what the future held in store for them.

***

It was midmorning by the time they reached the edge of the jungle. There was no sun in the sky, but the heat was still oppressive. Sam's tee-shirt was damp and clingy, and her sodden hat did little to keep the sweat from rolling into her eyes. Damn, this was a nasty place.

Ahead of her, O'Neill was crouched behind one of the large, gnarled trees, peering through his binoculars at the Goa'uld encampment below them. They sat now atop a steep escarpment, which effectively cut off any easy access to the camp below. Walking carefully, quietly, she reached his side and crouched next to him. Even without field glasses she could see the Jaffa patrolling.

"We'll have to go in at night," she said, almost to herself.

"Ya think?" came the quite reply.

Her attention was caught then by a bustle of activity at the far side of the encampment. A coterie of Jaffa emerged from a rough canvas tent, surrounding someone and escorting him through the milling slaves.

"I think I see our Goa'uld," Jack murmured at her side. "Ugly son-of- a-bitch."

As Sam watched, the Jaffa stopped and circled the Goa'uld. They remained motionless for a moment until, in a flash, transport rings surrounded them and whisked them away.

"Damn it," the Colonel hissed. "That's not good."

"They have a ship in orbit," Teal'c observed.

"I guess that explains why there were no Jaffa at the gate," Sam murmured, pleased that she'd solved at least one puzzle that morning.

"It is likely that they are in the process of evacuating." Teal'c continued.

Slipping his binoculars back into their case, O'Neill turned away and sank down behind the tree. "So how long's that gonna take?" he asked. "Are they gonna 'ring' all those people?"

"That would be time and energy intensive," Teal'c replied. "It is more likely that they will land the ship to load the slaves."

Glancing up, Jack squinted against the bright, gray sky. "How long?"

"I cannot say," said Teal'c. "However, Major Carter's assessment is correct. We must wait for cover of darkness."

O'Neill nodded. "I know," he replied, wiping his hands over his sweaty face. "I just hope that's not too late."

Sam sighed, some part of her wondering how bad it would be if Mayborne just disappeared again. It would certainly save her a lot of pain. Jack must have heard her, because he glanced up and gave a tight smile. "You know," he said quietly, "I can't help thinking that a bullet would be a whole lot easier."

Sam's answering smile was bleak, but anything she might have said was interrupted by an outraged, if quiet, exclamation from Daniel. "What?"

"You know," Jack said, mimicking a gunshot, "clean, easy.... We could almost do it from up here and be home in time for the game tonight."

"I assume," Daniel said, hotly, "that you're joking? Right?"

Jack shrugged. "I'm just saying.... Mayborne's gonna cost the US tax payer a tidy sum stuck in jail the rest of his life, and since our only mission here is to keep what he knows out of Goa'uld hands...."

"Assassination?" Daniel said, at once skeptical and slightly horrified.

Shaking his head, the Colonel pushed himself to his feet. "I'm not gonna do it," he assured his friend, heading back into the trees and down the steep incline towards the Goa'uld camp. "I don't have a sniper rifle with me."

Daniel's mouth hung open, the words he was about to speak dead on his lips.

Sam smiled and touched him lightly on the shoulder. "He's joking," she assured him, standing up.

"Is he?" Daniel asked as they set out after him together. "I bet it wouldn't be the first time he's done it."

"No," Sam agreed, "I bet he's been ordered to do it many times. There's a difference."

Daniel rolled his eyes. "Just following orders?" he asked. "I thought they squashed that line of defense at Nuremberg?"

Sam made no reply, too hot and tired to argue the point. Daniel's fundamental problems with all things military was never going to change, even if she argued until she was blue in the face.

***

Daniel took a swig of water from his canteen, grimacing at the chemical taste. He hated those wretched water-purification tablets, although, he mused, the alternative was definitely worse. Who knew what kind of bugs bred on this warm, humid planet? Nasty ones, he was sure.

He walked behind Jack, and could feel Teal'c's steady presence at his shoulder. Sam was bringing up the rear. But aside from their brief foray into military ethics, they'd been walking in silence most of the day. It was too hot for much conversation, not to mention too tense; the horde of Jaffa somewhere beyond the trees tended to kill the usual banter. Nonetheless, he could sense a subtle strain emanating from Jack and he knew it wasn't just the mission, the heat, or even the constant, buzzing insects.

Something was wrong, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he should be able to figure out its cause. He didn't think it had anything to do with Sam, for once. Sure, there was a tension between them, but this was different - a deeper, darker kind of tension that came from within. Something was bothering Jack, something deep.

He was roused from his musings by their object. Jack hissed loudly, and whipped his left hand up in the air as if shocked. "Damn it!" he cursed, shaking it and then peering at it carefully.

"What happened?" Daniel asked, catching him up.

"Something bit me," he muttered, holding his injured hand. "Damn, that hurts!"

Daniel could already see a large, angry welt swelling on Jack's palm and winced slightly. "Did you see what it was?" he asked, glancing warily around at the trees.

"No," Jack replied, flexing his fingers and grimacing. "Ow!"

"Sir?" Sam had caught up with them now. "What happened?"

"Just a bite," Jack told her, shaking his hand as if to dislodge the pain.

"Let me see," said Sam, taking his hand in both of hers and holding it still. "That looks nasty," she decided, looking up at him. "We should dress it, sir."

"It's a mosquito bite!" he protested, although he didn't try to pull his hand free.

Sam smiled slightly. "Big mosquito," she replied. "And in this sort of climate, sir, we should be careful to avoid infection."

Grudgingly, he accepted her point and started to shrug off his pack. "Teal'c," he called, as it fell heavily to the ground, "keep watch - we're close to the camp now."

Silently, Teal'c moved to obey while Daniel made the most of the opportunity to rest and dropped down next to Jack. Watching him out of the corner of his eye, Daniel noticed a slight pallor to his friend's face and guessed that he was actually in some pain.

"You gonna be okay?" he asked, while Sam rummaged for her med-kit.

"It's a bug bite, Daniel."

"It looks painful."

Jack shrugged. "I've had worse."

Pulling the med-kit free, Sam crouched down in front of Jack. "Let me see your hand, sir," she said, "I need to clean it."

Obediently, Jack held out his hand and let Sam gently dab at the swollen bite. His eyes were fixed on her the whole time, although he said nothing. Carefully, Sam applied a small sterile dressing and taped it in place. "There," she said when she was done. "That should keep it from getting infected, sir. And you should take these," she added, dropping a couple of pills into his hand, "they're antihistamines, just in case."

"You been taking lessons from Fraiser?" Jack asked, tipping his head back and swallowing the pills.

Sam smiled. "Field medicine 101, sir," she told him. "'Prevention is better than cure.'"

"Then I'm glad you were paying attention in class," he said, returning her smile slightly. "Thanks."

She just nodded, before stuffing the med-kit into her pack and swinging it onto her back. "Ready, sir?"

"Let's do it," he sighed, wincing as he pushed himself to his feet.

***

The Goa'uld camp wasn't large, but it was densely packed. The slaves were employed in open-cast mining, almost certainly of naquada, Sam decided, as she peered over the shallow incline that hid her from view. There were still a few slaves hacking at the cliff face, although the majority were now dragging large containers towards the transportation rings.

"They have taken what they need," Teal'c informed her quietly. "And now they are preparing to depart."

"Hit and run mining?" Sam asked, shaking her head. "Doesn't sound very cost-effective."

"An operation such as this is difficult to defend," Teal'c explained. "No Goa'uld would commit his forces permanently - so they take what is easy and quick to retrieve, and then move on."

Sam shrugged as she absorbed the idea. "I never saw the Goa'uld as a nomadic race," she commented.

"Many of the less powerful are indeed nomadic," Teal'c said. "Only the most powerful such as Hathor or Sokar can defend a home planet."

Just then, Sam's radio crackled. "Carter, do you copy?"

"Go ahead, sir," she murmured.

"Are you in position?"

"Yes sir, but I have no ID on Mayborne yet."

Static hissed for a moment. "...where they spend the night."

"Say again, sir," Sam replied. "I didn't get that."

"We've found the slave pens," O'Neill repeated, through the haze of static, "where they spend the night. It's probably our best bet."

Sam nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Complete the circuit, Major," the Colonel said. "We need to ID Mayborne before we go in. I'm not risking our asses on a maybe."

"Yes, sir."

"O'Neill out."

The radio went silent and she exchanged a look with Teal'c. "Keep your eyes peeled," she advised him. Teal'c raised an eyebrow but made no comment, and they moved out together in silence.

Keeping low, they edged their way around the perimeter of the encampment. The air was full of the shouts and yells of labor, punctuated by the occasional scream that spoke of pain. Inside the camp Sam could see the slaves at work, dragging large sleds loaded with rocks towards the transportation rings. Hunkering down behind a rocky outcrop, she reached for her field glasses and took a closer look. The slaves were badly nourished, their skin hanging limp from thin bodies. They were mostly men, although she saw the occasional woman among them. And they worked in silence; the only noises were the grunts of effort as they dragged the rocks over the uneven ground and the shouts from the Jaffa supervising the work. Lowering her glasses, she glanced over the whole camp and up at the escarpment on top of which they had stood that morning. It was above the cliff face that the slaves had excavated, and from this angle she could see the ugly scars the mining had left on the landscape.

With a sigh, Sam was wondering how on earth they'd locate Mayborne among the couple of hundred slaves - if he were even still alive - when she felt Teal'c's hand on her arm.

"Major Carter," he said quietly, raising his hand to point. "Look."

Following the line of his pointing finger, Sam frowned. The man he was pointing at was stooped, one arm set crookedly as if broken and poorly healed, and his face was thin and sunken. Grabbing her glasses she took a closer look, and just at that moment he happened to glance up. She saw his eyes and knew Teal'c was right. It was Mayborne, and in pretty bad shape. His hair was long and scraggly, and as he heaved on the rope to drag one of the sledges towards the rings she saw that he had a profound limp. Life, it seemed, had not been kind to the Colonel. Sam clenched her jaw, determined to feel no pity for the man who had betrayed and very nearly destroyed them. Yet, despite herself, she had to acknowledge that he was a pathetic sight.

Lowering her glasses again, she nodded at Teal'c. "Good catch," she muttered, flicking on her radio. "Carter to Colonel O'Neill, do you copy sir?"

There was a pause, a crackle, and then, "Go ahead, Carter."

"We've located Mayborne, sir."

"Copy that, Carter," the Colonel replied. "Head back to base camp, and keep your heads down."

"Yes sir," she replied. "Carter out."

Resting a hand on Teal'c's shoulder she nodded at the trees behind them. "We can move faster under more cover," she suggested. "Let's get back into the forest."

He nodded and headed out, moving more quickly and efficiently than his bulk appeared to allow. Sam followed, her mind turning to the night ahead; getting Mayborne out from under several Jaffa noses, and back to the gate, was *not* going to be easy.

***

By the time Jack reached the place he'd designated as base-camp - no more than a couple of sticks marking the spot - he was only too glad to rest. He hadn't mentioned it to Daniel, but his hand was increasingly painful and swelling so badly he was having trouble moving his fingers. On top of that he was developing a nasty headache. Neither boded well for the night's rescue mission.

"Looks like we beat them to it," Daniel said, glancing around in search of Carter and Teal'c.

"Yeah," Jack sighed, easing himself down onto a fallen log. The usual unease he felt when any of his team were unaccounted for buzzed in his stomach, but it was such a familiar feeling that he barely took any notice. If they were in trouble, he'd know about it. He closed his eyes and let his head sink into his good hand, willing the pain to vanish.

"Jack?" Daniel's voice was full of concern. "What's up?"

"Headache," Jack told him, looking up and forcing a grim smile onto his face. "Got any aspirin?"

"Yeah," Daniel replied, sliding his pack from his back and starting to rummage. He was still rummaging when a rustle in the trees behind them drew Jack back to his feet, his gun instantly in his hands. He winced at the pain as his left hand closed around the weapon, but didn't let go.

After a moment he saw Carter's familiar face emerge from the trees. "Just us," she said, raising her hands slightly as if she expected him to shoot. And then her eyes narrowed sharply. "Sir? What's the matter?"

He blinked. "Nothing. Why?"

"You don't look well," she said, her eyes glancing sharply at his left hand, hanging limply again at his side. "Is that bothering you?"

Damn it, why did she always have to be so quick? He grimaced slightly. "Some," he admitted. "Daniel's getting me an aspirin." And then, hurriedly changing the subject, he said, "So, what did you find out?"

Sam watched him warily, but said, "Mayborne's here, but he's in pretty bad shape."

"My heart bleeds," Jack muttered, deciding to sit down again before the pain in his head drove him to the ground. "Anything else?"

"Not much," Carter told him, still watching him with shrewd eyes. "He was working with one of the gangs pulling the sleds to the rings."

"Here," Daniel said then, holding out his hand towards Jack. "Advil."

Taking the bottle from him, Jack paused before he tried to undo the cap. His left hand was stiff and swollen but he managed to hold the bottle in his fingers for a moment before Carter pounced.

"Colonel!" she exclaimed as soon as she saw his hand. "Holy Hannah!"

He flinched at her enthusiasm, glancing down at the puffy red swelling that was spreading from beneath the dressing she'd applied. "It's kind of swollen," he confessed.

"Let me see that," Carter snapped, coming to sit beside him on the log. Her hands felt soft and cool against his skin, and he had to admit to quite enjoying her touch. Carefully she removed the dressing and even he winced at what lay beneath. The bite was red and angry, while at its center a dark spot was forming. He touched it tentatively, but felt nothing. It was totally numb.

Carter bit her lip anxiously. "Sir," she said, "I think we should get you back to the gate, now."

Jack gave a quiet snort of laughter. "I don't think so, Carter," he told her. "Not without Mayborne."

"But, Colonel, this looks bad," she said, lifting her eyes to his. He saw concern in their depths, and smiled to reassure her.

"It's just a bite," he said. "A nasty one, I admit. But we're not leaving here without Mayborne. This might be our only chance to get him back, and I think we'd both sleep sounder at night knowing he was under lock and key."

She dropped her gaze at his veiled implication, but held onto his hand. "I really don't like the look of this, sir. I think it's already infected - it could even be poisoned."

"There's a lot at stake here," he reminded her quietly. "Let's do our job, and you can have Fraiser prod me to death when we get home. And cheer up," he added. "It's not like people die from little bug bites, is it?"

Carter just stared at him. "Including or excluding people dying from malaria, sir?" she asked pointedly.

***

The sense of foreboding that had haunted him since the start of this mission was growing stronger by the moment as Teal'c crouched in the darkness next to O'Neill. And it had little to do with the Jaffa patrol that had just passed them by.

His friend was sick; he could see it in the unhealthy sheen on eyes and in the pallor of his skin. "Get ready," the Colonel breathed quietly as he shifted slightly, tensing for movement. "On my mark."

Teal'c readied himself, his attention focusing on the immediate situation. Before them lay the slave pens, crowded now with men and women resting from their labors; Major Carter was close to the wooden fence, creeping silently in the shadows, trying to find Mayborne. O'Neill's eyes were on her, waiting for her signal. One hand held his weapon, while the other hung uselessly at his side, but Teal'c could see the way his gun shook and felt his heart thud with apprehension.

"O'Neill," he whispered. "Are you well?"

"Shhh," the Colonel hissed. He shifted again, no longer crouching but resting one knee on the ground. His head dropped for a moment, and he pressed his uninjured forearm against it. "Damn headache," he muttered.

In the time it took O'Neill to utter the words, Teal'c's decision was made. He placed a firm hand on the Colonel's shoulder. "Abort the mission," he said quietly. "You cannot do this."

"What?!" O'Neill replied, twisting in his grip. "Are you kidding?"

"You are endangering the mission," Teal'c pressed, not softening the blow. "You will be unable to flee the Jaffa once Major Carter has located Colonel Mayborne - and you know that she will not abandon you. You place us all at risk." His choice of words was not accidental and had an immediate effect.

O'Neill closed his eyes, his lips tightening into a line of frustration. Then, after a tense moment he nodded curtly, returning his gaze to Carter. "Go get Daniel," he told Teal'c, "I'll pull Carter back. Regroup at base-camp."

But Teal'c didn't move, unwilling to leave his friend alone. O'Neill glanced irritably over his shoulder, but the expression was fleeting and was soon followed by a flash of pain. Turning back to the encampment they both saw Carter emerge from behind the slave pens. She gave a brief, triumphant gesture indicating that she'd located Mayborne, and Teal'c watched as O'Neill reluctantly negatived the plan. Carter stopped for a moment in obvious confusion when she saw his harsh, slashing gesture, but was in motion moments later. She sprinted across the open space towards the edge of the camp and dropped to the ground at their sides.

"What happened?" she whispered, breathless.

O'Neill said nothing, so Teal'c spoke for him. "Colonel O'Neill is unwell and unable to complete the mission," he said.

"Sir?" the concern in her voice was deep and touching as he tried to look at him through the gloom.

"We need a new plan," he explained reluctantly. "One that doesn't involve me, apparently."

Carter nodded silently. "We should get back to base-camp," she suggested. "Where's Daniel?"

"I shall retrieve him from his position," Teal'c told her, rising fluidly to his feet. "You should assist O'Neill."

"I don't need assisting!" the Colonel muttered, although from the way his voice was starting to slur, Teal'c very much doubted his words.

As he moved out into the darkness, Teal'c glanced once over his shoulder and saw Carter helping O'Neill to his feet. They exchanged quiet words before they started walking, but the Colonel had taken no more than two steps before he appeared to lose his balance. Carter just managed to steady him, and her hand remained firmly on his arm as they disappeared together into the night.

Turning away, Teal'c frowned. He was right to abort the mission, but still he was haunted by the feeling that *something* was about to happen. Pushing the thought away, he hurried to find Daniel. Maybe once they returned home, the foreboding would fade.

***

Jack had managed to empty the content of his stomach entirely before they reached their camp, and lay now curled up and shivering on Sam's bedroll, burning with fever. Her hand rested briefly on his forehead and she knew it was bad; there was no sweat. Despite the humid climate, he was hot and dry.

"Colonel," she said quietly, "you need to drink something."

Reaching out a shaking hand, he took the canteen she offered him and lifted it to his lips. He swallowed a couple of mouthfuls before he sank back into the blankets. "I feel like shit," he murmured, pressing his good arm against his head. "What the hell is this?"

"Your hand is infected," Sam told him. "And you have a bad fever."

"I knew I should've packed my bug spray," he muttered, squeezing his eyes shut in obvious pain.

Sam just watched him, unsure what else to do. She'd already redressed the wound on his hand, and noticed that the black, dead spot in the center had grown. His whole hand was swollen now, red and angry with infection. Half of her wanted to head straight back to the Stargate, but she was afraid to listen to that half of her mind, influenced as it was by feelings that could have no place in her military life. And she'd been so close to Mayborne! She'd almost been able to touch him where he lay sleeping near to the edge of the slave pens; she knew that between them she, Teal'c and Daniel could pull him out of there. It wouldn't even take long. She sighed, frustrated and frightened. If they let Mayborne go they were risking a lot, not least personal exposure. Maybe Jack was right, maybe a bullet would be easier...?

"Carter?" his voice was weak and slurred.

"Right here, sir," she said quietly, reaching out and taking his good hand in her own.

His eyes fluttered open and fixed hers with an intent, if slightly unfocused gaze. "Major," he whispered, tightening his hand around hers, "I think this counts as incapacitation." Sam swallowed, knowing what was to come. "You're in command, Major."

"Sir...," she started to protest, but trailed to a halt as his eyes drifted shut and his fingers went slack in her hand. "Sir?"

His lips moved slightly, but there was no sound as he drifted into oblivion. Giving his hand a final squeeze, Sam placed it gently on the ground and stood up. She was in command. Despite the circumstances she felt the familiar surge of adrenaline. Command. Everything rested on her shoulders now; getting Jack back to the SGC, extracting Mayborne and completing the mission. "I won't let you down, sir," she told him quietly. "I promise."

***
 

By the time Daniel reached the campsite, Jack was in bad shape. Curled on his side, he lay on a bedroll either sleeping or unconscious, and even in the darkness Daniel could see how badly his hand was swollen.

"Okay," he said, sitting down next to Sam, "this doesn't look good." She glanced at him, but said nothing, a pained expression playing over her features. "What is it?" Daniel asked her when it became apparent she wasn't going to speak.

Sam frowned, pressing a hand momentarily over her eyes. "He's put me in command," she said.

"Sounds reasonable," Daniel agreed, his eyes drifting to Jack. "So, I guess...what now?"

Sam flashed him an unsettled look. "If we leave, we'll probably never have another chance to retrieve Mayborne," she said.

"And if we stay?" Daniel asked. "Jack looks like he can barely walk - if we're pursued...?" He left it hanging, knowing that Sam would have already considered the question.

Turning to Teal'c, Sam said, "How likely is it that they'd commit a large force to search for one slave?"

Still standing, Teal'c glanced down at them and shrugged slightly. "They would not wish to set a precedent for any other slaves who might try to escape," he replied, "however, I do not believe they would waste much time in such a search if they are soon to depart."

Sam nodded. "That's what I figured," she said with restrained enthusiasm. "All we need to do is keep our heads down for a couple of hours, until the Jaffa get bored, then we can head back to the gate as normal. It'll only delay us by a few hours - half a day at most."

Daniel shifted uneasily, still watching Jack. His face was pale, and he lay motionless aside from the rise and fall of his chest. "How sick is he?" Daniel asked her. "Will half a day make any difference?"

There was a long pause before she spoke, as she stared at Jack in obvious indecision. "I don't think so," she said at last. "He probably feels like crap, but I've started him on antibiotics to control the infection, and resting is the best thing he can do right now." She shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe he'll start feeling better before we head for the gate?"

"Or maybe not," Daniel added darkly. "I guess it's a risk."

Sam was silent again, her brow creased into a frown as she considered her options. To Daniel, it was obvious that she was at war with herself; her innate need to succeed fought against her more personal desire to ensure Jack's safety. But as her shoulders straightened slightly, and her chin lifted, he knew on which side she'd come down. "The Colonel would want us to complete the mission if we can," she said firmly.

"He would also understand if we did not," Teal'c told her. "You have nothing to prove, Major Carter."

Her gaze turned to Teal'c with a flicker of irritation. "I'm not trying to prove anything," she told him edgily. "I'm just trying to do the right thing."

"For whom?"

"For everyone," she snapped, running a hand through her hair. For a moment hesitation hovered uncertainly over her features again, until they set into a grim determination. "Okay, we're going to do it," she decided, sitting up straight. "Teal'c, you get the Colonel back to the caves we camped in last night. It's not far, and he should be able to make it. Meanwhile Daniel and I will pull out Mayborne and rendezvous with you as soon as we can." Glancing down at her watch she said, "But if we're not there within twelve hours, get yourselves back to the gate."

Whatever Teal'c might have felt about her decision, he did no more than incline his head in agreement. "I understand, Major Carter," he said solemnly.

Daniel was less circumspect. "You and me against a whole camp full of Jaffa?" he asked dubiously.

A flash of a smile brightened Sam's face. "Sure," she said, "why not?"

"Because its...nuts?"

Sam shook her head. "It's dark, the Jaffa are about to ship out, and the slaves aren't worth much.... Piece of cake."

"You know," Daniel said, pushing himself to his feet and looking down at her, "you're beginning to sound like Jack."

Glancing over at O'Neill's sleeping form, her lips tightened and she said, "I hope so."

She was afraid, Daniel realized suddenly. Afraid that she'd made the wrong decision, afraid that she might be putting Jack at risk, and afraid that she might not live up to the huge expectations she placed upon herself. The one person who refused to tolerate anything less than perfection in Sam Carter was Sam Carter. Reaching down, Daniel rested a hand lightly on her shoulder. "He'd probably do the same thing," he assured her.

She nodded, and glanced up at him with a grateful smile. "Probably," she agreed. And then she stood up and reached for her pack. "Teal'c," she said as she swung it onto her back, "take care of him."

The Jaffa nodded. "As if he were my brother," he assured her seriously. "I swear it."

***

The oblivion of sleep was a rare luxury. The chance to escape, just for a few hours, from the constant fear, pain and bitter, bitter anger was a treasured privilege that Harry Mayborne relinquished begrudgingly. And yet tonight something had drawn him from his precious haven. It wasn't the bone-weary exhaustion that cramped his muscles, or the stench of the slave-pens; both of those were so much a part of him now that he barely noticed them. No, it was something that had triggered a long-buried instinct - something from his past life, where he'd been well trained, well respected. And well fed.

Whatever the cause, he found himself laying on his back, staring up into the hot night sky, every nerve alive with tension. Something was out there. He didn't move a muscle as his senses leapt to full alert - and then he heard it. A quiet crunch of a foot being placed carefully on the ground; someone was creeping around outside the pen. He licked at dry lips, torn between raising the alarm and remaining as still as death in the hopes that whoever was out there would pass him by. But luck was not on his side. The footsteps stopped close to his head. He held his breath, closing his eyes and hoped that....

"Mayborne!"

His name! He hadn't heard it uttered for as long as he could remember. His eyes flashed open and he turned his head. Dimly through the night he saw a pale face, a shock of blond hair half hidden beneath a cap, and the dull glint of gunmetal.

"Carter," he whispered, his voice croaky with lack of use. Carter - the bitch whose stubborn intransigence had condemned him to this hell. The bitch that he had sworn would pay for all the pain and torment he had suffered after she had murdered the Goa'uld Hakraa and abandoned him to his fate at the hands of Apophis. He'd been lucky to escape with his life; she wouldn't be.

"Get up," she hissed. "We're getting you out of here."

Oh, the irony! "Why?" he hissed back. "To send me to jail?"

"Would you rather stay here?" she snapped, edging closer to the wooden palings.

"Jail's jail," he lied.

"Listen, Mayborne," another voice said, tense and uneasy. "Fact is you're a security risk; so we either bring you back alive, or make sure you're not in a position to make any trouble for us. Understand?"

Mayborne flinched slightly at the threat, irritated that he was unable to place the voice. It sounded familiar...but it had been so long, his memories of that other life were growing hazy. But whoever it was, his reasoning was sound - he'd given similar orders himself in those distant, other days. Pushing himself carefully into a sitting position, he glanced over towards his sleeping comrades; he didn't know their names, didn't even speak the same language as most of them, and felt no compunction at abandoning them to their fate. His own was not much better. But although his memories were hazy, he remembered enough to know that life in a Federal Penitentiary was a hell of a lot more comfortable than where he'd spent the past God- only-knew how many months.

"Is O'Neill with you?" he asked before he moved any further.

There was a pause before Carter said, "Yes."

Getting shakily to his feet, Mayborne grimaced at the pain in his lame right leg and muttered, "Well, just don't let him kill me, will you?"

Another long pause. "I'll do my best," came her cold reply. "Now get moving, before I kill you myself."

He flashed her a smile he knew she'd hate, but said nothing. 'I wonder', he thought as he limped towards the edge of the pen, 'whether you hate me as much as I hate you, Samantha Carter?'

***

Jack's legs were trembling with the effort of the climb up to the caves and the pain in his hand was almost unbearable, eclipsed only by the vice that was tightening around his head. He was drawing in on himself, unable to see much in the moonless night, and so preoccupied with the pain that it seemed to float before him like a red haze, obscuring everything else from view. He'd felt worse though, he told himself as his knees gave way, and only Teal'c's strong hand on his arm kept him from sliding back down to the base of the caves. He'd felt worse, but not much, and not often.

"We are almost at our destination," Teal'c assured him, his hand clamped tightly around Jack's arm.

"Really?" Jack muttered, swallowing hard against the dry retches the pain was provoking. "So soon?"

His attempt at humor had no effect on Teal'c, who merely pulled him to the top of the slope in silence, and suddenly Jack found himself surrounded by the relative cool of the caves. Thank God! He sank gratefully to the floor as his whole body started to shake uncontrollably. He'd barely made it this far, and knew for sure that there was no way in hell he would get any further. Beside him he heard Teal'c rustling around in the darkness, and then his hand was on Jack's shoulder. "Lie here," he advised, guiding him with surprising gentleness to the bedroll he'd laid out at his side.

With a sigh, Jack eased his aching body to the ground, at once frustrated by his incapacitation and resigned to the fact that there was damn all he could do about it. "Colonel O'Neill?" Teal'c said again, shaking his shoulder slightly. "You must drink before you sleep. Your fever is severe."

With an effort, Jack propped himself up on his elbow and reached out his good hand. It shook as he held the small cup Teal'c offered him, but he managed to swallow a couple of mouthfuls despite the roiling protest of his stomach. "Thanks," he murmured as he sank back down to the ground, wondering at the strangeness of being so gently cared for by Teal'c. He almost smiled, but then another thought crossed his mind and he frowned, "Where's Carter?" he asked, feeling his heavy eyelids drooping shut. Damn, he was tired.

There was a pause before Teal'c answered. "She is retrieving Colonel Mayborne," he said. "Do you not remember me telling you of her plan?"

"Mayborne?" Jack asked, increasingly confused. "I thought he was dead?"

Another pause, and then, "Rest now, O'Neill. I will stand guard."

"Yeah," Jack managed to sigh as he shrank blissfully away from the pain beating at him. "You do that."

***

The blast of a staff weapon ricocheted through the trees, illuminating the night for a second before the darkness returned. Sam lay flat on her stomach, one hand pressing Mayborne into the dirt next to her. Daniel lay on Mayborne's other side, his arms flung protectively over his head.

"That was close," he murmured.

"They haven't seen us," Sam assured him. "They're firing randomly - trying to flush Mayborne out. Don't forget they don't know we're here."

Beneath her hand, she felt Mayborne's skinny frame shift slightly. She had to admit to being somewhat shocked by his frail physique, but his barbed comments and utter lack of humility had soon done away with any sympathy she might have felt. "You call this a rescue?" he muttered sourly, fidgeting under her firm grip.

"Shut it, Mayborne," Daniel hissed, saving her the effort.

Suddenly a voice rang out through the night. It was a Jaffa, calling something Sam didn't understand. She turned to Daniel, eyebrow raised, "Daniel?"

"Um," he nodded, squinting into the darkness, "roughly translated... 'this way'"

Crap. Sam nodded. "Then we can't stay here," she whispered. "Get ready, we'll head east until we lose them, then double back towards the caves."

Daniel nodded, although she knew he had no idea about left or right let alone east or west. But she also knew that he trusted her, and for that she was grateful. Getting her feet under her, she pulled Mayborne up from the dirt. "You're gonna run," she told him, her hand firmly on his arm. "And I don't care how much it hurts...."

He glared at her, malevolence oozing from every pore, but he held his tongue and nodded curtly. Sam shivered; the man had eyes like a rattlesnake and the personality to match.

***

Teal'c sat in the middle of the low cave, his eyes focused on the entrance and the darkness beyond. It had been over three hours now since he and O'Neill had arrived, and still there was no sign of Major Carter or Daniel Jackson. In the distance the detonation of a staff weapon echoed through the night, and Teal'c's jaw tightened. It irked him to be sitting idly by while his friends were in danger, and yet.... He glanced briefly at the figure sprawled at his side and knew that he could not leave. O'Neill needed him, perhaps more so than the others. His friend's sickness disturbed him greatly. And as he watched O'Neill toss and turn in the grip of fever, the foreboding that had haunted him throughout the mission sank around him like a dank, chill mist that whispered of the end of things.

Reaching out, he placed a hand on O'Neill's arm. "Be strong, my friend," he told him. "I will not allow it to end here."

***

"Damn it," Sam muttered, glancing down the shallow embankment at the glint of Jaffa armor in the trees, "I didn't think they'd keep searching for so long!"

"It's only been three hours," Daniel said quietly, from where he crouched behind the shelter of the small rise, his eyes fixed on Mayborne.

Three hours. Sam's mind flew back to Jack, so pale and sick when she'd seen him last. What if he was worse now? What if the Jaffa had stumbled across the caves? Teal'c couldn't defend them both, and there was no way Jack could escape in his condition. She should never have left them, never have split them up in enemy territory, she should have....

"Sam?" Daniel said, obviously not for the first time.

She blinked, shaking herself out of her morbid thoughts. "Yeah, sorry, what?"

"Look," he said, nodding down at the Jaffa. "I think they're heading back to the camp."

Turning her attention back to the trees she saw nothing. The jungle was silent but for its customary cacophony of nighttime creatures. She held her breath and counted to ten - still nothing. "At last," she whispered, letting her breath out slowly.

"I have to say," came Mayborne's caustic voice, "that this is probably the most ill-conceived rescue I've ever had the misfortune to witness."

"Shut the hell up," she told him, sliding back down to where Daniel and Mayborne were waiting. Turning to Daniel she said, "I'm not going to risk going straight back to the caves - if we head south from here we can swing round the area the Jaffa have been searching. "It'll take longer, but I don't want to risk leading them back to Ja...the others."

Mayborne chuckled. "Still keeping secrets, Samantha?" he taunted. "You should be careful - secrets can be dangerous, you know. Someone might use them against you."

The urge to just swing for him was so strong that Sam had to consciously stop herself from landing a fist across his face. "Just remember, Mayborne," she said, deliberately not looking at him, "that I don't think General Hammond would be *too* upset if you got killed by the Jaffa during the escape." She glanced at him then, shifting her weapon until is was comfortable in her hands, "You understand what I'm saying?"

He blanched slightly, but his eyes flashed pure hatred as he glared at her. "Congratulations, Major," he sneered, "you sound more like me all the time."

Damn him! But she refused to be ruffled. "Daniel," she snapped, "keep an eye on him." And then, without another backward glance, she led them back into the trees and the dark, humid night.

***

Jack surfaced into a strange, hazy world. The pain in his head was still severe, but his hand no longer troubled him, for which he was profoundly grateful. After a while he realized that he was staring at the ceiling of a cave and shifted his head towards the slight trace of a breeze he felt on his cheek. Dark trees, silhouetted against a starry night were framed by low rock as he stared at the entrance to the cave. He recognized it; he'd been here before, with Carter. They'd talked here. When was that?

"Carter?" he whispered, wondering where she'd gone. But his voice came out as a croak and he doubted that she'd hear him. He was about to try again when another voice answered.

"Colonel O'Neill."

Jack smiled slightly as he recognized Teal'c's baritone. Yeah, he remembered now, Teal'c was here and Carter was off pulling Mayborne's ass out of the fire.

"How do you feel?" Teal'c asked then, moving to crouch before him.

Jack considered the question for a moment. "My head hurts like hell," he replied, his voice still rasping, "but I think my hand's getting better. It doesn't hurt anymore."

Most of Teal'c's face was cast in shadow, but even in the darkness Jack could sense his unease. "We will soon return to the Stargate," he said quietly. "Then you will be well."

"Yeah," Jack agreed, fidgeting on the hard ground to try and find a more comfortable position. "How long's Carter been gone?" he asked then.

Teal'c paused before he answered. "Some hours," he said vaguely.

Alarms started ringing. "How many hours?"

"Five," Teal'c said softly. "I heard sounds of battle, but they ceased almost two hours ago."

Jack closed his eyes, trying not to think the worst. "They'll get here," he said quietly, praying that he spoke the truth. "Carter's way too smart to be caught by a couple of stupid Jaffa." He glanced at Teal'c then, "No offense."

"None taken," Teal'c assured him with a hint of a smile. And then, more firmly, he added, "You should rest now - the journey to the gate will likely be arduous for you."

Jack snorted quietly. "Ya think?" he muttered, letting himself drift back into silent, pain-free oblivion, his last anxious thoughts of Carter.

***

The first light of dawn was draining the color from the sky as Daniel shoved Mayborne towards the rocky outcrop that housed the caves they'd sheltered in the previous night. He was exhausted and hungry, but relieved at least that they had seen no more of the Jaffa. Teal'c, it seemed, had been right - the search had been short and halfhearted.

"You expect me to climb up there?" Mayborne complained sourly, stopping dead at the foot of the incline.

"It's not far," Daniel told him, weary of the man's constant carping. "You'll manage."

"With this arm?" he asked, raising his crooked right arm in the air. "A gift of Apophis," he said, flashing a bitter look at Sam who stood a little apart, staring up at the dark mouth of the cave.

"Well," Daniel said, "it's not like you have a choice, so you might as well...."

"Or what?" he demanded. "You think you can drag me up there?"

With deliberate slowness, Daniel took a long look at Mayborne's skinny, frail physique. "I think so...," he replied, fixing him with a steady look.

"Don't bother," Sam said then, turning away from the rock face to glance at both of them. Her face was hard and angry and Daniel could tell that what little patience she'd had for Mayborne had long since evaporated. "If he won't climb up we'll just tie him to one of the trees until we're ready to move out." Her blue eyes were chips of ice as she turned them on Mayborne, "Take your pick," she told him.

Mayborne's face screwed up into a frown and he opened his mouth to speak when the air was shattered by a huge sound that made even the ground vibrate. A shadow passed over Daniel, he glanced up and his heart sank so fast it almost hit his toes. It was a ship. A huge, damn mother-ship.

"It's landing!" Sam yelled over the noise. "Get into the caves - NOW!"

Daniel almost laughed at the sight of Mayborne scrabbling over the rocks, so fast he looked like some kind of demented mountain goat. But the thought of a shipload of Jaffa landing no more than a couple of miles away dampened his humor and he hurried after Mayborne with more grace, though no less urgency. Hide was all they could do against those odds.

***

Teal'c didn't need to leave the cave to know what the sound meant. The Goa'uld was landing his ship to complete the removal of his work force; if Major Carter had been unsuccessful in retrieving Colonel Mayborne she would have no second chance. Beyond the mouth of the cave dawn paled the sky, and in the thin light Teal'c could see the pallor of O'Neill's face where he lay sleeping fitfully at his side. Reaching out, he touched the man's brow and the heated skin only deepened his sense of unease. Despite his previous lucidity, Teal'c knew that O'Neill's condition was growing worse, not better. His eyes irresistibly moved to the Colonel's swollen hand, deepening from red towards purple. Bad, his years of experience told him. Very bad.

A sound from beyond the cave drew his eyes back to its mouth, his hand reaching for his weapon with instinctive ease. Slowly, silently, he rose to his feet, crouching under the low ceiling as he moved smoothly towards the entrance. Keeping deep in the shadows he maneuvered himself to a position where he could best see the rocky ascent. For a moment his hands tightened around his weapon as he saw a man awkwardly scaling the boulders. But then he saw Daniel Jackson moving swiftly behind the stranger, and behind them both climbed Major Carter, her eyes darting between the sky and the cave mouth. The stranger, Teal'c realized then, was Mayborne, although he found it hard to see the man he had known in the emaciated, scuttling creature that approached him. Taking no risks, Teal'c armed his weapon and stepped out of the cave.

"Teal'c!" Carter called instantly. "You made it!"

Her relief was evident in the wide smile that briefly touched her face, before the frown returned. "They're landing a ship," she called as she pushed herself up towards him.

"I had noticed," he told her, and she smiled again at the irony in his voice.

Turning to Mayborne, Teal'c kept his weapon raised as the man reached the top of the climb. He was sweating profusely and was breathless with the effort of the ascent. Nonetheless, Teal'c treated him with the suspicion such a man deserved. "Colonel Mayborne," he said, taking in the face ravaged by deprivation.

"Teal'c," Mayborne replied, sucking in a deep breath and glancing about warily, as if expecting danger. Teal'c smiled slightly - he was obviously looking for O'Neill.

"We should get inside," Daniel Jackson said as he too reached the top.

"I concur," Teal'c said, stepping out of their way. "I will wait for Major Carter."

Daniel gave a curt nod and, with a hand on Mayborne's shoulder, pushed him into the darkness.

"Teal'c?" The voice was Carter's. "How's Colonel O'Neill?" she asked as she reached the top of the climb. She was doing her best to appear impassive, but Teal'c saw an agony of worry behind her eyes.

He was sorry not to have better news. "He is worse," he told her bluntly. "His fever still burns, he is not always lucid...and he has lost feeling in his injured hand...."

"Shit!" Carter exclaimed, surprising him with her vehemence. She screwed her eyes shut for a moment and shook her head, regaining control, before looking at him again. "Sorry," she muttered. "He can't feel his hand?"

"When he last awoke," Teal'c explained, "he told me that he felt no pain - however his hand is severely infected, perhaps worse."

"Worse?" Her voice was an anguished whisper.

"We must return to the SGC as soon as possible," Teal'c suggested, not wishing to feed her imagination further.

"Yeah," Carter nodded. "But do you think we can risk it in daylight?"

Glancing up at the slowly landing ship, Teal'c drew in a deep breath. "I fear that the risk of not doing so may be more dangerous," he said. "Colonel O'Neill is very sick."

***

They'd been in the stinking cave for hours, while outside the sun had broken through the clouds and the jungle steamed in the blazing heat. Not that Mayborne was complaining; after the night they'd put him through, he needed the rest. So he sat with his back against the wall, chewing on the food Jackson had grudgingly given him - military rations had never tasted so sweet!

As he savored every mouthful of the unaccustomed feast, he watched the pathetic little drama being acted out before him with a grim satisfaction. O'Neill, it seemed, was sick. Mayborne had briefly seen his swollen, putrid hand as Jackson had pushed him roughly into the cave, and he'd winced at the sight. If it hadn't been O'Neill he might even have felt some sympathy. But as it was he'd chuckled slightly and muttered, "Christ, Jack, you look worse than I do."

O'Neill's eyes had opened at that, bleary and unfocused yet not lacking their sharp intelligence. "Mayborne," he'd croaked. "I should've killed you years ago."

"The feeling's mutual," he'd replied as Jackson had shoved him to the ground.

"Sit there and shut up," Daniel had said, turning instantly to O'Neill.

"Jack?" he'd asked in a softer voice, crouching at his side. "How are you?"

"Great," O'Neill had replied with his usual dryness. "Never better." And then, giving himself away entirely, he'd asked anxiously, "Where's Carter?"

"Outside with Teal'c," Jackson had replied. "She's fine, but...."

"But?" came the weak question.

"The Goa'uld mother-ship just landed, so...."

O'Neill had sighed heavily. "So I guess we're staying put a while longer?"

Daniel nodded. "You gonna hang in there?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"No," Daniel replied slowly, "not really."

And so the hours had passed. O'Neill drifted in and out of sleep, and his loyal team took turns watching him, encouraging him to drink or trying to cool him with a damp cloth over his brow. It was a disgusting show of sentiment that almost tempted Mayborne to take his chances with the Jaffa. Almost.

Carter sat with Jack now, one hand resting almost absently on his good arm as she whispered to Teal'c. "There's no way he can walk," she was saying. "Do you think you can carry him all the way back?"

"Colonel O'Neill is not light," Teal'c admitted with his customary understatement, "however I believe I can carry him."

Carter nodded. "It'll be slow going though," she pointed out. "Maybe I should go alone and bring back a med-evac team?"

"That would be no faster," Teal'c said, shaking his head.

Carter squeezed her eyes shut in obvious frustration. "Damn it," she muttered, "I should have just gotten him straight back to the gate last night - this is all my fault."

"You were not to know that his condition would progress so rapidly," Teal'c replied, "nor that the Goa'uld ship would land so soon."

She was shaking her head now in fierce denial. "He was already really sick, Teal'c," she said quietly. "He'd handed over command! I should have known," she paused, and slammed her fist hard against her leg, "hell, I *did* know! But I was so determined not to let my...." She cut herself off angrily. "I was an idiot, and the Colonel's paying the price."

"I do not believe Colonel O'Neill would see it that way," Teal'c assured her.

"Quite right," Mayborne cut in, causing both their heads to turn sharply towards him. He shrugged slightly, "Jack would never blame his little Majorette for anything, would he Sam?"

Her eyes narrowed to icy slits. "Screw you, Mayborne," she spat.

He leered deliberately. "So are you offering that service to *all* senior officers now, Major?"

Mayborne was so amused by the mixture of horror, fury and embarrassment on her face that he didn't see Teal'c move until he found himself slammed hard against the wall, the Jaffa's forearm across his throat cutting off his air supply. "If you ever," Teal'c whispered harshly, "speak disrespectfully of Major Carter again, I will tear the tongue from your mouth and feed it to you in pieces. Do you understand?"

Nodding as best he could, unable to force the iron-like arm from his throat, Mayborne glared into Teal'c's unyielding eyes. "Yes..." he choked out, "...I understand."

"I do not like you, Colonel Mayborne," Teal'c added, not loosening his grip in the slightest. "You will be wise not to anger me again."

Mayborne was beginning to see stars, and his fingers were scrabbling weakly against Teal'c's arm, when he suddenly found himself freed and slumped forward, gasping for air.

"Remain silent," Teal'c ordered him, turning back to Carter.

Mayborne saw her give Teal'c a tight, embarrassed smile and he merely nodded a silent acknowledgement. Their conversation returned to getting O'Neill the medical assistance he so obviously needed, but Mayborne had the dour satisfaction of noting the way Carter had deliberately removed her hand from Jack's arm and had moved a more discrete distance from him. He smiled bleakly; obviously nothing had changed between them since they'd last met, which gave him an edge to exploit - maybe not now, but later. If they managed to get him back to Earth and into prison, he'd at least have some hold over the SGC's finest. The thought gave him a grim comfort. Of course, he had no real intention of letting them take him anywhere near Earth, but there'd be time enough for that later....

***

By midday Sam thought she was going to climb out of her skin, so intense was her need to act, to do something, anything, to help Jack. He'd surfaced a couple of times since she'd returned, and had smiled weakly at her the first time. The second time, however, she didn't think he'd recognized her at all.

"What day is it?" he'd asked, urgently grabbing at her arm and trying to sit up. "What day...?"

"Shhh," she'd murmured, pushing him back into the blankets. "It's okay, sir."

"No," he'd insisted, growing increasingly agitated. "I have to know... Tell me what day it is!"

"It's Wednesday," she'd told him quietly.

He'd blinked at the news, and then shaken his head. "I have to go," he'd announced suddenly, pushing himself upright. Sam had just managed to catch him as he swayed dizzily, and had eased him back to the ground. "Not yet," she'd told him touching his face, heedless of Mayborne's prying eyes, "just a little longer, Colonel."

"You don't understand," he'd snapped, pushing her hand away. "I have to go...."

"Sir, please...."

"Charlie's waiting," he'd interrupted, fixing her with an anguished look. "I promised...."

Her heart had clenched with a sudden pain and silence had filled the small, humid cave. Everyone had been listening, awkward and upset by his fevered words. "It's okay," she'd replied helplessly. "Just rest now."

"I promised I'd be there," he'd mumbled, clutching at her hand. "You have to help me.... Charlie...."

"I will," she'd promised him, not knowing what else to say. "But you have to rest now. Charlie would understand."

His eyes had fluttered closed, but he shook his head wearily. "He's just a kid...he's too young...."

And then sleep had taken him again and his fingers had fallen slackly from her hand. She'd had to fight hard to swallow the tears that had risen in her throat, but the almost frantic desperation to get him home was less easy to control. And it ate at her now, gnawing at her nerves until she thought they'd snap.

Outside the sun blazed down on the trees, but they'd seen no sign of Jaffa all day. Was it worth the risk, she wondered, to start out now, in broad daylight with a Goa'uld mother ship looming over the whole landscape? But could they wait any longer? Could Jack?

"Sam?" Daniel said quietly, interrupting her thoughts.

She turned, "Yeah?"

His face twisted slightly as he approached an awkward subject. "I don't think Jack's doing so well."

"No," she agreed. "He's not."

"I think maybe we should leave now."

"That's just what I was thinking," she told him. But as she looked over at the Colonel, tossing restlessly in his sleep, she shook her head. "We're going to be incredibly vulnerable out there."

"Yeah," Daniel nodded. "But what's the alternative?"

"There isn't one," Sam decided, giving Daniel a tight smile. "Come on," she said, getting to her feet, "I need your help." Stepping over Jack she reached the entrance to the cave in a couple of strides. "Teal'c," she said, "keep an eye on Mayborne - and get ready to move out in thirty minutes."

"I shall do as you ask," he assured her, cocking his head to one side. "May I ask where you are taking Daniel Jackson?"

"We're going to rig something to help carry Colonel O'Neill," she said, smiling at his bemused expression. Then, turning back to Daniel she said, "Bring your jacket, and the Colonel's." Grabbing her own jacket she turned back to Teal'c. "If you see any Jaffa, don't try to contact us. Just keep your head down and stay hidden."

"As you wish," Teal'c replied, moving aside to let her pass.

With Daniel on her heels she scrambled down the rocks and back into the dense undergrowth. The heat from the sun was stifling and the whole jungle was steaming; it was so humid it was almost difficult to breath.

"Okay," Daniel said, dropping the jackets on the ground, "I take it we're not wearing these?"

Sam smiled. "No, we're going to make a stretcher. First we need to find a couple of straight branches, about seven feet long."

It took some doing amid the tangling, twisting trees but at last they found what they needed. Taking out her pocketknife Sam set about smoothing the branches as much as possible. "Daniel," she said as she worked, "do up the zippers on all the jackets."

When she was done, she dropped the rough-hewn poles to the ground and wiped a hand across her sweaty forehead. "Damn, it's hot," she grumbled.

"So what next?" Daniel asked, frowning at the pile of jackets and the wooden poles.

Sam smiled. "Easy," she said. "We just thread the jacket's onto the poles and - hey presto - instant stretcher."

Daniel's eyebrows rose in approval. "That's clever," he admitted. "I'd never have thought of it."

Sam laughed as they started threading the first pole up through the bottom of her jacket, guiding it out through the sleeve. "Well, I can't take the credit," she assured him. "It's a pretty standard technique."

Soon all three jackets were firmly wedged onto the poles, making a crude yet serviceable stretcher, and Sam nodded in satisfaction. "Okay," she said, reaching for her half-empty water bottle. "Now all we need to do is figure out how the hell to get the Colonel down from the cave."

Daniel squinted up at the rocky outcrop. "I nominate Teal'c," he said after a moment's thought.

"It's a steep climb," Sam said, taking a swig of water. "Even for Teal'c. And Jack's not light."

"I'll help," Daniel volunteered, glancing at her over the top of his glasses. "While you watch Mayborne." He shook his head. "I don't trust him."

"Neither do I," Sam assured him. Then she sighed and shook her head. "All this to rescue that SOB," she said wearily. "If anything happens to Jack...." She cut herself off, irritated at using his name in front of Daniel.

But Daniel didn't seem to notice, he just rested a reassuring hand on her shoulder and said, "He's going to be fine, Sam. He always is, isn't he?"

"Almost always," Sam agreed. "But..."

"Come on," Daniel said. "Let's get going. The sooner we hand him over to Janet's tender mercies the better."

Sam chuckled slightly as they started walking back towards the cave. "Janet's going to kill us," she told him. "Last week she told me she was going to arrange her days off to coincide with SG-1's scheduled returns."

"Actually," Daniel replied, "I think she really enjoys these new challenges we bring her back through the Stargate - you and I get the alien technology and artifacts, Janet gets alien plagues and bug bites."

Smiling, Sam started the climb back to the cave, grateful for Daniel's steady friendship - he always knew the right thing to say. She just hoped he was right, because if Jack didn't make it.... Swallowing hard she forced the thought away. Getting him home was all that mattered now, it was the best and only thing she could do for him at this point.

***

Janet Fraiser would never admit to having premonitions. She didn't believe in that kind of nonsense. But occasionally something would start to pulse in the center of her chest; a sense of unease that refused to be distracted by work, rest or play. Something, it whispered to her, was about to happen. Something big. Something bad. And however many times she told herself not to be so ridiculous, that little niggling feeling of unease kept pulsing away.

And so it was she found herself accidentally on purpose passing the control room, wandering in with a couple of files under one arm, and casually glancing over the shoulder of Lieutenant Khan.

"Something I can help you with, Doctor?" the Lieutenant asked, looking up at her curiously.

"Um," Janet nodded, striving for nonchalance, "I was just wondering which teams were out right now."

Khan smiled. "One, four and eight," she replied immediately. "SG-1 are due back tonight, SG-4 and SG-8 aren't due back for another thirty-six hours."

Janet nodded. SG-1. Of course. "Have we heard anything from Colonel O'Neill?" she asked.

"No, Ma'am," the Lieutenant replied. "Nothing." Then she frowned a little in concern, "Is there a problem?"

"No," Janet assured her hurriedly. "No problem." I hope, she added silently, conscious of the fact that the pulse of unease in her chest had developed into a full-fledged state of alarm. SG-1. Why was it always SG-1?

***

Teal'c was weary. They had been walking now for almost eight hours, the last two of which had been in darkness. And for all eight hours he had carried one end of the stretcher on which Colonel O'Neill lay. His shoulders ached, his hands bore blisters from the rough hewn wood, and...

"My arms are killing me," Daniel muttered from the other end of the stretcher. "Teal'c, I have to stop for a minute."

"Very well," Teal'c agreed, rather more quickly this time than on previous occasions. "Major Carter," he called quietly, "we are stopping."

Ahead of him he saw her turn in the shadows, a flash of her pale face in the darkness as she