A Stone in The Hand

by Soles

Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. I have written this story for entertainment purposes only and no money whatsoever has exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author(s).

Title - A Stone In The Hand

Author - Soles

E-mail - soles@gamewood.net

Season - pre-Meridian

Spoilers - Show and Tell, Solitude

Category - Action / Adventure, H/C

Pairing - none

Content level - 18+ for adult language and the mention of anatomical parts.

Summary - Shadows do not always protect us from the light.

Disclaimer - I own nothing in the Stargate Universe. Any original characters are the sole property of this author.

Author's notes -

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The still scalding, evening sun beat relentlessly down on the sun-scorched overachiever, who'd spent hours manicuring his lush green lawn. Being on the last stretch, he'd make one last pass and it was done, finished---kaput - at least until the next time. His bare, darkly tanned skin glistened, hot and sticky, in the bright, evening light after toiling since early morning.

The long, hot summer had started with a bang and his lawn was making up for a cold, even longer winter. It seemed this year, after all the strange winter weather that Mother Nature wanted to kiss and make up. Exploding in a riot of colors and hues was a bumper crop of flowers, flowering trees, lush foliage - the annuals, perennials, and the evergreens. And there'd been enough rain to keep them looking bright and fresh.

Jack O'Neill cheerfully stormed down his last row of uncut fescue, pleased with his work. He'd gotten it all done in one afternoon - along with the hedge trimming, the weed eating, cleaning out the flowerbeds, transplanting some of the rose bushes. And now the evening ahead was just waiting to be filled---with other chores.

Jeez, O'Neill, you're pathetic. You're turning into a gardener/housemaid/drudge - isn't it time YOU got a real life? You're always yapping at Carter about the very same thing, he scolded.

Yeah, yeah, yeah---at least I'm out in the bright sunshine, not twenty-eight floors underground. I'm soaking up sun, getting my vitamin D, breathing fresh air...yeah, and you're sweating like a hog. It's a good thing you're not expecting company, your aroma alone would open a Stargate.

"Oh, ha, ha." It never really paid having a smart aleck, internal voice ----

Suddenly, an excruciatingly painful twinge pierced his back - pain so fierce he thought he was going to vomit up a long forgotten lunch, as well as pass out. Quickly Jack dropped to the ground, sucking the fragrant summer air deep into his lungs; wrapping his arms around his middle as if to hold off another attack. He lowered his head between his knees to stave off lightheadedness, while chills shimmied up and down his spine. Yet the pain was gone, almost as soon as his head dropped down, leaving him all but giddy with relief.

"What the hell," he muttered aloud, relaxing back onto the fresh mown grass. He lay in the fragrant clippings, taking stock of his body and what it was trying to tell him. But now, except for that one burst of excruciating pain, everything seemed okay - maybe it was just a muscle cramp.

"Have I messed up my back again?" he asked the sky overhead. It hadn't felt like a muscle spasm, and with all the work he'd done he'd been very careful of his wonky back, but that meant nothing. He'd been out here all day and had pushed himself pretty hard. It was the one bad thing about being off world all the time. His yard - which he enjoyed puttering around in, usually paid the price of his necessary neglect.

He lay there, on this balmy summer evening, quietly watching the sun sink lower in the sky. At some point he was going to have to brave getting up again. But long minutes passed - just the fragrant earth, the deepening blue sky and him. And then finally, taking a deep breath, O'Neill rolled to his front, pulling his long legs up under his body and smoothly - as smoothly as bad knees allowed, slowly drew up to a standing position. He stood for a moment, waiting for the other shoe to drop, but nothing happened. He felt fine---not even a twinge.

"Muscle spasm," he muttered, and then began collecting his yard tools. A nice hot bath, accompanied by a long, relaxing soak would take care of it lickety split. But first, he'd snag a nice cold beer to wet his whistle.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Purposefully, Colonel Jack O'Neill strode down the gray hallways of the SGC. He was a man with a mission. And, if he didn't take care of this particular negotiation a.s.a.p, he'd end up with certain petite doctors - certain "power" mongers, if you will - pointing dainty fingers, saying "I told you so" ad nauseum.

Last night hadn't been too bad. The discomfort in his back certainly felt like a pulled muscle, yet the long hot bath, a few Ibuprophen and a couple of cold beers, had worked miracles. But today, he and his team were due off world for a 72-hour jaunt - in a desert playland - Oh, goody! And he really didn't want to be bothered by the strain while out on patrol. So here he was, searching for Dr. Fraiser - who'd probably get out her pocket penlight to diagnose his back strain - 'for crying out loud'.

For once he would act like a man -- a seasoned campaigner worthy of his rank. Here he was; looking for the doctor, ready to go through the drill he knew was coming, just to get extra aspirin / Tylenol / ibuprophen / whatever for his pack - end of story. He could do the brave soldier thing!

O'Neill stuck his head in Janet Fraiser's empty office.

"Damn, nobody's home," he muttered and backed away, right into the path of the incoming doctor.

"Whoa, Colonel---you're awfully early this morning. What catastrophe has brought you my way - on your own two feet, under your own steam no less?" She grinned at the infirmary shy soldier.

"Doc, sarcasm from one's own doctor is like a bitter pill---a serpent's tooth," he said, with his hand on his heart. "Besides, I get paid for the sarcasm around here Major; you're not horning in on my action, are you?" He grinned, an impish twinkle lighting his eyes.

"Oh heaven forbid, sir. What seems to be the problem this morning?"

"I did a ton of yard work yesterday, Doc, and I strained a muscle in my back. AND, since we're due to leave at 1000hrs, I thought I'd catch you early - get a few extra Tylenol for the old backpack - justincase."

He watched a frown develop on her pretty face. Together they moved into an examination area, and the older officer made himself comfortable on one of the stretchers. And then he hurriedly backpedaled; he could see the medical restriction wheels turning in her attractive brain.

"It's not a bad strain, Doc, more like a pulled muscle. And you can't see it through my eyes---so don't shine that ligh---"

The bright little light seared his eyes, one by one for a moment, until he couldn't see anything but dancing bright spots when she turned it off.

"---T. Dooocc, we've been through this a hundred times. What can you possibly see from my eyes, that has any connection to my back?"

"I'm a doctor, Colonel. We can see many things just by looking into your visual fields."

"I know you can see a lot, Doc. But my eyes do not hold the secrets of the universe!"

"Oh, I don't know about that, sir. I've heard several of the nurses, and one or two of the female Marines say differently," Fraiser replied with a grin. She watched a blush creep up his neck as she moved around behind him, and pressed into his back.

He remained silent, until the doctor hit a sore spot and he grunted in reaction, quickly moving away from her probing.

"Bingo, Doc. Right there."

Fraiser massaged the offending muscle for a few minutes, before one of her nurses made motions for her attention.

"Okay, Colonel. I'll give you some extra ibuprophen, but when you return, don't think I won't remember this problem. We'll go over it in depth and if there's been no real relief, we'll try a non-steroidal anti-inflammatory, maybe some PT. Until then, try not to irritate it any further."

"You know me, Doc. I'll treat it like it was my own---"

"Yes, sir---that's what I'm afraid of. Now get out of here, Colonel. I have real patient's to treat - the extra packets will be in your kit when you're ready to leave." She watched him saunter happily out of the infirmary, after waving a sloppy salute in her direction.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Several hours later ------------

A blast of hot wind greeted the Colonel as he stepped out of the 'gate' onto M18-315, and it almost brought him to his knees. But he quickly looked around, checking for hostile action, and then stepped aside for his team. Next up was Daniel Jackson - archeologist extraordinaire, and then Teal'c, soon followed by SG-1's 2IC Major Carter. The Colonel smiled; all of his kids had made it, safe and sound.

The gusts of hot wind seemed to affect everyone - especially after the breakneck, freeze-dried ride through space. Their desert camo uniforms quickly shed any ice crystals in the hot dry air.

"Okay, Carter, tell me again why we're on this hot, dust ball. And please, tell me it's only to verify that it's hotter than hell here, and then we skedaddle back home---please." His gaze traveled in a three-sixty arch, amazed at the endless stretch of---nothing.

No, 'nothing' was too broad a statement. But there was a whole lot of something not here - as in some trees, grass, maybe some buildings or any sign of civilization. Although the absence of buildings was never a surprise. There were plenty of rocks - big boulders, huge boulders, broad expanses of barren soil and terrain, and undulating in the hot distance, were barren mountains. The older soldier turned to his 2IC.

"---And I'm asking REALLY nice here, Carter - please?

From her position at the DHD, Major Carter smiled - grinning broadly at her commanding officer's plea.

"Sorry, sir. I'd love to oblige," she responded, wiping at the itchy perspiration dripping down her face, "But we can't. At least not until we retrieve that UAV's lost power pack - that particular pack contained the video box. And you know how the general feels about littering the galaxy with expensive equipment---"

"Yes, well --- do we really need video footage of a barren space rock, Sam?" Daniel Jackson asked. "Can't we just film a blazing hot desert closer to home, and say good enough?"

Was this the same Daniel Jackson who'd spent half-a- lifetime exploring the desert? The one and only "Dan-yer," who'd spent one year on a hotter than Hades planet, and had learned to love it. Of course he had a new marriage, a beautiful young wife, a new family, and scores of well-wishers to make it palatable.

"No, Daniel, we can't." Now, aside from being hot and miserable, Carter was becoming increasingly annoyed with her teammates - such babies.

She didn't have long to enjoy her annoyance before Daniel indicated that the DHD was in good working order, and the team formed up, heading off to find the lost power pack.

"Well, I think we should've brought Siler along," O'Neill spoke up again, to no one in particular.

"How do you figure, sir?" Carter asked, somewhat surprised at her CO's statement. What did Siler have to do with this?

"Siler's in charge of blasting those babies off, right? I think he should see, first hand, how much aggravation we have to go through when they go bonkers, or fall apart on some hellacious planet. Sort of like quality control --- don't you think?"

No one spoke up, or questioned his bold statement. Teal'c hadn't joined in the banter, but he never really did. And Jackson was busy shucking unnecessary clothing - without risking severe sunburn. Carter constantly compared the surrounding terrain with the display forever tracking across a small GPS-like 'doohickey' she held in her hand.

They kept walking, silent except for the occasional remark. For once, even Daniel remained quiet. The heat, radiating off stony surfaces, seemed to drain them of all energy, while leaving only enough to put one foot in front of the other. The blazing sun beat down without remorse, and the barren mountains stubbornly remained in the undulating distance.

After one hour of walking, O'Neill called a rest break. Each team member was soaked in perspiration, but it rapidly evaporated in the constant, hot dry wind as soon as they stopped moving. They each removed their backpacks, which then became an impromptu sitting stool, instead of the hot, rock-strewn ground.

"Carter, are we gaining on it?" The colonel grimaced; his pulled muscle was making itself known. Now, instead of sitting quietly in the middle of his back, the pain was shooting down his flank. He unhurriedly pulled a foil packet from his pack, opened it, and popped two tablets. He'd thought about dry swallowing the pills, and saving water. But he didn't have enough spit to do the job right, so he washed them down with a quick guzzle of warm water.

"Jack, what are those?" Daniel was the first to speak up, especially since a pill popping Jack O'Neill was such a rarity. "Is everything okay?"

"Just aspirin. Doing the lawn yesterday I pulled a muscle, and this walk in the sun isn't helping it. But it's nothing to worry about."

"Colonel, if you're not feeling---" Carter started.

"Don't worry about it, kids. Doc gave me enough of these packets to get through this little jaunt through hell. I'm fine - so don't start with me. Now Carter, as I asked before, are we gaining on it?" Jeez, a grown man couldn't even take a little pill without playing twenty questions.

Daniel, Sam and Teal'c exchanged concerned looks. But until and unless it became a problem, the Colonel could deal with his pain like any adult would. And they'd leave him alone.

"Not by much, sir. By my calculations, and these readings, we're still about fifteen klicks out."

"Fifteen---jeez, Carter," he pulled his cap off and swiped at the moisture just under the brim. "Can't you lie to me---just once in a while?" O'Neill groaned as the picture of fifteen more, hot - no, extremely hot, kilometers danced in his over-heated brain.

"It's too late in our relationship to start lying, sir." She replied, with a big toothy grin. "Besides, I couldn't keep track of them all, considering the years SG-1 has been together."

"Oiy." He groaned again. "Okay, kids, slather on another layer of sun screen. Let's get up and at 'em. Those hills aren't getting any closer. Oh, and keep a watch on your water consumption - it doesn't look like we'll find another source anytime soon."

In varying stages of reluctance, SG-1 got up and started walking again. Two more hours, one more break, and on and on until the sun began to lower, and the opposing sky took on a deeper shade of blue.

Just before the sun slid behind the distant mountain range, O'Neill called a final halt. They'd stop for the night, "right here in his tracks", if someone promised him he wouldn't have to take another step. He was exhausted, and the pain in his back was now a screaming agony, which reached all the way down to his groin. This was not a simple pulled muscle - at least not like any he'd had in the past. But for the life of him, he didn't understand what it could otherwise be.

Carefully pulling his pack off his shoulders, O'Neill fumbled for another foil packet. He was too tired to care if one of his team caught him, and in too much pain for twenty questions. He dry swallowed the pills, and then washed them down with hot canteen water when they wouldn't budge from his gullet.

"Jack, those pills aren't helping, are they?" Daniel, very quietly, asked. But he still managed to startle his friend. Both men eased down to the ground, while Carter and Teal'c remained in the background to set up a perimeter, and prepared to set up camp.

O'Neill shook his head. It was all he could do to hold his head up.

"No, they haven't Daniel. And it's getting worse." He vigorously rubbed both hands over his still sweaty face, "And I honestly; honestly do not know what's wrong. Maybe it is just a strain, and I've really aggravated it trying to find Carter's gismo. But, damn, I swear my insides are ripping apart."

O'Neill was surprised to hear himself talk this way - Mr.-There's-NO-Pain-That-I-Can't-Handle-So-Leave-Me-Alone. Daniel was equally surprised - Jack never let anyone know how much pain or discomfort he suffered. It was disconcerting, to say the least. Daniel felt a momentary loss; he didn't know what to say, or what to do for his friend.

"So, maybe, maybe we should turn back. This place seems relatively harmless. We can always return home and retrieve the power pack later. And, if we're extra lucky, maybe another team will be given the honors," he said with a smile. "Ooor, umm, let Sam and Teal'c go on ahead. I can stay here with you, until they return with the pack."

Jackson could see a quick, momentary glimmer of indecision from Colonel O'Tough-As-Nails, but it was just as quickly squashed.

"We'll keep that option. Thanks for offering - by the way. But, I don't want to separate the team unless I really have to. Maybe all I need is a good night's rest."

In the dying light, O'Neill saw skepticism on his friend's face, but knew he wouldn't argue the point - for now.

After saying his piece, he struggled up - standing momentarily still to get his bearings. And then O'Neill walked away, and began helping prepare the camp for the night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

O'Neill chose his usual shift for guard duties, and had every intention of sleeping / resting for another four hours. From his tent he could hear Carter and Daniel's low-voiced conversation, and he could see Teal'c's position near the fire. He knew he sounded pretty self-centered, but they were probably discussing his turning in so early - totally out of character for Jack O'Neill. Every once in a while he felt their eyes turn his way, and he could feel their concern cover him like a warm blanket.

Or was that a wet blanket?

He felt a twinge of dismay at his thoughts. His team had seen him through a multitude of bad, really bad and truly awful situations, and he was very proud of them. But sometimes, they made him feel like 'gramps', like an old geezer who didn't have enough brainpower to think for himself. Of course, it could be that he was just feeling sorry for himself and blaming them made it better. Then again, Jack O'Neill had two rules in his life.

Rule number one - Jack O'Neill never felt sorry for himself, and

Rule number two - Should Jack O'Neill feel sorry for himself, refer to rule number one.

It worked wonders - most of the time.

He turned in his bedroll, away from his team's sympathetic gaze, and tried to achieve a modicum of comfort. Only as he settled back down did he realize that the pain in his back, flank and groin had finally succumbed to Doc's painkillers. The disjointed move to turn over, in close quarters went as smooth as silk. He breathed a sigh of relief and snuggled further down into the insulated comfort. He might get some sleep in the next four hours after all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

O'Neill awoke with a startled jerk.

He lay quiet for a few seconds, trying to decide what exactly had awakened him. It was probably just some bad dream, which he couldn't remember. He looked at his watch; the big luminous face told him it was 0030hrs. He smiled; he'd gotten two and a half hours of pain free, uninterrupted sleep - Yes! And, he had another hour and a half to enjoy.

But it was quiet, too quiet - there were no noises. There were always night noises.

O'Neill stretched and turned toward the campfire, just in time to see strange shadows disappearing into the dark.

"What the hell?" He jumped up, out of the cover of the tent - his bedroll almost tripping him in his haste. Grabbing his vest and P-90, O'Neill ran toward the dark, where he'd seen the shadows disappear.

He could just make out four dark blots on the landscape - man, they were moving fast, but who were they? He looked back toward the camp, half expecting Daniel to wander in from the dark, asking what the excitement was all about. But there was no Daniel, no Carter and, how in the H-E-double-hockey-sticks had those four dark blots taken out Teal'c?

Were his kids in that group? Or had he slept through multiple raids? How in heck had anyone come into camp and removed his people, without his acute 'senses' going off like a burglar alarm? Those pills of Fraiser's had only been over-the-counter type stuff - hadn't they?

Or had Fraiser slipped a little something extra in the pile?

No, he disabused himself of that idea immediately. She wouldn't have done anything like that. And he had every faith in her ethics, as well as her skills. O'Neill quickly blanked his conflicting thoughts. Anyway, he'd think about it in more depth after his team was safely returned to him.

Grabbing his compass out of the vest pocket, he swiftly attempted to triangulate the distance and direction the late night visitors traveled. He'd have to use the night visor if he wanted to see where he was going, where he needed to go to get his team back. For all the hot sun beating down on them during the daylong trek, the night had brought only a dark, moonless landscape. And except for their low fire-lit camp, his surroundings were a mix of different shades of black.

But first, he'd need to put his boots on.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The annoying sound of dripping water brought Teal'c out of his induced 'slumber.' He couldn't hear or see his captors, but by keeping his head down on his chest, he had a chance to survey his surroundings. He could just hear O'Neill saying, "we're not in Kansas anymore." Although, truth to tell, after seeing Kansas for himself - or a very small portion, nothing he'd ever encountered reminded him of that geographical location.

It was dark, and by a low flickering fire he could see cavern walls carved out of living rock. He could also see a pair of booted legs sticking out from behind another boulder. The booted feet were too small to belong to either O'Neill, or Daniel Jackson. It could only be Major Carter and he felt strangely comforted by her unconscious presence. Turning his head a fraction, he saw another pair of boots. From their uncared-for and unkempt appearance, it had to be Daniel Jackson, not O'Neill. For despite his casual attitude, Teal'c knew O'Neill paid strict attention to the uniform dress code. Teal'c lifted his head another fraction, and with the small move pain in the back of his skull roared to life. He stifled a grunt of discomfort - it would not be prudent to make his captors aware of his conscious state. Now, where was O'Neill?

Where was O'Neill...in fact, where were they? How had they gotten to this place?

He remembered a sharp, heavy blow to his head. But, before losing consciousness, he had only time enough to see Daniel Jackson struck as well. Heavy stones had been hurled at his head with great accuracy. Major Carter must have succumbed to the same vicious attack.

Teal'c searched his recent memories, only to come up empty. He had no recollection as to how and when they'd come to this place.

Beyond their circle of boots, the darkness loomed. The meager fire eerily cast dancing shadows on the cavern walls, which was the only bright spot in an otherwise dark background. No one tended the fire, but he could just make out some utensils, arranged around its perimeter, that spoke of presence. Teal'c stretched up, hoping to get a more clear view of his surroundings, but the pain in his head pounded relentlessly. He'd bide his time - let his symbiote work on the damage, but only until Major Carter and Daniel Jackson were awake, and then they would go find O'Neill.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Sonofabitch," O'Neill ground out through tightly clinched teeth.

He'd stumbled again in the chilly, eerie dark green terrain. The night visor's eerie green coloration was disorienting. Pain jolted down his back, one more time of many. He hated sounding like a whiner - especially in his own private thoughts, but the damned pain had returned. His back felt like it was on fire again, along with chills shivering up and down his spine. Perspiration, which had nothing to do with the ambient temperature, ran down his face. And stumbling around in the dark wasn't helping one small bit. But, O'Neill was pleased that in spite of his problems, he'd set a respectable pace just getting here - wherever here was. He might be breathing like an old gasbag from his fast pace and the nuclear explosion in his back, but the old knees still had some spring in them....

Some forty-five minutes into his trek, those distant immovable mountains were right in his face, and O'Neill was surprised as he watched the four dark blots vanish completely into solid rock. He figured he'd been damned lucky to see it - at least he had some idea where they'd disappeared. Now he wouldn't be going around in circles the rest of his natural life.

After cautiously moving in closer, he stopped and obligingly knelt down to visualize the boulders he'd marked as a reference point, although up this close, the dimensions and angles were all wrong, so he couldn't be positive. But, he was not going to back track just to get his dimensions right - adapt, improvise and overcome, Airman!

Who were these people anyway, these dark shadows? They certainly moved faster than any two-legged variety he'd ever encountered. Where had they come from, and how did they move so silently? But most importantly, what did they want? What did they want with his team? After years of tripping through the Stargate, only nefarious, low-dealing, slimy snake-assed motives answered his questions.

And how, and why, had he escaped their notice?

They couldn't have his team - that was a foregone conclusion. But since they'd made the big mistake of leaving O'Neill behind, they were about to acquire a new best friend - a relentless shadow of their own.

O'Neill took a reluctant swig of water, but the warm stale fluid did little to quench his thirst. And, he remembered, he'd have to stringently conserve his supply until he found another source. Maybe his new 'Dark Shadow' buddies knew where a fresh, cool spring flowed. It certainly wouldn't hurt to ask - next time he got the chance. If they were from this dry dust-ball, they could lead him right to it. If they weren't from around here, what the hell were they up to? Who in his, or her, right mind would want to just visit if they weren't actually from this blazing hot, burned out, sorry excuse for a planet?

"Don't ask O'Neill," he whispered to himself, still gazing intently through the night goggles, "You're not from around these parts either, you were ordered here. Bingo..."

One particular set of boulders, vaguely reminiscent of the power nacelles on the classic Starship Enterprise, struck a familiar chord. O'Neill studied the landmarks closely, hardly daring to breathe as he tried to match configurations. There...that was the one, it had to be - nothing along side of it matched. While studying the structure, he pulled the compass from his vest pocket, swept it a few degrees left and right, and then settled it straight on toward his objective.

O'Neill scrutinized the stone formation. Nothing and no one went in or out. He didn't even see a way in, but it had to be there. He completed a three-sixty of his surroundings, and then stood up and cautiously moved forward. Step by step, at the prospect of finding his team, his exhilaration grew exponentially. Even the waves of nausea, and the growing desire to throw up, couldn't compete with his need to find Carter, Daniel and Teal'c. His physical complaints were staunchly pushed to the back burner, until his team was once again safe, and soundly under his protection.

He kept moving, checking the compass reading from time to time. The rocky terrain had very little he could use as cover. Nothing but a few scraggly bushes dotted the landscape here and there, along with the occasional small boulder remnant of some remote planetary cataclysm. Both offered little protection if it were needed. But it also offered none for the 'dark shadow' guys - if they needed a fourth for the party. O'Neill kept moving, one foot in front of the other, over and over as the night wore on. Carter's fifteen klicks were taking on forced march proportions. And he needed to pee.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A quiet, but quickly stifled groan brought Teal'c out of his light trance. Major Carter was waking and appeared to realize their tenuous situation. Daniel Jackson remained unconscious after the strange attack.

The small pair of military boots moved, pulling back behind the rock hiding the major. She softly groaned again and sat up, holding her head in her hands, looking around the unfamiliar area. The low flickering firelight seemed to catch her attention.

"Teal'c? Colonel? What's going on?" The major's voice was filled with apprehension. "Is that Daniel?"

"It is I, Major Carter. I have endeavored to understand our status here; I must admit a failure to do so. And yes, that is Daniel Jackson...he remains unconscious." Teal'c drew in a deep breath and continued. "Intruders rendered us unconscious, and then bound and removed us from our campsite, only to bring us to this place. None of our abductors have returned since I first awakened some time ago. I was able to break our bonds and have awaited your return to a conscious state. I believe they may have apprehended O'Neill, for he is not in this place with us."

Teal'c smiled at his mental picture of their abductors attempting to remove an obstreperous O'Neill against his will.

"Is Daniel okay?"

"In truth, I can not---" a groan interrupted, escaping from the archaeologists position. "---Be certain."

Daniel sat up, holding one hand to the side of his sore head. He looked around blankly, trying to see in the gloom. His glasses were comically draped around one ear. Teal'c scooted over and placed the eyewear on his nose.

"Thanks, Teal'c. Ouch, what the heck! What hit me? Where are we, by the way?" He continued looking from place to place, as if trying to find something. Finally giving up his search, he asked, "Where's Jack?"

"Colonel---" Carter started.

"---O'Neill is not in this place, Daniel Jackson." Teal'c finished the sentence.

"So then, where is he?" Jackson's fear for his best friend shot skyward. "Did, was he able to escape? So, he's out there looking for us, right?"

"We don't know. Instead of leaving us alone here, Teal'c's been watching over us. He's been too busy to go investigate. The colonel isn't here. We were just now wondering if they have him?" She looked to Teal'c for conjecture or confirmation.

"I do not know, Major Carter, but I believe it is a possibility."

"I wonder why they brought us here? You don't think they're going to try some mass something-or-other, do you?" Carter shivered at her sudden vision of mass murder and cannibalism.

"I found no evidence in this cave that would indicate such, Major Carter. There is a fresh water spring in the rear of this cavern, and a mineral spring further back. Evidence suggests that animals were deposited in the mineral bath - probably for disposal. I also discovered storage of fresh vegetable food - I do not believe these people are meat eaters." Teal'c smiled, his quiet smile reassuring Carter.

"So what are we going to do? Are we just going to sit and wait until they return? Or should we make a break for it - especially since our captors seem to be distressingly absent?" Daniel was fit as a fiddle - except for a trip hammer headache, and ready to go. Jack could be beaten and bleeding out there somewhere, or worse.

"Daniel Jackson, having considered our liberation in depth while waiting for you and Major Carter to awaken, I have located a path, which I believe will take us to the outside. I---"

"---Then let's get going. Jack could be in trouble," Daniel interrupted, almost shouting, but only just contained his teeming anxiety. He knew Jack hadn't been feeling well. And even after taking medicine, which Janet had okayed, the problem - whatever it was, had only escalated.

And now, they were here, and Jack was somewhere else on the accursed hot rock of a planet. Why, with the entire galaxy to choose from, did the Ancients build a Stargate on this inhospitable world?

It defied explanation.

"Daniel Jackson, O'Neill would be ill served if we go about this with our weapons only partially primed---"

Carter giggled behind her hand, while Daniel gave Teal'c his most perplexed look.

"I think he means, "go off half cocked", Daniel. Which is a very good suggestion."

"So what do we do? Sit here nice and warm, and cozy?" To contradict his statement Jackson shivered visibly in the chilled atmosphere, but continued, "--- While Jack's out there doing who knows what? Or in turn, having it done to him?"

"The first order of business is to make sure both you and I are travel worthy. Junior's had plenty of time to take care of Teal'c, but those were pretty hard hits to our heads. Are you okay? You aren't seeing double, or feeling nauseous, or dizzy, are you?"

"No, no, and no. Just a little headache, so come on let's go---"

"Well, thank you for the concern, Dr. Jackson," was Carter's pissed off reply, "But, I am feeling a bit dizzy and nauseous, so cool your jets." She groaned as she lay back onto the hard ground.

"Gee, Sam, I'm sorry---why didn't you say something?"

"It never came up for discussion, and you didn't give me much of a chance. You know, I'm just as worried about the Colonel as you are. So if you'll get me some of that cool spring water, I'll try not to throw up and we'll get out of here."

"Is that wise, Major Carter?"

"Probably not, but you're not leaving me here. This place is giving me a serious case of the creeps."

Daniel hurriedly got up and stepped over to the fire. Beside the small fire crude cups, plates and eating utensils were arranged, as if awaiting their owner's return. Daniel snagged a cup as Teal'c handed him a flashlight, one he'd surprisingly rummaged from his pocket, pointed him in the right direction, and then watched as he wandered off out of sight.

"Major Carter," Teal'c hated interrupting her small attempt at rest, "Before Daniel Jackson's interruption, I was endeavoring to report my other findings of this cavern."

Carter kept her eyes closed, maybe that way the cavern walls wouldn't swoop and twirl as much. But laying flat on solid bedrock only exacerbated the problem. She tiredly sat up again.

"Yeah Teal'c, what'd you find?" He'd already stated his belief that their abductors weren't cannibals, so that meant no human remains, right? Or did it?

Another voice answered from behind them.

"Sam, Teal'c! Holy Indiana Jones! You should look at all this stuff back here!"

Daniel ran into sight still holding the small crude cup, the water sloshing gaily over his hand. His eyes contained the same excitement usually reserved for children and Christmas morning. His face was wreathed in the biggest smile Sam had seen from Daniel in a long, long time.

Teal'c had helped Carter to her feet at the first sound of Daniel's excitement. She looked at Teal'c, a question apparent in her large luminous gaze. He returned her questioning stare with an uplifted eyebrow.

"I believe Daniel Jackson has made his own discovery." A ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ B He needed to pee in the worst way, except he'd already emptied his bladder for the third time. And each time had been worse than the time before. It felt like he was pissing those little cockle-burr seedpods, the ones that looked like heavy lint with stickers poking out all over. It couldn't have felt any worse if he'd passed shards of broken glass.

He'd stopped this last time to pee, but had vomited up everything he'd eaten in the last week instead - at least that's what it felt like. And now he was down on his knees again - not a good position in the best of health, heaving until even the bile was depleted. O'Neill shook like a leaf with chills and was just this side of delirious with fever. His need to urinate, coupled with a painful stream, and a pain in his groin resembling a "dagger straight through his balls" was scaring the hell out of him. Add chills and vomiting and it all culminated in an infection of some sort. As specialized as it was, not even his medical training could put two and two together and come up with four.

Yet his physical problems had to take a back seat to the matter at hand. He had to find his team. He had to find the strange 'dark shadow' beings that took them. Once, he could've sworn his quarry was buzzing around his head, sort of like demonic hummingbirds - only much larger. Something plucked at his clothing as if to move him along, but it moved him in the wrong direction. It was probably just the wind.

O'Neill shakily pulled out his compass and checked it again. He was off course by a hair, he decided, changing direction again to compensate. Now he was headed straight toward his goal. He replaced the night vision lens on his sweat-covered head, swiping haphazardly at the moisture sliding down his face, and started off once again. Hopefully he'd arrive at the rock face by daybreak.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They were back.

For the last few minutes he'd felt their presence. Aside from his skin crawling, it felt like a cross between a sustained low voltage electrical shock and the gentle but frenetic beat of a hummingbird's wings. He couldn't actually see them, but he definitely knew they were there by the shadows. Very similar to little Charlie's Reetou mother, but these "things" seemed to be only slightly out of sync. He wished he had a T.E.R. in his hand right now. With one of those babies, at least he could tell what their ugly butts looked like.

They reminded him of something---an episode from the classic Star Trek series. He couldn't quite place ---The Wink of An Eye --- that was it. Captain Kirk, and those people who wanted him to help slow them down, back to a normal human speed. There was something in the water - if he remembered right. Those people wanted something from Kirk; did these things want something too? Whatever it was, they were really kind of pushy!

He felt a ghostly persistent tugging at his pants legs, and coat sleeves. As if the beings were trying to turn him away from his objective. O'Neill fought a constant struggle to stay on track; to continue on the course he knew would take him to his lost team members.

"What the hell do you want?" He shouted, stopping his forward movement too suddenly, and almost collapsed as a result. "Just tell me what you want and after I find my team we can talk."

The shadows crowded in on O'Neill, almost smothering him in blackness. Was this really happening, or was it merely the hallucinations of a sick man? A sick man who was already on the brink of collapse?

"No," O'Neill shouted indignantly, "This isn't my imagination, or a hallucination!"

The blackness backed off minutely, which gave O'Neill time to catch his breath. But his reprieve lasted only a short moment and they returned with a vengeance.

They were angry.

O'Neill felt the thrumming in his head. These things were mad and they were trying to kill him. He'd fought their manipulations and had denied their existence easily enough before. But now, maybe smothering him to death would achieve their goal.

Which would be --- what?

He didn't have a clue. And it was getting harder and harder to think.

O'Neill trudged along, plodding, putting one foot in front of the other -

"As long as I've got breath in my lungs and a team to find, I'll crawl on my hands and knees if I have to," and then he shouted to the night darkness, "Do you hear me?"

The darkness closed ranks around him, his skin tingled with electric current and the beat of wings clouded his mind. O'Neill collapsed to the ground, holding his battered head, and clutching his twitching limbs. Pain, in explosive bursts, coursed up and down his long body. He was suffocating; he couldn't get enough air into his lungs---

They were determined.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Come look at all this stuff, Sam. We certainly won't have to search any further for the UAV. Someone - our attackers no doubt, brought it here. Look..." Daniel was beside himself with the wonder of his new found treasure trove. All thoughts of hurrying to find his best friend seemed to have vanished. Gathering up their flashlights Teal'c assisted the still light-headed major in standing, and guided her into the rear grotto.

Carter and Teal'c watched in amazement as the archeologist flitted from one item to another, all stockpiled in the vast reaches of the cavern. He'd already identified Goa'uld and Jaffa artifacts from among the large cache. And he wished fervently that his journal were at hand to catalogue certain others. What he wouldn't give for more adequate lighting about now!

The list of items was enormous - dusty, torn and some relatively unused clothing, weapons of every size and shape, shoes for everything from human bipeds to quadrupeds, battle armor - some of which looked surprisingly familiar, strange machines including the UVA, and a multitude of alien doohickeys which neither Daniel nor Teal'c had any idea what their function could possibly be. It resembled the lost and found room at an old time train station.

Daniel's eyes gleamed with excitement. And as he plowed through the quantities of materiel, Carter and Teal'c investigated further back inside the cave.

Carter stumbled on a rough spot of ground just as the cavern performed a particularly fantastic swoop. Teal'c grabbed her arm before she fell, and guided her easily to the gently bubbling spring.

"Sorry," she apologized, and scooped her hands into the cool refreshing spring water to wash her face, and clear her vision.

"Do not chastise yourself, Major Carter. I too, needed much time to heal." He bowed his head regally, and moved away to the cavern wall, whose artwork had caught his attention. He studied the crudely painted pictures that were scattered over the wall, with an intense concentration.

Carter watched him for a few minutes, and then began studying the painted wall closest to her. At first the inscriptions made no sense, at least in her mind. But as she studied the repetitive illustrations, a morbid fear grew in the pit of her stomach.

"Teal'c---" the growing fear was present in her voice.

"--- Major Carter," Teal'c responded with the same amount of trepidation in his reply.

"Tell me I'm not seeing what I think I'm seeing. It's the crack on my head, right?"

The big man moved over to the dark wall the major had studied. He scanned the figures more closely under the bright light of his flashlight.

"Indeed, it is not in your head, Major Carter. Daniel Jackson would be better able to decipher the meaning, but it would appear that ritual murder is a custom on this world."

"Call Daniel. Let's have him take a look. From what I'm seeing in those pictures, and Colonel O'Neill being out there alone, I'm getting a really bad feeling." She continued to scrutinize the artistic renderings as Teal'c called to Daniel.

"I'm on my way, guys," echoed through the high rock walls.

Daniel was a little put out at being disturbed, but Teal'c had sounded spooked. And for Teal'c to sound scared, it had to be something worthy of his attention. He walked a little way into the rear passage of the cave, noticing for the first time how the walls seemed to close in and drop in height. Daniel found Sam and Teal'c intently studying one area in particular.

"What's up? I found a veritable treasure chest of artifacts. And I have absolutely no idea how they could've ended up here---"

"That's great Daniel, but we found something too. Do you think you could take a look and either confirm or deny our first impressions?" Carter looked at Teal'c as if to verify her statement. She pointed to the area of wall in question with her flashlight. "Over here."

Daniel moved over to the wall, his eyebrows reaching for his hairline. He began studying the drawings, mumbling to himself while moving back and forth from drawing to drawing as if to compare one to the other. Teal'c and Carter watched in awe, as he became absorbed in his investigation.

The silence, except for Daniel's mumblings, was almost overpowering. The sound of their breathing and the noise made by the gently moving spring water couldn't penetrate the oppressive quietness. The two other team members waited quietly for Daniel to finish.

"Oh, my god! We've got to find Jack. He's in danger---"

"Indeed, Daniel Jackson, is it as we suspected?"

"If you'd thought Jack was going to be taken out into the middle of nowhere and left to die, then I guess it is."

"Indeed," Teal'c responded, his eyebrow impressively rose in sudden alarm.

"What, Daniel, what are you seeing? Why would they want to harm him? All of these people are old and sick, the Colonel certainly isn't old---"

"But he was feeling unwell, Major Carter. And he shares one common trait with those beings in the drawings."

Carter studied the drawings again. It suddenly dawned on her.

"Silver hair, his gray hair." The bad feeling in the pit of her stomach just imploded. "The Colonel has silver hair, which couldbe construed as being old, if you didn't know him, and he was sick, but---"

"It's not a common practice, but it's also not unheard of - for tribes to cull their old and dying. They would remove them - even unwanted infants, away from the tribe to die. To either starve to death, or to be eaten by predators. Not the exact ending I would choose---" Daniel was silent for a moment, before he continued.

"--- And look here. It shows them collecting, gathering - they're pack rats, almost like garbage collectors. All of this," he swung his arms in a wide arc. "--- This stuff, they've amassed to keep their planet clean and litter-free, free of disease and clutter. From the artifacts, I'd say they don't like visitors, or parasites. Especially the Goa'uld, or the Jaffa variety."

Teal'c thought of another tribe, similar to that of this planet. The fearsome desert savages of Tatooine, of the "Star Wars" trilogy - the Tusken raiders. He knew the story was fiction, but the territorial aggression and xenophobia was a universal ideology. The pictures drawn on the cave walls even carried a similar likeness.

"Go grab our stuff - what-ever we were dropped off here with. We've got to go find the Colonel. Teal'c, you said you'd found the exit?"

"Indeed, Major Carter. I believe it is the only path in, or out."

"So, we could run into our hosts as we leave, right?" It was a rhetorical question, "Be ready, I don't trust anything that's happening here. Teal'c, do you think you can get us back to the campsite?"

"I could, Major Carter, but I do not surmise that O'Neill will still be there. If he remained unharmed he would have searched, even with sickness, far and long to find us. He would also be an easy target for an attack by these beings."

The trio moved gingerly back toward the larger cavern. Teal'c's hand remained on Carter's elbow to stabilize her movement. Once back near the fire where they'd started, Daniel grabbed the few belongings they'd brought with them - it wasn't much, mainly their pocket contents. But, there among the odds and ends was another small flashlight and Major Carter's compass. Daniel handed the compass to Teal'c.

Too bad they didn't have a container for water. In a few hours they'd all be thirsty, and Jack was probably in dire need of the fluid.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The hot sun beat down on the naked, solitary figure tethered to the sun-baked altar. His arms and legs were spread wide and securely tied with strange twisted, vine-like ropes. Blood seeped sluggishly from abrasions on his wrists and ankles, caused by his continuous efforts to escape his bonds. A constant tremor shook the figure as chills shimmied up and down his spine. Already his skin was bright pink from exposure to the deadly sun.

Jack O'Neill had never been one for nude sun bathing, and now was no different. He wasn't uncomfortable with his body - for a mature male he was in excellent physical shape. His years in the military had further honed strong bones and defined strong musculature He just didn't like flaunting the essentials.

In moments of clarity he constantly tested the bonds, as sharp stabbing pains coursed down his frame. And cursed his attackers.

"Damned Sons-Of-Bitches! You wouldn't have gotten me if I hadn't already been down. Where the hell are 'MY CLOTHES'? He shouted. And then "Nice lot you turned out to be - taking advantage of a 'SICK MAN'! Ggah---" That damned pain wouldn't leave him alone. His own body was turning against him, but one good thing had come of this hellish predicament - he didn't have to pee. As a matter of fact, he wasn't sweating anymore either, and the itchy salt trails down his back and legs had dried in the hot wind.

In moments of chilling non-clarity, O'Neill talked to his team members, warning them away from the strange 'shadow' people. He called for Daniel to explain who these things were and why they'd done this to him. He questioned Carter about the shadows phasing in and out of existence, and why they moved so fast, and then gave her strict instructions to take command of SG-1. And, he apologized to Teal'c for never having watched "Star Wars" with him.

Time dragged by as the hot sun rose higher and higher in the white-hot sky. And then slowly, slowly receded to the other side of the barren mountain range. O'Neill's skin was bright and blistered, his eyes were blinded from the strong light, and his bonds were moist and sticky with red blood slowly oxidizing to rust brown. He had only just enough strength to keep his eyes closed to afford them some meager protection. His mouth was as parched as his surroundings, and he no longer railed at his captors.

With the coming evening, also came a soft chilled wind. It blew freezing cold across his burnt skin and he shivered uncontrollably. It would get much colder as the night wore on.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Teal'c led the procession through the underground twists and turns. To conserve precious battery power only one flashlight at a time was used. And the threesome was tethered together by their belts, so that no one wandered off in the pitch-black darkness. Carter wanted to laugh; they looked like kindergartners on a field trip.

The trip was slow and nerve-wracking. At any moment they expected to be accosted by their abductors and speedily returned to captivity. Minute after daunting minute they fought their way in the dark, but nothing and no one appeared to drag them back underground. It was as if they had been forgotten, dismissed, or collected and put on the shelf just like that collection down in the bowels of the mountain. Hardly anyone spoke, which was just as well; they were busy concentrating on placing each foot safely. Also, each was filled with deep concern for O'Neill's well being.

He'd been sick - from what no one knew - even he thought it was an injury from overexertion. He'd valiantly tried to dismiss his pain and illness, but as the mission unfolded so did his strength diminish. And now they had to find him before it was too late.

Finally, after too long in the dark, the strong whistling wind was their first clue that the harrowing journey was almost over. Sweeping through the closed passages it made eerie moans and spooky noises, which along with its gale force velocity were frightening. And they were still underground. Teal'c finally led them up through the last bend, which in turn opened into another cavern. It wasn't near as large as the previous one, so far behind them, or completely enclosed, but it was large enough. Its added advantage was an easy outside exit.

Even Teal'c grinned at journey's end.

A clear, dark star-strewn sky greeted them when they looked out beyond the entrance. A cold wind swept into the cavern recesses, whipping up debris.

Daniel, ever vigilant for archaeological finds, found their backpacks as he prowled the new chamber, thrown in a heap in a convenient corner - "collected and put on a shelf, too." Just beyond the backpacks were their bedrolls, tents and other paraphernalia. All waiting for the master organizer to come and put it away. It was enormous good luck, but it was also scary.

"Sam, Teal'c, come look at this," Daniel requested. He stood near a fourth backpack and a neatly folded set of BDU's. He easily recognized O'Neill's custom-made jacket.

"Daniel Jackson, if O'Neill's clothing is here, he is facing the elements without armor."

"It's only just above freezing out there," Carter, her heart was firmly lodged in her throat, whispered. "We'll never find him in the dark."

"I wouldn't have the first clue how to find a man on this planet, much less a naked man." Daniel looked at the BDU's searching for answers, where none were forthcoming. "What are we going to do?"

"It is too bad, is it not Major Carter, that the instrument you used to locate the UAV can not locate O'Neill. Otherwise---"

"That's it, Teal'c!" Carter almost danced with joy, grinning her brightest and best for Teal'c. "It can pick up metallurgic signals from over fifteen kilometers. I'm sure it's sensitive enough to pick up even the colonel's dental fillings, if that's all we have to go on. God, I hope those pack rats brought it along. Help me look."

And then she remembered the night vision goggles, which O'Neill had always insisted on including in their packs. Where had they gotten?

They scrambled around, searching in the pile of SGC equipment - most of which had been neatly folded and stacked. Finally, after making a mess, which their abductors would frown upon, they found the instrument. There, nestled safely inside Carter's blanket roll was Colonel O'Neill's "GPS-like doohickey." But, they hadn't come across the goggles. What had become of their night vision goggles?

Daniel moaned about the paperwork. Four expensive pieces of equipment - gone. They'd come to this place to retrieve a million-dollar toy, and now they'd leave it, plus four others behind. The general would not be pleased.

And then Teal'c reminded him that the human factor always outweighed the cost, even if one did have to fill out a dreaded piece of government minutia. And General Hammond was the first to see to the heart of the matter, even when the bottom line was the dollar and cents cost.

Carter eyes prickled with emotion. She beat them back quickly. It wouldn't do to be seen shedding tears over the Colonel - that would make this seem way too personal. Yet, she was happy - the Colonel's chances of survival had just escalated, even though they had lost crucial rescue equipment. And now, they'd be able to get him home sooner too. To hide her emotional state, she changed the subject.

"Those light batteries won't last long enough if we have to extend the search. Let's make a fire, and then use some of these branches for torches. If...when we find the Colonel, he'll probably need medical attention, so we'll plan on making camp here."

"Does that seem prudent, Major Carter? If your 'pack rats' return, will they not endanger our rescue and subsequent escape?"

"They might try, Teal'c, but now we'll be expecting them, and---" she patted her just-holstered 'Zat', "---We'll be ready."

"Indeed."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A pot of coffee was kept hot beside the cheerful fire. SG-1 rested and ate a bite of food. Now they were geared up to go find O'Neill. Carter had studied her doohickey until her eyes burned, but there were faint metallurgic readings just to the west of their position. She was encouraged by the readout - it reported a titanium alloy, gold, and a faint silver amalgam. She smiled - Colonel O'Neill's trip to Antarctica and subsequent open reduction of a fractured tibia had finally paid off. And she would personally thank the Colonel's dentist for taking such good care of his teeth.

They'd found him, it hadn't taken too long - ah, the miracles of modern technology, and now all that remained was his retrieval. They'd have to work fast; the sun rose quickly and was hellishly hot, too soon around these parts. As soon as a glimmer of first light peeked at the horizon, SG-1 would be off to search for their missing man.

Daniel wasted his nervous energy by pacing, relentlessly. And by keeping an eye out for that first ray of sunlight.

Teal'c Kel'nor'reemed his way past apprehension.

Carter continued to study her gizmo until her eyes watered.

And still there was no sign of their captors - maybe once a trinket had been stored, it was forever forgotten - who knew?

"Sam, it's time. Teal'c, time to go," Daniel reported, as first light defined the landscape. Outside their retreat, black anonymous shapes took the form of rocks, rocks and even larger rocks.

Each one grabbed his, or her, pack and quickly fled the cozy cave. Teal'c manned the compass and pointed the way west, while Carter swung her scanner in a three-sixty arc, and Daniel kept his eyes open for visitors.

The chilled wind warmed up significantly, but seemed to die down the further away they moved from the towering, barren rock formation. As the trio moved ever closer to their target, the scanner's monotonous beep sped up incrementally. They were on the right track.

"You know, I still find it hard to believe that these---who-ever they are---beings, would go to all the trouble of kidnapping us, abducting the Colonel only to leave him in the middle of nowhere, and then just abandon us in the bowels of the earth. It makes no sense. Does it make some kind of sense to either of you?"

Daniel was silent as he tried to formulate an answer that would satisfy his friend. Teal'c spoke up in the silence.

"There are many things, Major Carter, that do not have a sense of purpose in this world of ours. Many unbelievable customs and rituals - we have seen them for ourselves in our search for allies. It is not meant to make sense, it is meant to satisfy a need, a requirement, or an end." He bowed his head toward her, as if to say, "I'm done."

"Teal'c is right, Sam. If we depended on everything making some kind of sense out here, we would've never stepped across the Stargate's threshold."

"You're right, Daniel, and I know that. It's just, it's just a little too scary sometimes, a little too personal---"

The insistent beeping of her scanner cut off the remainder of her statement. Carter quickly looked at the screen.

"It says five hundred yards, and still to the west. Okay, we'll fan out in that direction. The first one to find anything calls it in, got it?"

"Indeed, Major Carter."

"Got it, Sam."

SG-1 fanned out in a westerly direction, maintaining contact via radio. Carter's scanner was beeping non-stop, so they had to be close. There was nothing out here large enough to hide a man, or even conceal one, if that's what the planet locals had done. But they walked slowly, looking everywhere, in every direction, around every obstacle - it couldn't be that difficult finding one lone colonel.

And it wasn't.

Daniel was almost on top of him before he realized it. When he finally realized he'd found the prize, tears gathered in his eyes and slowly slid down his stubbled cheeks.

"Oh, Jack, what have they done to you?" He whispered quietly.

Just in front of him, his best friend and leader, was spread out on an altar stone, for the world to see and judge. He was held in place by ropes at his wrists and ankles, which in turn were securely fastened to the solid stone. His bare skin, a nice tan until today, was burnt and blistered by the harsh, deadly sun. And he'd rubbed the skin raw as he'd fought to free himself. But for now, he lay there silent, still and untouchable.

Thank god he was unconscious, Daniel thought, or the pain would be unbearable. He was almost too afraid to touch him, for fear he'd found him too late. He toggled his radio switch and called for his companions.

"I've---ah, I found him." He cleared his throat and spoke again, much louder this time. "Sam, Teal'c, come in---I found Jack." Daniel turned his radio down, and walked the few feet that separated him from his friend.

Without thinking, he pulled a thermal cover from his pack with which to cover Jack, and spread it carefully over the overwhelming amount of damaged skin. He wanted to protect him from prying eyes - even those of his team members. Looking closely, as he sweat bullets untying the ropes, Daniel saw a sluggish pulse beating in Jack's exposed neck. At least he was alive; when he'd been left here on his own to die - by either cooking to death, or with help from a predatorial friend. Yeah, at least he was alive, but for how long?

Daniel reached into his backpack and snagged the Swiss Army knife Jack had given him. It was one of the fancy ones, the kind with blades for every need known to man. Jack had said, when he discovered Daniel didn't have a good knife, that every man should have a decent knife and an archeologist should have the best, "What with scraping up dead people and all."

He smiled in remembrance as he sawed through the pesky ropes.

Minutes later, the sound of G.I. combat boots, screeching on the rocky soil, interrupted his silent monologue. Daniel looked around to see Sam and Teal'c rushing to join him. They must have double-timed it getting here.

"We've got to move him, Sam." He said without preamble. "They just about cooked him alive in this sun."

Carter nodded, shocked by her CO's appearance.

"Of course, Daniel. Ah, we'll, ah," Her thoughts were scattered by the bright red blisters covering O'Neill's face. Finally, after what seemed like minutes, a complete sentence forced its way past the shock, "We'll take him back to the cave. At least we know there's water there. Teal'c, can you manage?"

The large man moved quickly to the altar and gently scooped up O'Neill as if he were an infant. A quick intake of breath was the only sound the injured man made. Teal'c tenderly settled his burden and then strode off purposefully toward the sheltering cave. Carter and Jackson grabbed up their belongings and quickly followed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everyone was sweating profusely at the end of the long, hot walk. Running back to the cave ahead of Teal'c, Daniel cleared an area and made a makeshift bed upon which his friend could lay. The cool interior would help ease the discomfort of the colonel's cruelly burned body, but it was evident he needed more than just first aid.

And now, Carter stood at the caves' entrance, chewing on her lip, trying to make a necessary decision, while giving the Colonel some small impression of privacy. Teal'c and Daniel had removed the thermal cover from his torso, and were gently applying a homemade concoction of moisturizer, sunscreen, first aid cream, and antibiotic ointment to every inch of his skin. Thankful that he hadn't yet awakened, the major gave him a strong I.M. medication, in order to repeat the process on his lower body, when his torso was complete. That would be a bitch - for the Colonel's modesty, and continued comfort. His genitalia were even more badly burned than the rest of his body and, although it had been a while since her college anatomy and physiology courses, Carter knew the area would present a major problem.

The Colonel needed Janet; he needed a burn unit to care for his burns, and he needed them quick. Carter was torn - should they remain here on a proven hostile planet and let Teal'c return to the Stargate to get help, or should they bodily carry the Colonel "to" the Stargate for help? The latter was much quicker than the former, but how would they manage to get him back to their point of origin?

M18-315 was devoid of any trees large enough to build a travois. There was no way the Colonel could tolerate being slung over Teal'c's shoulder, and walking was out of the question - for the Colonel at least. Another day's march through the scalding desert, for the injured man, by any means was out of the question. The situation presented the Major with quite a dilemma.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A groan from the cave's cool interior drew the Major's attention back inside. The low murmur of voices brought the Major herself, but she quickly turned her back.

"---And why is your hand there, Daniel," a too quiet voice murmured. Chills chased up and down O'Neill's frame, a combination of the burned skin, the sickness that already consumed him and a decided lack of clothing.

Jackson's hand, in the act of coating his friend's essentials with a thick layer of burn concoction, retreated as if he'd received an electric shock. Hearing O'Neill's voice caught him by surprise and the embarrassment of being caught providing such personal treatment made him speechless. Teal'c, having received no such emotional shock, continued gently slathering his friend's body.

"Rest easy, O'Neill. Daniel Jackson is but ministering to your rath'he'nai, as am I. Summon patience from deep within yourself and let us continue. You have been gravely burned."

"Rath'he'nai, huh? Does that mean he's slathering some god-awful smelly mess all over my balls," he whispered, nausea suddenly clutching at his throat.

"Yes, it does, Jack," Daniel, after finding his voice, snapped with agitation. "Now shut up and let us finish. Sam wants to check you over, but won't come near until you're covered up - she seems to think you'd be embarrassed---"

"Yeah, me too, Daniel."

O'Neill closed him mouth and nodded his head, riding out the embarrassment of having his two closest companions provide such intimate care. He knew it had to be just as embarrassing for them, and vaguely realized it was a task he'd do for them if the tables were turned. Although, he grinned, he could only imagine Daniel's wisecracks, which he knew he was in for when this was all said and done.

Behind closed eyes O'Neill let his mind drift off.

A gentle touch on his head brought him back to the present. O'Neill looked up to see his 2IC sitting close and felt the thermal cover rustle with his movement. He wished he could see her better, but he was afraid her look of concern might completely undo his mask of inertia. She could see through him much too well sometimes.

"Carter, how's it going?" It was as close to a sit-rep request as she was going to get right now. At least until his desire to heave up nonexistent stomach contents died down.

"It's going much better now that we found you, sir. Ah---I want you to take a drink of this water, just sips, sir---it's going to taste funny. I put salt in it," Carter put her arm under his neck and assisted him in sitting up. Not an easy task since his skin felt so hot and tight that it could rupture at any minute.

"I usually take a little lemon with my water, Carter, you want me to throw up?" As parched as he was, the salt flavoring took nothing away from the wonderful cold taste. The cold exploded on his tongue and the moisture soaked into the desiccated dryness of his mouth. His overwhelming need to vomit died down as if by magic.

Carter would only let him have sips of the life-giving fluid. He wanted to grab the cup of water from Carter's hands and chug it down. But he was sane enough to realize it would come back up even faster. Between sips she reported their situation. It was enough to keep his mind off the fiery agony of his burn and almost enough to make him forget the pain in his flank - almost.

"We found the UAV, and we found a source of water---which we can get to - although it is deep underground. And now, sir, we have to get you back to the gate - that's our foremost concern..."

"Just give me a minute, Carter, and I can walk---"

"No, sir," she replied sharply, maybe a little too sharply, but she didn't back down. "You won't be able to. In this condition you wouldn't make fifteen feet - much less well over fifteen kilometers. You have severe sunburn, sir. It's the same as a real burn, and we aren't equipped to handle such extensive damage. Your electrolytes are going to be all over the place, you need fluid replacement and burn care. And that's on top of whatever else it was you came through the gate with. I think we can both agree that it's more than a pulled muscle, can't we, sir?"

"Honest, Carter, I thought it was a pulled muscle." He looked so child-like she had to grin.

"Yes, sir, I'm sure you did. Especially since Janet agreed with you." She paused, gathering her thoughts. "Another reason we can't risk your being out there again is those "beings". It's survival of the fittest out there, Colonel; they cull the herd, and weed out the weakest. They'd also probably try this again. In your condition," she stopped, cleared a suddenly tight throat, and then continued. "In your condition, you wouldn't make it again - that is, if we found you in time."

She locked her eyes onto his. Neither of them looked away or broke the contact.

"You don't pull your punches, do you Carter?"

"You know me well enough by now, Sir, to know the answer to that."

He nodded. She was right. Those 'things' had scared the be-Jesus out of him. And then after being smothered like that, to awaken and find his clothing gone, his limbs stretched out and hog-tied like some sacrificial animal, the sun burning him to a crisp and his team nowhere in sight. That last little detail probably scared him the most. He'd had no idea where his team was, or in what condition. He took a deep breath.

"I also know you well enough to know you've been tearing yourself apart over this," he made a slight motion encompassing him and everyone else. "So what's your plan?"

She released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. But at least now she was on solid ground. Going head to head with her CO was always fraught with danger.

"At first light - in," she looked at her watch, "---In approximately ten hours, Teal'c will return to the Stargate for help. These things seem to come out after dark, so I don't want him out there any longer than he has to be. We were going to draw straws," O'Neill winced, "But Teal'c volunteered. Reminded us he could travel faster, and with less need for rest, or water, than either Daniel or myself. Right now both Teal'c and Daniel have gone back to the spring for water. Daniel remembered seeing some large vessels down there that would hold it. You should see it down there. It looks like an Army-Navy Surplus collided with a Family Dollar store - totally weird."

He snorted at her description. Only a female soldier could describe a scene in terms of shopping - "and what the heck is a Family Dollar store?" He didn't realize he'd asked his question aloud.

Carter blushed, glad that the dim lighting hid her heightened color.

"It's a poor man's Wal-Mart, sir. But I've never been in one that wasn't a jumbled mess."

"Carter," he inquired, with amusement in his quiet voice, "---Doesn't the Air Force pay you well enough to shop at a regular Wal-Mart?"

"Yes, sir," she replied, smiling broadly, "But - when I have the time, the hunt for a bargain draws even me.

"I see," he smiled in return. A quick grimace of pain obliterated his smile. Chills shimmied down his frame again as damaged nerves fired haphazardly. "Shit, I always did hate having a sunburn---"

"I can give you something for the pain. It's not like this is a casual sunburn."

"Not right now, Carter. If I can keep it off my mind, I can hold the medicine off for a while - you know how I hate that stuff. Got any more of that seawater? With a shot of tequila and a twist of seaweed this time." Carter grinned and got up to go pour more of the salty fluid.

Talking was making him tired. And when he was tired, it took too much energy to hold in the pain. It wasn't a whole lot different from the pain he'd experienced since coming through the gate, just more widespread. Chills, nausea, vomiting, and now his skin was drawing up on him, like a wet, cheap suit. It felt so tight and painful, as if rupture was imminent.

He'd been badly sunburned once or twice before - the most notable, a certain trip across a sandy, enemy infested desert several years ago. But once, he'd gone to Twin Lake, outside of Wauban, Minnesota with his granddad for a day of fishing. They'd fished the early morning away, and then he'd spent the rest of a hot sunny, summer day in and out of the chilly lake water. Never realizing he had cooked himself to an unhealthy, boiled-lobster color. Grandy, who spent most of his time out doors, never gave it a second thought until later in the evening. Young John-J started throwing up half digested grilled fish, which he hadn't felt like eating in the first place. Gram spent the entire night feeding him aspirin and sweetened ice tea dosed with salt, soothing him with aloe and talking him through the night to hold off the pain.

"All out of seaweed, sir," Carter called, as she returned with his water.

O'Neill smiled, yet nodded silently. He was too tired to speak, and accepted his 2IC's help to sit up again.

"Sorry about all this, Carter," he apologized, and silently sipped more fluid. His eyes refused to meet hers.

"You have nothing to be sorry about, or apologize for, sir. It could have happened to any one of us - it's just your bad luck that it was you this time. We'll get you back to Janet, and she'll have you right as rain a.s.a.p. ---"

Both O'Neill and Carter looked up as voices suddenly interrupted their cozy chat, and soon after Daniel and Teal'c appeared from the underground passage. Each man carried a large vessel filled with water. Daniel's container couldn't be full, because he was drenched to the skin. His shirt and jacket were saturated. Even O'Neill grinned when he saw the drowned rat appearance of his friend.

"Daniel, did you lose a fight with that big jar there?" O'Neill asked in a husky whisper. Daniel settled his large brass-like container near the fire with a loud groan, and rubbed his cold hands together over the fire to get the blood flowing again.

"Daniel Jackson would not heed my warning in regards to staying well within the limits of our torch light." Teal'c's face was a study in offended reproof. "He received quick retribution for a misstep in the dark." The big man moved away to set down his container of fresh water.

"Thanks, Teal'c. What are you, the class tattletale?" Daniel asked in a disgusted voice. "Something grabbed my sleeve down there, Jack. I couldn't see anything, but I sure felt something. I---"

"I know not of this classtattletale, Daniel Jackson. But why did you not relay this information to me?" Teal'c asked, in a less reproving voice.

"I couldn't very well talk with my heart up in my throat, now could I? It just scared me a little bit, that's all, especially after what they did to Jack. I didn't feel any malevolence, or malicious intent, but I wouldn't want to take a chance. Besides, for all I know it could've been the wind."

"But you don't think so, do you?" Carter asked in a tight voice.

Jackson looked at O'Neill, and then at Sam. He wanted to lie for Jack's sake, but found he couldn't. With all their lives at stake, Jack wouldn't appreciate a lame attempt at protecting him.

He shook his head.

"No, I don't. I think we're closer to them than ever before. If this is the only water supply in the area, we may have intruded in their 'home'. So we absolutely have to get out of here soon, or we could be stuck here indefinitely."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

First light saw Teal'c stepping out of the protection of the cave, traveling as light as he possibly could. Although, Major Carter insisted he carry all four canteens of water for the trip back to the 'gate' - "just to be on the safe side." O'Neill insisted he wear his favorite field cap for the trip, and Daniel pressed one of his bandana's into his hand as "further protection from the sun."

Teal'c moved out quickly, aiming to cover as much ground as possible before the sun became unbearably hot. And even though he was a Jaffa - with a symbiote within his body, which would aid his discomfort, the sun was an overwhelming opponent. He had seen many worthy Jaffa treated as O'Neill had been, for real or imagined transgressions against Apophis. Those men had not had the good fortune of having teammates search for them. Everyone, to a man, had succumbed to the sun's horrible will.

Teal'c removed his compass from a pocket and gazed off into the barren distance. O'Neill was loath for him to leave alone, but knew deep down it was necessary - even if he had been reluctantly convinced. Both O'Neill and Major Carter had given him instructions to maintain his bearings. Both soldiers seemed to forget he had traveled this galaxy long before either of them was born, but - he smiled, it felt good having concerned friends watch his back.

By his reckoning, he should reach the Stargate soon after dark - if no insurmountable problems arose. For a very short time he too would be prey to the 'Shadow' beings. But O'Neill had also directed him to use his 'Zat', if they should meet, and "not think twice about a second shot."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

O'Neill watched Teal'c's retreating back until he was but a dark speck on the shimmering horizon. As soon as his friend disappeared over the horizon, his stomach clinched and he vomited every drop of fluid Carter had force-fed him. The heaving continued well after his stomach contents were a painful memory.

Daniel, who was on watch while Carter caught some sleep, ran to his side. He was afraid to touch the blistered burns on O'Neill's face by wiping the sweat beads, but consoled him with a gentle hand on his undamaged back.

"Sorry, Daniel. Sorry," O'Neill mumbled, almost incoherently.

"Don't worry about it, Jack. You'd do the same for me. It's not very often that I, or we, get to do something for you. You take such good care of us; it's nice to be able to reciprocate. Although, I'd rather you not be injured---"

"Me too," O'Neill mumbled. "I made a mess---"

"Like I said, don't worry about it. Relax, I'll clean it up and then I'll mix up another cocktail for you. Sam said you take a twist of lemon in yours?"

"Yeah, but I think we've run out of lemons, Danny," he answered tiredly. O'Neill lay back in his bed, unmindful of the thermal cover. His burned chest, exposed now, spoke volumes about his pain and discomfort, but he didn't say a word.

The next few hours were silent ones for O'Neill, as if speaking or carrying on a conversation would intrude on his control. Daniel was able to get a cup of water into him, and cooled his hot skin with more cold compresses. Daniel was way out of his league here, and prayed constantly for Teal'c to hurry up getting back to the 'gate', for SGC medical help to gallop over the hill soon, for Carter to wake up and take over the nursing duties, and finally, for God to grant him the knowledge to minister to his friend.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A gentle hand on his shoulder brought Daniel out of his contemplative fugue rather explosively. He'd taken a moment to rest his eyes and must have drifted off. He jumped as if shot, and whirled around to see Carter's outstretched hand, ready to shake him again.

"Daniel?" She inquired, her eyes as round as saucers at his explosive reaction to her touch.

"Sorry, you scared me." He grinned sheepishly, "I thought those things had come back to get me."

"How's it going," she asked, nodding her head in O'Neill's direction.

Daniel shook his head - "Not well."

She could tell, just by his stiff demeanor, that O'Neill was miserable and in no little pain. It was time to take the bull by the horns - he needed relief, he needed to rest and relax as much as humanly possible. She had medication, and by any means she'd see that he received some. Even his control was bound to break at some point.

"Sir," Carter spoke softly in his ear, "You've got to get some rest. You can't do this all alone, we, Daniel and I, are here, and you need help. If I have too, I'll pull rank, and the regulations, and order you to take the medication, but don't make me do that, sir."

O'Neill responded, as if coming up from a far off place. He smiled faintly as he recognized the voice speaking in his ear.

"Hey, Carter, did you have a nice nap? I think I'm ready for mine now. How about some of your joy juice?" He murmured, "We missed you. I don't think Danny here feels adequate to the task of nursing. Although I think he's doing a bang up job."

Both she and Daniel smiled, as they were meant to. But they both also realized O'Neill must be nearing the end of his rope to even suggest receiving the narcotic medicine. No one said a word as Daniel assisted O'Neill into a temporary position on his side, while Carter rummaged in her backpack for the carpoule.

"I've got it right here, sir. One little pinch, and its la-la land for you." Carter injected the medicine into his buttock, as Daniel held him in position.

O'Neill groaned raggedly as he returned to his supine position. Too bad he didn't have an IV going, the medicine worked a heck of a lot faster mainlining. But, his control was about shot, so any help to bolster its flagging ramparts was welcome. He tried relaxing, but the insistent, white-hot stinging, burning pain intruded on his consciousness. And his muscles refused to stop quivering, as if he were still in the frozen wastes of Antarctica.

Finally after several long minutes, his body flushed with warmth. A warmth different from the blazing, fiery burn of his damaged skin. His muscles began relaxing one by one, and the constant quiver slowly, slowly ceased. O'Neill opened his eyes, the cave did a three-sixty swoop and his eyes crossed in reaction. He grinned to himself, took a deep breath and dozed off. Daniel and Carter could take it from here.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Teal'c saw the Stargate in the shimmering distance. From this extent it looked tiny, yet substantial, as it stood tall and forlorn, silent and mysterious. The sun had long deserted this area of sky, yet the tall artifact reflected its last dying rays. Dusk would soon be upon him. Danger from the 'Shadow' beings increased as the darkness gathered.

With only short stops to rest, he'd made excellent time getting this far. And although the distance was deceiving, Teal'c rejoiced at having finally gotten here. The remaining terrain was open and unencumbered by trees, or any other areas of advantageous concealment. If the 'Shadows' intended to attack him, it would be out in the open, where his symbiote might sense their presence.

The traveler took a quick swig of warm water - more to dampen his dry mouth than to quench any thirst, and then continued his journey. As he walked, the last bit of sunlight disappeared behind him on the distant horizon - the same horizon that marked the temporary abode of his friends.

As Teal'c continued onward to the Stargate, his senses remained on high alert. Each step toward his goal was fraught with danger as the dusk gathered, and then gave way little by little to a star strewn, ebony sky. A cold breeze stirred the flaps of his jacket. He looked around casually, trying to discern shadows in the moonless night. Nothing looked out of place or unusual, but looks were deceiving.

Teal'c hastened his footsteps, almost running the last uncounted meters toward the quiescent Stargate and its companion DHD. And he almost made it without incident - almost.

The frantic humming caught his attention first. O'Neill had described it as the frantic beat of hummingbirds wings. But Teal'c had never encountered such a creature, and was unfamiliar with that particular phenomenon. Secondly, his symbiote moved anxiously about in its pouch - as if it were pacing, or thrashing nervously to ward off danger. Even the infant Goa'uld could sense the strangers' ill purpose.

These same strange beings had subjected his friend O'Neill to a barbaric ritual, almost to the point of death for no other reason except he fit their requirements as being "old and infirm, useless and unwanted, so much garbage to be cast aside." For that reason alone, retribution would be swift - and just as deadly.

Finally, on the edge of his field of vision the dark shadows gathered as he had anticipated. The shifting evil gossamer forms were unlike any anomaly he'd ever encountered in his travels. It was almost beyond his belief that their movement was as speedy as O'Neill had stated - if he hadn't witnessed it for himself. Teal'c increased his forward momentum, running for the DHD. The air was now charged with electricity as they attempted to overtake and surround him, and then contain him.

But Teal'c was legendary for his fighting skills and countered their liquid movements, and their threats, one by one. His twisting and turnings, and attempts to outmaneuver them, and escape, were those of a man possessed. And then suddenly, he dropped to the ground and rolled away from the largest contingent. He quickly came back up on one knee with the 'Zat' in his hand, firing rapidly, accuracy unessential. He could hear their cries of agony in his mind as his shots found victim after victim. His quarry's darkly translucent 'bodies' disappeared with each killing shot. Each shot sent one back to a former existence from whence they'd come, or otherwise dispersed their atoms to the planets' winds.

The remaining shadowy forms dissipated as if they'd never been.

Teal'c remained stationary on his knee, waiting for another attack, his 'Zat' aimed and ready. He watched, transfixed, as they faded from sight. Only the cold breeze accompanied his slowly subsiding, labored breathing, and trip-hammer heart beat. He looked around; amazed his attackers had given up, doubly amazed they were letting him exit this planet. One 'O'Neillism' entered his tired mind - was there a bloody mess lying unseen around him, invisible in this plane? Teal'c shivered with distaste.

He was also one who never questioned good fortune. Teal'c quickly stood and moved over to the dark DHD. Expeditiously, his hands found and pressed the symbols for Earth. With great relief, and a glad heart, he pressed the center stone to activate his ride home, and watched as the magical plasma 'whooshed' out and then settled back inward.

Teal'c activated his GDO and sent his code ahead to open the iris, waited for only a heartbeat and then hurried through the gate.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Twelve hours later -----

O'Neill suddenly felt hands touching him, working on him and around him, and the sharp, spiking pain brought involuntary tears to his eyes. He could hear voices - those of some folks he knew had no business on this planet with him. Where had they come from? Why, all of a sudden, was he hearing voices? Where were Daniel, Carter and Teal'c?

He vaguely remembered watching Teal'c disappear over the horizon. He was going for help, wasn't he? The last thing he really remembered was Carter sinking what had to be a huge honking needle into his butt - while Daniel held him still. Some friend he was - letting Carter target practice on his butt. He mentally smiled at the thought of payback.

Where was Carter?

"---Carter?" O'Neill heard his own raspy voice call her name. Had he spoken it aloud?

"I'm right here, sir. Help just arrived. Sergeant Robinson is getting you ready to travel." She watched, mesmerized, as the big, burly medic slipped a huge IV needle into the Colonel's arm, with nary a sign of protest from O'Neill, and then connected IV fluids.

"Where are Daniel, and Teal'c?" His eyes were glued shut, and gritty - like he'd been in a sand storm.

"Daniel is back down in the larger cavern bringing up the UAV - with a little help from SG-3. Teal'c is outside with SG-5, checking out your ride home. General Hammond is bringing us home in style this time, sir. Although, I don't think Teal'c liked the looks of the Air Forces' self-contained isolation capsule. He told me it looked like a Tau'ri coffin." O'Neill could hear the humor in her answer.

He agreed with Teal'c - that's exactly what the slim isolation capsule looked like.

"How long?" He felt woozy, detached from his body; his thoughts and words jumbled. He really didn't know if he sounded coherent.

"How long what?" Carter sounded confused - maybe he wasn't coherent.

"Teal'c---gone?"

"Oh, sorry. Teal'c managed to get back to the gate just after dark last night. He met up with some of your friends though, seems they didn't want him leaving the planet. But I know he's anxious to tell you all about that himself."

Under Carter's watchful eye, the medical sergeant injected a potent pain medication into the new line. It was time for the Colonel to lay back and really rest.

"Glad to hear it, Carter." O'Neill felt the warmth rush through his veins. Someone had slipped him some of the good stuff, and even though he hated it, now he could relax. He was going home. "Glad---to---hear---ittttt." The sick man drifted off.

Sam Carter watched the lines of distress gradually fade from her CO's handsome face. In sleep, the blistered and burned man looked so innocent, almost too young and naive to shoulder the burden he carried on a minute-to-minute basis. The Sergeant interrupted her musings; ready to evacuate his patient.

"His pulse and respirations are a bit high, Major, but that's probably the pain. I've given him something that should see him safely back to the infirmary. If you'll just help me for a second, we're almost ready to go, ma'am."

The medic then stepped out of the cave and motioned for his teammates to come in. Teal'c led as SG-5 lifted the heavy weight of the capsule and carried it into the cave's cool darkness. After Sergeant Robinson opened the hatch, it was positioned close to his patient. Peering inside he turned on controls and adjusted their settings, and then listened for a second to the capsule's humming power source. As soon as he was pleased with the readings, Robinson draped the interior with a sterile paper sheet and then issued sterile gloves for everyone coming in contact with the Colonel.

"For the Colonel's protection---" Robinson explained, donning a pair of gloves himself, and then proceeded to glove SG-5, Teal'c and Major Carter. After everyone was properly gloved, Robinson motioned for the men to lift the injured officer. He then removed the thermal wrap that was O'Neill's only cover - his only protection for an injured body and the self-disgust he'd felt.

Carter blushed darkly when the thermal wrap was discarded. The colonel's naked, burned and blistered body was laid bare for everyone to gawk at. And although she'd seen her CO in the buff a few times during her assignment to SG-1, she felt distress that O'Neill should be seen this way by 'strangers'. She held her breath waiting for ribald comments, but no one spoke, only silence reigned. Only soft harshly indrawn gasps were heard as each man saw the damage. The team then gently lifted O'Neill as Carter held his head in her sure grip. Slowly and carefully as one they moved him, and then almost lovingly deposited him in the capsule. She'd misjudged these men after all.

Sergeant Robinson unwrapped another pair of sterile gloves for himself and another sterile sheet. After donning sterile gloves again, he proceeded to swathe the colonel in a sterile cocoon. He adjusted a few buttons, set a few more controls, and then closed the capsule and locked it for the ride home. Everyone seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Carter stood silently watching as SG-5, with Teal'c again in the lead, carted the capsule to the strange, futuristic vehicle General Hammond had sent to bring SG-1 home. In order to get his favorite 2IC safely off this world and back to the SGC, the general had called in a lot of favors. The result was a prototype ATEV (Armored Treatment and Evacuation Vehicle) parked on M18-315, just waiting to carry them back to the gate in style - albeit military style, she grinned.

As much as the major hated to admit failure, this trip was a bust. Her own recommendation would be to delete this address from the dialing computer. Heaven only knew what Colonel O'Neill's recommendation would be. But, she'd bet the farm that it'd be similar to hers, just a few words of advice - with a much, much more colorful content.

Sg-1's equipment had been stored in the rescue vehicle while Robinson prepared his patient for the journey. Now, all that remained was for Carter to communicate with Daniel and SG-3. They would remain behind to study the site, down in the cavern - if Daniel had anything to say about it, until the next day. No one was to be outside after dark, per order of General Hammond. So what better place in which to spend some extra time than a museum? Daniel was very excited - SG-3 was less elated.

Carter caught the 'go' sign from Sergeant Robinson and nodded her understanding. It was time to leave, but first she had to make the call to Daniel. Stepping into the dark passages of the cavern, the major toggled her radio - hopefully the transmission would be half decent.

"Daniel, come in," she waited five seconds, "Come in Daniel, over."

Walking a few more feet forward, she tried again.

"Daniel, come in. We're ready to leave put your ears on, over."

"...Hi...having ...interference. SG-3...UAV...soon. Great down...see you...."

She smiled. As long as SG-3 remained behind, Daniel would be fine. It was time to go, the colonel needed medical treatment and time was wasting. Carter walked the few steps back to the outside cave, and then on to her waiting limousine. Teal'c held the front passenger door open and closed it behind her as soon as she was settled and the seat belt buckled. He took his place along side SG-5, in the rear passenger / patient compartment, and made himself comfortable near O'Neill's feet. Sergeant Robinson seated himself near the capsule's control panel - ready at a moments notice to stem any pending disaster.

"Let's go," Major Carter, said. What else could she say at a time like this?

Nothing else came to mind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Janet Fraiser, almost completely anonymous in her universal precautions' mask, cap, gown and gloves, stood at O'Neill's bedside and silently watched her patient sleep. She always enjoyed watching this particular patient sleep, because it meant she could rest, and for a little while enjoy the fruits of her efforts.

He was in the isolation room for his own protection. With this amount of damaged skin, his body's defenses were definitely compromised. He'd been made comfortable in a sterile bed, and remained as naked as the day he was born. A large sheet-draped metal frame curved over his body. Its purpose was to keep the sheets away from his skin, provide him some measure of privacy, and also provide for the circulation of warm dry air. Only his head, neck and upper torso peeked out.

For once, and for that small favor she thanked God, the colonel hadn't arrived through the gate bleeding to death, shocky, or dangling grievously injured broken limbs resulting from torture, or other violence. But, she grimaced, what had been done to him was just as inhumane. He was suffering deep, second-degree sunburn to the entire front of his body, including his shoulders and feet. There were she'd bet, some spots that would convert to third-degree burns and would have to be grafted. She didn't look forward to that task.

Dr. Fraiser's eyes touched on the bandages encircling the colonel's wrists as they rested on his bare chest. Identical dressings could be found on his ankles. The white bandage was surprisingly stark against his baked skin. It too spoke of inhumane treatment and O'Neill's unceasing efforts to free himself.

Last of all the doctor gazed at O'Neill's bandage covered eyes. It was really only a precaution, but the sun had burned his eyes only slightly less cruelly than it had his skin. Dr. Alevaro, at Academy Hospital, had instructed her to medicate and cover them, for at least a week. Fraiser could just hear the squawks and moans of a certain officer when he first made this discovery. But, maybe not, it might scare him into total silence. She'd have to keep a close watch, whichever way it went.

With his chart in hand, the doctor sat down in one of the available chairs. She leafed through the soon-to-be-humongous chart, making notes here and there. She turned to Sergeant Robinson's notes, reading them carefully and signing off the orders. Robinson had performed well out there. He'd gone straight by the protocol for burns i.e.- reverse contact precautions, large bore IV access, replacement fluids, medication, airway, breathing, and circulation. Daniel, Teal'c and Sam had attempted stopping the burn process with cool water compresses, and aside from a homemade burn ointment concoction, very little else covered O'Neill's sorely damaged skin.

She grinned behind the surgical mask, and hated herself for it, imagining a somewhat modest Colonel O'Neill nude, and his best friends doing such intensely private nursing procedures for him. At least half of the red glow from his skin had to be a huge permanent blush. But, they'd done the best they could manage under very primitive circumstances. They'd kept him warm, tried to hydrate him and had gone for help. Now, it was her turn and she'd planned many exciting activities for the Colonel's continued care and progress.

And even though he'd bitch and moan, drugs were a major part of the game plan. Drugs, fluid replacement - including the dreaded foley catheter for urine output, good nutrition, skin debridement and gauze dressings that would have the colonel looking akin to a mummy.

But the dressings would have to wait until tomorrow; she had him scheduled for surgery at 0900 hrs. First, they had to cleanse the Colonel's entire body surface of dead, non-adherent skin - not a task to be done without general anesthesia. She might even get his MRI and other x-rays done while she had him under anesthesia. It'd save him that much more pain and anxiety. Right now, all she could do, or anyone else for that matter, was to keep him warm and keep him comfortable, continue the rehydration, and watch his bodily functions.

Dr. Fraiser took a long deep breath. A groan from her patient interrupted her exhalation. She looked over at him, almost expecting his eyelids to flutter open, hoping against hope that they would not. The Colonel needed this deep sleep, and his rest - besides, she'd given him enough meds to knock out a rhino. From all accounts, he'd had precious little rest on that planet and had expended huge amounts of energy trying to find his team, and control his pain. Idiot, she whispered with a smile, almost ruffling his hair like a mother would.

The doctor turned down the overhead light - it was more suited to the paranoid, discount Mega-Marts than any sick room. She left instructions with the duty nurse and then exited the isolation room. She still had folks to talk to - a general who wanted a progress report on his 2IC, and three quarters of a team needing to be brought up to speed. And somewhere around this place, there was a cup of fresh, hot coffee with her name on it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Daniel Jackson walked hurriedly through the open wormhole. His backpack was heavy with items he'd 'liberated' from the 'Shadow' beings. Behind him strode members of SG-3, manhandling the missing UAV down the ramp. The original mission had been to retrieve only the power pack, but since the device was still in good shape, they'd brought the entire thing home - saving the taxpayers a little 'chump change'. All totaled, each and every man was glad to be safely off that planet, and quickly home.

Daniel hadn't been accosted again by the 'Shadows', nor had any member of SG-3, a fact for which everyone was extremely grateful. As much as he might have wanted to try and communicate with them, their actions against Jack had soured his perspective.

General Hammond stood at the bottom of the metal ramp waiting expectantly until all members of his 'family' were safely indoors. He conversed quietly with Major Barts, the SG-3 team leader, and smiled a greeting to everyone as they stepped off the ramp and then leisurely moved on to the infirmary. Daniel Jackson remained behind to speak to the general.

"That was a very nice ride you sent out for us, General. How did you come by it, and so quickly?" Daniel, unlike his usual self, was very quick to the point. "Any chance we can get something like it for the SG teams?"

"You liked that, did you, Dr. Jackson?" Hammond spoke good-naturedly. "Well, we have our ways, son, we have our ways," the general grinned, secretly pleased with himself. He'd moved heaven and earth getting the prototype vehicle in the first place, and had gone to great lengths just getting it inside the mountain. What Dr. Jackson didn't know was not going to hurt him; in fact, it might make him appreciate the military effort 'just' a little bit more. "I don't think so, Dr. Jackson, at least not in the near future. We wouldn't want to break the budget, now would we?"

Jackson nodded, watching Hammond, almost expecting him to continue, but knew he'd been told all he was going to be told. When Jack was well, and up to par, he'd pump him for the information. Until then he had a treasure trove of artifacts from M18-315 to study and catalogue, after he checked on Jack.

"Debrief, Dr Jackson, 0900hrs tomorrow morning. Please don't be late."

Daniel waved at the general officer - his version of a salute, and continued on his way to the Infirmary.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fire - raging, blazing, rampaging out of control, spread over every inch of his body. Damaged nerve endings discharged painfully and too often, like broken wires still shooting out sparks. It woke him from a drugged doze. He could tell by his muzzy-head and dry mouth that good old Doc Fraiser had come and gone - leaving harsh drugs in her wake. At this point in time he didn't mind. The drugs made him forget the awfulness of his captivity and punishment. He wished they would calm the pain still tormenting his flank and groin. When he was lucid, he'd speak to his favorite power monger about just that.

He hid behind his eyelids, listening to his surroundings, and assimilating clues as to where he was exactly. It was quiet here, no hustle and bustle of the infirmary, no raucous noise from returning teams. Only the tick-tick of a heart monitor and the steady hum of some machine, yet to be identified, which broke the intense silence. Someone was in this place with him, but he didn't recognized just who it was. He hadn't heard any fidgeting, or tapping on a laptop, or ominous silence, so it probably wasn't one of his team. Wonder where they had gotten?

Curiosity got the best of him, so he tried opening his eyes. A more impossible task he couldn't readily remember. Aside from weighing a ton, they felt glued shut. When had his eyelids taken on such weighty proportions? He wanted to touch his eyes to reassure himself, he could still feel the grainy sand irritating them, but his hands were too far away and much too heavy for the task.

He'd just lie here - he didn't even want to move. Moving caused the fire to accelerate, to increase to an ungodly magnitude, and right now he was too tired to accommodate it. He groaned, the embarrassing soft, pitiful sound echoing in his ears. Footsteps whispered closer to the bed, a warm flush soon followed and spread throughout his veins. His closed eyelids seemed to slam shut.

O'Neill spiraled back down to the safe place from which he'd emerged, invulnerable in the hands of others.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You know," Daniel, said, looking around the infirmary for Dr. Fraiser, "I really need to speak to Janet. Is she near by, by any chance?" He smiled his brightest and most heart-melting smile at Captain Turner, the nurse in charge of his post-mission physical.

"I'm afraid not, Dr. Jackson. She's with Colonel O'Neill in Isolation. They're getting him settled and comfortable. You know how tricky burns can be. Could I be of any assistance?"

His brow wrinkled, he really needed to see Janet.

"You can give her a message, can't you? This is very important, it concerns Jack, Colonel O'Neill."

Turner nodded, yes, she'd be happy to give Dr. Fraiser a message. Truth to tell, Captain Turner had a tiny crush on Dr. Jackson. The men of SG-1, it seemed, always had the Infirmary's complete attention.

"Please tell her---tell her Jack wasn't feeling right during the mission. I don't think this breech's any confidentiality, but he was having some kind of problem with his back and," Jackson looked around the cubicle to make sure no one else heard, and lowered his voice, "---His groin. He didn't want to make a big deal out of it, but he was in a lot of pain. Can you make sure she gets that information, Captain Turner? It might be important."

"Oh absolutely, Dr. Jackson, I'll make sure she gets your message as soon as possible. I think we're done here, you're good to go." Turner collected her samples, gave him a sweet smile of her own and then left, so he could get dressed.

He sat still for a moment, just gazing at the floor. Should he trust the nurse? It wasn't that he didn't trust her to give Janet a message, but it got pretty busy around here. She might get detained somewhere and then Dr. Fraiser wouldn't get this vital information until it was, very possibly, too late.

Finally, he pulled his shirt back on and left the cubicle. At the nurses station he found Captain Turner busily writing her notes in his chart.

"You won't forget, right, Captain Turner?"

The tall nurse looked up from her writing, and gave Dr. Jackson another bright smile.

"I've flagged his chart already, Sir," she quickly reassured him. "I sent Dr. Fraiser a flagged e-mail, just in case, and I'll make a point of seeing her before I leave tonight. We'll definitely make sure she's gotten the word, Dr. Jackson."

"Thanks, Pam. I can't help but think it might be important." He left her with another thousand-watt smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Time passed, how much time he wasn't sure. He knew it was so, just by the vague changes in personnel and the amount of light coming through his closed eyelids. Bright lights meant early morning and afternoon, darkness and shadows meant evenings and nights. He'd been in and out of a hospital bed too many times in his career not to have learned that. Funny thing about his eyes though, they still hurt and felt grainy, and he felt pretty sure his room was darkened because of it.

Each time he surfaced his sense of surroundings was his only tether to reality - for now it was all he had. He felt the nurse's presence ebb and flow as each one attended to her nursing duties. Never really here, yet never quite gone. If they conversed with him he couldn't recall the conversation. He was sure they had, from experience they usually did, even while he was unconscious.

He could feel the plump pillows at his chest and spine, and in-between his knees, holding his position steady, which was different each time he awoke. He felt warm air blowing gently over his body, the air current both warming and chilling, yet strangely soothing. Sliding one arm down his torso and hip, he encountered only fiery, painfully hot naked skin instead of cool sheets and the obligatory hospital gown.

Yikes, he wanted to cover up. Now he felt even more naked - even more exposed. He wanted to look, to see what the heck was going on. But the sedatives percolating in his blood stream caused him to feel more than slightly fuzzy, and very dizzy; sort of like an out of body experience. He hated that feeling. Yet the pain in his damaged skin penetrated even Doc's little cocktail, and he knew he'd be screaming in agony without her help.

If he didn't move, everything was great. If he stayed just where they planted him he'd be okay. The fiery pain in his flank died down to a tolerable level, the stinging, nauseating burn in his skin lay dormant, and the pounding behind his eyes stilled. But only if he didn't move.

A groan escaped from his lips when he moved his arm again, and soon after, in a flurry of motion, his IV line was tugged, followed very closely by the warm flush of more drugs in his battered system. As the medication eased the painful beast, and he once again slipped to his happy place, O'Neill rethought his position.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pain came in waves again, almost likes water rushing to shore and then receding. Except this pain never truly receded. As insistent as it was, if he didn't know any better he'd suppose his body was trying to expel something. Ever expanding pain, burning and tearing a path of destruction, flared down his side, into his groin and bladder. A fleeting recollection of assisting an alien woman give birth was all he had with which to compare this misery. Doc's cocktail wasn't helping, yet his brain was too saturated with it to do anything but ride the waves.

He wanted to groan and scream his discomfort; he wanted someone to know his insides were ripping apart. He wanted to beg for relief and howl with the agony as the insistent peristalsis continued, unrecognized for what it was. It was just like back on that planet, the pain would not leave him alone, would not give him a moment of peace. Yet, the only outward appearance he gave was a deep furrow between his eyebrows, rapid shallow breathing, and a fine tremor that shook his whole body.

The blood pressure monitor screeched a loud long, piercing digital scream, as the constant tick-tick of the heart monitor blasted off like a rocket to Mars. Captain Turner, on supper relief duty, quickly responded to her patients' distress noting the deep frown on his face and a blood pressure way over the Colonel's normal. 200/108 was nowhere near O'Neill's usual below average numbers. The man exercised too much to have hypertension, and constant blood work, taken before and after each mission, had never shown any such problems.

And now to top it off, his temp had steadily climbed for the last hour. He was in so much pain he'd tripped the monitors, and his increasing temperature was scaring her. She paged Doctor Fraiser and then, although she'd only minutes ago injected the sedatives to keep him calm, began slowly, intermittently injecting ten milligrams of Morphine IV. Now was a perfect time to tell the Doctor about Doctor Jackson's concerns

By the time Fraiser was suited up and in the isolation room, the full dose was administered and her patient's blood pressure was slowly, slowly decreasing. The fine tremor was abating and his breathing had deepened.

"What's up, Pam?" She asked immediately. Her keen eyes scanned her patient, and then the monitors.

"He just had an episode of hypertension, tachycardia - like he's in deep distress, Doctor. Out of the blue, B/P 200/108, tremors, rapid shallow breathing, pulse 165. I've noticed he's had one or two similar episodes, but the sedatives always seemed to ease it. This time it didn't. I've given him 10 mgm's of morphine, which has helped. Something else, Doctor, his temperature has risen three full points in the last hour."

Fraiser studied the monitor, as if expecting it to reveal its secrets. Picking up his chart, she quickly read through the nurse's note, looking for clues.

"Oh, by the way, Doctor Jackson wanted to see you earlier this evening, but you were busy with the Colonel. He said it was very important, so I flagged the Colonel's chart and sent an e-mail. I guess you've not had time to read your e-mails, huh Doctor?" She smiled at Fraiser, who snorted a negative reply, and continued; "He said Colonel O'Neill had been having severe pain in his back and groin, even in the field. Doctor Jackson thought it was significant enough that you should know. I think he was a little afraid I wouldn't tell you."

Fraiser flipped through the chart, looking for Turner's earlier note. She finally found the dated entry, but at best it was only vaguely disturbing.

"He was complaining of a pulled muscle right before he left. Okay, let's get a BMP; I also want a CBC and urinalysis, since I have no clue what's happening here. Have a cooling blanket on stand-by. Then get an ECG, just in case. Colonel O'Neill's heart is as sound as a racehorse, but something's---different. Have x-ray get a chest film; there might be some fractured ribs we don't know about. Also a KUB, I'm grasping at straws here, but it can't hurt. Make sure they know he's still in isolation. Damn, I wish we had that MRI. There's got to be something I've overlooked."

Captain Turner nodded her understanding and then quickly turning, picked up the phone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam, and Daniel sat in Daniel's office rather dejectedly. Teal'c was his usual imperturbable self, standing by, waiting while the "kids" made peace with the present situation. It was past midnight, yet the archaeologist had been trying to catalogue artifacts he'd removed from the Shadow's planet; but found his attention wandering too many times. Teal'c was in-between Kel'nor'reem sessions and rest cycles, and Sam was taking a break from lackluster busy work.

"You know, I really feel that we need to be with Jack. I mean, what's Janet afraid we'll do, or see? Is she afraid we'll infect him? Or see him naked or something." Jack O'Neill's battle-scarred body was not on the list of sights he wanted to see, if at all possible. But being a man, and using the men's showers where the guys tended to be unembarrassed about their bare bodies, he knew Jack's physique. "If that's what she's afraid of, it's too late," he grunted.

"You know the Colonel, Daniel. He wouldn't mind us seeing him naked as much as he doesn't want us to see him sick or injured. But, I don't know, he was pretty shook up by it---pretty embarrassed about what the Shadow's did to him." Carter's thoughts went back to M18-315. "I know it would take me a while to get over it, but the Colonel usually bounces back. I just wish we could see him."

"O'Neill was more concerned for his team's welfare. His agitation of mind was for our safety." Teal'c sagely intoned, as Daniel and Carter nodded in agreement. "The Shadow beings played on O'Neill's uncertainty and disquietude. A warrior does not easily admit to these feelings. In my prior life it was regarded as a weakness, now I consider it an honor. It is part of being a great leader."

"I just wish we could see Jack."

"Yeah, me too."

"Indeed."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"At ease, people," General Hammond commanded, striding into the briefing room. As he sat down he looked around the table at his premier team. Each one had a glum, distracted air about them, even Teal'c who usually held himself back from any emotional display. With Colonel O'Neill in the Infirmary after another "milk run" and the remainder of his team spooked by the events on 315, this de-briefing might take on the appearance of a psychiatric session. "Major Carter, how about you start things off."

The young officer made motions to stand up, but Hammond waved her back down, stating that "everyone looked comfortable, let's keep it that way."

Carter told the General about the trip across miles of barren ground to find the UAV, while glazing over Colonel O'Neill's decreasing health and stamina. She admitted to a lack of knowledge in regards to the 'Shadows' attack on their camp and subsequent removal to another area, referring the General to Teal'c instead. She continued with as complete, and comprehensive a sit-rep as was possible, given her lack of all the details. Carter delivered conclusive information about the mission, but nothing about her feelings, fears, disappointments or insight. It was a fascinating tale, but just this side of complete. She also put herself on report for 'failure to follow orders'.

Her two other team members protested vehemently, but she continued doggedly on.

"It's my fault, sir. This wouldn't have happened if I'd done my job properly. I was first up for guard duty, but I put it off so we could discuss the situation. Colonel O'Neill had gone to bed, which was totally unlike him, and I thought it would be a good time to decide whether we should turn around and come home, or continue with the mission. In the morning, we would've had a proper plan in place to persuade the Colonel to return to the SGC." She stopped for a deep breath, grimaced and continued sadly, "But we didn't get the chance."

The General was silent for a long moment, digesting her self-accusation, waiting in case she had more to add. When it became apparent she had nothing more to report, he responded.

"Major," he said, kindly but firmly, "We'll discuss that side bar at a later date, but I want you to put all of that in your report. By writing it down, you may find you have nothing with which to blame yourself. Right now, I only need to know what happened on that planet."

Doctor Jackson was called on.

"General," Daniel began, "Sam has nothing to blame herself for. None of us had turned in except Jack, we hadn't seen anyone or anything all day to suggest an enemy of anykind, so we stayed up late and talked for a few extra minutes. There was nothing unusual or out of line in our actions. In my opinion Major Carter did nothing wrong. I don't remember anything after that until I woke up, in a totally different place, with the headache from hell."

"But, that cavern was amazing," he then continued, and rattled on, nonstop, about "an exciting find", a "treasure trove of mysterious proportions", and an "archaeological site worthy of King Tut's tomb" in great and lengthy detail. Expressing an aversion to the beings found on M18-315, Jackson admitted to a fear for O'Neill's life. He was especially glad to have left the planet, but felt deeply the loss of such a diverse find. He too glossed over O'Neill's increasing health problems, almost as if he and Major Carter were in collusion.

For the life of him, Hammond couldn't figure out why. Teal'c was next.

"Teal'c can you shed any more light on this mission?"

Teal'c bowed his head toward the General, yet remained silent for several long minutes, collecting his thoughts before giving his report. And then he related, in detail, O'Neill's struggle to combat the mysterious illness, and his attempts to disregard it, and his final degradation at the hands of the 'Shadows'.

He described the raid on their camp and how he, Daniel Jackson and Major Carter had all succumbed to an attack of precise, well-thrown stone projectiles as they sat around the fire, discussing the malady O'Neill suffered. How he and his team members had then been over powered into unconsciousness by their attacker's oppressive presence and spirited away. He lauded Major Carter for leading and completing the mission, while suffering the effects of a concussion. Her self-accusation of failure, he refused to give credence.

It was a fascinating tale, weaving together the incomplete strands of both Major Carter and Doctor Jackson's report.

"Why did these "Shadows," Hammond asked, looking at each member of the group, "Not take Colonel O'Neill as well, seeing that they took everyone else?"

"I would not care to risk conjuncture, General Hammond." Teal'c spoke up first, "It is my belief that they did not realize he was in the tent. I believe O'Neill's presence only came to their attention after he began his search for SG-1."

To this point Hammond was satisfied. Until Colonel O'Neill was able to supply an addendum, it was as complete a report as he could wish for, and without any true psychological undertones.

"SG-1, this has been an arduous and perplexing mission. Yet, you achieved your mission goals under great constraint, saving the taxpayers the cost of replacing expensive equipment. And, I might add, you managed to bring home one of your own under frightening and difficult circumstances. I know I speak for Colonel O'Neill when I say 'well done'. Before I've had a chance to speak with Colonel O'Neill, I think it's safe to say this is one address we'll be locking out of our dialing computer. Have your reports on my desk within the hour, and then you're granted a forty-eight hour stand down. Major, we'll talk later when I've had a chance to study all the reports. Dismissed." Hammond rose from his chair and strode from the room, while Carter jumped to attention, and Daniel and Teal'c stood.

"Well, that went well." Daniel said, to no one in particular.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Okay, one---two---three," the anesthetist counted, and on the count of three the O.R. team lifted an intubated and quiescent Jack O'Neill off the surgical table. From here he, and his anesthetic entourage, would go to the small x-ray lab for his MRI and other post mission x-rays.

This morning Dr. Warner and Dr. Fraiser had delicately scrubbed every inch of O'Neill's damaged skin with scrub brushes and a gentle surgical soap. Their purpose was to remove as much dead skin as possible to prevent infection and any reaction from the dead tissue, but leave intact the blisters already formed. It also helped remove SG1's homemade burn concoction.

By the end of the scrub, O'Neill's body was a livid red. He was patted dry and covered with warm blankets. His long fingers were then slathered with an antibiotic burn cream and covered with sterile dressings. Caution and protocol dictated that each finger be wrapped separately and bulky dressings applied. When the dressings were complete, the patient looked as if he wore white boxing gloves. His burned feet received approximately the same treatment. His long, splendid body was then covered in a thick layer of the same antibiotic burn cream, and the procedure was over.

Every once in a while Dr. Fraiser enjoyed having a drugged O'Neill as a patient. It tended to keep the wrangling down to a minimum, but then again not all of the Colonels' wrangling was unpleasant - and she did miss those sexy brown eyes. Fraiser followed the stretcher until the radiologist took over, and then returned to the O.R. locker room to change. She'd be back before the films dried. She suspected there were several people bursting at the seams with questions about the colorful colonel.

Colorful, cantankerous, and complex - that's our Colonel.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

O'Neill woke again. This time the sour taste of anesthesia filled his mouth, almost gagging him. He could hear the soft murmur of voices close by, but his brain was too saturated with anesthetic drugs to open an eye and take a look.

"Water---could---I---please, water?" He murmured softly. His mind registered the painful stinging radiating from all parts of his anatomy. Fire seemed to consume his body with a fierceness he found vaguely alarming. The sheer amount of pain was limitless.

A friendly hand holding a straw against his dry lips stopped his unchecked thoughts. For one moment the awful burning was sublimated into a tormented desire for a cool, refreshing drink. Siphoning off a long drag, the cold water felt amazing in his dry, parched mouth. He took a second to swirl the cold fluid around and then swallowed it down a faintly sore throat. He wanted more.

"Easy, Sir, just sips. You drink it too fast; it'll come back up that much faster. I'll get you some ice chips to suck on." The unknown voice melted away, and then returned in a fragrant swirl. "Here you go, Sir. Suck on the ice chips - it'll wet your whistle a whole lot better."

A small spoonful of chilled heaven was pressed against his lips. Taking up the offered bounty, the cold moisture exploded on his tongue and palate while saturating the desert sands of his mouth. It was ambrosial. It was enough.

Anesthesia once again clouded his consciousness, and the dragging pull of sleep tugged at his awareness. A breath-taking yawn escaped from hidden depths while O'Neill relaxed back into the cool comfort of his bed. The flames died down as he spiraled back down to his dark, safe place.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hold it, Hold it. One question at a time, please." Doctor Fraiser implored, her hands raised to defend herself, as if holding back a surging horde. It had been a long tiring night, a busy morning, and her patience was threadbare.

Carter, Teal'c and Jackson had gathered in her tiny office for an update on the Colonel's condition. He'd been sequestered in an isolation room ever since his arrival, hidden behind a veil of secrecy and covered windows. Theoretically they knew it was for his protection, just until the burns healed. But theory had little to do with feelings and the concern of friends who've seen each other to hell and beyond.

"When can we see him, Janet?" Jackson asked. He hadn't had any rest since returning from M18-315, which was due only minimally to the exciting treasures he'd brought back. "What's all the big mystery about?"

"How's he doing? We haven't seen him since we brought him back, we can't get in to see him, and we aren't allowed to do anything to help." Major Carter spoke in a frustrated voice. For someone who was trying to remain impersonal, this was becoming too personal.

"Indeed, Doctor Fraiser, O'Neill will be most concerned at our seeming lack of solicitude. Even a warrior as great as O'Neill needs the closeness of warrior brothers to ease his infirmity." Teal'c spoke with passion, even though his face remained calm. He was also speaking his own opinion, especially after joining with O'Neill and becoming part of the SGC. O'Neill had never allowed him to lick his wounds in private, in the dark, or alone.

The doctor looked closely at each person, listening with her trained senses to his or her questions, trying to formulate answers they could live with.

"Sam---Daniel---Teal'c, I know this is hard on you. But you'll just have to be patient a little while longer. Colonel O'Neill is doing well despite having deep second degree burns over one hundred percent of the anterior surface of his body. This amount of surface damage is a 'major' consideration. We debrided his skin in surgery a little while ago and so far it looks good, but it's early yet. We have some issues with his eyes, from the effects of the sun, but they're also being treated. I'm keeping him well sedated for pain control and to let the burns heal undisturbed. I won't cut back on the sedation until I feel it's warranted. When the fear of infection is past, I'll allow visitors," she smiled, "I think all of our talents will be required from that point."

Her listeners nodded sagely. How many times had they banded together to entertain an infirmary bound Colonel, who was on the brink of mutiny - courtesy of the infirmary nurses?

"We're also looking into other problems the Colonel was having out there." She continued, yet looked straight into Daniel's eyes, "Thanks to Daniel for the heads up. We don't have any answers yet, but we're definitely looking."

Daniel looked relieved, while Sam smiled and Teal'c again nodded sagely.

"You know the Colonel is a very private person, despite his outward appearances. So right now is not a good time in his overall treatment to receive visitors. Okay?" Dr. Fraiser's eyes begged for understanding.

Everyone was silent, as if weighing the doctor's words. Daniel wanted to push the issue, but Janet's unspoken entreaty suppressed even his resistance. Carter wanted to push too, but she also wanted what was best for her friend. Teal'c remained reticent.

"So, do we understand each other? As soon as humanly possible, you can visit the Colonel. And I'll be here, to update you on his progress." Her look again begged their understanding and their cooperation. She could issue her requests in the form of orders, but with this team it was an unnecessary cruelty.

"If there's any change, you'll know almost as soon as I do, I promise," The doctor concluded. She didn't mention that she'd said the exact same words to General Hammond.

Each member of SG-1 nodded his or her head, albeit reluctantly. The resulting silence was almost unbearable until the doctor spoke again.

"I'm sure you have duties which need attending to, so I won't keep you any longer." Dr. Fraiser almost willed the morose group out of her office; she had feelings of her own to deal with and, unfortunately, other patients to treat.

Sam, Daniel and Teal'c left the small office and then separated to attend to various pursuits, after promising to meet in the cafeteria for dinner.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lt. Sue Meyers had just completed the Colonel's bath with Sergeant Phil Robinson's help. It was quiet in the isolation area; so quiet that sometimes it was eerie, but she enjoyed the calm, a welcome change from the oft-times boisterous infirmary. She also enjoyed having the Colonel all to herself. Sue had a tiny crush on the handsome officer, and even his antics during infirmary stays had not shaken her feelings. She figured she'd already seen him at his worst; a little hero worship/unrequited puppy love was harmless.

Sue prepared the antibiotic cream she would, after donning sterile gloves, spread over her patient's abused skin. O'Neill was now bathed and comfortable, lying on his back for the next two hours. Sergeant Robinson was out of the unit searching for a clean over-bed frame cover, which provided the Colonel's only much-needed privacy. Sue took a moment to gaze at her "object of the heart." A tiny frown of pain marred his handsome high forehead and even in sleep he looked so uncomfortable. His broad shoulders, slim hips and impossibly long legs were the stuff of dreams. Sue looked around the room guiltily and then turned her head back to admire the Colonel's essentials, and smiled - "not bad for an older man," even if they were severely burned and blistered. She smiled again, and then expelled a deep sigh---time to get to work.

With great care and tenderness, Lieutenant Meyers spread the burn cream, talking to her patient as she worked. It was greasy stuff yet still had a tendency to pull the skin, so she didn't want to rupture any of the already formed blisters. Sue worked diligently for many minutes, working the burn medication over the large expanse of damaged skin, until at last, all that was left were his genitalia.

She gazed again at her patient's covered eyes. His beautiful dark amber eyes could always pin her down like a bug on display. Today, and until Dr. Fraiser said otherwise, Sue wouldn't have to do such intimate care for him while he was awake. A fact for which, she was very thankful - enormously thankful. Captain Ruzycki usually took care of the Colonel, but she was away on Family LOA. As she worked, Sue noticed a few twitches and deeper frowns, yet O'Neill seemed calm and rested quietly.

"Okay, Colonel, don't take this personal, but Mr. Winkie and the twins have to get greased up too. I was planning on Robinson doing it, but he seems to have gotten lost. Remember, Sir, I'm a nurse; we're trained in these advanced medical techniques--- " With another deep sigh, Meyers scooped up a handful of cream in one hand and the Colonel's tender assets in the other. Because of the lack of tanning in this area, it was more severely burned than other areas, and much more painful.

"Bless his heart," Sue crooned. Mesmerized, she watched her handsome patient's face as she smeared medication tenderly over his anatomy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dr. Fraiser compared the x-ray film to its companion MRI. A filling defect on one and a tiny bright white spot in the exact same position on the other, plus microscopic blood in the urine and a rising creatnine told the same story.

She grinned, a glowing white x-ray box the only witness to her joy and relief. A veritable avalanche of the Colonel's medical data was spread out on her desk in front of her. And she'd plowed through each piece hunting down the cause of O'Neill's pain and illness.

Now, she had some good news and some not so good news, but none of it was bad, thank heavens. As soon as she could get a consultant in, proper arrangements would be made for further treatment. But she could hold off as long as the Colonel's temperature rose no further. Fat chance of that, but she'd keep a very close watch.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Only marginally slowed by the drugs, O'Neill's reflexes soared into high gear, his body stiffened for battle and his dressing-wrapped hands swung blindly at the offending adversary

"Colonel...Nnoooooo! Please don't, Sir. It's me, Lieutenant Meyers, Sir." He'd caught her red-handed - sorry Colonel, no pun intended, daydreaming like some lovesick rookie. And unless she got his attention and could get him awake, she'd pay for her lack of attention with a broken jaw.

O'Neill awoke with a start. Drugs clouded his feverish brain; a feeling he knew all too well. De'ja vu assaulted his sense of unease and darkness surrounded him in scary isolation. Sharp pains in his tender regions elicited a none-too-quiet bark of discomfort. Someone 's hands had been where they weren't supposed to be, and his own fist was now armed and aimed at tender flesh and bone.

He could hear the quiet, pleading voice of someone near. He could tell it was a frightened female. He couldn't see her in the darkened room, but he could feel her terror.

"Please, Sir. It's me, Lieutenant Meyers. I'm ssorry to have awakened you, pplease don't hit me."

O'Neill held on, relaxing his tense position only a bare minimum . What the hell was going on? He could still hear her whispered pleas. Where the heck was he? He couldn't see anything familiar; in fact he couldn't see anything at all. Why didn't they turn the lights on?

"Please, Colonel..."

"Meyers?" Pain flared in his flank, his stomach churned in sympathy. He couldn't recall who Meyers was.

"Yes, Sir. It's me...I've finished your bath, Sir and wwe're appplying your bburn ointment. I'm sorry if I hurt yyou ---"

"Meyers? I don't feel so good." O'Neill marginally relaxed back onto his bed, and she stepped in closer. It was definitely not a good move, because suddenly and very unexpectedly, O'Neill vomited. Copious, bilious, gastric fluid spewed, with projectile precision, all over the young lieutenant. Sue shrieked in surprise, yet grabbed a basin to contain the flow. Her free hand grappled for the elusive call button. Finally, it was in her hand and being pressed for all she was worth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You know, every once in a while, even I get tired of being pushed out of the way so Janet and her staff can have free run with Jack's health." Daniel Jackson spoke quietly, but fiercely nonetheless. "--- And I know it's only been mere days since we brought him home, but we always sit with Jack. See him through the worst ---"

The tinkle of silverware, a restrained clink and clatter of dishes and its accompanying buzz of conversation almost drowned out the archeologists' words. Teal'c, Carter, and Jackson sat around a dining table, leisurely ensconced in the mess hall for a relaxed lunch/gripe session. Their trays and tray contents had been forgotten as their conversation progressed.

Sam Carter couldn't help but agree with her teammate. She'd had the same thoughts herself. Her reply was lost when a reticent Teal'c beat her to the punch.

"Daniel Jackson, Doctor Fraiser and her staff are doing that which is most beneficial for O'Neill. Our medical knowledge is limited at best, as are our medical skills."

"I know," Jackson interrupted sadly, "It's just, I should be with him. He was so sick out there on 315, and tried his best to hide it from us. He was trying to act like nothing was wrong when he was miserable, and those 'things' only made it worse. I wonder if Janet's figured out what was wrong yet?" He looked at both of his teammates, seeking reassurance.

"Janet has probably diagnosed and treated all of his problems by now," Carter replied. She didn't want Daniel to feel anymore overwrought than he already was. It was useless to sit and worry about a situation over which they had no control, or input. It was a bone of contention for each member of SG-1.

"Maybe if we talked to General Hammond."

"Daniel Jackson, General Hammond will not override the medical decisions of Doctor Fraiser. We must be patient. O'Neill would expect it of us. We must be ready when our help is called upon."

"I know. But it doesn't help me feel any less useless."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Infirmary staff came running. Any call from Colonel O'Neill's room was unequivocally a call for help. Meyer's had enough presence of mind to quickly cover the senior officer's nakedness as the door to isolation banged open.

Doctor Fraiser pushed through the gaggle of nurses and medics who'd responded to Meyer's call, to see one of her nurses covered in vomitus while her star patient continued to heave weakly. Captain Patterson drew up medication to treat his nausea and vomiting, while Lieutenant Johnson grabbed warm water and a cloth to tenderly and carefully wash his face and chest. Medics Kramer and Henserling both headed for clean linen and warm blankets.

Fraiser drew closer to the bed, watching Meyers speak softly to her patient, as she helped him ride out the heaving by gently rubbing his back. She remained silent as her staff did their best to make him comfortable again.

"Why don't you turn the lights on?" Fraiser heard the Colonel ask quietly. "I can't see you, but I know you're there. Meyers?"

"Yes, Sir. I'm here, Sir. About the lights, well, Sir, you see." She looked at Dr. Fraiser with huge, fearful eyes, pleading not to be the one to tell him. Everyone else in the room seemed to fade into the background. No one wanted to say a word as the silence continued. Fraiser looked at her stalwart staff, nodded and spoke up.

"Colonel, the lights are on, in fact it's a little too bright in here." She motioned for Johnson to turn the lights down. "Your eyes are covered with dressings, sir. We need to give your eyes a period of requiescence as they heal. After your ordeal, Dr Alevaro felt you'd benefit by having them rest as well as being medicated. You have corneal abrasions on each eye due to the prolonged drying."

"What," O'Neill cleared his dry throat, where suddenly his heart was firmly lodged. "What does that mean in English, Doc. Am I blind or---or what?" Just the sound of that sent a chill down his spine.

"No, sir, you're not blind. But your corneas need a little rest and recuperation, and the only way to achieve that is to cover each eye. It prevents all sorts of movement, strain, and fatigue, not to mention the pain. Dr. Alevaro thinks we can discontinue the dressings in about a week."

O'Neill nodded as if everything she'd said made great sense - and it did, she just wasn't sure he'd taken it all in, or if he'd assimilated any of the information. The eyesight of every being was a major tool and the fear of losing it, especially for a man--- a soldier like Colonel O'Neill, was overwhelming. Such a loss was too devastating to contemplate. Fraiser had known, since speaking with the ophthalmologist, to watch the Colonel closely, and ever since she'd had him drugged to the gills.

"We just need to give it some time, sir." Fraiser said gently, as she looked around the room only to find that her staff, after completing their tasks, had beaten a hasty retreat. All except Lieutenant Meyers. The young nurse continued to rub O'Neill's undamaged back, offering a sip of water occasionally for his parched throat, willing the medication to speed its help to his beleaguered system. "Now then, what have you been doing to poor Lieutenant Meyers, sir? Sue, why don't you go change into scrubs while I talk to Colonel O'Neill," she smiled at the nurse, "Get yourself a cup of coffee while you're at it."

"Yes, Doctor Fraiser, thanks." Meyers looked at the Colonel as she set his cup on the bedside table and turned to leave the room, feeling she'd failed him in some way. Maybe she could make it up to him during the remainder of his stay, but first she had to get out of this gross uniform and take a quick shower.

"Oh, and tell Robinson to get back in here. Sergeant Happly has heard all she ever wants to hear about deer hunting." Fraiser grinned. The Medic was an avid hunter and would bend the ear of anyone stationary long enough to hear his exploits.

"YES, ma'am!" Meyers replied as she left the room, grinning from ear to ear.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I have to tell you Doc," he spoke quietly, breathlessly, as if he didn't have enough strength to complete the sentence. "If I don't get rid of this pain, you might have to tie me back down," he sounded tired, defeated, "Because I'm definitely---going---bonkers here."

Not having to look his physician in the eye definitely had its good points. He didn't have to see her disgust at his being such a baby, or even worse, a complainer. But even Jack O'Neill was human, and humans tended to become worn down by constant pain. It eroded the endurance of the strongest, making weak the most stoic.

Doctor Fraiser's large brown eyes opened wide in surprise. This admission was so unlike the Colonel, who'd rather admit to bad breath and body odor than admit he was in pain. She wondered, as she helped him recline back in bed, if his very apparent despondency had anything to do with a fear for his eyes? Was it the result of being drugged comatose for the last three days and the drugs still in his system? Or was he worn down with the constant struggle against a pain that had found no relief?

"Which pain are we talking about? What else should I know about, Colonel?"

She waited for his response, willing him to talk of his difficulties. She should have known better, his only reply was to turn in bed away from her and again weakly heave up almost nonexistent stomach contents.

Fraiser was faster on the draw than Lieutenant Meyers had been, and an emesis basis was under his chin before he covered himself, or anyone else, in vomitus. Sergeant Robinson chose that moment to return to his duties. He moved quickly to the bed to assist the Doctor. All three of them rode out the storm in silence.

When O'Neill was finished heaving and the nausea no longer clutched at his throat, he accepted ice chips from his favorite doctor.

"It probably won't cure any of your problems, sir," she said, nonchalantly, "But at least you'll have something on your stomach and the heaving won't be as painful. I'll send for some ginger ale too."

He could almost hear the humor in her voice. Did she really think this was funny?

"I spent a whole day watching the blasted sun bake my brains, didn't I? So, I don't find any of this particularly funny, Doctor," he quietly responded, through gritted teeth. "That's besides puking my guts almost from the time I left on that mission, pissing broken glass, stinking pains up and down my spine and back, into my balls like a knife - enough to drive me to my damned knees, and then straight to a nut house. What the hell's going on Doc?" He took a deep breath, quivering with emotion and fatigue, "Sorry, but I'm not finding the humor in any of this."

Fraiser looked at her patient, trying to see behind the bandages to the man. She could feel his frustration and hurt. She'd wanted candor, she'd received candor. Patients rarely chastised their doctors without justification, and in a normal setting the Colonel would have never spoken, much less admit to pain, or discomfort. But at this moment his censure of her unguarded comments felt deserved. Maybe familiarity did breed contempt.

Sergeant Robinson, holding his breath, tried to make his two hundred plus pounds disappear into the gray cement walls. If he were quiet, no one would notice him. He hated for anybody to mess with Doctor Fraiser, but he too had heard the misplaced humor in her voice as she spoke to her patient. He was grateful to hear Fraiser's next words.

"I apologize, Jack. I'm being too flippant about your suffering, and I have no excuse to offer. How about you let Sergeant Robinson make you as comfortable as we can manage, "I'LL" go for the ginger ale, and when I come back we'll talk about what's going on with you, and our plan of treatment. Okay?"

"Sounds good, Doc," he murmured sleepily, having already misplaced his tirade in muddled thoughts.

When she returned a little while later, with the ginger ale in hand, Fraiser found O'Neill quietly dozing. Robinson had him comfortably positioned on pillows and the over-the-bed-frame once more providing some meager privacy. The gentle hum of the warming machine accompanied the soft snore issuing from her patient.

She hated to awaken him. This was the first real, unmedicated rest he'd had in a long while, and would be for a while yet to come. She needed her patient quiet, in mind as well as body, if she was to prevent those burns from converting to third degree. And a quiet Jack O'Neill was either comatose, or heavily medicated. It wasn't his fault; it was just a fact of life.

"When can I see my team, Doc?" He asked quietly, almost whispering. But before she could answer sleep claimed him once again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

O'Neill awoke, a day later; to quiet sounds he'd grown used to over the last several years. A quiet shifting of pages in a book, keys gently tapping on a laptop computer, and the silent, guarded watchfulness of a friend greeted him as he attempted to shrug off sleep. He lay still, enjoying the calmness, and the familiarity of the moment. He couldn't see his team, but their actions fairly shouted of his, or her presence. He grinned - he couldn't help it, and it felt good using muscles he hadn't exercised since his return from 315. It felt even better knowing his guys were here.

"O'Neill, are you in pain?" Leave it to Teal'c to catch his stealth smile.

"Jack, you're awake, are you okay? Daniel joined in, anxiously.

"Colonel, can we get you anything?" Carter chimed in, eager as ever.

His smile broadened. And Thank God his eyes were bandaged; it would never do for his team to see him cry, or catch a glimpse of the tears leaking steadily from his abused eyes. His reply was a moment in coming. Like Daniel had said, "It's hard to talk with your heart in your throat."

"Hey, kids. How did you get in here? Did old Doc Fraiser drop dead, or something?"

"No, Jack, I think she felt guilty for some reason - probably for keeping you incommunicado for so long. So, how's it going?" Jackson was fairly bubbling with good humor. He'd laid his book down, and now gently rested his hand on Jack's shoulder.

"Pretty good, Danny, pretty darned good - now."

They heard the warmth in his quick reply. It must have been a cold and lonely time for him, with only the nursing staff for company - even if he was drugged senseless.

"What is Janet saying about...everything?" Carter asked. "When will you be out of here, sir?"

"She's not saying, Carter. And until they find out what's causing the pain in my back, I'm stuck here. The bandages come off," he made a motion to indicate his eyes, "---In a couple more days. Doc doesn't want the burns going south, so she's keeping me pretty drugged up, that way I'll stay quiet. I'm surprised they haven't been back with more joy juice." He sounded resigned, but even as much as he hated narcotics, this time he knew it was necessary---no argument - well, not much.

Conversation died as O'Neill felt the pain return. Doctor Fraiser had decreased his cocktail, although it still was strong enough to keep him fairly zonked. And yet here he was laughing with, and enjoying his team, but the pain was steadily growing, slowly building into a crescendo. To hold it off a little longer, he asked the one question guaranteed to spark a conversation.

"So, what the hell was going on out there, Carter?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Doctor Fraiser watched the tableau before her as she donned protective paraphernalia to enter the Isolation room. Sam Carter, also dressed in personal protective coverings, sat with her sleeping patient, quietly working, and ready to jump to attention if he should wake. He had been in and out of sleep; the sedatives did a marvelous job of keeping him quiescent and the nightmares at bay. Sam, Daniel and Teal'c's presence had proven a miracle at keeping his waking hours too occupied for bad dreams. The doctor felt a twinge of guilt, she'd been wrong in keeping his team away from the Colonel - it might have been sound medically, but it was definitely the wrong decision.

Fraiser had kept out of sight as much as possible, giving SG-1 plenty of time to become reacquainted. Besides, she had arrangements to make on O'Neill's behalf. Now, she was ready to tell him the good news and the not so good news, and here too, her work had been cut out for her.

Gowned and gloved, the doctor entered the Isolation room. Carter looked up from her work and smiled.

"He's been asleep since they last repositioned him, Janet. He was a little restless once," she reported quietly, almost whispering,remembering how she'd taken his out flung, bandaged hand in a gentle hold, and had placed her own warm touch on his arm. "--- But, he quietened down. And both Lieutenant Meyers and Sergeant Robinson said his blisters were drying up - that's good, right?"

"That's very good, Sam," she replied, "As soon as all of the blisters are dry, the danger of infection is lessened and we can move him out of Isolation---"

"---And then," a low sleepy voice interrupted, "I can have some clothes too, right Doc? I'm sorta' tired of flashing my bare butt."

"Yes, sir," Fraiser laughed, "There is that."

"So, Doc," he yawned, "What brings you in so early? Have any good news for me? Like when I can go home?"

Fraiser groaned loudly for effect.

"Not today, sir. But, I do have some good news, and, some not so good news. Are you up for it?"

"Just tell me that you can fix what ever this is, and that I can get out of here, I'll make do."

"Well, sir, the good news is that your bandages come off today - all of them. Doctor Alevaro will be here momentarily, to check your eyes. Your hands and feet are coming along fine; after the dressings are removed we'll keep the abrasions covered only with an antibiotic ointment. The burns are also healing very nicely, although we'll still have to keep a close eye on a couple areas. You'll start to peel in another few days." She hesitated for a moment and then continued, "You'll be very glad to know we've diagnosed the pain in your back. You'll be even more relieved to know it's not your spine causing the problem. I have a consultant looking over your x-ray studies and labs, and he'll be here after lunch to discuss our findings."

"A consultant, Doc?" He paused, trying to wrap his drug soaked brain around this particularly pesky problem. "What are you trying not to say?"

A frisson of fear shimmied down O'Neill's spine as he felt a hand slowly cord through his hair, as soothing and comforting as if someone held his hand. For a second the soothing hand distracted him from the doctor's words. But only for a second.

"Uh, Doc. There's a flip side to this great news, isn't there?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

O'Neill passed an otherwise boring afternoon pulling strips of dead skin from his chest and abdomen. Finally, being able to see, and having his hands free of those bandages was a blessing, in more ways than one - as he gingerly scratched a particularly irritating stretch of healing skin. Yesterday he'd also been moved out of Isolation and into a private area more befitting his rank, and was once again enjoying the comfort of clothing. Granted, it was the dreaded hospital gown that never quite covered everything, but it was hands down better than nothing at all. The worst of his burns were on the mend and old Doc Fraiser was thrilled that none of them had required skin grafting. But it had been touch and go there, for a while, and now the entire infirmary staff was breathing a sigh of relief.

Fraiser's consultant had come and was long gone now while O'Neill tried to come to terms with the diagnosis. It was so simple he thought, mentally smacking his forehead.

But then again, maybe it wasn't, especially since Doc hadn't been too quick to figure it out. But she'd had more pressing health issues to deal with after his return from M18-315, than his vague complaint of back pain. Plus, he'd been out of it for the most part - at least he didn't remember much at all.

A kidney stone, he almost laughed. A damned kidney stone! And now, another trip to surgery!

A kidney stone, hardly bigger than of a grain of sand, was the culprit. Its size may have amounted to nothing, but it was still large enough to cause his horrific pain and discomfort. And had done so for---God, he'd lost count of the long stretch of missing days.

The consultant, an urologist from Academy Hospital, said the stone was probably a fluke, given the colonel's excellent physical health and activity level. But it was too large to pass down the normal channel of the ureter. Or a stricture, a narrowing in the channel, possibly caused by a long forgotten injury, blocked its passage and the flow of urine to the bladder. O'Neill also suffered the effects of hydronephrosis, or fluid build-up in the kidney, and most definitely a high creatinine level. Both problems, if left too long would result in a damaged kidney. He recommended surgery, as soon as possible, for removal of the stone and drainage of the kidney. It had been left too long already due to other overlying problems.

O'Neill snorted in amusement, only partly caused by another long strip of dead skin he'd pulled free. He'd better not let Carter, or Daniel, catch him repeating those multi-syllabic words and phrases, or his cover was blown.

It was a simple procedure, according to the doctor, but the description of which had his body parts shrinking in reaction. O'Neill grunted at his droll humor. He was now waiting for his team to escort him to a waiting Air Force ambulance, which would transfer him to the Academy Hospital for a couple of days.

A quiet knock on the door interrupted his internal monologue.

"Come," he barked, through the half closed door. He quickly covered, with the much abused hospital gown his naked torso, which was liberally dotted with ratty, tatters of dead, peeling skin.

Carter walked into his room, a set of clean, starched BDU's over one arm and a field bag in the other. She looked supremely pleased with herself.

"So, Carter, when did you join the valet service," he asked with a smile.

"When Daniel went off world with SG- 6, to help translate some archaic native technical manual," she responded, with a smile of her own. "I volunteered to go in Daniel's place, but I think his little stint at nursing on 315 scared him more than he wanted to admit, and way more than he wanted you to know about. So, it's our little secret, sir."

O'Neill nodded his head in understanding; Daniel had seen him through too many hellacious situations and circumstances to fault him for one measly weakness.

"So, where's Teal'c? Did he go with Daniel?"

"He's already up top. He's intimidating the ambulance driver into letting him work the siren all the way to Academy Hospital. So far, the eyebrow is winning," she said laughingly. "So, Colonel, I brought your clean utilities, boots, and etcetera's. And we can get out of here as soon as you're dressed."

Carter made no move to leave the room, or allow O'Neill privacy, and sat down comfortably, and nonchalantly, in the only chair in the sparse room.

"Carter," he said slowly, finally moving to swing his legs out of bed, "I hate to be indelicate here, but I have to put on those etcetera's, if you don't mind. Otherwise you're welcome to stay---"

She jumped out of the chair, astounded at her unthinking action.

"Oh, sorry, sir." She blushed, "Why don't I go get the wheelchair while you, while you ah---"

"Get dressed, Carter?" An impish twinkle lit his eyes.

"Yes, sir. I'll get that chair, sir."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Epilogue --------

"So, as far as we can figure, Jack, they're the planets garbage collectors, the 'disposers' - if you will. The pictographs down in the cavern were very detailed, like someone knew the end was coming." Daniel was silent for a moment, as if paying tribute to the people who'd recorded their own demise. "The video I was able to get, with the help of SG-3, is great. The 'disposers' are all that remain now; they've disposed of all the old and infirm until there was nothing and no one left. Just like they tried with you."

Daniel's impromptu conference took place in O'Neill's Academy Hospital room. They were waiting for O'Neill to be discharged. His attending physician had been held up in surgery, yet wanted to see Jack before he left for home.

O'Neill, lounging comfortably on his rumpled bed, remained silent during Daniel's speech. Uncharacteristically Jack appeared relaxed, well rested and at ease, instead of fractious, ready to take on the world and discharge himself.

"I'll show you old and infirm --- as soon as this heals," O'Neill finally spoke up.

'This' being his newly excavated ureter with its very own synthetic drainage system. His surgery had gone very well, Dr. Couch had been able to remove the stone without too much superfluous manipulation of the ureter. The stone had been larger than a grain of sand, but a stricture in the channel had prevented his ureter's natural peristalsis from expelling it.

In the coming few weeks, O'Neill would become up close and personal with his new ureteral stent, and its affect on his bladder. Dr. Couch had explained, in mind-boggling detail, all about the little curly-cue of plastic that would remain inside him for a few weeks. He would be off duty for another two weeks, resting and getting acclimated, and then on restricted duty until the stent was removed - somewhere between two to six more weeks - "piece of cake." He was already feeling the pressure.

As for his other problems, they were healing. Enough said - he didn't want to dwell on them. He'd deal with the nightmares as they appeared. He still had to see a psychiatrist at some point - it was S.O.P. when torture was involved, before he was allowed near the Stargate again.

Right now, it was enough that his life was getting back on track.

Daniel watched his friend. He was too quiet, but he'd been through a harrowing experience and only tincture of time would heal all of his wounds.

"So, Jack, you'll be off for what, a couple of weeks until you're feeling better? Are you going up to the cabin? Do some fishing?"

O'Neill grinned at his best friend and shook his head.

"Won't have enough time to go fishing this turn, Daniel. Plus, old Doc Fraiser won't let me outside in the sun for very long, and even then I have to wear a ton of "super sp" sunscreen. She said it's too early, too much skin damage. Besides," he continued, flashing Daniel another grin, this one relieving the tiredness around his eyes, "I gotta' go home, I've got grass to cut."

The End 10-01-05

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A Stone in The Hand

by Soles