A Time to Heal
By Elaine Stouse - Elaine.Stouse@Virgin.Net


RATING: PG-13

WARNINGS: Sexual situations

CATEGORY: Jack and Sara, R-Jack

SPOILERS: Sequel to Passages Of Time

TIME FRAME: Set in Season 2 after "Serpent's Song"

SUMMARY: Jack is struggling to come to terms with the nightmare events in 
Egypt and beyond, when help comes from an unexpected source.

DISCLAIMER: Stargate Sg-1 and its characters are the property of 
Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret 
Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment 
purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is 
intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the 
property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without 
the consent of the author. 

AUTHOR'S NOTES: You kind of have to read my other story Passages of Time 
in order to fully understand this, and there are a few days overlapping 
with the end of that story. Unless you're just here for some gratuitous 
sex, in which case go to the NC-17 version and read on! <EG>

Anyway, this started out purely as a piece of R-rated self-indulgence, 
partly as a challenge to myself to see whether I could write such a thing 
and partly to help motivate me to complete that aforementioned other 
mammoth writing exercise. As usual my muse had other ideas and this is 
the first half of the result.

Since real-life intervened drastically and I have been unable to write 
any more since the beginning of December, I figured it was about time I 
posted the first half, if only to give me enough of a kick to finish the 
second half.

There are two versions, one is PG-13 the other NC-17.

Feel free to snigger at my feeble attempts! Feedback gratefully accepted 
as always.

Thanks must go especially to Carol for always being supportive and 
encouraging throughout the duration of this interminable piece of work. 
And to Linda, Debbie and the rest of the RDADs, simply for being there.


                         *******************

A Time To Heal - Part One:

Thursday: Just A Dream Away

On Thursday evening, Jack caught a cab to the diner and by the time he 
had settled into a booth he was beginning to feel like an excited 
teenager on his first date. It was ridiculous really, all they were going 
to do was have a cup of coffee together and talk. For a start he planned 
to apologise for his behaviour almost two weeks before, for causing Sara 
worry, not to mention her being woken up by the police in the middle of 
the night because of him.

When Sara arrived, dead on time, she looked as beautiful to Jack as the 
day they had met. She was dressed simply in washed out blue jeans and 
brown leather ankle boots, a white t-shirt, with a pale lemon sweater 
over the top, left loose and unbuttoned. She took one look at him and 
smiled so brightly he felt his heart ache despite everything he had 
promised to himself beforehand. All his resolve seemed to crumble in the 
face of her attention.

"Jack, you look great!" Sara exclaimed when he stood up to greet her, 
practically examining him from head to toe. "You look so much better than 
when I last saw you," she emphasised, "And you've had the cast off your 
hand!" Jack waggled his fingers a fraction to demonstrate the returning 
movement. "That's wonderful!" she declared happily, sitting down in the 
booth and watching him retake his seat opposite her. 

Jack carefully avoided bashing his ribs against the edge of the table, 
whilst trying to make sure that Sara didn't notice he was favouring that 
side. 

"A few leftover bruises I see, and you still need to gain some weight, 
but you've lost that haunted look," she added almost shyly, gazing into 
his brown eyes.

"Well, I aim to please," Jack quipped lightly, somewhat overwhelmed by 
her reaction to seeing him again. "Sara, look," he paused, searching for 
words that would reflect his sincerity, "I wanted to apologise for what I 
put you through the other weekend."

"Jack, you don't have to apologise for anything," Sara said softly, 
laying her fingers over the strapping on his right hand and patting it 
gently.

Jack held her gaze, covering her hand with his left, entwining his 
fingers with hers, soaking up the moment while it lasted and storing 
every detail into memory. 

"So, do you want coffee?" he asked eventually.

                         *******************

"Mineral water! Since when?" Sara exclaimed softly after the waitress had 
left their table, gazing at him with such a look of wide eyed wonder it 
stopped Jack in his tracks, forcing him to swallow the dishonest excuse 
he had been about to give her, the one where he blamed Daniel for 
badgering him into kicking the caffeine habit.

Instead Jack shrugged, knowing he couldn't lie to her and didn't have to. 
"I haven't drunk coffee for about seven weeks," he admitted a little 
sheepishly.

Sara looked at him closely, concern in her eyes. "Was that 
before.......?" she trailed off, knowing the answer from the 
uncomfortable squirming of his shoulders.

Jack nodded, breaking eye contact to stare out the window into the 
darkened street beyond the diner. "Daniel thinks it's the one good thing 
that came out of it!" he said eventually, trying to smile at the thought.

"How are things with you and Daniel?"

"Okay, actually," Jack said, brightening up, "We had a long talk Tuesday 
night. Things are pretty much back to normal there I think."

"He seems a good person, a little too serious maybe." Sara smiled, 
recalling her encounter with the earnest man, "He certainly cares about 
you, but I kind of got the impression the feeling is mutual......"

Jack nodded thoughtfully, "Can't fault the guy that saves my life, can 
I?"

"Well I'm glad you got things sorted between you, he seemed so guilty 
about it all, like he blamed himself for whatever had happened." She 
watched him closely, testing for his reaction, wanting to see how well he 
was really handling things.

"Yeah, there's been a lot of that going around lately," Jack said 
quietly, glancing away from her again, "But I think we pretty much dealt 
with it all the other night."

Sara took another look at his face, the dark shadows beneath his soft 
brown eyes, detecting the weariness there which she hadn't spotted 
before. "Must have been a long night. No wonder you look tired."

Before Jack had to answer the waitress came back with their drinks. "Do 
you want anything to eat?" he asked quickly.

Sara thought for a moment. "Yes, wouldn't mind actually. I have to go 
into work later, I could do with something beforehand." She turned to the 
waitress, "I'll just have a cheeseburger please."

Both women glanced at Jack, waiting for him to add his order. He didn't 
really want anything, but he knew he would have to, or face a new 
onslaught of questions. "Tuna on plain rye, please," he finally decided 
reluctantly.

The waitress had written down the order and left before Jack acknowledged 
Sara's look of astonishment somewhat sheepishly. "Can't face fried food 
anymore," he shrugged, as though it was the most natural thing in the 
world for him not to order his normal half a cow in some greasy form or 
other. "Actually, I'm not doing very well with any meat at the moment," 
he added feebly, wondering why he seemed incapable of coming up with any 
good excuses in the face of her penetrating blue eyed gaze.

"What have you been eating lately?" Sara asked gently, beginning to 
understand why he didn't appear to have gained much of the lost weight 
back on since she last saw him almost two weeks earlier.

"The doctor's got me on protein shakes and iron supplements. Believe me, 
once you've had a few of those each day you really don't want to eat 
normal food!" Jack said, as if that was an answer to her question. Sara 
just continued to stare at him until he gave in and told her the rest. 
"Okay, not a whole lot else really, except plenty of milk, apparently I 
need the calcium," he attempted a smile. "I just don't seem to have any 
appetite lately, no matter how much fresh air and exercise I get, I just 
don't get hungry," he eventually admitted.

"Jack you've got to start eating properly again or you'll never get 
yourself back on track," Sara said worriedly. She knew she had no right 
to quiz him like this, but she was unable to suppress her concern, "What 
does the doctor say about it?"

"I think she's relieved that I've stopped drinking coffee and eating 
fried food!" Jack tried to lighten the conversation with a grin, finding 
the grilling getting way too uncomfortable. "Actually, I had a bruised 
kidney and apparently it makes life a bit easier on it if I'm not eating 
that sort of stuff," he said honestly, wondering again why he was telling 
her all this, why he seemed unable to stop himself in the face of her 
attention. "Although, when it's all sorted, Janet's threatened to take me 
out for steak and force feed me if necessary!" he quipped.

"Janet?" Sara asked curiously, feeling an odd pang of jealousy at the way 
he was talking about this other woman.

"Oh, Doctor Fraiser, she's one of the physicians at the base," Jack 
explained, "She's a really good friend, I think you'd like her. She's 
saved my life about as many times as Daniel has lately," he added softly, 
still amazed by what the doctor had done for him recently, especially the 
fact that she had joined forces with Daniel to rescue him from that 
hellhole in Giza. 

Jack knew he would never be able to repay Janet, all he could really do 
was try his best to not cause her any further grief. That meant avoiding 
any more unscheduled visits to the infirmary and swallowing all the 
protein drinks and supplements she had ordered him to take each day, no 
matter how bad they tasted.

"And Daniel's been taking me into the drive-thru every time he gives me a 
lift home now, I think he's trying to tempt me to eat a Big Mac! But the 
diversion's not such a bad deal, because their banana milkshakes are to 
die for!" That last comment finally got Sara smiling again, much to 
Jack's relief, and he quickly searched for a way to deflect the 
conversation completely while she was distracted, "So you said you have 
to go into work later?"

"Yeah, all the guys are out on a stag do tonight, so I promised I'd cover 
for them. I have to go straight from here," Sara said, leaning back from 
the table as the waitress placed their food in front of them with a 
friendly smile and the standard enquiry for whether they needed anything 
else. She received the usual "Thanks" and "No thanks" answers for her 
troubles, told them she hoped they enjoyed their meal as if she meant it, 
and went back behind the counter.

Sara tucked into her cheeseburger with relish, whilst Jack slowly chewed 
a single bite from his sandwich before continuing the conversation 
smartly to cover his lack of appetite, "You know it's never ceased to 
amaze me how you manage to keep up with these odd hours. When did you 
sleep today?"

"I had a couple of hours after I got home this afternoon, then I'm off 
from tomorrow until next Tuesday, so I can sleep in the morning for as 
long as I like." She smiled lazily at that delicious thought, then an 
earlier incomplete thread of conversation came to mind, "So how are you 
sleeping now?"

Jack stopped short, his mouth around his sandwich, wondering how he'd 
managed to choose a topic that backfired onto him that badly. He looked 
at his food sourly and placed it back onto the plate, then he brushed the 
crumbs from his hand onto his jeans and stared out the window for a 
moment, trying to figure out what the real answer was to that question. 

"Better actually, you know......," he trailed off, remembering waking up 
in the middle of the previous night and giving up on his bed, instead 
wandering out onto the deck wrapped warmly in a blanket to sleep out 
under the stars. That had worked, for awhile at least. He reckoned he had 
probably slept soundly for a couple of hours longer than normal. It 
didn't go very far to catching up on all those lost nights, but it was a 
start. 

"Yeah, it's definitely getting easier," Jack assured her more positively. 
He was certainly no longer as afraid to close his eyes and several times 
he had not actually been woken by the nightmares. It was about fifty-
fifty at present between waking with a gasp, his heart racing in terror 
and the wispy images of violence slowly drifting out of reach, or being 
woken by the pain of accidentally rolling over onto his broken ribs. 

He had stopped taking the painkillers Doctor Fraiser had prescribed, they 
just left him feeling too fuzzy headed and out of control for his liking. 
Besides, he was still getting way more exercise, climbing up and down 
those stairs at the base, than Janet knew about and he really didn't want 
to overexert himself. How would he know he was pushing his luck too far 
if he couldn't actually feel any pain he was causing?

But things were improving, of that he was sure, last night when he had 
gone out to sleep under the stars he had not woken again until the dawn 
chorus had become persistently loud in his ears and the rising sun had 
shone directly into his eyes. Jack smiled, relaxing slightly at that 
encouraging thought. 

Glancing across to Sara, he noticed she was watching him intently, almost 
finished with her burger. With renewed effort, he picked up his sandwich 
and took another bite, forcing himself to chew and swallow, in between 
sips of mineral water, until he had eaten one of the two halves.

"Finish it all and I'll buy you a banana milkshake on your way home!" 
Sara laughed at his attempts, "That is assuming you want a lift?"

"I was going to catch a cab," Jack explained, "You really don't have to 
go out of your way."

"Come on, Jack, you know your place is practically on my way to work," 
Sara pointed out gently, "It's no trouble at all." Besides, she wouldn't 
admit it, but she had a feeling he would walk home otherwise and there 
was something about the idea of him wandering through the dark streets 
alone that scared her at the moment, something she couldn't quite put her 
finger on.

When they were both finished, Jack settled the bill and dutifully 
followed Sara out to her vehicle, parked a little way down the road. The 
black and chrome paint work of the hood was lit up beneath the glow of a 
bright orange street lamp. 

Standing on the opposite side of her Jeep, Jack watched Sara push her 
unbuttoned sweater out of the way at her waist to delve her hand into her 
jeans pocket and extract the car keys. He found himself unable to take 
his eyes off her. Sara's figure hugging t-shirt and jeans highlighted 
every curve of her body in a way that provoked all sorts of forbidden 
thoughts in his head. Ideas that he knew he shouldn't even be having. 
Impossible fantasies that tugged at his heart, not to mention other parts 
of his anatomy, and left him reeling under a weight of lost opportunity 
that was more than he could bear right now.

"You know, I really don't mind catching a cab," Jack offered feebly, 
wondering if there was any way out of being forced to sit next to that 
body, so close and yet so out of reach in the confines of Sara's soft top 
Wrangler Jeep, a vehicle he had never realised looked so sexy until now. 
He glanced away, avoiding her gaze, certain that all his lascivious 
thoughts were written right across his face for all to see. 

Jack stared around, searching for some way to focus his mind on something 
other than the idea of running his hands over her body, feeling her silky 
skin against his own. His eyes fell on the sight of the shop window she 
had parked in front of, a take out delicatessen, offering a long list of 
'delicious' lunch snacks including pastrami on rye, burgers, steak 
sandwiches......Oh yeah, Jack thought to himself sourly, that'll do it!

"You know I won't bite," Sara laughed softly as she noticed his obvious 
reluctance to climb into the vehicle. "And my driving isn't nearly as bad 
as you think!" He turned back to look at her with that sheepish 
expression that made her heart skip a beat every time he used it. 

She smiled to herself, wondering if he had any idea what he was doing to 
her tonight, positive that he didn't have a clue. The self-deprecating 
way he'd been acting told her he probably hadn't even contemplated the 
sight of his own reflection in at least seven weeks. 

How could he possibly know the effect he was having on probably any red-
blooded female that passed anywhere near him, and especially the effect 
he was having on one who had shared his life for all that time, what 
seemed so long ago now. One who remembered the taste of his lips, the 
feel of his warm skin against hers, his strong arms around her, the 
laughter in his voice and the love in his eyes. Someone who could only 
dream of ever having such a relationship again, when all she really 
wanted was to be with him. 

Sara swallowed, her smile wavering under the impact of the loss she felt 
whenever she looked at him, seeing something she would never have again, 
struggling to suppress vivid memories that were being sparked by the way 
he looked tonight. The way his black jeans were belted at the waist a few 
extra notches than normal because of the lost weight, highlighting the 
shape of hips that she ached to hold in the depths of passion, long legs 
that she wanted to entangle with her own. 

She yearned to free his right hand from the strapping that was protecting 
it, to feel his long slim fingers touching her skin, trailing fire over 
her entire body. She craved to pull his black t-shirt from his jeans, to 
raise it up and expose his chest to her soft kisses, to wrap her arms 
around his naked body, to feel the strong muscles of his back beneath her 
fingertips and to intertwine herself with him until she could no longer 
tell where her body ended and his began. 

Their eyes met over the roof of her Jeep and, for a moment, Sara could 
almost imagine that he was thinking exactly the same thing as her. Then 
he broke contact, as if the intensity of their gaze made him 
uncomfortable. 

With an inward sigh, Sara opened the car door and climbed into the 
driver's seat, jamming the keys into the ignition with a slightly 
trembling hand. 

She started the engine and put the vehicle into gear as Jack finally 
settled into the passenger side. Putting his seatbelt on, he tightly 
gripped the strap with his left hand, hoping Sara wouldn't notice the way 
he was holding the belt away from his ribs, but glad of something to do 
with a hand that really just wanted to wander all over her body and 
explore every intimate part. 

As the Jeep pulled away from the sidewalk, Jack stared out the window, 
concentrating on the sight of darkened buildings as they passed, trying 
to ignore the ache in his heart that now matched the one in his ribcage. 

                         *******************

When Sara dropped him off outside his home, Jack could think of nothing 
more to say except "Goodbye". There were no words to express how much he 
wanted to see her again, how he wished they could just pick up their 
lives as if nothing bad had ever happened to them. And even if he could 
find a way to say it, he knew he never would. It would be unfair of him 
to even attempt to put Sara into such an awkward position. She had a life 
of her own now, she didn't want to get involved with him again, why would 
she?

So Jack simply thanked her and said goodbye. He told her to take care and 
then closed the door of the Jeep behind him, turning towards the house 
before Sara could see the look of misery in his eyes that he could no 
longer hide. 

Jack fished in his pocket for his door key, trying to find some way to 
explain to himself just why he still felt so strongly for her after three 
years apart. He heard her vehicle drive away behind him and his heart 
sank at the fading sound, knowing that it heralded the final closure of 
that part of his life. It signalled the end to any hope he had retained 
after arriving home from that first mission to Abydos, with an improved 
outlook on life, only to find Sara packed and gone. Jack shook his head 
in frustration and jammed his key into the lock to enter his empty house. 

Once inside, he grabbed a glass of iced water from the kitchen, opened 
the sliding doors in the den to let in some fresh air on the cool late 
evening breeze, and gingerly sank down onto the sofa. Unzipping his black 
leather boots, he kicked them off, put a cushion behind his head and laid 
back tiredly, lifting his feet up onto the arm at the opposite end. He 
rubbed his face with his hand, a heavy sigh escaping his lips, and closed 
his eyes for a moment, too exhausted and emotionally drained to even try 
and stop himself from drifting off into a fitful doze.

If conscious thought had been available to him, even Jack would have been 
surprised by the speed in which he reached a dream state. His body curled 
up protectively in response, lying on his right side, knees drawn up to 
his chest, and arms wrapped tightly around him. Horrified words escaped 
his lips, his haunted features contorting with emotion. 

"Sara!" Jack murmured again, his left hand clenching into a tight fist, 
his whole body taut. In his mind's eye he watched helplessly as the 
tragic events unfolded before him.

He saw his wife and their son Charlie, held captive by Apophis to be used 
as hosts. The resurgence of a drug induced hallucination, previously 
buried deep amidst memories of appalling torture, now pushed to the 
surface. The traumatic vision provoked by renewed loss, the psychological 
impact of Sara leaving him again, driving away, out of his life for good, 
in a manner which Jack had felt powerless to prevent. A painful reality 
that now prompted a resumption of that nightmare image, forcing him to 
relive the torment of one dreadful grief filled moment.

"Charlie!" Jack cried out in desperate horror. He was trapped, unable to 
do anything but watch as a mature Goa'uld larva crawled over his son's 
shoulder, preparing to pierce the back of the neck. 

The young boy's terror stricken paralysis was abruptly broken and he 
stared at his father accusingly. "I hate you! I hate you!" he shouted 
ferociously, "Look what you've done to us! This is all your fault!" His 
hysterical voice became an agonised shriek as the larva burrowed deep, 
puncturing the skin between his shoulder blades to wriggle inside the 
body. It wrapped around the spine to take control, unconcerned by the 
pain inflicted upon the child host. 

With frightening finality, Charlie's eyes glowed luminously as he 
succumbed to the power of the new evil within him. The innocent young boy 
was gone.

"No!" Jack's hoarse whisper was filled with despair, the intensity of 
emotion increasing unbearably as Sara was forced to endure the same fate 
as their son. 

She held his gaze bravely, resolute, unwilling to show her fear as she 
was taken over by the Goa'uld. Her slim fingers dug into her palms, her 
mouth clamped firmly shut, determined not to cry out. A single sorrowful 
tear escaped down Sara's cheek, her face creasing with pain as the larva 
penetrated the back of her neck, violating her body with its abhorrent 
presence. 

Her once sparkling blue eyes at first went dead and then lit up in a 
chilling white blaze that turned Jack's heart to stone. Sara's mind and 
body were all too rapidly conquered by the Goa'uld inside her, a loving 
smile dying on her lips to be replaced by a blank unrecognising stare. 
Her spirit, her whole life, overpowered by something beyond her control. 

Tossing and turning in his sleep, Jack screamed his wife's name out loud, 
a blood curdling cry filled with anguish. His body shifted heedlessly on 
the sofa until one of the loose cushions jammed between the back of the 
couch and his side, suddenly pressing hard into his healing ribs.

Jack awoke with a yelp of pain that became a gasp of agony as he sat up 
too abruptly, fighting to escape the unearthly images of an horrific 
scene floating vividly before his terrified gaze. The sudden movement 
left him reeling against the resulting effect on his ribcage. 

Holding his arm against his side for support, Jack slid his feet to the 
floor, his chest heaving as he struggled to refill his lungs. With a 
strangled sob, he buried his head in his hands, wiping dampness from his 
face with fingers that shook. Trembling with shock, Jack concentrated on 
trying to get his breathing under control, the ache in his ribs helping 
to focus beyond a fear so strong that he could taste it, so intense that 
his heart was thudding painfully hard. 

Desperate to break free from the crushing weight of a nightmare that 
threatened to smother him, Jack stood up and moved out through the 
sliding doors to sit on the steps leading down into the backyard from the 
deck. He shuddered at the sudden drop in temperature, lifting his gaze to 
stare up at the stars. Jack let the night sky fill his view, trying to 
suppress all cognisant thought as he was hit by a wave of grief for the 
loss of his family.

Eventually he could fight it no more. Utterly defeated by an unrelenting 
onslaught of images, Jack returned inside, heading for the kitchen. His 
resolve destroyed, incapable of stopping himself, he opened cupboards and 
the refrigerator, hunting for something specific that in the back of his 
mind he could only pray he would not find.

Despondently, Jack stood in the centre of the room, lost and alone. He 
had an undying urge to head for the nearest liquor store, now that he 
knew there definitely was no alcohol in the house. He guessed that Daniel 
had seen to that, presumably some time during that weekend, a little 
under two weeks before, when he had taken on the ghastly task of drying 
out his commanding officer.

Jack glanced around in despair, seeking some other method to escape the 
emotions that threatened to overpower him. He stepped across to the sink 
and ran the water until it was icy cold, scooping his left hand beneath 
the tap to splash his face and neck repeatedly until he could at least 
feign some semblance of control. Shivering, he grabbed a towel and patted 
his face dry, hanging it around his neck to soak up the water on the now 
damp t-shirt clinging to his shoulders.

For a long time, Jack stood leaning against the sink, staring out into 
the dark night, gazing unfocused past his own reflection to see only the 
blackness beyond. Finally, he shook himself and turned away from the 
window, heading out of the room and down the hall, driven by instinct 
alone. 

Reaching for the telephone with a hand that still shook slightly, he 
dialled a number from memory without allowing himself to think about what 
he was really doing.

When the female voice answered, Jack tensed, his mind racing, wondering 
what the hell he was planning to say. As the recorded message kicked in, 
his first inclination was to hang up, but his dulled reactions simply 
weren't fast enough for Sara's few brief but cheery words, the beep had 
sounded before he even managed to express his irritation.

"Damn," he muttered, forgetting the tape would pick up every word, not 
knowing what to do and feeling foolish for the sound of silence. Jack 
hesitated. "Guess you're at work," he said feebly wondering what time it 
was. He knew it was dark outside, so of course Sara was still working, 
she had told him herself she would not be finished until morning. "Sorry, 
um........never mind." 

Jack replaced the handset, feeling like an idiot and hoping that maybe 
the tape had cut off during his long pause, perhaps fooled by the period 
of silence into thinking he had finished his message already. He scrubbed 
his hand through his hair, totally lost and downhearted. Eventually, he 
grabbed a blanket off the end of a nearby armchair and headed back 
outside to try and sleep on the wooden lounger on the deck, praying that 
this time it would not end quite so horrifically.

                         *******************

Friday: A Long Time Coming

For a change it was actually a reasonable time of day when Jack drew near 
to home that Friday afternoon. He had left the base early to run an 
errand, getting the airman to drop him off in town. It had taken him well 
over an hour to walk, or at least dawdle, from the centre towards the 
rural outskirts where his house was situated.

Yeah 'dawdle' is right, Jack thought to himself ruefully. He wasn't sure 
why he had walked so slowly, he did have a lot of thinking to do and this 
was always a good way to do it. But that wasn't it, he just didn't know 
what he was going to do when he reached his destination. He was simply 
delaying the inevitable loneliness that would hit him as soon as he 
entered that empty house. It had never bothered him so much before, but 
lately Jack had realised just what was missing and now he couldn't get 
thoughts of Sara out of his mind.

It had almost seemed easier the first time she left. For a start he'd had 
things to do back then, like finding a place of his own so he could move 
out of their family home and leave it for Sara, knowing he could never 
withstand the memories that house would always hold for him anyway. 

And it had taken months to fix up the decrepit ruin he had bought into 
something liveable. An absorbing task he had thrown himself into 
wholeheartedly, something to help him forget and move on. Except now he 
realised it had only been his body and mind that had moved on, his heart 
had stayed right back with Sara, resolutely refusing to budge, until he 
was forced to simply ignore that part of himself completely.

Now as debilitated as he was by his annoying injuries, he had nothing to 
immerse himself in that would require such complete concentration of 
physical and mental effort. Instead he was left with a wandering mind 
that had nowhere to go except back. 

At least he was spending his time rebuilding bridges, first with Daniel 
and now the bar waitress whose head he'd managed to get smashed in almost 
exactly two weeks before. He had not stopped to talk with Maggie for 
long. She seemed really kind, but he had sensed she was the sort who 
would not be shy to ask questions and Jack wasn't sure he could handle 
another grilling right now. 

Tomorrow it was Cassie's turn. At least applying some care and attention 
to mending that relationship would be a bit less like having teeth 
pulled, Jack decided with a soft smile.

If only he had been able to do the same with Sara, but he had always 
known that would be an impossible task. With them it was more like a 
suspension bridge, permanently jammed into the open position, with each 
one of them stranded on opposite sides of the river.

Now he was near home with a long evening ahead of him, and a gorgeous one 
at that. It was warm and sunny, slightly hazy from the heat. It gave him 
an excuse to sit out on the deck and watch the sun go down, but it was 
hardly going to fill up his evening, or his shattered life. 

Jack had never acknowledged until now just how much he relied on his work 
for fulfilment, even his social life tended to revolve around his team or 
other members of the SGC. A case in point was the fact that the only 
thing he had planned for the weekend involved the base doctor and her 
daughter.

He had fended off Daniel's offer to come round and watch the game with 
him that weekend, not to mention the younger man's earlier suggestion for 
the whole team to descend on the Colonel's house for a few rounds of 
poker. Jack wasn't ready for anything like that yet. He still hadn't 
quite found his feet with other people in general. He could handle one at 
a time was about all, but at least he was getting plenty of practice at 
that. 

Yeah, a lot of bridges to rebuild, he thought to himself again as he 
turned into his driveway and stopped in his tracks. 

Parked on the gravel forecourt like some heavenly apparition was one sexy 
soft top black and chrome Wrangler Jeep. Jack swallowed, his pulse racing 
a little too fast as he tried to convince himself he was just 
hallucinating again. Until the vehicle's even sexier owner appeared from 
around the side of the house. 

"Hi there," Sara greeted him lightly, "I was about to give up and get my 
lock pick out!" she grinned. "Well actually, to be honest, I was thinking 
about climbing the trellis to get in through that open window up there," 
she pointed to the second storey. "You really should be more careful 
about security you know. Anybody could get into your house."

Jack blinked, wondering whether he should pinch himself. He was slightly 
afraid that as soon as he spoke she would disappear in a puff of smoke.

Sara glanced at him, her apprehension increasing when he failed to speak, 
leaving her to continue to fill the void with inane chatter that would 
never pass her lips under less nervous circumstances. 

She had returned home that morning to discover a strange message from 
Jack on her answering machine. An odd tone to his voice that had left her 
sleepless for several hours worrying about its significance. Eventually, 
she had woken up not long after lunchtime, feeling strangely lost and on 
edge, and had spent a long time lying in bed thinking about the obvious 
reason for her unease.

After three years apart and several months before that when they had only 
been living together in the sense that they still shared the same 
address, Sara was surprised when she realised the depth of feeling she 
retained for her ex-husband. Two weeks ago, she was able to justify her 
emotions by telling herself it was simply sympathy for what Jack had 
apparently suffered. Yet when she saw him last night he had looked so 
much better, apart from the odd puzzling bruise on his face that she 
couldn't recall seeing the first time and thought really should have 
faded by now. 

So there was no reason for her to still feel sorry for him. She had to 
face facts. The strength of her love for him had never really faded at 
all, no matter how much she had convinced herself otherwise in the 
preceding lonely years. Sara knew she shouldn't even be considering 
getting involved with Jack again, yet somehow she couldn't help wondering 
what would happen if she did.

Contemplating whether it could possibly work out for better or worse and 
what harm might be done if she risked trying, Sara had remembered that 
early Saturday morning almost a fortnight before. She had thought of that 
kiss, an unrelenting passion burning within that had almost dissolved her 
reservations. She vividly recalled breaking away, turning from Jack's 
vulnerable gaze, telling him how she couldn't go through it again, how it 
hurt too much to be with him. And it did, there were so many unresolved 
issues between them, ones that were better left buried deep for both 
their sakes, surely? 

Sara remembered how guilty she had felt for even letting herself be taken 
into his arms, for sharing such a tender kiss in the first place, knowing 
his weakened, susceptible state. She had tried her best to forget him in 
the last eighteen months since that strange encounter with Jack and his 
team. It had been the only way she could cope without being convinced she 
was totally losing her mind. At first she had desperately wanted to call 
him up and ask what the hell had happened, but she knew Jack would not be 
able to answer her questions and his unresponsive silence would have been 
even worse than never asking at all. 

But now Sara knew she had been fooling herself to think she was over him, 
recalling how her heart had clenched painfully with Daniel's few words of 
explanation about Jack's condition. That the Colonel had been captured, 
held for over a week, shut up in a confined space. That, in Daniel's 
words, Jack got hurt pretty badly.

Above all, Sara remembered that brief encounter in his bathroom. The 
sight of his battered chest, the stark bruising, his pale face, the lost 
use of his right hand so heavily encased in plaster, and a timeless 
embrace. Her hands on his naked flesh, the strength of love that had 
resurged within her, an undying need to hold him unto eternity. It had 
taken all her resolve to release him, to walk away, her heart wrenching, 
the feel of his lips still burning her forehead where he had placed the 
softest of kisses. The sense of him watching her as she left.

She remembered saying goodbye to Daniel and driving away in her Jeep, 
reaching the seclusion of her own home before she had broken down and 
sobbed, her heart filled to breaking point with renewed grief, combined 
with anguish for what had been done to Jack. She missed him so badly and 
now she needed him even more. Sara desperately wanted to be able to hold 
him, comfort him, make everything better for him, soothe his nightmares 
and fulfil his dreams. 

And she needed him for herself too. She needed the love that he could 
provide, the emotional balance that she had always felt when the two of 
them were together, a sense of equilibrium, the feeling of being whole 
again. She yearned to make love with him like they had before, at times 
gentle, comforting, or passionate, fiery, exciting, even dangerous. It 
had been all those things during their relationship, fulfilling the need 
and the craving with almost embarrassing frequency when they were 
together, making up for their time apart when Jack was so often called 
away from home. 

A basic desire long repressed had resurfaced with that first tentative 
kiss nearly two weeks before, deep feelings surging forth as his lips 
brushed tenderly against hers. An almost overpowering urge to surrender 
into his arms that she had barely managed to suppress. And now Sara found 
herself regretting that she had ever done such a thing. Wishing that she 
had given into him, that they had shared their passion and love one more 
time.

So it was with a new resolve that Sara had climbed out of bed that 
lunchtime, determined to make one final effort to test the waters between 
them. She knew she was being selfish, that things could go horribly wrong 
and they could both get badly hurt, which was the last thing she wanted 
to do to Jack. Even so, she had to try. Instead of spending the rest of 
her life too afraid to commit to another relationship, she had to know 
whether there could ever be anything more between them, before she would 
finally be able to forget about the past and get on with her life.

So Sara had arrived outside Jack's home, finding it locked up, quiet and 
empty. She was wondering what to do next when he had turned into the 
drive, stopping in his tracks when he spotted her. 

Sara's smile faltered nervously as she saw the way Jack was staring at 
her in shock. "I figured maybe the way to get you eating properly again 
might be with some home cooked food," she hesitantly began to explain her 
presence in his driveway. "And.......well, I realised you weren't up to 
doing much cooking for yourself, what with your hand and all, so I 
thought.......if you don't have anything planned for this 
evening.......that I'd come over and cook us both dinner, assuming you 
don't mind," she smiled sheepishly, praying he would say something, 
anything, or else she might just jump in her car and flee.

"Mind? How could I possibly mind!" Jack smiled curiously, still somewhat 
stunned by her surprising, but extremely welcome, appearance.

"Alternatively, we could just go out for milkshakes," Sara said lightly, 
attempting to break through the awkwardness.

"I think I'd rather stay in, especially if you're going to be here," Jack 
said almost bashfully, finally taking a step forward to open the front 
door and let her into his home.

                         *******************

"Dinner will be about half an hour," Sara announced, stepping through the 
sliding doors onto the deck with a couple of drinks in her hands. She had 
banished Jack from the kitchen, flatly refusing his offers of help, 
sending him out to relax in the evening sunshine rather than having him 
watch her every move. Her nervousness growing along with her misgivings 
over what she could possibly be doing in his house, and how foolhardy her 
actions might prove to be.

Jack glanced up in response, a distant look in his eyes. He slowly 
focused on her, accepting the glass of juice that she offered him. 
"Thanks," he murmured softly, gazing at her smiling face, wishing he 
could see into her soul. He wondered if he could possibly read anything 
deeper in her arrival at his house than her professed intention to ensure 
he was fed properly for a change. She had shown no indication of wanting 
anything more and he knew he shouldn't even be thinking of such things. 
In fact he had been telling himself that for the last hour, as the heat 
of the day slowly waned and the sun began to set, perfectly timed for 
Sara's appearance outside.

"It's so beautiful here," she exclaimed quietly, sitting down in one of 
the wooden chairs and placing her glass of apple juice on the nearby 
table. Above the distant peaks, a few clouds were forming lazily, the 
sun's rays slowly turning them golden, through orange, and into pink hues 
as the ball of red fire gradually sank beyond the mountainous horizon.

Shifting his gaze from the setting sun back to Sara, Jack's heart 
clenched painfully as he saw the way her face was lit up in the golden 
glow, her eyes sparkling, clearly contented with her lot. And Jack knew 
he would do nothing to endanger her happiness, no matter how much he 
wanted to ask her to stay, he could never do it, not that night or any 
night. 

That fact made his heart ache more badly than ever, crushed beneath a 
wave of loss that was becoming horribly familiar to him, every time he 
looked at Sara, her bright blue gaze, her warm smile. The impact was 
unbearable and Jack quickly glanced away, swallowing against the lump in 
his throat as he tried to focus back onto the sunset. Its colours now 
seeping into the mountains, slowly turning dull and shadowy against the 
encroaching night sky, the changing tones accompanying his despondency.

A buzzer sounded loud through the kitchen window that Sara had opened 
against the building heat from the oven and she excused herself to 
disappear back inside. Jack sighed deeply, taking the opportunity to 
gather his resolve, telling himself to just make the most of her company 
while it lasted that evening, no matter how chaste. Soon it would be over 
and she would be gone forever from his life again.

                         *******************

Even Jack's non-existent appetite was beginning to be tempted with the 
tantalising smells wafting from the kitchen by the time Sara called him 
inside to eat. The meal was intentionally simple, enough so for even 
Jack's stomach to cope with and yet it was delicious. A home cooked 
vegetable lasagne, with a crisp green salad to accompany it. 

Sara had deliberately avoided using meat, instead preferring to entice 
Jack's taste buds, apparently missing in action, with something healthy 
that would not be a strain on his bruised kidney. She had also wanted to 
find something that did not resemble fast food by any stretch of the 
imagination. 

Concerned by his apparent queasiness when eating generally, Sara wondered 
if it was perhaps some sort of psychological rejection, the root of which 
she could not possibly imagine and wasn't sure that even Jack was aware 
of.

So it was heart warming for Sara to see the way Jack tucked into the 
meal, slowly at first, tentatively savouring an initial bite as if 
curious to see whether his stomach would accept it or if his taste buds 
would acknowledge the flavour. Soon he was hungrily eating both salad and 
lasagne, taking full forks at a time, none of the forced picking and 
nibbling Sara had witnessed in the diner the previous day. 

If this was the reaction Jack had to proper home cooked food, perhaps she 
would simply have to keep turning up on his doorstep with an arm full of 
groceries until he finally regained some of the weight he had lost during 
the last seven weeks.

That thought pulled her up short and Sara wondered sadly whether he would 
ever reveal anything of that time to her, whether he would ever let her 
back into his heart to help share even the tiniest burden of what he had 
endured. She swallowed a mouthful of lettuce past the lump now 
constricting her throat, uncertain of what the remaining evening would 
bring and suddenly afraid that this might be the last time they would 
share anything good together.

When they had finished eating, Sara offered Jack dessert, basically a 
selection of fresh fruit. But he assured her he was completely full, 
having cleaned his plate of the reasonably sized portion she had tested 
him with, and reiterated his glowing remarks about her delicious cooking.

"Thanks," he finished almost shyly, "You know you didn't have to go to 
all this trouble."

"I wanted to Jack," Sara told him, adding quietly, "I needed to do 
something, for my own sake."

Jack looked at her, holding her gaze with his soft brown eyes and Sara 
felt herself relaxing at last, certain that, no matter what happened that 
evening, it could not possibly be the last time she ever saw that face, 
she wouldn't allow it to be. 

She shifted in her seat, reaching across to gather the dishes as she 
pushed the chair away from the table and stood up.

"I'll wash up," Jack offered, "I think I can at least manage that one 
handed."

Not for the first time, his self-deprecating smile made her go weak at 
the knees and Sara inwardly scolded herself for such ridiculous 
behaviour. Still it stopped her from arguing with him and she dutifully 
followed him into the kitchen, carrying dirty crockery to place on the 
counter as he began to run hot water into the sink. 

Sara finished clearing the table, then returned to grab a tea towel. She 
began to wipe the dishes dry before stacking them on the counter to put 
away, hoping she could remember where she had found them all in the first 
place.

Jack practically had to hold his right hand behind his back in order to 
stop himself from grabbing plates and glasses with it. The temptation to 
overdo his use of it too soon was increasing with every fraction of new 
movement he got from his fingers each time he exercised them. Still he 
soon got into a rhythm with his left hand, dunking, wiping and placing 
crockery on the drainer.

They worked in comfortable silence, except for the sound of splashing 
water and clinking china. As Jack placed the last dripping plate onto the 
rack, Sara's hand reached out to pick up one already there. Their fingers 
brushed together briefly and Jack heard Sara's soft gasp of surprise as a 
spark of electricity passed between them. They both pulled away as if 
burnt, stunned that the simple touch had produced such a tingling 
response.

For a long awkward moment neither of them moved, then Jack quickly stuck 
his hand back beneath the soapy water before he was tempted to do 
anything stupid with it. The urge to take Sara into his arms and kiss her 
until they were both breathless was growing so powerful that it was 
taking all his concentration to suppress it, but he knew one wrong move 
and she would be straight out the door and out of his life for good. 

Instead Jack fished around at length in the sink, hunting for any missed 
items of cutlery and trying to ignore the tension he could feel emanating 
from Sara still standing so close to him. His task finished, he rinsed 
away the suds and moved back from the sink to grab a towel and dry his 
hand.

Sara felt his eyes watching her closely as she continued to wipe crockery 
trying to pretend that nothing had happened, which wasn't that far from 
the truth, she told herself beratingly. Finally she turned around to meet 
his hooded gaze, "Why don't you go on into the den, I'll finish putting 
this stuff away and make some coffee. Do you want any?" He shook his 
head. "Hot drink? Juice? Water?"

Jack continued his negative gestures until the list ended. "Sure I can't 
do anything else?" he asked quietly, a confused frown briefly revealing 
itself like a shadow across his face as he desperately tried to read her 
expression.

"No, I've got this covered. I'll only be a few minutes," Sara assured him 
a little too brightly.

Jack nodded reluctantly and pushed off the counter where he was leaning. 
Replacing the towel on the hook, he glanced once more in Sara's 
direction, but she had her back to him, taking particular care over 
drying a glass. Jack frowned again, then shook his head and left the 
room.

Entering the den, he sank down onto the sofa with a sigh and laid back 
against the arm, raising his feet onto the opposite end and fidgeting 
slightly until he got comfortable. He stared out through the open door at 
the dark night sky, rubbing his eyes tiredly and stifling a yawn, wishing 
he could figure out what might be going on inside Sara's head. 

She had him so off balance and he knew it was not intentional on her 
part, it was purely his own fault. He couldn't help imagining what it 
would be like for them to be together again, not just in the physical 
sense, but the way they had always been from the moment they met. Sara 
had made him feel complete, as though that final missing piece of the 
puzzle had been slotted into place. He had found someone to share his 
life with, to take part in his triumphs, to give comfort and solace when 
needed and allow him to do the same in return. 

Jack knew the love he felt for Sara could never be matched and for that 
he felt an immense loss, knowing he would never again experience such a 
fulfilling relationship in this lifetime. It seemed so final, but it was 
also realistic. He loved her too much, he always would. Noone else could 
ever have his heart in that way all the time she still owned it, lock 
stock and barrel.

Rubbing his face wearily, Jack wondered how it had gone so wrong, knowing 
that he had been the one to blame. They had always been best friends as 
well as lovers, supporting each other through thick and thin until that 
dreadful moment when their world had come crashing down and time had 
drawn all good things to an end. It had been several years now, but every 
single second of that day was still so painfully fresh in his mind that 
it hurt just to even contemplate remembering it. 

Jack closed his eyes to the threatening images, not wanting to go there, 
trying to blank out his thoughts, to push away the vivid memories of the 
death of his child. He needed to shove them back into the deepest 
recesses of his mind where he had kept them locked up tight since the day 
it had happened, festering and brooding until he had driven Sara away and 
lost everyone he had ever loved. 

At the time, it had suited him far better that way. By isolating himself 
there was less of a danger that he would actually have to face his 
feelings, the blame and torment he felt over what had occurred. The 
unspeakable grief of knowing he would never see his son grow up, never 
share the ball games of his childhood, the rebellious stories of his 
teenage years, or witness the wondrous events as the boy became a man and 
perhaps had children of his own.

Unable to stop himself, Jack was trapped by his memories, the floodgates 
had been opened by his prying mind, unable to leave it alone. Instead 
lying there wondering about Sara had brought to the fore all those lost 
hopes for their life together. Subconsciously Jack knew his only escape 
was to drift away from it all, and he was unable to stop himself from 
sinking into a tired doze, one corner of his mind praying he would not 
take his memories with him this time.

                         *******************

It was with a certain amount of trepidation that Sara eventually wandered 
into the dimly lit den. She had boxed up the leftover food and placed it 
into the refrigerator before making herself some coffee and finding the 
correct home for all the cutlery and dishes they had used. Now she was 
uncertain of her next move, somewhat unsettled that a simple touch of 
Jack's hand had such an effect on her, and worried by the apparent lack 
of any similar feeling sparked within himself.

She placed her cup down onto the coffee table and glanced across at Jack. 
A slight smile crossed her face when she realised he was asleep, eyes 
closed, his chest rising and falling shallowly. Sara stood hesitating for 
a moment, wondering if she should simply go home and leave him to rest, 
knowing this was her chance to escape if she wanted to. But she couldn't 
do it, she wasn't ready to leave, not yet. Instead she sank down into the 
comfortably worn armchair beside the fireplace to watch over him for 
awhile.

Gazing at his face, softly lit by the single side lamp switched on at the 
opposite end of the sofa, Sara couldn't help notice how boyish he still 
looked when he was sleeping, even though his hair was now turning grey. 
Colour which had not been present the last time she saw him, albeit 
briefly, over eighteen months ago. 

Starting from his temples, the grey was slowly spreading in a way that 
just seemed to make him even more handsome. His high cheekbones still 
stood out a little too prominently from the loss of weight, simply adding 
to the look of vulnerability about him as he slept.

Sara couldn't help being curious to see whether Jack really was sleeping 
better as he had assured her that previous evening. She regarded him 
closely, seeking any of the same outward indications from when his 
nightmare induced cry had disturbed her dozing, early that Saturday 
morning two weeks before.

Whilst she watched, Jack's breathing began to quicken slightly, his sleep 
becoming more restless. He gradually shifted onto his right side, curling 
up into a ball, his arms crossed defensively over his chest. Sara 
recognised the signs immediately, not only had she seen them just a 
fortnight ago, but also years before. 

For a long time after he had returned from Iraq, Jack had suffered 
countless nightmares, shocking and frightening disturbances that she had 
never known the truth behind and he would never tell her, wanting to 
protect her from the appalling reality of it. Instead Sara's own 
imagination had exacerbated the impact on her tenfold, filling in the 
gaps to fit what she saw on his face and heard in his sleep with what she 
had seen on the news every day since he had left their home, sent off to 
fight in some far away desert.

At the time, watching the reality of war, live on television, knowing 
Jack was somewhere in the middle of it, was the worst experience of 
Sara's life. A state rapidly superseded, first by the initial telephone 
call to say that her husband was missing in action, presumed dead, and 
then by the discovery that he was actually alive, but being held captive 
in a prison camp.

That had been the real beginning of her nightmare, knowing that Jack was 
still out there, alone and suffering. Sara had seen the news reports, the 
POWs paraded in front of the cameras by the Iraqis, battered and beaten, 
subjected to horrendous deprivations until they would do anything, say 
anything, even to millions of viewers around the world.

The helplessness she had felt with that new knowledge had been almost too 
much to handle, if it were not for her undying hope that some day they 
might still be together again. But seeing him in the hospital for the 
first time since his release left her angry and confused, not knowing 
whether he would ever be the same again, whether hope and love would ever 
be enough.

Of course, she had never told him. She could never burden him with her 
own feelings on the matter when he already had too much to bear, too much 
to forget. Jack had enough to face, struggling to overcome his injuries 
and his fears, so all Sara had been able to do was offer her husband 
comfort and understanding, love and support. Something that she again 
felt compelled to provide now, at the

sight of his new nightmare, more suffering that he had been forced to 
endure. Something that simply served to remind her how she had never 
stopped loving him, how that was never the reason she had left him. 

It had been Jack's refusal to let her in after Charlie's death that had 
driven Sara away, his refusal to spread the burden of responsibility that 
he felt, or to allow them to help each other. If he had only been willing 
to share what was in his heart, to accept forgiveness, then perhaps they 
would still be together, perhaps.

But after everything Jack had been through, everything he had learned 
from his appalling experiences, the most valuable lesson was one he had 
never applied to himself - the ability to forgive. 

Now whilst Sara watched, Jack's sleep was becoming increasingly 
disturbed. His lips moved soundlessly, his face creasing in the grip of 
emotions that left her wondering what could possibly be causing them this 
time. Expressions of fear, horror and grief contorted his features, their 
appearance made even more shocking when Jack suddenly called out her 
name, an anguished cry from the depths of his torment, "Sara!"

Startled not only by the word but by the way he said it, Sara's heart 
thudded in her chest, pounding painfully hard. She stared at him open 
mouthed, wondering how she had come to be included in one of Jack's 
nightmares. And in that moment, Sara knew that she had to find out the 
truth, no matter how hurtful the discovery might be, before she could 
ever consider any renewed relationship with this man.

That thought pulled her up short, and for the first time she realised 
that was really what she was considering doing, re-establishing some form 
of relationship with her ex-husband. And somehow the idea no longer 
frightened her like it had before, in fact the thought of not trying, of 
spending the rest of her life wondering 'what if', scared her more. If 
only they could address some of the problems between them.

Jack began tossing and turning in his sleep, mumbling painfully, 
incoherently. The anguish in his tone was distressing, heart rending. 
Sara stood up and crossed the room, kneeling down on the floor beside the 
sofa. She reached out a hand hesitantly, needing to touch him but 
reluctant to wake him from the grip of such a terrifying nightmare for 
fear of the psychological toll it could have on him. Still she 
desperately wanted to comfort him, to somehow pull him back into a 
dreamless state, for her own sake as much as for his.

Laying her fingertips lightly on his head, she stroked his tousled hair, 
whispering soft assurances and trying to soothe away his nightmares.

When Jack eventually began to settle, Sara sat back on her heels. Her 
fingers absently brushed a strand of hair from his face, trailing down 
his cheek to trace the line of his jaw, a wistful smile curving the 
corners of her mouth. Catching herself in her daydream, she pulled her 
hand away quickly, wondering what on earth she was doing thinking any 
such thoughts with so many unresolved issues floating between them.

As if sensing the loss of her contact, Jack's eyelids fluttered. Ethereal 
images drifted loosely in the forefront of his mind, their impact only 
slightly dulled by his more gradual awakening. Awareness slowly returned 
to him, bringing with it the horribly familiar sense of grief for the end 
of his family.

When Jack opened his eyes, his first sight was like an oasis in his 
isolated world. A pretty blonde head and a pair of sparkling blue eyes 
gazed at him, curious and concerned as he came back to the present. He 
blinked at her with such vulnerability in that unprotected moment between 
wakefulness and sleep. A lost look in his liquid brown eyes that tugged 
at Sara's heart, crumbling her remaining defences.

He smiled weakly, his voice soft, surprised, "You're here." He lifted his 
hand to her face as if needing proof of contact, stroking a shaking 
finger down her cheek. 

Sara leaned into his hand, powerless to deny him or to repress her own 
needs any longer. A soft sigh escaped her lips as she surrendered to his 
tentative touch, holding his gaze, feeling the lightness of his 
fingertips tenderly trailing down the line of her jaw to brush against 
her neck. 

Jack stared at her, chewing his lip slightly, acting on instinct alone. 
He hesitantly moved his hand over the silky blouse covering her shoulder, 
burying his fingers within the soft strands of hair falling at the nape 
of her neck. The pressure he applied was almost non-existent, but still 
she responded, tilting towards him, vaguely wondering which one of them 
was more nervous as her face reflected his own anxious expression.

The initial touch was so delicate, a whisper of breath between them as 
their lips tentatively met. But the effect was electrifying and Sara felt 
all conscious thought slipping away from her, losing herself in his kiss, 
barely able to breathe as the intensity increased and they both responded 
equally.

Jack slid his feet to the floor, sitting up, his lips on hers as she 
stretched up towards him, their heads almost on a level par. Their eyes 
closed, freeing the senses to feel, hear, touch, taste, to soak up the 
moment and absorb every spellbinding second of contact between them.

Placing his right hand lightly on the back of Sara's head, Jack let his 
strapped fingers entangle loosely in her blonde hair, moving his left 
hand to caress her cheek with his thumb. His fingers trailed down her 
neck, resting on the smooth warm skin at the edge of her blouse 
guilelessly. 

Sara's hands gripped his strong shoulders, massaging his firm muscles 
beneath her fingertips, slowly drifting beneath his denim shirt to trace 
the line of his collar bone through his soft cotton t-shirt. Her light 
touch nuzzled his neck, stroking against the tendons that shifted as his 
mouth moved on hers. 

Reaching the back of his head, Sara's fingers played in his hair, 
tousling the soft strands as she pulled him nearer, tighter, her lips 
pressing against him harder as their kiss grew more powerful. She moved 
in even closer, wrapping him in her embrace until she could feel his 
heart thudding against her body. Trailing her fingers down over the 
muscles of his back, she felt him respond in the same way. Permission 
given in her own movements, he brushed his fingertips down her spine with 
a touch so sensuous it raised goosebumps on her skin.

Sara shivered delightfully, deepening the kiss, letting herself go in the 
heat of increasing desire. She tangled her tongue with his, raking her 
fingers down his back in a way that made him shudder. 

She leaned against him, deliberately nudging him off balance to lie back 
on the sofa. Her hand pushed at his left side and Jack gasped in painful 
surprise against her mouth. 

Sara pulled back, her brain suddenly switching gears at his reaction, 
sensible thought returning to her as she drew away, panting and swaying 
on her knees as she regarded him carefully. Her lips were swollen red 
with their kisses, her hair as mussed as his.

Jack gazed back, almost afraid to move, not wishing to do anything to 
cause her to stop the heavenly advances she was making towards him. He 
blinked at her, breathing hard and trying not to wince at the sudden pain 
flaring in his ribs. His pulse raced, their heated contact still tingling 
on his lips.

Sara looked at him, debating with herself between common sense and 
foolhardiness, unwilling to give in to either. She noticed the dark 
shadows under his eyes, letting herself delay the decision with a simple 
manoeuvre. "It's getting late. You've still got a lot of sleep to catch 
up on, you ought to be in bed," she told him gently.

Jack smothered his dejected look before it was even revealed, half 
expecting her words, recognising the end to her moment of weakness. He 
swallowed dryly, his voice husky, saying the first thing that came into 
his head in an effort to stop himself from asking her to stay. No matter 
how much he wanted her to, he would never attempt to push her into that. 

"Actually I thought I'd sleep on the deck tonight," Jack admitted 
sheepishly, the remnants of his nightmare still too fresh in his mind to 
contemplate staying indoors alone. "It's a crystal clear sky," he added 
as if to give a better reason for wanting to be outside.

Sara knew the truth, she remembered only too well the countless nights, 
so many years ago, when he had slept in the backyard alone instead of 
staying in their own bed.

"No you don't, not tonight, Colonel," she responded forcefully in a 
manner that Jack knew would have to be obeyed, for the moment at least.

Sara pulled the sliding doors closed and locked them, gesturing with her 
hand to urge him upstairs. "Bed!" she said in a motherly tone and Jack's 
sense of loss increased almost unbearably, knowing she was about to leave 
him again. Yet all he could do was stand up and follow her orders, 
heading out into the hall towards the stairs, utterly bereft. 

Sara watched Jack leave the room, catching herself admiring the way he 
moved, fluidly, without one iota of wasted energy in his motion. His 
black jeans hugged his hips and legs as he walked away, the pale blue 
denim shirt tucked into his waist, serving to accentuate his tall slim 
frame. She gazed after him thoughtfully as he disappeared up the stairs, 
then she did a quick check around the ground floor and ensured everything 
in the kitchen was switched off and closed up. 

It gave her time enough to make one decision that was not surprisingly 
easy considering all the lustful thoughts in her head, so long as she 
refused to listen to the little voice that told her she was being weak, 
that she was ignoring the real issues. Sara went along to the front door 
and secured the latch, turning towards the stairs with a smile of 
anticipation lighting her face.

When she reached the bedroom, Jack had opened the window wide to the cool 
late evening breeze and was sitting on the bed, looking lost and fiddling 
aimlessly with his shoes.

"Here let me help you," Sara grinned, announcing her presence and 
enjoying his startled look as she moved towards him.

"I thought you were going," Jack said, eventually finding his voice as he 
watched her kneel down beside him to slowly unzip his leather boots.

Sara looked up, boldly holding his gaze, smiling with a look that was 
heavy with her intentions, "Do you want me to?" she asked softly.

Jack shook his head, swallowing nervously, trying not to get his hopes up 
by her unexpected appearance in his bedroom. He barely dared to breathe, 
completely unsettled by her actions so far that evening. Knowing how 
fragile a line they were walking, he felt utterly powerless to make any 
moves for fear of upsetting the balance in the wrong direction. The lack 
of control was unnerving to him, all he could do was wait to see what 
would happen next.

Sara slipped his boots off and stretched up towards him, her hands 
trailing languorously up his legs. She slowly pushed his knees apart to 
nestle her body between them, letting her desire overtake all cognitive 
thought, loving the smile of sweet surprise on his face. 

Her fingertips traced patterns across his thighs and rested on his hips 
as she moved nearer. She tilted her head up towards him to renew contact 
with his lips, gentle at first, a whisper soft breath on his mouth to 
test his response. Jack moved his hand to the back of her neck, his 
fingers playing in her hair, pulling her closer for the tenderest of 
kisses. His lips brushed hers tentatively, their need increasing as she 
leaned into him, her jaw moving eagerly, hungry for the taste and the 
feel of him after years of repressed longing. 

With growing yearning, Sara's hands began to move across his abdomen, her 
fingers raking circles over his jeans. Jack closed his eyes and gave into 
the sensations she was provoking within him, kissing her breathlessly, 
wrapping his arms around her slim waist to draw her near. His left hand 
stroked her back through the silky material of her blouse, his strapped 
up right fingers tangling in her soft blonde hair as he hugged her body 
against him, loving the feel of her after so long apart.

Sara's hands continued their progression, moving lightly across his chest 
and around to his back, her fingers running up and down his spine, 
producing a shiver of reaction beneath his denim shirt. She raised them 
higher, stroking his neck and tousling his hair, coming to rest in the 
soft brown strands as she leaned into his mouth even harder. Her tongue 
pushed between his teeth, tangling with his own deliciously, tasting him, 
savouring the assault on her senses as his hands traced sensuous patterns 
on her back and shoulders.

Breathless, Sara gradually softened the kiss, her hands drifting over 
Jack's collar to his chest. She pulled away from his grasp slightly to 
reach for the top button of his shirt, slowly undoing it, then moving to 
the next one, her fingernails raking a path down over his soft white t-
shirt. 

When she eventually reached his waist, she moved her fingers lower again, 
teasingly stroking the black jeans before gently pulling his shirt from 
the waist. She finished undoing the last couple of buttons and pushed the 
denim off his shoulders, finally parting from his lips with a whisper 
light kiss so that she could drag each sleeve slowly down his arms. 
Panting, her face flushed, Sara carefully eased the cuff of his shirt 
over the strapping on his right hand.

Breathing hard, Jack's free hand stroked up her back to her shoulder as 
she moved away from his embrace, relishing the feel of her warm body 
beneath the silky cream blouse she was wearing. His fingers trailed down 
her tanned arm, tickling the smooth bare skin in the crook of her elbow, 
raising goosebumps in his wake. 

When Sara stretched across to remove his other sleeve her midriff showed 
above her jeans and Jack tried to move his hand to touch her naked skin. 
Catching his intentions out of the corner of her eye, she backed away 
just far enough out of reach of his probing fingertips, trailing her 
hands down his long muscular legs. She sat back on her heels to gaze at 
him wickedly, knowing exactly what she was doing to him and wanting to 
make the most of the rare power she had over him.

Never one to give in easily, Jack shifted tack, letting his fingers brush 
against her right breast. Smiling at the catch in her breath, he deftly 
undid the top button of her blouse, moving down to the next one before 
she could react.

Sara closed her eyes to the delicious sensation, leaning into his left 
hand willingly as his fingers stroked the silky skin of her neck, tracing 
a path from her jaw, over her collar bone. Goosebumps spread over her 
bare flesh as his fingers brushed against her. 

He undid one more constricting button and moved his fingertips inside. 
Jack smiled, a glint in his eye as he saw Sara bite her lip against the 
wave of pleasure he was provoking within her, almost threatening her 
concentration on the long drawn out process she was intent on pursuing. 

Sara leaned in to smother his mouth, grasping his lip between her teeth 
to bite down pleasurably. Her breath mixed with his, their tongues 
tangled together, kissing with increasing ferocity, until she could bear 
it no more, longing to feel his naked flesh beneath her fingertips. She 
pulled his t-shirt from the back of his jeans and pushed her hands 
beneath it to feel his warm smooth skin. She hugged him closer as her 
fingers kneaded his strong back, enabling him to do the same to her, his 
hand rising beneath her blouse leaving a trail of fire in his wake.

Panting breathlessly, Sara gazed at him, his eyes locked on hers, heavy 
with desire. Intent on milking every exquisite moment from the 
experience, Sara tried to slow things down, moving her lips to gently 
kiss the faded bruise on his chin. Nuzzling her head against his 
shoulder, she placed hot kisses on his neck, making a path along his jaw 
line to nibble his ear lobe. He shivered deliciously, his eyes closing, 
absorbing the sensation, goosebumps rising on his flesh from her soft 
whispers of breath.

She shifted again, pulling away slightly to slowly finish easing his t-
shirt from the belt of his jeans. Her fingers starting at the small of 
his back, running around his waist across his abdomen to gradually lift 
the cotton material. Her hands lingered against his smooth warm skin as 
she raised the shirt higher up his chest.

Jack came back down to earth with a bump when he heard her sharp intake 
of breath, opening his eyes to see the horrified look on her face at the 
discovery of such appalling new damage beneath his t-shirt.

"Jack, what happened.......I don't understand," she stammered, her voice 
a strangled cry. She pushed the material higher, almost frantically 
searching out every mark discolouring his chest and stomach. New bruises 
on top of old ones, the fresher damage mixing starkly with his original 
paler injuries.

Jack looked down to where her gaze came to rest, her shining blue eyes 
fixed on his left side. He chewed his lip nervously as he regarded the 
sight of the still pink scar, the stitches now removed. A huge blackened 
bruise showed below it, slowly beginning to fade, but barely twelve days 
old, not enough time for the colour to have less impact on her 
unsuspecting eyes.

He stared at her guiltily, his heart wrenching when he saw the tears in 
her eyes. He didn't know what to say, he had no explanation to offer her 
that would not give her more cause for concern. Jack was completely 
unprepared for this. Never in a million years had he thought he would be 
in this situation, a distant hope maybe, but hope was never normally 
enough and he didn't believe in miracles. Yet here she was. Here they 
were.

Jack swallowed painfully. "Hit by a truck?" he offered feebly, reaching 
his hand to brush hair from her tearful eyes.

"Jack," Sara's voice was almost a sob, "You've got to stop letting people 
use you for a punching bag."

"Sara, it wasn't like that," Jack said softly, searching for words to 
explain, anything he could say that might make her feel better. "It was 
just part of the same um.......problem," he winced at how bad that 
sounded. "Same thing, different time and place, that's all. Honestly, 
this isn't a regular occurrence," he added desperately.

She gave him a look so doubtful, so heart rending, it caused him to 
impart the one further piece of information he knew she probably would 
not want to hear, but which he hoped might at least reassure her. "It's 
over Sara, the other guy came off a lot worse," he murmured emphatically, 
cupping her cheek in his hand to gaze into her watery blue eyes.

Sara abruptly pulled away from his touch, rocking back on her heels to 
regard him uncertainly, then she shook her head remorsefully. Wiping a 
hand over her eyes, she stood up and walked away, and Jack felt the grief 
and loss all over again, slamming him in the heart like a fist. He held 
his breath, rubbing his face with his hand nervously as he watched her 
every move, reluctant to speak anymore for fear of making the situation 
even worse, wondering how he could possibly deal with the pain if he lost 
her again now.

Sara stood staring out the window into the black night, seeing only her 
own accusing reflection glaring back. She turned her head slightly until 
she saw Jack's face in the glass. He was gazing at her silently, waiting 
for her next move.

"I don't know what I'm doing anymore," Sara said finally, almost to 
herself, her soft voice plaintive, "How can I get involved with all that 
again?" She turned to face him, slumping down onto the couch beneath the 
window, somewhere in the back of her mind vaguely wondering just why Jack 
did have a sofa in his bedroom. 

She gazed into his liquid brown eyes looking for an answer she knew he 
was unable to provide. "I mean, I know what you do is secret," she began 
haltingly, looking down at her hands twisting in her lap nervously, "I 
could accept that before. But I guess I always assumed that eventually 
things would change, that you'd get a safer post, that I could stop 
worrying about you." She shrugged miserably, "Because I do worry Jack, I 
never stopped worrying. That 'other' encounter didn't exactly help 
either," she added quietly. "And the very idea of you being captive again 
tears me apart," she glanced up at him tearfully, seeing the look of 
surprise on his face.

"How do you know about that?" he whispered hoarsely, shocked by her 
apparent knowledge of the incident.

"Daniel told me, that Saturday when I called him round here," she told 
him quietly. Seeing a look of fury cross his features, she added quickly, 
"Don't blame Daniel, Jack. I was upset," she gestured futilely, "He was 
upset. We were worried about you Jack, there's a lot of it going about."

"Daniel had no right to tell you anything," Jack hissed. "You don't have 
to worry about me, Sara," he insisted infuriatingly, "I'm fine."

"Really? Well I'm sorry if I don't believe you!" Sara exclaimed hotly, 
"Take a look at yourself, Jack! Look at the damage that keeps being 
inflicted upon you," her voice caught in a sob and she wiped a trembling 
hand over her eyes. "I can't do this," she shook her head miserably, 
standing up and fastening her blouse as she walked towards the door.

Jack silently watched her go, feeling that fist grip his heart tightly, 
twisting it, squeezing, until he thought it would shatter into a million 
pieces. Still he couldn't tell her what she wanted to hear, how would it 
possibly help?

Sara faltered in the doorway, one hand on the jamb as if to stop herself. 
Suddenly realising that to walk through that exit would be to finally 
close off this part of her life forever, something she could not do 
without a fight, not anymore, not after what they had begun to share this 
day. No, something had to give.

Jack held his breath, studying the tension in her shoulders, the way her 
fingers were nervously tapping against the wooden door frame. He wished 
he could place his hands on her body, pull her into his embrace, make 
every one of her nightmares go away. But he knew that by telling Sara 
even the smallest truth about what had happened to him, it would only add 
to her pain and cause her to worry even more. So all he could do was 
watch and wait, not daring to move, unable to approach for fear it would 
drive her away completely.

"Jack, you don't have to protect us," Sara took a deep breath then turned 
to face his confused look," Daniel and me. You don't always have to 
protect us." She took a single step back into the room, giving him hope 
with that simple movement. "We're grown adults, we can take whatever is 
thrown at us. You know I have. Judging by the look in Daniel's eyes, I 
get the feeling he has too," she shrugged knowing she wasn't expressing 
herself very well, but she was so desperate to try and get through to him 
one last time. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that there's no worse 
nightmare than not knowing the truth. The imagination always manages to 
conjure up something so much worse."

"Not this time," Jack said with a pained expression, his voice so soft it 
was barely audible.

Sara gazed at him. "Tell me, Jack."

"I can't!" Jack's voice hitched in his throat, turning away from her 
penetrating eyes, "I won't put you through that."

"Then I guess we have nothing more to say," Sara said resolutely, 
refusing to give in to her desperate desire to hold him, to feel his warm 
body against hers, knowing for it to even begin to work this time, it 
would have to be all or nothing. She had been fooling herself to think 
otherwise.

Jack gazed at her, trapped and confused. He swallowed, trying to figure 
out whether there was anything he could say. He knew it wasn't just his 
stubborn pride, but also his fierce need to protect her that was stopping 
him from speaking. There was little of a classified nature to the whole 
affair, he couldn't honestly hide behind that excuse. He could reveal a 
lot of the truth if he only let himself, but how would that help Sara? 
Hadn't she been through enough already?

"What did Daniel tell you?" he asked finally, looking for a way out.

"He told me you were captured, held for over a week in a confined space," 
her voice quivered slightly, "That you got hurt badly. And I know he got 
you out, somehow." 

"Isn't that enough?" Sara looked at him accusingly. "It's over Sara, it's 
not going to happen again. We got all the people behind it, there's noone 
left to be any kind of threat. It's done, finished with.

"What about the nightmares? And this problem you're having eating? Jack, 
take a good look at yourself, it's not finished with!" Sara pointed out 
quietly. "Believe me I know, some scars never heal unless you let them."

"I talked to Daniel. He knows everything that happened," Jack said 
defensively.

"And what about the invisible damage, Jack?" Sara asked softly, "Who are 
you going to talk to about that?" Jack looked at her in confusion. "Who's 
going to share your fears, your terror, your nightmares? Who's going to 
share your hopes, Jack? What good is surviving all that if you can't 
share it? If noone else knows what you've overcome? Tell me, Jack, what 
good is that? How does that help you?"

She paused for a moment, swallowing against the lump in her throat, 
hating herself for trying to force him to talk about what he went 
through, but she needed to know, to share and understand, at least a 
little, before she could commit herself to even so much as spending one 
more moment in his arms, no matter how much she ached to hold him. "What 
good does it do you to know how terrified you were, when you're unable to 
share it with anyone, or show them how you're fighting your fears?"

"I talked to Daniel," Jack murmured again, knowing it was no answer, 
knowing that she was right. Nobody knew all of his nightmares, apparently 
not even him. They were still emerging now, as if to replace those he had 
defused by talking to Daniel three nights and a lifetime ago. Daniel had 
the facts now, but even he didn't know everything that had gone through 
Jack's mind, the depths he had sunk to. How often he had stared death in 
the face and wished it would come closer. Or how desperately afraid he 
had been. How could anyone know that? He would barely admit it to 
himself. How could he tell anyone else?

Anyone except Sara. She had been through it before with him. No matter 
how often he had slept in the yard all those months after returning from 
Iraq, Sara had been there for him. Somehow she understood what he had 
gone through, perhaps the words had been left unspoken, but she still 
knew. 

They had been so close for so long, she knew what he had gone through 
from the look in his eyes, the tremor in his voice, the talk in his 
sleep. She had understood, offered comfort and support whenever he had 
needed it, yet she had never pressed him to tell her the truth about what 
had happened during his imprisonment. What had changed?

"It was hard enough for me to burden Daniel with everything that 
happened, how can I possibly weigh you down with it too?" Jack said at 
last, "And why would you even want to know all that?"

Sara hesitated for a moment, knowing there was one selfish reason that 
stood out above all her noble ones. "You called my name," her voice was 
barely a whisper. A frown of confusion creased Jack's forehead. "When you 
were asleep earlier," she explained quietly, "You called out my name. You 
were having a nightmare. What was it about?"

"I don't remember," he lied, lowering his gaze, "It could have been 
anything."

"It wasn't just anything, Jack. You called out my name," Sara protested 
gently, "I want to know why. I need to know why." 

"I don't think I can tell you why," he said softly, glancing back up at 
her painfully, knowing there were some secrets he would never be able to 
share with anybody, some things that were destined to be locked up tight 
and buried deep in the hope they would never resurface. "But it doesn't 
mean anything. They're not really even nightmares, they're just remnants 
of......" he trailed off, struggling to find any words sufficiently 
neutral to not worry her further. Jack shrugged helplessly, rubbed a hand 
over his eyes and turned to stare out the window into the dark night 
beyond.

Sara studied him carefully, hating to see him so lost and defenceless, 
wanting to be able to comfort him. "Remnants of what, Jack?" she urged 
softly, coming further into the room.

"Just hallucinations, that's all," he whispered hoarsely, his voice 
distant, barely audible. "Very bad hallucinations," he added under his 
breath, never intending for her to hear. When he finally turned back from 
the window, he was shocked to find Sara had moved closer, standing just a 
few feet in front of him. She gazed at him, biting her lip against all 
the painful images flooding her mind with his words.

"Why?" she asked softly, stepping back to lean against the dresser by the 
wall, simply to suppress the urge to sit by his side. "What did they do 
to you, to cause hallucinations?" But Jack remained silent, unable to say 
the words. 

He was staring at the floor, and Sara could see the unfocused look in his 
eyes as if he was somewhere else, perhaps trapped inside one of his 
nightmares. She put it into words for him, guessing what had most likely 
taken place, "What drugs did they give you?"

He didn't respond, but she saw him flinch at the image her question 
conjured up in his mind. His silence left her with only one more step she 
could possibly take, and it was a dangerous one for them both, because it 
was probably their last chance. 

Sara stood upright off the dresser and moved towards him slowly. Not yet 
willing to risk sitting beside him, instead she stood, placing her hand 
lightly under his chin to tilt it towards her, forcing him to look into 
her enquiring eyes, to see her words, to draw him back from whatever was 
tormenting his mind.

"Jack, what did they give you?"

His dark brown eyes slowly focused on her, clearly surprised to find her 
there, causing Sara to again wonder how powerful these images could be to 
drag him away from the real world so quickly and effectively.

"Tell me," Sara urged softly, sliding her hand to his cheek, so that he 
could not turn away from her gaze. "Please, Jack?"

Finally, he shrugged, speaking at last. "LSD," he said. Trying to make 
light of it he added, "Just your regular sixties overblown acid trip, 
that's all."

"LSD?" Sara repeated in horrified disbelief, a look of empathy shone in 
her eyes. "Injected?" Jack nodded almost imperceptibly, but she saw the 
wince he could not quite manage to suppress. "How much?" she asked 
faintly, "How much did they give you?"

Jack shrugged. "How should I know?" he said uncomfortably. He was not 
enjoying the conversation by any stretch of the imagination and wondered 
how it could possibly be helping anything. He lowered his gaze and Sara 
practically gave him whiplash, jerking his head back up sharply to face 
her. He frowned in annoyance until he saw the look in her eyes, really 
saw it for the first time, saw his pain reflected back at him, and he 
finally realised that she was already sharing the burden and it was not 
going to get any easier on her by him refusing to tell her the truth. 

He opened his mouth to speak and her grip on his jaw softened in 
response. "I honestly don't know how much it was, I just know it was too 
much," he said hoarsely, unable to hide the memories from his voice, the 
feeling of helplessness, out of his mind and out of control. "In the end 
it knocked me out for a couple of days," he admitted bleakly.

Sara gazed at his downturned eyes for a long moment, absorbing the 
implications of his words, then she removed her hand from his face and 
turned her back on him. She didn't move away, she simply stood there, one 
hand covering her mouth, fingers trembling, trying to fight back the raw 
emotion suddenly impacting her head on with the shocking reality of what 
had been done to him.

When she spoke her voice was a choked whisper, "I thought LSD was really 
dangerous, doesn't it leave you with long term effects?" Jack didn't 
answer, there was nothing he could say to deny it. "Come on Jack, any 
sixties kid knows these things, you can't hide it from me."

"Doctor Fraiser said it's been known for flashbacks to reoccur," Jack 
finally said. He didn't tell her the time delay was anything up to twenty 
five years later. Some things were better left unsaid. "But it hardly 
matters, I'm used to them now, it'll just be like meeting an old friend!" 
he said, trying to make light of it. But apparently, his comment didn't 
help. Sara didn't say anything, she didn't turn to face him, she just 
stood absolutely still, practically within touching distance if he was 
bold enough.

Jack watched the tension in her back painfully, too afraid of her 
reaction if he said anymore, not daring to reach out to touch her, not 
even to force her to look at him the way she had done. Silence surrounded 
them, except for the night sounds creeping in on the gentle breeze 
through the open window. Until finally he realised that if ever he was 
going to take charge of the situation, perhaps now would be his only 
chance. 

He stood up off the bed, slowly so that she would not be frightened by 
his movement, then he put out his hands and clasped her shoulders gently, 
turning her towards him. He was shocked to see tears on her face, his 
heart clenching painfully, knowing that he was to blame. 

"Sara?" he whispered her name, trying to get her to look at him 
willingly, risking placing his fingers lightly on her chin to tilt her 
gaze up towards him. This time she didn't pull away, but she lowered her 
blue eyes, teardrops catching in her eyelashes and running down her 
cheeks. "Please don't cry," he pleaded softly, torn apart to see her this 
way, "I'm so sorry." He moved his fingers to wipe away a tear.

"It's not your fault, Jack," Sara murmured tearfully, wiping a trembling 
hand across her face in embarrassment, "I shouldn't have pushed you into 
telling me if I couldn't take it, should I?" She sniffled slightly, 
gulping hard, trying to regain control, "But when I think of you 
suffering like that it just tears me apart."

"I should never have told you," Jack berated himself, hating to see her 
in distress.

"Yes you should, Jack," Sara finally looked up, gazing at him with watery 
blue eyes, "We have to share everything if we're going to make this 
work."

He stared at her for a moment, realising the implications in what she was 
saying, hoping against hope that he finally had a chance to do something 
right. He moved his hands from her shoulders and enfolded her into his 
arms, gently, unthreateningly, offering his comfort if she so desired. 

Sara slowly sank into his embrace, wrapping her arms around him, her head 
resting on his chest, feeling like a fool for being so melodramatic, but 
she knew that a lot of it was just tension. She had allowed herself to 
get overwrought, applying added pressure with the all or nothing demands 
she was making on herself as well as on Jack.

Now she realised they had made a start and that was enough to enable them 
to take the next step and then the next and the next and so on. Until 
maybe they would be able to regain some of what they had lost so long 
ago.

"One step at a time," she whispered softly, tilting her head to regard 
Jack with her watery gaze. She smiled slightly, resting against his warm 
damp t-shirt, remembering a conversation with Daniel almost a fortnight 
ago, when she had told him those exact words, the same thing he had 
apparently told Jack.

Jack met her gaze, recognising the words with a smile. "Yeah, one step at 
a time," he said softly, "Sounds like good advice to me. How about it?" 

Sara nodded against his chest, feeling like they had come full circle to 
a new beginning.

                         *******************

Eventually, Jack pulled Sara down to sit on the bed behind them, lifting 
his arms away from her so that she could escape if she wanted to, but she 
stayed with him, still wrapped tightly round him as if she was afraid to 
let go. She sat down beside him on the edge of the mattress and he placed 
his arms back around her, enveloping her warmly, happy to finally return 
some of the comfort and support she had given him over the years, even if 
it was him that had caused her distress in the first place.

It was a long time before Sara finally moved, she felt so safe and secure 
in Jack's arms that she was reluctant to do anything to endanger that 
feeling, but there was something she had to know, something that was 
plaguing her. An answer that had to be obtained before she would be ready 
to make the next move, a step that was lingering, heated and vibrant, 
requiring desperate fulfilment if she were to stay in his arms much 
longer.

She chewed her lip nervously, glancing up timidly to find his liquid 
brown eyes gazing down at her, watching over her protectively. She 
swallowed at the surge of feeling the look of love in his eyes stirred 
within her. "Jack, what happened to your side?" she whispered hesitantly, 
waiting for his shoulders to tense beneath her hands, still wrapped 
tightly around him.

But he remained relaxed, knowing that she needed him to tell her as much 
as he could, it would just require some extremely tactful phrasing. 
Besides, it didn't seem likely that anything else could possibly have as 
bad an impact as his initial confession. "The rib that I originally 
fractured got broken last week," he admitted. "It needed surgery and some 
pins to fix up, but it's healing fine, so long as I don't do anything 
stupid," he smiled reassuringly, unable to avoid the temptation to 
tenderly press his lips against her forehead in a soft kiss.

"How?" Sara asked simply. Jack's face showed that he did not understand 
her question. "How did it get broken?"

"Oh, um........Daniel and I got into a little trouble," Jack said, 
figuring Sara wouldn't be quite so concerned about him if he distracted 
her with Daniel's involvement. "These people were originally after 
Daniel, I just got in the way. They didn't like that Daniel foiled them 
and we had another little run in with them last week, nothing major. 
Besides we got all of them, Sara, locked up tight. It was worth a broken 
rib to achieve that," he added lightly.

Sara regarded him closely, nagging thoughts finally clicking into place, 
the new bruise on his chin, the kidney damage he had mentioned on 
Thursday evening and all the other livid colour across his chest that she 
had seen earlier. She knew he would never admit as much, but he had 
obviously been involved in an horrendous fight, apparently badly beaten. 
At least now she knew the truth, some of it. 

She knew there were still things that Jack wasn't telling her, but it was 
a start. There were ways of getting more information if she wanted to, 
wily methods that he wouldn't even notice. She was a woman after all! 

Nodding acceptance at his words, she asked with genuine concern, "What 
about Daniel? Is he okay?" They may only have met briefly, but she had 
quickly grown to like the man. From their short conversation, and for 
what he had done to help Jack, Sara knew that she owed Daniel a great 
deal.

"He's fine, good as new. In fact he's off back to Luxor on Monday with 
Captain Carter," Jack said with a grin, knowing he would miss his friend, 
but positive that the trip would be a lot less eventful this time. 
Besides they would only be gone for a week and the look of excitement on 
Daniel's face when Hammond had given his permission, on Jack's 
recommendation, had been worth waiting for. It had been the assurance 
Jack needed that things really were back to normal, for Daniel at least.

"Egypt?" Sara's quiet question cut into his thoughts and Jack realised he 
had unwittingly revealed something she didn't necessarily need to know. 
"Is that where this happened?"

He nodded cautiously, "Originally."

"But why would the Egyptians want to get hold of Daniel?" she asked, a 
puzzled frown creasing her tearstained face.

"They didn't," Jack realised he had no choice but to explain further, 
"The Egyptians weren't behind this."

"Then who was? And why?" She pulled away slightly to look at him 
properly, studying his face for any indication that he was hiding 
something.

Jack decided her second question was much easier to answer, "Money. 
That's all it was about."

Sara stared at him for a long moment, processing what he had and had not 
said, coming up with an explanation of her own, the only logical one she 
could think of. "American," she said softly, tentatively. "They were 
American." She shook her head in disbelief. His eyes did not deny her 
words, "Our own people did this to you?"

Jack regarded her uncomfortably. "It wasn't just Americans," he shrugged, 
trying to make light of it, "I guess you could call it a multinational 
affair."

"Oh, Jack!" Sara exclaimed miserably, renewed tears shining in her eyes 
as she thought of the injustice of it all.

"Hey, come on now," Jack said softly. His hands moved to her shoulders, 
lifting her off his chest to look at him. He gently placed a finger below 
her chin and tilted her gaze to meet his. "It's okay, look," he sat back 
with open arms and a smile that showed he was here in one piece, wasn't 
he. "It was just greed, Sara. Nobody is immune to that, no matter what we 
do for a living, sooner or later innocent people get sucked into it. The 
trick is surviving, and it was because of what we do that Daniel and I 
both managed it."

She regarded him dubiously and Jack caught a single tear trailing down 
her cheek with his knuckle. He leaned down to touch his lips to her face, 
tenderly kissing away the salty tears filling her eyes and staining her 
pale skin. He pressed a soft kiss to the mole on her cheek, his hands 
moving down her back to encircle her lovingly. 

His brown eyes met her watery spellbound gaze and he moved in with a 
rakish grin to plant a kiss onto the end of her nose, realising just how 
much he had missed its delightful shape and the way her cheeks dimpled 
when she smiled. He kissed them next, then her chin and finally, unable 
to resist their temptation any longer, he placed his lips over hers. A 
soft, delicate touch, a promise of things to come if she so desired, and 
Jack suddenly knew that his life was in her hands now, and quite 
probably, forever.

He pulled back at that thought, finding himself holding his breath, 
waiting to see what she would do, whether she would decide to stay with 
him. So unsure of the outcome that he didn't dare to hope or dream. 

Sara gazed at him, her eyes examining his face as he blinked at her 
ingenuously. Her hand reached up to trace a circle around the fading 
black bruise on his chin. Her fingers trailed up his cheek to reach the 
scar on his left temple which was slowly becoming a thin white blemish on 
his skin, soon it would be barely visible to anyone who did not know it 
was there.

She paused thoughtfully, then she moved in closer, pressing her lips 
against the mark on his chin. She shifted on the bed, turning to reach up 
to his forehead to kiss his damaged temple. Moving back downwards, she 
placed baby soft kisses on his eyelids, his high cheekbones, which still 
stood out a little too prominently. Then to his nose, playfully rubbing 
hers against his as she settled her lips over his mouth in a tentative 
kiss.

Jack responded gently, absorbing every moment of contact, holding back 
his urge to take Sara in his arms and deepen the kiss until they were 
breathless. He did not want to make any moves that might still scare her 
off, instead resolving to let Sara control the situation for as long as 
she needed to.

Drawing away from his lips, she regarded him wordlessly, a slow smile 
that he could not read, dimpling her features. Disappointed by the loss 
of contact, Jack waited with bated breath to see what would happen next.

Sara's hands moved down to his waist, toying with the bottom of his t-
shirt, still hanging loosely where she had untucked it earlier. 
Gradually, she began to raise the soft white material, her eyes holding 
his gaze, her fingers sliding up inside to brush against his smooth skin, 
sending a shiver down his spine at her delicate touch. 

She shifted on the edge of the bed, moving to kneel beside him as she 
lifted her hands higher, slowly pulling the cotton shirt from his body. 
Her mouth widened into a pleased smile when Jack raised his arms 
obediently so she could pull it over his head. He shivered again as she 
let her fingers run the length of his inner arms, wickedly tickling all 
the way up.

Clear of his body, Sara tossed the clothing onto the bed and turned to 
look at him. She grinned at the way his hair was sticking up every which 
way where the neck of his t-shirt had dragged against it. She reached 
across to smooth it into place, stroking her hands slowly through the 
soft grey and brown strands and working around to brush down stubborn 
tufts at the back of his head. 

Her sensuous fingers trailed down to the nape of his neck, inexorably 
closing in on his ears, playing with the lobes before dropping to his 
shoulders and tracing the line of his collar bone. Her eyes followed one 
hand, until they reached his chin and she shifted her gaze back to meet 
his, finding him staring at her silently, almost bashfully as he watched 
her in his half naked state, completely under her spell.

Sara stroked an index finger across his lips and he moved to lightly kiss 
it. Her hand drifted down to rest on his chest, her fingers tangling in 
the soft smattering of hair as she leaned in to kiss him again. Her mouth 
met his in a whisper of breath, tantalisingly brief, before she moved on, 
working her way around to his back. Her hand followed, trailing up his 
chest and coming to rest on his shoulder to stop him from turning towards 
her.

Sitting back on her heels, Sara ran her gaze over Jack's strong muscular 
frame, examining his body for any signs of recent damage. The fingers of 
her other hand traced a slow line down his spine, raising goosebumps in 
their wake. Her eyes followed their progress, reaching the base of his 
back where she saw the expanse of abnormal colour, now beginning to fade 
brown and yellow. It had obviously been the source of his bruised kidney 
as well as a fair amount of pain judging by the dark shading and the size 
of the area it spread over, disappearing beneath the waist of his jeans 
and matching the black material far too closely in places.

Sara bit her lip against the renewed surge of emotion that threatened to 
sidetrack her. Instead she leaned in close and placed baby soft kisses on 
his shoulder blades, slowly lowering her head to work her way down the 
warm smooth skin of his back. He shivered deliciously beneath her touch, 
automatically tilting forward as she moved downwards, enabling her soft 
red lips to easily reach the lowest bruises above the belt of his jeans.

Her hands caressed him, his skin quivering beneath her warm breathy 
kisses. She began to work her way back up his body, her blonde hair 
tickling his spine as she moved higher. Slowly, gently, she wrapped her 
hands around his shoulders, letting her fingers drift downwards as she 
pressed her body against his, encircling him, enfolding his warmth in her 
arms.

Sara's long slim fingers slid down into the soft light hairs on his 
chest, stroking the muscles of his abdomen as they moved lower, careful 
to avoid the more severe damage of his left side. She placed soft kisses 
on his shoulders, blowing on the fine hair at the nape of his neck until 
he shivered again, gradually working round until her lips found a new 
target and began nibbling on his left earlobe.

Her hands continued to drift downwards, reaching the waist of his jeans. 
"No fair," Jack whispered huskily, his eyes closing as he tilted back 
against her body, savouring her tantalisingly slow ministrations, but 
wondering how long he could possibly keep control of his urges. 

He wanted to take over, to set them both free from the confines of their 
clothing. To smother Sara with kisses and let his hands caress her body. 
He wanted to make love with her until they were both spent, sated and 
exhausted. But he also wanted so much more, he wanted her happiness, her 
comfort and support, and he wanted her company. If letting Sara maintain 
control for as long as she needed would help give him any of that, then 
so be it. Jack knew that eventually his chance would come, he just had to 
be patient, to sit back and enjoy every long drawn out pleasure filled 
second.

Sara moved against him again, sliding around to his left. She unclasped 
his shoulders to kneel by his side, examining his bruised chest and 
damaged ribs with a critical eye.

Gently she placed her hands against the top of his arms and nudged him 
backwards, urging him to lie down on the soft quilt. He did as he was 
told and she let him move higher up the mattress so that he didn't simply 
slide off the edge of the bed. He studied her with dark eyes, heavy with 
desire as Sara filled her view with the sight of his battered torso. 

Forcing herself to accept the fact of his injuries, she set about kissing 
them better. A long and arduous task, she thought with a sly smile as she 
began just below his collar bone. Painstakingly seeking out each bruise, 
recent or faded, she pressed her soft lips against them tenderly, 
breathing on his skin and nuzzling against the fine hair on his chest to 
leave a trail of fire and goosebumps across his long slim body.

When she reached his lower right side, she stopped, sitting up slightly 
to lift his right hand. She looked at Jack, seeking his permission for 
her next action. He blinked at her, understanding passing between them. 
Sara turned back to his hand and gently pulled at the Velcro fastening on 
his wrist. Gingerly she eased off the strap supporting and protecting his 
hand, needing to see his fingers for herself.

Free at last, Jack wiggled his fingertips about an inch back and forth, 
feeling the pull on the stiffened tendons as he demonstrated the movement 
that was returning slowly but surely to his hand. Sara smiled softly, 
pleased at the increasing flexibility, certain that they already moved 
further than she had seen them at the diner just the previous evening.

Delicately, she touched her lips to the back of his hand, kissing 
lightly, working her way along the long slim digits. When she reached his 
fingertips, she pressed baby soft kisses against them, before giving into 
temptation and drawing his index finger into her mouth seductively, 
tasting it, sucking it. 

Eventually, she released his hand with a satisfied smile and he dragged 
his damp fingernail across her kiss swollen lips. Letting his hand drift 
down her neck, before he slowly lowered it to the bed and she backed away 
to return her attention to his torso.

Gradually she worked across his stomach and abdomen, until the only 
remaining unkissed damage was that on his left side. As she regarded it 
closely, tears pricked her eyelids once more, unable to stop herself from 
imagining the pain and hurt that had been inflicted upon him with that 
terrible injury. She bent her head down to press her lips onto the still 
pink surgical scar, before smothering the remaining huge blackened bruise 
with kisses so delicate, that to Jack they felt like a whisper of warm 
air against his ribs.

Sara lifted her head once more and reached out to touch the scar with a 
trembling fingertip. Jack felt her trace a pattern around the circle of 
bruising in a way that brought a sudden vivid memory to the forefront of 
his mind. He shuddered involuntarily at the image, unable to quash the 
terrifying recollection of blind helplessness as his attacker had sized 
up his already damaged ribs, examining the bruised area before smashing a 
fist into the centre to break them completely. Jack vaguely remembered 
the awful crack that had cut through the silence before the most 
excruciating wave of pain he had ever been subjected to made him pass out 
lifelessly.

Detecting the tension in his reaction, Sara glanced across at him to see 
a flash of fear pass over his eyes like a shadow, his face going slightly 
pale beneath his flushed cheeks. She understood what he was thinking 
about immediately and pulled her hand away rapidly, studying him for 
awhile before she finally spoke. "Punch or kick?" she asked quietly, 
unsure why she could possibly want to know something like that and 
wondering if she had badly overstepped the boundaries this time.

For a long moment, Jack didn't answer her, closing his eyes tightly to 
push away the memory. He gulped painfully, afraid to tell her the truth, 
but even more scared of what might happen if he did not. "Both," he 
eventually admitted, his voice barely audible. Sara gazed at him, her 
head tilted to one side, a frown creasing her forehead, until Jack was 
ready to explain. "A kick fractured it originally, then a punch broke 
it," he swallowed hard against the fresh images in his mind.

Jack felt the mattress move as Sara shifted position, leaning down to 
touch her lips to his mouth in a gentle kiss. She placed her hands on the 
quilt either side of his head and dipped lower to deepen the contact, 
pressing against him ardently, pushing her tongue between his teeth to 
tangle with his, tasting his hot breath mixing with her own.

Responding eagerly, Jack willingly let the sensations she was provoking 
overpower all cognisant thought, realising that perhaps he had finally 
found a successful method of fighting back the memories. He smiled 
slightly against Sara's mouth, wondering how she would feel if he told 
her that. 

A drop of liquid suddenly hit his cheek and Jack eyes flickered open, his 
hand reaching to Sara's face to catch the next tear that slid down her 
pale skin. He edged away from her kiss and ran his fingers tenderly down 
her jaw, cupping a hand to her cheek. She leaned into it, nuzzling, her 
eyes closed, tears caught in her long eyelashes.

"Sara?" Jack urged softly, needing her to look at him, "Hey?" Timidly she 
blinked at him, her watery gaze tugging at his heart. "You know I'll 
shrink if you keep crying all over me like this," he said gently.

She smiled feebly. "I'm sorry," she sobbed, about to offer an 
explanation, when Jack pressed a finger to her lips to quieten her.

"It's okay, hush. It's not a problem." Jack frowned at her slightly, 
"Sara, I just want to see you happy, but I'm worried you never will be 
with me around to upset you like this."

Somehow, Jack's words prompted even more tears and he sat up gingerly, 
pulling her into a hug. "I am happy," Sara sniffled against him, her 
tears dampening his chest.

Jack couldn't hold back a soft laugh. "You could have fooled me," he 
murmured into her hair, kissing the top of her head tenderly. "Are you 
sure?" he added quizzically.

Sara nodded against him. "Positive!" she said with an emphatic whisper, 
finally lifting her head back up to gaze at him, "I love you Jack. I 
never stopped loving you or wanting you." She lowered her eyes 
hesitantly, "And I know we haven't exactly thrashed out everything about 
why I left, but somehow you've changed since then. I don't quite know 
how, I can't explain it, but you're different. You're more like your old 
self, like you were when we were a family. That's why I'm happy. And 
that's why I'm crying. Not just because of what's been done to you, but 
because I'm wondering how much we've missed by being apart for too long." 
She paused for breath and Jack placed a hand under her chin, tipping her 
head up to meet his gaze.

"I love you too Sara. I always have," he said, his voice thick with 
emotion. "And all this," he gestured with his right hand, "All this was 
worth it if it's brought us back together. Believe me, none of this was 
nearly as painful as losing you," he added quietly. His left arm wrapped 
round her even tighter at the sudden memory of finding her gone, out of 
his life, three years earlier. 

Finally he studied her closely, a sly smile playing on his lips, "Now how 
about we make up for some of that lost time?" Sara's smile matched his as 
he pulled her towards him, pressing his mouth against hers eagerly, their 
jaws flexing and moving in time, kissing until they were both breathless, 
their tongues tangling until they ached.

                         *******************

Saturday: The Calm Before The Storm

Sara was woken the next morning by a whisper of warm breath on her neck 
and the smell of coffee wafting under her nose. She moaned dozily, 
curling and stretching her legs sleepily against the quilt as she felt 
gentle lips nibbling her earlobe. 

"Sara," Jack's soft voice breathed against her hair, "You know, sooner or 
later, you have to wake up, no matter how good your dreams are!" 

She murmured again, burying her head deeper, trying to escape his 
tickling lips. "It can't be morning already," she said with a muffled 
groan, snuggling down into the blanket that she noticed had somehow found 
its way over her body during the night.

"Almost afternoon actually!" he informed her in amazement, still somewhat 
unable to believe for himself that he had slept so soundly and for so 
long. Jack couldn't remember the last time he had been in bed that late 
on a Saturday morning, or any morning for that matter. He certainly felt 
refreshed for it, apart from the expected ache in his ribcage. 

"Do you want any breakfast?" he asked, smiling as he tried to tempt Sara 
out from under the covers with the aroma of her favourite beverage, but 
she wasn't buying it and simply responded with a negative grunt. 

With a twinkle in his eye, Jack changed tack, "I have to go out soon, I 
have a date!" That got Sara's attention at last, her head reappearing 
from beneath the blanket and her eyes flickering open with a brief hurt 
look before he grinned at her. "With a twelve year old!" he added 
quickly, leaning down to gently kiss her lips now that they were 
accessible to him. 

He offered her the steaming mug of fresh coffee that he knew she would 
need to kick start her day. "You don't have to get up yet if you don't 
want to. You can stay here as long as you like," he said almost shyly, 
not really knowing what reaction to expect from her after the night they 
had shared. "But I have to go out, I promised Cassie."

Sara gave him a quizzical look, noticing that he was already showered and 
dressed in blue jeans and a black t-shirt as he sat on the bed beside 
her, his hair still damp and sticking up in that loveable way that made 
her want to run her hands through it. Curiosity growing, she shifted to a 
sitting position to look at him properly, moving up to squash her back 
against the pillow. She flushed pink when she caught Jack gazing 
appreciatively at her naked body where the blanket had drifted down to 
her midriff. Pulling it up to cover herself again bashfully, she took the 
hot coffee from him and began to sip it. Watching him from beneath 
lowered eyelashes, she waited for him to explain.

Jack tried to remember what he had been about to say, his mind wandering 
off on an erotic tangent as he desperately tried to convince himself that 
there really was no time at all to entice Sara into a repeat performance 
of the previous night's escapades. If he didn't leave in the next half 
hour he would be late and this time he was determined to keep his 
promise. 

"Oh, yeah, Cassie!" Jack shook his head to refocus his thoughts, "She's 
Doctor Fraiser's daughter, well adopted one anyhow. I owe her a Saturday 
afternoon." He shrugged, "I broke off our last 'date' when I went to 
Egypt. I was going to teach her how to play ice hockey," Jack wiggled his 
fingers, now strapped back up into the injury support, none the worse for 
their ad hoc exercise. In fact, he could swear they were moving a little 
easier than before. "I guess I won't be able to do that for awhile yet. I 
have no idea what she's got planned instead, but you know me," he grinned 
lasciviously at her, his words full of hidden meaning, "I love 
surprises."

Sara blushed again, scarcely able to believe how bold she had been, but 
knowing she had loved every moment. She couldn't help feeling 
disappointed that she had reached a decision point already. She had known 
that sooner or later, she would have to go home, she just hadn't expected 
it to be now. "Can you do me a huge favour?" she asked in between 
swallows of the deliciously hot coffee. Jack nodded. "In the back of my 
Jeep there's a sports bag. Can you get it for me? My keys are in the 
kitchen somewhere I think. If I can just have a quick shower, then I'll 
be out of your hair."

Jack frowned, "You don't have to leave."

She gazed at him for a long moment, knowing what she truly wanted to do 
and realising that she didn't need to hide her feelings from him anymore, 
so apparent were his own. "I have a few things I ought to do," she said 
hesitantly. "Why don't I drop you off on the way? When you get back home 
later, give me a call," she suggested, leaving it open, the choice up to 
him, hoping he would make the correct one. "Please?" she added, suddenly 
unsure that he would.

"You bet!" Jack smiled, taking the now empty mug from her hands. He 
reached across her to place it on the nightstand. On his way back he 
paused, drinking in the sight of her. His hand moved to stroke her cheek, 
trailing down her jaw and around to the nape of her neck, tangling in her 
mussed blonde hair. Sara held her breath, her eyes fixed on his liquid 
brown gaze, as he leaned closer, pulling her to meet him. 

The touch of his lips was electrifying, a soft gentle kiss that he 
quickly turned into something more passionate, his mouth moving on hers, 
controlling the deepening intensity until she was breathless, her heart 
racing. He pulled away gradually, his lips lingering, brushing against 
hers. A smile curved the corners of his mouth when he saw the look in 
Sara's eyes, the rosy pink flush of her cheeks and the quiver in her 
intake of breath and Jack knew he had obtained the desired effect. A 
promise of things to come, that left him feeling assured that she would 
return to him that evening.

"Shower!" he whispered against her face as he slowly pulled away, "I'll 
go grab your bag." He leaned back across to collect the empty coffee mug, 
unable to resist dipping his lips to kiss the soft rise of her breasts 
where they now peeked out from beneath the blanket that had slid down 
again slightly as he moved on the mattress. Then Jack bounced gingerly 
off the bed and sauntered nonchalantly from the room. He licked his lips, 
appreciating the taste, grinning softly to himself when he felt her wide 
eyed stare follow his exit.

Sara watched him go, a smile playing across her lips as she admired the 
way he moved. The way his faded blue jeans hugged his backside 
gorgeously. The way his black leather belt pulled in at his slim waist to 
accentuate endless legs and an equally long, slim body. Sara caught 
herself thinking about being entangled with those naked legs. She shook 
herself back to the present and jumped off the bed to grab a shower 
before she made Jack late, knowing she could have him to herself again 
that Saturday night, if they so desired.

Sara arrived downstairs, dressed, refreshed and raring to go exactly 
twenty minutes after Jack had woken her up. She carried the sports bag on 
her shoulder and jangled her keys in her hand expectantly. Jack looked up 
from where he was sitting on the edge of a chair pulling on his boots. 
"You were quick," he laughed, noticing her still damp hair dripping 
slightly onto the collar of her white t-shirt, she had a pale blue v-neck 
sweater on over the top, along with her washed out blue jeans and brown 
leather ankle boots.

"Practise! It comes from being called into work at a moment's notice," 
Sara told him, deciding there was one other thing she needed to explain, 
"And before you get any ideas about the bag, I'm not so calculating as to 
plan what happened last night and pack a bag beforehand!" she said 
worriedly. "I always carry it in the Jeep just in case I get stuck 
working late somewhere and have to make an overnight stop."

Jack smiled slyly, "You mean you didn't set out to seduce me? Oh, now I'm 
hurt!" Boots zipped, he stood up and caught an arm around her waist, 
pulling her into a hug. "Guess there's always tonight!" he whispered into 
her ear, grabbing his door key off the hall table and whisking her 
outside, before he changed his mind completely about going anywhere.

                         *******************

Exactly seven weeks to the day when Colonel Jack O'Neill had been forced 
to break a promise to a young friend, he arrived at her house to accept 
his due punishment.

"You will at least stay long enough to meet them, won't you?" Jack asked 
Sara hopefully as they pulled into the driveway. He wasn't sure why, but 
he knew that he really wanted Cassie and Janet to meet her. Sara took one 
look at the eagerness on his face and nodded agreement, switching off the 
engine and waiting for him to get out before she opened the driver's side 
and did the same, leaning on the top of the door as she watched him 
curiously. 

The moment Jack stepped from the unfamiliar car that had delivered him to 
her door, Cassie ran out of the house and jumped up to give him as 
restrained a hug as her usual overexuberance could manage, trying to be 
careful of his healing left side. "Jack! How are you?" she cried happily.

Janet Fraiser watched the display of hugs and laughter from the porch 
step, surprised by the presence of a blonde woman driving the vehicle. 
She was even more surprised when Jack introduced her, holding out his 
strapped up right hand towards her, gesturing for her to come around from 
the driver's side to join him.

"This is Sara," he said with a smile Janet didn't remember ever seeing in 
his eyes before. Then she recalled the woman's face from a picture on his 
mantle of some long ago family celebration. 

Sara smiled brightly. "Don't worry, I'm not going to encroach, I just 
offered to drop him round as I was passing," she explained.

Both members of the Fraiser household raised eyebrows in tandem. Janet 
wondered curiously how Sara happened to be in Jack's neighbourhood in the 
first place. But it was Cassie in her usual uninhibited manner, who 
actually said what she was thinking. "So you're Sara!" She grinned 
knowingly, "Jack says you're the best lock picker he knows!"

Sara withered slightly under Janet's shocked gaze. "I've just had a lot 
of practice!" she told the young girl, turning to her mother to explain, 
"When you've locked yourself out as often as I have, it comes in useful! 
I think it was one of the first tricks Jack taught me when we met!"

"Are you sure?" Jack's questioning grin echoed with hidden meaning that 
caused Sara to blush furiously. 

Cassie watched the two of them, a mischievous smile forming on her face, 
"Why don't you join us, Sara? Then maybe Mom will come along too if she's 
got someone to gossip with. She doesn't have many Saturdays off and I 
think we should get her out of the house for a change! Besides," Cassie 
declared confidently, "This is going to be fun!" 

With that, Jack grabbed Cassie around the waist with his left arm and 
lifted her off her feet tipping her horizontally until they were both 
giggling so hard that Jack's ribs were starting to hurt even worse and he 
had to put her down. He ignored the way Janet was glaring at him with 
doctorly concern and turned back to Cassie, "So what punishment do you 
have in store for me?"

"Well since you're not allowed to play ice hockey yet, I figured maybe 
simple ice skating would do."

"Really?" Jack looked as excited by the prospect as she was. "Cool!" He 
glanced towards Sara, hoping she would stay, but reluctant to pressurise 
her into doing something she didn't want to. 

Before he could say anything, Janet solved the dilemma for him. The 
petite doctor turned to Sara and smiled, deciding this could be a prime 
opportunity to finally get to know a bit more about what made Jack 
O'Neill tick, "So what do you think, Sara? I'm game if you are."

"Yes, okay," Sara flashed a smile, she didn't quite feel ready to leave 
yet. She was enjoying the sight of Jack interacting with kids again after 
so long, he always was so great with them, she thought wistfully.

Janet saw the look in her eyes as Sara watched the laughing pair. "How 
about a coffee first?" she asked, already certain she was going to like 
this person.

                         *******************

Together the two women leaned on the barrier watching the pair whizz 
round and round the ice rink. At times Jack hauled Cassie along, the 
fingers of her small right hand wrapped in his left, or tucking her under 
his arm like a football and racing so fast that her hair streamed out 
behind her, or simply skating in tandem at a less frenetic pace that her 
much shorter legs could keep up with and which gave his aching ribs a 
sorely needed rest.

Janet and Sara chatted like old friends, it had been a fun afternoon for 
them too even if neither had felt up to tackling the ice, or maybe they 
simply didn't want to encroach on the intense father daughter type 
bonding that was going on before their eyes.

Now they watched Jack standing with Cassie in the empty centre of the 
rink, teaching her to spin around on the spot. He twirled her by the arm, 
using his right hand only for careful support as his left did all the 
work. 

Janet chuckled at the pair on the ice, trusting Jack implicitly with her 
daughter's safety despite their antics. Still she couldn't help holding 
her breath every time he did something that might overstress his damaged 
ribcage. At least his stitches were all healed now, she didn't have to 
worry about him bursting any, and the fun form of exercise Cassie had 
come up with seemed to be doing him the power of good. 

"He looks so different to two weeks ago," Sara eventually said with a shy 
smile.

For a long moment, Janet studied the laughter on Jack's face and the look 
in his eyes and it finally occurred to her just what the difference was. 

"He looks free!"

"Thanks to you and Daniel," Sara said softly after awhile. 

Janet looked at her, surprised by her words, a slight smile curving the 
sides of her mouth as she realised that she really was learning a lot 
more about the Colonel in that one afternoon than she had thought 
possible, considering how greatly he valued his privacy. It seemed she 
had finally met someone whom Jack willingly confided in and Janet found 
that simple fact somewhat astonishing, deciding she really did want to 
know more. "Jack told you about that?" she asked curiously, noticing how 
Sara never took her eyes off him as he messed about on the ice.

Sara nodded. "Some of it, you know. Not all of it, not yet," she said 
meaningfully. "But I know he only survived because of what you and Daniel 
did for him. We both owe you a great debt." She paused timidly, wanting 
to ask a question, but uncertain whether she really wanted to hear the 
answer. Besides which she wasn't too sure how the doctor would react, 
after all they didn't really know each other. 

Finally, she took a deep breath and asked anyway. "Jack told me about the 
drugs they injected him with," she said, a slight quiver in her voice. "I 
know there can be long term effects, but I wondered if I could ask you 
honestly," she trailed off and Janet patted her arm reassuringly, urging 
her to continue, whatever it was, to get it off her chest. "Well is he in 
any danger from the after effects?"

"No, not physically," Janet looked at her, trying to walk the fine line 
between patient confidentiality and telling a family member any truth 
that would aid recuperation. "Jack will recover from all his injuries 
eventually. He needs to take it easy on his ribs and hand, but everything 
else is more or less healed already. It's the psychological effects that 
could be most damaging."

Sara finally turned her gaze away from Jack to look directly at the 
doctor, "What do you mean?"

"He went through a lot, Sara, stuff that will be hard for him to face 
himself sometimes let alone explain to others." Janet paused for a 
moment, trying to gauge the strength of this woman before her, wanting to 
be sure that what she said would not scare her off. "He talked to Daniel 
about what happened, but you know what men are like, even when they're as 
close as those two. They never really get down to the deeper issues."

Sara smiled slightly, "Yeah, I told him about as much myself last night."

"Well it's good that you're talking about it with him, because that's the 
only thing that will help him completely recover. If Jack can work 
through the trauma of everything that happened then any recurring 
flashbacks as a result of the drugs he was given will have a lot less 
impact, whether they happen twenty five days from now or twenty five 
years."

"How likely is that?" Sara asked, digesting the possible length of the 
term, a significant amount of time compared with Jack's nonchalant 
mention of long term effects the night before. Sara was beginning to 
wonder what else he wasn't telling her, suspecting a great deal judging 
by what the doctor was and was not revealing.

Janet shrugged, "It's hard to say. Studies have shown recurrences of 
flashbacks that much later, but usually only in extreme cases of drug 
overdose."

"From what Jack said, it sounded like the amount they gave him was an 
extreme case," Sara argued quietly.

Janet grimaced uncomfortably, realising that Sara perhaps knew a little 
too much. "Admittedly, the amounts in his system and the speed with which 
he was dosed up, combined with his weakened state, could be categorised 
as extreme. But let's not get hung up on 'what ifs', Sara. The fact is 
that Jack survived and he's recovering far better than could have been 
expected given the seriousness of his original condition, not to mention 
the additional injury he sustained less than two weeks ago."

"In the last few days he's come along in leaps and bounds. Now if he can 
only deal with the deeper issues, there will be no reason to expect any 
permanent or long term backlash. But it's not going to be easy. I mean, 
we're talking about psychological effects Jack probably hasn't even 
noticed himself yet."

"Like the trouble he's been having eating," Sara murmured.

"You spotted that?" Sara nodded. "Yes, getting him back on a proper food 
intake would definitely be a help to his recovery. An active man like 
Jack can only stay healthy for so long on protein shakes. It's all a 
question of finding the real root cause of the problem, why he's 
developed this aversion to what was perfectly normal food to him before."

"I managed to get him to eat my vegetable lasagne last night," Sara said 
almost shyly.

Janet smiled encouragingly, "That's definitely a good start and that 
could be all it will take, just one step at a time."

Sara agreed with her choice of words, but a worried frown creased her 
forehead. "Seems like a lot of steps still to go," she said quietly.

"Worth it though, don't you think?" Janet turned her gaze back out onto 
the ice rink where Jack and Cassie were currently ballroom dancing. 

Jack's left arm was wrapped around Cassie's waist, her skates two feet 
above the ice. Her small hand lightly held Jack's strapped wrist, as he 
skated in slow circles to the waltz that was being played on the speakers 
surrounding the arena. He had a wonderful look of mock seriousness on his 
face as Cassie giggled hysterically.

Sara smiled at the sight. "Yeah, I guess it is," she said, trying to 
quash the nagging voices in her head. The ones that were telling her that 
she still had no real idea what Jack had been through and that maybe they 
would both be better off if she got out before it was too late, before 
she was completely sucked back into Jack's frightening world. Before they 
both got badly hurt again. Trying to ignore the voices that were telling 
her that she was barely strong enough to survive her own life, let alone 
help him to survive his.

                         *******************

Jack and Cassie finally skated towards the barrier to exit the ice rink 
and Sara and Janet went along to meet them. Both skaters looked rosy 
cheeked and happy. "Colonel, I trust you enjoyed that," Janet gave him a 
stern look.

"Uh-oh," Jack grinned to Cassie, talking out the side of his mouth as he 
leaned towards her, "I think your Mom's about to put her doctor's hat 
on!"

Cassie giggled as Janet frowned at him. "I seem to recall giving you a 
list of rules on what not to do with that hand and those ribs, Colonel. I 
can't actually remember any that you didn't break this afternoon!"

Jack looked truly chagrined, the smile leaving his face totally for a 
remorseful moment as he recalled his promise to himself to not do 
anything to worry Janet further about his health. "I'm really sorry. I 
guess I got carried away," he said apologetically.

Janet was taken aback by his unusually meek response, regretting sounding 
quite so harsh. She flashed a smile, "Don't worry, Jack, no harm done I 
hope. Just promise me, if you wake up tomorrow with more pain than 
normal, you'll call me, okay?" Jack nodded obediently.

"So, anyone for a milkshake?" Sara asked, trying to lighten the mood as 
the two began to take off their skates, or at least Cassie did. Jack 
realised he couldn't actually bend over double to undo them. Instead, he 
lifted one foot onto the bench and blinked at Janet with big brown puppy 
dog eyes until she gave a long suffering sigh and leaned over to begin 
unlacing the boots, lowering her head to hide the smile she couldn't stop 
from appearing on her face.

"Yes, please!" Cassie grinned at Sara's question, pulling her sneakers on 
quickly. "I'll come and help," she offered, grabbing the opportunity to 
get to know Sara a little more.

As the two of them headed over to the burger bar, Jack watched them go, 
admiring the unobstructed rear view of Sara as she walked away. His lips 
curved into a soft smile as he heard Cassie begin to chatter, her first 
question drifting back towards him before they moved out of earshot. "So 
what do you do, Sara?"

By the time Sara and Cassie had reached the back of the line, Cassie had 
reached the point of her conversation, "Are you and Jack getting back 
together?"

Sara was beginning to understand why Jack so obviously doted on the 
youngster, she had none of the usual false airs of a twelve year old 
girl. Instead, Cassie was honest and forthright, polite and genuinely 
friendly, and her mutual affection for Jack was apparent. She smiled at 
the question, replying with equal openness, "I honestly don't know 
Cassie."

"Jack really loves you, you know?" Cassie grinned, "Besides he's cute, 
funny and the bravest human I've ever met. What's not to like?"

"It's not that simple," Sara said, wishing it was.

"Why not?" Cassie asked directly.

But before Sara had to answer they reached the front of the queue and 
there ended that line of conversation. Instead they began to discuss 
favourite milkshake flavours.

Cassie and Sara returned to find Jack alone with their coats, leaning on 
the rail and staring out onto the ice. Janet had apparently gone to 
return the hired skates. 

Seeing the distant look in his eyes, Sara wondered what Jack was thinking 
about, but she didn't get a chance to ask. He sensed their approach and 
looked around, returning to the present, a grin creasing his features. 
"All my favourite things together! Talk about spoilt for choice!" 

He accepted the banana milkshake Sara offered, tucked his right hand 
around her waist and drew her towards him for the sweetest of soft 
kisses, his eyes sparkling at the look of surprise on her face. Then he 
let her go and sat down next to Cassie on the bench. Lowering his head to 
the straw, the two of them proceeded to begin a contest on who could make 
the loudest sucking noises.

Janet returned to find Jack and Cassie giggling and snorting like kids. 
Sara was standing with her hand over her eyes, shaking her head in mock 
disgust. She passed Janet her favourite chocolate flavour shake and 
picked up her own banana one.

"What do you reckon?" Janet asked, "Shall we show these kids how it's 
really done?" Sara's laughing eyes met hers in agreement and they both 
joined in.

By the time all four milkshake cartons had been noisily drained of every 
last delicious drop, the four of them were breathless from sucking and 
laughing and were hard pushed to decide just who had been the loudest.

Janet looked at her watch realising how late it was already and wondering 
what to suggest for food. Remembering what Sara had said earlier about 
Jack's eating habits, she made a decision, "So kids, how about we all go 
back to my place and I'll cook us something? I don't know about you, but 
I've been eating at work all week, I really need a decent home cooked 
meal tonight, rather than eating out. If that's okay with everybody?"

Sara smiled, "Well maybe I ought to be getting on home myself, I don't 
want to overstay my welcome."

"You can't go yet, Sara," Cassie objected, "Not at least until you've 
sampled Mom's cooking. She's really good!" The youngster added loyally. 
Besides she wanted Sara to stay with Jack for as long as necessary to 
make her realise they really were made for each other and that it was 
that simple.

"Yeah Janet's cooking is great," Jack joined in with a grin, "Just watch 
out if she serves chicken. Don't break the wishbone or she'll try and put 
a splint on it!"

"Actually, Colonel," Janet said disapprovingly, "I've been experimenting 
with vegetarian lately and I've got a great recipe I'd love to try out on 
somebody." She caught Sara's eye and winked at her.

Jack reached out his hand to tangle with Sara's nearby, looking up from 
his seat on the bench next to Cassie. "So, how about it?" he asked 
softly. 

It only took one look into those eyes for Sara to give in. She nodded, 
holding his gaze as she replied, "Okay, why not. So long as you really 
don't mind Janet."

"Good, come on then, let's go," Janet said, watching closely as Jack 
stood up, wanting to see how his ribs were faring after that afternoon's 
exercise. Jack held his right hand to his chest as he rose to his feet, 
wincing slightly at the deep ache in his ribcage. He smiled to himself, 
knowing it was worth the pain for the fun he'd had with Cassie, not to 
mention that he finally felt like things were getting back to normal 
between them after everything that had happened.

Janet saw the shadow pass across his face and could almost imagine what 
he was thinking at that moment. She was relieved to see the look quickly 
replaced by a smile, but she didn't like the second wince as he 
straightened upright.

Jack turned to find Janet staring at him and he quickly dropped his hand 
away from supporting his chest. With a sheepish grin he realised it was 
probably too late when he saw the frown of concern on her face.

Cassie saved him from a telling off when she jumped up and down beside 
him. "Can we go skating again next week Jack, please?"

"I think you'll have to ask your Mom that, honey," he told her, still 
looking at Janet.

The petite doctor saw the look of sheer happiness on her daughter's face, 
the first time in a long while that there wasn't a slight pensiveness to 
her expression. Then she saw the sparkle in Jack's own eyes and realised 
that perhaps this was one of the best forms of therapy they would ever 
find. "I suppose so," she said reluctantly, "So long as Jack takes care 
of his ribs in the meantime."

"Yippee!" Cassie yelled excitedly, grabbing Jack's arm and dragging him 
out towards the parking lot. 

Janet watched them go, her smile fading as her mind automatically went 
back to the cause of all her worries. It was odd because she wasn't 
usually one to dwell on things, but somehow she couldn't get what had 
almost happened to Cassie out of her mind. 

It was understandable really, after all, she cared more about her 
daughter than she had ever cared for anyone else in the world, any world 
for that matter. Janet didn't know what she would do if she lost Cassie. 
Well actually she had a feeling she did know, because she had two 
examples of what could happen right in front of her in Jack and Sara. And 
somehow Janet didn't think she could possibly withstand the pain they had 
gone through and survive. At least they had each other again. Or did 
they? 

Janet frowned to herself, from what Sara had said that afternoon it 
seemed like the jury was still out on that one. Well she would personally 
do everything she could to ensure Sara made the right decision. Janet 
certainly did not want to see Jack go through the pain of losing the one 
woman he obviously truly loved a second time.

Although Sara may be undecided on what she wanted, Janet did not believe 
Jack had any such problem. From the expression in his eyes every time he 
looked at Sara, Janet knew that he was already captivated again, hook, 
line and sinker. If Sara gave up on him now, Jack would be devastated and 
the effect on his recovery and his mental state would be appalling. Janet 
frowned again, wishing she had a crystal ball to see what was going to 
happen. Oh well, she thought to herself, just another thing for you to 
worry your little head about.

It was hard to believe that one man could cause her more concern than the 
rest of the world put together, more even than her ex-husband ever had. 
Maybe she could understand it if she was attracted to him, but it was 
more like Jack brought out the maternal instinct in her. From the first 
time they had met, the first time he had been under her care, Janet had 
been sucked in along with just about all the other females on her medical 
team. 

There was a side to the Colonel that most people never got to see unless 
they had to treat him when he was sick or wounded. The vulnerability in 
his eyes, the deep sadness that was always there, but remained suppressed 
all the time he was being his usual witty tower of strength. The boyish 
look on his face when he slept, not to mention the ease with which he 
charmed all of her nurses until they would do anything for him, including 
bringing in a television so he could watch the hockey game, or letting 
him wear pyjamas so he didn't have to wander around in one of those awful 
hospital gowns that barely covered his long torso and flapped open at the 
back.

Little did the Colonel realise that the nurses had long since decided it 
was much more pleasing on the eye to see his naked chest all the time he 
was in the infirmary hooked up to all those monitors, than it was to get 
a brief glimpse of his butt on the rare occasions he was allowed up and 
about. Especially since most of them had taken their turn to give him the 
regular vaccination shots and had already seen that part of his anatomy.

Jack was so self-effacing, he was completely unaware of the effect he had 
on her nurses, never noticing the fact that it was always a different one 
who administered the injection. The female staff in the SGC infirmary had 
drawn lots to see who went first right from the beginning, acting with 
the stereotypical manner of military nurses as they discussed the entire 
male population of the base with their usual ribald humour. The 
conversation turned to Colonel O'Neill and the other two male members of 
SG1 on a more regular basis than any other, debating the finer points of 
the human anatomy until Janet had to flee the room in embarrassment.

Perhaps it was simply because she had gotten to know the person before 
she had to examine his body. Janet had become privy to Jack's overly 
large medical file almost as soon as she had transferred into the SGC, 
since his growing number of unscheduled attendances to the infirmary had 
already put him at the top of their hitlist, for albeit minor wounds up 
to that point. Unfortunately, Doctor Fraiser's arrival seemed to herald a 
new era of more serious injury as Jack seemed hellbent on damaging every 
part of his body, internally or externally, in one way or another.

So Janet probably knew more about what the Colonel had been through 
during his lengthy military service than he could possibly imagine and it 
all simply added up to one thing, a doctor who had grown to understand 
the real reason behind every one of his flip comments or his 
insubordinate actions. A doctor who greatly admired Jack's strength of 
character, his principles and his depth of compassion, his resilience and 
his courage. A doctor who never ceased to be amazed by the Colonel's 
perpetual sense of humour and the way he instilled a positive attitude 
into the people around him. And a doctor who worried constantly about the 
chinks in his armour and the intensity of the pain buried within him. 

The level of understanding grew between them each time Jack came under 
her medical care or whenever they talked about Cassie and their lives in 
general. Not that Jack talked about himself much, he always found a way 
to avoid discussing himself at any length. Still, for Janet it had all 
served to provoke the deepest mothering instincts imaginable for another 
man and given her a friend whom she valued and loved and certainly didn't 
want to see get hurt. Yet she knew that sometimes there was nothing you 
could do to stop it, you just had to be there for them if the worst did 
happen. 

With a deep troubled sigh Janet turned to pick up her coat as Jack and 
Cassie headed out of the exit into the parking lot. She found Sara 
watching her curiously, trying to comprehend everything she had seen in 
the interaction between Jack and Janet and the consequent reaction on the 
doctor's face.

Janet flushed red, hoping Sara couldn't tell what she had been thinking. 
"Ready?" she asked with an innocent smile and they followed Jack and 
Cassie out to the Jeep.

                         *******************

Janet certainly was a good cook and a tactful one at that. She made them 
all a delicious vegetarian nut loaf along with roasted vegetables and a 
sundried tomato and basil sauce. Tasty, but not too rich, and decidedly 
healthy.

They had all eaten hungrily with lots of pleased looks passing between 
Janet and Sara as they watched Jack empty his plate. Sara even caught 
herself wondering what she could cook him tomorrow that would be equally 
as enticing to his feeble appetite, then she stopped herself short with 
the realisation that she still wasn't sure there would even be a 
'tomorrow'. One step at a time, Sara, she reminded herself, uncertain 
what the rest of the evening held in store.

Janet and Sara offered to clear the dishes when Jack and Cassie started 
yawning in unison. It wasn't late, but they had both had a lot of 
excitement and exercise that day.

When the two women took their cups of coffee into the living room they 
found Jack asleep on the sofa with Cassie curled up beside him, his arm 
wrapped around her shoulders and her hand lightly hugging him as she 
dozed against his chest. The breeze from the open window behind them 
ruffled his tousled hair as he rested tiredly.

Sara and Janet grinned at each other. "Seems like we might have finally 
found a way to ensure the Colonel gets a decent night's sleep for a 
change!" Janet said softly.

"I slept fine last night too," Jack whispered, surprising them both with 
his wakefulness. He opened his eyes and grinned meaningfully at Sara, who 
immediately flushed red and hid her face behind her mug of coffee.

Jack shifted slightly on the sofa, his ribs beginning to ache even more 
than normal in his present position. Cassie stirred sleepily, lifting her 
head up to frown at him accusingly as if to complain about him moving her 
pillow. "Hey sweetheart," Jack smiled lovingly at her, brushing her long 
hair away from her face. "How about I take you up to bed?" he asked 
softly, "I promise I'll read you a story if you can get ready for bed and 
brush your teeth before we both fall asleep again!"

Cassie nodded dozily, murmuring incoherently and nestling deeper into his 
chest. Jack scooped her up gently, lifting himself gingerly off the sofa 
using all the power in his strong legs. He held Cassie around the base of 
her back as she wrapped her arms around his neck, her legs around his 
waist, and rested her head on his shoulder, her eyes still closed.

Janet put her cup down and went ahead of them, knowing the only way 
Cassie was going to avoid sleeping in her clothes that night was with a 
helping hand from Mom. Judging by the tired look on her face there would 
be no need for any story telling either, in fact it was touch and go 
whether Cassie would even notice that Jack's shoulder had been exchanged 
for her bed.

Jack returned downstairs a few minutes later, leaving Janet to put Cassie 
to bed properly. "So what are you going to do now?" he asked Sara 
directly, a question he had desperately wanted to ask all day, but this 
was the first time they had been alone.

"Well," Sara hesitated indecisively, but before she got a chance to 
continue Jack gathered her into his arms and planted a kiss on her lips 
that dissolved all sensible thought from her mind. When he eventually 
pulled away he looked at her questioningly, licking his lips nervously. 

"I need to get some things from home on the way to your place," Sara said 
bashfully, feeling like a teenager being seduced for the first time. Jack 
nodded, an odd shadow on his face, which Sara knew was due to his 
reluctance to go anywhere near that house and all the memories it held 
for him.

Sara had thought about selling, after all she didn't need anything nearly 
so big, but she couldn't do it, anymore than she could change anything in 
Charlie's bedroom or get rid of any of his stuff. Even his bike still 
rested where he'd left it all those years before when he had arrived home 
on that fateful day. It was leaning up against the side of the house, 
rusting with age now, the same way that she had felt about her heart 
until the last twenty four hours.

"Look, you're tired, rather than make you wait about at my place, how 
about I drop you off first? I can pop back out and pick up a few things 
and then meet you back at your house," Sara offered.

"No really, it's okay," Jack assured her quietly, but his eyes told her 
differently in the way they would not meet her gaze.

Before they had time to get into a debate over it, Janet came back down 
the stairs. "Anyone want another coffee?" she asked, stifling a yawn 
herself.

"No thanks, Janet. We really ought to be going, before Jack falls asleep 
again," Sara smiled at her, "It's been really great to meet you and 
Cassie. And thanks for a lovely meal."

Janet nodded happily and followed them both out into the hall. Sara 
headed on out to the Jeep and Jack was about to follow, when Janet 
touched his arm lightly. He turned to look at her, a quizzical expression 
on his face. "Be careful, Jack. Look after those ribs, okay? I don't want 
to see you get hurt again," she said meaningfully.

"I'll be fine, honest. I'll take care, don't worry," Jack assured her 
quietly, knowing exactly what she really meant. He leaned in and kissed 
her cheek. "Thanks Janet, you're a good friend. Thanks for everything." 
With that he turned and walked down the drive. 

Janet watched him climb into the passenger seat of Sara's shiny black 
Wrangler, unable to stop herself from saying a silent prayer for them 
both.

                         *******************

Jack fell straight to sleep in the car as Sara drove through the dark 
tree lined suburbs. She headed directly to his house, parking in his 
driveway and practically having to haul him from the vehicle to send him 
inside. She took his doorkey, promising faithfully that she would be back 
within the hour, before he would let her go.

True to her word, the black and chrome Jeep arrived back outside Jack's 
home an hour later. Sara retrieved an overnight bag from the passenger 
seat and let herself in through the front door using his key. The house 
was peaceful as she wandered up the stairs to find him.

The bedroom light was on and a window had been opened to cool the stuffy 
room where it had been shut up all day in the summer heat. Sara leaned on 
the door frame, a soft smile on her lips as she regarded the sleeping 
figure curled up on the bed, recalling all the lustful thoughts about his 
body that had been preying on her mind throughout the day. 

Jack looked like he had fallen asleep as soon as he sat down. His boots 
were still on his feet, his jacket half heartedly pulled down off one 
shoulder, before he had succumbed to the temptation of the comfortable 
bed.

Silently, Sara entered the room and put her bag down on the floor, 
unzipping the top and lifting out a small case of toiletries. She headed 
into the bathroom, quietly shutting the door behind her. When she 
emerged, she sat down on the sofa and removed her boots, then she undid 
the belt of her jeans and slid them down her legs. Finally, she pulled 
her sweater over her head, shivering slightly beneath the open window in 
just her white t-shirt and underwear. She reached up and pulled the 
window closed, leaving it slightly ajar. Then she turned to face the bed, 
a slow smile creeping across her face as she considered her next move. 

Crossing to the bed, Sara sat down on the edge to unzip Jack's boots, 
pulling them off so gently that he barely stirred. Dropping them quietly 
to the floor, she crawled across the mattress to tackle the removal of 
his jacket. Knowing the difficulty of easing the cuff over the strapping 
on his right hand, Sara decided to undo the Velcro support and take that 
off first. The touch of her hand on his fingers was so light that Jack 
continued to sleep undisturbed until she had his left arm out of his 
jacket and needed to move him in order to slide it off his other shoulder 
too.

Knowing there was no easy way to achieve that, Sara dipped her head 
towards his, stroking her fingertips through his greying temples. She 
nuzzled against his neck, her lips closing on his earlobe, nibbling 
softly. Breathing against the fine hairs on his neck, she watched them 
stand on end in response.

Sara paused to whisper seductively into his ear, "Jack, sooner or later 
you have to wake up, no matter how good your dreams are!" she repeated 
his own words from that morning, kissing his neck and gradually working 
her way along his jaw towards his lips.

"Hmm, I was dreaming that a beautiful woman was trying to seduce me," 
Jack murmured softly, his eyes still closed as he finally began to stir, 
turning his head slightly towards her approaching lips.

"And what happened?" Sara asked, willingly taking the bait as she 
continued kissing her way towards his mouth.

"I had to fight her off because I knew my ex-wife would turn up any 
minute!" Jack opened his eyes, a sly smile creasing his face as he 
wrapped his left arm around Sara and pulled her down onto the bed beside 
him, covering her yelp of indignant surprise with a breathtaking kiss. 

His mouth smothered hers passionately with the hunger of one deprived of 
everything but a fervent imagination for far too long. Their jaws began 
to work together, pressing against each other ardently, tongues tasting, 
tangling until they both ached for more than the joining of their lips 
could provide. 

                         *******************

Sunday: Another Day, Another Basement

Sara woke slowly, warm and happy. The sound of an electric razor drifted 
from the adjoining bathroom and she smiled softly, remembering a previous 
encounter over a fortnight earlier, a hint of better times that had 
turned into this incredible actuality. 

The shower was running in the background and she heard the razor stop. 
The lid of the laundry basket clattered slightly and the cubicle doors 
opened and closed, the splash of water becoming briefly louder in 
between. 

A playful grin lit up Sara's face and she threw off the covers and rose 
from the bed. Crossing the room, she pushed open the bathroom door which 
had been left ajar. Steam surrounded her, clinging to her body as she 
reached to slide back the glass doors of the shower cubicle. She smiled 
at the look of surprise on Jack's face as he turned towards the noise. 

"Thought you might need some help!" Sara grinned wickedly, relishing the 
look of lust in his dark eyes and the smile on his face which matched her 
own. 

Holding his gaze, she stepped into the cubicle, closing the doors behind 
her, forcing Jack directly beneath the shower spray. Placing her hands 
around his slim waist, Sara turned him away from her. He moved 
compliantly, twisting his neck to watch curiously as she reached for the 
bottle of shampoo and squeezed some into her palm. 

                         *******************

With little other suitable food in the house anyway, Sara let Jack get 
away with downing a protein shake for breakfast, watching him like a hawk 
as he stood in the kitchen and reluctantly drank every last drop. She 
smiled at the disgusted look on his face, until she remembered the 
conversation with Janet the day before, and found herself again wondering 
what was causing Jack's aversion to food in the first place and, worse 
still, why Jack was apparently unaware of it, or at least unwilling to 
accept that it was a problem.

Finished with the empty glass, Jack turned to rinse it in the sink, 
wincing at the sharp pain flaring in his ribs from the sudden movement. 
Sara saw the guilty look flash across his face, knowing she was just as 
much to blame for the increased discomfort he was obviously experiencing 
that morning. Wondering if she should suggest a trip to see Doctor 
Fraiser, Sara decided to wait until later to see how it went. In the 
meantime, she would keep a close eye on him.

"Here, let me do that." Sara moved to his side, taking the glass from his 
hand. "It's a lovely day, why don't you go outside and get some rest in 
the sun. It'll do you the world of good and give me a chance to sort out 
a few things in here."

Jack looked at her dubiously, about to object to any possible chores she 
was planning on doing around his house. She placed a finger over his lips 
to stop him. "I thought I'd borrow your washing machine, if that's okay. 
I want to wash the clothes I was wearing yesterday. I'll do some of your 
stuff while I'm at it."

"You know that's not necessary, Sara. I can do some myself later," Jack 
murmured, kissing her finger softly until she eventually removed it.

"It's just as easy to make up a full load," Sara smiled insistently, 
practically shooing him out of the kitchen and following him down the 
hall. She watched from the den until he settled down onto one of the 
loungers outside on the deck, then she turned and headed upstairs to the 
bathroom.

Jack's laundry basket was pretty full, he obviously hadn't been able to 
do much washing lately. Sara picked up the whole hamper and walked back 
into the bedroom, noticing several items of clothing still strewn about 
the floor from the previous night. Picking up Jack's discarded jacket, 
Sara stepped to the wardrobe and opened the door, reaching in for a spare 
hanger.

Placing the jacket on the rail, she picked up a pair of shoes and opened 
the other door to put them on the floor inside. She stood up and surveyed 
the room, looking for anything else that needed putting away or washing 
before turning back to close the doors. 

Sara stopped short, noticing for the first time the way the full length 
mirrors on the inside of both doors had been covered by clothing, the 
laden hangers hooked haphazardly over the top edge of each mirror to 
obscure them.

She stared at them for a long time, trying to convince herself that it 
had been done accidentally, but the coincidence was too great. She 
remembered Jack shaving in front of a steamed up mirror in the bathroom 
over two weeks earlier and her instinctive thought on seeing him again 
last Thursday that he probably had not even considered his own reflection 
in over seven weeks. Now all those ideas cemented into one unequivocal 
reality. 

Whether he realised it or not, Jack was avoiding looking at himself. Be 
it from fear or something even more insidious, she could not begin to 
comprehend. But here was irrefutable proof that he had some way to go 
before he would be psychologically healed and Sara was at a loss to know 
how to help him through it. Nor did she know if she was capable. Or 
willing to try.

She stood hesitating in Jack's bedroom, trying to find an answer that she 
knew would not come. The solution to fear and indecision that increased 
inexorably with her realisation of how far they were already committed to 
each other. If she were to back out now they would both be hurt, but to 
continue further, only to abandon him later would be even more 
devastating for Jack. 

Such knowledge was of no help whatsoever. Sara did not want to leave him, 
but, no matter how much she loved him, a part of her was too afraid to 
stay. She was terrified by what she might find out about him, but equally 
frightened by what could happen to Jack if he never set free what was 
inside of him. If it all stayed buried deep within, slowly destroying him 
from the inside out.

Finally, Sara's eyes settled on the laundry basket and she let out a 
heart felt sigh. For now she would do the only thing she could, immerse 
herself in work, keep busy and forget about it until the decision made 
itself, knowing with a certain sense of foreboding that it eventually 
would.

                         *******************

It was almost noon by the time Sara had finished sorting out the kitchen 
and attempting to make a list of much needed supplies. Restocking the 
empty cupboards would be quite a task, she had discovered, Jack certainly 
had little use for food lately. Of the few basic ingredients he did have, 
most were either out of date or almost used up. Still she had the 
following day off, maybe she'd do some shopping for him if he continued 
to be as nice to her as he had been so far, she grinned to herself.

Still smiling, Sara headed down the hall into the den, moving quietly to 
the sliding doors to check on Jack. He was lying on his back in the warm 
sunshine, his eyes closed, his face relaxed for a change and his 
breathing slow, apparently sleeping soundly. 

Sara turned away and moved to the coffee table, bending down to tidy a 
pile of old magazines. As she straightened up, she noticed something 
sticking out slightly from beneath the couch. Crouching down to retrieve 
the offending item, Sara found herself holding the torn half of what 
looked like a printed photograph. Unable to comprehend what she was 
looking at, she fished further underneath the sofa, her fingertips 
outstretched until they touched on another piece of the thick glossy 
paper. 

Grasping the edge, she pulled it out and sat back on her heels. Fitting 
the two blank halves together, Sara turned them over curiously, gasping 
in shock as she was hit by the sight of a battered, vividly coloured 
chest. The positioning of several darker bruises proving its origin 
unmistakably. It was a photograph of Jack's injuries, obviously taken 
before the damage had faded in the intervening weeks to the less livid 
contusions that had still been horrifying to Sara's unprepared gaze just 
a fortnight ago.

Tears pricked her wide blue eyes and she glanced outside to ensure Jack 
was still asleep on the deck, knowing this was something she was never 
meant to find. Sara stifled a sob, trembling fingers pressed to her 
mouth. She stood up quickly and hurried back to the kitchen, out of 
Jack's eyesight and earshot. 

For a long time Sara leaned against the counter simply staring at the 
photo, her mind numb. She was startled from her shock when the doorbell 
suddenly chimed down the hallway. Quickly she rolled up the two printed 
halves and shoved them into the back pocket of her jeans, hidden beneath 
the tail of her denim shirt worn loosely over a white tank top. Wiping 
her eyes, Sara fixed a false smile on her face and went along the hall to 
answer the door.

"Oh! Hello," Daniel Jackson looked at her in surprise, trying to hide his 
shock at finding her there, realising it would make his task a lot 
trickier. 

He had received a call from General Hammond that morning regarding the 
police file he'd borrowed during the week. Apparently one of the 
photographs was missing. Daniel knew exactly which one and it was easy to 
understand how it had been missed. They had both left Jack's house in 
such a rush last Wednesday morning, and on so little sleep, that he had 
simply grabbed the folder and ran. The picture that Jack had torn in half 
was probably left lying somewhere in the den. Now he could only pray that 
Sara had not found it first. 

"I'm not disturbing anything, am I?" he asked, smiling innocently and 
wondering curiously about her surprising presence.

"No, come on in, Daniel. It's good to see you," Sara said as brightly as 
she could manage. "Jack's asleep out on the deck. Come into the kitchen, 
I'll get you a drink."

"Thanks, it's getting pretty hot and humid out there. Looks like a 
storm's brewing," Daniel said, following her down the hallway. He 
casually leaned against the kitchen counter as Sara moved to get a glass 
from the cupboard. "I came by to see how Jack was. I have to go away on 
business early tomorrow morning."

"Luxor," Sara interjected, "Jack told me." Daniel looked surprised. "So 
what are you going to do over there?" she asked curiously.

"Oh, erm, there's a new dig I'm going to take a look at," Daniel 
explained, a little flustered by her unexpected knowledge.

"Archaeologist, eh?" Sara stored that up for later consideration. 
Wondering how much he would reveal, she added, "So what's an 
archaeologist doing working with someone who hates rocks as much as 
Jack?" She smiled slightly, recalling a trip they had once made to 
Washington DC, when she had been unable to drag him out of the Air and 
Space Museum and had even more trouble trying to haul him inside the 
Natural History Museum.

"Um, long story, actually," Daniel replied uncomfortably.

"I know!" Sara gestured with her hands, "You could tell me, but then 
you'd have to shoot me!" She grinned faintly, remembering numerous times 
in the past when Jack had jokingly used that line on her.

Daniel shrugged awkwardly. "I'll just go and see whether Jack's awake or 
not," he said hurriedly and ducked out into the hall. 

Sara followed quietly and stood in the doorway to the den. Daniel had 
gotten that far, but he was now frantically riffling through the papers 
on the coffee table, making occasional furtive glances in the direction 
of where Jack was lying on the deck.

She watched silently as Daniel crouched down to check beneath the 
furniture, then she pulled the two printed halves from her back pocket 
and held them out. "Is this what you're looking for?" Sara asked softly, 
not wishing to wake Jack who was just outside. 

Daniel jumped, startled by her presence. Glancing up, he paled slightly 
at the sight of the torn parts of that dreadful photograph in her grasp. 
Finally he met her gaze, nodding guiltily and standing up to follow Sara 
back out into the hall, heading for the kitchen, a place that somehow 
seemed like the most neutral territory for what was about to take place.

Sitting down at the small pine table, Sara laid the two pieces of printed 
paper together. "Where did this come from?" she asked quietly.

Daniel sat in the chair opposite, studying her carefully. He was torn 
between telling the truth and saying nothing at all, but he knew exactly 
how she felt, shut out and isolated from what Jack had been through. How 
could he not know how that felt? And now he had the ability to help her, 
to offer a little relief and comfort. Could he not share some of what he 
knew? Perhaps so long as he did not offer too much information for her 
own good.

Eventually Daniel took a deep breath and answered her question honestly. 
"The photograph came from the police report," he admitted quietly.

"The Egyptian police?" Sara frowned in confusion. Daniel nodded in 
surprise at her knowledge. "I don't understand. Why did the police get 
involved? Shouldn't this whole business have come under military 
jurisdiction?"

"Janet and I acted alone to get Jack out of there. We didn't know who was 
behind it and there was noone else in Egypt who could help." Daniel 
shrugged, not knowing where he should stop once he had begun to explain. 
"We were in a hotel trying to fix Jack up to bring him home. The people 
who did this to him," he pointed to the photo, glancing away, out through 
the kitchen window, rather than having to look at it again, "They came 
after him. There was some gunfire and the police arrived."

Sara's gaze reluctantly returned to the picture. The sight of the bruises 
was appalling, so vividly coloured and fresh compared to when she had 
first seen the state of Jack just two weeks before. She felt tears prick 
her eyelids again and forced them back, unwilling to let them cloud her 
thoughts. "How did the photo get torn?" she asked softly.

Daniel gestured helplessly, refusing to meet her gaze, knowing he had 
probably revealed too much already. He also knew that if Sara pushed him 
he would be unable to hold back. He needed to talk about it with someone 
else who felt the same way he did, someone who didn't have the typical 
hard nosed military attitude of the people surrounding him at the base, 
people who so often suffocated his emotions. He needed to talk about what 
had happened as much as Sara wanted to hear it, but wasn't this a gross 
violation of Jack's privacy?

"What's going on between the two of you?" Daniel asked gently, needing to 
know if Sara was sharing Jack's life again before he could decide how 
much to tell her.

"To be honest, Daniel, I don't know for sure myself. But we've talked 
more and shared more in the last few days than we have in years." Sara's 
eyes held a mixture of sadness and love, an expression that told Daniel 
she already knew a great deal and still cared for Jack deeply. It was all 
he needed to know.

"Jack tore the photo, Tuesday night," Daniel explained hesitantly. He 
glanced out the window again, gazing at the distant clouds building on 
the mountainous horizon. 

Sara nodded, understanding the reason. It tied in with the way Jack 
appeared to be avoiding his own reflection. Another thought occurred to 
her. "Are there other pictures?" she asked quietly. Daniel bobbed his 
head slightly, unable to see the harm in that simple truth. "His hand? 
His head?" He nodded to each. "Why?" Daniel finally turned back to face 
her, a look of confusion in his eyes. "Why did they hurt him so badly?" 
Sara's plaintive voice was heart rending.

Daniel swallowed, struggling to find an honest reply that would not 
reveal any classified secrets. "Because he wouldn't give them the answers 
they wanted," he admitted eventually.

Sara digested that information carefully, slowly repeating what she knew 
out loud, "Jack wouldn't answer their questions, so they beat him up. 
They broke his hand, they fractured his rib, they overdosed him with 
drugs......," she ground to a halt, reaching one single distressing 
conclusion. Sara stared at Daniel. "They tortured him, didn't they?" she 
whispered in horrified disbelief.

He didn't need to say anything. His painfilled blue eyes told Sara all 
she needed to know, and more, as his mind went back to the hotel room in 
Giza when Janet had made the same discovery. "It gets worse doesn't it?" 
she said hoarsely, reading the implications of his silence intuitively, 
"What else did they do to him?"

Daniel shook his head and turned away. He couldn't stand the look in her 
eyes any longer. He desperately wanted to reveal the whole truth, but he 
couldn't tell whether it was simply to unburden himself or because he 
knew that the nightmare of not knowing was almost worse than the reality, 
almost.

Sara laid her hand over his. "Daniel, I need to know," she implored him. 
"I want to help Jack get past everything that's happened to him, but I 
have to know what I'm getting myself into. I need to find out why he 
still isn't eating properly. I want to understand what's behind these 
awful nightmares he's been suffering. But how can I help Jack if I don't 
know what he's been through?" she reasoned with a quiet insistence.

Daniel considered her for a long while, seeing his own fears confirmed in 
her steady gaze. He knew there was still some way to go before Jack would 
be fully recovered. There were deep psychological scars that Daniel had 
as yet been unable to reach and wasn't sure if he ever could. And now 
that he was going off to Luxor for a week, there would be no opportunity 
to try again any time soon. Perhaps Sara was the only person who could 
help Jack now. She might well be the only person Jack would accept help 
from.

He studied her carefully, reading her expression, trying to gauge whether 
she could really handle the truth. He knew some of what she had been 
through before. She had survived tragedy and she had helped Jack recover 
from his long imprisonment during the Gulf War. If anyone could help Jack 
now, surely it had to be Sara.

Eventually Daniel spoke in a voice that was barely audible, "They used 
electrocution on him." He stared at the table, unable to avoid feeling 
guilty for revealing some of Jack's darkest secrets, but knowing this was 
the only way he might help his friend now. "When that didn't work they 
switched to his broken fingers." 

Daniel swallowed painfully, pulling his hand away from her and rising 
from the table. His right hand clenched into a tight fist and he fought 
back the surge of anger that rose up every time he thought about what had 
been done to his friends and himself all in the name of sheer mercenary 
greed.

Turning his back to Sara, he leaned against the sink, staring out through 
the kitchen window. He could just see the deck where Jack was lying on a 
sunlounger, sleeping peacefully for once, perhaps because of Sara's 
presence. Daniel could only hope he was doing the right thing.

He swivelled to face her, his voice shaking slightly as he continued, 
"Somehow Jack managed to stop the electrocution, so they tortured him by 
grinding the broken bones together in his fingers until he passed out."

"And he never told them anything," Sara said softly. It was a statement, 
not a question. "Then why is he still punishing himself?"

Daniel frowned in confusion as she explained, "He doesn't eat properly 
unless we practically force feed him. He's avoiding looking at his own 
reflection. He can't be in a room that doesn't have the windows open. He 
drinks ice cold water like nectar and will barely touch anything else. He 
hasn't even attempted to switch on the TV or listen to music or the radio 
since I got here on Friday." Sara paused, swallowing hard against the 
impact of her own words as she finally admitted some truths she had been 
ignoring all weekend. 

"Jack's depriving himself of some of the fundamentals of his life. He's 
so introverted and for the majority of the time his usual wit and zest 
for life are completely AWOL! Daniel, he's just not our Jack," Sara 
pointed out in a small voice, adding painfully, "It's almost as if he's 
still being tortured!"

"I think he still is," Daniel agreed gently, realising that Sara had 
noticed all the same psychological implications he had become aware of 
during that long and difficult Tuesday evening, just five days earlier. 
"Jack is still being tortured," he gestured helplessly, "By his 
memories!"

Noticing Sara's deep frown Daniel tried to reassure her, "But he is 
getting better, believe me. Jack's worked through a lot of issues in the 
past week, he just needs time to tackle what's left. But he's been 
getting stronger every day and now that you're here that can only be a 
help to him."

"You just have to give him a chance, Sara," Daniel pleaded, even more 
certain that she was the only one left who could help Jack face his 
remaining fears, nightmares that he had buried so deep he seemed barely 
aware of their destructive existence. Unresolved issues that Daniel felt 
forced to admit he didn't stand a hope in hell of helping Jack with. 
"You're the only one that can help him."

Sara stood up, deliberately breaking away from his penetrating gaze, not 
wanting Daniel to see the fear and doubt plaguing her. She poured herself 
a mug of black coffee from the jug that had been resting on the hotplate 
of the coffee maker for a couple of hours. "Want some?" she asked. Daniel 
shook his head. "Juice?" This time he shrugged noncommittally and Sara 
took that as a 'yes', getting a clean glass down from the cupboard and 
going to the fridge to retrieve a carton of fruit juice that had been 
among the items she had brought with her the previous Friday.

Daniel accepted the drink with a smile, holding the overly full glass in 
both hands to steady it. For the first time Sara noticed the tubular 
bandage on the smallest digit of his left hand. "What happened to your 
finger?" she asked curiously.

"I broke it a couple of weeks ago," Daniel explained a little too 
offhandedly.

Sara cast her mind back to the last time they had met, checking that he 
definitely hadn't had the injury then. She watched him as he walked over 
to sit back down on one of the kitchen chairs. "And I suppose you got 
that limp from shooting yourself in the leg," she said quietly, noticing 
the way he was slightly favouring one limb. 

Several things began to add up in her mind. "Jack told me about the 
second run in you two had with those thugs. When was it," Sara paused, 
trying to guess the exact date from things Jack and Daniel had both 
revealed, "Monday before last?" 

Daniel nodded, fooled into thinking she knew more than she did. "They 
broke your finger and shot you in the leg. Broke Jack's ribs, gave him a 
bruised kidney, not to mention beating you both to a pulp," Sara said, 
convincingly filling in the blanks with an incredible success rate. 
"You're both lucky to have gotten out of there alive," she trailed off, 
absorbing the new information and measuring it against Jack's nonchalant 
'nothing major' statement of the previous Friday night. She wondered what 
else he had been lying about.

"Barely," Daniel agreed quietly. So relieved was he to be able to talk 
about it with someone who didn't belong to the military, someone who 
understood the trauma he had gone through from a purely humanitarian 
point of view, he did not stop to question why Jack would have told Sara 
so much about that one day when he had apparently revealed so little to 
her about his experiences in Egypt.

"With everything that happened, it's hard to believe that we didn't all 
get killed this time. I really thought it was all over, especially for 
Jack," Daniel said, suppressing a shudder. "He was in a bad enough state 
before they even started playing their torturous little mind games. The 
internal bleeding was getting worse and worse, he was dying right before 
my eyes and I was completely powerless to help him," Daniel's hoarse 
voice shook. He stared fixedly at his hands, clenched tightly together on 
the table. 

Sara retook the other chair and closed her fingers gently over his. When 
he raised his head, she met his pain filled eyes with her compassionate 
gaze, encouraging him to continue for his own sake, not just because she 
needed to know the full extent of the truth. 

"When they broke Jack's ribs, I thought he was finished, but somehow he 
managed to save us both," Daniel's whisper was barely audible. "From 
somewhere in those dark recesses his mind had retreated to, Jack fought 
past everything they were doing to him. He fought against the torture and 
the beatings and he won!"

He shook his head with renewed astonishment, "Jack beat them all and 
saved my life. And then he managed to save the lives of so many people on 
the base as well," Daniel said almost in awe.

"You saved Jack too," Sara pointed out softly, as yet unable to digest 
the full implications of what Daniel had revealed to her, but knowing she 
would never completely understand everything she had just heard.

"You got Jack out of that hellhole in Egypt. You rescued him from the 
drugs and the torture. And from what Jack told me, I think you saved him 
from himself when you finally got him to talk about it last week." Sara 
swallowed against the lump constricting her throat, squeezing his hand 
beneath hers.

"We both owe you a great deal," she said, her voice quivering as she 
fought to hide her horror at what Jack had endured. Sara struggled to 
accept the fact that he had been subjected to so much torture and abuse, 
far beyond anything she could ever have imagined. It was no wonder he was 
barely surviving. But how could she possibly help him? She had no idea 
how to help someone who had suffered so much, no matter how much she 
might want to. 

Sara had always recognised her own limitations and she knew she had just 
reached them. Without a doubt, she was not strong enough to help Jack 
through something like this. With an overwhelming feeling of dread, Sara 
realised that she had been right, when she had stood indecisively in the 
bedroom earlier that morning. The decision had made itself. She couldn't 
do it. She couldn't help Jack. And her continued presence would only make 
things even more difficult for him.

Daniel understood the tears in her eyes, although he had no inkling of 
the real reason behind them. "Sara, seeing you in Jack's home again is 
repayment enough," Daniel said almost shyly, "I know you're not sure 
about what's going on between the two of you, but knowing he's got you to 
talk to about everything that happened gives me hope that maybe when I 
get back from Egypt a few things will have changed for the better in 
Jack's life."

"I hope you're not talking about me behind my back!" Jack spoke from the 
kitchen door, startling the pair of them. "I thought I heard voices in 
here," he added, casually leaning against the wooden frame to regard his 
friend, "Hey Daniel, how ya doin'?"

"I'm fine, Jack. I thought you were sleeping," Daniel replied awkwardly, 
praying he hadn't heard them discussing him. Sara quickly buried the two 
torn halves of photograph beneath her shirt sleeved forearms, dragging 
them from the table top to drop the picture into her lap, hoping Jack 
would not notice her move, nor see the tears in her downturned eyes. 

Jack showed no indication of having eavesdropped any of their 
conversation. Instead he simply shrugged, barely willing to admit to 
himself, let alone to anyone else, that he had been woken by a vividly 
familiar nightmare, the first he had suffered since Friday. He should 
have realised they were not yet gone completely, but after two full 
nights sleep without one, he admittedly had high hopes. Maybe it was 
simply because he had been sleeping alone again for the first time since 
that Friday evening on the couch, but he couldn't help feeling a strong 
sense of foreboding that resurfaced along with his horrific memories. 

"I got thirsty," Jack lied easily, adding, "It's hot out there. Looks 
like a big storm brewing."

Sara stood up quickly, surreptitiously sliding the photograph onto the 
seat of the chair beneath her. "I'll get you a drink," she muttered, 
turning away before he could look at her and making a show of rinsing a 
glass at the sink as she attempted to recover her composure. She forced 
herself to act normally, while all the time she now knew that the 
afternoon was going to end with at least one broken heart and she could 
see no easy way out of it.

Jack noticed the tension in her shoulders, wondering curiously what they 
might have been talking about. "Been here long?" he enquired. Daniel 
shrugged noncommittally, a gesture which caused Jack to frown worriedly. 
He waited to see if the younger man offered anymore information, before 
he gave in and asked instead, "So, you and Carter all set for your trip 
tomorrow?"

                         *******************

By the time Jack had finished bidding Daniel a safe journey and watched 
him drive away, the sky had darkened considerably and the first rumbles 
of thunder could be heard in the distance. Sara had already disappeared 
back inside the house, so he walked down the hall, returning to the 
kitchen.

Finding it empty, Jack called Sara's name curiously, wondering where she 
had gone. When there was no answer, he went through the den and out onto 
the deck, feeling the first heavy rain drops breaking through the 
humidity of the darkening sky. She wasn't out in the yard either. 

Jack frowned in confusion, unable to suppress a nagging feeling that 
something had changed whilst he had been sleeping, something over which 
he had no control. Trying to shake off such negative thoughts, he headed 
back inside to check upstairs.

"There you are," Jack exclaimed lightly as he entered the bedroom, his 
words accompanied by a clap of thunder as the storm drew nearer. He 
stopped short when he realised what she was doing.

Sara had gathered her few toiletries from the bathroom and was hurriedly 
stuffing all her belongings back into the holdall she had brought them in 
the previous night. She jumped in startled surprise, whether at his words 
or the rumble of thunder, Jack could not tell. Either way, she did not 
acknowledge his presence or turn to face him.

Quietly Jack moved into the room, leaning against the dresser to watch 
her with a puzzled frown, waiting for her to explain. Instead Sara 
quickly finished packing and zipped up the bag. Gathering the strap to 
lift the holdall onto her shoulder, she turned towards the door, visibly 
relieved to see he was no longer blocking her exit. 

She was almost out into the hall before Jack placed a hand on her arm to 
stop her. "You were going to say goodbye, weren't you?" he asked in 
astonishment, his mind reeling from the sudden turn of events.

"Don't Jack, please," Sara whispered almost inaudibly, her head bowed, 
"It's easier this way, believe me."

Jack frowned deeply. "What did Daniel say to you?" he asked coldly.

"This isn't about Daniel," Sara said in a choked voice, staring at her 
feet, unable to meet his gaze, "This is all my fault."

"Why?" Jack pleaded softly, "What's going on?"

"I'm sorry Jack, I deceived you," Sara murmured, "I thought I was strong 
enough to cope with your life as well as my own, but I'm not." She 
cringed at the loud clap of thunder that sounded right above the house 
this time. The room lit up in stark relief as a bolt of lightning flashed 
a split second later.

Jack loosened his grip in surprise and Sara ducked away from him, 
disappearing out through the door as his eyes readjusted to the sudden 
darkness. "Sara!" he yelled frantically after her, following her quickly 
down the stairs.

"I can't help you, Jack. I'm sorry," she shouted back over the noise of 
the driving rain which was now surrounding the house, interrupted only by 
the even louder claps of thunder as the storm raged directly overhead.

"Sara, wait! Talk to me!" Jack pleaded desperately, "I don't understand. 
What's going on? What can't you help me with?"

Sara stopped by the hall stand, scrabbling for her keys in the 
encroaching darkness of the storm. The delay allowed Jack to catch up and 
he placed his hand over hers, halting her escape. "Please, Sara! Don't go 
without at least giving me a chance to make right whatever I've done 
wrong."

"You haven't done anything wrong, Jack," Sara exclaimed, her anger with 
herself overflowing, "You have to stop assuming everything's your fault! 
You're not to blame for any of this. It's all my fault this time. I'm 
just not strong enough to help you through this."

"But I never asked for your help," Jack said softly. He felt both 
mystified at what had brought this on so suddenly and defensive that Sara 
thought he would try to burden her with his problems, when that was the 
last thing he wanted to subject her to.

"Well you should have!" Sara replied hotly, "You have to talk about what 
happened if you're ever going to deal with it!"

"But I don't even want to talk about it, so what's your problem?" Jack 
reasoned with her illogically.

"You have to talk about it Jack, don't you see?" she practically yelled 
at him above the noise of the storm, "Burying it all deep inside is 
killing you. You need to talk to someone! But it can't be me. I'm not 
strong enough, Jack. I can't handle it like Daniel can," Sara admitted 
painfully. "I can't take it and I won't pretend to you otherwise by 
staying any longer," she turned away with a heart wrenching sob, unable 
to face him, not needing to see his expression to know how badly she was 
hurting him again. But Sara knew if she stayed she would only end up 
hurting him even worse. 

Another bolt of lightning lit up the darkened hallway. "What can I say to 
change your mind?" Jack asked, his voice a hoarse whisper. He placed his 
hands on her trembling shoulders, but she pulled away from his tender 
touch.

"Please, don't say anything, Jack," Sara pleaded, gathering up her keys 
and heading quickly for the door before she broke down completely. "I'm 
sorry, Jack. I never meant to hurt you," she said tearfully and then she 
was gone, running through the driving rain to her Jeep.

Tyres squealed on the wet surface as Jack stood in stunned silence. He 
wished he could have said something to change her mind, but he didn't 
want to hurt Sara anymore than he already had by dragging her back into 
his horrendous life.

Another loud crash of thunder broke Jack's daze sufficiently for him to 
close the front door and walk away, finding himself climbing the stairs 
and standing in the bedroom where they had shared the closest, most 
wonderful moments in the last forty eight hours.

Jack slumped onto the sofa beneath the window, not even noticing the pain 
flaring in his ribs from the jarring movement. He stared out into the 
raging storm, knowing he should feel devastated, grief stricken, perhaps 
even angry, but instead he just felt numb and empty and he couldn't help 
wonder whether Sara was right, maybe he was dying inside. Maybe he was 
already dead. Either way, she had been right to leave, she was far better 
off out of it, away from his destructive presence.

                         *******************

Jack could only tell how late it was by the stars that shone high in the 
crystal clear sky now that the storm had completely passed. He had been 
lying in the same place for what must have been hours, lying and waiting 
for something to happen. 

Waiting for sleep to come, but relieved when it would not, afraid of the 
nightmares it would inevitably bring with it. Waiting for a force of 
emotion to hit him, anger or sorrow, anything that would assure him he 
was still capable of feeling something other than fear. But Jack felt 
nothing. He seemed devoid of any of the emotion that he knew he ought to 
be feeling. Nor could he think straight enough to decide what to do about 
it, what he should do next, now that the one ray of light at the end of 
his dark, horrifying tunnel had just been snuffed out again. 

Jack knew that before Sara's reappearance in his life he had found 
reasons to go on, but right now he couldn't see any of them. His mind was 
fogged and hazy, with not a single clear thought to cling to. Yet somehow 
he believed if he could just survive this night alone, it would be a 
first step. And so he waited. 

All he could do was lie back on the sofa and stare at the constellations 
through the wide window. He could still remember their names, that part 
of him hadn't died yet at least. But as far as he could tell the rest of 
him might have, even if his brain was still sending all the right signals 
to pump life throughout his body, his heart no longer seemed to be 
functioning to do anything else. 

And so it was with a full shocking impact that Jack suddenly felt 
anything in response to the hushed voice which unexpectedly spoke from 
the doorway. His stomach flipped over and his heart started thudding so 
hard in his chest that it hurt.

"You know you really ought to be more careful about security, anyone 
could get into your house!" Sara said so softly as if to not disturb him.

Jack swallowed past the lump that was suddenly constricting his throat, 
unable to look at her for fear she might simply be an apparition conjured 
up by his tormented mind. "What are you doing here?" he asked in a hoarse 
whisper. His left arm moved to cover his eyes, which were suddenly and 
inexplicably damp. 

"Power cut!" Sara replied nonsensically.

Jack gulped, managing only a single one word question, "And?"

"Well you know how you always used to remind me to get spare batteries?" 
Sara watched him closely in the darkness, seeing Jack nod almost 
imperceptibly. "Well you weren't there to remind me," she said 
plaintively as though that explained her presence.

Her mind went back to the last few hours. The power had gone out just 
after she got home. She had opened the window in the kitchen to let some 
of the cooler storm filled air into her hot stuffy house and was waiting 
for the kettle to boil to make some strong coffee. At first Sara had 
thought maybe it was a blown fuse, then she realised all the lights along 
the street were out too. 

She remembered rummaging in the kitchen drawer for the flashlight only to 
find it was dead and there was no other means of lighting her way except 
a box of matches. She had headed down into the basement to find a gas 
lantern in the box of old camping equipment, but the lit match she was 
using to illuminate the staircase had blown out with the same sudden 
draught from the kitchen window that had slammed the basement door shut. 

Scared half to death by the loud bang, Sara had dropped the box of 
matches from her other hand, hearing it clatter somewhere below, leaving 
her halfway down the wooden flight of stairs in absolute darkness. She 
had carefully walked back up to the basement door only to find it wedged 
tightly closed. 

At that point in her already emotionally fraught day, Sara had hit panic 
mode, scrabbling frantically with a latch and door handle that had been 
working loose for sometime only she had never got around to fixing it. 
The door handle came off in her hand and Sara couldn't think beyond sheer 
fright to get it back into place. Instead she had sat down on the steps 
and cried. The flood of tears held in check since she had left Jack's 
house, forced back all the time she needed to concentrate solely on the 
rainslick, stormswept roads, now came in great gulping sobs of such heart 
aching, mind numbing grief that she had rarely experienced.

It took what seemed like forever, but when the tears had eventually 
subsided, sensible thought began to return and Sara had focused her mind 
on getting out of her current predicament. She knew there were tools in 
the basement, she simply had to find a screwdriver and fix the door 
handle back on. All she had to do was negotiate her way down the stairs 
and around all the obstacles strewn in boxes across the floor. 

It had taken time and concentration, but eventually Sara had unjammed the 
door to let herself back out of the basement, only to find the lights 
were back on in the kitchen, revealing the broken china shattered across 
the floor where she had dropped the coffee mug she had been about to fill 
when the electricity went out. 

Realising the storm might knock the power straight back out, Sara had 
reached for the switch to illuminate the basement and gone back down to 
retrieve the dropped box of matches and a gaslamp. She had also found 
some candles in the box of spare fuses, wondering why on earth they had 
ever been put in the basement in the first place, when quite obviously 
candles were more useful closer to hand. 

With a shrug, she had headed back up the stairs in relief, flicking the 
lightswitch back off and dumping the box of candles and the lantern onto 
the kitchen counter. She had turned to close the basement door, but 
something had stopped her, almost as if it was taking over her actions. 
Without any further thought, Sara had gone back inside, closed the door 
behind her and sat down on the wooden staircase in the pitch blackness.

With the experience so fresh, it was easy to imagine being trapped inside 
the darkened room, but something made Sara set her mind free to roam 
further, conjuring up images of helplessness and imprisonment. She had 
envisioned what it would be like to not only be held captive in that 
black hole for days, but to be attacked without warning, subjected to 
assault and abuse for no more reason than the refusal to answer a few 
simple questions. Held without possibility of escape, treated like an 
animal, isolated from any friendly human contact and deprived of even the 
most basic life giving necessities.

With an imagination that had often been too vivid for her own good, Sara 
had sat in absolute darkness and visualised that torturous place until 
she was shaking with fear and emotion. Silent tears had run down her 
cheeks and her trembling hand went to her mouth to stifle a new sob when 
she had finally realised that Jack was still living like that, even if he 
didn't recognise it. 

He was still depriving himself of basic needs, living and suffering in 
isolation from the world he had once known. These weren't just 
psychological scars, they were more like open wounds, untreated, 
festering and infected. In his own subconscious way Jack was crying out 
for help and she had turned her back on him, all because she was too 
selfish to get involved, too scared to embroil herself in his harrowing 
life. 

It took a lot to admit it, but in the end Sara could no longer avoid the 
truth. No matter how badly she was frightened by the darkness of the 
world Jack lived and worked in, she was even more scared of what would 
happen to him. And worse still, she was terrified at the thought of never 
seeing him again, of living the rest of her life without him. Finally, in 
what Sara knew was probably her most selfish thought of all, she realised 
she couldn't live so alone any longer. What they had was worth fighting 
for, even if it might hurt like hell.

So it was with this new resolve that Sara had risen to her feet and 
headed back up the stairs. As she stood at the top, she had been unable 
to resist switching the light back on, taking a long look around the 
basement room as if to assure herself there really were no monsters down 
there, that there was nothing to be afraid of except fear itself. Or 
perhaps her own limitations. 

Sara's gaze had fallen on an open cardboard box lying at the bottom of 
the stairs, the last remnants of Jack's life with her. Things he had left 
behind, perhaps even deliberately, when he moved out, that Sara had boxed 
up and planned to send onto him but never got around to. She went down 
the stairs and gathered the large box into her arms, climbing back up 
blindly, but carefully. The box in itself would make a good excuse to 
return to Jack's house, even if it would hardly go any way towards 
assuaging the guilt she felt for walking out on him so selfishly. 

By the time Sara had pulled into Jack's driveway the roads were still 
rain soaked, but the sky had cleared, leaving a star filled, cloudless 
night. The air had cooled, cleaned and freshened by the passing storm, 
almost giving her hope that they could make a fresh start themselves. 
Sara had gulped back fear and trepidation, not knowing how Jack was going 
to react to her return, not even knowing how he might have responded to 
her leaving in the first place.

The front door was locked and somehow Sara could not bring herself to 
ring the doorbell. Instead she had gone around to the side and entered 
the backyard through the wooden gate. The deck was puddled with rain, but 
the sliding doors were still open. The den was deserted, so Sara had 
checked quietly through the rest of the ground floor, finding it empty 
and silent. With a deep breath, she had climbed the stairs to face her 
fate.

From the doorway of the bedroom, Sara had seen the shadowy figure lying 
on the couch beneath the wide window. One side had been left open and she 
could just about make out the soft sound of raindrops dripping from the 
trees outside, an accompaniment to the barely discernible shallow breath 
of the sofa's single occupant. 

At first she had thought Jack was asleep, then as her vision adjusted 
further she saw the movement on his face as he blinked occasionally. His 
eyes, staring blankly up at the sky, looked dull and empty. His reaction 
when she had spoken was one of startled shock and she couldn't help 
notice the way he covered his face and would not look in her direction.

Sara swallowed hard, laden with guilt and blame for the pain she had 
caused him, wondering if Jack would ever be able to forgive her, or trust 
her again. He looked so lost and alone, so vulnerable, that she struggled 
to believe how she could ever have been so blind to what was really going 
on with him, how she had ever convinced herself he would be better off 
without her in order to justify her leaving. And even more astonishing, 
how she had ever thought she was better off without him when she loved 
him so much.

"Jack, I'm so sorry," Sara's whispered voice was choked with emotion when 
she finally broke the silence again, "I just took the easiest way out." 
She paused, tears dampening her cheeks, swallowing painfully as she tried 
to put her feelings into words that would sound as sincere as they were 
meant to be, "You know me, I'm like a frightened rabbit running from the 
headlights of an oncoming vehicle. But, if you'll have me back, I promise 
this time I'll just stand still and wait for that truck to hit me."

"I'd rather you didn't you know," Jack finally spoke again, his voice 
soft and husky. "It could make an awful mess."

"But it may be the only way to get past such a large obstacle," Sara 
said, knowing that Jack knew exactly what she meant by her offbeat 
analogy. "And if you can ever forgive me, or trust me again, I'd like to 
help you get past it. And this time I'll stick with it, no matter how 
hard it gets."

"I don't want you to do that, Sara," Jack heard her soft gasp as she 
misunderstood the meaning in his words. "What I mean is, I'm glad you 
came back, but since I don't want to talk to anyone anyway, you don't 
need to help me!"

"But you know you have to, don't you?" Sara pressed gently, getting only 
silence in response. "Maybe you should talk to a professional?" she 
suggested hesitantly. Jack shrugged noncommittally, unsure if he could 
ever do such a thing, even for her. 

Even in the dark, Sara could read his meaning clearly, but she decided to 
let it go for now, not wanting to push her luck. Instead she said, "How 
about we just take it one step at a time?" Sara watched Jack nod 
slightly, she gulped hard, her voice shaking as she posed a vital, but as 
yet unanswered question, "The first step is your forgiveness."

"There's nothing to forgive," Jack murmured softly in a voice that was 
not wholly convincing.

"Yes there is," Sara said emphatically, accepting the proof before her of 
how much she had hurt him, even if he would not admit it himself. "I 
should never have run out on you like that, Jack. What I put you through 
because of my own selfishness was inexcuseable," she exclaimed, berating 
herself. "I'll fully understand if you can't forgive me," she added 
guiltily.

Jack finally lifted his arm from his face and turned his head towards 
her, gazing at her across the darkened room for a long moment. "Come 
here," he said softly, reaching out his hand towards her and shifting on 
the sofa to make space beside him.

Sara moved towards him with trepidation, sitting on the edge of the couch 
to look him in the eye. For a moment, she could only see pain reflected 
back at her and knew she was the one to blame, but when Jack reached a 
hand up towards her, brushing tears from her face, she saw the love in 
his eyes that she was afraid she had driven away. 

Sara leaned into his hand as he caressed her cheek, new tears caught in 
her eyelashes as she tried to blink them away. Jack's hand moved around 
to the nape of her neck and slowly pulled her down towards him until 
their lips met in the softest of kisses.

"I forgive you," Jack whispered against her cheek, lovingly enfolding 
Sara in his arms and drawing her towards him until she was lying on the 
sofa beside him. With a hand across his chest and her head on his 
shoulder, Sara sank into his warm embrace, letting out the deep sigh of 
breath she had been holding for what seemed like hours. 

Jack tilted his chin down to lay a kiss on her temple and as Sara raised 
her head towards him she caught sight of the view beyond the window, the 
world of stars above, finally understanding why Jack had a sofa in his 
bedroom. By the time her lips met his, she was smiling once more. 

                         *******************

A Time To Heal - Part Two:

Monday: Opening The Box 

The complete lack of colour in the military-grey decor of the 
subterranean base was an all too familiar sight and the fear that went 
with it was tangible. An unearthly silence crept through the mountain, 
like it was waiting for something, and, as the concrete walls closed in 
around him, Jack couldn't help feeling it was waiting for him. 

But he had to complete his journey, didn't he? Wasn't that the whole 
point of his efforts in coming here, back to the place of his nightmares? 

With sweat breaking out on the back of his neck, trickling down beneath 
his leather jacket, as if he could feel any more uncomfortable, Jack 
forced himself to reach for the door handle. He wrapped his fingers 
around it, drew a harsh breath, and pulled hard. 

The door swung open with unexpected force, knocking him so off balance 
that the first punch found him completely unprepared. A second swing 
caught him brutally, snapping his head back and leaving him open for the 
third and final follow-through, which impacted his chest like a solid 
lead weight. 

Jack barely heard the awful crack of bone over the roaring in his ears as 
he fought oblivion. He gasped for breath, a sharp intake felt through his 
lungs all the way down to a freshly fractured ribcage. 

Knowing he was losing the battle for consciousness, Jack tried to lift 
his head from the floor, but he was finished. He could only watch 
helplessly as the towering figure moved in for the kill. Bracing himself 
as the leering man stepped towards him, Jack's outstretched fingers 
searched futilely for anything he could use to defend himself. 

All he found was cloth. 

His fingers entangled in the bed sheet as his subconscious released him; 
as the Slav's giant fist loomed in towards his face and Jack jolted awake 
with a fearful gasp. 

Swallowing convulsively, he fought back a cough that he knew would hurt 
far more than it should, and wiped sweat from his face. Almost too afraid 
to open his eyes, Jack held his hand in place for a moment, blinking 
rapidly until he could focus on his fingers before moving them out of the 
way to reveal the welcome sight of his own bedroom ceiling. 

With a feeling of overwhelming relief, he sat up gingerly, working to 
calm his heaving chest as quietly as possible, his startled senses still 
on alert for any hint of danger. His limbs were entwined in the blanket 
covering his naked body, a sheen of sweat soaking the crumpled sheet 
beneath him. 

With his heart thudding painfully, Jack forced himself to hold a breath, 
listening intently. Thankfully, his sleeping companion appeared 
undisturbed. Sara had always been a deep sleeper right up until Charlie 
was born. It was gratifying to see that she, at least, had regained 
sufficient peace of mind to recover that long-lost habit. 

Trembling violently, Jack thrust away the fresh stir of images that 
thought provoked and slowly expelled the lung full of air. He swallowed 
tightly, fighting back a wave of emotion as the wispy remnants of his 
latest nightmare began to disperse, floating away, back to the ethereal 
gloom of unwanted memories. 

Carefully, Jack pulled the blanket free from his body and swung his legs 
to the floor. He paused for a moment, checking for any change in the 
shallow breathing of the woman beside him, before rising to his feet. 

Suppressing a groan, Jack winced at the ache emanating from his ribcage, 
which felt as if the Slav's fist really had hit home. He swallowed 
another cough and reached for his t-shirt and shorts piled on a nearby 
chair, waiting until he was outside on the landing before pulling them 
on, doing his best to not bend or stretch whilst he did so. 

His bare feet padding quietly on the hardwood floor, Jack headed for the 
kitchen. In the light of the full moon shining through the window, he ran 
the cold tap until it was icy and dunked his head beneath the freezing 
stream of water, rinsing his face and splashing the back of his neck with 
his cupped hand for a long time before he felt vaguely in control. 

Grabbing a towel off the hook, he looped it around the back of his neck, 
patting the dampness from his face with his right hand as he reached up 
and took a glass from the cupboard with the other. Turning towards the 
refrigerator, he filled the clean tumbler with ice and water and took a 
long swallow, letting the cool liquid soothe his dry throat until he no 
longer felt the urge to concede to a hacking cough that he knew would 
hurt like hell. 

Jack topped up the glass, closed the refrigerator door and wandered back 
out into the hallway, inevitably finding himself in the den, staring out 
through the sliding doors at the starlit sky and the reflections the moon 
made in the puddles on the wooden deck. He opened the door wide to 
appreciate the nighttime sounds, before stepping back into the darkened 
room to sink onto the worn couch. 

Gulping down the rest of the water, Jack placed the empty glass on the 
floor and leaned into the comfortable cushions with a despairing sigh, 
attempting to empty his head of all thought. But one dreadful realisation 
kept persisting, flashing off and on like a neon light. 

Nothing had changed! 

Nothing he'd been through in the last week counted for anything. It 
seemed like he was right back where he'd started, trapped in time, too 
scared to go to work, too scared to stay at home, and, above all, too 
scared to go to sleep! 

Feelings of betrayal and mistrust clouded Jack's mind. Images of a 
treacherous senator and his malicious hired guns mixed with the confusing 
turmoil of emotions he felt towards the woman he loved. He had told Sara 
that he forgave her, but how much of that had been the truth and how much 
had simply been words that she needed to hear? Could he really trust her 
again? Or was it his own foolishness that had driven her to leave that 
stormy afternoon? 

Or perhaps it had been something else. 

How long had she and Daniel been talking before he had interrupted them? 
Would Daniel really betray a confidence like that? Jack shook his head 
irritably, knowing the answer immediately. If Daniel thought it would 
help Jack, then yes he would tell Sara. 

Either way, Jack knew he had told Sara too much himself. In trying to 
persuade her to stay with him on Friday evening, he had revealed far more 
of what had happened than he should have, both accidentally and out of 
choice, albeit a foolish choice made in the heat of an emotional moment. 
He could not take back the words, but he could ensure the problem was not 
compounded by divulging any more details of an ordeal that surely would 
be better for all concerned if it remained buried in his own memory. 

Even so, that would hardly go any way towards alleviating his immediate 
problem. The fact was that, no matter how hard he tried to ignore them, 
the nightmares were back in full force. The one he had experienced that 
Sunday afternoon had almost been a gentle foreshadowing of the trouble to 
come. But this latest disturbance was practically as terrifying as living 
through the reality of the last seven weeks. 

Without a doubt, nothing had changed. And Jack could see no way out. 

He knew he would never be able to discuss his experiences with a 
professional psychologist. He couldn't go through something like that 
again. Nor was there anyone close to him with whom he was willing to 
share such dreadful truths. Daniel had already lived through it with him, 
he could hardly ask his friend to repeat the exercise just because he had 
yet to find a way to cope with what had happened. Instead, it seemed that 
he was going to have to put up with these harrowing resurgences for a 
long time to come, and, right now, Jack did not know how to live with 
that fact. 

He rubbed his face with his palms, distracting his morbid thoughts by 
noticing how much more movement he was getting from the fingers of his 
right hand with each passing day. He smiled slightly, realising the irony 
in such an improvement, knowing that, before long, there would be nothing 
between him and active duty except his own mental stability. 

Recognising the destructive nature of such circles his mind was spinning, 
Jack forced himself to stop thinking, focusing on the night sky beyond 
the windows of the den and identifying the few constellations he could 
see. After a while, he repositioned himself on the couch so he could see 
more, stretching out to lie on his right side with his legs on one arm of 
the chair and his head resting on a cushion at the other end. He stared 
unblinkingly at the star filled sky, fighting against the need for sleep 
for as long as he could. 

It was barely two hours before dawn by the time Jack's eyes reluctantly 
closed and he slipped into a fretful doze. But it seemed like almost 
immediately when he awoke with a gasp, the adrenaline pumping through his 
veins and that horrible sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. 

Refusing to give it another chance, he swung his legs off the couch and 
stood up, deliberately causing pain in his ribs to force his mind away 
from the images trying to follow him from sleep. 

Jack fished a pair of sneakers from the hall closet, fumbled the laces 
into an untidy knot and hurried out through the doors onto the deck, 
rounding the side of the house like a fugitive, trying to escape his own 
memories. 

The dawn chorus of birds in the hedgerow surrounding his garden was 
beginning to gather in volume and song, the darkness threatening to fade 
into light, as he stepped out onto the sidewalk. 

                         *******************

By the time she had got to bed that Sunday evening, Sara had felt 
emotionally exhausted, and yet sleep had been a long way off. Somehow she 
couldn't help lying awake listening to Jack breathing, waiting for that 
moment when the pace changed, a moment like that previous Friday evening 
when she had watched his restful sleep turn to nightmares. Somehow she 
knew it would only be a matter of waiting long enough, and she would 
encounter the same thing again this night. And so she had stayed awake, 
unable to relax, unable to allow herself to sink into the realms of 
dreams. 

But the decision on when to sleep is not always a conscious one, and Sara 
had eventually succumbed. Without knowing it, she had fallen into a deep 
dreamless state sometime in the middle of the night, missing any 
nightmares Jack might have had, missing any disturbances at all, until 
dawn had come and gone and bright sunlight rose to shine in through the 
open windows. 

In the end, Sara slept so late that it was gone nine o'clock when she 
awoke, feeling rejuvenated, strong enough to take on the might of the 
entire US Military, let alone a single troubled air force colonel. 

She was surprised that Jack had not woken her before he left that 
morning, but, after all that she had learned about his recent 
confinement, she had an inkling of just how hard it must be for him to 
face that claustrophobic underground base each day. He'd probably had 
other things on his mind, than to awaken her from deep slumbers to say 
goodbye. 

Still, she felt really bad about her actions the day before and would 
have appreciated the chance to tell Jack again how truly sorry she was. 
Despite his words, Sara knew he was hurting. He had every right to feel 
betrayed by her, and maybe even by Daniel if he had any clue how much his 
friend had told her. 

But tell her Daniel had, words that could not be taken back, and images 
that would not go away. Frightening images. And it wasn't so much a fear 
of the images themselves that worried Sara, it was the fact that she now 
knew what Jack had been through. She knew the pain and the terror of his 
ordeal, and she knew what he was struggling to come to terms with. 

She finally understood how hard his life had become, a battle against 
memories so deep-seated that the most innocent of events could provoke an 
overwhelming reaction, a resurgence of paralysing fear, perhaps even a 
complete mental breakdown. 

Jack was fighting all of that and, as far as Sara could see, it was an 
even tie. She could only hope that somewhere along the line she would 
find a way to join the battle, to help turn the tide in Jack's favour. At 
the same time, Sara could only pray she would have the wisdom to know 
when she was doing the opposite! 

And, somewhere along the line, she had to find the courage to listen to 
the gory details. She could only make him talk if she was first prepared 
to hear what he had to say. But she did have to make him talk. 

In the light of day, Sara realised how strongly he felt about her earlier 
suggestion. No way was Jack ever going to discuss with a professional 
what had happened. It was a clear indication of how scared and confused 
she had been the previous day to even suggest it with such conviction. 
And, since Jack wouldn't talk to a professional, and Daniel had left the 
country, which left her or nothing. And Sara felt sure they would never 
make it through the week in one piece if the choice remained at nothing. 

Sara knew she had to find a way to get Jack to open up to her, no matter 
how hard he fought against it, no matter how much it threatened their 
relationship. This was one time she was going to have to force Jack 
O'Neill into doing something against his will. All she had to do was keep 
reminding herself how it was for his own good, how something terrible 
would happen to him if she failed in her task. She had to stick with it, 
be prepared to listen to some of the worst things imaginable, and refuse 
to let Jack push her away, no matter how vehemently. 

Still, now that he had gone to work, what happened to Jack was 
temporarily, albeit scarily, beyond her help, and Sara had plenty to do 
with her day off. She needed to go back home and sort out a few things, 
get a change of clothes for a start. She had to collect her mail, and 
check in with Mike and the office, let them know she hadn't fallen off 
the face of the planet, just in case they had tried to contact her over 
the weekend. There was plenty to do. 

And she wanted to buy some supplies to stock up Jack's cupboards, at 
least try to find something to entice him back into normal eating habits. 
She may not have persuaded him to pour his heart out to her yet, and 
considering Jack's track record, she had a fight on her hands to succeed 
there. But, even if she didn't, she wasn't going to let it drive her away 
this time; there were other things she could do to make his life a bit 
easier. Building up his physical strength with a better diet was one of 
them. 

So, with her day pretty much mapped out, Sara threw off the blanket and 
headed for the bathroom, grabbing toiletries and stuffing them into her 
holdall as she pulled on her jeans, figuring it made more sense to shower 
when she got home, so she could get some clean clothes from her wardrobe. 

                         *******************

Jack had been wandering aimlessly for hours, the darkened streets had 
become lighter as dawn seeped over the horizon, practically unnoticed to 
him until bright sunlight had caught him full in the face. 

The effect had been like a wake up call to his senses, realisation that a 
new week was beginning. But it was a week when half his team was heading 
for another country instead of a new planet. Another week without an off 
world mission to rescue him from the dimly lit confinement of the SGC. 
And yet another week where the promise of daylight could only be sought 
on frequent trips up twenty-eight flights of stairs from the depths of 
his tiny office. 

The sheer thought had sent a shiver down Jack's spine. No way was he 
ready to face the inside of Cheyenne Mountain that day, not with this 
particular nightmare so fresh in his mind. And especially not considering 
the stark reality of what had happened on that other Monday morning just 
two weeks earlier. 

Even so, it was gone 7.30am by the time Jack had gathered the courage to 
find a phone booth and place a call to General Hammond's office. 

The leader of the SGC was in the middle of receiving his regular morning 
report from Doctor Fraiser, when the grey standard-issue telephone on his 
desk began to ring loudly. 

Excusing himself, he picked it up, answering curtly, "Hammond." 

"General, it's Jack O'Neill." 

"Yes, Colonel," the General frowned against a sense of foreboding. He 
couldn't help feeling he was about to get a nasty surprise and it was way 
too early on a Monday morning for such a thing. "Everything alright, 
son?" 

"Yes, General, couldn't be better!" Jack lied. "But I need some personal 
time. I know it's short notice, but I could really use the break?" 

Hammond glanced up at Doctor Fraiser who had clearly overheard and was 
muttering happily under her breath, "All right, Jack! Talk about a long 
time coming." 

The General regarded her quizzically. It was clear what she thought of 
the request, even though he couldn't fathom the reason. Still, if the 
doctor felt it was a good idea, why shouldn't Jack have some time off? 

"Fine, Colonel. Take all the time you need," Hammond agreed. "With Doctor 
Jackson and Captain Carter flying out to Egypt this morning, you may as 
well make the most of the enforced break. Contact the base when you're 
ready to return and we'll send a driver to collect you. Just remember, 
from what Doctor Fraiser tells me, you should be taking it easy with that 
hand." 

"Yes, sir. Thank you. A couple of days, that's all I need," Jack replied 
hopefully. 

As he replaced the handset, Hammond turned his attention to the petite 
doctor. "So, are you going to tell me why you think Jack's request is 
something to smile about?" he asked with a twinkle of bemusement in his 
eyes. 

"Well, General . . ." For once Janet was flustered, caught out by her own 
enthusiasm. "Er . . . let's just say that I saw distinct signs this 
weekend of the Colonel beginning to put the pieces of his life back 
together." 

"In that case, I agree that would be something to smile about," Hammond 
responded warmly, glad that the tattered remnants of their own 
relationship were also finally being pieced back together again. For a 
while there, he'd thought the previous level of trust and respect once 
shared between himself and Doctor Fraiser had been forever destroyed 
somewhere in the heart of an Egyptian pyramid. 

Hammond regretted the doctor ever being forced to fly to Cairo, about as 
deeply as he regretted what had happened to Jack and Cassandra, 
especially since it was all because of his own inaction. He knew the 
doctor had been through a lot, and he felt sure she blamed him for 
everything that had happened to her extended family and herself. But, 
sometime in the last week, it appeared she had begun to forgive him. And 
the resumption of comfortable discussion between them, which had always 
been more on a par with colleagues than subordinate to commanding 
officer, had come as a great relief. 

The General had grown to rely on Doctor Fraiser's logic and instinct as 
much as her medical expertise. From the point of view of two people 
ordinarily stranded on the sidelines watching the action, it had always 
been reassuring to be able to seek out her analysis and reasoning in 
support of decisions where he found himself all too frequently having to 
risk the lives of his people. To be free to consult the doctor once more, 
to ease the burden of such a demanding load, was indeed a sign that 
things were returning to normal. 

Perhaps this Monday wasn't going to be as bad as Hammond had expected. 

                         *******************

Jack had hung up the phone to General Hammond without the first clue as 
to what to do next. It felt too soon to go home, too close to night for 
comfort. Besides, Sara would surely still be asleep, and it seemed unfair 
to disturb her dreams just because he couldn't live with his own. 

Instead, he had continued walking, an aimless journey that took him miles 
from anywhere by the time he realised. But he could always use the 
exercise, and it was infinitely preferable to roam the wide-open space of 
the Colorado countryside than to be shut up inside the SGC all day. 

The trouble was the further he walked, the further his mind delved into 
his subconscious, dredging up images and memories that he would prefer to 
forget, or at the very least to avoid thinking about. But then of course 
that had been an ongoing problem for weeks now. If he had figured out a 
way to forget everything that had happened, he wouldn't be on some dusty 
footpath in the middle of the Rockies trying to do just that. 

And it was a futile way to attempt to repress memories. After all, there 
was something about aimless wandering that left the mind free to do the 
same, and, no matter how hard Jack tried to focus on other things, 
anything, that image of being shut up inside the SGC just kept pushing to 
the fore, preying on him as a constant reminder of what he inevitably had 
to go back to. It was unrelenting, a continuation of an ordeal that had 
left him at the brink, until he felt like his only option was to keep 
wandering for the rest of his life and never go back. 

He could remember sitting in his office that other Monday morning so 
vividly it was as if he was still there, still waiting. He had been 
waiting for the other shoe to drop, the one that told him what to do 
next, how to go on with life under such unrelenting circumstances. Until 
he had simply decided to head for the locker room and take the next step, 
to put on the uniform, the façade of a good soldier and pretend he could 
be one again. One step at a time. It had seemed like good advice. 

But then it had happened, the continuation of his nightmare. The Slav. 

Jack had fought a battle inside his own office and lost. He had fought 
all the way through the bowels of the SGC and lost. It was not until he 
had been out in the open, above ground inside an isolated cabin, that he 
had fought and won. So wasn't that telling him something? 

If he could never win all the time his battles were fought underground, 
why was he even attempting to go back there? 

Jack's hand reflexively went to his neck, reaching for the chain of his 
dog tags as he recalled more of the thoughts that had gone through his 
mind whilst sheltering in that tiny office. His fingers found nothing and 
Jack suddenly remembered removing the dog tags, sometime that weekend, 
quite absentmindedly. He couldn't even remember when or why. It was 
almost as if he no longer needed them, like they no longer held any 
meaning for him. 

But they had meant something to him when Daniel had given them back that 
day in the SGC's infirmary. Having the weight of those dog tags back 
around his neck had felt like coming home. They had served to remind him 
of the reason why he had to suffer any of that harrowing ordeal. If he 
had not, Daniel would surely have been killed. And if he had not, then he 
would never have seen Sara again. 

When Jack thought of Sara, it was like the one hope he had of being 
pulled back from the edge of that abyss he'd been staring into for so 
long. She had saved him that weekend. For a while there he had almost 
been able to believe he could lead a normal life again. And that had 
truly been like coming home. 

Perhaps that was why he had removed his dog tags, an unconscious gesture, 
a sign that he didn't want to fight anymore. He just wanted to be with 
Sara, to be home with her, to find comfort and solace with her. 

Only she had left him. 

But Sara had come back. And if she could find the courage to face him 
again, to face the horror his life had become, maybe he could find the 
courage to forget the last twenty hours or so had ever happened. He had 
spent a lot of time fooling himself recently, how hard could it be to do 
it again? He should just go back to the house, take Sara into his arms 
and pick up where they had left off on Sunday morning. 

Jack came to a sudden halt and turned around, unsure of the wisdom behind 
his reasoning, but deciding to head back into town all the same. 

Despite his inability to trust her, Jack was beginning to understand that 
Sara was the only one who could help him. She had done it before, far 
more times than he'd ever deserved. He needed her whether he liked it or 
not, whether Sara liked it or not. 

And if she did eventually give up and leave him again, then so be it, 
maybe he wouldn't stop needing her, but he would have to get used to 
being without her again. For now, he would take any comfort she might be 
willing to offer. 

That thought spurred him on, as if he was heading towards the light at 
the end of a very long tunnel. Maybe Sara really could help him, if only 
he let her. Either way, he wanted to be with her again. 

Jack found himself picking up the pace. The dawdling became a brisk walk 
and, as the outskirts of town came into view, he broke into a run, the 
pounding of his feet on the sidewalk, and the consequent ache in his 
ribs, serving to focus his thoughts on one objective alone. 

Breathlessly, Jack jogged up the driveway of his home and clattered 
through the side gate into the backyard, surprised to find the sliding 
doors onto the deck were now shut and locked. Frowning, he went back 
around to the front and fished his key from his shorts pocket, glad that 
he'd at least had the wherewithal to grab it on his way out before dawn, 
even if he didn't recall doing so. 

Then he realised that Sara's jeep was gone. 

Inside, the house was quiet. Jack called Sara's name, the sound of his 
solitary voice echoing emptily through the hallway as if to match the 
feeling in the pit of his stomach. 

He headed through the passage and up the stairs, finding no trace of 
Sara. She was gone, cleared out, so completely it was as if she had never 
been there. 

Feeling a familiar physical pain that had nothing to do with the jarring 
his healing ribs had received from the long run, Jack slumped down onto 
the sofa beneath his bedroom window, at a loss as to what to do now. 
Maybe he didn't know how to trust Sara anymore, but that didn't mean he 
could live without her, not yet. For purely selfish reasons, he needed 
her too much to lose her again so soon. He needed the companionship she 
provided, the one bright light with which to chase away his demons. 

Only now, it seemed his demons had chased her away instead, and he 
wondered if Sara had been woken by his nightmare after all. Why else 
would she have left so suddenly again? 

For sure, she was gone. As finally as when she had left that previous 
stormy afternoon. Unless her return had been a figment of his 
imagination, wishful thinking conjured up by his battered psyche in an 
effort to keep him going for one more day. 

What was the point? One day later and he was back in the same position. 
Nothing had changed. Nothing had improved. In fact, things felt like they 
were getting worse. Or was that a figment of his imagination too? 

Jack didn't know what to think anymore. Every thought seemed to overwhelm 
him, until he felt certain that he was losing his mind, only now he was 
unsure whether that would really be such a bad thing. If it meant the 
nightmares would no longer have such a hold over him, if it meant his 
life would no longer be this inescapable mess, then what harm could 
insanity possibly bring? 

Jack snorted to himself, caught by the utter futility of this 
conversation in his head. 

He didn't know what to do next, but he did know one thing. He couldn't 
stay in that house alone, not right now, no more than he could have made 
it inside Cheyenne Mountain that morning. For the time being at least, he 
had to keep moving, he needed space, and he needed to rebuild the courage 
to perhaps return later, much later if he had any choice in the matter. 

                         *******************

It still came as something of a surprise to find that his feet had made 
the decision on where he was heading long before his consciousness would 
admit it. 

Jack found himself standing inside the local supermarket, staring at rows 
upon rows of bottles. Liquor bottles. A potential source of escape, or 
his eventual downfall. 

Sara was equally surprised when she rounded the corner of an aisle with a 
well laden shopping cart and glanced up to see Jack grimly contemplating 
a wide selection of whisky bottles. Surprised and shocked. And a little 
bit scared. 

She stopped short, instinctively moving back out of view, behind a metal 
stanchion where he wouldn't spot her. This was a crossroads, and Sara 
needed to know which way Jack was going to turn before she could attempt 
to intervene. 

She felt like a voyeur, the only other person in the entire market who 
had any clue as to the mental battle taking place in the liquor aisle. 
But she had to watch. She had to know, no matter how scared she was for 
him. This was a decision Jack had to make on his own. All Sara could do 
was pray he made the right one. 

Then again, if he was going to make the right decision, why was he there 
in the first place? 

Swayed by that thought, Sara almost called out when Jack's hand reached 
up to a bottle of the enticing honey-coloured liquid. His fingers 
lingered for a long moment, caressing the neck and the label. Then he 
abruptly dropped his hand, glancing furtively around, as if afraid of 
being caught. 

He didn't notice Sara, even as she slunk further behind the pillar. And 
then he was gone, turning away and disappearing rapidly between the 
checkouts, empty-handed. 

Sara breathed a sigh of relief, her hand gripping the cart as if to 
steady herself. It occurred to her to wonder where Jack was going next 
and she pushed her way through the shoppers to get near the window. 

She was just in time to catch a glimpse of him hurrying from the parking 
lot and turning west, heading in the general direction of his home. As 
quickly as Jack was moving, she would never catch up on foot. Besides, 
she didn't think it a good idea to let him know she'd seen what he'd 
done, not yet anyhow. 

Instead, Sara rapidly grabbed the last few items on her shopping list and 
headed for the checkout, hoping she would be able to catch him in her 
jeep before he got any alternative ideas. 

                         *******************

Needing to gain space between him and the supermarket as fast as he 
could, Jack began to run again as soon as he hit the street. Dressed as 
he was in t-shirt, shorts and sneakers, he looked like just another 
jogger, instead of a man desperate to make a clean getaway before his 
fading resolve crumbled completely. 

He wasn't sure what had stopped him from grabbing that bottle of whisky, 
except for the image of Sara that had crept into his head as his fingers 
touched the smooth glass neck. The look of disappointment in her bright 
blue eyes, the tears when she had left him, forced out by his unbearable 
actions. 

Jack couldn't stand the thought of hurting her anymore. Maybe Sara was 
gone, but that didn't mean he could ignore everything she had tried to do 
for him. And perhaps that was what had stopped him. 

Only now he felt the need to see her more than ever. He had nowhere else 
to go. There was nowhere on earth that would provide the shelter Sara 
could give him. Nowhere he could truly call a home without her. And if he 
had no home to go to, where else was there? 

So it was that Jack found himself changing direction again. Barely a 
block away from his house, he began heading back the way he had come. 
With no clear target in mind he ceased running to escape the lure of 
liquor and started running to find sanctuary, not knowing where his feet 
would lead him. 

Running faster than he had earlier that morning, he had to get away from 
the place of his nightmares, as if his own empty home was the root of all 
his problems instead of the symbolic replacement it was becoming for the 
real source, the SGC. Jack had no idea where he was going to go, but one 
thing he did know, wherever he ended up, it would not be underground in 
Cheyenne Mountain, nor would it be in the isolated silence of his lonely 
house. And he knew that anywhere else would be better than either of 
those choices. 

                         *******************

Sara was cursing herself for not just abandoning the shopping and running 
after Jack. The line at the checkout had been endless, but surely she 
should have come across him by now. Unless he had not headed straight 
home, unless he had found something better to do . . . 

"Damn!" Sara slapped her hand against the wheel and crunched the gears of 
her jeep as she took a corner erratically, "Why didn't I go straight 
after him?" 

She glanced down both sides of the street, as she turned into it, 
surprised to see Jack heading towards her. He was going the wrong way for 
home, and he looked hot and harried, but she had found him, and that fact 
filled her with such an immense relief that it took her breath away. 

With a ragged gulp of air, Sara pulled her black and chrome jeep up to 
the kerb and slid down the window. 

"Need a lift, flyboy?" She called more brightly than she felt. 

The look of utter shock on Jack's face captured her curiosity and she 
pulled on the handbrake and got out of the vehicle, moving around to face 
him on the sidewalk. Her hand reached for his arm, needing to touch as if 
to prove to him she was real. "Jack, what's wrong?" 

Jack swallowed hard, his hands on his waist, struggling to catch his 
breath against the tightness in his chest. The only words he could manage 
were the truth. "I thought you'd gone," he admitted huskily, his eyes 
refusing to meet her worried gaze. 

"What?" Sara shook her head vehemently, "No! No way!" Her heart clenched 
at the lost look on his face, "When I woke up, I figured you must have 
left for work. I had to do some stuff at my house, then I went shopping . 
. . you were out of food!" She studied him anxiously, her voice soft, 
"You thought I'd left again?" Jack shrugged helplessly. "God, no, Jack! 
I'd never do that, I made a vow and I'm sticking to it. You have to 
believe me!" 

She reached to touch his cheek, her thumb sliding to the cleft of his 
chin, gently tilting his head down to face her, until his eyes met her 
intent gaze, "Believe me, Jack. I'm in this for the duration." 

He tried to hide the look of doubt, but she could sense it was there even 
so. 

"Look, I know what I did yesterday was wrong. I took the coward's way 
out. But there must be some way I can make it up to you? Earn your trust 
in me again. You have to show me how, Jack." She waited, her eyes 
pleading for another chance, as much for her sake as his. 

Jack knew what she was asking, but he didn't know the answer, not yet. He 
only knew that it no longer mattered to him, he wanted to be with her 
anyway. So he forced a smile and looked at her hopefully. "I've got the 
day off, maybe we could start by spending it together?" 

                         *******************

They made the short journey to his house in silence. Then Jack exited the 
jeep and watched as Sara opened the tailgate. 

"This is all for me?" He asked in surprise. 

Sara nodded, gathering a couple of the bags of groceries into her arms. 
"You know I never did like a bare cupboard!" Spotting him about to follow 
suit, she added, "Don't go lifting any of this, I don't want you damaging 
your hand, or your ribs!" 

"It's okay, I can manage," Jack replied, hefting a couple of bags, 
"Besides, it's the least I can do for making you go shopping alone! You 
know I would have helped. Although, I'm not sure it's safe to let me 
loose in the supermarket yet!" 

Sara's step faltered at his words, but only for an instant. There was a 
time and a place for that conversation, but it wasn't now. 

By the time the back of Sara's jeep was completely empty, Jack's kitchen 
table was laden with numerous shopping bags and one large cardboard box. 
As Sara began to unpack the groceries and find a suitable home for 
everything, Jack moved to help. 

"No, really, Jack. Let me do this." She placed her hands over his to stop 
him, feeling the heat and tremble of overexertion flowing through him and 
wondering whatever had caused him to be running in the first place. 

She wanted to scold him, worried about the pain and damage each jarring 
footfall might have inflicted on his healing ribs, but she had seen the 
look in his eyes, the underlying fear driving him to the irrational, and 
she had seen his actions inside the supermarket. Right now Jack needed 
her understanding, he needed compassion and comfort, and he needed help. 
He didn't need somebody to tell him what he shouldn't be doing, he needed 
someone to help him find his way through the day. 

"Why don't you head upstairs and grab a shower," she suggested gently, 
"By the time you're done, I'll have all this put away and we can have 
breakfast together." She glanced at the clock on the wall behind him, 
"Make that brunch!" she smiled. 

Jack conceded reluctantly, knowing she was right. He was hot and sweaty 
and a steamy shower could be just the cleansing process he needed. He 
stepped towards the hall, glancing back long enough to see Sara begin to 
work like a whirling dervish through the rapidly diminishing pile of 
supplies. 

Fifteen minutes later, Jack was back, looking refreshed and feeling 
better. As he walked into the kitchen, Sara looked up, grinning at the 
way his hair was sticking up in damp tufts, until she realised it was 
probably further evidence that he was still ignoring his own reflection. 
Before he caught the concern in her gaze, she returned her concentration 
to the task at hand, gathering the last few supplies into one group. 

Jack's gaze settled on the large cardboard box that had been carried in 
along with all the bags of groceries, realising from its battered 
exterior that it was distinctly out of place. Idly, he poked a finger at 
the flap, feeling it give a little beneath the brown tape loosely holding 
it closed. 

"What's this?" 

Sara looked up from the cupboard she was crouched beside, "Oh, um, it's 
some of your stuff you left behind at the house." 

Jack regarded her quizzically, curious about the way she was blushing 
right to her roots. "And?" He asked pointedly. 

Sara shrugged, burying her head back in the cupboard to hide her hot 
cheeks. "And . . . I brought it with me when I came back last night." 

"That's it?" 

"What else would there be? It's just a box!" The cupboard surrounding her 
head muffled Sara's innocent statement, but Jack refused to let it go, 
his instincts telling him there was more to it. 

"What made you think of it?" he persisted. 

"I just felt I needed it as my excuse to come back, that's all." Sara's 
discomfort with the line of questioning was tangible, and Jack suddenly 
realised it was something he would not want to be subjected to himself. 

"Okay," he said simply, and let it drop. 

At the unexpected silence, Sara emerged from the cupboard and looked up 
at him, studying the expression on his face thoughtfully. It seemed like 
perhaps now was the time to have that conversation, or at least to make a 
start. 

"That wasn't all," she admitted quietly. 

"Oh," Jack replied. Watching her closely, he added, "Look, you don't have 
to tell me. It's not like you owe me an explanation or anything!" 

"Yes I do. And if I'm going to keep nagging you to talk about things, the 
least I can do is reciprocate." 

Jack shrugged. He didn't have a clue what was coming, and he wasn't even 
sure if he really wanted to hear it. To hear about how he'd hurt Sara 
enough to drive her away like that. But he did need her, and he wasn't 
going to do anything to force her away again. So he leaned back against 
the kitchen counter and waited for her to speak. 

"Um . . . anyway . . . it's simple really. When I got home yesterday, the 
storm knocked out the power. The batteries in the flashlight were dead 
and I'd forgotten to buy replacements. I had to go down to the basement 
to get candles and . . . well, I got locked in . . . in the dark." 

Sara moved closer then, taking his hand in hers and watching herself play 
with his fingers. Her voice was quiet when she spoke again, "For some 
reason I was terrified. I started to cry. It was stupid really, but it 
all came flooding out. I kept thinking about you, alone and imprisoned, 
in the dark . . . I was afraid for you . . . and I realised . . . " she 
faltered, unsure whether to say it. 

She looked up to meet his gaze, studying him, seeking signs of strength, 
a sign that he could handle the truth better than a lie. "I realised . . 
. that no matter how much it hurts to be with you, it hurts even more to 
be without you." 

Jack squeezed her fingers, glancing away and swallowing hard before he 
looked back at her. "I don't want you to be hurt," he said huskily. 

Sara shrugged lightly, "You know we can't always get what we want!" She 
frowned, realising something else, "But . . . by being here, I think I'm 
at least halfway there." 

"Me too!" Jack murmured. 

Sara squeezed his hand once more and then let it go. "Come on, I'm 
finished in here. Let's go see what's in the box!" 

She gathered it up and headed blindly towards the den. 

"What *is* in the box?" Jack's question trailed her. 

"How should I know? It's been ages since I packed it up!" she laughed. 

In the den, Sara placed the box on the coffee table and pulled off the 
tape holding it closed. The first thing out was a black felt beret, 
placed on top so it would not get crushed. 

"Bet you thought you'd never need this again," Sara smiled, leaning over 
and placing it jauntily onto Jack's head. 

He returned the smile with one of pleasant surprise, pulling the beret 
off again and turning it in his hands until he found the Special Forces 
insignia stitched onto the front. "Well, I don't exactly belong to 
Special Forces any more, more of an offshoot." 

"An ultra secret one!" Sara said knowingly. "No more Black Ops then?" 

Jack squirmed slightly, raising an eyebrow at her, "I wouldn't say that 
exactly!" 

Moving on before the topic made him uncomfortable, Sara fished out a 
smoke brown bottle of aftershave. "You must have a use for this, next 
time you want to impress the ladies!" she grinned slyly. 

Jack took the bottle and unscrewed the lid. One sniff produced a revolted 
grimace, "Oh! Eau de peeuw! Tell me I didn't used to wear this stuff?" 

"Gallons of it!" Sara laughed. "Along with all the other fly boys! You 
all thought you were the best and brightest, but you were definitely the 
smelliest!" 

"Well it never put you off!" Jack feigned offence. 

"I must have been standing up wind of you!" 

"Oh, very funny!" Jack put the lid back on the bottle and promptly 
dropped it in a nearby bin. "So, what other treats have you got hiding in 
there?" 

Sara stuck her hand in again and pulled out a dented coffee tin, the 
contents of which rattled as she lifted it. Opening the hinged lid, they 
both saw a collection of cigarette lighters. Several were those cheap 
plastic disposable ones you could buy at the Seven-Eleven, but there were 
a couple with markings on them, insignia and mottos from whatever 
squadron or battle group Jack had been with at the time. 

The sight provoked a question that had not even occurred to Sara until 
now, somehow she had been away from him for so long that she had 
completely forgotten about their disgusting and frequent habit. She had 
given it up herself about the same time as she had given Jack up, perhaps 
she had taken it for granted that he had done the same. Only now her 
curiosity was sparked and she had to ask. 

"Jack, when did you give up smoking?" 

"Right after I got back from Abydos the first time," Jack replied 
absently, picking up one of his long-lost lighters and turning it over in 
his hand. It looked just like the one he had given to Skaara, except this 
one had a different insignia on it. This one was from a different decade, 
an earlier time when life seemed so blissful and uncomplicated, when the 
consequences of his actions could be forgotten with a round of beers in 
the mess hall at night; and the only secrets to be kept were of exactly 
what it was in Sara's latest letter that had made him go so red. 

A time with no secrets sounded glorious . . . 

"Where?" Sara's voice broke into his thoughts and Jack gaped at her with 
a startled expression, suddenly grasping what he had said. 

"Um, I didn't mean . . . " he trailed off edgily, wiping a palm over his 
face. 

Sara tilted her head to one side, understanding the look on his face 
immediately. She laid a hand on his arm, "Jack, whatever the heck you 
just accidentally told me . . . I'm not going to repeat it to anyone, you 
know that. It doesn't matter if it is classified, I've already forgotten 
you ever said it!" 

"Thanks," he said quietly, wondering at the renewed level of trust he 
rapidly seemed to be reaching with her. 

He studied Sara for a long time, meeting her gaze and reading everything 
her eyes revealed. She wasn't hiding anything, he could see that for 
himself. She wanted to help him, but it wasn't through any misplaced 
guilt over leaving him, it was because she loved him. It was written 
clearly on her face, and in her eyes. 

Sara wanted to help him and she wanted to be with him. And that simple 
gesture of love gave Jack more hope than he had felt in days. He was 
recovering his faith in her, and she was willing to earn that trust every 
step of the way. 

Feeling the pull of his penetrating stare, Sara spoke again, a soft 
enquiry of concern, "Jack?" 

She watched him raise his eyebrows with a look of surprise, as though 
surfacing from some pleasant daydream, then the focus returned to his 
deep brown gaze and he smiled tentatively, an expression that spread all 
the way to his eyes. 

Reaching out with his left hand to snag her fingertips, he tugged her 
gently into his embrace, enfolding her in his arms, taking Sara by such 
surprise that she gasped. Her breath turned into a giggle when Jack 
nuzzled into her neck, his hold tightening to match her own as she hugged 
him back, burying her head against his shoulder with a sigh of relief. 

Jack's hand softly stroked her silky blonde hair, his mouth caressing her 
earlobe with kisses, until Sara drew away slightly, meeting his gaze for 
a long searching moment before she leaned in and found his lips. 

When she eventually pulled away, Sara was captivated by the look in 
Jack's eyes, his stunned expression. It was almost as though he had just 
lost his heart to her. She had seen that look before, that first time, so 
many years ago, when her own heart had swelled with excitement, her pulse 
racing in time with his. The tenderness of their kiss had left them both 
lost, mesmerised, trapped, knowing they were forever destined to be 
together, or else be miserable apart. Now she could see the same look in 
Jack's eyes, and on his face. He looked completely caught off balance by 
the strength of emotion he was feeling, and she felt it too. 

"It's okay, we'll get through this together, I promise," Sara whispered 
hoarsely, her throat constricted by powerful emotions. "We *are* going to 
make it, Jack." 

Jack nodded slowly, convincingly, and Sara thought she would practically 
melt from the smile that he gave her, an expression filled with love that 
could never be smothered, no matter what horrors lay buried within him 
waiting to be released. But there was also gratitude in that look, 
gratitude for the help she was offering, and the comfort she could 
provide. 

Sara wanted to set Jack free, she wanted him to be at peace with himself, 
and she wanted him to be happy. And somehow Jack knew that, he wasn't 
sure how she was going to achieve it, how *they* were going to achieve 
it, but he had hope nevertheless, hope that Sara could now see in his 
eyes. 

It was time to move forward. And, with that renewed strength of purpose, 
Sara reluctantly broke their embrace, determined to continue delving into 
the box, like Pandora herself, suddenly certain that the deeper they 
went, the closer they would get to the heart of the matter. 

Peering into the box, her smile widened as she pulled out the next item, 
a gaudily painted ball of paper and wire. 

"What the heck is that?" Jack asked softly, his words quiet, as if 
reluctant to break the spell he had fallen under. 

"Don't you remember? It's a papier-mâché fish!" Sara held it up, rotating 
it in her hand to show it off. "Charlie made it for you. Remember that 
first fishing trip you took him on when we were visiting your folks in 
Minnesota? You kept telling him how the bass were *this* big!" She 
stretched out her free hand to demonstrate. "Only you never actually 
caught a single fish. So when he got back to school, Charlie made you 
this one in art class!" 

Sara couldn't help laughing. She still recalled the stunned look on 
Jack's face and Charlie's proud expression when he gave the colourful 
fish to his Dad. She remembered it fondly, as if it were only yesterday. 

"I'd better dump that aftershave down the sink before it leaks 
everywhere," Jack muttered, abruptly spinning around and grabbing the 
waste bin on his way past. 

Sara's face fell and she watched his rapid departure with a pained 
expression. She gave Jack a few minutes, but when he didn't come back she 
followed him out into the kitchen. 

He was standing over the sink, staring out the window, his shoulders 
hunched and filled with tension. When he heard her enter, he started to 
move, running the tap and making a show of rinsing the aftershave bottle. 

Sara stood by his side and turned off the tap, taking the glass bottle 
and cap from his trembling hands and placing them on the drainer. 

"Jack, you have to let it out or it's going to suffocate you," Sara 
whispered pleadingly. She could feel the anxiety emanating from him, 
practically see his hackles rising. 

Even so, he eventually spoke, his voice thick with emotion, words that 
would never have left his lips if it were not for what they had already 
shared that day. "I can't do it, it hurts too much when I think about 
him." 

He shook his head desolately, his words echoing off the glass window he 
was facing, "No matter how much I want to, I don't even know how to begin 
to talk about him the way you do." He turned his head slightly, wanting 
to face her, to draw strength from her expression, but unable to meet her 
gaze. Instead, he glanced down at the drainer, his hands finding the 
bottle again. He forced the words out painfully, "How did you manage to 
deal with it, Sara? How on earth did you get passed all that?" 

"I didn't have a lot of choice, Jack. You were gone and I was alone in 
that house, I was faced with two alternatives, live or die. I realised I 
wasn't finished with living yet." She swallowed uncomfortably, "I'm not 
saying it was easy, but what choice did I have? Killing myself was hardly 
an option!" Sara was taken aback by the strange look that flashed across 
Jack's face, causing her to ask quietly, "It wasn't an option, was it?" 

Jack refused to meet her gaze, pretending to be absorbed with digging the 
label off the aftershave bottle he'd picked up again. Sara took that as 
his answer, realising that maybe she shouldn't be surprised. After all, 
Jack never did do anything by halves, when he hit rock bottom anything 
could cross his mind. "And how do you feel about it now? Is it still an 
option?" 

He didn't answer her question. He simply continued to fiddle around in 
the sink in front of him. Sara stared at him for a long time, parts of 
the puzzle that was Jack O'Neill finally slotting into place with the 
arrival of this single elusive piece. 

When she spoke, her gentle voice was filled with compassion, "That's it, 
isn't it? Everything you've been through recently. That's what it all 
boiled down to. A decision whether to live or die, your decision. Your 
life may have been in their hands, but beyond that it was up to you 
whether you survived. It was your choice." She paused, the implications 
hitting her of what she was thinking, "When did you decide you wanted to 
die?" 

"What do you mean?" Jack asked quietly. His hands stopped playing with 
the bottle in front of him. 

"You know what I mean, Jack. Sometime in the past seven weeks you decided 
you wanted to die, didn't you?" 

Jack frowned, finally turning to look at her, "What does it matter, I 
survived, didn't I?" He shook his head, feeling suddenly angry, without 
knowing why. "What could it possibly matter what I decided back then?" He 
asked more forcefully, dropping the bottle on the drainer and spinning 
around abruptly. 

Sara took an involuntary step back, eyeing him warily. She swallowed hard 
before she spoke, almost afraid to say it, but she knew she had to, for 
her own sake as well as for his, "It matters because a part of you still 
wants to die, Jack. That's why it matters." 

"That's bullshit and you know it!" Jack yelled at her, his anger flaring 
uncontrollably. 

"It's not bullshit, Jack. Think about it. Why else are you unable to eat 
properly? It's nothing to do with a bruised kidney. You weren't eating 
normally before that even happened. You're depriving yourself of what you 
need to survive without even acknowledging that you're doing it! I call 
that trying to kill yourself, what do you call it?" 

"That's ridiculous!" Jack shouted hotly, taking one step towards her and 
jabbing his finger at her, a threatening gesture that Sara was positive 
he wasn't even aware he was doing, "I fought them and won! What reason 
could I possibly have to want to die now?" 

"Maybe because it's the easiest way out of your nightmare?" Sara's voice 
was barely more than a whisper, but her words were clear, and she stood 
her ground determinedly, "Maybe because you think it's the only way out. 
Because you're still afraid, but you're too damn stubborn to admit it, 
even to yourself! Or maybe even because you won't have to go back on 
active duty until you're physically fit and, until that happens, you 
won't have to submit to any psychological appraisal!" 

Jack stopped jabbing her with his finger, his hand clenching into a 
shaking fist, and for a moment Sara could almost believe that he might 
turn to violence. Instead, he let out a gasp of anger, pulled his hand 
away with the greatest of effort and stormed out of the room. 

Sara waited until her breathing was calmer and her heart rate back under 
control before she followed him, finding him upstairs, sitting on one 
side of the bed and staring blankly at the wall. He didn't react to her 
words, he wasn't startled or surprised, she couldn't even tell whether he 
heard them or not, despite their argumentative nature. 

"You say that you fought them and won, Jack, but I think you know the 
battle isn't over. And you know that you're losing." The words caught in 
her throat and she inhaled raggedly, the tight constriction making her 
voice hoarse, "Look at yourself, Jack! You're this close to giving up on 
life, but you still won't admit that you need help!" She gestured 
futilely, "Oh wait, I was forgetting you haven't actually looked at 
yourself in over seven weeks have you?" 

Desperate to spark a reaction from him, Sara stepped towards the 
wardrobe, flung open both doors and pulled the clothing away from the 
mirrors, tossing the items aside. 

Jack simply shifted slightly on the bed, moving out of range of his own 
reflection that would have been staring back at him if he had dared to 
look up. 

For a long time, Sara watched him, contemplating trying to force Jack to 
look in the mirror, perhaps even lifting his shirt so he would finally 
see the damage still so marked on his chest. But she couldn't do it. She 
could never be that cruel to him, no matter whether it helped him or not. 

The sight of him was heartbreaking. He looked so trapped and alone, 
hunched over on the bed, avoiding his own reflection. Sara knew she had 
to find another way to get him to face his past, but it would only work 
if he did it voluntarily. Still, no matter how long it took to persuade 
him, she would stick with it. She loved Jack, she wanted him to heal, of 
course she would stick with it! 

As though calling a truce, Sara picked up the discarded clothing and 
carefully placed it back over the mirrors, before quietly closing the 
wardrobe doors. Then she moved away from the bedroom door, keeping her 
distance and giving him a way out so he wouldn't feel so imprisoned. Her 
words were much softer when she spoke again. 

"You have to look at yourself, Jack, before you can see what you're 
really doing to yourself. And you haven't done that since you flew to 
Egypt!" 

This time Jack reacted, opening his mouth to object, but Sara cut him 
off, speaking more firmly now that she knew he was listening, voicing her 
theory on what had been going on, "You haven't seen your own reflection 
since before you were captured. You've been avoiding mirrors like 
something would break if you saw yourself in one. You had these ones 
inside your wardrobe doors covered over with clothing. You steam up the 
mirror in the bathroom on purpose, so you don't accidentally see 
anything!" 

"You're afraid to look at yourself, because you don't want to see what's 
been done to you! You don't want to admit it to yourself, because then 
you'd have to admit that you're afraid. You'd have to admit that you 
haven't recovered yet after all. You wouldn't be able to keep fooling 
yourself into thinking that everything's fine." 

"I know everything's not fine, I don't need some pop-shrink to tell me 
that!" Jack muttered irritably. "I just don't know what to do about it!" 

Unfazed, Sara took a step closer, sitting on the end of the bed and 
reaching out towards him hesitantly. "Then let me help you, Jack. 
Together we can figure this out, but I can only help you if you let me 
in." 

Jack rubbed his palms over his face wearily, "I can't do it! I can't 
burden you with all that. I won't!" 

Sara's hand hovered near his arm, wanting to turn him around to look at 
her, but afraid of his reaction if she touched him. She finally laid her 
fingers on his tense shoulder, knowing he could easily shrug them off if 
he wanted. 

"Jack, I . . . I saw you in the supermarket this morning . . ." She felt 
more than heard his response, a sharp inhalation of breath, an increase 
in his taut posture, and Sara faltered, unsure if her admission was the 
right thing to do, not wanting to incite anger. But she wanted Jack to 
trust her, how could he do that if he didn't know the whole truth . . . 

"I know what you're going through Jack . . . I know a lot more about what 
happened than you think." He glanced at her then, a piercing gaze that 
she could almost feel. "And, before you jump to any conclusions, it 
wasn't Daniel's fault. I coerced him into telling me stuff by pretending 
I already knew everything!" 

Sara shook her head resignedly, knowing it was now or never. "I caught 
him looking for a photograph in the den. A photo I'd already found . . . 
the one that you tore . . . " She could tell by the way Jack's expression 
softened into one of apology that he knew exactly the picture she was 
talking about. 

"You should never have had to see that," he said softly. 

"Well, I did. And I was upset. Then Daniel showed up and . . . well we 
got talking. We both needed to. One question led to another and I found 
out a lot more than I was supposed to." 

"I'm sorry." 

"So was I, at first," Sara admitted. "It frightened me, that's why I ran 
away." 

"But you came back," Jack was clearly bewildered by that fact. 

"Yes I did," Sara nodded. "So you see, it doesn't matter how ghastly the 
truth is, you don't have to hide it from me any more. I finally realised 
I can cope with it. And that I want to help you cope with it too." 

"I never wanted to ask for your help, Sara . . ." Jack's throat closed 
over the words, the reality hitting him hard. He swallowed audibly, 
forcing it out with a reluctance that made his voice quake, "But I do 
need your help . . . I just don't know how to say it." 

"You don't have to say it, Jack, you just have to let me help you," 
Sara's own words were thick with emotion, "I know what it's like, believe 
me, I can help you through this!" 

She paused to take a deep calming breath, and then spoke with as much 
detachment as she could. "They isolated you, imprisoned you in the dark, 
denied you food and water, tortured your body and abused your mind, all 
the time asking you questions which you couldn't answer without selling 
your soul, and, in your eyes, giving up your right to survive." 

Jack's hushed voice was astonished, "How can you know all that?" 

"I was there!" Sara gestured helplessly, but she knew she would have to 
explain it properly, if she could somehow find the words. "When I got 
stuck in the basement yesterday . . . after the lights came back on . . . 
I went back inside, into the dark. I just sat there and imagined how it 
had been for you . . . everything that Daniel had told me . . . all the 
things they . . . they did to you . . ." She gulped hard, drawing a 
ragged breath before managing to add, "Apparently I've got a good 
imagination . . . and I have to admit it scared the hell out of me." 

"But you still came back?" 

Sara looked surprised that he could even question that fact, "How could I 
not come back after that? It made me realise you were still living it! I 
could no more leave you to cope with that alone, than I could have lived 
with myself if I'd abandoned you!" 

"Jack, I left because I didn't think I was capable of helping you, 
because I didn't think I was strong enough. And I can't tell you how 
truly sorry I am for walking out on you like that. But, in some small 
way, it helped me to understand what you were going through, and I think 
I needed that to realise this wasn't something that could be buried and 
ignored." 

She swivelled on the bed to face him, her blue eyes glistening, "I don't 
want to survive alone anymore, Jack. I want to share my life with you, 
but it has to work both ways." Jack stared at her and she could see the 
internal struggle going on behind his dark gaze. "You have to let me in, 
Jack," she pleaded, desperate for them to work it out this time. 

But he shook his head, swallowing dryly "I don't know how to do it, Sara. 
I can't face the truth anymore than I can change it." He lowered his eyes 
shamefully, "If I open the lid on everything that's happened, I'm afraid 
that I won't be able to close it again, that I'll never be able to 
forgive myself for what happened." 

"Don't do that, Jack! Not everything is always your fault!" 

The loudness of Sara's outburst surprised them both. Her hand flew to her 
mouth, trying to stifle the sob that followed as she fought back her 
emotions, searching in vain for the detachment that would allow her to go 
on whilst knowing she had to continue either way . . . 

"You have done nothing to need forgiveness, Jack. Why can't you 
understand that? None of what happened is your fault. The torture, your 
survival, the injuries Daniel sustained, the damage inflicted upon you. 
You have to stop punishing yourself, tormenting yourself for something 
that was beyond your control. None of that was your fault!" She paused, 
her voice anguished as she added more quietly, "And neither was Charlie's 
death. *None* of it was your fault. You have to believe me!" 

"Jack, how many times do we have to go through this before you'll let me 
help you?" She asked anxiously, "You're not the only one who needs to 
heal. We've both been hurt. Why won't you let me in? Why do you insist in 
keeping it all bottled up until it destroys you!" 

Her plaintive words were finally enough for him to turn his head towards 
her, his body still acting as a barrier between them, his armour still on 
display. But, at last, Jack raised his eyes to meet hers, giving her hope 
with his bleak words. 

"I honestly don't want to die, Sara, you have to believe that." 

"I do, Jack." Sara slid closer, holding his gaze, "But you have to 
convince yourself of it too." 

"How?" Jack's eyes remained unshielded, providing a window to his soul. 
"How do I do that?" He whispered painfully. 

"By letting it out. By accepting it. By facing what happened and moving 
on. By acknowledging the fact that it's okay to have been so terrified, 
that you couldn't think straight, so afraid, that you thought the only 
way out was death." 

She paused for breath before adding one crucial message, emphasising each 
word, "And to stop punishing yourself for feeling those natural human 
emotions." 

Sara placed her hand on his reassuringly, "You don't have to do it alone, 
Jack. I'm here and I am not going anywhere. Let me help you." 

Jack lifted her hand to his mouth, kissing the back of it as he gazed at 
her searchingly, his face creasing into a frown of withheld emotion, his 
eyes shining with tears that would never fall. He looked like a little 
boy, lost and alone, and Sara felt a greater surge of love for him than 
ever, leaning towards him, pulling him into her embrace. "I'm here Jack," 
she murmured softly, saying a silent prayer that he would finally open up 
to her now. 

He gulped hard, a strangled sound that made Sara's heart clench before 
she even heard his desperate voice, muffled against her neck. "Sara, I 
feel like I'm drowning in quicksand! I'm sunk so deep that I don't know 
which way is up and I haven't the slightest clue how to get myself out!" 

His arms tightened around her as he struggled with his next words, "Ha . 
. . have you ever been so ashamed to look yourself in the eye that you'd 
rather die first?" 

He released her abruptly, needing to see her reaction, needing to know he 
really could trust her, that Sara would not condemn him for what he had 
done. The strength of compassion in her gaze made him lower his eyes 
again, his confession made even more difficult by the surge of emotions 
he felt towards her. Still, she gave him courage, and he swallowed again 
before taking a deep breath, "Have you ever been so frightened by what 
the next moment of life would bring that you prayed to God to take you 
before it could happen?" 

"Sara . . . when I was being held captive in Giza . . ." Jack faltered, 
grateful for the touch of her hand on his, a squeeze of encouragement 
that accompanied the look he knew was in her eyes if he could only find 
the guts to face her. When he did find the courage to continue, his grim 
declaration was heart rending, "When I was in Giza . . . the idea of 
death became a comfort to me . . . " he gestured helplessly, "I don't 
know how to let it go." 

Sara clenched his hand tighter. "Maybe you have to embrace something else 
instead, Jack. Embrace life. Embrace me. Whatever affords you the comfort 
you need." 

He considered her then, his face like an open book. "I need *you*, Sara. 
I need your help and I need your comfort. And for that I am truly sorry." 

"I'm not!" Sara moved in to hold him, relinquishing herself to the man 
she loved. "No matter how much you need, Jack, I will never turn you 
away." 

                         *******************

It was a long time before the words came, and even longer before Jack 
really got to the heart of the matter. 

"I close my eyes and see one of them. Any one of the people who . . . " 
he shook his head, frustrated by his inability to articulate. "They had 
my life in their hands like some kind of game . . . they just kept 
passing it around and taking their turn!" 

He rubbed his face and leaned back against the pillow wearily, "I 
couldn't do a thing about it!" 

"Jack, you know that's not true," Sara interjected softly, the first time 
she had interrupted since he'd begun. 

She was sitting cross-legged on the end of the bed, giving him the room 
he needed to express everything that clouded his thoughts and his 
judgment. But she had not taken her eyes off him once, never swaying in 
her determination to help him. No matter the awful images his words 
conjured up, or the tears that she blinked away, she had remained there 
for him. All the time he had been staring at the walls or the ceiling, 
anywhere except looking at her, too ashamed to face her while he 
described the pain and suffering he would rather forget, the torture his 
body and mind had been subjected to, the torment of an endless ordeal he 
had somehow come to believe was all his own fault. 

But now it was Sara's turn, her chance to convince him otherwise. "You 
did everything you could and more, Jack. You were fighting against the 
odds, but you still managed to stop them – you stopped the electrocution, 
didn't you?" 

Jack nodded warily, decidedly uncomfortable with the sheer amount of 
detail Sara had apparently pried out of Daniel the previous day. 

"You stopped the electrocution. You saved Daniel and the rest of the base 
two weeks ago!" She took a deep breath, "You survived Jack. You have to 
accept that as a good thing, you have to stop punishing yourself for it!" 

"You have to remember that you never told them anything . . ." Sara 
studied his expression then, searching for something, her voice hushed 
when she continued, "Even if you wanted to . . ." 

The shocked look in Jack's eyes told Sara she had nailed it, and she 
continued rapidly, before he had a chance to deny anything, "You can't 
keep blaming yourself for something you never got the chance to do. They 
got too . . ." she searched for the word, practically spitting it out, 
"*overzealous* with the drugs they gave you. That was their fault, not 
yours. Nor was it your fault if you wanted to give in – it was the drugs 
talking Jack, they were controlling your actions, not you. You had no 
choice, you were out of options!" 

"Until they started drugging you, you would never have given into them, 
you proved that! You kept fighting against everything they did to you, 
like the stubborn person you are! But once they started injecting you 
with LSD, you were no longer responsible for anything you did or thought, 
so how can you continue to blame yourself for something you never even 
got the chance to do? How can you hate yourself so much just for wanting 
to tell them something when you were too drugged up to even think 
straight?" 

"You have to forgive yourself for that, Jack. You have to forgive 
*yourself*, because no one else even thinks it's something that requires 
forgiveness. You are the only one that would judge yourself that harshly! 
So if you can't forgive yourself, then you can't go on . . ." 

Sara trailed off, waiting for some reaction, anything, but when Jack did 
finally speak, his timid words took her by surprise. 

"You really believe that?" 

"Of course I do!" She frowned, tilting her head to one side thoughtfully, 
"I wouldn't lie to you, Jack, and neither would Daniel . . . or Janet or 
Cassie, for that matter! You *know* how they feel about this. They have 
nothing to forgive you for either!" 

"Yes, they do," Jack's voice was choked, and Sara saw a dark shadow pass 
across his face, a foreboding sign of something she did not yet know 
about. 

"What is it, Jack? Tell me?" 

He looked at her then, their eyes meeting for an eternity. Sara didn't 
know what he was looking for, nor did she know what he found, but 
eventually he nodded almost imperceptibly, turning his gaze back to the 
ceiling as he bleakly began to explain. 

"Cassie followed Janet to Egypt. She got picked up at the airport by the 
guys holding me captive . . ." 

"Oh god!" Sara's soft exclamation was entirely understandable, and Jack 
didn't let it faze him. 

"I was so drugged up by then, I didn't even recognise her at first. It 
just didn't seem possible, didn't seem real . . ." 

He swallowed hard, unwilling to describe the details the way he'd been 
forced to describe them to Daniel, and grateful in the knowledge that he 
didn't have to, that Sara would not push him for them. She only wanted to 
get to the bottom of everything that was tearing him apart from the 
inside out, she didn't need to hear all the particulars unless he wanted 
to tell her, she just needed to know he wasn't hiding anything damaging 
to himself . . . 

"For a long time afterwards, Cassie and I kept it between ourselves. But 
last week I told Daniel, and I talked to Janet. They both forgave me . . 
. they all did, but . . ." Jack trailed off, unable to find the words to 
explain how he himself felt. 

"What happened, Jack?" Sara asked softly, needing to know one singular 
detail before she could help him through it. 

"I shot her!" 

Sara looked taken aback, the frown deepening on her brow as she attempted 
to compare what she was hearing to what she had seen for herself that 
previous Saturday. "No you didn't." 

"I did, Sara. I shot Cassie . . . it was a blank." 

Realisation dawned on Sara's face, "Only, you didn't know that at the 
time . . . you were too drugged up to even recognise her, how would you 
know what you were doing?" 

Jack shrugged mutely, too overwhelmed by the memories to straighten out 
the truth. The images were still so vivid, the sound and feel of the gun 
going off in his hand, the look in Cassie's eyes, the tears on her 
cheeks, his own scream, and a sense of absolute defeat. 

"Daniel said he and Janet got you out, but he never mentioned Cassie . . 
." Sara wondered aloud, her question helping Jack break free from the 
image in his head. 

"They didn't know she was even missing until after," he said quietly. 

"And you thought she was dead . . ." Sara chewed her lip anxiously as she 
tried to piece things together, heading for one stark conclusion, "You 
thought Cassie was dead, you thought you'd killed her yourself, only you 
were too ashamed to admit it to the others. That's what this is all about 
. . . you misled Janet and Daniel . . . or at least you believed you 
were. You thought you were lying to them, that they were hunting for a 
dead girl, only you couldn't bring yourself to tell them the truth." 

Sara knew she was right, she could tell by Jack's hooded gaze, "Then how 
did they ever find her?" she asked warily. 

Jack shrugged uncomfortably. 

"The truth, Jack. That's what this is all about remember, if you can't 
share the truth, you can't ever get passed it!" 

"I know, but it's a long story," he replied evasively. 

"Come on, Jack, do you see me going anywhere?" Sara said with gentle 
persuasion, "Besides, you're the world's greatest when it comes to being 
concise! Just be honest." 

Jack stared at her, looking for a way out but finding nothing, until, in 
the end, he reluctantly gave in, "We managed to flush out the guy who had 
kidnapped Cassie. We followed him into . . ." He gestured helplessly, "He 
was . . . keeping her in the same place where they'd been holding me . . 
." 

"You went back in there?" Jack nodded slowly. "Even though you thought 
Cassie was dead, you went back inside your own prison?" Sara flung up her 
arms in despair, "Jesus wept, Jack, don't you *ever* tell me you're too 
afraid to do something again!" Sara's face was aghast at what she was 
hearing, astounded at the levels of courage Jack persistently showed when 
it came to helping others, and yet when it came to helping himself . . . 

"You went back inside your own prison to face your enemy, even though you 
believed that little girl was dead?" she repeated incredulously, "But you 
found her alive, didn't you? How did you get her out?" 

Jack met her gaze questioningly for a long moment, but she wasn't going 
to let him off that easily. He swallowed hard before admitting awkwardly, 
"I offered him a trade." 

"You mean . . . your life for Cassie's?" Sara gulped, "God, I thought 
that kind of thing only happened in the movies . . . How did you get 
free?" 

Jack winced at the look of growing shock on Sara's face, knowing he 
couldn't hold back the truth. "The guy reneged. He was going to shoot 
Cassie . . . I . . . I got in the way, then Daniel showed up and took him 
out!" 

"You saved Cassie's life." Sara mulled over what she had heard. 

"Daniel saved both of us." 

"How badly were you hurt?" 

"Just a graze," Jack shrugged it off, pointing vaguely at his left 
temple. 

"Oh God!" Sara gulped again, barely able to contain her sense of 
astonishment at everything this man had been through, every heroic act. 
And yet he still felt he had something to feel guilty about, "You got 
shot in the head! For crying out loud, Jack, is there anything else you 
haven't told me?" 

Jack shrugged sheepishly, a look of pure discomfort on his face that Sara 
found totally endearing. The man was a hero, but he was too damn modest 
to appreciate the fact. 

"You got shot to save Cassie, you went right on into the place of your 
own torture and imprisonment, to face the enemy by yourself? No wonder 
Janet, Daniel and Cassie all forgave you!" 

Sara paused thoughtfully for a moment, studying him carefully. "Only you 
think that they're missing the point, don't you? You think that if they 
knew the whole truth, the fact that you told them you couldn't remember 
what had happened to Cassie, even though you did; the fact that you 
thought Cassie was dead all the time you were helping them look for her. 
You think they would never forgive you for that?" 

Jack gestured feebly, a simple movement of the hands that spoke volumes 
for the helplessness he felt. 

"Well, you're wrong, Jack O'Neill!" Sara exclaimed firmly, "You are so 
utterly wrong about this that I'm beginning to wonder which bang on the 
head effected your brain!" 

That caught his attention and Jack gaped at her dumbfounded as she 
continued to berate him. 

"God, Jack, you've got this so turned about it begs belief! How did you 
ever let it get this far out of whack? Why didn't you let someone in to 
help you, you stubborn man!" 

Sara shook her head in disbelief, moving onto her knees and sliding 
across the bed to take his hands in hers. "Jack, they love you! They have 
put all this behind them already. Nothing you reveal to them now would 
cause them to see you any differently than they do. Don't you see? You're 
a hero to Cassie, she loves you like a father! And Daniel and Janet . . . 
well, I think you've gained the couple of siblings you never had! They 
both adore you like a brother, Jack. You should have let them in! You 
should have let them help you long before things ever got this bent out 
of shape . . ." 

Sara stopped short, her jaw snapping shut in stark realisation. A look of 
such profound anguish creased her face that Jack didn't dare utter a 
word. 

She shook her head sorrowfully, her voice quieter now, "I think I 
understand why you didn't let anyone help you . . ." She held Jack's gaze 
resolutely, "You've spent so much of your life keeping secrets, holding 
everything in to protect the ones you loved, taking on their burdens as 
well as your own . . . That's how this all got so out of whack, you 
didn't know any better! But we did!" 

Sara took a deep breath, "So if anyone needs forgiving, it's the rest of 
us. We should never have taken no for an answer. We should never have 
buried our heads in the sand and left you to figure things out by 
yourself. We all deserted you when you needed us most. After all the 
times you've protected us, we abandoned you. We gave up too easily, 
because we were afraid of getting hurt if we delved too deep." 

"God, Jack, *I* gave up on you *twice*!" Sara berated herself 
disgustedly, "I walked out on you three years ago and then I did it again 
yesterday! And not once did I ever give you the chance to have your say, 
to tell me what *you* thought about it!" 

"So I think you've got this forgiveness thing totally skewed! You don't 
need forgiveness from yourself, or anyone else, you only need to forgive 
those of us who aren't as brave as you, who aren't as strong willed, 
those of us who are smart enough to love you, but too dumb to realise 
when we're hurting you! We let you down, Jack . . . I let you down." 

Sara tapered off, leaving Jack looking so stunned that she couldn't help 
a weak smile as she added sheepishly, "I think it may be your turn now!" 

Jack's mouth opened and closed several times, doing a good impression of 
a goldfish without ever coming up with anything to say. It was the 
strangest thing. Everything Sara had said made sense, but maybe it was 
just an easy solution? Jack shook his head, a frown creasing his brow. 
No, he couldn't deny the truth in what she had said, but she wasn't 
entirely to blame either, it cut both ways. 

"You've done nothing that requires my forgiveness, Sara," Jack finally 
admitted softly. "The truth is I wasn't there when you needed me. All the 
comfort and support you gave me over the years, without *ever* asking me 
for an explanation. But, when it was finally my turn to repay that, I 
abandoned you." 

He stroked her fingers between his own, raising his gaze to meet hers, 
"I'm sorry, Sara. I should have let you in from the beginning, given you 
some explanation of why I needed you so much. I can only imagine what you 
went through because I wouldn't tell you what the hell was going on 
inside this warped mind of mine." 

"I should have let you in this time, just like I should have let you in 
after Iraq. But I didn't . . . You made up for leaving me by coming back, 
by being here now. How can I make up for shutting you out all these 
years?" 

Sara looked at him for a long time, chewing her lip, considering his 
unexpected apology and subsequent offer and asking herself whether there 
was anything she needed to know about that time so long ago. There was 
one concern that shone out, something she wanted to ask him, to help her 
understand how he felt about it all now. 

"Jack . . . which one was worst?" 

Jack rubbed his face with one palm, giving her surprising question 
serious thought, "I really don't know," he eventually admitted. His voice 
was hoarse with the weight of long-suppressed memories, but somehow the 
words were a lot easier to say now, "I was stuck in Iraq for four months, 
but at least I wasn't always the focus of attention, not for the first 
three months at least . . ." 

"The irony is," Jack added with no sign of amusement, "that this time I 
was so starving and dehydrated I was hallucinating long before they ever 
started injecting me with LSD . . . I kept getting Iraq and Giza mixed . 
. ." 

Jack's words cut off in a rib-jarring cough, his dry throat giving out on 
him after all the talking. He sat up abruptly, practically doubling over 
as he attempted to hold his breath, going red in the face as he 
desperately tried to swallow the tickle before it took hold. 

Sara jumped off the bed, heading for the door, to go and grab a glass of 
water from the kitchen. 

"It's okay," Jack croaked, getting his breathing back under control. 

Sara stopped short and turned around, standing in the doorway as she 
considered him worriedly. Then she glanced at her watch, dumbstruck when 
she realised it was practically evening already, "Speaking of 
dehydrated!" she exclaimed, moving back and gently taking his arm. "Come 
on." 

She led him downstairs to the kitchen, grabbing two glasses of water and 
waiting for Jack to drink some, before refilling the two and heading into 
the den, a more comfortable place for confession and redemption. 

"So . . ." Sara started awkwardly, hoping they'd be able to pick up where 
they left off. Jack was settled on the sofa, the glass of iced water 
swirling in his hand between sips that moistened his throat. She was sat 
opposite, in the worn armchair between the fireplace and the sliding 
doors. "You were talking about Iraq and Giza . . ." She halted for a 
second, "Isn't that where the pyramids are?" 

"Iraq?" Jack snorted. 

"No, Giza!" Sara smiled at his joke, the first sign of humour in a long 
afternoon. 

"Um . . .yeah, that's where the pyramids are," Jack faltered, studying 
her, pondering the harm in telling her. "That's where they kept me . . ." 

"What do you mean?" she asked quietly. 

"Kheops . . . the Great Pyramid . . . that's where I was held for eight 
days," he admitted softly, surprising himself with his ability to say it 
so calmly. 

"They kept you locked up inside one of the pyramids of Giza?" Sara's 
voice was astounded, clearly she didn't quite know what to make of this 
new information. 

"Not locked up exactly." Jack leaned back into the comfortable cushions, 
sipping from his glass and letting the icy cold water soothe the 
scratchiness in his throat before he spoke again. "It was a room deep 
inside the pyramid, the only entrance was from above, the only access was 
by rope ladder. They retracted it whenever they left me alone." 

"In the dark," Sara said quietly, watching Jack's nod. "How . . ." her 
throat closed over the words, not even sure why she was asking, but 
asking all the same, "How did you pass the time?" 

Jack shrugged, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling, his left 
hand holding the glass resting on the arm of the sofa. "Like I said, I 
was hallucinating half the time, it all got kind of confusing." 

"Iraq and Giza," Sara said slowly. "You know you never did anything to 
deserve either one, don't you, Jack?" 

His expression was unconvincing. 

"Jack, you can't possibly believe you ever did anything to deserve what 
happened to you!" Sara reiterated. 

"What goes around comes around," Jack murmured bitterly. 

"Then you must be in line for a heck of a lot of happiness," she replied 
emphatically. "Look, I know you think you did some pretty awful things in 
your time with the military, especially during the Cold War." Jack looked 
surprised, as if he was about to try and deny it, but Sara cut him off, 
"Oh, you would never say as much, but I got pretty good at reading you 
back then, Jack. I had plenty of practice at trying to figure out what 
you were thinking, every time you came home from another secret mission, 
all the while you were trying to figure out how to hide your feelings 
from me." 

"But, as far as I'm concerned, you only ever did what you were ordered to 
do. It was the price you paid for joining up at such a young age, for 
being career military, for wanting to make a difference. You were willing 
to sacrifice a piece of yourself every time you followed one of those 
orders, because you wanted to make a difference . . ." 

Sara smiled slightly, "Strange as this may sound, Jack, you're an 
idealist! You want to make the world a better place, and you're willing 
to do whatever it takes to achieve that." 

She sighed tiredly, "Jack, I know you. You've never followed orders 
blindly, not even when you were still a Lieutenant. If you ever had the 
opportunity to do things the *right* way, the *moral* way, then that's 
what you did. But if you had to get your hands dirty, for the good of 
your country, or for your brothers-in-arms, then you did that too." 

She leaned forward, her words becoming earnest, "But you have to realise, 
*none* of that is a good enough reason to believe you deserved to spend 
four months in an Iraqi prison camp, tortured, separated from your 
family, or to spend eight days captive inside some ancient Egyptian 
pyramid. No matter which was worst, you never did anything to deserve 
either, Jack!" 

"Giza!" he eventually responded, somewhat subdued by the strength of 
passion in her argument. 

"What about it?" Sara replied curiously. 

"That was the worst." 

"Because you were always the focus of attention?" 

"No . . ." Jack swallowed painfully, lifting his head off the cushion to 
look at her, desperately needing to see her face as all those feelings of 
loss and grief came flooding back, "Because . . . all the time I was in 
Iraq . . . you kept me alive . . . But . . ." he trailed off, but Sara 
knew what he was trying to say. 

"But when you were in Giza . . . I wasn't around this time, so . . ." her 
throat closed against the words, leaving Jack to finish. 

" . . . I thought I had nothing to live for," he admitted with 
difficulty. 

"That's it? That's all the difference?" 

Jack forced a smile, "That and the fact that at least there was some 
chance of getting fed in Iraq, bugs and all!" He grimaced at the memory, 
before adding softly, "Thanks." 

"For what?" 

"For making an honest man out of me!" he snorted. "I mean it, Sara. 
You've made a difference in my life." 

"Even if I left you with nothing to live for in Giza? Even if this," she 
gestured towards him, "was all my fault?" 

"*Not* your fault," he shook his head emphatically. "I'm here, aren't I? 
I found other reasons to survive, Sara. I'm stubborn remember! You can't 
try and shoulder the blame for not being around, anymore than I'm to 
blame for what they did to me." 

Sara smiled at those last words, the sign of a crucial breakthrough, "You 
really believe that?" 

Jack's smile matched her own. "Yeah, I really believe that." He laughed 
slightly, "See, now you've done it, Mrs O'Neill! You really have made me 
an honest man, I don't seem capable of hiding anything from you anymore!" 

"That's a relief!" She regarded him thoughtfully, "So . . . what else 
can't you hide from me?" 

                         *******************

It had been an exceptionally long day by the time they lapsed into 
silence. Sara still sat in the worn comfortable armchair beside the 
fireplace, Jack was stretched out on the sofa, staring unfocused at the 
ceiling whilst he spoke, until eventually he slung one arm tiredly across 
his face. 

The sun was setting unnoticed until it became almost too shadowy for Sara 
to see Jack's expression. A fact that seemed to make it easier for him to 
talk, to let out everything that had gone through his mind during the 
lowest points of his life in the last seven weeks. The graphic details 
were largely unnecessary, Sara did not need to hear them anymore than 
Jack needed to tell her, she knew enough by now to understand the 
powerful emotions he had been feeling, the mental torture he had endured. 

Hearing it all now, it was easy for Sara to understand why Jack had 
wanted to die, but he had to understand it too, he had to accept it and 
stop punishing himself. Whether he could really do that, perhaps only 
time would tell. But she had high hopes, they both did. For now, they 
could only sit in silence, all his words used up, emotionally spent and 
overwhelmed. 

Exhausted, Jack found himself unable to stop his eyes from closing. He 
sat up slowly, wincing at the dull ache in his ribs. Caught in the last 
rays of the setting sun now shining through the glass doors, he gazed at 
Sara, utterly defenceless. 

"I'm so tired," he admitted, the look in his eyes all Sara needed to tell 
her that he was still afraid to sleep, afraid of what the nightmares 
would bring now that they had been so fully unleashed. 

There was wariness in his dark brown gaze, and there was hope, hope that 
his nightmare was over at last. But she also detected a hint of fear, and 
Sara knew he was afraid to discover whether his hopes were truly founded. 
A night's sleep could tell him a lot, it could prove a success, or it 
could be a devastating setback. But Jack also needed the night's sleep to 
help him think rationally. It was a vicious circle that left his mind in 
a whirl. And left him scared to go to sleep. 

Understanding all of it, the way only she could, Sara stood up from the 
worn armchair and moved over to sit at one end of the sofa. Placing a 
cushion on her lap, she urged him towards her, meeting the doubt in his 
gaze with unswerving resolve until he lay his head down on the cushion. 

"I'm here Jack," she assured him softly, her fingers gently stroking hair 
from his face. "I'll be here as long as you need me. We're in this 
together remember?" 

Sara's final words remained unspoken, merely thoughts in her head, loving 
feelings about the depth of comfort and protection she wanted to give 
him. 

Just close your eyes and sleep, Jack. You're safe now, I promise . . . 

                         *******************

Tuesday: A Moment of Reflection

Jack awoke with a gasp, his eyes flying wide open to darkness. For a long 
frightening moment, he searched his memory for any clue as to where he 
was. Then his senses recognised other factors, the feel of a warm body 
close to his own, the sound of soft breathing, and its steady gentle 
whisper of air against his cheek. 

Sara! 

Jack let out a held breath slowly, drawing in another with equal care as 
he willed his heart rate back to normal. 

Recollection returned, along with gratitude and love. For Jack knew how 
much of an influence Sara had played on the situation he now found 
himself in. 

He had woken to darkness, from darkness. He had been dreaming of a 
claustrophobic prison, four walls, no windows, the only exit in the 
ceiling out of reach. It was a dark and stifling place. But this time 
Jack had been alone, none of his captors had invaded his dreams, no one 
had come to cause him harm. This time, Jack had been surveying the room, 
looking for a way out. And, just for a second, he could have sworn he 
remembered a shaft of light appearing in the hatchway high above, a rope 
ladder falling to extend towards his feet, and a hand that had beckoned 
toward him from the exit. And Jack had begun to follow. 

This time, he felt for certain, he had almost escaped that room. Almost. 

He had woken too soon, awoken with a sense of familiar confusion. But 
Jack knew where he was now, he was safe, in a home he no longer feared. 
Sara was right there with him. And, for the first time, he felt the need 
to return to his dreams, to continue the journey, to escape that dungeon 
for once and for all. 

                         *******************

The next time Jack awoke, the room was bathed in sunlight. He had made it 
through another night. 

He focused his eyes, blinking rapidly in the light. He turned his head to 
look up, finding himself gazing straight into the face of a saviour, or 
at least that was how he saw her that morning. 

Sara was asleep, her head resting on a heap of cushions against the back 
of the sofa. He watched her for a while, remembering vividly everything 
that had been said the day before, every emotion that had been shared, 
every fear and doubt that had been expunged, until finally the subject 
had become exhausted and Sara had made him lay down on the sofa, closing 
his eyes as if daring him to dream. 

And dream he had, wispy remnants that escaped him now. But Jack was sure 
the experience had been better, whatever the outcome. He felt refreshed, 
his mind clear for a change, free from the usual heart thudding fear he 
had become accustomed to waking with. 

This time, his only thoughts were of Sara, of what she had done for him. 
And of what she might continue to do if only he let her. And he knew he 
would let her. Only there would come a point when he had to make it on 
his own, when the time was right, Jack knew he would need to prove to 
himself that he could survive a night alone. But for now he would take 
the advice of so many wise friends, he would make it one step at a time. 

The next step would be to put one foot in front of the other and continue 
on with this new day. 

Jack was contemplating careful movement, when Sara's eyes fluttered open, 
as if sensing his wakefulness. She looked tired and drawn, her vision 
bleary, still full of sleep, and Jack couldn't help wondering how much 
rest she had lost that night. 

Then her face lit up with a smile that brightened the room, and all 
cognisant thought left him. 

"Morning," she said softly. "Sleep well?" 

Jack could only nod mutely, mesmerised by a pair of loving blue eyes. 

"Hungry?" she asked, her cheeks reddening as she caught the look in his 
boyish gaze. 

He tilted his head sheepishly, the surprise clear on his face as he found 
his voice, "Yeah, I am actually!" 

"Good, me too!" Sara brushed hair from her face and smothered a yawn, 
shifting slightly beneath him. "How about some pancakes?" 

Jack sat up stiffly, reflexively holding his right arm to his chest in 
support against the ache within. Then he turned his head to look at her, 
watching Sara stretch the kinks out of her upper body where she'd been 
sitting in one position for many long hours. 

When she yawned again, he asked, "How did you sleep?" 

"Oh fine," she said lightly, "But I'm more interested in how you did." 

"You look tired." 

"I need my morning coffee!" She stood up and headed towards the kitchen, 
leaving Jack to follow her in order to hear her question, "How about you? 
Coffee, apple juice, milk, cranberry . . . ?" 

The list continued while Sara put a pot of coffee on to brew, until she 
finally hit on a drink that enticed Jack's taste buds, not to mention 
providing protein, carbohydrates and a delicious accompaniment to the 
batch of pancakes she began mixing up. 

Jack sat sipping his homemade banana milkshake while he watched her work, 
feeling somewhat helpless, but willing to do as she ordered for once. She 
had at least let him make up the drink, but her suggestion that he sit 
still and sip slowly made a lot of sense when she pointed out that he had 
not had a single meal since Janet's on Saturday night, and had only drunk 
one protein shake since then. 

Nothing but water in forty-eight hours didn't sound like a good idea even 
to Jack, but the fact that he had not noticed such an absence of 
nourishment said a lot for the neglectful way he had been treating 
himself in the last seven weeks. 

So sip slowly he did, visions of a weekend spent heaving over a toilet 
bowl while drying out from an alcoholic binge far too fresh in his memory 
to make him want to push his luck. Besides the idea of pancakes and maple 
syrup practically had him drooling, and he didn't want to do anything to 
spoil an appetite that had been AWOL for so long. 

However it soon became apparent that his hunger was not shared. After 
forcing himself to eat slowly, and feeling disappointingly full after 
just two delicious pancakes, Jack placed his fork on his plate and 
glanced appreciatively in Sara's direction. 

She was leaning on her left hand, elbow on the table, the fork in her 
right moving ever slower until it came to a grinding halt and her eyelids 
fluttered closed. 

Before her head could slide off her hand and smack into the table, Jack 
reached across and squeezed her right arm, "Sara? Wake up, sweetheart." 

Sara's head snapped back up with a start, the fork dropping onto her 
plate with a clatter and her eyes flying open, wide and alert for about 
two seconds before they began to drift shut again, her head gradually 
tilting forward once more. 

Jack got out of his seat and moved around the table to crouch at her 
side. His fingers stroked her cheek as he urged her awake once more. 
"Sara, come on, wake up. You can't sleep here." When her eyes opened 
again, he held her gaze intently, "Sara?" 

"Huh?" She focused on him drowsily, seeing his expression and coming 
fully awake, "What? Jack, what's wrong?" 

"What's wrong is you falling asleep in a perfectly good pile of pancakes, 
that's what's wrong!" He chided gently, "Sara, did you sleep at all last 
night?" 

She could only shrug in return, giving him an apologetic look that she 
hoped would explain everything, only Jack waited patiently for the words 
that went with it, until she was forced to admit, "I tried, you know, but 
. . . somehow I couldn't . . ." 

He frowned at her, "Sara, it's not your job to watch over me." 

"I know that, Jack, really I do . . . it doesn't mean I can stop though." 
She gestured helplessly, an anguished look on her face that was probably 
made more prevalent by her lack of sleep, "I . . . I wanted to watch you 
sleep, I had to be sure . . ." she swallowed audibly, "I love you, Jack, 
I can't help wanting to look out for you . . . besides, I have to work 
tonight, it was my last chance to be so close while you slept." 

She saw the shadow pass over Jack's face at her reminder and she pondered 
for a moment, "Would you like me to get the night off?" she asked, almost 
hopeful that he would give her an excuse to stay with him another night, 
while at the same time wanting him to refuse her offer, needing him to 
feel strong enough to face the night alone. 

Jack shook his head adamantly, "And then what will you do, get the next 
night off, then the next? No, Sara. I've got to take the next step sooner 
or later, it might as well be sooner!" 

He held his left hand out to her, "Come on, if you've got to work 
tonight, you'd better get some sleep!" 

With the bedroom window wide open to let in some of the breeze trying to 
cool an already warm day, Jack considered his options and decided he 
couldn't think of anything better than spending the morning sleeping 
beside his wife . . . ex-wife, he reminded himself with a wry smile. 

Lying down beside her, he was surprised when she rolled onto her left 
side and draped an arm across his chest, proving that she was not yet as 
asleep as she ought to be. 

"Thanks, Jack," she murmured softly, her eyes still closed. 

"For what?" 

"For staying with me." 

Jack sounded surprised, "Sara, I can't think of anywhere I'd rather be, 
than right here beside you!" 

A contented smile curved her lips, "Good! Me either . . ." Her stroking 
fingers came to rest right where she could feel his heartbeat through his 
t-shirt. "Roll on Saturday," she murmured, wondering how she would get by 
until then, sleeping while he worked and working while he slept. Somehow 
it didn't seem fair that her turn at night shifts would come around right 
now. 

Jack nodded, smiling at the irony. Then he remembered another engagement 
he had made for Saturday, a promise to a twelve year old. 

Cassie! 

Jack's stomach lurched as everything unleashed in the last twenty-four 
hours flashed past at the speed of light. Another Saturday that seemed so 
long ago, an apology for breaking their date, for not being able to show 
Cassie how to play ice hockey because he had to fly to Egypt, he had to 
go find a friend. Then the morning after the night before, at least he'd 
thought it was morning. Waking up in darkness for the first time, bruised 
and confused. Ambushed. Beaten. Imprisoned in an impenetrable dungeon. 

But the worst one of all had been a week after that. He could put a day 
to it now, only it had been sometime later before he had found out that 
it was a Saturday. 

Despite all of the drugs, he could recall it with such clarity, as if it 
had only just happened. As if it were still happening . . . 

The ancient Colt had felt cool in his tremulous grip, but he had handled 
the smooth metal clumsily, fumbling the single cartridge into the clip 
like he had never loaded a weapon before. 

But in truth his thoughts had been on Sara, and Charlie, and on trying to 
face the idea of never seeing them again. A task at which he had failed 
miserably, instead choosing to take a life, a life he had believed was 
meaningless to him. Until he had recognised his young friend, too late to 
take the bullet back, to force the cartridge to return inside the gun, or 
to make a reverse step in time. 

And when had he come to decide it was okay to put himself first anyway? 
To sacrifice an innocent life for his own selfish needs? Even if he 
hadn't known the victim, since when did he decide it was all right to 
take a life? 

Maybe the drugs did have a lot to do with it, but that didn't make his 
thought processes any less wrong. What he had done was unforgivable, and 
Cassie was the one paying for his digression. She was the one who had to 
live with the image, looking down the business end of a loaded Colt, 
facing the man who was holding it, a man she had trusted and loved, a man 
who was tightening his finger on the trigger with no sign of recognition. 

Cassie had been the one facing the battered shell of a man she had once 
called friend. A man who could still not even face himself! So how could 
she look at him? How could she truly forgive him for what he had done? 

Jack realised that was one conversation he had not had. He needed to talk 
to Cassie, really talk to her, not just skirt around the issue the way 
they'd been doing for the past five weeks. He needed to show her how 
sorry he was, how guilty he felt, he needed to know whether she really 
understood what had happened, whether they had really put it behind them, 
or whether it had just been swept under the rug, waiting to rear its ugly 
head when the pressure was on. 

Jack knew it was a conversation they had to have, but neither would want. 

And how was he going to explain himself anyway? 

How could he possibly tell a twelve-year-old girl that he had decided 
seeing his wife and child were more important than she was? A wife and 
child that had no longer existed! 

How could he possibly justify such a thing? 

There were times in Jack's life when maybe he would have done anything to 
keep out of the box. But he had never thought this would be one of them. 

Yet he could still feel his finger on the trigger, an awkward left handed 
grip that felt unnatural even as he'd balanced the weight of the Colt and 
tightened his hold. He had released the safety and lined up the barrel, 
sighted on the target and tried not to look into her tearful eyes. 

As the weapon bucked in his hand, the noise of the gunshot passed almost 
unnoticed over the sound of his own pathetic cry. 

Cassie! 

Only vaguely awake, but with her hand resting on Jack's chest, Sara felt 
something, a tremor maybe, or more of a feeling, a sense that something 
had changed, uneasiness, even fear. She didn't know exactly what, nor 
why, she just knew. And she knew that she had to ask. 

"Jack, what's wrong? You okay?" 

"Not really," Jack whispered huskily, surprised by his own openness. "I 
think I need to talk to Cassie." 

"Now? Can it wait?" Sara asked softly. 

"It'll have to," he snorted with little sign of humour, "She's in 
school!" Jack sighed resignedly. He wanted to get it over with, he didn't 
want to put it off, but he knew that he couldn't see her until Saturday, 
and by then he might not be able to do it at all. 

Sara lifted her head slightly, trying to read his face, his eyes upturned 
toward the ceiling. "It wasn't your fault, Jack," she said gently but 
firmly. 

"Yeah." 

"Yeah? You know?" she sounded surprised. "Then what are you thinking?" 

He shook his head, reluctant to admit it. 

"If you know it wasn't your fault, why are you still thinking about it, 
Jack?" Sara pressed. 

"I can't help it," he grimaced despondently, "I keep wondering what if 
that bullet hadn't been a blank. She's just a little girl, Sara. I *shot* 
her!" 

"And what if the bullet that grazed your scalp had been a few inches 
closer, Jack? Think about that. You can't dwell on what ifs. You know 
that! You have enough to deal with without second guessing everything 
that happened. It happened, Jack, and now you're here. And so is Cassie. 
None of your friends died. They've all recovered. And they're waiting for 
you to do the same." She yawned hugely, unable to stifle it, before 
adding, "And I'm waiting for you to go to sleep!" 

"I'm sorry." 

"You don't owe me an apology, Jack. Just like you don't owe Cassie one!" 
She stretched up her fingers to tilt his chin down towards her. "I love 
you Jack, and so does Cassie, she doesn't care about what ifs, she just 
cares you're okay. And you owe it to her to *be* okay!" 

"And you?" 

"And me?" Sara smiled lovingly, "Me you just owe a good night's sleep . . 
. day, I mean day." 

Jack rolled onto his right side and encircled her in his arms, "I think I 
owe you a lot more than that!" He kissed the tip of her nose as her eyes 
closed tiredly. 

"Mmm." It was her last word as she dozed off. 

"I love you Mrs O'Neill," he whispered, kissing her lips before resting 
his head back onto the pillow beside her, listening to her steady 
breathing as Sara succumbed to sleep, leaving him to consider all that 
she had said. 

                         *******************

For more than an hour, Jack had been watching Sara sleep. He couldn't 
help it. It was such a novelty, something he had not been able to do in 
years. In fact the last time he remembered doing it was when she was 
heavily pregnant with Charlie . . . 

He swallowed hard. Well those thoughts weren't getting any easier! Maybe 
Sara was right, that he needed to let them out, but he didn't know how, 
or even where to start. 

Instead, he concentrated on the rise and fall of Sara's shoulders as she 
lay curled up facing him on the bed. He watched her eyes and her face, 
seeking any hint as to her dreams. 

He needed her, without a doubt. He needed her as much as she had needed 
him back then, back when Charlie . . . back when he had walked out on 
her. Jack knew he owed her an apology for that. Sure, maybe she had 
ultimately left him, but he'd left her in spirit long before. He'd just 
shut up shop and refused to let her in, refused to share what he was 
thinking and feeling, refused to help Sara when she needed him most. 
After all she had done for him, all the love and comfort and caring she 
had given him, the support she had provided, he had closed himself off to 
her and refused to share the burden of guilt. 

He still had not exactly said he was sorry, not for that. He owed her an 
apology. But the truth was he had no idea how to go about expressing 
something of such enormous import, and maybe it wouldn't even be welcome 
any more, like reopening old wounds. Maybe they weren't healed but Sara 
had put it all behind her now, what was the point in dredging all that up 
once more? Really, how would it help? Some things you never get over, so 
shouldn't you just let them rest? 

But perhaps there was one thing he could do for her, one thing that had 
been important to her, one thing he had been avoiding for weeks. And the 
one thing he could do that might make his conversation with Cassie a 
little easier too. 

Glancing at the clock on the dresser, Jack saw it was a little after 
midday. Sara had been sleeping for four hours now, and even he had slept 
for almost three. But with all the rest he had gotten during the night, 
he was fully awake again, his mind busy, sorting through thoughts and 
feelings, trying to figure out that next logical move. 

And now that he had reached a conclusion, was he brave enough to take 
such a gigantic step? 

Jack took a deep breath and carefully rolled onto his back, sitting up 
and swinging his legs off the edge of the bed. For a long while he 
lingered, staring at the wardrobe nervously, as though it was the source 
of grave danger itself. But in truth it was only what was hidden within 
that could hurt him, like the monster when he was a little kid that he'd 
always felt sure was lurking in the closet. 

Remembering how he had dispelled that fear all those years ago, Jack 
stood up and reached for the wardrobe doors, pulling them open as quietly 
as possible, so as not to disturb Sara. 

Avoiding looking directly at the mirrors, he gingerly lifted the clothing 
that had been hooked over the tops in a move designed to obscure his own 
reflection, a move he did not even recall making, so in denial had he 
been of the anxiety and fear he was repressing. And yet here was the 
proof of what he had done, just like he now realised steaming the 
bathroom mirrors up really had been deliberate. 

How he had managed to ignore the signs for so long was almost 
bewildering. Almost. Jack knew how stubborn he could be when he wanted, 
and for how long he could maintain the pretence that nothing was wrong. 
He had done it with physical injuries in the past. And now he had been 
caught doing it with psychological ones. 

But it was time to admit that Sara was right, in the same way that Daniel 
had tried to force him to look at those police photographs. 

The truth was he didn't want to look at himself. Why would he? He hadn't 
looked at himself since before . . . before Giza . . . before he was 
ambushed in the enclosed maze of passages between the housing on the 
plateau. Before his life had taken yet another drastic downturn. Before 
he had come to believe he would be better off dead . . . 

He hadn't seen his own reflection since the last time he had been 
undamaged, unbruised, healed. He hadn't seen his own reflection since the 
last time he had been strong enough to face what he was, what he had 
become, strong enough to face a man who had committed some atrocities in 
his time . . . and suffered the consequences of those actions. 

And now he had to face the consequences of this one. Of disobeying a 
direct order, of flying to Egypt to help a friend, of being stupid enough 
to get caught, beaten and imprisoned, drugged up and confused, of firing 
that single bullet, and of needing others to bail him out of trouble, to 
rescue him from a deep dark pit, physically and mentally. 

He owed them all for what they had done for him, Daniel, Janet, Sara, 
Cassie. And now he had to repay them. He had to face the man he had 
become. It was the next step in his recovery, and if he didn't take it 
now, he knew he never would. 

His hand was shaking as he placed the hangers of clothing onto a nearby 
chair. In fact, being totally honest with himself, his whole body was 
trembling, his heart was racing and his breathing was laboured. But Jack 
knew he had to go through with it. This was the next step. And it was 
just as vital as all the ones that had gone before, perhaps even more so. 
Still, that didn't stop him from being afraid, terrified even. And it 
didn't stop him from needing to take several long breaths as he sat back 
down on the edge of the bed and searched for the courage to remove his t-
shirt and face up to the evidence. 

                         *******************

Sara didn't know why she had woken in the middle of such an interesting 
dream, but she had drifted back to consciousness all the same, slowly 
opening her eyes to see Jack sitting on the edge of the bed, his 
shoulders tense as he contemplated his hands. 

Unsure of what she was intruding upon, she remained silent, noticing for 
the first time in a couple of days the improvement in the range of 
movement of Jack's right hand as his long slender fingers curled under 
the bottom left side of his navy blue t-shirt. Then she became aware of 
the shake of his hand, both hands in fact, realising it could not be the 
effort alone that was causing such a reaction. 

Tilting her head slightly, the last detail, and its immense significance, 
sank in. She could see a reflection in the mirror diagonally opposite 
him, the mirror that was fixed on the inside of the wardrobe door, the 
open wardrobe door. The uncovered mirror! 

She could see Jack's reflection! 

With her heart in her mouth, Sara almost cried out in surprise, 
unexpectedly afraid for what he was trying to do. This was probably the 
most important step of all, and Jack was attempting it alone, and 
suddenly she didn't know whether that was wise or not. 

But it was his decision and all Sara could do was wait, and pray. And be 
ready. 

After what seemed like an eternity, Jack grasped the bottom of his t-
shirt and yanked it up over his head, leaving his short greying hair 
sticking up in tousled tufts. But instead of raising his gaze to face his 
reflection, he stood up hurriedly, lurching two steps to the nearest 
mirror, moving in so close that his view was reduced down to parts of the 
whole. A low growl of utter desperation emitted from his throat as he 
scrunched his eyes tightly shut and hung his head, his brow practically 
touching the glass. 

It was obviously a deliberate move from one who could not yet face the 
full picture, and Sara watched anxiously, barely daring to breathe as the 
scene of imminent defeat played out before her. 

Leaning even further forward, Jack's forehead rested against the mirror, 
the glass feeling cool beneath his hot face. He drew several long slow 
breaths in an effort to calm his racing pulse, his left hand clenching 
and unclenching repetitively, as if he was counting in rhythm, trying to 
build up the nerve until he finally opened his eyes. 

For a long moment, Jack focused on some point on the floor beyond his 
bare feet, before angling his gaze a fraction, just enough to see the 
reflection in the mirror of ten toes . . . a pair of ankle bones . . . 
two shins . . . scarred knees. 

The movement halted, dark brown eyes fixing on long legs, the one 
unmarked part of his body, as Jack struggled to find some inner strength 
that would take his gaze higher. He had done some tough things in the 
recent past, but this was proving the hardest of all. 

With a groan of despondency, Jack shook his head and spun around, the 
wardrobe door rattling on its hinges as he slumped against it in 
frustration. 

Safe from his own reflection, Jack raised his head, only to meet Sara's 
blue-eyed gaze. She was awake. 

The look of shock on his face grew into sheer determination and she held 
her breath as he swivelled around once more, this time with his head held 
high. 

For an instant it seemed like time stood still, as if the whole planet 
was holding its breath, waiting for some reaction, waiting for that 
moment of truth and reality as Jack O'Neill faced up to himself for the 
first time in an eternity of hurt. 

At last he stared himself straight in the eye, unblinking, desperately 
needing to see what others saw, but almost too afraid to look beyond his 
own hooded gaze. Then Jack noticed the dark sleep-deprived shadows 
beneath, the high cheekbones that stood out a lot more than he 
remembered. His search narrowed onto the flurry of marks above his left 
temple, jagged scarring, slowly fading, the yellowing of healing bruises 
beneath the surface of his brow; the day old stubble on his jaw. 

To himself he looked damaged, gaunt and pale. To Sara he looked healed, 
healthy and strong. She had seen him at his worst, in the torn police 
photograph, and in the days before and after his second nightmare 
encounter with the Slav. Sara had seen how he'd looked back then, she had 
seen him getting better, growing stronger. But Jack was seeing it all for 
the first time, and Sara realised that a helping hand might be welcome 
after all. 

She rose from the bed, sliding from beneath the covers to stand by his 
side in a show of support. 

"You ought to see things through my eyes," she said softly, "Through 
Daniel's or Janet's eyes, through Cassie's eyes. You should see how much 
you've recovered, Jack, not how much you've been hurt." 

His gaze gradually shifted, refocusing from its fixed position to regard 
his entire face, then spreading beyond to encompass Sara's reflection 
also. 

The effect of that simple view was like a burst of energy, a feeling of 
warmth spreading through Jack's whole body. It had been several years 
since he had dared imagine seeing the two of them standing side by side 
once more. And, as Sara met his gaze in the mirror, the expression in her 
eyes was all that was required to provide enough strength for one final 
effort. 

Jack lowered his eyes. 

Sara heard him swallow, saw him shudder as he faced his own reflection 
full on, the man he had become. As he saw the remnants of a hundred 
different bruises, welts once livid and red, the reminders of a hundred 
punches and kicks, more beatings than any man should be forced to endure 
in a lifetime, let alone during eight endless days. Newer bruises mixed 
with the original ones, starker colours blending with the older faded 
yellows and browns, an array of shadows leaving little of the true colour 
of flesh to be seen. 

She watched his gaze shift to the left side, fixing upon the worst injury 
of all. The damage that had shocked her the most the first time she'd 
seen it. The bruising that faded so slowly, gradually turning from black 
to brown and purple, the pink healing skin that formed a pattern of 
stitches where they'd had to operate on his ribs, inserting pins to hold 
together shattered pieces of bone. Bones that stood out far more than 
they ought, far more than they had done for years, the line of a ribcage 
that could be traced with the naked eye, a clear reminder of starvation 
and psychological deprivation. 

And still there were so many more wounds practically healed to 
invisibility, physically at least. Needle tracks in the crook of his 
right arm, rope burns around his ankles, a black eye and concussion, 
electrical burns on his in-step, a bullet grazed temple, and, ultimately, 
one bruised kidney, internal bleeding and a punctured lung. 

Finally there was the hand, too many broken bones to count. Jack could 
recall with vivid clarity the sight of those swollen, misshapen digits, a 
horrific image he could only be glad that Sara had never been privy to. 

"Shit!" Jack murmured as reality hit him. All the memories he had been 
trying to avoid, all the injuries and pain he had suffered came flooding 
back with the sight of his own reflection. And all the reasons he had 
been avoiding it became startlingly clear. 

Sara moved closer, her hand resting tenderly on his back. 

"You should see what I see, Jack." She smiled almost shyly, "I see a 
strong handsome man, someone who has been to hell and back, but who 
remains unbowed. A loving, gentle man who cares about right and wrong, 
and won't allow those principles to be swayed despite all he is forced to 
endure because of his beliefs. I see a loyal man who sacrificed himself 
for his friends, but who rejects their aid in return, a stubborn man who 
will only accept help from himself, because that's the only way he's ever 
been able to survive so many times before . . ." 

"You see all that?" Jack whispered, his eyes wide, focused on his torso, 
barely able to breathe. 

"I do," Sara nodded. "I also see a man that I love, and will always love 
no matter what happens to him, to me . . . or to us." 

"I think you're missing one thing," Jack swallowed against the lump in 
his throat, his voice hoarse. "You're seeing a man who has finally 
realised how much he needs you!" 

Tearing his gaze away from the sight of his own bruised chest, Jack 
turned towards Sara and put his arms around her, pulling her into his 
embrace. 

"And how much he loves you," he added softly, holding her tight and 
burying his head against her neck. 

"I need you too, Jack, just as much," Sara admitted, her hands pressing 
against his back in response. 

It was a few minutes before she noticed the chill of his skin against her 
palms. "Jack, you feel really cold, are you alright?" 

When he didn't answer, she pulled away slightly and looked into his face. 
When their eyes met, his gaze refocused, a confused expression on his 
face, "Sorry, what did you say?" 

"Are you okay?" she asked with growing concern. 

"Yeah, sure." Jack shook his head as though to clear it, "My head's 
spinning a bit, that's all. I've got so much stuff going on in here, it 
feels like it's gonna burst!" 

"It's a lot to face up to in one go, Jack," Sara pointed out gently. 

"Yeah," he snorted. He lifted his left palm to his face, rubbing his 
forehead and across his eyes before running open fingers through his 
tousled hair. Sara watched his hand shake every inch of the way, her arm 
wrapping around his waist and steering him back towards the bed. 

"I think you ought to sit down, get under the covers maybe, warm up a 
little," she suggested, somewhat afraid that she was seeing the 
manifestations of shock beginning to set in. "You need to let it all sink 
in, Jack. You're trying to deal with something you've spent the last six 
weeks avoiding, you're bound to feel a little overwhelmed. Give yourself 
a break for once." 

Slowly Jack nodded, even though he couldn't be sure that he'd understood 
or even heard everything she'd said. He allowed himself to be steered to 
the bed, following Sara's moves when she threw back the covers and slid 
across the mattress, pulling him down next to her before covering him 
with the blanket. 

Sara took the opportunity to snuggle up beside him, telling herself it 
was not for her own comfort, it would help warm him up quicker. Jack's 
arm automatically wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her closer, 
settling her into the niche of his right shoulder. 

For a long while she let him think, undisturbed by her questions or 
suggestions, hoping he would be able to cut through the turmoil in his 
mind and figure out what really mattered, how he felt, what he was going 
to do about it. 

When finally his fingers began to lightly stroke her arm, and she felt 
some of his tension ebb away as Jack began to relax, Sara turned her head 
to look at him. 

"Jack, why now?" she asked curiously, voicing the question that she had 
been pondering all this time, wondering what had prompted his unexpected 
course of action. 

"I . . . wanted to do something for you . . . and I was thinking about 
how I was going to explain things to Cassie . . ." He trailed off, 
frowning slightly as he broke eye contact and turned away, finding 
himself staring directly at his reflection in the wardrobe mirror again, 
angled perfectly on the open door to throw his image right back at him, 
as if to prove there was no escape, not anymore, not now he had uncovered 
the truth, bared himself and his soul. 

Sara saw him react, knew where he was looking, and waited quietly until 
he found voice enough to continue. 

"All that time . . . I didn't want to see what Cassie saw . . . what she 
should never have been forced to see," he swallowed audibly. "I was too 
afraid to see the source of her nightmares, knowing it was me, that I was 
the one to blame . . . I never wanted to see how bad they were for her . 
. . I was too scared." Jack shook his head helplessly, somehow unable to 
be as disgusted with himself as he had previously been, at last beginning 
to understand his actions, the depth of fear and reasons for it, the gun 
in his hand. 

They weren't the actions of the guilty coward he had believed he'd 
become, they were just the natural reactions of someone so physically and 
psychologically abused that very few avenues of retaliation were left 
open to him. 

Faced with the choice of surrender or die, he had still tried to find 
another way. And somewhere amidst the maze of dead-end trails he'd been 
following in his scrambled mind, he had taken a wrong turn, let his 
beliefs become confused, so screwed up that he had somehow assumed there 
was righteousness in what he was doing. 

He wasn't a coward, and he wasn't even to blame, he'd just run out of 
options. But he was sorry, and he did need to explain that to Cassie, and 
make sure she understood what had been going through his head, now that 
he had figured it out for himself. And that was why he had needed to see 
himself . . . 

"I finally realised I needed to see what Cassie saw," Jack admitted 
softly, still staring at his own reflection. "What they all saw. I had to 
face it in order to accept it. And to understand it from their point of 
view." He blinked slowly, closing his eyes just long enough to break 
contact with his own image. He turned to face her, "You taught me that, 
Sara. You brought me here." 

"No, Jack," she shook her head, "You brought yourself to this point. 
Maybe I helped provide the map, but you figured out how to read it, and 
where it was supposed to lead you. And you did it alone!" 

Sara's face broke into a beaming smile, full of realisation, "What you've 
achieved in the last twenty-four hours . . ." she gestured mutely. No 
words could truly express how proud she was, how astonished she was at 
the depths of strength and courage that Jack had called upon once more. 
"I think you've turned your life around," she said in awe, "And mine! I 
wish I knew a way to tell you how much that means to me . . ." 

"Sara, I think I already know," Jack smiled, surprising himself when he 
glanced up and caught that expression smiling back at him in the mirror. 
"Weird!" he laughed slightly, "That's gonna take some getting used to!" 

"Well, speaking purely from my own selfish point of view, watching you 
practise that smile will be my pleasure," Sara grinned, rapidly breaking 
into a fit of giggles when Jack's fingers slid beneath her arm and began 
to tickle mercilessly. 

When they were settled down again, Sara noticed how far the sun had moved 
around the house, and how late in the afternoon it was getting. She found 
herself thinking about the next step, of what would happen after she went 
to work that evening. 

"Jack, are you going to stay inside tonight?" she asked lightly, testing 
his reaction to the thought of sleeping alone. 

His arms, wrapped fully around her as she rested against his shoulder, 
moved in a shrug of uncertainty, his hands, folded together on her 
stomach, gestured openly. 

"You know, I don't think it matters where you sleep, so long as you 
sleep!" she offered in return, laying her hands over his, her fingers 
stroking the knuckles of his right hand. "You shouldn't try and tackle 
too much in one day. If you need to, why not sleep outside. Don't be too 
hard on yourself, Jack," she pleaded. 

"I won't," he responded, his breath a soft whisper against her cheek, "I 
promise." 

"You'll sleep wherever you want to?" 

Jack nodded, "Assuming I'm tired, after lying around in bed with you all 
day!" 

Sara grinned at the lovely thoughts that image provoked, then she added 
brazenly, "Are you going to be gone by the time I get back in the 
morning?" 

"I don't know." 

She looked at him then, twisting around so she could see his face, "You 
don't know what time you're leaving for work, or you don't know if you're 
going at all?" 

Jack shrugged, wrapping his arms around her more tightly, "I know I've 
got to go sometime, I just don't know if I'm ready so soon." 

"Maybe if you wait and see how you feel in the morning?" she suggested, 
giving him a way out. 

He thought about that for a while and then shook his head resolutely, 
"No, I'll call General Hammond this evening, get him to send a driver in 
the morning." 

As Sara settled back into his arms, Jack couldn't see the huge smile on 
her face. "Sounds good," she said as casually as she could. 

                         *******************

Jack couldn't help feeling pleased, it had been quite a day. Just like he 
couldn't help watching his reflection in the mirror still hanging open 
diagonally opposite where they lay together on the bed. He could see his 
flushed cheeks, hair sticking up in tufts where Sara had been playing 
with it. 

He could see Sara's bare right shoulder where she lay sleeping snuggled 
up to his body, the blankets strewn at the base of the mattress, far 
enough down for him to be able to admire the curve of her waist, her 
smooth naked back and hip, the top of long legs that entwined with his 
own. 

Her blonde hair obscured much of her face where it nestled against his 
chest, but he knew she was smiling, he had seen the look of utter 
contentment on her face when she had released him, sliding off of his 
hips to lay down beside him, her right hand stroking his body with long 
languorous moves, her lips still nuzzling his chest, his collar bone, his 
shoulder, pressing kisses so sensuous to his naked skin, that it made him 
want her all over again. But the first time had been exquisite, an 
experience to be savoured, and Sara still had sleep to catch up on . . . 

It had been so natural, the way she was nestled in his arms. A subtle 
move of his fingers had found her right breast, teasing her nipple 
through the soft material of her cropped top. Before long, her hand had 
been stroking his abdomen, working down to his groin, pressing and 
fondling while he slipped long fingers beneath the waistband of the 
shorts she'd worn to bed, sliding down between the fleecy cotton and her 
silky skin, reaching the lace of her panties, touching her, caressing 
her, gently at first, their tender movements growing with desire, need, 
love, a long sensual exploration of each other, until eventually Sara had 
straddled his hips, taking him inside her, naked and joined in rapturous 
rhythm, swept away in the passion of their feelings for each other. 

Now watching Sara doze really was a novelty, a forgotten pleasure only 
rediscovered thanks to the fact that Jack had slept as long as he could, 
for the time being. Yet he didn't want to get up and leave Sara alone, he 
wanted to stay close by. Maybe he wanted to be sure that all he had told 
her wasn't going to give her nightmares too. Besides, he couldn't imagine 
a more beautiful sight than that right before his eyes, and it was a 
sight he wanted to remember forever. 

He wanted to hug her, to bury his face in her golden hair and absorb all 
the love and comfort she provided. He wanted her to wake up so he could 
thank her for this feeling of lightness he was experiencing, like the 
weight of a dark world had been lifted from his shoulders, a dark and 
deadly world. Sara had saved his life, Jack was sure of that, and all he 
could do in return was let her sleep. 

                         *******************

Wednesday: Moving Right Along 

By the time the driver dropped Jack off at the main entrance to Cheyenne 
Mountain bright and early the next morning, the Colonel was a man with a 
mission. So focused on his task ahead, Jack almost forgot to sign in at 
the desk, before hurrying towards the elevators. 

It wasn't the thought of how he would manage the journey down from ground 
level to a depth of twenty-eight floors below that concentrated his mind, 
but the idea of exactly what he was going to do when he got there. 

Sometime during the night he had come to a decision. A night alone could 
do that to a person. Especially a night of such little sleep, caused not 
by the persistent nightmares that had plagued him almost every night 
previous for over a month, but by a restless mind, and a rested body. 

Without a doubt, Jack had slept far more in the last thirty-six hours 
than he had probably done if he were to add all his sleep together from 
the past few weeks. And it had left him wakeful and wondering what the 
day would bring. 

The first half of the night had been spent worrying about that journey 
down into the mountain, past feelings of panic and anxiety so vivid in 
his mind that he could almost taste the fear all over again. 

The claustrophobia had eventually driven him outside, onto the deck, to 
lie under the stars and try to figure out a way to handle the terror of 
being closed in, knowing he had to find a way, because he had to go back 
to the SGC, he had made a promise, to himself and to Sara. Wednesday 
morning would find him back inside the mountain complex. And he could 
either prepare himself to face that, or try and pretend it would never 
happen. He had tried the latter before and that had ended badly. So his 
only option was to be prepared. 

Thus the second half of the night had been spent visualising every step 
of the way, remembering everything that had happened every time he had 
ventured inside since Egypt. From that fateful Monday morning when he had 
encountered the Slav inside his own office, to the most recent Friday 
when he had arrived with such mixed feelings – a good evening with Sara 
to look back upon, but the last evening he thought they would likely 
spend together, and then the nightmares that had returned with a 
vengeance when he slept. 

Jack realised that if he'd made it inside the SGC that last Friday 
morning with all those thoughts troubling his mind, then for sure he 
could make it in there again, when he had so much to hope for, so much to 
look forward to. He would make it inside with his head held high, 
ignoring the walls that closed around him, to journey into the depths and 
ensure the day counted for something. 

The consequent question of what to do when he got there had been 
surprisingly easy to answer. A thought that had been playing on his mind 
since he had faced his own reflection in the mirror, the thought of 
wanting to see for himself what Cassie had seen, what Daniel and Janet 
had seen. What he had yet to see. 

He was almost healed it had taken him so long to face up to what had been 
done to him. Somehow the fading of his injuries negated the effect of 
trying to put himself in their shoes, and Jack felt a strong need to 
really see what they had seen, once and for all. But there was only one 
way he could do that. He had to get a look at the police report, the same 
photos that Daniel had tried to force him to look at a week earlier. The 
same photo that Sara had accidentally discovered, a picture she should 
never have had to see. 

A set of pictures that he now wanted to see for himself. 

Only how was he going to convince General Hammond that this wasn't a 
symptom of some psychological disturbance he was suffering? How could he 
ever rationally explain that he needed to see those photos for his own 
good? 

And so Jack had devised a plan, a simple idea that allowed for innocent 
denial of any wrongdoing on his own part. It was a deception that he had 
carried out plenty of times in the past, yet never on this particular 
commanding officer. 

It was a plan based on several key assumptions, assumptions that proved 
to be accurate when Jack knocked on the clerk's door early that Wednesday 
morning, pleased to see the sergeant surrounded by the usual excess of 
mail and reports. 

"The General in yet?" 

"No, sir." The clerk glanced at his watch, "He's usually in by 0730 
hours." 

"Ah!" Jack tapped his fingers against the doorjamb for a moment as if 
considering his options, "I left him a report to sign off on last Friday, 
"Scientific results from lunar alignments effecting P3R 227", any idea if 
he's finished reading it?" 

Unsurprisingly, the clerk shrugged, his grimace the epitome of someone 
who had far too much paperwork to deal with when what he'd really signed 
up for was to venture out into the field and take a somewhat more active 
role in creating the reports, rather than reading and filing them. "I 
haven't had time to clear his filing backlog yet this week." 

"It's my only copy, I need it back if I'm going to get the follow up work 
scheduled on time," Jack persisted. 

Looking harassed, the clerk glanced at his watch again, "Well, Colonel, 
if you don't mind checking yourself, you could take a look in the outbox 
on the General's desk." 

"Yeah, okay," Jack replied nonchalantly, "Maybe I'll do that, thanks." 

With that he turned and sauntered along the corridor to the next room, 
the last door before the mission briefing room, the office of General 
Hammond, leader of Stargate Command. 

Knocking on the door purely out of habit before entering the room, Jack 
began to delve through the pile of outgoing work on the corner of the 
large mahogany desk. In his usual fashion, the General had heaped all the 
files together, not needing to separate Top Secret from what were always 
highly secretive reports that any clerk within the SGC found himself 
processing on a regular basis. 

Finding the exact file he had told the clerk he was looking for, a thick 
lengthy report bound together inside an overly large manila folder, Jack 
continued to dig, looking for something much slimmer. He had to go 
through the pile twice, finally discovering what he was searching for 
right near the top. 

It was the same brown envelope that he had last seen one week ago, when 
Daniel had hurriedly collected it from the den before rushing out of the 
house to drive to the SGC, already late after a long difficult night. 

Now that he had found it, it didn't take Jack long to slide the thin 
loose-leaf folder out from within and secrete it within the large manila 
binder containing the scientific findings from P3R 227. 

It was an honest mistake. When faced with so much paperwork, it was easy 
for one report to get mislaid, caught up with another. It had happened 
countless times before. The trick was always to ensure that nothing left 
the mountain in such a confused state, so long as all top secret reports 
stayed inside the top security environment then what did it really matter 
whose office or desk they accidentally ended up on? 

Jack grinned to himself as he stuck the now empty brown envelope back 
into the precarious pile of paperwork. It was a plausible explanation, 
and that was all he needed. The folder housing his report was easily big 
enough to conceal other information, a police report that had somehow 
been misplaced and mixed up with the report on P3R 227, a report that 
Jack would not notice he even had unless someone came looking for it . . 
. 

                         *******************

It was lunchtime when Jack resurfaced from his office. It had been an odd 
morning and a frustrating one. 

After all his efforts to get the police report containing those 
photographs out of General Hammond's office, the second he had arrived in 
his own Jack had received a phone call asking him to deal with some 
urgent personnel issues involving four members of rival SG teams whose 
dispute over some minor infraction had resulted in a full out tussle in 
the gymnasium. 

These were the disadvantages of arriving at work before the General. 

It had taken Jack the better part of the morning to get individual 
statements from each soldier and fill in the blanks sufficiently to 
figure out the real reason behind the fight. And it had been an 
uncomfortable experience, leaving him feeling like he had been the one 
under the microscope, not the soldiers themselves. 

But the oddest moment by far had been when he'd first walked into the 
gym. All the way down the corridor, Jack had been able to hear the 
argument continuing inside between the four soldiers despite the arrival 
of the security guards who had already broken up the fight. 

And yet the second he had appeared in the doorway, the whole room had 
fallen so silent he could've sworn he heard a pin drop. Suddenly Jack had 
found himself the focus of attention from nine pairs of eyes: four 
fighting soldiers, plus the five-man security team that had been sent 
down to break up the fracas. 

And all before he could say a single word. 

As a Colonel, Jack was used to people taking notice, but he didn't 
normally command quite such a reaction, and especially not before he had 
at least called the room to attention. 

And to be quite frank, the undisguised stares from his own men had left 
him totally unnerved. The subsequent hours of questioning hadn't helped 
relax him either. 

When the last of the four soldiers had finally been dismissed, Jack sat 
back and attempted to consider what he had heard, but instead his mind 
repeatedly wandered to what he had seen. The curious looks, the 
penetrating eyes, it had been as though these men were trying to see 
inside him, trying to read his thoughts. 

Admittedly, he had not been a man of high visibility since his return 
from Egypt. Even after being discharged from the infirmary, Jack had laid 
low, keeping himself to himself during the short periods he had actually 
stayed inside the confines of the SGC. The rest of the time he had spent 
long hours alone on the mountainside. The only people he had really 
spoken to were members of his own team, or other people he was close to, 
like Doctor Fraiser. 

So maybe this was simply the reaction of soldiers who had heard the 
rumours, who had noticed his lengthy absence, and who couldn't help 
wondering what the hell had been going on in the intervening weeks. 

To be honest, Jack couldn't really blame them for being curious, if it 
had been someone else, and assuming the SGC grapevine was performing 
anywhere near as efficiently as usual, then he too would have been 
wondering what had happened. 

Either way, he knew he shouldn't let it distract him from the main task 
he had come to the SGC to accomplish that day. But first he had a chore 
to do, a promise to keep, a promise to Sara that he would continue to eat 
properly even when she wasn't around to keep an eye on him. 

And it had been a long time since breakfast. Jack had to admit he was 
feeling peckish, albeit not for any of the standard fare presented in the 
commissary. So it was a good job that Sara had thoughtfully provided 
lunch, two packs of well wrapped sandwiches, along with bananas, an apple 
and several granola bars, all inside a brown paper bag which she had 
stored in his kitchen fridge overnight, having made Jack promise 
faithfully that he would remember to take it with him in the morning and 
eat every morsel at some point during the day. 

Jack couldn't help grinning to himself as he picked up the brown bag and 
peered inside, it was actually very sweet of her, although there was way 
too much food in there, enough for two really. 

An idea forming, he closed the bag and tucked it under his right arm, 
standing up and stretching kinks from his stiff back before heading out 
into the corridor. He just needed to grab a couple of bottles of cold 
water from the commissary and then he would find Teal'c. The Jaffa was 
sure to be hungry by now, whatever he had spent the morning doing. 

And right now he could do with seeing a friendly face. 

"Teal'c," Jack asked, in between munching on a tuna sandwich from the 
bag. "Mind if I ask a personal question?" 

"By all means, O'Neill," the Jaffa gestured, crumbs dropping onto his 
pants from the pack of sandwiches Jack had offered him. He was sitting 
cross-legged on the grassy hillside above the rear emergency exit from 
the SGC, a place, he was given to understand from Daniel Jackson, where 
Jack had spent a lot of time in recent weeks, a lot of time alone. So it 
was a privilege to be invited to join O'Neill that lunchtime, and to 
share from the bag he had sheepishly explained was provided by his wife. 
Ex-wife, O'Neill had corrected with a wry grin that Teal'c had not seen 
for many weeks. 

The revelation had prompted a raised eyebrow from the Jaffa, but he had 
remained silent, accepting the offer of lunch, all the while curious to 
know for what reason he had been asked along. 

Now it seemed he was about to find out. 

Jack hesitated for a moment, trying to find the least offensive way in 
which to word his question, "Teal'c, you must get some strange looks from 
people sometimes, being the only Jaffa in the SGC, I mean." 

"Indeed," he nodded sombrely. 

"How do you get used to it?" 

"Harm cannot be done by looks alone, O'Neill. It remains my intention to 
preserve that status." 

"You mean you ignore them," Jack frowned, "Even if it makes you 
uncomfortable?" 

"For what reason would I feel discomfort? I am neither at fault, nor the 
perpetrator of such misdeed." 

"Ah!" Jack winced, shaking his head and glancing at the remains of his 
sandwich in his left hand, no longer feeling particularly hungry. "Guess 
that's the difference," he murmured, more to himself than to Teal'c. 

"You have committed some form of wrongdoing?" the Jaffa asked curiously. 

"Well . . . no . . . not exactly, I guess . . . I mean . . ." Jack 
trailed off, looking perplexed. Maybe it was the fact that he had to keep 
reminding himself that none of it had been his fault, he hadn't really 
done anything wrong. Or as Sara put it, he had never done anything to 
deserve what had happened. 

"Actually, I don't know what I mean." He blew out a breath, irritably, "I 
mean, I know I'm not to blame, really I do. It's just the way everyone 
keeps looking at me! First the soldiers in the gym this morning, and now 
in the commissary! Christ, I thought I'd stepped into Dodge when I walked 
in there just now! I swear the whole place went quiet, like they were 
waiting for something to happen!" 

"You believe they expect something from you, O'Neill?" 

"Yeah," he grimaced bitterly, "Expect me to flip out probably!" 

"You have reason to believe they are correct?" 

"What? No!" Jack objected. 

"Then I see little requiring attention." He met O'Neill's glimmer of 
understanding with the closest thing to a smug look the Jaffa could 
manage. 

"Okay, I get you," Jack nodded, "I shouldn't let it bother me, sticks and 
stones and all that . . ." 

Teal'c's smugness dissolved into a raised eyebrow, "I do not believe 
sticks or stones have been factored into the equation, O'Neill." 

"It's a figure of speech, Teal'c, that's all." Jack shrugged sheepishly, 
"I guess what I really meant to say was thanks." 

"I have done nothing you could not have done yourself." 

"Maybe. But lately I seem to need someone to spell out the obvious to me 
every time!" 

"O'Neill," Teal'c frowned, "It is my belief that a man need only abide by 
his true feelings. Such feelings will lead him down the correct path. No 
one can do that for him." 

Jack smiled wryly, remembering his conversation with Sara the previous 
afternoon, "But sometimes it pays to have someone provide the map!" 

"Indeed!" Teal'c nodded soberly. 

                         *******************

As luck would have it, Jack never did make it back to his own office that 
day. On his way down from ground level, he ran into General Hammond, 
looking even more harassed than usual. 

"Colonel O'Neill," Hammond nodded curtly, "You were responsible for 
questioning four men found fighting in the gymnasium this morning?" 

"Yes, sir, airmen Stevens and Collerby, plus a couple of the new recruits 
in Colonel Makepeace's team. I haven't had time to type up my report 
yet." 

"Apparently it's incomplete, Colonel. They're at it again!" 

"Damnit," Jack grimaced, "They promised to drop it!" 

"I think you need to have another talk with them, Colonel. Or else the 
next person they see will have court martial papers in his hand." 

O'Neill shook his head adamantly, "No need, General. They're scared 
that's all. Two of them were on the security detail hunting down the 
explosives that were planted on base. They know about the bomb that was 
missed. News travels!" he gestured irritably at the power of the rumour 
mill, "They're a little on edge over what happened, what might have 
happened. I'll deal with it, sir." 

"We've all been on edge, Colonel. But it's time to move on, don't you 
agree?" 

"Yes, sir, I do," Jack admitted wholeheartedly, almost grinning at the 
General's transparent question. 

"Fine, Colonel. I'll trust you to deal with them." Hammond smiled as he 
headed off down the corridor towards his own office, "Good to have you 
back, Jack." 

"Yes, General." 

                         *******************

"Listen up!" 

The four men froze into place, heated exchanges dying on their lips the 
second they saw and heard Colonel O'Neill standing in the doorway of the 
gym. 

"Christ, will you stop doing that!" O'Neill muttered, finding himself the 
uncomfortable focus of their attention yet again. He raised his voice 
back to one of unquestionable authority, "If you four want to duke it out 
like a bunch of hockey players, at least take it outside the SGC!" 

He gestured them towards the door, "Come on, on the double!" 

Like four squaddies and their drill sergeant, Jack marched them at quick 
time down the corridor and through the emergency exit into the stairwell, 
forcing them to climb over twenty flights of stairs at a pace akin to 
jogging. 

Despite all the times he had done the same climb in recent weeks, even 
Jack was panting by the time they reached the security locked door at the 
top. Then again, he could be proud of the fact that the four younger men 
looked even more hot and sweaty than he did. That should curb their need 
to fight, he hoped. 

Swiping his id badge through the lock, Jack opened the door and led the 
four men out into the grassy clearing. The four young soldiers squinted 
in the sunlight, watched by Jack who had the benefit of a pair of 
sunglasses rapidly pulled on to protect eyes that seemed even more 
sensitive to bright light than they had been before Giza. 

And that seemed like as good a way to start as any . . . 

"Maybe you men feel like you're being kept in the dark," he began, 
studying the way they had paired off, standing either side of him, 
brooding, practically squaring up ready for a fight. 

On his right side, Stevens and Collerby, two airmen who had been 
unfortunate enough to be assigned to that part of the security detail 
sweeping the lowest levels of the base for the C4 explosives planted by 
the Slav, covering the embarkation area, control room, briefing room, and 
all offices in between. 

Searching such vital areas of the SGC, they had found a fair mound of 
plastic explosives, including the bomb Jack had witnessed being planted 
beneath his own desk. The frivolous thought crossed his mind that maybe 
he should thank them for kindly preserving all that paperwork that had 
awaited his return to work. 

Stevens and Collerby stood versus two young marines on his left, Jenks 
and Costanza, fairly new additions to the SGC, who had been off-world as 
part of Colonel Makepeace's team, arriving back on base just after the 
explosion in the front lobby that had almost killed Daniel Jackson and 
Harry the security officer on duty at the desk. 

These two inexperienced members of SG-3 had spent six days out in the 
field with Captain Carter and Teal'c, probably bearing witness to all the 
concerns and anger distracting that half of SG-1 from their usual 
efficient performances, anger that had apparently spread like a 
contagion, festering until it had erupted this morning. 

"None of you really know why anyone would want to blow up the SGC, maybe 
you never will know." 

Jack turned to address the two marines directly, his voice calm and 
reasoning in the hope that some of it would rub off on the four angry men 
standing with him. "But you're looking to place blame. And who better to 
accuse than people who had more control over the situation than you did. 
People who were at least inside the SGC when the explosives were planted, 
instead of being helpless off world like you two." 

He gestured towards Stevens and Collerby, "Better yet, if you can't get 
your hands on the real person who did it, then why not blame two of the 
guys who had the opportunity to hunt down the explosives, who swept the 
mission briefing room but failed to find that last hidden block of C4!" 

That sparked a reaction, just not the reaction Jack had been hoping for. 
Quick as a flash Jenks's anger flared again. The shortest of the group, 
probably one of the most diminutive marines Jack had ever seen, he seemed 
like a man who always had something to prove to make up for his lack of 
stature. He was an angry young man who had received top marks in all 
forms of unarmed combat, and Colonel Makepeace had taken him on in the 
hope he could refine the rough edges and make a valuable soldier out of 
him. 

And when Jack caught Jenks's intentions out of the corner of his eye, and 
stepped in purely out of reflex, he began to regret not leaving this one 
to Makepeace to sort out. 

As Jenks lunged towards the two airmen, head down, shoulders bunched into 
a solid battering ram like a quarterback, Jack automatically stepped 
across his path to stop him, too close and too late for the marine to 
sidestep. Instead Jenks barrelled into the Colonel, shoulder first, at a 
perfect height to smash into Jack's chest, his left side bearing the 
brunt of the blow. 

"Oh man, I'm dead!" 

Jack barely heard Jenks's shocked wail over the roaring sound in his own 
ears as his knees threatened to buckle beneath him. The pain of such a 
solid impact close to his healing ribs left him gasping for breath and 
nauseous. 

Practically doubled over, he held both hands against his left side as if 
he could take away the pain. Ironically, it was Costanza and Stevens who 
came to his aid, one each supporting either side, stunned by the ghastly 
shade of pale the Colonel had turned and suddenly afraid for someone 
other than themselves. 

As Jack hung his head, trying to clear the circling fog that only waned 
as the pain ebbed away, he couldn't help wanting to grin. He could only 
see their feet, but he could identify the voices and hear the words as 
airman and marine teamed together, Collerby standing beside Jenks a few 
yards away. 

"It was an accident, Jenks!" 

"Oh shit, I'm gonna die!" 

"Yeah maybe if it was Makepeace!" Collerby snorted, "But Colonel O'Neill 
is air force! He's a fair man." 

"I think I really hurt him!" 

"I'm okay," Jack raised his head gingerly, trying not to provoke anymore 
spinning of the scenery around him. "You just caught my weak spot!" 

"Colonel O'Neill, are you alright?" Stevens wanted to make absolutely 
sure. "Maybe we should get you down to the infirmary, sir?" 

"No, I'm fine. And we've still got some unfinished business up here." 

Jenks approached him cautiously, "I'm out, aren't I, sir? Court 
martialled?" 

"No, Jenks, you're not," Jack shook his head carefully, pulling off his 
sunglasses so the man could see his sincerity. "You should listen to 
Collerby, he's right. It was an accident, pure and simple. You didn't 
mean to assault a senior officer, just like I'm sure you didn't really 
plan to hurt Stevens or Collerby when you lunged at them. Did you?" 

"Well, sir . . ." Jenks trailed off, not sure what to say. He'd always 
been taught to tell the truth, and the truth was that he had meant to 
hurt the two airmen. For days now he'd been itching to smash their heads 
in. The question that occurred to him now was why. 

Jack saw the look on his face, the sudden uncertainty over his reasoning 
and recent actions. Still unsteady on his feet, Jack realised it was time 
to take command and defuse the situation once and for all. He gestured 
with his hands, "Sit down, all of you." 

Following suit with an inward sigh of relief that, at least from the 
ground, the world stopped swaying, Jack looked at each man in turn, his 
eyes coming to rest on Jenks. "You don't know who to blame, so instead 
you've decided to find fault among yourselves. But none of us are at 
fault, no one here is to blame for what happened!" 

"What about the explosives that were missed?" Jenks growled 
insubordinately. 

"Jenks, if you'd been the one searching the briefing room, you wouldn't 
have found that C4 either," Jack pointed out mildly. 

"You found it!" 

"With the benefit of help!" O'Neill shrugged, unwilling to reveal many 
details. "Let's just say I'd been given a few clues. That's the only 
reason anyone found that last block of explosives." 

He gestured around the circle, "It's not each other you want to fight! 
The people you really want to fight are the ones responsible for the 
assault on the base, your home." 

"Someone came onto the base and planted explosives, and just as if they 
had broken into your own home, or your parents' home, you feel angry. You 
feel violated and betrayed, and you want revenge," Jack explained with 
remarkable compassion for a Colonel addressing his troops. 

As he glanced around, he saw each one of them nodding agreement, each one 
of them focused on their hands, or the grass in front of them, each one 
of them looking inwards at themselves, recognising the real reason for 
their fear and anger. And then each one in turn slowly raised their gaze 
to regard him, waiting for the words of wisdom that would make everything 
better. 

Okay, no pressure here then, Jack smiled wryly, searching himself, his 
own recent experiences, for the answer to their unspoken question. "I 
know how you feel, believe me, I felt the same way. I just had one 
advantage over you. I was lucky enough to help put away the men 
responsible." 

"You four are never going to have that revenge, call it the privilege of 
rank. So you're going to have to accept that justice has been done, that 
we all survived this one unscathed. And have hopefully become a tighter 
knit group in the process?" 

"Yes, sir." Stevens, Collerby and Costanza agreed in unison. 

"But, Colonel, I heard those guys put you in the infirmary!" Jenks 
objected, "How can you be so lenient?" 

Jack raised an eyebrow in surprise, he hadn't realised he was being 
lenient. "I suppose you want an eye for an eye, Jenks?" 

The young marine nodded eagerly. 

"You know that's not the way we do things here. We endeavour to treat 
others the way we prefer to be treated ourselves." Jack sighed, unused to 
making such grand speeches as he was being called on to perform here, 
"Christ, if we didn't temper our reactions to every assault on our 
people, or attacks on this base, we would be no threat to the Goa'uld! 
We'd have destroyed ourselves long ago!" 

"Besides," he grinned slightly, trying to lighten the mood, "An eye for 
an eye doesn't cut it. It was just a broken rib!" he lied. There was no 
way he would ever tell these four men the true extent of his injuries, 
nor did they need to know, for their own good as much as his. 

Jenks winced, he'd had a few broken ribs himself in his time, and he knew 
how much they hurt even when they were healing. He shook his head 
remorsefully, "I'm sorry, Colonel. It was never my intention . . ." 

"It was an accident, Jenks. Don't worry about it. I've bashed them myself 
a few times, believe me, that's even more annoying!" He smiled, what he 
hoped was benevolently, "But what are you going to do next time you feel 
like smashing somebody's skull in?" 

"Save it for the Goa'uld, sir!" 

"Good answer!" Jack grinned, "And remember the next senior officer that 
tries to intervene in one of your fights could be Colonel Makepeace 
himself, and we all know what that means." 

"Court martial, sir," Jenks nodded grimly. 

"Once you've been discharged from the infirmary!" Collerby chipped in, 
snorting with laughter. 

Jack smiled to himself as the four men broke into a round of good-natured 
teasing. For once he'd said the right thing, and maybe even saved a few 
careers in the process. Things were definitely looking up. 

As the jibes subsided, Jack called a halt, "I'm sure you've all got jobs 
you ought to be doing?" He grinned wryly as a new thought occurred, 
"Although, I think you've saved me from one lengthy report I no longer 
need to complete!" 

"You mean you're not going to write us up?" Costanza asked hopefully. 

Jack waved his right hand in the air, curling his fingers as far as they 
would go, about ninety degrees now, "Don't see the point in over 
exercising the hand, do you?" 

"No, sir!" all four men replied in unison. 

"I think we can explain what happened, now that Jenks has offered to give 
you all his expert tuition in hand to hand combat." 

Jenks looked surprised, "I have, sir?" He met the Colonel's gaze, the 
light suddenly dawning in his eyes, "Oh! Yes, sir, I have, sir. We 
started this morning, sir," he grinned cheekily, "Although, I think our 
next session will go a lot better than our first, sir." 

"Just what I wanted to hear, Jenks." 

With that, Jack moved to stand up, his wince at the pain that flared in 
his left side witnessed by all four of the men now watching him closely. 

"Sir, I think you should get that rib checked out in the infirmary," 
Stevens suggested bravely, getting up quickly to go to the Colonel's aid. 
"We're going passed it on our way back to the gym anyway, sir," he added 
with a grin, ensuring O'Neill had no easy excuse to get out of it. 

They'd all heard the notorious tales of Colonel O'Neill's reluctance to 
be hospitalised, often from the nurses themselves, who seemed to 
appreciate the Colonel's presence in the infirmary far more when he was 
helpless or unconscious than when he was on the road to recovery, 
mischievous and restless as always. 

Jack met Stevens' resolute gaze, knowing he had no option but to agree, 
or else set a very poor example to these men. 

They all followed the Colonel to the mountain entrance, waiting while he 
swiped his badge through the security lock and punched in the key 
combination to allow entry from outside. 

The journey down was a lot gentler than the double time march up. Even 
so, they quickly reached the infirmary. Striding rapidly ahead, Stevens 
found the audacity he needed to enter first, calling for the doctor and 
explaining what had happened before the Colonel got a chance to object. 

"Thank you, airman," Doctor Fraiser couldn't help smiling at the way the 
group had somehow cajoled Colonel O'Neill into visiting the infirmary, 
"I'll take over now, you can get back to whatever you were doing." 

"Hand to hand combat training, ma'am," Collerby piped up. "Jenks has been 
giving us extra tuition." 

Janet raised an eyebrow as the four soldiers left the room, then she 
turned to meet Jack's sheepish grin. "Colonel O'Neill, what have you been 
up to?" 

Jack shrugged, "Long story! But I'm fine, really, there's absolutely 
nothing wrong with me!" 

The doctor gave him a long searching look before she spoke, "If you don't 
mind, sir, I'd like to be the judge of that. Lift up your shirt, let me 
take a look." 

Jack bit his lip throughout her prodding and probing, trying not to let 
her see how much more it hurt than it ought to. But the doctor was well 
experienced with her patients, and with this difficult one in particular. 

"You haven't exactly been taking it easy on these ribs, have you, 
Colonel?" She chided. "But I reckon you already know that, or you 
wouldn't be covering up so much pain!" Janet sighed, "Fortunately, it 
doesn't look like you've done any permanent damage. Although, I'd like to 
take some new x-rays . . ." 

She trailed off, stepping back to consider him overall. "But it can wait 
till the morning if you like . . . Why don't you go home, Colonel. I hear 
you've been in since before 0700, you've done enough for one day." She 
raised a finger before he had a chance to object, "Doctor's orders, 
Colonel. Go home . . . Go see Sara." 

She smiled when he threw her a surprised glance, but he couldn't hide the 
look on his face at the mention of Sara, nor the expression in his dark 
brown eyes. 

"Just make sure you come and see me first thing in the morning for a 
thorough check-up, Colonel," Janet said as she watched him tuck his t-
shirt back into pants that were still too loose and gingerly slide off of 
the bed he'd been perched on. "And please don't overdo it, Jack!" she 
called after him. 

Janet watched him go with interest, weighing up all she had seen in this 
brief encounter and comparing it to their last meeting four days earlier. 
As far as she could tell, there were definite indications of improvement 
in his demeanour, if only she was seeing the same in his ribcage! There 
she could see obvious signs of overexertion, the bruising looking as bad 
as ever. She could guess the reason behind that. 

And she had just sent him home to Sara! 

The doctor couldn't help laughing at herself as she tried to get back to 
the task she'd been doing before the patient with the most frequent flyer 
mileage had interrupted her routine yet again. 

                         *******************

Thursday: The Power of Technology

Arriving early at the SGC again, Jack had one single task in mind for 
that morning, one item lying in wait in his office that he really needed 
to go over, a piece of research he had yet to complete. 

Sometime during the previous evening he had begun to call it that. 
Research. It had sounded like a much better explanation when Sara had 
asked his reason for such an early morning start, and how his day had 
been. 

And if he wanted to be perfectly honest, Wednesday had been a good day, 
despite the fact that the one task he had set out to complete had 
scarcely been touched. 

It wasn't that he was trying to keep anything from Sara. He had every 
intention of telling her what he was doing, once he'd done it. He saw no 
point in getting her hopes up beforehand when he didn't know whether he 
would really be able to go through with it or not. No point in getting 
her hopes up, or getting her upset. Because for sure he didn't know what 
her reaction would be, just like he didn't know what his own reaction was 
going to be. But he wanted to find out, and, after another night of 
wondering, the sooner the better. 

So he had arrived in his office before 0700 hours again. Giving him at 
least half an hour before General Hammond would even arrive, half an hour 
when he could be sure that he would remain undisturbed, or at least would 
not get caught by anyone wanting to know what he was up to. 

As it turned out, he didn't get caught for almost three hours. 

Three hours of silence, just Jack, a written report from the Cairo 
police, and a set of ten digital photographs. 

It was amazing, the sheer power of technology nowadays, Jack thought to 
himself for the umpteenth time. Amazing, the quality of photograph that 
could be taken with a camera so little it would fit in your pocket! And 
even more amazing the speed with which such a photograph could be 
transmitted halfway across the world. 

With lightning speed, a file could be emailed over the Internet in 
encrypted format to land with absolute accuracy in the electronic inbox 
of the leader of Stargate Command. A file containing sensitive 
information, marked for the eyes only of the commanding officer of one 
Colonel Jack O'Neill, patient and victim. A file that had consequently 
been sent to a printer somewhere in the depths of Cheyenne Mountain, to 
be reproduced in glorious laser jet colour on photo paper, sealed inside 
a cardboard folder and delivered by hand to General Hammond himself. 

It was almost ironic the way the reliance upon paper of the US military 
establishment still cultivated a level of bureaucracy that could 
supersede such power of technology. Almost. If it wasn't for the bitter 
taste in Jack's mouth as he studied each graphic picture with a sense of 
increasingly morbid fascination. 

Ten high quality digital reproductions, ten photographs depicting such 
violence and abuse that Jack did not think he had ever seen inflicted 
upon one man alone in all his unforgettably awful experiences as a member 
of the US military. 

Ten graphic images, each one showing a different part of the anatomy, or 
a wider view of the whole body. Ten images. Nine complete large-size 
photographs, plus one torn into two halves. 

Ten images accompanied by pages of text, a factual report from the Cairo 
police, written by Sergeant Maged, a man Jack regarded with a great deal 
of respect. Pages that included a medical report giving a blow-by-blow 
account of all injuries suffered by the victim, quite literally. 

Ten top quality photographic images plus police and medical reports that 
Jack had read and reviewed over and over in the last three hours. 

"What are you doing, Jack?" he finally asked himself softly, pushing the 
folder away with a degree of difficulty. 

Still his eyes fixed on yet another of the pictures, a shot of his right 
hand, colourful fingers swollen and mangled, almost arthritic-looking. He 
pulled the photo from the stack, turning it slowly, examining it from 
every possible angle before replacing it on his desk and raising his hand 
in front of his face. He curled his fingers as far as he could, flexing 
them gently, rotating his wrist to view all angles and compare the 
present reality with memories of the past, memories that never seemed to 
fade. 

He couldn't forget. But he could accept. Just like he had told those four 
young men the previous day. He had survived this one, not unscathed by 
any stretch of the imagination, but survival in any way counted for 
something, if he could only accept the way he had done it. And he was 
working on that, or working through it at least. 

Now, continuing to survive was at the top of his list, alongside one or 
two other things that held a lot more importance than they had done 
before Giza. 

Surviving for Sara's sake was one of them. In fact, not just surviving, 
he wanted to start living again. Sara had shown him that, her presence 
had made him see a lot of things that he had been ignoring in the last 
few years. 

Jack picked up another photo, two halves in fact. The photo he had torn. 
A photo Sara had found. 

Laying the two parts together on his desk, his eyes fixed on the sight, a 
garish image, livid welts and bruises, a complete rainbow spectrum of 
damage inflicted upon his chest, ribs, stomach and abdomen. An assortment 
of wounds, each accompanied by a specific indelible memory, nightmares 
and recollections that Jack was slowly coming to terms with. 

Sara should never have been forced to see him like that, no one should, 
and certainly never again. But how could he guarantee something like 
that? 

"Colonel O'Neill?" Getting no answer, Doctor Fraiser poked her head 
around his office door. Seeing him sitting alone at his desk, she 
entered, "I thought you were coming to see me this morn . . ." Her words 
trailed off when she realised what it was that he was studying so 
intently, her attitude abruptly changing from SGC doctor to concerned 
friend, "Jack, what are you doing?" 

He looked up as though noticing her presence for the first time. "Janet . 
. ." Jack faltered, glancing down at the two halves of photograph in 
front of him. "Erm . . ." He shrugged mutely, not really knowing how on 
earth to explain that what he was doing was the right thing to do, 
ultimately. 

Before he could come up with the words, Janet sat down in the chair on 
the other side of his desk, staring at all the photographs strewn across 
the centre before meeting his gaze. "Does General Hammond know what 
you're up to?" 

"No," Jack admitted. 

"Why not?" 

"Because I knew that trying to explain this to him would be as hard as it 
is trying to explain it to you right now, Janet!" Jack exclaimed. He 
swallowed, trying to calm his nerves, feeling like he was back in high 
school, up in front of the principal, dumbstruck by fear of being blamed 
for doing something he didn't believe was wrong. 

Janet watched him, and remained silent long enough to give him a chance 
to explain. 

He took a deep breath, "After everything that's happened, I didn't think 
anyone would believe that I was doing this for the right reasons. That it 
*is* the right thing for me to do . . ." 

"Why, Jack? And why now?" Janet asked carefully. 

He gestured, not really sure how to put his feelings into words. Finally, 
he asked, "Have you ever read this report? From the Cairo police?" 

Janet shook her head warily, a part of her reluctant to go there, to go 
back to that dreadful time, "No, I haven't seen it . . . I mean, I know 
they took the photos . . . we . . . Daniel and I, we tried to stop them." 

"Why?" 

She frowned at his unexpected question. "Because we knew you wouldn't 
want anyone to see you like that . . ." 

"I guess you're right about that," Jack murmured, "No one should ever 
have to see something like this . . . not you, Cassie, Sara . . ." 

"You should never have had to go through it, Jack," Janet replied softly, 
studying him, the look in his eyes, trying to understand why he was 
putting himself through this now. 

"Janet," Jack glanced up to meet her gaze, "I need to see Cassie on 
Saturday morning . . . I need to talk to her." 

"She's okay, Jack." 

"I know, I . . . I need to make sure, for my own peace of mind . . . and 
for hers. Please?" 

Janet nodded slowly, finally comprehending, "This is why you're doing 
this," she indicated the photos. 

He nodded, "I needed to see what you were all forced to see . . ." His 
lips curved up in a slight wry smile, an expression that took Janet by 
surprise, considering the admission that accompanied it, "I've been 
avoiding my own reflection for weeks, Janet. I never saw any of this 
before, not really. Not even when Daniel tried to get me to look at these 
photographs last week. I never really saw it. I didn't *want* to see it." 
He raised his eyebrows, "Talk about burying my head in the sand!" 

"I don't think it was a conscious decision, Jack," Janet suggested 
gently, "I think you've just got extremely strong survival instincts. 
They kicked in without you having any say in the matter." 

She reached across and patted his hand, "And, if you ask me, they're 
still working . . . because I think you're probably right, this was the 
right thing for you to do." 

Jack breathed a sigh of relief, blowing out his cheeks as the knot in his 
stomach began to loosen. "I thought you'd all think I'd finally lost it!" 

"What do you mean finally?" Janet grinned. "Now about that physical . . 
." 

Jack interrupted before she could finish, "Are you going to tell Hammond 
about the photos?" 

She regarded him quizzically, "Does it matter to you if I do?" 

He thought about that for a moment and then shrugged, "No, actually. I 
guess it doesn't now." 

"Good, then I'll tell him." She stood up, "And, if you want me to clear 
you for active duty, then, with all due respect, Colonel, you'd better 
get your butt up to the infirmary!" 

She grinned at the way Jack's eyes lit up, and he stood up so suddenly 
that his chair fell backwards with a clatter. "You're kidding!" 

"I'm not promising anything, Colonel. You've got to let me do a complete 
workup, but I might be able to clear you for light field duty." 

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Jack flipped the folder closed, 
shuffling all the photographs and pages of text back inside, before 
turning to follow Janet out of the office. 

The doctor had never seen Jack so eager to get to the infirmary before, 
and she couldn't help smiling as she began to run down the list of 
examinations she needed to do before she could come to a final decision. 

The x-rays came first, chest and hand, followed by a lot of poking and 
prodding that kept Jack biting his lip against the pain for long minutes. 
She examined the bruising around his right kidney as well as that still 
colouring his chest, did various blood tests, checked on his pupil 
response and reflexes. Janet even weighed him, to make sure he really was 
eating better than he had been up until the previous week, even though 
she could tell just by looking at him that he'd lost some of that gaunt 
look. 

Finally, she tackled his right hand, an area requiring the most 
painstaking examination, and the one that would really make or break any 
decision to allow his return to active duty. 

"I see you stopped wearing the strap on your hand," Janet chided as she 
watched him flex his fingers. 

Jack shrugged, "Didn't seem to need it. I'm getting no pain, Doc, and I 
can move them a bit further every day. They're almost back to normal, 
really," he explained defensively. 

"Well, I'm afraid I have to disagree, Colonel." Janet sat back, finishing 
the notations on her clipboard before summing up her findings, "However, 
I don't think that will effect my decision overall. The bones in your 
ribcage are knitting nicely, the bruising is somewhat exacerbated though. 
You really do need to go a bit easier on that!" she raised a disapproving 
eyebrow at him. "But I am going to clear you for limited active duty, 
Colonel. I'll be making General Hammond aware that he will need to keep 
you on a tight rein until your hand is much stronger. Absolutely no 
gunplay with the right hand, for a start!" 

"Janet, you know I can use my left almost as well," Jack pointed out 
sheepishly. 

"Oh yes," she grimaced, "And *you* know I won't forget *that* in a 
hurry!" 

"Sorry." 

"Jack, you saved my life, why are you sorry?" Janet asked incredulously. 

He shrugged, "Because you shouldn't have been there in the first place." 

"Well, neither should you. But we've been over all this. It's time to put 
it behind us and move on, isn't it?" 

"Yeah, I'd like to do that, Doc," he agreed quietly. 

"And to that end, I want you to exercise your hand with this." Janet 
produced a transparent plastic container from one of her lab coat 
pockets. 

Jack regarded it with suspicion, "What the heck is that?" 

"It's a bit like silly putty." She pulled off the lid and tipped the 
small round container upside down, flexing the base until the contents 
dropped into her hand. She squeezed the green material together, moulding 
it into a ball before handing it to Jack. "Use it to strengthen your 
fingers and hand, break small pieces off to squeeze between your fingers, 
or work the whole ball in your palm." She watched him try it out. "It 
will help not just improve the flexibility of your fingers, but 
strengthen them as well. They are very weak." 

"Okay," Jack said guardedly, beginning to understand what she meant as he 
attempted to squeeze the dense ball of non-sticky putty in his palm. It 
felt quite hard, except Janet had shaped it into a ball without any 
trouble, and when Jack switched hands and squashed it with his left it 
was surprisingly soft. Maybe he did still have some way to go before his 
right hand would be back to normal. "Okay, I can do this." He glanced at 
her, "And you'll talk to General Hammond?" 

"Yes I will, Colonel." Janet hesitated for a moment, "But you do realise 
this is only the first step. Once I have that conversation with the 
General, he'll want to schedule a meeting between you and Doctor 
Mackenzie." 

Jack drew a deep breath and blew out his cheeks, turning away to stare at 
nothing in particular, "Yeah, I know . . . I have to pass a psych 
evaluation . . ." the words caught in his throat and he swallowed hard, 
his hope wavering for the first time in two days, the knot in his stomach 
returning with a vengeance. 

"You'll do fine, Jack," Janet assured him gently. "I wouldn't be clearing 
you if I didn't believe that. You should see how far you've come in the 
last two weeks. Meeting with Doctor Mackenzie is just the next step, 
that's all. One more step and you're almost there." 

"Wherever 'there' is," Jack murmured soberly, no longer certain anymore. 

                         *******************

"You are absolutely positive that he's ready for this, doctor?" Hammond 
asked once Fraiser had finished detailing her findings. She was standing 
in front of his desk, clipboard in hand, mentally ticking off each item 
as she went along. 

"Well, General, as I said, the Colonel needs to be kept out of the thick 
of things. If I might recommend that he be issued with no heavy weaponry, 
nothing more than a Zat gun, or a 9mm, certainly nothing that might force 
him to attempt a tight grip with his right hand, not yet. And, if 
possible, assign SG-1 short exploratory missions only, for the moment." 

"And pray they stay out of trouble?" Hammond gave her a sharp look, but 
he knew they had to start somewhere. He sighed resignedly, "Yes, doctor, 
we can certainly try. But is he really ready for a psychological 
evaluation?" 

"I believe so, yes, General." 

"You know he only gets one shot at this? If Jack fails, he's grounded for 
at least another month, and has to undergo a whole series of psychiatric 
sessions before he can be cleared. Those are the rules." 

"I realise that, sir. But I think he's ready . . . I'm *sure* he's 
ready!" Janet gestured openly, "General, Colonel O'Neill has the police 
report from Cairo, the one with a bunch of photographs. I found him going 
over it this morning." 

"Good god! How did he . . . ?" 

"I don't think it matters, General. My point is that he's fine! If 
Colonel O'Neill can sit and look at those photographs without any adverse 
reaction, then I believe he is as ready as he will ever be to face a 
psychologist." 

Hammond considered this for a long moment. Finally, he nodded, "Very 
well, Doctor, I'll set up a meeting for tomorrow." 

                         *******************

Friday: Duty Bound 

"You're late today, aren't you?" Sara asked when she returned from 
another long night shift to find Jack still sitting in the kitchen 

He looked up from the bowl of cereal he was attempting to force down 
despite the butterflies in his stomach. "I've got an appointment first 
thing, couldn't see the point in getting there any earlier than I had 
to." He reached out with his arm and pulled her into a hug, tilting his 
head up for a kiss, "How was your day? Night? Whatever." 

"Oh, fine. Although I'm more interested to hear about this appointment of 
yours." She paused, scowling slightly, "I do have some bad news though." 

"How bad?" 

"I've gotta work a double tonight!" 

Jack frowned, "How long?" 

"Eighteen hours," Sara said miserably. As if being apart each night 
wasn't bad enough, now she was going to be gone all evening too. "I have 
to start at two, then I won't be finished until eight tomorrow morning." 
She leaned down and kissed his lips again, "There is one bright side to 
it though!" 

"What?" 

"They'll owe me big time, when I next want some time off! Besides, I'm 
off for five days straight after tonight." 

It was Jack's turn to grimace, "Except if this meeting goes okay, I could 
end up back on field duty by Monday. Who knows how long I'll be gone!" 

Sara made a face, trying to avoid selfishly dwelling on what Jack being 
on active duty again would mean to her. She knew it meant a lot to him 
and that was the important thing right now. "Well, we'll just have to 
make the most of our weekend then!" she decided positively. 

Sitting down opposite him, she asked, "So, what's this appointment all 
about?" 

"I've got to see Doctor Mackenzie, the resident shrink!" 

"And that means?" she fished, trying to remain casual when all sorts of 
horrible thoughts were going through her mind at the thought of Jack 
having to endure such a session. 

"I have to pass a psychological evaluation before I'll be cleared for 
active duty. Janet cleared me physically yesterday, so long as I'm 
careful," he added hurriedly, lifting his right hand and wiggling his 
fingers to illustrate the point. 

"Ah!" Sara understood now, "You mean this is make or break time?" 

Jack nodded, regarding the remains of his cereal with a sickly expression 
before pushing it away. 

"Nervous?" Sara asked, already knowing the answer. 

Jack raised an eyebrow in her direction. "The guy's a shrink!" he said, 
as though that explained everything. And to Sara it did. She knew what it 
was like for Jack to have to recount anything from his past, he had been 
there before, and so had she. 

"You'll do fine, Jack," she smiled encouragingly. Eyeing his cereal, and 
realising how hungry she was, Sara pulled the dish towards her and 
grabbed a spoonful before it went too soggy. "You're ready," she waved 
the empty spoon in his direction. 

"As I'll ever be!" Jack hesitated for a moment, smirking as he watched 
Sara finish his breakfast. He felt ready to tell her something else too, 
something he'd avoided mentioning the previous evening, "Actually, you 
might be right . . . I took another step yesterday, something I needed to 
do." 

Sara looked up from her seat opposite, meeting his gaze as he measured 
her reaction. 

"Remember that torn photograph you found? There were others . . . ten in 
all. I took a good look at them yesterday . . ." 

Sara's blue-eyed gaze never wavered as she carefully weighed what he'd 
said against the open expression on his face. Finally, she glanced down 
at the spoon in her hand, realising that maybe she wasn't going to empty 
the bowl after all. "Were they what you expected?" she asked warily. 

Jack shrugged, "Worse, in a way . . . and in a way better!" Briefly he 
turned to stare out through the kitchen window, "I don't think I had any 
real idea how bad they would be, but I think I was ready . . . when it 
came down to it . . . yesterday I was finally ready to find out." 

"Then you *are* ready for today." 

"Well, yeah, if it wasn't for this knot in my stomach, not to mention the 
fact that I feel like throwing up!" he laughed. 

"Jack, when I saw that photo of you, the torn one . . . memories of that 
make me feel nauseous too," Sara admitted quietly. "That image of you, 
what they did to you . . . I know I should get over it, but it's hard, 
you know, some things never go away." 

"Yeah, I know . . . I feel the same way." 

"But you're healing now," she added brightly, "You're looking better than 
ever . . . and, so long as you don't throw up in his office, I'm sure 
this doctor will give you the all clear." 

"Yeah, we are getting there," Jack smiled genuinely. "And if Mackenzie 
doesn't pass me, then maybe I'll just retire and live happily ever after 
with you," he added, slightly unsure whether he was really joking or not. 

                         *******************

Having deliberately kept him waiting in the outside office for a good 
fifteen minutes, Doctor Mackenzie finally asked Jack to come in, 
indicating for him to take a seat. 

"Colonel, we both know how much you dislike this sort of thing, so let's 
keep it as brief as possible, shall we?" Jack nodded. "Let's say we 
dispense with the formalities and get straight down to business." 

The doctor paused, leaning forward, his elbows perched on the large 
mahogany desk as he steepled his fingers together, studying the Colonel 
intently, "Tell me what your dreams are like." 

"You mean are they colour or black and white?" Jack snorted. "To be 
honest, Doc, I have no idea. I sleep too soundly to remember them!" 

Mackenzie frowned, "Alright, then what was the last dream you do 
remember?" 

Jack looked thoughtful for a long moment, then he shrugged sheepishly, 
"Drawing a blank here, Doc . . . there might've been one about a woman . 
. . a brunette, I think . . ." 

Wondering what the hell there could possibly be to make notes about, 
Jack's nervousness increased as he watched Mackenzie scribble on his pad. 
Maybe he was lying a little too blatantly . . . 

"I admit, I did have the odd nightmare at first, when I was in the 
hospital. I think it was because I had so many drugs in my system." Jack 
waited until the doctor glanced up at him, before adding sincerely, "But 
I honestly don't remember the details of any of them." 

"Okay, Colonel O'Neill," Mackenzie tapped his pen lid against the 
desktop. "Let's try this another way, a few questions . . ." He made 
another note on his pad as Jack sweated it out a little longer. "Firstly, 
how do you feel about the people who imprisoned you?" 

"They're all dead, what's to feel?" 

"Are you pleased that they're dead?" 

Jack raised an eyebrow, mystified by the stupidity of such a question, 
but desperately trying to bite his tongue, knowing an outburst of emotion 
was exactly what the doctor would be looking for. "I'm not sorry, that's 
for sure," he said mildly. "But, no, I can't say I'm ever glad to bear 
witness to loss of life, no matter what the circumstance." 

"Alright," Mackenzie made more notes on his pad. "What would you do, 
Colonel, if you found yourself somewhere in the dark again?" 

"Look for a light switch!" Jack smirked, trying not to lose his temper at 
the absurdity of the situation, as if this man had any clue as to what 
could be going through his mind. This man who had never seen a field of 
battle, never witnessed death or destruction of a violent nature, never 
faced a life or death situation and been forced to choose. How could he 
possibly be the judge of anyone's fitness for duty? 

Jack sighed and drew a deep calming breath, speaking in a measured tone, 
"Look Doc, I'm not afraid of the dark if that's what you're getting at, 
and I'm not about to flip out over it. Now, if that dark place included 
half a dozen well armed bad guys about to lay into me, then maybe I'd 
react a little differently. But, with all due respect, I think I've 
earned the right to want to yell and scream for help if that ever happens 
again! I think you would, and I think anyone would!" 

"But the truth is Doc, I have no intention of getting myself into such a 
situation again. And, if I ever did, I probably wouldn't survive anyway. 
So what's the big deal? And if you think I'm insane for saying such a 
thing then congratulate me! Because surely I'd have to be insane to be 
sitting here begging you to clear me for duty, just so I can go jump 
through that wormhole, land on some unknown planet and do battle with the 
freaking Goa'uld again! Wouldn't you have to be insane to want to do 
something that sounds so crazy?" 

Tempering the loudness of his voice that had risen a little too far, Jack 
looked Mackenzie in the eye and finished saying his piece, "Let me go 
back into the field, Doc, I'm ready. Let me prove it." 

Doctor Mackenzie sighed resignedly, lowering his gaze to stare at the 
notes on his pad for a long hard second. Finally, he nodded, "Very well. 
Colonel O'Neill, I'm going to put you back on active duty. With the 
condition that we meet again in two week's time, just to touch base." 

Slowly exhaling the breath he thought he'd been holding forever, Jack 
felt the tension in his chest and stomach begin to dissipate. "Thank 
you," he said simply, then got up and left the room. 

A deep frown creased Mackenzie's face. There was something not quite 
right about the way the Colonel was acting. Something different about 
him, he just couldn't put his finger on it and that simple fact caused 
him to worry whether he had made the right decision or not. 

He would have to talk to General Hammond, make sure that the first 
mission would be a milk run. That was their only option, to be absolutely 
certain that the Colonel really was as okay as he himself seemed to think 
he was. 

                         *******************

"What's the verdict, doctor?" General Hammond asked when Doctor Mackenzie 
entered his office. 

"He's damned stubborn!" 

"Well, we know that. If he wasn't, he wouldn't be alive today!" Hammond 
paused, considering him carefully, "But is he fit for duty?" 

"None of what he has told me indicates otherwise." Mackenzie gestured 
irritably, "However, this is a man who has been trained in the art of 
lying!" 

"So what does your gut tell you?" 

"My gut instinct, sir? That's saying the only way to prove how unfit for 
active duty Colonel O'Neill is, will be to send him back out there and 
pray he doesn't take anyone else with him when he blows!" Mackenzie 
paused, licking his lips nervously, "But that is my worst case scenario." 

"And, after what Jack's already been through, which scenario do you think 
is most likely?" 

Mackenzie shrugged, "We're talking about a man with a capacity for 
survival far beyond anything I've ever encountered. Nevertheless, I have 
to believe that even Colonel O'Neill has a limit." 

"My recommendation, General, is that you send him on a milk run. For his 
sake, as well as the rest of his team," he concluded solemnly. 

"Well, Doctor Fraiser has already insisted we take care over the mission 
selection, as a precaution for the Colonel's physical condition. I'm 
recommending a short exploratory trip, preferably an uninhabited planet. 
Does that sound acceptable to you?" 

"Yes, sir," Mackenzie nodded. "The less eventful a trip, the better." 

"From your mouth to God's ears, doctor," Hammond agreed grimly. 

                         *******************

The Following Monday: Second Thoughts 

"Chevron three is locked!" the sergeant's voice announced over the 
tannoy. 

Jack remained motionless, standing at the base of the ramp with the rest 
of SG-1, waiting to depart for P2 . . . what was the name of that planet 
again? 

He suppressed the urge to frown, knowing he was the focus of attention 
for about a dozen pairs of eyes, including those of his own team who, 
after all, probably had a lot riding on whether or not he was going to 
make a successful return to active duty. Thankfully, whatever else was on 
their minds, he knew he could still rely on them to remember the name of 
the planet and why exactly they were going there! 

For him, the entire mission briefing was a blur. His mind had been on 
Sara, on the multitude of conversations they'd had that weekend, and on 
what lay ahead. 

"Chevron four is locked!" 

So much of the last few days had been spent considering this next step, 
trying to prepare for going off world for the first time in over two 
months. Going off world with far more limited physical capabilities than 
he was accustomed to. Going off world for the first time since Egypt, the 
first time since all that had happened. Going off world for the first 
time he'd ever felt like there was something he was leaving behind. And 
going off world for the first time since he had realised that maybe it 
wasn't what he wanted to be doing anymore. 

It had been such a relief when Hammond had called him in that Friday to 
confirm that he was cleared for limited active duty. But once the 
euphoria wore off, he'd been left with mixed feelings. 

With Daniel and Carter due back into the country early Sunday morning, 
Jack had known there would be nothing more to stop SG-1 from going 
through the stargate – their first mission in what seemed like an 
eternity. And to be honest, that was exactly what he had been hoping for 
all along. He had come to believe he would do and say just about anything 
to convince Doctor Fraiser and Doctor Mackenzie to clear him for active 
duty, anything to get passed so he could escape the confines of the SGC 
and get back to that good old crazy routine, another day, another planet, 
another alien friend or foe. 

But now he didn't know how he felt about it anymore. 

"Chevron five is locked!" Sergeant Davis's monotone chant barely 
registered through Jack's thoughts. 

During the last seven weeks the idea of retirement had often been at the 
forefront of his mind, albeit for all the wrong reasons. Retirement had 
been his way of giving up on life, of ensuring he would not have to go 
back inside the mountain, would not have to face danger or destruction 
anymore, would never again have to point a gun in anger, endanger people 
he cared about, or rely on them to save his life. Retirement had seemed 
like the safe and easy option so many times during the last few weeks. 

Now it seemed like an option again, but perhaps for all the right reasons 
this time. 

Except there was still one thing he had to do, one thing he had to prove 
to himself and everyone else, for his own peace of mind. But at what 
cost? 

"Chevron six is locked!" 

He had to admit he was nervous as hell. But, as he'd told Sara during one 
of their discussions that weekend, despite everything, this was something 
he had to do. He needed to prove that he still could, after all that had 
happened. He needed to prove his strength and his leadership. He needed 
to overcome the past, to forget all his weaknesses and make sure the 
people around him forgot them too. He needed to be the steady reliable 
Colonel Jack O'Neill of old, not this fragile weakened man these people 
now perceived, treating him like they were walking on eggshells all the 
time. 

Now that he was finally here, so close to his goal, he just wanted to 
step up that ramp and go through the gate. Travel to a new planet, and a 
new beginning. 

A new beginning . . . But the beginning of what? 

Jack had spent the entire weekend pondering that question. And, 
unsurprisingly, standing in the embarkation room now, scant seconds from 
leaving the planet, he still could not come up with the definitive 
answer. Oh, sure, there were lots of possibilities, lots of hopes, but 
the only thing he could be certain of was that the future remained as 
unclear as it had been seven weeks ago when he had woken to find himself 
imprisoned and alone. 

There was no sign of any answers to his questions, but there was sign of 
change, progress, improvement . . . and there was a new mission, right 
here, right now. A mission he needed to focus on. 

"Chevron seven is locked!" 

The incessant countdown reached its climax and Jack watched the symbols 
on the gate illuminate with life. The frequency dampeners kicked in to 
quell the vibrations as best as possible while a wormhole of 
extraordinary energy opened up like the roar of a C130 taking off 
directly overhead. 

He had to admit, it was still one hell of a thrill to see, even after all 
this time, and even with so many questions plaguing him. 

"SG-1, you have a go," General Hammond's voice replaced Sergeant Davis's 
over the tannoy as the wormhole settled back into a rippling event 
horizon, its glow reflecting off the walls and faces around the 
embarkation room. Jack finally allowed himself to react. 

Hammond smiled when O'Neill turned to throw a casual salute in his 
direction. The General leaned towards the control room microphone again, 
"Good luck, SG-1." 

From this point forward, General Hammond knew there was little he could 
do to help that four-person team tackle whatever lay ahead. And, if 
things went anything like normal, luck wouldn't come into it. 

He watched Jack lead the team up the ramp, an ultra light pack on the 
Colonel's back by comparison to the normal bulky load of supplies and 
equipment the other members of his team were carrying. He had expected 
Jack to complain when told how the truly essential heavier elements in 
his pack had been redistributed among the other members of his team, and 
much of the remainder left behind, orders from Doctor Fraiser, to allow 
for his physical injuries. She had even ensured that his BDUs were 
adjusted so he would not require an equipment belt. 

But either Jack was in agreement that it made total sense not to place 
additional pressure against his bruised kidney or ribs, or he had not 
really been listening to any of their discussions at the briefing. And, 
to be frank, Hammond was more inclined to believe the latter. Jack had 
certainly seemed distant, not to mention subdued. But, who could blame 
him, given what he was facing, and how much he had gone through to get 
there. 

Despite the fact that he had just sent SG-1 out on what promised to be 
their quietest mission ever, Hammond couldn't help worrying. But there 
was nothing new there, worry was just another side effect of a daily 
routine that consisted of sending these brave men and women through an 
artificial wormhole to some other part of the galaxy, where, to all 
intents and purposes, they really were on their own should they run into 
trouble. 

And SG-1 invariably did. 

Still, P2S 161 really did look like the milk run it was supposed to be. 
They had sent out an airborne UAV to explore for several miles around the 
gate. It had detected nothing of significance, except the fact that the 
air was perfectly breathable, albeit a little thin, and the planet was a 
barren rock. 

Ordinarily that would have been that, survey over, report filed, move on 
to the next address. If it wasn't for needing a soft mission for his 
number one team, and the fact that even Hammond was vaguely curious as to 
why a planet with such a breathable atmosphere appeared to be completely 
uninhabited. 

So SG-1 had been instructed to explore up to approximately twenty miles 
from the gate, staying out overnight if necessary, but for a maximum of 
two nights only. And, with any luck, not even Jack O'Neill would be able 
to find trouble in such a restricted stay on such a deserted planet. 

Hammond shook his head as he turned to go back up to his office. There 
you go again George, he muttered under his breath, always expecting luck 
to play a part in protecting a man who doesn't appear to have been 
blessed with luck during any of his adult life. 

Then again, perhaps the fact that Jack O'Neill was still alive disproved 
that? 

The General sighed loudly as he passed through the silence of the empty 
briefing room. He probably had at least thirty-six hours to contemplate 
that question, over and over. 

                         *******************

There was something to be said for a routine planetary survey, for it 
usually came steeped with boredom and was something he could do in his 
sleep. In fact, Jack would swear he probably had done it in his sleep on 
more than one occasion during the two years they had been travelling back 
and forth through the stargate on a regular basis. 

So, as soon as Jack set foot on that barren planet, he found himself 
slipping straight back into that good old boring routine. 

"Teal'c, take point!" he signalled as they stepped down the ramp, his 
right hand automatically searching for the weapon it was accustomed to 
resting on in readiness. 

Instead, Jack had to remind himself to use his left, his fingers reaching 
for the comforting cool metal inside the lightweight holster affixed to 
his canvas belt. He didn't know why he needed to feel that it was there, 
he really wasn't in any hurry to have to fire it, in fact the very 
thought left him feeling vaguely queasy. But perhaps it was a simple 
Pavlov's dog reaction. They were on a strange new planet. Strange new 
planets had a habit of hiding dangerous secrets, no matter how barren and 
isolated they appeared. And, by the very nature of routine, Jack needed 
to be sure they were ready for anything. 

"Daniel, Carter, fan out and keep your eyes peeled for . . . whatever . . 
." he shrugged, knowing that words were unnecessary. His team had done 
this as often as he had, they were ready. Besides, they all knew they 
were unlikely to find anything significant on this planet. They all knew 
they were only there to put the leader of SG-1 to the test. 

Jack couldn't help wondering whether that fact was resented by any of his 
team. After all, if it wasn't for him, they could be off exploring 
somewhere a lot more interesting, not to mention rewarding. 

He glanced around, studying each member in turn, the way each one was 
carrying out their assigned tasks in their customary efficient fashion, 
concentrating all their senses on the terrain, possible dangers, and 
possible finds. Yet, at the same time, all three had the ability to be 
aware of their fellow teammates, watching out for each other like the 
close-knit group they had quickly become upon being thrown together two 
years ago. 

Except today Jack's senses were telling him that they weren't 
concentrating on every member of the team. By the very way the hairs 
stood up on the back of his neck, he was pretty certain they were only 
concentrating on him, watching out for him, making sure nothing untoward 
happened on his first trip out. 

And he wondered whether, even if the rest of his team did not resent 
having to look out for him, whether he should resent that they felt the 
need to. 

Still, there was little he could do about it, and very little in the 
rocky landscape surrounding them to focus his own attention on, and Jack 
found his mind wandering back once again to the beginning of the weekend, 
when the questions had really begun forming about what lay in front of 
him. 

He had gone home early that Friday when he found out the verdict, his 
feelings mixed, knowing he would be away from Sara more often now. The 
house had been quiet and empty, but Jack had forced himself to stay, 
trying to get back into the old routine. He had made himself something to 
eat from the varied choice Sara had left him, doing exactly as he'd 
promised her by eating whether he was hungry or not. 

In the end, he had managed to waste away most of the evening, finding 
chores that really didn't need doing, but doing them anyway, no matter 
how tricky they proved one-handed. He kept his body and mind occupied for 
as long as he could, until he eventually found himself in the den, 
standing at the window and staring out into the darkened sky. 

For awhile he simply stood and watched, his right hand playing with what 
looked like a wad of green silly putty, squashing and shaping it in his 
fist and between his fingertips until the muscles in his arm began to 
ache and his fingers were too tired to do anymore. 

Only at that point did he allow himself to turn away from the view and 
pick up the telephone, tucking it against his shoulder so he could dial 
with his left hand. 

He smiled at the sound of Sara's yawned response when she answered the 
call, "Hey there. How you holding up?" 

"Jack!" The surprise was clear in the brightening of her tone, but her 
next question was suspicious, worried about the reason for his unexpected 
call, "Are you okay? Is anything wrong?" 

"I'm fine," he laughed, "I just wanted to hear your voice!" 

"I'm glad," Sara admitted quietly, "You wouldn't believe how dead it is 
here, I need something to wake me up!" She paused, and Jack could 
practically read her mind, knowing exactly what her next question would 
be, "How did it go today?" 

"Okay. I'm cleared." 

"Jack, that's wonderful!" 

"I guess." 

Sara heard the uncertainty in his voice, "I thought it was what you 
wanted?" 

"I did . . . I do," Jack shook his head, "I mean, it's the next step, 
isn't it. I just never expected . . ." He trailed off, wondering whether 
he should really say it or not, especially over the phone. 

"Tell me," Sara urged gently. 

"I guess . . . I never expected there would be something else I'd care 
about more." 

Sara was quiet for a long moment, and he could picture the look on her 
face, her surprise, not at what he had said, but the fact that he had 
admitted it so openly. Things were different now, different than they had 
been before, when they were man and wife, when Sara had spent most of her 
time having to guess what he was feeling, rather than ever being told 
outright. 

He heard her swallow before she finally said in a hushed tone, "It will 
be fine, Jack, believe me." 

She paused uncomfortably, and Jack heard a voice in the background and 
Sara's muffled reply before she spoke to him again, "It's late, you ought 
to get some sleep, and I've got some stuff I have to do here. Maybe we 
can talk about this tomorrow?" 

"Yeah, I'd like that." Jack looked at his watch, "You going to manage 
another nine hours?" 

Sara laughed, "I think so. One of the guys is here too, we're going to 
take turns sleeping in awhile if it stays this quiet." 

"Lucky him, getting to watch you sleep!" Jack grinned slyly. "Be careful 
driving home in the morning if you're tired." 

"I'm always careful, Jack. Don't worry, I'll be fine," Sara smiled at his 
concern. "Get some rest. Sleep on it, see how you feel in the morning, 
okay?" 

"Yeah, okay. Sleep well!" 

She laughed again, "Of course! Two chairs pushed together can be so 
comfortable when you're desperate!" Her voice lowered once more, her last 
words almost whispered, "Sleep well too, Jack . . . love you." 

"You too," Jack smiled at the image of her that those words conjured up. 

"Colonel?" Captain Carter's voice finally penetrated his thoughts and 
Jack turned to meet her enquiring gaze. 

"Captain?" 

"I said it looks like the UAV was right, sir," Carter repeated now that 
he was actually listening, "There doesn't appear to be any sign of life." 

"Well, Captain, keep your eyes peeled, all the same," Jack replied, 
refocusing on the mission, surprised at the ease with which he could 
switch back into his usual new planet routine. "And while you're at it, 
let's see if we can't come up with a logical suggestion over which way to 
head!" 

Carter nodded, casting her CO another glance before turning away, curious 
as to the cause of the smile that had been on his face before he had 
finally heard her calling, a smile she didn't remember ever seeing 
before. Whether the Colonel was focused on the task or not, she couldn't 
help seeing his expression as a positive sign. 

With no obvious landmarks or tempting structures in any direction, the 
team took a unanimous decision to follow the path of the rising sun, 
giving them the longest possible amount of daylight by doing so. 

"Kinda reminds me of Death Valley, all wind-blown sandstone shapes and 
desert," Carter announced cheerfully, as they found themselves trekking 
through a vast open canyon, mountainous regions stretching off in the far 
distance on every side. 

As the sun climbed higher, the towering mountains began to disappear 
amidst the heat haze that rose from the desert floor and had SG-1 
removing their jackets and stuffing them inside their backpacks. 

They'd been in hotter places, but Jack had to admit the sandy terrain and 
arid atmosphere was a little too reminiscent. And when the canyon floor 
unexpectedly dropped away before them, a wide ravine becoming a jagged 
sandstone crevasse the deeper they journeyed, he could no longer suppress 
the sense of unease that kept nagging at the back of his mind. 

Claustrophobia notwithstanding, even the least experienced military mind 
would know better than to head into such a potentially dangerous 
situation. It was a narrow shady gorge, with no apparent escape routes 
and sandstone walls looming higher the further they ventured. Even if the 
planet was truly uninhabited it seemed like a risk to continue. But, at 
the same time, there seemed little choice. 

A change of direction now would have them crossing the desert sands in 
the intense afternoon heat, only to reach the mountainous foothills, and 
the most likely source of wildlife if there was any, right about 
nightfall. Not a safe place to camp without having time to reconnoitre in 
advance, and possibly even more dangerous terrain to traverse in between 
with so much of it obscured in the haze. 

On their current trajectory they would more likely be camping out in the 
open overnight and reaching the mountains in the morning, with plenty of 
daylight in which to explore. 

Then, of course, there was his own need to show strength, to prove that 
he could cope in confining conditions, and to not reveal any perception 
of weakness to his team by wavering from his original decision. Maybe 
that alone was enough reason to continue such a course, despite such 
starkly evocative surroundings. 

Besides, his team seemed happy enough, their occasional banter breaking 
the boredom of the trek. They were together again and the choice of 
heading did not seem to matter to them. 

But, as the day drew on and they found nothing of note, Jack couldn't 
help wondering exactly what they were proving except for the fact that he 
was fit enough to trek for miles and miles. 

How was such a lightweight mission going to achieve what he had been 
hoping for? How would it confirm anything, and how would it help him to 
make the ultimate decision? 

Doing exactly as Sara had suggested, Jack had slept on it that Friday 
night. But it had been a restless night and he had left the house long 
before Sara was due back from work the next morning, leaving a note 
scrawled as legibly as possible with his left hand to ask what time she 
would like waking up, knowing it would all depend on how much sleep she'd 
managed during the day before, how busy the rest of her eighteen hour 
shift had been, and whether she had actually been able to get away from 
work on time for a change. 

Sometime during that fitful night, for once not caused by visions or 
nightmares but by thoughts of what the future held, Jack had decided to 
go for a hike before visiting Cassie. He had to walk over to Janet's 
house anyway, since he was still not supposed to drive, so taking the 
long route seemed like a perfect solution, a circuitous path that led way 
out through the valley at the foot of the Rockies. 

He was hoping the fresh air would clear his head. He had a lot of 
thinking to do, not necessarily just about what he was going to say to 
Cassie, but also about the impending mission, and how he truly felt about 
it, now that there was a chance of him going off-world at last. And now 
that he had realised he actually had something he would be leaving behind 
this time. 

And finally allowing himself time to think about such things had gone 
some way towards straightening out his thoughts, his aims, enough so that 
the conversation with Sara later that Saturday had actually seemed 
logical and pre-defined. 

Despite arriving home shortly after lunchtime, it had still been late in 
the afternoon before he and Sara were ready to pick up that discussion 
from where they'd left off on the telephone the previous evening. But 
eventually they had returned to that topic, and Jack got the feeling that 
he had not been the only one to spend time thinking about it. 

"You know we've dealt with it before, Jack," Sara pointed out gently, her 
fingers tenderly stroking his cheek as she lay on her side next to him. 
"You being away for weeks on end, me never knowing where you are, or what 
you're doing. We've dealt with it before. We can do it again. We'll just 
appreciate our time together even more, like we have today," she grinned 
impishly, nestling even closer. "It's really the only way, isn't it? I 
mean, we both have lives to lead, we just have to make the most of the 
points at which they cross." 

"I don't know if that's the way I want things to be," Jack admitted 
morosely. "Maybe I don't want us to have to live that way again, not 
anymore." He rolled onto his side to face her, "Sara, I'm seriously 
thinking about retiring." 

Sara raised an eyebrow, trying to suppress the flutter of hope that made 
her heart clench. The last thing she wanted was for Jack to make such an 
important decision for the wrong reasons, it had to be something he did 
because he wanted to, not because he thought she wanted him to do it. 
Their relationship would never work if he had to give up something so 
important to him because of her. But maybe his assignment was no longer 
as important as it had once been. 

"If you're really thinking about retiring, then why do this mission?" she 
eventually asked, keeping her voice as neutral as possible. 

"Because I need to know I still can." He gazed at her intently, needing 
to be sure that she understood, "It's the proof that this whole thing is 
finally behind me. Once I know that, maybe then I can retire a happy 
man." 

"Rather than spend the rest of your days wondering," Sara nodded 
comprehension. "And once you've proved this to yourself, what's your next 
step?" 

"Like I said, retirement maybe, or at least a transfer from active duty . 
. ." Jack shrugged, "I don't know for sure." 

"Then you shouldn't make any decision until you're positive it's the 
right one, for you." 

"Yeah, I know," Jack nodded slowly, "I guess I should take it one step at 
a time." 

"It's worked so far," Sara said lightly, smothering the fear that 
surfaced every time she thought about Jack's impending mission. 

                         *******************

By the time darkness fell, the canyon had widened out at last, and Jack 
chose a cluster of rocks beside which to set up camp for the night. 

Their meal was taken in relative silence, all of them tired, and at least 
two of the team disappointed by the complete lack of any interesting 
discoveries along the route. 

Daniel could find nothing to suggest any ancestral history to the planet, 
nothing to provoke his usual excited ramblings. In fact, at one point he 
had instead begun to talk about the previous week's dig above the Valley 
of the Kings near Luxor. But a sharp look from Carter had rapidly shut 
him up as he realised that a discussion on Ancient Egyptian archaeology 
probably wasn't particularly welcome considering the company he was in. 
Although whether Jack even noticed the shift in conversation topic was 
doubtful, his mind seemed very much occupied on other things. 

As silence lapsed over the team once more, it seemed like a good time to 
start yawning tiredly. Sam followed Daniel's lead, until the group broke 
up and made ready for bed. 

Jack took first watch, which was not unusual for him. Except this time 
Daniel couldn't help wondering whether it was a move purely to ensure 
none of them would be in a position to examine his sleeping habits once 
his turn was over. 

Even so, no longer a heavy sleeper himself, and resting in the closest 
proximity to their team leader, Daniel couldn't help being woken during 
the night when Jack began to murmur. 

Turning over in his sleeping bag, Daniel peered at Jack's face through 
the gloom of a moonless night. Their CO had chosen to sleep several yards 
away from the others, seemingly far enough to keep his distance, yet not 
so far as to arouse question and suspicion from the rest of the group. 

His reasons were best known to himself, but Daniel suspected they had 
something to do with claustrophobia, and all the familiar sensations that 
must surely have been plaguing Jack during their journey through this 
narrow airless gorge, surrounded by high sandstone walls. 

The irony in the choice of planet for their first trip out had not been 
lost on Daniel, and he was pretty sure it hadn't been missed by Jack 
either. And, given all the other pressure Jack was under to perform well, 
to succeed in a mission which everyone knew was purely for his benefit, a 
test to prove he really was fit to reclaim his position as leader of SG-
1, Daniel had half expected their surroundings to kick off some fresh 
nightmares, in fact he had practically been listening out for them, as 
quite probably had both of the others. 

Maybe Jack had known they would be keeping an eye on him even while he 
slept, and maybe that was why Jack had taken the first watch. Maybe it 
was even the added stress of knowing he was being examined so closely by 
his own team that was provoking the nightmares. But, whatever the cause, 
Daniel wasn't at all surprised to be woken by a murmuring sound that he 
recognised instantly from all the other times he had watched over Jack in 
the past few weeks. 

Despite the distance between them, the long shadows cast by the dying 
campfire nearby still reached Jack's face, and did little to allay 
Daniel's anxiety. The sight of those flickering shafts of light took him 
right back to the depths of an ancient pyramid and his first look at the 
deathly visage of a man barely alive. An image Daniel hoped never to see 
again no matter how long he lived. 

Yet this was different, this image had life, movement, motion in Jack's 
lips as he mouthed reaction to whatever disturbed his sleep. 

Even so, Daniel felt the need to get closer, driven by an innate sense of 
protectiveness towards his friend after all they had been through. Jack 
had sacrificed himself, and his sanity, to save Daniel's life, and, 
despite everything that had happened since, Daniel still felt he owed 
Jack. 

In truth, Daniel knew he would always feel that way. 

He may have rescued Jack from that pyramid, he may have hauled him from 
that stone clad cabin in the Colorado mountains before it exploded, and 
he may have dragged some of the truth from Jack about his appalling 
experiences, but Daniel knew he would always owe Jack, for as long as he 
lived, and probably longer. 

Nothing could ever repay what Jack had been through because he flew to 
Egypt to look for a missing friend. Nothing Daniel could do would ever 
take away the memories of that time, but he could do his best to ensure 
that nothing like that ever happened again, and that nothing from the 
past continued to threaten Jack's future. 

Daniel unzipped his sleeping bag as quietly as possible, not wishing to 
disturb Sam, who appeared to still be asleep, several feet away, on the 
other side of the fire. 

He clambered out and stood up, silently covering the open ground to study 
Jack closer. Daniel could just make out the sign of eye movement behind 
closed lids, REM sleep. As if he needed that to tell him Jack was 
dreaming. 

As he listened Daniel began to understand the words Jack was murmuring, 
one single word actually. Sara. 

Jack's disturbed sleep had something to do with his wife . . . ex-wife, 
Daniel reminded himself, although it hadn't seemed that way when he had 
seen them together the previous day. He had dropped in late that Sunday 
afternoon, having arrived home from Egypt and checked in with General 
Hammond at the base to be informed that SG-1 would be going out on a 
mission the very next day. 

Daniel had been eager to see Jack as soon as he'd heard that news, eager 
to see the man who had passed both physical and psychological assessments 
and been given an off-world assignment at last. He had wanted to see how 
Jack had changed, what had changed in the short week Daniel had been in 
Luxor. 

He had found the answer in Sara's presence at Jack's home, and in the way 
the couple were together, their relaxed conversation, the easy atmosphere 
surrounding them. Daniel had seen something he never thought he would 
witness. He had seen Jack the way Daniel always imagined he used to be, 
the way the one or two rare occasions he'd heard Jack talk about his wife 
had made Daniel think he might once have been, before Charlie, before the 
Stargate program. 

Daniel had seen Jack in love, and allowing himself to show it. He had 
seen Jack happy, and that privilege had been worth all the jet lag he'd 
been suffering because he should have been at home in bed. 

So why was Jack having nightmares now? And why did Sara appear to be at 
the heart of them? 

As Daniel crouched nearer, Jack's murmuring began to grow in intensity 
and volume, until suddenly he bolted upright, awake and alert, glancing 
around as if to find whatever had disturbed him. His eyes met Daniel's, 
and for a moment his thoughts were visible, wondering what he was doing 
there, and where they were, until the shield slipped down across Jack's 
face and he asked the only question he could. 

"What?" 

"Nothing," Daniel shook his head in the darkness, practically having to 
dare himself to tell the truth. "You were muttering in your sleep." 

"I was?" Jack shrugged, giving Daniel a look that spoke volumes, a look 
that Daniel had seen before, in a Cairo hospital. 

It was a look that said even Jack probably didn't know his subconscious 
was hiding something from him, perhaps protecting him from something that 
was better left unrealised. When their eyes met, all Daniel saw in them 
was blankness and confusion. 

"Jack, you okay?" Daniel whispered. 

He got a brief nod in return, then Jack frowned, "Why are you awake?" 

"My turn on watch," Daniel replied hurriedly, praying he wasn't too far 
short of the truth. He wasn't sure why, but he didn't want Jack to figure 
out what had woken him. Maybe he just didn't want Jack to remember 
whatever he'd been having nightmares about, whatever it was that involved 
Sara. 

And before he pushed his luck any further, Daniel decided to break up the 
conversation, "Time to relieve Teal'c," he said in a hushed voice, and 
headed off towards the Jaffa without a backwards glance. 

Curiously, Jack watched Daniel disappear into the edge of darkness to sit 
down on the rocky outcrop where Teal'c would be, away from the circle of 
light made by the campfire that would ruin the night vision of anyone 
acting as sentinel. Then he turned over, pulling the blanket around him 
tighter against the encroaching cold of the desert night. 

Still wondering exactly what it was that had woken him in the first 
place, Jack attempted to get back to sleep. 

                         *******************

"Hey, Teal'c," Daniel hissed advisedly, as he approached the almost 
invisible sentry position on the dark rocky outcrop in the centre of the 
canyon. 

"You are early, Daniel Jackson." Teal'c's low tone was not quite as 
neutral as normal, causing Daniel to suspect that the Jaffa had witnessed 
his brief interaction with Jack, even if their words had to have been 
inaudible at that distance. 

"Couldn't sleep," he replied quietly. 

"You were awoken," the Jaffa nodded understanding, allowing Daniel the 
leeway to reveal only as much as he wished. 

"Yeah," the younger man admitted. "I guess you saw that." 

"Indeed." 

"I suppose it's to be expected really." He could barely see Teal'c's face 
in the darkness, but, by the way the Jaffa turned and cocked his head, 
Daniel could read his questioning expression before he even spoke. 

"For what reason?" 

"It's a lot of pressure," Daniel gestured around them vaguely, knowing he 
didn't need to list all the reasons why. 

"You are concerned for O'Neill?" 

"I guess . . ." Daniel shook his head, reluctant to say anything else, 
still worrying, not over the fact that Jack had been woken by some sort 
of nightmare, but by the fact that it appeared to have involved Sara. A 
piece of information he was not willing to impart to anyone. 

In fact, the very nature of that murmured word seemed to go against 
everything he had seen pass between the couple that previous day. Every 
look, touch and gesture, every sign that had given him hope, hope of a 
future he would gladly wish for, a future for Jack and Sara, albeit a 
future that could change everything. 

"I believe he is ready to return to duty, Daniel Jackson," Teal'c broke 
into his thoughts once more. 

"I know he is, Teal'c." Daniel shrugged helplessly, struggling to decide 
how much he was willing to reveal, how much would betray a confidence. He 
studied the Jaffa, his eyes beginning to adjust to the darkness so that 
he could detect a level of concern on Teal'c's face that matched his own. 
"It's just that . . . maybe Jack shouldn't have come back." 

This time Daniel could actually see the way his whispered assertion 
caused Teal'c to raise an eyebrow and he knew he would need to explain 
further, now that he had broached the subject. "I saw Jack with Sara this 
weekend . . . I think he's earned the right to retire." 

Daniel paused as if to let that sink in, before expanding on his 
statement, "I went to see Jack as soon as I'd spoken to General Hammond 
yesterday. I got the impression Sara had been there all week." He smiled 
at the thought. "I don't think I've ever seen Jack look so happy, Teal'c. 
That's where he ought to be, not here." 

"O'Neill is capable of making this decision for himself." 

"I don't think he's doing it for himself anymore, Teal'c." Daniel glanced 
away, back towards the camp, lowering his voice again before adding 
somewhat guiltily, "We had a similar discussion yesterday, well, sort of 
. . . When I went to leave, out by my car, Sara was inside . . . I told 
Jack how glad I was about what had happened while I was away, he knew 
what I meant . . . about him and Sara, about his recovery . . . there was 
such a change in him since I'd last seen him, you know?" 

Teal'c nodded, recalling evidence he himself had seen at the SGC that 
previous week, but he did not interrupt Daniel's flow. 

"I knew it was because of Sara, somehow she found a way to help him deal 
with so much when no one else could. And Jack knew what I meant. I know 
he knew . . ." 

"He told me . . ." Daniel faltered, knowing he was about to breach a 
trust, about to tell Teal'c something he had been told in confidence, he 
sighed deeply, knowing he had to say it even so, he needed a second 
opinion on what should be done and this was the only way to get it. "Jack 
said he wanted to make sure *it* never happens again! But he didn't know 
how to guarantee that. I know he was thinking about Sara, about what 
she's been through. And what it will do to her if anything like that ever 
happens to him again. He wants to be sure she'll be safe, that she'll 
never get hurt . . ." 

"I think, in his heart, Jack is considering retirement," Daniel concluded 
quietly. 

"And you believe that is what he should do." 

"I don't think he's here for the job anymore, Teal'c, nor for the good of 
Earth. I think he's here out of loyalty to his friends, to us." 

"O'Neill has nothing to prove in that respect." 

"I know! And he's made it back. He's proved that much. Now I think we 
have to repay him for everything he's done for us. Jack deserves more 
than to spend the rest of his life fighting his demons out in the field," 
Daniel's low voice hitched in his throat as so many memories pushed to 
the fore, memories of everything they had been through in order to make 
it to this place. 

He shook his head defiantly, "He made it back this time, but you know as 
well as I do Teal'c, that there's always a next time in this job! Jack is 
alive and kicking and that's something we should be thankful for. It's 
time to let him go. Time for him to get on with his life while he still 
has a chance at one!" 

Teal'c nodded agreement, "If that is what he wants, then we must inform 
O'Neill of where to go." 

Daniel grinned, relief clear on his face that someone else felt the same 
way he did, "Yeah, you've got the picture, Teal'c. Only maybe we 
shouldn't use those exact words!" 

                         *******************

Tuesday: A Wall of Silence 

Jack awoke to warm sunlight, and warmer memories, thoughts of another 
early morning dawn, golden rays creeping across the room until they 
highlighted Sara's sleeping face with a beauty that had made his heart 
ache at the thought of having to leave her again so soon. 

He loosened the blanket twisted around him and shifted slightly on the 
hard canyon floor, listening intently to see whether his wakefulness was 
matched by the others yet, hoping that all but Captain Carter, taking her 
turn on watch, would still be asleep, at least long enough to allow him a 
few more minutes to linger in dreams. 

Without a doubt he missed Sara, and he missed waking up beside her. He 
couldn't help wondering what she'd be doing right now. It would be dark 
back home, practically the middle of the night still, but whether Sara 
would be asleep or not depended on how well she had readjusted from 
working four straight night shifts after having the four previous ones 
off. Probably she'd be sleeping soundly, he decided, after all, her 
ability to sleep anytime anywhere was what had left her still dozing when 
he had woken early that Sunday morning, gazing at her in the pre-dawn 
light until the sun had begun to rise. 

Jack had watched her for as long as he could, conscious of the fact that 
it might be his last chance for a while. He had watched Sara sleeping 
until he could no longer resist the desire to touch her, stroking her 
silky blonde hair, caressing her soft cheek, her smooth jaw line, until 
she began to stir, her head turning lazily to nuzzle against his 
fingertips. 

He had leaned over to kiss her, loving the way she raised from the pillow 
to draw out the kiss rather than letting his lips leave hers too soon. 
When he eventually drew far enough away, he smiled at the sight of her, 
eyes still closed as though reluctant to break the magic of her dream. 

As he sat back further, the blanket he had tucked around her body, when 
she had succumbed to exhausted sleep early the previous evening, had 
slipped down, causing Jack to change direction. He had moved down the bed 
until his lips kissed her naked breasts, feeling her heart thudding in 
her chest. As his mouth caressed her nipple, she had shifted against him, 
rolling onto her side to wrap her arms around him, pulling him gently 
down to her and entwining her right leg around his to be sure he couldn't 
get away, as if he'd ever want to . . . 

Jack shook the thought away ruefully, beginning to stretch the kinks out 
of his stiff body and force himself awake before his daydreams took him 
somewhere he had no way of escaping from. There was definitely no doubt 
about how much he missed Sara. But it was time to focus, time to get this 
show on the road, time to explore this godforsaken planet a little bit 
more before he could allow himself to head for home, and all that awaited 
him there. 

                         *******************

With breakfast over and the fire doused, Jack led his team towards the 
end of the canyon, striding out determinedly. 

It took barely two more hours to reach their target and the cliff walls 
that rose up from the desert floor like sentinels at the entrance to the 
towering mountains. Two hours in which Jack had come to a decision, a 
decision to put himself through his paces, to really test himself and his 
reactions. 

It was time for the group to split up, to explore their surroundings more 
closely, cover as much ground as possible and, assuming they found 
nothing to pique their interest and delay their return, to begin to make 
their way back towards the stargate. With any luck, the two pairs would 
meet up by nightfall somewhere in the middle of the canyon. 

At that point the decision could be made whether to make camp, or 
continue on in the dark and head for home. Which choice, Jack believed, 
would depend on whether he had done what he came here for, whether he 
managed to prove anything to anyone that day, anything to make the 
mission a success, rather than a complete waste of everyone's time. 

"Keep in touch," Jack instructed, as he and Daniel began to head off to 
the left, in the opposite direction to the other pair. "Call in every 
hour, sooner if you find anything that fascinating!" 

"Yes sir," Captain Carter yelled cheerfully over her shoulder as she and 
Teal'c strode away with a feeling of freedom, as if finally released from 
their studies to go out to play. It was probably just the renewed sense 
of purpose, and the fact that their mountainous target would hopefully 
prove more interesting than the desert floor across which they had 
trekked the previous day. 

Or it might simply have been that, as the last person on watch that 
morning, it had fallen to Carter to carry out the usually uncomfortable 
task of waking the team. But, approaching Colonel O'Neill first, and with 
a great deal of trepidation, Carter had instead been pleasantly surprised 
when the Colonel had rolled over, thrown off the blanket to clamber to 
his feet, and greeted her with a genuine smile. 

Either way, such an unexpected start to her morning had left Carter 
feeling eager to explore, and hopeful that something would happen to make 
their trip worthwhile. 

                         *******************

For both teams, their exploration through the edge of the vast mountain 
range surrounding the canyon did nothing except prove that this really 
was a barren land. As the day drew on, and the hourly radio contact 
became ever briefer, the two pairs began to make their way back along the 
edge of the basin, occasionally veering into the foothills again to 
alleviate the boredom. 

The sandstone mountains and cliffs, rising up out of the desert floor 
surrounding them, were distinctly reminiscent of Egypt, or the Sinai 
desert, but even Daniel had to admit he would find a lot more to interest 
him back there, on Earth, than there appeared to be in this inhospitable 
place. 

Even on the Sinai peninsula there were oases of palm trees, or occasional 
stunted growths appearing out of nowhere on the sides of mountains, their 
roots spread for dozens of feet in an effort to find sustenance 
sufficient to keep them alive. And there were animals, camels, horses, 
cattle and fowl, and there were the people who owned them and cared for 
them, the Bedouins, or any other misplaced populace that could withstand 
the cold of the night and the extreme arid heat of the day. 

Yet here they found nothing. Not a single sign of life for miles around, 
not where they walked, or where they stopped to peer through binoculars 
from the ridges or peaks they occasionally climbed. There was no sign of 
life, except for themselves. 

There was one thing to redeem this barren land, besides its natural 
beauty, and that was the silence. As Daniel pointed out, only in the 
remote desert of places such as the Sinai, had he ever experienced 
complete and absolute silence. 

There were no people to disturb the sound of nature, no trucks, no 
planes. There were no birds or braying cattle. No sounds of battle. Only 
the rare wind could be heard, shifting the sands, or eroding the rock. 
But when the wind dropped and night fell, all it took was to lie back on 
the ground and stare up at the sky. 

And if his heart was not beating too hard, Daniel could swear it was 
possible to hear the stars falling, whooshing through the ether as they 
burned themselves out. To hear the groan of the moon as it raised its 
hefty weight into the celestial heavens. And to sense the planet spinning 
on its axis, so fast he could practically feel the G-force pressing him 
into the ground. 

And out of all the things that Daniel had rambled on about that day, all 
the times he had begun to talk about Egypt and shut up rapidly as soon as 
he'd realised what he was saying, all the words that Jack had not even 
been listening to. Out of all that Daniel had told him, the most poetic 
turned out to be the one thing Jack could truly appreciate. 

The sound of silence. 

It had never actually occurred to Jack before, but it really was quite 
unique. How many times in his life could he honestly say he had been 
anywhere on Earth where he could experience that sound, or lack of? 
Probably never. 

Even in the desert wastelands of Iraq, or Iran, there had always been the 
sound of war, or the sound of pain to accompany the prayers for silence. 

Even inside an ancient Egyptian pyramid there had always been the sound 
of his own harsh breathing amidst the noise in his head. 

So maybe there was something to redeem this barren land. The sound of 
nothing. 

Nothing to disturb his wandering thoughts as his mind frequently returned 
to the weekend, the times he had spent with Sara. All that time he had 
felt he was doing something useful, even if it was only building on what 
they had started. Doing something more useful than trekking through a 
barren land and listening for the sound of silence. 

Because even the sound of silence could not sustain them forever. 

It was getting late in the day, and Jack was considering heading into the 
centre of the valley towards their rendezvous point. Their search had 
been fruitless and, with all the miles they had travelled, it didn't seem 
likely that a couple more would turn up anything of note. There seemed 
little sense in stretching out the tedium any further, despite the fact 
that he had achieved none of his goals, proved nothing to himself or 
anyone else. But before he could announce his decision, Daniel came up 
with a reason to change it. 

He had spotted some gaping holes in the rock face further ahead, 
naturally wanting to climb up and explore inside to see if there was any 
sign of early life, paintings, artefacts or remains, animal or human. 

Even Jack had to admit it was the first interesting find all day, and 
possibly the last before running out of light. A fact that Daniel made 
sure he realised. 

"Jack, this is the one chance we might have to make this whole trip 
worthwhile!" he argued. "We've got to climb up there and take a look." 

Daniel studied his friend's expression, glancing back up to what looked 
like the largest of the cave mouths and suddenly realising exactly what 
it was he was advocating. Of course Jack would be reluctant, he was 
basically trying to drag him back into a dark hole! 

"Can you keep watch from the outside while I'm in there, in case this 
place isn't as uninhabited as we think?" he suggested shrewdly. 

Unenthusiastically, Jack stared up at the cliff, pockmarked with holes of 
varying sizes, dark black shadows that could hide any number of things. 
The idea of voluntarily venturing inside a cave basically terrified him, 
and apparently he wasn't very good at hiding it. But Daniel's obvious 
knowledge of that fact made Jack realise he needed to push himself, if he 
was going to achieve anything from this trip, it was time to face his 
fears. 

"No Daniel, we'll both go inside. Who knows what could be lurking in 
there." 

"You sure?" Daniel asked cautiously, surprised but pleased that Jack 
would be willing to take such a step. Things had changed while he was 
away. 

The climb up the rocky face was as easy as all the others they had 
tackled that day, the sandstone well eroded to allow plenty of possible 
pathways, they just had to choose the least crumbly. In fact the journey 
down usually proved more hazardous, the loose surface causing them to 
slip and slide much of the way, grazing hands and covering them in dust. 
Still, on this occasion, Jack couldn't help looking forward to that 
moment. 

With the ascent over almost too quickly, they found themselves at the 
mouth of the first cave. Even without their flashlights, it was not 
difficult to see the back of the shallow hole, just a few yards in, a 
small hideaway cut out of the rock, the smooth surfaces revealing 
possible water formation, perhaps eons ago, who could tell. 

Even to Jack, it was obvious that the sheer fact something had caused 
this geological anomaly dictated that the planet had changed over the 
years, possibly explaining why it appeared to be completely uninhabited 
now. 

Perhaps once there had been water of a plentiful source, and the slow 
drying of the land had forced the people out, or killed them off. 
Probably so long ago that anything left behind had been absorbed into the 
earth from whence it came, turned to dust and returned to the ground. 

But that didn't mean Daniel would stop looking, or give up hope of 
finding some clue as to the nature of the people who might have once 
populated the planet. And so they continued on, checking each cave in 
turn, until they reached the big one, the one that had caught Daniel's 
eye from his initial viewpoint in the canyon below. The only cave so far 
that actually disappeared into eerie blackness beyond the glow of their 
flashlights. 

"Jack, you could stay outside, you know," Daniel offered quietly, "I'm 
not going to think any less of you for not wanting to go in there." 

"Maybe you won't, but I will," he responded grimly, switching his 
flashlight to his right hand and weighing it carefully, checking his weak 
grip was not going to give out at an inopportune moment. But he had to 
test his luck, it was the only way he could make sure his left hand was 
free to grab his Beretta from its holster if needed. And every fearful 
instinct in Jack's body was telling him it would be needed. 

There was something to fear from that cave, besides fear itself. 

As Daniel went to move ahead of him, Jack raised his arm, the back of his 
left hand pressing against the younger man's chest, "A-ah," he said, 
"Colonels first!" 

Daniel followed him, slowly edging deeper into the cave. As the sunlight 
from behind faded along the tunnel, their combined flashlights did little 
to relieve the increasing tension, the beams barely illuminating more 
than a few feet in front. 

Jack could scarcely believe what he had got himself into. All the images 
and memories that sprung to the fore, wandering through the passages of a 
great pyramid, finding his way by the weak beam of a mini Maglite, 
trailing after Philip Marshall in his search for Cassie, not knowing 
whether she was dead or alive. 

And then finding her, forcing himself to go back into that tomb, climbing 
down the rope ladder with a suffocating sense of panic. A sense of panic 
he was trying not to repeat right now, right here in this dark pit of a 
cave. 

It was all Jack could do to keep reminding himself that none of his 
enemies lay in wait for him here. There was no one here who wanted to do 
him harm. All he had to do was put one foot in front of the other until 
they reached the end of the cave, let Daniel hunt around for a while to 
find what he'd been looking for all this time, and then they could leave, 
head back to daylight. And all that time all he had to do was keep his 
flashlight beam steady and try to stop his hand from shaking. 

"Jack, this is incredible!" When the narrow tunnel opened out, Daniel's 
voice echoed around the cavern for several long seconds, "This place must 
be huge! Do you realise the kind of geological force that must have 
formed it?" 

Not really caring about anything except the wavering of his voice if he 
bothered to answer, Jack simply let him continue. 

"We have to reach the rear face, try to see if maybe this was formed by a 
river, or it could have been an underground lake, pushed up by the 
structural shifts of the geographical plates. Course, then there's the 
possibility of volcanic activity, depending on what the walls are made of 
. . ." 

Daniel's voice faded away along with the beam of his flashlight and Jack 
realised he was getting away from him, "Daniel!" 

"Yeah, Jack," the younger man turned around, his flashlight beam sweeping 
the floor with his movement and rising to shine directly into Jack's 
face. "Oops, sorry." Daniel lowered the beam, but not before he caught 
Jack's expression, saw the naked fear in his eyes detectable even from 
that distance, and realised that maybe the wavering of his flashlight 
beam was not just because he was holding it with his weak right hand. 
"Give me a few more minutes to search around, then we can get outta 
here," he offered encouragingly. 

"Sounds good," Jack replied with forced cheer, turning to train his own 
smaller flashlight in the direction he hoped would reveal the back of the 
cavern. But it found nothing except more darkness, still no sign of the 
cave walls even as he began to follow Daniel once again, moving ever 
deeper into the hole. 

Finally, Daniel had to admit that the gloom was beginning to get to him 
too. He was not immune to the fear and the memories conjured up by that 
dark looming cavern, and the complete lack of finding anything positive 
was no longer making up for what he, and more importantly Jack, was being 
subjected to. 

Maybe this planet had never been inhabited. Maybe there was a good reason 
for no one to live there, even with the presence of a stargate. Maybe 
there was something that had not shown itself yet, something that such a 
short reconnaissance would never reveal. 

Because for sure there were no signs of anything having ever lived in 
that cave. When they finally reached the back there were no wall 
paintings, no cooking pots or artefacts left behind by their makers. 
There were no remains, animal or human. At least, not that Daniel could 
find during the hour they spent wandering around in the dark. 

It was time to call it a day, time to get back outside where they could 
make contact with Sam. Time to let Jack escape from the darkness, and 
time for Daniel to admit that even he was more fearful of the dark than 
he had ever been before . . . before Egypt . . . before Kheops. And maybe 
that was something he should admit to Jack, not just to himself. 

There was something else he needed to say . . . something he couldn't 
remember even saying after their joint battle against the Slav and his 
comrade in the Colorado mountains. That no matter how much either of them 
might now be afraid of the dark, Jack's presence went a long way to quell 
Daniel's fear. And no matter how little confidence Jack had in his own 
ability to cope in such a situation again, Daniel had to admit that Jack 
was still the only person he would want covering his back in a fight. 

And, as they began to head out the way they had come, back towards the 
promise of daylight, Daniel realised this may be the chance he had been 
waiting for to tell Jack the truth. 

"Jack?" 

"Yeah Daniel." 

"Can you stand a confession?" 

Jack snorted, but he didn't turn around or halt his steady stride in what 
he hoped was the general direction of the narrow tunnel leading to the 
cave entrance, "I guess that depends, Daniel. If it's going to be one of 
those stories about dressing up as a woman, then maybe you should keep it 
to yourself!" 

"Erm, no, it's nothing like that . . ." Daniel grinned to himself, glad 
to hear that Jack's sense of humour had not deserted him completely 
despite what Daniel had made him go through in the past hour. "Actually, 
it's something I've been wanting to say for awhile, and I know you 
probably won't appreciate the sentiment, but I'm going to say it anyway." 

"Knock yourself out," Jack murmured distractedly, his pace slowing 
slightly as he wondered why the hairs were rising on the back of his 
neck. 

"I wanted to tell you that . . ." Daniel faltered, realising how lame the 
words were going to sound when he said them out loud, "I wanted you to 
know . . . well . . . you're still the only person I'd want covering my 
back in a fight, Jack." 

"I'd've thought Teal'c would be a better choice." 

"I disagree, although he may be my only choice once you retire," Daniel 
ventured cautiously. 

Jack stopped short, spinning around to shine his flashlight beam directly 
into Daniel's eyes. "What makes you think I'm going to retire? Do you 
think I should retire?" 

Daniel blinked rapidly in the bright light, flustered by Jack's 
accusatory tone, "No, Jack, I don't think you should retire . . . well . 
. . actually, that's not true . . ." 

All the tension that had built up in the last hour came flooding out and 
Jack felt his temper rising. Even knowing it was himself he was angry 
with for conceding to fear, and in front of Daniel at that, Jack still 
could not stop himself from verbally attacking the man, "You think I'm 
not up to it anymore? That I can't cope? Just because I don't see the 
worth in wasting an hour of my life in this godforsaken hole!" 

"No! Wait, Jack, that's not what I meant at all!" Daniel shook his head 
adamantly, realising this was heading in completely the opposite 
direction to where he had intended. 

But before he could explain himself, the ground beneath them began to 
shake. 

Too late, Jack finally figured out the source of his gnawing fear, the 
reason why his instincts had been telling him to get out of that cave, 
why the hairs on the back of his neck had been standing on end for the 
past few moments. 

The roaring grew louder as the mountain violently shuddered. Rocks began 
to fall around them, crashing down with lethal ferocity. Dropping his 
flashlight and grabbing Daniel by the jacket, Jack began to run, hauling 
the younger man along as he desperately attempted to reach the end of the 
tunnel and the cave mouth entrance before the roof collapsed in on them. 

Jack glimpsed the edge of daylight as the noise and shaking reached a 
deafening crescendo. All his senses were screaming, telling him exactly 
what was going to happen next, that the tunnel was coming down, right on 
top of them both, unless he did something to avoid it. 

With a last gasp of effort, Jack threw Daniel out into the sunlit area 
ahead of them, launching himself after the younger man in an effort to 
beat the wall of rock that seemed to be falling directly between him and 
the safety of daylight. 

Feeling Jack begin to follow, Daniel instinctively tucked into the 
tumble, his body curled foetally, trying to protect his head from the 
rocks raining down on top of him as he rolled for several yards. He came 
to a jarring halt just inside the entrance to the cave, his skull banging 
against a hefty boulder invisible among the dislodged dust and debris 
floating in the air. 

The last dazed thought in Daniel's head was a question of hope, of 
whether he would ever get another chance to tell Jack what he'd really 
meant, that he thought Jack should be with Sara, that he didn't have to 
stay at the SGC purely out of loyalty to his friends . . . 

                         *******************

"Colonel O'Neill?" Click. 

Impatiently, Captain Carter pressed the transmit button on her radio 
again, "Colonel, come in?" Click. She released it once more, waiting for 
an answer. 

"Colonel O'Neill, come in please!" 

Daniel Jackson came to with the vague feeling that he had found the 
answer, but an answer to what he wasn't sure. 

Coughing dust from his lungs, he rolled over with a groan, attempting to 
locate the source of the pain that was making his head hurt. Gingerly 
lifting his hand to the back of his scalp, Daniel's dirt covered fingers 
came back bloody. Apparently he'd cut his head, not badly by the looks of 
it, but hard enough to stun him. 

"Colonel O'Neill? Daniel? Come in." Click. 

"Colonel . . . I think we just had some kind of seismic activity beneath 
the planet's surface." 

What was that answer he'd been thinking of . . . ? Oh yeah . . . 
Earthquakes! 

The planet was uninhabited because it was unstable, pure and simple. It 
wasn't just because it was an arid barren land. In all probability, this 
desolate place was about as unstable as the state of California. Except 
here there weren't any long gorgeous beaches or matching women to tempt 
people to stay. 

"Daniel? Colonel? Are you there? Are you okay?" Click. 

Daniel groaned again, this time more loudly. If only he'd thought of that 
possibility before. Before he had forced Jack inside a dark cave. Before 
they had started arguing about why Daniel thought he should retire. 

Daniel sat up, his head spinning as he pulled off his glasses, blowing 
dust from the lenses before trying to see whether they were still intact. 
With his scrambled brain beginning to put things back into order, he 
clearly recalled their unfinished words. 

"Jack?" He called his friend's name as he repositioned his spectacles, 
peering myopically into the dust filled haze surrounding him. "Jack, 
where the hell are you?" 

"Colonel, come in, please!" Sam's voice sounded even more urgent, finally 
piercing Daniel's fogbound consciousness. His hand automatically reached 
for the top pocket of his jacket where his radio should have been, 
finding nothing but dust. 

"Daniel? Colonel? Sir? Come on guys, answer me!" Click. 

The radio transmission cut off again, but not before Daniel detected its 
approximate location and began crawling across the rubble strewn floor, 
retracing his path to where the radio had apparently fallen out of his 
pocket as he rolled away from the cave-in. 

"O'Neill! Daniel Jackson! Report." This time it was Teal'c's voice that 
broke the silence, a grim bark that spoke volumes for the pair's 
increasing concern over their missing teammates. 

Scrambling to unbury the radio, Daniel shook away the loose dirt and 
grasped the metal casing, raising it to his mouth as he sat back on his 
haunches. But whatever he'd been about to say died on his lips, the 
tremor of his hands increasing when he saw what loomed beyond the spread 
of daylight, amidst the settling dust, the reason why he had not yet 
heard from their team leader. 

"Sam," Daniel's hoarse voice almost broke with his first plaintive word 
and he released the transmission button, taking several ragged gulps as 
he fought panic. 

"Daniel! Thank god! Are you okay? What happened?" 

"Sam . . ." 

Carter held her breath when Daniel's faint tone cut off in a fit of 
coughing. 

Desperately he tried to clear the dust from his throat and finish, "Sam, 
we need help . . ." 

Teal'c and Carter were already moving at the sound of Daniel's fraught 
words, veering away from the rendezvous point they had reached barely ten 
minutes before the earthquake and heading across the canyon floor towards 
Colonel O'Neill's last reported position. 

"Daniel, what happened?" Carter's stride became a jog, the adrenaline 
flowing as she waited what seemed an eternity for him to respond. 

"Sam, there was a cave-in . . . I . . . I can't see Jack . . . I don't 
know if he's under it or . . . Sam, he was right behind me . . . I think 
he might be dead . . ." Daniel's distress was answered by his teammates 
in the way their jog became a run. 

The steady pounding of two pairs of feet slowly separated as Teal'c 
pulled away from Carter, his longer stride and supreme stamina ensuring 
he would reach the far side of the canyon first. But Carter would not be 
far behind, of that she was determined. After all they had been through 
together, all Jack had fought to get to this place in time, no way was 
she going to allow his efforts to be needless. It was *not* going to 
happen. The Colonel was alive. He had to be. No way would God or anyone 
else punish him like that. 

"Daniel, hold on, we're on our way," Carter puffed into the radio. 

"Hurry, Sam." 

Daniel pushed his dusty radio into the top pocket of his BDU's and took a 
long slow breath, attempting to control his fear and face the situation 
sensibly. Wherever Jack was, Daniel knew the only thing to do was to 
start removing rocks from the wall of debris that had blocked the tunnel, 
but it had to be done carefully and methodically, or else it would only 
make things worse. 

If anyone really was out there to answer his prayers and Jack was still 
alive, then he was trapped in darkness, and Daniel did not want to delay 
rescuing him from that because of his own stupidity, even if it was that 
same stupidity that had got his friend into this mess in the first place. 

Forcing away recriminations, Daniel began to work, lifting rocks piece by 
painstaking piece. Every now and then he called Jack's name, his voice 
wavering uncertainly, half afraid to say the word in the knowledge that 
each time no answer came felt like another nail in a coffin that seemed 
to have been awaiting delivery to his friend for so many weeks. 

"Shit, Jack, I'm sorry!" Daniel murmured, tears pricking his eyelids to 
mix with the grit that was making them sting. 

                         *******************

Utter silence. So silent he could feel the G force pressing him into the 
ground . . . 

Hadn't he heard that already today? But if he had then it couldn't have 
been utter silence he'd been listening to, could it? 

Jack frowned in confusion, trying to make sense of that thought and 
exactly where it had come from. 

And why was the planet spinning so fast as to physically push him face 
first into the ground? 

He scrunched his eyes shut even tighter as his head began to thud. So 
much for silence, how was a man supposed to think clearly with all this 
noise? 

But the hammering in his head grew louder and more painful, the 
vibrations beginning to jar his entire body until Jack wondered if it was 
him or the planet that was going completely off its axis. 

Then the truth hit him, the noise was no longer within, it surrounded 
him. The silence had been broken. The shaking increased, and the sharp 
brittle sound of rock smashing against rock began to penetrate his dazed 
thoughts. 

It was happening again. 

Purely on instinct, Jack began to crawl away. Piles of dust and stone, 
weighing down his back and legs following the initial earthquake, slid 
off reluctantly to form heaps of debris in the gap where he had been 
laying. 

He scrabbled for purchase on the loose ground, trying to push up on his 
hands and knees but finding his limbs struggling to respond. Jagged 
chunks of rock dug into new bruises on his chest and stomach, scraped his 
hands, and added to the agony that flared in all parts of his body, 
overwhelming the signals from his brain to dizzying effect. 

Rolling onto his back, Jack gritted his teeth and shoved with his heels, 
blindly forging a path across the rubble-strewn floor until he could make 
it no further, his energy sapped and his breathing laboured in the dust-
laden atmosphere. But, with the aftershock tapering off as abruptly as it 
had developed, it felt like he was far enough away from the worst of the 
falling rock. 

The thunderous roar was overwhelmed by the return of utter silence. And 
Jack gladly slipped back within its comforting realms. 

                         *******************

"Daniel Jackson!" Teal'c's voice eventually came over the radio, breaking 
a protracted silence that had hung on the airwaves accusingly. "I am 
near. Identify your location." 

Scrambling up off his knees, Daniel ran to the cave entrance, peering 
over the ledge to the valley floor. Off in the distance on his right, he 
could see the dusk-lengthened shadow of a figure covering the sandy 
ground with rapid ease. Teal'c was heading towards him on a diagonal that 
would take him beyond the cave and back some way if Daniel did not catch 
his eye. 

"Teal'c, can you see the cliff face at your ten o'clock?" Daniel called 
over his radio. "There's a pocket of caves marking the rocks." 

"Indeed I can, Daniel Jackson." 

Daniel couldn't help marvelling the fact that Teal'c's response was 
barely breathless. "Well I'm at the front of what was the biggest hole, 
you might not be able to make it out amongst the rubble. Hang on." 

His flashlight already dead, Daniel unscrewed the head and carefully 
removed the lens. Cleaning dust from it with the inside of his t-shirt, 
he held the glass up, aiming until it captured and flickered in the last 
rays of the sun, low on the horizon. 

"Can you see that, Teal'c?" 

"Indeed, I will join you shortly." 

"What about Sam?" 

"I'm not far behind," Carter gasped into her radio, desperately trying to 
keep Teal'c in sight so that she could follow him. It helped that the sun 
was setting and the heat going out of the day, the haze dispersing so 
that their visibility went a lot further. "Have you heard anything from 
the Colonel?" she asked reluctantly, almost certain that Daniel would 
have said so if he had. 

"No, nothing," Daniel admitted anxiously. "And we've been getting 
aftershocks up here, filling the barricade as fast as I can clear it!" 

Carter swallowed, forcing herself to do exactly what she knew the Colonel 
would ask of her in that situation, to think positively, "Do your best, 
Daniel. We'll be with you before you know it." 

                         *******************

Jack came to with a gasp of shock, sitting up so abruptly that his head 
span like a top. Rather than pass out again, he slumped back down with a 
groan, screwing his eyes tightly shut and trying to ignore the roaring in 
his head while he attempted to calm his ragged breathing. Instead, dust 
settled on the back of his throat and started him coughing hard, jarring 
his entire body and revealing sources of new pain in his head, hip, 
chest, in fact all over, almost sharp enough to override the renewed ache 
in his battered ribs. 

Beginning to fathom what had happened, Jack rolled onto his right side 
and took short puffs of air, desperately focusing on each individual 
injury in an effort to dissuade every neurone in his body from reaching 
panic mode as the truth of his situation slowly dawned. 

Shifting his weight to alleviate a throbbing ache in his right hip, badly 
bruised from a lunging dive, Jack vividly recalled his vain attempt to 
follow Daniel and escape the path of falling rocks. He realised the new 
points of pain he could feel in his chest every time he inhaled were 
probably from the same origin. Still, Jack knew he should be glad for the 
fact that his spine seemed intact, apparently none of the heftier 
boulders had landed atop him. He might be bruised, but the fact that he 
could still feel his legs, his feet, his toes, was one very good sign in 
his books. 

But, even as he moved off of the chunk of rock digging into his hip, 
Jack's head began spinning again and he finally remembered that last 
moment before first passing out, and the probable cause of such blissful 
oblivion. His misguided attempt to avoid the cave-in had led to him 
blindly smacking his skull against the tunnel wall. 

Jack raised both palms to his face, instinctively wanting to rub away the 
pounding behind his eyes. But the piercing stab that shot through his 
right wrist all the way up his arm almost made him cry out, a shockwave 
of pain from a reawakening of nerve endings that had safely slumbered 
until he'd been foolish enough to move his fingers. 

He almost cried out but his jaw clamped shut to smother any sound, 
adrenaline pumping through his veins as fear rose, forcing his strongest 
instincts to reassert once more. Jack became absolutely motionless, all 
his senses on alert for the presence of any possible foe, any person 
wanting to hurt him, anyone who might relish the sound of his screams . . 
. 

                         *******************

"He was right behind me, he pushed me out of the way . . ." 

Daniel's distraught words greeted Captain Carter as she clambered up the 
shadowy rock face and entered the mouth of the cave to survey the damage. 
The wall of rock looked impenetrable in the growing darkness and, for all 
they knew, was simply acting as a tomb for their already dead team 
leader. 

Sam swallowed convulsively, struggling to catch her breath and stay in 
control. 

"I thought he was right behind me, Sam . . ." 

"Daniel, save it!" she said harshly, as much for herself as for him, 
"Focus! We have to dig him out of there." 

                         *******************

It seemed like an eternity before Jack dared to move again, before he 
found the courage to breathe deeper, to fidget or make the slightest 
sound. 

And all that time he had simply laid on his back in the dirt, remaining 
absolutely still and alert, his injured right wrist cradled in his left 
hand across his stomach, the trembling of his fingertips enough to 
highlight the pain beyond the ache of the rest of his body. 

From past experience, Jack didn't think his wrist was broken, but it hurt 
like hell. And the fact that it was his right hand all over again brought 
frustration to add to the painful memories shaking his resolve and 
enhancing his fear. 

A groan of despair left his lips at last, "God, that hurts!" 

He swallowed convulsively, fighting back the urge to panic, to flip out 
over the very nature of his situation, a situation he had so hoped never 
to find himself in again. A situation that, right now, he didn't even 
dare to acknowledge. But a situation that he had to beat if he was ever 
going to prove his true recovery. 

Focusing inwards, Jack gradually calmed the pace of his breathing, trying 
not to think about anything except the blood running through his veins, 
trying to slow down his pulse and his thudding heart. Trying to convince 
himself that everything was going to be fine . . . everything *was* fine. 
Just because he was lying in pain and utter roaring silence didn't mean 
he was in a bad way. It didn't have to be that way at all . . . not 
again, not this time. 

He was so close to reaching a point of conviction, if it wasn't for one 
mistake, the act of blithely opening his eyes. 

Blinking rapidly against the grit and dust tearing his eyes, Jack knew 
immediately that everything was dark. In truth he had known all along. 
Why else had it taken this long to open his eyes? Maybe he could have 
convinced himself he'd gone blind, if it wasn't for the tiny spots 
circling before his eyes, sparks of concussive dizziness from the sharp 
collision between skull and rock wall. 

Everything was pitch black. Everything was silent. 

And since he wasn't blind or deaf, he could only be trapped again. 

"HELP!" 

Finally more afraid of being trapped alone in the dark, than of what harm 
his cries for help might bring to him, Jack hollered as loudly as he 
could, his voice too shaky and weak for his own liking. But calmness was 
the last thing on his mind. He had to get out, he had to see daylight and 
feel fresh air, and it had to be now! 

"HELP! A-N-Y-B-O-D-Y!" 

His hoarse shout became a renewed bout of coughing as the dry dusty air 
tickled his throat again, and suddenly it occurred to Jack that perhaps 
he should conserve his energy, and steady his breathing. If the wall of 
rock between him and the exit was as impenetrable as his senses were 
telling him, basing judgment on the absolute lack of light, air or sound 
seeping through, then he only had a finite amount of oxygen to go with 
it. 

Intuitively, Jack stopped coughing and he stopped yelling. Thinking 
rationally at last, the fingers of his left hand reached for the 
transmission button on his radio. 

"Carter, Teal'c, come in!" 

                         *******************

Daniel's scrabbling fingertips came to a halt. "Did you guys hear that?" 

"Hear what?" Sam puffed as she hauled another stone out of the way. 

"Sssshhhh," Daniel hissed irritably. "Listen!" 

A long minute passed in silence before Teal'c could no longer quash his 
urge to continue battling the rock fall. "I do not detect a sound, Daniel 
Jackson," his words were grimly apologetic, but he didn't wait for 
Daniel's reaction before lifting the next boulder from the pile that 
faced them. 

"Damn!" Daniel exclaimed morosely, "I could've sworn I heard a shout." 

Carter regarded him sympathetically. "Maybe you should try the radio 
again," she offered, straightening upright to pull off her cap and shake 
dust from it, before sweeping her hair back out of her eyes and pulling 
the cap back onto her head even tighter. 

She shivered slightly, the damp sweat of her t-shirt cooling now that the 
sun had practically set. It would be completely dark soon and their task 
would become even more difficult by flashlight alone. She would really 
like to think that Daniel was right, that he had heard Jack calling from 
somewhere within. But if that was true why hadn't he continued, why 
couldn't they all hear him? 

"Yeah, I think you should try contacting him on the radio again," she 
reasserted. 

                         *******************

"Mork calling Orson, come in Orson," Jack was even beginning to bug 
himself with his pitiful attempt at humour, but he felt like he'd been 
calling his team on the radio for at least half an hour, and he had not 
had a single response. 

The trouble was, in the pitch-blackness of this hole he had inexplicably 
found himself in again, he couldn't tell if his radio was even working. 
He had no light to shine upon it, he could only feel with the fingertips 
of his left hand, and his sense of touch was telling him that it felt 
pretty battered. But no wires were hanging out, nothing appeared to be 
missing, although the position of one of the new bruises on his chest 
told him he had definitely fallen onto it as he dived. So how the hell 
could it still be working? And, if it was, why wasn't he getting any 
answer? 

At least it was something to do. Some hope to cling to. Maybe he could 
transmit but not receive. Maybe even now the rest of his team were honing 
in on his position, attempting to dig him out. Only surely he would have 
been able to hear some telltale sound, the sound of them scrabbling in 
the dirt? 

I mean, how deep could this cave-in possibly stretch? 

"Mork calling Or . . ." Jack clicked off his half-hearted transmission, 
lowering the radio from his lips once more, dreadfully certain that if 
anyone really could hear him they would have answered by now if they were 
able to. 

So how far had he rolled when he dived away from the falling rocks? 

Dropping the radio into his lap, Jack peered futilely into the darkness 
in what he thought was the direction of the cave-in, trying to gauge the 
distance. He knew he wouldn't see anything, just as much as he knew 
getting closer was going to hurt. But he was equally certain that he was 
going to have to try anyway. 

Pushing his radio safely into his hip pocket, Jack shifted onto his knees 
and attempted to stand, leaning heavily on his left side and using the 
solid wall as a crutch. His head span, the darkness and lack of focal 
point making the effect even more nauseating. He waited long minutes for 
the dizziness to pass before he began to edge along the wall. 

It was a difficult scramble. Physically he had been in worse states, but 
the agony and exhaustion, the feeling of sandstone beneath his 
fingertips, the blackness, the quiet, the captivity, all were too 
reminiscent of the one thing that had started it all, the one thing that 
had led him down this road in the first place. 

For such a short distance, it was one of the longest walks of his life. 
But like everything he had been through since first setting eyes on the 
Great Pyramids of Giza, Jack knew he had to make it through this too. He 
had a reason to survive now, a future he wanted to reach. 

And when his outstretched hand hit crumbling rock far sooner than he 
thought it ought, his foot kicking away dust and debris to meet the 
immovable boulders beyond, Jack knew he couldn't give up. He couldn't let 
a little rock barrier come between him and his goal, no matter how 
impenetrable. 

So what if he could hear nothing beyond his own heavy breathing, could 
see nothing all around him except those persistent spots before his eyes 
. . . 

"Shit!" Jack wiped a damp palm over his face, mixing cold sweat with the 
streaks of blood from the cut on his head that was pounding even harder 
from the exertion. 

Now that he was standing at the barricade itself, he remembered 
everything. He remembered hauling Daniel ahead of him, flinging him 
bodily towards the light, towards the mouth of the cave. And, with that 
effort, he had thrown himself off balance, stumbling on the rocky ground. 
By the time he regained his feet he had found himself faced with a thick 
barrage of falling rocks, cutting him off from the daylight beyond, 
separating him from the one thing that could save him. 

Every survival instinct in Jack's body had left him with only one 
critical choice, to dive back the way they had come, out from beneath the 
pummelling boulders, away from the debris that would smother and crush 
him if he attempted to pass through it. 

He had actually chosen to go back into darkness rather than die beneath a 
tomb of rock. What did that say about him? 

"Shit!" 

But if the cave-in really was as dense as it appeared, Daniel may not 
have made it as far as that beckoning daylight? What if the falling rocks 
had crushed him instead? 

And, if Daniel hadn't made it out . . . 

"Reality bites!" Jack declared solemnly, the truth of their dire 
situation now impossible to ignore. 

And even if he could convince himself that rescue was at hand, that 
Daniel had survived and, along with the rest of the team, was digging him 
out piece by piece, with the wall of rock so suffocatingly close, and not 
a single sound penetrating it, how long was it going to take? How long 
could he remain inside this pitch-black tomb and stay sane? 

"Where there's a will there's a way . . ." he murmured ruefully. 

It was a dangerous game he was about to play. Jack knew it. He knew the 
only chance he might have to survive this was to remember how he had 
survived it before. To let those memories resurface, flood his mind with 
thoughts of all the times he had been trapped in the dark, and the ways 
he had got through it. To let it all out, starting right the way back at 
the beginning, and see just where it would take him. 

The sheer prospect made him even more nauseous than the spinning of his 
concussed head, and the simple thought of throwing up sprang all sorts of 
fear filled symmetry to mind. 

"That's why I haven't eaten pizza in weeks," Jack realised aloud, a sick 
sense of irony prompting a bitter laugh from dusty lips, "Oh yeah, nice 
one Jack, thoughts like that are really gonna stop you from going out of 
your mind!" 

                         *******************

The batteries in another flashlight began to flicker and wane, dying 
right before Daniel's eyes as though it was a sign. And, as tired as he 
was, as near hysterical as he was, he couldn't help beginning to yell at 
the top of his voice. 

"J-A-C-K!" 

Daniel had been carefully and painstakingly removing heavy boulders and 
jagged chunks of sandstone for over six hours, six hours of shifting 
debris out of the way only to have more rocks fall into the space. It was 
like two steps forward and one step back and Daniel couldn't avoid the 
irony in that fact. 

Jack's whole life in the last eight weeks had been two steps forward and 
one step back. And now that finally it had seemed like a continuous 
forward stride, it had only taken one act of utter stupidity from someone 
who called himself a friend to cause Jack's downfall. 

With a growing feeling of certainty, Daniel was sure that even if Jack 
had not been crushed by the rock fall, and indeed his body had not been 
unearthed in the few yards they had cleared, then he would probably have 
gone out of his mind by now, trapped in the dark. 

Out of touch, out of communication, beyond help. 

Off his rocker, whacko, out to lunch, three fries short of a happy meal, 
loony tunes, one sandwich short of a picnic, one can short of a six pack. 
Daniel could practically hear Jack's caustic tone reciting every metaphor 
he could think of to cover the fact that he was slowly going out of his 
mind. 

And it was all Daniel's fault. 

"JACK! FOR CRYING OUT LOUD, IF YOU'RE IN THERE, ANSWER ME!" 

Teal'c and Sam practically ignored Daniel's frantic cry. They had their 
own demons to fight, the ones that were saying they should never have let 
the Colonel split them up that morning. That they should have stayed with 
him, just this time, just to make sure he made it back to the stargate in 
one piece, and proved he was fit for duty. The ones that were saying they 
should never have let him set foot on this planet, when they all knew he 
wasn't fit for duty, how could he be after all he had been subjected to. 
And the ones that were asking whose fault it was that Jack had got caught 
in Egypt in the first place. 

Teal'c had been off world. Sam had been stranded in the States, her 
passport invalidated. Yet both of them knew they should have been there. 
They should have found a way to save their Colonel from any of what he 
had gone through. He would have done it for them. He *had* done it for 
them. 

And the fact that he'd been doing exactly that for Daniel when he got 
into such a mess was not helping any of them cope with their 
recriminations. 

So they let Daniel yell and scream and wail all he wanted, until he began 
to cough dryly, until he ran out of breath and could no longer stop the 
dust from choking his throat. They let him yell and scream and wished 
they could join him. But Teal'c and Sam were military, born and raised, 
and it was not the done thing to vent such displays of anger and 
frustration in public. Neither had done it before, and, perhaps, neither 
ever would. 

Instead they continued to lift chunks of rock and debris from the barrier 
protecting them from the truth, the wall that had come down between the 
team and their leader, like a barricade once more denying them the 
ability to help him. 

Carter cast a glance at Daniel, a look of surprise forming on her face as 
she realised what she was truly feeling. She envied him. She envied him 
the ability to show his emotions, to scream and shout and let it all out. 
But she also envied him for having been in a position to save the Colonel 
before. Twice. Perhaps even a third time if what Janet told her was true, 
that Daniel had managed to get Jack to talk about some of his 
experiences, something Sam knew she would never be able to do. 

Daniel had saved the Colonel more times than most people would ever get a 
chance to do. He had repaid some of the debt they all owed for times 
past. For all the times when Jack had saved them, whether by denying some 
dumb ass political leader the ability to send them into unconscionable 
danger, or all the times he had saved the day with his unique grasp of 
the obvious, his capacity to remain clear headed and come up with the 
common sense solution, or through the dozens of heroic acts he had 
committed without a second thought to his own safety since the very first 
time he ever set foot inside the SGC. 

Colonel O'Neill had saved them all more times than anyone could count 
and, just for once, Captain Samantha Carter would really have appreciated 
being able to do the same for him. 

"COLONEL O'NEILL, ARE YOU IN THERE?" 

Daniel's persistent coughing cut short and he stared in astonishment at 
Sam, his lips curving slightly at the discovery that perhaps he was not 
alone in his desperate need to hear a sign that everything would turn out 
fine. 

"O'NEILL! RESPOND!" 

Teal'c raised an eyebrow at the incredulous looks he received from both 
Captain Carter and Daniel Jackson, "Have you never before heard the howl 
of a Jaffa?" 

"No, Teal'c, actually, I don't think I have!" Daniel replied. He glanced 
from Teal'c to Sam and back, receiving their nods of agreement to his 
unspoken suggestion. 

With a combined inhalation of breath all three yelled in unison, "C-O-L-
O-N-E-L O'-N-E-I-L-L!" 

                         *******************

"Jack, why do you keep doing what you do?" Cassie asked quietly. 

He looked at her oddly, "Why do you ask?" 

"Mom says one team alone shouldn't have to keep saving the world. That 
sooner or later we all have to take responsibility." 

She smiled slyly, knowing that what Janet had said was not supposed to 
have been repeated, and certainly not to Jack of all people, but Cassie 
couldn't help it, she wanted to help him make the right decision, a 
decision she had somehow known was on his mind from the moment he had 
turned up on the doorstep early that Saturday morning and bashfully 
apologised that he couldn't spend the whole day with her, he had to get 
home, Sara was there. 

"Mom says you deserve to retire and settle down with Sara. She says your 
greatest enemy is dead, so why shouldn't you make a break for it too!" 

"She said all that?" Jack grinned curiously, contemplating that thought 
for a moment. It was true, Apophis was supposedly dead, or at least he 
had looked pretty much the worse for wear when they had sent him back to 
Sokar two months ago . . . God, had it only been two months? It seemed 
like a lifetime since he had even thought about that last mission and the 
end of Earth's nemesis. 

The last mission . . . maybe that was the way it should stay. 

"You never know, maybe she's right," Jack admitted softly. 

"Mom's always right!" 

Jack couldn't get over how good that conversation had been with Cassie. 
How much he had worried about what he was going to say to her, to ensure 
she understood everything that had gone through his mind in the seconds 
leading up to that fateful moment when he had actually pulled the trigger 
of an ancient Colt aimed at her head. 

He had been so concerned that she really understood what had happened. 
Yet, when it came down to it, it was as if Cassie already knew everything 
about it. 

And, apparently, that wasn't all that she knew. Typical, that it would 
take a ten-year-old girl to understand what was going on in his head. But 
maybe it didn't matter what age the girl, if what she had to say was 
anything to go by, it seemed that Janet had him figured out too. 

And he already knew that Sara had. 

Thanks to Sara, Jack's efforts to revisit his past, to relive all those 
other times he had been trapped in the dark in an attempt to survive this 
present experience, had left him with a surprising sense of acceptance. A 
willingness to face it, to live with what had been done to him, instead 
of reliving it, instead of letting it rule his life and fill every action 
with the threat of resurgence. 

Sara's innate level of understanding, her ability to get under his skin 
and into his head, had saved him from this infinite darkness. 

Now, if only he knew why the three women in his life seemed to understand 
stuff about him that he barely understood himself, maybe he would finally 
know the answer. But he was rapidly realising that only time would 
provide an answer to that question. The question that returned to fill 
his thoughts as his fear of the darkness receded, the question of 
retirement. 

The question of whether he should continue to be known as Colonel 
O'Neill. 

"COLONEL O'NEILL!" 

Jack blinked rapidly, as though surfacing from a dream, wondering why the 
voices inside his head had increased in volume. 

"C-O-L-O-N-E-L O'-N-E-I-L-L!" 

The words came again, followed by another long pause, and Jack finally 
realised the noise was no longer just inside his head. 

"THAT'S MY NAME!" He yelled back dazedly, "DON'T WEAR IT OUT!" 

                         *******************

The dusty trio fell silent, looks of astonished delight creeping over 
their faces. 

Daniel was the first to find his voice, "Please tell me I'm not the only 
one who heard that!" 

"It did indeed sound like O'Neill," Teal'c responded with the beginnings 
of a smile. 

"Yep, that's the Colonel alright, you'd better answer him before he 
starts to think he's dreaming!" Sam grinned, already reaching up to 
remove another boulder from the wall of rock they still had to break 
through in order to rescue their leader. 

                         *******************

Wednesday: After Shocks 

With another four hours of exhausting work behind them, the sun had risen 
again by the time they made headway with a gap in the wall. Struggling to 
make it big enough without bringing another fall of rock down on top of 
them, Daniel crawled in between several boulders too large to move, 
pushing his way through a few feet of loose debris on the other side to 
emerge with a sigh of relief. 

"Jack?" He glanced around, waiting for his eyes to become accustomed to 
the darkness, the only light coming from the gap in the barricade through 
which he had just squeezed, all their flashlight batteries and flares 
long since expended. 

"Jack, answer me, where the hell are you?" 

Daniel's nervous call went unanswered and for a dreadful minute he 
wondered if Jack had suffocated, if the vast cavern beyond had become his 
tomb after all. 

Then his eyes adjusted sufficiently to make out the body, a few yards 
away, leaning against the opposite wall of the tunnel where it began to 
widen out away from the cave entrance. 

As he stepped away from the rock fall, Daniel kicked what he assumed was 
a stone, but the clunking noise was metallic and he bent down to feel 
around blindly, rapping his knuckles against the solid metal of a heavy 
flashlight buried in the debris. Grasping the barrel in his hand, he 
fumbled for the switch, a silent prayer leaving his lips that perhaps it 
would still work. 

The light that shone out revealed the broken glass around a naked bulb, 
but the rest was intact and Daniel directed the beam across the rubble-
strewn floor towards Jack, holding his breath as he took in the scene. 

Jack was lying propped up against the sandstone wall of the cave, his 
eyes closed. A dark streak of blood marked one side of his face where he 
had obviously hit his head, and Daniel could not prevent his mind from 
going back to that darkened tomb deep inside the ancient pyramid of 
Kheops and the sight of Jack and Cassie, blood pouring down Jack's face 
from a bullet that had grazed his left temple. 

Shaking his head, Daniel forced his thoughts back to the present and 
knelt down beside his friend. With an awful sense of déjà vu, he raised 
his free hand to press fingertips trembling with exhaustion against 
Jack's neck, hoping to detect a pulse. 

Letting out the breath he'd been holding, Daniel sighed in relief and 
softly called his name, "Jack, come on, wake up. It's time to get out of 
here." 

He lifted Jack's chin, tapping his palm lightly against Jack's cheek, 
trying to revive him, not knowing whether he was asleep, passed out, 
catatonic, or had simply wandered off somewhere mentally. 

Daniel thought he heard a soft groan and his movements increased in 
urgency, slapping Jack's cheek until he began to respond. 

"Jack, wake up! Come on, come back to us." 

"Uh . . ." Jack's eyes flickered open a fraction, rapidly screwing 
tightly shut against the brightness of the light that flooded his senses 
with painful stimuli. 

Daniel tilted the flashlight beam away from Jack's face and tried again, 
"Come on, Jack, wake up. It's time to go home." 

"Daniel?" Jack's voice was barely a whisper, the hesitancy in it enough 
to make Daniel's heart clench remorsefully. 

"Time to go home, Jack," Daniel's voice cracked hoarsely, "Time to go see 
Sara." 

"Daniel?" 

"Yeah, Jack." 

Jack's eyes finally opened all the way, an expression so unshielded that 
Daniel thought he knew exactly what he had been going through in the 
interminable ten hours trapped in this dark tomb. So Jack's next words 
took him completely by surprise. 

"What took you so long?" Jack's face broke into a grin that became a 
grimace as he tried to move, his head and ribs a simultaneous reminder of 
why he'd been unable to stay awake the last few hours. It really was time 
to give his body a rest from this constant punishment. 

He squinted up at Daniel, "I think I found the answer." 

"Yeah, Jack," Daniel nodded slowly, ducking lower to meet his wavering 
gaze, "Earthquakes. That's why nobody lives here." 

"No . . ." Jack shook his head, closing his eyes tightly as his vision 
started to swim again. When he opened them, Daniel saw a level of resolve 
he had not expected amidst the dazed look, "I can't do this anymore, I 
don't think I even want to . . . but I know what I do want . . ." 

Suddenly understanding his train of thought, the one obvious thing Jack 
would have been thinking about during the long night he had been trapped, 
Daniel nodded again, "Sara." 

"Yeah," Jack admitted huskily. 

"I don't blame you, Jack." Daniel met his gaze, "Nobody would." 

"Thanks, Daniel." 

                         *******************

With Jack clearly concussed and unsteady on his feet, it took both Daniel 
and Teal'c to get him out of that hole, out into sunlight so bright that 
Jack could not see without squinting, even when one of them fished his 
sunglasses from a pocket and shoved them over his eyes. 

Sam had been shocked at the state of him, the glassy eyed expression, and 
the bloody cut on his forehead, not to mention being dehydrated to the 
point that he was barely lucid. At least that was something she could 
start to treat straight away, they still had several cans of water left 
in their packs. It was just a pity that Doctor Fraiser's idea of ensuring 
the Colonel did not have to carry a rucksack had backfired so dreadfully, 
leaving him with no fluids or food all the time he had been trapped alone 
inside the cave. 

As for the rest of him, there was nothing they could do until they 
reached the SGC. Sam knew he was concussed, it didn't take a degree in 
medicine to figure that out, but, from the way he was holding himself, 
she could tell that wasn't his only new injury. 

With Teal'c's help they managed to get the Colonel down off of that rock 
and onto level ground, slowly crossing the sandy desert floor and wishing 
that for once these accidents would occur just a little closer to the 
stargate. 

By the time they had the DHD in sight, Carter was almost frantic with 
concern. Colonel O'Neill had scarcely spoken since emerging into the 
sunlight from the dark cavern. He was silent and withdrawn, and Sam 
didn't know how bad the bash to his skull had been, or what she could 
possibly do about it. 

So her relief as she reached the DHD at last and began dialling for home, 
was tangible. Not to mention shared by the rest of her extremely 
exhausted team. 

                         *******************

With the time lag between planets, General Hammond barely had time to 
read his mail that morning before Sergeant Davis informed him they had 
just received SG-1's IDC. 

He hurried down to meet the returning team at the ramp, shocked by the 
bloody and dishevelled appearance of two of the group, not to mention the 
dusty and fatigued expressions of them all. 

"Colonel O'Neill? What happened?" He asked as they silently shed their 
gear and handed it to the duty sergeant to check back into the armoury 
and supply room. 

"We had a slight mishap, sir," Captain Carter piped up before Jack was 
forced to answer, knowing her commanding officer was in no state to give 
a coherent explanation. 

Hammond looked at her closely, then he turned to the two injured team 
members, giving them a quick once over. He noted the bloody cuts on their 
heads, their dazed and weary expressions and wondered what was holding 
each man upright. Clearly, none of the team was in a position to give a 
rational debriefing right now. 

"Get to the infirmary and get cleaned up," he instructed. "I'll see you 
all in the briefing room once Doctor Fraiser has cleared you." 

Jack barely acknowledged the General's order before heading from the 
room, finding new strength in his legs as he sought escape, disappearing 
around the corner of the corridor before the rest of them could follow. 

As he passed the elevator on his way to the emergency stairwell, the 
doors slid open and, without pausing to think, Jack bolted inside, almost 
knocking over the person exiting. With barely an apology, he hit the 
button for sub level eleven several times before the doors closed and the 
car began to move. 

Praying that no one would be waiting at any of the floors in between, 
Jack leaned into the corner by the control panel, unconsciously staying 
out of sight of the security camera above him. The elevator came to a 
halt at sub-level eleven without incident, and Jack dashed along the 
empty corridor and through the emergency exit. He did not stop until he 
reached ground level, bursting from the stairwell as soon as the door 
clicked open in response to his panicky badge swipe. 

Once he was outside, Jack stood gasping for air, hanging his head as he 
leaned against the door jamb unsteadily and waited for the cold sweat and 
dizziness to pass enough for him to make it to the parking lot without 
blacking out, all the while praying Daniel had left his car unlocked. He 
couldn't help wondering if his encouragement of Daniel's key hiding 
tactics may have been a subconscious ploy to provide a fast getaway in 
case it was ever needed, like now for instance. 

Finding Daniel's vehicle in the spot where the younger man habitually 
left it, Jack found the door opened easily. With a sigh of relief, he 
shoved his hand down the back of the rear seat, looking for the spare key 
he knew would be there, figuring that, for once, Daniel had come up with 
a good idea. 

The dizziness from what he knew was a concussion was the least of Jack's 
worries in attempting to drive down the mountain. The hardest part was in 
using a single hand to control the steering wheel around the hairpin 
bends, since he could barely move his right without wanting to gasp in 
agony, and that just sparked off a whole set of memories that he really 
did not need to revisit. So, despite his hurry, Jack forced himself to 
slow down to a pace that was more likely to get him home in the one piece 
he so desperately needed. 

For hours now he had been thinking of Sara, of what she meant to him, and 
of the consequences had he died inside that cave. In a way he found 
totally uncharacteristic for someone who was supposed to be a battle 
hardened Air Force Colonel, Jack had been thinking about being in Sara's 
arms, about what she would have said had she been right there beside him 
in the dark, and about the comfort, support and love that they could 
share if only he could give them the chance. 

Most important of all, Jack had been thinking about the only way that 
chance would ever come, the only way he could guarantee their happiness 
together and ensure Sara's safety from all the ways his current life 
could hurt her. 

They seemed like strange thoughts for him to have, a man who had always 
been a loner, a survivor, living on the frontline for so long. But 
eventually Jack had realised perhaps it was that forced detachment he had 
spent his entire career refining that left him needing Sara so much now. 

She had shown him what it could be like to share feelings, in a way that 
he had never allowed to happen even while they were married. All that 
time, not once had he let her in on the stuff going through his head 
post-mission, all the incidents that had left their harrowing mark on his 
psyche. He had never shared any of that with anyone before, he had only 
ever taken the infinite amount of comfort Sara was willing to give, and 
given whatever love he could in return without unlocking that part of him 
which remained strictly out of bounds all the time he was off duty. 

It had always needed to be that way before, the only way that guaranteed 
him the ability to turn away whenever he had to, and retreat back to that 
selfish isolated world he worked in. To turn away at a moment's notice 
without looking back, and to shut out all that distracting concern for 
his family so that he might have some chance of surviving the mission and 
returning to them once more. 

There were reasons why so few of his brothers-in-arms ever had lives 
outside Special Forces. And the fact that he had met and fallen in love 
with such a selfless, giving woman so early in his career was probably 
the only thing that had secured their marriage, their relationship, at 
least until outside forces had come to bear, forces that had little to do 
with his profession except for his possession of the handgun that his son 
had been playing with, the weapon that had killed Charlie, and destroyed 
his family. 

But the last few days had shown Jack what had been absent all those 
years, they had opened his eyes to something he had never even realised 
he had been without. So maybe it did seem strange for the hardened leader 
of SG-1 to be thinking about love and sharing, but only because it was 
probably the first time in years that he had allowed himself that 
indulgence. 

And because this was the first time in his entire career that he had 
begun to feel the work might be less important than securing a future for 
himself and Sara. 

And Jack knew from all the times he had witnessed it happen to other 
people, other comrades-in-arms, that there remained only two things he 
could do now that he had arrived at this point, only two options open to 
him. Either give up the job or give up the girl. 

Sometime during the darkest hours of the previous night, trapped inside a 
cavern, light years away from home, Jack had decided which option he 
wanted to take. And he had realised how much things had changed in the 
last few months. 

He was beginning to understand that things had been set in motion even 
before he had flown to Egypt, when the greatest nemesis of the SGC, Earth 
and himself had hissed his last breath. When Apophis died and they had 
sent the body back to Sokar, the threat to Earth, and to all those who 
Jack cared about within the SGC, had died with him. 

The weight of importance had shifted, the balance swinging from the job 
to the girl for the first time in years. 

And now that the girl had returned to his life, Jack felt like he had 
been given one last chance to make the right choice. 

Somehow, with all that in mind, his desperate desire to get home, to 
ignore the dizziness and pounding of his head or the pain of a multitude 
of bumps and bruises on his body, to cope with the use of only his left 
hand, to escape the SGC without having his injuries checked, without 
waiting for permission from his CO, without hanging around while they 
found him a driver. All that seemed a lot less irrational to him when he 
simply accepted the reasons for it. 

And when he eventually reached home, barely remembering the miles in 
between, Jack was more relieved to find Sara's Jeep on the driveway than 
he would dare admit. 

He slammed the door of Daniel's car and practically ran inside. "Sara!" 

He found her in the kitchen, clearing up after breakfast, the top 
cupboard open and a box of cereal poised as she reached up to put it 
away. 

Sara's hand froze in midair when Jack entered the room, and she gasped in 
shock at the state of him. The cut on his head was still covered in 
blood, matting his hair, mixing with the filth and dust ground into his 
face. There was dried blood on his clothes too and Sara couldn't be sure 
whether it was his or not. His pallor beneath the dirt was pasty and 
grey, and he looked utterly spent, like he hadn't slept or eaten in the 
two days since she had last seen him. 

"Oh my god, Jack, what happened to you?" 

Reacting automatically, she moved quickly to the sink, running a towel 
under the cold-water tap until it was soaked. Sara squeezed it out and 
tried to dab at the blood to see how bad the injury was while Jack stood 
helplessly swaying, one hand cradling the other, unable to explain 
anything, words failing him as the relief of being home, of seeing Sara 
again, overwhelmed him. 

"Hold still," Sara told him, placing her free hand on his shoulder. She 
could feel him trembling, but she didn't know whether it was from fear, 
shock or exhaustion, she could see signs of all three in his eyes, and in 
the dazed expression on his face. 

Taking control, she helped Jack over to a chair and sat him down, 
crouching beside him to examine him more closely. 

"Tell me what happened, Jack," she urged gently, moving away to get the 
first aid kit off the top of a cupboard and find iodine to clean the 
wound. "Are you hurt anywhere else?" she asked when he still didn't 
speak. "How's your ribcage?" 

"About as bruised as my pride," Jack snorted, finally speaking in a 
hoarse tone. 

He tilted his head to squint at her, realising he had to say something to 
explain the state he was in, "Daniel and me, we had an accident, a cave-
in. I got trapped for a few hours . . ." his voice hitched and he 
swallowed convulsively. 

Sara regarded him for a moment, struggling against concern and fear that 
threatened to smother all sensible thought. Busying herself, she got up 
to fill a glass of water from the fridge, helping him sip from it while 
she watched. "What about Daniel?" she eventually asked softly. 

"He's okay . . . we both are, really . . . I'm sorry, I shouldn't have 
turned up in such a mess . . . but I needed to see you . . ." Jack looked 
at her then, grasping her hand as she lowered the glass, forcing her to 
meet his gaze and listen to his vital words. 

"Sara, all the time I was stuck in there . . . I stopped thinking about 
the past, I was thinking about what would happen if I didn't get out of 
that damn cave. What would happen to you . . . to us . . . everything 
we'd lose." He turned away for a moment, his dark eyes filled with 
emotion, "Sara, I can't do this anymore . . . I can't put you through it, 
I won't . . . I'm going to retire." 

"Jack, you can't! You don't have to do that, not for me." 

"It's not just for you, I don't want to lose you and I don't want to live 
like this anymore! I know what I want. I can't keep pushing my luck. 
Sooner or later something will happen if I carry on like this. The 
thought of dying, just when we've got things working between us . . . I 
can't get it out of my head! It's effecting my decisions out in the field 
and that's dangerous to the rest of my team as well as me. I can't do it 
anymore! That was my last mission. I'm finished with it!" 

Sara studied him for a moment, the resolve that shone out in his eyes. 
She knew he had been considering it for several days. He had agreed to 
wait until he was positive, and perhaps that time was now, Jack wasn't 
renowned for lengthy speeches, and yet he had just given one with 
absolute conviction despite his exhausted state. 

"What will you do?" she finally asked. 

"It's not important, so long as I'm with you." 

Sara regarded him dubiously, wondering how such an active man would 
possibly be satisfied with a settled life after all this time, especially 
when the job had seemed of such vital importance before. But she knew 
Jack meant what he said. And she knew it was a choice she would 
ordinarily be delighted with, if only the dreadful state of him didn't 
leave her with so many questions as to the true rationale behind his 
decision. 

For now, it was irrelevant, she needed to check him over, and he needed 
to get some sleep, before either of them could face his life-altering 
declaration sensibly. 

"Jack, let's get you cleaned up, then you need to rest. We can talk about 
this later." 

Sara looked at his fatigues, a worrying thought occurring to her, "Do 
they even know you're here?" Jack shrugged feebly, refusing to meet her 
questioning gaze. "Give me your CO's number, I'll contact him." 

"You don't have to do that," Jack murmured. 

"Yes I do. They'll be worried about you, Jack," she kissed his grubby 
forehead lovingly. "It'll be okay, don't worry, we'll sort it out. Come 
on," she tugged at his right arm to help him stand. 

"Ow!" Jack cried out, pulling away and cradling his wrist in his other 
hand. He had made the most important decision of his life, and he had 
told Sara. Now he was too exhausted and too hurting to worry about hiding 
anything anymore. 

"What's wrong with your wrist?" Sara asked worriedly. 

"Don't know. It hurts like hell." 

Sara knelt back down in front of him, carefully resting her hand beneath 
his, taking the weight of his arm and pushing his sleeve high enough to 
examine his wrist closely. "It's swollen, can you move your fingers?" 

"Yeah, but it hurts. I don't think it's broken, it doesn't feel like 
that." 

"Maybe you've sprained it. Did you land on it?" 

Jack shrugged, "Probably. I don't really remember. I was too busy getting 
out of the way." 

"Well, we can wrap it in ice to try and bring the swelling down, it will 
numb the pain at least." She rocked back on her heels and gazed at him. 
"You know we ought to get you checked over properly, at a hospital," she 
suggested tentatively, finally realising how much his decision had meant 
to him to prevent him from getting Janet to examine him at the base, to 
come straight home without even changing his clothes, and without telling 
anyone where he was going. 

"But I guess it's been a long enough night," she decided compassionately, 
"Maybe the hospital can wait?" Jack nodded gratefully. "A hot bath, an 
ice pack . . ." she glanced at the cut on his head, "a couple of ice 
packs, and a good long sleep. We'll have you fixed up in no time," she 
declared positively. 

With that, Sara stood up, moving to Jack's left side to help him up 
beside her, his left arm around her shoulders as she waited several 
seconds while he steadied himself, holding her tightly as his vision 
swam. 

"Jack, how hard did you hit your head?" she asked, trying to keep the 
anxiety from her voice. 

"I'm okay, Sara, honest," he attempted to assure her. "I'll admit I 
probably got a bit concussed, but I'm okay, it happened hours ago. Apart 
from a little dizziness and a lot of headache, I'm fine. I just need to 
get some sleep." 

He raised his head to gaze at her deeply before letting his arm drift 
down her back, pulling her into a long anticipated embrace. Nuzzling 
against her neck with a sigh of relief, he whispered into her ear, "And I 
need to be home with you." 

Tightening her hold, Sara nodded, absorbing the strength of emotion in 
his one armed hug and swallowing against the lump in her throat, feelings 
that threatened to overflow at the sight of him. 

She had missed him so much the last few days, and in truth she had got 
little sleep herself with all the times she had woken wondering what he 
would be doing, where he was, and most importantly, how he was. To 
discover now what he had been going through was frightening to realise, 
but it also made her want to look after him even more, to be with him, 
and to share his love. She was so glad he was home, and she was even 
gladder that he felt the same way. 

Jack's legs were wobbly as she helped him climb the stairs to the 
bathroom, pushing aside a pile of towels to sit him down on the wooden 
stool while she ran hot water into the bath and helped him out of his 
dusty clothing, being exceptionally careful as she pulled his jacket and 
t-shirt off over his right arm. 

By the time she had finished, he was shivering, standing naked and 
vulnerable in the centre of his large warm bathroom. Sara quickly helped 
him into the hot soapy water, hoping it was purely cold or exhaustion 
that was causing his tremors, not the onset of shock or a reaction to the 
concussion he was suffering. 

Ensuring he was safe to lay back and soak for a few minutes, Sara hurried 
downstairs to boil the kettle and raid the freezer. 

Returning with a hot sweet mug of tea and several bags of ice, she found 
that Jack had barely moved. He was lying in the steamy water, his eyes 
closed as if asleep, and his right arm resting safely on his chest. He 
reacted slowly when she re-entered the room, his dazed and weary 
expression even more apparent now that some of the dirt and blood had 
washed away. 

"Drink this," she perched on the edge of the bath and handed him the hot 
drink. "All of it," she warned softly. 

Ignoring the look of disgust on his face at the sweetness of the tea, 
Sara let him sip from the mug while, gently as possible, she wrapped the 
largest ice pack around his right wrist, fastening it with two wide 
elastic bands to hold it in place. Then she took away the empty cup and 
handed him the other bag to hold against his throbbing head while she 
soaked a facecloth in hot water and carefully began to clean him up. 

It wasn't easy to hide her reaction to all the new bruises she found, but 
somehow Sara managed, deciding that Jack had probably been through enough 
of an ordeal in the last few days without having to suffer a distraught 
female. 

His chest and back were a multitude of new colour, stark evidence of how 
close to the cave-in he must have been when it happened. The cut on his 
forehead was right beneath the hairline, but fortunately shallow enough 
that she didn't think it would need stitches. The swollen bump that went 
with it she took as a good sign, the bruising was coming out rather than 
causing inward pressure against his skull. 

In fact, the way Jack reacted to her washing and prodding put Sara's mind 
at ease. The way he yelped and complained was something he only ever did 
if he wasn't badly hurt, if he didn't think there was something he had to 
hide from her. And she couldn't help finding him utterly endearing, the 
way he watched every move defencelessly, ready to flinch before she'd 
even touched him, the way he looked at her with such gratitude, and the 
way he sheepishly thanked her for taking care of him again. 

Right then Sara knew she was wrapped around his little finger. There was 
no way she was going anywhere without him, no way she would ever want to. 
And she couldn't help see the irony in how happy she felt about that, 
considering the state of Jack, nor in how contented he looked too. 

When he was cleaned up to her satisfaction, Sara helped Jack stand, 
wrapping him in a thick bathrobe to keep him warm while she dried him 
off, careful to avoid knocking his right wrist, packed with ice and 
cradled once again in his other hand. 

If anything, that was the injury she was most worried about, more so than 
the huge bruise she found on his hip as she towelled him dry, or the 
other multiple contusions on his torso, probably even more so than the 
concussion to his head, because he was right about that, if it had 
happened that long ago any effects would hopefully have become apparent 
by now. 

She was more concerned about his hand and how much of a setback this 
wrist injury might be to the healing process that had been so important 
to him before he had decided to retire. And the only way to allay those 
fears would be to get it checked over by an expert, and preferably a 
friendly one like Janet Fraiser. But she would be at work and, right now, 
Jack needed to rest. 

Helping him into the bedroom, Sara sat Jack down on the edge of the bed, 
rubbing a towel through his hair to dry it off before she eventually 
stepped back to consider the next move. Jack looked pale and overwrought. 
The whole experience, whatever had happened, had clearly distressed him, 
and the best thing for him now was sleep. 

She pulled back the covers and nudged him down inside. "You need to stay 
warm and get some rest." She sat down on the bed beside him, studying the 
look in his eyes, "Do you want to tell me what happened?" 

"I blew it, that's what happened," Jack's low voice was harsh. He shook 
his head, scrunching his eyes shut against the new bout of dizziness that 
foolish motion caused, "It doesn't matter, not anymore. All that matters 
is my retirement, and how soon I can make it happen." 

He opened his eyes to gaze at her, "I want to spend time with you, if 
you'll have me." 

"You know I will," Sara whispered, "I always will, Jack." She swallowed, 
leaning in to kiss his lips so tenderly. "Get some sleep, I'll be back to 
check on you later." 

                         *******************

Sara headed downstairs, trying to figure out how to get in touch with 
Jack's CO at the Cheyenne Mountain base. She was pretty certain he had 
mentioned the man's name at some point in the last week, if only she 
could recall what it had been, that would make her task a lot easier. 

The answer would probably have come more quickly, Sara decided, if she 
had been able to focus her mind, but delving into her recent memories in 
an effort to conjure up a name only left her dwelling on the same 
thoughts that she had spent the past two days contemplating. Thoughts 
about the weekend they had spent together, and of some of the surprising 
words that Jack had spoken. 

Words that seemed a little less surprising given the announcement he had 
made today. And words that meant even more to her now, knowing they had 
not simply been a fleeting emotion. 

She especially couldn't help lingering on the events of that Sunday 
morning, the way Jack had woken her shortly after dawn, the way they had 
made love, and the way he had spoken to her afterwards, as she lay 
encircled in the warmth of his arms. 

"You make me whole . . ." Jack's tender words had been accompanied by a 
soft kiss nuzzling her cheek, his arms tightening around her as they lay 
together beneath the blanket that he had tucked around their bodies as 
they began to cool. 

"Promise you won't leave me again," he had added, startling Sara enough 
so that she had turned in his arms to meet his gaze, "Even though I'm 
leaving you tomorrow for a while, promise you won't leave me again?" 

He had taken her speechlessness as a need to be convinced, continuing to 
speak in a way she had never heard him talk before, a way she had never 
expected to hear him talk no matter all that they had been through 
together. 

"You give me balance, Sara. You make me whole. This week, for the first 
time in years, I feel complete again." 

He regarded her earnestly, "I know what I said yesterday, about needing 
this mission to prove something to myself. But, right now, I'd give up my 
post for you, I would gladly retire today if you asked me to." 

He turned even more serious, gazing into her blue eyes as she lay beside 
him, chewing her lip thoughtfully, "Mrs O'Neill would you consider 
spending the rest of your life with me?" 

"Jack, maybe we should be taking this day by day? Remember that one step 
at a time thing?" Sara suggested hesitantly, somewhat overwhelmed by all 
that he had said. 

She so wanted this story to end happily ever after, but they were both 
adults, neither believed in fairy tales, and she knew they couldn't 
expect to simply walk away, arm in arm, from their own separate lives 
without facing a few hurdles. Life was never that easy, was it? 

Still, Sara could not deny how much she would like it to go that way, and 
maybe she shouldn't deny Jack that simple piece of truth. 

"Jack, I feel the same way as you do. But I think we need to take this 
thing one day at a time," she admitted sincerely, "You know, make sure 
we're both in accord, that we're not doing anything either one of us will 
regret later." 

"Unity," Jack nodded understanding, "I can do that." He smiled slyly, his 
left hand wandering up inside the blanket to fondle her right breast. 

"Although, right now I would gladly spend forever with you . . . 
especially if you carry on doing that!" Sara giggled at his brazen 
seduction. "Colonel O'Neill, what are you doing to me!" she exclaimed 
with a laugh, fighting back with sensuous fingertips that began stroking 
the curve of his abdomen and across the top of his thighs. 

"Me?" Jack protested with an innocent grin, "You're the one who insists 
on pushing my ribs to the limit!" 

In fact, the more Sara thought about the weekend she and Jack had spent 
together, the less surprising his decision became. Things had changed 
between them. It was different to when they were married, it was fresh 
and new, and above all it was honest and open. And maybe it wasn't so 
surprising that Jack wanted to retire and really make the most of what 
they had started together, especially now that they both knew what life 
was like without each other, now that they were even more afraid of 
losing each other again. 

Because, for sure, she was probably more terrified than ever of him 
getting hurt or killed on duty, or getting captured again with all that 
she now knew could possibly be done to him. 

But she didn't want Jack to be afraid that she would leave him unless he 
gave up his job. That was never going to happen and she hoped she had 
managed to convince him of that fact during their weekend together. She 
hoped his decision today to retire had been based purely on his own 
needs, perhaps swayed by the fact that he was too distracted to focus on 
a dangerous mission, but hopefully mostly because it was what he wanted 
to do, not what he felt he had to do. And because his work truly was no 
longer as important as it once had been. 

Perhaps that last question was one she needed to put to his CO, as soon 
as she remembered his name and figured out how to contact him. 

The man was a General, that much she did recall. Smiling to herself, Sara 
moved across the living room to Jack's telephone and picked up the 
address book beside it, paging through to the letter G as she wondered 
just how lateral Jack's filing system could possibly be. 

"Hammond! Of course," Sara exclaimed aloud, suddenly remembering the last 
time she had looked through Jack's address book, after she had brought 
him home from the police station, that fateful Saturday morning that had 
heralded the beginning of all this. 

General Hammond. She recalled his brusque Texan accent, the message he 
had left on Jack's answering machine. But she also recalled the fact that 
she had not been able to find his telephone number that day, so she was 
unlikely to find it now. 

"Where there's a will there's a way," Sara muttered to herself, tapping 
her fingers against the address book thoughtfully as she stared at the 
telephone. 

An idea forming, she lifted the receiver and pressed the memory recall 
button, hitting the number one to let the phone automatically dial 
whatever telephone number Jack had programmed in as the highest priority. 
Sara couldn't help laughing out loud when the ringing tone was replaced 
by a recorded message from a pizza delivery service that was not yet open 
for the day. Trust Jack to consider that the number one priority! 

Selecting button number two, Sara tried again. 

On the fifth attempt she struck lucky, the call being answered by a very 
young sounding airman whose reaction was extremely dubious as she 
attempted to persuade him to connect her to General Hammond. 

After what seemed like an eternity of typically military Stars and 
Stripes hold music, Sara got through to her destination. 

"General Hammond? My name is Sara O'Neill, I'm Colonel Jack O'Neill's ex-
wife." 

"Yes, I know who you are, Mrs O'Neill," an authoritative Texan voice 
replied with a distinct tone of suspicion. 

"Good," Sara said, somewhat disconcerted by his reaction. "I'm at Jack's 
house, and I thought you should know that he's here." 

"Is he all right?" the General asked worriedly, unable to hide his 
obvious surprise at the fact that she was at Jack's house and that so was 
he. "We've been searching all over the base for him. How in God's name 
did he make it home?" 

"I don't exactly know how he got here, General, but he's pretty shook up, 
and he's got a few new bumps and bruises. Other than that . . ." Sara 
trailed off, reluctant to give a full amateur diagnosis of Jack's 
injuries, especially to someone she didn't know. 

Even so, there was one question that had to be asked and she took a deep 
breath, praying she was not betraying a confidence, "General, Jack's 
talking about retirement. And I think he means it." 

Before Hammond could say anything, Sara plunged on, "General, I don't 
know what you do there, what Jack does, but I need to know one thing. 
What Jack does, is it really that important? I mean, earth-shatteringly 
vital?" 

"Yes, Mrs O'Neill, it is," Hammond said soberly. 

"But, if Jack was to leave, you could replace him, couldn't you?" 

"Mrs O'Neill," the General took a deep breath and she could guess what 
was coming, perhaps her interruption was just a way to delay the 
inevitable. 

"Please, call me Sara." 

"Sara, I won't lie to you. The work that Jack does is extremely 
dangerous, but also vitally important for the future of this country. If 
I had to place my life, and the lives of all the people on this base, 
into the hands of one man, then I'm afraid that man would have to be, and 
frequently has been, Jack O'Neill. We can't afford to lose him, any more 
than I believe he can afford to retire at this delicate stage of his 
recovery." 

"I understand, General," Sara said quietly, glad this was a telephone 
conversation, so that the man could not see the look in her eyes. "Thank 
you . . . for your honesty. I . . . I'll talk to Jack." 

Sara replaced the telephone on the hook, a trembling hand pressed to her 
mouth with the realisation that there may be only one way for her to 
persuade Jack to go back to work, a way that would require an extreme 
sacrifice, a broken promise, and a lot of hurt. 

                         *******************

General Hammond replaced the telephone and pondered the nature of the 
call for a long moment, a frown creasing his features the more he 
considered what he'd heard. Finally, he picked up the phone again and 
punched in Doctor Fraiser's extension. 

When Janet Fraiser arrived at his office door as instructed a few minutes 
later, General Hammond indicated for her to take a seat. 

"Doctor, I know things have been strained between us in the last two 
months, but I need to ask you a personal question – a follow up to 
something you intimated last week. Your honest answer would be 
appreciated." 

"General?" Janet regarded him warily. 

"What do you know about Sara O'Neill?" 

Janet frowned, "Well . . . General, if you don't mind, why do you wish to 
know?" 

"Because I just had a telephone conversation with her." 

"Jack's home? Is he all right?" Janet's jaw clamped down too late for her 
to stop her blatant question. 

"I take it there is something going on between Jack and his ex-wife?" 
Hammond smiled thinly at the revelation. He couldn't help worrying how it 
would affect the future for them all. 

Janet looked at him, reading the expression on his face as clear as if he 
had said the words, 

"General Hammond, with all due respect, I think Colonel O'Neill has 
earned a life outside this base!" she objected. 

"I don't wish to stop him from getting back together with his wife, 
Doctor, I just want to stop him from retiring!" 

She looked surprised by that detail. "He wants to retire?" 

"Apparently he's considering it," Hammond nodded. "At least that's what 
Mrs O'Neill says." 

"Well, maybe he's been through enough," Janet suggested quietly. "Maybe 
he deserves to get his life back, don't you think?" 

"Doctor, you know as well as I do that none of us can afford such 
luxuries." 

"If that's what you truly believe, General, why did you call me in here?" 

"Because I wanted to know whether Sara O'Neill's version of the situation 
could be relied upon." 

"General, what exactly did you tell Sara when she called?" Janet asked, 
suddenly afraid of what she might be about to hear. 

"I told her the truth, that Jack can't retire. He's too valuable, and 
this place is too important to him." 

"Oh god!" Janet squirmed in her seat, struggling to maintain control, to 
find a way to express her opinion in a reasonably deferential manner, and 
failing miserably. "Due respect, General, what were you thinking? Are you 
deliberately trying to take away the Colonel's support structure, or are 
you so naïve? If you are asking Sara to ensure he does not retire, you 
must realise there is only one way she can do that! By removing herself 
from the equation!" 

"She wouldn't leave him?" 

"You obviously have never met her, General. Sara O'Neill cares more about 
Jack than she does about herself. She will do whatever she thinks is best 
for him. And now that you have advised her that it's best for him to keep 
working here, she will believe she has no alternative but to walk away!" 

"I'm sorry, Doctor, you may consider it part of your remit to get 
involved in the personal lives of your patients, but you know very well 
that I cannot afford to do the same," Hammond declared irritably, losing 
patience with the doctor's insubordinate attitude. "By the very nature of 
this job, my prime concern must be with professional status. As commander 
of the SGC, I must focus on ability in the field, and *mental* stability. 
And, in all honesty, given what the rest of SG-1 have told me this 
morning, I think that's what we should both be concerned with in regard 
to Colonel O'Neill." 

"I am a doctor, first and foremost, General. My main concern is *always* 
with my patients, mentally, physically, whatever way I can be of help!" 
Janet retorted. "And if I have to become personally involved in order to 
help somebody like Jack O'Neill then I do it gladly, especially knowing 
he would do the same for me. The fact that he got into such a mess 
because of his willingness to get involved, no matter what the cost to 
himself, may be beside the point, but exactly what were you expecting 
from him, General, when you sent the Colonel back out into the field? 
This was never going to be a smooth mission, not in a million years!" 

"I did not expect all the symptoms I've been hearing about this morning!" 
Hammond bridled. "Nightmares possibly sparked off by the terrain, his 
reaction to the cave, not to mention being trapped. And now this, 
basically going AWOL! Disappearing off base without a word to anybody! 
He's unstable, even you can't deny that, Doctor!" 

"General, these are textbook signs of post traumatic stress disorder. We 
all knew he was suffering from it, but you cannot wrap Jack up in bubble 
pack and protect him, you have to put him in a box if he is ever going to 
be able to get back out of one on his own! Doctor Mackenzie knew it, and 
so did you!" Janet protested. "And most of all Jack knew it. It was a 
risk he was willing to take to get his life back on track. And I believe 
he has succeeded! He knows what he wants." 

She barely paused for breath before continuing in what she hoped was a 
tone of reason, "General, Jack O'Neill did not emerge from that cave 
catatonic and mentally disturbed, he came out knowing exactly what he 
wanted to do with the rest of his life! That's why he left the base 
without a word to anyone, and that's why I let you send him out there in 
the first place! The only way to treat PTSD is to face the trauma head 
on, to learn to live with the memories instead of fearing them, to accept 
them and move on. Jack is doing just that, and I don't think any of us 
have the right to stop him!" 

"And how exactly do you believe he is facing it, Doctor? By turning his 
back on the SGC? By retiring? As far as I'm concerned, that's hardly the 
answer to all this!" Hammond argued gruffly. 

"Yes it is! It's the best answer in the world! The best answer anyone who 
is truly a friend could have hoped for!" Janet explained beseechingly. 
"Jack O'Neill has decided he wants to be with his wife, that he doesn't 
want to spend the rest of his days fighting against some unknown foe on 
another planet. And I personally applaud him for that! For having the 
guts to admit that he wants his life back, that he wants to spend some 
time with Sara, and for having the sense to realise that it can only mean 
one thing." 

"Because you know as well as I do, General, that the two don't go 
together. You of all people must realise that! How many members of the 
SGC have successful personal relationships outside this base? None that I 
know of, and certainly none on the frontline! It's not possible in this 
job. And if Jack O'Neill can't retire, then he can't stay with Sara. And 
maybe you don't realise that, but I think Jack does. He knows what he 
wants now, and after all that he's done for us, for this planet, I think 
he deserves to be given the chance!" 

Abruptly, Janet stood up and headed for the door. 

"Where are you going, Doctor?" 

"I'm going to see Sara O'Neill," Janet had no intention of slowing her 
stride, let alone waiting to be dismissed. Her patients came first and 
foremost, as did her friends. "I'm going to try and stop a tragedy before 
it happens!" 

                         *******************

Sara couldn't help berating herself. If there was one thing she had known 
going into this, it was how important Jack's work had always been. The 
fact that she had let herself believe it could ever become otherwise 
showed how foolish she really was. She had been acting like a teenager, 
believing they could live happily ever after, when all along she had 
known the truth. 

And in all honesty it was her fault. She had willingly let Jack get so 
deeply involved that he was distracted and torn. 

She had known what a vulnerable state he was in, right from the start. 
She should never have let things get this far. Had she really believed 
that Jack could rationally choose her over his job, that he would be 
allowed to do so, that his own conscience would let him? When in reality 
it was simply the more appealing option, that, in his susceptible state, 
retirement was the obvious way to escape. 

And had she really believed she would let him do it? That she would allow 
him to take the easy way out, knowing full well that somewhere down the 
line he would regret it? That sooner or later, when he was stronger and 
thinking more clearly, he would realise the wrong turn he had made, and 
he would know she had let him make it. 

And then things would be over a lot more messily than if she could 
persuade him to see the truth now. 

Sara knew they were between a rock and a hard place. Neither wanted to 
give up the other, but they also knew Jack could no longer have both. It 
would never work, not now, not after what they had shared, the ties they 
had formed. They were closer now than ever before, they had made a 
connection that had never existed in their marriage, they had opened that 
barrier between them, and shared details that could not be forgotten. 

Now that each one knew what could truly happen, things were proving far 
scarier. A lack of knowledge once went a long way to aid detachment, to 
allow their lives to continue with some semblance of normality while 
apart. 

That had all changed now. 

Sara could have lived with it, if it only had an effect on her. But she 
knew from Jack's own words that it was effecting him too. It was 
dangerous, possibly even deadly, for him to be so distracted, and that 
was why he had made the choice to retire. He didn't want to get hurt, 
anymore than he wanted to get anyone else hurt. He had been faced with 
the choice of the job or the relationship. He knew he could not have 
both. So he had made the choice that would hurt her the least. 

But that didn't mean it was the right choice for him. 

And, after her conversation with his CO, Sara realised it was a choice 
she couldn't let Jack make alone. She had to help him, no matter how much 
it hurt. She had to make sure he could figure out which was the right 
path, and that he felt free to choose it. Even though she knew what the 
consequences of that choice would mean. 

                         *******************

When Sara opened the door to her quiet knock, Janet could tell by the 
look in her eyes that she had been crying. 

"Janet! Wha . . . ?" 

"I came by to check on Jack," Janet explained. "And to talk to you." 

"Well," Sara hesitated, surprised at the doctor's unexpected presence in 
the middle of the day. "Jack's sleeping. I thought you'd be at work?" 

"I decided I might be more useful here!" Janet grimaced, knowing she had 
practically gone AWOL herself, but somehow she felt like she had a vested 
interest in this pair. What happened to them, between them, would have a 
direct influence on what happened to her, and to the rest of the people 
on the base. It was an influence that had brought deepening repercussions 
since Egypt and, if things were ever going to return to normal for her, 
Janet knew she would have to play her part in the resolution of Jack's 
life. 

Janet followed Sara into the living room, waiting until they were seated 
face to face before explaining. "I talked to General Hammond, Sara. I 
know what he said to you. He's wrong!" 

Sara raised an eyebrow. 

"I think he was reacting on instinct." Janet shook her head, unsure 
exactly how she was going to put it. "He didn't know you and Jack were 
back together and he was suspicious. General Hammond doesn't want Jack to 
get hurt again. To some extent he blames himself for what happened in 
Egypt, or at least for not being able to stop it, and he's trying to make 
things right. He sees Jack's retirement as the ultimate sign of his own 
failure to protect him. He hadn't even considered there might be another 
reason why Jack would want to retire! So you see, what Hammond told you . 
. . he wasn't being fair . . . to you, or to Jack." 

"So you think Jack should retire? That he *can* retire? That his job 
really isn't so important?" Sara asked dubiously, a little tired of the 
way people she barely even knew were running her emotions ragged. 

"I think he deserves the chance to enjoy life. Jack has saved the world 
often enough to have earned that much . . ." Janet's jaw clamped shut 
over her words, realising she had said more than she should for the 
second time that day. "I mean . . ." 

"It's alright, Janet. I might not have a clue what it is Jack has been 
doing for the last few years, but I'm not stupid, I know it's something 
important. That's why I asked General Hammond for his opinion." Sara 
sighed heavily, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand as she turned 
to stare out the window, "I was being naïve to think Jack could give up 
his work." 

"No, Sara. You were being naïve to think that Jack's commanding officer 
would say anything to the contrary! Of course he doesn't want to let Jack 
go. He doesn't want to have to think about replacing him! But we have all 
been relying on Jack to save the day for far too long. It's time for him 
to save himself! And it's time for us to let him go." 

Janet saw her sorrowful look, realising Sara was still thinking about 
letting Jack go herself, "General Hammond is *wrong* Sara, you have to 
believe that!" 

Sara regarded her for a long moment before shaking her head, "I want to 
believe you, lord knows I do, but . . ." 

"But nothing, Sara!" Janet cried desperately. "Come on, you *know* me! 
You know I only have Jack's interests at heart!" 

Sara nodded cautiously. 

"Then you know that what I am saying is in his best interests! I believe 
it to be in his best interests for you and he to be together. For him to 
*do* whatever it is he *wants* to do! Not for him to be influenced by 
you, me, General Hammond, or anyone else that thinks they have a right to 
dictate how Jack O'Neill thinks or feels or lives his life!" 

Noting the stricken and confused expression on Sara's face, Janet toned 
down the vehemence of her argument, realising it wasn't helping matters. 

"I'm sorry, Sara. You probably think I have no right to come in here 
uninvited, to try to sway either of you into my way of thinking," she 
smiled wryly, "And you're right. But I must say one last thing, then I 
will drop the subject." 

She met Sara's shining eyes, "I am saying this as a friend and a doctor, 
Sara . . . I think you need to look at yourself. You're exhausted. You 
have been working long night shifts and spending endless hours worrying 
about Jack and I think it's beginning to take its toll . . . What I mean 
is, how can you be sure you are considering this rationally yourself when 
you look like you have not slept in days? I'm not saying that life is 
going to be a bed of roses, but it does not have to end here either. 
Maybe you will have to find a compromise. Maybe we all do. But I believe 
one can be found. And I believe that together you two can find some way 
to share your lives that you can both be happy with." 

Sara studied Janet for a long time, touched by her depth of care and 
concern. She recalled all that the doctor had done for Jack, all that she 
had been through herself, not to mention her daughter, in order to ensure 
he had a future. And she realised that maybe Janet was talking more sense 
than Hammond, that she did have Jack's best interests at heart. And that 
Sara had every right to listen to her words, rather than follow the 
advice of a General and CO she had never even met. 

She nodded wearily, "Okay, Janet, what if I were to believe you, that it 
is this easy? That Jack really does know what he wants, and is not simply 
being influenced by the disarray of his own emotions. What do you suggest 
I do next?" 

"I suggest that you tell me how Jack is and let me examine him!" Janet 
replied brightly, confident in her own belief that Jack would make the 
right choice in the end, if he had not done so already. "Then I suggest 
you simply continue to be as supportive and open with him as you have 
always been. And trust that you will make the right decision together. 
But remember," she smiled, "I never said it would be easy!" 

                         *******************

Jack awoke slowly and reluctantly, finding that simply rolling onto his 
back caused his head to spin nauseatingly. His mouth tasted disgusting 
and furry and for a moment he thought he must have been on a drinking 
binge the night before. He sat up, his eyes tightly closed against the 
bright light trying to encroach around the lids, and groaned at the 
pounding in his head, rubbing fingertips against his temple to try to 
keep it at bay. 

A hand moved over his, a palm pressing lightly to his forehead, and he 
flinched, becoming completely motionless. 

"It's okay, Jack, it's me," a soft female voice spoke soothingly. "You're 
safe." 

"Janet?" Jack's hoarse tone was a mixture of relief and suspicion as he 
tried to recall where he was and why she was here. 

"I decided to make a house call, since you didn't have time to visit the 
infirmary when you got back from P2S 161." 

"Where?" 

"The planet you just visited, Jack." Janet sighed, getting up off the bed 
and going over to pull the curtains, to block out the bright midday sun 
that was understandably hurting his eyes. "Remember, the cave-in. A lot 
of desert . . . a lot of memories." 

"Ah!" Jack nodded gingerly, stark remembrances springing to mind. "*That* 
planet!" 

He opened his eyes a fraction, blinking in the shady light as he glanced 
around the room. "Where's Sara?" he asked. 

"She's downstairs," Janet explained. "I told her I needed to examine 
you." 

"Oh . . ." Jack's brain kicked in for the first time since he'd woken up. 
"Why is that again?" 

"Jack!" Janet exclaimed exasperatedly. "How about concussion for 
starters? Multiple contusions? A sprained wrist? Does any of this sound 
familiar?" 

"Oh!" The light dawned on Jack's face and Janet knew he finally 
remembered what had happened. He screwed his eyes tightly shut against a 
new bout of dizziness as if the thoughts swirling in his head were making 
it worse. 

Clearly Sara had been correct in her diagnosis. Jack was suffering from 
concussion, even without the visual evidence of the stark bruise and 
swelling on his pale brow, it was obvious that his head was pounding and 
his memory was crap. 

Janet pulled a penlight from her pocket to do a check of his pupil 
reaction, placing her fingers beneath his chin to tilt his head up. 
"Sorry, Jack, but I have to do this. Open your eyes." 

She held the light up only briefly, watching each pupil rapidly dilate 
before letting him close his eyes once more. Then she shone the beam 
higher, carefully examining the cut and swelling on his head. 

"Headache? Dizziness?" Jack nodded slowly. "Maybe a bit nauseous?" 

"Three for three, Doc!" he murmured in response. 

It was a pity she didn't have some sort of x-ray machine to hand, just to 
make sure, but right now he probably needed to rest the most. And the 
injury was practically twenty-four hours old, any worse symptoms would 
probably have manifested themselves by now. 

Even so, she needed to check the rest of him over too, Sara had said he 
was covered in new bruises. She had to be sure that none of them were 
hiding anything more serious. 

And what about that wrist injury Sara had been the most concerned about. 

"Jack, I need to take a look at your right arm," Janet said cautiously. 
"It could hurt." 

"Ya think?" 

She couldn't help grinning at his caustic reply, taking that as a 
positive sign, and responding with equal sarcasm, "No, Jack, I just said 
that because I felt like it!" 

Resting his right hand in hers, Janet pushed up the sleeve of his 
bathrobe before carefully unwrapping the nearly melted ice pack from his 
wrist. Sharing every wince almost empathically, she watched the 
expression of pain on his face as she began to test the range of movement 
in his fingers. 

"Jack, how on earth did you drive home with your wrist in this state?" 
she asked eventually, her incredulity clear despite her quiet tone. "Not 
to mention suffering a concussion to boot!" 

Jack regarded her silently, not sure he knew the answer even if he wanted 
to tell her. 

"You're a stubborn man, Jack," Janet continued sadly, all sense of 
detachment gone in the face of the new injuries he had suffered, "Why 
won't you ever let anyone at the base help you? Any number of us would 
have driven you home, if you'd only asked." 

"Yeah, once I'd spent a few hours getting x-rayed in the infirmary!" Jack 
snorted bitterly. "And then only if I answered a zillion questions and 
submitted to a full psych evaluation!" 

"You can't blame me for caring about your health, Jack," Janet threw him 
a pained look. "But not all of us would think you were running away from 
something just because you wanted to get home in a hurry. You can't tar 
us all with the same brush." 

"What if I was running away?" Jack asked softly, the doubt clear in his 
eyes. 

"Perhaps if Sara wasn't here you could let yourself believe that, Jack," 
Janet said gently, "But I don't think anyone would accuse you of running 
away if they knew what you were trying to get home to. Besides, you've 
never run from anything in your life, what makes you think you could 
start now?" 

"I've never faced anything so daunting before." 

"Yes you have, Jack. Be honest. There have been plenty of times when 
you've been this scared. But you've survived every last one of them, just 
like you've survived this one. Or at least I think you've survived, you'd 
better let me finish examining you first!" 

Janet could tell he was still weighing her words against his own 
misgivings in the way that he simply shrugged gingerly out of the 
bathrobe and did what he was told, leaning forward while she carefully 
began to check his torso for signs of new damage. 

Eventually, she decided to draw him out of his troubled thoughts. "Does 
Daniel know you stole his car?" 

"Borrowed." 

He leaned back against the pillow in response to her mild pressure 
against his shoulder, vaguely guilty that she was faced with so many 
bruises again, after he had been determined not to keep calling upon her 
medical skills. But it wasn't like it had been his fault this time. 

Janet raised an eyebrow, but her pained gaze never left the multitude of 
contusions covering his chest and stomach as she continued to examine him 
as gently as she could. 

"Okay, does Daniel know you *borrowed* his car?" she eventually asked 
when she found her voice again. 

"He shouldn't have told me where the key was if he didn't want me to use 
it!" Jack said defensively. 

She sat back, hanging her stethoscope around her neck and glancing at 
him, "Would you like me to take it back to him?" 

Jack's face melted into one of disarming sheepishness, "Would you, Janet? 
If you don't mind?" 

She nodded, "Where's the key?" 

"I have no idea." 

The look she gave him showed no sign of surprise, only acceptance. And 
Jack knew that somehow she would figure it out. Wherever he had left the 
key, Janet would find it. Or she would find a way to get round it. Either 
way, Daniel would get his car back, and hopefully before he even missed 
it. 

"Thanks, Janet," he said softly. "For everything." 

"That ex-wife of yours, Jack. You know she's a keeper don't you?" Janet 
murmured boldly after a long lapse of silence punctuated only by the 
sound of Jack's sharp intake of breath each time she pressed her 
fingertips against his healing ribs. 

"Yeah, I know," Jack nodded wryly, "I may act stupid sometimes, Doc, 
doesn't mean I am." 

"I know. Just checking your brain is still intact after that crack on the 
head!" she replied with a satisfied smile, completing her physical exam 
and finding nothing worse than the superficial damage they could both see 
for themselves. "And Sara was right about your wrist. That's a bad 
sprain. You're going to have to rest it for a while, and keep it strapped 
up." 

"No silly putty?" he asked disappointedly. 

"I'm afraid not, Jack." Janet looked at him, "I don't need to confiscate 
the silly putty, do I? You will rest your hand until I give you the all 
clear?" 

Jack agreed solemnly, "Yeah, Doc. I'll rest it. It hurts too damn much 
not to!" 

"Good . . . I think!" She regarded him for a moment, judging his possible 
reaction to the last thing she had to say. "I hear you're considering 
retirement?" 

"How did you . . . ?" Jack grinned ruefully, "Ah, Doctor Fraiser, all 
seeing eye of the SGC. News travels fast!" He frowned, "Do Daniel or the 
rest know?" 

"Not that I've heard. Why?" 

Jack shook his head, wincing as he tried to remember, "I'm not sure 
exactly . . . just a feeling that I need to tell him myself . . . I owe 
him that much, at least." 

"I won't say anything to Daniel or anyone else about you retiring, Jack. 
But, for what it's worth, I think it's a positive move, much as I'll miss 
you." She smiled warmly. "Heck, we'll all miss you! But if anyone's 
earned it you have . . . and so has Sara." 

"I'm not so sure she feels the same way." 

"Oh, Sara's convinced," Janet assured him. "She's just worried that you 
haven't taken all the angles into account. She wants what's best for you, 
Jack. She just doesn't have the full picture to base her judgment on 
yet." 

The doctor paused for a moment. "You know, there are a lot of things you 
could tell her without breaking any rules, Jack . . . if you ever need 
to, that is." 

Jack emitted a short laugh, "Janet, you have no idea! I think Sara 
already knows more than I do! What more could she possibly want to hear?" 

"You'd be surprised, Jack. Sometimes the oldest secrets are the ones you 
really need to share." 

Jack frowned deeply, his expression turning serious, "What do you mean?" 

"Uh-uh, I'm not going to make it that easy, Jack," Janet grinned lightly, 
"Some things you have to work for if you want to get the full pay off!" 

"But I don't know what you mean, Doc!" Jack objected. 

"You'll figure it out . . . somewhere down the line. When you really need 
to, you'll know what it is that you have to share with someone! I'm just 
saying that someone should be Sara, irrespective of classification, or 
military secrecy. When that time comes and you need to talk about the one 
thing that bothers you most in this job, you should talk about it with 
Sara, no matter how unreasonable that seems, no matter how awful the 
secret. Just consider telling her about it, Jack. That's all I ask. Do 
that and I can't think of any other thing that will get in your way," she 
finished confidently. 

"Doc!" Jack looked at her forlornly, utterly confused by the implications 
of what she had said. "Janet!" he repeated his plea. 

"You'll figure it out when you need to, Jack. Trust me!" Janet's reply 
was infuriating, but Jack knew that nothing he said would change her 
mind. In the end he simply huffed loudly to display his frustration. 

Janet smiled, "Get some rest, Jack. And don't use that hand! No matter 
what you might want to do with it!" 

Jack watched Janet leave the room, her words playing over in his mind 
long after she had gone, until he eventually lay back down on the bed and 
closed his eyes tiredly. 

                         *******************

When Janet returned downstairs, Sara was waiting in the living room. 

"He'll be fine, Sara," the doctor smiled reassuringly, "You were right 
about the sprain. Keep his wrist elevated and wrapped in ice, then strap 
it up once the swelling goes down. Make sure he doesn't use it for a week 
or so, or until I can take another look at it," she finished uncertainly, 
realising she didn't know what would happen now, or when she might see 
them again. 

Shaking off such morose thoughts, Janet added, "And he's going to need a 
bunch of aspirin for that headache. Keep him in bed for at least twenty-
four hours, but make sure he gets plenty of fluids, and food . . . and 
call me if you need anything." She met Sara's gaze, "You will keep an eye 
on him?" 

"Like a hawk," Sara nodded. "You know I will." 

Janet was unable to suppress a look of concern, "I know. It's just that 
he really ought to be under observation in the infirmary. I kept Daniel 
in for a few hours," she confessed, worried that she was failing her 
patient by not forcing Jack back to the infirmary. 

"How is Daniel?" Sara asked, glad to have someone else to distract them 
for a moment. 

"Oh, he's okay, his injuries were more minor. He got a bang on the head, 
but not as bad as Jack's. A few scrapes and bruises . . ." her smile 
wavered into a grimace, "Daniel said Jack pushed him out of the way of 
the worst of it . . . I left him sleeping in the infirmary. In fact, I 
think they all were. The whole team looked exhausted. It took them all 
night to dig Jack out of that cave. They were all distressed about him 
getting trapped again like that . . ." Janet trailed off, her own 
thoughts on the subject written clear on her face. 

"Janet, you should know I don't think it's bothering Jack nearly as much 
as the thought that he's pushing his luck too far," Sara said gently, 
proving she had been doing a lot of thinking while Janet was upstairs 
examining Jack. 

"Being trapped scared him, but I think he got passed it. He moved on. 
Jack found a way to cope with the claustrophobia and the fear. I'm not 
sure how, I'm not sure it matters. What's important is that he found a 
way to move on, to take a few more steps. And where he ended up was at 
this life-altering decision, the question of what he wants more." 

"You," Janet agreed quietly. 

"Not just me," Sara said protectively, "I think Jack has decided that 
life in general is more important to him now, important enough that maybe 
he's not so willing to die a pointless death on some mission somewhere 
like he used to be." 

"Then who are we to discourage him from such a positive step forward?" 
Janet observed pointedly, knowing that Sara herself had provided the 
resolution to her own remaining doubts. 

Sara met her gaze, realising the truth, "I think you're right!" 

                         *******************

Thursday: The Epicentre 

"Hammond!" the General answered the ringing telephone brusquely, 
recognising the voice of the caller and frowning at Doctor Mackenzie's 
abrupt greeting. 

"General, do you have a videotape player in your office?" 

"There's one in the briefing room, Doctor." 

"That's too public." 

"Too public for what? This is a top secret military base!" Hammond 
blustered irritably. It had already been a bad start to the morning when 
he'd received Doctor Fraiser's daily report, a difficult and discomfiting 
meeting given the words they had exchanged the previous day and their 
diametrically opposed positions regarding the path to recovery of one 
traumatised Colonel. 

But Doctor Mackenzie appeared not to notice his irritation, too disturbed 
by whatever was on his mind. "General, I think you'd better come up to my 
office immediately, I've got something you really must see." 

"Very well," Hammond gave in, "I'll be there shortly." 

                         *******************

"What's this all about, Doctor?" General Hammond entered the 
psychologist's office without bothering to knock. 

Mackenzie lifted a parcel, a large padded envelope of the sort used to 
protect things of a fragile or valuable nature, like the videotape that 
slid out of the open end to land on the desk. 

"I found this when I arrived today," the doctor said nervously, "It's 
been here since Monday morning! General, I'm sorry. I've been attending a 
seminar all week. My secretary should have told me this was here . . . 
but then . . . well, if she had opened it herself, I can't imagine the 
consequences . . ." 

Hammond's trepidation deepened as he studied the expression on 
Mackenzie's face, a mixture of fear and distress that he had never 
expected from a man in the doctor's position, a man who never put himself 
into the line of fire, preferring the confines of his own safe 
profession. 

"What's on the tape, doctor?" 

"Three tapes, actually," Mackenzie swallowed edgily, "They were 
unlabelled. No return address. I just popped one into the player and . . 
. well, I think you should see for yourself." 

He reached for the remote control lying across the pile of papers on his 
desk and pointed it towards the TV and VCR on a stand in the corner. 
Hammond sat down in the nearest seat and waited for the answer to his 
question. 

"It's morning! Time to wake up, Colonel!" The sound of splashing water 
accompanied the Russian accent that barked from the television, a ghastly 
scene playing out before the two watching men as the videotape began to 
run. 

The picture settled down to show the rough sandstone texture, stark 
confines, an interior filled with threatening shadows that loomed beyond 
the edge of a chilling circle of light. All were unfamiliar but horribly 
recognisable in their implications. 

The soggy features of one half-starved, battered prisoner came into view, 
and Hammond's stomach lurched as he comprehended what he was seeing. His 
blood turned to ice as the prone figure of Jack O'Neill was hauled 
roughly to a sitting position, another bucket of water thrown over him. 

Defiantly, the Colonel licked his lips, wiping a hand over his gaunt face 
to get whatever drops of fluid he could into his dehydrated body. Raising 
his filthy green t-shirt, he squeezed as much liquid into his mouth as 
possible. As he did so, the camera zoomed in for a tight close-up that 
focused slowly to reveal the livid welts on his chest and side. 

"I'll let you have another bottle of water if you answer one question to 
my satisfaction," the Russian voice taunted with sadistic glee. 

"You might as well kill me now, I don't know anything," Jack's reply was 
grimly unemotional. 

"Oh, I don't think so, Colonel." 

The shot panned out in time to catch a signal from the thinning blond 
Russian to someone off-camera and an Egyptian man stepped into view 
carrying what appeared to be an AK-47. Gripping the barrel of the assault 
rifle, he swung it through the air. 

"God forgive me," Hammond murmured, his hands clenching into helpless 
fists as the butt of the rifle smacked into Jack's stomach with an 
agonising crunch. 

With O'Neill doubled over, barely emitting a sound despite the obvious 
pain creasing his bruised and bloodied features, the Russian voice 
cheerfully announced, "Ah, the electrician is here!" 

Palely, Doctor Mackenzie reached out with the remote control and paused 
the picture. He studied the General's reaction, the normally ruddy 
complexion drained of all colour, his eyes never leaving the screen or 
the flickering image of a tortured captive. "I don't think you'll want to 
go any further, General." 

"What I want is not the issue here, Doctor," Hammond's forbidding voice 
shook with barely restrained emotion. 

"Sir," Mackenzie forced himself to disregard his own abhorrence over what 
he had seen in order to consider the psychological impact it would have 
on the victim's CO. "It is vital that you set aside the question of blame 
here. You cannot hold yourself responsible for this, any more than we can 
dwell on the consequences of what we are seeing. These events happened 
and we all have to live with that in our own way. The important question 
here is how this effects Colonel O'Neill's future." 

Steeling himself, Hammond nodded agreement, but his eyes remained fixed 
on the television. 

"I believe we should also be asking where these tapes came from, General. 
How we are supposed to deal with them. Especially to ensure Colonel 
O'Neill never learns of their existence." 

Hammond finally tore his gaze away from the image of a brutalised 
prisoner, regarding Mackenzie with a confused frown. "Jack was there, 
Doctor, he must know he was being filmed! Somewhere down the line he may 
start to question what happened to the evidence." 

"Not necessarily, General. Look at the angle of this footage. This was 
shot from above, not by someone in the room. The rest of what I've seen 
so far is the same. For all we know, Colonel O'Neill may have been 
unaware of the camera." 

"So," Hammond concluded, "we keep the knowledge of the existence of these 
tapes to ourselves. But what do we do with them?" 

"General, somebody sent me these tapes for a reason," Mackenzie pointed 
out. "If we do not figure out that reason and react appropriately, that 
person might simply send copies elsewhere!" 

"What do you suggest, Doctor? We will certainly not give into blackmail, 
even if we are able to establish their origin!" 

"Sir, we don't know that they were sent to us with underhand intentions, 
they could be an innocent warning." 

"Doctor, there is nothing innocent about these tapes!" Hammond bridled, 
his voice choked with emotion as he lost all semblance of self-control. 
"Whoever sent these to you is perpetuating acts of brutal torture the 
likes of which I would not wish upon my worst enemy, let alone on a man 
whom I have had the privilege to call friend!" 

"Perhaps innocent was the wrong word, General," Mackenzie said 
placatingly, "Even so, you said it yourself. These tapes expose far 
greater depths of physical and psychological abuse than Colonel O'Neill 
revealed to any of us. And based on even the small amount of footage I've 
viewed to date, my doubts in regard to his recovery are clearly founded! 
I have to reassess my evaluation. I do not believe he is fit for active 
duty, let alone command! And, to be honest, General, I'm not sure he ever 
will be." 

Hammond's glare was drawn back to the television screen, searching for 
any evidence to disagree with the doctor's assessment. But he could find 
nothing, a fact that shocked him to the core, and undermined every belief 
he had retained that Jack O'Neill would recover from his harrowing ordeal 
and live to fight another day. And, in doing so, assuage the guilt still 
harboured by a commanding officer who had done nothing to protect him. 

The General scowled, knowing he had to accept defeat for Jack's sake as 
well as their own. But at least they had an easy way out. "Doctor, in 
truth, Colonel O'Neill may already have given us an answer to our 
dilemma. Apparently, he is considering retirement." 

"Then I recommend you facilitate his departure with immediate effect," 
Mackenzie said with an inward sigh of relief. 

                         *******************

"Daniel, how are you feeling?" Doctor Fraiser looked up from the report 
on her desk that she'd been staring at for the last half hour, brightly 
greeting the archaeologist when he entered her office. 

"Oh, fine, actually." He hesitated, pondering the expression he had 
caught on Janet's face before she had realised he was there. "I wondered 
if you'd seen Jack. I heard he turned up at home yesterday, only I 
haven't been able to reach him." 

"Yes he did," Janet didn't pause long enough for Daniel to ask how Jack 
had got home; she would cross that bridge if he ever noticed the fact 
that his car had moved spaces in the parking lot. For now he was probably 
better off in blissful ignorance than to be concerned with thoughts of 
exactly how Jack had survived the drive down the treacherous mountain 
road with only one hand and a dizzying concussion. Besides, she'd done 
enough worrying about that to cover both of them. 

"I did see Jack, yesterday," she continued hurriedly, "That's why I 
wasn't here to discharge you." 

"Oh, okay," Daniel nodded, adding innocently, "I guess the nursing staff 
were a little confused, they thought you'd only left the base for a quick 
errand. They seemed to be expecting you back." 

"I never made it back," Janet said simply, not wishing to expand on that 
statement. 

Daniel studied her for a moment, hugging his arms to his chest in a 
gesture of nervousness that Janet couldn't help notice. She sighed, 
realising she was being unfair in her reticence. Instead, she deflected 
attention back to the real reason for Daniel's visit. 

"Jack's okay, Daniel, a bit banged up, that's all. I expect he turned the 
phone off so he could get some rest." 

She gestured with the fingers of her right hand. "He sprained his wrist, 
and has a concussion, but apart from that . . ." she trailed off, not 
wanting to mention all the new bruises that would dredge up overly 
analysed recriminations. "He's fine. A little shook up." 

"Just like before!" 

Janet was surprised at Daniel's angry tone, realising it was directed 
purely at himself. 

"No Daniel, not like before," she said firmly. "The cave-in was an 
accident, an act of nature. It wasn't inflicted with violence. There's a 
difference, especially in Jack's mind. He's okay!" She shook her head in 
bewilderment, "He doesn't blame you, why are you blaming yourself?" 

"Because I led him in there. I got him hurt again. I got him trapped in 
the dark again! I can't believe I was that stupid!" 

Daniel's words tumbled out before he could stop them, tangible evidence 
that he had been stewing over what had happened ever since the team got 
back from P2S 161 the previous morning. He slumped down into the seat 
opposite her, looking like the weight of the world was on his shoulders, 
and Janet couldn't help the immediate sense of guilt that washed over 
her. 

She had failed this patient, in leaving the base while he slept in her 
infirmary, in concerning herself only with the well being of Jack and 
Sara O'Neill, and then in being unable to find the courage and energy 
needed to return back inside the SGC to complete her shift, Janet had 
failed in her duty to this patient, and lord knew how many others. 

But how could she begin to make her apologies without rehashing old 
feelings she did not want to face. 

Silently, Janet considered him. It was like looking into a mirror, all 
the same thoughts and repercussions visible in his eyes, in his edgy 
expression, in the volatile way he acted, all the same as she had been 
seeing in herself. And what she now told him was exactly what she needed 
too, except Janet knew she would never take that final step. 

"Daniel, I think you should have a chat with Doctor Mackenzie." 

"Why?" he looked at her scathingly. "You think I'm losing my mind?" 

"No, Daniel," she said quietly, "Because all this time we've been so 
concerned about Jack, about his trauma, that none of us have paid 
attention to the fact that you've got things to thrash out too. You need 
to talk to someone, before you self destruct." 

"I'm okay, Doc." 

"Really? Then answer me this. When was the last time you slept through an 
entire night?" 

Daniel frowned in thought, his expression becoming slightly stunned as he 
realised he could not remember. 

"And when was the last time you made it through a day without having some 
kind of flashback to what happened inside that pyramid?" Janet continued 
in a low voice, suppressing a shiver of her own. "Or maybe that cabin in 
the hills." 

"I . . ." Daniel trailed off dumbly, a mixture of dismay and sorrow on 
his face. "I'm fine, Janet," he finally managed unconvincingly. 

She shook her head, "I'm sorry, Daniel, I let you down. I should have 
realised sooner." 

"I'm fine, Janet," he repeated helplessly, "I just wish things could go 
back to the way they were." 

"I know, Daniel. We all do," she admitted sympathetically. "But we both 
know that's not possible, we can't erase our mistakes and we can't change 
what happened. It's always going to be with us. And we have to accept 
that, just like Jack has." 

She gazed at him searchingly, watching her words penetrate his troubled 
mind. "Daniel, it's time to move on. You have to concentrate on getting 
yourself sorted out. I think you need to talk to Doctor Mackenzie, but I 
can't force you to do it, you know full well that it has to be voluntary 
to do any good." 

"Why can't I talk to you?" he asked in a small voice. 

Janet hesitated, but she knew there were some truths she could not hold 
back, they had been through too much together, "Because . . . I don't 
think I can be objective enough, Daniel. I care too much about you and 
Jack, and I'm already in this way too deep." 

He looked at her for a long moment, understanding the meaning in her 
eyes, "You can't help me until you can help yourself." 

She nodded reluctantly, "But I'm getting there. I'll be fine, Daniel, 
just like you'll be fine. And just like Jack will be fine. We'll make it 
through this and we'll come out stronger. And in the process maybe we'll 
all learn to let it out a little more, to be a little less insular and a 
little more honest about what's going on inside our heads!" 

"Too much," Daniel swallowed convulsively. 

Janet nodded rueful agreement, "Way too much." 

                         *******************

Hammond was shocked to hear the noise coming from Doctor Jackson's 
laboratory, pushing open the door gingerly to see the usually passive man 
clearing paper and equipment from his desk with a furious sweep of one 
arm. 

"Damnit! What the hell was I thinking?" Daniel couldn't hold it back any 
longer. He'd been sitting there for over an hour, trying to concentrate 
on his work without replaying every possible aspect of his discussion 
with Janet. And, especially, trying not to think about an unfinished 
conversation, more of an argument really, inside a dark cavern on a 
foreign world. But the images kept gnawing at him, accusatory voices 
reminding him how stupid he'd been, how careless and utterly unthinking 
he was, until he could stand it no more. 

"What on earth did I hope to achieve!" Daniel yelled at himself, 
oblivious to the General's presence until a deep Texan voice interrupted 
his rant. 

"Doctor Jackson, are you all right?" 

Daniel froze, as much as his quaking rage would let him, some ancient 
artefact poised in his hand, a mask that Hammond recognised as one of an 
assortment of personal items the archaeologist had decorated his 
laboratory with upon first taking up residence in the SGC. The General 
couldn't help thinking his timely intrusion had probably prevented the 
breakage of something that would have been sorely regretted once the dust 
had settled. 

"Doctor Jackson?" he repeated his enquiry, watching the anger drain from 
the young man's face as Daniel realised, exactly who had caught him. 

Hammond frowned, unable to fathom such uncharacteristic behaviour from an 
ordinarily quiet man, and wondering just how fast secretive news could 
travel through the base grapevine, albeit news of grave importance to the 
members of SG-1. Surely he couldn't know about the tapes, but perhaps 
Jack would have contacted his friend to tell him of his impending 
retirement? 

"Have you heard from Colonel O'Neill?" 

"No, should I have?" Daniel met his gaze, measuring the General's 
reaction, "Doctor Fraiser said he's at home." 

"With a concussion, yes," Hammond nodded, at least now he knew that the 
doctor had spoken to Daniel. He pursed his lips thoughtfully, getting to 
the point of his visit, a testing of the waters, "Colonel O'Neill is 
thinking about retirement." 

"Jack told you that?" Daniel asked hopefully. 

"No, Mrs O'Neill did." 

Daniel looked surprised, "You spoke to Sara? When?" 

"She telephoned me yesterday, when Jack turned up at home. She wanted to 
inform me of his condition," Hammond explained, wondering why the details 
were important. 

"Sara was home?" Daniel turned away with a look of utter dismay, 
realising what should have been obvious all along and muttering with 
renewed fury as if forgetting the General's presence, "She had to see the 
state of him. She had to deal with Jack's injuries. How could I be so 
stupid!" 

Apparently unaware of the artefact still in his left hand, Daniel spotted 
a heavy-duty stapler that had not yet been dumped to the floor. Without a 
second thought, he picked it up and lobbed it as hard as he could at the 
far wall, the descending trajectory taking it on a direct course of 
impact with the middle drawer of a filing cabinet. 

Hammond stared in astonishment at the freshly dented military-grey metal 
before speaking in a placating tone. "Son, nothing stays the same, it's 
simply not possible. We all knew that sooner or later Colonel O'Neill 
would retire. It happens to the best of us if we're lucky enough to make 
it that far." 

Daniel threw him a look of incredulity. "You think I'm angry because Jack 
wants to retire? He should retire! He's earned the right to retire! I'm 
angry because I got him hurt, again, because it's my fault that he's got 
a concussion and that his wrist is so banged up he can't use his right 
hand, AGAIN! And that he's battered and bruised, AGAIN!" 

"And I'm angry because Sara had to deal with his injuries all over 
again!" He ended his tirade dejectedly, "She's been through enough, they 
both have." 

He shook his head in disgust, "All this time I wanted Jack to be safe, 
and I'm the one that led him straight back into danger! What was I 
thinking!" 

"Doctor Jackson, you are hardly to blame. The earthquake was an act of 
God!" Hammond reasoned. 

"GOD?" Daniel gestured animatedly, "You believe this was an act of God! 
What god could possibly be so malevolent as to lie in wait on P2S 161 
just to get Jack! Waiting to trip him up! Waiting to trap him in the dark 
and injure him as badly as any sadistic Slav could? This was no act of 
God! It was an act of stupidity by someone who purports to be a friend!" 

"Doctor Jackson, you had no way of foreseeing the consequences of a 
routine cave exploration! This was not your fault." 

"But it *is* my fault! Don't you see?" Daniel's anger dissolved into 
despair, "Jack *trusted* me. He told me things. I'm the only one here 
that he did trust enough to talk to, and how do I repay that? I lead him 
straight back into the dark! And that is *all* my fault!" 

"It wasn't your fault, son," Hammond repeated patiently, understanding 
from his own experience a lot of what Daniel was going through, "You 
couldn't know. Doctor Mackenzie and I were the ones who decided Colonel 
O'Neill was psychologically fit for duty. We made a mistake. Now that 
we've seen a little of what Jack went through it's obvious he couldn't 
possibly have been ready." 

Daniel looked at him askance, focusing in on one odd word that he thought 
perhaps he had misheard, "General, what do you mean "seen"?" 

Hammond considered everything he'd witnessed that morning, before coming 
to a decision. "You'd better put that artefact down, son," he suggested 
solemnly, waiting until Daniel had emptied his hands and stood his 
upturned stool back up, settling onto it warily as if sensing the fact 
that he wasn't going to like whatever he was about to hear. 

The General turned around and closed the door as he began. "Given what 
Colonel O'Neill has already revealed to you, I see no harm in telling you 
this. But understand, Doctor Jackson, it does not leave this room. No 
one, especially not Jack, must ever learn what I am about to tell you." 

He waited for Daniel's apprehensive nod of agreement before continuing. 
"Doctor Mackenzie has been in receipt of a video tape recording. Three 
videotapes in fact. It did not take him long to realise what he had and 
summon me." Hammond grimaced uncomfortably, "Doctor Jackson, had I known 
beforehand, I would never have sent Colonel O'Neill back into the field." 

Daniel was understandably bewildered, "Known what, General? What tapes? 
What's on them?" 

Hammond's face was pale as he recalled even the little he had viewed thus 
far, and the fact that, sooner or later, it was his duty to watch the 
whole thing. "The videotapes contain footage of Colonel O'Neill's 
confinement and torture in Egypt," he explained gravely. 

"WHAT?" Daniel's mouth opened and closed several times before any more 
coherent words came out, "I mean . . . how? Wh . . . where . . . where 
did they come from? Who would do such a thing?" 

Hammond shook his head, "We have no idea. The package was sent 
anonymously, but we have managed to track it back as far as the Pentagon. 
I have people looking into it, but it's not promising. I don't think 
we'll be able to trace what office processed it, let alone who." 

Daniel swallowed reflexively, his voice a strangled whisper, "But . . . 
why, General? Why would anyone want to do this to Jack?" With a pained 
look, he pulled off his spectacles and rubbed the bridge of his nose. 

The sudden nakedness of his features revealed Daniel's concern for his 
friend so profoundly as to cause Hammond to wince. He could see 
everything whirling through the younger man's thoughts, and the General 
felt it too. The question of the tapes, the reason for their existence, 
and, above all, their potential impact on Jack's future. Only, Daniel had 
a distinct disadvantage, he knew the probable contents of those tapes a 
lot better than the General, images that clearly remained fresh in his 
mind. 

"Where did they get the recordings from, General?" he asked softly. "Who 
had them?" 

"I don't know, son. They didn't turn up as evidence in any of the 
investigations. The interrogation sessions may have been filmed to keep 
an accurate record of anything Colonel O'Neill revealed, but what motive 
anyone would have in editing the footage onto video cassette and mailing 
it to Doctor Mackenzie . . ." He shook his head unhappily, "The doctor is 
willing to assume they were trying to warn him about Jack's state of 
mind." 

"More like undermine our confidence in Jack's ability to overcome what 
they did to him!" Daniel protested bitterly, his anger rekindled with his 
sense of protectiveness towards his friend. 

"I'm sorry General, but no one with a benevolent motive would send this 
stuff anonymously! Whoever it is, is trying to destroy Jack in the only 
way left open to them. It has to be someone working for Kevin Mitchell, 
if not the man himself, someone who wants revenge! Who else would have 
copies of footage taken by Alesandrov?" 

He threw his hands up in a gesture of despair, "God! This was all 
supposed to be over with Mitchell's arrest! How can this man continue his 
path of destruction from a jail cell?" 

"Doctor Jackson, we have no way of substantiating any such theory," 
Hammond objected. "From what I've been told, Senator Mitchell is in no 
position to mount any kind of psychological counter-attack." 

"You've been told?" Daniel spluttered, "General, I know this sounds 
disrespectful, but it was your belief in what you were told that helped 
get Jack into this mess in the first place! You've been told that Senator 
Mitchell is locked up tight? Yet here he is, still trying to put the 
final nail in Jack's coffin! And, now that he's got access to the 
original recording, heaven only knows what else he might do with it!" 

"Doctor Jackson, there is no conspiracy here, it's over! And if anyone's 
putting the final nail in the coffin it's Jack. He's doing it himself 
with his retirement request!" 

Hammond took a deep breath before adding grimly, "And, much as I don't 
like it, given what I have seen today, I think he is doing the right 
thing. No one can possibly go through what Jack did and still be expected 
to save the world on a daily basis. In all conscience, I cannot allow his 
return to active duty." 

Daniel looked aghast, realising that whoever sent the tapes had already 
succeeded in their aim, "You're playing right into their hands, aren't 
you? They've won! You're saying Jack's better off retiring because you'd 
have him discharged anyway!" 

"Not discharged, no. Not necessarily. But he would be rotated off field 
duty. I should never have sent Colonel O'Neill back out on a mission. 
These tapes have opened my eyes to a truth I'd been avoiding. They've 
shown me how bad things were. Nobody can come back from such a physical 
and psychological ordeal. It was unfair of us to expect him to. You 
should have told me what you knew, Doctor Jackson." 

"And betray a confidence?" Daniel snorted in disbelief. "Forgive me, 
General, but I am still, and always will be, a civilian in this command. 
My loyalties lie with my friends, not with the military, and not with the 
government, especially not after what they did to Jack, and tried to do 
to me." 

He met Hammond's stern gaze for a long moment, his emotion held in tight 
restraint as he continued adamantly, "You're wrong, General, if you think 
Jack can't make it back from this, because he already has! You just don't 
see what I see, how could you? You don't go out in the field! You didn't 
see the resolve on Jack's face when I found him in that cave yesterday 
morning. You didn't have the experience of hauling him out of that 
pyramid in Giza to compare it to!" 

He swallowed nauseously, "And you didn't have to watch him being tortured 
by the Slav in that cabin up in the hills." 

Daniel turned away, fighting with himself over how much to reveal. But he 
needed to say it, as much as he believed Hammond needed to hear some of 
the truth at last, some of what had really happened in that isolated 
stone cabin. And maybe it was finally time to let out a few of the things 
that had been preying on his mind for the past three weeks. 

"General, they blindfolded Jack. And then they used me as bait! But he 
didn't give up. Jack knew that if he gave in they would kill us both. And 
because he wouldn't give in, the Slav tortured him even more . . . He 
broke Jack's ribs with a single punch!" 

Daniel shuddered at the image still so vivid, the absolute helplessness 
he had felt. The memory of such despair clouded his voice with emotion. 
"Jack couldn't even see it coming . . . he was blindfolded!" 

"God, you could have heard the crack for miles. But Jack never gave in . 
. ." 

"I didn't know," Hammond's words were tinged with remorse. 

"You never asked," Daniel said quietly, "And we didn't want to face it." 

With his own words, Daniel finally realised the truth in what Janet 
Fraiser had told him that morning. He had wanted to bury his head in the 
sand as much as Jack had. Except while Jack had stayed and dealt with his 
demons, Daniel had run away from his, back to Luxor, absorbing himself in 
his work to avoid the maelstrom in his head. 

Maybe he did need to do something about it, face up to what was going on 
inside. But he couldn't admit anything to anybody at the base until he 
could be sure he would not be treated in the same way as Jack was being 
right now. 

Daniel did not have the luxury of a wife to retire to, his wife was still 
out there somewhere, waiting to be found, waiting to be saved from the 
Goa'uld inside her. And, if Daniel admitted to his own post-traumatic 
symptoms, how could he be sure that General Hammond would ever let him go 
through the stargate again. 

He had to persuade Hammond to see Jack's case for what it was, to be open 
to a change of heart, to realise that Jack was as capable now as he ever 
was and that retirement was a choice of life, not something to be forced 
upon him. 

A new look of resolve spread over Daniel's face, memories of everything 
he and Jack had been through together spurring him on to make the final 
push, to secure that all important freedom of choice. "General, I owe 
Jack my life in more ways than one, but I will gladly risk it as many 
times as necessary to prove his fitness for duty." 

"I'm afraid that will not be possible, Doctor," Hammond replied. "Jack 
wants to retire. It's his decision. If he doesn't want to risk his life 
or anyone else's any more, I will no longer stand in his way." 

"But what if he changes his mind?" 

"I don't believe any of us can allow him to do that, Doctor," the General 
warned. "After what he's been through, for his own sake, the decision 
must stick." 

"Jack doesn't need our pity, General!" It was Hammond's turn to be the 
focus of Daniel's outburst. "He needs us to protect him from narrow-
minded thinking like that! Someone is trying to undermine everything 
Jack's fought for, every inch of progress he's made in the last few 
weeks. Whether Jack wants to go back out into the field or not, he 
deserves the freedom to choose for himself!" 

"General, when it comes down to it, this is all about freedom. It has 
been from the very start." Daniel's voice became earnest, "We already let 
them take away Jack's freedom once, don't let them do that to him again! 
We owe Jack, we all do. What he sacrificed for us . . . " 

"General, we can't let them get away with what they're trying to do to 
him. Don't you regret not being able to help him in Egypt?" Hammond 
shrugged helplessly in response to Daniel's very direct question. "Well, 
you can make up for that now!" 

"What do you suggest, Doctor Jackson?" 

"We have to prove who is trying to take Jack down, and we have to put him 
away for good. If Jack doesn't want to fight anymore, then we should 
fight for him, end this threat to his future, and support whatever 
decision he makes. Let him retire without recrimination, or let him 
return without question." 

"Letting him retire is no longer a problem, Doctor Jackson, so forgive me 
if I pray that Jack does not change his mind," Hammond confessed grimly. 
"But how exactly do you propose we renew an investigation against Senator 
Mitchell while he is locked up in jail? And keep that fact from Colonel 
O'Neill? If Jack were to discover the existence of those tapes, God only 
knows what effect it would have on his mental state." 

"General, I think you'd find those tapes would have very little effect on 
Jack whatsoever!" Daniel said confidently, his words a mixture of pride 
and awe, "Believe me when I tell you there is nothing on them that is not 
vividly embedded in his own memory. And there is nothing hidden within 
them that Jack hasn't already had to face up to and deal with head on. I 
think you'd be surprised by his reaction if Jack were to ever view those 
tapes." 

"Be that as it may, Doctor Jackson, I would prefer not to test your 
confidence in Jack by making him aware of the existence of these tapes." 
The General frowned impatiently, "And this still doesn't resolve the 
question of exactly what we can do." 

"Maybe we need to talk to the former Senator. A face to face with him 
might be all we need to tell us whether he's behind this or not." 

"You want to meet with Mitchell? In jail?" 

"Why not?" 

"I was under the impression from your previous encounter that you were 
only too glad to make it your last." 

"That's beside the point, General. I told you, I'll willingly risk 
anything to prove Jack's fitness for duty." 

"All right," Hammond was almost convinced, "A simple Q & A. No seeking 
vengeance, no revealing anything he does not already know. We don't want 
to provide him with any means of leverage when and if his case is ever 
heard." 

"Fine." 

The General considered his agreement for a long moment before nodding 
himself. "It might take a couple of days to set up. But I'll see what I 
can do. Just remember, Doctor Jackson, not a word to anybody about this, 
not to Teal'c, Major Carter, or even Doctor Fraiser, and especially not 
to Colonel O'Neill. I have your word on that?" 

"Yes, sir," Daniel bobbed his head, already thinking about what he wanted 
to say to Kevin Mitchell once he had him trapped in a secure 
interrogation room. 

                         *******************

"You know, I can easily stand retirement if you're going to treat me like 
this throughout!" Jack grinned slyly as Sara placed the empty food tray 
back onto the dresser. 

"Ah, but you know that was the fun part," Sara warned him with a smile, 
"Now comes the bit where I have to play Doctor!" 

She picked up the first aid kit and pulled out a roll of bandage, 
settling back down onto the edge of the bed to take a closer look at 
Jack's right wrist. "Now that most of the swelling's gone down, it needs 
to be strapped up," she explained, trying to be as gentle as possible but 
noticing Jack wince at the slight movement of his fingers. "It should 
hurt a lot less once it's immobilised." 

"I'm all for that," Jack admitted softly. "I just can't believe I was 
stupid enough to damage it again." 

"Come on, Jack, it's not like before, I saw the size of that plaster 
cast, remember? This will heal, you just have to rest it for a couple of 
weeks." She leaned down and brushed a kiss across the back of his 
knuckles, "Then you can go back to exercising these delectable fingers to 
your heart's content." 

"And yours?" he cocked his head. The bruise from his concussion that was 
beginning to show up as quite a startling black eye made him look even 
more disarming. 

Sara laughed at his audacity, "I'll help you exercise them, if I must!" 

As she went to work with the bandage, Sara went back to his earlier 
statement in an effort to distract him. "So, about that retirement. 
You're sure you've taken every factor into account?" 

"What do you mean?" Jack threw her a hurt look, "Don't you want me to 
retire?" 

Sara shook her head, "Oh, Jack, it's not that, of course I want you to 
retire! I love you. I would love to spend more time with you. And I would 
love to never have to worry about you ever again! I just want you to be 
sure that it's the right thing for you at this time." 

"Why wouldn't it be?" 

For a moment she hesitated, before admitting, "General Hammond thinks 
you're irreplaceable." 

"You talked to Hammond? 

"Yesterday. I told him you were here . . . and that you were thinking 
about retirement. I'm sorry, Jack. Maybe I shouldn't have said anything, 
but I needed to know . . . I needed to know whether you really could give 
up your work . . ." 

"And what did he say?" 

Sara sighed heavily, "He seemed to think it would be the wrong thing to 
do . . . that maybe you were running away . . ." 

"And what do you think?" 

"I have to admit he had me convinced." 

"Well he would! What did you expect him to say, Sara?" Jack asked 
anxiously, "He's my CO, he's hardly going to congratulate you on dragging 
me out of there!" 

"I realise that now, Jack. I'm sorry . . . I just thought . . ." She 
gestured defencelessly, "To be honest, I was starting to believe it was 
all my fault, that I was the only reason you were doing this, because I 
was distracting you and making it dangerous for you out in the field, and 
that maybe you were afraid I would leave if you didn't retire . . . I 
thought you were vulnerable, that you were in no state to make such an 
important decision rationally. I actually thought I should make it for 
you, by taking myself out of the equation!" 

Sara couldn't stand to see the look on Jack's face, the mixture of 
emotions, confusion, anxiety and loss. And she continued quickly, trying 
to explain everything that had gone through her head, needing to be 
honest about her concerns, but also to set his mind at rest. 

"When I spoke to Janet, she told me all about the General's point of 
view, stuff I should have known if I'd only been thinking straight. But I 
had let my emotions get in the way. It wasn't until I took a step back 
that I realised it wasn't true, none of what I was thinking." 

She met his gaze intently, "You're healed, Jack, maybe not physically 
yet, but mentally you know exactly what you're doing, you've weighed it 
all up and come to a decision. And you don't need me, Hammond or anyone 
else to tell you what you should do." 

"It's taken me a while to realise that. I was so afraid that you had good 
reason to change your mind, to go back to work. Because I knew we could 
no longer have both. You can't do your job safely all the time I'm a 
distraction, by being here in your home. It's not like it used to be, 
when we were married. We can't just switch things off and on when we need 
to. Things are better than that now, things have changed, and things are 
harder than they were back then . . ." she trailed off, taking a deep 
breath that became a sigh of relief now that she'd got all that off her 
chest. 

"We mean even more to each other now," Jack spoke, understanding the way 
that Sara had eventually reached the same place as he had. 

Sara nodded, "I never would have thought it possible, I thought we were 
as close as we could ever be back then . . . but yes, I think we do mean 
even more to each other now, and I think we need each other more too. 
We've lost any sense of detachment, and probably independence . . . but I 
don't see that as a bad thing, not when we consider what we've exchanged 
it for." 

"Neither do I." 

"Except it's left you with only two choices, the job or the 
relationship." She shrugged, adding honestly, "Janet said we might have 
to find a compromise . . . I just don't see how. And you know you can't 
have both, that's why you decided to retire." 

"Janet thinks I should retire too." 

"I know she does, but she also agrees with me, we both want you to do 
whatever *you* want to do, not what you think we want you to do. We just 
want you to have considered all eventualities first. And that's why I 
need to make sure you've made the right decision for you, not for me. 
Forget what it means to me, just think about what it means to you." 

Jack met her gaze for a long moment, before explaining gently, "Sara, I 
*have* considered all the eventualities. I spent ten hours trapped inside 
a cave the other day considering all eventualities." 

"Believe me, I can be as selfish as the next man, and I spent plenty of 
time thinking about what this means to me. But I still came out of there 
knowing exactly what I want to do with the rest of my life, and I haven't 
changed my mind. Nor will I, not unless . . ." he trailed off, unwilling 
to finish. 

"Unless what, Jack?" 

He shook his head reluctant to admit it, but realising he had to be 
honest, "I was going to say not unless something happens between us, 
because if it ever did again, it would be nice to know I had work to 
throw myself back into, it would be the only way I could survive without 
you . . ." 

He placed his hand over hers, lowering his gaze to watch his fingers 
stroking her knuckles, "I think that's the only reason I survived the 
last three years without you . . . But with you, I'll never need to work 
again!" he laughed, raising his eyes to meet hers with a persuasive 
smile, "Sara, I know what I'm doing, trust me." 

"I do," Sara said softly, profoundly touched by Jack's words. She 
swallowed constrictively, forcing herself to tear away from his 
mesmerising gaze. "But I'm not sure I know what I'm doing here," she 
admitted, pinning the end of the bandage into place and trying to figure 
out whether she'd made a decent enough job of it to support his wrist. 

Jack lifted his arm to examine her handiwork. "It feels good to me," he 
grinned meaningfully. 

                         *******************

Friday: The Last Step 

Jack awoke with a start, his pulse racing and his chest heaving. For one 
seemingly eternal moment of terror he had no idea where he was, then he 
heard the soft sound of breathing beside him, recognised the feel of a 
comfortable mattress beneath him and the warm arm draped across his chest 
and he remembered everything. 

Holding his breath, Jack listened intently, but Sara showed no sign that 
his nightmare had disturbed her, tired as he knew she was after spending 
the week worrying over him. 

Carefully moving the covers aside, he eased himself out of bed, gently 
lowering Sara's arm to the mattress. He stood quietly for a moment to 
ensure she was still sleeping before fumbling in the darkness to find his 
shorts and sweatshirt, waiting until he was out in the hall prior to 
dressing one-handed with practised ease. 

Fishing a pair of sneakers from the downstairs closet, Jack pulled them 
on, glad that he hadn't bothered to undo the laces the last time he'd 
taken them off. He went through the silent house and let himself out onto 
the deck, renewing an old habit in heading around the side to climb the 
ladder up to the rooftop platform where he had spent many a sleepless 
night watching the stars. Now his only aim was to find some place 
solitary where he would not disturb Sara with his bad dreams. 

Sitting on the wooden decking, Jack leaned back against the rail 
dejectedly, recalling every vivid moment of a recurring nightmare. A 
nightmare that had been plaguing him, gnawing at the edge of his 
consciousness for weeks, never fully revealing itself until now. Still, 
he had known all along it was there, and now he thought he finally 
understood why. 

It was almost as if it was there to remind him of the consequences, of 
what losing Sara would mean to him. Somehow his subconscious mind had 
pushed it to the fore every time that thought was nearby. 

It had been held at bay most of the time he and Sara had been together, 
but it had returned with a vengeance as soon as they were apart, starting 
way back when he had thought he'd said goodbye to her for the last time, 
after their meeting in the diner. 

And it had returned the Sunday of the storm, while Jack had dozed in the 
sunshine, as if he could sense the trouble that was about to hit him, the 
dreadful impact of Sara leaving again. 

But he had thought that was all behind him. They had spent a week sorting 
through the wreckage of his life, and he had spent ten hours trapped 
inside a cave as if to test his resilience. Mentally, he had emerged as 
strong as he'd ever felt. 

Yet Jack now recognised the wispy memory that had been bothering him when 
he awoke by the campfire on P2S 161 to find Daniel watching him. The 
nightmare had returned, Daniel might even have been woken by it. But did 
it occur simply because he was away from home, away from Sara? 

Because that was not the case tonight, when the vision had returned to 
haunt him this time Sara was sleeping right beside him. They wanted to 
share the rest of their lives together. Why would the nightmare still 
haunt him? Why was Sara's presence no longer enough to keep it at bay? 
And why had he yet to figure out how to defuse this one in the way that 
the others had become less threatening once he had talked things through? 

Jack knew, by its very nature, this was not a dream he could share with 
Sara in any detail, nor was it something he felt able to talk about with 
Daniel. It was too personal, too much a part of him, even to share with 
his best friend. 

But, in the meantime, that single nightmare vision still tormented him, 
in some ways worse than any other he had experienced. If he didn't do 
something about it, he had a feeling he could go completely crazy this 
time. 

Maybe he had to face it head on, relive it until he could live with it? 
Like when he was trapped in that cave, reliving everything about being in 
the dark until he could accept it. It did seem like the only option open 
to him, besides which it could hardly be any worse than going back to 
sleep and revisiting it that way. 

With a heavy sigh, Jack closed his eyes, reluctantly allowing himself to 
recall everything he had seen. 

In the dream Sara and Charlie were being held captive by Apophis, he was 
going to use them as hosts, retribution for the victory that O'Neill and 
his team had achieved over him. Jack knew the image was not real, it all 
stemmed from a drug-induced hallucination, a confused mixing of tragic 
realities that was still heart stopping every time. 

The insidious manner in which human beings were taken over by Goa'uld 
larva had always revolted Jack and, if truth be known, the idea that it 
could one day happen to him scared the crap out of him. It was something 
he had long since learned not to think about on a day to day basis, 
simply so that he could function as the leader of SG-1 and not make 
command decisions based on that single overriding fear. 

But it was a fear that had paled into insignificance in recent weeks. 
Until now. 

He had seen what happened to Skaara and Sha're, to his friend Kawalsky, 
and even to Carter when Jolinar had temporarily invaded her body. Jack 
knew of the pain that could be inflicted upon its host by a Goa'uld, and 
he knew first hand what it felt like to be completely helpless and unable 
to control his own actions. 

That feeling was something Jack never wanted to live through again, yet 
now he forced his mind back to that time, back to a dark tomb, a tortured 
captive further weakened and powerless from an LSD-like concoction 
coursing through his veins in quantities too great to withstand. 

It was a man from another time, another life, a man who had not just 
survived but had finally begun to thrive since that dreadful time. And 
only that persistent thought kept Jack going, forcing himself to face 
that nightmare vision, to see an abhorrent offence being inflicted upon 
the only two people who truly owned a piece of his heart. 

Yet even while he watched, like some morbid bystander, Jack knew the 
vision was not real. So how come he felt so grief stricken and horrified? 
How come he wanted to cry out in desperate terror every time he saw that 
mature Goa'uld larva crawl across his son's shoulder and rise up ready to 
pierce the back of his neck? 

And, if Charlie's hate filled shouts were a figment of his imagination, 
why did they leave him feeling so guilt ridden? Why did his son's 
agonised shriek, as the larva punctured the skin and burrowed deep inside 
that small helpless body, ring for hours in Jack's ears? And why did the 
sight of a pair of innocent eyes turning hard and luminescent fill him 
with such an overwhelming feeling of emptiness? 

Jack shivered, drawing his knees up to his chest and hugging them tightly 
as coldness enveloped him like an icy cloak. The sight of Charlie being 
overcome by a Goa'uld larva swam before his eyes to materialise into 
Sara, his beautiful wife, brave and resolute. Her jaw clamped shut, 
refusing to cry out, refusing to show her fear. A single regretful tear 
slid down her cheek, her face creased with pain as she was forced to 
endure the same fate as their son. 

Jack's left hand clenched into a tight fist, the fingers of his right 
digging into his calf with all their diminished strength, but he did not 
notice the pain that shot up his arm from his damaged wrist. His gasp was 
one of horror, his eyes flew open to stare blank and unfocused, seeing 
nothing but the sight of a Goa'uld larva penetrating the back of Sara's 
neck and violating her body. 

The look of love in Sara's sparkling blue eyes died abruptly, replaced by 
a chilling white blaze of light that made Jack's blood run cold. 

The bodies and minds of the two most important people in Jack's world had 
been subjugated by the Goa'uld, their hearts and souls no longer 
controlled by human thought and kindness. Mother and son turned away, 
welcomed into the fold by Apophis, their new husband and father, lover 
and master. 

"God!" Jack cried out loud, unable to reconcile the known falsehood of 
the image before him with the turmoil of emotion he was feeling in his 
heart. The grief and loss seemed all too real, and in no way whatsoever 
were they being diminished by his efforts to face the nightmare, to 
defuse the power that this vision had over him. 

The shock of realisation hit him full force as one irrefutable fact 
appeared in the forefront of Jack's mind. The vision may not be real, but 
the grief and loss were. 

It was so obvious an explanation that Jack could not believe he hadn't 
seen it sooner. Except perhaps he had, perhaps he had known all along. It 
was just too painful to admit, it always had been. 

In reality, Charlie had been taken away from him in a way that was just 
as insidious, and for which Jack believed he was as much to blame as the 
vision suggested. 

Jack's left hand moved to cover his eyes, as if to block out the horrific 
weight of certainty, his body a tight huddle, rocking back and forth 
amidst noisy silence. 

So intense were the images plunging him to the darkest depths of his soul 
that Jack did not hear Sara climb the ladder to the roof. Nor did he 
sense her presence as she studied him in the starlight. Dressed in one of 
his overly large t-shirts that hung down passed her thighs, her feet were 
bare and she had a blanket wrapped around her against the cool night air, 
she leaned against the rail at the edge of the platform with a look of 
profound concern. 

Eventually she approached, crouching down beside Jack and lightly 
touching his arm as she spoke. "Jack, are you okay?" she asked gently. 

Jack gasped in shock, his mind almost unable to pull back from the vision 
that had engulfed him, images that now mixed hallucinatory falsehood with 
the terrible scene of the death of his son. Appalling recollections that 
had long remained buried deep inside him, now floated freely in his mind, 
haunting and harrowing, tormenting him, threatening to push him over the 
edge for good if he could not gain control over them. 

Jack blinked, lowering his hand from his eyes and desperately trying to 
focus on the present once more, struggling to remember where and what the 
present was. 

"Bad dream?" Sara enquired softly, already knowing the answer, but hoping 
he might talk about it. This one seemed different, he didn't just have 
that confused look of terror she had seen before, his unshielded eyes 
were filled with such grief and loss that her heart ached to look into 
them. "What happened?" 

She sat down beside him on the wooden platform, facing the railing, 
studying him intently as he stared at some distant point beyond her 
shoulder. 

For a long time Jack was silent, but to Sara he looked like he wanted to 
talk, if only he could find the words to express whatever was on his 
mind. She waited patiently until finally he spoke, his voice thick with 
emotion, "It was an hallucination, one I never recalled until these past 
two weeks." He paused, wiping a trembling hand over his face as he 
attempted to regain some semblance of control. 

Jack leaned his elbow on his knees and rested his head against his hand, 
shielding his eyes from her gaze. Sara reached out to touch the arm that 
hugged his legs to his chest, wrapping her fingers around his gently, 
mindful of his healing wrist but wanting to convey her readiness to offer 
him comfort and support, whatever he needed. 

Eventually Jack uncovered his eyes and moved his left hand to clasp hers, 
stroking her palm with his fingers, needing the contact to assure himself 
of her reality. Sara's gaze moved back up from his hand to his face, not 
quite surprised to see tears there, even though they were probably the 
first she had seen him shed since the day Charlie was born. 

"What is it, Jack. Tell me," she urged softly. 

"I . . ." Jack faltered before he had barely begun, swallowing painfully 
as he struggled to admit the truth to her. Sara squeezed his hand 
encouragingly, wishing he would look at her, so that he would truly 
realise how much she wanted to help him. Finally, Jack took a deep 
shuddering breath and tried again, speaking the words haltingly, "I saw 
you . . . and Charlie . . . you were being taken away from me." 

He turned to gaze at her at last, meeting the boundless depths of comfort 
and compassion in Sara's loving eyes. And he was struck by one simple 
truth, perhaps even the real reason for the nightmare, the one thing left 
unsaid between them. The one apology he had never made. 

"Sara, I'm so sorry," Jack blurted out painfully, a heart wrenching 
statement that spoke volumes. An apology for everything that had happened 
between them since the day their son had died, and for everything that 
had not happened. 

Sara stared at him, comprehension of the meaning to his words filling her 
own eyes with tears, shocked to hear such a declaration after all this 
time, and overwhelmed by the enormity of its importance to them both. 

She reached out and took Jack into her arms, held him while he cried, 
while he clung to her tightly. All the grief and pain and suffering that 
had been bottled up inside all the way back to the death of their son, a 
death for which Jack blamed himself, was finally released in quaking 
sobs, and Sara cried with him, sharing the grief in a way she had needed 
since the day Charlie had died. 

It was a long time before either began to quieten and even longer before 
Jack dared let go of Sara, but eventually she sat in his embrace, her 
head resting on his chest. 

"I should've been there for you," Jack murmured against her soft blonde 
hair, "I know it's too late for apologies, but I am so sorry, Sara. I 
should never have deserted you." 

"It's never too late to say sorry, Jack. And it means a lot to hear you 
say it." Sara tilted her head up towards him, tears drying on her cheeks. 
Jack's eyes were red and sore from crying, but she could see a look of 
unconditional love there that she thought had left him for good the day 
Charlie had died. 

He returned her gaze openly, his glistening eyes like a doorway to his 
soul, no longer hiding or suppressing anything that lurked in the 
darkness waiting to cause harm. There was an aura of freedom, of release 
surrounding him, and Sara's tears welled up once more with the sheer 
realisation of not just how far they had come, but that they had done it 
together. 

Together they had reached the point of a new beginning, everything was 
behind them now, the only thing ahead was themselves, their future and 
their love for each other, a love that Sara felt could never possibly be 
any deeper than it was at that moment. 

To Jack she had never looked more beautiful. He lifted his hand to catch 
a tear from her cheek, then he tilted his head down to tenderly kiss 
Sara's face, gradually shifting beneath her to reach her eyelids, her 
cheekbones, kissing away salty tears until he reached her mouth. His lips 
met hers hesitantly until she responded with eagerness, craving the 
contact, yearning the comfort they could give each other after all this 
time. 

Jack wrapped his arms more tightly around her, pulling her into his warm 
embrace, hugging her like he would never let go and Sara encircled her 
arms around his neck, her fingers playing in his short brown hair. Her 
mouth moved on his, deepening the kiss hungrily, needing to taste his 
breath mixing with hers, their tongues tangling. 

                         *******************

For a long time Jack watched the stars, the sky slowly lightening as dawn 
began to creep over the horizon until all he could see was the brightest 
planet, a welcome companion to every dark hour he had endured in the last 
eight weeks, and long before. Safe in the knowledge that together they 
had made it through another night and lived to face a much brighter day, 
Jack rested his arm across Sara's waist and dared to close his eyes. 

The brightness of the sun woke him a couple of hours later and he gently 
nudged Sara until she murmured softly. 

"Bed!" Jack whispered in her ear, grinning at the sexy smile that came 
over her face. She turned and nestled against him, wrapping her arms 
around him tightly. He kissed her lips, his nose nuzzling against her 
cheek, "Come on, let's get you downstairs." 

Jack helped her sit up, pulling the t-shirt over her head before dressing 
himself. He kissed her again, loving the way she responded with eyes 
still closed. 

"Open your eyes," he urged softly and Sara eventually did, allowing 
herself to be led to the ladder. Jack went first, climbing down 
carefully, hanging onto the vertical strut with his left hand, keeping a 
tight grip all the way down as he shifted his feet from rung to rung. 

Sara followed and he lifted her off near the bottom wrapping his left arm 
around her waist and swinging her to the ground. Within minutes he was 
tucking her up in their bed, her breath sounds already slowing as she 
drifted easily back towards sleep. 

Jack slid beneath the quilt, gazing at Sara for a long time, lying on his 
side next to her. He brushed his fingertips down her cheek and she 
stirred, shifting until she found him, nestling into his chest and 
wrapping her arm around him. Finally, he settled down and held her close, 
shutting his eyes once more. 

                         *******************

Jack came to with the knowledge that something had changed, something 
inside him. Like the surety that everything would seem better after a 
good night's rest, he knew that this time would prove the opposite. 

The truth was out, and this time he had no trouble remembering exactly 
what that was. Facts that had remained suppressed, long buried deep where 
they could do him no harm, had been released that night. 

It had to happen, sooner or later, surely even he had known that, either 
the truth will out or it would eat him alive. And, after all that had 
happened, Jack was finally willing to admit that it had been eating him 
alive. 

Like a man dying of thirst who refuses to open that final canister of 
water, Jack had been subsisting on instinct alone for far too long, 
always remaining that little bit more detached than his militaristic 
persona really required, never letting anyone get close enough to dig 
beneath that topmost layer, never letting his heart get involved in the 
matter at hand, and never opening up for fear of what would be let out. 

And he hadn't wanted to let anything out. Not the truth about what had 
happened to Charlie, or the impact it had on his relationship with Sara. 

It was only thoughts of Sara and Charlie that had pulled him through 
those four months in Iraq all those years ago. And those exact memories 
had kept him going in Giza. Captive and dying in the depths of an ancient 
pyramid, his mind had gladly wandered back to the past, reliving every 
prison camp experience in the knowledge that he had Sara and Charlie to 
survive for, to come home to. 

Except now he was forced to admit the truth. And with memories of that 
recent captivity, the dreams of a family reunited, still so fresh in his 
mind, somehow it was even harder to accept that Charlie was gone. 

But, like Pandora's box, the memories had been unleashed, the vivid 
reality of the worst day of his life, of any father's life. 

And Jack knew that no matter what had been done to him in Iraq, or in 
Giza, or whatever could be done to him somewhere down that future road, 
nothing would ever be as bad as that day. 

The day his child had died. 

The day he had discovered that kids could be far more ingenious than he 
had ever thought possible when there was something they really wanted to 
get their hands on. The day he had discovered that a high shelf and a 
tightly lidded box really were no match for the curiosity of a young boy. 

And the day he had discovered that leaving a fully loaded personal 
handgun in the family home would shatter every belief he ever had. Belief 
in God, belief in himself, belief in the infinity of the love he and Sara 
had shared, and above all the belief that only he himself would suffer 
the punishment that was bound to come his way for the things he had done 
during his career in the military. 

Because, for sure, he had never been able to find any other reason, in 
heaven or earth, why such a bright shining light would be extinguished at 
such an innocent age. 

Charlie had never had an evil thought in his life. He had been so full of 
fun and laughter. He had loved hearing any joke they could tell him, 
whether from Sara's father, or from Jack himself. He had adored playing 
catch with his Dad, and he had adored the way his Mom would stop to 
watch, to cheer him on as Jack sent the ball higher and farther, 
challenging him to a level always only just within reach. 

Charlie never deserved to die. And, after all the years that had passed 
since, Jack still didn't understand why he had lost his son. Why not him 
instead of Charlie? What purpose did it serve to this world or any other 
to take a loving young boy away from his family so soon? Why Charlie, why 
not him? 

Jack remembered the same arguments that had swirled in his head for many 
long months after that day, arguments that had never been resolved. 
Arguments that had pushed him to the brink, until he was ready to take 
his own life, to somehow balance the scales between right and wrong. 

He had reached that lowest point, but he had survived. He had been sent 
through the Stargate on a suicide mission, but he had survived that too. 
He had returned to Earth feeling the need to start afresh, and the 
strength to bury the dead. But in truth he had simply buried it within 
himself, he had returned to find that his former life was over, Sara had 
gone and Jack knew he had no right to stop her. 

And so he had buried the pain and the memories and feigned a life, until 
he was so well practised at shielding himself that he hadn't even 
realised he was doing it. And he had never realised what was missing, 
until now. 

Now he had Sara once more. But he had lost Charlie all over again. 

In an effort to interrupt his rapid descent into misery, Jack began to 
move, feeling the stiffness and pain of new bruises mixing with old 
wounds. He shifted on the mattress, trying to find a position close to 
comfort, but finding it impossible to separate the dull ache in his ribs 
from the ache in that empty part of his heart that came with thoughts 
about the death of his son. 

With a wince of pain, he gave in and rolled onto his right side, 
relieving the weight on his chest as he curled into an old familiar 
position. What he hadn't counted on was finding a pair of bright blue 
eyes watching every move. Sara had woken before him for a change. 

She saw the way Jack flinched, his eyes narrowing in a frown of regret 
for an instant before he swallowed with difficulty and hunted futilely 
for something to say. 

Sara decided to let him off the hook, speaking first, two simple words. 

"Thank you." 

"For what?" Jack's frown deepened. 

"For what you said last night, up on the roof." 

"Oh . . . that . . ." he faltered, glancing away as he gestured 
helplessly, ". . . I'm sorry it wasn't sooner." 

"I know . . . but I don't think you could have said it any sooner than 
you did. Not with so much to work out, so much to get through before you 
ever got close to the beginning." 

She raised her hand to stroke his cheek, waiting until his eyes met her 
own before continuing almost shyly, "Jack, you're a man of so many 
layers, too many secrets buried inside you, it's a credit to your sheer 
strength and staying power that you got this far! I'm proud of you for 
that . . . It's not important to me that it wasn't sooner, what's 
important is that you said it." 

Sara paused, chewing her lip thoughtfully, wanting to get to the real 
reason why she had been awake for a while, but nervous about broaching 
the subject. "Jack, do you remember when we last met, eighteen months 
ago? That other guy . . . your . . . double? Did . . . did he ever tell 
you what he said?" 

"Yes he did," Jack admitted, his eyes down turned as he recalled a 
promise never kept, a promise to Sara that he would return to hear all 
about it, just as soon as he had taken the alien crystal, the likeness of 
Charlie, back to where it belonged. 

"When you took him home?" Sara asked hesitantly, never quite able to 
imagine where exactly "home" might be. 

"Yes." 

"You knew what he said, you knew how I felt?" 

Jack nodded guiltily. 

"Then why didn't you ever come and talk to me about it?" Sara was unable 
to hide the hurt from her voice, the questions that had gone through her 
mind. Questions that had returned with a vengeance after the night they 
had just spent, questions to which she had awoken, lying beside Jack, 
wondering what had really happened, and why he had been unwilling to 
share back then. "I really needed to talk about it, Jack." 

"I know . . . but I couldn't . . . I was too afraid," he said huskily. 

She frowned in confusion, "Of what?" 

"Of this . . ." Jack gestured between them, "Of what we have . . . of how 
it changes things." 

"It didn't have to change anything, Jack." 

"Yes it did. I think I knew, even then, that I wouldn't be able to live 
like that anymore, leaving you for days on end at a moment's notice, 
never knowing when I would see you again . . . or if . . ." He swallowed 
hard. 

"You managed before," Sara said softly, knowing it was a moot point but 
saying it anyway, "We both did." 

"Before, I didn't know what it was like to lose you . . ." Jack's voice 
hitched in his throat, "I lost Charlie, I couldn't face losing you again. 
But I wasn't finished. I wasn't ready to give up the work . . . so I knew 
I couldn't see you again. Even if it hurt you . . . I thought it was for 
the best . . . I'm sorry." 

Sara met his gaze, mulling over all he had said before nodding 
acceptance, understanding his intentions whether or not she agreed with 
them. She had always been unable to get that final image from her mind, 
the sight of Jack walking away from her at the hospital, some strange 
being that was the perfect copy of Charlie holding his hand, like father 
and son, reunited just to say goodbye. 

Finally she asked, "Will I ever get to know where you took him?" 

"I don't know," Jack admitted honestly. "Janet said . . . well . . . she 
thinks there's still something I need to talk to you about, somewhere 
down the line. Something still bothering me, something unrelated to 
everything that's happened recently." He shrugged helplessly, "I don't 
know what it is. I don't think it's that though. I don't see how it can 
be . . ." he trailed off, recalling Janet's words and wondering again 
what she might have been referring to. 

The oldest secret, the thing that bothers him the most . . . Right now he 
had no idea what she'd been talking about, but Jack trusted Janet, he 
trusted her medical abilities and he trusted her perception of patients 
and friends. And he couldn't help believing that somewhere down the line, 
her prophecy would become apparent. 

He met Sara's curious gaze with a weak smile, "But when I figure it out, 
you'll be the first to know." 

She looked at him sadly. "Maybe you already did, last night," she 
suggested tentatively. 

Jack shook his head, grimacing at the thought, "No, I don't think so. I 
don't think she meant Charlie . . ." 

"It's hard to believe there could be anything left." 

Jack shrugged mutely, his expression so lost and helpless as to make 
Sara's heart clench. She swallowed constrictively, knowing it would be a 
long while before she could think of that night without tears welling up 
in her eyes. She blinked rapidly, her hand moving to cover Jack's, 
squeezing gently as she asked the only question she could, even though 
the answer was written all over his face. 

"So, how are you doing with all that?" 

He met her gaze for only a moment, his fingers entwining with hers, 
lifting her hand to brush against his lips. With a sigh, he rolled onto 
his back, pulling her with him, wrapping his right arm around her and 
holding her close as she buried her head against his chest, needing him 
as much as he needed her. 

When he spoke it was with a raw honesty that stemmed from all they had 
shared, "It hurts," he admitted huskily, clearing his choked throat 
before managing to add, "So much that if you weren't here . . . I think I 
would do something stupid." 

She tilted her head to gaze at him, understanding his meaning clearly, 
knowing all too well how he had responded the first time around. Now all 
she could do was reassure him, and stay with him, "It will get easier, 
Jack, I promise. But you have to stick with it, don't bottle it all up 
again or else it will just be there eating away at you, waiting to haunt 
you next time you unleash the same memories." 

"I know," Jack whispered. 

"Stay strong, it will be okay." 

His embrace tightened and he pulled her nearer, his lips pressing soft 
kisses against her hair. "How did you ever get to be so strong," he said 
with wonder. "I couldn't survive this without you, and yet you made it 
alone." He gulped audibly, "I'm sorry, Sara. I should never have left you 
to go through it alone." 

"Jack, you don't need to apologise anymore, it's behind us now." She 
shifted in his embrace, moving higher up the bed to trace the line of his 
jaw with a gentle finger. Her lips met his in the softest of kisses, a 
whisper of breath passing between them. She pulled away far enough to 
hold his gaze, her eyes glistening as she spoke, "Jack, we're only as 
strong as what life gives us." She swallowed hard, "And you got way too 
many tests of your strength thrown at you to ever have enough left to go 
around." 

"You did all the suffering, Jack. All the time we were married, I was 
just a bystander, watching you use up all your strength to cope with 
every mission they sent you on, every threat to your life they made you 
face, every moment you spent in that Iraqi prison." She swallowed again, 
"When Charlie died you didn't have any strength left. And I didn't have 
enough to share. And for that I'm as sorry as you are . . ." 

She laid a hand on his cheek, needing to feel the tingle of contact 
between her fingertips and his body, his energy, as she quietly offered 
all the help that she could, "Jack, what you're facing now, it's the 
worst thing you'll ever go through, believe me. But we have enough 
strength to face it together. Let me help you this time, let me share . . 
." 

"How can I put you through that again?" his question was barely audible. 

"Because I want you to." 

She tilted her head to refocus her gaze on him, her eyes revealing 
fathomless depths of compassion and comfort, but also of need, her own 
need to share the grief that she still felt, even after all the time that 
had passed, a loss that had never seen closure with the emotion that 
should have been shared by the grieving parents. 

"It's what we should have done the first time . . ." she continued 
softly, "Somehow sharing now makes up for those three years apart. I know 
it sounds strange . . ." 

"No it doesn't. I think it actually makes sense," Jack replied with a 
look of surprise. He hugged her even tighter, "Just keep reminding me of 
that every time I clam up, okay?" 

Sara's smile was tinged with sadness as she gently pressed a kiss to his 
lips, "It's a deal. Share and share alike." She sighed, resting her head 
against his shoulder and snuggling close, absorbing every sensation, 
every feeling, the amalgamation of every moment they had been through 
together in order to reach this fundamental point in their relationship, 
and a hopeful future. 

                         *******************

By the time he was showered and dressed, Jack had a plan, a way to put 
all the other reminders of his recent life behind him and help deal with 
the worst thing of all. He found Sara in the kitchen, a steaming mug of 
coffee in her hand. 

"How long did you say you got off work?" he asked eagerly. 

"At least a week," she grinned, "I told them I was tending a sick 
relative!" 

"Cool!" Jack smiled at the idea of himself as the aging maiden aunt that 
Sara's employer had probably envisaged. "In that case, where would you 
like to tend to me, Maui or the Rockies?" 

Sara put down her cup with a surprised laugh, "Excuse me?" 

"Come on, where shall we go? Maui or the Rockies?" 

"I thought you had a retirement to figure out?" she said curiously. 

"I've got a ton of leave to take," Jack explained with a shrug, "As far 
as I'm concerned I'm already retired. I can always call in on General 
Hammond on the way . . . So, where shall we go, Maui or the Rockies?" he 
persisted with a grin. 

Sara's smile widened, distant happy memories springing to the fore, the 
place of their honeymoon, or the somewhat magical site of Charlie's 
conception. "Hmmm, tough decision . . . but the Rockies are always good 
this time of year! And on the doorstep," she added ironically. 

"We'll need a bigger tent," Jack agreed thoughtfully, his mind already 
checking off the list of supplies he had in his garage. 

"Our old one is in my basement, you know I never throw anything out!" 

"That solves it then, we'll pack up my jeep – you'll have to do the 
driving though . . ." he grimaced, holding up his right hand endearingly. 

"Jack, you know I love to drive in the mountains!" She moved close enough 
to pull him into a delighted hug, "Not to mention hammering in those tent 
pegs!" 

                         *******************

It was almost noon when they reached Sara's house, parking Jack's 
Cherokee on the driveway. They had left Sara's Wrangler jeep in his 
garage, preferring the larger amount of trunk space that the Cherokee 
afforded them. The more supplies they could take along, the less need 
they would have to leave the peace and serenity of the mountains to 
venture into town. 

Jack headed through the kitchen down to the basement to hunt for the tent 
and any other useful camping gear he might find down there, leaving Sara 
to pack some suitable clothing. Before heading up to the bedroom, she got 
distracted by the mail, sorting through the large pile that she had 
fished from her mailbox on the way in. 

The most interesting item was a padded brown envelope, no return address, 
only a smudged postmark from somewhere in the Virginia area. Curiously, 
she tore open the sealed flap and peered inside, tipping the contents 
into her hand. 

Sara examined the videotape with a frown. It was very odd, no label, the 
record protection tab had been removed, and the tape had been left wound 
two thirds of the way through. 

Shrugging to herself, Sara turned on the television and inserted the tape 
into the VCR, stepping back to watch the screen come to life. With the 
protection tab removed, the video began playing automatically, just as 
Jack re-entered the room from the kitchen. 

"Sara, where did you say it was . . . ?" Jack stopped short, an icy cold 
sweat breaking out on his neck when he heard the voice, recognised the 
words, and was drawn back to a time he thought he had finally put behind 
him . . . 

"Tell me, Colonel. I can help you! Who is it?" 

The accent was unmistakable, the urgent plea of a blond Russian 
determined to get some meaningful information for all his painstaking 
efforts. His words feigned aid and sympathy to a man so weak he could 
barely stand, so drugged he was delirious, unable to recognise the voice 
of his nemesis behind the offer of help. 

"Apophis!" The captive's desperate gasp revealed the perversity of his 
hallucination, the image of a former enemy, a Goa'uld who was supposed to 
be dead. A Goa'uld who in reality was now less of a threat to his life 
than the very man Jack was appealing to for help. "It's Apophis!" 

"What is he doing?" Even through the dimly lit video recording, the 
eagerness of Dmitri Alesandrov to pry information from the confused and 
stricken Colonel could not be hidden. 

Standing in the living room of his ex-wife's home, Jack could only stop 
and stare, feeling like some masochistic voyeur, outside looking in on 
his own life, on what he had become, the depths he had plunged to and 
everything he had been forced to recover from. 

The battered prisoner on the TV screen seemed like a world away, and yet 
heart-stoppingly close. So close that he wanted to reach out and offer a 
helping hand, to share the pain of a man hurting so physically and 
psychologically that even Jack was aghast at the sight before him, 
struggling to reconcile that image of himself with what he saw each time 
he regarded his own reflection, in the mirror, in the glass of a picture 
hanging on a wall, in the shiny black paintwork of Sara's Jeep Wrangler, 
or even in his own recent memories. 

This battered prisoner suffered such desperate sorrow as he himself had 
felt only hours before, scant hours since he had relived that whole 
hallucination for what he had foolishly hoped would be the last time. 
Until, apparently, someone had other ideas. 

Yet, despite everything he was seeing, Jack could not force himself to 
reach for the off switch, to stop the tide of memories that threatened 
him. Somehow he knew that if he could withstand this, watch the scene 
play out for real before his own eyes, he really would prove he was over 
it, that he had made it through to the other side. 

But Jack wasn't the only one being made to watch. 

"Oh my God, Jack! Look at you! Look at what they did to you!" 

Sara's hand covered her mouth, looking like she might be physically ill 
at the sight on the screen. The sight of the man she loved suffering far 
worse pain and torment than she could ever have imagined. 

Her shock at the contents of the videotape was painfully clear, and the 
sound of her weeping cut through Jack's paralysis. He went to her, 
gathered her into his arms while she sobbed. 

"It's all right, Sara, it's okay, I'm okay!" 

"He's taking my family!" Jack's eyes were drawn back to the screen by 
those dreadful desperate words. He turned Sara away from the view, but 
was unable to tear his own gaze from the scene. 

In such animated form, it was as if he was seeing the state of himself 
for the first time, able to examine every facet, everything on view, 
every action and reaction he had made. And he finally realised just how 
right Sara had been. He had been avoiding looking at himself in the 
mirror for so long that he had failed to comprehend the full magnitude of 
his achievement. 

"I survived, Sara. Look at me! I survived everything they did to me!" His 
words were filled with wonder as he realised the pure truth in them. "I'm 
all healed. Thanks to you, I've recovered." 

He pulled away from her fragile embrace and tilted her chin up to gaze 
earnestly into stricken blue eyes. "Look at me Sara, then and now. Look 
at how far we've come." 

She blinked at him, struggling to contain a flood of shocked emotion, to 
concentrate instead on the truth in his words. An expression of trust 
gradually shone through her distress until she turned with him to face 
the scene together. 

"Revenge for what, Colonel?" 

Dmitri Alesandrov was shaking his captive by the shoulders, desperate for 
an answer from a man too distracted by an hallucinatory image, an image 
that only Jack knew the real secret of. The image of a wife and son 
departing within golden rings that seemed to spirit them away, leaving 
him defeated and alone. 

Tears continued to roll down Sara's cheeks as she watched, biting her 
trembling lip while the blond Russian tried to regain his prisoner's 
attention. The drugged man's eyes cleared to focus upon him with a look 
of recognition. The moment was over. 

Recalling all too vividly what was to follow, Jack moved in front of 
Sara, his hands upon her shoulders, his body blocking her view. He bobbed 
lower to capture her gaze. 

"Sara," he urged softly, "If you had any doubts whether I'd recovered or 
not, this is the proof. You only have to look at me now." 

Once Sara's attention was fully focused upon his face, Jack reached 
around for the remote control on the shelf, switching off the television. 
The harrowing scene disappeared, breaking the spell and making room for 
questions to begin forming. 

Swivelling around, Jack ejected the videotape from the player, holding it 
gingerly as he wondered if it would be possible to get any fingerprints 
from it, anything that might tell them who had sent it. He regarded it 
curiously, a part of him marvelling at how something so nondescript could 
hold such power. Finally, he placed it on the chair, laying it atop a 
padded brown envelope that had probably delivered it to Sara's door, an 
ordinary envelope that also appeared to hold few distinguishing marks. 

Jack turned back to gaze at Sara, chewing his lip remorsefully, wondering 
why anyone would wish such harm upon her, how anyone could even know of 
her involvement with him again after all this time. 

"I'm sorry, Sara. You should never have had to see any of that," he said 
sincerely, wishing it hadn't happened, and not knowing what to do now 
that it had. 

Instead, he did the only thing he could, moving to her side once more, 
taking her in his arms and holding her close as she trembled. Eventually, 
he led her upstairs, to what had once been their bedroom, a place of many 
memories shared, a place of warmth and love that he hoped would go some 
way toward comforting her tremors and allaying all those fears that had 
resurged at the sight of that video footage. 

As she lay in his arms, her eyes red rimmed and sore, Sara finally broke 
the silence with the only question she could think of that might have an 
answer within her comprehension. 

"Where did it come from?" 

Because, for certain there was nothing about what she had seen that she 
would ever understand. How man could inflict such evil upon man, how 
greed and lust for power could corrupt so absolutely. And, above all, why 
Jack had to be the one to suffer. After all he had been through in this 
lifetime, why him? Why not someone she didn't know, someone she did not 
care about. It wouldn't make it right, but it certainly wouldn't hurt so 
much as it did right then. 

Sara knew it would be a long time before she got used to those images, 
the sheer enormity of what she had witnessed. Suffering and torment that 
appeared umpteen times worse than she had imagined, even with the 
knowledge she had been privy to, even with the torn photograph she had 
found. These moving images were so much worse, so powerful, and so 
overwhelmingly awful. It would be a long time before she ever got used to 
them, but so long as she had this man before her, this living proof of a 
recovery well made, that at least would go some way towards making those 
images a little easier to withstand. 

Jack held her tenderly, kissing her hair, nuzzling, appreciating the 
scent. "I don't know where the tape came from," his soft response was 
grim, "But I can put a stop to all this." 

"It's not over, is it?" 

"No . . ." 

It had brought Jack to a clear conclusion, one he had been thinking about 
for a long time and which they had discussed several times already, one 
which they'd both had doubts about, no matter how small. But now it was 
clear, the only way, and the best way, to end it. 

"No, it's not over yet, but I can finish it now." 

Sara looked up at him, she knew what he meant, and he was right. As far 
as she was concerned, only Jack knew for sure how invaluable he was to 
his work, and if he thought this was the best thing to do she wasn't 
going to argue anymore, especially since the outcome could be the one way 
to save him, to save them both. 

She met his gaze and nodded. 

Jack smiled gently, a whole new world of opportunities was about to open 
up for them both and he couldn't help but look forward to all the time 
they would share. 

"Let's get packed up, we can stop at Cheyenne Mountain on the way." 

                         *******************

General Hammond was somewhat alarmed to find the man knocking on his 
office door was Jack O'Neill. He smothered his discomfort with what he 
hoped was a welcoming expression, standing to greet him and surprised to 
receive a wide smile in return. 

"Colonel O'Neill, I didn't expect to see you here today. Doctor Fraiser 
said you were resting at home," he explained hurriedly, glancing at the 
distinctive black eye shadowing the left side of Jack's face and 
wondering what other bruises he had to go with it. 

"I was, sir." Jack raised his bandaged right hand as though in support of 
the doctor's recommendation, "But I have a couple of things I need to 
discuss with you urgently." 

"Well, that's fine, Colonel . . . take a seat," Hammond gestured as he 
retook his own, picking up his pen and twisting it over and over in his 
hands as he sat stiffly in his chair. 

Jack frowned at the unexpected awkwardness he detected in the General's 
demeanour. It had already occurred to him to wonder what if Sara was not 
the only recipient of an unwelcome parcel. If someone was trying to 
launch some kind of campaign against him, there were other more obvious 
targets, especially if the aim was to oust him from the SGC. 

Now, as Jack sat down and unzipped the leather document pouch he had 
secreted the videotape in, he studied Hammond intently, watching for any 
reaction to the sight of a nondescript padded envelope. 

If the envelope itself did not fully convince, then the videotape Jack 
slid out from within certainly did. 

"I take it you've received one of these yourself recently?" he said 
quietly. 

For a long moment, the General was silent, his eyes fixed on the 
unlabelled videotape. He was not ready for this conversation. 

Hammond had been considering it for over twenty-four hours, what to say 
to the man when he saw him, what to say to the victim of everything he 
had seen during one sleepless night. One lengthy session in front of a 
television screen, a darkened room, better for a clear picture; a 
darkened room with nothing but himself, three endless videotapes, and a 
large glass of whisky to give him strength enough to continue to the end. 
What could he possibly say? 

"Three." 

Jack threw him a puzzled look. 

Hammond coughed to clear his throat. "Three videotapes, Jack," he 
admitted painfully. "They were sent to Doctor Mackenzie. We only found 
out about them yesterday." 

"Any luck tracing the origin?" Jack asked, deliberately ignoring all the 
other issues that were probably on the General's mind. 

Hammond nodded, happy to stick to the facts, "Only as far back as the 
Pentagon," 

"This one has a Virginia postmark too. I don't know if you'll get any 
prints off it." 

"We didn't with the other three, but maybe we'll get lucky." Pulling a 
large manila folder from his top drawer, Hammond picked up the tape by 
the edges and slid it inside, closely followed by the envelope. "Anyone 
else handle this besides you and the mailman?" 

Jack winced, drawing a deep breath before quietly revealing the truth, 
"Sara . . . my ex-wife . . . it was sent to Sara . . ." 

The look on his face said it all. Hammond could tell Sara O'Neill had 
been subjected to some of the contents. He met Jack's gaze with an 
expression of profound sympathy, "I'm sorry, Jack. We had no idea what 
the purpose of these tapes was, whether copies would be sent elsewhere, 
or what we could even do about it. I should have warned you." 

"It's not your fault, General. Who could have known?" Jack shrugged, 
"Senator Mitchell must be a damn sore loser . . ." He shook his head 
morosely, "I don't understand why he would send it to Sara? What could he 
possibly hope to achieve? And how did he even know about her . . ." he 
trailed off distractedly, that last thought preying on his mind most of 
all, causing him to wonder what kind of danger he might have put Sara in 
by renewing their relationship. 

"We don't know for sure that it was Senator Mitchell." 

"Who else could it be? I mean, who else would gain anything from this? 
Or, for that matter, who else would be able to wield the power to do this 
from behind bars." Jack's eyes narrowed, "He is behind bars, isn't he, 
General?" 

"Yes, he is. It's my understanding that he's being held at the 
President's request, a high security facility." 

"Along with all the other spies who'll never see trial . . ." Jack 
muttered under his breath. 

Hammond ignored Jack's frustration with the political shenanigans, 
instead searching for a tactful way to ask a delicate question. 

"Jack, you know I'm under obligation to investigate possible 
repercussions here . . . did Sara see anything classified?" Hammond 
noticed the way he squirmed slightly, a look of discomfort on his face. 

Jack grimaced, there was something he needed to know in order to answer 
as aptly as possible, but this was not a conversation he had ever wanted 
to have with his superior officer, or anyone in a position of authority 
for that matter. It was a conversation he'd hardly been willing to have 
with Daniel and Sara. But they were the only two who had managed to drag 
anything out of him, and he had really hoped it would stay that way. 
Apparently it was not to be. 

"General, how much of those tapes have you seen?" he eventually asked. 

Hammond raised an eyebrow, understanding Jack's awkwardness, and how much 
courage it had taken to voice that simple question. "I won't lie to you, 
son. I felt it was my duty to watch all of it." He shook his head 
sorrowfully, "I took the tapes home last night . . ." 

"I'm sorry, General. No one deserves to have to see that." 

Hammond shrugged mutely, knowing there was nothing that had not already 
been said that would make the situation any better, or change what had 
happened. 

Despite the somewhat nauseating fact that General Hammond had now 
witnessed some of his innermost secrets, Jack couldn't help be relieved 
by the fact that he would not have to describe one specific scene in 
detail. 

"Well, if you've seen it all . . . The video sent to Sara had been wound 
to a specific point, the one thing that affected her directly . . ." he 
trailed off, hoping he would not have to go into it any more than that. 

Hammond's puzzled expression cleared and he inhaled sharply, recalling 
the scene from all those that had left their permanent impression on his 
memory. It occurred about two hours into that final tape and, as bad as 
that scene was, he knew how much worse it continued to get after that. He 
could only pray that neither Sara nor Jack had watched any further, 

Still, there was one vital clue that piece of footage would have 
revealed. "You know you can't tell her about Apophis, Jack. That's the 
one classified element of this whole affair. You can't tell Sara what it 
means." 

"I know," Jack nodded agreement, but he found his conviction wavering and 
realisation hit him, as though a light had switched on in the back of his 
mind. Janet's words about the one thing that had always bothered him in 
this job, the one thing that he would need to share with Sara, somewhere 
down the line. The hallucination of Sara and Charlie being taken over by 
the Goa'uld, it wasn't just the twisting of a tragic reality, the loss of 
his family. It was the biggest thing he feared for himself! 

"Yes, sir, I can't tell Sara," Jack reiterated flatly, even while the 
doubt grew in his mind as to the truth of his statement. 

But he had to set aside those thoughts for the moment, there had been a 
second point to his visit, and it was time to get it done. "General, I 
believe you spoke to Sara the other day – she may have mentioned my 
retirement?" 

"Yes, Colonel," Hammond nodded, rummaging in a tray on his desk for a 
file. "I've had the papers drawn up." 

Jack raised an eyebrow in surprise, his words little more than a 
mystified murmur, "That easy?" 

Hammond looked at him, "I take it that's still what you want?" 

"Yes, sir . . ." he gestured, nonplussed, "I guess I expected more of an 
argument." 

"Well, Jack, your wife was very convincing. I've had a couple of days to 
get used to the idea." 

"And to watch the videotapes . . ." understanding dawned on Jack's face, 
rapidly followed by his obvious disappointment in his CO, "You think 
retirement is my only option after what you've seen!" 

"I'm sorry, Jack, but if I had known sooner . . . You must understand 
that I cannot in all conscience allow you back out into the field. Doctor 
Mackenzie agrees with my assessment," Hammond added defensively. 

"And we all know what an experienced combat veteran he is!" Jack snorted. 
"With all due respect, sir, don't you think I at least deserve to be 
consulted over the decision of my fitness for duty?" 

Hammond sighed, his tone becoming more adamant, "Colonel, I'm sorry, but 
there is no question in my mind that this is the right decision. Clearly 
that last mission was a mistake. From the reports I've received . . ." 

"Reports?" Jack interrupted angrily, "General, you haven't had my 
report!" 

"Colonel, I don't need to, I know what happened. You were so busy running 
from this establishment that you did not even stop to change out of your 
bloodstained fatigues! What must your wife have thought? That is all the 
fact I need to see you are not fit for active duty." 

Jack's expression was stunned, his anger fading rapidly as he realised 
the General was not to blame for his assessment of the situation, it 
really did look that bad when he only had half the picture to work from. 

"It's not what you think, General," he said quietly, "I wasn't running 
away, I was running towards something." 

But Hammond was clearly unconvinced by such semantics, "Be that as it 
may, Colonel, you've made your decision, you've requested retirement. Why 
are we even arguing over this?" 

"Because you don't understand the irony here!" Jack exclaimed, "You're 
all feeling sorry for me when I finally feel healed!" 

He took a deep calming breath, realising he was going to have to explain, 
to tell his CO exactly what he was thinking and feeling for once in his 
life. "General, I'm not retiring because I can't face the SGC or the work 
any longer. I'm retiring because I want my life back! I want Sara back. 
Call me selfish, but I feel like I've given this place more than enough 
of myself to earn the right to leave now, while I'm still alive and young 
enough to appreciate the fact!" 

"I want to retire because I've recovered, not because I'm suffering some 
kind of psychological trauma you all think I must be going through simply 
because it's taken you this long to realise the extent of what happened, 
because you've finally got your heads out of the sand and faced the 
truth! Faced up to something I went through eight weeks ago! Something 
I've had to live with every day since!" 

"General, don't do this to me," Jack pleaded, "After what I've been 
through, you of all people should be able to recognise my progress. I'm 
healed, I'm fine, I've accepted all that happened and I've moved on. 
Don't punish me just because the rest of you haven't figured out how to 
deal with it yet." 

"General, don't make me retire knowing it would have been forced upon me 
if I hadn't. Knowing that the people I work with have been led to believe 
the same. You're trying to take away my freedom just as badly as Mitchell 
did!" 

Hammond sighed heavily, struck by those last words, "Doctor Jackson said 
much the same thing." 

"You spoke to Daniel about this?" The General nodded. "What did he say?" 

"The same as you. That you deserve the freedom to choose." 

"Then let me, General. Give me that freedom and you know I'll retire 
anyway, what difference does it make to you?" 

Hammond gestured helplessly, "Jack, I don't think Doctor Jackson is in 
any better position than you are to know what's right for you. He's as 
much a victim here, and, if truth be known, I believe he is suffering the 
aftermath almost as badly." 

Jack leaned closer to the desk, fixing Hammond with a fierce gaze, 
"Daniel and I may have been the victims here, but we are also the 
survivors! We survived everything they threw at us! We broke free and 
fought back. Yet you sound like you're ready to force us both into a 
corner! For crying out loud, General, give us some benefit of the doubt! 
We were there, we know how bad it was, and we are both perfectly capable 
of making the right decision about our futures." 

"All I'm asking is for you to leave the door open, let me retire in the 
knowledge that a change of heart is not totally out of the question." 

Hammond still wasn't sure if he was convinced, but he also wasn't sure if 
it really mattered. Besides, both Jack and Daniel were right in one 
respect, he owed them. He regretted not supporting them in the first 
place, maybe the only way to begin repaying that now would be with 
loyalty. 

"Okay, Jack, if it's what you really want. Sign the papers and I'll do 
the rest. My report will state my regret over your decision to retire, 
and my recommendation to keep your file active." 

Jack let out a relieved breath, "Thank you, General." He gladly took the 
proffered pen and slowly signed his name as best he could given the 
sprained wrist and not completely healed fingers. 

"What do you want us to do about Senator Mitchell?" Hammond asked when he 
had finished. 

"Leave him locked up where he is," Jack replied unhesitatingly, "If 
rotting in jail is good enough for me, then it's good enough for him!" 

"You don't want to press charges against him for this latest attack?" 

"General, even if you could prove it, what's the point in adding a few 
months to the life sentence he's already facing for treason?" 

"He seems out to destroy you any way he can, Jack, unless you testify 
against him, he will get away with it!" 

"It doesn't matter anymore, General. I'm through with this life. Once he 
sees I'm out of the SGC, he won't have any reason to keep at it. Besides, 
how much damage can he really do from a jail cell?" 

"So you're going to let him think he's getting away with it?" Hammond 
asked disapprovingly. 

Jack shrugged defencelessly, "I've seen enough revenge. I've seen enough 
bloodshed. Believe me, General, if I thought he was any danger then I'd 
do something about it, but he's getting what he wanted. He wanted me 
discharged from the military and out of his way. Well I'm retiring. Let 
him think he's won!" 

"You think it's that simple?" 

"It *is* that simple," Jack smiled confidently. "Now I've got four weeks' 
leave to use up, and by then my papers will be processed. If it's all the 
same to you, sir, I'd like to get out of here and get on with the rest of 
my life. Sara's waiting, we're going camping for a few days! No phones, 
no threats and no walls!" 

"You're going to leave, just like that? After all you've been through 
with these people?" 

Jack nodded sheepishly. "Never was much on goodbyes!" he admitted, 
knowing there really was nothing he could say to people who had faced 
death with him countless times. And, if he allowed himself to think about 
it, he would feel so bad about deserting them that he might not be able 
to go through with it. Besides, if Daniel already knew, there really was 
little point in putting any of them through it. 

"Hell, I'll throw a party when my retirement is made official. We'll all 
get drunk and morose and reminisce. How's that sound?" 

"Sounds good, Jack," Hammond smiled wryly. He stood and reached across to 
shake Jack's bandaged hand gingerly. "We're going to miss you around 
here." 

"No you won't, you'll be too busy breaking in a new second!" He met 
Hammond's handshake, his face turning solemn for a moment, "Look after 
them for me, sir." 

"I will, Jack. And you look after yourself and that wife of yours." 

"Ex-wife!" Jack grinned widely, and Hammond noticed the way his eyes 
sparkled at the thought of Sara. 

"Good luck," Hammond added. 

"You too, General." 

With that, Jack turned and left, hurrying down the hall to the stairwell, 
his best, cleanest form of escape route, knowing he was unlikely to meet 
anyone that way out. 

General Hammond watched him go sadly, wondering at the fact that Jack 
really wasn't aware of how much the entire base, not to mention several 
off-worlders would miss him. 

Quite how such an insubordinate Colonel, with an irreverent sense of 
humour and a caustic tongue, had burrowed his way so deeply into the 
hearts and souls of the SGC was difficult to comprehend. And it made it 
impossible to imagine how life would go on down there without him. 

Not quite knowing what to do next, Hammond sat down at his desk and 
stared at the retirement papers Jack had put his signature to. But, no 
matter how hard he tried, Hammond couldn't convince himself to seal them 
and send them off yet. 

With a troubled sigh, he looked at his watch. It was growing late, and 
several hours since lunchtime, maybe he should grab a bite of supper and 
sort out the paperwork afterwards. 

                         *******************

Much to General Hammond's discomfort, the remaining three members of SG-1 
were in the commissary when he walked in. Although he was a man who 
normally faced any problem head-on, he found himself about to turn and 
leave rapidly, but he'd already been spotted, as proved when Captain 
Carter stood up to address him. 

"General Hammond. Have you heard anything from Colonel O'Neill?" 

Hammond suppressed a grimace. "Yes, captain. Let me get some food and 
I'll join you," he stalled, giving himself time to mentally prepare. 

"And so I'll be submitting the papers first thing on Monday morning, 
along with my recommendation that his file be kept active. You never know 
when we might need him again!" Hammond finished breaking the news as 
kindly as he could, but Sam still stood up as if to go after her CO. 

"You won't find him at home," the General said gently. "He's gone away 
for a few days." 

"But we have to talk to him," Sam said urgently. 

"You can't, captain. Jack's made his decision. Now he wants some time for 
himself." 

"And Sara?" Daniel asked quietly, the first words he'd spoken since 
Hammond had sat down. 

The General nodded, "And Sara." 

"Good." 

"It isn't good, Daniel!" Sam protested vehemently. "The Colonel's 
retiring! He's gone! How can that be good?" 

"He's getting a second chance. How can that not be good?" Daniel's voice 
cracked and he swallowed convulsively as he fought back all the emotion 
that threatened to burst forth. 

He had been warned it would happen, yet he still found himself unprepared 
for it, surprised by the strength of sentiment he felt. He was losing his 
best friend. He was losing probably the only active field officer who 
trusted Daniel's judgment, not to mention understood his shortcomings and 
pacifist tendencies. He was losing a team member he was willing to die 
for, and who would do the same for him without hesitation. And he was 
losing the one person he believed could help find Sha're. But, although 
he was losing all this, Jack was gaining something he had never expected 
to get another chance at; he was gaining love and happiness. And Daniel 
couldn't blame him for any of it. 

"Besides," he murmured, "this way he will finally be safe." 

He looked up to meet Teal'c's eyes, memories of their nighttime 
conversation clearly reflected in his stoic gaze. "And that's something 
to be thankful for." 

"Indeed, Daniel Jackson," Teal'c agreed, the trace of a smile curving his 
mouth. 

                         *******************

Jack and Sara spent the night in a roadside motel, too dark, too late and 
too tired for them to make it to the campsite and erect a tent. Still, 
their surroundings made little difference to the way they felt, in fact 
if anything it enhanced it. They were following a pattern, partly by 
accident, a pattern that matched their long ago trip to the same part of 
the Rockies. They were even aiming for the same campsite. 

They had spent the first night in a motel that time too, the only 
difference being in the choice of stopover. Neither one could remember 
exactly which place it had been the first time, and that motel had 
probably long since closed down. 

This time they simply chose the next place advertising vacancies, from 
the point along the route at which Sara started yawning and rubbing tired 
eyes. Jack had already begun fidgeting, stiff and uncomfortable from 
sitting in the passenger seat for so long. It was obvious that neither 
was in any fit state to make it as far as the camping grounds without a 
decent rest break. 

Paying in advance on his credit card, Jack promised to drop the key in 
the slot in the morning, should they leave as early as planned, hoping to 
get away in time to be at the campsite for a late breakfast. 

After a long day, they were both tired, but not yet ready for sleep. 
Sara's mind was filled with too many questions, thoughts that had been 
going through her head during the drive, or had occurred to her while 
waiting in the car at the visitors parking area outside the NORAD base. 

Apart from a few brief words, they had spoken little since leaving her 
house that lunchtime, as if waiting for the right time to continue the 
conversation, waiting for a moment when they could say the words in 
private, not to mention see and feel the reaction, as well as hearing it. 

And so, settled comfortably, stretched out on the bed and leaning up 
against the headboard, Sara began with, what was for her, the biggest 
question of them all. 

"Jack, that hallucination . . . this morning . . . the one on the tape . 
. . is that the nightmare you've been having? The one that involves me?" 

He looked at her for a long time, weighing up all the reasons why he 
should say nothing. But after all they had been through silence no longer 
seemed like an option. In the end, the truth won out, "That's the one." 

"Who's Apophis?" 

Jack pursed his lips in thought, taking Sara's hand in his left and 
shifting onto his side to meet her steady gaze, "He's an old enemy. He's 
dead now . . . at least we think he is." 

"If he's dead, why has the nightmare been bothering you so much?" 

Jack shrugged, "Honestly?" Sara's nod was accompanied by a frown. "I 
think I know why . . . It might even be what Janet said I need to talk to 
you about . . ." He sighed heavily, hoping his words were not going to 
hurt her feelings, "Only . . . I'm not ready yet. I need to do some 
thinking for myself first. Can you understand that?" 

"Jack, take all the time you need. I'll be here when you're ready." 

He leaned over and kissed her temple, nuzzling against her hair. "Ask me 
again tomorrow," he said softly. 

He sat back, pulling her with him into his warm embrace. Despite what he 
had said to Hammond, Jack knew he needed to tell Sara. 

Now that he had realised the truth in what Janet had implied, now that he 
acknowledged the depths of that last secret he was withholding, he had to 
find a way to tell Sara without scaring the living daylights out of her. 
He had to explain what it was he feared, get it out into the open and 
maybe dull its effect. 

If they were going to spend their lives together, he owed her that much. 
He owed her the truth behind an hallucination that wasn't just about 
losing her and Charlie. Especially since he didn't know when that 
hallucination might return. 

He could no longer consider leaving her in the dark, after all they had 
shared, all Sara had done for him. Certainly there were things in his 
past that she still didn't know, but those things couldn't hurt him 
anymore. This hallucination was different, if anything was going to come 
back to haunt him it was that, Doctor Fraiser had warned him as much. 
Without even knowing it, she had warned him about it twice. 

First, she had advised him about the flashbacks, the long-term effects of 
the LSD, twenty-five years long to be exact. And then she had warned him 
about the one thing left to say, the one thing he would need to talk to 
Sara about. 

He didn't have a clue how Janet had known, it was not like she had even 
been stationed on the base at the time of Kawalsky. But then there was 
always the Tok'ra thing that had taken over Carter. And Jack remembered 
well how he had been wearing his emotions on full display when that 
happened, thoroughly rattled not only by his certainty that he had lost 
one of his team, but also by his selfish relief that it had not been him. 

So maybe Janet's knowledge should not come as such a surprise, given her 
often proven depth of insight into people. And maybe sometime in the next 
twenty-four hours, Jack would find the courage to follow her advice. 

                         *******************

"You're not heading home tonight, Doctor Jackson?" General Hammond asked 
when he found the man sitting in the break room staring blankly at the 
muted television. 

Unsurprisingly Daniel was alone. It being a Friday night, anyone who 
wasn't on duty had left the base for the weekend. 

He looked up, taking several seconds to register the question, "Err . . . 
no, couldn't see the point. I've got a lot of work to catch up on, and I 
need to be back early in the morning anyway . . ." 

Hammond nodded, even though he was pretty sure that was an excuse. From 
what he'd heard, Doctor Jackson had not been home since the mission to 
P2S 161. "Well, the meeting's all set for tomorrow afternoon." 

"General," Daniel stopped him as he was about to leave, waiting until he 
turned around, "How was Jack when you saw him today?" 

The General smiled broadly, "He was fine. In fact, he was more than fine, 
he was extremely convincing!" 

"In what way?" 

"Regarding his retirement. His need for freedom of choice . . . You were 
right, Doctor Jackson, I'll give you that. But you have to give me one 
thing in return." 

"What's that?" Daniel asked guardedly. 

"Something that we owe each other . . . I've watched the video tapes sent 
to Doctor Mackenzie . . ." Hammond's stoic façade hid the grimace. "We've 
got a long flight tomorrow, Daniel. During that flight I would be 
grateful if you could tell me exactly what happened next, everything you 
and Doctor Fraiser had to do to get Jack out of there. And everything 
that happened right here in Colorado four weeks ago." 

"I know you don't want to face it, but I think you need to talk about it 
as much as I need to hear it. As Jack so indelicately put it, I've been 
burying my head in the sand for too long, because I didn't know how to 
handle it. I'm too late to help Jack, he really does seem to have figured 
it all out. But he's not the only one suffering the aftermath," Hammond 
met Daniel's gaze pointedly. 

Daniel's expression was a mixture of surprise and dread, but Hammond 
thought he detected a faint look of hope in the younger man's tired eyes, 
and he took that as a positive sign. And a sign that he need not say 
anymore until the morning, "Our flight leaves at o-nine-hundred hours. I 
suggest you get some sleep." 

"Yes, General, will do," Daniel murmured, making no effort to move. 

Hammond frowned sceptically, but said nothing else, instead turning from 
the doorway to continue along the corridor, heading for his own spartan 
quarters used on the frequent nights he was unable to get away from the 
base. 

Walking past the infirmary on his way, Hammond noticed the light still on 
in Doctor Fraiser's office and decided to put off sleep a while longer. 

His gentle knock found the Doctor poring over a heap of medical files. 

"Doctor Fraiser, you're working late tonight. Shouldn't you be at home 
with Cassandra?" 

"She's having a sleepover with her friend Natalie this weekend," Janet 
smiled, glad for the interruption, even if it was from the General. "I 
figured I'd catch up on some of the backlog." 

Hammond nodded knowingly, "Doctor Jackson seems to be suffering the same 
problem. I suppose if I were to suggest you get some sleep you'd take it 
as a professional sleight?" 

Janet glanced at him sharply, her expression melting when she saw the 
kindly expression on his face. 

"Still, I'm glad you're here," Hammond continued. "I didn't get a chance 
to talk to you earlier . . . I wanted to tell you that I officially 
accepted Colonel O'Neill's retirement today." 

"I know, sir. Captain Carter came by to see me on her way home." 

"How is she taking it?" 

"About as well as can be expected," Janet winced slightly, not wishing to 
reveal how upset Sam had been. "She'll get used to the idea. I think it 
was just a bit of a shock after all they've been through. She was hoping 
things were getting back to normal around here." 

"As were we all, Doctor," Hammond agreed. "And what about you? What do 
you think now that it's happened?" 

"I've seen Jack with Sara, sir," Janet explained carefully, "I know how 
much of a good thing this is for him. No one who's seen that can possibly 
blame him for his decision." 

"No one who's seen any of what he's gone through in the last two months 
would blame him for his decision, Doctor." 

"No, sir," Janet admitted quietly, failing to notice the implications in 
what he was saying. 

"Nor would they blame anyone who was directly involved in what happened 
for needing to take time out to recover . . . to regroup, shall we say?" 

Janet met his gaze then, realising he wasn't talking about Jack anymore. 

"I know I'm not a doctor, Doctor," the General smiled benevolently, "But 
if the shoe was on the other foot, I think you would have realised that 
throwing yourself into work was no substitute for rest and recuperation. 
And you would have prescribed some time off by now." Before Janet could 
protest, he added, "Aren't the school's about to start their summer 
break?" 

"Next week, sir," Janet replied helplessly. 

"Good. Then I suggest you use a few weeks of all that leave you have and 
take a vacation with Cassie! And if you don't follow my recommendation, I 
will make it an order, Doctor." 

"Yes sir," Janet nodded, a grateful smile fighting through her 
exhaustion. She knew he was right, just as she knew it would take someone 
like him to force the issue. "Thank you, sir." 

"I'm sorry it wasn't sooner, Janet," he said sincerely. 

Janet stared at him for a long moment before coming to a crucial 
decision, "General . . . Doctor Jackson . . . he's . . ." 

Hammond raised his hand to stop her, "I know about Doctor Jackson. I'm 
not entirely sure what I can do for him, but we will be talking about it 
tomorrow. At least that's a start." 

"Yes, sir," Janet replied with a sense of relief. Talking would be a very 
good start for Daniel. 

The General turned to leave, "Then all I have to do is figure out how to 
replace Colonel O'Neill, and maybe things really will return to normal!" 

"Let's hope so, sir." Janet's wholehearted agreement was met with a wave 
of his hand before the General disappeared out into the corridor, leaving 
her to consider every surprising word of their conversation. 

                         *******************

Saturday: One Trip Too Many

It had been a long flight by the time the jet touched down at Andrews Air 
Force Base and Hammond found their driver ready to take them to the 
secure facility in Maryland. 

Daniel felt exhausted, like he had been through some sort of lengthy 
interrogation, even though in truth General Hammond had been patient and 
careful, listening to the halting narrative with only a rare interruption 
for questions. He had waited silently during lengthy pauses while the 
younger man gathered his wits and strength to continue his passage 
through the difficult events of the past nine weeks. 

Daniel knew he had been a lot harder on Jack and for that he owed the man 
an apology, now that he had been through it himself and fully grasped how 
painful and personal talking about their experiences was. He would like 
to face his friend and tell him so, if only he knew when he might next 
have that chance. 

That harsh realisation had been one of the hardest things to accept 
during that journey from Colorado. The fact was that they had reached an 
end point. Things had changed after all, no matter how much he had wanted 
to believe they could somehow return to the exact same place where they 
had all been before this whole thing started, before Daniel had gone to 
Egypt. And since that very act, that singularly innocent expedition, had 
been the beginning of it all, Daniel couldn't help but blame himself. A 
fact that had not been overlooked by Hammond. 

"Doctor Jackson, in truth you consider yourself to be an archaeologist 
first and foremost?" the General had asked pointedly, his eyes never 
leaving Daniel's face as the younger man nodded thoughtfully. "For you, 
travel through the stargate is a means to an end. To pursue your interest 
in Egyptology, archaeology, languages, cultures, to learn everything you 
can about the world we live in, and the worlds out there," Hammond 
gestured vaguely with his hand. "And in gaining such knowledge, to 
somehow ensure the peaceful future of all these worlds, these peoples, 
whether primitive or powerful?" 

Daniel was looking at him now, his gaze finally raised from hands 
nervously twisting in his lap to face the General and find out exactly 
where he was going with these perceptive truths. 

"With such selfless reasoning behind every action, how can you even 
consider yourself to be to blame for what happened? You were merely 
pursuing your stated goals, carrying out the very work for which you are 
employed at the SGC." 

"You are not involved in politics or conspiracies. You have never been on 
any black-bag mission against our earthly enemies like Jack was countless 
times. You went to Egypt in the pursuit of knowledge. You had no idea 
there would be any form of danger lying in wait for you. Jack O'Neill had 
that knowledge. He went to Egypt with eyes open. He knew you were in 
danger, and he knew that danger would not be restricted to one person 
once others got involved. He knew what he was getting into and he still 
went, despite my orders to the contrary." 

"Jack didn't know how bad it was going to be," Daniel murmured 
defensively. 

"No, he didn't. But if you think that knowledge would have stopped him 
from going, then you don't know Jack O'Neill as well as you think." 
Hammond levelled his gaze, "And perhaps you don't know yourself either." 

"With the shoe on the other foot, you would have gone after him. And, 
that's exactly what you did do as soon as you found out what had 
happened. Knowledge of the danger made no difference to either of you. 
But it does make a difference when it comes to laying blame. Had you 
known what you were getting into prior to flying out there maybe you 
could consider yourself to be at fault. But you didn't, and you aren't, 
and that's the simple fact of the matter." 

"Son, you have to stop blaming yourself for something that has already 
happened, something you cannot do anything about. It's over. The victim 
survived. Jack is recovered, and, by his account, is planning to enjoy 
the rest of his life. Don't you agree it's time you got on with yours?" 

And so the longest and most personal conversation Daniel had ever had 
with the leader of Stargate Command ended. General Hammond now knew 
everything he could possibly want to know about the events of the past 
nine weeks, and more. And Daniel had finally been given the chance to 
talk about it as much as he needed to, without fear of repercussion or 
disparagement. 

Left to his thoughts, the plane had landed and they were driven away in 
the rear of an unmarked Ford Excursion. Smoked windows and metallic black 
paintwork abound, it would be hard for any bystander to miss the fact 
that this was a government issue vehicle, despite the lack of identity 
plates. 

No more words were spoken until they reached the high double walls and 
electrical gates of the penal facility to where former Senator Kevin 
Mitchell had been spirited following his surprise resignation due to 'ill 
health'. 

"Doctor Jackson, let me do the talking here," Hammond warned as the car 
and its occupants were cleared by the guards and permitted to enter the 
secured parking lot. 

The facility was stark, but relatively modern. The visitor rooms were 
grey to the extreme, grey walls blended into floors and ceilings, only 
the uncomfortable red plastic chairs stood out from the drabness. Still, 
Daniel couldn't help compare it to the tomb deep inside Kheops, wondering 
who had truly got the worst of the deal, Jack or Mitchell. 

As agreed, General Hammond did the talking, attempting to reveal little 
in an effort to gain a lot. The former Senator appeared even more bitter 
and egotistical than he had at their last meeting in the mission briefing 
room of the SGC, when his own triple-cross had backfired to become his 
downfall. 

"A parcel you say?" he shrugged animatedly. "As you probably remember, 
most of my work is done by phone! What sort of parcel are we talking 
about?" 

"A package of information," was all Hammond was prepared to add. 

"Well, that could be anything. You're not giving me much to go on, are 
you? I suppose you want *me* to tell *you*. Of course, that's why you're 
here, isn't it? You want to know whether this package came from me." 
Mitchell gestured towards the cell door and the shadowy figure barely 
visible through the small meshed glass panel. "Well, ask the guards. I 
haven't had much use for the United States Postal Service since our 
beloved President threw me in here!" 

"We know you didn't send them, this penal facility wasn't marked as the 
return address!" Daniel interjected caustically, his anger brewing at the 
sheer arrogance of the man before him, a man who hardly seemed to be 
suffering sufficient deprivation considering his crime. 

"Them? So there was more than one of these packages?" Mitchell smiled 
snidely, "Ah, what must have been inside, eh? I bet it was a sight to 
behold!" 

Before Daniel could react, Hammond stepped in front of him, a barrier to 
the violent intentions he could detect in the young man's taut posture. 
The General leaned across the table, his fist clenched in a clear warning 
of the rage being held back. "We know it was you, your lack of denial may 
as well be your confession. But, your scheme didn't work. Colonel 
O'Neill's reputation remains untarnished by any dirty tricks you may wish 
to try." 

"Ah, now I understand," Mitchell exclaimed with a supercilious smile, 
"You think I'm using some kind of smear campaign to get revenge on 
Colonel O'Neill? Or perhaps I should call him ex-Colonel?" he snorted. 
"Look, I'm in here and he's somewhere in the Rockies! Clearly he's out of 
my reach. Besides, he's really not my problem, not any longer, so why 
would I need to smear his reputation?" 

"Accuse me all you want, but don't waste my time unless you have proof. 
Time is money, as my lawyers keep reminding me." With that Mitchell stood 
up and banged the table with his fist, "Guard!" 

When the door of the visitor room opened, he announced, "We're finished, 
take me back to my cell." 

"Yes, Senator Mitchell," the Guard responded, waving his colleague into 
the room and removing the manacles holding Mitchell to the table before 
escorting him into the corridor. 

Daniel stared after him in disbelief, waiting until the trio were out of 
earshot before he gave voice to his reaction, "So much for being locked 
up tight for the rest of his life! That man is ruling the roost in here!" 

"Better he rules a jailhouse than a Senate Committee, don't you agree 
Doctor Jackson?" 

Daniel shook his head dismally, "I know, at least he is locked up, but it 
doesn't seem like he's suffering much for it." He waved his hands in 
frustration, "And he's obviously still got close ties into the Pentagon 
if he's heard about Jack's retirement already, on top of having the power 
to send those videotapes to Doctor Mackenzie and Sara. I mean, what other 
kind of damage is he going to be able to do with that much power at his 
fingertips!" 

Daniel glanced at Hammond, surprised by his lack of response. The General 
was staring at the door, a look of deep concern growing on his face. 
"Doctor Jackson, I have yet to process Jack's papers. The only people who 
know about his retirement are he and Sara, and those few I have 
personally informed within the SGC." 

Daniel's jaw dropped open, but no words came from his mouth. His arms 
clasped across his chest nervously, one palm reaching up to rub his chin 
while he tried to absorb that last piece of information. When he finally 
spoke his voice was a choked whisper, "General, where is Jack? Where was 
he going?" 

Hammond shrugged, mystified, "He and Sara were going camping for a few 
days. That's all I know. Why do you ask, son?" 

"Camping?" Daniel's voice hitched, " 'Somewhere in the Rockies' ?" 

Mitchell's exact words repeated over and over in Daniel's mind. He 
watched the same sickening reality dawning on Hammond's face, "Jack 
didn't say where they were going, but Sara was waiting in the car for 
him. It was my impression they weren't travelling far . . ." 

Briefly their shocked eyes met, before Daniel flew out of the room and 
down the corridor, desperately trying to catch up with Mitchell and his 
escort. 

He was stopped at the first locked gate, "Visitors aren't allowed through 
here, sir," the duty guard informed him, rising from his seat to turn the 
man away. 

Daniel grasped the metal bars, peering down the corridor to see Kevin 
Mitchell about to go through the final barrier before he would reach his 
cellblock. 

"MITCHELL!" Daniel yelled as loud as he could, "MITCHELL, WHAT THE HELL 
HAVE YOU DONE?" 

The former Senator stopped, turning around slowly, a scornful smile still 
curving his lips. "I told you Doctor Jackson . . . Jack O'Neill is no 
longer my problem." 

General Hammond caught up in time to see Mitchell disappearing through 
the lockup into the cellblock beyond as if nothing or no one could touch 
him. 

Daniel was clutching the metal bars of the gate as though he could 
somehow tear through the barricade. "Doctor Jackson, what . . . ?" 

"He's sent someone after him, General." Daniel's voice was desperate, his 
eyes tired with defeat. He turned to face the older man with a look of 
desolation, "He's sent someone after Jack . . . and here we are on the 
other side of the country with no idea where he is!" 

                         *******************

It had been a day to remember. The weather was perfect, crystal clear 
skies, a whisper of a summer breeze to disperse the heat. Gathering 
sufficient supplies along the way, and charging five nights in advance to 
his credit card at the site entrance so they would not have to return too 
soon, Jack and Sara had arrived at their destination before it had got 
too hot. Having arisen before breakfast time, they even had time to park 
up the jeep and carry the gear to a secluded spot ready to erect the tent 
before the sun rose to its zenith. 

The camping grounds were wonderfully quiet. The influx of vacationing 
families had barely begun, most schools having not completed their full 
semester yet. Jack and Sara walked along the shady forest trails for 
several hours that afternoon without coming across another soul. 

They walked and they talked, remembering previous trips to these same 
mountains, times when they had been a couple and later with Charlie. 
There had always been a sense of magic in this place, some of the turning 
points in their lives had occurred here, perhaps the most significant one 
being when their son was conceived. 

Jack had never quite figured that one out, how Sara knew the exact time 
and place, but he believed in that bond between mother and baby, and he 
believed in her instincts. After so long hoping for a family, if anyone 
could know exactly when she became pregnant, it would have been Sara. And 
the timing was right, when she had made the discovery several weeks 
later. 

He would never forget that look on her face when he came home from the 
base that night, the day she had visited the doctor. Before she had even 
told him her news, he had fallen in love with her all over again because 
of that look on her face. He thought she had never looked so beautiful, 
so radiant, as she did at that moment, but it was a beauty that grew, 
blossoming as their baby inside her grew. 

And now Jack told her exactly how he had felt way back then, recalled 
those days with clarity and warmth for the first time he had dared to in 
years. Thanks to Sara, these memories held no fear for him, no reprisals. 

With so much history between them, the day passed too quickly. But it had 
been soaked up by them both, the rare chance for peace and serenity, to 
discuss anything that came into their heads without fear of dredging up a 
subject that was off limits. Jack especially was unused to such carefree 
leisure time, feeling almost guilty at the thought that he would have the 
opportunity to enjoy more days like these now that he was retiring. 

Before they knew it, the sun had set and night was creeping in. Stars 
shone brightly in the sky, billions of tiny sparks unspoilt by the light 
pollution so often suffered in town. 

For a long while they lay outside the tent, Jack pointing out specific 
constellations and regaling Sara with the mythology behind each name, 
some authentic, some conjured up by his own imagination on one of many 
sleepless nights in the open air. 

Whether it was the sight of the vast galaxy above, or the legends that 
went with it, the magic of that night filled them both with a sense of 
awe, their voices becoming hushed as if to not disturb the mountains and 
forest surrounding them. 

And while they talked, other stories sprang to Jack's mind, images of the 
people and cultures that really inhabited those clusters of stars. He 
wished he could tell Sara, wanting to share everything good with her. But 
these were things he could never divulge. Despite everything, there were 
still some loyalties to his government, the military, and the country he 
had served that could never be broken. 

Still, it inevitably brought him to thoughts of one thing they had not 
yet spoken of, one question he felt sure Sara wanted to repeat that 
night. One question he was now prepared to answer, whether it was wise or 
not. Classification aside, instinct told him this thing had to be shared. 
Hindsight made him realise he wasn't the only one who thought so. 

Finally, Jack broached the subject, knowing he would rather have such a 
discussion outside where the stars would be a comfort than inside a tent, 
where the claustrophobic confinement would only threaten to halt his 
attempt at explanation, an explanation for which it would be hard enough 
to remain detached. 

"Sara, would you say I'm a control freak?" 

She turned her face towards him, raising an eyebrow at his quiet 
question. Her words were thoughtful as she considered her answer, "Not a 
control freak, no, not exactly. More like someone who needs to be in 
control of your own destiny, responsible for your own survival, your own 
actions, certainly. Why do you ask?" 

Jack breathed a deep lungful of clean mountain air, "It has to do with 
the question you asked me last night. The thing that Janet believes I 
need to talk to you about." He rolled onto his side to face her, "I think 
I'm ready to talk about it, I'm just not sure it's fair to saddle you 
with it. And even if I do, it will lead to a lot of other questions that 
you can't ask me." 

Sara raised her hand, placing it softly against his cheek and stroking 
his jaw line with her fingertips. "Jack, we're in this together, aren't 
we? This is something that scares you, even now you've retired and left 
that world behind. I know it still scares you, whatever it is. And I know 
that if it scares you, it's going to scare me too, but I don't care. I 
admit a part of me doesn't want to hear anymore than I already have done. 
But there's a far greater part of me that needs to feel there are no more 
awful secrets between us, a part of me that needs to know the truth. And 
a very selfish part of me needs to know why I was involved in your 
nightmare." 

"Apophis." The word was more a sigh, expelled with a lungful of air to 
drift away on the cooling breeze that would force the pair to retreat to 
their sleeping bags before long. 

"For a while he was our greatest enemy," Jack began to explain. "Not bad 
going for an alien parasite." 

"By 'alien' you mean from another country," the doubt in Sara's voice 
said she already knew the answer. 

"No, I mean from another planet." Jack winced, his mind churning as a 
little voice inside him said, now you've gone and done it! You can't take 
it back, you have to tell her everything! 

"Ah . . . " Images of that 'encounter' with another Jack sprang forth, 
pieces of a puzzle slotting into place in the way Sara knew they always 
would, if she had ever been able to admit it to herself all those months 
before. "So, what you're saying is that your greatest enemy . . . " 

"Apophis . . . " 

"Is some sort of parasite . . . " 

"From another planet," Jack nodded in the darkness, wondering if he 
should turn it into a joke, make out he had been teasing her, pulling her 
leg all along. But he knew it was too late for that, and he knew that in 
some respects he was simply confirming something she had probably 
suspected, if she'd ever given herself the chance to believe her own 
instincts. 

"They're called the Goa'uld," he added, pronouncing it with precision for 
once in his life. "They live inside a host, usually human, controlling 
their actions, dominating their thoughts . . . they are parasites." 

"They? There's more than one of these Apophis?" 

"No, there's more than one of the Goa'uld. There's only one Apophis . . . 
was only one. Like I said, he's dead, or near as damnit." 

"So why the nightmares?" Sara wasn't sure she completely understood who 
or what these things were that Jack was referring to, but what she did 
know was that, dead or not, he was still afraid of them, or something 
about them. 

"I was hallucinating, things got confused, that's all." Jack didn't know 
how else to explain it, how or even if he should tell her about Sha're, 
or Skaara. How deep should he dig this hole he had begun for them. 

"I don't understand. What things?" 

Jack sighed resignedly, "There's something you don't know, about Daniel. 
He's married . . . was . . . is . . . his wife, Sha're, she was taken by 
Apophis . . . she has a Goa'uld inside her . . . " 

"Oh." Any further words were choked off by the constriction in Sara's 
throat. A vivid image, based on what little she understood, was still 
enough to cause a shudder of revulsion. Her hand flew to her mouth as if 
to prevent anything from escaping. 

Jack waited in guilty silence, watching her roll onto her back to stare 
up at the stars in a move that he could thoroughly sympathise with. 

"Where . . . " Sara gulped, "where is she now?" 

"Somewhere out there . . . where exactly . . . we don't have a clue." 

"But you'll find her? You can save her?" she desperately sought a 
resolution to that troubling imagery. 

Jack shook his head, "I don't know. I always thought we would, when it 
happened. I told Daniel we would find her. But it's been so long. Even if 
he could find her now, they don't know how to save her . . . " 

"Poor Daniel . . . " 

Sara lapsed into silence, her thoughts shifting to consider the 
friendship, that of Jack and Daniel. It had struck her as an odd pairing 
in the beginning, knowing Jack the way she did, and yet the more she 
heard the more she understood. Their shared experiences had thrown them 
together, the loss they had both endured, camaraderie formed from a 
common goal, and perhaps an innate need to survive the odds because of 
it. But how would Daniel cope alone? Especially given the fact that 
Jack's story had such a pertinent happy ending, a reunion with his own 
wife. 

"That's how it happened," Sara suddenly comprehended, "Your hallucination 
got all the facts mixed up. You thought it was me, not Daniel's wife. 
That I was . . . " Jack saved her from completing the sentence by 
nodding. 

"But even now you know it's not true, it still haunts you." She met his 
gaze searchingly, "What is it that frightens you, Jack?" 

He returned her gaze for a long while, contemplating the unthinkable - 
events he once could barely face himself, that now he was considering 
sharing with Sara. Things had changed. He had changed. And yet revealing 
such dreadful details could never become easy. 

Jack sighed, breaking eye contact to stare at the tiny stretch of ground 
between them before raising his head to the heavens. In the end the words 
almost fell out, tumbling fast and abrupt as if he could do nothing to 
stop them. "Our first mission out, we were trying to save Sha're. Two 
units. Kawalsky, a friend - we went way back - led the second team on my 
recommendation. When we got hit, he bailed us out. But after we got back 
Kawalsky started having blackouts, headaches. He'd already killed one man 
before anyone figured out he had a Goa'uld inside him. He didn't know 
himself! The thing had pierced the back of his neck and he didn't even 
know it! It kept trying to take him over, control his actions, but it was 
young, too weak to complete the job." 

Jack kept talking, knowing if he stopped he would never restart. All the 
while Sara listened, gaining a shared sense of terror with each forced 
word. She slipped her hand into his, entwining their fingers, glad for 
the touch when he clasped hers back. 

"The doctors decided to operate, to remove the parasite that had wrapped 
around his spine. It was a dangerous thing to try, but Kawalsky wanted to 
be free of it, or die. He didn't want to be under its control. He 
couldn't live that way. Who could?" Jack swallowed hard, his left hand 
clenching tighter. 

"We all thought they'd succeeded. We thought Kawalsky was fine. But the 
thing won, it beat us all. It had taken Kawalsky over and faked us out, 
pretending to be the same old joking man we knew. It attacked the guards 
and tried to escape. I was the one who ordered it killed . . . my 
friend." 

"It sounds like your friend had already died," Sara whispered. 

"I know. That's what I believed at the time. Later we found out that the 
host survives, they're just . . . usurped, suppressed . . . they survive 
inside their own bodies, their thoughts intact, trapped and mute." He 
wiped his spare palm over his face, cold sweat dampening his fingers. 

"And that's what you're afraid of." Sara shuddered. "God, Jack, who 
wouldn't be? It's a nightmare! It's your nightmare! These people, it's 
what they tried to do to you. Control your mind. Hold you captive. No 
wonder your hallucinations preyed on your greatest fear. And you had no 
way to fight it." 

She rolled onto her side, sliding her arms around him, needing the 
comfort of his closeness. "This is unbelievable . . . " she murmured, 
trying futilely to absorb the deeper implications of everything she now 
knew." 

Feeling her shiver, Jack enfolded her into his embrace, "I'm sorry, this 
was too selfish. You have no need to know any of this." 

"Jack, I admit this terrifies me, but I'd rather live on this planet with 
my eyes open, than be unaware of something so awful. Ignorance isn't 
bliss, it only makes you more susceptible. I'm glad you told me, 
especially if it helps you." 

Jack nodded thoughtfully, "Yeah, it does. I know this thing will always 
scare the shit out of me, but it helps that you know how I feel. I don't 
need to hide my fears anymore." 

"The way you hide them from your team," Sara finished for him, 
understanding completely. 

"Yeah," Jack admitted wryly, "that comes with the job, the whole macho-
Colonel bit. You pretend you're invincible, unflinching, sometimes you 
start believing it, until something happens to take you down a peg . . . 
It's good not to have to keep up the façade any longer." 

He hugged Sara close, placing a kiss on her forehead, his voice thick 
with emotion, "I owe you so much, and you owe me nothing. How do I repay 
the woman responsible for my sanity, my happiness?" 

"Our happiness," Sara smiled softly. "I'm sure I can think of a few 
things. But first you can teach me some more of these constellations, 
assuming that's something I am allowed to ask? I have a sudden interest 
in astronomy!" 

                         *******************

Sunday: Another Bloody Sunday

Jack was skimming stones across a gently flowing stream, smooth flat 
pebbles bouncing across the water like rubber balls. His skill increased 
the longer he stood there, right hand resting loosely in pants pocket and 
his mind focused on other things while his left hand constantly searched 
for the ideal angle of rock and trajectory. 

He had awoken shortly after dawn, a chorus of birds surrounding the tent 
as he carefully slid from the sleeping bag and crept out into the open 
air, pulling on pants and boots over his t-shirt and shorts once he got 
outside. He had wandered through the trees and down to the water's edge 
with a sense of peace he had not felt in years, not since Charlie was 
born, not since he had held his baby boy in his arms for the first time. 

That whole thought had taken Jack by surprise, the startling reminder 
that he could think about moments like those, after so long burying them 
deep, never daring to recall them. 

It was an incredible reality. After years of simply surviving, he felt 
free and he felt strong. No longer was he harbouring his fears. He had 
admitted all, even the deepest. He had shared that too. That fear was 
never going away, just like all that had happened would never go away. 
But he was no longer afraid of it, afraid of the truth. 

As the sun rose on a new day, Jack wondered if there could possibly be 
anything left to be afraid of. Thanks to Sara, he really doubted there 
ever would be. And maybe it was time to end his musings and get back to 
her before she stirred. He owed her so much, now he could finally start 
to repay his debt. 

When he neared the tent, Jack heard a cellphone ring, recognising the odd 
tune Sara had chosen for incoming calls, one he had never yet managed to 
place from the short time it played before she usually answered it 
promptly. He was surprised she had even brought it with her, but it was 
her work phone, registered to her company, part of her contract to carry 
it everywhere in case she was needed. 

It was the nature of her job, no different to his own until he had 
retired and left his cellphone in his old office, figuring whoever took 
over could either make use of it, or box it up along with the rest of his 
stuff. If he ever felt the need for a cellphone again, he would buy one 
of his own. 

The ring of the phone cut off as he drew closer, and Jack couldn't help 
hope that Sara had switched it off without answering. He wanted her to 
himself, he didn't want her to get called back to work on some supposed 
emergency. 

He heard no voice, but the muffled noises as he drew closer caught his 
curiosity. Clearly she was disturbed by something, he could see sign of 
movement inside the tent. Stooping, he poked his head through the flap, 
"Sara, what . . ." 

The words died on Jack's lips and he realised there was one thing left to 
be afraid of. 

                         *******************

Hours! It had taken hours! In this age of technology it should have been 
a lot faster and easier to triangulate a cellphone signal, Daniel thought 
angrily. 

Of course, if they hadn't wasted so much time trying to trace the 
location of Jack's cellphone, when all along it had been lying on his 
office desk, shielded from detection by layers of concrete sealing them 
inside this mountain complex, maybe someone would have thought of Sara's 
phone sooner. 

And even when they did it hadn't been easy. There was no cellphone 
registered to Sara O'Neill, or to anyone at her address. Yet, Daniel was 
sure he had seen her with one, sometime during one of their recent 
encounters. 

So positive was he, that he had kept pushing, and thank god he had. 
Eventually they had tracked down her father, found out where Sara worked, 
whether she had a cellphone. Of course, he didn't know the number, he 
never needed to call her, she always called him like the doting daughter 
she was. He thought she had given him the details, if only he could 
remember where he'd put it, somewhere safe in case of emergencies. 

Still, armed with the contact information for her employer, and the might 
of the US military behind them, it had not taken much longer to obtain 
the cellphone number. But it had taken all night to narrow down the 
location and convince the telephone company to boost the signal, to 
attempt to make contact with a phone that was quite probably surrounded 
by the wilderness of the Rocky Mountains. With some clever negotiations, 
and a few sparks of mathematical genius from Captain Carter, they had 
managed to make contact, dialling the number for the hundredth time and 
finally getting a ring tone. 

But instead of a smiling female voice answering their call, they were cut 
off without a word. The phone went dead and no amount of redials helped. 

"Tell me they at least got a grid reference?" Daniel pleaded, utterly 
desperate now some sixteen hours since discovering Mitchell's probable 
intentions. 

                         *******************

Jack knew a stalemate when he saw one. 

Dressed in green convertible pants and an orange Ripcurl t-shirt, the 
young man looked like any other early morning hiker. Except this one had 
his left hand over Sara's mouth and the other clasped around her waist 
where he had dragged her from the sleeping bag she had been dozing in 
until her phone had started ringing. 

Now the cellphone lay on the ground, shattered by a 9mm bullet from the 
same silenced weapon pressed into Sara's ribcage. 

Letting the tent flap drop behind him, Jack's eyes met Sara's, trying to 
impart some kind of reassurance to counter her wide-eyed terror. Then he 
focused his gaze on the gunman, examining him, trying to learn as much as 
he could in the short time he had before the moment of truth. 

The bleach-blond haired man in his mid twenties seemed ridiculously young 
for a hired assassin, but Jack was sure that's what he was. Just as he 
was sure it was him the man was there for, not Sara. 

"Leave her alone, it's me you want." 

"Very astute of you." 

College boy, Jack added the note to his mental records. Naïve, 
inexperienced, he embellished silently. "You can't handle both of us, 
leave her here and we'll go outside." 

Sara's objection was muffled by the gunman's hand, but the way she shook 
her head and the fierce look in her eyes were a clear signal that she did 
not think it was a good idea. 

But hostage situations were Jack's area of expertise, not hers. He had 
been in them way too many times recently. And one thing he had learnt 
from those experiences was the need for him to become the sole hostage. 
The only way to gain any control was to put himself in the line of fire 
as quickly as possible, before his oppressor had time to come up with 
clever alternatives involving people Jack cared more about than himself. 

Unfortunately, Sara had other ideas. Maybe it was the knowledge, fresh in 
her mind, of exactly what he had done when Cassie was being held hostage. 
Or maybe it was simply that she wanted to get Jack out of harms way as 
much as he wanted to do the same for her. Either way, she was not letting 
him sacrifice himself without a fight. 

The shake of her head became a more definite attempt to free her mouth 
and have her say, her fear subsiding as her anger grew, until she managed 
to bite down on the man's palm. 

He yelped, pulling his hand away to glance at the damage. 

"Jack, get out of here!" Sara screamed, grabbing her chance from the 
distraction to try and wriggle free. Elbowing the gunman in the stomach, 
she lurched forward, hindered by the fact that her legs were still 
encased in her sleeping bag. 

Taken by surprise the young man felt her slip from his grasp. Fumbling 
for a tighter hold around her waist, his finger reflexively constricted 
on the trigger and the cocked gun went off, shocking him as much as 
anyone. 

The sound of the 9mm slug leaving the silenced barrel to impact flesh and 
bone was barely louder than the gasp of air that left Sara's lips, the 
only noise she made as she slumped in the gunman's arms. 

Rapidly sliding out from behind her, he let her collapse against her 
bundled sleeping bag when he got out of the way, as if afraid to get 
blood on his clothes. 

Jack held his breath, one split second lasting an eternity whilst he 
waited for the worst. 

Then Sara's head lifted marginally and her eyes flickered open, shocked 
but lucid. 

Jack made a move towards her, needing to help, to stem the blood 
beginning to seep from the wound in her lower left side. A sickening red 
stain blossomed on the white t-shirt she had worn over long johns donned 
against the cold mountain night. 

"Uh!" Regaining control, the gunman waved his pistol in the direction of 
the prone woman. 

Jack became motionless, carefully considering whether the man would 
really take a second, more deliberate shot, and coming to the conclusion 
that he couldn't take the risk. For the moment he was helpless to do 
anything except control his anger. 

"Back up, real slow." Jack retreated no more than a few inches, but the 
gunman persisted, his confidence growing as the adrenaline effect of his 
baptism of fire took hold. "Turn around, on your knees. Put your hands 
behind your head and interlace your fingers." 

Jack shook his head in refusal, his jaw clamped tight with determination. 
His gaze never left Sara, noting the way her right hand shook as she 
tried to hold it against her left side, reluctant to touch, to 
acknowledge the source of the pain that was beginning to penetrate her 
dazed senses. But every instinct made it natural to press her palm 
against the wound, just like it was her own natural instinct that made 
her bite her lip against the resultant agony, to stop herself from crying 
out. 

He watched her tilt her head enough to look at the blood covering her 
right hand with an expression of morbid curiosity. She dropped back 
against her sleeping bag, closing her eyes against a wave of nausea and 
swallowing hard. 

Sara reopened her eyes to find the semi-automatic redirected at her head. 
She cringed, waiting for a second deadly impact. 

"Do it! Now!" the gunman yelled at Jack threateningly. 

Jack backed up a little further, his eyes now fixed on Sara's face. Their 
gaze met and Jack realised he had seen that look before. It was a look 
from his nightmare. Brave, resolute, it was a look that said she knew 
there was nothing he could do. It was too late for her. He needed to save 
himself. 

The gun moved closer to Sara's head and Jack came to realise the one 
thing Sara already knew. He had no choice. 

Yet he couldn't go without a fight. 

"You can't leave her here!" Jack cried out in frustration, "She hasn't 
done anything!" 

"She got involved with you again, that's enough for us! Now move or the 
next shot is to her head!" 

With a final abiding look, a promise of help and hope, Jack reluctantly 
broke eye contact with Sara and turned around to obey the gunman's 
orders. 

The man stepped towards him, jabbing the barrel of the silencer into his 
back. "Crawl outside slowly." 

Sullenly following instructions, they were soon heading up the stony path 
away from the camp and the forest that surrounded it, Jack's mind working 
overtime to figure a way out of this. 

Every now and again he would scrub his hands up and down the back of his 
head as if to scratch an itchy scalp, each time loosening his fingers a 
little in readiness for the chance to strike. 

The footpath became narrow and rock strewn as they climbed higher. Jack 
knew the terrain, he and Sara had trekked this section the previous day 
pausing further up to take in the breathtaking view and awesome drop, a 
drop that Jack was hoping to make use of. 

After awhile, the gunman pulled a two-way radio from his hip pocket, 
selecting a frequency and toggling the broadcast switch. "Fire, this is 
Air, come in." 

The radio filled with static for a moment before a disembodied voice 
replied, "Air, this is Fire. What's your status?" 

"A-ok, Fire. I have a secondary cleanup for you. Grid 3, reference 2-9. 
Finish the job and make it look convincing." 

"Understood. Fire, out." 

The words may have been in code, but to Jack the meaning was clear. Sara 
was running out of time. He had to act now if there was to be any hope 
left. 

Fighting to channel his anger and fear into something productive, Jack 
broke his silence. "What are you planning to do with me?" 

"You're going to commit suicide Colonel." 

"Well that's a bit cliché!" Jack responded caustically, all this had a 
far too familiar ring to it. "And how am I going to do that exactly?" 

"The way every self-respecting retired officer should, with a bullet to 
the head," the young man replied coldly. 

"No suicidal officer I've ever known would do it with a silenced weapon!" 
Jack threw back, praying for a distraction. 

He sensed the gunman's step falter, as if pausing to think, then the head 
dropped to glance at the silencer screwed onto the barrel of the 9mm 
Beretta. 

Ready and waiting, Jack grabbed his chance. Bearing all his weight on his 
left foot, he span around, his right foot swinging out to sweep the 
gunman's legs from under him. The man toppled towards the edge of the 
craggy ledge, a look of shock on his face as he desperately flailed his 
arms to regain his balance. The Beretta flew from his hand and Jack 
lunged for it, flinging himself prone across the young man's legs to 
catch it. He felt a sharp stab of pain in his ribs when he landed 
heavily, halting the gunman's fall and preventing him from going 
completely over the edge. 

The man screamed like a boy when he found himself hanging head first over 
the ledge with a very long drop to fill his view. 

Tightening his grip on the Beretta as best he could with his weak right 
hand, Jack used his stronger grasp to haul the man up by a handful of 
bleach-blond hair and roughly buried the silencer barrel into the side of 
his head, in no mood to waste anymore time. 

"Spill it! And fast if you expect to live!" 

                         *******************

Armed with as close a grid reference as could be obtained from their 
efforts to triangulate Sara's cell phone signal, a team had been prepped 
and ready to leave the SGC within minutes. 

SG-1 had been padded out with two marines from Colonel Makepeace's team 
and a couple of young airmen, all of whom had been pulling extra duties 
on the base that weekend and somehow got wind of the possible threat to 
Colonel O'Neill. Quite why they felt such loyalty towards the former 
leader of SG-1 none of the four were saying, but their persistent pleas 
to help with the search and rescue did not fall on deaf ears. Not knowing 
exactly what they were up against, it seemed churlish to refuse the extra 
help, especially since Teal'c and Carter had been on a mission with 
Costanza and Jenks as part of Makepeace's SG-3, and knew they were well 
trained. 

Doctor Fraiser rounded out the eight person team that bundled gear and 
ammo onto the chopper which had been standing by to take them as far into 
the mountains as possible before they would have to disembark to ground 
vehicles. All wore the standard green field fatigues, along with the 
black vest of their BDUs, but the Velcro-affixed identification badges 
and insignia of their units had been removed. They carried only earthly 
weapons, MP-5s, M-16s and Berettas. 

Even Teal'c had been forced to leave his staff weapon behind, and he wore 
a black woollen hat pulled way down over his forehead to cover the golden 
Jaffa symbol. Daniel had been the only member of the group remaining 
unsurprised when Doctor Fraiser had also armed herself, taking a 9mm 
Beretta and two spare magazines from the armoury, fixing them to her belt 
just below the pocket containing her stethoscope. 

The two army jeeps had barely halted at the campsite before the teams hit 
the ground running. Captain Carter took charge, splitting the group into 
two. Teal'c took Jenks, Costanza and Collerby, heading for Jack's 
Cherokee parked close by. 

Janet, Daniel and Stevens followed Carter, cautiously making their way 
along a well-trodden path through the woods to a bright clearing in the 
distance. Drawing closer, they could see the outline of a single tent 
pitched at the edge of the tree line. All was silent except for the chirp 
of birds muted in the dense foliage of the surrounding forest. 

When they rounded towards the front of the tent, Carter signalled to hold 
back, stooping low to edge across the clearing. Stevens followed at a 
decent interval, his weapon sweeping in a search for trouble even before 
he saw what had alerted the Captain. 

A blonde female form lay on her side in the entrance to the simple six-
berth tent. Moving to a sentry position, Stevens panned his weapon 270 
degrees, covering the area around them while Captain Carter knelt beside 
the woman. 

Sara's knees were drawn up to her chest and partially wrapped in a 
sleeping bag. For whatever reason it appeared she had lost consciousness 
trying to crawl out of the tent. Sam placed a palm against a pale brow. 
The skin felt cold, almost clammy. She sought out a pulse, weak, uneven. 
Rolling the woman gently, Carter tried to determine the cause, spotting 
blood on Sara's fingers and finally tracing the source. 

"Janet!" Her urgent shout was answered rapidly. Doctor Fraiser and Daniel 
hurried across the clearing, their reactions serving only to increase 
Stevens' curiosity about the body. 

"Sara! Shit!" Daniel fought his first instinct and instead got out of the 
doctor's way. 

"Sara, honey, how are you doing?" Janet's soothing voice belied the 
frenzy of her hands as she pulled up an eyelid, took pulse and examined 
entry and exit wounds amidst the sticky red blood seeming to cover 
everywhere she touched. 

Sara's eyes fluttered in response to Janet's probing fingers. "Sara, 
you're going to be absolutely fine, just hang on a bit longer and we'll 
get you to somewhere a little more comfortable." 

Janet rocked back on her heels, and Daniel clearly read the silent 
expletive on her lips before she turned and began to bark orders, 
"Stevens, get my bag and the medical kit from the jeep!" 

She didn't need to tell him to hurry, he was already off and running, 
leaving Janet to glance at Daniel, a look that spoke volumes. "Daniel!" 
she gestured him closer. 

Daniel took Janet's lead, talking to Sara while the doctor refocused her 
attention on the extent of the wound. He knew they had to try to keep the 
injured woman with them until they could tend to her, try to prevent her 
from going into shock, her body shutting down from the heavy blood loss 
of entry and exit wounds that appeared large enough to be point blank 
range. As if to emphasise the fact, the sleeping bag Janet pulled away 
from Sara's body to replace with a survival blanket was saturated red. 

"Sara, it's Daniel. We found you. Janet's here, you're going to be fine." 

Something about his words penetrated the fog and she tried to focus. 

"Daniel?" Her voice was hoarse but the plea that followed was clear, 
"Help Jack, please." 

"We'll find him Sara, I promise," he reached for her hand, squeezing 
gently to reaffirm his words. Daniel glanced up at Carter, who shrugged 
briefly. She turned away to get on her radio and check whether Teal'c had 
any news just as Stevens re-emerged into the clearing hefting a box of 
medical equipment. The other three members of his group followed him, one 
carrying the doctor's black bag, and another with the rolled up field 
stretcher under his arm. Behind them came Teal'c himself. 

"I'd say she's been here anything up to an hour," Janet told Daniel 
softly before her full attention went back to her patient, enlisting 
Stevens' help with getting an IV started. 

Daniel stood up and crossed the clearing to where Teal'c and Carter were 
examining another footpath into the trees, closely shadowed by the 
remainder of their search and rescue team. 

"We think they went this way," Carter explained when he tapped her 
shoulder. 

"They?" 

"The Colonel and whoever did this. There are several identical sets of 
prints both ways along this path, but one new set of prints has over 
trodden them." 

"Someone following." Daniel nodded understanding. "Fresh?" 

Teal'c nodded grimly, "Indeed." 

"I'll go with you." 

"Wait a minute, Daniel," Carter objected, "Someone needs to stay." 

"I promised Sara! You should stay, you'll be more help to Janet!" 

Carter couldn't argue with that logic, "Okay. Take Collerby and Jenks. 
Costanza, you stick with me. Keep us posted, Daniel, I want updates every 
thirty minutes, understand?" 

Daniel was already gone, his vague wave the only acknowledgement to chain 
of command. At least the Captain could rely on the fact that Teal'c had 
heard her instruction and would follow to the best of his ability. 

In double quick time, Janet had administered all the help to her patient 
that could be applied in the field. They needed to get Sara down to the 
jeep and carried by helicopter to the SGC infirmary as fast as they could 
travel. The delay in reaching her had been costly. By the time they were 
ready to move her, Sara was shocky, her pulse thready as she slipped in 
and out of consciousness. 

Wrapped in a survival blanket to prevent further loss of body heat, 
Costanza and Stevens were gently lifting Sara onto the field stretcher 
when her eyes flickered open once more. 

Carter was kneeling at her side ready to help lift, when Sara grabbed her 
wrist with surprising strength. Sam's eyes met a pair equally blue, 
albeit dulled by a mixture of pain and drugs. 

"You have to help Jack!" Sara hissed urgently. 

"We already are, Sara, don't you worry," Janet assured her kindly, 
"Daniel's gone after him. Jack will be back before you know it. Now you 
need to rest, or you won't be in any fit state to see him." 

Costanza and Stevens rose slowly, carefully bearing the patient down the 
wooded path towards the parked jeeps. Janet paused only long enough to 
look back in Carter's direction enquiringly. 

"I'll catch up with you," Sam said pensively, "I want to take another 
look around, make sure we haven't overlooked anything." 

Janet nodded, understanding the Captain's need to do all she could to 
help the Colonel. "Be quick, Sam." 

Carter turned full circle, considering the area around the camp before 
pushing aside the bloodstained sleeping bag they had left near the 
entrance and stooping to peer into the tent, stepping further in to take 
a closer look. 

Inside, Sam found the remains of a cellphone, shattered by the impact of 
a bullet. The implications were clear, and the timing also added up. It 
had been little over an hour between their semi-successful call to Sara's 
phone from the SGC and their arrival at the camp, the same amount of time 
Janet had estimated for Sara's gunshot wound. 

What if it had been their phone call that had caused Sara's injuries? Sam 
could only put that thought from her mind and concentrate on her search. 

Apart from a rucksack containing two flashlights, some warm clothing and 
wet weather gear, and a couple of water canisters, the only other item in 
the tent was a second sleeping bag. This one had a right-handed zip 
fastening, clearly designed to mate with the other bag lying outside. 
None of which proved anything at all, except for the already obvious fact 
that Colonel O'Neill was missing and, judging by Sara's desperate plea, 
in trouble. Again. 

Sam grimaced. Despite everything, she couldn't help wondering whether she 
would ever stop calling him Colonel. He was no longer her commanding 
officer. He was retired, for all the good that had done him so far. 
Apparently, turning his back on the SGC had not been the answer to 
escaping everything that threatened his safety, or the safety of those he 
loved. And if it wasn't the answer, what good was it to anyone? 

Like a light bulb switching on, it finally dawned on her, the truth she'd 
been unable to comprehend until now, the real reason the Colonel had 
retired. 

"For someone who considers herself intelligent, you have completely 
missed the point, Sam," she chided quietly. 

It was good! The Colonel hadn't retired to protect himself, he'd retired 
to be with someone he loved, someone who clearly loved him back. How 
could that not be good? 

Daniel had said it, except she had been far too concerned with how 
Colonel O'Neill's retirement effected her personally, what impact it 
would have on her world, to understand what Daniel had meant with his 
words. 

"How can it not be good," Sam murmured again, completing her train of 
thought and her search as she backed out of the tent. 

The edge of a serrated hunting knife pressed against her throat before 
she got a chance to stretch upright or turn around, her mind whispering, 
"This can't be good," in dreadful irony to her previous words. 

A hand clutched at her left arm and, with little time to think, years of 
military training swung into action. Carter lunged backwards, her whole 
body following her left elbow as she attempted to turn and kick out with 
her strongest leg, blindly seeking her opponent. 

She felt the serrated knife slide across the webbing of her vest and cut 
through the unprotected sleeve of her olive-green fatigues, keenly 
slicing through flesh even as Carter realised she had missed the 
opportunity. Barely seeing the tall dark haired man who had become her 
assailant, Carter's kick went the wrong way, away from his sidestepped 
stance, to cause her own downfall. 

Off balance, she could do little to deflect a high kick that knocked her 
to the ground, unable to roll fast enough before the man was upon her. 
His knee shoved into her back. One arm, still holding the now bloodied 
knife, pushed her shoulders into the dirt, ignoring her cry of pain, 
while the other grabbed a handful of blonde hair, pulling back harshly as 
he leaned over to spit out one simple question. 

"Who the hell are you?" 

Biting back another agonised groan, Carter tried to ignore the burning 
sensation from the oozing flesh wound across her upper right arm, instead 
channelling her anger with herself into an attempt to stall for time. 
Surely, sooner or later, Janet would send Stevens or Costanza back to 
hurry her up. 

"Maybe you should've asked that before you put a knife to my throat!" 

"I didn't need to, you're military!" He moved the knife close to her 
cheek, sliding the flat of the blade down her jaw to nestle the serrated 
edge against her carotid artery, applying an increasing amount of 
pressure with each sentence, "Now why are you here? Who do you work for?" 

Just as the points of the blade began to penetrate across her throat, 
Carter felt the pressure release. The weight of the body lifted from her 
spine almost as suddenly as it had arrived. The whoosh of air, thud and 
groan that followed told her someone had come to her rescue in the nick 
of time, but when she rolled over in relief she was amazed at who that 
someone was. 

"That would be "whom"!" Jack's grammatical correction of the man with the 
knife was accompanied by the crunch of metal hitting bone as he smashed 
the side of a 9mm semi-automatic down against the tall man's skull. Jack 
tried to swallow his own yelp of pain, rapidly releasing the gun and 
holding his sprained wrist with his left hand, fingers splayed stiffly 
and trembling as the nerve endings felt the violent repercussions of his 
action. 

"Ah crap," he hissed under his breath, blood roaring in his ears even 
while his mind raced to assimilate this surprising turn of events before 
him and tie it in with what he had already discovered up on the mountain. 

It had not taken long for Jack to get the whole story from the gunman 
whose codename was Air, while he had dangled precariously over the edge 
of the cliff. Somehow, it had seemed too easy, but Jack had still to get 
back to the camp in time. 

A rapid search of pockets had produced a stack of cable ties, perfect for 
binding the man who had planned to do the same of his victims, along with 
a printed map of the area that had been marked off into grid squares 
using a red fibre tip pen. Jack had also taken the man's two-way radio, 
pocketknife, 9mm Beretta and a spare magazine. 

And so he had abandoned the trussed up assassin and hurried back down the 
mountain path to Sara, praying he was not too late. Finding Carter and a 
second attacker had been quite unexpected, but equally timely. 

"Colonel!" Carter's relief was obvious in the grin on her face. "Thanks! 
I thought I was a goner!" she kicked the discarded knife out of reach and 
indicated the man Jack was patting down in a one-handed search. 

Jack's left hand was now holding the gun, safety firmly on, and feeling 
pockets, while he gingerly cradled his right against his chest, both 
hurting badly since he had taken down Carter's assailant. 

Sam winced at his awkwardness, nursing her own wounded arm with her other 
hand, "What was he after?" 

"Sara," Jack said grimly, producing a walkie-talkie from the result of 
his search, along with another folded up copy of the same map he had 
retrieved from Air, and a slip of paper with some scribbling on it. He 
looked up anxiously, "Where is she?" 

"At the jeep, Janet's with her. She's going to be all right, sir. She's 
worried about you," Carter smiled reassuringly. 

Jack released a breath, eager to see for himself, but he had one more 
thing to do first. "Help me with him." He pulled a bunch of white plastic 
cable ties from his pocket, leaving Carter to wonder where they had come 
from while trying to help him secure their prisoner as tightly as 
possible to a nearby tree. 

Apart from his six-foot plus height, the only other stand-out thing about 
the man known as Fire was his flame red hair, Jack couldn't be sure if it 
was real or not, it was hard to believe anyone would choose to die it 
that colour, but it certainly explained his choice of codename. His age 
was the only other significant factor, again in his twenties. Whoever had 
hired them, sure was recruiting young nowadays. Or maybe he was getting 
old. 

Binding wrists and ankles, they left the man seated at the base of the 
trunk, arms pulled back around the circumference. He wasn't going 
anywhere in a hurry, even when he did wake up. 

Satisfied, Jack quickly headed along the path to the parking lot, 
examining the slip of paper as he went. Carter followed, her left hand 
fishing in her breast pocket for her own radio, ready to call Teal'c, 
Daniel and the rest of the team back to the jeeps. Her injured right arm 
hung limply, blood beginning to drip from her fingertips. 

                         *******************

"Air, this is Earth, come in please." 

The words continued, coming closer with every repetition until the dark-
haired man wearing a backpack and carrying a walkie-talkie appeared 
around the turn in the cliff side path. 

Lowering the radio from his mouth, he grinned widely. The subject he had 
been seeking lay on his stomach ahead of him, trussed up like a 
Thanksgiving bird. 

"How ya doin Air?" 

Pulling out his pocketknife, he sliced through the cable ties holding his 
teammate in place. 

"What happened to you?" 

"Don't ask!" Air stood up and stretched the painful kinks from his 
shoulders. Before he got a chance to explain anything they heard the 
sound of rocks skipping across the cliff path somewhere below. 

"Quick, put those cable ties back," Air instructed as he rapidly lay down 
on his stomach again. 

Catching on immediately, Earth positioned the severed plastic ties as 
best he could before getting out of sight behind a nearby rock fall. 

They were just in time before two figures came into view along the cliff 
path. 

                         *******************

"Sara!" Jack was overjoyed to see her safe, even though she was clearly 
in pain. Her wide smile attempted to hide it when she lifted her head, 
perking up at the sound of his voice. "Am I glad to see you!" 

Kneeling on the rear seat of the jeep, he leaned over to where she was 
laying on the stretcher strapped securely into place across the back. His 
glance caught Janet's expression, before he focused his gaze fully on 
Sara, brushing hair gently from her pale forehead and softly asking, "How 
you doing, honey?" 

"I'm fine . . . " Sara swallowed hard and her smile wavered, her lip 
trembling as she fought the natural urge to weep in relief. 

"It's okay," Jack whispered, a lump of emotion choking his own throat, 
"You're safe now, I promise." 

"What about you?" Sara asked tearfully. 

"Me too," Jack gestured with open arms, trying not to stretch further 
than his ribs would appreciate while daring Sara to find any hint of new 
harm on his person. "We're all fine, see!" When his disarming grin 
brought the beginnings of a smile from Sara, Jack glanced back to Janet, 
seeking a similar reassurance from the trusted doctor. 

But Janet was looking elsewhere, the frown on her face deepening all the 
while she listened to Captain Carter's increasingly irritated radio 
transmissions. 

"Daniel. Teal'c. Come in! Collerby! Jenks? Where the heck are you guys? 
Please respond! That's an order!" 

"Damnit!" Carter lowered the radio, uncharacteristically showing her 
feelings and channelling them into a snapped response at Janet's efforts 
to pull off her jacket and get at the bleeding knife wound on her upper 
arm. "Ouch, Janet, that hurts!" 

"It could be the mountains blocking their transmission," Janet offered. 

"No." Jack shook his head with that sinking feeling. "It's not." 

"Colonel?" Carter's question was a plea for help and Jack felt the full 
weight of two pairs of sympathetic eyes. Sam and Janet both knew what was 
being asked of the Colonel, ex-Colonel. He was the only one who could 
help. The only one capable, neither injured nor required elsewhere. They 
knew what they were asking, and they knew it was too much to expect. But 
what choice did they have. 

"Jack, you have to go." Sara's quiet words broke the tense silence and 
Jack turned to see understanding shining through the glaze in her eyes. 
"Find Daniel. Come back safe. Bring them all back. Promise?" 

Jack met her gaze for an eternal moment, no words necessary, until 
finally he nodded and forced himself to turn away. 

"Janet?" He stepped out of Sara's view, the anxiety clear on his face. 

"She'll be all right, Jack," Janet said softly. "We're getting her 
stabilised. But we need to get her to the infirmary." 

With a gasp of resignation, he lifted his right hand, making a wrapping 
motion with his left before holding out his palm. Janet fished a roll of 
bandage from the medical kit and passed it to him. 

Pocketing it quickly, Jack turned back to Sara, leaning in to place a 
soft kiss on her forehead. "You'll be fine. Janet and Sam will go with 
you to the infirmary inside Cheyenne Mountain. I'll meet you there soon." 

"I'll be waiting," she whispered, "Don't be long." 

"I'll be back before you know it." His grin belied the uncertainty he 
felt as to the outcome of that day. Two injured people and four missing, 
he didn't like the odds for a happy ending, but the first half of the 
problem was now out of his control. 

"Stevens, can you get these ladies back to the helicopter on your own?" 

"Yes, sir. I'll look after them, no need to worry. Bring back Jenks and 
Collerby with the others, will you, sir? We've still got some hand-to-
hand combat lessons to complete." 

Jack grinned a little more easily at his words. He gave a last glance to 
the three women now positioned in the vehicle, getting the right level of 
assurance from each one before adding, "Okay, Stevens, move out. Contact 
me from the chopper. Come back with it once you've made the drop off at 
the SGC." 

"Yes sir." 

After Stevens had driven away, Jack pulled the bandage from his pocket 
and began wrapping his right hand and wrist. While he made the strapping 
tight enough to facilitate use of his hand, he finally asked Costanza the 
obvious question. "How did you find us?" 

"They triangulated your wife's cellphone signal," Costanza replied. "Took 
them all night apparently. We overheard them yelling about it and figured 
we might be of help." He shrugged morosely, recalling his two missing 
colleagues, "Some help!" He glanced at the Colonel, seeking some degree 
of encouragement, "How are we going to find them, sir?" 

Jack held up the slip of paper retrieved from the second assailant, his 
words optimistic. "Fire, Air, Earth, Water. There are four of them. The 
two left on the loose have apparently been busy. But we've got their 
frequency codes!" 

                         *******************

Following the only logical conclusion, Jack was heading back up towards 
the spot where he'd left Air, one of the bad guy tag team as he was 
beginning to think of them, trussed up on the cliff path. 

Costanza was bringing up the rear, keeping a decent interval and treading 
with such stealth that Jack couldn't help a glance over his shoulder to 
check he was still there. 

He had left the radio channel open, switching every now and again between 
the frequencies of Earth and Water, considering the fact that Air 
represented the first gunman he and Sara had encountered that morning, 
and Fire had to be the man he had found attacking Carter back at the 
campsite. 

But if Earth and Water were roaming the mountains somewhere in the 
vicinity, they didn't appear to be broadcasting that fact on the radio, 
making Jack even more suspicious that they had their hands full with the 
missing members of the SGC. 

Instead he was following his next best instinct and returning to see what 
more he might learn from the original gunman. 

Except when they reached the point he was sure he had left his first 
assailant, the path was empty. 

For a minute, Jack stopped to think, loathe to break radio silence for 
fear that the hairs standing up on the back of his neck really weren't 
because it was a little chilly in the mountain breeze. Besides, if Daniel 
or Teal'c had reappeared safely they would have instigated contact 
themselves. 

No, something told Jack they needed to continue up the mountain but not 
by the path most expected. They would have to clamber over the rocks and 
find a stealthier route. 

It was a decision that led them straight to the first of their missing 
men. Tied up and unconscious, Collerby had been dumped in a crevice 
amidst the nearest rockfall, only discovered when Jack nearly stumbled 
over him. 

Signalling for Costanza to approach, Jack waved the Beretta he was 
carrying in his left hand to indicate the prone body, watching their 
surroundings like a hawk in case of an ambush whilst Costanza knelt down 
beside his friend. 

Cutting the bonds and quickly checking him over, Costanza found a bloody 
swollen cut on the back of Collerby's head, the probable cause of his 
unconsciousness. He lifted his hand to show the Colonel the red stain on 
his palm. Jack glanced down only briefly, keeping his focus on the entire 
360 degrees around their exposed position. 

"Chris? Can you hear me?" Costanza patted Collerby's cheek several times 
before getting any response. 

"Roberto?" The words were a pained gasp, "That you?" Collerby's attempt 
to lift his head was rapidly aborted when the world swirled around him 
nauseatingly. "What the hell hit me?" 

"I dunno man, but it's probably just a concussion. Your skull's too thick 
to crack!" He grinned reassuringly. 

Pulling a water canister from his belt, Costanza removed the lid and held 
it to Collerby's dry lips, gently supporting his head while he sipped. 
Then he dug in a pocket for a pack of aspirin, pushing two from the tab 
and giving them to his friend. "Here, these will help the pounding! Feel 
like sitting up? We can't hang around here too long." 

With a lot of help from his friend, Collerby regained his feet, held 
upright by a hand around his waist and his own arm around Costanza's 
shoulders. 

It only took a brief look for Jack to assess the situation and ask the 
only question a visual did not answer. "What happened to Doctor Jackson?" 

"I don't know, sir. There were two men. They knew who he was. They were 
talking about whether they could use him." 

"Use him for what, Collerby?" 

Collerby lifted his head then, looking Jack straight in the eye with a 
wince that was more than just the pain in his head, "To get to you, sir." 

He hung his head miserably, "I'm sorry, Colonel. I didn't get a chance to 
try and stop them." 

"It's not your fault, Collerby. Remember? None of us are to blame!" 

Not even me, Jack reminded himself pointedly. 

"Although, I think you should keep at those hand-to-hand combat lessons 
with Jenks!" He quipped more lightly than he felt. 

So Daniel was in trouble again. This had a familiar ring to it. 

Coming to the only decision that seemed feasible, Jack pulled one of the 
doctored maps retrieved from the bad guys from his pocket and handed it 
to Costanza, figuring it could be of use. Then he gave an order he knew 
neither man would like, "Costanza, help Collerby down to the second jeep. 
Stevens should be back within the half hour. If you don't hear from me, 
one of you get Chris to the SGC for treatment." 

"But sir!" Costanza's reaction was understandably faster than Collerby's 
dazed look. 

"That's an order, private! Collerby needs to be checked over by a doctor 
and if you leave him to go down by himself he's liable to fall off the 
mountain!" Jack pointed out harshly. "And take that prisoner with you 
that we left down by the camp, you can't miss him, he's tied to a tree! I 
imagine General Hammond might like a few words with him." 

"Yes sir," Costanza agreed miserably. 

                         *******************

Alone on the mountain, Jack could feel his old instincts coming back to 
him. With a sense of growing control, he realised he had one more trick 
to try. 

Checking the list of frequency codes on the scrap of paper retrieved from 
Fire's pocket, Jack screwed up the piece of paper in his left hand and 
raised the two-way radio to his lips, his fingers scrunching the ball of 
paper against the transmitter as he spoke. 

"Water, this is Fire. Come in." He paused for effect, all the while 
rubbing the paper against the radio like static, then he repeated the 
message more urgently. "Water, this is Fire. Come in please." 

"Fire, this is Water," a disembodied voice announced from the speaker 
once Jack had released the transmit button. 

"Finallly! Nice to hear from you, Water. Have you seen Air?" Jack 
enquired innocently, still scuffling the wad of paper against the radio. 
"He asked me to do a cleanup job, but now I can't raise him." 

"Negative, Fire. Check your radio, I can barely hear you." 

Jack smiled to himself. "It's these mountains, the reception is lousy!" 

"Tell me about it! We should've brought sat-phones!" Water replied 
disgustedly. "I could use your help, I've got a bit of a situation here." 

"Roger, Water. Give me your position, so we can hook up." 

"Current position is grid 9, ref 3-2." 

"Okay, Water, ETA thirty minutes from my present locale. Fire out." 

Jack lowered the radio with a smug smile. If he was reading the doctored 
map correctly he was barely more than ten minutes away. The element of 
surprise would definitely be on his side, a good job since he had no idea 
what he was facing. Still it was one step closer to finding Daniel and 
the rest of his team, former team he reminded himself. 

With the safety on, Jack released the magazine from the Beretta, checking 
how many cartridges were left before reinserting it firmly into the 
casing. Then, sliding back the bolt, he double-checked it was loaded and 
ready before cutting through the forest with easy stealth. 

Jack circled the area twice before moving in closer, curious as to the 
absence of anyone who might be using the codename Water. All he could see 
was two people tied to a tree. 

On a hunch, Jack lowered the volume of his radio and tuned into Air's 
frequency, holding the speaker close to his ear. There was Water's voice, 
repeating over and over, trying to contact his colleague. He sounded out 
of breath and Jack decided he must be climbing, trying to reach higher 
ground in order to get a response. Hopefully, he had time to act. 

"Pssst!" 

Jenks didn't move, either asleep or unconscious, his head slumped to his 
chest. Teal'c frowned, hearing something but not understanding the 
source. 

Jack could see his awkward predicament. Seated on the ground at the base 
of a large tree, Teal'c had been bound to Jenks using the now predictable 
cable ties. Ordinarily he would have been able to break the plastic with 
ease, but in this case, Jenks' arms were pulled taut. Without the young 
man's help, Teal'c's mammoth strength against the much smaller frame of 
the diminutive marine would likely break Jenks' arm or dislocate a 
shoulder. 

And so Teal'c was apparently waiting with the sort of infinite patience 
only a man with supreme confidence in his abilities and wisdom of many 
years experience could achieve. 

As if to prove Teal'c's faith in the satisfactory outcome of the 
situation, Jack renewed his call, slightly louder this time. 

"Pssst! Teal'c old buddy! Whatcha doin'?" 

Finally, Teal'c looked around, something akin to a smile crossing his 
titan features. "O'Neill, it is good to see you." 

"Where's Water?" 

"The man who attempts to detain us has retreated beyond the west side of 
the forest. I believe he is expecting a compatriot to arrive shortly." 

"Yeah, that would be me, Teal'c." 

"Indeed," Teal'c nodded, causing Jack to wonder whether he knew that all 
along. 

"Want me to help you out here?" 

"As you wish." 

"May as well, just to speed things up a tad," Jack grinned, making the 
most of a rare chance to bail Teal'c out instead of the other way around. 

Cut free with the use of a Swiss army knife Jack had taken from Air, 
Teal'c lifted Jenks into his arms. He followed Jack deeper into the dense 
forest until they were a safe enough distance away, before lowering the 
young soldier to the ground and attempting to revive him. 

Close up, Jack could now see the bloody gash of a forceful gun butt to 
the side of his head, the discoloured bruise showing clearly against the 
marine's closely-shaven scalp. 

"Jenks? You with us?" He patted the man's cheek increasingly hard until 
they received a groan in response. 

While they helped Jenks to a sitting position, Jack nodded his head back 
towards the clearing, "Can you track him?" 

Teal'c nodded positively, "Of that I am confident, O'Neill." 

Setting his jaw with grim determination, Jack turned to Jenks. "How you 
feeling? Strong enough to make it back down on your own?" 

Jenks winced, even a simple nod of the head left him swooning in 
dizziness, but he was lucid enough to understand the alternative. To send 
one man alone after their captor. To be the cause of that was 
unacceptable to the young marine, he would make it back down to the jeeps 
on his own, no matter how long it took. 

"Yes, sir, no problem." 

"Good man," O'Neill patted him on the back. Reaching into his pants 
pocket he withdrew the spare radio he had confiscated from Air. "Take 
this. Stay here until you're ready. You'll find the rest of your team 
waiting down there for you. Collerby's got a concussion too, although I 
think his is worse than yours. You'll be able to exchange stories!" 

"Yes, sir," Jenks smiled slightly, understanding what the Colonel was 
trying to do, "Thank you, sir. I'll be fine." 

Jack stood up stiffly and nodded to Teal'c. Following his lead without 
another word, the two quickly disappeared from view in the dense forest. 

"The way I see it, we have two choices," Jack's words were hushed as they 
proceeded stealthily. "Either we grab him on his way back down and make 
him talk. Or we let him discover you're missing and wait for him to lead 
us to the rest of his team." 

"Indeed." Teal'c nodded. 

"No Teal'c, indeed is not the right answer," Jack grinned. "I'm not your 
leader any longer, remember, I retired. You're allowed to give me your 
opinion on the matter." 

"Indeed, you are correct, O'Neill." 

Jack was almost certain he saw Teal'c grin slyly, wondering if the Jaffa 
wasn't toying with him. "Okay, so which is it?" 

"I recommend we track him to the top of the hill and determine if he has 
yet made contact with his colleagues." 

Jack tilted his head to one side, before nodding, "Okay, that's another 
good plan. Let's go." 

                         *******************

It had seemed all too easy, until now. 

With Teal'c's supreme tracking abilities they had been close enough to 
Water to hear his conversation with two of his teammates, Air and Earth, 
and to discover the grid reference of their position. That accounted for 
all four of the team, and, having grabbed Water on his way back down, 
leaving him knocked out and tied up to a tree in a now familiar fashion, 
they only had two left to tackle. 

On top of that, the contents of Water's pockets had returned Teal'c's own 
equipment to him plus more. Giving him back his two-way radio, knife and 
own 9mm Beretta, along with another spare weapon, several magazines and 
more cable ties to add to the ever-growing pile. Jack was beginning to 
wonder whether those things multiplied of their own accord. No matter how 
many got used, there always seemed to be more to replace them. 

Now it was two against two, or maybe even three against two, depending on 
Daniel's situation. Jack liked those odds much better than those he had 
been facing so far. 

Only when they finally reached their destination, approaching down the 
forested slope with the tremendous stealth which had long become habit 
for both highly-experienced military men, they realised this may not be 
so easy after all. And they certainly could not count on Daniel's help in 
the matter. 

"Bait," Jack muttered under his breath, still loud enough for Teal'c's 
exceptional hearing to detect. The Jaffa nodded, understanding the 
comment and how it pertained to O'Neill. 

Daniel was hanging from a tree. Upside-down. His eyes closed. Apparently, 
Earth must have been carrying some rope on him. Tied by the ankles, the 
rope had been slung over a strong bough and wound several times, before 
being fastened tight around the trunk. 

Daniel's body was swaying slightly in the breeze, his head about six feet 
from the ground. His wrists were bound in front with the ever-present 
cable ties and he appeared to have a bloody nose. Even if they were able 
to get to him, they needed time to lower him safely, any hurried move was 
liable to break his neck in the fall. 

On top of that hurdle, was the difficulty of the terrain facing them. It 
was no wonder Water had been unable to get a signal until he had made 
higher ground. For whatever reason, Air and Earth had chosen the base of 
a canyon in which to hole up. 

They were on a stony beach alongside a fast moving creek, served by the 
icy water coming down from the snow-capped peaks surrounding them. It was 
the height of the summer. An increasing amount of glacial melt and snow 
combined to feed numerous waterfalls hanging from granite ridges, each 
surrounding stream flowing to this single source, turning a quiet stretch 
of creek into a rushing river of freezing cold water to be avoided at all 
costs. 

If you could somehow save yourself from being swept away to drown, or 
being smashed against the numerous boulders lying within its depths, a 
dip even within the shallows would leave you initially panting hard 
before taking your breath away altogether. Your body would start to go 
numb within moments, and to escape the water would bring severe pain to 
every limb, head, chest and brain as the numbness wore off. 

The canyon itself was low down enough to be hidden well from the view 
above, surrounded by the ancient forest of spruce and cedar trees growing 
in such inaccessible mountainous locations. It was through this forest 
that Jack and Teal'c approached 

With north being at twelve o'clock on the mental gauge, the creek was 
flowing at a hooked angle from one o'clock to eight o'clock. Daniel's 
hanging tree stood at a position approximate to two o'clock and their two 
targets stood in the lower part of the clearing, facing the river itself, 
apparently in deep discussion. 

Any approach would be easy, their footfalls obscured by the sound of the 
creek flowing past, bubbling and spraying against the rocks that would 
class this part of the river as white water when the level was high 
enough to take rafters. 

Weighing up all the possibilities from their hiding place in the woodland 
on the eastern shore, Jack turned to Teal'c. 

"Got a knife?" He watched Teal'c unclasp the button holding the shaft 
securely in the belt holster, leaving his knife within easy reach. "Okay, 
I'll distract them from down there," he pointed to a spot south of their 
location. "You go around back of the tree, shin up the trunk and cut 
Daniel down. Piece of cake!" Jack finished grimly, knowing it would be 
anything but. 

"You mean to reveal yourself to them," Teal'c concluded. 

"Distract them, yeah. Keep them busy enough for you to release Daniel." 

"Can we not simply shoot them, O'Neill?" 

Jack winced, that was the one thing he was trying to avoid. He'd seen 
enough blood on his hands of late. He would prefer to find a more 
diplomatic solution. How ironic Daniel would find this, considering it 
was Daniel's life at stake this time! 

"If we had Zats, yeah. But with these?" He raised his Beretta grimly, his 
voice caustic, "We could take them both out, shoot them in the back, in 
cold blood! Teal'c, they're practically kids! Besides, from what we've 
seen so far, I think we can handle this peacefully. It would be nice to 
take them alive, don't you think? Actually have some tangible evidence 
for a change." 

"We have two in our custody already." 

"I know, Teal'c. But two more wouldn't hurt, would it." 

"You wish to avoid a firefight." Teal'c nodded understanding at last. 

"Would be nice." 

"And what of you?" 

Jack shrugged, "I think we'll cross that bridge when we come to it." 

"I see no bridges." 

"Figure of speech, Teal'c." He met his gaze, realising the Jaffa knew 
exactly what he meant. Saving Daniel was more important right now, than 
trying to figure out what would happen next, especially if it meant 
second guessing his decision. 

Jack gestured dejectedly. "I owe him," was all he said before turning 
south, keeping several yards within the shady forest in a parallel until 
he had moved to the point where the creek was forced to slow, bubble and 
eddy in a sharp hook bend, meeting the immovable force of granite that 
shook it from it's straight path before continuing off at an angle 
leading away from them. From there, he could approach the two men from a 
position almost opposite where Teal'c would be. 

Now close enough, Jack could see the weapons both men were carrying on 
their person. Air looked like he was doing a bad impression of an old 
western gunfighter. The belt of his convertibles now held what appeared 
to be two military issue Berettas in side holsters that, in all 
probability, had been taken from Daniel and Collerby. As far as he could 
tell, Earth only had one similar weapon. 

Jack drew the Beretta he had taken from Air earlier that morning, 
unscrewing the barrel of the silencer so it would fit more easily in his 
belt. Cocking the weapon, he thumbed the ambidextrous safety of and on 
before placing the 9mm into his belt at the small of his back. Practising 
the reach several times with his left hand, he finally drew a deep breath 
and stepped onto the stone-strewn beach. 

"Were you guys looking for me?" 

The two men, who had been busily discussing why they couldn't raise 
either of their missing colleagues on the walkie-talkie, turned around 
and gaped. Smiles crossed their faces, smug looks that revealed their 
mistaken belief that they were smarter than this former Air Force 
Colonel, despite the obvious difference in age and experience. 

Dumb-ass kids, Jack muttered disgustedly under his breath, before lifting 
his hands out from his sides in a gesture of peace. 

"If you're trying to contact Water, you should know he's been unavoidably 
detained," Jack kept talking, "So has Fire, come to that. In fact, given 
the odds, you might as well give it up now, guys." 

"You mean us two, against your one?" The dark haired man, obviously known 
as Earth snorted. 

"Well, ask your friend here," Jack gestured in Air's direction, all the 
while keeping a careful note of his peripheral vision for the movement of 
Teal'c rescuing Daniel. "He already lost against me once." 

"Actually, Colonel, I think the score is one-all!" Air smiled smugly, 
"Remember the campsite?" 

"Ah yes," Jack's eyes turned so cold if Air had been close enough to see 
he would have shivered. "You accidentally shot a defenceless woman. 
That's really something you want to boast about to your friends." 

For a moment, Air's expression was almost repentant, "How is she?" 

"She'll survive," Jack said with a silent prayer. His chest constricted 
with anxiety he knew he had to get a renewed grip on if he was going to 
finish what he'd started. He fought against the urge to regret not simply 
shooting these men from their hiding place in the forest, his words 
biting when he added, "Which is more than I can say for you both if you 
don't give it up right now. The cavalry are coming. It's only a matter of 
time before every soldier in the state of Colorado is delivered right to 
this beach by helicopter." 

Just as Jack expected, Air raised his head towards the skies, eyes 
searching for any sight or sound of the approaching machines. 

Earth however, was an unknown quantity, and he did the exact opposite to 
what Jack had predicted. He actually showed signs of experience, thought 
and wisdom beyond his years. The dark haired man took several steps away 
from his teammate, turning towards his captive to instinctively check his 
get-out-of-jail-free card in the knowledge that he may need to use it 
very soon. 

"AIR!" 

Jack had already been reaching for his Beretta, but even while Earth 
moved further away, he realised he could no longer contain them both with 
one threat. 

"TEAL'C!" Jack's warning echoed Earth's urgent yell. 

Risking everything on the hope that Air would hesitate before firing 
another shot in anger, Jack made a running dive for Earth, knowing he had 
to take him down before he could raise his weapon and fire upon Teal'c or 
Daniel. 

Knocking Earth off his feet, weapon flying from his hand, they rolled 
together, veering dangerously close to the edge of the icy stream as each 
one tried to gain the upper hand and come out on top of the struggle. 

Even while Jack was gritting his teeth against the pain in his ribs and 
throwing the first solid punch at the jaw of his target, he knew he had 
guessed wrong. Several gunshots rang out, too near to be from anyone but 
Air, too far away to be aimed at anyone other than Daniel and Teal'c. It 
sounded like Air emptied an entire magazine, even while running across 
the beach in a way that would have prevented anything but the luckiest 
shot from actually striking a target. Glancing up, Jack saw Air throw 
away one weapon and draw the second from his belt, his rapid-fire shots 
continuing with scarcely a pause. 

The momentary distraction served Jack badly. An upper left hook impacted 
his jaw and he went flying, landing in shallow water, his head smacking 
against the rocks at the edge of the creek hard enough to stun him. 

Earth was atop him before he could move, throwing punches at his chest 
and jaw in a barrage of frantic boxing. Desperate to relieve the pounding 
on his ribs, Jack utilised strong legs. He kicked upwards, landing a 
solid boot between Earth's shoulder blades and rapidly rolling his whole 
body to launch Earth off of him and into deeper water. 

With the tide turned, it was up to Jack to finish the fight as fast as he 
could and lend a hand to his friends. Wading through the swirling creek, 
he grabbed the off-balance man by the collar of his shirt and followed 
through with another punch to the jaw. 

But Earth was not giving up easily. He fought back with the benefit of 
fewer years behind him and less injury to hold him back. 

The younger man yanked away from Jack's weak right handed grip and ducked 
under the next punch, lunging in low to grab Jack around the waist and 
push him backwards. Jack could do nothing to stop himself from falling 
except to drag Earth down with him. His head went underwater and Jack 
felt two hands close around his throat, attempting to force all breath 
from his windpipe and cause him to drown. 

Jack fought urgently, trying to regain a hold upon the man before he lost 
all air from his lungs. Lifting his legs off the bed of the creek, his 
body slid another foot deeper into the water, tilting Earth enough off 
balance for Jack's blind swinging kick to have impact. 

Jack's heavy boot caught the side of Earth's knee, practically 
dislocating his kneecap and causing such immense pain that Earth's grip 
loosened. Barely able to make a fist, it was a purely instinctive move to 
use his right hand, bringing it up to whack Earth hard in the side of the 
nose, knocking him senseless with that final punch. The numbness of the 
water now biting at his extremities saved Jack from the utter agony it 
should have caused to his already injured hand, but he had far bigger 
problems to deal with. 

When Earth fell, Jack knew he was in trouble, the man's full weight came 
down directly across him crushing him against a boulder on the bed of the 
creek and forcing what little remained of the air from his lungs. 

Wriggling frantically, Jack fought for leverage, anything that would help 
him remove the dead weight from his body. Just as he thought his lungs 
would explode, his thoughts becoming hazy, he managed to dig his heels 
into the soft silt on the bed of the creek and pull himself forward. One 
more foot was all he needed and he slid off the boulder, using the sudden 
buoyancy of water to tilt Earth's body away from him. 

Pushing down with his hands and feet, Jack broke the surface gasping for 
air, his whole chest aching with the cold and the effort to fill his 
lungs. He shook water from his eyes, his ears roaring with the combined 
effects of being relentlessly pummelled, half drowned, throttled and 
crushed by his opponent. Blood pulsated through his head, conscious 
thought made impossible by the sheer noise, and the pain of thawing and 
bruised body parts. 

Panting hard and unable to think, Jack followed his instincts, planting 
his feet solidly in the water and ducking back beneath the surface, 
scrabbling around to retrieve Earth's body before the eddying current 
washed him into the deeper channel and swept him away. 

Sloshing through the shallows, Jack stumbled to the beach, dragging the 
dead weight and releasing him from frozen painful fingers as soon as it 
was safe. He stood gasping, bending over double as he tried to recover 
his breath. His whole body was racked with agony, aching deep to the bone 
growing more intense as the numbness wore off. 

As the brain freeze headache lifted, he began to shiver. Slight trembles 
rapidly became violent shaking in the mountain breeze that had suddenly 
got a whole lot cooler now that the sun had disappeared over the canyon 
walls. 

Only when the pain began to subside, could Jack begin to think straight 
enough to remember his stricken friends and the sight of Air running 
across the clearing. 

At about the same time as Jack began to get wet, Air had finally 
approached close enough to Teal'c and Daniel for an accurate shot, only 
to find the hammer come down on an empty chamber. He had used up his 
second magazine and had to reload. 

Teal'c had been working as fast as he could when the warning shouts came 
to him from down the beach and he realised he was under even more 
pressure. 

With the rope too high up to cut from the ground, the Jaffa had shinned 
up the tree, only to discover the bough from which Daniel was hanging did 
not appear strong enough to take his additional hefty weight, creaking 
and cracking horribly as soon as Teal'c straddled it. 

Instead, he attempted to reach Daniel's swinging body from his position 
at the join with the trunk itself. But even with Daniel conscious enough 
to reach up with his bound hands, Teal'c was unable to gain a tight 
enough hold from his precarious position. 

Finally, with shots being fired at them from a distance, Teal'c cut 
through the rope tied around the trunk, and began to slowly lower it from 
the bough itself until Daniel's outstretched fingers touched the ground 
and he was able to guide his body down, preventing damage to his neck or 
spine. 

A pause in the gunfire came just as Daniel stood up dizzily, his ankle-
bound stance unsteady and his vision blurred as he tried to focus on 
Teal'c shinning down the tree trunk. 

But the momentary lull was all too brief. Renewed gunfire, much closer 
than before, rang out across the stony beach. 

Teal'c jumped to the ground, staying low and pulling his handgun from its 
holster. 

Daniel was too dazed to react, the blood rushing around his ears so loud 
from becoming the right way up after so long upside down. He could barely 
hear a thing, not even Teal'c's desperate shout as he lunged towards the 
younger man, managing to get off several shots from his Beretta while 
knocking Daniel out of the firing line from Air's latest volley. 

Teal'c hit the ground in a flurry of bullets, agony flaring from his left 
shoulder as he felt something crack with the impact. A burning sensation 
spreading in his upper right chest seemed totally out of sync with that 
injury, but neither arm appeared to work when he tried to lift a hand to 
find the source of pain. 

Amidst the sudden silence surrounding them, Daniel began to move beside 
him. The adrenaline rush of the firefight had served to awaken his dazed 
senses and he rolled over to sit up, eyes widening at the sight of his 
fallen friend. 

"Teal'c!" Leaning over, Daniel put pressure on a heavily bleeding chest 
wound. 

"Unh," the Jaffa grunted in pain, his teeth gritted, "I believe my left 
scapula is fractured." 

"Teal'c you've been shot!" 

"That would account for the additional pain," he murmured, his face 
visibly pale. 

"Stay with us, Teal'c, I'll get help." Still trying to press his bound 
hands against the wound in an attempt to slow the bleeding, Daniel 
stretched up to look around. 

Air was lying motionless on the ground, approximately fifteen feet away, 
blood spreading darkly over the green coloured convertibles to cover his 
upper thigh. One of Teal'c's shots had obviously hit home. 

Across the beach, Daniel could see Jack dragging their other assailant 
from the stream. Unceremoniously dropping the injured man to the ground, 
Jack cradled his hands to his chest and bent over double, in obvious pain 
for a long while before he finally stood upright and looked in Daniel's 
direction. 

Daniel could tell both men were sopping wet, water pouring off them, 
washing away blood from Jack's hands. Earth's nose was bleeding 
profusely, and he was beginning to come round, holding his hand against 
his face, eyes screwed up tight against the pain of a broken nose 
apparently courtesy of Jack's injured right hand if the blood covering 
its bandage was any indication. 

Jack was shivering violently in the shady cool of the canyon, his soaking 
wet t-shirt sticking to his body, icy water running down his pants legs 
and refilling his boots. His hair was slicked back and he wiped a palm 
over his face to clear the drops of water obscuring his vision. 

With water bubbles filling his ears and the rushing sound of the stream 
right next to him, Jack saw Daniel's animated gestures before he could 
hear his anxious shouts. 

Fairly positive that Earth wasn't going anywhere judging by the visible 
swelling of his knee stretching tautly against his pants leg, Jack 
quickly searched pockets for the prodigious cable ties and strapped 
Earth's wrists before beginning to run across the beach in response to 
Daniel's cries. 

Stooping to retrieve Earth's unused Beretta along the way, it occurred to 
Jack to check for his own, but his belt was empty, the weapon in all 
likelihood now embedded somewhere at the bottom of the creek. Making a 
mental note that he would need to get someone to search for it later, for 
safety's sake, Jack stumbled tiredly on the rock-strewn terrain, his 
soggy socks sliding inside his wet boots, managing to stay on his feet 
through grim determination alone. 

Arriving panting and dripping, Jack carefully kneeled beside Teal'c and 
Daniel, rapidly taking in the scene and reacting a lot more calmly than 
he felt. Pulling out the pocketknife, he sliced through the cable ties 
bound around Daniel's blood covered hands and moved round to deal with 
his bound ankles while he began to talk to the injured Jaffa. 

"Teal'c how you doing? You gonna be okay?" 

"I may be in need of assistance from Doctor Fraiser, O'Neill. But I will 
survive until then." 

"Good," Jack paused to consider the chest wound, bleeding too heavily for 
anyone's liking, especially Daniel's who was still applying pressure to 
the entry hole to try and slow it down. "Teal'c, any chance your 
meditation can help slow this bleeding? I don't think you want to lose 
too much blood out here, it'll make a real mess of the place!" 

"I will kelno'reem, O'Neill," Teal'c agreed, teeth bared against the 
pain. 

The word was unfamiliar to Jack, but it sounded good anyway, "Okay, do 
it, whatever it is. I'll radio for a helicopter to get you out of here." 

Jack stood up and turned full circle, staring at the canyon walls as 
though he could lower them with his fierce gaze alone and enable him to 
call up help faster than was going to happen. Finally, he swallowed his 
last icy shudder and drew on some unknown source of strength. 

Squeezing Daniel's shoulder, Jack pointed in the direction from where he 
and Teal'c had originally approached. 

"Daniel, I'm going back up the hill to radio help. I'll collect our other 
prisoner on my way back. Be twenty minutes tops," he estimated vainly, 
knowing he would have to run all the way and hoping he'd have enough 
energy left to do so. 

He glanced over in Air's direction, seeing no sign of movement. By the 
way he was lying, the man had probably whacked his head against a rock 
when he fell. Even so, Jack dropped some cable ties to the ground beside 
Daniel. "Keep an eye on Air. If he comes to, use these." 

Jack set off at a jog, rapidly disappearing from sight in the dense 
forest covering the canyon floor. He began to broadcast even before he 
reached the top of the hill, praying the helicopter was waiting ready to 
pickup. 

"Stevens, Costanza, come in please." Lifting his finger from the transmit 
button, Jack counted to ten before repeating his call. "Stevens, 
Costanza, anyone, come in please. That's an order!" 

"Colonel O'Neill. It's Jenks." 

"Jenks!" Jack came to a weary halt, panting for breath, "Good to hear 
from you. You back at the camp yet?" 

"Negative Colonel. But I am in contact with Stevens and Costanza." 

"Good, then relay this message to them urgently. We need a med-evac 
helicopter to grid block 8," he peered closer at the soggy map, leaning 
it on his knee to give his throbbing right hand a rest. "Reference 1-9. I 
repeat, grid 8, ref one-dash-zero-niner. Got that? Over." 

"Grid block 8, reference 1-09," Jenks repeated. "Yes sir." 

"Costanza has a copy of the map. He'll know where we are. There's a beach 
large enough for a landing," Jack explained. "Send Stevens and Costanza 
with the chopper. I'll need their help. We have three prisoners here. One 
of them may also need medical attention." 

"Yes, sir. Understood. I'll relay that immediately. Jenks out." 

By the time Jack reached the tree where they had tethered Water, Jenks 
came back with the ETA on the med-evac, leaving a scant fifteen minutes 
to get back to the beach ready for the chopper. 

Jack arrived just in time, not for the helicopter's arrival, but to save 
Air's life. 

Teal'c had sunk deep into his kelno'reem meditation, his heart rate 
slowing so much that the blood had stopped pumping from the gunshot wound 
in his chest and he barely registered a pulse. That final fact had scared 
Daniel beyond reasonable thought and the groaning sound of Air beginning 
to revive was the last straw. 

After weeks brewing a level of anger previously unthinkable in the 
normally placid young man, Daniel finally flipped out. Crossing the short 
distance between himself and the prone body of Teal'c's would-be 
assassin, he flung himself on top of the gunman, pummelling Air's chest 
and jaw in a frenzy of punches, lashing out in revenge for every 
wrongdoing that had occurred in the long weeks past. 

His knuckles were a bloody mess to match Air's face when his fury reached 
the ultimate zenith. Daniel's hands gripped Air's throat, tightening 
their hold to strangle any last breath from the helpless man. 

"DANIEL!" 

When he re-entered the clearing, Jack saw what was happening, his 
startled shout both confused and stunned. "What the *hell* are you 
doing?" 

Daniel did not respond. He barely even blinked as he stared into the 
dying eyes of the gunman, seeing every attacker from the last nine weeks 
of hell washing before him in the mist that had blinded his vision to 
anything but the need for retribution. 

Shoving Water to the ground, Jack covered the remainder of the distance 
in four long strides, reaching Daniel and unsuccessfully trying to haul 
him off by yanking the collar of his t-shirt. The man had Air in a death 
grip, pulling at him only served to lift Air's head and shoulders from 
the ground along with him. 

Dropping to his knees in front of Daniel, Jack took another tack. He 
grabbed both wrists, attempting to pry them apart despite what little 
strength he had left in the fingers of his right. 

"DANIEL!" 

Desperation growing, Jack tried again, slapping Daniel's cheek with the 
palm of his wet-bandaged right hand. His left hand thumped Daniel's 
shoulder, working to loosen the deadly hold around Air's neck. Jack 
gripped tighter, shaking the younger man, his right hand moving down to 
push against the forearm. 

At last Daniel reacted to the slap on his cheek. He looked up, blind fury 
in his eyes now focusing on Jack. He released one hand, only to clamp 
down upon Jack's right, squeezing knuckles together to forcibly remove 
his hold from Daniel's arm. 

Jack couldn't help it. The pain was excruciating. Burning blades of fire 
shot through his fingers and up his arm as bone crushed nerve and 
collided with vivid memory. He howled, an agonised scream loud enough to 
penetrate the fog obscuring every rational thought in Daniel's mind. 

Daniel's eyes revealed sudden terrified recognition. He let go rapidly, 
lurching backwards as if to physically distance himself from the entity 
who had caused such pain. 

Cradling his hand against his heaving chest, Jack stared at him, shaken 
and horrified by everything he had seen. He tried to comprehend the 
emotions running across Daniel's face, the reflections in blue eyes that 
shone so brightly with the need for vengeance as to take Jack's breath 
away. 

"Daniel?" Jack's shaky voice was soft, inquisitive, as if to calm a rabid 
dog. He glanced down at the body of Air, once more unconscious, barely 
breathing. His face had been beaten to a bloody pulp and red welts stood 
out on his neck. Jack knew with absolute certainty that one minute longer 
would have left him dead. 

An assassin practically beaten to death by Daniel's hands? This was 
wrong, it was oh so wrong. 

Jack's eyes widened at the realisation of just how unglued the younger 
man had become. And all this time he'd been too busy to notice. 

"Daniel. I'm sorry," Jack said hoarsely, finally beginning to move, to 
approach his friend slowly and carefully. Daring to reach up with his 
left hand to Daniel's shoulder, Jack raised Daniel's lowered gaze to look 
him in the eye. He saw tears there as the adrenaline rush began to wane. 

"Jack?" Daniel's voice was pitiful, filled with doubt that what he was 
seeing was real. 

"I'm here, Daniel. You're safe," Jack's throat closed and he swallowed 
hard. "It will be okay, I promise. We'll get through this together." 

                         *******************

Jack was so exhausted, he barely moved when Janet gently took his wrist 
to unwrap the bloodstained bandage, now way too tight on his swollen 
hand, to replace it with an ice pack. 

She winced at the scraped and darkly bruised knuckles, really wanting to 
take x-rays, to ensure he hadn't done any worse damage than was already 
apparent. She would also have liked to x-ray his chest, to check his ribs 
had not suffered further from his latest pummelling. But that could wait 
until morning. 

For the moment there were other patients to concern herself with, and 
Janet left the room satisfied in the knowledge that Jack had still come 
off remarkably unscathed given his recent history, and better than any of 
his team this time, former team she reminded herself ruefully. 

Jack had no new injuries, only a few exacerbated existing ones, whereas 
the other five members of the SGC currently cluttering her infirmary were 
all to be kept in overnight for treatment or observation. 

Shifting in his seat, Jack opened his eyes far enough to gaze at Sara's 
face, giving the monitors a quick glance until he was satisfied she was 
sleeping peacefully. Then he brushed the fingers of his left hand against 
her right and renewed his gentle hold, needing to feel the warm contact 
before he let himself drift back off into the fitful doze that had 
overcome him two hours earlier. 

His group had been the last to arrive back at the SGC, shortly before 
dark. Left waiting on the beach with two prisoners and Costanza, Jack had 
been forced to be patient despite shivering in the cold of damp clothing 
in a canyon filled with shade far too early in the afternoon to enable 
him to dry. 

Knowing it would be foremost in the Colonel's mind, Stevens had jumped 
from the helicopter before it touched ground, eager to report that he had 
checked with the SGC. Sara was doing well, she was stabilised and the 
doctor said she was resting comfortably. 

With that hope to sustain him, Jack had watched the chopper leave with 
the injured members of SG-1, one blood spattered prisoner and Airman 
Stevens, who was ready to administer medical aid and keep the prisoner 
under control if he ever awoke. 

By the time Jack had reached the SGC, he was running on empty, unsure as 
to exactly what was keeping him going except for his need to be at Sara's 
side, to see for himself that she was okay, and to ensure the same of the 
rest of his team. 

It had been a sorry sight that met Jack when he eventually walked into 
the infirmary. All three members of his former team plus the add-ons were 
bloodied and battered, some in a better state of repair than others while 
the stretched infirmary staff attempted to deal with the worst injured 
first. 

Several pairs of eyes looked to him as though he could somehow heal them 
with words. Yet he had nothing to say. Even so, Jack felt responsible. 
Wasn't it his fault they had been out there, his fault they had been 
injured? 

And what about Sara? 

He had thought retirement would protect her, as well as protect his team. 
Yet it hadn't changed anything. 

Even as General Hammond entered the infirmary to check on the status of 
the last prisoner before commencing his interrogation of the other three, 
Jack knew he had more to do before he could stop this, before he could 
protect any of these people. 

He had some decisions to review, hindsight to help form the future, to 
help regain control of his existence, and its effect on everyone he 
touched. 

But first he could only think of one person. 

Seeing the urgency on Jack's face, Janet had wrapped a blanket around the 
cold and dishevelled ex-Colonel and led him to Sara's bedside. She had 
been placed in a private room off of the main infirmary, given the fact 
that she was a civilian and probably should not be allowed, nor wish, to 
see all that went on in there. 

Along the way the doctor gave Jack a quick run down of the injuries dealt 
with so far and her rough prognosis for all five members of the SGC whom 
Jack had somehow rescued in the mountains, along with her estimate on 
Sara's improving condition. 

"We'll keep Sara sedated for another twelve hours or so, until her vitals 
are back up. The bullet grazed her ribcage, Jack. She was very 
fortunate," Janet chose her words carefully, knowing Jack would never 
consider it lucky that Sara had been shot at all. "The injury could have 
been a lot worse if it wasn't for the angle of deflection. Her ribs will 
be sore for a few weeks, and she'll have to take it easy while she heals, 
but other than that . . ." Janet trailed off, seeing the look on Jack's 
face as he saw Sara for the first time, surrounded by monitors and tubes. 

"It looks worse than it is," Janet said softly, getting a grateful glance 
in return before Jack's full focus went back to his wife. The doctor 
watched him lean over, brushing hair from Sara's pale brow with the 
lightest of touches, the dirt and blood on his hand a stark contrast to 
her pallor. Then he pulled up a chair and slumped down tiredly, reaching 
for Sara's right hand and settling in for the duration. 

                         *******************

Monday: Black versus White

By late afternoon the next day, Sara's vital signs were much improved and 
the level of sedation reduced, she would wake up soon enough, Janet 
assured Jack, adding for the umpteenth time an offer to get him some 
decent food from the commissary. 

She had seen him eat some fairly lumpy looking yoghurt and a banana in 
the last day but had been unable to get his attention long enough to 
force him to eat more. At the same time she understood what he was going 
through and sympathised completely. Still it would be better if he would 
eat and get some proper rest, he looked even more exhausted now that 
she'd had time to clean him up and check him over, preferring to do it 
herself rather than let one of the nurses attempt to deal with him. 

So with Sara still sleeping, and Jack refusing to leave her side, Janet 
had brought Daniel in to talk to him in the futile hope that Jack would 
go get some rest if he knew Daniel was watching over Sara. Even as she 
entered the room, Janet knew it was a plan without basis, but she also 
knew that Daniel was eager to talk to Jack. He had been asking after him 
for hours, until finally Janet had released Daniel from the infirmary, 
unable to detain him any longer for what were really only minor injuries 
– a bloodied nose, bruised and scraped knuckles. 

After all, it had more been Daniel's agitated mental state that had made 
her keep him in for observation, and without involving Doctor Mackenzie 
in the matter, a move she did not want to make just yet, there was little 
more she could do for the young man, except to help meet his needs to 
talk things through with his friend. But to what end? 

"Jack, how are you?" Daniel began awkwardly, clutching his arms across 
his chest nervously and waiting for Janet to close the door quietly 
behind her before adding, "How's your hand?" 

Jack suppressed a wince at the vivid memory of such sheer pain that had 
been inflicted by his friend the previous day. He shrugged with feigned 
indifference, instead asking, "You remember that?" 

Daniel cringed guiltily. "Yeah." 

"What else do you remember?" Jack probed. 

"Not all that much really," Daniel looked deeply troubled by that fact. 
"Except I remember blood on my hands. Lots of blood," his voice trailed 
off vaguely, his eyes searching Jack's for answers, clues, anything that 
would help to explain just why he felt so on edge, so angry and so 
appalled with himself. 

But Jack remained silent, undecided as to how much Daniel would be better 
off not knowing. 

"Jack? Help me, please?" His plea was heart wrenching. "I need to know 
what I did. I know it was bad, I just don't know what it was. How can I 
stop it from happening again if I don't know what it was?" 

Jack swallowed, turning away from Daniel's pleading eyes to stare at the 
door. Finally, he glanced at Sara, ensuring she was still soundly asleep 
before he stood up and moved to the far side of the room, out of her 
earshot whether asleep or not. 

Daniel followed anxiously, leaning in close to hear Jack's hushed tones. 

"Daniel, have you seen Air?" 

"The injured prisoner?" Jack nodded. "Yes. I saw them take him in for 
surgery, to extract Teal'c's bullet from his leg. Two guards had been 
assigned to him. Although it didn't seem like he was going anywhere, he 
looked in bad shape." 

Rolling his eyes in disbelief that it was down to him to explain it, Jack 
placed his left hand on Daniel's shoulder and waited for him to look up. 
"That was you, Daniel. You almost beat him to death." 

Daniel shook his head in denial, his eyes revealing terror that it might 
be true. 

"Yes, Daniel. The blood on your hands? That wasn't yours. It was his. 
When I got back you were trying to throttle him. I tried to stop you. 
That's when . . ." Unable to say it, Jack raised his right hand, the 
wrist freshly bandaged courtesy of Doctor Fraiser since much of the new 
swelling had gone back down overnight. The black bruising across his bare 
knuckles stood out starkly against the edge of the white bandage 
carefully wrapped so as not to apply any pressure on them. 

"Oh god!" Daniel took an involuntary step back, reminding Jack of a 
similar move he had seen the previous day. He looked like he was trying 
to escape the truth, trying to escape that demon inside himself that he 
had not even known was there until now. 

"Welcome to the dark side, Daniel," Jack hissed grimly, not knowing how 
else he could open the man's eyes to what was really happening. 

Daniel's stunned expression made him realise the need to be a little 
plainer with the man. Jack turned away tiredly, quietly grabbing one of 
the grey plastic chairs from beside the bed and pulling it over, pushing 
it up behind Daniel and gently nudging his shoulder until he sat down on 
it. Then he picked up the other chair and positioned that one for 
himself. 

"You flipped out, Daniel." Jack shrugged helplessly, "It happens to all 
of us. Whatever you've got bottled up in there came raging to the surface 
with a vengeance." 

Those last words were ringing bells in Jack's own head when he realised 
Daniel was not looking at his face but lower. 

Daniel lifted his hand, pointing a finger at Jack's neck before touching 
his own. "Was that . . . was that me too?" 

"What?" Jack's face was a picture of confusion. "Was what you?" 

"Those bruises. The finger marks." 

Lifting his own hand to his neck, Jack felt the tenderness beneath his 
prodding fingers, rising up off the chair to look in the small mirror 
fixed above the washbasin on that side of the room. It came as a surprise 
to see the black and red bruising around his neck, the product of an 
underwater stranglehold by another of the tag team. 

Jack turned back to Daniel and shook his head, explaining casually, "No, 
that was Earth. He tried to drown me in the creek." He paused, regarding 
his friend for a long moment, "You can't carry the blame for everything, 
Daniel. Even if you want to." 

"Why would I want to?" Daniel responded quietly. 

"Maybe because that's the only way you can make sense of it all." 

Jack retook his seat opposite, realising some simple truths, "That's the 
difference between you and me, Daniel. You're so busy looking for a 
reason for this," he gestured broadly, "for all of this, that you haven't 
given yourself a chance to accept it. Or to recover from it." 

"I see it more simply than that. Maybe because I choose to, I'll admit 
that. I see things in black and white. I always have done. It's the only 
way I can do the job. Good guys versus bad guys. What else is there?" 

He paused to let the words sink in before continuing, "You're looking too 
deeply. You're still looking for reasons why I got stuck in that hellhole 
in Egypt. Why we ended up in that cabin here in Colorado. Or why that 
earthquake came crashing down on top of us both on P2S 161." 

"You're looking for ways to blame yourself, Daniel. And it's got to 
stop." 

Daniel looked startled by those last words, and Jack knew why. 

"You're expecting sympathy? Psychological babblings about how you'll feel 
better in time." Jack snorted. "You should know me better than that by 
now, Daniel." 

He leaned in closer to deliver the final blow. "Get over it! That's my 
advice." 

Seeing the look in Daniel's eyes, Jack knew he wasn't getting his point 
across. His tone softened, "Look Daniel, you've got everyone in a flap. 
Hammond's worried. Janet's worried. And lord knows she ought to be 
concentrating on dealing with her own demons not worrying about yours." 

Daniel's miniscule nod gave Jack the confidence to continue, maybe this 
tactic was right after all. "How many people have told you that none of 
this is your fault? None of what happened? Plenty, I'll wager. So why 
won't you believe it when they say so?" 

"I believed it when you told me, Daniel, it took me awhile, but 
eventually I believed it . . ." Jack trailed off with an open mouth, 
realising one obvious thing, one dumb omission. 

"Stupid, stupid . . ." he scolded under his breath. He wiped a palm over 
his face with a sigh, raising his gaze to meet Daniel's once more. "You 
needed to hear it from me, didn't you? You needed to hear me say it. But 
I was too busy enjoying my life again to notice what was going wrong with 
yours . . ." 

"You had Sara," Daniel murmured. 

"That's no excuse for ignoring a friend," Jack admonished himself. "In 
the cold light of day, I never once told you it wasn't your fault, that I 
don't blame you anymore than I blame myself. But if I say it now will you 
honestly believe me?" 

Daniel shrugged, but clearly in the eagerness of his eyes it was 
something he needed to hear. 

Jack nodded, recalling something Sara had said. It was never too late to 
say you're sorry. 

"Daniel, none of this is your fault. None of what happened to me, to you 
or to any of us is your fault. Just because you were the first of us to 
set foot in Egypt does not mean you are to blame for what followed. None 
of us are. You have to believe that. Just like you made me believe it way 
back when." 

Jack swallowed past the lump blocking his throat, the emotion of the 
moment intensified by his exhaustion and the circumstance of this room, 
at least that's what he was telling himself. 

"Daniel you saved my life I don't know how many times. And you gave me 
back something more valuable than you could possibly know. You gave me 
the confidence to talk to Sara and you gave her enough knowledge to drag 
the truth out of me. Daniel, you gave me that time to heal. I would never 
have had that without you." 

Jack stopped short, realising something only his subconscious had been 
mulling over till now, that maybe the fight wasn't over yet. Not for any 
of them. 

He had seen the truth for himself now, what they had all been through 
because of him. Daniel, Janet, Sara, all of those people close to his 
heart. He still owed them all. He owed them something, safety, 
protection, loyalty, whatever. He owed them something he could not give 
them by retiring, by walking away from his responsibilities. 

How could he? 

"Daniel, you've given me time with Sara that I thought had been lost 
forever. For the first time since it happened, we talked about our son's 
death. We talked about Charlie. Daniel, understand what that means to me? 
It would never have happened without you. So if you want to hear blame, 
you want to hear fault, then be at fault for that. Be at fault for some 
of the most wondrous moments in my life, not some of the worst!" 

Jack's husky voice ground to a halt and he lowered his gaze in 
embarrassment, unused to revealing so much of himself to anyone, let 
alone someone in the SGC. But the depth of gratitude in Daniel's tone 
made him glad he had, believing maybe it had helped. 

"Thanks Jack. That means a lot to me." 

Lapsing into silence once more, Daniel regarded his friend, his self-
conscious expression, and knew things had gone so far beyond Jack's 
comfort zone that it was time to leave before they reverted back to the 
awkward humourless wisecracks Jack usually used to cope with such 
moments. 

Daniel stood up, moving his chair back to the side of the bed. He waited 
for Jack to do the same, watching him settle back down beside Sara and 
take her hand in his own. 

Before he left, Jack stopped him with solemn words, "Daniel know this. No 
matter what happens now, I will always be grateful for these few weeks 
you gave me with her." 

Frowning at the implications, Daniel turned back towards his friend 
trying to understand his meaning. But Jack was focused back on Sara, and 
the rear of his head told him nothing except that it was time to leave. 
The conversation had ended, albeit puzzlingly. Daniel could hope for no 
more than what he had already received. 

And Daniel had been given far more than he could ever have expected. 

Jack had been more honest, more open with his emotions, without being 
under duress, than Daniel had ever witnessed let alone been on the 
receiving end of. He had seen and heard the truth for himself. 

Jack believed none of them were to blame. And despite every irritating 
principle the man stood for, probably because of them, Daniel admired him 
and trusted him more than any other person on this planet. 

So if Jack believed none of them were to blame, how could Daniel possibly 
disagree? 

                         *******************

Scant minutes after Daniel had left, Sara finally woke up. Screaming. 

The sound sent a piercing ache through Jack's heart. In all their years 
together he had never heard her suffer a nightmare until now. He knew he 
was the root cause of every harm done to this remarkable woman, so how 
could he not be the cause of her nightmare? 

"Sara, hush, Sara sweetheart, it's okay. You're safe. You're in the 
infirmary." Jack couldn't bring himself to say "I'm here." He didn't know 
whether she would take that as a good thing or bad. 

"Jack?" Sara's terrified voice, her efforts to reach up towards him, wide 
eyed and alert from the rush of adrenaline, forced him to risk contact. 
Ever so gently, he leaned over her, enfolding her into his embrace. 
Barely lifting her from the mattress, Jack rocked her in his arms as she 
wept. 

Sara's shoulders shook as the tears flowed, her body trembling in the 
aftermath of a nightmare that had turned out to be all too real. 

"It's over, Sara. It's okay," he soothed as she shuddered against him. 
"It's a reaction to the painkillers and sedatives they've been giving 
you. We all go through it. Honey, you got shot, remember? But you're safe 
now. And you're going to be fine. It's all over." 

"No, Jack. It's not over!" Sara pulled away, her voice nearly hysterical 
as she vividly recalled everything she had witnessed, "Someone sent an 
assassin after you!" 

Jack could only be glad she had yet to learn the true extent of the 
attempt to dispose of him. Four assassins seemed like laughable overkill, 
but somehow he could not see the funny side. 

"It's never going to be over until you put an end to this yourself!" Sara 
gulped, "You have to testify, make them face trial. You've got to put all 
these people away for good or you'll never be safe," her throat 
constricted over the words and the tears began to fall even harder, big 
salty drops catching on her eyelashes, sliding down pale cheeks when she 
screwed her eyes shut with renewed sobs. 

Jack held her tenderly, caressing Sara's shoulders. He thought about her 
words and then he thought about her. She didn't deserve this. She didn't 
deserve any of this. None of them did. For Sara's sake, for his friends' 
sake, even for his own sake, Jack knew what he had to do. 

"I'll do it," he whispered against her hair, stroking his fingers through 
the soft strands. "I'll talk to Hammond, maybe he can arrange a military 
trial. I'll finish this, Sara, I promise," he added determinedly. 

Retiring had not guaranteed Sara's safety, so what choice did he have? 

                         *******************

When Janet next popped her head around the door she found both Sara and 
Jack soundly asleep. Quietly entering the room, she lifted the clipboard 
from the hook on the end of the bed and began to mark down the latest 
readings from the monitors. 

Satisfied by the progress she was seeing, Janet finished up quickly and 
headed back to the door. 

"Janet?" She turned around, surprised that Jack was awake. 

Lifting his head from his arms, he met her gaze, a tired frown crossing 
his features. "Did you know?" 

"About?" 

"Daniel?" 

Janet raised her eyebrows, pursing her lips to consider her response and 
the question of confidentiality. Finally she nodded. "Yes, I knew." 

"Why didn't you tell me?" 

"What difference would it have made?" 

He gestured in the direction of Sara, sleeping soundly on the bed. "I 
could have saved her from this." 

Janet's frown deepened, "How?" 

"By not retiring." 

She shook her head in confusion, "Why would you do that, Jack? You belong 
with her." 

"I belong here, Janet," he responded flatly, voicing something he had 
been thinking about for several lonely hours. "I belong with these people 
to whom I owe my life." 

"You don't owe them anything, Jack. You've saved these people more times 
than I can count." 

"That's why I have to stay." 

Janet's voice rose to an angry whisper, astounded by his arrogance, "Do 
you think you're the only one who can save us?" 

"No, Janet. I think we are the only ones who can save each other," Jack 
said reasonably. "I see that now. I need to be here as much as the rest 
of us. I have responsibilities I can't walk away from. And this is the 
only way I can ensure Sara's safety. The only way I can control what 
happens to her, to myself, or to any of us. I have to be here. No one . . 
. ," he swallowed, biting back the word he had let slip and emphasising 
the one he had meant to say, "*Nowhere* else will do." 

He raised his gaze to meet Janet's, taken aback by the tears in her eyes 
and unable to read whether they were relief or regret. 

"What are you going to tell Sara?" she eventually asked, her voice thick. 

Jack shrugged, unable to face that thought yet. He needed to regain some 
strength before he could even think about what lay ahead for he and Sara, 
and yet where that strength would come from, he did not know. 

Janet read his expression, instinctively stepping closer as if to offer 
help. Her hand came to rest on Jack's head, her fingers mussing his hair 
in a level of intimacy not normally displayed inside the halls of the 
SGC. But it was a natural move, a show of compassion and comfort between 
close friends. 

With a soft sigh of despair, Jack lifted his arm to surround Janet's 
waist, pulling her close and burying his head against her shoulder, 
appreciating every ounce of new stamina he could soak up from the much 
needed human contact. 

Janet hugged back tightly, needing the comfort as much as he did and 
realising just how accurate Jack had been in his assessment of the 
situation. They all needed each other. Even as she felt her energy levels 
being regenerated with this simple loving gesture, Janet realised how 
much they all needed each other. 

Every member of the SGC was connected in some minute way. It was like a 
living puzzle, take away a single element and the puzzle stops 
functioning properly. Left untended it would eventually wilt and die. 

They could not live without Jack anymore than he could live without them. 
But how would he and Sara live without each other? 

"I'm so sorry, Jack," her words were barely more than a choked whisper. 

Wiping tears from her cheeks, Janet tilted her head to press an 
affectionate kiss to Jack's greying temple. She squeezed his shoulders in 
a final hug and pulled away from his loosening embrace. 

"If you need me . . ." 

Jack nodded. His hand caught her own, a gentle pressure but a profound 
expression of thanks. He was grateful for her comfort and her offer, even 
though he knew this was something he could only do by himself. 

Turning away to focus back on Sara, he heard the door open and close 
behind him, leaving him to silence once more. 

                         *******************

Tuesday: One Door Closes . . .

"Jack, you have to get some real rest. You can't carry on like this. It's 
been days since you even ate a proper meal!" Janet scolded him quietly, 
having hauled him outside the door to Sara's room in order to speak in 
private. "Besides, you're worrying Sara. I can see it in her eyes, even 
if you're too tired to notice!" 

With a frown, Jack met Janet's gaze, his vision so slow to focus that he 
began to realise she might be right. 

"Now, one of the nurses is going to give Sara a sponge bath. And you know 
as well as I do that you're not going to be welcome in the room while she 
does that. Get some sleep or get something to eat," Janet's tone became 
less patient, "Either way, I'm not letting you back into that room until 
tomorrow." 

"But Sara . . ." Jack wasn't allowed to finish. 

"Sara will thank me for forcing you to get some rest! Now go, Jack." 

With that, Janet turned around and strode back into Sara's room, closing 
the door firmly behind her as if daring Jack to even think about reaching 
for the doorknob. 

With a shuddering sigh, Jack turned away and aimlessly headed down the 
corridor. 

Exhausted beyond reason, he ended up in the only place he could think of 
where he might not be found, his old claustrophobic office. Softly 
closing the door behind him, Jack surveyed the room. It remained 
untouched, no one had been in to start boxing up his stuff, to start 
delving through whatever paperwork he might have left unfinished. 

And now he knew no one ever would. He could not retire. How could he? He 
still had things to do here. And apparently he was needed here. He was 
needed by these people just as much as he needed to be here among them. 
And he needed to let Sara lead a safe and peaceful life without having to 
worry about what trouble he might bring to her doorstep. 

How could he retire? 

But how could he not? What would he tell Sara? 

Swallowing hard, Jack scrubbed a hand over his face and leaned against 
the wall tiredly, sinking slowly down to sit on the floor. His arm hugged 
his legs and he lowered his head to rest his forehead on his knees, no 
longer able to hold back the emotion. 

                         *******************

Unbeknownst to Jack, one person had seen him enter his office, one person 
who did not know quite how much Jack needed to be alone. 

General Hammond had hung up the telephone to Doctor Fraiser and stepped 
out of his office to stretch his legs. He never tired of the view from 
the briefing room of the Stargate, an incredible piece of invention, yet 
one that seemed to be the root cause for all sorrow to beset members of 
his command, and ex-members. 

As he gazed down at the huge circular machine, Hammond was struck by the 
silence. Ordinarily the area would be bustling at this time of the 
afternoon. Instead it seemed the infirmary floor was the bustling one. 
And any team not effected by recent events had been sent off-world the 
previous day as was often the way they commenced a new week. 

Admittedly, only Sara O'Neill and one of the prisoners whose real name 
had yet to be determined were still being kept in the infirmary. All the 
other injuries had been more slight. Even Teal'c's gunshot wound and 
broken scapula had been resolved speedily by human standards, with the 
help of the healing powers of his symbiote, fondly named Junior by a 
certain ex-Colonel. 

Captain Carter was back in her laboratory, at work on some experiment, 
seemingly unhindered by the sling she was being made to wear in order to 
ensure the stitches in her knife wound did not get pulled apart. 

The two men suffering concussions of varying degrees, Collerby and Jenks, 
had been assigned light duties, and were apparently being well looked 
after by their teammates, Stevens and Costanza. All four deserved 
commendations for the part they had played in the events of Sunday, 
especially considering they had volunteered for an assignment of such 
unknown danger. 

Even Doctor Jackson seemed somehow more content with his lot, albeit 
quietly. 

So as Hammond considered the silence settling over the SGC, he couldn't 
help notice the soft footsteps outside in the hall, turning to glance 
down the corridor in time to see a figure disappear into the office 
formerly belonging to Colonel O'Neill. 

Judging by the height and form, it had been the man himself. But hadn't 
Doctor Fraiser just told him to get some rest? 

The General gave Jack five minutes, vowing to be patient with the man, to 
give him the benefit of the doubt before chewing him out over not 
following the doctor's recommendations. And he could easily stand another 
five minutes of gazing at the peace and serenity of his domain. It was a 
rare five minutes after all. 

Finally, Hammond turned to head down the corridor, knocking on the door 
of Jack's former office and getting no reply. 

Pausing to consider his options, the General decided he could not simply 
walk away. Perhaps this man was no longer under his command, but he had 
been a friend, and a valued one at that. If he was to be of any help to 
the man, he knew he would have to make the offer clear. 

Taking a deep breath, Hammond reached for the handle and gently pushed 
open the door. 

At first he thought the room was empty after all. Then he noticed an 
outstretched boot disappearing rapidly behind the desk obscuring his 
view. 

"Jack?" Hammond stepped into the room and closed the door behind him, 
signalling his unwillingness to turn his back on a friend. 

"General." Jack's voice was muffled by the way his head was resting on 
his arms, but there were levels of emotion and exhaustion there that 
could not be concealed. 

Hammond watched him for a moment, trying to think of small talk that 
would help, before realising there was little point. Small talk had never 
been a part of any conversation with Jack O'Neill, whether Colonel or 
otherwise. There was little point in trying to alter that now. Instead, 
the General started to tell Jack exactly what was on his mind, in the 
hope that the younger man would reciprocate. 

"You did a good job out there Sunday, Jack. You controlled the situation 
and avoided unnecessary bloodshed. You proved everything you've been 
telling me. And you saved five of my people in the process. How can I 
thank you for that?" 

"I couldn't save Sara," Jack's words came as little surprise. Hammond had 
suspected that would be the one thing preying on his mind. 

"She's going to be fine, son. You've seen that for yourself. You just 
have to be patient. What else can you do?" 

"I can let her rest. Let her live in peace." 

Hammond frowned intensely, "What do you mean by that?" 

"I need to put these people away, General. If Mitchell is behind it, I 
need to get to him to. I need you to arrange a military trial. It's the 
only way we can do it without revealing any secrets about the Stargate to 
the public and I *have* to stop this from ever happening again." 

"Jack, you know I can only do that if their target was a member of the 
military." 

"I know, General." Wiping a palm across his damp face, Jack looked him in 
the eye, summoning up his strongest military voice, albeit a hoarse one, 
"General, request permission to rejoin my team." 

"But you're meant to be retiring, Jack." 

"How can I, General? How can I let them get away with what they did? 
Endanger Sara further? How can I leave these . . ." his throat closed 
over the words, raw emotions resurging at the sheer thought of the 
conversation he had to have with Sara. 

"How can you leave these people who need you even more?" Hammond finished 
for him, pulling out a chair from the front of Jack's desk and settling 
into it. Side by side they sat silently for a long time, two minds 
considering the same severe choices. Finally, the General spoke again. 

"It may be little consolation, son, but I have yet to process your 
retirement papers. And I meant what I said, you've proved your recovery 
ten-fold. You are free to make any decision you wish." He paused, taking 
a sorrowful breath, "Or any decision you feel you have to." 

"Too much has been left unfinished here. Two many debts have yet to be 
repaid." Jack murmured, "I know what I have to do, I just don't know how 
to do it." He looked up at Hammond, "How am I going to tell her, 
General?" 

Hammond shrugged, shaking his head morosely before coming to a sudden 
realisation and an obvious solution, "Show her, Jack! Show Sara what is 
so important to us all, to this planet." 

He smiled slightly as everything slotted into place, "She's already in 
the SGC! Have her sign the usual forms then show her. Sara's an 
intelligent lady, she's probably already figured out more than she 
should, it can hardly hurt. I'll witness her signature, no one outside 
this room need ever know, except maybe Doctor Fraiser. We'll need her 
permission to take Sara out of the infirmary. We can lay on a 
demonstration at night when no one else need be around. Once Sara sees 
what you can't walk away from she'll understand." He gestured 
fruitlessly, "To be frank, I suspect she already does." 

Jack considered his words for a long moment, gaining hope from Hammond's 
enthusiasm. Then he realised that if he was going to rejoin the SGC, he 
needed to be honest about the degree to which Sara did already know 
things. 

"General, sir. There are some things Sara already knows that she 
shouldn't. Things I felt . . . compelled to reveal to her." 

"Colonel O'Neill," Hammond regarded him officially, "Are you saying these 
admissions were caused by what she saw on that videotape?" 

Jack frowned, "Well, yes, sir. I suppose. But I let out more than I had 
to." 

"Be that as it may," Hammond continued insistently, "the root cause of 
this exposure was a videotape containing top secret information 
deliberately despatched to a civilian with no known security clearance. I 
believe only the sender of this package can be held responsible for your 
actions." 

"Yes, sir," Jack was forced to agree. 

"Can we rely on the information going no further than the recipient?" 
Hammond asked, maintaining his official tone. 

"Of course!" 

"Then let the matter rest. Sara O'Neill will shortly be signing the non-
disclosure agreement, that will suffice for all information she has 
gained, or will gain in regard to the SGC and it's machinations, on this 
world or any other." 

Jack nodded dejectedly, his head still spinning at this turn of events. 
The answer to his dilemma had been decided for him, whether that was a 
good thing or not remained to be seen. 

"Now get some rest, Colonel. And, since you're no longer retiring, I'll 
make it an order! You can use the VIP quarters tonight. It's quiet there. 
I'll ensure you are not disturbed until the morning." He smiled, "I'll 
even have the chef send you up a hearty breakfast, you look like you need 
it, Jack." 

Hammond stood up with a grin, "Don't get used to this kind of treatment, 
you'll be back to eating C-rations and sleeping out under the stars 
before you know it!" 

With that he left the room, checking his watch and making a mental note 
to come back in five minutes if he had not detected any effort to obey 
his orders by then. 

For the first time in days, Jack smiled. Sleeping out under the stars was 
never a bad thing, especially now he had some new memories to accompany 
his dreams. 

                         *******************

Wednesday: . . . and a Stargate Opens

Sara had woken that morning to find Jack beside her bed again. Only now 
he looked rested, he had finally got some proper sleep instead of dozing 
in the chair beside her, waking every few minutes to check on her. She 
was glad of that fact. She knew he would need all his strength to think 
clearly, just as she had spent a large part of the previous evening 
preparing some rational thoughts of her own. 

He smiled tentatively when he saw her eyes flicker open, his grin 
widening when she smiled back. 

"Morning," he said softly. "How you feeling?" 

"Good," Sara admitted sincerely, "Really good, actually. Today, I think I 
can face anything, including another of those awful hospital breakfasts!" 

"Don't have to," Jack grinned. "I smuggled you in a plate of the decent 
stuff!" 

Turning to the end of the bed, Jack pulled over the trolley holding a 
tray covered with a navy blue linen cloth. Removing the cloth, Jack 
revealed a glass of orange juice alongside a basket of toast and a plate 
protected by a metal lid and heated by a candle burner lit beneath it. 
With a flourish, Jack lifted the lid and handed Sara a fork. 

"Would madam prefer me to feed her?" He asked slyly. 

Sara laughed, "No thank you. I can fend for myself." With that she forked 
a piece of potato and sniffed it experimentally, not realising how hungry 
she was until she had tasted it. Finding the knife difficult to wield 
with the tube still stuck into the back of her hand ready to feed her 
with fluids from the intravenous drips, Sara used a combination of fork 
and fingers to polish off all of the bacon, scrambled egg and hash brown 
potatoes while Jack munched on a piece of toast, glad that the breakfast 
General Hammond had delivered to the VIP quarters had not gone to waste 
after all. 

Jack had awoken from the sort of sleep normally reserved for zombies with 
the full realisation of what he faced that day, sitting bolt upright with 
his heart palpitating so hard his chest hurt. The sight of that plate of 
food had made his stomach churn even worse and Jack had figured out that 
eating was not going to be the first thing on his agenda. 

Instead, he had gone to see Sara, needing to weigh up her strength, 
physically and mentally, to see whether she would be able to cope with 
what was in store for her later that day. 

When she had emptied her plate, passing on the juice in preference for a 
glass of water, Sara slowly nibbled the last piece of toast Jack had 
insisted she finish. 

She watched him curiously as he stood up. "I'm going to take this tray 
back to the commissary before Janet finds it here," he explained 
sheepishly. "Get some more rest, I'll be back later." 

He leaned over and softly kissed her lips. 

Before he turned away, she saw a fazed look cast a shadow on his face. 
His attempt to hide a subsequent frown did not go unnoticed by Sara's 
perceptive eyes. 

Left to ponder what might be going through Jack's mind, Sara settled back 
against the pillow and tried to ignore the weird discomfort of a gunshot 
wound in her left side. 

She wasn't sure she would ever get used to the idea that she had been 
shot, but she had seen the look in that young man's eyes. He had never 
meant to do it. The gun had gone off accidentally. And somehow that fact 
made her feel far less threatened by it than she had expected. 

Now her greatest fear was Jack. His reaction. What decision he would make 
and what route of thinking would bring him to that conclusion, because, 
for sure he was struggling with something important at the moment, 
something that would effect both of them. 

Sara almost thought she knew what it was. Even so, she had yet to decide 
which way it should go, and she could understand why Jack was having such 
a hard time. 

Still, he was right, she should get some more sleep. These things had a 
habit of sorting themselves out in the end. There was nothing to be 
gained by lying awake worrying about it. Their fate had probably already 
been decided, perhaps long ago, maybe this time they would just have to 
accept whatever lay in store and make the most of it. 

In the same way they had been making the most of the last few weeks 
together. 

Sara smiled at that thought, warmth spreading through her body at the 
memory of all they had shared, dreams that would be filled with the sight 
of a seductive smile, of a handsome man in his forties with salt-and-
pepper hair, of those liquid brown eyes at times laughing, loving or 
hiding such vulnerability that only the closest of people could detect, 
of the feel and taste and touch of the husband she had spent such 
intimate moments with, stolen moments that had never been expected, but 
which would last a lifetime. 

                         *******************

It was mid evening before Sara saw Jack again. Whether he was avoiding 
her, or taking the time to think things through, she didn't know. But she 
was overjoyed to see his head pop around the door, checking she was awake 
before pulling a wheelchair in behind him. 

Sara looked at the wheelchair, "Where are we going?" 

"Nowhere yet. General Hammond has a piece of paper he wants you to sign. 
You're going to be sworn to secrecy." 

He paused, chewing his lip as he contemplated the outcome, "Then I have 
something to show you downstairs. Something important." 

Sara nodded. Accepting the fact that questions would be pointless 
regarding the second statement, she concentrated on his first. 

"Do I need a lawyer?" she quipped lightly. 

"Only if you've done something wrong." 

Sara couldn't tell if Jack was joking or not. He picked up a large brown 
envelope from the seat of the wheelchair and withdrew several sheets of 
typed paper, single-spaced and double-sided, stapled together securely 
and with an official government stamp blazoned across the front page in 
red. 

"Read it through. Once you're happy, I'll take you down to General 
Hammond's office. He's going to witness your signature." 

Sara nodded solemnly and leaned back into the pile of pillows propping 
her up. This was going to take some time. 

Jack sat down in the chair beside the bed and waited patiently, his mind 
and stomach churning, waiting for any possible questions and wondering 
what the heck he was going to say. 

But Sara accepted every clause, saving the millions of questions spinning 
around in her head for after the other shoe had dropped. She knew this 
was leading up to something, something even more important than anything 
Jack had ever told her, anything about the alien Goa'uld, about his 
friend Kawalsky, or even about Daniel's wife Sha're. And when she found 
out what that something was, maybe then some of her questions would be 
answered. If not, perhaps Jack would be willing to hear her out anyway. 

Finally, she lowered the paper and looked at him. "Okay." 

"Okay?" Jack seemed surprised. "No questions? No problems?" 

"Only one." 

"What's that?" Jack regarded her seriously. 

"I don't have a pen." 

"Ah," he smiled gratefully, appreciating the way Sara was trying to 
lighten the mood. "That would be General Hammond's responsibility, not 
mine. It's that old chain of command thing." 

Sara frowned. About to ask why there was any chain of command since he 
had retired, she thought better of it, deciding that it was probably a 
little too soon for that explanation. 

"Let's go," she said, flinging the covers off the bed and gingerly 
lifting her legs, eager to get to the point of the evening. 

"Wait, wait," Jack leapt to her side, "You've gotta be careful or you'll 
pop a stitch! Let me help!" 

Between the two of them, Sara was soon wrapped in a dressing gown and 
settled comfortably in the wheelchair, a warm blanket covered her legs, 
tucked snugly around her bare feet. 

Finally ready to go, Jack opened the door and checked the corridor was 
empty, a move not missed by Sara. At least that explained the lateness of 
the hour. For some reason she really was getting special treatment. 

Strangely, meeting General Hammond in person, Sara realised she had got 
the complete wrong impression of him from their phone call and subsequent 
conversations about him with people like Janet Fraiser. 

Of course, he would have at least two different personas, one with which 
he could command an underground base of obvious import, and another with 
which he could gain the apparent respect and admiration of difficult 
people to impress like Jack O'Neill. 

But this General had a third persona, the one that made him come across 
like a giant teddy bear to Sara. 

First banishing Jack to what looked like a conference room beyond his 
office and closing the door tight behind him, Hammond went to great pains 
to ensure Sara knew exactly what she was signing and was totally happy 
with its implications before handing her the pen. 

Once he had witnessed her signature and given it his official seal of 
approval, he smiled at the lovely lady in the wheelchair before him, a 
person about whom he had heard many opinions, but who he had never met 
until now. A person who had immediately interrupted his greeting to make 
sure he called her Sara, not Mrs O'Neill or any version thereof. 

"Thank you, Sara. Now I'm going to file this in my desk and hopefully 
none of us will ever need to refer to it again." 

"That would be good, General," Sara agreed sincerely. 

"Fine. Now Jack is going to escort you downstairs, we have a little 
demonstration we'd like to show you. I'll be there with you until it's 
concluded. If you have any questions or concerns I'll be happy to try and 
answer them for you." 

Hammond stood up and tapped on the window, catching Jack's attention from 
where he had been sitting at the table staring into space. The blast 
doors had been lowered over the windows. Apparently the General did not 
wish to reveal any secrets until Sara had signed on the dotted line. 

The absence of any view had left Jack little to stare at but the far 
corner and the dark shadow near the ceiling that hid a security camera. 
He remembered that day vividly, discovering a block of C4 hidden behind 
it. And yet it seemed so long ago. 

Some incredible things had happened in the short time since. Unexpected 
things. Things he could never have predicted. Things that he felt were 
coming to an end this night. And yet something gave him hope. If he had 
been unable to predict their occurrence the first time, how could he say 
they would never happen again? 

With an inward sigh, Jack braced himself and stood up. He was ready to 
take Sara along to the elevator and down one last floor, ready to take 
one more step. 

Standing outside the sliding door that would open into the gate room, 
Jack paused for one last sanity check, voicing his thoughts for both 
their benefit. "It's not too late to change your mind." 

"No, Jack," Sara said firmly, her first words since leaving Hammond's 
office. "I need to see it. And you need to show me, no matter the 
consequences." 

Jack winced at her choice of words, wondering how much she already 
suspected. Even so, there was apparently no turning back now. He swiped 
his badge through the lock and hit the button to open the steel door. 

The groan of the motor sliding it aside served to disturb the familiar 
nighttime peace in this part of the base. 

Somehow, in spite of all the numerous time differences between each 
planet visited, the gate was very rarely used at night. That fact enabled 
them to require only one duty officer, monitored hourly by telephone call 
from the security office to ensure he had not hit any problems. 

On this occasion, General Hammond had dismissed that man for the evening. 
And it was the commander of the SGC himself who now stood in the control 
room and began to boot up the computer ready to open the gate to a 
particularly friendly planet. 

Slowly Jack pushed the wheelchair into the gate room, holding his breath 
without even realising, waiting for Sara's astonished gasp. 

She didn't disappoint, but her choice of words made him smile, "What the 
hell is that?" 

"It's called a Stargate," General Hammond's voice came over the PA. "And 
that machine at the bottom of the ramp is a MALP. Please don't ask me 
what that stands for!" 

Jack threw a smile of gratitude in his CO's direction before leaning down 
to whisper in Sara's ear, sotto voce, "It's a science thing!" 

"Ah!" Sara didn't know what else to say, glad when Jack continued. 

"Wait for it," he crouched down at her side, his hand sliding over 
Sara's. "It's going to get loud." 

"I'm preparing to dial P3X 797, the Land of Light," Hammond announced, 
receiving a nod of understanding from Jack before he hit the appropriate 
button on the keyboard. 

Immediately, the Stargate began to grind, the symbols glowing as the 
wheels began to rotate, locking each one of seven important coordinates 
into place in time with Hammond's announcement. 

"Chevron Seven is locked," Hammond declared loudly, grinning like a 
Cheshire cat. "You know, I've always wanted to say that!" 

Jack's hand squeezed Sara's in warning, she knew the loudest part was 
approaching, but it still did not prepare her for the sight that met her 
eyes. 

Sara screamed. She couldn't help it, the suddenness of that whoosh of air 
being forced ahead of what she could only describe as a vast funnel of 
water was both shocking and fantastic, blowing like a gale force against 
her face and then retracting to settle like a puddle within the circle of 
the Stargate, shimmering and rippling. 

"It's called an event horizon," Jack said softly, his voice close to her 
ear. 

"What does it do?" 

"It's a wormhole. A passage to another world." Jack smiled at the look of 
incredulity on Sara's face. "We're going to send the MALP on a little 
trip." 

"How long will it take?" Sara murmured dazedly. 

"About thirty seconds!" 

"Preparing to send MALP," Hammond announced from the control room, 
managing the MALP from a remote link next to his keyboard. 

With a whine of engines, the little tank-track vehicle climbed the ramp, 
reaching the event horizon and beginning to disappear. 

"Where's it going?" Sara asked in confusion. 

"To the Land of Light," Jack smiled, "We've got friends there. You'll 
see," he turned her wheelchair slightly, pointing to one of the monitors 
with built-in cameras that hung from the rear wall between the windows of 
the control room and the briefing room above. General Hammond's going to 
call them up and we'll see their message on the video up there." 

"Okay," Sara nodded sceptically. "And how do I know that's not some sort 
of pre-recorded tape?" 

"You can ask them a question!" 

"Anything?" 

Jack raised his eyebrows, "Well, within reason, I guess. We don't want to 
spoil diplomatic relations, do we!" 

Suddenly, the monitor lit up with an image, moving pictures being 
transmitted light years across the galaxy. 

"Greetings to you General Hammond from the Land of Light," Tuplo spoke as 
regally as ever, his Minoan influenced robes and headdress of 
particularly striking colours against the dark backdrop of the unlit 
forest within the dark side of his planet. 

"And to you, High Councillor Tuplo. We are happy to hear from you again, 
I trust your daughter Melosha and your people are well." Hammond smiled 
sincerely. "Thank you for aiding us in our demonstration. I wonder if you 
wouldn't mind answering some questions from the dear lady we have 
visiting us tonight." 

"Of course, General. However we can be of assistance." 

"Sara," Hammond looked down from the control room, "Feel free to ask 
Tuplo anything you wish." 

"Thank you. Good day, High Councillor Tuplo. My name is Sara O'Neill, I 
am . . ." 

"The wife of Colonel O'Neill. Your General Hammond has explained to us." 

"Well, yes," Sara faltered, surprised by his knowledge and how much 
trouble they must have gone to in getting this so-called demonstration 
set up. Still she was not yet convinced. 

"Former wife, yes," Sara continued, realising exactly what she wanted to 
ask. "I wonder if you could tell me how you first met Colonel O'Neill?" 

"Of course. He came to the dark side of our planet with his team. They 
witnessed the illness that once struck terror through our numbers. They 
were effected by it themselves. Your good doctor determined a cure based 
on one of our blood samples and the Colonel returned to administer it." 
Tuplo smiled broadly, "I believe the Colonel himself was responsible for 
proving the cure would work by volunteering to take it first." 

Sara glanced at Jack, watching him squirm in embarrassment at Tuplo's 
revelation. But it was an honest reaction, nothing he could fake that 
easily. 

Still, she had to ask another question, to prove this really was as bona 
fide as it looked. It was all so surreal. She had to come up with 
something nobody could have planned for. "Tuplo, it occurs to me that for 
a place called the Land of Light, it seems awfully dark. I wonder if I 
might ask for a better view of your planet's sky?" 

Tuplo looked concerned, but Hammond leaned into the microphone. "That can 
be arranged, if you will all bear with me for a moment. High Councillor, 
please lead the way, I will attempt to follow you with the MALP." 

With that, Sara was treated to the extraordinary sight of Tuplo lit up in 
the headlights of the MALP, and General Hammond carefully steering 
through the dark night with the remote control. Suddenly and without the 
dawn to which any Earth dweller would be accustomed, Tuplo stepped out 
into the light. 

"I don't understand." Sara murmured. 

"Near as I can explain it, the planet rotates on a fixed axis with its 
sun." Jack told her, "The terminator line between night and day never 
moves. The land beyond the terminator is always light, hence the name. 
For some reason the Stargate was placed within the dark side." 

"It's amazing." 

"Thank you Sara," Tuplo smiled into the camera. "I am glad the sight of 
our planet's true colours is pleasing to you." 

"It's so beautiful." Sara looked suitably bashful at what she was about 
to say next, "But dare I ask for a souvenir? I would dearly love one of 
your flowers." She glanced up at Jack, "Can I? Is it safe?" 

"Of course. The planet's been checked out thoroughly by botanists, 
astronomers, physicists, you name it. There's nothing there that can harm 
us anymore, nor vice versa." 

Walking over to one of the flowerbeds beneath the ancient structure that 
contained their council hall, Tuplo asked, "Please choose a flower as you 
wish. I will send it back to you when we return your MALP." 

For Sara the task was easy, one bloom in particular stood out for her, an 
unusually petalled flower of exceptional powder blue colour, like that of 
a cornflower. Describing the exact one to Tuplo, she watched him lean 
over and remove a single beautiful stem. 

"Thank you Tuplo," Hammond smiled gratefully, "Now if you don't mind, we 
should probably end our visit. Please lead us back to the Stargate and I 
will endeavour to follow once more." 

When the MALP disappeared back within the dark side of the planet, Sara 
lowered her gaze from the monitors and regarded Jack instead, still 
feeling slightly sceptical, "So any minute now that machine will reappear 
from behind the magic curtain with a good facsimile of that flower pinned 
to it?" 

Jack smiled patiently, understanding how difficult this whole thing was 
to accept for the very first time, "Sara, there is no magic curtain. 
You'll see for yourself in a minute. The wormhole only works one way at a 
time. Once General Hammond has brought the MALP back to the gate, he will 
shutdown the Stargate from this side and close something we call the 
iris, that protects us from intruders. Then we will wait for Tuplo to 
dial Earth from the other end." 

"And?" 

"Once the wormhole has established, he will key in a special code on 
something we call the GDO." 

"More science?" Sara interrupted facetiously. 

"No, this one stands for Garage Door Opener!" 

"You're kidding?" Sara giggled. 

"Nope. Honest to god." Jack put his hand up like a cub scout making a 
pledge, "Anyway, that special code will signal to us that it's okay to 
open the iris and let the traveller through. In this case, it will be the 
MALP, a multi million dollar piece of reconnaissance and analysis 
equipment that the accounting department always like us to retrieve!" 

"So not just any old person can come knocking on the Stargate door," Sara 
mused, remembering Jack's description of the Goa'uld, "That's 
reassuring!" 

As she spoke, the wormhole suddenly disengaged and the Stargate went 
silent. The sudden dimness in the gateroom was significant. 

Sara turned her gaze to the top of the ramp, gulping hard when she 
realised Jack had been telling the truth. There was no magic curtain. The 
MALP wasn't simply hiding somewhere behind the gate. 

Suddenly the iris closed on the inner circle of the gate, forming a solid 
metal barrier across its diameter. Sara jumped, a soft squeal of surprise 
leaving her lips. 

Jack squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. "It's just the iris." 

While Sara watched, the symbols on the gate began to light up again, but 
this time the tremendous force of the wormhole establishing was kept in 
check behind the iris. Light shimmered on the back of the gateroom, 
released to spread across the entire area once General Hammond accepted 
the IDC code generated by Tuplo via the GDO they had left attached to the 
MALP. 

They all held their breath until suddenly the MALP began to appear, the 
familiar whine of its engines growing as it proceeded back down the ramp, 
apparently arriving fresh from the Land of Light. 

The MALP stopped partway down the ramp and Jack approached it curiously, 
looking for the flower and finding something more. Placed beside the GDO, 
Tuplo had left a fold of bright striped material of orange and blue. 

Jack lifted it off and carried it down to place in Sara's lap curiously. 
"It's cold," she remarked. "Feels like its come fresh out the freezer!" 

"Something to do with the way the molecular structure is broken down by 
wormhole travel and then reconstituted. It's always icy cold. You get 
used to it," Jack shrugged uncomfortably, unable to escape Sara's gaping 
stare. 

Slowly Sara unwrapped the cold material, her hands shaking. Inside was a 
blue flower more beautiful and more strange than it had even seemed when 
she had chosen it, the exact blue flower from the Land of Light. Beneath 
it was a piece of paper, almost like parchment. She gasped when she read 
the words, written in a swirling hand. 

"For Sara, a beautiful souvenir for a beautiful lady. May one day we be 
blessed with a personal visit. Tuplo, and the people of the Land of 
Light." 

"He couldn't have known," Sara murmured, realising beyond a doubt that 
everything she had seen tonight was real. "It's true!" 

"All of it," Jack assured her. 

"But it all seems so incredible," she stared at the MALP sitting silently 
on the ramp, having delivered its prize. 

Sara's eyes were wide with astonishment, her brain clearly processing, 
reorganising everything she had previously known up till now and 
formatting it into something much closer to the real truth than she had 
ever suspected. As he watched, Jack saw a light of understanding dawning 
on her face. She turned and looked up at him. 

"That being . . . the one that looked like Charlie? When you took him 
home . . . you went . . . " 

"Somewhere out there?" Jack nodded with a reflective smile, "P3X-562 to 
be precise." 

"Another science thing?" 

"Yeah, some sort of mathematical reference to the three-dimensional point 
in the galaxy where the planet is located. Somehow that reference 
translates to a set of numerical coordinates which in turn translate to a 
seven character set of glyphs." He pointed to the symbols on the 
Stargate, "Those glyphs. The first six represent the address of a similar 
Stargate on a destination planet, the seventh marks the point of origin, 
Earth in our case." 

Sara gazed at the Stargate, still shimmering with the energy of the event 
horizon, which remained active as if for effect. "There must be over 
thirty glyphs there." 

"Thirty six." 

Sara frowned with concentration for a moment, before concluding, "Then 
this Stargate must be able to go to millions of different planets." 

Jack nodded, smiling proudly at the fact that Sara had figured it all out 
so quickly based on what she had seen in such a short period of time. It 
had taken him months to understand the true implications of the Stargate, 
and he had not been the only person in that position, scientist and 
military personnel alike. 

"Of course, we've only been to a very few of them so far," he explained. 
"But we have an interesting star map I can show you in the control room, 
if we can get you up the steps." Jack gestured awkwardly towards the 
Control Room, remembering a similar problem when he had been about to 
catch the former Senator Mitchell at his own game and had to leave his 
wheelchair to climb two flights of stairs in a decidedly unsteady manner. 
"It's not exactly designed for wheelchairs." 

Sara was staring at him again, watching the easy everyday manner in which 
he was describing these unbelievable things. Without a doubt, Jack was 
telling the truth. 

"It's all real," she murmured astoundedly, "Every bit of it is true." 

Jack's face was like an open book, "I wouldn't lie to you, Sara. You know 
that." 

She lowered her eyes shamefully, "I'm sorry." 

"So am I." 

Catching his meaning, she met his gaze, "You're staying, aren't you?" 

Jack gestured feebly, unable to put his feelings into words. 

"Jack, you have to!" Sara realised, "You can't leave! This is too 
important! More important than any one person, two people even! You know 
that as well as I do." 

Jack drew a deep breath and turned his gaze towards the shimmering event 
horizon, which still had yet to disconnect. A look of such profound 
sadness crossed his face, his jaw tensing with extreme control. 

Sara reached up for his hand, pulling it away from the handle of the 
wheelchair where it was gripping with force. She squeezed tightly, "Jack, 
I know what this means," she swallowed hard. "I know what this means for 
us. It's okay." 

He lowered his gaze back to meet hers, mute with grief. Sara read every 
emotion written so clearly on his face, holding his hand even tighter. 
"Jack, it's out of our control. Neither of us have been able to stop 
anything that's happened so far. It's time to accept our lives, live them 
as best we can." 

"I wouldn't change anything, not one moment of the time we've spent 
together these past few weeks." Her jaw clenched with determination, she 
was not going to cry, not here, not in this public place, not in front of 
General Hammond, and certainly not in front of Jack. "Not one single 
moment," she emphasised. 

"But your life is here. What you're doing is vitally important. You save 
worlds for a living for crying out loud! How could you ever consider 
giving that up?" 

Still holding his hand, Sara pulled on his arm gently, urging him to 
crouch down, to meet her gaze levelly. When he did so, she lifted her 
other hand to lay her palm against his cheek. Her words were careful and 
measured, "Jack, I'm not blind. I've seen how much your team needs you, 
as much as you need to stay in the game, to stay and fight those who 
would do me, you and our world ill." 

"Knowing what you're up against, Apophis, the whole Goa'uld thing . . . I 
know you have to return to duty. You have no more choice in the matter 
than I do. One of these days our world will need saving, and then how 
will you feel if you were powerless to help because you'd retired." 

A strange glint in Jack's eye told Sara he probably had saved their world 
already, at least once. And with that weighty chunk of knowledge, she 
knew he would return, no matter how uncertain he felt about it right 
then. 

"You belong here, Jack." Sara leaned in closer, so proud of him. She 
wanted to show him with a kiss, a tender contact she needed so much at 
that moment, but Sara knew she couldn't. And she knew she would have to 
get used to being without that simple comfort once more, the sight of 
him, his smile, his laugh. Even after less than three weeks together she 
had begun to take it for granted, and now he would be gone again. They 
would each be alone again. Her expression wavered and Jack saw everything 
that was going through her mind. 

Unwilling to hold back, Jack moved in to kiss her lips, a single gentle 
touch that nevertheless sent a shockwave through him at the reality of 
it. What he was losing. What they were losing. It was too painful to 
comprehend. Surely no one could ask them to do it? This was an 
impossibility. No one could force them to do it. No one could force them 
to part. 

No one except themselves. 

Inwardly Jack shuddered, his hand clenching over Sara's with that 
thought. With such finality, the impossible had become the only possible 
step to take. He had been over and over it in his mind, he knew he was 
right, even while he had prayed he was wrong. He knew he was right in the 
look on Sara's face, because she knew it too. She knew what had to be 
done. If only one of them was strong enough to do it. 

"I know you feel indebted to these people . . . " Sara murmured thickly. 

"I owe you more!" Jack stared at the Stargate as though it was the root 
of all his problems. His voice wavered when he turned back to look in her 
eyes, his words raw with honesty, "Sara, I don't know how to do this. How 
can I stay here, when it means walking away from you?" 

He swallowed audibly, his voice cracking like footsteps on gravel, "You 
*saved* me! Without you I would never be back here." He scrubbed a palm 
over his face, his words reduced to a heart wrenching whisper, "Sara, I 
don't want to walk away from you, from what we have. I'm not ready to 
give that up anymore than I'm ready to give this up." 

"Jack," Sara choked, "You know we have no choice. Please, don't make me 
be the one to turn you away." She wiped her eyes, irritated to find tears 
there, "Don't force me to make the sacrifice alone! We have to do this 
*together*. The decision to separate our lives has to be a joint thing. 
If you owe me anything, then you owe me that much, please don't make me 
be the bad guy in this." 

Jack hung his head, closing his eyes tight for a long second. She watched 
him swallow convulsively, setting his jaw in grim control as he visibly 
steeled himself. Then he opened his eyes and nodded, meeting her gaze 
with a look of clarity. "You're right. I have to take responsibility for 
my actions. Nothing comes for free, and I'm not going to take my freedom 
at the expense of my friends." 

"Nothing comes for free," Sara agreed. "These three weeks," she shrugged, 
struggling to put her feelings into words that explained how valuable 
they were to her, how valuable they would become. "These three weeks will 
last a lifetime." 

Jack held her gaze for a long time, a moment that felt like an eternity. 
She was right. He knew it already. Even with that simple overpowering 
look in her bright blue eyes, he knew it was true. Nothing comes for 
free, but some things would last a lifetime. 

"We're in this together," Sara whispered, the strength of his gaze taking 
her breath away. "In some small way I think we always will be." She 
looked thoughtful for a moment, before adding, "These last three weeks . 
. . we've given each other strength." 

"And hope," Jack admitted softly. 

"I don't think that will end just because we're apart." 

Sara's hesitant voice grew with the power of her convictions, "I think we 
will always be a part of each other. You're under my skin, Jack O'Neill. 
You're a part of me. The last three years apart, never a day went by that 
I didn't find myself thinking about you. I know this time those thoughts 
will be happy ones." 

"I'm sorry for the last three years." Jack smiled faintly, "But I'm not 
sorry for the last three weeks." 

"Neither am I." 

"We still have a little time together," he added with a hopeful question 
on his face. 

"I'd like that," Sara nodded. 

"And then . . . " Jack trailed off, unable to think about that moment, 
and deciding he would avoid doing so until that day actually came. 

"It really is a fait accompli," Sara said sadly. "Nothing comes for 
free." 

                         *******************

Thursday: A Week to Heal 

"Hey." 

Daniel looked up, surprised to see Jack's head peeking around the door of 
his lab. He seemed to have been keeping a low profile since Sara had been 
moved to the Air Force Academy Hospital in Colorado Springs, almost a 
week ago. 

"Fancy a walk?" 

"Yes, actually. That would be good," Daniel agreed, dropping his book and 
heading for the corridor. 

Twenty-eight floors later, they emerged into the sunlight at the top of 
the fire exit a little breathless having practically raced each other up 
the stairs. Fitness levels were certainly returning to both of them after 
such a long frustrating period of injury and mishap, a fact that left 
them both with a self satisfied smile on their faces when they reached 
the top of the hill above the entrance to Cheyenne Mountain almost level 
with each other. 

Jack's slightly longer stride gave him the edge, but it really didn't 
matter to either of them as they slumped down to relax on the grass. 

"So, how's Sara?" Daniel asked once he'd got his breath back. 

"She's doing great!" Jack smiled broadly. "And she's getting plenty of 
visitors to keep her busy since Janet moved her to the Academy Hospital. 
Her Dad's been in everyday, spoiling her rotten!" 

"What's she telling them?" Daniel asked curiously. 

"Acute appendicitis!" Jack snorted. 

"Ouch! Sounds painful," Daniel grinned. 

"Wouldn't know, I've still got mine." 

"Me too!" Daniel's face formed a bemused expression, "And no one's 
noticed it's on the wrong side?" 

"Apparently not!" Jack shrugged, "Guess she's good at hiding it!" He 
smiled distractedly, "Anyway, I get to take her home tomorrow." 

Daniel raised an eyebrow. He knew Jack was no longer retiring, 
practically everybody had heard shortly after Sara had been transferred 
from the SGC. News like that could not be kept secret, and it didn't seem 
that Jack even wanted it to be. But in his usual fashion, he had 
apparently left it to Doctor Fraiser and General Hammond to spread the 
word, knowing they would do so without dramatics. 

But even though most of the base knew Colonel O'Neill was staying, few 
understood the consequences to him personally. Or to the woman who had 
been a patient in the infirmary for a few days. The fact that woman had 
been his wife Sara, ex-wife, had also not been broadcast by anyone in the 
know, not even the four young privates who had joined SG-1 on their 
rescue mission. That group seemed thoroughly pleased they had been of 
help to the Colonel but perfectly content to keep their knowledge among 
themselves. 

It seemed the man earned loyalty and respect wherever he went. And there 
were many who would fight to protect his privacy. Now Daniel felt 
privileged to be in a position where he dared talk to the man himself 
about the consequences of his actions. Consequences Daniel already 
suspected from their last real conversation, a turning point in his own 
recovery, when, with lowered voices in the corner of Sara's infirmary 
room, Jack had been forced to tell him a few necessary truths. 

"Going home, that's good," Daniel murmured, adding quietly, "Then what?" 

Jack glanced at him, reading his expression before answering honestly, 
"We get two weeks together," he said, unable to hide a tinge of sadness. 
"Hammond's given me two weeks compassionate leave." 

He lifted his strapped-up right hand, flexing it carefully just a couple 
of inches. "Two weeks to rest this and get my head straight! That's an 
order, son!" he finished in his best General Hammond voice, grinning 
ruefully. 

Daniel winced at Jack's obvious efforts to put a good spin on it. "It 
doesn't seem fair, you giving up a life with Sara for us." 

"I'm not doing it for you, I'm doing it for her." Jack smiled, satisfied 
that here was one thing he had done right. "Sara is better off this way. 
She'll be safe. Besides, two weeks can last a lifetime!" 

Daniel grimaced, knowing how he would feel if he had been put in the same 
position. He knew how much courage it was taking Jack to give up the 
woman he loved for her safety, for her own benefit. He wished he had been 
able to do the same for Sha're before it had been too late. 

"I admire you Jack," Daniel said suddenly, breaking the silence. "If only 
I'd had the courage to do the same for Sha're . . ." 

Jack read the expression of despair, the loss of hope in Daniel's eyes 
and could only be thankful for the course of his own decision. If 
Daniel's situation was anything to weigh it against, that had to prove he 
was doing the right thing, for Sara's sake and for his own sake. His way 
there would never be any chance of Sara being kidnapped by the Goa'uld, 
no chance that his nightmare could come true. Jack suppressed a shudder 
at the images that thought provoked and turned to face his friend. 

"It may seem a long time ago now, Daniel, but I once made a promise, a 
promise to help find Sha're. I haven't forgotten that. And I still mean 
to fulfil my end of the bargain." 

Jack was startled by the look on Daniel's face, shocked but gratified by 
his show of confidence. The younger man's expression changed radically, 
renewed belief shining out so clearly that Jack felt a distinct increase 
in pressure on his shoulders, pressure to fulfil all the hopes and dreams 
these people within the SGC, his friends, held dear. 

And, if it had not already become clear, Jack realised if he could not 
fulfil his own hopes and dreams, there could be few better ways to live 
his life but to attempt to help his friends accomplish theirs. 

And maybe, just maybe, somewhere along the way, it would help him find 
the passage home to his own. 

"You'll see her again, someday, Daniel. That I promise, my friend," Jack 
said wistfully, hopeful that the same could be said for them all. 

And if not, he reminded himself with a smile full of memories, two weeks 
could last a lifetime. 

                         *******************

Friday: Two Weeks to Last a Lifetime

Jack and Sara had two weeks. 

Two weeks in which to make more memories. 

Two weeks that went undisturbed by anyone except Janet, making regular 
checkups on Sara to ensure she was healing to the doctor's satisfaction. 
And perhaps to ensure Jack was looking after himself as well as her. 

Janet had a need to visit, a responsibility she could not avoid, 
otherwise she would have stayed away too. The rest of the SGC waited 
patiently for the leader of SG-1 to return. A strange subdued atmosphere 
hanging over the base as though they were collectively holding their 
breath. 

But even undisturbed, the two weeks went by all too quickly. 

On the last night they made love out on the deck, lying beneath a carpet 
of stars, knowing that the next day Jack would be taking Sara home. 

Home, the place they had shared for years as man and wife, and as a 
family, had become the place where he would say goodbye to Sara again, 
where they would go back to living alone. 

And so, not for the first time, but perhaps for the last, they made love 
out under the stars. And afterwards, Jack held Sara while she cried, his 
heart breaking right along with her. 

It was the first time they had let anything out into the open, the first 
time they had admitted the end was approaching. For two weeks they had 
packed everything possible into their lives together, making so many new 
memories to go with the ones they already held so dear. 

They had hiked through the countryside together, sat atop mountain ridges 
and drank in the view. They had been to the market for supplies, enjoying 
the moment more than any normal couple would. They had gone down to the 
mall and watched the world go by, taking rare pleasure in the sight of 
children shopping with their parents, after-school teenagers sporting the 
latest extraordinary fashions, the cycle of styles reminding them of 
clothes they had worn themselves, all those years ago. Sights that made 
them both feel young and old at the same time. 

One evening, they had searched out Jack's old photograph albums, turning 
the pages back into the past, laughing at haircuts long and short, 
colours long faded into memory. Photos of family members since passed 
brought nostalgic tales of uncles, grandfathers, parents and sisters, of 
the heritage of flying and an adventurous spirit passed down through the 
years, recollections of Sara's teenage wild child days and disciplinarian 
parents who were the complete opposite of Jack's, a fact she had often 
said explained his irreverence in the face of command. 

Few photographs did Jack have of their family life together. Early shots 
after Charlie was born were the last entries. Of course, Sara knew why. 
The family albums were still in the family home, she had kept them, 
selfish as that seemed now. At the time she knew Jack would not want to 
see them, but now. Well, now Sara made an almost subconscious vow to 
herself, a reminder to have copies made of those treasured photographs, 
to give Jack the chance to remember those moments as well. 

Sepia hued, black and white or colour, photographs were one thing they 
did not yet have from these weeks together. One thing that perhaps would 
make the memories more tangible, if indeed such intense imprints could 
ever disappear. 

Telling herself she simply wanted to perpetuate the history of the 
O'Neill family, Sara had insisted on buying a camera the very next day. 
She needed nothing special, just the facility to take timer pictures, to 
snap some shots of the two of them, together. It was not an 
acknowledgement of the fact that things would not last forever, it was 
not as if those images could ever fade from her mind. But when she was 
old and grey she wanted to remember those ancient photographs. 

Still, the presence of an ever-pressing need to record their actions, 
their experiences during those two weeks made it difficult to avoid the 
truth. But if either one of them had ever been experts at something, then 
avoiding the truth was right up there at the top of the list. 

And so they continued to cram their days, doing all the things they had 
never made time for before, especially when they were too busy being 
working parents. Things they had not done together since they were 
courting, and some things they simply had not dared to do. 

They found themselves making love in all the wrong places, passionate 
couplings in places that had seemed boring until now. Parking lots and 
grassy hills, elevators and Jeeps, kitchens, bathrooms, all the places 
they knew would serve as reminders of two wondrous weeks for a lifetime 
to come. 

But mostly they simply enjoyed being together, whether in conversation or 
silence, never taking it for granted, and rarely leaving each other's 
side. 

And all that time they mentioned no word to the future. Shared no 
recognition that all good things would come to an end between them. 

Until now. 

Lying out on the deck, entwined together on a sunlounger, Jack finally 
realised he still had things to say, things there would never be another 
time for. 

"You bring out the best in me, do you know that?" he said huskily, 
stroking Sara's soft blonde hair while she lay resting against his chest, 
tears drying on her starlit cheeks. "I can't stop loving you, Sara, I'm 
sorry, I know hearing that doesn't make this any easier on you, but I 
have to make sure you know. That you understand the reasons for what I've 
done." 

He swallowed audibly, his head tilting down to nuzzle against her hair, 
"And I need to ask your forgiveness for this pain I'm causing you." 

"Jack!" Sara's voice was so small it made his heart clench, "This is not 
your fault," she gulped hard, failing to suppress another sob, "We made 
this decision together." 

"This is all just circumstance beyond our control!" She sat up earnestly, 
looking him right in the eye, tears shining on her face, "Jack, you 
*know* you are not to blame. Please believe that! I can't leave here 
thinking I've failed you in that respect." 

"God," Jack shook his head miserably, "Old habits die hard," he murmured, 
angry with himself for falling back to type, assuming responsibility for 
every ill in the world. 

"But new habits can be so much more fun to make," Sara said, surprising 
him with her seductive whisper and the way she nestled deeper against his 
chest. "You can't make me turn my back on you, Jack, if you think you are 
to blame for any of this. I just can't do it." 

"I believe it, Sara, I do. I am *not* to blame." 

"How do I know you're not just saying that?" she smiled slyly. "It's 
going to take a lot of extra work to make me believe you now." 

"Really?" Jack cottoned on to what she was up to, loving the turnaround 
in her demeanour, her renewed efforts to get the absolute most possible 
out of two weeks together. Two weeks that had involved a lot of bed, and 
yet such little sleep. "How much work? I'm exhausted," he complained 
mischievously. 

"Oh just a little added exertion . . ." Sara's fingers began to tiptoe 
down through the soft hairs on his chest and along his side, slowly 
heading for his abdomen. She slid her hand into the pocket of his shorts, 
her fingertips stroking the top of his thigh through the soft cotton 
lining until he could stand it no more and began to fight back. 

                         *******************

Saturday: The End and the Beginning 

Some nights were never meant for sleep. 

Two people so used to working unusual hours could often stay awake until 
the dawn, doze for barely sixty minutes and still feel ready to face the 
world again. Two people so in love, so comfortable with each other, so 
intimate with their thoughts and feelings could stay entwined all night. 

Two people who knew this would be their last night together on Earth 
could remain deep in everlasting conversation. In one night they could 
reflect upon all they had shared, all they had hoped for, and all they 
had dreamed. They could make promises for their separate futures, vows to 
live life apart to the full. They could feel safe in each other's arms 
and swear they would stay safe even when stripped of that comfort. 

But eventually two people would still regret what could not be prevented, 
would still have to face the facts and would still voice hopes for some 
future time when life would change and circumstance turns back to the way 
they had always wanted life to be, simple, uncomplicated, abiding love. 
Together. 

"I can't do this job forever," Jack's hopeful words broke a silence only 
permeated by the chorus of awakening birds. Dawn was rapidly approaching 
and with it the end of their lives together. 

"I can't do this forever," he repeated, as though to assure himself of 
that hope. "Sooner or later I'll be too old for active duty and then I 
*will* retire," he said firmly. "And I'm hoping I'll recognise the signs 
before it's too late!" he added meaningfully. 

"I hope so too!" Sara said softly, her eyes still closed, breathing 
shallow but never enough for sleep. She snuggled even closer as she 
sensed the day looming on the horizon, waiting to pull them apart. 

Jack had known a few old warhorses who had never made it to retirement. 
They'd died in the field, their reactions no longer fast enough to save 
them. He didn't want to end up like that. But he could no longer deny the 
fact that he still had a job to do, things he had left unfinished. 

"Eventually, I'll be finished with this . . ." he murmured. 

The rest remained unsaid. Optimistic dreams of a future together in some 
all-too distant year lingered implicitly, as if to voice such needs, such 
ultimate desires, would be to ruin the chance of its happening, and admit 
that their time was running out. 

Together they lapsed into silence once more, letting the peace and 
serenity of a brightening dawn surround them with heartfelt hope. 

                         *******************

By 08:30 am, Jack had followed Sara's black Wrangler Jeep back to her 
driveway, bringing with him in his Cherokee the camping gear that had 
been safely collected off the mountain by members of the SGC. 

He headed directly for the basement, carrying the large box in his arms, 
a couple of rolled up camping mats slung over his shoulder. Sara followed 
him down, sitting on the workbench aimlessly flicking through a box of 
old records while he carefully put away the items, straightening the 
place up and making sure she would not be tempted to go down and do any 
lifting herself. It wasn't like he could think of anything else left to 
do in the all-too short time that remained to them. 

Sara pulled out one record in particular, a wistful expression lighting 
the dark shadows of her face, "Do you remember this one?" 

"Of course," Jack smiled at the testing question, recognising the picture 
on the sleeve from days of old, "How could I forget, they played it at 
our wedding!" 

A strange look of reminiscence came over his face. He took the vinyl 
single from her, opening up the dusty old box record player placed beside 
her on the workbench, plugging it into the wall and putting the tune on 
with a prayer that it still worked. 

"Come here," he urged huskily, stepping back and holding his hand out for 
her." 

When the song began, they danced, intimate and comfortable like old 
times. 

Sara's eye welled up with tears as soon as she heard the first lines, 
"When I fall in love, it will be forever." Words they both knew had been 
true then and were even truer now. 

The same thought in his own mind, Jack drew strength from her loving 
gaze. He held her even closer, kissing her tenderly as they danced 
together for the first time in so many years. 

"You know I wouldn't change a thing," Sara said softly when the record 
ended. "These past few weeks have been some of the best. It means a lot 
to me to know that what we had is still here. And maybe there'll come a 
time when we're both finally ready for it." 

"We can't go back, can we?" Jack whispered. 

"No," she shook her head slowly, her voice sad, "I don't think we can, 
Jack." 

"We can only go forward." 

"Maybe that's the way it's meant to be . . . a new start." 

"How?" Jack asked hoarsely, unable to imagine life without her at that 
moment, even though they were only minutes away from such a reality. 

"Friends," she said, "And like any good friends, to be here for each 
other." 

When Jack leaned in to kiss her forehead, Sara pulled away reluctantly, 
wanting to hold him forever, but knowing it was not to be. 

It was time. 

She met his gaze, seeing he was as torn as she was, "Go, Jack. Go and 
save the world! Just promise me one thing." 

"Anything," Jack said quietly. 

"Promise me you'll make it to retirement! And when you do you'll look me 
up!" Sara smiled weakly, "We can talk about old times, and old loves." 

"I'll still love you then." 

"No you won't. By then you'll have moved on, found someone new. Maybe we 
both will." 

"I'd have to be truly lucky to find any one that means as much to me as 
you do." 

"Then be lucky, Jack," Sara pleaded gently. "Don't be afraid to fall in 
love. And don't be afraid to like yourself. Promise me?" 

"I promise." 

With no words left to say, Jack held her gaze for a long moment, his eyes 
shining as brightly as her own. Then he turned and quickly left, knowing 
he did not have the strength to look back. 

                         *******************

Jack reported to the SGC infirmary at 10:00 hours on the dot, ready for 
the complete physical that Doctor Fraiser and General Hammond had deemed 
necessary to clear him for active duty. It was purportedly due to the 
injuries sustained to his right hand and wrist, but Jack felt sure they 
were also doing a basic psychological check up. 

In that respect, he had decided to be honest for once. He no longer had 
any weaknesses left to hide like he had the first time, when he had 
managed to bluff his way through a psych assessment with Doctor 
Mackenzie. Now they probably expected him to be a little out of sorts, 
subdued, and they were absolutely correct. 

So when Doctor Fraiser asked the Colonel how he was feeling generally, 
Jack knew it was a loaded question. 

"I'm fine Doc. I'm ready to get on with the job," Jack said, "I'm not 
saying I won't miss that life, but I've done what I needed to do. I took 
two weeks out. I rested my hand, it's feeling more or less as good as it 
has for weeks. I got my head together, I'm more focused now than I 
probably was before it all happened! And I got my heart sorted out too." 

He didn't expand on that last point, and Janet didn't expect him to. She 
was surprised he had even alluded to his personal feelings, it was a rare 
event and perhaps a good indication that Jack really had got everything 
worked out as best as it could ever be. The fact that he had refused to 
mention Sara's name was somewhat telling, but no more than anybody could 
expect of him. 

She was satisfied the Colonel was ready. And she told General Hammond the 
same, marking his medical file "passed for active duty" and leaving the 
way clear for the mission briefing scheduled at 14:00 hours. 

By 15:00 hours, Jack was sitting in his office reviewing the research and 
analysis for M3R 297, a forested moon orbiting a fiery giant. They were 
looking for life, culture, mineral ores and perhaps some scientific 
answers to the origin of life on planet Earth. Risk assessment was 
unknown, but the MALP had encountered no resistance during or between any 
of its transmission periods . . . so far. 

Just the usual then. 

Whatever was facing SG-1 on M3R 297, Jack knew it would make for an 
interesting mission. 

The team dynamic alone had been torn apart and put back together again 
over the past twelve weeks. And not necessarily in the same state as when 
they had last set foot on a real mission, back when they had landed on 
PB5 926 expecting to meet the Tok'ra and finding a mortally wounded 
Apophis instead. 

Jack didn't count the milk run to P2S 161. That was never a real mission 
and was probably best forgotten for all involved. 

Judging by the reams of data already collected by the MALP, M3R 297 
promised to be a whole different ball game. Besides, it was a moon, as 
Captain Carter had kept reminding him during the briefing. He couldn't 
recall them ever visiting a moon before. It was bound to be absorbing 
from an astronomical point of view alone. 

Still, excited by the prospects or not, Jack had gained little sleep, 
over the last few nights especially. By 15:30 hours he was nodding off, 
his chin dropping from his supporting hand every few seconds until he 
gave in and rested his head on folded arms on the desk, just for a few 
moments. 

They were due to ship out at 03:45 hours the next morning, scheduled 
specifically to arrive shortly after the estimated dawn on the new planet 
. . . moon, Jack corrected himself for the umpteenth time. He couldn't 
help think that Hammond had chosen early Sunday morning to avoid any 
furore over the sight of SG-1, supposed flagship team of the SGC, finally 
embarking on a mission together after more than twelve weeks of downtime. 

Whatever the reason for the early hour, at some point before then, his 
whole team was expected to get a good night's rest. So a few minutes 
leaning his head on his desk would do no harm. 

Waking with a start, Jack realised it was 21:00 hours already. He sat up 
stiffly, stretching his back as far as he could without getting a 
familiar jab in the ribs. 

It would be night outside, the stars beginning to reveal as the sky grew 
darker. Without another moment's hesitation, he stood up and headed for 
the door. 

Minutes later, Jack emerged from the dimly lit stairwell to breathe the 
clean night air of Cheyenne Mountain. He climbed the remainder of the 
hill and lay down on the grass, his head tipped back to fill his view 
with an endless display of celestial bodies, like sparkling sequins on 
black velvet. 

A smile grew slowly on his face when Jack realised he had found the one 
place he would always be close to Sara. For certain, this night, she 
would be doing the exact same thing. 

And if this carpet of shining stars was what had drawn them apart, this 
galaxy beyond, these infinite planets – and moons – that hid friend and 
foe, then this same carpet of stars would be drawing them back together 
each night, always present. Everlasting. 

                         *******************

"SG-1, you have a go," General Hammond announced over the tannoy from the 
control room. 

Jack nodded acknowledgement of the order before turning towards his team. 
With a sweep of his left hand he gestured them up the ramp, "Shall we?" 

Four team members, each dressed in the same olive-drab of military 
uniforms plus black vests, were marked individually by their choice of 
headgear and weaponry. Teal'c, the bareheaded Jaffa, lifted his staff 
weapon and bowed his head slightly. Captain Samantha Carter pulled her 
cap down closer over her thick blonde hair and hefted her MP-5. Doctor 
Daniel Jackson pushed his glasses back up his nose, checked his holster 
and tightened his grip on the palm-sized camcorder ready and waiting in 
his left hand. 

Colonel Jack O'Neill rested his right hand over the stock of his own MP-5 
and smiled at the sight of his trusted and expert team. Each one had 
strengths and weaknesses, areas of speciality and holes in their 
knowledge. From the time of their first mission, they had gelled. And now 
they all knew this team was in it for the long run. 

Together again, SG-1 walked up the ramp. 

Side by side they disappeared as one, the event horizon rippling with 
their passage. 

To those looking on it was a frozen moment in time that would be marked 
by posterity. They all knew this day would go down in the history books. 
Everyone felt it, some more deeply than others. 

In the control room above, two people exchanged broad smiles. Then 
General George S Hammond and Doctor Janet Fraiser turned aside and headed 
back to their own rather more mundane jobs. 

The sound of the Stargate disengaging behind them heralded the arrival of 
SG-1 on the moon designated as M3R 297. For them it was the end of one 
passage in time and a new beginning. 

A new adventure. 

                         *******************

Epilog: Nowhere to Run, No Place to Hide 

Sergeant Davis glanced at his namesake, the senior ranking officer within 
the SGC since General Hammond had left him in charge and disappeared 
through the Stargate in an act of pure desperation, an attempt to rally 
enough reinforcements to save three missing SG-1 members and the three 
teams of rescuers who had met with a far larger enemy force than anyone 
could have predicted when they made their assault on Hathor's stronghold. 

"It's SG-3's IDC code, sir," the sergeant explained with relief. 

A look of hope crossed the face of the Pentagon Liaison officer, "Open 
the iris, sergeant." Major Davis gestured towards the gateroom, "And get 
some medical staff down there, who knows what state they're in!" 

"Yes, sir," Sergeant Davis nodded affably, pleased with the level of 
emotional involvement he could detect in the man's demeanour. Perhaps he 
had been wrong and Major Davis wasn't just another bureaucratic pencil 
pusher. 

As if to prove it, the Major squeezed his shoulder, "Let's get down 
there, shall we sergeant? See if we can't be of help." 

                         *******************

The General had not forced a debriefing yet. He as much as anyone wanted 
to know what had happened in the month since SG-1s disappearance, but he 
also wanted to give them time to recover from whatever ordeal they had 
been through. And Hammond could see from their drawn pale faces that it 
*had* been an ordeal. 

Doctor Fraiser had let Colonel O'Neill leave as soon as she had finished 
her examination. He had been thoroughly checked and tested for any 
indication of a living Goa'uld parasite, but they could find no sign – 
much to the relief of the doctor who still had not quite absorbed what 
had happened, too shocking as it was to contemplate. 

Janet would have liked to keep Jack in for observation, psychological as 
well as physical. She of all people knew the implications of this 
harrowing experience, his greatest fear. But he already looked like a 
trapped animal, and one look into those desperate pleading eyes caused 
her to relent. 

Besides, in his current argumentative state, she was not going to get any 
better reaction from him by forcing him to stay on the base. 

A first cursory glance had shown all the symptoms for her to call for 
blankets and sedation. But he had struggled away from the needle. 

"You're in shock, Colonel!" 

"It's not shock, I'm frozen! I've been sleeping in a freezer, what the 
*hell* do you expect!" 

His shouted words had produced stares and stunned silence from an 
infirmary full of injured men who had never seen the 2IC react like that. 
The display of uncontrolled anger through fear had shaken them all and 
Doctor Fraiser could have sworn she heard a needle drop somewhere. But, 
discomfort aside, her and her staff had to examine him thoroughly, had to 
make sure he really was free from any influence of the Goa'uld that had 
forcibly entered his body and tried to take over his mind. And they had 
to clean and treat the nasty wound it had left behind. 

The doctor swallowed a shudder of revulsion as she watched Jack hurrying 
from the infirmary without a word. She couldn't help wondering where he 
would go and how he would handle it all so soon after his last 
imprisonment. 

Janet sighed and turned to the next patient on her list, Captain Carter, 
vowing to stop by Jack's home to check on him the next day. 

"He was practically baiting her! Trying to make sure Hathor didn't pick 
me or Daniel!" Sam said tremulously, having watched the Colonel leave. 
"God, I really thought that was it this time." 

Her hand shook as she swept a strand of hair off her face, "We couldn't 
help him, Janet, we couldn't do anything but watch that Goa'uld crawl 
across his chest and . . . " she gulped hard, "I've never heard him 
scream so loudly, not even when I had to set his broken leg in 
Antarctica!" 

Janet watched and listened, concerned for the effect this was having on 
all her patients, especially members of SG-1. Daniel had barely said a 
word since his return, lying on the bed in the corner, staring at the 
ceiling fixatedly. 

"It will be okay, Sam," she attempted to reassure patient and friend. 

"How?" Sam's cry was almost a sob. "How will this be okay, Janet? Tell 
me! After all that's happened . . ." The captain trailed off, seeing her 
own fears reflected tenfold in Janet's painfilled eyes and fighting to 
pull herself together for both their sakes. 

She swallowed convulsively, her voice bleak, "I just don't see how." 

                         *******************

Sara was on her knees in the flowerbed, digging out weeds when she heard 
a car pull up around front. Footsteps sounded on the gravel and she 
yelled a greeting to the unknown visitor. "Around the back!" 

"Sara?" 

The shout made her heart stop. She hadn't seen or heard from Jack in 
several months, and she had feared the worst after General Hammond had 
telephoned her three weeks earlier to say he was missing in action. 

She rocked back on her heels and turned as he came through the side gate, 
so happy to see him, her head full of questions. "Jack! You're back! What 
happened? How are you?" 

Sara studied him carefully as he stopped a few feet from her. He looked 
well enough, dressed in a faded pair of blue jeans and a baggy black t-
shirt that may have served to make him look pale and thin. But he also 
looked haggard, drained, and his hair had turned even greyer than when 
she'd last seen him after the military tribunal had concluded, when he 
had come to give her the news and to tell her it was over, that he'd done 
what he had promised, and that he missed her. 

Of course, the feeling was mutual, but they both knew they'd done the 
right thing. Their lives were separate, albeit forever intertwined, but 
out of necessity they belonged apart. Their two existences could not 
coincide without one of them being torn apart. It was like two equal and 
opposite forces forever drawn together yet explosive when combined. And 
they both knew it. 

But she still missed him, and she was overjoyed to see him now, safe and 
sound after all she had feared. But there was something about him, 
something wrong. The forced smile, the shaky stance, the ragged 
breathing. And Sara recalled what they'd agreed the day they had parted, 
that they would always be there for each other, and she knew 
instinctively that this was one of those times. 

Sara pulled off her gardening gloves and rose to her feet, approaching 
the tall figure while he stood there nervously as though wondering if 
he'd done the right thing in coming to her. 

But Jack had spent the last sixteen hours trying to stop shaking, trying 
to get warm, trying to come to terms with the awful reality that was his 
greatest fear coming true. 

"Jack, tell me what's wrong?" Sara urged gently. "What happened?" 

He gestured with his hands and opened his mouth mutely, too overwhelmed 
by all the emotions that sprang forth at the sight of her, the compassion 
in her eyes and the kindness in her words. 

She took his arm, her hand sliding down to enclose his and Jack knew he 
had come to the right place. Sara would understand. She wouldn't judge 
him. She wouldn't look at him with that expression of barely suppressed 
revulsion that he had been getting on the base. She wouldn't regard him 
with mistrust and suspicion. Sara would understand. 

"Come on inside, I'll make us both some tea," she tugged his arm slightly 
and together they headed into the warm comfortable environs of her home. 

                         *******************

It was a long time before Jack was capable of saying anything, but Sara 
waited, sipping her tea and studying him, wondering what might have 
happened to leave him so helpless and on edge again after so long in 
control. 

When he did speak, his faltering words surprised her, "I missed your 
birthday, I'm sorry, I was away." 

"That's okay, I understand, you know I do," Sara smiled quizzically, 
knowing there was more to it, something he was working up to. 

"It wasn't by choice . . . " he trailed off and Sara braced herself, 
visions of Jack in captivity again pushing into her thoughts. 

"Jack, General Hammond called me three weeks ago. He said you were 
missing in action . . . what happened to you?" 

Jack swallowed so hard that she heard him gulp, "Remember I told you what 
happened to Kawalsky?" he finally said in a small lost voice that made 
her heart clench painfully. 

Sara nodded, as if she would ever forget that horrifying image he had 
painted for her one dark night a few months before. 

Then she gasped, suddenly understanding what Jack was trying to say. She 
placed her cup on the table with a clatter, and was by his side in a 
flash, sitting on the edge of the couch, facing him. She touched his 
cheek until he found the courage to meet her gaze. He nodded almost 
imperceptibly in answer to her unspoken question. 

"Oh Jack!" Sara's pain filled voice was hoarse, "What did they do to 
you?" 

His hand trembled when he took her fingers. He leaned into her, his eyes 
closing with a sigh and he tilted his head to rest his brow on hers, 
gaining strength in that simple contact. She heard him swallow again 
before lifting her arm to place it around his neck, allowing her to find 
the wound. A wound that had provoked a gasp of horror from the usually 
detached infirmary staff, a wound beginning to scab over, left uncovered 
to heal. He wasn't looking forward to the itchiness that he knew would 
start as it got better, as if he really needed a constant reminder of the 
whole ordeal. 

Applying no pressure that he could detect, Sara gently traced her 
fingertips over the jagged wound from the base of his scalp down between 
the tops of his shoulder blades. 

She looked at him then, her eyes filled with compassion. There was no 
sign of suspicion, no distrust or revulsion, only love and understanding. 

"It's safe. They killed it before it fully took hold. It's all gone now," 
Jack murmured. 

"Except the memories," Sara knew the truth and the implications. "Oh 
Jack!" She wrapped her arms around him and held him tight, feeling him 
sink against her, the trembling slowly beginning to subside. 

Eventually, he had strength enough to speak again, his voice muffled by 
her hair, "I'm sorry to dump this on you, I had nowhere else to go." 

"It's what I'm here for, Jack. What friends are for, remember. You'd do 
the same for me!" 

"God forbid you ever get a Goa'uld inside you!" He shuddered, his arms 
tightening their embrace needfully. "I think, what I meant to say was 
thanks," he managed to add, tongue-tied by his emotions. 

"Hey, you know you're always welcome," Sara pulled away far enough to 
gaze at him. "We all need a good hug sometimes," she said almost shyly, 
"Even hard-nosed planet-hopping Colonels!" 

fin