Teal'c

The thick atmosphere of malevolence built with each step closer to O'Neill. Ominous signs of trespass were plain to see. O'Neill was in danger, or it had trailed his young Chosen. GeneralHammond refused to release the young warrior immediately to PBX 123, and he would stay for now and return with the additional supplies. I believe that many had a hand in delaying LtVanSickle's departure. He may have decided to visit my brother in the night, and in so doing unwittingly brought disaster to one he never wished to harm.

DanielJackson was currently at O'Neill's side, and DoctorFrasier had taken on sole supervision of the Infirmary, as most personnel were involved in inventorying medical supplies. The Tau'ri have a fixation about knowing exactly what is on hand, I would not judge this trait as bad. Knowledge is power.

I would not see any endangered, but there was a good chance that all were involved in the wrongness that pervaded these darkened halls like a foul stench.

Samantha and O'Neill hold each other's hearts; I would fight to see them live to do more than long for one another from afar.

Reaching out, I slowed MajorCarter's determined march; she too could feel the foreboding malice; and would face it unstintingly. But, she was under O'Neill's protection, and thus under mine. She did not protest my presumption, just nodded and trailed behind me, my 'six' was now her concern -- mine, her life.

Carefully we explored ahead, only a thin band of dull light shown from beneath the doors of the Infirmary. From the many hours spent in the facility I knew that more light should be visible, someone had deactivated not only the light above the outside entrance but also its twin on the inside.

There was no resistance on our entry, but voices could be heard beyond the main ward, in the direction of O'Neill's current beneficial captivity. Silently we glided to the door that my brother lay behind. From beyond the portal could be heard harsh and angry oaths of the foulest of words, even for the immensely creative Tau'ri languages, enough to disturb even me. The angry tread of booted feet crossing the room beyond forced me into action. Thrusting the door open, I swiftly moved within, Major Carter my shadow. Both of us were struck, transfixed, by what greeted our eyes -- the debris of battle; bodies lay sprawled across the room. Two unfamiliar bloodied men were the only who seemed to live. One of which was in the process of abusing O'Neill's Chosen.

Hesitation was unthinkable; MajorCarter would swiftly remedy my brother's assailant. Swiftly I crossed the room, catching the short man's arm by the wrist, his fisted hand neutralized, stopped short of striking the futilely huddled LtVanSickle. Yet a sudden flash of silver did what has not been done in many years -- taken me by surprise. Something hard and unyielding smashed into my face and I staggered back; more from the suddenness of the brazen attack than from pain. Through pain there was, my symbiote would remedy that. Another blow found its opportunity in my startlement, forcing me back another step. This was not something I had a great deal of experience with: Retreat.

Deep humiliation seeped into my being and thoughts of retribution clouded my judgment, opening me to further attacks. My focus narrowed, this human had impinged my honor and would pay. Now only he and I exist.

Lt. Eric Van Sickle

My tongue painfully rubbed over the damage my teeth had done to the inside of my cheek, only this creep's face would tell me how much showed. Harsh breaths sounded in my ear, his and mine. Vibrations strong enough to tickle my skin emanated from whoever this guy was. He wanted to hurt me and hurt me bad; and he did, every time the second, taller guy wasn't looking. He held this creep's reins and wasn't about to let him do as he pleased. For that I was confused, but somewhat thankful. Even if every time he tugged his dog back those vibrations intensified. Malice beat in searing waves against my skin, reminding me of the stinging rain of PBX 123 and the despair that had rooted then.

Fiercely I fought the urge to spew the blood from my mouth and onto this man, I really wanted to look into his eyes and truly express my feelings. To widely grin and show my blood-stained teeth, to let him know that if given the slightest chance that I would kill him. Imaginary fingers dug into his fleshy neck already, his breath came haltingly and his eyes bulged. Jerking my wrists against tight bindings I strained to make it real, to even lock lips with him on his last breath and fill his mouth with my blood to let him drown in it. It was so hard not to smile as he cuffed me for my lapse.

To look defeated, to act cowed, burned at me, my emotions a jumble, but I'd mostly learned and kept my head. Only that would pull me through and grant me the opportunity to aid my friend -- Jack.

What kind of luck was this? I'd never expected to be kept on base this long, much of which I'd spent asleep or desperately trying not to run here for comfort and reassurance. My friend certainly didn't need that right now, he was fighting his own body, to recover himself. The rumors told me it did not go well for him and I wanted to be here, but there was always someone with him. I still felt like an intruder, even after the realization that he and I only conjured the wall between us; it had never existed.

Tonight, knowing that I would leave in the morning did I break and sought him out. Only to walk into... I didn't know. Assassination attempt was my highest choice, but the tall one, the holder of this dog's leash seemed too interested in ranting at my drugged friend. Revenge?

Now I sat a prisoner, a punching bag for his bored companion. A man who I'm sure didn't care who I was as long as he found me entertaining. Bound by restraints more subtle than the rough ones that rubbed at my skin, I pushed down the nausea, and swallowed my own blood. There would be a time and place for payback. There just had to be.

As the ranting at the colonel increased so did the blows I received, the dog's leash too slack to curb him. My world was becoming a blur of snapping images and bursts of light, blood dripped down my chin unchecked. And I found it hard to stay conscious. I must not miss an opportunity. I mustn't. I won't.

Unable to look at the dog's face and prompt another blow for doing so I watched the rest of him intently and was surprised when the cocked arm didn't fly forward. This had not been the first time: a feint, a cruel respite -- the better to torture me. Unlike that first time I was determined to remain awake, vainly I braced for the resumption of blows. Only the waiting remained, I had nothing to give for any other activity.

I wailed silently at the fact that opportunity was safe from me, will alone wasn't always enough.

Major Sam Carter

Samantha was in control and too stunned to move as the hero-of-billions, the savior-of-worlds and holder-of-my-heart submitted meekly to death. This was wrong on so many levels, chaos reigned inside me, and something had to give.

With a savage cry, an echo of the rip in my heart at his submission, Sam shoved Samantha, freeing Major Carter. Muscles bunched as my military persona's training kicked in, feet ate ground, and body took flight. Then the jarring impact of my flesh against my commander's assailant, up-and-down tumbled in my vision as I carried the man to the floor, forcing arms and legs around his body to trap him, my head a weapon of opportunity to disable him.

He and I slammed into the floor, my head finally connecting with his and I saw stars. Through the light show I was shocked to see another person, to recognize a face -- Daniel -- his eyes wide in surprise, but somehow dull and glazed. He lay sprawled along the edge of the floor, pressed against the wall; somehow I knew he had been dealt with, taken out of the picture, leaving the colonel defenseless.

The colonel had been at the callous mercy of others far too much in his life and to think that here, with his team around him, he was again lain open to another's uncaring whims. Guilt burned at my heart and anger gave me strength as I began to overpower the intruder, he had dared attack my team, my friends and my heart's desire. Mercy would not be shown. My elbow found its mark in his throat, he gurgled a near-scream; and then I pressed my forearm before my weight and cut off that sound by denying him air. Finally he went limp, but I continued, keeping up the pressure far longer than was safe. If he died, so be it. But I refused to be forced to worry about this vermin, or turn my back to any threat to aid the colonel or my team. Stopping the threat permanently was the only answer.

Daniel, from shear proximity, would be my first concern. While I had dealt with the interloper he had somehow levered himself from the floor and indicated that he would seek help, his finger steered me back to Colonel O'Neill -- Jack. Those four letters squeezed my heart painfully, just as it also angered me. How dare he give up!

Dr Daniel Jackson

An ache so deep that it bordered on pain was my first sensation; it throbbed with the volume and proximity of my discovery of sound. Stray thoughts of ending the booming and screeching drifted across the lightening plain of consciousness. Each reluctant beat of my heart brought new revelations to my existence, such as a nearly overwhelming nameless panic. Something was wrong. What was it?

Sensations assailed me and drew my attention away from the panic. Something gossamer light and raspy with a stink that set off bells of alarm lay across my throat, such detailed information from a patch of skin that daily bore the rub of rough military issue cloth silently bewildered me as fingers that could feel the very stir of air had no information whatsoever to offer.

Emerging from the confusion of senses I found that I lay on the hard floor propped at an uncomfortable angle against a wall. The sounds around me resolved into the rustling of linens, the shifting of booted feet against linoleum-clad concrete and the howls of a demented soul.

My body cringed against the sound and its reaction pushed the whispering ache into a howling pain. One long, high pitched screech nearly had me arching my back as it sliced through me; and I jerked instinctively as something momentarily shoved at an ankle. All combined, forced me into action and my eyes unwilling popped open. To my surprised they worked. Before me were two struggling bodies, one with the bright blue eyes of Sam. Fascinated I watched as they latched onto me. Sam? It was Sam, but...

Flashes of Jack, that stink and an unrelenting pressure against my face; lingering memories of hands, arms and vague feelings of violation, helplessness and a primal need to fight back. All overlaid with an urgency that was Jack -- he was helpless.

Pushing aside the kaleidoscope of images I concentrated on the struggle before me, the man Sam was so busy choking was unknown to me. His presence explained many of the images, I had been accosted, knocked out by some kind of drug; that stink, that cloth. Jack had been... was in danger. Sam would help, she would protect him; but... she was alone. The man she straddled bucked and writhed against her, he was big, really big. I knew how strong she could be, but...

Help, I needed to get help.

Fighting against the intense pressure to succumb, I somehow passed on to Sam that I was going for help and had actually taken a few shaky steps toward the main ward when a heavy weight crashed into me. It and I struck the wall together. The leading edge of a sonic boom pushed the pressure in my head beyond my ability to handle.

I had two fleeting thoughts before awareness winked out, how hard the wall was and why was there a plane in the room.

Major Sam Carter

Roughly I pulled the pillow from the colonel's face, expecting to see guilt-ridden eyes, feeble movements and half-hearted protests. None would work, he would answer for his lack of self-preservation, by confession or explanation. Neither of which I was prepared to accept, nothing less than honest apology would slow my anger.

Just laying eyes on his face was enough to fuse my usual fragmented self and Sam took firmer control, moderating Major Carter's anger, Samantha's terror and Sammy's horror at anything that smacked of death. Sam, an amalgam of all, took in the facts that would have destroyed the others singly. Instead of a sobbing wreck of a woman, here stood someone who would deal with facts, and the facts weren't good.

No amber eyes greeted me, no hoarse voice and no movement. His chest was utterly still. Only for an instant did I imagine I would fly apart at the idea that Jack may have died. But being part of SG-1 teaches that death is not a final state, or even a guaranteed state of being. Death could be cheated, and one friend's profession had given me the tools to do just that.

Hands ripped down his gown. An ear proved death was not as well advanced as appearances said -- his heart beat.

Damn, it Sir. A lot of people went to a lot of trouble to haul your ass out of the wilderness of PBX 123 and get you to this point. And you give up?

Teal'c

This man is ha'tac. He sought to stand toe-to-toe with a Jaffa. Ha'tac, or 'clueless' as my brother is fond of saying. One who is without knowledge of his own danger. And that can be a danger in itself. He will fight unafraid and with all his skill. Light glistened off his skin; he sweated heavily. Grappling with him would be difficult, and I believe he knew this. He smiled as he curled his fingers in a gesture I knew was an invitation to close with him, to try to best him. An insult.

His weapon was not easily displayed; it swung from his blunt fingers and flashed dully. The sight of it angered me and my primta rolled in agitation, a warning that I was allowing my emotions too much play. I had allowed this human to surprise me. I shall not again.

With hardened resolve I availed myself of his invitation. It was during the first few feints with his weapon of opportunity that I saw what he hoped to achieve. There, to the side, lay a 9mm; further still lay MajorCochran and between them a dazed DrMacKenzie. These intruders were indeed dangerous. But soon they would be outnumbered. They were two against six who would defend O'Neill to the death.

This one would never taste their retribution -- that was mine.

Refusing to close at his invitation, the bedpan became a missile; he'd hoped to scoop up the more dangerous weapon. He was not entirely stupid. His fingers snatched it from the floor as the bedpan clanged loudly against the wall. My duck from it became a grasping lunge and I caught at his slick wrists hoping to wrest the weapon from him. It was like trying to hold an oiled tz'oc, a metal training tool. Long ago I had learned the secret to defeating it. Force was folly; guile would win the battle. Methodically I moved my grip, finger by finger to have only cloth beneath them.

His smile faded, and fear grew within the dull flint of his eyes. He knew what I was doing and what I would soon achieve. It was then that he tried to turn the 9mm on me. Bucking and jerking, he slowed my inexorable overpowering of his defenses. Then the weapon discharged.

Dr MacKenzie

Light switch.

That was how it was. No wonder these jocks could bound up from 'out cold' to fighting in the faction of a heartbeat. No awareness to full awareness. I blinked a few times and squinted to resolve shapes in the tear-distorted sights that glared at me. The dull roar that echoed in this too small space was shouts, curses and grunts. Even the guttural smacks of flesh against flesh, and that was soon explained by the swaying figures of two men locked in desperate struggle.

'Gun' twittered around inside my skull. It took me a few moments before I realized my eyes were glued to one as it swayed back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. In real danger of immobility I pinched myself, the pain helped me break free of the snake spell the weapon had woven. The red flushed grimace I saw belonged to a short man. Wait. Didn't I just live through this before?

Gun, check. Short thug, check. Standing, no, no one had been standing. Teal'c, no. Teal'c? Wasn't Cochran...

In a panic I pushed myself up the wall in a dèjà vu moment, wildly searching for the reason I wound up here.

There!

Behind me, nearer the door laid Cochran. Loosely curled and half sprawled, it wrenched my heart. I found that a surprisingly painful sensation. And... there was the instrument that laid him low, the one I'd used on him. A bedpan shaped scar in the wall above him explained how it came to rest against his chest and arm, tumbled there by gravity. Dry swimming to him I checked for a pulse, it was strong and steady. My fingers slid around the back of his head and I cringed at the size of the lump I'd put there.

There was no way he would know it was me, I reasoned, I'd hit him from behind. My face burned at the thoughts that spilled across my mind. Where was that resolve? Wasn't I going to be more aware of what was going on? Starting now! The slack body under my hand rocked and startled me before I could more than glance around, but that quick visual sweep told me that Teal'c and the short thug weren't the only ones here.

through sounds of a commotion were coming from the other side of O'Neill's bed, I couldn't tear my gaze from the stirring Cochran to see what was going on. My idiot captain waking up wasn't a good thing, he would wade into the fray and get hurt, he was already hurt enough. I needed to get him out of here. I needed to do something. Only what?

My head snapped around at the cutoff scream, and found an even bigger surprise. Dr Jackson struggled to climb to his feet using the wall as support. Closer, a muffled curse drew me back to Teal'c, his back was to Jackson, and the gun was no longer above their heads. The short thug was trying to train it on the Jaffa, Teal'c's grip slipped and the gun's line of sight depressed and instinctively I followed it right to the staggering Jackson. My eyes swung back and forth, watching a shooting in slow motion. I could feel the cocking of the gun and imagine the report of the weapon and foresaw Jackson jerk as the steel-jacketed missile struck him.

Someone gripped my arm and triggered me into motion, I shot up and forward, straight into the gun's target, its very real and loud BANG sounded in my ears as I carried Jackson to the floor. A cold tug on my arm had the most unusual reaction. My body became solid ice and shattered.

Major Sam Carter

The world narrowed to colonel and I, and the flow of air between us. Even that expanse of his sensual chest held no allure. Pinching his nose, I rhythmically blew air past his lips, praying he would breathe on his own with each pause to suck in the next. Not once realizing the intimate position, the full contact of lip to lip, only the flaccid release of stale air from his lungs caught my attention.

"Breathe." Inhale. Blow.

Soon I had no breath left to beg him to breath.

'Damnit, breathe.' Inhale. Blow.

Even the mental comments faded.

Inhale. Blow. Inhale. Blow.

Inhale. Blow. Inhale...

Teal'c

Seldom am I placed to disadvantage by size, yet here I must tread softly. Too many I hold dear are around me, O'Neill's Chosen mere inches from our struggle, their protection my first concern. This ha'tac cares not, so I must limit his movements, reducing my superior strength and ability to a level closer to that of his own. It is times like this that the experience of nearly 70 years as a warrior can outstrip strength and ability. That is why Master Bra'tac is capable of 'repeatedly striking my rear end;' as I will now do with this braggart.

The discharging of the weapon we both struggled for became my advantage, he flinched, and I did not. My palm drove into his face, his head snapped back and his eyes rolled up into his head as reason fled before the shockwave of my experience. Just as I felt the man go limp in my grip and victory soared in my heart, certain sounds soured my victory: bodies crashing to the floor and a cry.

"Mac!"

With my hands busy unbuckling the sweaty human's belt I glanced in the direction of the shout, an unsteady MajorCochran struggled to gain his feet, DrMacKenzie was not to be seen. He no doubt was the source of the other sound that had been directly behind me, in the direction the weapon had pointed. Occupied with binding my prisoner's hands all I could do was check on MajorCarter, a quick glanced revealed she was bent over O'Neill, intent on his needs. Her opponent was nowhere to be seen. She is a formidable warrior, worthy of my bother. It is fortunate for him that he holds her in high regard, as she would be capable of doing great damage to him if pressed -- truly a woman to capture any warrior's heart.

Tugging on the makeshift bindings of this ha'tac I ceased to support him and derived great satisfaction at the thud his body made as it painfully dropped to the floor. Petty yes, but even the best of warriors feels a base pride in the humiliation of his enemy. I am not so lofty as to not also feel this.

Free to further investigate the carnage around me I opportunely turned in time to place a supportive hand on a tottering MajorCochran. My move brought into view the missing DrMacKenzie. However, I was not prepared to see the man draped across a bloodied DanielJackson, and I must admit that it pained me greatly to see him thus. The major uttered a moan of distress and lurched from my grip. Without my support he crashed to his knees beside the downed psychiatrist, his eyes glistened tellingly as his fingers probed at the man's neck. Bending, I helped to further pull the fallen doctor completely off of my teammate.

On examination the blood was not DanielJackson's and so must have come from the unlucky DrMacKenzie. My nostrils reacted to the stench of a chemical that rose from the limp body before me. Easily I cataloged it as a medical chemical used in rendering others unconscious for various reasons. My friend had been drugged so that these men would have clear access to my warrior bother. I had feared the worst when DanielJackson had not been evident on our arrival.

Relieved, I rose; and in a few quick strides my hand pressed the large red 'panic button' that every room was equipped with. Sirens and claxons wailed; the very walls vibrated with the movement of personnel. In mere minutes or less help of all forms would arrive.

General George Hammond

This base holds the biggest damn secret on the face of the planet and it seems that just about anyone could get in. Usually I would let my 2IC handle any fracas during my 'night.' Like I actually had a schedule. Considering this whole base was on alert because of my second, I'm elected to handle this.

It hadn't taken me long to roll out of my bunk, two SFs attached themselves to my six as soon as I cleared my quarters door. The Duty Officer arrived on a run before I'd cleared the hall.

"Shut off those claxons. Report."

The Duty Officer's second peeled off headed for the nearest intercom.

"Sir, first reports are some kind of altercation in the Infirmary." The man's voice too loud in the sudden silent void, only the red of emergency lighting glowed in the gloom, the elevator picked out by the only white light.

"Lead the way, Major."

My attention on the short trip was on the information constantly being relayed via the Duty Officer's communication network. No comment was necessary, no interpretation offered. It was clear from the reports that there were injuries in the Infirmary caused by an incursion of unauthorized personnel.

Arrival at the Infirmary level was announced by the unmistakable prepping of weapons and like the good commander I was I stayed put while my escort exited. Only when beckoned did I step out of the car and into the hall.

It was dark, too dark. But not so dark I couldn't see that half the Mountain was on this level and they fairly bristled with weapons. Warm pride burned in my veins along with anger that my base had been invaded.

Knowing my people had everything secured I stepped down the hall and into the Infirmary; here there was light, blazingly so. Forced to blink my eyes, I saw little groups of SFs and medical personnel. A large knot at Dr. Fraiser's office drew me in that direction. Inside, her own people were attending the woman herself.

"Get outta my light you moron," exploded from a kneeling man just inside the office, and I stepped aside.

"Get a detachment to fix the lights," I directed at the major. My voice must have registered on the man attending Fraiser.

"Sorry, Sir. Didn't know it was you."

"My mistake son. What's the situation here?"

"Not entirely sure, Sir. Looks to be drugged."

"Carry on."

"Yes, Sir."

She was in good hands, so my attention turned towards the commotion deeper in the Infirmary. Here I noticed the barely contained rage of the people, something had them upset. I knew that I was headed right for Colonel O'Neill's room. Because of the press of personnel I only stuck my head in the door. O'Neill was surrounded by a medical team, just one of four there. Teal'c stood smack in the middle room, a volcano about to erupt. He turned and gave me a nod before returning his attention to the far corner of the where two men trussed like supplicants were overshadowed by heavily armed and agitated SFs. And I raised an eyebrow at the sight.

"Major, I've seen enough. Let's get out of their way."

***

Four hours later I retraced my exact steps. I'd been kept informed, but seeing all those beds full of my people still hurt.

Dr Jackson and Major Carter were actively arguing with their attendants on one side of the ward, while Dr Fraiser was doing her damnest to escape her own bed to join in the fray. My arrival had been none too soon the silence was instantaneous. Only the loud growl of Major Cochran still rang in the room.

"Ha -- h'm."

"Hey, bring on the reinforcements. I'll kick their asses too!" His face turned a satisfying shade of red once he focused on the current cavalry. "Ah, Sir. General, Sir. Not your ass, of course, Sir."

"Major, do you want to explain yourself?" I asked in a mild tone, fully expecting him to zip it.

"Sir. General, Sir. MacKenzie just got out of surgery and I wanna..." The boy's mouth had a mind of its own and he was visibly struggling with it. "...ah, ah. I wanna shut-up. Yes, Sir. General, Sir. Shutting up." His transparent attempt to come to parade attention was thwarted by the tiny female nurse; she neatly hooked his foot out from under him at just the right time to prevent him getting more than a couple inches off the bed. And I smiled in gratitude to her and received a nod of acknowledgement in return. I wondered if she was on the rotation list for personnel going on off world assignments.

My enjoyment of the silence did not last long, shouts from down one of the inner halls were resolving into the voice of a certain 'dead or dying' psychiatrist. Those had been Major Cochran's words on my arrival. The volume of the voice belayed either condition. Shouts of the major's name had me wondering if I had stepped into a 'don't ask, don't tell' situation, and I turned my full glare onto the present half of what might turn out to be a couple.

His red face and grin was all I got as the circus act arrived.

"OW! You did that on purpose you cretin. I'm injured, what kind of sadists are you?"

The man was so busy with his mouth that the male nurse poked him again, and actually pointed in my direction.

"OW! What's with...." Obviously he'd followed the finger in my direction. "Oh. Now I really don't feel well." The nurse smile broadly as he tenderly eased the man back onto the gurney.

Command forces one to do the most outlandish things sometimes. And staying as Colonel MacKenzie was transferred to his bed seemed a good idea and I spent my time well by pointedly eying all of the occupants of the ward. Basically they weren't anymore than banged up and would only probably stay the night for observation. If there had been anyone more seriously injured I was certain that none of this behavior would have occurred. They were letting off steam, but as their superior I had to at least act as if I didn't approve of it.

Once my group was suitably cowed I briskly about faced and strode deeper into the wards. Here I found armed SFs. Or I should say more armed SFs. Two stood guard outside the Infirmary, but these men stood outside Colonel O'Neill's room. Inside would be a nurse on duty until further notice. There was no need for an armed presence inside as Teal'c had assumed that post. For not only was O'Neill present, but Lt. Van Sickle occupied a second bed that had been brought in.

Dr. Warner was attending to both men and turned at my arrival.

"Sir, I've just finished."

"How are they?"

"The Lieutenant has some nasty bruising, he'll be undergoing neural checks for the next 24 hours. He took some hits to the head. All just precautionary. If you could delay his departure for a day or two he should be good to go."

"Hmm, that is good news. And the Colonel?" Here I expected anything but good.

"Not as bad as first looks. Yes, he had stopped breathing, but not for long. Major Carter and Teal'c were able to manually ventilate him until help could arrive. Very minor setback. He's awake if you'd like to speak to him. Please don't excite him too much. He needs to get some rest, but he's not listening to me."

"Thank you, I'll not keep him long,"

Better than I'd hoped I thought as the doctor left. My eyes met Teal'c's; he looked, well, unhappy. I know I would if I'd appointed myself protector to these two and this happened. I felt for him.

I pulled up a chair and sat at the colonel's bedside, his eyes were closed.

"Colonel?"

"Sir?"

"How are you?"

"Thought you knew, Sir." His voice was low and tired sounding.

"Jack?"

"Sorry, Sir. You know how much I hate being discussed like that."

"Couldn't be helped, you know that," I grinned when he opened his eyes, but keeping that grin took all my skill. He eyes were haunted. This may have been a minor physical setback, but this looked like a major emotional setback. Jack was struggling already with way too much of that. I reached out to lay a hand on his arm.

"Colonel?"

"Sir?"

"Cut the bullshit and spill it," he looked suitable chastised, but definitely took his time in answering.

"I fucked up."

"Pardon me?" Jack doesn't often flush, but I got a good one this time. More evidence of just how vulnerable he was emotionally.

"I... I 'messed' up, Sir."

"And just how did you accomplish that from flat on you back and unable to move," my voice was harsh, my choice of words hurtful. My goal was to channel his irrational blame of himself into anger against who or what had it in for him and the young lieutenant. The crack about his inability to move his legs fired off the anger, but the man being who he is, controlled it. That was the problem; he controlled all of his emotions. He needed to unlearn some of that and unleash some demons.

"I should have anticipated..."

"From off world, from being so sick you didn't even know where you were?"

"I could have fought back."

"Why didn't you?" He didn't answer with words, but his eyes snapped to the silent lieutenant. "Didn't work too well, did it Jack?"

"No."

"I really don't think there is a correct way to act in such a situation. You've been there. Would you concur?"

"Yes. Damned if you do and damned if you don't, Sir."

"Damn right, Colonel. So... does this solve your problem?"

"No, I still have to explain to Carter."

"She'll understand, she pretty smart."

"That's the problem, Sir. Too smart."

Colonel Jack O'Neill

Lips ground against mine, hands clawed at me, held me down and cursed me. Bright hair and eyes like deep crystal-clear water. Sam. I felt aroused and impotent at the same time. It hurt; it hurt so badly. Not the physical pain, but the hurt and betrayal I could see in those chips of blue. I tried to fight her off, to beg her to stop. But nothing moved. My God, nothing moved. Again the lips descended...

Jerking awake from something like that can hurt, I gasped from both types of pain. My jarred body protested vehemently and my heart and soul felt the hammer blow of rejection, and the sheer horror that I could imagine such a reaction from her. Fingers dug into the softness beneath them and held on for dear life, my breath too fast to provide what I needed to slow it. Panic had deeply set its hooks into me as I desperately attempted to calm myself.

"O'Neill?"

My friend's light touch gave me focus. To think a man of his size had the ability to be so gentle, and after the number of years he'd served that insane god-wannabe, so caring. It was enough to give even a cynic like me hope for the human race. Yeah, he wasn't human, not quite. But it mattered that the horrors he'd witnessed and caused hadn't destroyed the good in him.

Slowly his grave face resolved out of the jumble of shapes and colors, my shallow breaths allowed the exchanging out of carbon dioxide and allowed my natural breathing to resume. Too bad the memories of being hurt by the woman I loved couldn't be solved as easily. I knew why she haunted my sleep. Just another stupid move O'Neill.

"Jack?"

A familiar voice, welcome, wanted and oh so underserved. Teal'c did not move; he caught my eyes, his message clear. Then he stepped aside. Holding the mask in place was hard; the core of who I am was too close to the surface, making my deception very difficult. But knowing that my reaction would refract into an unknown pain or failure within the soul that filled such a vast desert within me -- I held firm. And as always the regret of my son's loss wafted through me like ghostly wings. Each time the feeling fed my determination that that tragedy would never be repeated.

It was one long moment before I realized that the eye nearly swollen shut was his living eye. Cold horror grew in the pit of my stomach.

"Lt.VanSickle is essentially unharmed, except he declares in pride."

Never have I wanted to kiss the man more than now. That would so totally confuse him, but he must have seen something in my face. The idea that Eric's sole eye had been endangered let the mask slip. I really am a mess, not even able to protect my friends from my own nameless insecurities.

"That's quite the shiner there. Must hurt like hell."

Gingerly his maimed hand came up and touched the discolored skin around his eye, he smiled and seemed just a bit preoccupied with what those reawakened fingers must have been saying.

"Yeah, it does. And feels funny too." His grin was infectious and even a Jaffa can smile, if you know what to look for. "But, you... you had us all worried."

Lifting my arms up a bit I made a show of checking out my body from chest to toes.

"Me? I seem to be pretty much here."

Nonchalantly I leaned back, afraid that at any moment the bone-deep fatigue would show, my arms felt as if they were shaking hard enough for even him to see. I fought the urge to close my eyes and let go. Then he said the words I'd feared, they were the reason for the mask.

"I should have stopped them."

"I should have stopped them." My emphasis heavy on the 'I.' He looked sideways at me for a moment, and then the stubborn streak in him rose.

"Just how..." And just as quizzical as he was stubborn, so I threw a verbal curve ball.

"Same way as you."

"But you couldn't..." His mouth audibly snapped shut on that forbidden thought, and I frowned.

"Neither could you... stop them that is." Neatly absolving him of mentioning what I refused to acknowledge and providing him with both my reasoning and an out. The room swooped a few times; sleep pulled at me. How did I get so unable to resist it? "You were knocked into the middle of next week before you got through the door. You woke up tied to that chair. Just what could you have done?"

The last sentence bit out, so tired that I was losing control of myself, injecting the anger I felt at his abuse, not him. And almost belatedly, I realized that these words were essentially Hammond's. My relief at Eric's next words was almost my undoing.

"Nothing, but survive it... as you did."

My eyes closed involuntarily, each eyelid was the equivalent dead lifting of the 'gate itself to reopen them. My head was swimming now; tracking the conversation and the flashes of emotion across his battered face beyond me.

"It is fortunate that an agreement has been reached. LtVanSickle needs to rest, I have promised DrFrasier to not waver on this point." Teal'c declared as he slid his body between us, blocking me from the younger man's view. My friend's words a well-timed smoke screen as I was slipping fast into sleep, and I knew I could not prevent it. Teal'c lowered the light and admonished not only Eric, but also myself that rest would be a prudent step for us both.

My parting thought towards my brother-in-arms was a grateful declaration of: 'Liar.'

General George Hammond

This was not what I had expected, and I roughly shuffled through the orders just delivered by secure courier. Too many people seemed to know what was happening on this base. Someone was pulling strings and endangering the program, and worse, endangering my people.

Yes, I'd expected orders to transfer the prisoner that Teal'c had rendered catatonic and his two partners in crime. Those were overdue, in fact. But these orders specifically mentioned our newest guests. And even expressly forbid anyone talking to them, they were to be held in seclusion to await transfer. This would have been the perfect time for Teal'c to have run roughshod over my wishes and their human rights.

Bad enough that I was ignoring the section about not observing the prisoners, there were four cameras in that holding cell and all four were running non-stop, the recordings delivered directly to me. Colonel O'Neill isn't the only rule-breaker on this base.

Those tapes would join the physical evidence of subversion inside the base by person or persons unknown. Somehow Major Cochran pulled himself away from MacKenzie long enough to inform me of why they had been where they were when the Colonel O'Neill was attacked.

Siler himself went into the ducts and retrieved the hardware; and confirmed which parts of the base were under observation. As for where the recorder or the recorders where could not be determined. Apparently the last link had been wireless, cleverly so. The main escape up shaft had contained the transmitter; a receiver would have been able to pick up its signal at any point along the entire depth of the Cheyenne Mountain Complex, giving me hundreds of suspects in a variety of security levels. It was enough that having concrete poured down the damned thing sounded prudent.

Whatever was going on involved Lt. Van Sickle and the team that departed to PBX 123. The whole living quarters and work areas for them had been observed. The lieutenant's quarters were specifically targeted. And there was evidence that Colonel O'Neill's office had been under observation.

Cochran is convinced that the spying became widespread after Jacob Carter healed Van Sickle at the colonel's request, but is insistent that O'Neill had been the initial target. Only he can't provide any reason for it. Hell, he can't even provide me a reason for his posting here. Document security, my ass.

Major Sam Carter

"Sam, calm down."

"I will not calm down. And don't talk to me like I'm an overly-emotional woman!"

I picked up and then slammed down a convenient notebook, proving the exact opposite. But I didn't care; I was beyond caring. For nearly twelve long hours I'd endured the public scrutiny of the Infirmary. Totally unable to unburden myself of what Colonel O'Neill had nearly accomplished.

"Eh..."

"Don't even answer that. Yes, I know I'm a woman and I'm emotional. But, Holy Hannah, Daniel, he didn't fight back. Not at all." The very idea was enough to gray out my vision, my heart felt made of stone. I'd nearly lost him it wailed.

"Not at all?"

Oh, Daniel. Not at all.

"He lay there and closed his eyes. He resigned himself to what that animal tried to do. I... I didn't think he even tried to breathe once I eliminated the threat. Daniel. There has to be some way to fix him."

I'm not sure I could live if there isn't.

Lt. Eric Van Sickle

"I feel like I failed." No matter what he says.

"As does he," rumbled Teal'c.

We sat facing each other, surrounded by the warm glow of hundreds of flicking candles. Outside of their light the base, the world and life seemed to fall away. There was only the thundering crash of my own muddled feelings against the shore of my heart.

"He doubts himself," I asked, feeling small and very young. Too young to be asking that question, too young to believe anyone could have doubts. Too young to believe heroes had doubts.

"No one is without doubt," Teal'c answered, and then leaned over to tend a sputtering wick.

"Even you?"

"If I had not, I would never have left Apophis' side and O'Neill would be long dead."

"Have you failed?"

"My people are not free and my family lives in hiding. Is that not failure?" Gold flashed as he dipped his head, I could feel his sorrow.

Unable to answer, to confirm his sorrow I hung my head. But, yes, it was failure.

"To have failed does not made one a failure, nor does having doubt prevent decision. Properly used each can help achieve success." His dark eyes reflected the brightness of the candles and his earnestness. "You live and your task still lies before you. Cease to struggle or ignore doubt and you will fail. It is that simple."

"If only it were that simple." My sigh stirred the flames, making them dance.

"With the wisdom of years you will see that it is. They are O'Neill's strength, he sees the consequences if he ceases to struggle. But I fear that even he can see too clearly and unwisely chooses not to struggle, seeing it as the least costly of choices. No man is infallible. We all must live with failure. Do not mistake that you are its embodiment."

For long minutes I studied his face as he impassively gazed at me. What he said sounded like new age religion, or maybe I just wasn't ready to truly understand yet. But I would not forget his words. He had given me a new toy, one I could take out in the darkness and turn over and over in my hands; a puzzle that I would solve -- eventually.

"You must rest. Soon you will return to the task that O'Neill set you."

"I will not fail him," I felt my own flame deep inside, doubt lay there, but I feared it less. I had taken another step into manhood; I could feel it. It wasn't the banishment of anything, but the learning to live with it that made one a man.

"Did you teach him this?" Surely he must have know long before he met Teal'c, but...

"No, but it is never too late for me to do so."

Major Sam Carter

"Sir."

"Major, take a seat."

"May I stand, Sir?" This was going to be tough enough without letting it slip into a social occasion; the more discomfort the better; I dropped into parade rest.

"That serious?"

"I believe that it is."

"I'm listening."

"Sir. Colonel O'Neill's importance to the Program calls for extraordinary means to ensure his total and complete recovery. I propose to you that the Healing Device be requested from Area 51 and allow me to heal him."

My hands were so sweaty I found keeping them in the proper position difficult and that threatened to distract me. I needed to be totally here to accomplish this.

"I believe this possibility had been discussed and discarded."

"Yes, Sir. At the time I was reluctant to try."

"And now?"

"I've reconsidered."

"And Dr Fraiser and Colonel O'Neill?"

"Sir?"

"Have they reconsidered?"

"Sir, I'm sorry, but I wouldn't know." Damn!

"Major, this discussion is tabled until they do. Understood?"

"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir."

Plan B.

Colonel Jack O'Neill

Crap!

Get a grip O'Neill, show a little backbone.

My little pep talk doesn't help much, my knuckles I'm sure are white with the tight grip I have on the bedclothes. My emotions are flapping like jock straps on a clothesline in full view of all the neighbors. One moment I wanna cry, the next I wanna cry... and throw something. Staying awake can be impossible, I nod off in the middle of a word, and when I'm awake too many people want a piece of me -- literally. Blood, temperature, sputum, urine, clean gown, change the bedding -- voyeurs all of 'em.

Keeping my head screwed on for the kid was exhausting me. And I must not have been too successful either, that look of disbelief was getting to be way too common. I'm ashamed to admit, I was glad when Warner kicked Eric out. And I'm not talking about that being a sign he was gonna be okay, but it was the end to keeping up the mask. The nurse disappeared too, and to celebrate I nodded off again. Sheez!

Eric seemed to take my explanation well; I just wish that it didn't sound like so much horse manure to me. Carter bought what I'm afraid may have actually been the truth. I didn't want to survive.

It took me a few minutes to realize that I was kneading my thigh -- hard. Doc sees that and she'll tie my hands to the bed rails. Or worse, she'll give Teal'c a ruler to whack me with. Speaking of?

He's been there since I woke up more than an hour ago. Ignoring him doesn't seem to faze him at all. Enough is enough.

"What!"

Teal'c doesn't do more than raise one eyebrow as he stood there; his arms crossed over his chest studied me.

"There are more than Lt.VanSickle who are confused. Was there a deeper motivation to your choice of strategy?"

How do you answer that? Was there? Was it me, or the drugs? Or, just circumstance? Do I know the answer?

All I could do was shrug.

"You are not sure?"

The big man softened his voice, a sure sign of his concern and I hated myself for it. This is what happens when I lose control, others get hurt. This man had survived by being able to read a snake's emotions through the filter of a host's body. He saw too clearly what I was thinking.

"A conscious choice."

Damn, he really doesn't leave much to the imagination, does he?

"Your guess is as good as mine," I admitted, and shrugged helplessly.

"My guess is that you are ill, and at the time it was an easy choice."

My fingers plucked at the blanket, too ashamed to meet his eyes.

"I am pleased that you failed. Are you not?"

Teal'c's eyes were full of concern; and I kicked myself for it; but his question got my attention. Was I upset that I hadn't succeeded? Even with the idea that I'd probably never walk properly, if at all, that I'd lose my place here at the Mountain. Had I wanted to truly end it all?

How did I feel when I made the decision? For once I tried to bring back the experience, something I always found distasteful. Doing that was far too easy and all the sharpness of the memory is there as if just happening. Staying long wasn't in the cards it was just too hard. But, I did find something, and it terrified me. I've found it before, right after Iraq and I always imagined that a host would feel the same when a snake took them.

I was there, but not there. Like being inside a glass container, feeling it all, seeing it all. Every thought right there, but the thoughts that I knew were mine never made it outside the container and from within, I watched. Things happened I knew I didn't want to happen, that I never agreed to. But I could only vaguely acknowledge my protest as the me that wasn't me did things that the me that was me would never have done.

That feeling was so strange and it made me shiver. I didn't like the feeling; the drugs had done that to me once, taking away my own ability to act and placing a phantom me in charge. Someone else wore my body and it frightened me. Scared me nearly witless, and I jumped when Teal'c touched me.

"O'Neill?"

"I'm very pleased," I told him, and knew it to be true.

Major Sam Carter

"No."

"But..."

"Don't 'But, Janet' me. What's changed? You wouldn't even consider this before."

"I know, bu... You didn't see him in there. He's given up."

"And you think that by doing this he'll give up 'giving up?'"

"He's not the type to go out with a whimper."

"Are you suggesting that he's suicidal?"

"Not actively."

"You do realize that if I suspect that he is I'd have to report that and he'd be out, legs or no legs."

"Yes, I do. And all you have is my opinion. I'm not trained to recognize that level of mental problem and you know it."

"Yes, I do."

"He valuable to the program," my voice reeked with petulance.

"And to you."

Leave it to Janet to see right to the truth. Yes I admit it. He's important. I want him. I don't care if his legs work or not. But he does. No legs, no Jack. He'd waste away. My desire for him could not stand against the kind of determination that man can bring to bear. I'm not sure that his need for me is greater than his need to be whole. I'm desperate and this is all I can come up with.

"Yes."

"And if you fail; or heaven forbid, actually hurt him?"

"I'd have tried; and I'm not so sure that I could make it any worse."

"You should understand, Sam. It's very possible to make his situation worse. And you underestimate Jack O'Neill. To lay back and waste away is not his style, far from it. He's not survived what he's survived for this long without having some kind of inner strength to get past obstacles bigger than him."

"I have to try."

"Oookay. Now you only have him to convince."

Colonel Jack O'Neill

"Colonel."

"Carter."

No man was more afraid of a woman than I at this moment. Her body screamed anger at me and I had no idea just how I was going to explain what Teal'c and Eric now know. It wasn't exactly the truth, but it wasn't exactly a lie either. Teal'c was probably the only person who would understand, but even he expressed his disapproval. Allowing myself to fade away wasn't in the cards if I knew what was good for me.

My eyes wandered along her 'at attention' body and I shocked myself at noticing the woman, the curves, the bumps in all the right places, how my breath quickened. Sternly I reminded myself that I had no right, and probably never would. Who would want a loser like me?

"Sir, I have a proposal."

Sir? Nervously, I shifted around in the bed and wondered what pound of flesh she'd demand of me. It wasn't like I didn't have plenty of flesh that was just lying around doing nothing. I reminded myself. With a gesture of consent, she began, her tone sadly business-like and unfriendly to my ear. No less than I deserved.

It was embarrassing to hear her explain how important I was, how much I was needed. What a laugh. If I died tomorrow the momentum of the program wouldn't even be slowed -- probably the opposite. Knowing Carter as well as I do I knew where she was headed and I knew she also knew my feelings about what she proposed. Had I fallen so far in her esteem that she expected me to consent to a piece of technology used to subjugate billons of humans? To be touched by that kind of pure evil made me shiver and I shifted again to disguise it.

"No."

"Sir?"

"Carter, I said no."

"Sir, may I be frank?"

"Go ahead, Carter. Frank, off the record, tell me like it is."

"Do I mean so little to you? Are those feelings you profess to have? Are they real? Was there actually anything left back in that room?"

Sucker punched -- this was so much more than a pound of flesh that couldn't feel or move. Thank God that Eric had been released to on-base quarters, that Teal'c had gone with him, that Fraiser had a full house. It would have been much simpler if I hadn't survived, but for some reason, even when I do lie down and quit something always derails the whole process. This could destroy Carter's career.

"This is so a conversation we should not be having, Carter."

"Are you actually Daniel's friend, do you give a damn about Teal'c ever getting the chance to free his people? And Eric, what happens to him? You were his example. Should he follow the one you are currently so bent on?

"Carter..."

"What are you afraid of? Living, loving -- feeling? Do we all mean so little to you?"

"Damnit, Carter. This isn't about you, or anyone else." I slapped a hand against my insensate leg, dug under it, pried it up and let it flop back down; ugly, brutal and way too real. "This, this is what it's about. This is an anchor that will drag me into oblivion, to a living death of an existence in some dingy medical storage facility. Do you really want me to drag you into that? Along with everyone else I care about? Better that..."

"Damn you, Sir. How dare you give up. That is the only way you'd wind up in a place like that, by giving up. Even if I can't heal you, only you can place yourself in that perception of Hell." She was suddenly across the room, looming over me. I braced for the blow; I had it coming. "This..." She caressed the same spot I'd abused; slowly, gently she pulled the sheet away. Angry red handprints glared up from my pale skin. "This isn't why." She bent and brushed her lips across my thigh, I knew the fire I felt was imagined. To have her touch me like this was appalling, like an angel touching the foulest of things; and none too gently I shoved her away to snatch the sheet back over that part of me that couldn't feel something I'd only dreamed of.

She staggered back, only just catching herself against the empty chair there. I stared at the hand I'd touched her with. Never had I ever raised a hand to anyone unless they were trying to kill me. The only times I ever touched Sara was with love and reverence, fondness and friendship. I knew where the line lay. I would never... but I just did. I was such a piece of shit.

Wide-eyed I sought out Carter -- Sam. I'd so wronged her. But the words wouldn't come; they were stuck in my throat. She backed away, her eyes never left me. Fear? Distrust? Disappointment? Could I trust what I saw, was it actually there to be seen? Or was I seeing what I expected, or feared. My hand rose, palm up, entreating. She took another step back. My face immediately burned with a violent flush and I snatched my hand down and hid it out of sight next to the hated leg. My eyes dropped to my useless limbs, so I only heard her swift steps to the door. There wasn't even the satisfaction of it slamming.

What have I done?

Major Sam Carter

What have I done?

Dry-eyed I sat rigid on my bed, safely hidden in my dark on-base quarters, running the whole disaster over and over again like a horror movie in my mind.

I knew. Holy Hannah! I knew just how private the man was, how honorable and how easily I could mortally wound him. Those eyes told it all. Across that curtain of energy that keep us parted, that nearly killed us both, they told of his complete and utter surrender to me -- a trust like no other; his life in my hands, if I could but find the words to force him to leave me. As if. For I knew deep down that if our roles were reversed, I would never leave. Better to die together quickly than one of us lingers in unrecoverable pain.

I knew how little he regarded himself and how high the pedestal he placed me on. To touch him like that was unforgivable. To force him to react like that. He'll never forgive himself.

My fault, all my fault.

***

My eyes snapped open to complete darkness; I was curled up and wedged into the corner at the head of my bunk. For a moment I was innocent of my recent crimes. But only for a moment, just long enough for the switch to flick, and the horror movie once again ground forward. Automatically I sucked in the sob that tried to escape at its resumption. In the second moment the reason for my awakening became clear, there was knocking at my quarters door.

With the unerring ease of familiarity I crossed the darkness lighter than my heart and wrenched open the door. And froze.

Jack!

Barefoot, and only in a smock that no way could be covering all it should was sat in a wheelchair. A smear of blood across one fabric covered thigh and another across his chest, trail markers of the dribble from where he had probably ripped out his IV, the hand of that arm showed red and he'd probably gotten it coated on the wheel on that side of the chair. Insanely I flicked my eyes behind him looking for red tread marks.

Relieved to find no evidence of his passage to my door I fixed on his beautiful eyes and found them as open as they had been when we decided to die together than exist apart. The raw anguish within them forced me back a step, a step I was going to soon regret.

That small, unintended action deepened the anguish, his raw pain evident at my attempt to avoid the hand that had reached entreatingly towards me. His interpretation of my move could only have been horrific. That insight into his thoughts paralyzed me, and his presence mesmerized me as slowly, on trembling arms, he forced his body upward. Through Herculean strength and his iron will he nearly stood, then lurched sideways thumping into the doorjamb, where he slowly slide to a precarious upright stance, overturning the chair simultaneously. His face reddened with effort and chest heaving, he gripped the wall to remain as tall as possible. Eyes closed, and most likely mortified at such an undignified performance.

If finding him on the other side of my door had been a shock, this was as if an entire galaxy had gone super-nova. He was on his knees and speaking, long past the initial curse of not having enough control of his legs to stay upright. He was telling me he was sorry that he hit me. That confused me, when had that occurred? Oh... oh!

This fiercely proud man was on his knees to me, asking me to forgive him. Oh, my God, I'd reduced him to this. All over a small shove, not even enough to show a mark.

This performance I would never have believed unless I'd seen it with my own eyes. The man could and regularly did the impossible, but even he had his limits. His fall to the floor inevitable, but unexpected, as he discovered that will alone was not enough to keep his position, one hand brushed my leg as he obscenely flopped before me. That one glimpse of panic on his face probably more painful for me to witness than his own experience; in a blink I was leaning over him, desperate to help, but fearful of making him feel far worse then he must now.

"Jack?"

Gently I turned him over, trying to give him as much dignity as the tiny scrap of a gown would allow. Those wounded eyes were still there, pouring out his soul, his hands gripped my upper arms, his fingers uncomfortably tight in his desperate mission.

"I never wanted to hurt you."

Only after those words were delivered and he knew I understood did he release me and slumped, offering no threat; he remained passive and unmoving, barely breathing. When I didn't respond, again I saw him give up, much as before, the light extinguished in those amber orbs and he drew the shutter of those outrageous long sensual lashes over them, I could almost feel the life leave his body.

"Don't. Please, Jack. Don't give up."

"I never gave up, you have to believe me. I did what I had to do to protect Eric. And... well, I may have felt like giving up, just a little bit. But I would never..."

My fingers pressed against his lips, anything to prevent the further baring of his soul, knowing the truth. He was a man, like any other, doubts and dashed hopes come with the territory. Something I didn't deserve to hear. Not at this moment, maybe... in the future, when we both are free to open that room. If we are both still of the same mind. I could never imagine not being that way, but time can have a strange effect on even the firmest of structures.

"There is nothing to forgive; I goaded you beyond your ability to withstand. I'm the one that should be asking your forgiveness."

"But..."

"I know, I know. Please let me do this for you, the healing -- for us."

His eyes answered, and I was thoroughly ashamed for the power I had over him. But I reminded myself that this was necessary. He needed challenges to thrive, and something told me that he had to be ready. He had a role yet to play that would determine far more fates than just my own. Silly, I know. But the feeling grew stronger every day. He had to be fit and ready for that day. My feelings and his were nothing before that future fate. I knew that my plans of seducing him into settling for a life in a wheelchair for my own gratification were selfish and cruel. I needed to close the door on that room, and lock it tight.

"I'm afraid that my stubborn pride took control and I can't explain this away. I'm so sorry, Sam. I should have... I don't know; thought of something more clever than this."

"There must be a way out of this without getting us into too much trouble?"...something that would not destroy us both, if our feelings were exposed for the world to see.

He looked up from his position across my lap; a frown marred his drawn face. And I hated myself for putting him in this position, even for his own good. I knew his own career meant nothing to him, but mine he felt responsible for. He would always blame himself if mine suffered for this.

"You'll think of something, Carter, you always do."

His conviction, as steadfast as always, his use of 'Carter' pained some, but he was right. We needed to get back on a professional level and put away the personal baggage. Gently I slid out from under him, he groaned a bit in pain and perhaps he had grown to enjoy the closeness; I know I had.

"Carter?"

"I know someone." And I went in to phone the one person who could help us both out of the mess our feelings had gotten us into.

Colonel Jack O'Neill

Jack 'Bleeding Heart' O'Neill's last act before being kicked out of the Air Force was to be found lying half-naked in the open doorway of his very female 2IC's on-base quarters. The woman in question later resigned her commission.

That imaginary banner headline was making me dizzy as it whirled in my head. I'd acted like some lovesick, hormone-driven, pimple-faced boy with his first crush, for me, a thoroughly new experience.

"O'Neill."

Teal'c appeared from nowhere and everywhere, like smoke he ghosted towards me.

"So you're who she called."

"Indeed."

Sam had not uttered a word after she pulled me back onto her lap. We'd been silent, each wrapped in our own foolish thoughts. Well, I think hers probably weren't, but I know mine were. Would a sarcophagus peel a few years off of my battered frame once we kicked the Goa'uld out of power? Being free to have Sam, but not able to actually do something about it was my most depressing reoccurring thought of late.

I'm afraid that we both just looked at Teal'c, like kids caught entwined on the front pouch swing by a parent. He raised an eyebrow and spoke.

"Tau'ri courtship rituals are confusing. Have you both come to a mutual agreement?"

"Yes," we both piped up in strangled voices, a quick glance showed her face was as red as mine felt.

"And?"

"Back to status quo," Carter firmly stated.

"Status quo," I squeaked out when Teal'c's pointed gaze fell on me. We had been caught out by a parent, a very large parent that could, if he wanted, bend us over his knee and spank us rosy for our stupidity; I almost wished he would.

"Only..." Carter began.

"I'm AWOL from the Infirmary and can't figure out how to get back without involving Carter."

"Why would involving MajorCarter in your return be detrimental?"

"Ah, look around. This would be why," I snapped in exasperation, my adrenaline high was starting to ebb and I knew my crash would be sudden and hard.

"Is not truth the best policy?"

Sam jumped to my rescue on that one.

"Yes, it is, but..."

"Then truth is what we will present." We must have really spoken our minds with our faces, for he continued. "Do you not trust me?" We nodded emphatically that we did.

"Then observe."

Watching him and his calm assurance reminded me that he had been a general of generals in his own right. Perhaps I should include him in more decisions in the future. He picked me up and deposited me in that damned wheelchair. Carter supplied the blanket he tucked around me and with her bringing up the rear he pushed me toward the nearest elevator.

Neither of us wanted to know what he planned, but he was on a fast and direct course to the Infirmary. When its doors were firmly in my sight I couldn't stand the not knowing any longer.

"Teal'c... what's the plan?"

"Does not victory go to the bold?"

"Ah, yes, it can."

Dr Janet Fraiser

No sooner than I was allowed back on duty then we had an escapee. A man who should not have been able to roll over on his own and he up and steals a wheelchair and disappears; and with my fingers actually touching the phone to report to the general, our missing colonel returns. Oh, yes, didn't I say who it was? Colonel O'Neill!

Bold as you please, pushed by Teal'c and trailed by Sam Carter. He comes in the door as if he owned the place. Well, I guess he does in a certain kind of way, but not while under my care.

"Colonel O'Neill."

"Doc?"

"What's this all about?"

I couldn't decide if I was more mad or worried. Worried was winning, he didn't look good.

"A matter of privacy," spoke Teal'c with an elaborate bow, no doubt he was a coconspirator.

"Major Carter..."

"Doc..."

"It was required DoctorFrasier. And I would not allow any harm to O'Neill."

If I could trust anyone it would be Teal'c, Sam second, and the colonel dead last. He sees skipping out of the Infirmary as a sport of some kind. One of these days, he'll find himself in serious trouble in his pursuit to outsmart me. Sigh; if he has to skip out, having company is much preferable then not I guess.

"Colonel, this sets a very bad example. You aren't being kept here for my enjoyment, but your safety. I want you to survive your stay at the Infirmary. I'm gratified that you saw fit to return, but your absence has made it necessary to conduct additional tests." His face visibly pales. "Sir, are you alright? Teal'c let's get him to his room and I'll give him a once over. Honestly I can't believe this is happening."

Teal'c swiftly accomplishes my request with a minimum of fuss. The colonel doesn't complain his face is drawn and a fine tremor courses along his arms; he's visibly stressed. Sam will get a talking to about this; the very idea of taking a seriously ill man out into the halls to convince him of the benefits of using alien technology to heal him is unthinkable.

Busy with settling my patient and checking him over I swear I hear Teal'c mutter something about 'only the bold' as he, the wheelchair and Sam take the opportunity to flee. Like that will save them from my wrath.

Don't they know? There's nowhere to hide from me.

Major Sam Carter

Janet informed me that the colonel had a condition to his submission to the Healing Device, that he be sedated during my attempt. He insisted. I think it had to do with the idea that it was possible that my lack of training could cause him pain. His only thought to protect me if I hurt him.

This is what comes from his good relationship with my father. They had talked long into the night on the last occasion of Lt. Van Sickle's healing. The colonel had been interested in the abilities and limitations of the Healing Device. Father and Selmac had obliged, relating much I'd been awake for. Detailing that the device wasn't the foolproof panacea it appeared. It could heal and it could destroy, sooth or hurt. A two-sided coin as any device could be.

Unbidden snippets of that late night session flashed through my mind as I slipped my fingers into the cool mental loops, gripped it and held the device over the helpless body of the man I knew I loved. The man I was desperate to heal, to save him from himself. He, whom I'd taken advantage of to get to this point.

Seeing the glow of the device wasn't important, I could feel its warmth. This was going to be so hard; this needed to prefect. And practice makes perfect.

First something small, those beautiful fingers so torn and bloodied by his ordeal, the ones I wanted to touch me every time I saw them slide along the length of his weapon. Carefully I thought about how they should appear and pushed that into the light of the device. Slowly, ever so slowly, the scratches faded, nails re-grew. So caught up in the beauty before me I let my concentration slip. He moaned, and began to writhe. I flung the device away horrified at what I'd just done.

I reached out to touch him, every so softly. He moaned in pain. And just like that I was scrambling on the floor searching for the device. I needed to fix this. I'd hurt him and I needed to fix it. Now.

My breath came in shaky pants as I resumed my position over him. Carefully, oh so very carefully, I created the proper frame of mind for the healing. And with infinitely care I pushed the image of those perfect figures out to the softly glowing device. Only this time it didn't feel the same. Cracking open an eye I looked down, careful to maintain my control.

Nothing was happening. Nothing bad. Nothing good. Nothing at all.

I could feel the device, but I couldn't push energy through it to the damage. How long I stood over Jack I really wasn't sure. But I was drenched in sweat, my head was splitting, the pain so intense I couldn't see. Then the fear set in. I knew I'd lost control and if I slipped up again there would be great damage.

Slowly and carefully I backed away and stumbled to the chair. I must have sat there for some time. Janet was suddenly crouched there before me; a small frown marred her face.

"I hurt him."

[See Chapter Twenty-two]