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Passages of Time part 1

Passages of Time - Part One:

"You have new mail!" Samantha Carter's computer screen displayed, her
mail manager downloading several items before disconnecting the modem
and hanging up the call. The Captain smiled to herself, she loved
receiving new post and the regular nightly messages from Daniel Jackson
were fascinating reading. She clicked open the inbasket and scanned down
the new arrivals, scowling slightly when she couldn't see his e-mail
address listed among the various items of junk and mailing list updates.

This was the first night Daniel had missed since his arrival in Luxor
six days earlier, his initial notes being full of the excitement of a
new discovery. Doctor Jackson's attendance in Upper Egypt had been
specifically requested by one Roger Blackwood, an eminent British
archaeologist, following the surprise uncovering of a new tomb, hidden
for thousands of years until the simplest act of nature. A violent
sandstorm had ravaged the area for several days, eventually revealing
the secret entrance.

The writings at the mouth of the tunnel leading to the burial chamber
were unusual to say the least. A few blurred photos were enough to pique
Daniel's interest and get him flying into the General's office, begging
to be temporarily released from his duties at the SGC. They displayed an
idiomatic combination of Ancient Egyptian and cuneiform that the learned
historians at the Cairo University had been unable to decipher, so they
had called for Doctor Jackson's help, along with a formal request backed
by the Pentagon, leaving General Hammond little choice except to bid
Daniel a safe journey.

After arriving at the offices of Roger Blackwood in the Cairo Museum,
they had travelled into Upper Egypt together, to the dig site on the
west bank of the Nile, near Luxor. The newly discovered tomb, hidden
high above the Valley of the Kings, was situated a few feet below the
pyramidal outcrop that towered over the river delta like some vast
omnipotent force.

Soon after, Daniel had e-mailed some encrypted digital stills back to
Captain Carter, revealing a large cartouche. There appeared to be
pictograms of the gods Ra and Sokar embroiled in a fight to the death
with a third unidentified being who was apparently entombed in this
burial chamber. The photos had certainly heightened Sam's interest and
she was eagerly awaiting the next instalment.

Disappointed, Samantha Carter decided that Daniel had probably got too
busy to catch up with his e-mail today, perhaps he would have time to
send something tomorrow. She switched off the computer and stretched
tiredly before rising from the chair and heading to bed.

~~~~~~~~~~

Three days later there was still no word from Daniel, no response to e-
mails, nor the messages Sam had left at the reception desk of his hotel.
Finally, the Captain became sufficiently worried to speak to her
commanding officer.

"You know what Daniel's like, Carter. He's probably so engrossed in his
rocks he doesn't even know what day it is!" Colonel Jack O'Neill made
light of her concerns with a reassuring smile, convincing enough to
illicit a more relaxed response.

"I guess you're right, Sir. I'm sure we'll hear from him in the next day
or so," the blonde woman nodded, turning to leave the Colonel's office.
Closing the door quietly behind her, she didn't see the deep frown that
replaced his unconcerned facade.

Unbeknownst to the rest of the team, Colonel O'Neill and Doctor Jackson
had been having regular telephone conversations themselves, every night
since his arrival in Cairo. O'Neill had made the younger man promise not
to mention it to Carter, he didn't want to be accused of acting like a
mother hen over the team, but their last call had been four days ago and
repeated messages to Doctor Jackson's hotel and the Cairo Museum had
turned up nothing.

"C'mon Daniel, where are you?" Jack murmured to himself, even more
worried than before, now that he knew Sam had not heard anything from
the Egyptologist either.

~~~~~~~~~~

It was late by the time O'Neill pulled his mud splashed Cherokee Jeep
into his gravel driveway the following night. It was the first chance
he'd had to leave the base for several days since General Hammond had
suddenly been called to Washington DC, leaving him in charge. Now the
commander of the SGC was back and Jack had a whole weekend off.

The sight of home was usually a welcome one, but this time it was met
with a strong sense of foreboding, which Jack knew was directly related
to the continued absence of communication from Daniel. Letting himself
in through the side door, he dropped his keys onto the kitchen counter,
grabbed a beer from the refrigerator and popped the bottle top off,
taking a few thirsty gulps as he made his way down the dark hallway into
the den.

Reaching to turn on a small table lamp, Jack noticed the red light on
his answering machine flashing. He pressed the play button, hearing the
tape rewind as he slumped exhaustedly onto the worn, comfortable sofa.
Downing more beer before placing the bottle on the floor, he loosened
his boots to kick them off and stretched out his long legs to perch his
feet on the coffee table.

Jack rubbed his face with his palms tiredly, listening for the first
message. It was three days old, from Cassandra, Doctor Fraiser's adopted
daughter, warning Jack that she hadn't forgotten his promise to take her
to a hockey game this weekend, whilst her Mom had to work. O'Neill
smiled at the sound of her voice, she was such a great kid, he got a
real kick out of showing her how American kids

enjoyed themselves and it certainly never felt like babysitting. It was
always a pleasure to hear her laughter and see that look on her face
when she debated whether he was telling the truth or simply teasing her
again. Yeah, a day with Cassie could be just what the doctor ordered,
Jack thought to himself as the machine beeped and began to play the
second message.

"Jack!" The sound of Daniel's frightened whisper next to his ear
startled O'Neill. He sat up abruptly, shifting his feet back to the
floor and knocking over the half full beer bottle, oblivious to its
contents spilling onto the polished hardwood, as the voice continued
anxiously, "I know you're going to say I'm just imagining it, but I
think I'm being followed."

Daniel paused as if for effect, but suddenly Jack could picture him
checking over his shoulder for any sign of eavesdroppers, before
continuing his panicky message, "I'm telling you, Jack, there's
something really weird going on here, there's more to this than just a
new tomb discovery." Another nervous breath, "Look, I'm getting out of
Luxor tonight, I don't think it's safe here, I'll contact you tomorrow
when I know where I am." With that he hung up, the loud click of the
receiver being replaced and the monotonous tone of the disconnected line
only serving to compound the growing fear in the pit of Jack's stomach.

He stared at the machine, unaware that he was holding his breath,
waiting for the last message to play, waiting to hear whether Daniel
Jackson had managed to find a safe haven. But the final recording on the
tape was dead air, something not important enough to warrant leaving a
message, probably someone trying to sell him something, after all, that
was why he'd bought the answering machine in the first place. As the
closing beep sounded with a dreadful finality, Jack felt sick with
worry, Daniel's message was three days old and there was no sign of his
promised follow up call. Something was seriously wrong.

~~~~~~~~~~

Shortly before dawn, Colonel O'Neill arrived back at Cheyenne Mountain,
out of uniform and unshaven. He had been up all night, calling hotels
and hospitals throughout Egypt, trying to establish Daniel Jackson's
whereabouts, knowing his attempts would be futile as much as he knew he
had to try anyway. Now he was none the wiser for a sleepless night of
frustration and anxiety.

Jack waited impatiently to see General Hammond, forcing himself to sit
calmly in the mess hall. Sipping a cup of strong black coffee as he
watched the hands of the big wall clock slowly tick around to 0730
hours, when he knew the General, a creature of firm habit, would arrive
in his office, ready to face whatever the day would bring, blissfully
unaware of what was about to hit him.

~~~~~~~~~~

Even after Jack had played the tape to him a third time, General Hammond
was still adamant about his decision, "No, I'm sorry, Colonel. No matter
what it sounds like, I believe Doctor Jackson can take care of himself
on this one for a change. I can't afford to have you or any other member
of the SGC chasing halfway across the world to rescue a man who probably
isn't even lost!"

O'Neill stared at him incredulously, "But you haven't given us a new
mission in ten days! With all due respect, Sir, I think we can be
spared."

"On the contrary, Colonel," Hammond said coldly, "That meeting I've just
come back from has landed us with a lot of extra work. We're all going
to be extremely busy over the next few weeks and with Teal'c still off
planet, you and Captain Carter will have to take up the slack."

"But, Sir, Daniel is.......," Jack's protest landed on deaf ears as the
General cut him short.

"Daniel Jackson is experienced enough to look after himself. Egypt is
like a second home to him, I'm sure he'll be fine," Hammond tried to
reassure his subordinate. "Now, I suggest you go home and get some rest,
I want you here bright and early Monday morning to help sort out all
these new assessment requirements the Pentagon has given us." He held up
his hand to cut off any further argument, "Dismissed, Colonel!" With
that he lifted the first report from his inbox and immersed himself in
its contents, ignoring O'Neill's continued presence.

Jack stared at him for a long moment, his dark brown eyes filled with
hurt and nagging doubts. How could Hammond not believe Daniel was in
trouble? How could he refuse to let Jack go to his aid? Why was he
suddenly so unsupportive? O'Neill was at a loss, instead he retrieved
his tape from Hammond's dictaphone and stalked angrily from the room.

Heading straight for his own office, Jack closed the door behind him and
sat at his desk. Unlocking the drawers, he opened each one in turn and
rummaged with growing irritation. In the very last one, buried at the
back under various dead files, he finally found his own seldom used
dictaphone, pulling it out and pushing it into the pocket of his leather
jacket.

He was about to shut the drawer again when he stopped short, his gaze
falling on a presentation box lying near the front atop the files. He
ran his hand over it thoughtfully for a moment, eventually lifting it
out and opening the tight lid. Fixed on the velvet liner within was his
recently awarded medal of honour, given for his part in the destruction
of Apophis' ships several months before.

Jack stared at it for awhile, then he closed the lid with a snap and
shoved it back into the bottom drawer, his decision made. Reaching his
hands to his neck, he fingered the chain of his dogtags and lifted them
over his head, feeling suddenly naked by their absence, but he could not
in all conscience leave the base with them on, knowing what he was about
to do.

Opening the top drawer of his desk, he dropped the ID tags in on top of
a pile of paperclips, slowly lowering the chain in a snaking pattern
beside the imprinted metal. With a deep breath, Jack pushed the drawer
closed and locked his desk, before leaving his office and heading
towards the elevator with a determined stride.

By the time he had reached his car, Jack knew exactly what he had to do,
driving home to hurriedly pack a bag and book a flight. On his way to
the airport he detoured via Janet Fraiser's house, knowing he owed one
little girl a proper explanation.

"Jack!" Cassie came running up the drive as soon as he pulled his Jeep
in, jumping up and wrapping her arms around his neck before he barely
had a chance to get out of the car.

"Hey, sweetheart! How ya doin'?" He smiled, grabbing her waist to spin
her around in the open space of the front yard, the sound of her
laughter expelling some of the pent up tension building inside him.

When her feet were firmly back on the ground, she turned around to slam
his car door, yanking him by the hand to lead him into the house. She
stopped short when she saw the holdall on the front passenger seat.
"You're going away!" The young girl turned to him disappointedly.

Jack shrugged wearily, "I have to Cass, I have no choice. I'll only be
gone a few days, I promise. I'll make it up to you next weekend. Okay?"

Cassandra stared at him, pondering his words with mock seriousness, one
hand on her hip, "Okay," she agreed reluctantly, adding with a cheerful
smile, "but I get to choose what we do!"

"Er, maybe that's not such a good idea.......," Jack grinned when he saw
her accusing glare, "Okay, okay, you win! We'll do whatever you want.
Just remember, I'm already going grey, I don't want it to get any worse!
Come on," he pulled her towards the front door, "I need to talk to
Janet."

Ten minutes later, Jack and his favourite SGC doctor were sitting in the
lounge, silently sipping coffee. Having listened to Jack's vague
explanations that he wouldn't be able to look after Cassie because he
had to go out of town, Janet had tactfully despatched the girl to the
back garden to check on her pet rabbit, currently suffering an ingrown
tooth.

"Okay, Jack. Cassie's out of the way. Now what on earth is going on?
What are you hiding?" Janet came straight to the point, her curiosity
piqued by his sombre mood.

"I can't say. I don't want Hammond accusing you of being an accomplice,"
Jack squirmed uncomfortably. He wouldn't lie to his friend, but he also
did not want to get her involved in his mess.

"Come on, Jack, you know I can take care of the General any day. Tell me
what's wrong," Janet said insistently, studying his brown eyes, "Is it
something to do with Daniel?" She added, recalling a conversation she'd
had the previous day with Samantha Carter, who was worried about the
loss of contact with her team mate.

Jack regarded the woman for a long moment, she always could read him
like a book and he knew that, once she set her mind on something, he
would never get out of the door without telling her the truth. Maybe it
would help to talk to her about it, a quick sanity check on the illegal
action he was about to commit.

Reluctantly, he pulled the dictaphone that he'd borrowed from his office
desk out of his pocket, "I found this on my answering machine last
night. It's from Tuesday. Listen," he pressed the play button and felt
his stomach tighten again at the sound of the now familiar frightened
words of Doctor Jackson.

When the tape finished, Janet looked about as worried as he felt, "And
you haven't heard from him since?"

"No. Neither has Sam," Jack grimaced. "Hammond won't let us go after
him. He's adamant."

"Why?" She asked incredulously.

Jack shook his head, "I don't know. He gave me some excuse about having
too much work to do and said Daniel could look after himself. I don't
understand it.......," Jack trailed off and Janet could see the hurt and
betrayal darkening his eyes at the uncharacteristic lack of support from
the General.

"What are you going to do?" She asked softly, knowing the answer even
before the look of guilt flashed across his face. He was going after
Daniel, against Hammond's orders, that much was clear, even though he
would not admit it, he would not implicate her in his actions. Janet
nodded in understanding, "What about Sam?"

"I haven't told her. I don't want Carter jeopardising her career as
well. By the time she finds out she'll be back on base. Hopefully it'll
be too late for her to do anything foolish." Jack frowned, reluctant to
involve the doctor, but faced with no other choice, Carter did have a
right to know about Daniel, "Can you talk to her on Monday?"

"It's okay, Jack. I'll explain everything to her, don't worry. Just find
Daniel and bring him back safe." She squeezed his arm gently, "Look
after yourself too, Colonel."

"Soon to be 'ex-Colonel' if this doesn't work out okay," Jack tried to
make light of his predicament, but he couldn't quite pull off the smile.
He shrugged wearily, "I'm really sorry to leave you in the lurch today."

"It's not a problem! Cassie can go and stay with a friend tonight while
I'm at work, it's no big deal," Janet assured him, "And she knows you
wouldn't let her down unless it was really important."

"Thanks Janet." Jack put his coffee mug down on the table, "I'd better
go and say goodbye to her." He stood up and headed out into the back
garden, down to the shed where Cassandra was tending to her growing
menagerie.

~~~~~~~~~~

The Colonel desperately needed to sleep on the long flight, but instead
found himself staring aimlessly at the white clouds drifting past the
plane, trying to decide where to start looking for his missing team
member. The image of Hammond's uncaring expression kept coming back to
him and he couldn't figure it out. What could possibly have gone on in
Washington that would bring about such a dramatic change in his
attitude? O'Neill shook his head, trying to forget about it, that was in
the past, now he needed to concentrate on what was ahead.

By the time his flight touched down at Luxor Airport it was early on
Sunday morning. The air was already hot and dry. Jack had heard that May
was a good time to visit the country, the weather wouldn't be too
unbearable yet, however, as the aircraft captain cheerfully explained
over the PA system, they were in the midst of a heatwave and the
temperature was likely to reach the mid forties by lunch time.

Declaring the nature of his visit to be tourism, Jack was convincing
enough to be given a visa and pass through immigration uneventfully,
glad he had kept his holdall in the overhead compartment as he pushed
between crowds of floundering new arrivals fighting to get their luggage
off the belt.

Checking into the same hotel where Daniel had been staying on the
eastern bank of the Nile, Jack immediately contacted the Cairo Museum to
establish the whereabouts of Roger Blackwood, the archaeologist who had
asked for Daniel's help with their discovery. It turned out he was also
staying at that hotel and, although he was out of touch at the dig site
during the day, he would return at dusk, O'Neill would be able to
contact him then.

In the meantime, Jack decided to do a bit of digging of his own, heading
two flights up to check out the top floor room that Daniel Jackson had
been allocated. A lock picking talent that went back to his misspent
youth quickly got him past the poorly secured door. He was shocked to
find the room still contained most of Daniel's belongings, evident by
the number of Egyptology books lying on the dresser and the luggage tag
on his battered suitcase. He must have left the city in a hurry if he
hadn't even stopped to grab his gear.

Jack was even more surprised when he opened the closet to find a padded
satchel containing Daniel's laptop and mini camcorder. The fact that he
hadn't even returned to collect those precious items confirmed how
desperate his rapid departure had been.

Three hours later, the Colonel returned to his own room, carrying the
computer bag with him. He was none the wiser for his search and even
more worried. He had spoken with the hotel reception and found that as
far as they were concerned, Doctor Jackson was booked in for another
week and was probably just too busy to collect the stack of messages
that was piling up in his mail dip. Since his bill was being charged to
a US Government issue credit card, the longer he stayed, the better for
them.

With a pounding climate headache to go with his jet lag, Jack slumped
resignedly onto the bed, rubbing his face wearily. He looked at his
watch, trying to work out what time his body thought it really was, but
in the end he simply set the alarm to go off at six that evening and
closed his eyes. The last thing he remembered was wondering whether he
would ever be able to get to sleep or not.

~~~~~~~~~~

"So, I understand you and Doctor Jackson met during a trip to Abydos a
few years ago?"

A glass of chilled mineral water to his lips, Jack choked reflexively at
that simple statement from Doctor Roger Blackwood, spluttering the clear
liquid down the front of his black t-shirt. Mopping his chin with a
napkin, the Colonel stared speechlessly at the eminent British
archaeologist, but fortunately, the man was too engrossed in his meal to
notice O'Neill's look of astonishment.

"Of course, as you know, it's not all that far from here," the plump,
dark haired gentleman in his fifties continued, glancing up from his
dinner plate. He realised the American sitting opposite wasn't quite
following, "The Temple of Seti the First, I mean, the site at Abydos.
It's only a few hours north of Luxor." He frowned slightly as Jack's
face melted into a picture of relief.

"Oh! Yes, of course, the temple at Abydos! I'm sorry, it must be the jet
lag!" O'Neill grabbed his beer bottle and gulped rapidly, trying to calm
his nerves. He should have known that Daniel wouldn't give away
something like that, but sometimes he just never knew what the man was
capable of.

The burly Englishman examined him carefully, noting the close cropped
greying hair and obvious athletic physique, the American didn't look
like any scholar the archaeologist had ever come across. "So, what do
you do for a living Mr O'Neill?"

"Me? I work for the US government. You know the usual pencil pushing,
dot the I's and cross the T's sort of thing." Jack gave him that
ingenuous smile he usually reserved for politicians and three star
Generals.

"What brought you to Abydos originally?" The doctor continued the polite
small talk as he shovelled another fork full of food into his mouth.

"Tourism!" Jack smirked to himself at that idea, lowering his eyes to
the half eaten meal in front of him and pushing some unidentifiable half
cooked vegetable around the plate.

"Really," the archaeologist murmured dubiously, "Well, Doctor Jackson
certainly thinks highly of you, he mentioned you frequently when we
dined together each evening. I got the impression he looks up to you
like a brother."

This time Jack managed to avoid splashing water all down himself, but he
was still surprised by Doctor Blackwood's comment. He shook his head in
amazement and decided to get to the point of his dinner invitation.
"Doctor Jackson is a very close friend, that's why I came out to see
him, but I seem to be having trouble getting in touch with him."

"Yes, Daniel headed back up to Cairo last week. He said something about
doing some research in the Museum library." The Englishman carefully
placed his knife and fork side by side on his now empty plate and wiped
his mouth with his napkin before folding it neatly and laying it on the
table.

Jack casually matched the older man's ritual before asking, "Have you
heard from him since?"

"Not directly no, but your Embassy in Cairo told me he'd been called
home suddenly and that he hoped to return in a week or so. That's why I
was surprised to receive your call," he frowned slightly, "I thought he
would have been in touch with you."

"No, I haven't spoken to him in almost a week," Jack tried to hide the
concern from his voice. "Do you have the name of the person at the
Embassy? Maybe I should check with him before I go back to the States."

"Yes, of course. It was Philip Marshall, he's the new Assistant to the
US Ambassador. In fact, he was the one who recommended we ask for Doctor
Jackson's involvement in the first place," Blackwood admitted,
signalling the waiter to bring a dessert menu.

Jack stared at him in surprise, "I thought the request came from you and
the Cairo Museum."

"It did, but the idea was Mr Marshall's. He had found out about the
discovery from the British Embassy. I guess they all talk to each other
nowadays," the archaeologist shrugged his broad shoulders. "Anyway, he
said that Doctor Jackson had been specialising in this field for the
last two years, so he would be a valuable asset in translating such
unusual ideograms. It was also Philip who ensured that our request got
backing from the Pentagon."

The Colonel absorbed this information with a growing sense of unease. He
disliked coincidences at the best of times and these were overstretching
the realms of plausibility. I guess I'm going to be taking a trip to
Cairo, Jack thought to himself as he settled back resignedly to listen
to the archaeologist describe the significance of his latest findings,
imagining just how at home Daniel must have felt in this country, being
able to actually have an intellectual discussion about his favourite
"rocks" for a change.

At the earliest polite opportunity, Jack signed for the restaurant bill
and excused himself to head back to his room, not needing to fake
exhaustion as the reason. Before turning in, he contacted the reception
desk to enquire about a trip to Cairo in the morning, finding there were
regular flights throughout the day. "Or, Sir could take a more leisurely
train journey if preferred, with wonderful views of the Nile delta along
the route. All first class carriages with air conditioning, of course!"

He thanked the overly helpful clerk and arranged an early alarm call
before replacing the handset and checking the doorlock was fastened. As
an afterthought, Jack jammed the room's only chair under the door
handle, to block any attempt at forced entry, drifting off to sleep
wondering whether he was just being cautious or paranoid.

~~~~~~~~~~

That Monday morning, Janet had only been on base forty minutes, before
the dreaded call came to attend General Hammond's office. When she
arrived, Captain Carter was already waiting patiently, standing to
attention in front of his desk.

"Come in, Doctor Fraiser," Hammond signalled without so much as a 'Good
morning'. "I want to know whether either of you saw Colonel O'Neill over
the weekend!" He looked from one face to the other, his pale blue gaze
boring into them as if he could detect a lie at thirty paces. And he
probably could, Janet thought to herself grimly, he didn't get to be a
General by having the wool pulled over his eyes.

"No, Sir." Sam Carter responded first, a look of blank puzzlement on her
face.

Janet took a deep breath, "I did, Sir. He came to see Cassie on Saturday
morning," she admitted reluctantly, choosing her words carefully.

"Did he tell you what his plans were?" Hammond demanded.

"Plans for what, Sir?" The doctor replied guilelessly.

The General placed his hands firmly on the desk and leaned towards her,
his anger clearly bubbling just beneath the surface as he spoke slowly
and deliberately, "Did Colonel O'Neill give you any indication that he
would not be reporting for duty here this morning?"

Janet met his stare fearlessly, belying the nervous butterflies in her
stomach, "Well, Sir, Cassie did see a holdall in the Colonel's car, but
apart from that.........," she shrugged, "He just said he would have to
postpone their hockey game that afternoon," she finished with the
sweetest, 'I'm only a woman, what would I know' smile she could muster.

Hammond stared at her for a long moment until it dawned on him that the
normally curious doctor hadn't asked why he wanted to know. "I take it
Colonel O'Neill played you the tape!" Janet flushed guiltily, proving
his assumptions correct.

"What tape?" Carter asked, slowly realising that something was going on
here that she didn't have any inkling about.

Before the General could open his mouth, Janet interjected, "Daniel left
a message on Jack's answering machine last Tuesday. He said someone was
following him. The Colonel hasn't heard from him since."

"Then we've got to go over there and look for him.......," Sam trailed
off as she stared between the doctor's look of discomfort and the storm
brewing on Hammond's face, the truth slowly dawning, "That's where
Colonel O'Neill is?" Janet shrugged silently.

"It certainly looks that way!" The General snapped.

"Then, permission to join him, Sir?" Sam requested innocently, still not
getting the whole picture.

"Denied, Captain!" Hammond reacted angrily, "I cannot have SG1 running
off on some wild goose chase halfway around the world simply because
Doctor Jackson has an overactive imagination."

"But, Sir!" Sam protested.

"Captain Carter!" Hammond was practically yelling now, his face flushing
red with anger, "I told Colonel O'Neill the same thing and he has now
gone AWOL. In order to save me having to process two court martials in
the same week, I will instead revoke your passport, so don't even
attempt to leave the country. Now both of you, get out of my sight.
DISMISSED!"

Carter stood there gaping at him, until Janet grabbed her arm and pushed
her out the door, leading her along the hall and into an elevator before
she regained the ability to speak. "What the hell was that all about?"

Janet shook her head, pursing her lips and pointing to the security
camera in the top corner of the elevator car. "Let's go and get some
fresh air, shall we?" She asked, feeling the weight of Jack's
dictaphone, still containing the tape, practically burning a whole in
the pocket of her white lab coat.

~~~~~~~~~~

"This doesn't make any sense!" Sam had listened to the tape of Daniel's
last message twice and heard about Jack's conversation with Janet. "Why
is the General stopping us from going after him?"

"I don't know and neither did the Colonel," Janet sighed heavily, "But
it must be something serious if Hammond is prepared to court martial him
for it."

"But that's ridiculous! He knows that Colonel O'Neill had no choice but
to go after Daniel. Why court martial him? It will mean the end of the
Colonel's career and the end of SG1. All Hammond needs to do is give the
Colonel a few days leave." Carter shook her head, pacing up and down the
forest clearing a short distance from the base car park, where they had
come to distance themselves from prying eyes and ears. "It just doesn't
make sense.......," she repeated miserably. Finally, she stopped and
looked across at her friend, "So what do we do?"

Janet shrugged, "For now all we can do is keep trying to contact Daniel.
And stay out of the General's way," she said soberly.

~~~~~~~~~~

Checking into the highrise city centre Sheraton Hotel, just across the
river from the Cairo Museum, Jack only stopped long enough to dump his
gear and Daniel's laptop, before heading out into the sweltering heat of
the day. The mini camcorder in his hand and a large city street map in
the back pocket of his beige chinos, he looked for all the world like a
genuine American tourist.

The hotel reception had been correct in their statement, it definitely
was cooler here, nearer the coast, than it had been up at Luxor. The
temperature was more a steady 38 degrees, several centigrade lower than
the mid forties of Upper Egypt, much to Jack's relief.

Heading across the busy road bridge, the Colonel stopped occasionally to
practise with the camcorder, being unused to it himself. He wanted to
see how effective the zoom was, preferring not to get too close to his
subject, assuming he could track him down at all.

Still his first port of call would be the Museum, to check that Daniel
hadn't been there recently. Secretly, Jack held out hope that his friend
would be found there, buried in a pile of books and rocks. The
alternative was too uncomfortable to contemplate, but the cynic in him
said he would have to face up to it soon enough.

~~~~~~~~~~

It was Tuesday morning when Sam downloaded her personal e-mail onto one
of the base computers and found an encrypted message from Colonel
O'Neill. It was brief and to the point and insistent that his request
for help was on a strictly voluntary basis, he did not want her getting
into hot water with the General because of him.

Attached was a grainy digital still of a man stepping from a pristine
white Ford Maverick, obviously taken at some distance with the use of
full digital zoom. The man was described as Philip Marshall, an American
embassy worker. Brown hair, thirtyish, medium height, medium build, in
fact, a very average looking man, the sort who would blend in anywhere
and go unnoticed.

Sam quickly absorbed the few details the Colonel had gathered on the
subject and the possible connection to Daniel Jackson. Detaching a copy
of the picture, she started feeding it into all the government databases
that she could access, trying to find as much information as possible,
looking for anything that might help.

~~~~~~~~~~

For three days they exchanged e-mails, with Jack's pictures becoming
more professional and more bold, until Carter couldn't help worrying
whether he was getting just a bit too near to the subject, concerned
that sooner or later the Colonel was going to get caught. Sam knew the
pictures were becoming more daring out of frustration, he had been
following the man for three days solid and seemed no closer to
determining the whereabouts of Daniel than when he had started.

Carter had also come up empty, with nothing more incriminating in Philip
Marshall's background checks than the fact that he had a rich father who
had quite possibly helped him obtain his prestigious new job overseas
with a large donation during the last presidential campaign. In fact,
his career details were so vague and innocuous that Sam was unable to
find any reason at all why this man would have access to enough
information about Doctor Jackson's recent work that would have led to
his recommendation to obtain Daniel's help with the new dig.

In the meantime, Carter was having increasing difficulty avoiding
General Hammond and suddenly, on Thursday morning, he appeared in the
thirteenth floor lab she was hiding out in that day. If Sam had been the
superstitious sort she would have blamed herself for choosing that
particular level in the first place.

"Captain, have you heard anything from Colonel O'Neill since he went
AWOL?" Hammond demanded peremptorily.

Carter jumped at the sound of his voice. Flushing guiltily, she quickly
flipped the screen to a graphical representation of some time consuming
planetary assessments she was supposed to be carrying out on his orders.
"General! I'm sorry, Sir, I didn't hear you come in." She paused,
playing for time as she tried to come up with a suitable response to his
question, "I haven't spoken with Colonel O'Neill since last week, Sir."

Hammond eyed her dubiously, "And what about other methods of
communication, Captain?"

"Well, yes, Sir, he has sent a couple of e-mail messages," Sam was
forced to admit.

"Has he found anything?"

"No Sir, no sign of Daniel yet, Sir." Carter watched him closely, trying
to read beyond his blank expression. She couldn't tell whether she saw
relief or worry, or maybe even both. Either way the General wasn't
acting his normal supportive self and she still didn't understand what
had happened to change that. It was hard to believe it might have been
something that Daniel had done, after all, he hadn't been here to do
anything recently.

"Well, when you contact him again, kindly tell the Colonel that I'll be
processing his court martial papers on Friday afternoon if he isn't
back." Carter lowered her head towards her computer screen and scowled
deeply. "Oh, and Captain? If I find you've been doing anything to aid
Colonel O'Neill in his ill conceived endeavours, I will have no choice
but to put you up on charges of aiding a fugitive. Understand?"

"Perfectly, Sir," Sam didn't bother to turn around, instead making a
show of inputting more data into the file Hammond had ordered her to
compile, waiting tensely for him to leave the room again, before she let
her shoulders slump miserably.

With a heavy sigh, Carter flipped her screen back to the e-mail she had
been typing to Colonel O'Neill and added a brief, bitter note on the
bottom, "BTW, Hammond's posting your court martial papers tomorrow.
Don't suppose you know what the penalty is for tampering with the mail?"
With that, she sent the message and went back to see what else she could
dig up, praying that sooner or later their joint efforts would turn up
something before they both got thrown out of the Air Force. All the
while, she wondered what on earth could have happened to their team
mate.

~~~~~~~~~~

Daniel Jackson had been hanging around Karnak Temple for six days now,
occasionally playing tour guide and finding safety in numbers. He was
extremely relieved to see the increasing crowds of tourists that were
slowly returning to the region following the terrorist troubles that had
all but destroyed the livelihood of his favourite terrestrial people a
couple of years before.

The temple was once again a bustling place to be from dawn until dusk.
Discreetly populated by the Tourist and Antiquities Police with their
crisp white uniforms and gold braid, contrasting with the Kalashnikov
rifles slung unceremoniously over their shoulders. At nightfall, Daniel
could easily slip out in the darkness among the throngs of visitors
attending the popular Son Et Lumiere shows, which ran daily in several
different languages.

He knew the sprawling temple grounds like the back of his hand and could
continue to hide out there for days if necessary, until it finally felt
safe enough for him to again try to leave the country. Initially he had
headed up to Cairo by train, travelling in the heavily crowded carriages
with the general populace, hoping he could catch the first flight out
from the busy international airport. But he had found the terminal
already being watched, remaining that way throughout the entire two days
he had risked waiting around before heading back into the city.

Wandering aimlessly around the streets of the densely packed Khan el-
Khalili bazaar, his manner of dress ensured he was not bothered by the
street hawkers who mistook him for a local dweller in his long
traditional robes. A grubby scarf was wrapped around his brown hair like
a turban and several days of beard growth obscured his tanned features.

Daniel had eventually concluded that the place it was least expected for
him to go was Luxor, a reluctant decision considering the feelings of
paranoid terror the shadows of that small city now provoked. He recalled
the growing sense of being watched that had gradually crept over him
within a few days of arriving at the dig in the Valley of the Kings. A
feeling of being followed which he had initially dismissed until a
combination of coincidences had made him reconsider.

At first he had noticed the odd strange occurrence, items in his room he
assumed the housekeeper must have moved, the pocket on a pair of khakis
in his wardrobe that had been turned inside out, until he had found
positive proof in a smudged fingerprint on the latest written page of
his journal. It was a clear thumb print, too big to be his own, let
alone belong to the petite housekeeper who always had a smile when she
cleaned his room each day.

He had stared at that page for a long time, considering its
implications, imagining the circumstances. A large man, Egyptian
perhaps, a drop of sweat from his brow as he peered at Daniel's
illegible scrawl, an accidental smudging of the ink it had dampened. And
at some point amidst Daniel's contemplations, he had realised he finally
had something tangible, hard evidence to go with his paranoia, but what
use would it be?

If this was positive proof, it served to affirm his recent suspicions.
The hackles rising on the back of his neck with a feeling of being
watched throughout the last few days, when he travelled across the Nile
by ferry or wandered past the street hawkers at night, shopping for
necessities or simply browsing for anything that caught his eye. And on
the previous evening, he thought he had narrowly given a mugger the slip
by cutting through a dark alleyway into the rear exit of the hotel, but
what if it wasn't his wallet the man had been after?

Daniel shivered involuntarily, making the decision there and then to get
out of Luxor that night and go back to Cairo where he could immerse
himself in the safe haven of the museum. He had plenty of research he
could do there and the dig was turning out to be a lot less promising
than he had originally hoped. The decision made, he left his hotel room
and strode down the hall towards the elevator.

Two floors down, Daniel knocked on Roger Blackwood's door, entering the
room at the older man's bidding and joining him on the small veranda as
the sunset over the Valley of the Kings turned the sky dusky pink,
gradually darkening through orange into deep blue.

"If it's all right with you, I thought I might go back up to Cairo to do
some research on the pictograms we've found inside the tunnel so far,"
Daniel explained to the archaeologist.

"Yes, that's not a bad idea, it does look like we'll find little more in
the way of writings or artefacts now," Blackwood agreed, frowning
slightly. "Such a shame that the tomb appears to have been robbed so
thoroughly all those centuries ago. With the mint condition of the
entrance, I really thought we might have another Tutankhamun on our
hands."

Daniel shrugged, "I still believe you'll find another tunnel when you
finish unearthing the inner chamber. Another exit where the tomb robbers
escaped with the treasure. You may still find something they left
behind."

"Perhaps," Doctor Roger Blackwood nodded. "So, when will you leave?"

"I thought I might travel up tonight," Daniel suggested. "I'll contact
you if I find anything."

"Excellent!" The Englishman shook his hand, "Well, have a safe journey,
Doctor Jackson, and thanks for your help at the site. I do hope you find
something useful in your research to enable deciphering those
pictograms."

"So do I," Daniel agreed, "If you do unearth anything else, send me
details. You have my e-mail address."

"Yes, of course."

Daniel left the hotel room and stood beside the elevator for a long
moment before he realised both cars were still stationary on the lobby
level. With a shrug, he turned towards the stairwell and headed up the
two flights to pack his things before departing on his journey to Cairo.

Pushing open the exit at his own floor, Daniel stopped short, noticing a
dark shadow moving into the entrance to his room, the wooden door slowly
closing behind the stealthy figure. Without a second's hesitation,
Daniel turned and hurried back down the stairs, all the way to the
basement, ducking out amidst the piles of laundry and maintenance
trolleys that were strewn along the passage.

With a sense of urgency, he rummaged in one of the laundry carts and
pulled out a long gallabiya robe. In another bag he found a white scarf,
used by the Egyptians, turban style, to protect their heads from the
sun. Pulling the stolen items on over his American clothing as he went,
Daniel hurried for the emergency exit, breathing a sigh of relief as he
burst into the deserted alleyway.

Now as he wandered the temple grounds at Karnak several days later,
Daniel reflected on that frightened dash through the dark streets of
Luxor, when he was desperately wondering what anyone would want with
him, who could be after him. Frantically he had tried to figure out what
to do and who he might turn to for help. Finally, he had stopped at a
cafe and used the telephone in the back, charging the call to his visa
card and waiting with a growing sense of panic for the phone to connect
through and the other end to be answered.

When Jack had eventually spoken, for a second Daniel thought it was
actually him, then he recognised the words he had heard a dozen times
before, an abrupt but friendly "I'm not home, leave a message" taped
voice. And so Daniel had, watching the crowded room behind him nervously
as he attempted to explain his suspicions to the Colonel's home
answering machine.

After just three days in Cairo, it seemed incredible to be returning to
the city in the shadow of the tomb he had originally come to excavate.
Still he had hopped on the overnight train back into Upper Egypt,
heading straight for Karnak Temple upon his arrival in an effort to find
a big enough crowd to hide in, since Luxor was considerably less
populated than Cairo.

Two nights in a row he had slipped out and headed for the smaller
airport at Luxor, but each time he had spotted the now recognisable
bored looking Egyptian men dressed in their traditional gallabiya robes,
who displayed far more interest in each passing foreigner than was
normal for a local. Daniel was positive they were looking for him and
could only hope they wouldn't recognise him dressed as he was. Still at
least his trips to the airport had given him a chance to get cleaned up
in the public washrooms, he was beginning to smell like a camel and it
wasn't pleasant for him, let alone anyone who got too close. For someone
who was trying to keep his head down, stinking up public areas was not a
good way to hide.

Even so, it was frustrating to be within spitting distance of the
departure lounge and not be able to make it through, but he knew the
second he attempted to get through passport control, his watchers would
be alerted immediately. If only he had the money and contacts to get
some fake papers made up, he could be out of the country in a flash and
put an end to this insane game he had been forced into. He had got a
superb exchange rate for his much valued American dollars, but it was
still not enough to get him out of the country, smuggling and forgery
were expensive options, even in this poor nation.

Instead, he was left to flit from one crowd of tourists to the next,
constantly on the move to avoid any of the suspicious looking local
characters that his increasing paranoia were quite possibly conjuring up
out of thin air. Although, Daniel was certain he had seen several of
them making a move over the last few days. If he hadn't been on his toes
and known the area equally well, so that he could slip passed them
before he was trapped, the consequences didn't bear contemplating. If
only he knew what the hell they wanted with him.

Now he hadn't left the safety of the temple since Tuesday and he was
growing increasingly jumpy whenever he saw any Egyptian milling around
without the usual group of tourists. It also worried him that he hadn't
been able to contact Jack again since his initial panicked phone call.
By now his commanding officer was probably convinced he had come to a
sticky end.

Appreciating the shade beneath the columns stretching either side of the
obelisk of Tutmose I, Daniel overheard a couple of Italian tourists
discussing a new Internet Cafe that had opened up in the town centre,
next to the MacDonald's that had caused such an uproar by its presence
in the shadow of the ancient Luxor Temple. Storing that gem of
information, he resolved to sneak out with the next large group of
tourists and make his way up there. An e-mail message would be as good a
method of contact as any he could hope for right now.

~~~~~~~~~~

General Hammond was grimly pacing up and down in his office. All of his
spare people were busily working to complete the Pentagon's new reports
in time for the next Senate Committee hearing. He had met their specific
request for non-intervention in the current operation. He had followed
his orders to the letter. Then why did he feel so guilty?

He sighed deeply, he had just prepared court martial documents for
Colonel Jack O'Neill, one of his most valuable people, how else did he
expect to feel? Hammond shook his head despondently, "This is wrong,
George, and you know it!" He said to himself.

Coming to a decision, Hammond stopped pacing and sat down behind his
desk, reaching for the red hotphone resting on the polished surface.
"Get me the President!" He barked into the receiver as soon as a voice
responded.

Fifteen minutes of frustration later, the General slammed down the phone
and slumped back into his padded leather chair. The President was
unavailable, in some kind of crisis meeting, and would be incommunicado
for at least the next twenty four hours, so unless it was 'earth
shattering'.......

Hammond rubbed a hand across his chin nervously, if he couldn't plead
with the President's sense of loyalty, he would have to find some other
way to avoid processing those court martial papers. They may have him
over a barrel as far as Doctor Jackson was concerned, there was nothing
he could do to help the young man's situation, but he wasn't going to
see the leader of SG1 go down right along with him.

Hammond lifted a small silver key from his belt and unlocked the top
drawer of his desk, lifting out an envelope stamped with the official
Presidential seal. He opened up the orders and read the details again.
There was only one thing for it, he would have to get in touch with the
Operational Contact and discuss the situation. If he warned them about
O'Neill's presence in Egypt, they could take steps to ensure it did
nothing to hinder the mission, perhaps even revoke his visa and send him
back to the States. Then, maybe, Hammond could avoid having to court
martial the Colonel for interfering with an official government
operation.

Checking his watch, he quickly calculated the time difference, it would
be late evening over there by now, still he should be able to track him
down on the emergency line. Lifting the grey standard issue telephone,
Hammond began to dial the overseas number listed on his papers, drumming
his fingers on the desk impatiently as he waited for the call to go
through. "I urgently need to speak with Philip Marshall," he told the
female switchboard operator who answered.

~~~~~~~~~~

Friday morning found Captain Carter ensconced in Doctor Fraiser's office
with the door locked behind them and the blinds closed. She impatiently
downloaded her latest e-mails, rapidly scanning the list, looking for
Jack's id. Instead she spotted one she had least expected to see. "Oh my
god!" Sam pointed speechlessly.

Janet followed her finger to the entry on the list, from
DJ.abydos@aol.com. She turned to Sam, "Is that Daniel's id?"

Carter nodded, hurriedly dragging her mouse around the table and double
clicking to open the message. It was short, but sweet, "Having a
wonderful time, wish you were here! My guests are still with me. Please
pass this greeting on as I don't have everyone's address."

"Is that it! What does it mean?" Janet asked in amazement.

Sam grinned in relief, "Well, for a start, Jack has only just changed
his ISP, so I guess Daniel couldn't remember his new e-mail address. The
rest of it is just his way of telling us that he's okay at the moment,
but he's still being followed and could do with some help. All we have
to do is figure out a way to get Jack and Daniel together in one place
without giving the game away to anyone else."

"And we should tell General Hammond that we've heard from Daniel. Maybe
that will stop him from going ahead with the Colonel's court martial,"
Janet pointed out.

"No!" Carter said emphatically.

Janet stared at her incredulously, "What do you mean 'No'?"

"We should wait until Daniel is safe. Right now I don't trust Hammond. I
don't think we should tell him anything yet." She gazed at the note from
Daniel and then back at her friend, "Colonel O'Neill would understand."

"Okay," the doctor agreed dubiously, "But I sure hope you know what
you're doing."

"So do I," Carter muttered, composing a new message to send to her two
fellow SG1 members.

~~~~~~~~~~

Nine hours ahead of them, Egyptian time, the heat of the sun was finally
waning. Jack watched Philip Marshall exit the main door of the American
Embassy and exchange loud and cheerful Friday evening pleasantries with
another member of staff.

From his hiding place in close proximity amidst the dense shrubs
bordering the Embassy walls, O'Neill could hear everything the younger
man said. That included the useful fact that he was attending a VIP
reception at the Pyramids in Giza that evening, for a viewing of the
Sound and Light show at the site of the Sphinx.

Jack watched the Ambassador's assistant drive away in his clean, white,
and probably bullet proof, four wheel drive before carefully extricating
himself from his hiding place. He headed back into the city centre,
aiming to catch a taxi up to the plateau at Giza. A thirty minute drive
away in the light traffic of this quiet evening, already halfway through
the Egyptian weekend.

O'Neill arrived with enough time to grab a fast meal in the local Pizza
Hut, situated almost opposite the Son Et Lumiere entrance booth. The
restaurant was another of those strange shared franchises that seemed to
have sprung up all over Cairo's sprawling city, population sixteen
million and rising. This particular one shared shop fronts with a
Kentucky Fried Chicken, although the golden crumbed pieces they were
serving in cardboard buckets looked like nothing Jack had ever seen
Colonel Sanders eat. Instead he settled for a nice safe, but meagre,
cheese and tomato thin 'n' crispy accompanied by a litre bottle of cold
mineral water to replace some of the dehydration he had suffered lurking
outside the US Embassy all day.

Less than an hour later, O'Neill had purchased a ticket for that
evening's English language version of the show and headed along the dark
tree lined path towards the open ground where the rapidly filling rows
of chairs were situated in front of the Sphinx. The red glow of a
spotlight shone on the regal statue where it had crouched patiently for
millennia, below the crest of Giza plateau and the three vast pyramids,
the tombs of kings.

Even Jack had to admit that the sight of the Great Pyramids silhouetted
against the darkening sky was something to behold, but he couldn't help
recall images of the Abydos pyramid with Ra's ship settled on top. He
casually wondered whether these structures had anything quite so
elaborate inside them as the chambers and pillars leading to the
Stargate in the one on Abydos. Daniel would know, maybe if he ever
caught up with him, he would remember to ask.

The Colonel took up a discreet position a few rows from the back, where
he could watch the diplomatic rituals being played out at the front.
Philip Marshall was greeting a group of complete strangers as if they
were old friends, shaking hands with exaggerated enthusiasm and kissing
the cheeks of female members of the party. He settled them all into
their seats with bare seconds to spare before the spotlights dimmed.

The laser show began with a disembodied vocal accompaniment,
reverberating eerily against the massive sandstone pyramids and across
the open ground surrounding them. O'Neill kept his eye on Marshall
throughout, watching him across the crowded rows separating them,
knowing that it would be very easy to lose him after the show with this
many tourists wandering around in the dark. He would have to be on his
toes.

An hour later the last laser light petered out and the air fell silent
for a brief moment. Then the Egyptian guides began to corral the crowd
back along the dark roads, anxious to clear the stragglers as quickly as
possible, so that the next attendees might take their seats for the
repeat showing in Japanese or French or whichever language was next on
the schedule that night.

In the mad scramble of hurrying tourists, Jack lost sight of his target
and was beginning to panic when he spotted the man heading away from the
main throngs, across the open stretch of ground between the Sphinx and
the rows of ramshackle housing that bordered the area. With a quick
glance around to ensure noone was watching, O'Neill hurried across the
empty space to follow Marshall into the narrow passages leading between
the old mud and brick housing that had grown up over the centuries.

The sudden silence was tangible. The receding noise of the crowds
muffled by the densely packed buildings, which surrounded him
claustrophobically. Jack hid in an unlit doorway to watch Philip
Marshall stop beneath the rare sight of a brightly lit electrical
porchlight outside one of the tiny homes, greeting the occupants in
their guttural native tongue. His voice was low and indistinct, but the
Colonel knew it would have done him no good to hear the words, only
Daniel could have helped him there.

Fortunately, it appeared to be a simple passing courtesy call. A brief,
friendly conversation, before the Ambassador's assistant went on his
way. Avoiding the circle of light surrounding the house, Jack pressed
himself into the shadows and continued to follow through the maze of
streets, praying he wouldn't lose the man before they reached the main
thoroughfare again, or he might never find his way out in the dark.

Seeing Marshall turn another corner, Jack stepped up his pace, eager to
get him back in view, almost slamming head on into a large heavyset
Egyptian with a bushy moustache approaching from the opposite direction.

"Excuse me," O'Neill murmured quietly, attempting to duck around the
moving obstacle. The man shifted sideways to block his path, placing two
large hands on Jack's chest to stop his forward momentum. With his prey
rapidly disappearing around the next corner, Jack glanced up in
surprise, his breath catching in his throat at the look of dark
malevolence on the face of the stranger.

O'Neill stepped back, quickly recognising the downturn in the situation.
He turned rapidly to duck down a different dark alleyway, pulling up
short at the sight of another equally immovable force coming towards him
from the shadows. Whirling around Jack attempted to head back the way he
had come, preferring flight to fight given the odds, but his circle
continued a full 360 degrees as he found himself surrounded by eight
large figures appearing out of nowhere and closing in menacingly.

Jack swallowed dryly, seeking a way out, and did the only thing he
could, running for the biggest gap in the encroaching circle. He feinted
left, away from the lunging arms of the nearest assailant, and barrelled
into the next one who had stepped across to block his path. O'Neill
smashed his right fist into the man's solar plexus, as he doubled over
in pain, Jack grabbed his thick black hair with both hands, yanking the
Egyptian's head down to meet O'Neill's rising left kneecap, feeling the
crunching bone of the man's nose from the forceful impact.

The Colonel rammed the dazed and bleeding heavyweight against the next
man, knocking both off their feet like nine pins. He turned to head
through the narrowing gap, but his arms were grabbed from behind,
dragging him backwards as a dark shadow loomed into view and punched him
in the stomach with a fist like concrete, forcing all the oxygen from
his lungs and leaving his head swimming sickeningly.

Winded and gasping for breath, Jack gritted his teeth, trying to focus.
Summoning his remaining strength, he leaned his weight back onto the man
holding his arms and lifted both feet to kick out flat booted against
the chest of the one in front. Taken by surprise, the bulky opponent was
propelled backwards over the sprawling legs of Jack's first victim to
join a heap of entangled bodies, all yelling and cursing unintelligibly.

Momentarily gaining the upper hand, O'Neill tipped forwards suddenly
and, with all his force, flipped the man still pinning his arms. Caught
off balance, he went straight over the Colonel's head to land on the
growing pile, leaving Jack free to turn and run.

But his escape was cut short, the fight over within seconds when the
remaining four attackers moved in for the kill together. It took two to
hold Jack's arms, twisting them behind his back painfully until he was
unable to move without dislocating a shoulder. The other two taking
turns to use his body for a punching bag, keeping him subdued until
their leader could extricate himself from the other half of the gang
still lying on the ground, to rejoin the fray and exact his revenge.

Jack's head lolled forward as he fought to stay conscious, the coppery
taste of blood in his mouth, his lip split open, jaw aching. An unseen
man yanked his head back by a handful of his short cropped hair, forcing
him to face the leader. He gasped for breath raggedly, his chest and
stomach aflame from repeated pounding by the two Egyptians.

O'Neill tried to focus his blurring vision, wanting at the very least to
etch the gang leader's face into memory should he ever get the chance to
meet him alone on a dark street when the odds would be more evenly
matched. His double vision narrowed onto a single pair of glaring eyes
and Jack knew that was one face he would not forget. The evil leer
caused him to brace himself, knowing instinctively that the worst was
not yet over.

A gleam of malicious intent stared back, a malevolent smile twisting the
face beyond human as he barked an order in their native language. To
Jack's surprise his arms were suddenly released and his legs buckled, no
longer able to stand unaided. He sank to his knees, thrusting out a hand
to stop his fall, and felt sheer screaming agony as a heavily booted
foot slammed down onto his outstretched fingers, grinding nerve against
bone, before knocking his arm out from beneath him and kicking him
violently to the ground. The last thing Jack remembered was the cold
steel toe of a boot impacting his left temple.

~~~~~~~~~~

Saturday morning shone sunny and clear over Colorado. Samantha Carter
pulled down her sun visor to shield the bright rays as she turned
eastwards, making her way along the quiet, tree lined street towards
Doctor Fraiser's house. Pulling her car into the driveway, she climbed
out and headed up to the front door, slinging a laptop computer in its
leather carry case over her shoulder.

"Sam!" Cassie exclaimed in delight when she opened the door in response
to the Captain's knocking.

"Hi kiddo, how're you doing?" Sam greeted the girl, following her into
the kitchen where Janet was sipping at her first cup of coffee of the
day, attempting to wake herself sufficiently before heading off for
another long weekend shift at the base.

"I'm fine. Jack's taking me out this afternoon!" Cassie sat back down at
the table to finish eating her breakfast cereal.

Carter flashed a startled look at Janet, who sighed deeply, "Now Cassie,
you know I told you that Colonel O'Neill was still out of town, I don't
think he's going to be able to make it back this weekend, after all.
That's why Sam's here, she's going to look after you while I'm at work,"
she explained to her daughter patiently.

"But, Jack promised he'd be here!" Cassie pouted sulkily, slumping her
shoulders in disgust.

"I know, honey!" Janet gave her a quick hug, "And you know that he'd be
here if he could, but he's doing something very important at the
moment."

Cassie stared at her, weighing up the validity of what she had said
before nodding unhappily, "I s'pose," she said, turning her attention
back to the bowl in front of her to shovel another spoonful of cereal
into her mouth hungrily.

Janet poured a cup of coffee for Sam and topped up her own mug before
turning to the Captain, "So what did he say?" She asked simply, keeping
the conversation as vague as possible within Cassandra's earshot.

Sam grimaced worriedly, "Nothing!"

"What do you mean nothing?"

"He didn't send anything. He hasn't e-mailed me since Thursday!" Carter
explained, "That's why I brought this with me," she patted the case
still hanging on her shoulder, "so I could check again when I got here."

Leaving Cassie in the kitchen to finish her breakfast, the two women
headed into the living room where Sam unpacked her laptop, perching it
on the coffee table and connecting the telephone lead to check her e-
mail again.

A few minutes later, Janet and Sam stared at the still empty inbasket,
waiting for someone to have a bright idea. In the end, Janet said the
only positive thing she could think of, "Well, it is the middle of the
Egyptian weekend, I expect Jack's busy chasing around after that embassy
fellow on his hectic social schedule. We'll just have to be patient,
maybe there'll be something tonight or tomorrow morning," she shrugged,
forcing a cheerful smile for the sake of the Captain.

"What's Jack doing in Egypt?" The curious young voice behind them
startled both women.

Janet turned around, wondering how long Cassie had been standing there,
"He's gone to see Daniel." She patted the chair beside her, indicating
for the girl to come and sit. "You remember? Doctor Jackson went to
Egypt for a new archaeological dig."

Cassie frowned dubiously, "But Jack hates rocks!"

Janet suppressed a smile, wondering if her adopted daughter had been
spending too much time in the Colonel's company. "Well, I don't think he
was planning on helping Daniel dig for them, Cass!"

The young girl looked across at Samantha, "Why didn't you go too, Sam?"

Carter hesitated uncomfortably, searching for a reason that would not be
a lie. Fortunately, Janet saved her, "Sam's having a bit of a problem
with her passport at the moment."

"I could go, my passport is fine!" Cassie piped up eagerly.

Sam looked surprised, "What are you doing with a passport?"

Janet shrugged resignedly, "It came as part of the identity papers they
issued Cassandra when she moved here. Typical government! They tell me
I'm not allowed to let Cassie leave the country, not even a trip across
the border, yet they issue her with a full valid passport!"

The doctor was still annoyed by the whole affair, it had been so hard to
explain to the disappointed girl that she wasn't going to be able to see
every corner of this wonderful new world she had come to live on. Not
for a long time yet, until the US Government, in their infinite wisdom,
decided that she was trustworthy enough to roam the planet without
spilling the beans on where she originated from. Now it looked like that
discussion would need repeating a few more times before it finally sank
in, "Cassie, you know you're not allowed to use that passport. It's just
for show, to prove who you are, remember?"

Cassie sighed deeply as only a troubled twelve year old could, "I know!
It's just that I'd so like to visit Egypt." She turned to Sam, "We've
been studying it in school, you know!"

Janet smiled to herself, listening to Sam and Cassandra get immersed in
discussions on the mythology and archaeology of Egypt. She got up from
the chair and went back into the kitchen to grab some more coffee before
heading to work. The grin slipped from her face as she found herself
alone to contemplate their missing friends, wondering how many more
sleepless nights would pass before they heard something more positive.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jack awoke to darkness and silence, his head pounding and fuzzy, unable
to focus, it took awhile to distinguish which way was up. He was lying
on one side, his body curled protectively, so he slowly rolled onto his
back. Uncertain whether his eyes were even open, he reached his right
hand to his face and that simple movement provoked a scream of agony
that awoke all his senses to every painful injury the length of his
body.

Gasping, he gingerly lowered his busted hand and tried with the other,
probing his left eye with long, dirt ground fingers. He found it swollen
shut, blood encrusted across the cut on his temple. His other eye was
definitely open, but when Jack waved the hand in front, he could see
nothing, wherever he was it was pitch black. There were no stars to be
seen, no moon or clouds, he had to be somewhere enclosed.

Bending his knees, O'Neill struggled to sit up, vaguely noticing his
boots and socks had been removed. His chest and stomach were one mass of
aching bruises and a throbbing pain flared in his side. Gritting his
teeth, Jack pushed with his feet, edging backwards slowly, only moving a
few yards before he hit something solid. He leaned against it, breathing
in ragged heaves.

The wall felt warm, probably sandstone, and the floor was sandy beneath
his fingers. The air was still, dry and dusty. Jack forced himself to
stand, leaning against the wall for support, his head pounding
nauseatingly. His fingers slid along the wall, feeling for a change of
texture, an opening, anything that might identify where he was and how
he could get out.

Six feet forward, he felt a join, where one stone slab ended and another
began, tightly laid side by side. Counting his steps in the darkness,
Jack continued along the wall, moving clockwise slowly, careful not to
jar any of his injuries. He came to another join, and another, each one
exactly the same distance apart. Reaching a corner, he turned, still
counting, until he had covered all four walls in full. Each wall was
exactly five slabs long and nowhere had he found a door. One single
nightmarish thought pushed to the front of his mind, he had been
entombed, buried alive.

"We're not in Kansas, anymore!" Jack murmured to himself shakily,
startled by the sound of fear in his own voice and spurred into action
by it. He went around the walls again, this time reaching down to the
ground and as high as he could, which wasn't far. The bruising on his
chest had him bent over and he held his right arm stiffly against his
side to avoid moving the damaged fingers. Somewhere in the back of his
mind, Jack wondered if he'd ever be able to pull a trigger again, but he
realised that was the least of his worries if he didn't find a way out
of this tomb.

"HEY!" The loudness of his shout surprised him, "GET ME THE HELL OUTTA
HERE!" He yelled angrily, listening closely to the returning quiet for
any tell tale sound of reaction. A slight scuffling of boot against
dirt, an uncomfortable cough, anything that might indicate he hadn't
been left alone to suffocate and die. He heard nothing except his own
heartbeat and in the ensuing silence Jack began to wonder how much air
was left in the room, imagining he could feel it slowly getting thinner
until he was practically hyperventilating.

Calm down, O'Neill, he thought to himself. Slow breaths. You'll find a
way out. And if you don't....... Well it's not like you're gonna be
stuck here for the next four months. Four months! "Shit!" He said out
loud, feeling a sudden cold sweat break out on his forehead as he began
to tremble, bile rising in his throat. He swallowed, clenching his left
hand to his pounding temple and trying to control the onset of shock.

"Come on Jack, you know it's not gonna be that bad, it's nothing to
chuck up over," he told himself soothingly. Besides, an inner voice
pointed out helpfully, that pizza you ate last night could be the last
food you'll get for awhile. And that was that, a vision of what was
probably about the worst meal in recent history came rushing into Jack's
head and he could no longer contain his stomach contents, retching
convulsively until all that remained were dry heaves that left him
coughing painfully and gasping for breath.

Kicking up loose sand with his bare feet to cover the disgusting pile,
O'Neill stumbled away to the far wall and sank down against the warm
sandstone dejectedly. He slammed his left fist against the ground, the
movement jarring his aching chest. His face contorted in a fierce
struggle of emotions, fighting desperately to suppress the mind numbing
terror of being trapped and enclosed again.

"Damnit, Jack, you can do better than this. For crying out loud, get it
together," he shouted at himself angrily, concentrating on bringing his
breathing under control. "One step at a time," he murmured faintly.
Closing his eyes, he tried to push away the unforgettable images which
dragged him back inexorably, trying to imagine he was somewhere else,
wide open countryside, clean air and a cool breeze.

~~~~~~~~~~

Sunday had been a strange day for Doctor Jackson, it had started out
much the same as any of the previous seven days. He had woken from a
fitful sleep in the safest place he had found to hide for the night.
This particular time it had been curled up beneath the seats high in the
grandstand overlooking the manmade lake in the grounds of Karnak Temple,
from where a part of the Sound and Light show was broadcast each
evening. Saturday nights were particularly crowded and Daniel had found
it easy to lose himself from his pursuers in the throngs of tourists
flooding into the rows of seats. At the end of the final show, it had
taken little skill to hide at the top level until everyone had left and
the grounds were plunged into darkness once more.

Since daybreak, he had wandered the length and breadth of the temple
grounds, mixing with the Sunday morning visitors, but had not seen any
of the suspicious looking Egyptians that had been in his shadow for the
last week and a half. He was almost beginning to wonder whether he had
imagined their presence, but he knew that all of a sudden there were
noticeably fewer locals hanging around the place and all the ones he had
seen were surrounded by noisy groups of tourists, all eager to get
information from their expert guide.

Even so, Daniel waited until after dusk before he dared venture out into
the city, exiting under cover of darkness with the rest of the crowds
and heading quickly across the busy evening streets to the Internet
Cafe, hoping to make contact with Captain Carter again. Maybe this time
he could actually risk waiting on the premises for an answer, assuming
that Sam was checking her mail often enough to respond that fast.

Occupying a seat near the back of the cafe, where he had a good view of
both exits, Daniel logged on to his AOL account for the first time since
he had e-mailed Sam the previous Thursday. He was relieved to find a
reply and even more pleased, once he had deciphered her weird coding
system, to see that Jack had come after him and was currently in Cairo.
Now all they needed to do was meet up and they could head home together,
assuming Daniel's new found "loneliness" wasn't simply a way to lull him
into a false sense of security.

Quickly Daniel typed a message back to Sam, copying Jack's userid on it,
which he obtained from the note Sam had sent to them both. It was a
short message, the important fact being that, as Daniel put it,
"Suddenly it's like my visitors have found something better to do with
their time!" Mailing it off, Daniel ordered another cup of coffee and
sat back to wait, wondering how long he should risk staying.

His mug was still half full when the computer in front of him started
flashing a "You Have Mail" sign. He opened it eagerly, relieved that he
had obviously caught Sam at the right time of day for her to be online.
He scanned down her brief message, rapidly absorbing the simple
sentences, this time no decoding was necessary:

"Happy to hear from you. Looking forward to seeing you
soon.......Daniel, have you heard from Jack?"

He frowned at those last words, typing off a quick negative response,
"No, should I have done?"

~~~~~~~~~~

In the shadowy cool living room of Doctor Fraiser's home, the curtains
were closed against the bright sunlight of early afternoon. A blue white
glow shone from the laptop computer screen, making the shocked faces of
the two women sitting in front of it appear even more pale. The open
boxes of a barely touched Chinese take out lay discarded and congealing
on the table, next to an empty coffee pot, the remaining contents
currently going cold in two forgotten mugs resting beside the computer.

Janet and Sam stared at the brief contents of Daniel's second message.
"Where the hell is he?" The doctor murmured worriedly.

Sam glanced at her, a dreadful idea slowly forming in her mind as she
repeated Daniel's earlier words, "They suddenly found something better
to do with their time!" She paused, swallowing dryly as she contemplated
the screen with wide blue eyes. Her voice shook when she spoke again,
"What if Daniel is right?" She turned to stare at the doctor, "What if
they did find something better to do?"

Janet gazed at her, a look of shock shadowing her exhausted face when
she realised what Sam was implying, "Then to hell with security!" She
exclaimed, "We have to tell Daniel. We have to see if he can find out
what's happened to Jack."

~~~~~~~~~~

Jack couldn't tell how long had passed, it might have been hours or
days. He was suffering almost complete sensory deprivation and had been
sleeping fitfully. All he knew for sure was that he was still dying of
thirst, but no longer hungry, and he was beginning to get used to the
constant presence of pain. His body was beginning to shut down, that
much was clear. It did occur to him that at least the air had not run
out, there was obviously some oxygen entering the room, if only he could
identify the source.

More worrying though was the fact that the temperature had not varied
discernibly throughout any of his moments of consciousness. It had
remained constantly warm, he had to be somewhere deep or underground for
it to be so unaffected by the fierce desert variations, assuming he was
still in Egypt, of course. Maybe he had been buried alive after all.
Jack shivered involuntarily and considered his options.

A feeble attempt to scale the wall in search of a higher exit, ended
painfully. With one hand out of action hanging uselessly at his side,
Jack tried wedging himself into a corner, using his elbow, back and feet
to work his way up. He dug his toes into the join of the second layer of
stone blocks about two yards above, but when he tried to move along the
wall with only his left fingers to grip, his precarious hold was
shortlived. He slipped and fell backwards, landing on the solid floor,
stunned and screaming in agony when his broken hand thudded against the
ground beside him.

He could still feel the smashed bone and nerves tingling from the impact
as he sat cross legged on the floor, his wrist resting on his thigh.
Contemplating other methods of climbing the walls, mentally Jack
realised that was pretty much already happening. He snorted ironically,
the noise loud to ears that had nothing else to hear except his own
breathing.

The Colonel forced himself to review the situation analytically.
Firstly, he was trapped in an enclosed tomb, but there was air coming in
from somewhere. Logically, if they wanted him dead, they would have
blocked the ventilation off. Therefore, if they wanted him alive they
would probably turn up sooner or later. At that point he would at least
find out where the exit was.

Assuming the way out was high up, what were his chances for escape? His
right hand was useless and his left eye swollen shut, then again it was
pitch black, so sight was not exactly a priority. His other injuries
were debilitating, but so far did not appear life threatening. Jack
wondered about internal bleeding, his chest hurt whenever he so much as
breathed, but he had experienced worse. He pulled the tail of his grubby
t-shirt out of his khakis and raised the front, pressing the long
fingers of his left hand against his stomach, wincing as he gingerly
probed the bruising for any sign of other damage.

Jack wished he'd taken more notice of Doctor Fraiser's all too frequent
physical examinations, maybe he'd have a better clue of what he was
looking for. Even so, he basically knew that if he pressed hard enough
in the right place, any damage to his internal organs would hurt, a lot.
The trouble was, he was so badly bruised it was almost impossible to
discern superficial agony from a deeper problem. In the end, Jack
decided that if he was bleeding internally, he would probably have more
definite signs by now than an ever present painful ache. Still, they had
really messed him up well the other night, he thought ruefully, if only
he could figure out who 'they' were.

~~~~~~~~~~

Daniel sat back in his chair, astounded. He had waited an hour for this
new e-mail from Captain Carter. Sunday evening had turned into night and
the cafe was near closing time, but now he stared at the long,
devastating message from Samantha Carter, his blue eyes wide.

Jack had gone AWOL to come and find him, risking his career by going
directly against General Hammond's orders, and now, unbelievably,
Hammond was actually court martialling him for it. To top it all, Jack
hadn't made contact in three days having spent the last week following
around some guy who worked for the US Embassy who may be involved, only
noone knew how. "What the hell is going on?" Jackson murmured in a low
voice, "None of this makes any sense!"

Mentally getting a grip on himself, Daniel began to type rapidly,
sending another message back to Sam. He would head up to Cairo and see
what he could find out. Now that the heavies had been called off, he
should be able to move around easily. Egypt was like home, he could
blend in, maybe even find out why they were after him in the first
place, or why they might have gone after Colonel O'Neill. Jackson shook
his head at that last thought, feeling a heavy burden of guilt that Jack
had jeopardised his career and could now be in danger because he had
come after Daniel.

"Come on! Jack's probably just busted his computer or something. I'm
sure he's fine," Daniel told himself unconvincingly, feeling his stomach
tighten as fear began to take hold once more.

~~~~~~~~~~

A six foot square Iraqi prison cell. Not even enough space for O'Neill
to stretch out horizontally and certainly no room for a bunk, but after
three months it could be called home. A single tiny ventilation grille
shed dim light on his simple abode, a solid concrete floor, with a
rusting bucket in one corner. Once a week the guards took him outside to
bury its contents, an outing he looked forward to for the chance to see
daylight, to feel the sun on his face and imagine he was somewhere else.
Walking in the surf on the beach with Sara during their honeymoon in
Maui. Or their last camping trip to the rockies, an unforgettable
picnic, basking in the summer sun in total sheltered isolation from the
world, where one thing had led to another and their son had been
conceived. Memories like that could keep him alive for days at a time.

Withdrawn into the past, Jack regarded his familiar surroundings,
sweltering during the daytime, freezing and shivering in the dead of
night. Listening to rodents and insects scurrying around the floor,
praying they might pause long enough to provide him with food. The
muffled cries of suffering men carried on the still air and O'Neill
thanked God for ensuring his captors had chosen a different victim to
prey on that evening. He didn't know how many more beatings his own
aching body could take from the sadistic prison guards.

A cramping in his legs forced Jack to struggle to his feet. Leaning
against the warm sandstone wall he pushed up with his hands, screaming
in agony as bolts of fire shot up his right arm, forcing him abruptly
back to the present. He was surrounded by complete darkness, there was
no sound, no movement of air from a ventilating breeze, no rustle of
potential nutrition scurrying across the floor.

This was Egypt, not Iraq, and he hadn't been here nearly so long, but he
was already suffering from dehydration just like before. Jack didn't
know how much time had passed, but his body told him it had to be at
least a couple of days already. If he didn't get fluids into his system
soon, he would be dead in another forty eight hours. And this time he
knew he wasn't as strong, the same things that got him through those
four months no longer applied. He had no family to return to, his career
was over, and he had failed his friend. Wherever Daniel was, he would
not be able to help him now.

~~~~~~~~~~

By Monday lunch time, with a convincing story and a dazzling smile for
the housemaid, Daniel had managed to charm his way into Jack's hotel
room at the Sheraton in the centre of Cairo. He found the laptop
computer that O'Neill had borrowed from his own room in Luxor, but no
sign of his favourite camcorder. Chatting further with the maid, he
found that the room had not been used since Friday, the towels and
sheets still as crisp and clean as when the girl had changed them three
days before.

Daniel never thought he'd be glad to be wearing western clothes again,
but it felt so good to be freshly showered and dressed in a set of clean
clothes from Jack's holdall. It wasn't the first time he'd had to borrow
from the Colonel's predictable, but comfortable wardrobe, and, as usual,
the pair of khakis he selected were a little long in the leg, but at
least they shared the same waist size.

Armed with a visual image of Philip Marshall that Sam had e-mailed,
Daniel had no choice but to head for the US Embassy to try and track him
down, planning on acting in much the same way as he imagined Jack would.
But after five hours of hanging around in bushes that set him sneezing,
without having seen any sign of the man from the picture, Daniel gave up
and went in through the front door, flashing his American passport to
the Egyptian security at the gate.

"Good afternoon," he smiled broadly at the female receptionist seated
inside the cool marble hall of the Embassy lobby. "I wonder if it might
be possible to speak with Mr Philip Marshall?" He beamed even more
disarmingly.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Sir, but Mr Marshall is out of the country," she looked
genuinely apologetic, adding helpfully, "He only left this morning, he
went back home for a couple of days. Is there anyone else who can help?"

"No, it was a social call, actually. Never mind, I'll try and catch him
next week." Daniel's final smile was rather forced as he rapidly made
his exit, his mind whirling over the news that his only link to Jack's
disappearance was gone.

At a loss, Daniel headed back to Jack's hotel room and used the laptop
to e-mail Samantha Carter. Explaining what had transpired, he concluded,
"We need help, Sam. Maybe General Hammond will change his attitude when
he hears the Colonel is missing? I think we have to at least ask, we
have no other options. What do you think?"

He sent the message and sat back to wait, unable to prevent himself from
drifting off to sleep, the first time he had been on a comfortable bed
in almost two weeks.

~~~~~~~~~~

It was Monday morning in Cheyenne mountain when Captain Carter knocked
timidly on the door of General Hammond's office, voluntarily approaching
him for the first time in a week.

"Come!" The voice sounded gruff through the closed door. Swallowing
nervously, Sam reached for the handle, chiding herself for getting so
worked up about a conversation with her base commander. Only this was no
simple chat, she reminded herself, the Colonel's future was quite
possibly riding on the outcome.

"General Hammond, Sir!" Bracing herself, she strode into the room and
stood to attention, smartly saluting the General and holding it until he
had acknowledged her.

"At ease, Captain. What can I do for you?" He asked without looking up
from the apparently riveting report he was perusing.

"General, I have to report that yesterday we successfully made contact
with Doctor Jackson, Sir," Carter continued to speak in her most formal
military tone.

"That's good news, Captain," Hammond said, finally looking up from his
seat to study her grim face, "By 'We', I presume you mean yourself and
Colonel O'Neill?"

"No, Sir," Carter paused briefly, gathering her resolve, "General
Hammond, Sir. I regret to inform you that we lost contact with the
Colonel last Thursday. We haven't heard from him since." The Captain
took a deep breath, staring straight over his head, "Colonel O'Neill is
missing, Sir!" The fact spoken so definitely for the first time,
Carter's strength fled and she looked at him miserably, "He's gone,
Sir."

A look of confusion flickered in Hammond's eyes as he absorbed these new
developments. Finally, he said, "I'm sure there's a simple explanation
for this, Captain. I'll see what I can find out."

And with that, Sam was dismissed, leaving the General's office wondering
how he was going to find out. Who was he going to talk to? She stepped
into the elevator and glanced up at the security camera in the opposite
corner, an idea beginning to form. Now might be a good time to carry out
the weekly inspection of base security that the Pentagon specified in
their latest list of new requirements, she decided, punching the control
panel with a vengeance.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jack had been in Iraq for over three months and it seemed like an
eternity. He was beginning to think his eyes would never see colour
again amidst the drab beige desert scenery, broken only by the brown mud
brick prison camp filled with the dirty hardened faces of his companions
in this misery. He felt like he had been experiencing the same waking
nightmare for years.

Even so, it was a rare sight to see each and every surviving prisoner
lined up in front of the barracks, standing like crooked wooden soldiers
awaiting their orders. O'Neill surveyed the row of broken men, wondering
why he was not among them, why he had been singled out from the crowd.
>From recent experience, he knew it could only mean one thing and that
truth seemed assured as he watched three guards approach in the wake of
an officer, the camp commandant, striding towards the centre of the
yard, bristling with self importance.

Jack stood as straight as he could manage, prepared to face his death in
the way he had ultimately planned he would. In the months of his
imprisonment, it was one thing he'd had time to come to terms with,
knowing that one day the possibility would become all too real. Of
course, he had prayed for an alternative outcome a million times over,
even imagined the happy ending where he was released into the arms of
his loving wife, returning to his family and his home. In fact, he had
dreamed of the event on a nightly basis, but hope was never enough and
reality now intervened. He stood steadfast, awaiting his death, his
peace long since made. His apologies resolved into thoughts he would
never be able to voice, but somehow felt sure Sara knew. He just wished
he could have told her himself, one final time.

The Iraqi officer stopped before him, a sadistic smile crossing his face
as he barked an order. O'Neill braced himself for the imminent end.
Instead, his rope bound hands were released and he felt the cold metal
of a semiautomatic weapon being pressed into his palm.

"One bullet, two choices," the Iraqi leered cruelly, signalling for his
men to drag forward one of the other prisoners, randomly selected from
the row of insignificant enemy faces watching the proceedings intently.
"Him or you!" The officer held up a single .45 calibre cartridge between
his fingers, adding in clear Oxford-educated English, "One shot to the
head!" He grinned widely, clearly enjoying his latest game.

Calling his men closer, he handed Jack the smooth cartridge, a single
lead bullet in a full metal jacket. O'Neill slowly loaded the dusty old
Colt with trembling fingers, releasing the clip and struggling to insert
the single shell. One of the guards pressed the barrel of his
Kalashnikov rifle against the base of Jack's skull. There was no way
out, he had to make a choice.

Shakily, O'Neill slotted the clip back into the handgun, retracting the
bolt to draw the cartridge into the firing chamber. He lifted his head,
staring at the cringing prisoner in front of him. Their eyes met, and
for a moment he saw a reflection of himself in that pale blue gaze. A
dim, distant recollection of how life had once been, before this war,
how he had hoped it could someday be again. But now, for one of them at
least, that would no longer be possible.

Thinking once more about the family he had left behind, Jack raised the
weapon, his arm extending before him, pointing straight at his fellow
prisoner as he released the safety. Slowly, reluctantly, he tightened
his finger around the trigger, his hand beginning to shake
uncontrollably from the tension and exertion upon muscles that had been
neglected for months. Tears of regret shone in his eyes, but no matter
how desperate he was to see Sara again, there were some things he just
could not live with. In one fluid motion, Jack bent his elbow, aimed the
barrel directly at his own temple and pulled the trigger.

The click of the falling hammer was shockingly loud to his ears, but he
heard no subsequent explosion of cartridge, felt no deathly impact
against his skull. The badly maintained collector's piece had failed.

Jack sagged to his knees in horrified relief as the Iraqi officer began
furiously yelling orders in his guttural native tongue. Obeying
unquestioningly, the guard with a Kalashnikov still aimed at O'Neill's
head, raised the barrel slightly and fired a single round at point blank
range.

Cringing at the sound, Jack waited to feel the excruciating blossom of
pain in the moments before death, but he felt nothing. Instead he heard
a soft gasp of surprise, a final lungful of air suddenly expelled, and
the scuffle of feet against dirt.

O'Neill gingerly raised his head in time to see his fellow prisoner fall
to the ground, a bright red circle spreading across his chest from a
bullet to the heart. Screaming in outrage, Jack found some hidden
strength in his broken body and lunged towards the smug officer, but his
hands never reached the throat of his target. He was grabbed from behind
and dragged away, kicking and yelling obscenities. The two guards could
barely hear their leader's furious commands above the noisy American
airman.

They hauled Jack's writhing body to one corner of the prison yard, where
an isolated packing case sized steel box was suspended on wooden stilts.
O'Neill could smell the dark steamy stench of the enclosure before they
even removed the padlock to open the door. He would have begged for
mercy if he didn't already know it would only serve to double the
duration of his stay. He had seen it happen before, but never in his
worst nightmare had he expected it to happen to him.

As the door was sealed on his new cramped living conditions, Jack tried
to shift his thin, six foot plus frame into any vaguely comfortable
position, desperate to relieve the pressure on the half healed sores
covering his badly beaten back and legs. The tips of his bare toes were
already burning against the overheated metal, his knees pressed into his
chest and his shoulders sandwiched against the opposite side. Jack began
to sweat profusely, the salty fluid ran down his face and into his
mouth, mixing with the taste of fear as he contemplated certain death
within this ready made coffin, realising his valiant efforts to save a
fellow prisoner had been for nothing.

~~~~~~~~~~

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