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Passages of Time part 4

Passages of Time - Part Four:

Sometime in the dark hours before dawn on that Tuesday morning, Doctor
Fraiser had eventually succumbed to a fitful doze, but Daniel had no
hope of the same. He was left with a gnawing dread in the pit of his
stomach that told him this particular story was not going to have a
happy ending, he just didn't know where the tragedy was going to strike
next. Maybe it was sheer exhaustion compounding his doom laden thoughts,
he had been surviving on nervous energy alone for two weeks now, hard
pushed to remember exactly when he last got more than three hours sleep
in one day. Either way, he had a horrible feeling that it wasn't over
for Jack yet, and he was beginning to doubt that it ever would be.

By mid morning, Janet was sleeping soundly, her head resting on the side
of the chair. The blanket had slipped down to pool in her lap and her
wrist hung over the wooden arm, dangling loosely against the mattress of
the hospital bed. Daniel knew it was the best thing she could be doing,
they needed her to be as strong and self assured as they had come to
rely upon in times of crisis. She had saved them countless times, now it
could be their turn to save her, but first they had to get Jack to talk.
If they were going to find out what had happened to Cassie, he had to
tell them whatever he could.

Jack was lying on his right side again, sub consciously chosen for its
lack of injuries. Doctor Halib had put a couple of neat stitches into
the head wound above his left eye and the burns on his feet were being
treated with a strong antiseptic ointment to deal with the infection.
The x-rays had shown a cracked rib where he had been kicked, but his
skull had remained intact.

It had been a miracle, the Egyptian doctor had declared, that he did not
suffer further fractures to his ribcage or internal bleeding, but the
patient was strong, his chest was just bruised. "Extremely badly
bruised," he had added with a wince. Now they could do nothing further
until the blood tests came back, "which may take a little while", Doctor
Halib had estimated with a vague shrug. In the meantime, the Colonel
might wake up anytime, "En shallah, God willing," the doctor had smiled
reassuringly.

On that, it seemed, he was correct. Just over two days after they had
rescued him, whilst Daniel patiently marked the passage of time, leaning
against the window sill to watch his sleeping friends, he saw a flicker
of movement on Jack's face. A tiny slit of white appeared against the
dark black bruising of his left eye, growing wider as he blinked in the
soft light of the hospital room. The morning sun palely penetrating the
closed window blinds.

Silently, Daniel watched the reaction on his face to the presence of
daylight, something most people would take for granted unless they had
been imprisoned in absolute darkness for eight days. The seemingly
permanent frown softened and the dark brown eyes opened wider, examining
the immediate view as it slowly came into focus, still too afraid to
believe it until the initial images could be verified by something more
tangible. Jack's vision gradually cleared to gaze upon the sleeping
doctor, her fingers within reach of his left hand. One touch would prove
reality over imaginary.

Daniel saw Jack's arm gradually reach across, stretching inexorably
towards another human being, to confirm the welcome sight of a friend.
And in that simple binding gesture, he understood just how far Jack had
been taken from them. And how long a road it might be, before he would
be able to regain any faith in humanity or even trust in his friends
again.

As Jack's fingertips tentatively brushed Janet's, Daniel wiped a hand
over his eyes and shifted slightly, seeing Doctor Fraiser reluctantly
dragged from sleep. A soft smile spread slowly across her face as she
focused on Jack's open gaze. She sat up, immediately switching into
professional mode, talking quietly to the Colonel to explain where he
was. She poured some mineral water from a bottle on the night stand into
a plastic cup and gave him a sip, warning him not to drink too much.
Then Daniel set his face into a broad smile and stepped into view to
welcome him back.

Together they helped Jack sit up as painlessly as possible, propping
pillows behind his back. Daniel found himself holding his breath,
waiting for Janet to ask the obvious question, "Do you remember what
happened, Colonel?"

Jack frowned, thinking hard. "I think I got into a fight with some
locals," he eventually said, his hesitant voice a hoarse whisper. "I
guess I lost," he winced, "That was Friday evening, what day is it now?"

"It's Tuesday, Jack," Daniel hugged his arms across his chest nervously,
"Eleven days later!" The Colonel stared at him in disbelief, until
Daniel nodded affirmatively, "You don't remember anything after that?"

Jack thought for a moment, "No, should I?"

Daniel rubbed his chin with his hand, unsure of what to say next in the
circumstances. Janet beat him to it, "What about Cassie?"

The way that Jack's face suddenly went blank, as if the lights had gone
out, frightened Daniel to the core. But the doctor did not seem to
notice, asking with growing despair, "Colonel, have you seen Cassie
lately?" Jack shook his head, apparently confused by her question, but
his eyes were dark, unfocused, as though seeing something his brain was
denying him access to.

Daniel placed a hand on Janet's arm, getting her attention before she
could speak again, "Doctor Fraiser, we should inform Doctor Halib that
the Colonel is conscious. Perhaps they have the results of the blood
tests. See if it's safe to give him something for the pain now that he's
awake." She looked at him and he saw the professional facade slip back
into place as she nodded and left the room.

The younger man turned back to the patient, who was examining his right
hand curiously, trying to wiggle the misshapen fingers. "I shouldn't do
that if I were you.......," Daniel trailed off, his warning too late as
Jack's face contorted in agony. The resultant effort to utter a dozen
expletives through gritted teeth caused a coughing fit, sending jarring
tremors across his chest that left him bent over in pain.

Daniel placed a hand on Jack's shoulder, easing him upright and holding
the cup of water for him to sip from. As he leaned back against the
pillows, trying to catch his breath, Daniel perched on the edge of the
bed, watching him closely, "Hurts bad?"

Jack looked at him silently, guardedly, as if he didn't know what to
trust. "I guess at least you know you're alive," Daniel added with an
uneasy shrug, knowing he couldn't begin to guess what was going on
inside that tortured mind. He saw a flicker of something in Jack's dark
eyes, a memory or a recognition, he didn't know which.

"Daniel, what happened to me?" Jack's quietly spoken question shocked
the younger man, who hesitated for a long moment before he could find a
suitably noncommittal answer.

Finally, he found his voice, "Near as we can figure it, you were
abducted and interrogated by some Russian led outfit."

Jack winced involuntarily, "The same guys that were after you?"

Daniel nodded uncomfortably, not wanting to go there, not wanting to
imagine what might have happened if they had gotten him instead of Jack.
Despising himself for feeling relief at his best friend's expense.

Jack looked at him, his own thoughts not dissimilar, "How did you get
away?" He asked curiously, deeply relieved that Daniel had apparently
escaped unscathed.

"They gave up on me, once they got hold of you," Daniel's voice was
choked. He still blamed himself for getting Jack involved in the first
place.

"Good!" Jack exclaimed, the idea of blame far from his mind. He frowned
slightly, "What were they after?"

"I think they wanted to ask some questions about the Stargate program,"
Daniel glanced away as vivid images flashed through his mind.

Jack caught his look and understood the meaning, his hoarse whisper
barely audible, "Torture?" Daniel nodded grimly, swallowing hard as he
reluctantly met the questioning gaze, his blue eyes shining.

"How long?" Jack's dark eyes pleaded for honesty.

Daniel licked his lips nervously, his throat inexplicably dry. "About
eight days," he admitted eventually wishing for the hundredth time that
they had found the Colonel sooner.

"Oh," Jack said flatly, staring blankly into the distance. "Another lost
week," he grimaced faintly.

"I'm sure you'll remember, when you're ready," Daniel said reassuringly.

"Why would I want to?" His bleak words left no room for debate as
silence descended upon them.

"Jack," Daniel finally began hesitantly, wondering whether this was the
right time, until he realised there was never going to be a good time,
"Apparently Cassie came to Cairo to look for you," he said carefully,
"She's missing.......We think you may have seen her."

"When?" The lack of surprise on Jack's face caused Daniel to study him
closely, looking for any reaction to his next statement.

"Last Saturday morning. Less than twenty four hours before
we.......found you."

"Thanks for that," Jack gestured with his good hand. The details of how
could wait, if only he could just recall the last few days. He stared up
at the man, frowning deeply, "I don't remember seeing her. I.......," he
faltered helplessly, "I don't remember anything, Daniel." He shook his
head, breaking eye contact to gaze into the distance, trying to resolve
a nagging feeling into an image, knowing he'd forgotten something
important, but did not know what.

His friend watched anxiously, part of him not wanting Jack to remember,
if only there was some other way. Finally, O'Neill lifted his palms to
rub his face wearily, absentmindedly forgetting the broken bones until
it was too late. This time the pain brought tears to his eyes, his
breath coming in ragged gasps. Silently, he clamped his left hand
tightly around his right wrist, trying to cut off all feeling,
automatically conditioned to stop himself from crying out in agony.

Daniel observed the way he began to withdraw inside himself, pain
compounding his confusion until his instincts took over. He noticed the
way Jack refused to make any noise, despite the obviously intense pain
emanating from his hand. The way he drew his legs up to his chest in a
protective gesture. Any second now, Daniel fully expected Jack to roll
onto his right side and curl up into a ball again, just like how they
had found him.

Wondering where Doctor Fraiser had gotten to, Daniel rose from the edge
of the bed to take a quick look outside. Pain medication was probably
the only thing right now that might break the psychological circle of
trauma and reaction that Jack was rapidly regressing to.

When he returned with Janet and Doctor Halib, Jack didn't react, his
eyes tightly closed, and Daniel wondered if he had passed out once more.
The Egyptian doctor checked the Colonel's vital signs and administered a
mild general painkiller along with a local injection into the right hand
to numb the nerve endings.

Janet pulled Daniel to one side, out of earshot of the apparently
sleeping patient. "I need to talk to you about yesterday," she
whispered, beginning to sound much more like the calm, steady Doctor
Fraiser that SG1 had come to depend upon.

Daniel studied her closely, realising how much stronger she looked for
just five hours sleep in an armchair, then this was one of those rare
people who actually felt at home in a hospital. "What about yesterday?"
He asked curiously, letting her steer him by the arm to the far corner
of the room as Doctor Halib continued to check the patient, noting
various readings onto a chart.

"I couldn't explain what happened before.......Well, I was a bit shaky,"
Janet grimaced, looking over his shoulder towards the bed, "But before
Jack......., before he woke up yesterday, that Russian got kind of
talkative!"

She took a deep breath and looked up at him earnestly, "Daniel, General
Hammond was duped, along with the rest of our government. The Russian,
Alesandrov, wasn't working for us anymore, he was working for his own
country, trying to obtain new technology or weaponry from the Stargate
program. He wouldn't say how Philip Marshall is involved, or implicate
anyone else, but there has to be someone high up who helped set this up,
whether they realised which side they were working for or not. We've got
to find out who, or we could all be in danger when they realise we're
still alive to tell the tale, Jack especially."

Daniel stared at her, trying to understand the implications, but before
he could comment, she began whispering again, "There's something else.
The Russian knew who I was. He knew I was a doctor and he called me by
name. I couldn't figure out how until just now, standing outside at the
desk with all those phones ringing." Janet swallowed hard, her new found
resolve faltering slightly, "It was my fault, Daniel! I gave Cassie the
telephone number of the hotel! The fact that they found us could only be
because they've got her. That confirms it."

Daniel's eyes widened, "But with the Russian dead........"

Janet nodded grimly, "We have to find Philip Marshall. He's our only
hope of tracing Cassie."

"Unless Jack remembers something," he pointed out.

Doctor Fraiser shook her head, a shadow passing over her brown eyes,
"They got the blood test results back," she said with a frown, still
trying to absorb the information herself. Reading the report just a few
minutes ago had been the turning point for her. The moment when she
realised that if she wanted Cassie back in one piece, she would have to
figure it out for herself. And that would require the calm, rational,
analytical doctor that she was beginning to think she had left in
Colorado.

The Doctor took a deep breath and began to explain the lab test
findings, "The substance injected into Colonel O'Neill was a synthetic
psychotropic, a form of LSD." She gazed at the occupied bed
uncomfortably whilst Daniel waited for the other shoe to drop.

Finally, she turned back to face him, her voice bleak, "Even if Jack
remembers anything, we have no way to be sure if it's real. The level of
drugs saturating his system would have resulted in a powerful
hallucinogenic reaction, he would lose sight of normal actions and
consequences. Alesandrov could have said he was God and the Colonel
would have believed him." Janet winced painfully, adding unhappily,
"With a drug like this, Jack could suffer flashbacks months, even years,
from now."

"Then they could already have the information they were after," Daniel
surmised.

"No! The Russian said that Jack was ready to answer his questions as
soon as they revived him. Judging by the high degree of chemical in his
system, I think they underestimated his deteriorating condition and
pushed the dose too high. They had to wait until Jack was strong enough
to get what they wanted."

"And they waited too long," Daniel murmured, pondering her words. "Is it
the drugs that have given him this memory loss?"

Janet shrugged unhappily, "It is possible. Or it might be purely
psychological, the intense pain could have driven the memories deep to
protect the mind," she reasoned, "Think about it Daniel, would you want
to remember eight days of imprisonment and torture if you didn't have
to?"

Daniel considered that for a long moment, but there was no easy answer.
What frightened him most was the thought that, no matter whether Jack
wanted it, the memories might not stay buried. In the end he could only
put that to the back of his mind and concentrate on one thing at a time,
"So how do we track down Philip Marshall?"

"We enlist the help of the Egyptian police and General Hammond," Janet
suggested, glad to have a plan of action to focus on. She had faced a
mind numbing terror, contemplating what might have happened to Cassie,
now at least she could begin to do something about finding her.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jack felt the smack of a weathered palm hitting his face, abruptly
forcing him awake. It took several dizzying seconds to focus his
swimming vision on anything clearly defined and he drew a sharp breath
when he recognised the malevolent grin filling his view. The moustached
leader of the Cairo gang responsible for his throbbing broken hand, not
to mention the cut on his forehead, a cracked rib and the weakness of
livid bruises across his chest that had been preyed upon by his
torturers for eight infinitely long days.

The injured Colonel struggled dopily to sit up, trying to recall how he
knew how many days it had been. A familiar sandstone floor replaced a
fleeting memory of hospital linen beneath his fingertips. He had been
dreaming of rescue, of a comfortable state, warm and painless, now he
realised it was just another drug induced hallucination. Instead he was
once more at the mercy of his jailer, a malicious Russian with a
hypodermic needle in his hand.

Jack knew what it would contain. He could remember hearing the voice
that had told him, before he passed out. One shot of adrenaline would
revive him, then he could answer their questions, that's all it would
take, the Russian had promised. No more terrifying visions like some bad
sixties acid trip, Jack couldn't take anymore of that. He would tell
them everything they wanted, so long as they would leave her
alone.......

He glanced around then, seeking out his young friend, wondering if he
would ever see her bright smile again, instead she looked terrified and
trapped. Jack knew what he had to do, the effects of the drugs had
abated sufficiently for one single overpowering thought to shine through
the gauze. "Release her and I'll tell you everything you want to know,"
he whispered hoarsely, unable to bear seeing her suffer any longer.

"No, Jack!" Cassie's sob caught in her throat, "I'm not leaving you
here." She tried to move towards him, but the Egyptian guard, a
Kalashnikov rifle slung casually over his shoulder, stuck a hand out and
grabbed her by the arm, hauling her back roughly.

The Russian emitted a cold laugh, "How touching!" He moved closer to
her, examining her curiously. "I wonder what our dear Colonel has done
to deserve such loyalty from a child," he pondered snidely, gripping her
chin to turn her face up towards him.

Angrily, Cassie kicked him in the shin and wriggled out of the guard's
grasp. As the Russian rubbed his leg in pain, the huge Cairo gang leader
who had gained such joy in beating Jack to a pulp, turned on the
escaping girl. He lifted her off her feet, laughing sadistically as she
struggled, kicking and screaming. She bit his hand and he lashed out
with a bruising swing, connecting with her cheek so hard that her head
snapped back and she went limp in his arms.

Screaming Cassie's name, Jack sat up in bed, shuddering and gasping for
breath, the remnants of a terrifying nightmare slipping from his grasp.
His chest ached from the sudden movement, the waning effects of the
medication barely taking the edge off the pain. He shivered in the
darkness, an icy cold sweat covering his face and body, his mind raced,
trying to remember where he was and what had happened. But the only
absolute certainty he could cling to was an overwhelming need to escape.

Jack swung his legs off the bed and slowly got up. He felt the cold
tiled floor beneath his toes, an odd pain emanating from his instep as
his feet took the weight. Gingerly he stepped forward, feeling blindly
ahead. Something tugged at his right arm and he traced it with his
fingers, finding a needle embedded. He pulled it out and flung it away,
faintly hearing it drop to the floor somewhere nearby.

As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he detected a thin line of light,
highlighting what could only be a door, and Jack got an odd flash of
unreality, somehow he knew there had been no exit before. He moved
towards it, reaching out with his right hand to feel the texture, but
his numb fingers registered nothing, it was not real.

Frustrated he turned around and slumped against the wall of his tomb,
feeling a sharp dig in his left side, an intense pain of an already
present injury he did not remember getting. He reached blindly for the
source, his wrist hitting the cold metal of a handle and he gripped at
it instinctively, his fingers automatically clenching in a way no
numbing injection could protect him from. An immense bolt of pain shot
up his arm like fire, awakening a turmoil of memories along with his
dulled senses.

Jack stepped back with a gasp of shock, trying to distance himself from
the source of fragmented images, reeling against a sudden assault that
threatened to topple his sanity. Mind numbing glimpses of terror and
agony, helplessness and loss, a struggle for survival
against.......what? Desperately, he shook his head to clear it, but the
onslaught continued as he stumbled in the darkness.

~~~~~~~~~~

The pale light of dawn was beginning to seep through the cracks in the
blinds, by the time Daniel eventually found Jack sitting on the floor in
the corner of the room. He was shrouded in shadow, arms hugging his
knees, staring into space. He failed to react as the younger man
approached, focused inside himself, trying to piece together the
harrowing fragments of memory into one whole truth.

Daniel studied him for a long time, recognising the taut self control in
Jack's tightly wrapped hold. The only outward sign of an intense
struggle was in the trembling of his right hand, resting limply against
his shin. He reached out and touched Jack's arm gingerly, almost afraid
to reveal his presence in case it might shatter whatever was holding the
Colonel together. "You okay?" He asked softly, crouching on the tiled
floor in front of him.

Jack reacted slowly, as if awakening from a dream, his dark brown eyes
gradually refocusing on Daniel's face. He swallowed painfully, "I think
Cassie's dead," he whispered bleakly, tears shining in his eyes.

"No she's not," Daniel said emphatically, "It's not logical." He stopped
short, suddenly realising the implications of what Jack had said,
regarding him closely. "You remember?" He asked, licking his lips
nervously.

Jack's reluctant nod was almost imperceptible, "Just bits and pieces, so
far," he replied, his voice thick with emotion. Dreadful images of a
young girl's lifeless body pushed forcefully at the edges of his sanity.

"Want to talk about it?" Daniel gazed at him in concern, gravely
considering why he was so positive that Cassie was dead, what might have
happened.

Jack shrugged helplessly, "What's there to talk about?" He murmured
hoarsely, "Anyway, I don't remember enough to explain anything clearly
yet." His head lowered to his hand with the lie and he shuddered at the
sound of a gunshot still echoing in his mind. This was one thing he
could never admit to anyone. How could he tell his friends that he had
murdered her? "Besides, I'd rather hear what makes you think Cass is
still alive," he whispered trying to cling to false hopes.

Slowly Daniel began to explain what he and Janet had found out since
Doctor Halib had interrupted their earnest conversation the previous
day, informing them that he had given the Colonel another shot for the
pain. "He could be out for awhile, I suggest you leave him to sleep,"
the doctor had smiled gently, urging them from the room.

Skipping over the details, Daniel attempted to summarise the salient
points. Jack muttered understanding occasionally, but the younger man
noticed the way his eyes kept unfocusing, as if new, more urgent,
visions were appearing before him, vying for attention.

After awhile, Daniel stood up, gently lifting Jack by the arm, steering
him back to the hospital bed. He ought to be resting, if he was going to
phase out during Daniel's lengthy explanations, he may as well do so
comfortably. Briefly, the younger man left the room and called a nurse
to get Jack's intravenous drip reattached, waiting for her to check the
patient's vital signs before she left, closing the door softly behind
her.

Finally, Daniel continued to recount the events of the last eighteen
hours. Thrown out of Jack's hospital room by the kindly Egyptian doctor,
Daniel and Janet had gone in search of a quiet place to make some calls,
check out a few things and generally do some detective work of their
own. When they had eventually managed to contact Captain Carter that
Tuesday afternoon, they had found their work halved. She and General
Hammond had spent the last twenty four hours piecing together their part
of the puzzle, setting aside their differences to combine their efforts
towards a shared goal.

For starters, General Hammond had obtained a secure line to the
President and told him all about the covert operation that supposedly
had his approval. The President himself had some ideas on who may have
been behind that particular subterfuge. A Senator had been campaigning
secretly for some time to remove control of the Stargate project from
the hands of the relatively benevolent group of military and scientific
advisors, to place it under the jurisdiction of a somewhat more
ruthless, and ultimately profit making, business consortium.

The unnamed person in question was a member of the Senate Committee
currently reviewing the status of the program. Applying pressure on
Hammond via the Pentagon to provide analytical proof of their results
and ongoing benefits, and arranging the current security and procedural
reviews of the SGC.

Between the President's knowledge of the political manoeuvring and the
new data supplied by Doctor Fraiser, they had established the motive and
the method. They determined that the operation had been illegally
concocted with the supposed aim of proving that the Stargate project was
insecure. By forcing a member of its number one team to reveal highly
classified data on the program, they could tip the scales in favour of
rehousing the project into a more secure Fort Knox style environment
with all research and operations under one roof. Controlled by a special
covert intelligence arm of the National Security Agency. It would be
managed by a business consortium, financing the scheme for a percentage
of the profits from sales of new technology, medical discoveries and
weapons manufacture, all made possible by exploration through the gate.

The President would not reveal the name of the Senator behind this
particular strategy, but armed with a copy of the Cairo police report
and expert testimony from Doctor Fraiser, he believed it would be
possible to tip the balance back in their favour. Especially when the
Committee discovered their most precious secrets had almost been handed
to the Russians.

It was also unclear whether the politician in question had been duped by
Dmitri Alesandrov or if he was involved in selling classified data.
Furthermore, they had no clear explanation of how the Russian's
involvement had come about. Without facts they could only speculate, but
they were basically debating the age old chicken and egg scenario.

Maybe the Russian defector had accidentally become privy to such secret
information during his work for the US government and had planned the
whole thing right from the start. Or perhaps he had simply been in the
right place at the right time and recognised a perfect opportunity to
return to his native country as a hero instead of the villain he had
become for defecting from the Soviet Union during the Cold War. Without
Alesandrov's testimony it was a question that may never be answered.

For General Hammond, the political shenanigans were the least of his
concerns. He wanted the truth to be known and the culprits to pay, but
ultimately, he needed to ensure the safety of his people and anyone else
who had become accidentally embroiled in this whole shocking affair.
That required finding Cassie, obtaining the best possible treatment for
Colonel O'Neill and bringing them all home.

In order to do that he had to locate Philip Marshall and find out whose
side he was really on. He also needed to make sure that whoever was at
the head of the operation, did not attempt to cover his tracks by going
after Hammond's people first. With the President about to confront the
Senator in question, time was running out.

With Presidential backing, it had been relatively simple to obtain the
aid of the Egyptian government in tracking down Philip Marshall. With
Daniel Jackson and Doctor Fraiser acting as the in-country liaison, they
had combined all their knowledge in the search for any possible hideouts
of the, soon to be former, US Embassy worker.

They had conducted a thorough search of the Kheops Pyramid, turning up
the badly decomposing body of a member of the Cairo mafia along the way.
The explanation for which had been provided by Doctor Jackson, much to
the deep gratitude of Janet, who had enough to worry about without
having to face that nightmare again. Fortunately, with the
recommendation and applied pressure of both governments, there was
little the Egyptian police authorities could do but to declare the
shooting, quite correctly, as an act of self defence.

Even so, despite all the power behind them, they had not yet found any
trace of Philip Marshall. With no avenues left to investigate, the Cairo
police were ready to assume that he had jumped across the border. Daniel
and Janet thought otherwise.

Together they analysed what they knew about Philip Marshall, finding him
a man of greed without a cause to fight for, nor loyalty to anyone but
himself. There was no logic to him simply killing Cassandra, covering
his tracks and skipping the country. There was no profit to be made from
that. This was a man who would still be seeking to make something out of
all his hard work and the young girl could possibly be both insurance
and a source of monetary gain.

"When he spoke to Alesandrov at the Bark, Marshall said they had to be
out by mid week at the latest. Trouble is, today is Wednesday, we're
running out of time," Daniel said to Jack, finally reaching the end of
his long explanation. "He must have had an escape route laid out
already. All we have to do is figure out where he was planning on going
and the most likely mode of transport."

"Or find him before he tries to leave," Jack concluded, his quiet words
the first in some time as he made a concerted effort to focus on the
present rather than the vivid images reeling in his mind.

"No, we tried that," Daniel pointed out, "The police checked every known
haunt and a few that noone would have thought of. They didn't find any
trace of him."

"What about the Cairo mafia?" Jack asked, trying to pull together the
pieces from his last night of surveillance, "Marshall had close
connections with them."

"How do you know?" Daniel asked curiously.

Jack grimaced, "Let's just say Marshall arranged a little night time
rendezvous for me with a bunch of them."

Daniel stared at him uncomprehendingly for a moment. Then Jack lifted
his right wrist with his left hand, indicating the broken fingers that
he was constantly having to remind himself not to move. "Oh!" The
younger man exclaimed with a wince and a look of guilt that Jack did not
understand. Daniel's gaze shifted to the Colonel's other injuries,
"Jack, I don't suppose you remember what any of them look like?"

O'Neill nodded slowly, a vivid memory imprinted on his mind, "I'd know
the leader anywhere," he confessed tensely.

~~~~~~~~~~

Deep within Cheyenne mountain, General Hammond summoned Captain Carter
to his office urgently. "I received a call from the President," he began
reluctantly. "It seems that the political fallout of this affair has
spread further than we expected. He's come to some kind of agreement
with the Senator responsible, which makes Philip Marshall the scapegoat
and leaves the Senate Committee intact."

"What!" Carter exclaimed in shock, "But how?"

"They're claiming he was the security and intelligence advisor for the
Committee. That he organised and ran the whole operation, forged the
Presidential approval and arranged authorisation for the trip to Egypt.
Which incidentally appears to have been an opportune coincidence from
his point of view, chances are that if the archaeological dig hadn't
come up, Marshall would simply have manufactured something equally
believable to get a member of SG1 far away from the protection of
Cheyenne mountain."

"It's all a political game to them," Hammond continued unhappily.
"Trouble is, it's impossible to disprove any of their claims without
Marshall's testimony. He was my contact for the whole operation, the
order was passed down through the proper channels, but Philip Marshall
was the operational liaison. He was the one who made all the threats,
suggesting that the Senate Committee would withdraw funding for the
Stargate program."

"But, Sir, you know this doesn't make sense," Carter interjected.
"Someone had to have supplied Marshall with data on both Daniel and
Colonel O'Neill, their history before and during the project. It had to
be someone with superficial knowledge of the Stargate to know the
potential information they might obtain."

Sam paused for a moment, this time going one step further with her train
of thought, "General, we have to assume that the people Alesandrov was
working for also have that data now. If they know about the program,
what's to stop them from trying something else?"

Hammond stared at her, knowing she was absolutely right, this was a
problem they needed to put an end to or forever be looking over their
shoulders. "We need to find Marshall and take him alive," he resolved,
"He might know who Alesandrov's Russian contacts were. With that
information, we would have some bargaining power."

Carter nodded, "We have to tell Daniel and Janet."

~~~~~~~~~~

Doctor Jackson had to give the Egyptian police their due, once Jack had
identified the leader of the gang that beat the crap out of him before
handing him over to the Russian, it only took two hours for them to
track down their prey and bring the surprised culprit in for
questioning. What Daniel didn't appreciate was the fact that they were
now requesting Jack face his attacker to positively identify him, since
there was neither the time nor the place for a proper line-up to be
arranged.

"You don't have to do this, Jack," Daniel said uneasily.

"Yes I do," Jack swallowed, "Let's just get it over with." He turned to
the police sergeant who was standing beside a wheelchair, waiting
patiently, "Do I really have to go in that?"

"Hospital regulations, Colonel. I am truly sorry," the uniformed
officer, who was in charge of the investigation, explained.

Jack rubbed his freshly shaved chin nervously, beginning to get into the
habit of using his left hand for such gestures, "Okay." He hobbled over
and sat down, "Let's go."

Sergeant Maged indicated to the orderly and they moved out into the
corridor amidst a procession of guards. Two floors down in the elevator
they entered an isolation ward, the windows barred and the thick steel
door firmly sealed. A tall, heavily built Egyptian with a bushy
moustache leaned casually against the far wall, his wrists and ankles
bound by chains. Two police officers stood either side in addition to
those on guard outside the room.

His face displayed the odd sign of a recent brawl himself, accompanied
by a malevolent smile that rapidly faded when he recognised who was
occupying the wheelchair, clearly surprised at seeing the American still
alive. He recovered quickly, leering maliciously as he eyed the damage
still deeply colouring the Colonel's gaunt face.

Daniel shivered inwardly, horrified to catch himself thinking how glad
he was that it hadn't been him who met this man in a dark back alley.
And not just this man, he reminded himself, there were eight in total,
Jack had eventually admitted quietly when being questioned by the police
sergeant earlier that morning. He just couldn't recall the faces of the
rest of them. Eight men! Daniel thought furiously, they set upon his
best friend with eight men!

Unconsciously, Daniel edged closer to the wheelchair as they entered,
unaware that he wasn't the only one who was holding his breath. Jack
forced himself to slowly exhale, trying to retain a calm steady flow of
air in and out of his lungs, wishing he could suppress the deep seated
fear he felt at coming so close to this aggressor once more.

For Daniel the rage began to boil, barely hearing Jack's voice as he
positively identified the man as one of his attackers. Hearing the
confirmation of recognition from the American, the Egyptian smiled
cruelly. Knowing he was trapped, he resumed his normal bravado, "How's
the hand?" He sneered.

Jack regarded him placidly, concealing his inner turmoil, but Daniel
wasn't so good at hiding his feelings, gradually edging towards the man,
tension building. Jack placed a hand on his friend's arm, gripping as
tightly as necessary for him to glance down. The Colonel met his gaze
with a warning look. "Let the police handle this," he murmured quietly,
watching him slowly attempt to regain control. But all Daniel could see
was that vicious, evil grin and the way he appeared to be enjoying
seeing the results of his own handiwork again.

As Sergeant Maged began his questions about Philip Marshall, Jack stared
blankly at the man, the memories becoming ever clearer of what had
occurred the first time they had met and he struggled to stay focused on
the proceedings. Vaguely he heard the moustached Egyptian claim that
meeting the American Colonel had been pure chance, that he required no
money for the pleasure of beating up "an arrogant Yankee."

Without warning, Daniel flew at the man, taking him by complete surprise
and pounding his midriff in the grip of sheer rage. It took two police
guards to haul him off the prisoner, who still had his hands and legs
chained, unable to protect himself. The gang leader looked somewhat
shaken by the assault, weak in his defencelessness.

Maged shouted an order and the two guards hauled Daniel out of the room,
closely followed by the Colonel in the wheelchair. Shutting the heavy
steel door behind them resoundingly, they were left outside in the
hallway to wait.

"Feel better now?" Jack quipped, secretly relieved to be away from that
malevolent presence.

Daniel leaned against the wall, thumping his still clenched fist against
the plasterboard, "Not really," he admitted, shaking his head in
frustration. He glanced down at O'Neill, "How do you keep so calm?"

"Daniel, I'm not exactly up for much at the moment, am I?" Jack looked
him in the eye, licking his lips nervously, "Believe me, I've thought of
revenge, me against him on an even par. But to be perfectly honest,
right now that thought scares the hell out of me," he said quietly. He
gazed down at his trembling hand, previously gauzy images now vividly
drawn in his mind. Finally, he peered at Daniel again, "Any chance we
can go outside for awhile?" He murmured, feeling the walls closing in on
him.

~~~~~~~~~~

Accompanied by two policemen, politely remaining just out of earshot,
Doctor Jackson wheeled the Colonel through the side exit and down the
ramp into the open grounds. Jack took several slow lungfuls of the first
fresh air he could recall since that fateful night in the side streets
of Giza plateau.

Daniel pushed the wheelchair out of the harsh sunlight, stopping beneath
the widespread branches of a shady Magnolia. He hunkered down, leaning
against the trunk, his hands absently breaking off tall stalks of grass
as he waited for Jack to talk, knowing he would only when he was ready.
He watched his friend's dark brown eyes gaze unfocused towards the far
wall of the hospital gardens, wondering what he could see there.

When Jack finally spoke, his voice was thick with emotion, "I think I
saw Cassie, Saturday?" He looked at Daniel, who nodded slightly. "I
thought it was a dream, or an hallucination, I had a few of those," he
swallowed, fighting back the overwhelming memories. "To be honest, I
can't tell what's real and what's not. But I guess that particular one,
maybe, was real........," he trailed off, still remembering new details
even as he tried to talk about it.

"What happened?" Daniel prompted him softly, when he didn't continue.

Jack shrugged helplessly, "I.......I didn't know it was her," he shook
his head, trying to clear the image from his mind. "The Russian was
injecting me with something, asking questions and.......trying to get
answers." He fought to suppress a shiver, remembering the intense pain
of the drug, and his inability to fight the overpowering effects.

"Each time I came back down too far he gave me another shot and it
started over again. I don't know how long it went on for, I wasn't
exactly with it. I couldn't think anymore," Jack's tormented voice
became a low whisper, "I'm not sure I could have answered his questions,
but I think I wanted to." He took a slow shuddering breath, struggling
to find words that might explain what he had done.

Daniel waited patiently, studying him closely. Jack had never looked so
lost, utterly defeated, horribly beaten in more ways than one.

Jack's choked voice was barely audible when he finally spoke again,
"When the Russian appeared with a girl, I knew I should've recognised
her, but I couldn't remember why!" He looked at the younger man, his
brown eyes filled with grief and shame, "Daniel, Cassie called my name
and I couldn't help her! I......I.......," he shook his head, swallowing
the words with a gasp. He couldn't admit it, he would never be able to
tell his friend what he had done. "I was finished," he said instead, "I
would have done anything, Daniel. He won!"

"No he didn't!" Daniel responded vehemently, "You never told the Russian
a thing, maybe because you never got the chance, but that was his fault,
not yours." He stared at the Colonel, "Doctor Fraiser said that he
overdid the drugs. He gave you too much and couldn't revive you. They
were waiting for you to wake up. Luckily we got there first!"

"And what about Cassie's luck?" Jack exclaimed bitterly, biting off his
words before he said anymore. "Hasn't she been through enough?" He
whispered hoarsely. He desperately wished he could find some hope to
cling to, some reason to doubt the images in his mind, but deep down
Jack believed they were real. He could still feel the cold metal of the
gun in his hand, feel it buck as the cartridge exploded from the barrel.
He didn't want to believe he was capable of such an abominable act, but
after all that had taken place, Jack had lost and he knew he would have
done anything to end the torture. Even so, Daniel was certain Cassie was
still alive, maybe he could cling to someone else's hopes instead, if
only for a little while?

"We'll find her Jack. I'm sure of it," Daniel looked at him, wondering
what was going on behind those guarded eyes.

"If she's d......If they've touched her, I'll.......," Jack broke off,
fighting for control, he rubbed his face wearily, he didn't know what he
would do when the inevitable was discovered.

"I know," Daniel agreed softly, "We both will." As they lapsed into
silence, Daniel dwelt on how fragile and defeated Jack looked. He
couldn't help thinking that the loss of Cassie would be the final nail
in an already lidded coffin. Rescuing her would save more lives than
just her own, of that he was certain.

They had been outside for about thirty minutes, when the Egyptian police
sergeant emerged into the sunlight with a grim look on his face. Daniel
eyed him expectantly as he approached, "Good news, my friends," he
greeted them. "We may have a chance to locate Mr Marshall after all."

"What did you find out?" Daniel asked eagerly.

"We managed to persuade our friend upstairs to tell us everything he
knew. Unfortunately, it wasn't much, but he does know roughly where
Marshall is hiding out." Daniel didn't want to imagine how they had
extracted such information, but he did want to know more. He noticed the
uncomfortable look that came over the police officer's face, who was
staring directly at Jack as he continued, "Apparently Philip Marshall is
concealed in one of the houses on Giza plateau. We don't know where
exactly and it's a big area with plenty of hiding places. We do know
that he's got to leave tonight, after dark, to meet his pickup, or he'll
be stuck without a secure way out of the country."

"So what do we do?" Daniel asked with a look of frustration.

Sergeant Maged frowned uneasily, "We don't have sufficient manpower to
search the area, it will be hard enough to monitor every exit,
especially under cover of darkness. It might be too easy for him to
escape among all the tourists that will be on the plateau for the Sound
and Light show."

"So cancel it!" Daniel argued.

"You know we cannot do that, Doctor Jackson," the officer explained
reasonably, "Anything like that would alert Marshall to our presence.
Assuming he has the girl with him, we would have a hostage situation
from which there could be no happy ending."

"He's right, Daniel," Jack spoke for the first time, his voice bleak,
"We have to be patient and keep our distance. It's Cassie's only hope."
Jack nearly choked on the words, ashamed at the lie. His overwhelming
guilt and a need for vengeance leaving him all too willing to go along
with the falsehood, at least until he found out for certain. Then they
would all know the truth and he would have to face his friends and watch
as their expressions turned to hatred.

~~~~~~~~~~

Shortly after they returned to Jack's hospital room, Doctor Fraiser
entered excitedly, "Colonel, success at last! We've found a surgeon who
can operate on your hand," she announced. She had spent the entire
morning on the telephone trying to track down a British specialist who
just happened to be holidaying in the country at the moment, cruising
and sightseeing. When she had explained what little she could of the
circumstances, the few details that didn't come under the heading of
classified, the gentleman had been only too pleased to help out,
especially since the injury sounded like such a challenge.

"He'll be arriving in Cairo later this afternoon, we've scheduled the
first operation for this evening," Janet added, wondering why Jack
didn't look at all pleased.

"Thanks Janet, but I'm going to be busy this evening," O'Neill said
determinedly, allowing Daniel to explain what they had found out. "I
know the area and I know Philip Marshall," Jack added vengefully. "I'm
going along and noone's going to stop me."

"But your hand........," Daniel protested feebly, knowing that once Jack
had made up his mind about something like this, there would be no
changing it.

"My hand can wait," he replied firmly.

Daniel stared at Janet helplessly, hoping for her support, but she was
still trying to absorb the implications of their news. "The doctor said
if you don't get surgery now, you may never be able to use it again," he
argued reasonably.

"Cassie is far more important," Jack looked at him grimly, "Besides, I'm
sure I can manage to shoot with my left as well as my right!"

"I'll say!" Janet muttered under her breath, unable to suppress the
vivid flash of memory his comment provoked.

Daniel exchanged glances with her, a look which Jack couldn't fail to
notice. "What?" he asked irritatedly, but all he got was an
uncomfortable silence. He turned to the younger man accusingly, "Daniel,
what aren't you telling me?"

Doctor Jackson shrugged helplessly, taking a deep breath. "Well, you
know I told you that the Russian was dead," he began awkwardly, "I guess
we should tell you how."

By the time he had finished, Jack looked somewhat shaken by the
revelation that he had shot and killed his own torturers, but had no
recollection of the event whatsoever. "Damn!" He muttered under his
breath, that was one memory he could only pray to regain, not only for
his own peace of mind, but to satisfy his growing hunger for revenge.

Janet gazed at him compassionately, misinterpreting his shock, "Colonel,
no matter how it sounds, it was self defence. You saved my life and your
own," she pointed out.

Jack pondered the information for a long moment. Taking into account the
fact that the Russian was dead, he mentally counted the bodies and
people thus far identified and compared that against his now partially
recovered memory. "There are probably another three people still out
there that I saw," he recalled slowly, "Two er.......specialists and
another guard, who stayed up top most of the time. One of them might
help Marshall escape, maybe I can spot them," he shrugged dubiously, not
sure he could remember their faces even if he wanted to, which he really
didn't. But Jack knew he had to try, for Cassie's sake, on the slim
chance that Daniel's hopes were worth clinging to.

"What do you mean by 'specialists'?" Daniel asked curiously.

"Well, the Russian called one 'the electrician' and the other," Jack
paused, searching for a neutral tone, but the closest he could manage
was cynical, "I think the other could have been a professional boxer!"
He winced reflexively.

"Oh!" Daniel flushed guiltily, realising what a stupid question it had
been, "Sorry!"

"What's there to be sorry about?" Jack asked, "It's not your fault!"

"Yes it is!" The words were out of Daniel's mouth before he could
suppress them. "This is all my fault, Jack. If I hadn't left that
message on your machine, you'd never have flown out here to look for me
and gotten caught up in this mess!"

Jack looked at him in astonishment, there really was far too much going
on around him that he neither remembered nor understood at the moment,
and this simply added to the load, "Daniel, I'm the one who got caught,
I should have been more careful. It's my own fault!"

"No, Jack," Daniel argued bitterly, "I overheard Alesandrov. He said
they'd never have trapped you if you weren't so absorbed in trying to
find me! It's my fault you were there and it's my fault you got caught!"

"Oh, for crying out loud!" Janet's outburst took them both by surprise,
especially quoting an oft used phrase that neither man had heard from
her lips before, "It's nobody's fault! Well nobody in this room anyway."
She looked from one man to the other, brown eyes to blue, "This is the
fault of politicians and spies. And General Hammond," she added
disgustedly.

Jack automatically jumped to the defence of his commanding officer,
trying to suppress his feelings of mistrust over the fact that the
General had apparently given him up to the enemy. "Janet, I'm sure he
was only following orders," he said quietly.

"An order he should have refused!" She exclaimed angrily, "How can you
protect him? They set this up, the General followed their lead like a
good dog and we're paying the price!"

Both men were silent for a long moment, contemplating the truth in what
she had said. Eventually Jack looked up from where he had been studying
his hands intently, taking a shaky breath before he spoke, "Let's just
find Cassie and go home. We can worry about who is to blame and why
later." He swallowed painfully, "I'm sure there'll be repercussions we
can't even imagine yet. So let's forget about it and concentrate on
what's important."

Daniel and Janet both nodded agreement, wondering how much of his words
were aimed at himself. For certain, Jack O'Neill was going to bear the
brunt of whatever might be in store, both personally and professionally.

~~~~~~~~~~

It was mid afternoon by the time Sergeant Maged eventually agreed to a
plan of action that included their involvement, allowing all three to
leave the hospital. Jack's injuries had been dealt with as best as
possible. He had padded bandages on the soles of his feet to protect the
burns, beneath socks and boots that had been obtained by a police patrol
from his hotel room in Cairo city centre. His right hand was strapped up
beneath a swathe of wrapping and numbed with a local injection that
would hopefully suffice until their task was concluded, but Janet had
some extra doses just in case.

Numerous members of Cairo's city police force were covering any access
routes onto main thoroughfares from the housing at the edge of Giza
plateau. They all agreed that Philip Marshall would most likely try to
blend in with the crowd of tourists at the show that evening, so
logically he would attempt to leave on the Sphinx side. That was where
the three SGC members took up their places, all suffering flashbacks to
their last visit, some more painful and harder to suppress, but they
were determined to see this through to a successful conclusion.

All three were armed, courtesy of Sergeant Maged, after consulting with
his superiors as well as the Americans' commanding officer, who insisted
that they were well trained and would be an asset to his assignment.
Since it was in their interest to take the subject alive, General
Hammond was certain they would be professional in their actions.

Jack was attempting to put his rapidly recovering memory to good use.
Trying to form a picture in his mind of his path through the dark
alleyways. As he mentally retraced his steps, he suddenly recalled a
minor detail that had so far eluded him. Philip Marshall had stopped to
chat at one of the homes, if he could figure out which, maybe it would
prove significant.

The Colonel gazed across the open ground towards the nearby housing,
casting his mind back to the last time he was there, picturing himself
following Philip Marshall into the alleyways. He singled out the entry
point and headed towards it, focused on his task. Oblivious to the fact
that Daniel was watching him like a hawk, fifty yards away, determined
not to let his friend out of his sight.

The younger man followed at a distance, recognising what Jack was doing
from the way he moved, slowly, considering each turn. On the plateau the
sun was beginning to set, but within these streets it was already dark
and shadowy, easy to get lost in the confusing maze of passages. Daniel
began to understand what it must have been like for Jack to encounter
those eight men. No wonder he had looked more scared than Daniel had
ever seen him, having to face the leader again this morning. And that
heavily outnumbered fight had just been the beginning of the Colonel's
torment.

The densely packed buildings seemed to muffle all sound, the narrow
alleyways running between jumbled housing that had grown up randomly
over the centuries. It was like walking through passages of time, the
years receding the further into the complex they ventured.

Jack came to a halt, pausing in the shadows to gain his bearings,
desperately trying to remember where he had gone the first time. His
instincts said he was close, but his memory was overpowered by a growing
sense of claustrophobia as the night closed in around him. Suddenly a
light came on, literally and figuratively, illuminating a doorway a few
yards along the alley. Jack froze, recognising the house immediately,
this was where Philip Marshall had stopped on that fateful evening. Now
he could only hope it had been more than just a casual call.

Contemplating his next move, O'Neill felt the hairs on the back of his
neck rise, sensing someone close behind, approaching stealthily. He
ducked into a narrow side passage, darkness closing around him.

Daniel had been tracing Jack's steps between the ramshackle housing,
seeing him pause in the shadows, but now he had lost track. Edging
forwards uneasily, wondering where his friend had gone, he suddenly felt
himself being grabbed from behind by the scruff of the neck, hauled into
a side alley and whirled around. An ethereal white shape came at him out
of the darkness and Daniel spoke hurriedly, bracing himself for a punch
in the face from Jack's bandaged right hand, "I wouldn't do that if I
were you, it'll hurt you way more than it will hurt me!"

Jack relaxed at the sound of Daniel's hushed voice, expelling a held
breath as he lowered his hand and let go of the man. The Colonel slumped
against the wall, realising just how tightly wound he was, his heart
thudding painfully in his chest, the increased rate of breathing causing
his ribs to ache.

Daniel pretended not to notice the fear in his eyes, "Find anything?" He
whispered.

The older man nodded towards the house opposite, the light shining
brightly to illuminate the peaceful frontage. Daniel made a move towards
it, but O'Neill held him back, signalling for him to follow behind.
Taking a slow breath, Jack ducked low in the shadows, crossing the
alleyway to the side of the building. He edged along the wall towards
the rear, looking for signs of life.

Crouching down, Jack peered around the corner. A square of light shone
onto the backyard from an open window, illuminating a variety of rusting
tools and electrical gadgets. A shadow suddenly moved across the light
and Jack froze, recognising the Egyptian voice coming from inside the
house with a horrid sense of deja vu. He grabbed Daniel's sleeve and
pulled him in front to listen, hoping he would be able to translate the
words.

"Where did you conceal the girl?" The electrician asked in his native
language.

"Where noone would think to look! Right under their noses back inside
Kheops," Daniel recognised Philip Marshall's voice.

"But the police searched inside the pyramid yesterday!"

"Exactly! So they're hardly going to look there again, I stashed her
inside right after they'd finished!" Marshall's voice gloated at his
clever deception, fading away into the room as the thin electrician
closed the window against the chill night air.

Daniel quickly relayed the conversation to Jack. "Find Sergeant Maged,"
the Colonel instructed, trying not to get his hopes up, after all they
had not said whether Cassie was alive. "I'll stay and keep watch," he
added as Daniel moved off, fading rapidly into the shadows.

O'Neill shifted across to the opposite side of the alleyway, trying to
cover both exits of the tiny abode. Suddenly, a voice cried out behind
him, yelling in his native language. Words that Jack could not
understand, but got the gist of by the gestures of the wizened old man
who had found him loitering in the darkness. Desperately, Jack tried to
get him to quiet down, but he was having none of it, this foreigner had
no business prowling around behind his home.

Just as the ancient Egyptian threatened to hit him with his walking
stick, Jack spotted a figure dash out the front door of the
electrician's house and across the street, disappearing into the thick,
cloaking darkness. Ignoring the old man, O'Neill headed after the
fleeing shape, trying to spot his movement in the shadows.

By the time the police arrived, led by Doctor Jackson, the other two
Americans were gone. They found the electrician gathering his precious
belongings in a state of shocked panic, having recognised the person who
had run after Marshall. The feeble man could barely give up his employer
fast enough, spilling the story to the sergeant in a flurry of Egyptian.

Hearing his words Daniel ducked back out of the house, running in the
general direction of the plateau, certain Marshall would be heading for
the Great Pyramid to ensure his escape by using a hostage. He prayed he
could catch up before Jack was forced to re-enter those dark confined
passages.

When Sergeant Maged came outside to look for the two Americans, they
were nowhere to be seen. "Doctor Jackson? Colonel O'Neill?" He shouted
into the darkness to no avail, "Shit!" He exclaimed in the one useful
word he had learned from foreign visitors. He turned back inside to
instruct his men, "I want every patrol to converge on Kheops
immediately! Tell them all, there should be no shooting unless in self
defence."

~~~~~~~~~~

On Giza plateau, Doctor Fraiser was waiting impatiently out of the way
behind the Sphinx, aware of the crowds beginning to arrive for the first
Son et Lumiere of the evening and intently watching the outskirts of the
ramshackle housing edging the open ground. She wondered what was going
on inside and when the police sergeant would return, feeling somewhat
left out by the fact that he had ordered her to stay put.

In the encroaching darkness, she suddenly spotted two fleeing figures,
some distance apart, heading up to the Great Pyramid. It was too dark to
identify them, but Janet could just make out the eerie whiteness of
Jack's bandage wrapped hand, moving against the black backdrop like some
disembodied apparition.

Realising where they were headed, Janet remembered the locked entrance
in the lower level of the boat museum. She glanced around desperately,
seeking any member of the Cairo police force, but there were none to be
seen, they had all followed Sergeant Maged into the housing complex and
had not yet emerged. She would have to do it herself, stop anyone from
escaping through that door.

Hurriedly, Janet crossed the sand covered path to the Solar Bark,
finding the entrance open. Two Egyptian women could be heard inside,
exchanging conversation as they cleaned the upper level of the museum.
Janet crept in and headed for the lower floor. Knowing the door was
probably locked, she tried it anyway, amazed when it swung open, but
then there was supposedly noone left to secure inside, no reason to
guard the tunnel.

She stared into the darkness, trying to adjust her eyes, unable to see
or hear anything. With no flashlight to find her way, all she could do
was wait. Common sense told her that to venture inside was encouraging
disaster. Fear justified that it was bound to prove unnecessary, she was
only there as a precaution after all.

~~~~~~~~~~

When Jack reached the outer wall of the Great Pyramid he was panting
hard, understandably out of shape considering he had physically done
little more than lie around for the last twelve days. He felt sick, what
little food and protein he had ingested in the last twenty four hours
since awakening was now considering rejecting its new home, and his ribs
ached like hell.

He leaned against the warm sandstone and hung his head, trying to catch
his breath, the sharp feeling beneath his fingertips recalling vivid
images which he had no time to deal with. Instead, Jack concentrated on
looking for some sign of an entrance at the point where Marshall had
disappeared into the shadows, pulling a mini maglite from his jacket,
relieved to have something to light his way, albeit dimly. The
flashlight was as much a part of his person as his Swiss army knife, but
that meant the batteries had not been replaced in a long while, lying
dormant in a zipped inside pocket, never expecting to be used in such an
earnest fashion.

Jamming the flashlight between the strapping on his right hand until it
was held firm, the Colonel stepped inside, ducking his head beneath the
low ceiling and groping the tunnel wall with his fingers. The darkness
surrounded him like a cloak and he fought back rising panic. A feeling
of drowning washed over him in waves, his breath coming in shallow gasps
as every minute detail of eight days of forced imprisonment flooded his
mind, threatening his sanity.

Jack stumbled down the narrow corridor, journeying through the confusing
passages, revisiting the recent past with a painful acuity that he
fought desperately to suppress with thoughts of a young friend whose
true fate he had to determine if he was ever going to live with himself
again.

Somewhere up ahead, barely audible above the sound of his own ragged
breathing, O'Neill heard the scuffle of scurrying footsteps. He listened
hard, trying to determine where they were coming from in the maze of
tunnels in which he found himself ensnared once more.

~~~~~~~~~~

Unbeknownst to Jack, somewhere behind him the figure of Daniel Jackson
followed him into the tight confines of the pyramid. Vaguely he wondered
how they had managed to come full circle to these timeless passages,
seemingly representing a journey into the depths of hell for all who
entered.

Without a flashlight, Daniel was reliant on memory alone, stumbling
blindly down the narrow tunnels, concentrating hard on his sense of
touch and hearing. Feeling his way along the walls for turnings that he
had memorised prior to his last visit, listening intently for any sign
of movement up ahead.

From the way Philip Marshall had boasted of his clever plan, it was
conceivable that he would be hiding Cassie in the same room that had
imprisoned Jack. It was already prepared for such a task and would suit
Marshall's devious and arrogant sensibilities. So that was where Daniel
headed, praying that for once his assumptions would prove correct.

~~~~~~~~~~

The Colonel neared another corner, suddenly realising that this time he
could see it, a dim reflection from beyond lighting the way. Gradually
he edged towards the end of the tunnel and peered around the adjoining
wall. All he saw in the passage ahead was glaring brightness, hurting
his eyes until they could fully adjust and distinguish the outline of a
spotlight shining down at the floor.

With a fatalistic sense of irony, Jack realised he had come full circle,
ahead lay his own tomb, a place of imprisonment and torture. Eight days
in hell with no control over his own destiny, waiting for death to
release him. Instead he had been rescued by friends and now had come his
moment of truth. His chance to find out what was reality and what was
hallucination, to find out whether he really was capable of what he
believed he had done to Cassie. Only now he was here the sheer thought
of staring that tomb in the face again was terrifying. Jack was
paralysed, slowly suffocating beneath a weight of memories he could
neither fight to overcome nor suppress.

Defeated, he leaned against the sandstone wall, squeezing his eyes
tightly shut and trying to bring his heaving gasps under control. A cold
sweat trickled down his spine, sending a trembling shudder through his
body. With a shaking hand, Jack felt for the Beretta, concealed in the
small of his back, begrudgingly supplied by the police officer in charge
of the hunt, who was apparently afraid that the Colonel might seek
revenge on his tormentors. "Not much chance of that if I can't even aim
straight," Jack murmured softly, trying to talk himself out of his
crippling fear. He felt the unfamiliar weight of the gun in his left
hand as he balanced it and tightened his grip. He flicked off the
ambidextrous safety lock, filled his lungs with several slow breaths and
willed his feet to step toward the light.

The sudden high pitched scream of a young girl gripped Jack's heart like
a vice and for one moment he didn't know whether he had really heard it,
or whether it was a remnant from his memory. A second scream spurred
O'Neill into action, ducking along the remaining distance of the
passage. He stopped just short of the spotlight, crouching down to edge
forward painfully on his bruised stomach. With a final lungful of air,
he peered beyond the rim of the open hatch. That breath being his last
for long seconds, his throat closing convulsively as he stared straight
into the depths of heaven and hell.

Cassie was alive! Some distance beneath him, with Philip Marshall trying
to get a firm grip on the writhing girl, so that he could climb the rope
ladder and escape with his hostage. Cassie was kicking and screaming,
anger overriding her terror at being left alone imprisoned in this room
for over twenty four hours.

The American had removed her gag and bindings, when he had hid her there
the previous day, at the time gloating that she could make as much noise
as she wanted, noone would hear her screams. Now he wished he had left
them on, her struggles were making it impossible to get a good grasp on
the girl and he was running out of time.

O'Neill aimed his weapon into the tomb. There was no way to avoid
getting his arm in front of the bright spotlight beam which filled the
gap in the tunnel floor. He needed to shoot quickly before he was
spotted, but Cassie was in the way. His left hand began to shake as he
prayed for a clear shot, tension causing his weakened arm muscles to
tremble uncontrollably, he had no chance of hitting Marshall.

Jack blinked sweat from his eyes and tried again, but it was too late.
Before he had an opportunity to fire, Marshall spotted the silhouette of
his weapon against the wall. Backing deep into the shadows, he gripped
the girl even tighter and lifted her in front of his body like a
protective shield, one hand clamped over her mouth..

Squinting up at the entrance high above, Marshall tried to make out his
assailant against the brightness. "Colonel O'Neill, that wouldn't be
you, would it?" He called gloatingly when he realised the gun held
beneath the spotlight beam was in a quaking left hand. "So nice of you
to drop by and visit! I must confess, I'm surprised you were able to,
given the excellent handiwork of our dearly departed Russian colleague!"

"Well, you know, I just had to thank you in person for introducing us!"
Jack shouted bitterly, trying to think clearly to figure a peaceful way
out of this, "Marshall, why don't you just let the girl go? They're
hanging you out to dry, you know that, don't you? The Senate Committee
has labelled you as the scapegoat in this whole affair. Your Senator has
made a deal with the President, so that he appears completely
blameless."

"Oh and which Senator would that be, Jack? May I call you 'Jack'? I feel
as though I know you after all the intimate details Dmitri gave me about
your confinement," Marshall goaded, fishing to find out exactly how much
the Colonel really knew. "You know, he was so enjoying his work, I
believe you gave him a new lease in life. Such a shame it all ended
prematurely, and after such a fortuitous beginning. I mean, you being my
shadow for four days never imagining that your own commanding officer
would give you up!"

Jack wasn't in the mood to play his game, "I know the Senator had you
threaten General Hammond. We all know you didn't do this alone. Why
don't you give him up, Marshall. What's stopping you? You've got nothing
to lose and everything to gain. Let the girl go and tell me who was
behind this. I might let you out of here alive, you never know, maybe my
aim will suddenly improve!"

"Oh, I don't think it will come to that, do you, Jack?" Out of the
darkness Marshall produced a 9mm Browning, waving it ominously at the
head of the silenced girl. Her face rapt in terror and confusion over
the bizarre negotiation taking place, with her at the centre. The sound
of him drawing back the hammer on the semiautomatic reverberated loudly
in the claustrophobic interior.

"Besides, I don't need to worry about being a scapegoat, the government
can say what they want about me, it's not like my new Soviet employers
will care what they think! They already appreciate my skills, especially
in getting General Hammond to sacrifice his best men to the enemy!" He
paused, "But then, you don't know the extent of my deviousness, do you
Jack? I don't suppose the General told you of my threats against your
team mates, an added incentive to his co-operation."

Jack fought to ignore his words and concentrate on resolving the
situation safely. His palm was sweating heavily, his left arm straining
to hold the gun steady, not only physically weakened, but distracted by
the history of this room. He struggled to focus on Cassie's face in the
shadows, the terrified girl watching helplessly, waiting for him to make
a move. His mind was paralysed with fear, his thoughts scrambled and
confused. Jack could think of no other way to help her except by making
the ultimate sacrifice.

He took a deep breath, "Let the girl go, Marshall. She doesn't know
anything that can help you, but I do," Jack offered, "I'll tell you
everything you want to know. I'm sure your Russian friends will pay well
for the information that Alesandrov failed to obtain. You'll be a hero
in their eyes." Jack swallowed, "I'll go with you. All you have to do is
free the girl."

Marshall stared at him, pondering, a slow smile creeping across his face
as he failed to find any downside to the Colonel's bargain if he played
it right. Perhaps he could come out of this with a good payoff after
all, instead of simply escaping with his life intact. A worthy
objective, since money was the only reason he had participated in the
venture in the first place, despite what his Russian comrade might have
believed.

The only problem was that there was no way he could risk ascending the
ladder whilst O'Neill waited above in the darkness, the Colonel would
have to come down to him first. Besides, there was a wonderful sense of
symmetry to the idea of forcing him to voluntarily descend back into his
own torture chamber. Marshall smiled sadistically, "Okay, you've got a
deal. Throw me your weapon, then climb down the ladder," he ordered
loudly, "I'll let the girl go, only when I've got you in her place."

Jack knew he was stepping into a viper's nest, but he had no choice, he
could see no other way out for Cassie. He locked the safety on, opened
his slick fingers and let the Beretta slip from his grasp, hearing the
thud as it hit the floor yards below. With a shuddering breath, Jack
swung his legs over the edge, grasping the rope ladder with his left
hand, using the crook of his right elbow to hang on as he climbed lower.
He could feel the rope through his boots, pressing painfully against the
sore burns on the soles of his feet, familiar pains bringing a
suffocating panic to the surface. He entered the depths of the tomb once
more, a cold sweat running down his spine.

Reaching solid ground, Jack released the rope and turned to face Philip
Marshall, "Now let her go!" He ordered, praying the man would keep his
word, holding his breath until Marshall reluctantly freed the girl from
his grasp. Cassie ran towards Jack, who crouched down to meet her
tearful gaze, returning her tightly clasped embrace for a timeless
moment.

"I thought you were dead, Cassie!" Jack exclaimed hoarsely, "I'm so
sorry! I didn't know what I was doing."

"It's not your fault, Jack," she sniffled, hugging him even tighter,
"Besides, I knew you'd come after me."

"Can we get on with this please?" Marshall goaded impatiently.

Jack pulled away slightly, enough to look into Cassie's frightened eyes,
"You have to climb up that ladder. Okay, sweetheart? Go left until you
come to a crossroads, then keep going right from there and you'll be out
in no time? Janet's outside, she won't be far away, she'll soon spot
you," he assured her tenderly.

"I don't want to leave you, Jack," Cassie sobbed in his arms.

"I know, Cass, I don't want to leave you either, but it's our only
choice. Here," Jack pulled his maglite from beneath the bandages
covering his right hand, "Take this, you'll be able to see the way. Go
on now, fast as you can," he hugged her again, then gently nudged her in
the direction of the rope.

Standing up, Jack watched her reach for the bottom of the ladder. Then
he turned towards the man in charge, noticing Marshall had moved several
yards along the wall while he was talking to Cassie. Suddenly the reason
became clear as he raised the barrel of his semiautomatic to aim at the
girl taking her first tricky step up the swinging ladder. Marshall was
going to dispose of the witness now she no longer had a useful part to
play in his scheme.

Jack screamed Cassie's name, diving between them, as Marshall pulled the
trigger. A single shot rang out, explosively loud in the enclosed
chamber. Jack didn't feel any of the pain in his ribs and chest as he
landed heavily, nor the lightning bolt that shot up his arm as his
broken hand hit the floor. All he felt was cold numbness as darkness
enveloped him.

The frightened young girl whirled round in time to see Jack fall to the
ground. Shrieking his name, she let go of the rope and jumped back down.
Tears streaming down her cheeks, she knelt beside the body of her
friend, resting his head in her hands. Jack's temple was bleeding
profusely, dark and glistening blood, running down the side of his face,
into his hair, onto her fingers. She couldn't be sure if he was dead or
out cold. Either way, even at her tender age, Cassie knew they were both
now beyond help.

~~~~~~~~~~

Scrambling blindly in the darkness, Daniel thought he was nearing the
chamber where they had first found Jack, when a shot rang out, closely
followed by a child's scream. The sound, muffled in the tight confines
of the narrow passageways, was still loud enough for him to start
running, head down beneath the low ceiling, a diffuse light growing as
he turned the corner into brightness, pulling his Beretta out and
releasing the safety.

Crouching at the opening, Daniel peered through the hatch into the room
below. His horrified gasp caught in his throat as he surveyed the scene.
Jack's fallen body lay directly in the spotlight's beam, the sobbing
figure of Cassie kneeling beside him, his blood staining her hands. She
tried to wipe clean the wound on his forehead to determine its severity,
putting into practice a basic medical knowledge gained from observing
Janet.

Daniel wondered desperately whether Jack was dead or alive. He was too
far away to detect any sign of breathing and Cassie was crying so hard,
he just didn't know for sure. He caught a movement in the shadows out of
the corner of his eye and matched the motion, raising his own weapon to
aim at Marshall.

"Don't do it!" Daniel warned urgently.

Marshall pointed his Browning at Cassie, his initial shock at
accidentally shooting his big money ticket rapidly replaced by his
intense desire to eradicate the remaining witness. Understanding the
intent of his actions, Daniel fought back savage thoughts of revenge to
focus on the need to take him alive. Grabbing the hot edge of the
spotlight, he swung it rapidly, pointing the blindingly bright beam
directly into the gunman's eyes.

Raising his free hand to shade his face, Marshall pulled the trigger,
but the tactic had delayed him sufficiently, his target was no longer
where it had been. Oblivious to everything except the condition of her
friend, Cassie had bent closer to check Jack's pulse, placing her small
fingers against his neck. A frown of concentration was replaced by a
startled scream at the loud gunshot as she felt the bullet whistle over
her head.

Before Marshall got a chance for another go, two things happened
together. The loud burst of fire dragged Jack abruptly back to the
surface. In a purely instinctive move he grabbed Cassie, pulling her
down beside him and rolling to shield her protectively.

At the same time, Daniel fired his Beretta, aiming into the shadows
obscuring his target, conscious of the need to take him alive, but
knowing he had to injure severely enough to stop Marshall from firing
again. The gunman was perfectly positioned to shoot the unarmed Colonel
in the back, Jack's defenceless body now facing away from him.

Daniel fired two shots and heard a gun clatter to the floor, closely
followed by the muffled thud of a body. After a few long seconds
training his weapon into the dark depths, Daniel began to descend the
rope ladder. As he jumped the last few feet to the ground, the Colonel
became aware of him but stayed where he was, his arms shielding Cassie,
holding her against his chest, protecting her until he was sure it was
safe.

Jack tried to focus his blurring vision to watch Daniel gather up the
two discarded weapons from the sandy floor and move deeper into the
shadows, examining the body of Philip Marshall. Daniel sought a pulse,
but found nothing, the man had taken a bullet squarely in the chest,
bubbles of blood spilling from his lips with his dying breath, his lungs
filling with fluid from the gaping hole of a 9mm calibre bullet.

Daniel stared at the corpse, his normal sensibilities felt disgust for
the waste of life and the fact that he had been forced to shoot perhaps
their only chance of proving government involvement in the entire
conspiracy. But he could feel no remorse, he was glad the man was dead,
especially by his own hand. Daniel caught himself in a feeling of utter
triumph. Appalled for a moment by such an emotion, until he vividly
recalled his first sight of Jack's injuries, in the bright lights of the
hotel room, knowing he would never forget the pain the dead man had
caused.

Fighting to suppress a feeling of elation, Daniel stepped away from the
shadows and back into the light at the centre of the room. He bent down
to help Jack sit up, silently examining the head wound, dismayed by the
loss of blood and the unfocused daze in his eyes. Cassie clung to the
injured man like she would never let go and Jack held her tightly,
shielding her eyes from the sight of the body in the shadows, trying to
save her from one nightmare at least. He was unaware that he was
trembling with shock almost as much as she was and Cassie didn't appear
to notice.

Daniel opened his mouth to say something, when he heard what sounded
like more gunfire, distant muffled shots, reverberating faintly back
down the passageway above. He glanced at Jack in alarm, unsure what to
do, but knowing the shot could only mean more trouble. O'Neill shrugged
helplessly, neither in a fit state to dash up the ladder to anyone's
rescue, nor willing to desert the young girl in his arms.

Reluctant to leave them, Daniel gave Jack his loaded weapon back and
tucked his own Beretta and Marshall's Browning into his belt. He grabbed
Jack's mini maglite that had been dropped on the floor nearby, waiting
long enough for a nod from the Colonel, before he placed two hands on
the rope ladder and swiftly climbed back up through the trapdoor. "Shit
Jack, when are you going to learn to duck!" Daniel muttered to himself
as he ran along the tunnel in what he hoped was the general direction of
the gunfire, heading away from the tourist entrance.

~~~~~~~~~~

In the Solar Bark museum, Janet Fraiser had been waiting impatiently,
hoping that noone would attempt to exit the basement door from the
pyramids. At least not before any member of Sergeant Maged's team turned
up. Facing the dark open entrance, she was growing increasingly edgy as
the minutes ticked by. Suddenly the sound of heavy running footsteps
approached from within.

From her pocket, the doctor drew the SIG-Sauer that she had reluctantly
accepted from the police officer and took several steps away from the
door, maintaining her distance from whatever might lie beyond. Feeling
the uncomfortable weight of the light pistol in her hand, Janet prayed
she would neither be too quick nor too hesitant on the trigger, if
necessity dictated.

A dark figure filled the entrance, pushing the open door the rest of the
way back, shoving it hard to smash against the adjoining plaster wall
with a crash that was shockingly loud in the empty, high ceilinged
structure. Janet watched in fear as a bulky shaven headed man froze in
the exit, directly in the path of her aim.

"Stop right there or I'll shoot!" She shouted, her clear strong tone
belying the terror bubbling beneath the surface. In a single split
second, Janet first wondered who the hell this new arrival was and then
matched him to a description she had heard from Jack of some mammoth man
of Eastern European origin who looked and fought like a professional
boxer. Whatever the man had been doing within the pyramid, he was now
trying to escape.

The heavily muscled man silently regarded the gun barrel aimed squarely
at his chest. Then he noticed the slight shake of the woman's two handed
grip and the uneasy look in her eyes and he stepped forward boldly. But
Janet had spent the last three days contemplating the killing of a
stranger, she had gone over and over what she would do differently if
the occasion ever arose again and now she had the opportunity to put
those thoughts into practice.

Lowering her aim slightly, she fired a round, at almost point blank
range, directly into the thick muscle of his right thigh. The heavily
built man stumbled sideways, collapsing beside the entrance with a roar
of pain. "One more move and the next shot is just a little higher!"
Janet threatened, holding the weapon more confidently now. She aimed and
fired a second round over his head to emphasise her point, the bullet
hitting the back wall of the darkened sandstone passageway beyond.

The wounded man met her gaze with stony grey eyes, a chilling stare as
he attempted to push himself back upright against the door jamb, putting
his weight onto his left leg. Janet watched nervously, wondering whether
she would have to shoot him again, when she heard another set of
footsteps running along the dark passageway from inside the pyramid.

The doctor backed away several yards further, shifting her angle until
she could see into the mouth of the dark tunnel. Drawing her weapon up
to aim directly at the entrance beside the injured man, one eye watching
him like a hawk, but she was now standing too far away for him to
attempt to move against her without guaranteeing getting shot a second
time.

Janet waited, desperately trying to steady her own breathing, when a
figure suddenly burst from the entrance, almost tripping over the
injured man as he ran out. "Daniel!" She exclaimed in relief, releasing
the tension in her trigger finger and training her SIG-Sauer back onto
the captive before he could make use of her distraction. The Eastern
European scowled irritably, clearly unhappy at being outsmarted by a
woman. "What happened?" Janet asked urgently as Daniel blinked in the
bright light, coming to a stop beside her, before he looked at the
injured man leaning heavily against the wide open door, a leg wound
bleeding profusely.

Daniel quickly took in the scene, immediately recognising the likely
identity of her prisoner. Perhaps they might come out of this with one
person who could testify to what had occurred after all, he realised.
Assuming this man had been privy to details and was not just some hired
bully boy.

"We found Cassie, she's all right!" He explained rapidly, recalling the
image of Jack's head wound and all that blood, "Do you have a medical
kit on you?"

"Just a small one," Janet admitted, patting the canvas bag on her
shoulder. "Why?" She asked worriedly.

Daniel was hunting around for something to secure the prisoner with,
spotting a floor polishing machine that had been abandoned nearby for
the night. "It's okay, it's not for Cassie, it's for Jack," he said,
taking out his Swiss army knife to cut through the electrical cord. "I
think he got shot in the head," he added, using the cable to bind the
man's arms and legs as tightly as possible.

"What! Why didn't you tell me?" Janet accused him in a shocked tone.
"Where are they?"

"I just did tell you!" Daniel spluttered defensively, "They're in the
tomb, Jack was conscious again when I left." He pulled the ends of the
cord hard, afraid the prisoner would be strong enough to break through
anything too loose. Besides, Daniel was not in the mood to be gentle
with a man he knew had remorselessly caused his friend such suffering.
Tying the knot tight, he added, "We have to get Sergeant Maged down
here, have you seen any sign of him or his men?"

Daniel turned to find the doctor already gone, heading determinedly down
the passageway into the pyramid. "Janet, wait! Do you even know the
way?" He shouted into the darkness, but she didn't slow her pace, not
hesitating to re-enter the tight confines of the tunnels with such an
important objective in mind.

Hovering indecisively at the entrance, Daniel wondered why there were
never any police around when you needed them. He double checked the Slav
really was tied up securely and prayed he would still be there when they
emerged again, then he chased after Janet, hoping the failing batteries
of Jack's flashlight would last. He was close behind her by the time
they reached the trapdoor in the tunnel floor.

Daniel peered down into the shadowy interior for the third time in
recent days, suppressing a shiver as memories of the two previous scenes
tormented him. Janet crouched down beside him and he heard her sharp
intake of breath as she absorbed the sight below.

Jack was conscious, sitting on the floor with Cassie in his arms, his
legs outstretched, one knee bent in front of him, rocking her back and
forth. The young girl's arms were wrapped around his neck and she clung
to him tightly, her head buried in his chest as she sobbed. Jack held
her close, whispering soothing words, his dark eyes shining.

Fresh blood stained his tan t-shirt, but his left side was angled away
from the overhead entrance and the doctor could not see what damage had
been caused to his head. Although, clearly, his temple was bleeding, she
could see a glistening trail of blood running down the dust on his cheek
as he tilted his face down to talk to Cassie.

Janet watched silently as the two friends comforted each other, hoping
it might be the beginning of healing. She felt tears well up in her own
eyes from the sheer relief and joy of seeing her adopted daughter alive
after all the worse case scenarios she had been playing out in her mind
for the last forty eight hours.

Eventually Cassie lifted her head to fix Jack with her watery gaze,
"What happened to your hand?" She asked with gentle concern.

"It's a long story, Cass," Jack responded, his soft voice husky with
emotion.

"How are we going to play hockey?" The young girl asked worriedly.

Jack tried to smile, studying her face for a long moment. His fingers
reached to tenderly trace the purplish brown bruise on her cheek that
his fuzzy memory finally remembered her receiving. He winced at the
painful recollection, wondering how he would ever be able to make it up
to her. For a start, he could try to keep his long overdue promise,
"I'll just have to get my hand fixed real quick, won't I?"

"Mom will help sort it out," the girl said brightening at the thought.

"Speaking of which, I reckon we should get you outside to see her, don't
you?" Jack suggested, suddenly wondering what had happened to Daniel.

"It's okay, we're here, Jack!" Daniel shouted down from the entrance
above as if reading his mind.

Jack glanced up sharply, turning his head towards the voice, and Janet
got a full view of his latest wound. The blood still flowing from his
bullet grazed temple, running down the side of his face and onto his
neck, soaking the left side of his t-shirt.

The sudden upward tilt of his head, set Jack's vision swimming, blurring
sickeningly. His left arm rapidly let go of Cassie, putting his hand out
to balance as the roaring inside his head warned of the imminent danger
of passing out.

In a flash, the doctor was climbing down the rope ladder, before Cassie
even got a chance to call out for help as she felt Jack's hold slip and
saw him go even more pale before her eyes. Instinctively, Cassie shifted
around to kneel by his side, trying to lean the Colonel against her
small shoulder before he keeled over. Janet jumped down beside her to
help, closely followed by Daniel who took over the job of supporting
Jack's upper body, when he passed out completely with a muffled groan,
taking his weight and holding him up, so that Janet could examine the
head wound.

"Look's like the Colonel's used up another of those nine lives!" Janet
muttered, struggling to believe that he had been shot in the head after
all that had already happened. And had lived to tell the tale, the
bullet grazing his skull, a fraction of an inch closer and the man would
most certainly be dead right now. It was hard to decide whether Jack was
lucky or just plain jinxed!

"Is he going to be okay?" Cassie asked in concern.

"Yes he is, the Colonel just got a little woozy and he's lost some
blood," Janet explained to her daughter, "Nothing we can't fix. He'll be
awake again soon enough." She glanced at Daniel, who indicated he was
okay there for a moment, then she turned away from the patient and
pulled her daughter into a relieved hug. "I missed you, Cassie."

"I missed you too, Mom," the young girl replied, her voice muffled,
buried in the doctor's welcome embrace. "I'm sorry I used my passport,"
she said, renewed tears shining in her eyes.

"Me too," Janet hugged her even tighter, "You and I will be having a
conversation on that subject when we get home. But right now, we'd
better get you and the Colonel out of here. I think Jack has an
appointment with an x-ray machine as well as a hand specialist!" She
grimaced.

~~~~~~~~~~

Sergeant Maged and his city police force had arrived in time to help
them get the injured Colonel to the hospital. Along with a well guarded
prisoner of Eastern European origin with a nasty flesh wound in the
right thigh, who refused to say anything along the way and only scowled
in pain every time the ambulance went over yet another pot hole in the
road.

Naturally, Janet checked Cassandra over herself, with the greatest of
care, determining that she was basically unhurt except for a few bruises
on her cheek and arms. She was a strong kid who had been through a great
deal in such a short life. She was already showing signs of recovery
from the fright and shock, now focusing her concern more deeply on what
had happened to her friend.

"How did Jack hurt his hand?" Cassie asked curiously.

"Well, honey, a bad man broke it and now Jack's going to need some
surgery to try and make it better," Janet told her daughter, unwilling
to admit to her that it was possible he would never be able to use it
again. She left it to the Colonel to decide when to tell Cassie the full
truth of the matter.

Cassandra looked at her for a long while, knowing Janet was hiding the
details, but trusting her reasons. She would just have to ask the man
himself when he woke up. "Can we go see Jack now?" She asked brightly.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jack looked around, struggling to recognise his hazy surroundings, he
focused on the leering officer who handed him a gun, "One bullet, two
choices." He held up a .45 calibre cartridge between his fingers, "Her
or you. A shot to the head!"

Jack clutched the ancient Colt to his chest, fumbling to load the clip,
his actions numb and indistinct.

He struggled to retract the bolt weakly and reluctantly raised his gaze
to regard his target, staring into her tearful eyes. For a fleeting
moment he thought he saw something other than fear, a dim recognition,
from another life. But Jack knew this was the only reality available to
him, everything else was just some hallucination his mind had conjured
up to delay sinking further into the depths of madness.

The girl tried to speak, but he could hear nothing except the blood
roaring in his head, overwhelming his senses. He struggled to
concentrate, to focus on his objective. He had to do it. He was not
going back into that box, he couldn't take it anymore. He could not
survive another day there.

He released the Colt's safety, an awkward motion, it had been awhile
since he had held a gun. His finger slowly depressed the trigger. He saw
a tear trailing down her pale cheeks, and, as the gunshot exploded from
the barrel, he remembered her name.

"Cassie!" Jack screamed. He watched helplessly, paralysed with fear and
remembrance. The girl fell to the ground, her eyes closed, her face
peaceful, angelic. He heard laughter, cold, malevolent, chilling him to
the bone and Jack finally understood, he knew he had been defeated. He
had murdered a friend. He had lost. The hot weapon slipped from his
nerveless fingers.

Jack awoke with a horrified gasp, panic rising, not knowing where he was
or what had happened. Gradually he came to, trying to focus his mind on
his surroundings. The soft comfortable feel of hospital linen and a
mattress beneath his aching body was something he had never fully
appreciated before. Now it felt like heaven and he wondered if it could
possibly be real.

He fidgeted slightly, feeling a weight pressing against his chest, and
slowly opened his eyes to the pale light of dawn creeping through the
window blinds. Tilting his chin slightly, he recognised the top of
Cassie's head, her long fair hair tickling his neck as she slept
soundly, snuggled down on top of the blanket, her cheek resting on his
chest, her shoulders wrapped securely in the crook of his elbow. She was
alive, the nightmare had not come true after all, at least not this
time.

Jack shifted his arm a little, moving his hand to stroke her hair
gently, marvelling at how peaceful she looked after all she had been
through. As he watched, her eyes slowly flickered open, as if sensing
his gaze upon her. "Morning kiddo," Jack managed to grin, although the
muscles in his face responded numbly.

"You're awake!" Cassie whispered with a bright smile.

"Guess so!" Jack moved his arm as the young girl made to sit up, not
minding the pain in his chest when she accidentally leaned her weight on
his bruises. He propped himself up on one elbow to look at her, his head
pounding painfully. "Ouch!" He murmured with a wince, "What hit me?"

"A 9mm calibre bullet, Mom said," Cassie announced knowingly. "It grazed
your temple and would have fractured the cranium if you didn't have such
a thick skull," she added, quoting Doctor Fraiser's words to the letter.

Jack squinted lopsidedly at her through pain filled eyes, trying to
remember the last time he had a headache this bad. It was a thought that
did him no good whatsoever when he recalled a boot in the temple
courtesy of one Cairo gangster and the same side of his head at that.

Cassie noticed the shadow that crossed his dark brown eyes, "Want to
talk about it?" She asked pointedly.

Jack smiled at her very grown up manner, "Nah!" He shook his head
slightly, trying not to make the thudding even worse. Then he thought
about his nightmare again and suddenly recalled the reality on which it
was based. "I thought I'd killed you, Cass," his voice was barely
audible, filled with shame.

"So did I," Cassie said, so quietly that his heart clenched painfully.
She gazed at him, "It wasn't your fault, Jack. It was that nasty man, he
told me it was him."

Jack regarded her, confusion in his eyes. "Can you tell me what
happened?" He asked gently.

"The bullet was a blank, Jack. But one of those Egyptian men had a
tranquilliser dart," Cassie's eyes filled with tears, "I thought you'd
killed me!" She snuffled, "When I woke up that nasty man told me what
he'd done. He was laughing about it, he was so pleased with his 'little
game'. Until he lost you that is!"

Cassie grinned victoriously through the tears. "He wasn't at all happy
then! That other man came to see him. He was the one who found me at the
airport, the same one from last night. He took me with him and left the
other man to finish his job."

"God, Cassie, I'm so sorry," Jack's dark eyes were laden with guilt at
what he'd almost done.

"It wasn't your fault. It was the drugs," Cassie snuggled down into the
crook of his arm on top of the blankets again. Her head tilted up to
watch him.

"I should have been stronger, I should have protected you," Jack wrapped
his arm back around her.

"You did everything you could, Jack. I forgive you," Cassie laid an arm
across his chest and hugged him lightly, "Now you have to forgive
yourself."

"How did you ever get to be so grown up, Cass?" Jack managed to grin,
considering her words thoughtfully, wondering if it would ever be
possible for him to forgive himself.

"Someone has to be," Cassie smiled dozily, "Mom says you and Daniel are
a couple of kids half the time!"

"Oh she does, does she? I think I'll have to have a word with your Mom
next time I see her!" Jack hugged her again, settling back down on his
pillow and closing his eyes against the thudding pain in his head.

"I think she wants to see you too! Something to do with ducking next
time!" Cassie giggled sleepily as she drifted off again, warm and safe
at last.

~~~~~~~~~~

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