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Passages of Time part 7

Passages of Time - Part Seven:

Deep amidst the trees, Colonel O'Neill was fighting his way through the
undergrowth, tracing a parallel line with the dirt track leading away
from the clearing and moving as fast as he could without causing his
breathing rate to increase higher than his damaged ribcage could cope
with. A hundred yards along, he saw something dark blue straddling the
trail, identifying the shape of a vehicle as he moved closer. The car
looked like it had been left there recently. A common make and model,
even the colour was standard and, unless this was a different track to
the one they had driven in on, it certainly had not been there just a
few hours before.

Jack contemplated it curiously, feeling like he ought to recognise it,
but he knew he had never seen it before. Glancing around furtively, he
stepped up to the driver side and gingerly tested the handle, not
wishing to accidentally activate any alarm that might have been set. The
door swung open easily, the vehicle had been left unlocked. His hopes
raised, Jack peered in, but there were no keys left dangling in the
ignition.

Instead he leaned in, across the seat, and opened the glove compartment,
rummaging inside for anything he could use to hotwire the car or even a
clue as to the identity of the owner. A spare set of keys was too much
to hope for, but he did find a battered notebook and a small travel
sized medical kit.

Opening up the folded bundle, Jack examined the contents. Among the
bandages and cotton wool, was a small pair of scissors, the blades shiny
and sharp, perfect for the task of cutting through the plastic coating
of the wiring beneath the dashboard. He threw the rest of the first aid
kit back into the glove box and was about to follow with the notebook
when a doodle on the cover caught his eye. Meaningless to anyone not in
the know, it was a pyramid shape with a single circle above the peak.

With a mixture of dread and hope, Jack's shaky fingers opened the book,
recognising the flowing handwriting of Daniel Jackson immediately. Then
it dawned on him, the vehicle he was now sitting in was the car that his
friend had been talking about purchasing when he had visited Jack in the
hospital shortly after their return from Egypt. But how could it now be
here, wasn't Daniel dead? And if he wasn't, where the hell was he?

~~~~~~~~~~

The Slav dragged Daniel along the hall and out onto the porch, "Colonel
O'Neill!" He yelled loudly, his deep booming voice echoing around the
isolated hillside. "I wouldn't stray too far if I were you! We have one
of your friends here!" He threw Daniel down the steps, with a sadistic
laugh.

Daniel landed heavily, bruising pain blossoming in his right shoulder.
For a moment, he lay face down in the grass, stunned. Slowly he pushed
himself up off the ground, shaking his head to clear it, wanting to call
out to his friend to stay put. He bit his tongue to stop himself,
unwilling to confirm his presence, in case Jack was already too far away
to see.

The Egyptian trained his favourite 9mm on the fallen man, smiling as he
watched the Slav move down the steps towards his new victim. Daniel got
a solid boot in the chest, swinging in to impact his sternum and propel
him back onto his shoulder. He collapsed with a groan, winded and
gasping for breath, as he heard the huge man shout again.

"Colonel O'Neill! Show yourself or your friend will suffer," the Slav
threatened maliciously. Leering at the prone body, he remembered the
pain in his thigh from the gunshot wound inflicted by the man's female
colleague. "Take your time, Colonel. I've got a few debts to settle!" He
stepped forward again as Daniel tried to crawl away, grabbing his left
hand to pull it out from under him. Daniel landed against his chin with
a grunt, unable to escape.

The Slav yanked his hand, pulling him onto his back and pressing a large
boot down on his chest. He stretched Daniel's arm out tautly, a look of
sheer malevolence on his face as he grabbed his smallest finger, bending
it back until Daniel's eyes watered in pain. He gritted his teeth,
grinding down hard, refusing to scream. Sweat beaded on his brow as he
tried to swallow the agony. His blue eyes locked with the Slav's evil
face and he knew what was about to come even before his brain could
translate the sound.

Daniel howled in pain as the huge man snapped his finger like a twig.
The roaring in his head overpowering his senses until he passed out.

~~~~~~~~~~

A hundred yards down the dirt track leading away from the clearing, Jack
was struggling to get at the wiring beneath the steering wheel of the
car, his fingers scrabbling at the moulded plastic cover built to
protect it from just such an act as he was attempting to commit. His
mind was churning, trying to decide what the discovery of this vehicle
really meant, was Daniel alive or not? He couldn't get the image of the
explosion out of his head, how could anyone have survived that, but if
he had not, how come his car was here now?

Jack stopped short. How did the car get here? How could anyone have
found this isolated place? Nobody followed the jeep, he was certain of
that, after all, he had been facing backwards half the time and there
were definitely no other vehicles behind them when they turned off the
mountain road onto the highway. He would have spotted another car and he
was damn sure the Slav would have been checking. So that could only mean
this was all a figment of his imagination.

Sitting up in the driver's seat, Jack pondered for a moment, staring at
the notebook he had left lying on the open flap of the glove
compartment. He chewed his lip thoughtfully, then slowly fingered the
cover before flicking through the pages to the most recent entry.

It was dated the previous night, written in Daniel's unmistakable
scrawl, "I'm exhausted, so this will be short. Jack threw me out and, no
matter what I said, I couldn't stop him, we just ended up arguing. Why
do I get the feeling neither of us are going to get much sleep tonight?
I'm really not sure I can even face trying, but I'm too tired not to.
Well, tomorrow's another day, I'll talk to him again then. It might be
my last try, I don't think I can do this anymore, but maybe I'll feel
better after a good night's sleep.......Yeah right!"

Jack swallowed hard, closing the journal abruptly, unwilling to
accidentally read anything else for fear of what it might say. He didn't
have time to deal with any of it now, but it left no doubt this was
Daniel's car, it was not his mind playing tricks on him, not this time.
So if Daniel was still alive, where was he?

A muffled shout interrupted his thoughts and Jack held his breath, heart
racing, his head bobbing out of the door to strain towards the sound. He
could not make out the words, but he did recognise the accent with a
sense of foreboding. Clearly the Slav had discovered he was missing,
soon they would come after him.

Jack ducked down below the steering wheel again, using the sharp end of
the scissors for additional leverage against the plastic casing covering
the wiring, but no matter how hard he tried, he could not loosen it. He
would not be able to get the car started without a set of keys.

Contemplating his next move, Jack considered again whether it was really
possible that Daniel was alive and out here somewhere. If he was, what
were the chances of finding him in this dense forest?

A howling scream of agony suddenly pierced the silence and Jack's blood
ran cold, all colour draining from his face. He remembered hearing a cry
like that before - his own, when the Slav had stomped a heavy boot down
onto his broken hand, revenge for the Colonel's feeble attempt to fend
off a brutal beating in the confines of the pyramid tomb.

Jack flinched at the memory, he could almost feel the grinding bone in
his fingers as it was crushed for a second time beneath a viciously
aimed boot. The sound of this new scream held many possible
implications, but it was clear that somebody was in immense pain and in
all likelihood that suffering was being inflicted by a large man of
Eastern European origin. It only left the most dreaded question of all.
Who was it being inflicted upon?

Three simple words kept echoing in the back of Jack's mind, pulsing in
and out like a heartbeat. Where was Daniel?

The only way to find out was to go back. Jack shook his head, reluctant
to face such a terrifying idea. What if it was a trap? But how could he
just ignore the cry? He would have to find out who it was even if he had
no way of helping the victim.

Determinedly, Jack pushed himself out of the car and closed the door
quietly, gazing down the dirt track leading back up to the cabin,
forcing his feet to move. Stepping off the trail, back into the safety
of the densely packed trees, he began to make his way towards the
clearing, his breathing becoming more constricted the closer he moved
within the grasp of his nemesis.

By the time he reached the edge of the open space, Jack was beginning to
think it had been a trick, there had been no further screams, only a few
indiscernible shouts from the Slav. From where he stopped there was only
a narrow view of the front of the house, he would have to cross the
trail to see more, but that would reveal his position.

Resting behind a tree, Jack tried to catch his breath, conscious of it
rasping raggedly in his chest. He was shaking again, overwhelmed by the
thought of going back there, being close to that malevolent presence
once more. Taking several slow lungfuls of air, he attempted to calm
himself, focusing his thoughts before he peered out beyond the treeline,
trying to get some idea of what was happening.

"Colonel O'Neill! If you don't come out now, I will shoot your friend,
one limb at a time!" A shot rang out as if to emphasise the warning and
Jack stared aghast as the bald headed Slav came into view, dragging a
limp body behind him. He walked further away from the house to improve
his all round visibility, waving a semiautomatic threateningly in his
other hand.

Jack recognised the Slav's new prisoner immediately, he just didn't know
what to do about the fact. How could he give himself up? How could he
volunteer to be captured again, after all he had been through? Noone
could expect him to do that, not even Daniel.

"Daniel! Shit!" Jack shook his head, wondering whether he was
hallucinating again. How else had Daniel's body come to be in the midst
of all this when he was surely blown up in the explosion at the base? As
he watched, the Egyptian walked into view and hauled Daniel to his feet,
holding him upright for the Slav to slap his face and revive him.
Daniel's head moved, his eyes slowly opening. He was still alive!

Barely able to believe his own eyes, Jack didn't know whether he should
be relieved or not. Maybe Daniel was alive right now, but how long would
that last in these circumstances? And what choice did that leave Jack?

O'Neill leaned back against the tree, trying to think of something,
anything, fast. He fought a frighteningly strong urge to simply turn and
run, feeling a shiver of fear down his spine. His hand shook as he moved
it to rub his eyes and, for a long moment, Jack stared at his trembling
fingers and finally he knew, the nightmare would never stop if he didn't
end it here.

He had to face the Slav head on, deal with him as best he could. No
matter how hard it would be, no matter what chance the outcome, Jack was
not going to leave Daniel to suffer the same fate as he had at the hands
of this man. Now was the time for that last ditch attempt he had
promised himself back in the basement of the cabin. It may not be quite
his idea of tackling the enemy on his own terms, but it was now or
never. The time to fight back had arrived. A time for vengeance, with
one added motivation, to save the life of the man who had saved him
countless times in Egypt.

With that thought spurring him on, Jack moved along the edge of the
clearing, keeping within the boundaries of the treeline until he was
behind the house. Ducking low, he crossed the open space to reach the
back wall, nearing the basement window through which he had exited less
than an hour earlier. If he could creep around the outside, maybe he
could get behind and surprise them. And do what, Jack? He asked himself
silently.

Glancing round, he noticed the open window above his head, practically
inviting him to enter the house. It was the last thing he would consider
under normal circumstances, but it didn't look like he had any other
option. Maybe inside he could find something to fight with.

Hauling himself awkwardly up over the window ledge, anxious to avoid
leaning on his painful left side, Jack dropped into the room beyond,
finding himself standing in a kitchen. He opened drawers as quietly as
possible, searching for any sharp tools, but all he found was a small
cheese knife, apparently the owners had cleared the place out.

Jack secreted the hook ended knife into the edge of his boot, just in
case, and crept into the hallway, scanning around in the hope of finding
something more useful. One of the doors was open, the Slav's canvas tool
bag discarded on the chair just inside. With one eye on the entrance and
his ears open for trouble, he rummaged inside, his fingers hitting
something cold and hard.

Withdrawing a standard issue Beretta, Jack checked the magazine before
he allowed himself to get too excited. It was fully loaded, fifteen
round nosed cartridges packed snugly inside. With a shaking hand, he
rested the end of the clip against his plaster cast and pushed it back
into place with a resounding click. Releasing the safety, Jack stood up
and stepped back out into the hallway, still pondering his next move
when another shot echoed around the hillside outside, breaking the
silence with a sharp crack. His pulse racing at the shockingly loud
noise, Jack realised his time had run out.

Ahead of him the side exit door was ajar, the dark wood surrounded by a
chink of daylight at the edges. Heading through it, Jack left the cabin
and edged along the outer wall towards the front, in time to hear the
Slav shout again, his booming voice frighteningly close.

"I warned you, Colonel! One limb at a time!" The bald headed man yelled
menacingly, signalling his Egyptian colleague to step away from the
victim. Daniel watched the barrel of the 9mm raise up and tried to move
out of the way, futilely attempting to escape the bullet. The gun fired
and Daniel collapsed to the ground, his left leg giving way beneath him.

At first he only felt numbness, then his brain slowly began to process
the sensation of a bullet travelling through the fleshy part of his
thigh and Daniel swallowed a cry of pain, refusing to make another sound
as he glared at the Slav through clenched teeth, his eyes watering and
sweat beading on his brow. Fighting the urge to pass out again, Daniel
pressed his hands against the flesh wound as though to suppress the
agony, his fingers quickly covering in blood.

The larger man simply smiled cruelly, admiring the damage as the red
liquid flowed from the entry and exit wounds in Daniel's thigh.

Another shot rang out and Daniel cringed, bracing for the impact.
Instead he heard the bullet hit the dirt near the Slav, glancing around
wildly to determine the identity of a second gunman.

"That's enough!" Jack shouted from the edge of the house with a strength
belying the terror which gripped him.

Daniel didn't know whether to be relieved or horrified by the sudden
appearance of his friend. Swivelling his head until he found the source
of the voice, he watched with a mixture of hope and dread.

The Slav's gloating smile slipped for an instant, his shocked surprise
that O'Neill had obtained a weapon quickly replaced by a sneer as he
realised how off target his aim had been. Standing his ground boldly,
the bald man turned towards the corner of the cabin to leer at the
hidden gunman, at the same time raising his arm in preparation for
another shot at Daniel.

"Ah, Colonel O'Neill!" He exclaimed with a smug look at the shadow of
the man standing in the safe cover at the side of the house, "So nice to
have the pleasure of your company again!" He regarded him thoughtfully,
his face forming into a sadistic smile. "Perhaps, we might release your
friend, if you wish to take his place?" He shifted the barrel of his gun
to point directly at Daniel's head.

Swiftly Jack raised his arm and fired another round at the Slav, but his
shaking left handed accuracy was not well practised and the angle was
poor. The bullet hit the dirt about a foot to one side of the target,
but it did stop the Slav from shooting Daniel. O'Neill barely had time
for a further shot, which flew wide, as the bulky man ducked for cover
into the shadows of the cabin, dragging the wounded man behind him.

Still aiming with his left hand, Jack was forced to emerge further into
the open, edging around the corner until he could see the porch steps,
his hopes fading rapidly when he realised they had reached a stalemate.
The Slav stood with Daniel in front of him as a human shield, the
slighter man wavering, leaning on one good leg, blood oozing from the
wound in his thigh, pulled open further by the sudden jerking movement
as he was hauled to his feet.

Boldly, the Eastern European dragged Daniel out across the open ground,
holding him up in front, knowing the Colonel's current shooting accuracy
would never be good enough for him to risk a shot at the minor body
parts that were not covered by the thinner man, O'Neill's friend and
former saviour. He started talking, goading and laughing, a planned
distraction away from his Egyptian colleague who was lurking in the
shadows on the porch.

"For someone who apparently plays such a vital role in the Stargate
program, you really aren't very good at protecting your team mates, are
you Colonel?" He leered, "First you get him blown up and now he's been
shot in the leg. All because of you," the man laughed sadistically.

"Don't listen to him, Jack," Daniel's voice sounded weak, constricted by
the arm across his chest, "Get away from here. You can still escape."
His last words were strangled as the Slav shifted his grip higher,
cutting off the man's air supply.

The Eastern European raised his 9mm to Daniel's temple. "One move and
you can watch him die!" He gloated, flexing his finger against the
trigger.

"Wait!" Jack gasped, thinking fast, trying to see a way out that didn't
involve his friend getting a hole in the head. A smothering feeling of
deja vu washed over him. He had been in this position before, that
numbing feeling of looking down into his tomb again, an American traitor
holding a gun against Cassie's head. He hadn't found a way out then and
he couldn't see a way out now, except for self sacrifice. Only he didn't
believe this evil man would even attempt a false display of honour by
pretending to allow an exchange of Jack's life for Daniel's. Giving
himself up was definitely not going to help.

It's me you want, let him go!" He shouted futilely. "Shit, Jack. Think
of something," he muttered under his breath, "You're running out of
time."

"I'll say!"

Jack felt the heavily accented words breathed hotly against his neck,
his hackles rising in a warning that was way too late to save him. The
barrel of a Browning pressed against Jack's temple and out of the corner
of his eye he could see the dark finger tightening on the trigger. He
sagged in defeat, a small moan escaping his lips as he let his grip on
the Beretta slip, dangling it from his index finger submissively.

The Egyptian leaned across to take the handgun and Jack made his move,
sharply ramming his right elbow into the man's solar plexus, then he
gripped his fingers around the barrel of the Beretta and smashed the
butt down hard on the Egyptian's skull, cutting his scalp open with the
impact.

The dark skinned man reeled, momentarily stunned by the attack. Winded
and bleeding, he doubled over, but he recovered his wits quickly enough
to ram his head into Jack's chest with an impact that reverberated right
through Jack's rib cage with agonising pain. Catching him off balance,
the Egyptian propelled the lighter weight Colonel backwards against the
solid wall of the cabin.

Jack's head snapped back, smacking against the stone, the handgun flying
from his nerveless fingers. Dazed, he fought on instinct, bringing his
knee up to ram the Egyptian in the chest, then, shoving all his weight
against the side of the house, the Colonel launched himself at his
opponent, knocking him to the ground. Together they rolled on the slope,
each struggling to gain the upper hand.

Both men froze suddenly when a shot rang out, echoing around the
hillside. Their heads turned in the direction of the source, their gaze
held by the 9mm Czech made weapon in the hand of the Slav. He waved the
semiautomatic at the sky, seeking their full attention before he moved
the gun back to point the barrel at the temple of Daniel who had been
watching the fight helplessly. Trapped by the large man, he was
struggling to remain conscious, his breath coming in shallow rasps
beneath the constricting hold on his throat.

The fighting pair rolled apart and Jack lay still for a moment, the
adrenaline rush dissipating to leave his rib cage in agony as he tried
to draw breath. His head was pounding from the impact with solid stone.
Distantly he heard the sounds of the forest surrounding them, branches
rustling in a light breeze, the midday sun warming his face. Given the
choice he would have laid there forever, but he knew he had run out of
choices a long time ago.

Jack swallowed, forcing himself to move. Pushing upright off the grass,
he leaned on one knee until his head stopped spinning. "Let him go and
I'll do whatever you ask," he offered bleakly, knowing he had zero
bargaining power in the circumstances. But the Slav had already won and
knew it, he removed his gun from Daniel's head and released the body.
The younger man collapsed to the grass with a groan, his injured leg
buckling beneath him as he gasped for air, coughing painfully.

As O'Neill slowly rose to face his nemesis, the Slav turned towards him,
targeting the handgun until Jack once again found himself staring at the
business end of a 9mm semiautomatic. A vivid flashback to their first
meeting pushed to the forefront of his mind. Gazing down the barrel, he
remembered the Browning that had been trained on him by another
Egyptian, whilst the bald headed man had sized up the Colonel's torso to
select an initial point of impact for a pair of solid fists.

The new pain in Jack's ribcage seemed to throb with that memory, yet
another fight for survival which had left him knocked down and defeated.
As an overwhelming fear threatened to paralyse him once more, Daniel's
hoarse whisper penetrated the fog, reaching out to him across the
clearing.

"Jack, no!" Daniel revived sufficiently to speak, "Why didn't you get
away?" He moaned desperately, his voice almost a sob, guilt ridden that
he had been the cause of his friend's recapture.

O'Neill fought to refocus onto those anguished words. Arms held out at
his sides, he stepped forward, forcing himself to ignore the gun barrel
which trained around to follow him as he crouched down beside Daniel.
"You okay?" He asked softly, gently checking the leg wound, laden with
guilt that he had caused the man to endure such pain.

"Jack, I'm sorry," Daniel gasped, trying to sit up.

Jack wrapped an arm around his shoulders, helping him to stand on his
other leg and holding him upright. Then he turned to face his tormentor,
"Let him go, he's of no benefit to you."

"You're right, of course, Colonel," the Slav agreed. "However, we can
hardly make your death look like a suicide if your friend is around to
reveal the truth," he leered at him cruelly, emphasising the full impact
of his renewed captivity.

What little hope O'Neill may have retained, faded completely. He knew
that sadistic look and he knew this was a man born of the same evil
nature as the Russian. Not only was Jack trapped again, but another
friend was in danger because of him.

~~~~~~~~~~

It seemed extraordinary to Jack that he had managed to come full circle
yet again into this dark hole, only this time he had company and that
scared him even more. They had been taken down into the basement and
tied together, back to back, with nylon rope. His leather jacket had
been removed, leaving only his black t-shirt between the cord of his
tight bonds now digging painfully into his fractured ribcage. Both arms
were trapped at their sides and their ankles also bound.

Daniel had been out for awhile, his ragged breathing breaking the
silence. His head lolled forward against his chest as his subconscious
encouraged him to doze and give his body time to compensate for the
blood loss. Their captors had returned upstairs, presumably to redevelop
their plans to encompass the new arrival.

Jack was working on moving his bound ankles close enough to his left
hand, glad that he had applied a little foresight for a change when he
had secreted the cheese knife down the side of his zipped boot. Each
movement inflicted more agony to his injured side, but he had to work
fast, there was no telling how long they would be left alone. Just two
more inches and he would be there.

He shifted slightly, trying to drag his arm around, his long fingers
outstretched, the tips just brushing the edge of the black leather.
Another fraction closer and he could feel the sharp hook end of the
knife pressing against his fingertip. He drew a slow breath and held it,
concentrating all his powers on stretching that one digit a tiny bit
further. He could feel the cramp starting to form in the muscles of his
legs, bent around awkwardly, but he ignored it and flexed them even
further.

The hook caught beneath his nail and Jack gradually withdrew it from his
boot, not daring to even breathe as he tried to get a second touch to
the blade. With one last effort, he stretched another inch and wrapped
two fingers around the sharp metal, pulling it free with a gasp of
expelled air. He let his legs straighten back in front of him, feeling
pins and needles beginning in his toes and spreading higher as
circulation returned.

As Jack fidgeted back into a more comfortable position, Daniel moaned
softly. All of a sudden he emitted an agonised shriek, almost causing
Jack to drop the hard sought knife.

The younger man jerked awake abruptly. "Stop!" He begged through gritted
teeth, "Don't move a muscle!" Daniel gasped, trying to focus on the
source of the pain shooting up his arm. "Okay, lift your hand!" He
pleaded. "No, the other one!" Jack lifted his heavy plaster cast
gingerly, wondering what the hell he'd done wrong, his heart thudding
hard in his chest. "God!" Daniel breathed a deep sigh of relief, "That
hurts!"

"What hurts?" Jack hissed worriedly, trying not to attract further
attention from anyone upstairs after Daniel's initial outcry.

"My finger!" Daniel rasped, "That son of a bitch broke my finger!"

"One finger! Is that all?" Jack whispered in utter astonishment, "Try
having half the bones in your hand pulverised!" He said irritably, his
tension spilling over, mixing with his shock at almost dropping the
knife after such a nerve wracking extraction. He heard the younger man
gasp in surprise and regretted his harsh words immediately, back
pedalling with a sympathetic question, "How's the leg?"

Daniel didn't answer for a moment, then he shrugged slightly,
whispering, "Okay, I guess, just kind of numb really, feels like the
bleeding's slowed a bit though."

"Good, try not to move it," Jack said lamely, lapsing into an
uncomfortable silence.

"This is all my fault!" Daniel said after a few minutes, "I should have
kept my head down, instead of getting you recaptured."

"Daniel, you're not to blame, I should never have let myself get caught
again in the first place!" Jack pointed out frustratedly. "How the hell
did you get here, anyway?"

"Well I tried to follow the truck, then when I lost it I just kind of
followed my nose," Daniel said sheepishly, still not entirely sure how
he had managed the feat himself. "Hammond's going to be pretty upset
with me when he finds out I didn't report back to the base as ordered!"

"You talked to Hammond?"

"Yeah, he knows about the jeep and the truck. They'll be out searching
you know, they'll find us.......," Daniel trailed off, knowing they were
both wondering the exact same thing - how long could they hold out in
the meantime? Daniel decided to change the subject before they both
started second guessing themselves, "What the hell do these two want
with you anyway, Jack? More questions?"

"No. No questions, thank God. This is only about money now," Jack shook
his head bleakly. On the one hand he knew he could not face any further
questioning, whether in the form of Daniel's innocent queries, a Senate
Committee's closed hearing, or the Slav practising his interrogation
techniques. But the change in motivations for this crime meant there was
now nothing to stop them both from being killed at any time, the Slav
would still get paid in full.

"They're mercenaries, Daniel," Jack decided an explanation was in order,
"Some Senator is paying these two to blow up the SGC in my name. The
Senator wants the Stargate program rehoused into his own sweet profit
making deal and he's planning to get rid of some of the main objectors
while he's at it. The Slav planted C4 charges all over the base this
morning."

"What?" Daniel exclaimed in a loud hiss. "We've got to warn them!"

"Ya think!" Jack whispered sarcastically. All the while during their
conversation his left hand was twisted round, reaching up to their tight
bonds to work the sharp edge of the small knife against the nylon rope.
Concentrating hard, he was glad to be doing something constructive to
keep his mind off his current close confinement.

The rhythmic tapping against Daniel's right arm finally attracted the
younger man's attention. "What are you doing?" He asked softly.

"As you said, one of us has to warn the SGC about the bombs," Jack
replied quietly, "I figured you might be getting bored with being a
mouse in a trap, so I borrowed a cheese knife!"

"Oh," Daniel couldn't help but grin to himself. When he thought about
it, he realised Jack seemed to have a lot more fight in him than he had
seen lately. Since they could be stuck there for awhile, maybe now was
as good a time as any to tackle a tricky subject, "How far did you get
this morning, Jack?"

"The Slav caught up with me in my office," Jack admitted disgustedly,
still mad at himself for being so powerless in the situation.

Even so, Daniel was happy to hear that the leader of SG1 had made it
that far on his own, "That's good!"

"What do you mean good?" The older man asked indignantly.

"I mean it was good that you got so far!"

"Barely," Jack admitted distractedly, his main focus on cutting through
the rope, he wasn't really thinking about what he was revealing, "I
nearly blew it when I saw the Russian on the eleventh floor!"

Daniel turned his head sharply, unsuccessfully trying to peer at him in
the dark. "What do you mean you saw the Russian?"

Jack stopped short, realising what he had said and attempting to cover
himself, "I meant the Slav."

"No you didn't mean that at all!" It was Daniel's turn to be indignant,
"You were having another of those flashbacks, waking nightmares,
whatever you want to call them."

"I don't want to call them anything," Jack murmured determinedly,
pushing the image from his mind and concentrating on cutting through
their bonds.

"Admit it, they're getting worse aren't they?" Daniel said accusingly.

"Only when I'm sober," Jack's attempt at a joke fell flat.

"Well that instils me with confidence!" Daniel jibed gently. "I know how
bad they are, Jack, I was with you this weekend, remember? Thirty six
hours of watching you flinch and react to something nobody else can see
was unnerving enough for me, what's it doing to you?"

"Daniel, this is neither the time nor the place to be having this
conversation," Jack warned quietly, trying to push him away without
hurting him again, finding it hard to believe the younger man wanted to
talk, here of all places.

"I can't think of a better time, Jack," Daniel argued, "You're a captive
audience! In fact, I wish I'd thought of it, I would have tied you down
myself if it's the only way to make you talk!" Feeling a shudder run
down Jack's spine where it pressed against his own, Daniel fell silent,
suddenly realising what he'd said. "You know I didn't mean that how it
sounded.......," he trailed off dejectedly, searching for some way to
explain himself.

"Jack, you can't ignore all this stuff in your head. I know what's going
on, I slept on the couch in your room! Well, okay, I didn't exactly
sleep much, I spent most of the night listening to your nightmares!"
Jack's shoulders tensed against his, the fight or flight instinct
kicking in, but Daniel wasn't going to give in so easily this time.
Instead he changed tack, gently persisting, "Tell me what happened this
morning."

Jack swallowed, working harder at the rope, knowing the sooner they were
free, the sooner he could escape the questioning. Eventually he broke
the silence, "I saw the Russian and one of the Egyptian guards." He
shrugged beneath his tight bonds, "Nothing unusual, I just couldn't
place the scene."

"Anything else?" Daniel asked hopefully, encouraged by the few words
that Jack had finally decided to share with him.

Jack remembered the vivid impression mixing with his claustrophobic fear
in the close confines of the SGC's emergency stairwell. "Yeah," he
admitted after a long pause, "Janet was with them."

Daniel immediately realised the significance of that, "Jack, it must
have been the hotel room in Giza, where you shot Alesandrov! You're
finally beginning to remember it."

Jack was stunned for a moment, shaking his head in astonishment. "Why
didn't I think of that!" He exclaimed, twisting round to look at his
friend in the darkened basement. The sudden stretch against their bonds
was exactly what was needed to break the last strand and set them free.
The rope slipped from his chest and he let out a slow breath in relief
as the pressure released from his fractured ribs. Bending forward
painfully to work on the cord around his ankles, Jack scrabbled blindly
in the darkness.

Daniel did the same, more quickly with the benefit of only having a
single broken finger, removing his own bonds, then swivelling round to
help Jack's one handed attempt. "You know sometimes the most obvious
explanation is right under your nose," he pointed out gently, "Maybe you
just wanted to remember killing the Russian so badly that it never
occurred to you when you actually did."

Finishing the last knot, he pulled the cord free and sat back. Jack
stood up slowly and stiffly, leaning down to feel for Daniel's arm to
help him to his feet, supporting his shoulders as he hopped on one leg.

"What now?" The younger man whispered.

"Now we go out through the window and make a fast getaway," Jack replied
softly. "And whatever you do, don't look back. No matter what happens,"
he added grimly.

"What do you mean, 'no matter what happens'?" Daniel asked worriedly,
"I'm not leaving you behind, we have to go together."

"No Daniel, we have to warn the SGC about the bombs, no matter what the
cost. Just remember their location, okay? The Slav planted charges on
timers in the briefing room, Hammond's office, your lab, Janet's office,
the infirmary and the control room. They're all due to go off tomorrow
morning sometime," he explained in an urgent whisper, spelling out the
plan as convincingly as he could, "We split up and divide their forces,
that way there'll be more chance of one of us getting out of here
alive."

Jack didn't mention the thought that was on his mind, that the Slav had
been paid to kill him alone, Daniel was simply an added bonus. The
Colonel was bargaining that these mercenaries would concentrate on
recapturing him first, not Daniel, especially considering the size of
the surrounding forest. Surely they would not risk losing their money
winner by wasting time going after Daniel? And if the younger man kept
his head down he should be able to make it back to his car and escape,
before the Slav and his colleague could find O'Neill.

"Watch where you step, there's loads of crap on the floor, we don't want
them to hear us knocking anything about." Jack helped Daniel towards the
far corner of the room, where the afternoon sunlight was filtering
through the broken window.

"I've done this before and you need some help with that leg, so you're
first. I'll give you a leg up," Jack ordered. Daniel stared at him in
the pale light for a moment, his head filled with too many words to even
attempt. He nodded silently, in reluctant agreement. "Head for your car,
you got a key?"

"Yeah," Daniel replied quietly, he kept a spare wedged down the back
seat, which was why he always left it unlocked, he'd lost more sets of
keys than he'd driven miles recently.

"Remember what I said, warning the SGC is more important than anything
else! So head down and keep going, no matter what. Okay?" They exchanged
a look that spoke volumes, then Jack leaned against the wall and braced
his bent leg below the window to help Daniel step up.

Boosting the younger man through the narrow opening, he watched for a
moment. Daniel crouched outside, looking both ways across the open
clearing, before hobbling for the cover of the forest as fast as his
wounded leg would carry him. He stumbled as he reached the treeline and
Jack caught his breath, expelling it only when he saw Daniel get up
again and disappear amidst the dense green undergrowth.

Now it was Jack's turn, he followed the same process as before, both
arms through the opening, attempting to haul himself up, fighting for
purchase digging the toe of his boot into the stone wall. He felt so
tired, totally drained, but he knew one more push was all it would take
to be free again.

Jack froze when a light went on behind him, still not even halfway
through the window. He pushed harder, panic rising, but his foot lost
it's grip and he slipped, landing heavily against his side. The pain in
his ribs flared excruciatingly and Jack's vision blurred. He felt
himself blacking out, utterly powerless to fight it as his head swam
sickeningly and his consciousness slowly ebbed away.

~~~~~~~~~~

In the heart of the SGC, the mission briefing area located above the
basement control room had borne witness to some heavy discussion over
defensive strategy and assault plans in the last two years. However,
this was the first time the attack had come from someone on their own
planet, possibly even instigated by a member of their own government.

The conversation was a mixture of subdued and furious. This depended on
whether you were the SGC's only female medical doctor, currently on-call
at the base, who along with the two remaining members of SG1, were all
worrying over the missing half of the team. Or, Sergeant Chapman and
Colonel Makepeace, who were both angry over the attempted destruction of
the facility, not to mention the fact that security had been so lacking
as to allow someone to gain access deep enough into Cheyenne Mountain,
apparently unhindered, and abduct one of their most valuable officers.

Each person sat at the table facing the pile of half a dozen C4 charges
lying in the centre. The detonators and timers still attached, but now
defused. The group waited patiently for General Hammond, who was on the
red phone in his office. The conversation could not be heard, but was
clearly not going well to anyone who could see through the open slats of
the window blinds.

Finally, Hammond slammed down the telephone and stormed into the
briefing room. "He says we need proper proof!" He announced,
uncharacteristically letting his annoyance with the powers that be show
through.

"But, Sir!" Captain Carter exclaimed, "How much proof is enough? We know
the Eastern European gained access to the base using official papers
that had to come from someone high up. Not to mention the fact that
somehow a renowned judge supposedly signed release papers by mistake
that freed a man from Federal prison before he'd even been tried! And we
know that same man planted these explosives in strategic locations that
were designed to disable this facility."

"Those explosives were signed out in Colonel O'Neill's name," Hammond
pointed out uncomfortably.

"And noone remembers the Colonel being anywhere near the armoury this
morning!" Sam argued in her team leader's defence. "You know he didn't
do this, you saw it with your own eyes!"

"But noone in the armoury remembers who they signed those explosives out
to, nor can anyone explain why the security camera in that corridor
suddenly stopped working a short time beforehand." The General was
beginning to wonder what was worse, an attack on his base or the growing
list of inadequacies by members of his own personnel.

"It would appear that the one person who can explain these anomalies
would be the man who left with Colonel O'Neill this morning," Teal'c
pointed out tautly. "I believe we should be concentrating our efforts on
finding this man."

"Teal'c, the Sheriff's department is doing all they can to find the
vehicles. We've narrowed the search to a circle reaching as far as the
gas station that Doctor Jackson contacted us from this morning, but it's
a large area. The mountainous terrain and the dense forests do not
facilitate a thorough search from the air. Our security teams and the
Sheriff's office are doing a painstaking job as fast as humanly possible
and with limited resources."

"Then let the rest of us go and help, Sir," Sam repeated her plea for
the umpteenth time.

"Captain Carter, we have yet to find all the explosive charges that were
requisitioned from the armoury this morning. You know that! We have to
concentrate on securing this base from that threat before I can spare
any more of you to go after either Colonel O'Neill or Doctor Jackson.
I'm sorry."

"And what if those explosives aren't here, Sir?" Carter asked quietly,
"What if the Slav took them with him when he left the base? We'll be
searching for nothing, while their lives are in danger."

"The Slav was carrying a tool bag on his shoulder when he left," Doctor
Fraiser pointed out. She was struggling to focus her mind on the new
crisis, images of a dark hole within a pyramid kept pushing to the fore,
interspersed with an horrific scene inside a brightly lit hotel room in
Giza. She really wanted to call Cassie, to hear her voice, but Janet
knew she wouldn't be able to hide the worry from her tone and she
couldn't lie to the girl, not after what had happened in Egypt. And
there was no sense in upsetting her daughter with news that her beloved
Colonel was missing once more.

Janet shook her head and lowered it onto her hands, leaning her elbows
on the polished wood surface. She sighed inwardly, just when she had
begun to think their troubles would soon be over! Daniel had told her
that Jack was returning that morning, it really seemed like a step
forward for all of them, and now this. It was like a walking nightmare,
something you could never escape, never wake up from. Slowly the doctor
became aware that someone was talking to her.

"Doctor Fraiser? Are you all right?" The General asked with genuine
concern, still wishing for a way to recover their good working
relationship since she had returned to duty at the base a week ago.
Prior to that she had spent her time since returning from Egypt by
working at the military hospital. An assignment that Hammond knew was as
much an excuse to avoid speaking with the SGC Commander as it had been
to watch over Colonel O'Neill's recuperation.

"What?" Janet asked startled, knowing she had drifted off again. Somehow
she didn't seem able to focus very well lately, the bad dreams that kept
disturbing her sleep probably weren't helping, she thought ruefully.
Still, she knew she wasn't the only person suffering those, but at least
she and Cassie could cry on each other's shoulders. She couldn't imagine
Daniel and Jack sharing the same experience! That thought shook Janet
back to reality, "Sir! I really must insist that you allow us to leave
the base and form a search group of our own," she requested
determinedly.

Hammond smiled kindly, "Agreed, Doctor. I was just asking whether you
wanted to go in the helicopter? It would be pertinent for you to be
rapidly available should the ground teams find either one of our missing
personnel."

Janet nodded sheepishly and excused herself to head for the infirmary
and grab any medical equipment she might conceivably need.

~~~~~~~~~~

Dragged roughly from the realms of unconsciousness, Jack felt himself
being hauled back into the basement and thrown to the concrete floor,
slamming against storage boxes as he fell with a muffled groan,
excruciating pain flaring in his side.

He could not be sure at what exact moment it had occurred, it may even
have been sometime earlier that day, but with that last overpowering
impact against the window ledge, Jack finally knew for sure that this
was no longer simply a fractured rib. There was more damage there now,
something different, the persistent ache had become a burning agony that
he knew from past experience could represent his ultimate downfall, if
by some remote chance the Slav failed to kill him first.

For a moment Jack lay still, unable to decide whether there was any
reason to go on or not. He opened his eyes a slit, squinting in the
bright artificial light to slowly focus on the leering smile close to
his face as it tilted away for a second.

The Slav yelled an order to his colleague that made Jack's blood run
cold and spurred him into renewed action, "Get his friend, he can't have
gone far. Kill him if you have to, we can sort out the details later."

With all his strength, Jack swung his boot up between the Slav's legs,
connecting solidly. The bulky man doubled over in pain as the Colonel
scrambled away. Struggling to his feet, using a nearby packing case to
pull himself up, Jack stumbled across the cellar, looking for a weapon,
anything solid that he could lay his hands on.

The Egyptian was rapidly approaching from behind, unwilling to fire his
Browning for fear it would ruin their plans of making the Colonel's
death look like a suicide. On the workbench nearby was a rusty old
wrench. Jack's fingers grasped it, swinging it wildly at the dark
skinned man, whose chin snapped back out of the way just in time. The
solid metal whipped harmlessly in front of his face, but the man
followed in behind its path to attack.

Jack stepped backwards, feeling the workbench pressing against his
bruised spine, blocking his retreat. He glanced sideways, the Slav was
rapidly recovering, standing upright and slowly moving towards him. Jack
dodged away in the other direction, reaching the corner of the cellar
and edging along towards the staircase hopefully. But he was quickly cut
off and left with nowhere to go.

The Egyptian was tired of the chase, firing several warning shots into
the stone wall just above the Colonel's head. Jack froze, flashback
images crashing down upon his senses in a terrifying onslaught, that
combined with the bright overhead light of the basement to drag him
straight back into a shadowy tomb, to relive a scene that simply
repeated again now as, helplessly trapped, he watched the Slav size him
up and move in for the kill.

Jack knew exactly where that first punch would fall and he struggled to
separate the two instances in his mind, driven deep within the confines
of an ancient pyramid, where he had been surrounded by three assailants.
Two Egyptians with guns and one Eastern European with only his fists, a
more lethal weapon in its own way than any the Colonel had ever faced.
And he knew that if those same fists were used on him now, his weakened
ribcage did not stand a chance against such a devastating attack.

Kicking out forcefully, Jack's boot connected with the knee of his
attacker. He followed through with as solid a southpaw punch to the
Slav's face as he could manage. But even that seemed weak against a man
of such bulk and it did not take much for the Slav to gain the upper
hand in the fight. Within seconds, Jack felt the aching pain of punches
hitting his chest and jaw like solid concrete.

Before the Slav got a chance to aim for his left side, Jack lunged
forward in one last ditch effort to escape the brutal pounding, but the
Egyptian grabbed him by the shoulders and threw him against the wooden
staircase. Jack's legs buckled weakly beneath him and he collapsed to
the floor, desperately trying to scramble away from the incoming boot.
It caught the base of his back, adding to the bruises already collected
from an earlier encounter with the same stairs.

The leg swung away for another vicious kick and Jack could do nothing
more to protect himself from the final brutal impact. As his vision
blurred, Jack fought the darkness, afraid of what would happen to Daniel
if he gave into oblivion. His gaze fell on something secreted in the
well below the top of the staircase several feet above his head. A
carefully placed explosive package, similar in design to several he had
already seen earlier that day, yet larger, more effective.

Jack stared at the digital display panel, the glow of its ticking
countdown and corresponding clock setting burning onto his retinas.
Faintly, he understood the significance of the hidden surprise as his
eyes rolled up into his head. With a muffled groan, he slipped into an
enveloping blackness, his mind still attempting to memorise the deadline
for the end of this living hell.

~~~~~~~~~~

Daniel's heart was pounding as he hobbled through the trees, his breath
coming in painful gasps as he pushed on as hard as he could. He didn't
know what had happened to Jack, he had done exactly as ordered for a
change, knowing the utmost importance of one of them escaping to alert
the SGC. He owed the Colonel at least that much, especially if there was
any chance that O'Neill might be blamed for the explosions. Someone had
to be told the truth.

He focused on reaching his vehicle, ignoring the pain flaring in his
leg, the bullet wound bleeding again, the dampness seeping into his sock
making each step feel soggy and slippery. He had only one target and
that was a dark blue shape rapidly looming through the trees up ahead.

When he got there, Daniel leaned against the car for a moment, feeling
dizzy from the renewed loss of blood. His chest heaved as he tried to
catch his breath. Then he opened the rear door and jammed his hand down
the back of the seat, fumbling hurriedly for the spare set of keys he
always kept hidden there. Wrapping his fingers around the ring
gleefully, Daniel pulled them clear of the snug upholstery and jumped
into the driver seat, jamming the key into the ignition and turning it.

Nothing happened. An ominous silence seemed to echo in the trees. He
tried the key again, still no turn of the starter motor, no spark of the
plugs igniting the engine. He couldn't believe it, staring at the
dashboard in astonishment, he hadn't had the car that long, what could
possibly be wrong? Slamming the ball of his uninjured hand against the
steering wheel frustratedly, Daniel leaned down and pulled the catch to
release the hood, jarring his broken finger painfully. Swearing under
his breath, he climbed out of the vehicle to pretend knowledge of all
things mechanical.

Lifting the dark blue hood to reveal the engine, still relatively clean
and new, it was actually a lot easier than Daniel had expected to
determine the problem. He had seen plenty of television programmes in
his youth, he knew what a missing distributor cap looked like!

"Shit!" Daniel looked around nervously, wondering when it had happened.
Was he about to get a bullet in the spine or had they disabled his
vehicle sometime earlier? Were their two captors close by or back at the
cabin? Or worse still, somewhere chasing after Jack.

Quietly he lowered the hood and peered up the track in the direction of
his escape route. With his car in the way as an obstacle, noone could
drive out this way, he would be safe to head along the dirt trail for
awhile. It would certainly be the quickest way to get some distance
between himself and the clearing and maybe he could flag someone down
when he reached the road.

Daniel began to limp hurriedly, going past his vehicle, heading away
from the cabin. He concentrated carefully on each painful step,
desperately trying to avoid the potholes that would be his downfall. He
was unaware of any sound from behind as the net slowly closed around
him.

The first thing that warned him of company was the fine hairs rising on
the back of his neck. Daniel whirled around, his breath coming in
panting gasps, but he saw nothing unusual. Even so, now seemed like a
good time to retreat to the safety of the dense forest cover. He stepped
into the treeline to the right of the path, heading on a diagonal until
he could no longer see the trail, trying to maintain a steady line
towards the main road from his sense of direction alone.

The wind whispered in the treetops above him, the rustling sound
unnerving to him. Joined with the noise of his rasping breath, any
telltale signs of other traffic were completely obscured. Daniel was
beginning to feel paranoid, his hackles rising in a way that he had not
felt since Luxor.

Ducking behind a tree, he rested for a moment, trying to calm his
pounding heart. Peeking out gingerly to peer around, he looked for
anything out of the ordinary, anything that didn't belong. But the only
thing Daniel could see that did not belong was himself, a nervous,
injured wreck that really didn't like playing this torturous game.

For the umpteenth time Daniel wondered how Jack was getting on as he
slowly pushed himself up off the trunk and turned to begin forging a
path through the undergrowth again. The thought rapidly evaporated when
he realised he had more urgent problems to deal with.

"Apparently you are better at avoiding getting captured on my territory
than you are on your own soil!" The Egyptian smiled cockily as he
pressed the barrel of his 9mm right between Daniel's eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~

"From the last known position of Doctor Jackson, we have narrowed the
search to this area here," Captain Carter drew on the laminated map with
a red marker pen in a circle that covered about twenty miles in total.
"The main problem will be in covering this terrain covertly. There are
nearly thirty vacation homes spread over the area in this lower mountain
range. They are isolated and the positions of at least a quarter of them
will make it almost impossible to approach unseen, except on foot. We're
going to check out each one from the air and highlight the most likely
prospects. We'll only be able to make a single pass over each one
without arousing suspicion, so we need well trained eyes and a couple of
expert photographers."

She looked up from the table where the map was spread out. "Teal'c, I
think you should head up the helicopter team," she suggested, selecting
the keenest pair of eyes she had ever come across. "Janet, as the
General suggested, you should also go along just in case. I'll
coordinate the rest of the search from the ground. We've got enough
bodies now that we can form three teams and take a segment each. We'll
move in as close as possible in the jeeps, then continue on foot to
check out each of the targets selected. The Sheriff's office have
already begun a check of homes in the lower valley to the south, so they
should only be about ten miles away at any time should we need to group
up."

"So, any questions?" Sam glanced around, but was only met with looks of
grim determination from the people who had volunteered to undertake the
difficult task ahead of them. All those who weren't needed more urgently
on a base that was still running under an emergency directive following
the bombing and terrorist intrusion that morning.

Satisfied, Captain Carter nodded and grabbed her kit, rechecking her
sidearm and radio before moving out at the head of her team. She was
glad to be finally doing something useful, but couldn't help wonder at
all the time that had been wasted worrying about the safety of the base
instead of her team mates.

She knew they had to go with the percentages. Locate and defuse the
bombs and possibly save dozens of lives before they could go after two
individuals. But with all SG1 had been through together it was a hard
fact to accept, career military or not. Of course, it was always
possible that Daniel was not in any danger himself, although if that
were the case, she felt sure he would have called in by now, no matter
what the circumstances.

No, Sam had to assume that Daniel had also been captured, somehow. Her
only consolation being that perhaps the two men working together would
prove stronger and be able to win through where one alone may not.

~~~~~~~~~~

This time they didn't bother with the basement, they simply slung Daniel
into a shady room on the ground level. The shutters were still closed,
pierced by pale slits of light revealing a large space cleared on the
floor, the furniture pushed up against the far wall. The Egyptian
trained his Browning on the man whilst the Slav disappeared from view.

From the hallway Daniel heard a thump of movement, the dragging of
carpet, the snap of a latch being released and the trapdoor drawing
open, fully expecting to be thrown back into the cellar at any minute.
Instead he heard the Slav's footsteps growing fainter as he went below,
shortly followed by much slower heavier thuds on the return journey.

Somehow, Daniel knew what was coming, but it was still hard to accept
the truth, even when they laid the unconscious man out beside him.

Jack looked terrible, his face was ghastly pale, almost grey, his skin
looked clammy. His breathing seemed shallow even to Daniel's untrained
eye. He had obviously taken another beating, apparently sometime whilst
his friend had been futilely running around a lush green forest. Jack's
lip was split open, the fresh red blood a stark contrast to the pallor
of his cheeks, a dark bruise shadowing his chin.

The Slav held his Czech 9mm semiautomatic to Jack's head, his finger
menacingly fidgeting on the trigger, to stop Daniel from trying anything
whilst the Egyptian pulled his hands roughly behind his back,
deliberately yanking at his broken finger a few times. Daniel gritted
his teeth against the pain, glaring at the bald headed man who was
silently threatening the other captive.

The Egyptian worked fast with the nylon rope and Daniel was quickly and
efficiently trussed up about as tight as humanly possible. Binding his
wrists and ankles and then tying the whole affair together behind his
back until he began to feel a bit like a fly being tied off as bait to
catch the biggest fish in the river.

And when he watched what they did to the unconscious Colonel, Daniel
slowly realised that was probably exactly what he was going to be.

Jack's ankles were also bound together and his arms pulled tautly behind
his back, tied at the elbows, the plaster cast in the way of any wrist
bindings. The difference being that Jack was then blindfolded, a rolled
strip of black material, covering his eyes and knotted tightly behind
his head. Strategically positioned for a reason Daniel could only
imagine, but in his mind's eye he could see the gaping jaws of that huge
pike coming straight for him.

The Slav and his Egyptian colleague left them alone then, safe in the
knowledge that this time they definitely weren't going anywhere. Daniel
could only assume they were waiting for Jack to come round before they
continued to play out their game. He wondered what the chances were that
anyone was searching for them in even vaguely the correct area, he had
driven so far from the main highway. If only he had been less impetuous
and called for help instead of plunging headlong in and making things
even worse for his friend.

Ignoring the pain each time his thigh banged against the floor, Daniel
wriggled on his chest until his head was beside Jack's shoulder. The man
was lying on his right side, knees drawn up in an unconscious gesture of
defence that Daniel recognised all too vividly.

Gently he nudged Jack's arm with his chin, "Jack! Wake up."

The man did not stir, withdrawn somewhere deep. He had that haunted look
again, even with the blindfold covering his eyes, there was something
harrowing in his unmoving visage, his high cheek bones gaunt and pale.
If only Daniel could tell how badly O'Neill was hurt, but he could not
even take a pulse. Suddenly it seemed so important to be able to wake
Jack, to find out where he was injured, to keep him conscious long
enough. For what?

Daniel rested his chin on the floor, closing his eyes sorrowfully, he
didn't know what hope they had left, but sometime way back during the
last month, he had promised himself one thing and so far he had not kept
his word. When he had come to realise that Jack blamed himself for what
had been inflicted upon him, Daniel had sworn that he would do
everything in his power to make sure the Colonel forgave himself. He had
yet to achieve that and now Daniel knew that he had to talk to Jack one
more time, before it was too late.

Raising his head to nudge at him again, Daniel whispered softly, trying
not to alert their two assailants to his efforts. "Jack, you have to
wake up," he pleaded helplessly.

Considering him for a long moment, Daniel began to move again, wriggling
painfully until he had worked his way around behind Jack's head, close
enough to snag the tight knot of the blindfold with his teeth, a feat
only made possible by the complete lack of movement on Jack's part.

Feeling like a dog chewing at a rubber ring, Daniel gripped the knot
between his teeth and yanked at it, trying to pull it up over Jack's
head. If their situation were not so serious, Daniel might have laughed
at his ridiculous efforts as he comically jerked his chin back and
forth, but eventually he managed to shift the stubborn cloth, slipping
it high enough to remove the blindfold completely, ensuring that Jack
could see daylight again. Daniel did not want his friend to awaken to
darkness anymore.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jack was back in the box, another day spent in the hellhole he had begun
to call home. For what seemed like an eternity he had passed his time
imagining what he might do if he ever came face to face with Frank
Cromwell again. Without a doubt that one individual was to blame for all
O'Neill's troubles, he had been the one who left Jack behind. It was all
Cromwell's fault that he was rotting in this stinking prison. His friend
had abandoned him to the Iraqis and, for over three months, Jack had
kept himself alive with thoughts of how he would get revenge.

Now he was trapped in a steel box, no larger than a packing case. A hot,
fetid hole made all the more horrific by the worsening condition of its
captive. Jack had been marking the days by the darkness and light coming
through the tiny hole in the roof. An air vent that also functioned for
occasional water and food supply whenever the Iraqi guards could be
bothered, and then only to prolong his suffering for their own
gratification.

He had counted eight days, until now, when something had changed and he
could no longer detect the passage of time. His sight had been taken
away.

Jack gasped in anguish as the implications hit him with a shocking
suddenness. He knew why it had been done, why the guards had chosen to
blind him, of course he knew! It was the same reason he was singled out
in the first place on that fateful day over a week ago, when he had been
ordered to murder a fellow prisoner. The Iraqis had discovered his
deception, his pathetic attempt to reduce the suffering of a dying man.

His head swam under the weight of dreadful realisation. Cromwell may be
to blame for him being in this prison camp, but even Jack could no
longer pretend that Frank was the cause of his new suffering. O'Neill
alone was at fault here. He had foolishly imagined he could give aid to
the soldier in the neighbouring cell and not be found out. He had been
an idiot to think it was worth the risk to help a dying prisoner, a
blind man. And now Jack was being made to pay for his own arrogant
stupidity.

After all this time, he finally knew who was at fault, and it was not
Frank Cromwell. And that fact alone sank Jack to the lowest point of
despair he could ever imagine, knowing that the only person left to
blame for his dire predicament was himself.

Not for the first time, O'Neill wondered whether it was possible to will
himself to die and this time he knew it was definitely worth trying.

With such powerful motivation, it did not take long before Jack was
close to succeeding. Gradually he began to feel his life slipping away
from him, the ethereal connection between body and soul becoming less
defined, their bonds loosening as he slowly succumbed to an eternal
darkness.

All pain faded away, his body growing numb, his senses detaching in
blessed relief. But as he glided deeper into the bottomless pit, Jack
suddenly realised that by giving up his life in this way, he would never
escape the darkness again. It was a thought that frightened him even
more than the prospect of returning to a world of constant pain, but it
was too late, he had drifted too far to haul himself out of the trap. He
would finally meet his destiny this day.

With his last effort, Jack turned his head to look back at the life he
was abandoning, knowing he would only see as much darkness in the
existence he was leaving behind as in the timeless death he now faced.
But that final view brought him a ray of hope, new courage to retract
his decision, to fight his way back to the surface, to reach for the
light that had appeared out of nowhere enticing him from this darkened
hole. And slowly, inexorably, Jack clawed his way back, gradually
feeling the renewal of pain, accepting the suffering that he would have
to endure, in the simple hope of his sight being restored.

With the blindness finally gone, Jack was left once more to consider his
options. Whether to fight whatever was thrown at him, or to face his
inevitable fate, not knowing how long he would have before his decision
would be demanded. O'Neill did not imagine his captors would remain
merciful for long and he could only assume that they had yet to finish
toying with him before they finally released his soul.

~~~~~~~~~~

"Oh, God!" Jack gasped in agony, his first sound in almost an hour
shocking Daniel from his numb reverie. A pair of dark brown eyes
flickered open, slowly focusing on him, Jack's curled up body only a few
inches from Daniel's painfully trussed up position.

"Jack?" Daniel whispered hoarsely, trying not to alert their captors
that his friend was finally coming around.

"Daniel! What happened? You okay?" Jack hissed, the effort of those few
words leaving his chest and side in agony. He closed his eyes again,
grimacing and pulling his knees up even tighter in response to the pain.

"Yeah, you?" Daniel asked automatically.

Jack snorted, spitting coppery tasting blood from his mouth and slowly
filling his battered lungs with air, "Peachy thanks!" He attempted a
deeper breath, a motion which started a cough that jarred his whole body
excruciatingly. He tried to move his numb arms, finding them tightly
bound behind his back. Instead he used all his effort to swivel his legs
around and push himself up with his right shoulder, desperate to achieve
a more painless sitting position, no matter how much it hurt in doing
so. As he struggled, Jack narrowed his attention to the rope around his
ankles, forcing himself to think about what might have happened to the
small cheese knife that had freed them from the basement.

Daniel could barely watch the obvious agony Jack was in, but concern for
his condition overrode the terror that had been building inside him
during the past hour. All he had been able to do was wait, praying his
unconscious friend would revive one more time, but unable to stop his
mind from conjuring up images of what further suffering he might be
witness to if Jack did wake up.

As he hauled himself upright, Jack's chest heaved from the exertion and
he coughed up more blood, this time from somewhere internal, turning his
head away for the large thick globules to land on the wooden floor,
glistening darkly. He regarded the incriminating evidence numbly,
chewing his lip before glancing at Daniel, hoping he couldn't see from
his floor level position, but his gaze met a pair of knowing blue eyes,
filled with guilt and grief.

"Jack, you've got to stop letting them use you as a punching bag!"
Daniel tried to joke, but his voice came out as a strangled plea.

"Ya think?" Jack croaked hoarsely, the simple effort of talking and
exhaling at the same time sending another wave of pain all the way down
his chest into his battered ribs. He hung his swimming head, fighting
the urge to slip back into unconsciousness. Then he recalled what he had
seen the last time he passed out. "We don't have much time left," Jack's
voice was barely audible, his breathing deliberately constricted and
shallow, "There's a bomb in the basement and I don't think these guys
put it there!"

Daniel stared at him with wide eyes. "What do you mean a bomb?" He
hissed in shock.

Jack stared at him in astonishment, "What do you think I mean?" He
gasped raggedly, wondering if he should really waste his breath
explaining, but some sarcasms could not be left unsaid. "You know, a few
lumps of C4, a little detonator, a digital timer thrown in," Jack rasped
caustically. He couldn't help see the irony in the fact that someone was
planning on getting rid of the bomber with a few explosives of their
own. It had to be the Senator trying to ensure there would be nothing
left to tie him into any of this.

"When?" Daniel asked bleakly.

"2100 hours," Jack murmured faintly, "Don't suppose you've got the
time?"

"Oh, wait, I'll just check my watch!" Daniel hissed sarcastically,
flapping his fingers in a frustrated gesture that only served to tighten
the bonds that had him trussed up so effectively.

A sly look crept across Jack's face, "You remind me of the time someone
took me fly fishing! Never did like it, too inactive."

Daniel gaped at him for a moment, then he shook the thought away and
turned serious again, "We have to get out of here, Jack!"

"Sure, let's ask if we can go out and stretch our legs, shall we!" Jack
swallowed hard, trying unsuccessfully to suppress another shuddering
cough, that spurted a string of dark blood down the front of his black
t-shirt.

"Damnit, Jack, don't joke about this," Daniel exclaimed softly, his eyes
shining as the impact of his friend's grave condition hit him full on,
another imminent deadline that might not wait long enough for Jack to be
alive by the nine o'clock explosion. "Look at you! You're in trouble and
this is all my fault! If I hadn't pushed so hard, you'd never have been
at the base this morning," he moaned.

"I should have pushed myself harder and been able to beat the Slav in my
own office!" Jack argued in an halting whisper, realising he could think
of much better ways for him and Daniel to resume working together than
to spend the day getting chased around and beaten up by two thugs.

They fell silent as Jack attempted to reduce his breathing rate,
pondering how his own weakness was once more to blame for his
predicament. But hadn't he tried so hard this time? Hadn't he done
everything in his power to overcome the odds? What more could he have
done in the circumstances?

The truth suddenly occurred to Jack, like a bolt out of the blue, "This
isn't your fault, Daniel. In fact I don't think it's even my fault, this
time!" He said quietly, shocked by his startling discovery, the light
slowly dawning in his eyes. He drew a shallow rasping breath, the
stunning reality focusing his efforts, "Actually, it's nobody's fault
except for the Senator behind all this. We're just pawns in his sick
political game."

"I'm gonna kill him if I ever find out who he is," Daniel said
determinedly.

"Join the queue, Danny Boy!" Jack grinned wolfishly at the satisfying
idea, surprising himself with his eagerness as much as the younger man
was surprised to hear him use his pet expression.

Daniel couldn't help staring in amazement. Despite their dire situation,
Jack was beginning to sound much more like his old fighting self, even
if it was too late. Then again, maybe there was still hope, "People are
searching the area, Jack. They'll find us, we just have to hold out long
enough," Daniel recalled encouragingly, "We've done it before. We've
only been at it a few hours, you know we could last for days given the
chance."

Jack looked at him, he had trouble believing in miracles, but Daniel had
rescued him before, could he be right about this one too?

Daniel saw the doubt in his eyes, "We just have to stall them," he
continued hopefully, "Stop them from killing us before the cavalry
arrive." He held Jack's gaze for a long moment, "All we have to do is
keep playing their game!" He said emphatically.

Jack saw the strength of belief in Daniel's eyes and allowed himself to
be convinced. "Piece of cake!" He agreed in as hopeful a tone he could
muster for his friend's benefit.

The thought was still lingering when the sound of movement drew closer
from one of the other rooms and the captive pair both turned their eyes
in the direction of the noise, waiting for the inevitable with
trepidation.

"Whatever you do, don't give in," Jack croaked hoarsely.

"You either. Stall as long as possible, no matter what, promise?" Daniel
licked his lips nervously, unwilling to imagine what that might be. Jack
had already faced just about anything they could do to him, but Daniel
couldn't be sure whether that made the Colonel stronger or weaker.

"Yeah," Jack nodded, his voice quivering slightly as the door opened and
the room filled with diffused light from the dusty hallway bulb,
silhouetting the bulky form of a distinctly malevolent presence.

Seeing the Colonel sitting upright, his vision restored, the Slav strode
into the room irritably, kicking Daniel in the side on his way and then
shoving his boot against Jack's left shoulder to roughly push him back
down to the floor. He bent to pick up the blindfold lying loose beside
the body, then he stepped back towards the door and handed it to the
Egyptian.

The dark skinned man had a roll of duct tape in his other hand and Jack
watched as he broke off a six inch strip and taped it across Daniel's
mouth. The Colonel held his friend's gaze as the Egyptian moved across
and replaced the blindfold to cover Jack's eyes, tying the knot tightly
so that it would not slip. He hauled on Jack's arms to bring him to his
feet.

Jack's head swam at the sudden altitude, his legs threatening to buckle
beneath him as he swayed uncertainly, blindly trying to regain some
equilibrium amidst the dizziness. Without warning, he received a hard
shove knocking him into the far wall, helplessly hitting solid stone
with a sickening sense of deja vu as he crumpled to the floor.

The Egyptian finished the job of securing Daniel by tying the long end
of the rope binding his wrists to his ankles around the door knob,
trapping him from shifting more than a few feet in any direction. Then
the dark haired man paused long enough to switch on a table lamp in the
far corner, before disappearing out of the door briefly.

He returned heavily laden with an old fashioned manual typewriter,
retrieved from the basement store room and dusted down, its ribbon
almost too dry to serve its purpose. He placed it on a nearby chair, the
long thin keys falling back into place with a crunch as the ancient
piece of equipment was turned the right way up again.

Daniel could only watch the proceedings mutely, his dread growing as he
recalled the conversation he had overheard before he got caught.
Recognising that this was the beginning of the last stage in the game.

Jack forced himself to sit up, ignoring the pain spreading from his
side. Leaning sideways against the wall, he tried to tune his senses to
understand the sounds around him. But the feeling of being trapped in
darkness washed over him, the blindfold proving equally as bad a method
of inducing his claustrophobia as any closed metal box. He caught his
breath at that thought, his heart racing with fear as his mind
threatened to retreat back down the hole like a rabbit. That would do
Daniel no good at all, Jack reminded himself determinedly, he had to
stay focused. Reluctantly, he opened his mouth to speak, the only way he
could think of ensuring he remained in the present, "What are you going
to do?"

"We're going to give you a choice, Colonel." Jack's head snapped around,
his heart in his throat at the source of the voice frighteningly close
to his face.

Daniel watched the Slav bend down to loom in front of unseeing eyes.
"Cooperate now or later, either way is good for me. In fact, later would
give me far greater pleasure," he added ominously. Unbuttoning his
shirt, he pulled it loose and leaned towards O'Neill in his undershirt,
muscles bulging beneath the cotton material stretched tautly across his
chest and biceps.

Jack swallowed dryly, he could feel the heat of the man's breath on his
face, he braced himself against what might come next, vaguely wondering
whether his body could take another pounding, let alone his mind. He
shook the thought from his head, it wasn't like he had a choice!
Focusing his resolve, he pushed his spine upright against the wall and
stuck out his chin determinedly, belying the fear churning acidly in his
stomach. "I guess that would have to be 'later' then!" He rasped.

~~~~~~~~~~

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