Don't Drink the Water

Author: BadgerGater

Email: BadgerGater@cs.com

Category: Action/Adventure, drama

Rating: PG, Jack's mouth, again

Pairing: None

Season: Three/Four/Early Five

Summary: SG-1 takes on a risky mission to a dangerous planet to retrieve what could be vital information.

Warnings: Danger

Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, Gekko Productions; all the powers that be, not me; This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement intended. The story is the property of the author and may not be posted without the author's consent.

Authors Notes: For Jack fans everywhere...

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Cheyenne Mountain, Level 28, Briefing Room:

"We have to go back to M3G-368."

"What?" the look on Carter's face showed she was as stunned as I was by Daniel's words.

"That's nuts," I said, clearly, emphatically and without a doubt, trying to catch a glimpse of General Hammond’s face out of the corner of my eye.

"We *have* to go back to M3G-," SG-1's archaeologist repeated.

"For crying out loud, Daniel, two people died there and another one might," I reminded, unable to believe what I'd just heard.

"Doctor Fraiser thinks she knows what happened to SG-7..." Daniel started.

"Yeah, two good men died..." I countered

"Which means she knows how to prevent it..." he added.

"No one goes back there, that's how...." I stated simply.

"So we can finish what they started..." he insisted.

"Dying of some deadly infection..." I reminded.

"What is so important on M3G-368, Doctor Jackson?" interrupted General Hammond.

"This," said Daniel with that little half smile look he gets when he's discovered something. He clicked the projector remote and a photo appeared on the screen, a photo of the wall in the temple on 368, showing rows and rows of writing.

"Gibberish," I snorted.

"No, Jack, clues, important clues. I've spent the last few days studying the video shot by SG-7 and translating as much of the script as I can see. This whole thing is like a riddle, giving us information about the location of a planet where the Asgard left a cache of supplies."

"Where'd you get that idea, Daniel?" I demanded.

"Here, and here," he pointed at the screen, " With Teal'c's help I was able to read parts of this. These are annotations left by later visitors, the Asgard perhaps..."

"A Goa'uld trap perhaps..." I suggested cynically.

"I don't think the Goa'uld have ever been here," Daniel's eyes were bright with excitement. "This planet isn't on the Abydos Cartouche. It's on the list of addresses you gave us when you had the Ancients knowledge in your brain."

I turned to SG-1’s alien representative. “Teal’c? Any of this ring any bells?”

He gave me that deliberate stare that reminds me he’s playing his part of our little word game. "There is nothing in this translation pertaining to the sounding of the mellifluous metal objects you refer to as ‘bells,’ the Jaffa answered. “But I have heard tell of such a place, O'Neill, of the storehouse of the Ancients. Many Goa'uld have searched for the treasure of the Ancients..."

"So why do you think *we* could suddenly find it, if they've searched and failed?"

"They didn't have this," Daniel tapped the screen triumphantly. "This is a set of directions."

"So if we have the directions, why do we have to go back to that planet?" I asked, logically.

"M3G is a moon, Jack. And we have to go back because Morrissey didn't get the rest of the directions. He apparently didn't film the last section of the inscription."

"Because he died," I emphasized. "And the directions won't do us any good either, if we're dead."

"We *know* how to stay safe, now..." Daniel countered.

"Yeah, stay away from that plan--moon, MG3," I insisted.

"Actually, Colonel," Dr. Fraiser was staring hard at her hands where they gripped the pen with which she'd been taking notes, "we *do* know what made SG-7 sick. The water on that moon is contaminated with an unknown toxin. Morrissey and Washington both drank the water, starting on the third day, and they were terribly ill before they got back here. Halloran is still alive, and he didn't drink any of the moon's water until the fourth day..."

"Right, he's in a coma and on a ventilator, if you call that alive..."

"Our treatments have kept him alive, and we're optimistic. We may be able to save him yet."

"You *know* it was the water? Not something else?" I probed.

"Captain Remalesky didn't drink any of the moon's water and he's fine." Fraiser continued. "We haven't found a thing wrong with him. We've tested the water samples that remained in their canteens, and the organism that sickened SG-7 is definitely found in the water. We did not find it in any of the other samples brought back from that moon."

"And we've sent the MALP back three times since then, with the same results. Nothing in the air, ground, or any other material we've sampled show any signs of anything unusual." Daniel finished, "so, we carry enough water with us." He looked around. "Look, I know there's a risk here, but we've taken risks before when the reward seemed big enough. And this is big. Huge, actually," he grinned. "Knowledge of the Ancients, Jack. And their technology, too, the kind of technology that could protect us from the Goa'uld and the Replicators, and who knows what else that's out there?"

"That's exactly what I'm worried about Daniel, the 'who knows what else'," I groused.

Hammond was sitting back in his chair, looking from one to another of us, assessing. "Major Carter?"

"Well, Sir, I've looked over all the data on M3G-368, and I agree with Dr. Fraiser's findings. We've found nothing harmful as long as we don't drink the water."

"Thanks for the back-up, Carter," I glared at my 2IC.

"Sorry, Sir," she said softly. "But in this case I do agree with Daniel. Even with the added complication of the extreme weather conditions."

"*Extreme* weather? Oh what, hurricanes? Monsoons? Don't tell me, it’s another ice planet, right? You know, I’m a little long in the tooth to be getting another case of frostbite."

"Ah, no, Sir, no ice. Actually, quite the opposite. It's warm there, extremely warm at times because of the continuous heating from the sun, or the plant and its sun, sort of. You see, this system...."

"Accckkk!" I waggled a finger in front of Carter's face, stopping the science lecture before she could really get started. "The layman's version, Major. Please."

"Sir, M3G-368 is a moon revolving around a gas giant planet, sort of like Jupiter in our own solar system." She looked at me, to make sure I was paying attention.

I nodded. "Right. Jupiter."

"The planet that 368 revolves around is very, very large, and it reflects the sunlight onto the moon. In addition, for about half of the day, the actual sun of this solar system also shines on the area of 368 that we'll be visiting."

"Light from the sun *and* the planet," I said, to prove I was listening. "And that means?"

"It means the planet is never in complete darkness..."

"Well, that's good."

"Yes and no, Sir. While it makes it possible for us to travel at 'night,' the intense heat of the sun and the planet's reflected light combine to make it too hot for safe travel during the 'day'. So, we need to arrive on 368 during it's 'night', or planetlight cycle, get to the cave, stay there during the intense heat of the 'day' or it's sunlight cycle, and return to the gate only at 'night.'"

"But we'll be fine in the caves?"

"Yes, Sir," Carter answered. "The equipment SG-7 left in the caves indicates the temperatures stay relatively cool even during the worst heat of the day. We just need to stay inside, conserve the water we take with us, and we'll be fine. This is a do-able mission, with proper precautions."

"Colonel?" Hammond was looking at me.

I didn't like it, not one bit. I had this niggling little itch on the back of my neck, the kind that means trouble. This was risky, downright dangerous even, but I could also see the possible benefits, if we could find the Ancients' weapons stash. Still, it's my job to be the cynic, the worrier and the bulldog, to make risk assessments and foresee every possible disaster. And as always, with every off-world trip, the bottom line was, would the payoff be worth the risk?

Truth be told, all of our missions were insanely risky, going off to planets, or moons, where we didn't know who or what was there, in the air, the water, the ground, not even accounting for the enemies we made, or the fact that we were using alien equipment that was thousands of years old. Sure, Carter did all kinds of tests with doohickies attached to the MALP, but the truth is, that only shows us what's happening right then, in that one place. As Sg-7 had disastrously discovered.

I looked around the table at my team, people whose knowledge and opinions I trusted, and then turned back to Hammond. "General, if Daniel says this is important, then it's important. We take all the precautions possible, and we go to MD3-whatever..."

Hammond nodded. "Okay, people, we'll set you up with extra water rations, heat protection, whatever you need."

"What about Teal'c, Sir?" I asked. "You have him penciled in to go with SG-9 tomorrow," I reminded the General.

"Right, he needs to go with them on that return visit to the Habendarendi. It's an important diplomatic mission, and we can't postpone it if we're going to reach a treaty agreement. So, I can assign you a temporary replacement, Colonel--"

I waved him off. "Don't bother, Sir," I countered, making what was damn near a fatal mistake. "This is pretty straightforward, and SG-7 encountered nothing hostile on that plan...moon. I don't think we require a fourth, here, General, especially someone who's unfamiliar with our team style and could just slow us down. This mission is supposed to be a quick in, quick out, grab the info and run plan, right, Sir? No extra muscle needed."

Hammond nodded. "SG-1, you have only one objective, to video-tape the rest of that inscription. Keep the mission straight forward, Colonel, to the caves and back; no diversions."

"Oh, we'll do that, Sir," I agreed. "Not a single diversion.”

Janet Fraiser was sitting at the desk in her office, filling out medical reports, when she heard my footsteps approach, and my knock on her door. "Come in," she called.

She looked surprised to see me in her domain. I smiled, figuring she'd wonder what was up, since she knows that I invariably do all things humanly possible to avoid spending time anywhere near the vicinity of her infirmary. It's not that I don't like her, it's her job I don't like.

"Colonel?" she waved me to her spare chair.

"Got a couple of questions for you, Doc," I told her, rubbing at that still itchy spot on the back of my neck. Even after all this time, every time I get worried about something, my hand just strays right back to that spot where Hathor's snakelet.... Stop it, Jack.

"Certainly, Colonel."

"How certain are you about the water on MD3, that moon?"

"How certain am I that the water is the source of the infection that affected SG-7? As near to 100% as I can be."

I nodded, still frowning. "And how certain are you that there's nothing else on that planet that could kill us?"

She shook her head. "Now, that's an unfair question, Colonel. We can never be sure of that on any planet we send a team to. Now is the air safe? Every test we've taken says yes. Is the soil safe? Every test says yes. Have we found any other substance we have reason to suspect could cause a problem? No. That's as certain as I can be, Colonel. Quite frankly, this moon has been tested far more than most of the planets your team has ever visited."

I nodded again.

"Sir, I can never give you a 100% certainty that there's not a problem on any planet. But in my medical opinion, other than the water, this moon is as safe or safer than anywhere else SG-1 has visited."

"Okay. But the water is deadly."

"Well, we know it is after a few days. Morrissey and Washington apparently were fine for a day before they got sick, flu like symptoms for about 24 hours, then another 12 hours or so before they were completely incapacitated..."

"And three more days to die."

"Yes, Sir," said Fraiser, very quietly.

"Drinking the water is deadly. What about swimming in it? Washing with it? Wading through it?"

Doc shook her head. "I'm not sure, Colonel, but I would definitely avoid any and all exposure to it. I certainly would *not* allow it to touch an open wound or broken skin."

I ran a hand through my wiry gray hair, and looked up to grin wanly at her. "Thanks, Doc. I appreciate it." Turning to go, I paused at the door. "Any change with Halloran?"

"No, Sir. He's still gravely ill, and there's been no improvement."

Shaking my head, I left, still frowning, that bad feeling still refusing to go away.

I went to find the General. He and I get along pretty well most of the time. He's a square shooter, George is, and he'll listen to me. Doesn't always agree, doesn't often change his mind, but he'll always hear me out.

I knocked on his door, entered the neat office on his "come in."

"Sir." I stood at attention, which always gets his attention.

"Colonel?" he looked up from the stack of paperwork on his desk.

God save me from ever becoming a general. The pay's nice, but the paperwork would kill me inside the first week. "Checking to see if you've changed your mind, Sir."

"About?" George does enjoy baiting me, you know.

"About the mission. The moon mission."

"Ah, that mission." He put his pen down on his desk and sat back in his leather chair with a resigned sigh as he waved me into his visitor's chair. "So, Jack, you're still not convinced?"

I shook my head. "No, General."

"What's the problem?"

My hand was already rubbing the back of my neck, and I pulled it down. "I'm not sure." I looked up into Hammond's assessing gaze. "It's just a hunch, Sir."

"A hunch? Look, Jack, I know you don't like this mission, but it is an important one. And yes, it could be dangerous. Do you want me to assign it to some other team?"

Damn that General. He knows exactly which buttons to push with me. I didn't want to take my own team there, but I sure as hell wasn't going to let him assign some other unit to go where I wouldn't. "No, Sir. I just don't think *anyone* ought to be going back there."

"We wouldn't be going back there if the stakes weren't so high, Colonel. You know that. It's not a decision I've made lightly. But Dr. Fraiser has assured me the mission can be conducted safely, with the proper precautions."

"I know that, Sir," my hand was back rubbing the back of my neck, and I stopped, drew a deep breath, and wished this whole mission was over and done with.

"Jack," Hammond's fatherly tone was back. "There’s no doubt this is a tricky mission, but I have faith in your ability to pull it off. Your team is the best, that's why they've been assigned to it. You'll get your people back safely."

------------

The next morning we assembled in the gateroom, preparing for an 0700 departure, a time which Carter assured us would be at the start of the moon's 'night', or the nearest thing it had to a night. We all looked odd, canteens hung off every strap and buckle on our uniforms, carrying six apiece, plus the 50 gallon drum on the FRED. Overkill, maybe, but then, that's my job. I wanted to be as sure as I could that we had water enough and to spare. Maybe I could just tattoo the words on my forehead: "Don't drink the water. Don't touch the water. Hell, don't even look at the water." We also had sun block, sun hats, sun shades, and emergency cooling equipment. Good old FRED was packed to overflowing

I had added everything I could think of that might possibly be of use on a hot planet, and still, that itchy spot on the back of my neck hadn't gone away. Instead, it had hunkered down into a tingling knot right between my shoulder blades.

I didn't like this moon and I didn't like this mission.

Stop it, Jack, I told myself. Every mission is risky. Sometimes I think all of us, me Mr. Obsessive Worrier included, have gotten way too complacent about what we do, about our little jaunts through the Stargate and the incredible risks involved. In a couple of minutes we were all going to step into an alien contraption, one that even Carter didn't *really* understand if she admitted the truth. This machine was going to scramble our molecules into bits and pieces, send them flying through space, and then was supposed to spit us out, re-assembled in normal condition, at a destination so far away it boggled the mind.

Even when there were no obvious dangers on a planet, we were nuts for doing what we did.

And this time we *knew* this planet, er, moon, was obviously dangerous.

I shivered. It could easily have been SG-1 on that 3D moon, testing the waters and dying. Sheer dumb good luck on our part that we'd already had another mission booked; plain old bad luck on SG-7's part that they'd drawn the assignment instead of us.

I'd gone to see Remalesky this morning, before we'd left, to tell him what we were doing. He'd turned dull eyes to me, eyes as dead as half his team, and said nothing, just nodded. Poor bastard.

Shaking myself, driving that memory away, I looked around at my team as the computer dialed up MG3. Hammond's voice carried over the loudspeaker, "SG-1, you have a go. Colonel O'Neill?" I looked up to meet his eyes. "See you in two days, max. I don't have to tell you to be careful out there," he added.

"Yes, Sir, and no, you don't, Sir," I threw him a salute, looked over at my team, and waved them along to follow me and the FRED. I didn't have my usual snappy comeback for the General or my team. That little knot between my shoulder blades was making me way too uncomfortable to be funny.

Bad sign.

---------

It was a pleasant enough looking moon, as far as moons go, I thought as I exited the wormhole. Nothing threatening in the landscape. Grass-like stuff growing on the ground, taller tree-like plants growing in clusters. Lots of little rocks, a few big rocks. Sort of a dull sunshine, and a big, oversized planet looming overhead.

Looking around, it was plain to see where SG-7 had walked, having trampled down the tall, feathery-leaved grassy plants in an easy to follow trail.

As soon as the rest of my team was through the gate, I prepared myself to take point and urged them forward. "Let's not waste any time. I want to get the hell off this rock." I turned to find them all staring silently at me. Guess I hadn't done a very good job of keeping the worried tone out of my voice.

I shrugged, and stepped forward.

While I took the lead, Carter was on our six with Daniel in the middle, the FRED following just behind him.

The plan was simple. Walk to the caves during the current planetlight cycle, stay in the caves for two sunlight cycles (with a planetlight cycle in between), then hike back to the gate on a planetlight cycle. The whole thing was equal to just about three Earth days.

-------

Nothing odd happened as we hiked across the alien landscape.

It gets me every time, how Earthlike most of the planets we visit are. I know the Goa'uld purposely selected planets where their human slaves and future Jaffas and hosts would thrive. But this planet was from the Ancients' list, not the Abydos Cartouche, and it was different. Odder. Plant life unlike anything else we'd seen. The sky was a weird yellow tone that made everything look sickly. There was no way we were going to mistake this place for Earth, not with that big purplish planet looming ominously overhead. It gave me the creeps, actually, a feeling like it was falling down on us, though I know that wasn't true. Carter had explained it to me, the optical illusion of it, but it still gave me chills, despite the heat.

I just wanted to complete our mission and get the hell home.

---------

I pushed us hard. Carter, Daniel and I walked steadily for three hours toward the caves where SG-7 had found the writings. MG3's perpetual daylight, er, reflected planetlight, was an odd color, a soft weird-colored but ever present light.

I actually felt better once we got to the caves, I suppose I'd disliked that planet hanging overhead.

Stupid, because the caves hid their own dangers, as I'd soon learn.

We found most of SG-7's gear still in place. Daniel and I were going to have to climb down into the lower level of the cave, following a fractured wall that was covered with writing in letters six or eight inches high. The long, thin line of writing disappeared further down into the darkness, and we had to follow it.

Quickly, Carter helped Daniel and I get harnessed up in our climbing gear. I checked SG-7's pitons, found them secure, hammered a second set into place for back-up, just to satisfy my own paranoia, and rappelled down the wall, Daniel following cautiously.

Moving downward in stages, like dropping down through levels in an underground structure, it took us an hour to reach the seventh level, the last one the previous team had visited.

Again, we found Sg-7's abandoned gear, but I had Carter send down our back-up lights anyway.

Daniel had two video cameras and a still camera, and he immediately began filming.

"Don't we already have this section on SG-7's tape?" I asked.

"Yes, but in some places it's a little shaky, so I'm making a better copy."

"Okay."

I clicked my radio and filled Carter in on our progress. "We've reached the bottom. Everything looks fine. I don't see any reason for you to come down, so hold the fort, Major. O'Neill out."

"Yes, Sir," said Carter.

Daniel filmed. I watched, making sure that in his total absorption with his task he didn't do anything stupid like step off the ledge we were on.

It took him hours to film the entire wall facing us, and I sighed in relief when he turned off the camera.

"Okay, then, let's pack it up and go," I said, happy to be done.

"Ah, not yet."

"Now what?"

Daniel pointed to the wall. "There's more."

"More? Where?" I looked around not seeing anything but blank walls.

"Well, a section is missing, broken off I think, I can see it there..." he leaned dangerously far over the edge of the ledge.

I grabbed him to make sure he didn't fall. "Down there?" I asked, seeing several large slabs of rock lying against the wall another level down.

"Yes. I have to get down to those."

"Oiy," I muttered, and set to work.

It took nearly an hour to get set up for the climb down to the next level. I notified Carter by radio when we were ready to make the next move downward.

"Sir, are you sure it's safe to move down another level?"

"No, Carter, but that's where we've got to go."

"Sir, I'm moving down to the second level, then. I can just barely maintain radio contact from here, Colonel. That's as far as our radios can carry due to interference from crystal in the rock."

"Okay, Carter. Send down the extra lights from the second level. We'll need them down there."

I rappelled down to level eight and waited for Daniel to send down the gear, then follow himself. Once again, he began filming.

I sat on a large slab of stone, watching, as Daniel ran the video camera. "Wow, this is incredible," he muttered, and stepped around another large chunk of rune-covered wall.

"Oooph," I heard Daniel's strangled cry.

I ran. I can still move fast when I have to, and I moved fast then, three strides to dive around the rock as I heard stones rattling. "Daniel! Daniel!" I shouted.

Skidding around the rock, I found SG-1's archeologist sitting on the ground, sheepishly dusting dirt from his clothes as he climbed back to his feet. "Ah, sorry, just slipped."

"Slipped? God, Daniel, you took ten years off my life. And at my age, I can't afford to lose 10 years."

He didn't meet my gaze. "Well, sorry, guess I was so busy filming I didn't look where I put my feet," he said, looking down at the uneven ground.

The floor of this level wasn't level, not here, there was a gap of several inches and a downward step of nearly a foot. Jackson was back on his feet, one hand resting on one of the leaning stone slabs as he reached for his camera which had fallen near a black abyss. He took a step toward it, resting his weight against the slab. The stone slipped, and the floor shifted.

The Earth, err, moon moved.

With a sudden sickening jolt and a crack like thunder the slab started to slide toward the edge. I made a desperate grab for Daniel, sudden relief flooding through me as my hand gripped his. And then with horror I realized it wasn't any use because the slab was still sliding and now the whole damn ledge was quaking and slipping.

More thunderous cracks echoed through the cave, the sounds of falling rock and crashing stone deafeningly loud in the confined space of the cave. Dust billowed toward us in a choking cloud as the ledge broke away and began sliding downward at an ever increasing speed.

I had one hand wrapped in Daniel's jacket, the other clasping his wrist, determined that wherever this rockfall was taking us, we'd at least land together.

Slipping.

Sliding.

Groaning stone.

Big stones, small stones, giant stones cascading downward, with two fragile human bodies trapped within the roiling debris.

Clouds of choking dust.

Rocks smacking into me everywhere, God, I was going to have bruises. "Ummph." And worse.

We stopped.

The cave was silent except for the harsh sound of our breathing, coughing and wheezing in the dust-laden air, but two people, still breathing.

Thank God my light still worked.

"Daniel?"

"Here," he answered in a strangled sounding voice.

I wiped blood from my face, and turning the light toward the sound of the voice, my heart sinking, I could see him, lying a few feet away in such an awkward position there was no doubt he was hurt. I set my hands down on rock to push myself to my feet to go toward him and felt a stab of agony in my arm and knew I was hurt too.

Oh damn.

With one hand and two knees I crawled through the dim glow cast by my flashlight. "Daniel? Where are you hurt?" He didn't say anything. "Daniel!" I could see a pretty good gash on his head that was bleeding steadily, so I ripped a dusty corner off my t-shirt and put his hand up to hold it. "Here. Hold this," I ordered. "Where else are you hurt?"

"My leg," he answered shakily.

Oh shit. There was a nasty gash in his thigh, bleeding a lot, a whole lot. I sacrificed another bit of my shirt, put his other hand down to hold that in place, then tore off a longer strip and tied it tightly around the bleeding wound in his calf. I didn't like that one at all, worried by the amount of blood I could already see pooled in the dust beside his leg, combined with the pallor of his skin. He was losing a lot of blood. So I haven't had a lot of first aid training, but what I have had starts with 'stop the bleeding.' Carefully, I checked all three wounds again, and found the pressure had quickly reduced the head and thigh wounds to mere trickles. "Hurt anywhere else?" I asked, quickly assessing his condition. His ribs were touchy, they would be bruised but it was unlikely they were broken. Like me, he had cuts and scrapes everywhere and most of his body was likely to be black and blue in another day.

I brushed more blood out of my eyes, I'd opened up a cut across my own forehead, but there was as much blood on my hands as anywhere. My left arm was throbbing from elbow to wrist and I knew enough about broken bones to be sure something there was definitely no longer in the correct number of pieces.

With Daniel's immediate needs taken care of, I sat back a moment, resting against the cave wall, trying to think. "How you doing?" I asked.

"Headache," he said in that soft voice he gets when he really doesn't want to say anything at all.

"I'd expect so, with that egg sized lump on your skull," I answered.

"So where are we?"

"Oh, about sixty feet further down in the cave than we were before," I couldn't tell much more.

He coughed, and mumbled, "Thirsty," and then I remembered what kind of mess we were in.

Water.

We'd left most of our gear back up on the top level, since we'd only intended to be down in the cave a couple of hours, everything in our backpacks including the first aid kit, rations, matches, extra batteries, all of it. Shit. How could I have been so careless?

Worst of all, we'd left all the spare water up there. Sure, I had two canteens, but I'd fallen on one, as attested to by the nasty bruise on my hip and the soaking wet condition of my t-shirt. Which meant the water had leaked out of it.

I had one canteen. Daniel had two. Three canteens, two thirsty men stuck in a hot, dusty cave, one of them bleeding badly, and definitely in need of staying hydrated.

Oh shit.

Sad thing was, I could hear water somewhere not far away, dripping.

Water. MG3's deadly water.

I looked back at Daniel, not liking how he looked, not at all. Gently, I helped him to lie down, keeping his leg propped up, while I considered what to do next.

What I needed to do was simple. Find a way out, and send for help.

Before I could do that, though, I needed a little first aid myself. Gingerly feeling my scalp, my fingers found the blood there already crusting. Good. Just a cut, and while my head hurt and I'd have a lump there, it wasn't going to be as big as the egg on Daniel's skull. What little I could see here in the dim, dusty cave, I didn't have double vision, so I didn't think I have a concussion. One piece of good news at least.

My arm was another story, there was no good news there. I could feel it swelling with every heartbeat. I tore another strip from my shirt, and tried, with one hand and gritty teeth, to use the cloth to bind my arm. I'd taken a part of the backpack frame to use as a splint, but I couldn't both hold the pieces in place and tie the cloth. By the third attempt, all I'd done was make the arm hurt worse, and that was an accomplishment, I'll tell you. I muttered a couple of curses from the wide collection I'd learned during my travels, and tried again.

I'd been ignoring Daniel until he spoke up. "I think you need another set of hands."

"Yeah, right, well, I don't have any more so..."

"I'll help." Before I could stop him he was trying to push himself upright, his face going pale.

"Daniel," I pushed him back down with my good arm. "Stay put. You need to stay still so the bleeding stops."

"But..." he started.

"Okay, you can help fix my arm while you're just sitting there," I told him.

One handed, I held the pieces from the backpack frame while he wrapped the strip of t-shirt around my arm. Not wanting to break his concentration, I bit my lip, trying not to swear. Managed it quite well until he tied the first knot. "God damn it!" I cursed.

"Sorry," he mumbled, "but it's got to be tight."

"Not that tight," I could feel the sweat popping out on my forehead.

"Yes, that tight," he insisted, tying another knot while I cursed again.

Suddenly, his hands stopped their work, his eyes going closed, his face getting whiter, if that was possible.

"Danny," I asked very softly, "You okay?"

"Hmm, yeah," he opened his eyes, taking a shuddering breath. "just, um, hurts when I breathe too deep."

"Then don't," I ordered.

"’kay," he took another odd breath, then moved his hands back to my arm. "Let's finish this, huh?"

After that, I managed to bite my lip and refrain from swearing while he worked.

"Better?" he asked optimistically, as he slipped back to rest against the rock, his eyes looking less and less focused with every minute.

Considering his condition, I politely refrained from suggesting he needed to join Carter in taking that First Aid Without Killing the Wounded Class. I did swear a couple more times, and then I sat back beside Daniel, holding my throbbing arm against my chest, counting to 100, backwards, waiting for the waves of pain to recede to a more bearable level.

Eventually, they did, but they took their own sweet time about it.

I tried not to think about how Daniel felt, or what might be wrong with him. His face was already covered by a thin sheen of sweat, his hair damp, every breath obviously painful.

Crap.

Static startled me.

My radio was still working.

Carter's scratchy but obviously frantic voice made me want to cheer. "Colonel? Daniel? Are you okay?"

I managed to use my good hand to tab the controls. "Carter, we're still in one piece. Sort of. Mostly."

"Where are you, Sir?"

"Down in the cave. The ledge gave way and we've slipped further down."

"Sir, the ledge above me broke away as well. I can't get back up from here, Sir, and I don't have enough rope to reach down to the third level."

"Third level?"

"The second level has broken away. I can't go up or down, Colonel."

I let my head fall back to lean against the rock wall. "Oh good," I whispered.

"Sir? What was that, Colonel? I can't hear you very well, Sir."

"You okay, Carter?"

"Yes, Sir, unhurt but trapped."

"Shit."

"Sir, I'm okay. They'll send help in 43 hours, Colonel, maybe less since we're going to miss our check ins."

"I know, Major." I coughed in the dust-laden air.

Carter sounded suddenly worried. "Are you or Daniel hurt, Sir?"

"Daniel's a little banged up, I've got minor dents and bruises but nothing disabling."

"Sir, I could try to come down to you."

"That’s a negative, Major. There's no use in you getting down here. It's just dark, dusty and, and, dark, Carter. One ledge, maybe more has broken away. Stay there and try to find your way out. We'll do the same from here. I can feel air moving and there's some dim light ahead, so I think we've got possibilities."

-------------

I'm not much good at numbers, but I didn't have to be to know we were in big trouble.

If we had to wait until rescue came, which wouldn't be until we were overdue, in something like 40 hours, make that a nice round two days, we'd be overdue. The General would give us a little leeway, knowing little delays were inevitable. Then he'd send through a MALP and find nothing. By the time he realized we weren't coming, and organized a rescue party, it would be another of those overheated daylight cycles. Which meant another 16 or 18 hours, nearly another day. Three days, then, at least, before help was likely to show up.

Carter had water, maybe even some extra, but there was no way to get it down to where Daniel and I were trapped.

Daniel and I, between us, had three canteens of water, mine much less than full. I'd managed to get the bleeding stopped on his injuries but he'd lost a lot of blood, and that meant he needed fluids.

There was one other possibility. I could feel a current of air moving, thank God, that meant we weren't sealed in so we wouldn't suffocate. But it also meant there might be an opening to the outside, and help.

Though I wasn't feeling my most chipper myself, in the last hour I'd scoured every bit of space, which wasn't much. Daniel and I were at the bottom of the cave, at what had been the eighth or maybe even ninth level, it was hard to tell. The broken away ledges, including the ones we'd been standing on up above, were nothing but a pile of rubble strewn across half the space of the cavern we were in. The floor here consisted of broken, slanted rock that made walking difficult, unfinished unlike the walls and ledges above.

My first find was a miraculous one-- one of the lights had survived the fall, unbroken and still in working order. At least we had more now that my one low power, small battery flashlight.

The second miracle was another doorway out of the area we were in. It was small and cramped, but the floor and walls were semi-finished, indicating it wasn't a natural passageway. It was obvious this was where the fresh air was coming from, so that meant there was an exit, though whether it would be big enough for a human was a good question.

I crawled in about 20 feet and discovered the passageway was increasing in height, and then opened into a huge natural cavern. A small but swiftly moving stream angled across the middle, and I could see places where it looked like I could climb toward the daylight showing. If I had two good arms, I reminded myself. Well, there didn't seem to be a choice. Under other circumstances, we could have simply sat back and waited for rescue. But with Daniel hurt how badly I didn't know, and water a far too precious commodity, I'd have to take the chance.

I went back to where I'd left Daniel.

His pale, sweaty look worried me. "Hey, big guy..." I said, and he opened his eyes. "I think I found us a way out."

"Out?"

"Yup. I'll have to work at it a little, but I think I can make it, get back to the gate and call for help." I felt his forehead, not liking the warmth, checked his bandages again, now blood sodden but the wounds seemed to no longer be leaking. Pulling my own canteen around, I gave him a drink.

Thirstily, he drank swallow after swallow, and then I capped it and hung it back on my belt.

"Jack, aren't you thirsty?"

"I drank before, back there," I lied.

I hadn't taken a drink since we'd fallen. I didn't know exactly how long I could go without water in this heat, but I'd give what we had to him first. He needed it much more than I did.

"Look, I need to move you over here, out of the way just in case any more of that rock falls before I go look at that exit, huh?" I asked, shifting my arm under his shoulder to help him to his feet, taking most of his weight onto my own lean frame.

"Walk? Oh yeah, can do," he said, sounding a little off, a little loopy.

Bad sign. Concussion most likely. Combined with blood loss, possible broken ribs and internal injuries, this was not turning out to be a good day.

Carefully, I maneuvered Daniel away from the rubble of the broken ledges. I got him settled in on a safer looking spot, and went to explore my find.

Once back in the second chamber, I began moving across the huge room, navigating by the small amount of light drifting in from the opening some 40 feet above. Healthy, a free climb up to the opening would have been a piece of cake, but with one broken arm plus various and sundry other damaged body parts, this wasn't even going to be within spitting distance of the cake.

There were enough rocks for me to work my way across the small stream without so much as getting my toes wet. Once on the other side, I carefully looked over the wall. The side of the cave was rough, and there seemed to be plenty of good finger and toeholds, if I could manage with only one arm. Wouldn't be easy, but then, most worthwhile things aren't, I've learned over the years.

I went back to where I'd left Daniel resting.

"How are you doing, Danny boy?" I asked, reaching down to feel his already warm forehead. I didn't much like this situation. I checked the bandage on his thigh, it was blood soaked, and the gash on his head with still seeping blood steadily.

"Tired," he mumbled, obviously having trouble keeping his eyes open. "Thirsty."

Shit. I pulled my canteen around and let him have a couple of swallows. He wanted more, but I had to try to conserve what little we had. "Easy, Big Guy, that stuff's a rare commodity."

"Whole stream full right there," he mumbled, waving a hand at what was only a tiny trickle of water running across the cave floor.

"That's contaminated water, Daniel, remember? We can't drink it. Shouldn't even touch it. Dangerous. Made SG-7 sick."

He nodded, "0h, yeah, right."

"So, Danny boy, you gotta help me here, I need you to wait here," I pointed across the cave. "Carter's up there, trapped. You can talk to her from here. Keep her company. Can you do that?"

"Yes," he promised, although considering the glazed look in his eyes, I wouldn't want to bet on his remembering what he'd promised 10 minutes from now..

Pulling out the radio, I had to give Carter a message.

"Major..."

She sounded relieved. "Sir?"

"Any luck at finding a way out on your end, Carter?"

"None, Sir. There's what appears to be an air vent, but it's way too narrow for a human to use. But at least I have fresh air."

"Good. I've found a possible exit here, through a carved passageway and across a small stream. I don't want to leave Daniel, but I don't see that I have a choice. He can't climb." And I'm not so sure I can either, I thought, but didn't say. "You'll need to keep checking in with him via radio."

"How are you set for water, Sir?" she asked, the concern still obvious in her voice.

"We're okay. I've got three canteens to leave with Daniel. That will be enough." It will have to be enough, I thought grimly. "So, I'm off. Keep tabs on Daniel as much as you can, and I'll be back as quick as I can get help from the gate."

"Sir, the heat, if you go outside--

"I'll be fine, Carter. I'll make it."

"Colonel, you can't handle that heat without enough water."

"I'm set, Major. You keep an ear tuned in to help Daniel until I get back. Good luck, Carter."

"Sir, I really think you shouldn't do this. Rescue will come..."

"Carter, rescue *may* come, and it *may* come in time, but I don't like the odds on that. Daniel needs help and I may not be a doctor, but I've seen enough injuries to know when they're serious, too serious to wait two days, or three. Or more. So I'm going."

"Good luck, then, Sir."

"Thanks, Major. Keep talking to Daniel."

I went back to Jackson. He was lying back again, face pale, eyes closed. I reached out and gently touched his shoulder. "Daniel, here's the water. Only drink from the canteens, okay? I'll be back. You hang on, you hear me? This is one order you're going to follow."

"Yes, Jack."

--------------

Taking the rope and one flashlight, I crawled back through the passageway. I carefully crossed the stream and began planning my climbing route to reach the narrow opening.

Trying to climb one-handed turned out to be beyond awkward and right next to impossible. I pulled myself up one handed, fighting exhaustion, sweat dripping off my face, making slow but steady progress. Using toe holds, wedging a knee against the rock and hauling myself up onehanded, I was more than halfway when my foot slipped. Grimly, I grabbed for a hold with my left arm, caught for a moment, but the pain made my fingers spasm and I couldn't hold on. I slid, knees grinding against rock, fighting gravity and losing, sliding down faster and faster, and skidding out of control the last thirty feet. Desperately fighting for a handhold, a toehold, anything to stop my rapid descent.

I stopped, eventually, of course, when I reached the bottom.

Oh crap.

I dropped my head against the cool rock of the cave wall and waited until my heart stopped pounding and my lungs quit demanding big gulps of air. It took a long time. I'd opened up the cut on my forehead again, blood was dripping slowly down my cheek, and I wiped it away with my sleeve, but as far as I could tell I hadn't done any additional damage to myself. At last, when I no longer felt quite so dizzy or shaky, I started upward again.

I spent a long time working my way cautiously up that rock wall and made it to the opening on the second try, arriving at the little ledge beside the big opening in the cave wall exhausted, sweating and thirsty . After resting a couple of minutes, I looked out.

Big mistake.

Damn.

Below spread rugged country. Directly below the opening to the outside, the only opening I'd seen, the mountainside fell away on a long, steep, slope covered with loose rock. You know the kind, the ones where the moment you put your weight on them, the rocks start to slide and you with them...shale. Several hundred feet of shale slope, by the looks of it. And at the bottom, the creek, with it's deadly water.

If I went out this way I'd most likely land in the damned, deadly water.

I spent long minutes searching for an alternative, and in the end, found none.

-----------

Toggling the switch on my radio I called, "Daniel, Carter, can you hear me?"

Daniel's voice answered, sounding tired. "Jack?"

"Yeah, I'm at the exit, there's a long slope down and then it looks like I should be able to hike back to the 'gate. Looks like it might take me a couple of hours, though."

"Then maybe you should wait for the rescue party."

"Can't, Daniel. They won't come looking for quite a while, tomorrow at least. I can't wait that long. You tell Carter, okay?"

"Yeah, sure," he answered.

"Daniel," I said in my best warning tone. "Daniel, you call Carter. Talk to her. She needs to hear your voice," not half as much as you need to hear hers, I thought, but didn't say it. I've got to go. Once I'm outside I don't think the radios will carry, but I'll try again in a while."

"Sure."

"Daniel, hold on. I'll be back. You hear me?"

"I know you will. You never leave anyone behind..."

Shit.

I had to go, had to get down the damn mountainside. Hopefully, I'd be able to avoid landing in the water. In the back of my mind I could all but hear Doc's voice telling me " I certainly would *not* allow it to touch an open wound or broken skin."

I was going to do my damnedest to stay out of that water, but if I had to, I had to. I didn't see any other way down, and I didn't see any way Daniel would last until a search party found him. It's do or die time, O'Neill, time to put your life on the line for that line you've bandied about how many times? Never leave anyone behind. Find a way to save your teammates. With your shield or on it, as they say, whoever the hell they are.

The length of rope I'd brought clearly wasn't enough to stretch past the shale, but I let the line play out, and hoped it would be enough to steady me. Then, as carefully as I could, I slipped out of the mouth of the cave and stepped cautiously onto the rocks. I moved as softly as possible, setting each foot down as carefully as if I was walking on eggs. Slow. Easy. Step by cautious step. I was holding my breath, until I reminded myself that I had to breathe.

I ran out of rope, kept moving.

Eight steps.

Nine.

Ten.

Eleven.

And the twelfth was the one.

I stepped forward, and felt rocks slipping beneath my boots. I stopped. The rocks didn't.

Sliding stones, slipping softly down the slope, inches at a time, a whisper of sound.

More sliding. More rocks. Bigger rocks.

Sliding faster, a roar of sound building as the trickle of rock turned into a torrent crashing down the mountainside, carrying one war-weary airman with it in a roiling cloud of dust and dirt.

I slid, grabbing for handholds, and then something hit my already broken arm and I think I screamed, but the sound was lost in the roar of falling rock. I dragged my feet, but there was nothing there to brace against, nothing to grab or hold, and I slid, faster and further.

Something smacked into my ribcage, hard, driving the air out of my lungs. I couldn't stop. I couldn't stop and I landed at last, with a plop, in the water.

Boots.

Just my boots were in the water.

I scrambled out of the stream, knowing if I'd gotten water into all those cuts and scrapes and scratches on my hands, arms, and legs, nothing else mattered, because if Doc was right, it was already too late. And Doc was always right.

I couldn't breathe. Vainly sucking for air, not just because I'd gotten the wind knocked out of me, but also because, I hate to admit it, but a part of me was scared shitless.

Hyperventilating in the heat.

I sat trembling on the rock for a moment, my head down between my knees, trying to get my breathing under control, afraid to check just how much of me was wet. If I'd just gotten water in open wounds, that meant I probably had at best 24 hours before I got sick, a few more after that before I got too sick to help myself, Daniel or Carter. They were depending on me. To be honest, I doubted Daniel had much more time than I did, and Carter, well, there was no way to know. She wouldn't have told me if she had serious injuries, either.

Afraid to look, afraid not to, finally, I lifted my head and checked. Boots wet, right pantleg damp, splashes of water had hit me in half a dozen places, but I couldn't see anywhere I'd gotten water in the open skin that marked my left hip, back and arms.

I still had a chance, which meant Daniel and Carter still had a chance.

I staggered back to my feet, my arm throbbing where I'd tried to use the damaged limb to stop my fall, and began walking. I still couldn't catch my breath in the oppressive heat and there was an odd stitch in my side with every stride, but I walked on.

Back home I always know which direction is which. You can't hardly fool me on purpose, I just *know*. It's one of those skills a man is either blessed with or not, and it's a damn good one to have in my line of work. Trouble was, this wasn't Earth and it seems the O'Neill Intuitive Navigational Insight doesn't work on planets other than my own.

Shit. I closed my eyes and tried to envision the landscape as we'd approached the mountain, recalled the twists and turns we'd taken in the cave, and the way I'd crawled out... That should mean the gate, and help, were that way.

As good a guess as any, I imagined, and started walking.

-------

It was hot.

My arm throbbed, swollen to twice it’s size or so it seemed. My lungs burned, my head pounded, and my body ached all over from the pummeling it had taken in two rock slides. I had bruises on top of bruises on top of abrasions and contusions. My mouth was dry, my eyes quickly feeling gritty and raw, sweat pasting my clothes to my skin.

It was too freakin' hot.

The feather tree things didn't provide much shade, they seemed to have sort of curled up their 'leaves' as had the grass and every other living thing I could see. Their way of surviving the heat, I suppose. If there were any animals here, they were hiding too, or so it seemed. I hadn't seen another moving thing since emerging from the cave, not even a bird or a bug. The breeze was a furnace-like, arid wind that didn't cool, instead it seemed to be sucking the moisture right out of my tissues. I tried to ignore it, willed my body not to notice, but eventually, as the sun beat down mercilessly combined with the reflected light from the planet, I began to feel the effects of the temperature.

I looked over at the innocent looking water in the stream, so close, so tantalizing. I knew it would be wet and refreshing and thirst quenching. My mouth would have watered at the sight, if I'd had enough moisture to create saliva.

Damn it Jack, don't look. Don't think about it. Don't imagine how good and sweet and wet it would taste, how it would quench your thirst, slide down your parched throat… damn, stop it you fool.

There are lots of kinds of torture, and over the years I've endured way more than my fair share, but this one ranked right up there with the best of them. I forced my eyes away from the water as I stumbled on, but even when I wasn't looking, I could still hear it gurgling over the stones. Hell, I could even smell it, and feel the moisture rising off of it. It was enough to drive a man mad, between the heat I couldn't escape and the water I couldn't drink.

Hours passed. I trudged on through the never-ending heat, feeling light headed and giddy. Dizzy, if I didn’t keep my eyes focused on the ground right straight in front of me. Thirsty, my mouth like dust, desiccated, I hadn't been this thirsty since Iraq. Or was it Iran? The heat was like a living thing, a heavy weight pressing me down, sapping my will and sucking the life right out of me.

Stumbling, I slid to my knees, head hanging. My legs were so wobbly I couldn't get upright.

That’s when the first muscle cramps hit. Ever had one? Count yourself lucky if you haven’t. Feels like someone is twisting your leg so viciously the bones are gonna snap at any second, your muscles twitching and jumping uncontrollably, your body screaming at you to stop, curl up and quit and maybe, just maybe, the agony will stop. It doesn’t of course.

Dizziness, cramps, nausea: can we all spell dehydration?

You are in trouble, Jack, old boy. Big, deep, trouble. And your team with you.

I tried once more to get back up on my feet, managed to get my knees locked, wavered, and then my body flat out refused to cooperate any further.

I sank down on the hard ground at the base of one of the feather trees, and cursed fate and the gods and the Stargate and the Air Force and this moon and my own stupidity. If I'd have let Hammond assign a fourth, I'd have had someone at the cave mouth, to go for help. If I'd have used my head, I'd have made Carter stay up there. Or I'd have refused to let Daniel climb down further. I'd have carried more water, not left the extra outside the caves. I'd have put my foot down and refused to come to this planet, er, moon to start with. I'd have done a hundred different things and kept my team safe.

But I hadn't.

It was my fault we were in the mess, and that meant it was my job to get us out of it.

And then I knew what I had to do.

Daniel and Carter were depending on me. If I keeled over from the heat and dehydration, they wouldn't survive.

I knew what dehydration, heat exhaustion and heat stroke could do. I'd seen it kill men in top physical condition in a matter of hours.

What happened to me didn't matter much in the long run, hell, even the Goa'uld only valued my sorry carcass as a pain in the butt. I always knew I was the expendable one; I always knew it was somehow going to be my fate to give my life for the others. So be it. It was inevitable, I knew that. The only question there'd ever been was the when and the where. The why was a given. It was my duty, and my penance, and my only salvation, to give my life for someone else's. I'd been prepared for this since that long ago day when Charlie...

Don't go there.

Hell, O'Neill, that's exactly where you'll be going, soon enough. To be with Charlie.

Save Daniel, save Carter, be with Charlie. Seemed like a good enough deal to me.

I staggered back to my feet, hell, okay, more like crawled to the stream bank, dipped my hands in the water, and knowing full well the price of my decision, I drank the water. It tasted wonderful, as good as any liquid I'd ever tasted. I forced myself to sip slowly, to allow my body to absorb what I drank, to savor each drop of the deadly drink.

I rested for 15 minutes more, and then, refreshed, began walking.

My back ached and my knees hurt and my arm throbbed agonizingly, but then, what's new? I was exhausted, but I walked on. Daniel and Carter needed me. They needed help.

I climbed to the top of the rise, sat on a rock to rest, and turned my eyes to the landscape just unfolded in front of me.

And cursed once more.

A small valley and then another rock strewn cliff. Steep. Rugged. Trailing as far to the left as I could see, miles at least; to the right, dead-ending into the mountain.

No easy climb. No way around.

I needed to find a way across to get back to the gate. At least, I thought this was still the way back to the gate. Hard to keep my bearings, amidst the heat and the confusion and the exhaustion. I hoped I was still going the right way, I had to believe I was going the right way, because the alternative was to give up and lay down right here and die. And that meant that Daniel, and maybe Carter, would die as well.

Can't do that, Jack.

Get up off your sorry butt and move, airman. Maybe you're going the right way or maybe it's the wrong way, but sitting here and feeling sorry for yourself is sure as hell going to get you dead, so move!

Shit.

Why can't I just buy a break? Just for once, huh? If not for me, then for my teammates? Okay, God's got it in for me, I realized that a long time ago, but He doesn't have to take it out on them, just because they have the misfortune to be on *my* team. They don't deserve it.

No time for despair, now, O'Neill, they're counting on you. Whine later. Now's not the time or the place, Bucko.

I rested a few minutes and wearily, forced myself to go on.

Down the hill, across the valley floor, to the base of the cliff, studying the rock to find the best or any way up. I didn't want to look at my watch. It had been hours since I'd left Daniel, more than 12 hours. And I knew I had to rest. It wouldn't do Daniel or Carter any good for me to fall down the damn cliff. That wouldn't bring them any help in time.

I found a tiny spot of shade created by a pile of big boulders, curled myself up, resting my head on my good arm, and allowed myself three hours sleep. Thank God for all those years of military life, the kind that teaches you to rest when and where you can and ignore everything else, because dear Lord, I needed it then.

Right on schedule, I woke. Three hours sleep. My eyes were gritty, felt glued shut. Every bone and muscle ached, and my arm was a swollen, throbbing club, fingers stiffened.

Groaning with the effort, I forced myself to my feet.

A glance at my watch told me it was now fifteen hours since I'd left Daniel. I tried the radio, but there was only static as I'd expected. Down here in this valley there was no way the radio was going to connect to anyone.

I walked along the base of the cliff until I found a spot that had fractured rock for hand and foot holds, and seemed the most logical spot to go up.

I began to climb, slow work one-handed, but I went on steadily and cautiously, because there were people waiting and counting on me, and I couldn't let them down.

The rock was hot beneath my fingers, the air so hot it seemed to burn my throat with each breath.

Climb. Ignore the heat and the hurt, they're no big thing. Temporary distraction. Make it a game. Hell, if that old actor guy could do one handed pushups, I could do one handed pull ups, up the mountain, to the top, and over the top.

A handhold there, a place for a foot there, a push with the legs, until they were trembling with exhaustion, until all of me was exhausted. Don't look up. Don't look down. Just move.

Climb. Endure. Survive.

The top. Feeling just slightly giddy, with relief or the heat or exhaustion, I wasn't sure, I sat on the top of the cliff and gazed out across the countryside. From the top of the hill I could see the trail back to the Stargate. Yes! There it was, big round shining ring of magic stone.

It wouldn't be long, then there'd be help for Daniel and Carter. And for me, well, an end. Funny, I felt fine, tired from the long walk and battered from the fall, but nothing out of the ordinary. Maybe nothing would happen.

I don't think I'd walked another fifteen steps before the first wave hit. Pain, centered in my gut, driving me to my knees with a moan, hands clutching my stomach.

Oh shit.

It was starting. Too soon. Not yet, it shouldn't happen yet!

But then, unlike SG-7, I drank a lot of the water, and I was already dehydrated when I did, hurt and wore down to start with and then I'd indulged myself in a little bit of hiking capped by an afternoon of mountain climbing. Stress probably speeded up the attack of the whatever the hell nasty things they were in the water.

Not that it mattered how or why. It just was.

I sat there on my knees for long, long minutes, my body shuddering, sweating, shaking, too weak to get back to my feet, my head throbbing, the ground spinning. Finally, bracing my good arm on the ground, I pushed myself upright and walked on.

--------------------

“Daniel?” Samantha Carter was worried. She’d been checking in every couple of hours, as the Colonel had suggested before he left. As the hours went by, Daniel seemed less coherent and more tired with every call. It was so frustrating, being so near yet so far, unable to help him. “Daniel, can you hear me?” she repeated into her radio.

“Sam?” his voice was a mere whisper, hoarse and rough.

“Daniel. How are you doing?”

“Mmm, fine. Thirsty.”

“Did the Colonel leave you some water?”

“Yes. Drank some.”

“Then go ahead and drink more.”

“Yes.”

“How’s your head?”

“Still hurts.”

“I know. The Colonel went for help.”

“Soon?”

“As soon as he can,” she said, trying to encourage her teammate, trying to keep the worry out of her voice. What her CO had done was insanely risky. The odds of him reaching the gate, well, she could figure the odds, but she really didn’t want to, because even without doing the calculations, she knew they weren’t good. She knew how hot and dry the surface would be, in the full glare of both the sun and the reflected planetlight. If the Colonel tried to stay out in the sun, tried to keep moving in that heat, the likelihood of dehydration or heat stroke had to be near 100 percent.

Don’t think about it Sam. He’ll find a way. He’s survived in some terrible places, overcome some impossible things. He’s Special Ops trained, he knows more about survival than 99% of the humans on Earth.

But this wasn’t Earth.

“Daniel, you hold on. The Colonel will bring help.” She told him, trying to reassure herself as much as him.

-------

I walked, and rested, and walked, driven by the image of Daniel's injuries and the sound of Carter's worried voice.

The pain in my head intensified, and my stomach was clenched in agony, but I kept walking. Stubbornly. Doggedly. Good word, doggedly. I like dogs, did you know that? Used to have one, as a kid. When I was married, too. Every kid should have a dog. Gave one to Cassie. Cute little dog. Wished I could give one to Merrin. She'd have loved a dog.

Dogs.

Why was I thinking about dogs?

I stopped, shook my head trying to clear it, realized that wasn't helping, only making it worse.

For hours I stumbled forward, moving as long as I could until the spasms started, and I'd crash again to the ground, curling up, arms wrapped around my stomach, consumed by the pain.

And when I couldn't get up, I crawled. Not very dignified for a Colonel in the United States Air Force, but I wasn't concerned about dignity or rank or anything but getting to that ring of stone where I could call for help.

I never got that far.

I didn't know how long it had been since I'd left Daniel, probably close to 24 hours now. I couldn't go more than 10 or 15 minutes at a time before the waves of shaking weakness returned, forcing me off my feet. Long moments of shuddering spasms, sweat rolling off my face, stabbing pains in my head, barely able to breathe, my gut seeming to tie itself in knots. And then long minutes gathering my strength before I could go on. The attacks and the rests got longer and longer as the time spent moving got shorter and shorter.

I was following our own tracks now, thank God, or I probably would be walking, err, crawling in circles. Hard to tell where the hell you're trying to go from your hands and knees, er, hand and knees. Hard on the knees. Hard on the back. Once in a while I'd forget about the other arm and try to use it to prop myself up and then the pain would start shooting from wrist to shoulder and I'd remember, oh yeah, I'd remember.

I was not having a fun trip to good old MGD JFK VCR 2-4-6-8 7-11 911 whatever....

Getting a little light-headed, too, I noticed.

I'm not sure how long I'd been lying on the ground, not moving. It seemed cooler and the light dimmer, which if I remembered right from Carter's briefing, meant the regular sun was down and the reflected planet-light was in phase.

In phase. Huh. Bet she wouldn't think I'd remember a scientific term like 'in phase.' Didn't know what it meant, but it sounded good, sort of rolled off the tongue. In phase, out of phase, never phased, that's me.

Damn, I must be delirious. I knew I was running a fever. I sipped from my canteen, drinking more of the deadly water. I'd filled it from the stream hours ago when the waterway had turned away from my direction of travel. Reluctantly, I'd been forced to abandon the stream with just one cracked and leaky canteen to keep me going. Splashing some of the precious liquid on my face proved to be a futile attempt to refresh myself. The scorchingly hot air seemed to suck the droplets from my face almost before they touched my skin.

I sipped again from the canteen, holding the fluid in my mouth, letting it sink in, soothing the dry tissues, all the while knowing that every drop, every sip, every mouthful sealed my fate, but maybe, just maybe, could save me from heat stroke just long enough to save the others. It was the one fact I held onto, the one image I clung to, the need to get to the gate to save Daniel and Carter. I was a goner, but they still had a chance.

-------

I walked when I could, crawled when I couldn't and rested when I couldn't force myself to move any more; and then, once I'd found a bit of strength returning, I once again moved forward however I could, rested, moved, rested, moved, time blurring. Most of the time I moved in a daze, my will stubbornly driving my body onward until finally I felt myself stumble to my knees for the umpteenth time.

I knelt on the ground, head hanging, knowing I needed to go on. For the hundredth time, like every time before, I needed to dig deeper and deeper within myself to find the strength to go forward. It was getting harder, harder with every minute and every step and if I was honest with myself, it wasn't going to be long before I lost it all together.

And then I'd conjure up that memory of Daniel and Carter and force myself on, staggering and stumbling and crawling when I could do nothing else.

My throat was parched, my tongue a swollen lump in my mouth; my skin was searingly hot, my whole body felt baked and dried out and drained of ever last molecule of moisture; my legs were wooden lumps that stumbled forward because it was all they knew how to do. My brain had quit functioning rationally hours ago, I had just enough sense left to know that, and to remember that was one of the symptoms of heat stroke. I was dead on my feet, I just wouldn't let myself admit it yet.

And then I was on the ground, again, and this time I couldn't drive myself onward. My body had nothing left.

I wanted to cry, but there was no moisture left for tears.

I'd failed, failed them, failed them like I'd failed Charlie and failed Sara and failed Kawalsky and failed everyone who'd ever depended on me. Without the strength to even hold up my head, I buried my face in my hands and prayed the endless day on this planet would end soon.

--------

I didn't know how long I laid on the ground that time. I wasn't sure if I'd passed out or fallen asleep or just sort of blanked out. Something, though, had awakened me.

Noise.

Funny noise, coming from my shoulder.

Crackling.

My radio was dusty, the plastic cover dented, but it was making noise, garbled speech like sounds. I grabbed for the send button. "Daniel? Carter?" my voice was a raw, unrecognizable croak.

"This...looking...Colonel.....Where...."

"This is Colonel O'Neill. Who are you, where are you?" I shouted hoarsely. A gate transmission. They'd opened the gate in search of our signal, looking for our 24 hour check-in.

"Send search and rescue. Daniel and Carter are trapped back in the cave. Hurry."

"Colonel? Send....S...three... directional....hold...on....way...out."

---------------

Oh, God, they'd come, SG-3 search and rescue. I heard the kawoosh of the gate across the silent planet, and pushed myself upright. In a moment, as I stood swaying, I heard them and then they topped the little rise a couple hundred feet in front of me, booted feet slapping against the hard ground as they advanced at a jog.

"Colonel O'Neill, Sir," Major Coburn saluted, a worried frown plain on his face.

I tried to grin, think I failed, or maybe I really looked as bad as his stunned expression seemed to indicate. I sloppily saluted back, nearly falling on my face.

Coburn's medic was there, grabbing my elbow. "Colonel O’Neill, I think you should sit down, Sir."

I yanked my arm away. "My team is trapped in the cave, and hurt. Ledges collapsed. If you've got enough climbing gear you can get down to them. I had to climb out of the cave, back way, through there," I waved vaguely at the rough terrain behind me. "Dr. Jackson is hurt, Major Carter may be, too. Go. Now."

The medic didn't want to leave. "Colonel, you need..."

"What I need, Sergeant, is for you to help my team." I ordered him, the effort to put some authority behind the command using every ounce of strength I had left. I wanted to go back with them, but I knew that would only slow them down. Like arguing with me now was keeping them rooted here instead of heading up the trail to save Daniel and Carter. "Go. That's an order. Now, major," I turned to Coburn. "I'll wait for you by the gate."

"Yes, Sir." Coburn turned to one of his team. "Williams, help the Colonel back to the gate, call for additional medical help and S&R personnel, then join us."

I was too exhausted to protest. Leaning on young airman Williams, we staggered back to the gate. He dialed home, relayed the message and, at my insistence, left to catch up with his team.

I sat by the Stargate and in only minutes a second team of SG volunteers appeared through the wormhole. I waved them in the direction of the caves. Dr. Fraiser was with them. "Colonel?" she was worried.

"Doc, go with them. To the caves."

She started to pull out her stethoscope to check my vitals, but I jerked away. "Daniel was hurt bad when I had to leave. Go, Doc. I can wait." I was a dead man, no matter what, she shouldn’t be wasting precious time on me. “Go!”

"Sir..."

"My arm is broken and I'm a bit the worse for wear pretty much all over, but Daniel needs you more than I do. Really. Go."

She looked hard at me, clearly undecided.

"Doc, go. I'll wait here for word." I shouldn't have said that, because she knew there was more wrong with me than I was letting on if I was willing to stay. Hell, I was so shaky if I hadn't been sitting down I'd have fallen down. And I'm sure my face was as white as if I'd seen a ghost. "Go. Now!" I ordered, and reluctantly, she left, heading up the trail with the remainder of the rescue party.

Lt. Walsh had been left with me. "Sir? We should head back, Colonel."

I stared sternly at him. "No, son, we shouldn't. Not until I know if they found my people."

He nodded.

"Lieutenant?"

"Yes, Sir?"

"I could use a drink."

Quickly, he unfastened one of the two canteens he carried and offered it to me. I drank, long and deep, and handed it back to him.

It seemed like an awfully long time that I sat there, shaking, exhausted, my head hurting and my body aching every moment of it. I wrapped my arms around my chest, and drifted, praying for the sound of the radio and the good news it could bring. Please let them be in time. Please let them be in time...

Walsh's radio crackled to life. "We have them!"

"Sir?" the airman asked, checking to be sure I'd heard.

"I heard," I answered.

The radio again, "they're injured but alive."

I sighed with relief, and gave in to the pain.

--------

The next few hours are mostly missing from my memory. I recall bits and pieces: the scared eyes of that young Lt. Walsh; the stinging cold of the wormhole; collapsing on the ramp, curling up into a ball, pain shooting through my head and my stomach, someone asking where I was hurt, had I been drinking any of the water. I remember fighting when they tried to put me in a bed and stick needles in me. And I remember thinking that like SG-7 I was just going to fall asleep and never wake up, but that was all right as long as Daniel and Carter were okay.

------------------

I was feeling pretty good about everything by the time we got back to the gate. We'd gotten to both Daniel and Sam in time. The injuries weren't as bad as I'd feared, not from the Colonel's reaction.

The Colonel. I couldn't wait to see the look on his face when we got back with his teammates. He'd been so damned worried about them.

I was a little worried about *him.* He'd told me he was okay, when I'd left him back at the gate, but I knew he was hurt, too, just hiding it well. Still, he'd have been back at the SGC and getting medical help hours ago. I could just picture his anxious face, and how relieved he'd be to see that his people were going to be okay. Sure, we'd radioed back that the others were going to be fine, but the Colonel always needs to see for himself.

We stepped through the wormhole, into the gateroom, expecting a pleased greeting from General Hammond. The look on his face stopped me cold, it was grim and worried, and that meant trouble.

"Sir?" My heart skipped a beat.

"Doctor Fraiser, you're needed in the infirmary immediately. It's Colonel O'Neill." The grim look hadn't left his face.

I turned back to the Marines who were carrying Daniel's stretcher and helping Sam, and gave quick orders to get them both down to the infirmary. Turning back to the General, "What's wrong with the Colonel, Sir?" I queried even as I started toward the infirmary.

"Dr. Warner's not sure. The Colonel passed out, Lt. Walsh carried him back through the gate. He's come to several times since, but he’s been combative to the point they had to sedate him."

I all but ran toward the infirmary.

The Colonel was pale, sweating, semi-conscious, moving restlessly, aimlessly, on the bed. "Doctor?" I asked Warner.

He simply shook his head. "His symptoms are all over the board. X-rays, an MRI and scans didn't find anything except a broken arm and cracked ribs, there's no sign of internal injuries but...."

I took one good look at my patient and with a sinking heart, knew. I'd seen these symptoms before, watched them grow worse and worse and become fatal for two good men.

Stepping up to the bed, I gripped the Colonel’s hand. His fingers tightened convulsively around mine. "Colonel? Colonel O'Neill?"

He tried to open his eyes, managed to move the lids, but didn't really get them open. He did mumble something, so I knew he'd heard me. I leaned closer to the bed. "Colonel?"

"Doc?" he managed in a voice so low and weak I could barely hear.

"Sir, did you drink the water? Did you?"

His eyes opened just a bit, just enough for me to catch a glimpse of glazed, unfocused eyes.

"Had to... Needed fluids... My fault...Daniel, Sam, in trouble....dehydrated..."

"Sir, you had water with you, lots of water so you didn't have to drink the moon's water..."

"They were dying..."

"Who was dying? Colonel?"

"Daniel. Carter. Needed help."

"What did you do with your own water?"

"Daniel needed it."

A horrible realization was dawning on me. "Colonel, you deliberately drank the water? Knowing it would poison you?"

He licked his lips, nodded almost imperceptibly. "Needed...to get help...for Daniel, Sam...My fault..."

"We got to Daniel and Sam in time, Colonel," I reassured him.

"Good," he mumbled, and passed out.

-----------------------------------------

I was really surprised to wake up. Truthfully, I didn't expect to.

I wasn't sure what day it was, but I knew this much, it was a damn good day because I was alive and awake. I felt like crap, every part of me aching in every conceivable way and so weak I couldn't lift my head off the pillow, but I was alive, and I long ago learned never to look a gift horse in the mouth. I shifted my head on the pillow and could see Daniel sleeping in the bed next to me, and a curtained off area across from him that I hoped to hell was Carter. Alive. All alive and on the way to well.

I let my eyes slide closed and then there were voices. That's what woke me, I suppose.

"Dr. Fraiser, how is Dr. Jackson doing?" That was the General.

"Improving. He should make it. He wouldn't have had a chance in a few more hours. The internal injuries would have killed him." That was Dr. Fraiser, small but mighty, our Doc. "All three of them will be okay, in time, General."

Footsteps came closer. A hand gently touched my arm. "Colonel, ready to talk to us, yet, Sir?"

I battled gravity and managed to open my eyes, squinting and letting them slide shut again. 'When would they learn to turn the infirmary lights down?' I must have mumbled the words aloud because the hand disappeared, and then returned.

"Try again, Colonel. This will be better."

I tried.

It was.

Doc's brown eyes were beaming down at me, and the General had that fatherly look on his face, the one where he actually was glad to see me alive.

"What happened?" I mumbled, deciding I'd let my eyes close as an energy conservation measure. Smart question, huh? That's how a guy like me earns eagles, with such astute queries.

"We found the cure, Colonel, or rather you did,” Doc answered.

“I did?” hmm, don’t remember that. Maybe I’d get my science project merit badge yet.

“Pure dumb luck, or sheer stubbornness led to the cure, Colonel. Sweating was the key. The substance from the water is flushed from the body through a person’s sweat. SG-7 drank the water, then returned here too soon. But you stayed on the planet long enough, sweated enough, to move almost all of the toxin out of your system."

“Good thing I didn’t pack the Right Guard then,” I mumbled.

Hammond chuckled.

I forced the eyes open once more, puzzled. “If I was cured, why was I so sick?”

“You didn’t get rid of quite all of the toxin, some got into your system and made you ill. But that actually is part of the body’s response to this, well, I don’t know what we’ll call it, it’s an entirely new substance.”

"Oh. Others make it?"

"Halloran did. Once I figured out that sweating removed the substance from the body, then we put Halloran in the sauna."

I nodded.

"Colonel, how did it happen?" Hammond asked.

"Ledge collapsed."

"We know about that part, Colonel," the General informed me. "Major Carter explained about that, Jack. Why did you drink the water?"

"Didn't, not at first. Left my canteen with Daniel, knew he needed it. Then climbing out of the cave, I slid into the creek, going down the mountain. Figured I was contaminated anyway. After I'd walked for a while I was dehydrated, knew I wouldn't make it to the gate without water." I gave up on the hard work of trying to keep my eyes open, just too much trouble for the moment.

"We'd have found you, Colonel," the General reminded me.

"Not in time to save Daniel."

Doc’s hand was on my arm, and I felt her shiver. She realized what I'd done, the choice I'd made. I pried my eyes open to look at her, and saw the same look on Hammond's face.

"Damn stupid thing to do, Jack," said Hammond, with that knowing look in his eyes, the one that says he understands.

"It worked," I whispered, shrugged.

"So it did, son, so it did."

Finish