"The key is to keep the face of your stick smack-dab on the ice, Jason," Jack said. Jason Krenk, his eight-year old neighbor, listened intently as the older man tutored him on the finer points of being a goalie. "That's it. Now get in the crease." Jason filled the front of the net with his heavily padded frame. Jack skated backwards a few yards and flipped a puck back and forth watching the boy. "Ready?" From under the mask, Jason gave an affirmative. "LeMieux works his way down the ice, past the defensemen! Look at the speed on him! Here he goes. LeMieux shoots...He..." Jack shot the puck at the young boy who caught it before it had a chance to cross the plane. "Oh! He was denied by the brilliant goalkeeping of this young talent." Jason pulled the helmet off, grinning.

"Hey, that was cool!" he cried. Jack bladed up to him and ruffled his hair.

"Yeah, not too bad. Just remembered to keep yourself down," Jack told him as his attention was diverted to a figure walking up his driveway. A black Suburban with darkened windows remained at the end of the drive. Jack crouched down to remove his skates and to have greater access to his sidearm.

"Hey, Colonel O'Neill! How you doin'?" the man asked.

"Great! How've you been? Haven't seen you in a while," Jack greeted the man. Jack finished taking off one skate.

"Couldn't be better," said the stranger.

"Hey, how's your wife?" Jack asked, removing the second skate.

"Fine. Fine. And yours?" A shiver went down Jack's back. He pulled on his boots.

"Last I saw her, super!" Jack said in an animated tone. Jason skated over to the garage to find more pucks. "By the way, do I know you?" Jack asked, leaning forward.

"My name is David. You know my associates, and I think you know my friend," the man said, opening his jacket to show Jack the weapon he had pointing at him. "Why don't we take a little ride?"

"Now why would I want to do that?" Jack asked.

"Because if you don't, my associates out there will do one hell of a number on your landscaping, taking out the boy with it. Is that a good enough reason?" David asked, inches away from Jack's face. Jack stared at him and then decided he could play a game of bluff with the man, but he couldn't do it with Jason's life.

"Hey, Jason. I need to run a few errands with my friend here," Jack called back to the boy, never taking his eyes off of the armed man.

"Aw, come on! You said you'd play hockey with me today!" Jason responded, skating up between the two men. He looked up at Jack forlornly.

"Later. Sorry, bud. Look, just keep practicing your stance. That's how Patrick Roy got to be so good," Jack told him. "Shall we?" Jack asked the younger man. Jack started down the driveway followed by David.

"Roy?" Jason said to himself confused. Why did Mr. O'Neill pronounce his name like that? "Hey, Mr. O'Neill. It's pronounced 'Wah'!" Jason called out, but Jack had already entered the Suburban, and the door had already closed behind him. Jason shrugged his shoulders and began to take off his goalie equipment. "Can't be a goalie without a shooter," he said aloud. "And who wants to be that punk Roy anyways?"

*****

Inside the darkened Suburban, Jack was tossed unceremoniously in the back. One of the other passengers found and removed Jack's sidearm. Another banded his hands together behind him. Jack winced in pain as the plastic cut into his skin.

"Let me ask you something," Jack said, nodding to a young blonde man who was banding his ankles together. "Are the fold-out seats in this thing as easy to get out as they say in the ads?" Jack asked. He was answered with a right-cross against the side of his face. Jack dropped to the truck's floor as bright lights zigzagged across his eyes.

"Any other stupid questions?" snarled the brutish young man with a tattoo wrapped around his bicep. Jack used his tongue to feel for the certain devastation in his mouth.

"Yeah. Do you have any idea how much grief I'm in for when my dentist sees this tooth?" Jack informed him as he spit out a chunk of a molar along with a puddle of blood. The tattooed man kicked him in the chest, heaving Jack's body over onto his back. Jack coughed harshly.

"Shut up, Colonel," David called back from the front passenger seat. "You're only hurting yourself." Jack squeezed shut his eyes and tried to force the pain of the cracked rib out of his mind. Not again, he thought. What the hell's going on? He decided he wouldn't acquiesce to them. He'd be the one to tell them when he was hurt, not the other way around. Friggin' yahoos...

"You realize the WWF is fake, right? You get that, don't you?" Jack hissed.

The last thing Jack saw was the smear of a boot flying toward his skull.

*****

Jason walked sullenly into his kitchen. His mother was leaning over the counter reading the paper. She spied her son entering the room, pre-adolescent angst dripping from his body.

"Jason, I thought you were playing hockey with Mr. O'Neill," she said. Jason sat with the weight of the world on his young shoulders in one of the breakfast nook chairs.

"I was, but then he had to go run some errands with some guy," Jason said angrily.

"Well, Mr. O'Neill is a busy man. Maybe some other day," she said, and went back to her paper.

"But we were in the middle of a play!" Jason pouted.

"And he had to go. I know. I heard. But sometimes..."

"He told me to practice my stance like Roy," Jason said with great distaste. His mother looked up.

"Like who?"

"Roy. Like Patrick Roy," Jason spat out. "He said I should practice my stance in the crease so I could be as good as Patrick Roy."

"And he pronounced it like that, not 'wah'?" his mother asked, the concern in her voice increasing.

"Exactly!" Jason exclaimed, happy someone understood his plight.

"And who did he go with? Was it one of the people you've seen at his house? You know, the people from the base?" she asked apprehensively.

"No. I've never seen them around. It was just one man. He left his truck at the end of the driveway," Jason said, reaching across the table for an apple. "Mom? What are you doing?" His mother was rifling through her address book, searching feverishly for a number. Jason's father sauntered into the kitchen and opened up the refrigerator.

"Hey, Jas. How was hockey?" he asked absently while searching for something to nosh on.

"Jack told him practice so he could be as good as Patrick Roy," she told him quickly. "Something's wrong, Bob."

"You mean 'Wah'?" Bob asked. "Jack said Roy was good?"

"Exactly!" stated Jason and his mother. "I'm trying to find the number to the base he gave us in case of emergencies." Bob stepped to the junk drawer and helped his wife find the number.

"Wait. Is this it?" Bob asked, holding up a paper that had a name and number on it. Rachel grabbed it from him and ran to the phone. She carefully dialed the number and waited for it to answer.

"Yes, hi. My name is Rachel Krenk. My neighbor is Colonel Jack O'Neill. I think there may be a problem. Apparently he just...Yes. I'll hold," she said. Rachel put her hand over the receiver. "They're putting me through to the General." A look of apprehension crossed her face.

"This is General Hammond. How may I help you?" General George Hammond said from his desk in Cheyenne Mountain.

"My name is Rachel Krenk, and Colonel O'Neill is my neighbor. He gave me this number in case his house burned down or anything. Well, I think there may be a problem," Rachel told the general.

"Well, I'm sorry, Ms. Krenk, but Colonel O'Neill is not on base today," he told her.

"No. I know. He was just here playing hockey with my son when a man drove up. Apparently he left with him pretty quickly," she said. General Hammond sat back in his chair.

"And what makes you think he's in trouble?" he asked.

"General, sir. I've known Jack O'Neill for six years. In that time whenever the name of the goalie for the Colorado Avalanche comes up in conversation, Jack always goes into a tirade cursing him up one side and down the other. This afternoon he told my son that he could be as good as Roy, and then he left with this strange man. Something's wrong."

"Stay put, Ms. Krenk. I'll have someone there within the half-hour," he said, and he hung up the phone. General Hammond rose quickly from his desk and strode out of his office. He entered Samantha Carter's lab.

"Major Carter? Follow me," he ordered. Sam turned from her electron microscope and followed the general. Next he opened Daniel Jackson's office and found the archeologist pouring over a text with a magnifying glass.

"Oh, hey, General. There's something here..."

"Not now, Doctor. Come with me," said the senior officer. Daniel did as he was told without question. He joined Sam out in the hall.

"What's going on?" Daniel asked as they followed the older man purposefully through the halls. Sam shrugged her shoulders. They stopped at Teal'c's quarters. From inside they could hear the TV droning on. General Hammond knocked on the door.

"Teal'c?" he called. The door to Teal'c's quarters swung open.

"General Hammond, sir. How may I be of assistance?" Teal'c asked. A rerun of "The Jerry Springer Show" was playing in the background.

"We have a situation," General Hammond said. "I'd like you to join us. Bring a hat." Teal'c grabbed a baseball hat, closed his door and followed the others. The general led them to the briefing room. Each one took a seat and waited for the general to begin. "A few minutes ago I received a call from Colonel O'Neill's neighbor stating that the colonel had been taken from his home. Last week, I received word from Military Intelligence that three of the NID rogues Colonel O'Neill helped smoke out had escaped imprisonment. I believe we have a problem. I need you three to get out to his home immediately to talk to this neighbor."

"Yes, sir," Sam said.

"Um, which...which neighbor is it, exactly?" Daniel asked.

"The Krenks," General Hammond stated. Daniel and Sam shared a look of confusion.

"I believe that is Jason’s home," Teal’c informed them.

"Oh, Jack’s hockey pal," Daniel realized. "Right. Let’s go." And the three left the briefing room on their way to find information about their missing friend.

*****

"Stay if starts off shut got," the distorted voice said. Inside Jack's muddled consciousness, the words floated around incomprehensibly. He rolled his aching head lethargically from side to side, trying to come out of the haziness that gripped his mind. "Colonel O'Neill?" Jack thought he heard his name. He fought to open his eyes. "O'Neill!" the voice barked, sending throbbing waves of pain through Jack's body. Still, he was unable to pull up out of the state of grogginess that enveloped him. "Give me that water..." Water? What? Yeah, yeah. I'm thir...Jack gasped as the ice-cold water punished his body. He trembled as he became more lucid. His eyes fluttered open, his mouth agape.

"Why didn't you just wake up, dude?" the face of the voice appeared in front of Jack, the edges of the scene unfocused.

"'Scuse me?" Jack managed. The voice brought his water bottle up and caustically squirted it in Jack's face. Jack spat the water from his lips. "God! What the hell was that for?" he asked. The face turned to the other young man in the room and laughed sardonically.

"Just trying to wake you up, dude!" the voice laughed. He grabbed a towel off the table next to the chair where Jack was tied. "Here. I'll dry you off," he said, wrapping the towel around his knuckles. Jack tried to duck, but the fist caught him at the temple and sent Jack and the chair he was connected to sprawling sideways to the ground. The rungs of the back of the chair crushed Jack's upper arm. He cried out in agony. The voice laughed. Jack looked up to see the young man draw back his fist again. Jack screwed his eyes shut tight, preparing for the blow.

"That's enough, Rogers," said the other man in the room. Jack opened his eyes. Rogers, as Jack realized, was also the owner of the bicep tattoo. Jack remembered him from the back of the Suburban. Son of a bitch...

"Yes, Rogers. That's enough," Jack rejoined. The young man's eyes glared at Jack. His body tensed, ready to show Jack how much was enough.

"I said cut it out!" the other man yelled at Rogers. Rogers stared at Jack, shook his head and then spit at the colonel before leaving the room. Jack tried to wipe the saliva from his face with his shoulder. Hit me, hurt me, but for god's sake, don't spit on me... "I wouldn't antagonize him anymore, Colonel. He's kind of a whack-job," the man said lifting Jack and the chair back into an up-right position.

"Oh, nothing a little electro-shock therapy couldn't cure," Jack said, his arm throbbing. "By the way, what the hell's going on?"

"We met in your driveway. My name is David. Remember?" he said as he wiped Jack's face.

"Right. So, David. I'll ask again. What the hell's going on?" Jack angrily asked. His arm burned from the contusion left by the chair.

"I think I can answer that," said a young woman entering the room. Jack squinted his eyes trying to see her through the pounding in his skull. David stepped back and leaned against the wall.

"I know you, don't I?" Jack asked. The woman pulled up a chair and placed it in front of him. She straddled the back of it, crossed her arms on top, and looked at Jack.

"Clare Tobias. We met off-world. I was part of Colonel Maybourne's team," she told him.

"Ah, yes. Lieutenant Tobias. Thought you were rotting in a cell somewhere in Kansas," Jack said, trying to loosen the bindings on his arms and finding it impossible.

"I was, thanks to you," she said. "But now I'm here, and you're going to make things better for me and my friends."

"You brought me here to redecorate your house? Okay. I'll give it a shot," Jack said, painfully looking around the room, surreptitiously assessing his options. "First, I'd paint these walls..."

"Shut up, Colonel. What we want is the rest of our unit released from the brig. And you're going to get it for us," she told him calmly. Jack tried to take a deep breath and felt the blinding pain of the cracked rib in his chest. He let out his breath in a shuddering wave.

"I'm thinking....not," he said.

"I'm thinking you don't have a choice," Tobias told him, standing up and returning the chair to the table. "And until the rest of our unit is released, you will be our guest here." She leaned into him, her face mere inches away. "And I assure you. We're not known for our hospitality." Jack rolled his eyes.

"You know, really, you've been watching way too many James Bond movies. This hard-ass thing you've got going is over the top, don't you think?" he told her, tenting his eyebrows, nodding his head. Tobias rammed a fist into his abdomen. The air in Jack's lungs drained, replaced by excruciating pain. Jack gasped for air.

"It's not an act, Colonel," she told him, pulling the hair at the back of his head, forcing him to look into her eyes. "Now, keep your mouth shut unless you're spoken to, and I won't have to demonstrate what a hard-ass I can be." She stared at him a moment, and then yanked his head back before letting go and leaving the room. Jack's body trembled in pain. He peered out of one eye at David, still standing against the far wall.

"Gotta tell you, David. These things... have a tendency... to end badly. I hope you all... know what you're doing," Jack told him. David dropped his head and smirked. He wrapped his arms across his chest and crossed his feet. Jack let out an involuntary moan as he twisted his torso. David's head shot up. Jack thought he saw an ounce of concern in the young man's face. "I don't remember you from...out there."

"I wasn't part of their unit," he told him.

"You joined them for the laughs?" Jack asked. David shifted uncomfortably.

"Look, don't worry about who I am. Just worry about yourself," he told him.

"Believe me, I'm more worried...about how this is all going to...shake out," Jack told him, closing his eyes, trying to calm his painful trembling. David pulled a hand through his hair and muttered something under his breath.

*****

"Okay, Jason. Tell me again what happened after Jack, uh, Colonel O'Neill mispronounced that goalie's name," Daniel said, sitting next to Jason Krenk at his dining room table. Jason rolled his eyes.

"He walked down the driveway and got inside an SUV. A black one. I think it was a Suburban," Jason told him, tired of the continuous questions.

"You're really doing a great job here, Jason," said Sam, touching Jason on the arm. "And we appreciate it a lot. Is there anything else you can remember that might help us?" Jason closed his eyes, scrunched up his face, and thought hard about the morning.

"I don't think so," he finally said.

"Who does this goalie play for?" Daniel asked.

"The Avalanche," Jason said, incredulously. He looked at his parents who shook their heads and reminded him of his manners. Daniel nodded his head.

"Okay, and that would be, what, Arizona Avalanche?" Daniel asked, his countenance mirroring his concern, as well as his total ignorance where anything hockey was concerned. Jason stared at him aghast.

"Uh, nooo," he said, elongating the last word into three distinct syllables. "Try Colorado."

"Jason!" his mother snapped, glaring at him.

"Sorry," Jason said timidly. Sam quashed a smile.

"And what did this man with whom Colonel O'Neill departed look like?" asked Teal'c.

"I don't know. A little shorter than Mr. O'Neill. Dark hair. Old," Jason said. Daniel looked around the room and then back at Jason.

"Um, how old? Old like Colonel O'Neill?" he asked.

"No. Old like you," Jason answered. Daniel shut his eyes and cleared his throat. Teal'c raised an eyebrow while Sam tried to conceal her smile with her hand.

"O..o..okay, so, like, what, 35?" Daniel asked.

"Yeah, I guess so. Maybe not that old," Jason said. Daniel dropped his head despondently. "I don't know. How should I know?"

"No, Jason. You've been great. Thanks a lot," Sam said patting Jason on the back.

"If you remember anything else..." Daniel pulled a card from his pocket and gave it to Jason's mom, "...this is my cell phone number. Just give me a call." Daniel got up from his seat. "We appreciate your time."

"Sure. Jack's a good guy. We only hope we can help out," said Bob Krenk. Sam offered her hand to him.

"We appreciate the assistance, Mr. Krenk. We'll keep you informed," she said, and then turned to Rachel Krenk. Teal'c bowed to the family. Daniel regarded Jason with a smirk. The three left the Krenk house.

"Well? What do you think?" Sam asked as she and the two men closed the door behind them. They walked to the Jeep.

"I think Jack's not a happy camper right about now," Daniel stated climbing into the back seat. Teal'c took his place in the passenger seat.

"I do not believe O'Neill is camping, Daniel Jackson," said the Jaffa. "I believe he has fallen into the hands of nefarious rogues."

"My mistake," Daniel remarked. Sam backed the Jeep out of the driveway. Putting it in gear, she drove back to Cheyenne Mountain.

*****

"Jonathon Francis O'Neill," Clare said as she read the name off Jack's license. "Looks like someone has a birthday coming up," she said sarcastically. She tossed the license aside. "What's this? An AARP card?"

"I get a discount at Starbucks. What's the problem?" Jack shrugged. Clare pulled a picture of Jack and his wife and son from a hidden slot in his wallet.

"Is this your wife?" she asked. Jack winced.

"Ex-wife," Jack offered, knowing that kind of information might keep them away from her a little longer.

"Obviously, a woman who you're still in love with," she said baiting him. And it worked.

"Okay," Jack started, his ire raised, " you know, do what you want, say what you will, but if there's one thing that really pisses me off it's when people can't get straight in their pea-brains the difference between subjective and objective pronouns! The correct way of saying it would be 'with WHOM you're still in love.' It's a simple concept, ya goddamn hayseed!" Clare's face tightened with anger. She pulled back her hand and backhanded Jack across the face, leaving a gash where her ring sliced across his cheek.

"Don't you ever talk to me like that again, Colonel!" she screamed in his face. "I'm not anyone you want to mess with!" Jack snorted and rolled his eyes. Clare's eyes shone with anger. "What? What?!"

"You ended your sentence with a preposition. Where the fu..." But before he could finish, Clare kicked him in the chest, sending him flying backwards, the breath crushed from his lungs. Jack's head smacked the ground with a dull thud. He felt the bones in one of his wrists snap under the rungs of the chair. Searing pain radiated through his arm and into his chest. The periphery of his vision blackened.

"Watch your mouth, Jonathon Francis, or you won't live to see your birthday!" she screamed. Jack's mouth opened and closed, trying to draw in air to his burning lungs. Clare Tobias stormed out of the room. David slowly, cautiously crossed the room and knelt down next to Jack.

"What kind of masochist are you?" he asked seeing the pain Jack was in.

"The hurting kind," Jack uttered. He clenched his jaws and moaned.

David sat back on one leg, propped his elbow up on his other knee, and rubbed his eyes. This isn't what I expected, he thought. They never told me this could happen. Shit. What did I get myself involved in?

*****

Daniel couldn't concentrate. He stared at the words on the screen of his computer. Nothing. Absolutely no comprehension whatsoever. He had promised General Hammond that he would get on-line to research fringe-activity, see if he could scare up something, anything on the band of escaped criminals. But his thoughts were elsewhere.

They were wherever Jack was.

And that wasn't in the SGC.

It occurred to him that besides the constant nagging feeling that Jack could be hurt, that Jack could be trying to reach them, that Jack could be...besides these fears, the other roadblock in Daniel's ability to concentrate was the break in rhythm. This was the time of the night when Jack would meander into Daniel's office and pester him. Not by talking to him or asking him questions. No, more insidious ways. By bouncing a tennis ball against the wall; by juggling rocks; by reading while cracking his gum. Daniel's skin would crawl feeling the annoyance build. He'd push himself away from his desk, the casters on his chair squealing. He'd offer up his best peevish glare. Jack would stare back at him, lift his eyebrows, turn his head slightly. Daniel would pull himself slowly back to his desk and continue his work. Jack would bounce a tennis ball against the wall; juggle rocks; read while cracking his gum, until Daniel would give up and agree to join Jack anywhere else but Daniel's office.

It was their rhythm. It was their zone.

Daniel felt lost without it.

*****

"We've just received a message via the internet from the people holding Colonel O'Neill," General Hammond stated as he entered the briefing room. Sam, Teal'c and Daniel stared at him apprehensively as he delivered the latest news. "We are, in fact, dealing with the group of escaped prisoners from the NID. The good news is they're not the brightest bulbs in the lamp. The bad news is they've roughed him up quite a bit," he said, placing the digital pictures on the table. The three looked over the pictures of Jack, tied to a chair, his face bruised and cut.

"He seems to be unconscious, sir," Sam said, picking up one of the pictures to get a better look. She shook her head and swallowed hard. Daniel sat down, tore off his glasses and closed his eyes.

"Okay, you've shown us the bad news. What's the good news?" he asked. It made him ill to see the injuries to Jack. He chose not to look at them again.

"They e-mailed us from a relatively small internet provider. We were able to pinpoint the access number. Sometimes we get lucky," General Hammond stated pulling the pictures into a pile. His face colored as he took a final look at the pictures. "I have no idea when these pictures were taken within the last 24 hours. I‘m sure I don‘t have to remind you that time is of the essence, people."

"No, sir, you don’t," Sam responded, understanding the unspoken meaning in his words.

"So where does the number originate?" asked Daniel. .

"It's a Denver exchange," said the general.

"Of course!" Daniel exclaimed. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but...Don't you get it?" Three sets of eyes turned to Daniel. "Jack told us where they were taking him."

"Doctor Jackson?" said General Hammond.

"He told Jason Krenk that he should practice so he could be as good as the goalie for the..." Daniel snapped his fingers.

"...Avalanche," Teal'c finished.

"Yes. And don't they play in Denver?" Daniel looked around the room. Three sets of eyes looked at him in incredulity. "I'm right. Right?"

"Yeah, they do," Sam said.

"God! We should have been looking there the whole time," Daniel said, berating himself.

"Doctor Jackson, even if we had started looking, we'd be no farther along than we are now. Don't beat yourself up," General Hammond told him.

"How shall we proceed, General?" Teal'c asked.

"I have asked Colonel Webster and the SG3 Marines to assist us. I want to be ready to move out in one hour, people. By the time we reach Denver we should have that number pinpointed," General Hammond told them.

"SG3. Isn't that Colonel Makepeace's former command?" asked Sam.

"Yes, it is. They have a vested interest, shall we say, in helping to clean up this mess," said the senior officer. "Doctor Fraiser and her triage team will be caravanning with us. Teal'c, Major Carter, you will be under the command of Colonel Webster on-site."

"Yes, sir," Sam said. Teal'c bowed his head. Daniel looked around the room, waiting for his assignment.

"Doctor Jackson, you'll remain in the communications area," General Hammond informed Daniel. "I know you want to be a more integral part of this mission, but..."

"No. I understand, sir. I do," Daniel told him. The general searched the faces of the team sitting before him. These were capable, highly trained members of a team whose leader was in jeopardy. General Hammond was confident that their admiration for the colonel would not get in the way of their focus. A steely pride in his flagship team ran through his body.

"Dismissed," he said. The room emptied as each member left to prepare for the mission to bring back their team member, their CO. Their friend.

*****

"Colonel? Colonel. Here. Drink this," David whispered, lifting Jack's head off the ground. Jack's eyes slowly opened, and as he woke, so too did the pain from his multiple injuries. His eyes fluttered as the agony of a broken wrist, two-cracked ribs and a probable jaw-fracture surged through his body. David gently tipped the cup to his lips. The water sloshed over Jack's lips and cheeks, but some managed to make it down his throat. When the cold water hit his cracked tooth, Jack instinctively whipped his face away from the cup. David pulled it away.

"Can you get me off my back?" Jack asked. His arms were simultaneously numb from the pressure on them and screaming in pain from the broken wrist and severe contusions.

"I can't. Clare wants you to stay like that. You really pissed her off," David told him. Jack looked around the darkened room.

"How long have I been here?" Jack asked.

"I don't know. Thirty-six, forty hours," David quietly said. Jack's ears strained to hear any activity outside the room. The foreboding silence told him that David was aiding Jack through his own sense of morality. Jack decided to take the chance that David could be brought to see how dangerous this situation was, and hopefully override the group's plan.

"David, how did you get involved with these...idiots?" Jack asked, closing his eyes to reserve his energy.

"They contacted me after they escaped. They gave me a note from my brother. He told me I should help them," David said, rubbing his tired eyes.

"Who's your brother?"

"Marc. Marc Neumann."

"Neumann..." Jack hissed. "Yeah, I can see why you'd want to go along with whatever he said."

"He's my brother, dammit. What was I supposed to do?" David cried, becoming agitated. He fell back against the wall and covered his eyes with the palms of his hands.

"David, you know my people will find me. And when they do, they're not going to knock on the door. David, you understand that, right?" Jack said. He needed to appeal to David's sense of self-preservation. He was Jack's only way out of this. "David, tell me you understand that." Jack heard David sniffling.

"It wasn't supposed to happen like this," he cried. "Clare said we'd pick you up and...she didn't tell me...God, I'm so tired."

Jack felt a sudden need to protect David. He’s just a kid who’s involved in something he can’t understand. Jack thought back to a time when he knew a different scared, young kid who had become involved in something that he, well, he could understand, but for which he was certainly not prepared. The difference was that David was being ruled by his fear; Daniel was always ruled by his intelligence. And his heart. The truth of a situation never frightened Daniel. He hoped David would have the same reaction.

"David, listen to me. When they come, they'll take out whoever they need to take out. It's going to be noisy, chaotic, and, David, there will be shots fired. David, do you understand me?" Jack whispered harshly. He could hear the young man's breath coming in trembling waves. "David, you made a huge mistake here. You screwed up. Don't make it worse for yourself."

"Shut up," David quietly told him.

"David, the only way I can protect you is if you get me out of here," Jack told him.

"Shut up!" David told him more insistently.

"David, you will die unless you help me."

"Shut up!!" David screamed. He was suddenly on his feet, kicking the chair over on its side. Jack was grateful for the change of position, but knew there would be a price to pay. The door to the room flew open, and Clare and Rogers stormed in. Clare slapped on the light switch. The suddenness of light hitting Jack's pupils sent blinding pain through his skull.

"I told you to shut up, you stupid son of a bitch!" David screamed, kicking the back of the chair, splintering the rungs. "I'm not going to die! You are!" Jack felt the wooden supports fracture against his back. He tried to shield his face from the assault.

"David! What are you doing?!" Clare yelled, grabbing him.

"Yeah, man! You a dead man!" Rogers yelled wildly at Jack, grabbing him by the shirt and lifting him off the ground. The rungs of the chair separated from the seat. David continued his torrent of kicks on the chair, snapping the legs and striders.

"If anybody's gonna die, it's you!!" David wailed directly in Jack's ear. Rogers threw Jack against the wall. The back of the chair disintegrated underneath him. The legs crumbled. Jack's body fell in a heap amongst the shattered remains of the seat.

"Stop it!" Clare demanded, shoving David across the room, wrapping her arms futilely around Rogers' massive torso. "I said STOP!!" David hunkered down in the far corner whimpering. Rogers squirmed against Clare's straining arms. Jack laid half-conscious, the images and sounds in front of him warped and deformed. "That's enough!!" Clare shouted, jamming Rogers' body against a wall. She held him back with one arm and pulled back her other hand ready to strike if he didn't comply. "Settle the hell down, Rogers!" Slowly he calmed down. Slowly the crazed look and wild laugh dissipated.

"I'm not going to die," David cried, covering his eyes with shaking hands. "I'm not going to die..."

*****

"From what we can see, there are three holding Colonel O'Neill. The leader is a woman named Clare Tobias. She is one of the escaped NID members along with Douglas Rogers. There is another member, unknown at this time. He is in the room with Colonel O'Neill. Colonel O'Neill is in the southeastern room. Rogers and Tobias are in the main living area, the northeastern corner of the house. We can access the house through this door, and through windows here and here," Colonel Webster said, pointing to a diagram of the house spread out on top of a table in the communications tent. General Hammond, SG1 and SG3 listened carefully to Colonel Webster's instructions. "When we get our window, people, be prepared. We're going to go in fast and furious. Our objective is clear: Get Colonel O'Neill at any cost." He looked at the people in the tent. "You know your assignments. Good luck." Military personnel scattered, leaving General Hammond, Colonel Webster and Daniel to go over communications.

"Doctor Jackson, when we get Tobias on the phone, it's your responsibility to keep her talking until SG1 and SG3 are in position. Is that clear?" General Hammond asked. Daniel wrapped his arms across his chest.

"Yes. Yes, sir," he nodded. He felt his pulse racing.

"Colonel Webster, you have a go," General Hammond told the officer.

"Yes, sir, General Hammond," Colonel Webster said as he saluted his senior officer. He left the tent.

"Sir, we have a line set up," the lieutenant on the communication center said. "Waiting for a connection...." she said holding up a finger. Daniel picked up his headset and connected the battery pack to his belt. The lieutenant pointed her finger at Daniel, prompting him to begin his orders.

The line rang once. Twice. Daniel's heart pounded inside his chest. Three times. He pinched the bridge of his nose. Four times.

"What?" came the groggy voice.

"Clare Tobias?" Daniel asked.

"Yes?"

"Clare, my name is Dr. Daniel Jackson. I'm a member of SG1. I believe we have some things to talk about," he told her. The other end of the line was quiet. General Hammond's eyes beat into the back of Daniel's head. "Clare?"

"The only thing we have to talk about is when you're going to release the rest of my unit," she told him.

"Well, let's talk about that," Daniel said, trying desperately to remember the truncated lesson on hostage negotiation he was given on the ride from Colorado Springs. Stay positive. Never say anything in the negative. Don't lie to them, but don't burst their bubble either.

"No! I've talked enough! I know exactly what the stakes are here, Doctor Jackson. You get O'Neill when I get my unit. It's just that simple," Clare said. Daniel shook out his hands trying to keep ahead of the conversation.

"Your unit is in Kansas. If we did want to exchange...people, it could take a while to get them here," Daniel told her.

"I can wait," she said.

"Let's talk about Colonel O'Neill. How is he?"

"He's a smart-ass who should learn to keep his mouth shut," she told him. Daniel placed his hands on his hips and dropped his head. He understood the meaning hidden in the words. He knew Jack was hurt. He knew this was going to be worse than he thought.

"Yeah, well, Jack can be a little...annoying. I'll give you that. But, is he...okay?" he asked. The silence on the other end crushed Daniel's chest. "Clare?"

"He's fine..."

"Okay, good. Clare, while we're waiting, is there anything you need? We may be here a while," Daniel told her.

"Look, Dr. Jackson, don't blow anymore smoke up my ass. I know what's going on here. And I also know you're waiting for an opening. I'm not going to give that to you," she snapped and hung up the line. Daniel ripped off his head set and closed his eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said. General Hammond lowered his head and pressed his earpiece closer to his ear.

"You did fine, Dr. Jackson. We're in position," he told Daniel.

*****

The sudden commotion and activity inside the house reached through Jack's tentative grip on reality. He laid motionless, his right arm crushed beneath him. Every breath brought spasm of crippling pain. He listened for the voices, but the fluid and blood in his ears muffled the sound. He could see the lights from the other room filter under the door that lead to his. Every now and again he'd see feet rush past the door, interrupting the spread of light. Jack tried to clear his throat, but even the most simple actions brought to attention the muscles and tissues that had been abused. Involuntarily, his body trembled.

In the far corner of the room, Jack could just make out the rumpled figure of David. He needed to get David's attention. He needed to make David understand the severity of the situation. There was something about David that caught Jack's sympathy. The young man seemed as trapped as Jack. The only chance they had was to rely on each other.

"David," Jack whispered. Nothing. Jack painfully cleared his throat again. "David," he said, forcing more energy behind his voice. "David. Please. Help me." The young man stirred. "David. Please. Don't let this happen." Jack heard a mournful chuckle.

"Is this how the great Jack O'Neill begs for his life?" David sardonically asked, wiping tears from his face.

"I'm not begging for my life. I'm begging for yours." An anguished moan escaped Jack. David buried his face in his arms. "David, I can tell something's going on. If I'm right, this house is surrounded, and soon there won't be anyway for me to help you. David. I know you're scared. I am too. Help me, and we'll both make it out of this mess." The muffled sound of fear hung in the room.

"I don't know what to do?" the young man whimpered.

"The first thing you..." Jack was interrupted as the door swung open. Clare stepped into the room and ordered David to join her in the living room. As the light from the open door fell on David’s face, Jack could clearly see the despair and fear in his expression. David's eyes darted from Jack to Clare and back to Jack again.

"David! Now!" Clare snapped. David gripped the wall dejectedly trying to stand. Clare stepped back into the living room.

"I'm sorry," he whispered as he left the room. He shut the door behind him, leaving Jack in the dark once again.

*****

The communications specialist pointed her finger at Daniel again. The line sounded, attempting to make a connection.

"Now isn't the best time to talk, Dr. Jackson," Clare immediately said as she picked up the receiver.

"Well, no time like the present, Clare," Daniel responded. General Hammond motioned for Daniel to keep going, engage her further. "S..So so, Clare, what are you going to do if you get the rest of your unit back?" Daniel asked her. He could see movement around the house. His hands shook.

"Sorry. I don't have time for this," Clare said as she hung up the phone.

"Dammit!" Daniel yelled.

"We're almost there. Get her back on the line," General Hammond ordered. The specialist dialed the line again.

From inside the house, Clare picked up the phone and summarily hung it back up. She grabbed a semi-automatic weapon and threw it to Rogers who caught it gleefully.

"This is it. I don't know what we'll find out there," she said, tossing another weapon to David, "but we are ready, we are prepared, and we are in the right." She shoved a clip into her rifle. The phone rang again. "David, get in there with the Colonel. Make sure no one, and I mean no one, comes through that window." David did as he was told. The phone continued to ring. "Rogers, you're in the kitchen. Cover that back door." The phone rang a fourth time. Clare slowly picked it up and brought it to her ear.

"Clare? Are you there?"

"Yes, Doctor Jackson. You need to stop calling me, Doctor Jackson." Clare tossed the phone on the couch. Daniel could hear rustling. He could hear movement. It dawned on him that Clare had thrown down the phone without ending the call. Now, every sound was Daniel's to hear.

David entered Jack's room and shattered the only light bulb in the place. Jack could hear him frantically mumbling and the hurried, panicked shuffling. Suddenly, David reached down and, with a pocket knife, cut the plastic ties that held Jack to the remainder of the chair. David took the dull blade and sawed roughly through the tie around Jack's wrist. With each action, the sharp plastic edge of the tie ripped against Jack's open wounds, and crushed jagged, splintered bones against each other. Jack buried his face as deeply into the floor as possible to stifle his cries. David grabbed hold of Jack's arm.

"Come on. Stand up," David demanded. He pulled Jack up to his knees. As his fractured wrist and humerus swung free, Jack toppled over in a wave of nauseating pain. "Come ooooon! You have to get up!" he begged Jack. Jack rested his forehead against the hardwood floor. Sweat poured from him. He forced his head off the ground and pushed one foot underneath him. David swung Jack's arm over his own shoulders and quickly lifted Jack off the floor. Cracked ribs pulled away from tortured cartilage. Jack slumped forward. "Please, Colonel. We have to..."

The window of opportunity had opened

Rogers was the first taken out as two Marines instantaneously blew open the door and pumped him full of shots. His body flew across the kitchen, landing awkwardly on the living room floor.

Clare lunged away from the front door and into Jack's room. She found David attempting to help Jack to his feet.

"Move!" she ordered slapping her rifle to her shoulder and aiming it at Jack. David opened his mouth to scream but not before Clare's body quaked as bullets ripped into her back. Every muscle in her body tensed.

Jack felt the concussive puff of air hit his chest before he felt the fire inside.

The force of the shot pelted him against the wall. As the air left his lung, Jack slowly slumped down the wall, his eyes unseeing, staring into a room suddenly full of Marines.

Over his headset, Daniel heard the carnage. Every pop from an automatic rifle punctuated the chaos. He pressed the heals of his hands into his eyes. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't speak. He could only hear the pop. Pop pop. An occasional barked command.

And then it was silent.

Daniel blindly, clumsily pulled the headset off. His knees buckled. Instantly and without warning he found himself sitting on the ground.

"Oh, God," he uttered. He couldn't stop the trembling. Personnel scrambled, massive overhead lights flooded the area. Voices yelled, sirens screamed. Daniel covered his ears. He found enough courage to look in the direction of the house. Dr. Fraiser and her team were sprinting to the door. "No. I won't let it happen," Daniel said aloud. He rushed to his feet and bolted to the house.

"Colonel O'Neill," Janet said forcefully. "Can you hear my voice?" Sam held a bag of fluid as a medic started an IV. Jack's eyelids wavered. He could hear her voice. He knew he should respond. He wanted to. He felt numb. No, cold. His ears felt full. He was aware of hands and instruments on his body. He'd been to this place before, this place where everything seemed to slip away. Sounds, awareness, tactile sensation, light. Everything, fading. Okay. Okay...

"Jack? Buddy?" From a distance Jack could hear his voice. "You can't do this to me, Jack. I don‘t know how to play euchre yet." Jack used his remaining reserve of energy to open his eyes and focus on the face above him. "Hey! There you are," Daniel smiled, his chin trembling. Jack kept his focus fixed on his friend's eyes, the only connection he felt he had to this life. "You're the toughest, most stubborn person I've ever known, Jack. You're not going to let a few scratches slow you down. Huh?" Daniel soothed Jack's brow. He wasn't sure if he did it for Jack's comfort or for his own. Jack steadfastly held Daniel's gaze. "I'm here, Jack. I won't let...I won't let anything happen to you." A lone tear rolled past Jack's temple. "I know. It hurts. You're going to be fine, Jack. I promise." Daniel brushed the tear away, and then wiped away one of his own.

Sam looked on, overcome by the reality that here was her CO, her friend, bleeding, broken, being comforted by his best friend. She covered her mouth with her free hand as she wept.

"We need to tube him," Janet stated, scurrying to Jack's head. "Colonel, we‘re going to intubate you. You‘re having a real hard time breathing on your own," she said, looking down at Jack. She pointed to one of the medics. "Push the Versed and the Pancoronium, now!" Daniel grabbed Jack‘s hand.

"Don’t worry about anything, Jack. I won’t leave you," Daniel promised him. The fear in Jack’s eyes was excruciating for Daniel to see. Mercifully, as the drugs flooded his body, the fear ebbed.

"We‘ll see you back at the SGC, Colonel," Janet told Jack as the effects of the sedative and paralyzing agent took hold. Jack‘s eyes fluttered shut. With lightening efficiency, Janet slid the tube down Jack‘s trachea. "Okay, I’m in. Bag him," Janet ordered one of the medics. Janet wheeled around to listen to Jack‘s respirations. "Sounds good. Tape that tube down, and let‘s move."

The medical team lifted the gurney from the floor and with care yet purpose, sped Jack toward the awaiting medivac helicopter. One medic walked close by, squeezing the ventilation bag every ten seconds. Sam pulled up behind, holding the IV bag over her CO. Teal’c assisted in the gurney’s passage. And Daniel held Jack’s hand.

*****

"Hey, Jack," Daniel said as Jack’s eyes finally remained focused. "Good to see you awake."

"Colonel, I want you to squeeze my hand. Can you do that for me?" Janet asked, wiggling her fingers in Jack’s left hand. "Colonel." Janet rubbed her knuckles roughly on Jack’s sternum, eliciting a pained expression on Jack’s face. "Oh, that hurt? At least you’re awake." Jack batted his eyes. "Now, squeeze my hand, sir." Jack did as he was told. "Wow! Oh, yeah. He’s awake," Janet stated, pulling her fingers out of Jack’s tight grip. She rubbed her hand and smiled. "I’ll be right back," she said. Daniel draped his arm across the top of Jack’s pillow. He smiled warmly at Jack, relieved that he seemed to be out of the woods.

"You gave us quite a scare, Jack," Daniel told him. Jack blinked his eyes, further clearing them, further grasping reality. Janet returned with a nurse.

"Well, your arterial blood gases look good. We’ve been slowly weaning you from the forced O2. What do you think about getting rid of that tube, sir?" she asked. Jack methodically blinked once. He had been through this before. He knew the drill. "Yup. Time for you to do some work on your own," she told him. Janet lowered the head of his bed while the nurse released the tape from alongside his mouth. Daniel stepped back, trying to stay out of their way, not particularly fond of this or any medical procedure. Janet disconnected the long ventilator tube from the tube in Jack’s mouth. The nurse quickly suctioned out his mouth and the tube that remained. "Okay. Here we go, Colonel," Janet told him as she swiftly pulled out the breathing tube. Jack gagged. Daniel’s eyes became wide with concern.

"Is he...Is that..."

"He’s gagging. Gagging is good, actually," Janet said. "Means his epiglottis is working. Right, Colonel?" Janet reached behind his head and produced an oxygen mask. She gently placed the clear mask over his nose and mouth and attached the band behind his head. "There. How do you feel?" Jack rolled his eyes. "I’ll take that as an affirmative, but with reservations." Jack swallowed painfully and tried to moisten his lips. "I’ll get the antiseptic spray. That should make things more comfortable for you," she said, and left the room. Daniel stepped back to Jack’s side.

"How ya doin’?" Daniel asked. Jack nodded, closed his eyes, and tried to swallow. Janet returned to his side, lifted the mask, and sprayed a fine mist inside his mouth.

"There. Better?" she asked. Jack swallowed again and nodded. "Okay. You two have a nice visit, but not too long. Understood?" she said as she looked pointedly at Daniel. Daniel tented his eyebrows to her and shrugged his shoulders. "And I’ll take that as an affirmative, but with reservations, as well," she said, smiling. She patted Jack’s knee and left the room.

"So..." Daniel began, not sure what he wanted to say. He just wanted to show Jack how normal everything was, even if it was the farthest from the truth. Daniel could see Jack’s lips move under the mask. "Jack? Are you trying to say something?" Jack swallowed and nodded. His lips moved again. Daniel bent down next to Jack’s face, lifted the mask slightly, and tried to hear what Jack said. "David?" Daniel questioned. Jack closed his eyes and nodded. Daniel shook his head, "I...I’m sorry, Jack...I don’t know..." Jack cleared his throat, the ensuing pain causing him to close tight his eyes. Daniel lifted the mask again.

"Da...vid...," Jack whispered almost imperceptibly. He swallowed and went on. "David...Nnnnuemm...an." Daniel understood. He replaced the mask.

"He’s dead, Jack. They all are," Daniel told him quietly. Jack’s eyes closed. He slowly turned his head away from Daniel, lifted his hand weakly, and waved Daniel away. Daniel clenched his jaws, but refused to leave. Jack turned his face to Daniel and mouthed the words "go away." Daniel shook his head and grabbed Jack’s hand.

"Nope. I wouldn’t let you die, Jack. I’m sure as hell not going to let you disappear," he told him. Daniel grasped Jack’s hand firmly in his. Jack’s hand began to shake, but he did not pull it free. He turned his head slightly from Daniel’s view and shut his eyes. Daniel stroked Jack’s hair. "I won’t let that happen again."

*****

"And then Daniel asked him how old was old," Sam laughed. Daniel sat at the end of Jack’s bed, his arms wrapped defensively around his chest.

"And?" Jack asked, keeping an eye on Daniel.

"Jason said, ‘Old like you!’," Sam said, hardly able to finish her story through her laughter. Jack nudged Daniel with his foot. Teal’c also displayed a countenance of benign humor.

"Fine. Laugh all you want. He’s an eight-year old boy. Everybody is old to him," Daniel told them in his defense.

"I do not believe he perceived me to be old," Teal’c informed him. Daniel smirked.

"Face it, Daniel. You’re getting up there in age. Maybe you’re tired. You want I should move over, give you some room to nap?" Jack asked sarcastically. Sam giggled.

"Very nice," Daniel told them, deeply wounded. "But, you know, Jack, if it weren’t for what you said to Jason, we wouldn’t have known you were missing for..." Daniel puffed out his cheeks, "...oh, at least a few..."

"...days?" Sam offered.

"...I was going to say weeks, but, sure, after a few days we might have started to become suspicious," Daniel told him.

"Why? What did I say to Jason?" Jack asked, reaching for the water on his bedside table. The grimace of pain told Sam to reach it for him.

"You told him to practice so he could be as good as Patrick Roy," Daniel reminded him.

"And that’s how you knew I was missing?" Jack asked dubiously. He took a long sip of the water.

"Well, yeah. His mom figured you were trying to alert us that, well, you know..." Sam said.

"I was just joking around with the kid, that’s all," Jack told them.

"Then how did we know you were in Denver?" Daniel pointedly asked.

"I don’t know. You tell me!" Jack spat.

"Because you told Jason that he could be as good as the goalie for the..." Daniel snapped his fingers.

"...Avalanche," Teal’c finished.

"Yes. Thank you, Teal’c," Daniel said. "And the Avalanche play in Denver. Truly, Jack, it was ingenuous." Jack stared at Daniel.

"Daniel," Jack started. "How the hell was I supposed to know where those guys were taking me? I didn’t even know who they were!" Daniel’s eyes fluttered as he stared slack jawed at Jack.

"Oh."

"You’ve been watching too much ‘America’s Most Wanted,’" Jack said. Sam jumped down from the neighboring bed.

"Well, sir. Glad to see you’re doing better. But, there’s a pile of lab results just waiting for me in my office," she said smiling at Jack. "I’ll stop by later." Sam waved and left the room.

"I must also depart, O’Neill. There is a television program I endeavor to watch," Teal’c informed Jack.

"By all means, T, go...watch," Jack casually said, waving to the Jaffa. Daniel remained at the end of Jack’s bed, perplexed by the turn of events. "Daniel?"

"Huhn. I was so sure you were trying to clue us in on your whereabouts," Daniel mused.

"Nope. Didn’t have a clue myself, so I couldn’t very well leave one laying around," Jack stated, adjusting the position of his casted arm.

"Then, I guess it was just good luck," Daniel concluded.

"More like good work," Jack told him. Daniel shrugged his shoulders, deciding to file the events away for another time when he could properly dissect them.

"How ya doin’, Jack?" Daniel asked.

"I’m okay," Jack told him.

"Are you comfortable?"

"I make a living..." Jack said, eyeing Daniel coyly. Daniel tried hard not to smile at the joke. "Daniel, I know what you’re asking. And, I’m okay."

"You sure?"

"Yeah," Jack answered half-heartedly.

"But?..."

"It’s just he was a scared, young kid, who made a stupid decision, for which he paid a hell of a price," Jack said, shrugging his shoulders.

"He wasn’t that young, Jack," Daniel told him, trying to offer up something to soothe the pain.

"He was trying to help me, Daniel. In the end, he was trying to get me out of there," Jack said quietly. Daniel winced. "He deserved..."

"What, Jack? What did he deserve?" Daniel asked.

"I don’t know. He didn’t deserve what he got," Jack said.

"He knew the risks. He understood the game. God, Jack, he tried to kill you," Daniel reminded him.

"But he didn’t," Jack argued.

"But he could have," Daniel retorted. "It’s odd, you know? I’ve been on the other side of this argument too many times, and it always comes down to...acceptance."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning until you accept that he was responsible for himself, you‘ll never be able to live with the consequences," Daniel explained, speaking quickly. "You were there, I wasn’t. I don’t know. But in all that time they held you, beat you, why didn’t he try to stop them?" Daniel asked. Jack lowered his eyes. "Because he believed in their cause. Because, unfortunately, he believed what they were doing was just. And because of those misplaced beliefs, you were shot, and he was...killed." Daniel lowered his feet to the ground and stepped to Jack’s side. "I don’t have a problem with that. I can accept that outcome. Can you?" he asked, peering at Jack over his glasses. Jack rubbed his tired eyes.

"I guess I’m going to have to work on it," Jack told his friend. Daniel patted Jack’s shoulder.

"Get some rest. You look tired," he said. Daniel turned to leave the room.

"Daniel, you were once that scared kid, having to make tough decisions," Jack said quietly. "How did...How did you do it?"

"I believed in you. Still do," Daniel told him from the end of the bed. "Besides, I’m not that young anymore," he offered. He meant it to be humorous, but in his ear it came out dripping with sad irony.

"None of us are," Jack said. They looked at each other carefully, trying to figure out which one had crossed farther over the border of his personal beliefs. Trying to determine which one had been shaken by the events more. Trying to see past the walls that were slowly forming, and the walls that were being torn down. Trying to understand acceptance of decisions, of fate, of the passing years. Of fierce loyalty.

The end

© May 31, 2001 The characters mentioned in this story are the property of Showtime and Gekko Film Corp. The Stargate, SG-I, the Goa'uld and all other characters who have appeared in the series STARGATE SG-1 together with the names, titles and backstory are the sole copyright property of MGM-UA Worldwide Television, Gekko Film Corp, Glassner/Wright Double Secret Productions and Stargate SG-I Prod. Ltd. Partnership. This fanfic is not intended as an infringement upon those rights and solely meant for entertainment. All other characters, the story idea and the story itself are the sole property of the author.

For Mary, who just can't be happy unless Jack's in pain...For Sarah, who thinks I've gone to the gray side. Go down to the pub, Sarah, and have one for me... For Lin, the electronic world's greatest beta and punster...

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