• SEASON: 5
• SUMMARY : The continuing story of Jack O’Neill based on the misadventures as presented in ‘Rocky Top Wine.’
• PG-13 [Hc] [Hu]
• Warning: Semi-frequent use of strong language, because after all, Jack is unconscious part of the time. Also be forewarned of suggestive imagery in the first scene. It is strongly suggested that you not attempt to take a shower while reading this fic.

*****

Only one thing felt better than a shower at the end of a long, hard day, and that was a shower at the end of a long, hard week of long, hard days. Well, actually, he could think of a couple of things that would put a shower to shame, but neither of those were in his foreseeable future. Besides, he was too sore and tired to seriously contemplate the alternatives. So, Jack O’Neill pressed his hands against the wet tiles and let the hot jets of water massage his back and shoulders, thankful that at least the military hadn’t skimped when it came to installing water heaters.

Shutting his eyes, he leaned his head down and stretched his long, lean body, feeling the tight pull of abused hamstrings and over-worked calf muscles. Lips slightly parted, he breathed through the steamy rivulets that pulsed across the back of his head, meandered through his hair and washed over his face. He basked in the feel of the therapeutic liquid caressing his skin. Concentrating on a single bead of water that hit the base of his neck, Jack followed its progress as it trickled over the knot between his shoulder blades, ran down his aching back, slowed at the base of his spine, then surged over smooth, rounded skin. With a delicate tickle, it slowly dripped from his right buttock and disappeared among others of its kind to gently swirl against the soles of his feet before taking its unremarkable exit down the drain.

Oblivious to the fog which gathered and roiled around him, eyes still closed, he remained frozen in place, hesitant to break the spell of what he knew was a brief respite. Only his brow moved as he frowned, grappling with thoughts that strove to disturb his momentary peace. His mouth tightened and his body tensed slightly, assuming the look of glistening, polished stone. Jack grimaced and began to softly hum. As an internal war raged, the wordless tune intensified until it drifted out of the steamy chamber along with the billowing fog.

"Jack!"

He lifted his head, staring at the plain white tiles, the song dying in his throat at the sound of Daniel’s voice.

"Jack? You in there?"

Wiping at his dripping face with one hand, he straightened. He’d been humming Tremo E T’ Amo. How appropriate. And not surprising. Especially since Sogno, the Andrea Bocelli CD, was probably still sitting in the compact disc player of his pick-up. Right where he’d left it when he’d arrived at work nearly six days ago.

"Jack?" The voice was softer this time, closer. "Is that you?"

Water beating down on him unnoticed, Jack glanced over towards the doorway leading to the locker room. A shadow encroached, which slowly resolved into the shape of a man waving an arm to disperse the cloud of steam. Daniel’s face appeared, the lenses of his glasses fogging at the edges.

"In all my glory."

"Oh. Well, we need to get going if we want to get there on time."

Jack shut off the water and caught in mid-air the towel that Daniel tossed. "On time? Give me a break, Daniel. Only geeks arrive at a party on time."

"I don’t like to be late."

Toweling his hair, Jack peeked over at his friend and cocked an eyebrow.

"What?"

He smiled, then shook his head, and continued drying off.

"I am not a geek, Jack." Daniel shifted from one foot to the other and wiped at the lenses of his glasses with his index fingers. "Nice voice, by the way."

Finished drying, Jack tossed the damp towel onto Daniel’s shoulder as he walked past on his way to the locker room. "Excuse me?"

Daniel dropped the towel to the floor and followed, oblivious to his friend’s nudity. "I don’t think I’ve ever heard you sing before."

Reaching into his locker, Jack pulled out a pair of boxers and began getting dressed. A black tux and crisp, white tuxedo shirt were neatly draped on a coat hanger that dangled over the open locker door. Looking at it, he grimaced slightly. "I can’t believe I’m actually going to wear this monkey suit again."

"What was it?"

Pulling on the shirt, Jack looked over at Daniel, confused. "What?"

"The name of the song you were singing."

"Humming, Daniel. I was humming. Not singing." Jack went back to fastening the shirt, his fingers fumbling slightly with the buttons. "And if you must know, it’s a song called Tremo E T’ Amo."

Daniel hesitated only briefly. "I’m trembling and I love you? You were singing – sorry. You were humming a song called ‘I’m Trembling and I Love You’?"

Jack tugged at the sleeves of the shirt then reached for the pants. "Something wrong with that?" Hopping precariously on one foot, he slid a sore leg into his pants and glanced up at Daniel. "Besides, if it’ll make you feel any better, it’s about a soldier who goes off to war and doesn’t come back."

"Oh. Well, yeah, actually that does make a little more sense." He watched as Jack finished dressing, looking down at his own suit and brushing wrinkles from the front of his jacket. "Good thing I stopped by and picked that up for you." He nodded towards the tux. "Otherwise, you wouldn’t have been able to go."

Jack smirked. "Yeah. Pity. Remind me to thank you later." His muscles seriously beginning to ache, he sat down on the bench to pull on his socks. Picking up a shiny black dress shoe, he looked over at Daniel. "I’m really not sure I should . . ."

"Aach! Don’t even say it. You have to go. You promised you would."

"I know I did. But that was before I spent six days on a wet, weed-infested, filthy planet, the name of which I can’t even imagine, let alone pronounce."

"Hunakadore," Daniel supplied.

"Hunky-dory? Well, if that isn’t inappropriate, I don’t know what is. Cause I promise you, Daniel, it was not. Not even close. And if you hadn’t been tagging along with Carter on her little ‘I wanna be a physics professor when I grow up’ lecture at the Academy, you’d have been able to experience it firsthand, along with me, Teal’c, and our band of merry Marines." As soon as he said it, Jack felt bad for laying on the guilt. Actually, he was glad Daniel and Carter had managed to miss this particular rescue mission.

"I told you I was sorry."

"Yeah, well, don’t be. It was nothing to write home about."

"Speaking of Marines, Sargent Declan said you had trouble finding SG-16."

Jack snorted softly and slipped his shoes on. "I’ll just bet she did. Actually, finding them was the easy part. Dragging Declan and a team of smart-mouthed, know-it-all Marines through 30 miles of . . ."

"Jungle?"

"I was gonna say bugs. Big, icky, honkin’ ones, by the way. But, yeah, when I could see past the bugs, I believe there was jungle, too. Anyway, that was the hard part. Oh, yeah, and don’t forget the cavemen who were fixing to deep fry SG-16 like a damn onion blossom. Let’s just say I’m a little . . ."

"Grumpy?"

Jack glared up at his ex-best friend. "Tired, Daniel. I was going to say tired."

"Oh." Daniel shoved his hands in his pockets. "Well, then, maybe a party will be good for you. You know, cheer you up. Put you in a good . . ."

"I don’t need cheering up. I need sleep. And beer. In that order."

Daniel smiled. "I hear Karen cooked."

"You know," Jack pointed a finger at him, "that isn’t funny." He shook his head in disgust. "You shouldn’t even be joking about crap like that. Geez."

"Sorry." But he didn’t look sorry. In fact, if Jack wasn’t mistaken, the archaeologist looked like he was trying not to laugh. "Come on. Janet is all excited about it."

Jack dropped his head in his hands, rubbing his face and cursing softly under his breath.

"She never gets to go anywhere fancy. She bought a dress and everything. And you did ask her, Jack. You wouldn’t stand her up, would you?"

Scrubbing his hands through his hair, Jack stood up. "It’s not even a real date. She’s just – well, she’s . . ."

"Your bodyguard?" When Jack didn’t respond, Daniel grinned. "Protection?"

Jack brushed past him, heading towards the door.

"Defender?" Daniel followed him.

"Shut up." Jack slung the door open and stepped into the hallway.

"You know, if you think Janet is going to be able to protect you from, what did you call them – a pack of hyenas?" Daniel slammed on his brakes as Jack stopped mid-stride and turned to confront him. "I just – I think you’re being unreasonable. I mean, I don’t think even Janet can . . .," but Daniel’s voice drained away as he looked down the hallway, past his friend.

"What? Say it." Jack studied the glazed look on Daniel’s face. "What?" He turned to follow his friend’s stare. "Uh." He raked his eyes up and down the woman who stood quietly watching them. "Doc? Doc, is that you?"

Janet Fraiser shifted slightly, every bit as uncomfortable with the unaccustomed scrutiny as she was with the new high-heeled pumps that donned her feet. Obviously the paradigm had shifted and suddenly she wished she were back in her familiar surroundings wearing her uniform and lab coat instead of this damn sequined dress that clung to her form and that Cassie had pronounced ‘totally sexy.’ There was something to be said for the anonymity of a smock. And it didn’t help that the Colonel and Daniel were standing there staring at her as if she were a newly discovered bacteria under a microscope with the magnification focused on 200x.

"Gentlemen, I assume you’re ready to go." I didn’t bring my tongue depressors, so you two can just close your mouths and pull your eyeballs back in your sockets.

"Janet, you look, ah, what’s the word I’m looking for, Jack?"

"Beautiful, Daniel. Doc, you look beautiful and it will be a pleasure to accompany you to the party tonight."

Janet’s eyes sparkled with delight that even the artificial lighting couldn’t hide as Jack stepped forward and offered his arm.

"Ma’am, your carriage awaits."

Despite the surreptitious double-takes they endured with good humor, the trio made their way to the parking lot with nothing more than a nostalgic feeling of kids going to the prom. Jack’s normally long stride flawlessly matched Janet’s as he led the way towards his truck.

"Jack, I’d be glad to drive."

Jack opened the passenger door for Janet and helped her in, not even cracking a smile when she struggled to step up into the truck in her tight, form-fitting dress. "No, Daniel, it’s all part of my plan. Tonight I’m the designated driver, and as such, I will not be sampling Merlot, Chardonnay, or Bordeaux, bar none."

Daniel crawled into the backseat as Jack got behind the steering wheel. "And if Stu offers you a glass of your favorite Tennessee toddy?"

Glancing into the rearview mirror at his friend, Jack grimaced at the thought of the peach-flavored kerosene he had been forced to ingest the last time he had been a guest at Knox Villa. "Trust me, that is not going to happen. I told you, I’m prepared." He patted the pocket of his elegant attire.

Daniel’s expression quickly changed from one of amused curiosity to that of concerned alarm. "Jack, you didn’t bring your weapon, did you?" He blanched at the thought of Karen Knox’s face if Jack were to pull out his Beretta or, heaven forbid, his P-90, and begin waving it around in her home.

"Beeper, Daniel. A good plan always leaves a back door. If Stu and the hyenas get out of hand, I get an emergency call from Carter and we are so out of there."

Janet arched a brow in amusement. "Stu and the hyenas, Colonel? Sounds like one of Cassie’s boy bands."

"Yeah, well, I think I’d rather take my chances at one of Cassie’s rock concerts, but you know the old saying. . . ."

"Forewarned is forearmed?"

Jack’s eyes narrowed and a grim smile reflected in the headlights of passing cars. "All’s fair in love and war."

Daniel and Janet exchanged a nervous glance.

* * * * *

It was with a sense of deja-vu that Daniel and Jack greeted Stu and Karen as they entered the plush surroundings of the Knox home. Music and well-bred laughter filled the air.

"Professor and Mrs. Knox thank you for inviting me into your lovely home again. I can’t tell you how much I have been looking forward to it. May I introduce Dr. Janet Fraiser."

Daniel was immediately struck by the change in Jack’s manner from their last visit. Gone was the meek, bashful charm of before. The confident, rakish persona Jack had chosen to don, as he greeted his hostess, had Karen practically swooning in a puddle at his feet.

"Daniel," Stu smiled, his hand possessively clutching Jack’s elbow, "you know where everything is. Please take the Colonel and Dr. Fraiser into the gathering room with the other guests."

"There’s a buffet set up, Colonel O’Neill. We had it catered, of course, but knowing how much you enjoyed the appetizers last time," Karen leaned over and whispered, "I made a platter especially for you, myself."

"You are too kind, Mrs. Knox. You really shouldn’t have."

Daniel gave a snorting laugh.

"Daniel, allergies acting up again? Maybe you should have Dr. Fraiser give you something." Jack’s dark eyes laughed at their shared joke.

"Dr. Fraiser, the Colonel just adores my fried mushrooms. I would be happy to give you the recipe."

Janet smiled sweetly. "Thank you so much, Mrs. Knox. Although I’m always interested in finding new recipes for botulistic fungi, I really don’t have too much time to cook for the Colonel as he tends to keep me rather busy saving his life on a regular basis." She exchanged a satisfied smirk with Jack and Daniel at Karen’s high-pitched squeak of shock.

"Oh, my!" Like her husband, Karen touched Jack’s arm. "I just knew you were involved in something dangerous. Didn’t I say so, Stu?"

"You certainly did, my dear. Colonel, after we’ve dined, perhaps you would like to see my collection."

"Your . . . collection?" Jack inwardly cringed, and not just from the touch of their hands all over him. He distinctly remembered the dead animal heads lining the den, and suddenly envisioned another room, some dimly lit, hidden place, furnished with stuffed, headless animals. Or worse, maybe a room lined with the heads of the people Stu had climbed over to make it to the top of his profession.

"My Weatherby’s."

"Oh." Jack genuinely smiled. Dared he hope? "Weatherby’s? As in, custom weapons?"

"Of course."

"Of course." Jack looked at Daniel and Janet, his night suddenly looking a bit brighter. "Sweet."

* * * * *

It was late and the traffic had thinned considerably. There was a cold bite in the air, hinting of the winter that would soon be upon them, but it was toasty in the cab of the pick-up. Jack had turned up the heat, and the vents were gently blowing warm air in Janet’s direction. As soon as they had left the party and climbed into the Colonel’s vehicle, he had opened his tuxedo jacket, loosened his tie, and unbuttoned the collar of his shirt.

As he drove, Janet and Daniel had quietly discussed the gnawing pack of hyenas and their mates, laughing at the absurd antics of the rich. Janet was secretly pleased that she’d chosen to go all out when it came to dressing. She had looked like she fit right in. Of course, it was an illusion. She knew that. But, thankfully, her host and hostess and the other guests would never know. Janet smiled to herself. All decked out, she and the Colonel had even managed to turn a few heads, especially when he’d danced with her. God, she’d never thought about the Colonel dancing. Especially not with her. But he was actually quite good. Great, in fact. Too bad Daniel hadn’t managed to smuggle in a camera and get a picture of that. What that wouldn’t bring on the SGC black market! Biting back laughter, she leaned her head against the cool glass of the side window and glanced over at him.

His face was lit by the glow from the dashboard lights. Concealed in the semi-darkness of the cab, she was free to study his profile and she did, carefully. Okay, here was a dangerous thought: God, he was handsome – even now, completely exhausted from a very difficult, week-long mission. She’d never really thought about his looks before. It wasn’t something that came to mind when she was ripping his clothes off, shoving tubes into places that tubes weren’t meant to be shoved, staunching blood, trying to save his life. Hell, it wasn’t even on her mind in their less traumatic, or dramatic, dealings with each other. Sitting across from him at the briefing table, forced to endure his sardonic, biting commentaries, or his dead-pan description of a battle scene, did not inspire visions of romance. But here, in this setting. . . .

As she watched him, he began softly humming and it was only then that she realized how quiet he’d been since leaving the party. Oddly quiet. She shut her eyes, listening. He had a surprisingly pleasant voice.

"Tremo E T’ Amo," Daniel muttered from the back seat.

"What?" Janet glanced back at him, and he nodded his head towards the Colonel.

Jack smiled. "The name of the song that seems to be stuck in my head. Here, let’s do it justice, shall we?" He reached over and pressed some buttons on the CD player and Janet found herself surrounded by music.

She was no connoisseur of music, not even close, but the soothing tones that reverberated through the cab sounded to her like the strings of a harp. A soft, symphonic backdrop eased its way through the more strident sounds of the harp. Suddenly, before she was ready, a clear, obviously male voice began singing words that Janet couldn’t understand.

Sitting in the backseat, Daniel began a soft interpretation of the lines of the song. "I love you and I’m trembling . . . said the woman . . . to her soldier . . . who wouldn’t be coming

back . . ."

Listening to the soothing music and the melodious voice, gaining understanding from Daniel’s translation, Janet looked at the Colonel and thought of his ex-wife, Sara.

"Her plaintive voice . . . was carried by the wind . . . across the chilling snow . . . to where her soldier fought . . . I’m trembling and I love you . . . she whispered as she cried . . . And in the darkness of the room . . . somebody laughed . . . in conquest of the fear . . . that this love was about to end . . ."

As she stared, as the music built into a crescendo, she noticed the Colonel beginning to fidget.

"But sweet memories can betray you . . . The soldier doesn’t feel anything anymore . . . Too late, his . . ."

Daniel’s words and the accompanying song were silenced as Jack reached over and shut off the CD player. Grimacing slightly, he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel.

"So, Doc, what’d you think of Knox Villa?"

Janet recognized the question for what it was: a diversion tactic. "Uh, it was . . . interesting." Still thinking about the song, the last few lines out of Daniel’s mouth, it took her a moment to get her mind back on the party. "By the way, Colonel, I believe I saw the alpha hyena putting a couple of her special appetizers on your plate. Please tell me you didn’t eat them."

Jack smiled and glanced over at her, an evil glint in his eyes. Looking back at the road, he reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a linen napkin which he held out to her on the palm of his hand.

"Oh, Colonel, you shouldn’t have. My birthday’s months away."

"I thought the fellows in the lab might like to . . . study them. Tell them it’s something we found off-world. See if they even get close."

Janet laughed. That would be funny. "Maybe I will." She took the offering and set it on the seat between them. "So what was this collection of Stu’s?"

"The ‘collection’ was – wow."

"Jack, it was a bunch of guns."

"Excuse me? A bunch of guns? Geez." Jack shook his head and looked over at Janet. "The guy has a Weatherby Mark V Crown custom rifle."

Janet smiled. "Really?" Whatever the hell that meant.

"It looked just like your .22 to me."

"Are you serious? Daniel, do you have any idea what that gun’s worth?"

"What? Your .22?"

Janet glanced over her shoulder. Daniel was smirking, clearly enjoying harassing his friend.

"Smart-ass." Jack yawned and pressed long fingers momentarily against his eyes, a sure sign of a headache, then smiled over at her. "Stu shelled out $7,500 on that baby, easy."

"Seven thous– . . ."

But Daniel cut her off. "Seven thousand five hundred? As in, American dollars? Are you shitting me?"

"And worth every penny." Jack smiled. "Makes the .460 mag. DGR Snow Camo rifle look cheap at just under $3,500."

"Jack, even the cheap one cost more than my car."

"Yeah, well, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. Your car’s a piece of crap. Why don’t you donate it to the Shriners for their next parade?"

"Why, so I can buy something that rivals the Exxon Valdez in size and costs twice as much as my apartment?"

"Hey!" Jack straightened in his seat, glaring into the rearview mirror. "Don’t even start on my truck. That’s like attacking the size of a man’s . . ."

Janet’s cell phone chose that moment to ring. "Thank God. Saved by the bell."

Daniel’s sarcastic comeback faltered and dwindled completely as Janet answered the call and her laughter disappeared.

"Cassie, honey, calm down and tell me what’s going on." There was a pause and they could see Janet’s face pale in the headlights of a passing semi as she listened. Jack and Daniel exchanged a worried glance via the rearview mirror. "Cassie, baby, listen to me. We’re coming. The Colonel and Daniel are with me right now. Don’t be scared. We’ll find you. We’ll . . . Cassie? Cassie? Oh, God. Cassandra, answer me, please."

Jack signaled and carefully eased the big truck off the road. "Doc?" His voice was soft, but there was an underlying order that brooked no disobedience.

"It was Cassie." Janet refused to make eye contact. Instead, she stared into the lights of passing traffic as if seeking answers and perhaps solace there. "She was on another hike with her Future Artistic Reality Training Section . . ."

"Those damn FARTs again?" Jack’s rock-hard expression left no room for humor in his question. "Please don’t tell me they went on another hike."

Janet nodded. "This morning, they left early for a hike through Kailey Canyon. It was supposed to be a moderate hike about four and a half miles. Basically the same MO as the last time." She paused and glanced at Jack’s face to gauge his reaction to that particular field trip.

A clipped nod ordered her to continue. "I know the area, go ahead."

Swallowing hard, Janet continued the briefing. "It was supposed to be a three to four hour hike with a couple of hours to sketch. Same as last time."

"Janet, what did Cassie say?"

Glancing back at Daniel, Janet struggled to answer his question, but suddenly her chin began to quiver and her eyes were glassy with unshed tears. Daniel reached a supportive hand in comfort just as Jack startled him with a sharp order.

"Major, get hold of yourself. We need some answers now. What exactly did Cassie say?"

The authority in his voice was just the slap in the face Janet needed and as the men watched, the quivering stopped and she sat up straight, looking Jack in the eye. "Yes, sir. Cassie told me that several hours ago, she and some of the other kids left the main group and wandered off the trail. In trying to find their way back, they took what they thought was a short cut and got lost."

"Dammit, Cassie knows better than to leave an established trail."

"Yes, sir. I don’t know why she would have gone. She said she’d tried to call for help several times, but the canyon is cutting off the signal. She was trying to tell me some land formations when the signal abruptly ended." Janet stopped, re-established her control and waited silently for Jack to decide the next move.

"Janet, it’s been dark for hours. Why the hell didn’t anyone contact you before now?"

A worried mother’s eyes took on a dangerous glint. "I don’t know, Daniel, but I intend to find out."

Jack had reached into his own pocket and completely ignoring the ‘why’ implications was busy barking orders. "This is O’Neill. I’m going to need a fully kitted S&R team at the Kailey Canyon Trail, stat. Pull them from Fort Carson. They’re the closest. We’ve got a group of kids lost somewhere in the canyon, and I want headquarters set up pronto. I’m en route. ETA," he glanced at his watch, "seventy-five minutes." They listened as Jack rattled off his cell number, then tossed the phone on the dashboard.

Gravel spewed as, without a glance at Janet or Daniel, Jack urged the big truck back onto the highway.

"Colonel?"

Jack’s eyes never left the road as he sped down the dark highway. "We’ll find them, Doc. And when we do, I’m gonna have some chaperones’ asses for dinner."

Janet’s expression hardened. "That’s one appetizer I’ll be happy to cook for you myself, sir."

* * * * *

The silence in the cab was testimony to the seriousness of the matter at hand. There was no way to pretend otherwise. Children – hell, anyone, lost in the canyon area at this time of year was in deep shit. Although none of them spoke it aloud, newspaper articles of previous tragedies in the same area over the years haunted all three.

The traffic thinned further as they bypassed the city and Jack turned south on Highway 115. All of Janet’s attempts to contact Cassie had proven to be in vain. Either the area was impervious to signals, or Cassie’s cell phone battery had died. Janet refused to consider any other options. Despite the rapidly growing odds against her, Janet continued to hit the redial button, each time praying for a long shot – that her daughter would actually answer. Hell, it gave her hands something to do and it gave her mind something to focus on other than some way too frightening possibilities.

As Jack turned onto Turkey Canyon Ranch Road, they could see portable lights illuminating the parking area and soldiers rushing around completing a variety of tasks in organized chaos. A large command tent had been erected off to one side. The powers that be seemed to have taken the Colonel at his word. They’d been busy. Communications equipment, maps, hiking and climbing gear, even a king-sized coffee pot sat waiting to be put to use.

The pick-up had barely come to a stop before Jack slung open the door and without a word strode towards the command center. Daniel climbed out and helped Janet down from the cab. They hurried after Jack, ignoring the curious glances of the soldiers they passed. Just as they reached the drawn tent flap and spotted Jack already head to head with a captain, bent over a large topographic map, a voice stopped them.

"Janet? Dr. Fraiser, wait! You can’t go in there. They told us to wait over here."

Janet and Daniel turned towards a small group of civilians huddled in a tight cluster away from the military machine. Janet gave a tight nod in the general direction of the group. "Ms. Marren, Mrs. Cousyn, Mr. and Mrs. Bartlett." She glanced at the small, almost dainty looking man who stood to one side; he looked vaguely familiar, but his name escaped her. "Would someone please tell me what the hell is going on here?" Despite her desire to remain calm, Janet’s voice rose. "I send my daughter on a nature hike, and she calls me to say that she and her friends are lost and . . ."

Janet was interrupted by an obviously shaken Lee Marren. "You heard from the kids? When? Where? We’ve been waiting here for over an hour. These people have been waiting for some search and rescue Special Ops expert to arrive. They wouldn’t let us go back out and search any more. I don’t understand why . . ." Her run-on potpourri of questions and statements came to an abrupt halt as a deep growl cut her flow off like a faucet.

"Because, Ms. Marren, we’ll have our hands full trying to find these kids. We certainly don’t need to add to the problem by having you getting lost in the dark, as well. Now, do us all a favor and shut your mouth until you’re asked a question."

Under any other circumstance, Janet would have paid a month’s salary to have a picture of Lee Marren’s face as she registered just who it was that had very effectively put her in her place. Slack-jawed astonishment and a healthy dose of disbelief washed over the woman’s flushed features.

"Colonel O’Neill? How dare you speak to me like that. I don’t care if you are Dr. Fraiser’s friend. You have no business showing up here in your fancy clothes, criticizing me, and getting in the way of a search and rescue operation by real military men who know what they’re doing."

For a moment Janet thought the Colonel would actually strike the woman, and for a moment she thought he would have to beat her to it. But as suddenly as it had appeared, the dangerous glint in his eyes faded and his jaw locked in ironclad determination. Pointedly ignoring the irate woman, he turned to the other parents. "Who was in charge of this trip?"

"I am – was. Herbert Herriot, biology teacher for the school." Jack did a double-take at the scrawny little guy who stuck out his hand. Something about him reminded Jack way too much of a cross between Carter, Daniel, and his high school prom date. Honest to God. It was eerie. "All we’ve been able to ascertain is that for some reason, once the group reached the halfway point and spread out to do their sketching, Cassandra, Dirk, Jimmy Bartlett, and Elena Cousyn left the main group, and haven’t been seen since."

At Elena’s name, Vicki Cousyn began to sniff loudly, wiping away tears with the back of her sleeve. Daniel reached in his pocket and produced a clean handkerchief which the woman accepted gratefully.

Oblivious to the weeping woman, Jack focused his attention on the teacher. "Mr. Herriot, obviously these kids have been missing for some time. Why the hell didn’t someone call for help before it got dark?"

The little man shot an uncomfortable look towards the glowering face of Lee Marren. "Well, Colonel . . . ."

"I figured we could find them ourselves, if it’s any of your business, Colonel. I know my Dirk, and I knew he’d turn up any minute and there wouldn’t be any reason to raise a hullabaloo for no reason." Something in Jack’s expression finally forded the creek to reach the woman’s brain, and she suddenly sensed that if the Colonel had been armed, she would be lying belly up. She took an involuntary step back and snorted defensively. "It’s not as if a desk jockey like you would know anything about how this type of operation works. We’ll get it all settled when the Special Ops officer shows up."

Jack let the insult pass without comment, much to Daniel’s amazement. With fluid grace, Jack turned and headed back to the command tent. "Herriot, get your ass in here and point out exactly where you last saw those kids. Daniel, find me something to wear so I can get out of this damn clown suit." With a dismissive wave towards the small group of staring parents, he added, "Doc, pump ‘em for whatever they can tell us. Then report to me."

"Yes, sir."

Ignoring Mrs. Cousyn’s sniffing, Janet turned back to the group as Jack disappeared into the tent. Lee Marren’s face was furious.

"Who does he think he is issuing orders like that? The irresponsible panty waste. The last time he . . . ."

"Shut up, Sarge." Crossing her arms and drawing herself up to her full height, Janet glared at the angry woman.

A gasp erupted from Marren’s open mouth.

"Yeah. You heard me. That so-called ‘panty waste’ you’re talking about would be Colonel Jack O’Neill, USAF, the special operative expert who happens to be in charge of this entire operation. And that ‘panty waste’ is the man who’s going to find the children you lost."

* * * * *

"Sir?" He was bent over a long table covered with topo maps, intent on one in particular. One long finger traced a path across the glossy chart. "Sir?"

He straightened and looked over at her, exhaustion written in the lines of his face. They’d been here over two hours. Five 3-man teams were out searching and more troops were due to arrive shortly. Janet knew that it was only because of the Colonel that Cassie and the other missing children were garnering this much assistance. Otherwise, they would have been lucky if a handful of sheriff’s deputies began searching by mid-day tomorrow. She realized this and was grateful, even if Sarge wasn’t.

"Doc. How’re you holding up?"

"I’m fine."

He stared at her a moment, his face inscrutable. "We’ll find her."

She nodded. "Yes, sir."

As he turned back to the table and began folding a waterproof map, she realized that not only had Daniel managed to scrounge up BDU’s for the three of them, but the Colonel was wearing a jacket and a backpack. When he zipped the map into a pocket on his coat, she knew without a doubt that he’d had all the ‘desk jockeying’ he could stand. He was preparing to go out himself.

"I’m going with you." She said it without thinking, and he threw her a sharp glance. "I want to go with you, sir."

"Listen, I know you’re worried and you want to help, but I . . ."

"They could be hurt." She saw him flinch slightly at that. "Please. You need me. I – I need to go."

Jack studied her, then glanced at a young lieutenant who’d entered the tent and was placing small, colored tacks on a map pinned to a board. "You."

The man turned to look at him. "Me, sir?"

Jack nodded curtly. "Get her geared up." The lieutenant nodded and turned to leave.

"And a medic bag," Janet added.

"Yes, ma’am."

They were alone in the tent. Rubbing her cold, nervous hands together, Janet watched as the Colonel reached into his coat and pulled out a watch cap. Relieved that she’d soon be doing something, she allowed herself a slight, anxious shiver. "Thank you."

He pulled the cap down on his head and pulled out his trademark gloves with the fingertips removed. She wondered idly where he’d managed to find a pair. He slipped them on without looking at her. "You can thank me by keeping up."

"Yes, sir," she mumbled, but he had already stalked past her and had exited the tent.

* * * * *

As Jack walked, he thought about the task ahead. Without referring to the map, he could picture the lay of the land in his mind as clear as if it were spread out before him in broad daylight, instead of hidden beneath a dark layer of pines, junipers and night sky. Something Janet had said earlier in the pick-up kept going through his mind: "She said she’d tried to call for help several times, but the canyon is cutting off the signal."

Jack had mountain biked Kailey Canyon trail years ago, and more recently, had hiked the entire area with a couple of old Air Force buddies. During their four-day hike, they had inadvertently wandered onto BLM property. They had followed a dry creek bed up into a small, narrow canyon. For some reason, Cassie’s words dredged up memories of the hike. It was a longshot, but what did they have to lose?

The sound of someone stumbling, followed by a breathless gasp, brought him to a stop. He turned back, shining his flashlight on Janet, who was being helped up by Daniel.

"Sorry, sir. I’m okay."

Jack frowned at her. No, she wasn’t. He’d set a brisk pace for the last hour and a half. They’d left the trail a couple of miles back and while it wasn’t particularly steep, the ground was rough beneath their feet, especially in the dark. As he was wont to do, he was pushing too hard. He knew that, but he was worried. This was the time of year for bear; in particular, bears who were hungry, trying to fatten themselves up before winter hibernation. And this area was a known haunt for them, which thought made him want to kick chaperone ass all over again. Swear to God, if any of the kids were injured. . . .

"We’ll take a 10-minute break."

"Not on my account, Colonel."

Jack glared at her even as Daniel, accustomed to Jack’s field orders, began easing Janet’s pack from her back. "You’re right. It’s not." Running his team into the ground would not help those kids.

Instead of loosening his own pack, he found a small but stout pine tree and planting his feet into a wide stance, leaned back against the trunk. He let his weight settle onto his pack, taking the strain off his feet without sitting. It was a trick he’d learned long ago. As stiff and tired as he was from his trip to Hunky-dory, he knew if he sat down he’d have trouble getting back up. Leaning there, he allowed himself to relax and sipped from his canteen.

The night air was chilly, but not as chilly as it should have been this late in the season. He glanced up at an overcast sky. If it were clear, it would be colder. That was good for the kids. Maybe. Unless a front was moving in. He wondered if they had jackets. If he found out Sarge and Prissy had let a group of kids go on a hike in the mountains without at least having jackets and ample water, he’d . . . well, let’s just say odds were in favor of a couple of bear eating good before winter.

Staring up at the moonless sky, he thought he saw something out of the corner of his eye and he squinted. Patiently waiting, he finally saw it again. Crap. Just to the east and south lightning flared. Shit. What next?

His radio squelched. "Colonel O’Neill, come in."

"O’Neill. Go ahead."

"Sir, Lieutenant Storey. Be advised we have three persons missing from base camp. Over."

"Jack?" Daniel stood up and approached him.

"Shit," he muttered. He pressed the radio again. "Say again, Lieutenant."

"We have three persons missing from base camp, sir. It appears," there was a brief pause and Jack wasn’t sure if it was caused by a loss of signal or the Lieutenant’s reluctance to be the bearer of bad news, "you have civilians on your six, Colonel." There was another, longer pause. "Over."

Angry, Jack glanced at Daniel and rubbed his eyes. "Dammit!" He spoke into the radio again, his voice clipped and dripping with sarcasm. "Well, Lieutenant, send a unit to retrieve their civilian asses."

"Uh, sorry, sir. No can do. The back-up units have been detained."

He sighed heavily. "Acknowledged. Wait for further orders. O’Neill, out." Jack straightened and began shrugging out of his pack.

"Jack, what are you doing?" When he didn’t immediately get a response, Daniel glanced over at Janet and then back at his CO. "Do you want me to go back and get them? Take them back to camp?"

"No." Jack positioned his pack up against the base of the tree. "You two rest up. I’ll fetch them."

"Sir, we can’t just sit around doing nothing while you take them back."

Removing his coat and tying the sleeves tightly around his waist, he looked over at Janet. "Oh, no need to worry about that, Doctor. They want a field trip? I’ll give ‘em a field trip they won’t soon forget. Wait here. I’ll be back in less than an hour."

"And if you’re not?"

Jack started to leave, then glanced over at Daniel and smiled grimly. "Then that just means I’m disposing of the bodies, Daniel. Nothing to worry about."

* * * * *

"Where are the extra batteries for the flashlight?"

"Ms. Marren, I’m sure I saw lightning. What will we do if it starts to storm?"

"There aren’t extra batteries. I didn’t have time to do more than grab a couple of flashlights from the supplies while no one was looking."

"My poor Elena catches cold so easily. What if she gets wet? Pneumonia, she could get pneumonia."

"Herriot, what kind of a scrounger are you? Don’t you know anything? You always steal extra batteries."

"I, Ms. Marren, am a science teacher, certainly not a scrounger. A specialist in biology, not stealing flashlights from the U.S. military. If you want a tree identified, ask me. You want a scrounger, call Steve McQueen. May I suggest the next time you need something stolen, you do it yourself."

"Don’t give me that, you sissified science fair reject. Any real man would know to steal

extra . . ."

"Ms. Marren, I think I heard something."

". . . batteries. Even my Dirk . . ."

"I teach your Dirk and he wouldn’t know . . ."

"Ms. Marren, Mr. Herriot, I’m sure I heard something in the woods over there behind those trees. What if it’s a bear?"

"Listen, mister, don’t you start . . ."

"I’ve heard it’s common for bears to be out at this time of year. Elena could be . . ."

". . . his gluteus maximus from a . . ."

"Would you two just shut up? There’s something out there!"

And suddenly there was dead silence in the dark woods as if a woodland fairy had waved her magic wand and transformed the bickering clump of humanity into toadstools decorating the forest floor.

The sharp crack of a dead branch snapped loudly in the silence. In the distance, thunder rumbled ominously, adding to the eerie setting. The friendly woods crowned with brittle fall leaves had become Mr. Hyde to the Dr. Jekyll of the morning when children’s laughter had filled the air and a host of birds sang a chorus that any choir would envy. Another branch snapped from the opposite direction and the trio turned as Mrs. Cousyn let out a shrill scream.

Mr. Herriot pointed the weak beam of his dying light towards the sound. There was nothing there.

"Stay here, ladies, I’ll see what it is." The teacher hoped his voice was steadier than the hand which held the flashlight.

He took a few faltering steps towards the dark when yet another sound caused them to whirl around.

Nothing.

As the women turned back to track Mr. Herriot’s feeble progress, they discovered the little teacher was gone. Vanished. His flashlight lay in the leaves, pointing weakly towards the darkness which had abducted its owner. It gave a few tired blinks and then faded away, apparently feeling the time was right to give up the ghost.

"Mr. Herriot?" Vicki Cousyn’s voice sounded almost cartoonish. Minnie Mouse would have found it a perfect fit, but here in the dark, it failed to cloak the fear in the woman’s voice.

"All right, Herriot, quit fooling around. We’ve got to go catch up with that sorry excuse of a colonel. We sure can’t count on the likes of him to find our kids." There was no reassuring clearing of the throat as the little man stepped from behind a tree and assured them it had been his idea of a bad joke. Nothing. Herriot was gone.

Ms Marren’s voice rose an octave in an unintentional betrayal of her feelings. "Dammit, Herriot, get back here."

Her companion’s frightened glance never wavered from its vain attempt to pierce the darkness even as she squeaked out a protest. "Ms. Marren, really. Please watch your language."

Casting a furious glance at the smaller woman, Lee Marren snapped, "Oh, blow it out your butt sideways, Miss Priss. I’m sick and tired of you and your Puritanical ways."

Even the failing beams of their last ill-gotten flashlight couldn’t fail to capture the red-hue which washed over Mrs. Cousyn’s pinched features. She stammered and sputtered like a motor on a stubborn lawnmower before roaring to life. "Ms. Marren, you are one of the most ill-mannered, rude, offensive people I have ever had the misfortune with which to chaperone. I wish I could think of something bad enough to say to you to let you know how I feel."

The women stood facing each other, Mr. Herriot and the danger in the woods temporarily forgotten in the light of the new skirmish at hand.

Vicki Cousyn took a deep breath, glared mightily at Lee Marren and shaking with the intensity of the moment spat, "Ms. Marren, I wish you would eat dog doo doo and . . . and . . . spit up."

With that, she spun and crashed directly into Jack, who stood silently behind them. The duet of screams paid testament to the silence of his approach.

"Ladies, what a surprise bumping into you here of all places."

Lee Marren recovered first with a look that would have sent a lesser man running. "Colonel O’Neill, what in the hell are you playing at? Don’t you realize this is serious business?"

Vicki Cousyn found her voice as the two women forged a sudden alliance against a common foe. "You may not understand this, Colonel, not having a child of your own to worry about and raise, but this time of year is certainly not a good time to be traipsing around lost. Think of how those poor children must be feeling."

"We may as well have called in a troop of performing sea monkeys for all the good you’ve done. All you’ve managed to do is waste valuable time, troops, and tactics. My Dirk knows more about search and rescue than you obviously do."

His expression unreadable, Jack shifted his weight and crossed his arms as if he had all the time and patience in the world.

"Not to mention the money involved in this useless farce you call a search party."

"Don’t you worry, Colonel, before this is over, I’ll be on the horn to your superiors. And long before this is through there will be an investigation. They’ll find out just what kind of man they have running things. You’ll be exposed for the incompetent boob that you are. I’ll see you stripped of your rank and thrown in prison if anything happens to these children."

"My husband was on the committee of phone solicitation for the Republican Party of Steamboat Springs Township for three and a half years. Did you hear what I said, Colonel? The Republican Party. He was named co-chairman. We have connections. I’ll call the President . . . the President of the United States of America."

"You want his direct number at the office or his cell phone? I could give you his home number, but Mrs. B gets pissed when people bother the Chief at dinner. Maybe I could just pass on your message the next time I head down to the ranch for a little fishing. How’s that sound, ladies?" Speechless, for what he suspected might be the first time in days, weeks even, the two woman gaped at him, open-mouthed. Wanting nothing more than to take them both over his knee and give them an old-fashioned whipping, he instead straightened to his full six foot-two inches and stared down at them with dark, cold eyes. "Now, I suggest you shut your traps, quit wasting my time, and move your collective asses after the Professor before I take you into custody for interfering in an official military operation and stealing government property. And, since I don’t have the time or the inclination to make sure you get safely back to base camp, and since I can’t very well leave you stumbling around in the dark – as much as I’d so love to do it – that leaves option three."

"Op–," Cousyn cleared her throat and took a step nearer her cohort. "Option three?"

Jack smiled civilly. "Option three: I tie you to the nearest tree and leave you until such time as I remember to send someone to find you and haul you back where you belong." Jack’s smile turned into a dangerous thing. Loaded and deadly. "I trust we’ve reached an understanding. Now, I gave you an order I do not intend to repeat. Herriot’s about a hundred yards due west of here headed towards my team. Move out."

As the women stumbled along behind Jack, following the trail he lit with his powerful flashlight, Vicki Cousyn leaned towards her companion. "You don’t think he was serious, do you?"

"About what?"

"The part about tying us to a tree."

Sarge shrugged, "I don’t know. I wouldn’t put it past a sicko like him."

Vicki’s eyes glittered wistfully as she thought of the last hike she and the Colonel had taken together. She blushed as she remembered the weight of him pressed down on her, full-length, the brief encounter spawning a feeling she had never experienced before. Her voice lowered further as she watched the wide shoulders of the man, and her tongue gently caressed her upper lip as she whispered, "Do you think Colonel O’Neill likes to - you know - tie people up? I’ve read about things like that." Her eyes were wide and she was panting softly. "Bondage."

"Yeah, he probably does. After all, he’s Air Force."

Vicki’s soft sigh was lost in the night breeze.

* * * * *

Hearing the buzz of their annoying voices behind him, Jack picked up the pace. He couldn’t see the Professor, but even in the dark he could see the tracks the man had left in his wake. But why bother tracking him when Jack and every wild creature within a ten-mile radius could hear him stumbling around noisily in the dark. Geez, to be so small, the guy made more racket than the two orangutans on his six. But, hell, at least Prom Date had managed to keep to the general direction in which Jack had pointed him. That was something anyway.

"You ask him," he heard Sarge snap. "You’re the one who needs to take a whiz, not me."

Prudence the Prude gasped in shock. Inwardly cringing, Jack kept walking.

Okay, God, please tell me exactly what it is I’ve done. Because, obviously, I did something somewhere along the line to royally piss you off. I mean, I can’t catch a break here. First, I do Daniel a good turn by going to his damn wine tasting. Well, okay, technically, I owed him. But what do I get for my trouble? A case of the FARTs topped off with a dose of botulism of all things. Still, I manage to pull a rabbit out of my hat – or my ass, as the case may be – and survive.

Then, out of the blue, in the middle of what should have been an easy week, SG-16 manages to get caught, quite literally, in the middle of a cannibalistic food fight. ‘Nobody else available,’ Hammond says. ‘Send O’Neill,’ he says. ‘Send him with a pack of jarheads who have the collective intelligence of a lemur.’ Okay, so I made up the last part – the General didn’t actually say that. But it’s true. So I spend a week lugging a pack of recalcitrant Marines across a bug-infested, snake-pit of a jungle. Managing, by the way, to get in a little quality wrestling time with the local natives who’d rather eat me than greet me, if you know what I mean. Fine. I survived. Again.

I’m a simple guy, God. Tonight, all I wanted was to go home, get some sleep, have a beer and watch a game on TV. But, no, what I got instead was Stu and the hyenas, followed by Cassie and a bunch of FARTs in trouble. And all on account of these stupid assholes who, in the words of my dear, departed grandma, are about as useful as tits on a boar hog. Which begs a question, God, and no offense intended, but why did you ever let these people reproduce? Did they do it when you weren’t looking or something? Cause I’m thinking you would never have allowed it. Not intentionally. Never in a million years.

"Colonel O’Neill?" Prissy sounded like she was on the verge of tears. She probably was.

Jack didn’t stop, didn’t acknowledge that he’d even heard her. He was still awaiting an answer to his question. Maybe God was trying to speak to him, but it was just hard to hear over the whiners in the back row, the noisy guy up front, and the thunder rumbling overhead.

"Colonel, please." She was begging now.

"Dammit, flyboy, answer her so she’ll shut up!"

Jack stopped and whirled to face them, pinning their pale faces with the beam of his flashlight. "What?" he barked. Sarge glared, and Prudence refused to look him in the eye. "Well?" He met Sarge eye to eye before nailing Miss Priss with a cold stare. "You have to pee? Is that it?"

She gulped. He could hear it from here. She gulped and peeked up at him, then nodded shyly. "Yes."

Jack sighed, the short thread of his patience nearing its frazzled end. "Then I suggest you start by dropping trou."

"Ex--excuse me?"

"You pervert!" Sarge took a single step towards him. "You can’t expect her to squat down and pee right here in front of you."

"I can’t?" He pointedly aimed the beam of the flashlight into Sarge’s eyes, blinding her. "Cussin’, you want to wander out there in the brush, in the dark, and take a pee on a sleeping bear? Be my guest."

"N–no. But if you’ll wait here, I’ll take a flashlight."

Jack smiled grimly. "Fine." He waited, inwardly counting the passing seconds as Cassie and her friends waited on rescue. "Well?"

"I need a flashlight. Mine’s dead."

"Well, you’re not getting mine. So, you can take your chances out there," he nodded towards the darkness, "or trust me to turn my back." He knew he was being an SOB of the highest order, but he really didn’t care. It felt good to vent some of his frustration. Unfortunately for her, Prissy’s bladder just happened to be a convenient target. Hell, all he really wanted was to be on his way. "There’s always option three."

"Ty–tying me up?" Geez, she almost sounded . . . hopeful.

"No." How disgusting. "Not that option three. Option three is, you hold it. Your choice. You have five seconds to decide." She stared at him, speechless. "Fine. Option three it is." Jack turned and continued making his way towards the noisy Professor, with maniacal Mary Ann and full-of-piss Ginger stumbling along behind him.

Okay, God, any time now. . . .

* * * * *

Jack’s watch illuminated briefly as he checked the time. He’d been gone forty-seven minutes. Hopefully, that would give Doc the breather she needed to keep up. Toggling the switch to his radio, he called base camp. "This is O’Neill. Any updates, Lieutenant? Over."

The voice that responded almost immediately was high-pitched and squawky, making Jack wonder briefly if it was the quality of the sound waves or if the Lieutenant was actually going through puberty. "Nothing from the search teams, Colonel. All vectors report no sign of the targets. The search is cordoning sections G7 through J9 next. Over."

"Good job, Lieutenant. Keep me posted. Over."

"Yes, sir." There was a slight hesitation. "Colonel, meteorology reports that the storm is moving in fairly quickly and should hit this area within the next three hours. Temperatures are expected to drop as it passes."

Damn. Just what we didn’t need. Jack scowled. As if these kids aren’t going to be cold enough. Add to it wet clothing and dropping temperatures and you were just asking for hypothermia. "Roger that, base. Keep me apprised. O’Neill out."

Picking up his pace, Jack heard the panting gasps following him and knew he hadn’t lost the Dynamic Duo of Buttman and Rubbin, yet. That was a good thing, he guessed. Maybe.

Daniel and Doc were geared up and on their feet waiting when Jack returned. In the beam of the strong light, he could see Herriot sitting on a convenient log catching his breath.

As the Orangutan Sisters stumbled out of the dark, Sarge cast a glare towards O’Neill. Clearly frustrated that her challenge was being ignored, the woman stomped over to the teacher, who looked up at her with ill-concealed contempt. "Herriot, what the hell are you doing here? Couldn’t you have sang out when he nabbed you?"

The little teacher gave her a look generally reserved for things found growing in the bottom of a refrigerator. "Ms. Marren, I see that Dirk gets his astounding cognitive abilities from you. Did I not explain that I am a biology teacher, not the director of the school chorus? I do not ‘sing out,’ especially when someone grabs me in the woods in the middle of the night and tells me not to make a sound. I, for one, tend to think it is wise to obey."

"You would, you little twerp."

Herriot rose to his feet and stared up at his adversary. "Ms. Marren, I am going to speak slowly, so hopefully the words will penetrate that thick cranium of yours. Colonel O’Neill is in charge of this operation. We had no business coming out here in the first place and I rue the day I ever let you talk me into it. Be assured, it is an issue I shall be addressing with my therapist. However, we are here and I refuse to make it more difficult to help locate these children. Therefore, Ms. Marren, shut up and vescere bracis meis."

Daniel snorted softly in amusement.

Pulling on his jacket and shrugging into his pack, Jack glanced at him before turning back to the Three Stooges. "People, as much as I’d like to see how this little drama plays out, we are going to stow the talking and move. There’s a storm coming in and that complicates an already difficult situation. Doc, you okay?"

Janet’s face was one of grim determination. "Yes, sir."

"Okay, then let’s move out." Letting his gaze flicker towards the trio of interlopers he added, "Anyone who can’t keep up gets left behind. I’ve got point. Doc, you’re next. Daniel, you’re on six. The rest of you fall in."

Stepping over to Daniel, Jack lowered his voice. "What was that last bit the Professor spouted?"

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Daniel’s eyes twinkled in the reflected beam of the flashlight. "It was ‘eat my shorts’ in Latin."

"Eat my . . . ." Jack grinned. "Sweet." Then, almost instantly, his expression hardened. "Let’s go find those kids." He turned and broke a trail into the dark.

Daniel watched Jack lead the line of mismatched humanity playing a deadly version of follow the leader. "Hic est ille situs cui nemo civis neque hostis quibit pro factis reddere opis pretium," he murmured. Neither friends nor foe could ever repay this fellow.

* * * * *

It was really no surprise that he was having trouble remembering the trail. He’d only been on it a couple of times and everything looked different given the time of year and the fact that it was the middle of the night. Still, it was frustrating beyond words. He was impatient with their progress and his sketchy memory was forcing him to rely on instinct alone. Jack wished for the ninetieth time that he wasn’t being slowed down by the others. He would have been able to move so much quicker solo. Silently, he cursed his decision to allow Doc to come. She was doing her best, but this just wasn’t her bag.

Jack heard a stifled curse as Sarge stumbled and then caught herself. A flash of anger stirred. Damn. Who was he kidding? Doc was the least of his problems. He should have made good on the tree threat. John Michaels would have accused him of going was soft. Maybe he was. God, just don’t let that decision cost another kid his life. Jack picked up the pace as his thoughts battered at him and kept his exhaustion at bay.

He could feel the wind gathering strength as the promised storm drew closer. Dead leaves danced wildly and noisily in and out of the flashlight beams. There was no hope of hearing the kids or having them hear the search party. Jack was aware of Janet continually dialing Cassie’s cell number. Even though he knew that with the weather conditions there was no chance in hell that she’d establish a connection, he didn’t have the heart to tell her to cut it out. Yep, John, you’re right. Going soft.

Although Jack set a fast pace, conditions mandated that it was slower than he would have liked. They were in the rocks now, along the western rim of the canyon. Slipping in the dark became a very real concern. As much as he might ache to shove Sarge and Prissy over the side of a cliff, like it or not, they were now his responsibility, which meant slowing down and picking the trail carefully – despite the fact that his jaw was throbbing with the tension of keeping himself in check.

The lightning was more intense now, and it looked like the boys back at camp had been dead on with the timing of the storm. Under any other circumstances, he would have ordered everyone back to camp to sit tight until the storm passed, but that wasn’t an option this time. He was well aware that he was pushing the rules. Hiking over open stretches of rock with lightning strikes in the area was not one of his brighter ideas. He was just asking to deep fry one or all of them. Shit, they’d probably end up looking like one of Karen Knox’s mushroom appetizers. Now there was the stuff of which nightmares were made.

A bolt of lighting struck nearby and the almost simultaneous thunder caused him to start involuntarily. Jack wondered grimly if Prissy’s bladder was still full. Probably not after that one.

Daniel moved up alongside of him. "Think we ought to look for some shelter until the worst of the storm is over?"

Lightning flashed, displaying the ill-concealed irritation lining Jack’s face. "Any suggestions where that might be?" He gestured into the dark landscape with his flashlight. "See any viable options?" He allowed a pregnant pause before snapping, "If not, then get back in line and keep moving."

He could barely hear Daniel’s voice above the growing noise of the storm. "We’ll find them, Jack."

Nodding his unspoken appreciation of his friend’s support, Jack answered, "Damn straight, we will," just as fat, cold drops of rain began to fall in earnest.

Ignoring the squeals of protest behind him, Jack continued to slowly pick his way among the rocks lining the sides of the canyon. The farther they walked, the steeper the canyon walls became. Cold rain stinging the back of his head, he finally turned to check on his ragged team.

Even though they were only a few feet behind him, it was hard to pick them out even with the flashlight. Janet was first, parka pulled tight around her head, her small face scrunched up against the driving rain. She brushed up against him before realizing he had stopped. Panting slightly, she leaned close.

"Why are we stopping?"

He knew that her thoughts were focused solely on the kids. The kids who were lost somewhere out in this storm. Possibly hurt. Possibly freezing. He shook his head, yelling back over the storm, "Don’t worry. We’re not."

Slowly, the others stumbled into view. The two women came first, followed closely by the Professor and Daniel. Marine and Cussin’ were hanging onto one another, soaking wet, shivering, and miraculously quiet. Shaking his head, cursing himself under his breath, Jack slipped off his pack and began removing his coat.

"Sir," Janet tugged on his arm, "what are you doing?"

Ignoring Doc’s question, he reached past her to hold out his coat to the smaller of the two women. Wet hair plastered over her eyes, she peered up at him. "Take it!" She was wearing only a thin fleece jacket that was already soaked through. Smiling slightly, Cousyn accepted it from him and started to pull it on over her own. "Take the wet one off first."

Without waiting to see if she obeyed, Jack knelt down and dug through his pack for the rain poncho that he knew was there. Finding it, he shook it out and stepped past Janet, flinging it over Marren, who flinched slightly.

"Hold still." For once she obeyed, and even managed to keep her mouth shut as he arranged the poncho over her thin jacket and pulled the hood up over her head, securing it in place. He leaned past her. "Daniel," he nodded towards the Professor, "give him your rain slicker."

"Colonel O’Neill, what about you?"

Jack glanced at Herriot, surprised that the man even cared. "Don’t worry about me." He looked around at all of them. "Everybody stay close together."

As he brushed past Janet to resume his place in the lead, she grabbed his shoulder. "Colonel, you’re going to freeze."

Already fighting the urge to shiver, Jack forced a tight grin. "No, I won’t. I’ll just picture you in that skin-tight dress." Gently, he pulled free of her grip. "Come on, Cassie’s waiting."

Smiling, Janet nodded and stepped in behind him.

* * * * *

She’d been right after all. He was going to freeze. Trying not to dwell on the fact that the temperature was dropping and that the rain was beginning to take on the sting of sleet, Jack struggled forward. Within the frequent, bright flashes of lightning, he saw that the canyon had widened and deepened. At least now there wasn’t much chance of getting struck by lightning. The danger now lay in the rain-slickened rocks and the steep slope of the ground beneath their feet. Under normal conditions, he would have led the team straight down to the base of the canyon, but because of the storm there was a very real possibility of a flash flood. He just prayed that the kids had sought higher ground after Cassie’s brief phone call.

He heard a soft grunt behind him and instinctively turned, reaching out even as Doc’s feet slipped out from under her and she slipped toward the canyon floor. Catching her jacket with his left hand, he held on. Grunting under the strain of holding her one-handed, he could see Herriot struggling past his two colleagues in order to reach Janet from the other side. His back cramping from his twisted stance, Jack shoved the flashlight under his belt and carefully lifted his right foot, blindly seeking purchase on the rocky terrain. Finding it, he was able to turn and grab onto Fraiser with his right hand.

Doc scrabbled for purchase, sending small rocks tumbling toward the base of the canyon. Wide-eyed with fright, she looked up at him just as Herriot grabbed onto her left arm. Jack saw relief flash across her face as she realized she was safe. Jack, along with the Professor, helped her to her feet. She was visibly trembling and brushed at the mud which caked her trousers.

"You okay?"

She nodded, unable to speak.

Jack glanced through a veil of sleet at Herriot and gave him a tight smile. "Good work, Harry." He pulled the flashlight from his belt and turned to continue blazing a rock-strewn trail.

The Professor hollered through the downpour, "Herbert. It’s Herbert, Colonel."

"Herbie, huh?" Jack mumbled, just as the ground gave way. With a grunt that echoed Doc’s, he felt the earth beneath both feet slide, rocks and all. He managed to shout a warning to the others to stay back, then his feet slipped out from under him and he hit the ground. Trying to remain feet first, struggling to protect the precious flashlight, he rode the slide down the steep canyon wall.

Jack landed at the bottom in an anticlimactic shower of rocks and gravel and mud. Panting, stunned, he sat there on his ass for a moment, trying to decide exactly what had happened and if he’d survived. Catching his breath, he raised the flashlight and looked at it. It shone like a beacon, oblivious to the storm and to its own near death.

Faintly, he could hear someone yelling his name. Daniel. The goof-ball had obviously completely forgotten he possessed a radio. Wiping mud and grit from the palm of his hand onto his trousers, Jack toggled his radio. "You can quit yelling, Daniel, I’m in one piece."

There was a moment of silence, then a static click. "Thank God. Jack, are you okay? Are you hurt?"

Was he? He wasn’t exactly sure. "Give me a minute and you’ll be the first – well, the second to know."

Huffing slightly, making old man sounds that reminded him of his granddad, he pushed himself to his feet. He was freezing, covered with mud that was slowly being rinsed away by the sleet pelting down on him, and he was beginning to feel in earnest the ravages of his week-long vacation on Planet Not-So-Hunky-Dory, but other than that he seemed to be alive and well.

Swinging the flashlight up and down the canyon, he finally turned and looked back up the way he had come. Okay. This was going to be interesting. He sidestepped the narrow swathe of the miniature slide which had deposited him here, and eyeballed the rocks. Trying to memorize the path he needed to take, he shoved the flashlight back under his belt and reached for the first large boulder in his path to the top.

"Jack? Are you okay?"

As his radio crackled with Daniel’s worried voice, he stretched an arm up to the top of the boulder. Pain shot across his lower back. Crap! Too late to back out, he forced himself up onto the boulder and plopped down; he was panting and his eyes were watering. Shit, damn and everything in between. He reached one hand behind him and pressed it against his low back. Okay, that hurt.

"Jack?"

Dammit. Squinting against the sleet and the dull throbbing which had taken up residence in the spot so recently vacated by the sudden bolt of agony, Jack toggled his radio. "Keep your pants on. I’m on my way."

"Janet wants to know how badly you’re injured."

Yeah, that sounded about right: assume the Colonel is injured, despite whatever he may or may not tell you. Forcing himself onto his knees, he bit his lip against the pain shooting through his back. Glancing up to where he knew they had to be, he toggled the radio. "Nothing so bad that a week in traction won’t cure it." Even in pain and soaking wet, he had to chuckle as he envisioned the winged conversation flitting around in the air approximately 30 feet over his head. He began a silent countdown from ten. He’d reached two when his radio crackled again.

"Colonel?"

Hand still pressed against his back, Jack smiled. "Doctor."

"How badly are you hurt?"

"Don’t go digging out the big needles yet. It’s nothing serious."

"Colonel." It was amazing how accurately the warning tone of her voice carried over the radio waves.

"Calm yourself, Doc. I just pulled a muscle or something. O’Neill out." Hoping she got the message, he staggered to his feet with a soft curse. Pulled muscle, snapped spine – it didn’t really matter. He had no choice but to climb out of here. Cassie was counting on him to find her.

Shoving the pain and the cold into a mental box, he struggled up the side of the canyon. After 10 minutes of sheer, unadulterated agony, he paused to catch his breath and pulled the flashlight out to have another look around. Shivering, he leaned against a large, round stone half-buried in the dirt and looked up through the sleet. He thought he could see movement. His army of misfits impatiently awaiting his return and, if history repeated itself, arguing vehemently amongst themselves. Sighing, he wiped his wet sleeve across his dripping face. The light from the flashlight swung drunkenly over his head and something caught his eye.

Squinting, he moved the light along the wall about 8 feet over his head and slightly to the left. A dark spot. Darker than the surrounding rock wall. Grunting, his back protesting, he climbed towards it.

* * * * *

"What’s taking him so long? We need to find those kids." The military-edge to Sarge’s voice was somewhat tempered by the cold and wet which caused it to tremble uncharacteristically.

"Then why don’t you do something helpful?"

Marren glared at the pseudo-scientist. "Like what? Stand around like you and look like . . . like a soggy weenie?"

There was a slight pause. "Actually," Herriot’s voice was bold, out of keeping with his appearance, "I was thinking more along the lines of something totally miraculous, like you shutting your mouth."

Daniel bit back laughter and toggled his radio. "Uh, Jack, I hate to interrupt whatever you’re . . . doing down there, but are you gonna join us? Anytime soon would be," he glanced at the soaked members of their team, "not soon enough, actually."

"Are you talking to me?"

Daniel flinched as Jack appeared on the hillside behind him. "Wha–where’d you come from?" Jack cocked a ‘you must be kidding’ eyebrow. "Oh, right."

"Sir, are you all right?"

Jack leaned past Daniel and spoke to the others, trying to make himself heard over the storm. "I found a cave. It’s small, but it’ll do."

"Cave?" Cussin’ sounded surprised.

"We can’t quit searching." Janet looked and sounded desperate.

"We’re not giving up," Jack’s voice allowed no room for argument. "But we have to get out of the weather. At least for a few hours."

Without protest, the motley crew followed in the Colonel’s footsteps. He led them on an angle about 20 feet west of where they’d stopped and about 10 feet below the unmarked path he’d previously been following. What had looked like a mere overhanging boulder from above was in fact the opening to a small cavern. The instant they stepped inside, the sound of the sleet diminished. They gathered inside the small room, removing ponchos and shaking water everywhere.

"We’ll rest up here until it lets up." Jack shivered and eased off his backpack, the move causing the pain in his back to escalate. He grunted softly.

"Colonel," Fraiser approached him and placed a hand on his neck, "you’re freezing. You need to get warmed up. Where are you hurt?"

"Just can’t keep your hands off me, can you?" Jack smiled tiredly. At Doc’s frown, he raised his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. I think I pulled something in my back. Nothing serious. Just . . . annoying."

"Here, let me see." She handed Jack’s flashlight off to Daniel and stepped behind him, pulling his shirt up. Daniel whistled.

"Geez. Get the number of that truck, Jack?"

"What?" He tried to look over his shoulder but was too stiff.

"Colonel, does this hurt?" Janet pressed gently on his ribs.

"Nope."

"How about this?"

He had to lock his knees and grab for the wall to keep from sinking to the floor when she pressed a spot low on his back, just to the right of his spine. "Shit." He heard Prissy gasp softly, but to be perfectly honest, he didn’t give a rat’s ass. In fact, if Doc did that again Mrs. Prude was going to get an education that’d make a sailor’s whore blush. "Damn, Doc. What’re you . . . ," the rock wall swam and he had to shut his eyes. "If you want to kill me, just shoot me in the head. Don’t torture me to death."

"Sorry, sir, but I’m afraid you’ve done slightly more than pull a muscle."

"Yeah?" Trembling, he pulled his shirt back down and leaned against the cold wall.

"At the very least you’ve bruised a kidney. Maybe worse. We need to get you checked out."

"Well, hate to disappoint you, Doc, but it’s gonna have to wait." When she opened her mouth to protest, he held up a hand silencing her. "First, we need to get dried out and warmed up. Then, we’re all going to have a little prayer meeting that this storm lets up so we can find the kids. Now," he forced himself to stand up, "there’s a pile of deadfall about 15 yards west of here. Probably what’s left of an old avalanche. The wood underneath might still be dry enough to burn."

"Colonel, I think you should sit down and let someone else get it."

"I’ll make you a deal. How about me and the boys go together? I’ll supervise and they can tote." To be honest, he wasn’t sure he was capable of toting. Janet nodded hesitantly. "Daniel, you’re with me. Harry, you up for this?"

"Whatever you say, Colonel."

Jack patted the man on the back. "You’re kinda growing on me, Harry. You know that?"

"Good grief," Sarge muttered and shook the rain poncho again, deliberately spraying water over the passing men.

Jack glared at her, then reached down and pulled the 9mm. from his holster. He handed it to Janet. "Any trouble, shoot to kill." He was thinking about wildlife, but staring at Sarge when he said it.

"My pleasure, sir."

* * * * *

He should have taken his coat back from Cussin’. Jack shivered and shined the flashlight for Daniel and Harry, who were cautiously digging through the pile of deadfall for dry timber.

God, it was cold. And his back hurt. Maybe it was just because Doc had told him it was more than a pulled muscle, but it seemed to hurting worse and worse as the wet, cold minutes ticked by. Wishing they’d hurry it up, Jack started to reach down to help, but instead groaned and grabbed for his back.

"Jack, don’t. Don’t even think about it."

He straightened up, shivering, and glanced past Daniel, up the canyon. The sleet seemed to be softening, growing in size. Snow. Shit.

"Colonel, Daniel and I can manage. Just . . ."

"What is that?"

"Huh?" Startled, Daniel looked up from stacking a pile of broken timber. When he saw where Jack was looking, he turned, following his friend’s gaze.

"Is that . . ."

"A fire," the Professor supplied.

Jack glanced at Herriot. "Yeah. A fire. But not a wildfire."

Daniel swung back towards Jack, a smile cracking his face. "Are you thinking what I’m thinking?"

"The kids." Jack eased around the deadfall, closer to Daniel. "Give me your coat."

"What?"

"Give me your coat. You and Harry get back to the cave. Get a fire going. I’ll . . ."

"You’re injured. I should . . ."

"Daniel, I just . . .," but he couldn’t say it. He couldn’t tell him that if anything had happened to any of the kids, he really didn’t want Daniel to be the one to find them. "Just do as I ask."

* * * * *

The flickering promise of the fire drew Jack like a moth. He’d always thought of himself more as the Green Hornet or maybe Batman, he was cool – although the pointy ears definitely had to go – but never as Mothra. That was more Meybourne’s bag. But here he was, Colonel Mothra, doing his level best to make it to that damn flame, which for some reason didn’t seem to be getting much closer.

He checked his watch and was surprised just how long he’d been struggling along this damn ridge. Footing was treacherous at best, suicidal in the worst places. The ground was covered with a blanketed mix of snow and sleet. Despite the heavy coat and the strenuous exercise, Jack was shaking from the cold. All except his lower back. He was packing a convection oven in that particular area of his anatomy. Waves of red hot pain hit him sporadically with such force that he was surprised the snow didn’t spontaneously turn to slush and melt within a quarter-mile radius. It forced him to stagger to the nearest tree, grab it for support, and ride out the pain like a freakin’ contraction.

God, he remembered watching the machine that showed the intensity and frequency of Sara’s contractions during the long ordeal of Charlie’s birth. Oh yeah, he remembered. He’d never realized just how long a minute could be as Sara lay there grasping his hand hard enough to make him wonder if the bones would break, panting and sweating her way through one pain after another. Her language would have had Prissy catatonic. But now, as he clung to a tree as if it were his long-lost best friend, fighting his way through the fiery pain, he wished he could tell Sara that in his humble opinion, her choice of language had been quite appropriate.

And so he made his way towards the kids. Stumble through the snow, stop, curse, hug a tree. Life was so unfair.

Under other circumstances, he might have enjoyed his hike through the snowy woods. It could have been beautiful – a real Currier and Ive’s moment. The beam of his flashlight reflected the snow covered boughs of the dark evergreens, and Jack was grateful for the meager protection the trees afforded him from the storm. His team would get a chuckle out of that. Him, appreciating trees? Go figure. But when in Rome, do as the chipmunks do.

A particularly vicious blast of icy wind snuck past his sentry and down his collar causing Jack to shiver violently. Bet ol’ Stu and his trained hyenas were all tucked away snugly in their flannels beneath layers of down comforters. Did he mention that life was unfair?

Stumbling, riding out a wave of agony, Jack smiled to himself. He owed Janet big time after last night. Pound for pound she had proven to be better protection against the horny horde than his P-90. Besides, considering the innuendoes that he’d overheard, that bunch would have gone Freudian over his ‘big gun.’ Geez.

Trudy the Tippler had led the charge as soon as they had stepped into the gathering room, home of the stuffed heads. Janet had met the charge with all the grace and style of a matador – feigning, twisting, turning, all the while with a gleam in her eye and a smile on her face that told him she was enjoying the unspoken battle of female wiles. There had been more strategy engaged than on the ice of the Stanley Cup. Come to think of it, it had been about as cold, too.

The highlight had been when a leggy blonde had cornered Doc next to the punch bowl and in a catty voice purred, "So, Janet dear, are you and the Colonel into kink?"

The proverbial pin could have dropped as well-bred boredom transformed into abject curiosity when Janet smiled sweetly. "Absolutely. In fact, the last time the Colonel’s colon had a kink in it, I did a bowel retraction on him. Couldn’t keep my hands out of him. I’d tell you the details, but Hippocratic Oath and all that."

The woman’s mouth had still been hanging open as Jack had stepped forward and whisked Janet out onto the dance floor where they both had worked hard not to burst out laughing.

Oh yeah, his faith in Doc was well placed. She was all right.

Without warning, Jack’s boot slipped in a small snow-covered hollow, throwing him to his knees with a teeth jarring jolt. The pain exploded like sparks in the night sky, and for long moments the sparks danced behind his closed lids as he fought unconsciousness. Pass out now, and you won’t wake up, O’Neill. Breathe. Think about Cassie. Breathe. Think about those other kids. Breathe. Doc, Daniel, even Herbie and the others, are counting on you. Breathe, damn you, breathe. You will not do this to Cassie. Just breathe.

‘I love you and I’m trembling
Said the woman
To her soldier
Who wouldn’t be coming back
Her plaintive voice
Was carried by the wind
Across the chilling snow
To where her soldier fought.’

Had he really been humming those words? No way, no freakin’ way. It was just too cliche’. Daniel would never let him hear the end of it. Nope, no ‘rest in peace’ for Jack O’Neill once Daniel found out he’d been humming his own funeral dirge. Hell hath no fury like a pissed off archaeologist.

Leaning heavily against a pine tree, Jack hissed and groaned his way to his feet, ignoring the sweat that mushroomed across his forehead. Drawing the crisp air into his lungs and panting softly, Jack worked to regain control. He could see the fire clearer now. There were a couple of dark patches laying on the ground near it. He couldn’t make out details, but just the fact that there were only two patches made him long to finish the trek at a dead run. He couldn’t help but fear the worst. Hope came crashing down around him. Life had taught him that shitty things do happen to good people. Even if he never qualified in that category, Sara had. She had never deserved the shit life had thrown at her. Neither did Doc. Hell, for that matter, neither did Sarge or Prissy where their kids were concerned. They might be class A pains in the ass, but no one deserved that pain. Oh God, let the kids be okay.

Jack slowly worked his way down into a gully. The snow was deeper here and the wind stronger. He lost sight of the fire briefly as he worked his way up the slippery slope. It would be dawn soon, although in this weather, he wasn’t sure visibility would be much improved. Communication was nil with base camp. He could only hope the other teams were okay.

He could smell acrid smoke from the fire and hear the crackling beckoning him. Slowly, foot by foot, he worked his way up the last stretch of Mt. Never-rest. Once more and again, men, and over the top. One cold hand struggled to pull a weary body to safety. A hard push with his toes and Jack fell forward onto the level ground. The warmth of the fire greeted him, as did the sight of four children huddled together. Cassie and Elena lay snuggled tightly together obviously sharing body heat, and across the fire, Sarge’s kid and his buddy lay with their backs pressed against each other, sleeping soundly.

Relief flooded through him. They were okay. Thank God, they were okay. He was too spent to even try the gargantuan task of climbing to his feet so he simply crawled over to Cassie’s sleeping form and prayed his protesting knees would one day forgive him.

"Hey, Cass, wake up."

He watched as confusion, comprehension, then relief washed her face just as tears took over the job. "Uncle Jack," she sobbed as she buried her face against his chest, "I knew you’d come. I just knew it."

Her absolute faith and complete trust brought a lump to his throat, making speaking impossible. Weariness and pain were stilled under the deep tide of gratitude that he hadn’t failed. He hadn’t let her down.

* * * * *

Jack rested and warmed himself by the fire. God, it felt good to just sit. Sit, rest, and soak in the warmth. Cassie leaned against him and the other kids sat close as if they were a bit afraid that he might sneak off and disappear if they got too far away. That provided yet another kind of comfort that warmed him more than the fire.

"It’s a good fire, Cassie." And then confirming what he already knew, he added, "You make it?"

Snuggling up closer until he wrapped his arm around her and gave her a reassuring squeeze, Cassie nodded. "I remembered everything you taught me, Uncle Jack. I was worried when it started to rain. You know, the danger of flash flood you told me about. So, I led the kids up to the top of this ridge. I figured if I could get a fire going up here, you’d have a better chance at seeing it and finding us. I used the waterproof matches we made that time you taught me how to pack my backpack for a trail hike. They worked great."

Jack smiled at her excitement. It was obvious Cassie had taken care of her little team. A pair of socks were draped on a stick drying above the fire, propped to textbook perfection, with sticks and a couple of rocks. A pile of birch bark tinder lay near the blaze, and there was a nice collection of kindling and larger logs nearby, ready to be added. Although obviously scared, hungry, and in bad need of warm baths and TLC, the kids were in remarkably good shape. In fact, other than a couple of scratches which Cassie had already cleaned and a mild sprained ankle Elena had suffered when she tripped on a hidden log, none of the kids were much worse the wear for the ordeal.

"I’m really proud of you, Cass. You did a good job."

She looked up into his eyes and he was surprised to see her eyes fill with tears. "I was really scared. It’s hard being the one in charge, isn’t it?"

He nodded and hugged her a little tighter. "Yep, it sure is, kiddo, but you did great. Course don’t expect me to protect you when your mom gets hold of you."

"Mom’s pissed, huh?"

Jack grinned, "Oh yeah, that would be one way of putting it."

Cassie grinned back. "Need a new roommate for a few weeks?"

That elicited the desired laugh. "Cassandra Fraiser, you are a coward and besides there’s no way I want your mom gunning for me if I hide you at my place."

"Now who’s the coward?"

"Coward maybe, but wise enough to know when I’m outnumbered and a tactical retreat is in order."

Cassie snorted. "If you say so, Uncle Jack."

Jack could see the frightened looks the kids wore fading as he and Cassie bantered back and forth. "You kids ready to go home?"

* * * * *

The trip back to the cave proved tiring for everyone, but surprisingly everything went smoothly. Jack set a slow pace, in theory for Elena’s ankle. He didn’t bother to mention that the fire he’d been toting in his lower back seemed to be spreading up his spine. Oh yeah, traction for a week was in order . . . or a month – oh, hell, maybe a year.

Cassie stuck tight to his side as if fearful of getting further than an arm’s length away. Poor kid. The rest of the errant FARTs weren’t getting much further. He obviously wasn’t going to have a problem with losing them again.

It didn’t seem to take nearly as long to get back to the cave. Jack grabbed his walkie talkie. "Daniel, you copy? I’ve got a special delivery from the stork." He had no desire to get shot by walking in unannounced.

"Jack?"

Jack shook his head. Some things never changed. Who the heck else would it be? He didn’t even bother to answer. Instead, he turned to the kids. "Your moms are in there, kids."

Cassie and Jimmy ran first. Janet and Mr. Herriot were there in a moment with arms wrapped tightly around them, Jimmy obviously forgetting how uncool it was to be hugged by your teacher. Elena, throwing down the walking stick Cassie had found for her, went next – hobbling a little, but running straight into her sobbing mother’s arms. Dirk turned as if he wanted to say something to Jack, but didn’t quite know the right words.

"Go on, kid, your mom’s waiting."

Nodding, Dirk turned and yelled, "Mom." But even as the word left his mouth, it changed into a scream of unholy terror. The boy stopped his headlong rush towards his waiting mother and froze, his eyes wide with fear. In the half light of pre-dawn, with snow still falling, they could see the bear charging.

Jack was running and reaching for his sidearm before he remembered he had given it to Janet. He caught up to Dirk, shoving him hard. In one fluid motion, Jack was facing the animal and grabbing for his knife. He thought he heard Sarge scream just as the bear hit him, sending the knife flying and him rolling helplessly backwards like a bowling pin being hit by an eight hundred pound ball. Later, he would remember the smell. The smell of wet fur, angry bruin, and really, really bad breath.

And the fear.

And the pain.

Jack thought he heard a shot, but in all honesty he couldn’t tell. Then he was falling. Rolling, bouncing, sliding, aware that Teddy was falling with him, a human wrapped in a living, breathing, pissed-off bearskin rug. Hearing grunts and groans and not knowing which one of them was making the sounds. Probably both.

Suddenly, a knife-like pain tore through his leg and he heard a scream, not realizing until much later that it was him.

And then there was nothing.

* * * * *

"Careful. Careful. Easy!"

Jack heard them before he saw them. His world consisted of darkness, a rocking sensation, and noise – a rushing sound in his ears and the faraway murmur of voices that were both familiar and unrecognizable. He couldn’t put names or faces to them.

"Okay, set him down here. By the fire. Easy."

He felt nothing but the cessation of the rocking motion. Something should be wrong. That’s all he knew for sure. He remembered nothing. Didn’t know where he was. How he’d gotten here. But he had the distinct impression that this was a bad situation. He didn’t want to be here. If he knew what was good for him, he would remove himself from here post haste.

A loud groaning drowned out the other sounds. He tried to move away from it. Something, hands maybe, latched onto him. Tugged at him. Pressed him painfully into the ground.

"Colonel, can you hear me?"

Colonel who?

Maintain life, maintain honor, and return. That’s what they’d taught him. It had been his lifeline for months. In the long ago.

"What? Sir, I can’t understand what you’re saying. Talk to him, Daniel. Someone help me here. I need pressure on this leg."

"Jack? Jack, can you hear me?"

"Maintain . . . life. Mainta–," he screamed as agonizing fire shot up his leg. Opening his eyes, he struggled to escape his torturers. Long fingers sought purchase on a cold, slick surface, but hands caught his wrists, forcing him to submit. "No. Please."

"Jack!"

"Hold him still, people!"

"Uncle Jack?"

Oh, God. Cassie? Cass was here. If they hurt her. . . .

"Cassie, take the other kids and go to the back of the cave. Wait there."

"Is he going to–"

"Now, Cassandra. Please."

Gasping for breath, Jack stared upward, waiting for the fog over his vision to clear. "Maintain . . . life. Mai–oh, God." He screamed. They were cutting off his leg. That was it. As pain wrenched his insides, he struggled to sit.

"Jack," Daniel held him down and pressed his forehead to Jack’s. "Please. Lie still," he whispered.

Daniel? Jack grabbed onto him. Biting back another scream, he stared into his friend’s eyes.

"I’m sorry, Jack. I know it hurts. But you’ve got to hold still. You’re hurt. Janet’s trying to help you."

"Daniel . . . killing me. They’re–"

"No. No, we’re trying to help. The bear . . . you’ve been," Daniel looked down towards Jack’s leg and blanched. He glanced back up at him. "You’re hurt. You have to lie still."

"That’s it, Mr. Herriot. Keep the pressure steady. Lee, I need you to help us out. Marren!"

"Wha–what?"

"Get over here and help. We need–"

"But he’s . . . bleeding."

Still clutching Daniel, Jack moaned. Bear? What the hell?

"You’re damn right he’s bleeding," Janet’s voice had dropped to a dangerous level. Jack had only rarely heard her take that tone and, thank God, never with him. "And if you don’t get your sorry ass over here and help, he’s going to bleed out. If that happens, I’ll shoot you myself. Now, move it."

He felt renewed agony as more hands pressed into his thigh. He arched up, into the pain, suddenly remembering the kids – in particular, the boy. Grunting, trying not to vomit, he glared up at Daniel. "Di–Dirk?"

"Dirk’s fine, Jack. Not a scratch."

"You saved the kids, Colonel O’Neill."

He turned his head at the sound of a female voice. Miss Priss. Until she’d spoken, he hadn’t been aware of her presence. She was sitting on the other side of him, across from Daniel. She was kind of pretty from this angle. Reminded him of his mother. Before she’d gotten sick. Cussin’ glanced down, away from his face, and he followed her gaze, groaning softly. She was pressing something red against his stomach, just below his belt. What was that?

"Colonel?"

He was tired. He let his head drop back and looked at Janet, who was sitting near the pain in his leg, next to Daniel. She smiled grimly.

"Colonel, you’re going to be fine." But she didn’t look like she meant it. Jack watched as she reached a bloody hand towards his face, but his eyes closed before she got there. "Colonel?"

* * * * *

"–nk God it stopped snowing at least."

Jack heard the snap of a fire.

"How’s he doing?" A man’s voice. One he didn’t recognize.

"Fever." Something brushed his forehead. His skin hurt, and he grimaced.

"Bear claws harbor numerous bacteria. They use their claws to hunt, to eat, to root for tubers. There will be remnants of anything that it handled, dead or alive, rotten or fresh, beneath its–"

"Mr. Herriot, please."

There was a brief moment of silence, filled only with the soft popping of flames consuming old sap.

"I’m sorry. I didn’t . . . I’m sorry."

"I can’t believe he did that."

Jack flinched. He recognized that voice. A woman’s. But whose?

"Did what?" That was Janet. Moaning softly, he turned toward the comforting sound of her voice, and was rewarded with a cool hand brushing his forehead. "Sshhh."

There was another brief round of quiet. Jack was vaguely aware of his own pulse throbbing loudly, sluggishly at his temple.

"I can’t believe he pushed Dirk out of the way. It was almost like he intentionally diverted the bear’s attention to himself."

"Well, give the lady a gold star," he heard Janet mumble. Then, louder, "Believe it. Because that’s exactly what he did."

"But why? Why would he do that?"

"Because that’s who he is. It’s what he does. He," Janet’s voice faltered. "Colonel O’Neill does nothing by halves. And saving the world is what he does best. Even if it’s one kid at a time."

"I thought he was a desk jockey," it was said softly.

"Well, you thought wrong."

Jack fidgeted, struggling to make sense of their words and why he felt an odd tingling sensation throughout his limbs. The feeling reminded him of something. Oh, yeah, the ‘70s. As if in response to his movements, Janet’s hand rested on his neck, against his pulse.

"But, he doesn’t even know Dirk."

"You just don’t get it, do you? It doesn’t matter that he doesn’t know him. He saw someone . . . a child, in danger and he acted. He would have done the same for any one of us. He’d do it again. In a heartbeat."

"But it wasn’t just anyone." There was a long pause. "It was my son."

"He had a son, too, you know."

"Cassandra," Janet’s voice warned her daughter away from the topic.

"But, mom, it’s true."

"The Colonel had a son?"

"Charlie died–"

"Cassie."

"–in an accident. He was only 10."

"Oh my God. How terrible. He never . . . he never said anything."

‘It’s not something he talks about," Janet admitted.

"Oh, shit." Someone chuckled in response to Cousyn’s curse. "I said something about him not knowing how we felt because he didn’t have a child of his own. Dammit! I’m such an idiot."

There was soft laughter again. Until Jack groaned and tried to sit up.

"Colonel? Sir, lie still."

He opened his eyes. Janet smiled down at him. Cassie joined her.

"Hey," his voice sounded like he felt – like crap. Weak as a kitten. Drugged. Hurting . . . a lot. "So who . . . beat the crap out of me . . . this time?"

"Daniel said it was Smokey the Bear, Uncle Jack."

Jack’s attempt at laughter was cut off by a groan. "Don’t . . . make me . . . laugh." He rested a hand on Cassie’s arm, and looked up at Fraiser. "How bad?"

The smile left her face. "Bad, sir. The bear took quite a chunk out of your thigh and managed to break your femur in the process. He also lacerated your abdomen, but fortunately that wasn’t too deep."

"Irish luck . . . finally . . . paid off."

"There’s also the damage from your little slide down the hill, but we won’t know the extent of that until we get you to the hospital."

"Something . . . to look . . . forward to." He coughed softly, painfully. "Bear? Where . . . what happened?"

"After the two of you fell, it ran off. Mr. Herriot managed to get a shot off. Maybe that scared it."

Groaning, he looked around before letting his head drop back down to the floor. "Where’s . . . Daniel? Kids?"

"Up top. The snow stopped a couple of hours ago. They managed to raise base camp on the radio and help is on the way."

"You get to ride in a helicopter, Uncle Jack."

"Cool," he whispered. He felt himself tiring; his eyelids drooped.

"Colonel O’Neill."

He blinked heavily and looked over at Sarge, who had scooted closer. She seemed to want to say something. Her mouth opened and for the first time since he could remember, nothing came out.

But he thought he knew what was on her mind. He shrugged. "Water under . . . ," he meant to add ‘the bridge,’ but he was too tired.

She smiled. It actually looked nice on her. "If it hadn’t been for you, Dirk would have . . .," she raised a shaky hand to her mouth, then lowered it.

He felt himself going under. Thought he felt the pulse of chopper blades. "Don’t . . . mention it," he murmured, despite the fact that she hadn’t. Not really.

* * * * *

"I can’t believe you’re actually going to make me do this." Jack looked across the table at Teal’c. The Jaffa returned his gaze without the slightest hint of remorse. Carter giggled, and Daniel covered a smirk by shoving a huge bite of mashed potatoes into his mouth.

They were sitting at a table in the mess hall. Jack’s lunch tray sat in front of him, untouched. He’d been hungry when he sat down. The tray was loaded – three slices of pizza, large salad, two pieces of fried chicken, a helping of the Chef’s ‘surprise! it’s goulash,’ a bowl of blue Jell-o, and a slice of apple pie. Doc was on his case about needing to gain weight, and it had sounded good at the time. Then Teal’c had come along and ruined his day, along with his appetite.

"I’d better clear this with Fraiser, Teal’c, because I really don’t think I’m up to it. She said I should take it eas–"

"I spoke with Doctor Fraiser less than 10 minutes ago. She said if we take care, it could prove to be beneficial physical therapy."

Jack grunted and dropped his fork. "Oh, really. She said that, did she?" The traitor.

"Yes."

"You know, sir–"

"Carter."

She smiled at him. "Yes, sir?"

"Shut up."

"But I just–"

"Ah-ah!" He glared at her, and she looked away, still smiling.

"Jack."

"Don’t start, Daniel."

"Well, you do owe him. You promised him weeks ago that you’d go with him to–"

Jack shoved a finger into each ear, and began humming loudly. Teal’c reached over and forcibly pulled his hands away from his head.

"–dance lessons."

Jack looked at each of them in turn. "You realize I almost died, right?" They stared back at him, expressionless.

"But you did not."

Jack glared at Teal’c. "Em-pa-thy. Heard of it? Or how about its cousin . . . sympathy? You can get them both for free. No waiting."

In response, Teal’c cocked his head.

Jack growled and rubbed his face with the palms of his hands. "When?"

"In approximately one hour."

"An hour? Ever heard of a thing called forewarning?"

"Had you known, would you not have ‘disappeared’?"

Jack looked up at him, then nodded. "Yeah. So?"

"Hey, guys. What’s going on?"

They all looked up as Janet Fraiser pulled out a chair and sat down. She was carrying a tall gift bag with an elaborate bow which she set down on the table in front of Jack.

He eyed it suspiciously. After all, it was coming from a known traitor. "What’s this?"

"A gift."

"From?"

She smiled and glanced over at Daniel. "Open it."

Sighing, Jack opened the top of the bag and reached in. A bottle. Even before he pulled it out, he was cringing, and he groaned when he spied the label and his fears were realized. Rocky Top Winery.

"Is this some sick joke?"

"I don’t think so, sir." Janet forced the smile off her face, but her dark eyes were glinting. "I believe it’s an apology. Of sorts."

"So what do Stu and Karen need to apologize for this time? Or do I even want to know?"

"Not Stu and Karen." Janet nodded towards the bag. "Read the card."

He did and was shocked. He looked at Janet, who was smiling again, and at Daniel, who appeared to be in the dark. "You’re kidding."

"Who’s it from, Jack?"

He glanced at the card again to reassure himself he wasn’t losing his mind. "It’s from Lee Marren and Vicki Cousyn."

"And," Janet prodded.

Jack felt himself blush. "And it’s got little x’s and o’s all over it."

Carter laughed loudly, causing everyone in the dining hall to turn and stare. "Sorry." She hid a smile behind her hand.

"Not funny, Major." He shivered at the thought of being on the receiving end of Cussin’-Marine sargent hugs and kisses. "Hey," he frowned over at Janet, "how did they know about this . . . this particular vintage?"

"Maybe they heard about it through the grapevine, O’Neill."

Jack glared at his soon-to-be dance partner. "Oh, that was hysterical, Teal’c. You should go on the road with that act."

"Speaking of road, O’Neill. We will be late for our dance lessons."

"Dammit," Jack cringed and glanced around. "Keep your voice down, would you?" He frowned over at Janet. This was all her fault. Wasn’t it? Or was it Carter’s? God, it had all gotten so messed up that he couldn’t even remember where it had started. Cursing, he pushed himself to his feet and winced as healing bone and muscle twinged.

"Are you okay, Colonel?"

"Oh, so now you’re concerned? Well, Doc, too little, too late."

"Aren’t you going to wear your tux, Jack?"

He glared at Daniel and grabbed his cane off the back of his chair, limping towards the exit with all of the dignity he could muster. It wasn’t until they emerged from the mountain onto the parking lot that he realized Teal’c was carrying the bottle of wine.

Sweating slightly from the effort, Jack limped over to his pick-up and crawled inside. All kidding aside, his leg was aching more than he’d let on and he rubbed it before putting the truck in reverse. Teal’c set the bottle of wine beside him on the seat.

"Get that thing out of my sight, T." The Jaffa looked at him. "I mean it. We’re not going anywhere until you make that disappear."

Not taking his eyes off of Jack, Teal’c picked up the bottle and tossed it onto the backseat.

"Thank you." Jack smirked at him and took his foot off the brake, pressing down on the accelerator and letting out on the clutch. His injured limb protested, the muscles spasming. "Crap," he reached for the brake again. Too late.

There was the gut-wrenching sound of metal on metal, scraping and bending, and the clatter of breaking glass. The truck lurched, then came to a stop and died as his foot slipped off the clutch. Suddenly nauseated, he glanced at Teal’c who was looking out the rear window.

Slowly, Jack turned and followed his friend’s gaze, then whipped back around and stared blindly out the windshield. "Shit. Shit. Shit," became his quiet mantra. Now he remembered how it had all started.

Teal’c turned back around and faced forward. "I believe that was General Hammon–"

"Shut up."

The Jaffa did. Finally, Jack looked over at him. Teal’c looked entirely too smug.

"You did not see that. Is that understood?"

Teal’c slowly turned his head and looked at him. As Jack watched, the left eyebrow climbed up the steep forehead.

"You did not see that because it did not happen. Am I right?"

Teal’c opened his mouth to speak, but Jack cut him off.

"And if you did see something, anything, I’ll shoot you myself. Is that understood?"

Teal’c smiled – a dangerous thing – and faced forward once more. "I believe, O’Neill, that I would greatly benefit from additional dance lessons."

Holy shit. Jack groaned and rested his head against the steering wheel. When had life gotten this complicated? Why couldn’t he just get up in the morning and have a regular day like everybody else on . . . . Wait. Wait a minute. He lifted his head and stared out at the surrounding trees. Daniel. Maybe Daniel could fill in for him. Sure, he might have to work on him a bit, but he was pretty sure he could wrangle a few dance lessons out of Danny-boy. Jack smiled and looked over at his buddy.

"Sure, T, I’m sure we can work something out. Consider it a done deal."

<fin>

Authors’ notes: Once upon a time, not so long ago, in a kingdom called Fanfic, a revolution began. It was a sad state of affairs which spread throughout the kingdom, started by the whine of one woman from Tennessee. Before long the whine spread across the land, until at last it became a roar which could no longer be ignored. In desperation, a cry for help went out. And so Judy and Charli sallied forth brandishing their only weapon . . . the sequel.

© February 2005 They’re not ours, although a rumor, started by us, claims that they’d like to be. Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement in intended. They don’t earn us a dime, just new friends and some time away from RL, and yet another chance to get even with Karen (Knox). That’s entertainment! The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the authors. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the authors.