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Category: Drama/Angst/General, undoubtedly AU after more Season 8 episodes air.

Summary: Jack and Sam are stranded on a deserted planet. The journey home will require the efforts of all members of SG-1. Sam/Jack UST and then what could happen.

Rating: PG-13

Season/spoilers: Seasons 1-8 and the Future

Archive: Heliopolis, Gateworld.net, Fanfiction.net, Carterfic, SJD yes, and whoever who wants it.

Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. I have written this story for entertainment purposes only and no money whatsoever has exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended.

Author’s Notes: The first few scenes were clamoring around in my head for a few weeks, just begging to be written down.  Unfortunately, I could see too many alternatives, too many possible branches and directions for the story to go after each paragraph or event.  To get it into type, I had to pick *one* direction at the end of each major passage, and this is what I have so far... It’s not what I’d originally envisioned, but it is where Muse took it.  And Muse is a harsh taskmaster!  A know-it-all too!

So, if you have a lazy Sunday afternoon or a late night where you'd like to stay up reading... here's a little Sam/Jack fic...

With all formatting intact (including color), click on the link below
Table Of Contents
(posted here because I could not figure out how to preserve
the file formatting through Gateworld's upload software)

The story is also posted at Heliopolis
http://www.sg1-heliopolis.com/archive2/5/whatwill.html
Most of the original formatting is still intact :)

And, the story is also posted at Fanfiction.net
http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2071449/1/ 

What Will It Take?

.

- - -

Ch 1: SMOLDERING

- - -

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

P4X-650 – the new Alpha Site, some 640 light-years from Earth

A quiet shuffling noise… from the area around the doorway.
She stopped and looked up… waiting expectantly.

But no one appeared.
She waited a moment longer. 

Watching to see movement.

Nothing.

Sighing, she turned back to the inner-workings and programming of what was to become the iris control systems for the new Alpha Site.

Again!  She heard something and stopped her work. 

Listening and watching.

But no one and no thing appeared.

No papers or tools appeared to have slipped or adjusted positions.
No small animals were scuttling around.
Or at least, none that she could see.

Shaking her head, she checked her watch.
02:17 local time.
The dead of night.
Or ‘O-Dark-Thirty’.
When everyone else was in bed.
Where she should probably be.

She was alone in the new Alpha Site research lab… and she had been for several hours.  She’d sent Sergeant Colters to bed just before midnight. 

02:19 now, and she grinned ruefully as she stretched limbs cramped from hovering over the control board for hours on end.  Where she’d still be if some odd noise hadn’t broken her concentration.

02:20… if she were back at the SGC, the General would probably have threatened to bodily drag her away from her work.  And she knew it wasn’t just a threat… once he’d actually enlisted Teal’c to pick her up and carry her out… Only those who knew that large, generally impassive man would have been able to see the almost non-existent-smile playing on his face as he’d effortlessly scooped the surprised then-Major out of her chair.

Nope, she hadn’t seen it coming.  General (but back then a Colonel) O’Neill had threatened her with bodily removal over an hour previously.  And she’d really meant to wrap it up for the evening… she was just tying up a few things… but she’d lost track of time.

And, then… without any further warning… the Jaffa had stealthily crept up behind her and then quickly scooped her out of her chair… with her hands still reaching for the keyboard. 

Her protestations and requests to be put down were ignored.  Teal’c silently carried her to her on-base quarters while her CO trailed behind and smugly informed her that she was done for the night.

She hadn’t worked that late again… at least not when there wasn’t a base-wide crisis… or… at least not when O’Neill was on base… or when he was making it clear that he was keeping tabs of when she knocked off for the day.

02:25.  She smiled fondly at the memories.
No one was going to send her to bed tonight however.
No one but her own conscience.

She was the only SG-1 member currently at the Alpha Site.  General O’Neill, Dr. Daniel Jackson and Teal’c were halfway across the galaxy… on Sandara … previously known as P7X-093.  Some sort of Grand Festival in honor of the new alliance and agreements between the SGC and the main Sandaran government.  Daniel had worked for weeks on the specifics of the agreements. 

This was General O’Neill’s third official visit to Sandara as the major representative of the SGC, the Tauri and Earth.  Sam had accompanied the rest of her team on each of their previous visits to Sandara, but this time the Alpha Site had requested her presence while they went through the final installation and activation of their new iris.

Her gaze drifted down to the alphanumeric characters on the screen before her. 

02:28.  It was late.  She was tired.   Time to call it a night.  Shut it down and head to bed.  She smiled again to herself… ‘The General would be proud,’ she thought self-mockingly.

There it was again!
That soft scraping noise.

She looked towards the doorway and stood up slowly… curious, but cautious.

Watching carefully for any movement.

Shadows danced and then he was standing in the doorway.

“Sir!!?” It came out as a statement, but her mind was immediately asking questions.

He didn’t reply immediately.  And she couldn’t get a good look at his face because the main light in the room was mounted on the same wall as the doorway and most of his face was in shadows.

“Sir?”  This time, a definite question.

She knew who it was, but she didn’t know why he was here.

“Carter.”  A statement.  In a deep, gravelly tone. ‘His’ voice… but… full of…what?

And then he stepped forward and turned slightly towards her and more of his face was illuminated.

Smoldering.  That was the immediate, forceful impression.
His eyes were glittering.

Something was wrong.  That much was obvious.

“Sir, Are y-,”  and pain hit her in the upper right chest and shoulder. What The-…??? She looked down and two darts were sticking out just below her collarbone.

Stunned, she looked back at the man in the doorway.  The man who was now lowering a dart gun and watching her closely.  He looked faintly pleased.  Or was it satisfied?  She tried to focus on his face again.  It *was* him.  Or a very, very good double.  And they had seen those before…

Only seconds had passed since he’d originally stepped into the doorway.

“Sirrr-..,” she started a question, but didn’t know what she was going to ask. 
Her thoughts wouldn’t focus. 
Dizziness washed over her as the sedative took hold. 
Her vision blurred and she felt like she was falling. 

And everything went black.

- - -

- - -

Ch 2: COLD

- - -

Gray. 

Dim.

Her eyes had opened before her brain was fully awake.

Her right cheek hurt and she began to focus her thoughts.

She was lying on the ground… on her right side.
Her cheek was lying on various leaves and twigs.
Trees all around.

She started to move a little and something pressed hard against her waist.

She froze.

And, realized that there was someone lying behind her.
Pressed up against her.

The warmth of the body behind her was immediately obvious as she continued to assemble the pieces of her new apparent reality.

Her thoughts still muzzy, she waited silently for a few moments… assessing the sound and feel of the slow breaths behind her… and she realized that whoever was behind her was probably asleep – or unconscious.  As she had been just a few minutes ago.

Without further movement, she carefully tried to glean more information before taking any actions.

Definitely a stand of trees.  A forest?  And…the low level of light indicated that it was either dawn, or dusk… or that there was some sort of cloud cover.  Of course, that was based on Earth-Sun standards, she thought ruefully. 

And it was cold.  At least by Sam-Carter-standards, she muttered internally.  Her back side was definitely warmer than her front side… which was freezing cold – except where two arms wrapped around her waist from behind.  And her feet were freezing and almost numb. 

She moved her feet together carefully.
Yep.  Barefoot.
Wonderful!

She shivered and the arms around her waist tightened reflexively again.

Turning her attention to those arms, she saw sleeves of the same army green BDU material that she was wearing.

So… whoever was behind her was probably decked-out in the same, common basic fatigues.  She wondered if they had their shoes!  Okay, okay, so she was feeling a bit put-out.  Waking up on the cold ground, amongst a bunch of non-descript trees, without any blankets, with only the warmth of an unknown body behind her… and without her shoes!  Did she mention that her feet were freezing?

She hated the cold.  She rarely complained vocally amongst the macho brethren of the special forces that predominated the Stargate teams.  She’d worked too hard to give any narrow-minded males any ammunition against any of their female coworkers.  And she knew that if she complained about the cold in front of O’Neill then he would forever use it as justification to make her eat more and put on some weight.  The SGC docs were always warning her that she was on the low-end of the acceptable weight limits for her height and body frame. 

And she did admit, at least to herself, that she was a bit too thin to enjoy the colder worlds that they occasionally visited.  Tramping through snow and ice in windy conditions were not on her list of favorite off-world scenarios.  But she didn’t complain.  Not out loud.  She just…got… quiet.  And she was pretty sure that Daniel, Teal’c and O’Neill had a pretty fair idea as to why.

So… she hated the cold.  And she *really* hated waking up cold.

And waking up disoriented and in unknown surroundings?  Yep, hated that too.

But waking up alongside an unknown person… that had to be worse than the cold or the mysterious surroundings.  She didn’t know whether to be concerned, worried, comforted or scared of the owner of the arms around her waist.

Listening carefully again to the slow, measured breaths against her neck, she tried to think about her next move... but she couldn’t seem to completely shake off the cloudy, murky feeling in her mind and she couldn’t seem to focus adequately.

The moments passed and she grew to notice the cold more… and the hard ground… and the leaves and twigs…

Slowly she started to turn a little to try and get a look at the person behind her.  Her arms and legs felt like lead weights.  Like they were mired in an extra-strength gravity field… something several times the normal gravity of Earth.  After what seemed like a supreme physical and mental effort, she successfully moved her left arm just an inch or so and immediately felt the press of cold metal against her left wrist.  Cautiously she stilled and looked down to inspect her left arm.

A steel gray bracelet encircled her left wrist.  Handcuffs!... she realized with dismay.  Focusing her eyes on her other wrist, however, determined that there was nothing on her right wrist.  Moving slowly and carefully she lifted her cuffed wrist, and seemingly lead-filled arm, to determine what it was attached to.

Erk! 

Dismay and a little curl of fear washed through her stomach as she saw that her wrist was cuffed to the wrist of one of the ‘other’ arms encircling her waist.

Great!... she moaned silently to herself.  She wakes up who-knows-where… handcuffed to who-knows-who…?  With a drugged-out, hangover feeling.  Oh, yeah… and there’s the cold.  Did she mention that she was cold?  Yes, she did?  Oh, then just making sure that it’s not forgotten.  Because she’s damn cold and her feet feel like blocks of ice.

….

Trouble concentrating.  She was definitely having trouble concentrating.

Allright, she sighed silently.  Now what?  She wanted to move away from the person behind her and see who it was.  Assess the threat, if there was any… It was possible that the person she was cuffed to was in the same position that she was… disoriented and a fellow prisoner of sorts of whomever had placed them here.

Or, she might be cuffed to her captor.  The cuffs might be so that she couldn’t escape while they slept.  That would be assuming that her captor was not afraid that she would cause any bodily harm after she discovered that she wasn’t going to be able to just slip away.

Not enough information to answer all of her questions.
She needed more data.

Which meant that she was going to have to move.  With the cuffs, she wasn’t going to be able to go very far – at least not until she could find something to pick the lock with.   She could, however, try and move enough to get a shot at seeing if she could recognize the person she was cuffed to.

Slowly she started inching around.  Forcing her distressingly weak and reluctant muscles into some movement…her movements tempered with caution and slowed even more with the sluggishness that she’d woken with.  Turning a bit, starting to inch away just a bit.  Moving around so that she could see the one behind her.  Slowly.  She moved painstakingly slowly.  Careful not to disturb the even breathing behind her.  Several times she froze, rested and waited.

Craning her head around, she finally got a look at the face behind her.

And she froze again for a moment, and then automatically relaxed.

She was cuffed to her CO!  General Jack O’Neill.

She tried to assess his condition.  She didn’t see any immediately obvious wounds or contusions.  Examining his face closely, he didn’t appear to be in any pain or obvious distress.  In fact, he just appeared to be sleeping.

Relaxing a bit more now that she knew who she was cuffed to and that he didn’t appear injured, questions started to flood her mind.

What was he doing here when he was supposed to be on Sandara?

Where was here?  Was she on Sandara?

Why would anyone kidnap the two of them and leave them handcuffed to each other on the forest floor?

Where were Daniel and Teal’c?

Those and other questions chased themselves through her mind as she started to look around for anything that might provide clues to the answers… or a way to get the cuffs off.  Her mind was starting to clear up a bit, although she still felt weak and her body felt like it was made of solid lead.

The sky was getting a bit brighter now, so it must have been the local equivalent of daybreak, she noted absently as she debated her next move.  Since the General didn’t look injured, she decided to try and sit up so that she could get a better look around.  Studying the steel restraints, she realized that they were cuffed together in an odd fashion for prisoners.  Her left wrist was cuffed to *his* left wrist.  While this made the sleeping arrangements fairly comfortable, the cuffs would be awkward once they sat up or tried to walk around.

Strange.  Why would anyone cuff prisoners this way?  So they could be comfortable at night?  Or so they’d be uncomfortable if they tried to escape?

Studying the configurations, she simply decided to move slowly to try and avoid any unnecessary twisting or torqueing of their appendages.   If he was just asleep, her movements were probably going to wake him up.  If he was still under the effects of the same drug that she was still feeling, then she wouldn’t have to worry much about disturbing his sleep.

She started to slide around again with the intention of putting their left arms between them and resulting with the two of them basically facing each other.  But just as she started to move, he started… his breathing caught and he mumbled something incoherent.  She stopped and waited to see if he was going to wake up.

Instead, he squirmed a bit and then he pulled her closer to him as he started to settle back down while spooned behind her again.  Unfortunately, she was expecting him to wake up – not to pull her towards him – and she jerked a bit in surprise and instinctively started to pull away. “Sir!” was all she got out.

And his arms clamped around her upper waist and clenched her tight! 

Tight enough that she was having trouble breathing.

Moments passed and when he didn’t relax his grip, she began to get a bit worried.

This was very uncomfortable – and it was actually beginning to get painful. 

Breathing was still difficult and she was rapidly beginning to feel a bit faint.

“Sir…,” but it came out as a low raspy groan. 

No longer concerned about his sleep, she had no choice but to pull at his arms in an attempt to break his hold.  But her arms and legs still felt like lead weights and her attempts to break free only produced a weak wriggling which did nothing to break his hold on her.

And then his arms tightened viciously around her upper waist, diaphragm and lower ribcage.  She let out an airy groan of pain as the little breath left in her lungs was involuntarily forced out.

And then she passed out.  Again.

 …

Ch 3: DISORIENTED

…

Bright.
And dark.
Moving.

She opened her eyes to see trees.
Again.

This time she gripped her reality rapidly and the muzziness in her mind dissipated quickly.  Trees.  The same trees.  The same forest floor.  The same dirt and twigs.

But brighter than earlier.  And a gentle breeze was wafting the smaller branches back and forth… creating moving shadows across the ground, herself and her CO.

Each breath was painful.  His grip had relaxed significantly… if it hadn’t she probably wouldn’t have woken up.  Ever. 

But each breath was painful now.  She undoubtedly had some bruised ribs and such.  But at least he’d relaxed.  Even if it had been after she was unconscious.

Taking further stock, she also felt stiff and tired of lying on her right side.  Her right shoulder and hip were numb.  It only took a few minutes for her to realize that she was going to *have* to move.  They were both going to have to move.  They couldn’t lie in this same position for much longer. 

Planning her moves again to put herself facing him, she intended to get her arms between their chests – and she’d… well, she’d just have to knee him in the groin if he started to squeeze the life out of her again.  She’d apologize afterwards.  And, if it really was him, he’d understand… after he stopped cursing.

Steeling herself, she quickly rolled over, pulling his left arm up and over with hers while pulling her knees up a little while pushing away from him a bit. 

And, it worked!

Well, at least he didn’t attempt the vice-like bear-hug again.  They now lay facing each other with their handcuffed left arms crossing over between them.  She was still lying on his right arm, but she needed to assess their situation before deciding on her next move.

First, she looked him over again from her improved vantage point.  Again, she could see no visible injuries.  No blood or bruises.  No torn clothing.  Hmmmm… and *he* had his shoes.  That was definitely not fair, she groused silently.

Turning her scrutiny back to his face she assessed and compared to what she’d learned of the man over the past 8+ years.  And, just as before, she could only determine that he appeared to be sleeping fairly peacefully.  With no obvious distress… not even any apparent disturbing dreams.  In fact, he looked quite peaceful, and she found her thoughts drifting into areas that she knew weren’t appropriate for a professional relationship.  Feeling the familiar yet sad bite in her heart, she forced herself back to the problem at hand.

For now, he appeared to be relatively OK.  So, why was he still asleep? 

Darts!  She remembered darts!
Just below her collarbone.
Tranquilizing darts!

And that was it.
She couldn’t remember anything else. 
Yet… the rest seemed to be there… just too fuzzy to make out.

Tranquilizing darts… Well, if they’d hit her with two, they’d probably hit him with three or four.  Who knew how long he’d be asleep?!

With one more assessing look at her CO, she turned her attention to the next task.

Time to get a better look around.

.

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

.

Pushing herself up slowly, a notable echo of her earlier feelings of weakness were apparent.  Sitting up finally, she rested and braced herself so that she didn’t topple back over.  Her head swam a bit as her heart adjusted to the demands of her new body position.

They were off to the side in a clearing, or meadow, amongst some trees.

And roughly 80-90 meters away (roughly the length of a football field) were what appeared to be two heavily-laden off-world-SGC-jitneys… the small motorized transport vehicles that they used when they needed to move small, but heavy, loads off-world.  Piles of bags and boxes were stacked alongside the two overburdened transports.

Laden with what?
For what?
By whom?

The unanswered questions were becoming increasingly annoying.

She hoped that there were socks and boots in that pile somewhere!
And the keys to these cuffs.

Yes, that would be nice.
And she wasn’t sure what she really wanted more.
Warm feet were starting to sound extremely important on her personal priority list.

And then he moved.  Just a little.
She froze and waited.

And then he moved again…. just a small movement.
His eyes fluttered, closed and then opened.
His gaze initially horizontal along the ground.

“Sir?” she kept her voice soft and quiet.  First, so that she wouldn’t alert any of their captors that their prisoners were waking up… But the second reason was just as important, she spoke softly so that she didn’t startle him… because she didn’t want him jerking her arm out of her socket before she could show him the cuffs.

His head turned a little and his eyes moved to focus on her.  Apparently she’d succeeded.  He hadn’t jumped or jerked at her voice… of course, she realized, he may just be feeling like she had earlier - in which case, his head probably felt like it was stuffed with cotton and his arms and legs felt weak and leaden.

“Sir?” she spoke softly again and watched for recognition.

“Cahrr…,” her name died in his throat as he struggled to clear his mind and wake up.

She gave him a small smile, “Yes, sir.”

He closed his eyes and she watched to see if he was going to fall back asleep.  A few moments later, however, he opened his eyes again and looked back up at her.  His eyes were a bit clearer this time.  He blinked, shook his head slightly and started to move so she put her right hand on his left shoulder, “Sir?” she asked for his attention and he stopped.

“We…uh…,” and she held up her left arm and gently tugged his up with it so that he could see the cuffs.

He stared for a moment and then glanced back at her.  “Right,” he stated as if this happened to them all of the time.  Well, she realized that… actually *weirder* things happened to them fairly regularly… so waking up cuffed together probably wasn’t that peculiar… at least not for them!

He moved his right arm under his right side and levered himself towards a sitting position.  She stabilized his movements by holding his left hand and by keeping her right arm on his left shoulder.

When he was upright, the two of them were facing each other with their cuffed left wrists crossing the space diagonally between them.  She watched him study the odd way that they were cuffed.  He looked up at her questioningly.  She just shrugged.  She still couldn’t see the purpose of that arrangement yet.

Ignoring the unanswerable for right now, he turned his perceptive gaze around the clearing.  She watched him take in the large pile of unknown content.

“Any idea where we are?” he spoke as softly as she had earlier.

“No sir,” she admitted and then added, “I was *really* hoping that you did.”

He looked back at her and a small sardonic smile quirked the edges of his mouth for a moment and then he turned back to the task at hand. “Have you seen anyone?”

“No sir,” she replied.

“You’re not full of much intel, Carter,” and he kept his tone light.

“Sorry, sir,” and she rolled her eyes a bit in long-sufferance while a small smile flitted across her own face.  She was already feeling more than 100percent better now that he was awake and speaking in his usual irreverent fashion.

His eyes continued to scan the area.  Cataloguing and assessing what he saw.  The implications, the possibilities.  And she saw his eyes travel back to her.  He gave her a quick once-over, looking for any injuries or wounds that hadn’t immediately taken center stage. 

“Carter?” His eyebrows had climbed his forehead a bit in askance.

“Yes, sir?” She knew what he was looking at.

“Where are your shoes?”

She had tried to tuck her feet under her legs for warmth, but her bare toes and ankles could still be seen.  She shook her head a little and sighed, “I don’t know, sir.”

He just stared at her.  She knew that he was trying to figure this whole thing out. 
Where they were.  Who’d abducted them.  Why they were here. 
Why they were cuffed in such an unusual configuration.
Why she had no shoes or socks… and yet he did.
Why her shoes and socks?

The look on his face told her that he didn’t have any more answers than she did.

His eyes scanned the clearing again for a few moments while he continued to shake off the effects of the drug.  She couldn’t help but notice that he seemed to be fighting it off much faster than she had.

A few moments later and his attention was back on her.  Checking her out more carefully.  She simply waited.  He was the CO, and she was the proper military officer.  Patient… with superiors.  Besides, she respected and trusted him.  So the waiting wasn’t too difficult.  Well, at least not most of the time.

“Cold?” he questioned softly.

“A bit,” she admitted, “but I’ll be fine, sir.”

He didn’t reply, but simply stared at her for a few beats… and then reached across with his left hand and grasped one of her feet.  She jerked a bit in surprise at the unexpected contact.  “Sheez! Carter!  You’re feet are like ice!” he hissed.

She shrugged, “Yes, sir,” she replied softly.  There wasn’t much she could do about it right now, so she was trying to ignore it.

He stared at her for another moment and then turned his attention back to the pile of unknown materials on and around the jitneys.  With one more assessing look around the clearing, “Well, I think we should check that out first.  Maybe we can find you some shoes and the keys to these cuffs,” he echoed her earlier thoughts.

“Yes, sir,” she replied and they began helping each other stand-up. Not an easy task when he was still sluggish and groggy and she had frozen feet and cramped muscles.  Eventually, however, the two of them were on their feet… although they were leaning heavily on each other for mutual support and stability.

A few moments of hanging onto each other and they pulled back slowly, each taking their own weight more fully onto their own feet.

“Wow,” he kept his voice soft, “Is the world spinning a bit for you, Carter?” he asked.

“Not much sir,” she replied.  “I’ve had a little more time to wake up and get past the drugged-out feeling.”

“Right,” he replied slowly again as his thoughts moved off to their next immediate task.  Walking while cuffed as they were would be do-able, although a bit awkward.  Without waiting for any further discussion, she moved over to stand on his left side, her left arm across her body to where it was cuffed to his left wrist.  This allowed him to keep his left arm at his left side, a more comfortable and useful position if he had to respond to anything.  He glanced up and met her eyes briefly before turning back towards their objective.

Slowly walking over to the pile of unknown materials, she was annoyed at the razor-sharp rocks and twigs stabbing at her unprotected feet.  She tried to avoid what she could, but too much was hidden below the light dusting of leaves and forest litter. Twice she stepped on something so sharp that she reflexively jerked and hopped off balance.  She was pretty sure that she’d cut her foot on that last one.  And, none of her efforts were helped by her bruised rib cage.

Each time she faltered, O’Neill stopped and steadied her.  Each time, he would look at her questioningly and she would mutter a quiet apology and then turn her attention back to their forward progress.  The last thing she wanted was to have him offer to carry her! 

After what had seemed too long, they reached the last few feet before their goal.  They both kept constant vigil on the trees and surrounding area for any sign of movement or approach.  Nothing moved except the two of them and the branches and leaves of the trees in the gentle breeze.

“Shiiuuhhh-“ Sam hissed a sharp breath in as her already wounded foot was lacerated by another sharp unseen object.  Pitching slightly forward with her left arm crossed across her body to his left arm, she fell against her own arm – which pushed sharply against her bruised ribs.  Clenching her eyes shut against the pain, she felt him catch her from behind as his arms wrapped around her.

He held her for a moment while she regained her balance, standing back up and taking her weight off of their arms and back onto her tender feet.  Or rather, foot.  She was really standing with most of her weight on her least injured foot.  The other was lancing with pain.

“Carter?” softly in her ear and she closed her eyes again… but just for a moment, and then slowly turned counter-clockwise so that she could face him.  He held onto her as she wobbled a bit as they negotiated their linked arms and wrists.

As she came around towards him, she looked up… his face was mostly in leaf-dappled shadows… he was looking piercingly at her, assessing her condition… and then a patch of sun flashed across his eyes…

And she saw…

She saw…

Her breath caught as the images flashed through her mind. 
A sound. 
A doorway. 
Those eyes. 

A puzzled look crossed his face, “Carter?” he sounded a bit worried now as she still hadn’t answered.

“I… uh…,” her mind was racing… trying to put the pieces together… “I… need to sit down, sir,” she finally got that much out.

He just looked at her for another moment and then nodded and gestured to the side of one of the larger crates that was just a foot or two away.  Nodding her agreement, she reached out a hand to the crate and then carefully lowered herself so that she could sit while leaning back against the side of the crate.  He watched and positioned himself so that he was crouched facing her, but a little to her left side so that her left arm wasn’t stretched across her anymore.

Once seated, she took a slow breath while she tried to figure out what was going on.  He waited for a moment and then turned his attention to her bruised and bloodied feet. 

“Well, nothing’s bleeding too profusely.  We could tear off pieces of our jackets or T-shirts, but I think we just might find something better in these crates and boxes,” he declared after his inspection and then waited for her response.

She nodded distractedly, “Yes sir, I’ll be fine.”

He was staring at her again.  Observing, cataloguing and assessing.  And he knew her too well, “We obviously need to take care of your feet, Carter, but there’s something else,” he declared softly and with narrowed, knowing eyes. “What is it?”

“It’s nothing sir, I’ll be fine,” she repeated softly and without looking at him.

He noticed it all. 
When she looked at him and when she wouldn’t. 
Her tone and her inflection. 

“Carrrterrr…,” he drew it out and used his tone to emphasize and reiterate his request.

She glanced up and… there they were again.  His eyes caught in dapples of light and dark.  She looked away quickly.

“Carter!” he hissed… he didn’t have a lot of patience in good times – and right now... apparent prisoners on an unknown planet… definitely did not qualify as good times!

Her military training kicked in and she responded to her CO’s request, “It’s just a couple of bruised ribs, sir.  It’s nothing, really.”

His gaze bored into her.  Unrelenting, as he tried to figure out what was going on.  Both around them and with her.  She wouldn’t look at him – she kept her eyes scanning the clearing..  She kept her eyes anywhere but on him.

Silence stretched between them for a few moments.

The clearing was quiet.  No movements other than the swaying branches.

“Carter, I know you too well.  There’s something else,” and then he raised his right hand and waggled his index finger at her. “And if you just tell me that you are fine again, then I’m going to *know* that you are critically injured!”  Both a warning and a challenge.

She sighed and glanced up at him again.  She met his eyes… and now all she saw was deep concern and friendship.  And she suddenly doubted the images of her memories.  Maybe…-

“Carter?” he said it softly again and she knew his patience was almost completely gone.

“Sir, would you check your pockets?” she asked quietly.

“What?” he looked at her like was suddenly speaking an alien language.

“Would you check your pockets…, please?” she asked again.

Bewildered, he kept his voice low, “Why?  Carter, you need to tell me what’s going on!  I can’t work witho-,”

“Sir!” she kept it to a hard whisper.  “Please.  I… I don’t honestly know what’s going on… I… I need more data…,” and she paused and met his eyes again to see his confusion.  “Please, I just need you to check your pockets….  Sir.” 

Both of them off-balance a little by the direction of their weird, strangely non-informative conversation.  Questioning brown eyes met blue eyes asking for a little trust.  He glanced away and then back.  She just waited silently.

Sighing, he raised his eyebrows in surprise and acceptance, “You keep an eye out…,” and then he started going through his pockets.  She didn’t respond, but just followed his orders and kept a visual patrol of their surroundings.  Watching and listening for anything approaching their position.

“Ssssss-,” a sharp intake of breath from him and she turned to look at what he’d found. 

A key. 

He was holding it in his hand like it was an alien organism that was going to bite him.  He looked up and met her eyes.  She carefully kept her face impassive.

Not saying a word, she lifted her wrist and positioned the cuffs so that the lock was turned towards him. 

He didn’t move.

Slowly reaching out, she took the key from him and flipped it over in her hand so that it was situated correctly.  Inserting it into the lock, she turned the key and the cuffs snapped open, freeing first her wrist and then his as she turned the locking mechanism.

She pulled her hand away, rubbing the sore flesh. 
He lowered his arm slowly. 
Neither of them looking at the other. 

He was dumbfounded.
Trying to put the pieces together.

She was dejected and uneasy.  Because she had been right.
She had wanted to be wrong.
She had *so* wanted to be wrong.

“Car…Carterr…?” he was asking for that explanation although his determination was now replaced with apprehension and uncertainty.

She forced her eyes to meet his. 
She saw the uncertainty and the questions.
She saw her CO.  A man that she respected.
A man who had saved the world.  Repeatedly. 
A hero.
A man that she would trust with her life.
A man that she *had* trusted with her life countless times. 

She started to say something, but the words failed her.

Who was this man in front of her now?
Was it really him?
Or was it a clone?
An android double such as Harlan had made?
A replicator humanoid in his shape?

She tried to see the answer in his eyes.

The moments passed as she grappled with what to say while he fought his intense dislike for not knowing all of the details… for not knowing the ‘whole picture.’ 

She saw the questions in his eyes.

And then his eyes widened and he sucked in a quick breath.
She froze and watched him carefully.
His eyes lost focus as if he were watching images only he could see.

“Ohmygod… ohmygod…,” he was muttering with a stricken look.  “No, no, no…, Ohmygod… ohmygod…” His head was moving slowly back and forth and his eyes were not focused on anything around them.  Suddenly his eyes met hers again and he focused on her – and looked terrified.  “No, no, no, not-, not-, not-, no, no, no-” he was repeating the words and phrases over and over again.

Uncertain of what was going on, Sam didn’t move and watched him carefully.  She was injured and the best she could do for a weapon was one of the sharp rocks around them.  She curled the fingers of her right hand around one of the rocks by her right leg.  Waiting, watching… and hoping that there was going to be an explanation soon.  Of the ‘happy ending’ sort.  Even though she knew that was unlikely, she couldn’t help holding out hope.

Suddenly he stood up. 

Glancing wildly around at the boxes and crates, he stumbled between the two larger stacks. 

And then he stood stock still.

He turned back and looked at her apologetically.
Sorrow.
Guilt.

And that little curl of fear in her stomach bloomed into a nauseous wash.
She tried to calm it with a slow, deep breath.

He took a step back towards her… and her fingers tightened around the sharp-edged rock. 

“Carter…I’m sorry,” and his anguish was palpable.

And then he bolted.

Right past her and into the woods.
In seconds he was gone.

.

Ch 4: DISCOVERIES

…

The clearing was quiet again.

She was alone.

She stared at the section of trees where he’d disappeared.

Nothing.  No movement.

Just dappled shadows, swaying branches and quiet.

She was alone.

.

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

.

Several minutes passed while she waited expectantly.

For what she didn’t know.

Maybe, just for… ‘the other shoe to drop’ (and if it wasn’t too small, she’d put that shoe on!)

Maybe for explanations.
Now… there was an idea!
But she wasn’t holding her breath for that!
She had a queasy feeling that the explanations were not going to be delivered.
She was going to have to go and get them.

Finally deciding that she couldn’t sit there forever, she decided to see if she could find any useful food or medical supplies in the stacks around her.  And some socks and shoes!

Using the crate for support, she levered herself back up and onto her abused feet.  Turning her attention to the stacks around her she picked out a few that looked promising and set about exploring their contents. 

Ten minutes later she was cleaning and bandaging her feet.  She’d found a very complete set of medical supplies in one of the boxes.  Enough supplies to last either a long time or for a small skirmish.  What were they for?  What was their owner’s purpose?

With her feet properly cleaned up, topical antibiotics applied and generous bandaging wrapped around it all, she turned back to a more methodical and careful search through the crates and boxes.

She found food.  Lots of it.  MRE’s.  Trail bars.  Protein packets.  Dried fruit.
Freeze-dried and canned.  One package of juice boxes!   

She was famished.  She hadn’t eaten since… sigh… since lunch at the Alpha Site.  Countless hours ago.  Countless?  She checked her watch.  Not countless.  Thirty hours ago.  Thirty hours since that lunch.  With no immediate other obvious choices, she opted for a trail bar and a juice box for now.

Afterwards, keeping an eye out for the return of her CO, or for any other inhabitants or occupants of this world, she continued her explorations.

A half-hour passed, during which she found two-man-tents, P90s, handguns, K-bars (knives), radios, utility vests and packs, as well as spare batteries, grenades, C-4 and various types of ammunition for the guns.  All of the things that they normally kitted out with on typical SGC offworld missions.  She pulled out a complement of equipment for herself.

And then she spied her socks and boots.  Over behind one of the loose duffles on the ground.  Her socks and boots.  The ones that she’d been wearing at the Alpha Site.

She carefully pulled her socks and boots over her bandaged feet.  With the security of boots on her feet, she was much more mobile around the piles of supplies.

She scanned the clearing again.
Still no movement.
No unusual noises.

He hadn’t returned.

She wondered how much daylight was left.  She thought that it was now the local equivalent of afternoon, but she couldn’t be sure.  Not without knowing more about this planet’s daily cycle.

Scanning the area one more time, she turned back to what she’d uncovered. 

Making a decision, she set to gearing up.  Ten minutes later she was fully kitted out with her P90 ready and ‘his’ stashed in her quickly assembled pack.  She didn’t know if the situation would warrant giving it to him… or having to use it to keep him away.

The rest of her pack was filled with medical supplies, another radio and batteries, some food and a little emergency equipment.  Her utility vest was fully kitted-out with her radio, a few grenades, some C4, etc.  A fully loaded pistol hung from her belt and a zat rested in a thigh holster.

Finally set, she eyed the trees where he’d disappeared a few hours before.  Squaring her shoulders, she stepped quietly after him.

….

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

….

Following him turned out to be fairly easy.  He’d left the clearing along a path apparently created when the loaded jitneys and crates had been carted into their clearing.  Her tracking skills were nowhere near those of Teal’c or O’Neill, but she could see several sets of footprints, some headed to the clearing and some headed away. 

All of the prints were similar in shape and style to those left by her own combat boots.  And… all of the prints appeared to be the same size… so she couldn’t tell how many different individuals had walked here before her.  It might have been only one.  Perhaps, it was only him.

Forty-five minutes later of slow, cautious walking and creeping… and she saw it.

The Stargate.

And she saw him.
Sitting on the steps with his head in his hands.

He wasn’t moving and he showed no awareness of her presence.

A wide board of some sort lay across the middle section of the steps leading up to the gate.  Most likely to create a ramp for the supply-laden jitneys.  Of which she saw two more at the base of the steps and slightly off to the side.  Two more jitneys – piled high with boxes, crates and duffles.

She stood at the edge of the copse of trees surrounding the ‘Gate.
Taking in the configuration before her.
Noting the places where someone might be hidden.
Or from where someone might launch an ambush.

She waited and watched quietly.
No one approached the silent figure sitting on the stone steps.

Just as back in the clearing, there was no evidence of other intelligent life.

No sign of alien hostiles.

No sign of Goa’uld or their Jaffa.

Just one man.  Sitting motionless on the steps before the Gate.

Her eyes came back to the DHD.
Every time she scanned the area, her eyes came back to that DHD.

Because it looked… destroyed.
At least from where she was standing.
She’d need a closer look for confirmation.
But she was pretty sure what the closer look would reveal.

She slowly knelt down and waited.
And watched.

Fifteen minutes passed.
No one entered or left the area around the ‘Gate.

The lone figure on the steps occasionally shifted position slightly, but that was the extent of any movement in the area.

Deciding it was time to move, she slowly stood up and cautiously walked forward.  Her P90 pointed down, but still ready in her hands.

When she was within 50 yards of him, she stopped and waited again. 
He offered no sign that he knew that she was there.

Gripping her gun, she called out in what she hoped was a non-threatening tone, “General O’Neill?”

His head came up and he looked at her.
With no expression.
Or… was it more like an absence of hope?
Despair?

“General?” she tried again.

Still no response.

Cautiously she made her way over to the DHD, keeping her eyes on him the entire time. 
He watched her listlessly.

And there it was.
Definitely non-functional.
Destroyed.
Splintered, smashed and broken.

Crouching down, she inspected one of many small holes…suspiciously like … they looked like… bullet holes… Very few worlds other than Earth used basic bullets.

She closed her eyes at a feeling of desolation.

They were stranded.

Unless someone knew where they were, and had the capabilities of arriving in a ship… then they were stranded.

She looked back over at him.
He hadn’t moved, but he was watching her.

“I’m sorry,” he dejectedly repeated what he’d said before bolting from the clearing.

She didn’t know what to say.
Or exactly what to do next.

Looking back down at the bullet-splattered mess of technology that was once their way home, she looked around for any sign of the weapon that could have caused this damage.  But she could see no P90 or other automatic weapon other than her own.

And she definitely would have heard such a weapon if it had been fired in the last couple of hours.  It had taken her 45 careful minutes to get here, but the clearing where they’d woken up was actually only a 10-15-minute walk at a normal pace.  With the lack of intervening mountains or hills, the reports and echoes of the gun that caused this damage should have been clearly heard back at the clearing.

But the damage looked fresh.  Freshly splintered.  Freshly broken.  Not worn by time.  Not oxidized.  The fragments were not dulled or buried under dirt of leaves.

With no further information immediately forthcoming, she looked back at the man on the steps.  He still hadn’t moved, but he was watching her a little more attentively now.

She slowly walked over to stand at the base of the steps – on the opposite end to where he was sitting.  Cautiously climbing up a few steps, she slowly sat down on the same step that he was on.  Just on the other end.  So that there was still 15 or so feet between them.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again.

.

 …

Ch 5: TUNNEL VISION

…

“Sir, do you know where we are?” she broke the silence.

He looked at her again and then quickly back out across the clearing in front of the ‘Gate.  “I think… I think it’s P8X-539,” he finally responded with a bit of a grimace.

“The runner-up for the new Alpha Site?” she asked in surprise and he just nodded.  She hadn’t actually visited this site, but O’Neill had accompanied SG-4 for a reconnaissance when P8X-539 had made the “Finalists List’ of candidates for the new Alpha Site. 

Ohhhkayyy… so she now had a name for the planet they were on… but where was it?  P8X-539… she tried to place it on her mental star map.  She had paid attention to its location when they were deciding which planets to send SG teams to… but that had been a year or so ago… if not more.

She highlighted her mental map: Earth was… there… the new Alpha Site, where she’d been…640 light-years away from Earth… and was there… Sandara was…. 480 light years from Earth… in this direction… Sandara was… there…. roughly 870 light years from the new Alpha Site….

And P8X-539… was…  P8X-539… was…there!  A small smile of triumph played across her face as she remembered its location and visualized it on her mental star map.  Turning it around in her mind, Earth, Sandara, the new Alpha Site and P8X-539 formed a rough asymmetrical tetrahedron, with Earth at the apex.

Unfortunately, she estimated the distance between P8X-539 and Earth was a good 1800 light-years!  The distances from here to the new Alpha Site and Sandara were even further.

Normally, the Stargate made distances irrelevant.  She and the General, however, no longer had access to a Stargate… the only way that they were going to leave this planet was by ship.  And it was going to take a long, long time for anyone to reach them by ship from Earth.

P8X-539 was ‘off-the-beaten-path’ as well.  Not only a long way from Earth, but also a long way from areas known to have significant starship travel and/or trade routes.  P8X-539 was in a backwater area of their galaxy.  Another facet that had been originally in its favor when they were searching for the location of their new Alpha Site.

With a mental sigh, she realized that their only real chance for hope was if the Asgard could spare a ship to come and get them.  Assuming that anyone else knew where they were.  Their only real hope was probably a very slim one.

.

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

.

She shifted slightly on the cold, gritty stone steps.  Shaking herself from her musings she glanced back over at him to find him watching her… but then he immediately looked back out across the clearing. 

“Sir, why are we here?” she kept her voice soft and with just a bit of curiosity.

Silence answered her. 

He didn’t react at all to her question. 
It was as if he hadn’t heard her.

But she knew that he had.

Physically, at least… she wasn’t sure about mentally.

So she waited.  And tried to be patient.

Silent minutes passed.  She let her eyes maintain a visual patrol of the area while he just sat there motionlessly.

“We were on Sandara,” and she brought her eyes back to him on the other end of the steps.  He wasn’t looking at her, but was still looking into the distance.

“We were on Sandara,” he repeated, and took a deep breath.  “It was that Grand Party Celebration Thingy,” and she nodded silently in agreement even though he wasn’t looking at her.  “Apparently they wanted to give us something special to commemorate our ‘Historic Alliance’,” and he used both hands to pantomime quotation marks while his tone of voice conveyed his true appreciation of such pomp and circumstance.

“Well, as the night wore on, I started feeling… kind of… well… ‘off’…hot and feverish… and I was having trouble focusing on what the High Councilor was saying to me.  And this… um… woman…,” a very, very pretty young woman he remembered vividly, but did not say that out loud, “was… well… very attentive,” she was actually  sort of aggressive… and O’Neill was not used to such displays in public.

“I… well, I didn’t think it would be proper to reciprocate such behavior in front of our new allies, so I finally… extricated myself,” these were not Jack O’Neill’s typical type of words, but he was attempting to sanitize the events a bit.  He couldn’t bring himself to tell Sam Carter that he’d had a sexually-interested woman making advances to him at an official meeting between planetary governments.  Nor did he want any hints that he was having trouble controlling himself.  Extreme trouble.  He’d found himself responding… to the point of wanting to invite the woman to some secluded quarters for interplanetary explorations!

Memories flashed before his eyes of Kynthia on Argos.  Back then, they were so new to interplanetary exploration, he could claim ignorance.  But now he was the head of the SGC… and after more than eight years of planet-hopping and countless cultures met and visited…  What was his excuse now?

He looked over at her, steeling himself for the look of exasperation or disgust… but instead he met the eyes of a friend.  One who understood the complexities and pitfalls of the universe that they were exploring.

“Daniel and Teal’c were… occupied…,” dancing, actually, they’d been dancing… with a couple of Sandaran women who’d appeared totally infatuated with the archeologist and the Jaffa…  “So I excused myself and went back to the rooms that the Sandarans had prepared for us.  The woman… Penja… I believe her name was… started to come with me, but I… I wasn’t very polite when I said ‘No’ and I’m afraid that I hurt her feelings…”  He’d actually wondered what he’d done to their new inter-planetary friendship… with his luck they would discover that he’d just scorned the High Councilor’s favorite daughter!

 “When I got back to the rooms, I couldn’t sit still.  I felt like I was burning up and like I was going to crawl out of my skin at the same time.  I was pacing, jittery and I couldn’t focus my thoughts on any of the reasons that we’d come to that planet.”  He paused here for a moment and took a calming breath before steeling himself to continue. 

“My thoughts started to tunnel in on only one thing…,” and he grimaced and snuck a glance at her to find her eyebrows climbing her forehead before she glanced away.  She was probably thinking of Argos and Kynthia. 

“I didn’t eat any cake!” he tried some feeble humor… and was rewarded with one of those half-smiles that she could never seem to repress at his bad jokes.  He was also going for a little misdirection, because the ‘one thing’ in his tunnel vision… was not exactly what he’d led her to believe… not quite… He was going to have to tell her, but he wasn’t quite ready.

“I don’t know how long I was prowling around in my room, when the High Councilor came by.  I really didn’t want to talk to him.  I couldn’t control the focus of my thoughts and I tried to beg off until the next morning, but he insisted.  He’d come to explain and apologize.  The drinks had been laced with ‘Vandi’ - the Sandaran equivalent of some sort of aphrodisiac/peyote/nishta concotion.  The Sandarans only celebrate with it a few times every century…. but when they do… What A Par-tay!” and he rolled his eyes.

“I’m sorry that I missed all the fun, sir,” she was giving him a small grin.  “What happened to Daniel and Teal’c?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted and then gave a suggestive roll of his eyes and shoulders.  He figured that they’d… well… the two men *were* currently unattached… and neither of them had to worry about the same level of decorum that ‘General’ O’Neill did when he was representing the Tauri of Earth.

“Ri-i-ight…,” she nodded her head a little and then shook it back and forth accompanied by that soft snort that women reserved for such displays of male behavior.

“Well, the High Councilor apparently took a bit of umbrage to my offended reaction, and he went on to explain that ‘Vandi’ was an extremely special substance to the Sandarans.  In very limited quantities on their planet.  Very expensive and time-consuming to make.  And, he stressed that it did *not* simply make the user… wanton… or without sexual control.  He adamantly stated that these types of celebrations were *not* giant orgies.  Apparently, married partners ‘almost’ always sought out their mates… and when they did not, then this was seen as one of the very few grounds for the dissolution of said partnership.  Unmated participants usually seek out like-minded souls, and, consequently the time after one of the celebrations is usually one of countless betrothal announcements.”  He paused again to see how she was taking all of this.  As usual, she was listening patiently. 

“So… Daniel and Teal’c could be engaged by now?” she asked with a bit of humor.

“I… don’t know,” he admitted and her eyes widened a bit and then she looked down before looking back up at him… inviting him to continue.

“The High Councilor extended his ‘deepest, sincerest apologies’,” and here she could hear the quotation marks through his tone of voice, “and then he left…  I couldn’t decided if I should go and find Daniel and Teal’c and drag them back to the rooms, or if I should just try and sleep it off and look for them in the morning.  I couldn’t focus my thoughts on… that… my mind fell right back into the tunnel-vision that had started before the High Councilor came by.  I was pacing and prowling… I don’t know how much time passed…and… then suddenly I just knew what I had to do… It was all crystal clear.  And I knew that I *had* to do it.”

“I picked up my gear and headed back across town to the Sandaran Gate.  I also kind of hoped that the 5-6 mile walk in the night air might help clear my head.  But it didn’t.  The Sandarans were everywhere.  Partying.  Dancing.  Just having a grand old time like it was Mardi Gras in New Orleans.  And they all seemed to know who I was, or at least who the Tauri in these clothes were,” he paused again for a breath and then continued, “All across town offers to stop and join various groups of partiers were extended.  Some seemed disappointed when I declined, but others… just seemed pleasant…”  Here he was doing a bit of editing again, as almost all of the offers to ‘join the festivities’ had come from beautiful women, of all ages.  Several times, one of them was actually able to temporarily divert his attention from his goal.  But not for more than a few minutes, and then he would make his apologies and return to his journey across town.  As he’d said to Carter, some had looked disappointed, but most seemed to recognize the burning in his eyes that was driving him… those folks almost patted him on the back as he would turn back to his journey.

 “I walked back to the Sandaran Stargate and gated to the SGC.  Once there, I got some supplies and stuff together and then gated to P5X-846,” that was one of their ‘Safe Planets’… sort of like a ‘safe house’ for protected witnesses.  A Safe Planet had a stockpile of materials for SGC teams that might get stranded off-Earth if for some reason Earth’s gate was not available for awhile.  The stores were protected by a failsafe that would incinerate and destroy the supplies if an improper code was used the open the storage lockers.  That way any non-SGC personnel would not be able to access or use any of the supplies.  Now that the new Alpha Site was established, the ‘Safe Planets’ would become backups to the backup. 

“I didn’t tell anyone at the SGC why I was going or when I was coming back.  I just told them that I was under orders.  Once on 846, I basically took all of the supplies and materials that I could move by myself and gated it to here.”  Glancing over and meeting her eyes, he didn’t see any condemnation yet, just concern at this point.  But he knew that what was coming next might easily change that.

“Next… I gated from here to the new Alpha Site…,” and he paused.  “After arriving, I zatted and then lightly tranqued the SFs and technicians on the graveyard shift.  And then I went and… got you…,” and he winced, “and then I gated us to 846, and then from there to here.”

Sighing, he continued without looking at her, “Once I got us here, I…uh…,” and he gestured towards the destroyed DHD.

Silence descended again.

He was waiting for her to say something now. 
Probably anything. 
But she really didn’t know what to say yet.

Her eyes contemplated the DHD from where she sat. 
It still looked as damaged as it had before.

Next, her eyes scanned the area around the gate again.  The stack of supplies.  The vegetation, the weather… and the sun that was dropping lower and lower in the sky.

P8X-539 had a climate slightly similar to Earth’s.  Typical chlorophyll-based plant life.  No dangerous indigenous plant or animal life had been found on the reconnaissance surveys.  The only reason that it hadn’t been chosen for the new Alpha Site was its location.  As they said in real estate… Location, Location, Location.  P4X-650 had had a better location than 539…650 was a in a relatively ‘quiet’ region of the galaxy, but the region of space around 539 was considered just a bit too desolate. 

It was sinking in.

They were stranded.
Well and truly stranded.

No one knew where they were.

They would be able to trace his path to P5X-846, the ‘Safe Planet’…
…but there they would lose the trail. 

.

Ch 6: STRANDED

…

But she had to make sure that it was him.  There was still the possibility that she was dealing with an android double such as Harlan had created… or a Replicator double…. or he could be a clone…

“Sir?” she broke the silence in the lengthening shadows.

“Yeah?” he answered softly from across the steps.

“I… need to make sure that you are *you*,” she was holding her K-bar combat-issue knife in her hands.

He stared at her for a moment and then reached his hand out for the knife.  She stood, stepped over and placed the knife on the plywood board that lay over the middle of the steps.  Moving back, she retook her seated position.

Not moving until she was reseated, he slowly moved over and picked up the knife.  Quickly turning the knife, he scored his left palm.  Setting the knife down, he held his hand out so that she could see the small line of blood where the sharp edge had cut his skin. 

She ran through the possibilities in her mind… he wasn’t an android double like Harlan had created… and he wasn’t a Replicator.  He could still be a clone… but if he was, then he was still effectively Jack O’Neill.

Of course, there was one other nasty possibility… this could all be a delusion.  A hallucination.  Fifth could be standing next to her right now, with his fingers in her mind… controlling and dictating what she perceived as reality.

She mulled that one over.  With Fifth’s other delusions, she had been able to sense the falseness… she could feel that things were not right.  If this here and now was one of his delusions, then he was getting much, much better at them. 

If this was a delusion or a hallucination, then she’d just have to wait until she could figure out what was going on.  Because it sure didn’t feel fake this time.  As whacked-out as this whole tableau was, they’d lived through ones even less plausible in the past.

……….

Turning her attention back to the man on the other end of the steps, she remembered his cut hand and dug her medkit out of her pack.  Slowly standing up again, she stepped over and placed it on the plywood, right where she’d placed the knife a short while ago.  He watched her silently and did not move until she had retaken her seat again.

“Thanks,” he spoke softly and she just nodded.

A few minutes later, his hand treated with antibiotic cream and a small bandage, he replaced the medkit where she’d set it and moved back to his self-appointed seat.  She made no move to retrieve the kit.

“Sir, how do you feel now?”  Her tone was cautious, concerned… and he could sense her wariness.

“Pretty much like normal now.  Had a bit of a headache when I woke up… and it took awhile to remember what happened…,” and his voice trailed off again as they both remembered his exit from the clearing earlier in the day.

“I was hoping that it was all some sort of weird, alien drunken dream or hallucination…,” he continued, “but… when I saw the DHD… I…,” and he clenched his eyes shut. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am Carter,” he apologized again.

If what he was telling her was the truth… and if this wasn’t all some delusion… if the two of them were truly stranded on this planet, then she knew that she was going to be hearing his apology a lot.  He’d feel guilty until the day they were rescued.  And if they were never rescued, then he’d never let go of the guilt.

She was going to have to do something about that.  She wasn’t sure what, because she knew this man and she knew that he would not allow her simple words and ameliorations to pardon his actions.

Well, at the very least, she thought, she could make the first move, so she stood up and shifted her P90 so that it hung down in a more relaxed position.  She could feel his eyes and she knew that he was watching her every move.  Looking up, she met his gaze and then slowly stepped across, stepping over the plywood ramp, to stand next to him.  Extending a hand to help him up, “I think we’d better set up camp for the night, sir,” her tone respectful and polite without any shade of anger or condemnation.

“Carter!  I kidnapped you and stranded us on a planet who-knows-how-many light-years from Earth!” he leaned away from her in horror.

 “Well, I think it’s something around 1800 light-years from Earth, sir,” she went for a soft, but cheeky smile, hoping to lighten the tone a bit.

“Eighteen hundr-… How the hell do you know that?” he blurted out before he thought it through, but he came to his senses quickly.

“Do you really want to know, sir?” she gave him a slightly larger grin now.

“No, no, no…,” he grumbled and then returned to his original complaint.  “Carter, how can you… we can’t just act like nothing… like I didn’t… What if I start behaving all… ‘weird’ again?” While talking he’d been scooting himself back away from her and he was now on the far edge of the steps.  Any further and he’d fall off. 

“Sir,” and she sighed, “Alien influence, remember?  We’ve been there before… when we had the Touched Virus… I jumped you in the locker room, but you somehow managed to keep working with me for years after that… so…?”

“Somehow this here-,” and he swept his arm out at the clearing and the planet they were standing on, “seems just a whole lot bigger than jumping you in the locker room…”

“I’ll give you top honors for the largest scale, sir,” she was smiling again.  “I apparently just didn’t think big enough when I was Touched,” and her eyes were twinkling a bit.

“Carter, don’t commend my actions.  I basically pulled ‘A Caveman’ on you… not much different than clubbing you over the head and dragging you off to my cave!”  She blanched and then blushed a bit at his analogy… actually an attractive combination on her face… and then realizing where his thoughts were going, he mentally chastised himself.

“Carter, you need to stay away from me – who knows what I might do next!”  He felt like shit for what he’d done and he figured she should be ranting and railing at him.  At the very least, he figured that she shouldn’t want to come anywhere near him.  And here she was, extending her hand to help him stand up. 

But she looked slightly exasperated now, “Sir, I read the reports from the recons of this planet.  No intelligent life.  No people, no civilizations, not even any cavemen apparent,” she stressed.  "So, what are we going to do?  Each of us picks a piece of the planet and we live like hermits?  *That* is not going to work for me,” a short pause and then, “Sir.”  As if she felt like her tone had overstepped the bounds of her role as his junior officer.

He shook his head and tried to marshal some rebuttals, but she beat him to it, “And I’m going to have to sleep, sir.  There’s no way I can defend myself 24/7 – not from you or anything else we might discover on this planet.  Neither can you.  Sir, we have to work together, or we’re not going to make it,” and she paused again.  “And I *really* don’t want to spend countless years stranded all by myself… so don’t you dare pull anything like disappearing into the night in some misguided attempt at protecting me from you.”

She didn’t bother to add the ‘Sir’ this time.  She was laying down some rules.  Period.  Regardless of General-Colonel military decorum.  This was about two people stranded thousands of light years from home.

He looked up at her.  Assessing.  “Carter…,” he started, but his tone of voice was enough for her to interrupt,

“Sir, we can argue about this some more tomorrow,” or the day after that… or the day after that, she thought to herself, “but for now, the sun is going to set pretty soon, and we need to set up a camp.”

He was still uncertain.  “Carter, I’m giving you an order that if I come at you again, you will shoot first and ask questions later,” he gave that one a go and waited for her reaction.

She knew it was highly doubtful that she’d be able to shoot him without a lot of evidence that left her no other choice, but to get him moving, she replied, “Yes, sir,” and extended her hand again in an offer to assist him up from the steps.

He studied her face for another moment and then reached up to clasp her hand and let her help him up.  They both knew that they needed to talk about this more, but not tonight.  For now, survival took precedence.

.

Ch 7: VANDI

…

Hours earlier, on Sandara

“DanielJackson, you must wake up now,” and Daniel opened blurry eyes to see the towering Jaffa standing over him.

“Wha-a-?” was all that the archeologist could manage at the moment.

“We must return to the SGC immediately,” Teal’c replied imperturbably, as if his comrade was fully awake.

“Why?” Daniel finally started to get with the conscious world.

“Something is wrong with O’Neill,” came the terse reply.

“Something’s wrong with Jack?” and he sat up quickly.  “Where is he?”

“GeneralO’Neill has returned to the SGC,” Teal’c supplied.

“He left without us?” Now Daniel knew that something was wrong.

“Yes, he left a message for us with the High Councilor’s adjutant.  O’Neill was not feeling well last night and returned to Earth.  He left instructions that we were to follow as soon as we were awake and ready to depart.”

“Allright, give me a few minutes to get dressed and pack up.  We should speak with the High Councilor before we leave,” Daniel advised.

“I concur,” the Jaffa returned while moving to a window as Daniel got up.

- - -

A few moments later and they heard knocking on the door.  Teal’c answered while Daniel continued to pack.

“Sir, is Doctor Jackson with you?” asked Captain Swahija from SG-8.

“Yes, Captain,” the Jaffa replied.

“Sir, Colonel Chavez needs to speak with the two of you in the High Councilor’s office as soon as possible,” the young officer informed him.

Daniel stepped into view with his pack. “We were just on our way there, Captain.”

“Yes, sir, if you’ll follow me,” and Swahija turned and headed down the hallway.  Teal’c picked up his bag and fell in step behind his teammate.

- - - - - -

Escorted into the large office by Captain Swahija, they found the rest of SG-8 and the High Councilor awaiting their arrival.

“Colonel Chavez,” Daniel greeted the officer who nodded in return. “What brings you to Sandara?”

“We came to retrieve you and Teal’c,” Chavez started with. “But we need to speak with the High Councilor first,” and then he paused a beat before continuing.  “General O’Neill returned to the SGC last night and then exhibited very unusual behavior.  We need to determine if there was something on Sandara that was the cause.”

Daniel started to shrug, but then a blush stole across his cheeks as he thought about how he’d spent the evening.  Luckily for him, the High Councilor chose to speak up, “Colonel Chavez, I must apologize on behalf of the Sandaran peoples.  Last Eve we celebrated our new alliance with the Tauri by sharing ‘Vandi’ with General O’Neill, Doctor Jackson and Teal’c.”  At this Daniel looked up in surprise while Teal’c merely raised an eyebrow.

“ ‘Vandi’?” the Colonel repeated.

“Yes, Vandi is a powerful aphrodisiac which enhances feelings of love and desire.  Vandi is a rare substance on our planet and we only partake of its benefits a few times each 92 years.  While both Doctor Jackson and Teal’c apparently reacted normally to the Vandi,” and here all of SG-8 stared openly at the two men in question, “unfortunately, General O’Neill appeared to experience adverse reactions.  I must apologize profusely for my people.  We were unaware that anyone had ever had a negative reaction to Vandi.”

Colonel Chavez tore his attention from Jackson and Teal’c to study the High Councilor thoughtfully.  “Can you tell us anything else about this ‘Vandi’?   It’s a… love potion?”

The High Councilor took on a look of admonishment, “Vandi is nothing so crude, Colonel.  Vandi normally allows a more free expression of love between mates, it enhances desires and… well… it enhances the sexual experience.   As I explained to General O’Neill, Vandi does not turn our people into nymphomaniacs looking for an orgy.  Usually, each person seeks out his or her mate… and they have a…wonderful evening.  The unmated seek out like-minded souls and enjoy a partnership for the evening.  Quite often, these… experiences lead to betrothals and marriage.  When we inquired earlier, neither General O’Neill, Dr. Jackson or Teal’c said that they were currently promised or wedded to anyone.”

“Ri-ight,” Colonel Chavez responded.  “And you don’t have any experience with any negative reactions to this ‘Vandi’?”  The officer reiterated for clarification.

“I could ask our doctors and historians, but I do not know of any myself,” the High Councilor replied.  “It would help if I could tell them what General O’Neill is currently experiencing.”

“Yes Colonel, what’s wrong with Jack?” Daniel asked, hoping that Chavez had clearance to speak about it in front of the Sandaran official.

Chavez studied the High Councilor for a moment and then glanced at Daniel. “General O’Neill returned to the SGC last night where he assembled some unidentified supplies and then he gated to one of our safe sites.  A little while later, he gated into the new Alpha Site,” and both Daniel and Teal’c jerked their heads up a notch at that and Chavez could see the gears turning in both men’s minds.  “He zatted and lightly tranqued the SFs and technicians on duty, and then took an unconscious Colonel Carter with him when he gated back to the safe site.”

Chavez stopped to let the two men of SG-1 and the Sandaran official digest this information.  The two men of SG-1 looked stunned.  The Sandaran looked thoughtful.  Continuing, “After notification of the incident at the new Alpha Site, Colonel Collins sent SG-4 to the safe site.  They didn’t find any trace of the General or the Colonel.  They did, however, discover that most of the supplies cached at the safe site were gone.”

“Gentlemen, are General O’Neill and Colonel Carter… in a personal relationship?” the Sandaran strove to keep to diplomatic wording.

Chavez deferred to the two men of SG-1.  Daniel could feel the eyes of the other SG-8 soldiers on him as he answered, “No, they are not.  We four of SG-1 have been a team for many years and we share deep, personal bonds, however, General O’Neill and Colonel Carter have never been anything less than professional.”  Teal’c nodded somberly.

“Well, perhaps they have feelings for each other that neither you nor they have openly acknowledged,” the Sandaran suggested softly.  “That would explain much regarding the General’s behavior and symptoms last Eve.  If he subconsciously knew who he truly wished for a mate, and that person was not here, then that might explain his extreme feelings of unrest.”

“Do your people do this sort of thing?  Abduct people when under the influence of this ‘Vandi’?” Chavez kept all accusation out of his tone and tried to stick to a demeanor of curiosity and concern.  Daniel was impressed by the military officer’s restraint.

“No… but then our mates are not on other planets.  And there are many unmated who are willing during the festivities, so if one’s initial choice is taken or does not reciprocate…, there are others…,” the High Councilor explained patiently, if a bit naively. 

They spent another hour speaking with the High Councilor and some of the leading Sandaran doctors and historians.  No one was aware of a Sandaran reaction to Vandi that resembled O’Neill’s.  The consensus was that there was something in the difference in physiologies between the Sandarans and the Tauri… something different that reacted adversely with the Vandi.  Of course, they repeatedly pointed out that Daniel and Teal’c, however, had reacted ‘normally.’  Daniel blushed each time, and as the hour wore on, he caught the members of SG-8 smirking at the two men of SG-1.

Finally, they decided to return to the SGC to check on the status of the investigation at that end.  The Sandarans promised to continue to delve into their historical records for any information that might be helpful or relevant.

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

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Back at the SGC, Daniel, Teal’c, SG-8, Sgt. Siler and a few technicians assembled in the briefing room where Colonel Collins was acting commander of the SGC.  They had watched security tapes showing O’Neill’s arrival and departure from the SGC, as well as his arrival and departure (with Carter’s unconscious form) from the new Alpha Site.

Daniel was greatly disturbed by the images of his friend’s face.  There had been a burning intensity of purpose that scared the archeologist a bit.  He really didn’t believe that Jack would harm Sam, but he also didn’t know what the Sandaran’s Vandi was doing to the man. 

Jack O’Neill had been through so much in the past 8 years.  Altered by Ancient technology and then back again by the Asgards… aged a lifetime in a few days on Argos… transferred into first Teal’c’s and then Daniel’s body before getting back to his own, thanks to Machello… oh, and uploaded into the Asgard mainframe of the ship DanielJackson…memory wiped to become Jonah…Hathor had made him a Jaffa and given him a symbiote pouch… thank goodness for that sarcophagus… too bad it got blown up… taken over by that alien intelligence in that sphere that had pinned him to the wall… temporarily taken over by Anubis’ wandering malevolent spirit… Hathor had also put a symbiote into him… which had been cryogenically killed before blending… and then there’d been the Tokra symbiote Kanan who’d abandoned him to Ba’al’s tender ministrations… he’d had his mind probed by Humanoid Replicators…and the list went on.

Daniel knew that Jack O’Neill was an intense man, one of deep convictions and deep feelings.  But the Jack O’Neill that Daniel was familiar with was in control and always had himself under tight reign.  Oh, he may mouth-off and act irreverent around any of TPTB (The Powers That Be), but Jack O’Neill always maintained control over the hidden depths of his being.

That man on the security tapes, however, had lost some of that control.  Inner desires and needs were being allowed to dictate actions and events.  And that scared the archeologist. 

“Any ideas where O’Neill may have gone?” Colonel Collins repeated his question to shake Jackson out of his reverie.

“Um, what?... Sorry…,” Daniel apologized.

“I do not know where GeneralO’Neill may have gone,” Teal’c replied in his deep tones and Collins nodded and turned back to Jackson.

Catching on, Daniel replied, “Neither do I, at least not off the top of my head.  Teal’c and I can brainstorm that if you’ll give us a couple of hours, though.”

Collins nodded his agreement and then asked, “What do you think he’ll do?  Do you think he could harm Colonel Carter?”  He had to ask, it was his job.

Daniel took a breath before answering, so Teal’c spoke up, “I do not believe that O’Neill would ever intentionally cause any harm to SamanthaCarter.  I am, however, unfamiliar with how this Vandi is reacting with O’Neill’s unique physiology,” the Jaffa honestly amended.

Daniel nodded, “I agree with Teal’c.  Jack would never knowingly harm Sam, but the Vandi did something to him… something…,” and he couldn’t articulate what he didn’t know so his voice trailed off.

Collins nodded again, “Let’s just hope that either the Vandi wears off and the General brings them both home soon, or that Colonel Carter wakes up and can get in touch with us.”  And with that he summarized their best options.

==========

Seventy-five minutes later and Daniel and Teal’c had assembled a list of potential planets that they knew of where a Jack-on-drugs might potentially seek harbor.  The list included the Land of Light, Argos, Edora, the planet of the Nox, etc.

Colonel Collins tasked SG-4, 7 and 9 with the methodical search of the areas around the Stargates on these planets.  They were to talk to the friendly indigenous people and ask for any information regarding the recent appearance of either of the two missing officers.  On Daniel’s recommendation, Colonel Chavez and SG-8 along with a couple of SGC medical personnel were sent back to Sandara to work with the Sandaran doctors and historians.

Over the next week, Daniel and Teal’c accompanied various teams to different planets.  Searching and speaking with the natives.  But no sign of the missing officers was found.

A message was sent to the Asgard asking for their assistance, but no reply had returned yet.

.

 …

Ch 8: VIVID

…

Back on P8X-539

She’d been extremely wary of him the first evening and neither of them had slept much that first night.  But as the days passed and neither of them exhibited any unusual behavior, she’d relaxed a bit and fallen back on her long-learned trust in him.

He didn’t.  Trust himself, that is.  Most of the time, he was careful to keep a distance between them.  He couldn’t be sure if he would have any type of ‘flashbacks’ from the Sandaran Vandi.  When they needed to be close together, he was on edge… trying to maintain alert and vigilant of his behavior.

In contrast, in spite of her claims that she could take care of the first-aid for her feet, he insisted on helping her rebandage them every morning and evening.  He’d warred within himself over the need to stay away from her and the need to help her because she was injured.  So he’d settled for quietly working as quickly as he could until he was finished and could re-establish the distance between them.

Her ribs, however, he couldn’t do anything about.  There was nothing to do but wait for them to heal on their own.  Doctors didn’t even usually strap them up anymore.  But he knew that she was in pain whenever she stretched too much, tried to pick things up… or even breathed too hard.

She wouldn’t tell him how it had happened, either.  She would either brush off or deflect his questions whenever he broached the topic.

He knew how her feet had been cut and bruised, but he’d searched his memories and could not remember any incidents or events where she was injured before they’d woken up in the clearing. 

And yet, he seemed to remember everything else so vividly… from the time on Sandara to the SGC to the Safe Site and the new Alpha Site and all the way to P8X-539, where they were now.  He could remember each action clearly and intensely.  He remembered zatting the Alpha Site personnel and then hitting them with light, half-dose tranquilizing darts. 

He also remembered swapping the half-dose darts out for the full dose ones before finding Carter, though.  And then he’d hit her with two of the full strength darts, because he remembered her resistance to the sedatives used by the aliens who’d gained that Foothold situation on them a few years back at the SGC.  Neither she nor Teal’c had fully succumbed to the normal dosage of sedatives that had worked on the rest of the SGC personnel.

So, he remembered hitting her with two of the full-strength darts.  And the look of shock on her face was etched clearly in his mind.  He winced as the vivid memories flashed before him now.  The dosage that he’d given her was dangerous as it interfered with the subject’s respiration and cardiovascular system…. in other words, too much of the drug could have paralyzed her lungs and/or her heart.  But he hadn’t thought of that at the time.  He’d simply been fixated on his goal of getting her unconscious and through the gate. 

He winced at the oh-so-vivid memories of destroying the DHD with his P90 on full automatic.  He remembered needing to do it.  That it was necessary and essential. 

And then he remembered making made a few trips to this clearing.  Piling and stacking supplies.  And then he’d carried her here.

And then… and then here his memory got a little fuzzy… he remembered being tired… and feeling the overwhelming need to sleep.  But his addled brain was worried that she wouldn’t be there when he woke up.  So, he remembered taking her shoes and socks off so that she would be able to go too far too fast. 

And the cuffs.  He’d been just about ready to drop.  Tired and with overwhelming fatigue sweeping over him.  He’d carried her across the clearing… away from the supplies, her shoes and anything she might use to pick the lock on the cuffs.  Next, he’d lain down on the ground next to her and pulled her close, wrapping his arms around to hold her tight.  And then he’d snapped the cuffs on.

And then he’d succumbed. 
He’d fallen asleep.
Unconscious for all effective purposes.

And he didn’t remember anything else before waking up with her sitting in front of him on the floor of the clearing.

He winced again.  The cuffs and lack of shoes had worked.  She hadn’t gone anywhere.  She’d been there when he’d woken up.  Of course, when she’d woken up, she’d probably felt like shit and been hardly able to move due to the extra-strength dosage of the tranquilizer.  He wasn’t sure how long she’d been awake before he’d awoken, but she’d obviously been awake for awhile as she’d had time to shake off most of the effects of the drugs.

But he still couldn’t remember when her ribs had been injured… the only time that seemed possible was between the times after he’d gone to sleep and before he’d woken up.

A sick feeling stole across his stomach.  In his mind’s eye, he could visualize the two of them spooned together, with his arms wrapped around her waist.  The sick feeling in his stomach intensified as he realized that he must have squeezed her so tightly that he injured her.

He wanted to throw up.  He couldn’t remember squeezing her, but he was certain that that was what must have happened.  To be honest, he was almost glad that he didn’t remember that part… because if he had to remember it with the same clarity and intensity that he remembered the rest of the events, then he didn’t think he’d ever be able to face her again.  It was hard enough as it was.

He had a feeling that the Sandarans considered these extra-vivid, almost-tactile memories as another of the benefits of their Vandi.  He could remember what he did and how he’d felt at each moment.

On Sandara, he’d felt jittery and restless… until he’d focused on his objective…. until The Plan crystallized in his mind.  After that, he’d been calm and deadly serious… as if undertaking one of his countless Black Ops missions.

He knew that none of it would have happened if not for the Sandaran Vandi… but what Carter didn’t know was that he had *wanted* to do what he was doing.  A deep, buried part of his soul had *wanted* to cart her off to a place like this where the two of them could live in peace. 

Without military regulations in the way.  Without any planetary or interplanetary crises.  Without supervillians like the Goa’uld or the Replicators.  Without such large responsibilities.  Because neither himself nor Carter was capable of avoiding their duty or obligations.  And a large part of him despaired because he knew that those responsibilities would never go away.  Not until one or the both of them were dead or injured too severely to continue.

Neither he nor Carter wanted to be the hero.  Neither of them was looking for a cape.  It was just a case of the ‘right people at the right time’… and all that…

So the Vandi had allowed him to break them free of their responsibilities.

On a deep level inside himself, he’d known what he was doing.
He’d known exactly what he was doing.
But the Sandaran ‘peyote’ had allowed him to break the rules. 
To do it anyway… in spite of the rules.
Because he wanted to… because a part of him needed to.

The Vandi had allowed him to suppress his conscience… just enough.

He looked over at Carter.  Right now, she was working on the back wall of their shelter.  Weaving and interlacing the branches and leaves that they’d culled from the nearby deadfall.

She didn’t know.  He hadn’t told her.
He hadn’t told her everything.
Because he didn’t understand it.
Because he was afraid of the implications.
Because it was only the two of them here, and they needed each other.

She had written the entire set of events off to ‘Alien Drugs/Alien Influence’.
And that was true… at least on the surface.

But he knew what was beneath.
He knew his driving motivation.

If only she knew.
...If only she knew…

His thoughts drifted back to a few weeks before they’d left for Sandara.  It had been Major Brian Greenawalt’s bachelor party.  O’Neill had known Greenawalt since Brian had been a Captain in the Gulf War.  A solid soldier.  Competent and reliable.  A stand-up guy. 

So there they’d been… twenty or so military men… lots of drinking… lots of back-slapping and telling of tall-tales… Lots of gibes at the man soon to lose his bachelorhood. 

And then there’d been that question…. Who would you most like to be stranded with on a deserted island?  Greenawalt was given no choice – he would have to be stranded with his new wife-to-be, of course.  And the others had all chosen the hottest ‘babes’ that they could think of… Angelina Jolie,  the Baywatch version of Pamela Sue Anderson, etc., etc.  When pressed, Jack had volunteered his standby: Uma Thurman… but that really was not what he was thinking… no, he’d been thinking of Sam Carter.  And while the guys’ not-so-gentle banter drifted into the background of his thoughts, he’d fantasized about getting stranded on a desert island with one Sam Carter.

And now here they were.
Just the two of them, stranded on this planet.

He didn’t even know how she truly felt towards him.
He didn’t even know how he truly felt towards her!

They’d never had a chance to spend much time together socially.
And never just the two of them alone.
Not just Jack and Sam.

- - - - - - -

“Sir?” she’d stepped around to where he was working on the side of their shelter… it was going to be big enough to protect a couple of tents and most of the stacks of supplies as well as provide partial cover for the fire - serving as a wind-break and slight overhang while still having plenty of open space for ventilation.  At least, that was the plan…

“Yeah, Carter?” he looked up.

“I’m going to head down and get some water and then start fixing dinner, if that’s allright?”

“Carter, I’ll get the water,” he informed her.

“Sir, I can take care of it.  It will only take a few minutes,” she was tiring fast of his ‘mothering’ over her.

“Carter, I said I’d take care of it,” he repeated himself and couldn’t keep the exasperation out of his voice. 

“Yes sir.” Her tone was clipped and he could see the angry glint of rebellion and indignation in her eyes, but she didn’t contest his authority.

Well, a part of him was trying to push a bit.  To make her stop treating him like The General.  It was just the two of them stranded here... So he felt that honorifics such as ‘Sir’ and ‘General’ were a bit excessive.  She’d refused, of course.  She still maintained the proper military decorum.  Sir here, Sir there, General this and General that.

He figured if they were here long enough… and if he was cranky just one too many times… well, she’d just have to lose it… she’d just have to give him a verbal barrage that overstepped those military protocols.  He didn’t think anything else was going to do it.

- - - - - - - - - - -

So here they were.
Just the two of them.

Just like in his fantasy.
And yet, not.

Because he couldn’t have her.
It wouldn’t be right.

Because he’d stranded them here, she now had no choice.
No choice but him.

So how could he enjoy that?
How could he enjoy that romantic fantasy?

He couldn’t.

As long as it was just the two of them here, then he’d never know how she truly felt for him.  He’d never know if she loved him more than anyone else.  Because there was no one else for her to choose.

- - - - - -

The universe was screwing with him.

He was convinced of it.

Or maybe it was the Asgards… or some Goa’uld supervillian.

But someone who wielded a lot of power was definitely having fun at his expense.

And probably laughing their asses off… if they had asses, he thought acerbically.

He was stranded with Sam Carter.
Just the two of them on a planet without a Stargate, thousands of light years from Earth.
Just the two of them.

Should be romantic, right?
The stuff of fairy-tales, right?

Wrong.

Oh, so very wrong.

Now, he was stranded with what he wanted, but he now couldn’t have.

Definitely not the stuff of fairy tales.

He had no clue how to fix this.

- - - - -

Finally, he decided to take the first few weeks one day at a time, while they established their camp and explored the immediate surroundings.  After that, he could look at things a week at a time – he was certain that Carter would want to try working with what was left of the DHD.  And if that didn’t pan out, then they could set their sights on longer-term goals.  And a long-term relationship between the two of them… whether they would decide to just be good friends… or to try for something more.  All of which assumed that they didn’t discover that they drove each other freakin’ nuts on a day-in-day-out basis!

So, first things first.  Camp, surroundings, followed by the DHD.

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Author’s note: Regarding Jack’s introspection into how Sam’s ribs were injured…  I figured that I’d need to deal with that issue, but I couldn’t figure out how to lead into it until fallingfromelysium’s reviews gave me the proper motivation! :) 

- - -

- - -

Ch 9: TROPICAL

- - -

PX3-071

- - -

A warm, tropical ocean rimmed by beautiful white sands greeted them as they stepped out of the ‘Gate.  Today, Daniel and Teal’c had joined SG-9 in the hunt for the two missing officers.

SG-9 was a specialized unit that consisted of Colonel Ying, Major Portrare, Captain Brunsfeld and Dr. Rider, a civilian scientist.  Colonel Ying was one of those typical hard-core special-forces officers.  Major Portrare, a military doctor, had spent a year with the Tokra and had expertise in alien physiology.  Captain Brunsfeld had special training with K-9 units and a little training in veterinary medicine.  Dr. Rider had both a doctorate in linguistics and a doctorate in zoology with a specialty in feline anatomy, physiology and behavior. 

Consequently, SG-9 was a special unit that was typically sent to worlds with unusual and/or exotic wildlife.  Their team was renown amongst the SGC personnel for establishing contact with a world populated by an intelligent species that looked amazingly similar to the dragons of legends on Earth.  Dr. Rider had garnered such a mastery of the alien language and behavior that her military teammates had affectionately tagged her with the moniker ‘Dragon’.  As with most such ‘handles’ in the military, the nickname spread quickly throughout the rest of the SG teams and was also easily adopted by the scientific and technical staff in the secure mountain complex.

Looking around PX3-071 today, however, neither Daniel nor Teal’c saw any evidence of any life.  Not human or exotic or alien. 

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A few hours later and they had regrouped in front of the alien Stargate.  The group was currently comparing their observations while grabbing a bite to eat.  Colonel Ying was assessing and evaluating each person’s comments so that he could decide whether or not they should expand their search area or conclude that the missing officers had not come to this planet. 

“Did you see anything Brunsfeld?” Major Portrare asked the young Captain.

“Not a thing.  Not any signs that anything human had passed by recently… not even any signs of any large animals of any sort,” the young officer reported and then turned to Doctor Rider, “How about you, Dragon?”

“Nope, I didn’t see anything either,” the zoologist responded while watching the two members of SG-1 carefully.  “Did either you or Teal’c see anything, Doctor Jackson?”

Daniel just shook his head ‘No’, so Teal’c spoke for them, “We did not, DoctorRider.  Except for the Stargate, we did not find any other indications of human life on this planet.”

“I’m sorry,” Rider apologized genuinely to the two men.

“You need not apologize for that which is not your fault, DoctorRider,” Teal’c responded.

“We do appreciate your concern, however, Doctor,” Daniel temporized the Jaffa’s words because many who were unfamiliar with the large man’s stoic mannerisms often misunderstood his terse or measured tones for displeasure or censure.    “We also appreciate your feedback and ideas into our search for Jack and Sam,” Daniel continued and she sent him a soft smile and a nod of acknowledgement. 

Near the end of their first week of searching, when Daniel and Teal’c had joined SG-9 to check Edora for signs of the missing officers, Doctor Rider had approached Daniel and Teal’c and suggested that they should rethink and expand the current selection of planets being searched.  Daniel and Teal’c had initially chosen planets where SG-1 had met friendly natives where Jack might expect to be welcome.  Doctor Rider, of SG-9, however, had politely pointed out that the extent and type of supplies taken from the Safe Site might indicate that Jack was thinking of somewhere more sparsely populated.

As a result, Daniel and Teal’c had made a list of less-populated planets where Jack had made favorable or appreciative comments.  The list was, not surprisingly, fairly short. On their first pass through, they’d avoided planets with too many trees (or where Jack had simply made memorable disparaging remarks about the trees)… or where there was too much sand… such as the various Tokra planets….or planets where the weather was habitually wet or cold… or too hot…

They’d come up with a list of 14 planets to search next.
|Planets where there were quiet lakes with fish… or warm tropical beaches…

This planet, PX3-071, had been on the top of their new list. 
Warm, tropical waters alongside sparkling white sand beaches.
Sub-tropic climate… at least in the region where the ‘Gate was situated.
A few local alien equivalents of palm trees.
Colorful local flowers.
Not too many bugs.

When SG-1 had come here years ago, Jack had been enamored of the setting and had stretched their 12-hour initial reconnaissance survey into a 4-day, relaxed excursion.  They’d found no indigenous intelligent people in the region around the ‘Gate.  And, except for the ‘Gate, they’d found no other signs that humans had ever visited this planet.

Both Sam and Daniel had gotten bored fairly quickly.  Sam fell into her military persona to hide her boredom, but Daniel had no such restraints and began asking Jack when they would be returning to the SGC.   Teal’c even went so far as to voice his opinion in agreement with the archeologist’s. 

Jack, on the other hand, was in no hurry to leave and simply continued to plan one walk after another in different directions from the ‘Gate.  Ostensibly to search for Daniel’s rocks (artifacts)… but they all knew that he really didn’t want to find anything. He just wanted to spend a few days bumming around this beautiful planet. 

They’d finally decided that PX3-071 may have been just what it looked like… a vacation spot for the Ancients, or whoever placed the Stargate there.  None of them could see any other reason for its presence on this planet.

Over the subsequent years, Jack had often made comments about returning to PX3-071… especially when SG-1 had found themselves on a planet that was too wet… or too cold… or too windy… or that had too many trees… or too much sand…

But, Jack wasn’t here now, Daniel thought to himself.  Jack wasn’t here, nor was Sam.  He hadn’t brought her here. 

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“Well, Ladies and Gentlemen,” Colonel Ying addressed the group after the rest break.  “Does anyone see any reason to continue searching for General O’Neill and Colonel Carter on this planet?”

“No sir.”  “No.” “No sir.” “Unfortunately I do not, ColonelYing.”  And the respectful negative responses overlapped.

Sighing, the Colonel nodded reluctantly, “Dr. Jackson, Teal’c, is there anything else that you could suggest that we look for before we leave?”

“I do not know of any such thing, ColonelYing,” Teal’c replied as Daniel just shook his head in resignation.

“Dragon, Brunsfeld, Portrare, any exotic life here that we should make a note of before we leave?” he asked his team.

“No sir,” chimed the two officers while Rider replied less formally, “Not that I can see, Henry.”

“Allright then, folks.  Let’s police the area and be ready to depart in 10,” the Colonel ordered.  The group silently began packing up while Brunsfeld took the last few video images for the records.

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Two hours later, after the requisite infirmary check-outs, followed by showers and a quick debriefing, Daniel and Teal’c joined Doctor Rider, Captain Brunsfeld and Major Portrare for a late lunch in the commissary.

The conversation had wandered from a rehash of their observations on the planet, to a run-down of the planets that they planned to search next, to Daniel’s colorful retelling of Jack’s comments regarding his boredom with tree-filled planets.

“PX3-071 was such a beautiful planet… it’s too bad that we didn’t find them there,” Doctor Rider commented and no one objected.  PX3-071 was a beautiful planet.  Gathering her courage, she forged ahead to ask what most of the personnel at the SGC were dying to know, “How do you think Colonel Carter reacted when she woke up..?… wherever they are… to discover that the General had kidnapped her… I mean even under alien drugs and all..?..,” and there her voice trailed off as she watched the two remaining members of SG-1 uncertainly.

“I am certain that ColonelCarter behaved as the excellent military officer that she is,” Teal’c replied in tones that brooked no argument.

Seeing the others trying to hide looks of disbelief, Daniel spoke up, “Sam will undoubtedly wait until she has all of the facts before she decides to react… she’s a scientist as well as a military officer, and the scientist demands facts and rational behavior,” he elaborated.

“Yes, but… he basically kidnapped her,” the civilian zoologist countered. “Surely she’ll be… just a little pissed?  I mean I would!”

“Well, yeah, she might be a lot pissed,” he admitted, “but she probably won’t let it show right away, not unless he interrupted any of her serious calculations or experiments at the Alpha Site,” Daniel sent a small smile over to the feisty zoologist.

“Well, if it had been me, after I’d made sure that he was over the effects of that Sandaran Cocktail, I think I’d kick his ass!” Her feisty words were laced with humor and Daniel couldn’t help but smile at the image of Sam Carter giving Jack O’Neill the what-for!  “I mean alien drugs or not, he could have at least picked PX3-071 – now that was a planet that a girl wouldn’t mind waking up to!”

In spite of his worries about Jack and Sam, Daniel found himself mind wandering a bit as he wondered if Dr. Rider was currently unattached from any serious relationships.  Hmmm… if she wasn’t, he’d have to make a note to ask her out after they got Jack and Sam back.

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