His mind told him, he needed to keep moving but his legs refused to take another step. Leaning heavily on the staff weapon, Daniel sipped enough water to sooth his dry throat, knowing it would probably come back up as soon as it hit his nauseated stomach. He clumsily recapped the canteen. He'd slid the holder around so the container wasn't touching the pressure bandage he'd applied to the wound near the small of his back. Hopefully, the entire wound was covered but either way he doubted it was doing much good.

Daniel had been hovering on the edge of consciousness, the pain threatening to pull him back into the blackness when the sound of approaching footsteps mixed with strange voices seeped through the thick haze. Remaining motionless, he hoped they would think him dead, a condition he soon may not have to fake.

Repeating the strange words over and over in his mind, to memorize them, he used the language as a mantra to fight the pain and keep himself conscious. As the voices faded with distance, the linguist bit back the scream of agony which accompanied the attempt at opening his eyes. Through the blurry red fog, he tried to focus on the indistinct, distorted figures moving further away. Four...five...more? The only thing Daniel was certain of was the limp figure of Jack O'Neill tossed carelessly over the broad shoulders of their largest assailant.

Daniel had no idea how long it had taken him to tend his wounds. He had used the precious water to wash the glass from his left eye, applying a pressure bandage from the small first aid kit in his BDU's to the stab wound on his back. He did know he had lost consciousness at least once before struggling to his feet. His determination fueled by anger, the archaeologist had stumbled to the temple, procuring a staff weapon and zat gun from the stock piles before setting off in the direction their attackers had taken. He knew the best procedure would be to either wait for Sam and Teal'c's return or go to the Stargate for help but either of those options meant taking the chance of not locating Jack again.

The archaeologist had watched his Jaffa friend track enough times to know things to look for: newly broken branches, flattened grass, overturned rocks, but none of that was needed. The sparse vegatation allowed him to keep O'Neill's captors in sight, all be it, at a great distance.....an extremely blurry distance. It seemed his vision was narrowing with each passing mile. It didn't help his eye had long ago swollen shut. Only adrenaline and the desperate desire to help his friend kept him moving this long but it seemed that was about to come to an end. The sun was quickly setting and his body had reached the point of collapse.

Sinking to the hard ground, Daniel gave in to the pain and fatigue, his mind arguing that even the native goons probably wouldn't travel in the dark. With a little rest, he might be able to catch up before they headed out again. 'Just don't sleep!' he warned himself. If the unbearable throbbing in his head and nausea was any indication, he had a concussion. Sleeping might mean never waking up. He had to stay awake! Think. Translate. Work on the translation. The language had sounded vaguely familiar.....He knew it....had heard it before.......

*****

"Hope you made plenty of burgers, sir, we brought company!" Carter called out as they neared the proposed campsite. The sun balanced on the horizon as if hesitant to disappear completely. "Sir?...Daniel?" Her alarm grew as they entered the deserted area.

"Colonel O'Neill?.....Daniel?" Releasing the button on the radio, the only response was static.

"Perhaps their radios are not working properly." The warrior suggested, not even convincing himself of the possibility. He knelt by the now cold ashes of the fire. "They may still be at the temple. The fire has been out for many hours."

The trip back for supplies had taken longer than expected. Moments after their return, SG-7 had tumbled through the gate after a run in with the Goa'uld. Their debriefing had taken priority over Carter's meeting with Hammond. After finally hearing the situation on PQM4215, the general had ordered the needed provisions and SG-2 to accompany Carter and Teal'c back. The more hands, the quicker the arsenal would be transfered back to the base.

"What the-" Startled at the crunch beneath her boot, Sam's blue eyes widened as she picked up the remains of O'Neill's dark glasses.

"Major?" Both officers turned.

"What is it Tyler?" Ferretti sensed Carter stiffen beside him, his own heart skipping a beat as the airman held up O'Neill's MPK, having spotted it between the boulders where it had fallen. "Well....I think that rules out the temple."

"Let's check it anyway." Sam turned and her own weapon ready, followed Teal'c down the path.

"Major Carter!" She almost tripped over the warrior when he suddenly stopped, dropping to one knee. They watched as the Jaffa ran his fingers over a darker area of dirt, lifting one of the stones to his nose.

"Teal'c?"

"Blood....." The one somber word sent chills through each of them. The warrior fingered the bent frames of Daniel's glasses before gently placing the useless pieces of wire in his pocket.

*****

Years of training kicked in as Jack surfaced from the blackness. Remaining still, keeping his breathing even, he lay listening to the sounds around him. He remembered momentarily regaining consciousness twice before. Remembered being carried. Teal'c? No, he didn't recognize any of the voices or understand the language. What had happened to Daniel? Was the scientist here with him?

Jack examined as much of his surroundings as possible through slitted lids. They had evidently stopped for the night in a grove of trees. He could make out the sillouhettes of two men in the flickering of a small fire that provided the only light. He was sure he'd heard several different voices. 'Think Jack. Assess the situation. Weigh your options'.

Obviously, the situation wasn't good. He was on a strange planet, trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey, held prisoner by who the hell knew what. Jack twisted his hands, testing the rough rope that tightly bound his wrists behind him.

Options? Apparently they hadn't searched him or just didn't care about what he might have on him. He could feel the weight of his sidearm resting heavily against his leg, and his radio was still in his vest pocket, although from the feel of it his knife was gone. He'd been about to use it when he'd heard Daniel's....Daniel? Was the kid dead? No, he refused to believe that. His Spacemonkey had more lives than a dozen cats. But where was he? One option was Daniel had made it back to the gate for help. If that was the case, all he had to do was stay alive and try and leave a trail if they moved again. Teal'c would find him. Teal'c could track a bird in flight. If Daniel was also a prisoner that changed the situation slightly. Well there was only one way to find out for sure.

With a slight groan, O'Neill wiggled into a sitting position, taking a long look around. There was no sign of Daniel. That was good. Maybe it meant the young man had gotten away. Had managed to get back to the safety of the SGC. He cried out as a heavy foot landed in the middle of his back, shoving him back onto his side, the sharp rocks digging into his hips and shoulder.

The overwhelming smell of body odor almost gagged Jack as the filthy man knelt in front O'Neill. His dirt encrusted nails dug into the colonel's scalp as the man grabbed a handful of short hair, jerking him back into a sitting position. A rough shove sent O'Neill slamming against the closest tree trunk.

Jack glared at the large man, listening carefully for anything that might sound familiar in the strange words being directed at him.

A heavy fist smashed into his mouth splitting his lip as he shook his head indicating he didn't understand what was being asked.

'Son of bitch!' He mentally ran through the lists of definative insults adding a few he saved for special occasions. 'Maybe they can minds.' Was his last conscious thought as the powerful punishing blows continued to pound into his face and body.

*****

Trembling, whether from cold or shock, Daniel, using the staff weapon for leverage, struggled to his feet, mentally chastizing himself for falling asleep. Passing out might have been a better description, but he preferred to think it had been simple exhaustion and stress rather than blood loss or head trauma.

The powder blue moon hanging high above didn't give much light but it wasn't the lack of illumination causing the scientist to stumble as he moved in the direction he'd last seen Jack taken. The small amount of rest he'd allowed himself had done little to replenish his strength. At least, the stiffness of dried blood on the back of his clothes was proof the wound no longer bled.

'Think. Ignore the pain. Think. Have to keep moving. Just put one foot in front of the other. Think. Translate. You've heard the language before....Where.' Daniel ran the litany through his mind. He was sure he'd heard the language or a variation of it before.

Damn, how far away was that next grove of trees? The scientist continued his reckless journey moving from one grove across the open plains to the next, watching, listening for any sign he may be getting closer to the men who held his friend.

'Think. Translate. Concentrate.' Daniel bit down on the shriek of agony as his knees once again impacted with the sharp rocks when his muscles suddenly turned to jelly. Knowing sounds carried easier in the open, especially at night, he gritted his teeth in a vain attempt to stifle his moans as excruciating shafts of pain weaved crazy patterns through his body. Salty tears trapped beneath the swollen lid, set the eye lacerations on fire. Doubled over, Daniel gripped his head, forcing slow deep breaths, willing the pain to pass. Reality faded in the comfortable warmth of blackness as unconsciousness claimed him once again.