BLOOD MOON

Author: BadgerGater

Email: [email protected]

Category: Adventure, H/C

Rating: G

Season: Season one, early

Summary: Dr. Fraiser's first off-world trip turns out to be not much fun for Col. O'Neill

Warnings: None; a little Jack whumping, as usual

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

Author's Notes: Previously appeared in the 'zine, The Briefing Room, published 2000

I supposed I shouldn't blame them. After all, very nearly every one of them we encountered was sick with a disease they caught from us, not SG-1, but SG-4. I'm not sure how Dr. Fraiser missed it, letting that young lieutenant off-world with an incubating case of a common Earth disease that turned out to be a very nasty thing to give to a planet full of natives with no immunity to it. Lucky we didn't kill them all, along with me.

I guess I ought to go back and start at the beginning. You see, SG-4 caught this assignment because it was a very quiet world, or so we thought, and SG-1 was on downtime, without Daniel, still recuperating from that nasty incident on P4G-something-something. Dr. Fraiser wouldn't clear him to go off-world, and the General wanted to send a team with an expert on ancient cultures. The probe had shown people on the planet, some primitive looking culture, but no sign of Goa'uld presence or technology, so they sent SG-4 in place of us.

Bad decision all around, at least for the people of P4H-608. God, I wish they'd just give these planets a name, not some hopeless to remember number. Me, I just call these worlds after something we saw or someone we met or some incident that happened there. That's the only way I can keep them straight in my head, all the dozens of worlds we've visited by now. You know, like the blue crystals place or Thor and the Vikings or the touched or those naked painted singing guys-- now that stuff I can remember. But this world, this world I will always remember as the home of the Opossum Fish and the Rock Thingys. But back to the beginning....

Anyway, SG-4 apparently had a very nice time visiting some very nice people on that very nice little out of the way planet. The people called themselves the Kressin. Friendly folks who had never heard of the snakeboys. They had no tall tales or cryptic writings about 'em even, so Daniel would just have been disappointed anyway. There weren't a lot of people on the planet. Most of them lived in small caves along the river valleys, ate "fish" or what they called fish caught in that river (kind of reminded me of salmon crossed with opossums. I guess), grew crops that might once have been Earth wheat, I suppose (don't know much about wheat, we didn't grow much of that on the southside of Chicago) and hunted with spears some great lumbering beasts they called cows but which looked more like, well, like giant opossums (are you beginning to see a pattern here?) Me, I can eat nearly anything, but man, that stuff I really had to choke down. It was ugly looking and uglier tasting, but they loved it. Oh well.

But I'm getting ahead of myself again. SG-4 ran a routine reconnaissance, found nothing of special value, no technology or Goa'uld artifacts, sampled the planet's plants and animals, and came home after four days.

That's when Lt. Barneveld got sick and our recently assigned chief medical officer, Dr. Janet Fraiser, got worried over the possibility the team had contaminated every Kressin they'd come in contact with. Someone had to go back.

<><><><><>

"So," I asked at the briefing, "what awful plague did SG-4 give them? Ebola? Anthrax? Hoof and mouth disease? Halitosis?"

Dr. Fraiser shot me an annoyed glance. "Actually, chicken pox, Sir."

"Chicken pox?” I rolled my eyes. “A whole planet in crisis over chicken pox? For cryin' out loud, Doc, that's a kid's disease."

"Not on a planet where no one's ever had it or been immunized against it," Fraiser glared at me, not at all amused by my wit. Hmmph. Another over educated scientific type with no sense of humor.

"Lt. Barneveld has chicken pox?" the General repeated.

"Oh yes, Sir. He went to his nephew's birthday party...."

"What about anybody else?" I wanted to know.

"Well, it appears everyone else here has either had chicken pox or has been immunized."

"So how did Barneveld get off world without...." I asked.

"I'm not sure, Colonel,” Fraiser said defensively. “His medical file indicates he had chicken pox as a child, but most likely he was mistaken."

"Great. So now what do we do?" I asked sulkily.

The doctor had her answers ready. "We need to send a medical team through to check the Kressin, treat the symptoms for any who might be already ill, and vaccinate the rest of the exposed population. I've already had supplies of the treatment, Acyclovir, and the vaccine, Varicella Zoster immune globulin, shipped in from the CDC...." the doctor explained.

My eyes were glazing over already. "Sounds like a job for SG-8, sir," I told Hammond, wondering why my team had been called in on this one instead of our standing medical team.

"Yes, Colonel, normally it would be, but SG-8 is already off-world treating plague victims on P4G-087. Every team we have is either off-world, ready to go off-world, just home from off-world or even more short-handed than you are. So, Colonel, you’re it. I've assigned Dr. Fraiser and two of her medical staff to go to P4H-608 with the three able-bodied members of SG-1 as escort."

"General, we're a field unit, not a medical team--" not babysitter's either, I was thinking, but had the good sense not to say out loud. I do spend a lot of time in Fraiser's infirmary, best not make her any angrier at me. She could detain me there for weeks with her tests, just for spite if I made her mad enough.

"No medical duties, Colonel, you're there just to ensure the safety of the medical staff."

"From what, the chicken pox? I didn't see any threats discovered by SG-4." I said, leafing through the mission report for emphasis.

"Colonel, you know mission protocol-- these are non-combatant personnel, and I wouldn't be sending them as it was, if this weren't a crisis we created. Or if we had anyone else to send."

"But Sir..."

"No buts, Colonel, you take the doctor and her staff to P4H-608 and help those people," Hammond ordered.

I looked over at the diminutive doctor who'd only recently joined the Stargate program. "Volunteered for this mission, did you, Captain?" She defiantly shook her head yes. I don't think she liked being called by her rank, not her title. By then, I was upset enough I didn't much care what she thought. "Ever been through the gate, doctor?"

"No, Colonel."

"It's no stroll in the woods."

"I know Sir. I've put you back together after a few of those little strolls."

Hammond snorted. I glared. Doctors. Almost as bad as scientists. Why me?

"Okay then Dr. Fraiser. Get your people and your gear together and we'll go when you're ready," I told her.

"Thirty minutes, Sir."

"Thirty it is."

<><><><><>

In twenty-eight minutes, Fraiser re-appeared, having changed into adequate if a little unorthodox off-world gear-- the BDUs were a tad long, rolled up at her ankles, but her t-shirt, jacket, hiking boots and two backpacks and a gear bag stuffed with medical equipment completed her gear. With her were Lt. Jeanne Rathert and Lt. Sue Edmonds, both RNs who'd been offworld with SG-8 several times before.

"Sure you got it all?" I asked, eyeing the additional large containers of medical supplies packed aboard the FRED. "Needles? Bandages? Cute little cotton balls? The kitchen sink?

"Yes, Sir."

Her eyes were huge as we stood at the base of the ramp while the wormhole kawhooshed open and the shimmering wall of fluid settled back into the ring. Even I've got to admit, it's a neat moment.

Teal'c, Carter, Edmonds and Rathert quickly stepped through, the FRED following. Fraiser paused just inches from the surface, taking a deep breath. I remembered the sense of wonder Carter had shown on her first gate trip. And how sick she'd gotten once she'd gone through. Rookies, I shook my head.

"Piece of cake," I said jauntily.

"Yeah, right," she answered, a little shakily, so I took her arm (I know, I know, a very un-colonel-ish thing to do) and turned about to her the words she'd said to me far too often in the infirmary. "Don't worry, Doc, I'm here to take care of you. You're going to be just fine."

She returned my grin, and though she hadn't lost that look of apprehension, we stepped into the wormhole.

<><><><><>

She was shaking when we came through, looking a bit green. First trip through the gate is always a bit rough. "If you're going to throw up, try not to get any on my boots," I ordered.

She was fighting for control, threw me a withering look. "Yes Sir, Colonel. Any particular spot I *should* choose, Sir?" But she was coloring up, and starting to look around with the wonder only a first time traveler exhibited. Yes, I'd seen that look before, and for a moment I felt very jaded. I didn't appreciate this incredible thing I was a part of, and wasn't that deja vu all over again?

Fraiser quickly got herself back together, sipping from her canteen, fitting her sunglasses on her face, and shouldering her pack, while Teal'c and I picked up the rest of the extra gear. At my nod Carter took point, the FRED and the rest of us trailing in her wake. "Lets go, campers."

<><><><><>

We hiked for several hours to reach the village SG-4 had visited. No one greeted our arrival, although a few faces peered cautiously from the cave entrance. Still, no one tried to bar our way. It was soon obvious why. There were quite a few sick people, and the others were afraid.

Fraiser and her staff went right to work, with Carter, Teal'c and me as support staff-- checking each cave dwelling in the village for the ill and the well, making sure every one of the Kressin was either treated or immunized. We gathered the sick into a makeshift infirmary in the one huge, meeting room area of the cave.

With things under control inside, I took a quick reconnoiter around the village outside, and found nothing unusual. So I picked a convenient rock with a view down into the valley, sat down on it and watched, for what I wasn't sure. Habit, I supposed, to keep on guard, no matter how peaceful the place seemed.

Fraiser came out to see me near sunset.

"Sir, we've got a problem."

"Problems are my specialty," I said glibly, hoping this would give me something to do besides sit and watch sick people being, well, sick. I get enough of that in my second home, the SGC infirmary.

"I've got several dozen cases of chicken pox, so it's for certain that SG-4 brought the disease to the planet with them. I think we've got things well contained here. However, Colonel, some of the Kressin, a couple of traders, left this village two days ago, on their way up there," she pointed to a mountainside looming high above us. "There's another village up there, smaller than this, I think, but they went up there."

"I thought these villages were pretty isolated, doctor."

"For the most part they are, Colonel, but these people here along the river do some trading with those Kressin who live up by the lake. Apparently there's some different type of opossum fish up there, too," she explained, using the term I'd coined for the ugly fish we'd been served for lunch. And dinner. And I was afraid we'd get for breakfast, too.

"So?"

"So we need to follow those traders, Colonel. They could be spreading the infection."

I nodded. "Any idea how far?"

"I'm not sure, Sir, but Iltas, the Kressin who told me about this, he's never been there, but he thinks it takes them 2 or 3 days to get there."

Yeah, I’d wanted something to do. "Okay, Doc..."

"I'd like to leave Jeanne and Sue here, and Captain Carter can help them take care of the patients. Only a few of the sick are really ill enough to need nursing anymore, but we’ll probably have a few more cases come to light over the next couple of days. In addition, we've immunized everyone in this village. However, I'd recommend we have Teal'c check the villages to the west, just to make sure this hasn't spread any further. If we catch this now, we should be in the clear, Sir."

I wasn't thrilled about splitting up my personnel like that, but I didn't see any alternative, since time was of the essence. "Okay, you and I go up there. We leave Carter and your staff here to look after these people, and Teal'c checks to the west." I gazed up at the mountain. "Looks like a tough climb, doctor. You up for this?"

She shot me a dirty look. "Yes Sir."

"Okay, then, Dorothy, we're off to see the wizard."

"Sorry, Colonel, can't be Dorothy. No Toto."

I laughed. Score one for the new doc.

<><><><><>

We hiked in companionable silence for several hours. It was work, but she was a trooper, never complaining as she labored to keep up with my long-legged stride, though I caught the grateful look she threw me when I called for a break. We drank from our canteens, nibbled on ration bars, then moved on.

As darkness fell, I called a halt in a sheltered spot that seemed okay for a camp, trees shielding us from a rising wind. Only then I think did she stop to think about being on a planet light years away from home, alone with a strange (hey, well, you know, I'm not really so strange) guy toting a gun. Though, come to think of it, she had her own gun. And she had assured me she knew how to use it.

<><><><><>

Knowing how hard she'd worked all day caring for the sick, then keeping up on our hike, I volunteered to take the first watch, and neglected to wake her until dawn. As the sun rose, she sat up, disheveled, looking around at the rising sun. "You stood guard all night?"

"Insomniac, remember, doc?" I said, handing her a cup of coffee.

"You should have gotten some rest."

"I'll be okay. Once we hit that village, I'll get some sleep."

She looked hard at me, nodded, and we hit the trail.

Topping the first mountain ridge, we dropped down a steep hillside trail into a deep valley, then climbed a long steady slope. We spent our second night out in the open there, huddled in a cluster of rocks, me taking a two hour nap in the evening while Doc stood watch. I then stood a quiet guard the remainder of the night.

I radio-ed Carter from our camp, relieved that now that we were higher up the mountain, our communications gear worked again. We'd missed our noon check in, hemmed in by mountains, down in that valley.

Things were going as expected back at the village, the captain told me.

We'd be a couple more days, I told her.

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

At dawn, Fraiser and I were off again, and reached the village by mid-day.

I helped Doc round up all the villagers, there only a couple hundred here. I didn't even watch as she administered shot after shot to immunize them. So yeah, I have a problem with needles. Don't most folks?

A couple dozen of the Kressin *were* sick, several with diseases Doc wasn't sure of, but none seemed to in fact have the chicken pox. One small boy had a nasty, infected cut on his leg from the fins of one of those opossum fish. Others had a variety of minor ailments. Doc treated them all. She worked non-stop, seemed to be everywhere helping these people, giving one her own blanket, and handing mine to another as the evening turned chilly.

I did what I could to help, toted water and helped her move patients between keeping watch. By evening, she was exhausted, and I was impressed.

"Doc, you need a break."

"Don't see anyone to spell me around here, do you Colonel?"

Shook my head. "Just me."

"You?"

"Granted, I'm no doctor. But I can check on each of them," I said, indicating the two dozen ill or injured villagers we had gathered into the cave dwelling's great room.

"There's too much to do." She shook her head.

"*Captain* Fraiser, you rest, that's an order. From your Colonel." I looked around. "Most of them seem to be sleeping." She nodded. "Ill keep an eye on them, wake you if anything seems amiss."

"For sure?"

"Sure. Scout's honor."

"You, Colonel O'Neill, are no Boy Scout," she answered with a grin but obeyed.

"To bed," I ordered.

There wasn't a spare blanket or an empty pallet. So tired she was nearly staggering, Fraiser simply picked a spot against the far wall and curled up, wrapping her arms around herself and closing her eyes wearily. I saw her shiver. Aw hell, I'm a gentleman, can't help it. I pulled off my jacket and slid it over her shoulders. She groaned, snuggling into it. "This is nice, Colonel, but won't you be cold?"

"Old soldiers trick," I told her with a grin. "Easier to stay awake on guard when you're chilly."

She popped one eye open to look up at me. "Is that an old trick by soldiers, or a trick by old soldiers?"

Got me again, I thought. "Both."

I slept soundly for hours. When I woke, I walked around my makeshift emergency ward, and found all my patients asleep. O'Neill was sitting outside the cave on a huge rock formation, gazing out at the most unbelievable night sky I had ever seen. I climbed silently up beside him. "Incredible."

"Yes it is, isn't it," he agreed softly, a dare I say, almost peaceful look on his face.

I remembered Sam telling me about the telescope on his roof. "I don't recognize anything."

"There's a couple I know," he said, pointing them out to me, but I didn't make the connection.

"Guess I don't know them well enough, not like you."

"Oh, I just dabble, Doc." His eyes swung back to the ground, watchful, then strayed back to the sky. "That's something isn't it?" he said, pointing out a ribbon of stars that glittered like jewels across the sky.

"Wow."

"Right," he nodded, and shivered.

"I never imagined I'd set foot on another planet and now that I'm here, so much of it seems so ordinary, except this," I said, waving at the brilliant sky. "It's like, I could be in some remote part of Earth, not light years from home on an alien planet." I shook my head.

"Hard to believe, sometimes, how far we are from home," he agreed.

"So, where's the sun?"

"Ours? Sol? Umm," he shifted, scanned another area of the night sky. "Probably about there," he pointed. "Hard to tell. Might be that star, or that one. Might not even be visible from here. It's not very bright."

"Insignificant."

"Makes ya think, doesn't it?"

I eyed him in surprise. "Yes, Colonel, it does," I said and shivered, noticing for the first time how tired he looked. "Sir, you should get some sleep. When's the last time you had any rest?"

He shook his head. "I'm okay. I've gone longer than this.."

"I’m sure you have, Colonel. But I had a good rest, I can watch for a couple hours."

"Okay, then Ill nap. Holler if you see anything at all."

"I will, Colonel."

As he curled up in the jacket I had reluctantly given back to him, I suddenly realized that was the longest conversation I had ever had with O'Neill, the only one in which he'd ever said anything to me that wasn't either all military and all business, or annoyingly sarcastic.

Like the good soldier I am, I was asleep the moment I lay down. I slept two hours, then got up with the sunrise, making us coffee. Fraiser accepted it gratefully, and went back to her patients.

Shortly after, she reported to me. "They're all doing well, Sir. The traders who came up here don’t have any symptoms, so I think we got lucky. If there's no change, I believe we can start back this afternoon. There's not a lot I can still do here, I'm about out of all my medical supplies anyway, and the ill all seem on the mend."

"All right." I radioed Teal'c and told him we'd start back that day and to expect us in about 36 hours. We'd probably be out of communication for most of the interim, I advised, down in that big canyon.

<><><><><>

When we told the Kressin we wanted to leave, they got pretty excited. Doc kept explaining to them that the sick were all getting better, there was no need for us to stay. They clung to us, hung onto us, chattering at us about the moon, but finally, hours later than planned, we managed at last to break away and start our trek back down the mountain.

Fraiser and I hiked. I was feeling irrationally good, enjoying this planet, what we'd accomplished here among these people, helping them instead of killing anyone or anything, for once. I should have known better than to start enjoying myself. It was very nearly a fatal error.

It was approaching dusk, but since we'd started so late I didn't want to quit this early. A huge blood red moon was rising for the first time since we'd been on the planet, shedding enough light that we decided to keep on a little further. Dumb idea, as it turned out.

I never did know where the creature came from, just that as I rounded a really big rock on the trail, one I actually didn't quite remember passing on our walk up the mountain, the rock let out an unearthly bellow and grabbed my left arm.

I bellowed back. Doc hollered something, but I was too busy trying to get my arm out of the creature's mouth. I couldn't bring my gun around, but I grabbed my knife and sliced across, well, I don't know what part of the critter it was, but something hot and sticky like blood but yellowish gushed out. I think I must have made it mad, because it tossed it's head, at least I think it was the head, it was the part with a mouth and teeth. It shook me, rattling my teeth, and threw me, my gun flying from my grasp, slipping over the edge of the trail.

I could hear Fraiser firing her weapon, but I didn't think her little handgun was going to make much of an impression on this monster, sort of like trying to shoot an elephant with a BB gun, and not knowing where the elephant's vital spots were.

I staggered to my feet, stumbling after my gun, when the rock thingy spun around surprisingly quickly, and swatted me with what I figured was it's tail. I staggered to my knees, my left shoulder blazing with fire, and I fell, slipping over the side of the trail. With my right arm I grabbed frantically at brush and rocks to slow my slide, and by sheer luck in the darkness found my gun. I crawled back up to and over the edge of the trail, afraid of what I might find, but Fraiser was still firing and now I raked a whole clip of slugs across the creature's back. It staggered, and I felt better, but then it turned back again toward me and I suddenly realized I had nowhere to retreat. I pulled the trigger on my automatic weapon, spraying the creature with lead and slipping again over the edge as it rushed at me.

I saw the creature grab the Colonel. I couldn't shoot, afraid I'd hit him, but he cut the thing and pulled free. And then he was falling and that thing, it was turning on me as I pulled out my gun. I raised my weapon and fired round after round, frantically trying to see O'Neill, afraid the thing had already killed him. But then he was shooting again and I was shooting and he disappeared. The creature was stumbling toward me, weaving, and I ducked back up the trail as the animal swayed and fell, twitching, then went still.

"Colonel? Colonel O'Neill?" Oh God, I couldn't see him, could see no sign of movement anywhere in the eerie red moonlight.

Suddenly, he was there, crawling up over the side of the trail, alive, thank God, but he looked a mess, blood, red and yellow, all over him, scratches on his face, his cap askew.

He tried to get to his feet, couldn't, staggered, and went down on his knees, gasping. "Is it dead?" he asked.

"It quit moving."

"Good,” he answered between gasps for air. “You okay?"

"I'm fine. How bad are you hurt, Colonel?"

"Just got my arm, I think."

His left shirt sleeve was shredded and bloodied. I'd need more light to get a better look at where the blood was coming from, but it didn't seem broken, though he grunted when I touched it and flexed it. "Doesn't seem too bad."

"From your point of view, maybe," he gave me a withering look as I checked his vitals. His pulse and heart were racing, but that I would expect, with what we'd just been through, the adrenaline still in his system from the fight, and pain will do that too. He was getting his breathing pretty well back under control, too, and for a moment I thought things were going to be okay.

And then he turned and I saw, oh damn, his back, there were… things, sticking out of the back of his left shoulder. "Colonel?"

"What?"

"Colonel, how does your back feel?"

"Numb."

"That's good."

"Why's that?" he asked, suspiciously, as he tried to look. "What?"

I swallowed hard. "Sir, there's, there's I don't know, things, sticking out of your back. Spines. Like…” it hit me suddenly, “like porcupine quills. Seven or eight, I don't know how many, I can't tell how deep they're in or what they're like." I could see blood soaking the back of his shirt. This was not good, not good at all.

"Oh for crying out loud, another alien poking holes in me? Hah. Pull them out," ever practical, that O'Neill.

"I don't know if I should, Colonel."

"You don't know if you should? What, I'm supposed to walk all the way back to the gate playing pincushion?"

"This will hurt," I warned him.

"Ya think?" He deadpanned. "Do it."

I gripped one of the quills, and he flinched. Hmm, not so numb anymore, it appeared. I gripped the spine, but it was slippery with his blood, so I tried again and he hollered "Oww" but it didn't budge. Once more, I tried to grip the quill and pulled.

"Stop. Aggghhh. Stop" He had his eyes screwed tight shut, his face suddenly gone white.

"Colonel?"

"It's not numb anymore," he said, and moaned, "oh God," hunching over against the pain.

I put my hand against his neck, softly, trying to soothe him, feeling the pulse racing. "Wait. I need to check something." I ran back to the creature. There, on it's tail, more of those quill-like things, with nasty, barbed ends. Oh God, barbed ends, like an arrowhead. I wouldn't be able to pull them out.

I hurried back. O'Neill was still sitting on the ground, clutching his shoulder, fighting for control against the pain, but losing, each breath sounding harsh and ragged and difficult. When he lifted his head, there was so much pain etched on his face in that moment before he slid that mask of self-control back into place.

And then another horrible thought crossed my mind, good Lord, those things could be poisonous, could be killing him as I stood there doing nothing. "Colonel I'm going to have to get those things out of your back, but I can't pull them out. They've got barbed ends, like arrows. I'll have to cut them out."

"Oh good," he said, "that sounds pleasant." And closed his eyes again.

"Sir, I think we need to do this now."

"Just give me a minute," he said, eyes still closed, as he fought for and gained some control of his breathing. Astonishing, I thought, though I knew his medical history and shouldn't have been surprised.

Suddenly, his brown eyes flew wide open. "We've got to move."

"What? Colonel, you shouldn't be moving anywhere. We need to..."

"We need to get away from here. Now. Before we're in even bigger trouble."

I opened my mouth to protest, but something in his face stopped me.

"That thing may not have been alone, Doc. It could have a mate, or a brother or," his eyes suddenly got wider, "or its mother could come looking for it. At best, there'll be scavengers coming for that much fresh meat...."

"Colonel, we haven't seen any sign of anything else...."

"We didn't see any sign of that thing, either, until it bit me. We've got to get out of here. Now."

I could be stubborn, too. "No, Sir."

His eyes flashed, despite the pain he was in, and he stuck out his right hand, expecting me to take it to help him up. "Captain," he emphasized, "We move now. That’s an order, not a suggestion."

"Colonel, I may be only a Captain, but I *am* the chief medical officer present. In fact, sir, I'm the chief medical officer on the whole damned planet. Sir."

"And I'm the ranking officer present. The CO. On the whole goddamned planet. We're going. Now." Somehow, and I don't know how he managed it, sheer willpower I guess, he pushed himself to his feet without my help, but I had to grab him as he swayed dizzily.

"I think I'm going to be sick," he said, and turned away to retch into the rocks.

After a minute or two, I helped him sit on a (real) rock nearby, gave him water to rinse the bitterness from his mouth, and steadied him while the wave of nausea and dizziness passed.

He looked sheepishly at me. "Not very dignified for the commanding officer on the planet, huh?"

"At least you didn't get any on my shoes."

God above, he laughed, and for a moment I felt better-- at least his sense of humor was still intact and that meant there was hope, or so I thought. Until I saw him hunch over again, grabbing his left arm with his right, teeth gritted. "God."

Heaven help me, I didn't have so much as an aspirin to give him to ease the pain. What few medical supplies we hadn't used up, or left with the Kressin back on the mountain, had been in the pack O'Neill had carried, the one the creature had knocked over the side of the mountain trail. It had disappeared somewhere below, into the rocks, off the trail, nowhere to be seen.

"Colonel?"

He opened his eyes and I saw the most incredible determination there.

"Come on, Doc. We move. Now," the unspoken part, while I still can.

This time I did help him to his feet and he threw his good arm over my shoulder. We edged past the remains of the beast and started down the trail like a couple of drunken airmen helping each other home after a long night on the town.

I prayed there wasn't another one of those creatures ahead of us somewhere because in the now near total darkness, the red moon having set, I could have stumbled right over it without seeing it. I'm not even sure how I kept my feet on the steep rocky trial. All I could hear was O'Neill's harsh breathing, his occasional deeper gasps as a flash of pain hit. His body trembled with chills when he wasn't sweating from the building fever. I could feel his heart racing as he leaned more and more heavily on me. We wouldn't be able to go much further.

"Colonel, we should take a break."

“No.”

“We need…”

His quiet words cut off my protest. "If I sit down, quite frankly, I don't think I'll be able to get up again."

I believed him, and we stumbled on.

Finally, I spied what looked like a bit of a sheltered spot just off the trial. It wasn’t much, just a scooped out depression in the rocky hillside that would offer us some protection from weather or those creatures. I shivered and it wasn't from the cold.

"Colonel, we've got to stop."

"Okay," he nodded.

I eased him to a sitting position, resting his good shoulder against the rock wall, worried at how white his face was and how he was unable to mask the pain in his eyes.

"How's that?"

"Just like home, but clean sheets would be nice," he tried to grin, but failed.

Typical O'Neill, covering up his pain with a bad joke.

I rummaged through my pockets, hoping to find something useful, scrounged a last bit of betadine, the end of a roll of tape, some gauze. Not much, but better than nothing. I started a small fire, just enough to heat my knife while I checked him over carefully. Besides eight of those quills in his back, he had two nasty puncture wounds in his biceps, where the creature had grabbed hold of him, and a series of deep, ragged cuts, teeth marks actually, all the way down his arm. I needed antibiotics, sutures, disinfectants, sterile bandages, another pair of hands, just to treat this, not to mention the mess on his back. Damn.

I helped him lie down on his stomach. Carefully I cut his shirt and vest and pulled it away from his shoulder, using a small bit of water to wash away some of the blood. When the knife blade was hot, I swabbed a little of the betadine on the quill I'd chosen first-- one that seemed either to be longer or, I dearly hoped, was imbedded less deeply into his back.

"Ready, Colonel?"

"Go ahead,” he said wearily. “Just don't tell me it's going to hurt. I know that already."

I nodded grimly and went to work, slicing through his skin along the shaft of the quill as he shuddered beneath my hands. This one was in only (God, only! easy for me to say when it wasn't my back I was digging into without a bit of painkiller) a little more than an inch. "Got it."

"Good," he groaned, sweat dripping from his face.

I didn't want him wasting energy trying to be brave, or tough. "Yell if it hurts." I suggested.

"*If*?"

"Okay, stupid remark. Yell, then, doctor's orders." I daubed more antiseptic on his back, quickly pulled out quills two and three as he yelped. They came out easily, each had only been in about an inch or so. Maybe this won't be so bad, I prayed silently. The next two were tougher, imbedded deeper, forcing me to cut more deeply into his back, blood welling.

"How are you doing?"

He gave me one of those stupid question looks. "Wonderful."

"Good, that’s five done, that's more than half way, sir."

He took a deep breath, steadying himself. "Get to it."

The other quills I had pulled out seemed to be about four inches long, with most of the shaft left sticking out of his skin, penetration apparently hampered by the tough material of his vest. I'd left the worst for last, three quills that seemed to be imbedded deepest, just above the edge of his vest through the lighter material of his shirt. They might have been shorter to start with, broken off perhaps, but, more likely, they had gone in deeper. At worse case they could be penetrating all the way into his lung or his shoulderblade.

The knife was hot again. I cut carefully along the edge of the quill and heard his indrawn breath as I probed deeper this time. I felt him shudder beneath my hand, and raise himself off the ground three, maybe four inches. "Easy, easy," I told him. "Keep still, Colonel, try to keep still."

"I am trying," he said. "It hurts," slamming his right hand into the rock again and again, sweat rolling off his face, a moan escaping his lips.

I still couldn't get the quill out, this one was in deep, maybe the quill was longer, and then suddenly it came free and he moaned again, breathing in rough, ragged gasps that hurt even to listen to.

"That one was in deep."

"Ya think?"

"Two left," I said, once again heating the knife before cutting the skin, digging down to the deeply imbedded barbed quill, pulling it loose as he writhed silently in agony.

"Just one left, Colonel. You need a break?"

"And stretch out this pleasant experience? Noooo thanks. Dig away, Doc, get it done," the strain evident in his voice this time.

The knife was hot once more and again I worked it carefully down along the shaft of the quill, carefully, carefully, and this one like the last didn't want to release. I had to dig deeper, blood oozing along the knife, and I couldn't see.

"Get it done," he ordered in a twisted voice.

"I can't get it, Colonel, I think it's stuck in the bone," and I tried once again to pull it free. He groaned, his breath coming in small, short gasps, and suddenly it came loose in my hand. "Done, done," I said triumphantly.

He closed his eyes, "ahhh."

And then I looked at what I held I my hand and swore. "Damn, damn, damn."

"Not more," he said.

"No, Sir, but this one, it, it broke off. The tip is still in there. I'm going to have to try again to get it out."

"Oh God, give a woman a knife and she'll stab you in the back," he mumbled.

I tried to work the knife back in as carefully as I could, knowing I was hurting him, knowing I was tearing up his back, but still the thing wouldn't come. What I wouldn't have given for some surgical tools, hell, a simple tweezers. I couldn't grip the thing, couldn't get my blood slicked fingers to hold onto it as more blood welled and oozed out of his back.

He went limp suddenly and for a horrifying moment, I thought he'd stopped breathing. But he was breathing, roughly, passed out and in a few seconds he was back.

"I couldn't get it sir. It's stuck in the bone of your shoulder."

"Then leave it there," he mumbled.

"I don't think I should, Colonel."

"Leave it there," he ordered.

"It could be poisonous."

"Then that's what it is and I'm probably dead already. Even without the torture."

"Sir..."

"Get it later, Doc, when we get home."

Truth was, I didn't have a choice. Without something to grasp hold of it, I couldn't move it and digging around more in his back under these primitive, unsterile conditions was only going to make things worse.

I bandaged him up as well as I could with what little I had. I covered his back where my crude surgery had caused blood to flow, used the betadine sparingly on the worst damage to his arm, and wrapped makeshift bandages around the deepest of the cuts.

"How does that feel?"

"Just peachy." His eyes slid closed. "I think I'll rest now. Leaving you on guard duty." He tried to open his eyes, fought a losing battle to do more than make the eyelids twitch. "Watch out for more of those things," he mumbled. "Wake me if you need help."

"Sure, Superman."

"Damn right," he mumbled and drifted off.

I couldn't really sleep. My back and arm hurt too much, but there's a way you learn, in my line of work, to put the pain in a little box, close the lid tightly and lock it up and ignore it. Works. Usually. Not this time though. Box kept popping back open. Damn.

I shifted, hoping to find a more comfortable position and felt the doctor's hand gently touch my good shoulder. "Easy, Colonel," she said in that soothing voice. Would have been a lot more soothing to the tune of a nice IV painkiller drip, but you can't have everything. "Easy, Sir."

"Sss okay," I mumbled and drifted into semi-sleep. Each time I woke, Doc was there, softly encouraging. I felt her check my forehead, and the bandages on my back. She couldn't help it that the fabric stuck to my skin, blood will do that I've noticed. I tried not to flinch, not to let her know it hurt, but I don't think I fooled her. All that moaning I was doing probably gave me away.

"Go back to sleep, Sir."

Perfect soldier that I am, I obeyed.

He was mostly quiet in the night, though now and then I could hear a catch in his breathing whenever he moved and the pain hit him. I was worried, really worried, that I hadn't been able to do enough, that this primitive surgery had made things worse instead of better, leaving him open to God knew what infection, that I'd made a bad decision to cut those quills out, or a worse one to leave that last quill in. My brain kept ticking off all the possible disasters that were headed his way, shock, fever, infection, blood loss, blood poisoning, something poisonous from that unknown creature-there were far too many possibilities. Even if I had him home and in my infirmary in the next ten minutes, he was going to be in big trouble. Out here? God, I didn’t want to think about it. And couldn’t stop thinking about it.

The stars wheeled slowly overhead in a night that seemed to go on forever, but I was too unsettled to see their beauty. Had it been only last night when he and I had sat and talked about the wonder of these alien stars? It seemed a lifetime ago.

Finally, somewhere deep in the night, I realized that his breathing had changed, that he had fallen into a sound sleep. That was good, I thought, though I would have liked to check his brow for fever. But now that he seemed to be truly resting, I was afraid if I touched him I'd wake him for sure. So I let him sleep, fought off drowsiness myself, and let my worries keep me awake.

For a while, I just watched her, sitting there looking out of our humble little cave, okay, cave might have been a bit of an exaggeration, looking out of our meager shelter as the dawn began to illuminate the cliff face across from us. We were in a deep valley, I remembered from the climb up to the village, and we would have to descend to the bottom and then climb up and over the other side before hitting the trail back to the first village. In my present condition, it was a daunting task just to walk, not to mention walk *up* out of here. Oh well. I must have sighed aloud, because suddenly Doc turned to me, a smile lighting her face when she saw I was awake.

"Morning, Doc."

"Good morning, Colonel," she reached over and placed her warm hand on my forehead, smiling still. "Fever doesn't seem any worse, that's good."

I pushed myself to a sitting position with my good arm, and yeah, some help from her. "What's for breakfast?"

Her smile brightened. "That's even better. You're hungry. Good." Then she frowned. "Not much for breakfast, I'm afraid, Colonel. Split a ration bar with you."

"Sure," I answered, taking the offered meal. "Better than my cooking. Of course, on some of the planets I've been on, sharing breakfast constitutes a marriage proposal." She gave me an odd look. I guess Doc isn't used to my delightful sense of humor. Yet. "Have you been able to reach Carter or Teal'c yet?" My radio had been smashed during my little encounter with the rock creature.

"No, Sir, nothing from my radio."

I nodded. "Not surprising that it's not working down here. These radios are good, but in this canyon, with no satellite relays? We'll contact them once we get up there," I said pointing up to the top of the ridge towering above us.

"I could hike back up to the top..." she offered.

"No," I barked, "there could be more of those creatures."

"But Colonel..."

"Ah," I waved a finger at her. "No buts. We stay together."

She nodded.

"Okay," I put my right hand out and she gripped it, surprising me with her strength, and helped me to my feet. "God," I breathed, swayed, grabbed her shoulder as she grabbed my waist, hunching my shoulders against the pain in my back. "Ahh."

"Hold on, Sir," she said, steadying me.

"I'll be okay... in a minute... just...wait." I tried all those old breathing exercises, got my body at least partially under control. Another need suddenly made itself painfully obvious. "Unnh, Doc?"

Give her credit, she understood right away, before I needed to say anything else, and took a business-like tack. "Hey, okay. Need a private moment myself, Sir." She helped me over to where I could lean relatively comfortably against a rock for support (don't worry, I checked, made sure it was a real rock and not one of those rock creature thingys with teeth and tail quills). "I'll be over there," she pointed to another rockpile, "be back in a couple minutes."

Efficient. Practical. No-nonsense. I liked that. Even if she is my doctor, well, a man does have to maintain his dignity. Dr. Fraiser had earned herself a few points in the last 24 hours, and I'll be the first to tell you, I grade tough.

Anyway, took care of my business, managed to get myself back in order before she came back, and without falling over-- damn proud of myself I was.

She picked up all our gear, what little remained of it, anyway, stowed it into her backpack and shrugged into it before draping my right arm over her shoulders. "Just to steady you, Sir."

"Right."

We walked, for weeks at least, or so it seemed. I let her lead while I concentrated on the really hard part, putting one foot in front of the other without falling down. It was going pretty good to the bottom of the hill, but as I felt the trail begin to tilt upward, I made the mistake of looking up at the path ahead. Steep. Rough. Long. "Oh God."

"Rest, Sir?"

"No, I'm fine," she gave me a look that said, 'I know that's a lie' but like a good soldier didn't contradict her commanding officer. "Let's go a ways yet before we take a break, huh?"

We developed a rhythm, despite the alarming way my knees kept wanting to buckle. Walk: breathe, take a step, breathe, sway but don't fall over, take another step, breathe and stagger, one more step, wobble but stay upright and breathe. "Sort of like a three-legged race," I chuckled.

"Sir?"

"Like a three legged race, didn't you ever?"

"Only you would think of something like that at a time like this."

"That's me, the sunshine committee," I said with a grin.

She laughed.

That laugh carried me a long way. Gave me something to think about besides the awful way I was feeling, the alarming way my energy was fading. But I'm nothing if not stubborn. Up the trail, one footstep at a time.

"Here, Sir, sit and rest a minute," she said. I looked up to see we'd reached a spot where a rock ledge beside the trail offered a natural seat. I sank down on it gratefully, letting my head droop and closing my eyes.

We shouldn't be stopping to rest yet, I told myself, there's such a long ways to go to the top of the canyon, but he's barely keeping on his feet and helping him is exhausting work for me. I bent over, hands on knees, sucking in the thin air, trying not to let him see. But he didn't notice. He was sitting with his head down, right hand cradling left arm. I leaned over to touch his forehead. It felt warm, way too warm, not good, not good, but the exertion of climbing could be causing that, I told myself.

I gave him the canteen and he drank deeply and handed it back. I sipped carefully, knowing there wasn't much water left and we had to get up and over this damn mountain to get any more.

We sat a few moments more, and then he lifted his head, nodded, ready to move again.

Without a word, I helped him up and we shuffled on.

O'Neill amazed me. Face pale and sweat drenched, mouth set in a grim line, eyes focused forward, he looked awful, but somehow, he went on.

The top of the hill seemed to be getting further away rather than closer, I swear. Once an hour, when I could find a place for him to sit and rest, we stopped and took a breather. On the third stop, I gave him the other half of the ration bar, the one I'd given him for breakfast this morning. He looked at me, that look saying he knew what I'd done, given my food to him, but he needed the energy to keep going. I had the reserves. He was hurt and he didn't. I watched him eat it, mechanically, knowing he must, and with another sharing of the canteen, we moved on.

Three hours. So little progress, for so much hard work. "Another hour and we'll take a longer break, Sir."

"You giving the orders now, Captain?"

"Doctors orders, Colonel."

"Yeah, right."

We struggled on. Sixty minutes. I was looking for another spot where he could rest, having trouble finding a place, when fate took over. He stumbled, a hiss of pain escaping his lips as he couldn’t keep his feet under him, and I couldn't hold him and we fell in a tangle, O'Neill landing mostly on top of me.

Not moving, he wasn't moving, dead weight lying on top of me. Out on his feet? "Colonel? Colonel!"

I saw his eyes suddenly snap back into focus and he tried to shift his weight off me. "Just enjoying the moment," he said, trying to make light of things.

"Colonel!" I tried to sound scandalized, hard to do with 200 lbs. of weary colonel fallen on top of you.

In the end, he had to push off the ground with his left arm to get off of me. He sucked in his breath, bit his lip again holding back a groan, pulling himself into a half sitting position so I could crawl out from underneath him.

"Guess this is where we take our next break," I suggested.

"Great spot," he answered.

"You picked it."

He snorted.

"You okay?" I asked.

"Never better. I usually just keel over right in the trail when I want a break. Perfect way to impress my companions."

"Yes, Sir."

He saw me rubbing my arm, the one that was feeling bruised where we'd both fallen on it. "How about you?" he asked with real concern.

"I'm just fine, Colonel. Really. A few bruises maybe," I said, wincing. "I've had worse."

"Sorry," he said genuinely, tried to shift to sit more comfortable, then grabbed his left arm again, lowering his chin to his chest. Pain flashed across his face. "Oh God." He didn't move. After a few minutes, his head still down, he finally looked up at me and said, "I think maybe you ought to take a look at my back."

Oh damn. I looked up in alarm, what had he done in that fall? He was asking for help, and though I didn't yet know O'Neill well, I knew enough to know that meant there was trouble. As carefully as I could, I peeled back the now blood soaked bandage. He sucked in his breath as the fabric stuck to the wounds on his shoulder before pulling free. He had craned his head around to see for himself. If anything, his face went whiter as he raised his eyes to mine.

His back looked awful, oozing blood and fluid from each of the cuts, the bandage stained red, probably fresh bleeding from the fall. Worst of all, around the spot where I'd been forced to leave the broken off piece of quill, the skin was reddening in a wide circle.

I couldn't keep the dismay off my face. I had to be honest, an infection was starting, and under these conditions, there was very little I could do to stop it. "I'm going to have to keep this wound open, try to get it to drain," I explained.

"Oh good," he muttered.

I found a relatively clean piece of cloth. "Colonel, what I'm going to have to do is open up that wound, then pack it with the last of the gauze so it will drain."

"Sounds wonderful." He took a couple of deep breaths. "Just be quick about it, huh?"

"Okay." I got him situated sitting with his good shoulder pressed in against the rock to steady him. I wiped the knife with the last piece of betadine soaked cloth, then lanced the skin quickly.

"That hurt," he mumbled with a groan.

More blood and fluid gushed out of the wound and I used the cloth to soak it up. By the time I was done he was shaking, eyes closed trying to hold in the agony. So I took his good hand and he held onto mine, his strong fingers gripping mine so hard I thought he would crush them. After a few minutes that must have seemed like an eternity to him, I said, "Colonel?"

"Hmmmm."

"I need my hand back, Sir."

His eyes flew open and he released my hand.

I checked his pulse, fast, but not bad, considering. I rebandaged the still seeping wounds. He still felt warm, a little feverish now I was sure. I gave him more water, let him rest a while.

Finally, he said, "let's go."

"Sure?"

"No," he looked into my eyes, "but we better try."

He did more than try. With my help, amazing as it seemed, he got to his feet, swayed, then steadied and we started to climb again.

They ought to put Jack O'Neill's picture in the dictionary next to the words tough, stubborn, and determined. Okay, they probably ought to put it beside bullheaded, obnoxious, irritating, intractable, smartass and a few other words, too, but it's obvious he wouldn't be within a hundred pages of quit, give, concede or surrender.

I know that there are some people who have a high pain threshold, and he certainly has to be one of those; I also know that there are ways some people can push past pain, and techniques that teach a person to carry on when the pain would be unbearable for the average human being. I’d never seen them in action before, and I’ll tell you, I don’t want to have to watch it ever again. And I’m never going into the field again without a ton of painkillers stuffed into my pockets. And a tweezers.

We kept climbing. Walk and rest, walk and rest. As the day wore on our walking times got shorter and our resting times got longer, but we kept on. The top of the canyon drew closer as the sun sank, but it soon became apparent we weren't going to make it before dark.

At our next rest stop I told him, "Sir, I'm going to walk to the top of the hill, try calling Captain Carter and Mr. Teal'c.

O’Neill opened one bleary eye to look at me assessingly. "We're both walking to the top of the hill, aren't we?"

"Yes, Colonel, but I can get there faster by myself, get help, Sir."

"We shouldn't separate."

"It's not that far, Colonel. You can watch me the whole way, see?" I pointed up the trail.

He looked up, his exhausted face taking it all in, realizing we weren't going to make the hilltop before the light failed. He shook his head. "I don't like it."

"I know, Colonel, but we have to contact Sam and Teal'c. They'll be worried, Sir, we've missed our check in."

He didn’t want to do it. I could see it in his face, his fierce need to protect me warring with the reality of our situation. Finally, he nodded. "Okay." He raised his head again. "Be careful."

I placed my hand on his arm. "I'll be careful, Sir. Promise. You stay put." I said, setting the canteen and his gun next to him.

I left everything but my gun and the radio with him, hiking to the top of the hill as fast as I could. Just walking seemed easy, without the pack and 200 lbs. of wounded, weary colonel hanging on my shoulder.

I started trying the radio near the top of the hill and was soon rewarded with a crackle of static, and Carter's voice.

"Col...that...hear...." A few more feet. There... clear.... "at the village. Where are you, Colonel?"

"Captain Carter, this is Dr. Fraiser."

"Doctor, where's the Colonel?" There was immediate concern in her voice. This team knew what was normal and knew this wasn't, for me to be calling in place of O'Neill.

"Colonel O’Neill's been hurt. He was attacked by some.... thing, a creature, big thing....."

"Where are you?"

"I'm at the top of the last ridge before the village. I had to leave the Colonel only part way up the hill to call you. The radio wouldn't work down in the valley, behind the mountain."

Over the miles, I could all but hear Carter thinking. "What's your situation? We're all the way back at the village, at least a good day's hike away from you, as I understand it. And even further from the gate. How bad is the Colonel hurt?"

"He has several puncture wounds in his left arm, shoulder and back. Some infection has started. He's mobile but not very. We're making slow progress, running low on food and water. No medical supplies left." I took a deep breath. "I could use some help."

"Hang on, Doctor. We'll start your way now. But it will take time." In the background, I could hear the low rumble of Teal'c's voice, Carter's answer yes to him. "Keep coming our way if you can. Stay on that main trail."

"Copy, Captain Carter. We'll be out of contact tonight, I've got to go back down the trail to the Colonel now. We won't make the summit again until sometime tomorrow."

"We copy, Dr. Fraiser. Tell the Colonel we're on our way. Call us again when you crest that ridgetop tomorrow. Good luck. Carter out."

<><><><><>

It was nearly dark by the time I got back down to the spot I'd left O'Neill. He sat unmoving, gun across his lap, long legs splayed across the trail, his right shoulder resting against the rock of the mountainside. He looked like he was out for a casual stroll. I was surprised to hear his voice greet me.

"Good to see you, Doc. I was getting a little worried."

"Thought I bugged out without you, Colonel?" I said with a grin.

"Thought maybe one of those rock thingys got you or something."

"You'd have heard me yell."

"And I'd have come running," he answered gallantly.

I quirked an eyebrow at him. "Feeling that good are you?"

He shrugged and winced, slumping back against the rocks.

I settled down on the rocks beside him, checked his back. It looked a little better, no new bleeding and still draining. His temperature was still up, I thought, feeling his forehead, but all in all, he was in remarkably good condition for all he'd gone through. "Rest Sir, I'll watch for a while."

He opened one eye, cocked an eyebrow at me. "Giving orders again, Captain?"

"Yes, Sir, Doctor's orders."

"Right."

I was actually feeling a little better. Or maybe I had just been feeling so awful all day that anything seemed better. Maybe it was just the opportunity to sit down for a while and hoard my energy.

Doc and I were in the little sheltered spot we'd found among the rocks, wedged in shoulder to shoulder in the tight space. I let my head fall against her shoulder and let myself nap. Three hours, I told myself, then I could spell Doc on watch.

Usually, I don't need much sleep, I've got a pretty high energy level, I guess, I only need six hours sleep max, but I'm fine on five, and can go days or weeks on half that if need be (so yeah, okay, I get grouchy. Sue me.) But not when I'm hurt-- that clock in my head doesn't work so good, that's what happened, I suppose. Told myself to sleep three hours, then I could give the doc a break. She'd climbed all day, half carrying me up this damn mountain, then took that extra jaunt up the hill. Tough lady.

Colonel O’Neill fell asleep sitting up, leaning against my shoulder, snoring softly, a deep, exhausted sleep. I had to fight to stay awake, dozed, caught myself, visions of a court martial for falling asleep on duty dancing in my brain. I wanted to get up and walk around to fend off sleep, but I didn't want to wake the Colonel. He was comfortably snuggled up against my left arm. In the moonlight, asleep, his face looked very peaceful, very un-O'Neill like, I thought. The red moonlight gave everything an odd, eerie glow.

Moonlight, red moonlight. Damn, I stiffened, mind swirling.

The small movement brought O'Neill instantly awake. "Something wrong, Doc?" he asked very quietly.

"Just the moonlight, Colonel, the red moon is out again. Like it was the other night when we met up with that whatever-it-was."

"Yeah?"

"Maybe it hunts by the red moon, or is active only then. Remember," I turned slightly to face him, "remember, the Kressin didn't want us to leave that night. Kept saying something we didn't understand and talked about the moon..."

"The blood moon," he finished for me, looking up. "Red moon. Holy buckets." He thought a moment. "But the first night? Nothing happened then."

"There was no moon, Sir, it was really dark."

"Ohh."

"So those things could be back," I suggested.

"Oh sweet," He shifted around in the rocks, looking out carefully, scanning the area around us, pulling his gun forward into a more ready position. "We should be okay, Doc. We're holed up in a pretty good spot here. Nothing can sneak up on us from behind, we have some shelter to both sides and a clear field of fire in front." He grinned at me reassuringly. "Piece of cake." He glanced down at his watch. "Five hours? I slept that long?"

"Yes, Colonel, sleeping like a baby you were, Sir."

"Good, unnh, well, I've had a good rest. You catch some sleep while I watch."

"But what if those things come?" I asked.

"I'll leave a couple for you to shoot, okay?"

<><><><><>

I started to settle in against his shoulder, his good right shoulder, but he said, "here, wait," picking up his gun and patting his thigh, for me to put my head there. This was getting pretty close contact, I thought suddenly. He noticed my hesitation and gave me an exasperated look. "I need my arm free. To shoot."

"Right, Colonel," I settled back down, lying curled up on my side, my head on his thigh, his arm draped casually across my shoulder.

"Relax, Doc. There's nothing out there."

I didn't bother to tell him it wasn't what was out there that I was so nervous about.

<><><><><>

"Doctor Fraiser," I heard him say, very, very softly. His quiet voice dragged me up out of my exhausted sleep. Beneath me, I could feel his muscles tense. "Keep still, Doc."

"What is it?"

"One of those creatures, I think," he whispered.

I was instantly awake. "Where?"

"Up the trail. Coming down, toward us."

We were only a few feet off the trail. Quietly, I pulled my sidearm out of its holster, checked I had a fully loaded clip. His eyes met mine, nodding approval.

"Hopefully it will go on past," he whispered. "Do nothing if it does. Don't shoot unless you see the whites of its eyes..."

"Does it have whites of its eyes?"

"Don't confuse me with the details, Doc," he said, grinning. Then he wasn't joking anymore. "Don't shoot unless I do. If it comes for us, get there," he pointed, "behind me, back in those rocks. You'll be safer."

"And you'll be?"

He started to shrug his shoulders, caught himself as pain flashed across his face. "I'll be doing my job." He looked hard at me, the Colonel now, not my patient, not the bantering friend, all the gentleness gone from his face. "That's an order, Captain."

"Yes, Sir."

In the dim red light the thing was just a moving lump of deeper darkness, making little snuffling noises as it approached. I looked over at the Colonel. He was in full warrior mode, eyes darting, watching up hill and down, (Why down, I wondered suddenly, if it was up there?), listening, hands gripping his weapon. Ready for whatever. Then I heard it, more noise, down the hill. Two of the things, and us in the middle. Great.

O'Neill heard it too, held up two fingers, pointed one down the trail, one up, making sure I knew what was happening. I nodded, pointed at myself, my gun, then downhill. He nodded, grinned. God, I think he's enjoying this. Adrenaline junky.

I held my breath as the first one, the one from uphill, reached us. It seemed ready to go on by, I thought, when it suddenly paused, raising a lumpy body part I figured had to be its head, turning it to and fro as if sniffing the wind, looking for a scent. Then it turned to look right at us, at least I think those slitted shiny things were its eyes. I shivered. O'Neill never moved. I don't know if either one of us was breathing.

It moved toward us a step, cautiously, stopped, still looking and smelling. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw O'Neill tighten his finger on the trigger of his MP-5.

Then suddenly from down the hill, the other creature bellowed. The one in front of us spun around to face down hill, seeming to forget us, giving what I hoped was an answering, challenging bellow, please God not a call to dinner to its hunting buddy. I shivered at the thought, didn't know if we could fight off two of the things. They bellowed again and the one in front of us, held its ground, stamped its foot(?), and bellowed again. The other one came on faster and suddenly, there they were, fighting, on the trail not 20 yards away, clawing and roaring. I heard something skitter into the rocks, quills, and O'Neill and I looked at each other.

The creatures were noisy. They were grunting, groaning, roaring as they slammed into each other, teeth ripping, tails swatting. We couldn't tell which, if either, was winning. Then suddenly, one teetered on the edge of the cliff, staggered and fell with a keening cry, its huge body making nasty crashing noises as it bounced down the cliff face. The remaining beast roared, in triumph(?), and started down the trail after it.

I looked over at O'Neill. "Guess that one's done for?"

"Ya think?"

"I think." We both relaxed.

O'Neill took a couple of deep breaths. "Noisy neighborhood. Don't think I'll be buying property here."

I laughed, and couldn't stop laughing. "Doctor," he was trying to be stern, hold back his own laughter, failing, and then he was chuckling, releasing the pent up tension, until suddenly he grabbed his shoulder. "Ahh, stop, hurts," he said.

"Sorry, Sir."

"Nothing for you to be sorry for, Doc. Nothing at all." he said, sitting quietly for a few moments. Eventually, I could see he was letting his eyes slide closed as the adrenaline was leaking from his system.

"Rest, Colonel."

"'Kay, Doc."

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

I had trouble waking him in the morning. He was flushed and feverish, drank more of the little remaining water, and was so unsteady on his feet I was afraid he wouldn't be able to move at all. But once again, the Colonel summoned up that O'Neill bullheadedness, and we climbed on, lurching and staggering but moving steadily.

By the time we crested the mountain, I could see Carter and Teal'c less than a mile below.

"Colonel, look, they're nearly here," I pointed at the small forms far below.

"That's good, Doc." he said, too weary to even lift his head to look.

They spotted us, and Teal'c left Carter behind, hurrying up to our position. Gratefully, I took the pack with the medical supplies, started by giving O'Neill more water. Then I gave him antibiotics and painkillers, and went right to re-dressing his back and arm wounds. He groaned as I peeled back the saturated old dressings to reveal the seeping wounds, all of which looked red, nasty and infected. I liberally dosed each with disinfectant and covered them with fresh bandages.

By the time Carter reached us, O'Neill was shaking, gray faced and barely coherent. I think for all those hours, when we’d needed to move, he’d never let himself think about his condition, never let himself really feel the pain or the exhaustion. Now that rescue was at hand, he simply let go and gave in to his body. Teal'c simply picked up the Colonel in a fireman's carry, and started down the mountain and for the gate.

Carter and I had a heck of a time keeping up with the huge Jaffa. By the time we reached the gate, where my two nurses waited, O'Neill was burning with fever and unconscious.

I didn't like this at all.

<><><><><>

Once through the gate, we rushed the Colonel to the infirmary. His pulse was erratic, his heart rate up, temperature hovering at 103-104. Dr. Warner was waiting to take him straight into emergency surgery, to remove the last quill and clean out the pockets of infection.

It was a long night. I wanted to be in that operating room, helping, but I had a post mission medcheck of my own to complete, and frankly, I was so exhausted I could barely keep my eyes open as I watched Warner work. He's a good surgeon, and he brought O'Neill through just fine.

<><><><><>

Six hours after the surgery, before *I* was hardly awake, O'Neill opened his eyes, looked around at the room, sighed and mumbled, "Ah the infirmary. Again" and went back to sleep. That's how he stayed for nearly 40 hours. Remarkable ability to recover that he has, however, when he finally did come to, he was coherent, full of questions, and immediately eager to leave my custody.

"Hey, Doc," he said, as I checked his now healing wounds.

"Glad to see you're awake, Colonel. How do you feel?"

He squirmed on the bed. "Ready to get out of here."

"Not quite so fast. You need to stay on IV antibiotics for another 48 hours, then we'll see if you can go home."

"But, Doc," he mumbled, give me his best contrite little boy look, the one that worked on the nurses when it came to letting visitors stay after hours, the TV stay on late, and contraband food from the cafeteria, not to mention the occasional pizza, "the Blackhawks are on TV tonight."

"TVs work here, too, Colonel. I'll see if I can get that football game for you."

"Hockey, Doc, that's hockey."

"Hockey, football, whatever, Colonel, you're not going anywhere just yet."

He sighed theatrically and closed his eyes a moment as I started for the door. "You did okay out there, Doc, you know? You can go hunting those rock thingy's with me, anytime. Just so we don't have to eat any of those opossum fish, okay?"

"You've got yourself a deal, Colonel."

FINIS