River Crossing

Author: BadgerGater

Category: Action/Adventure

Pairing: None

Rating: PG, blood, violence

Season/Sequel: Written during season 3/4

Summary: A boring mission suddenly turns dangerous; Jack's POV

Warnings: None

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 without the author's consent.

Author’s note: A little remark Tanya once made inspired this.

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P5C-141 was a pleasant enough planet, even if the fishing was just plain lousy.

After six days of peace, serenity, tranquility and calm, Colonel Jack O'Neill was anything but peaceful, serene, tranquil or calm. He was bored out of his skull.

The planet was ordinary, nondescript, plain as white bread, okay, downright, absolutely, positively mind numbingly boring. Every day the sun shone brightly, the breeze blew softly; the birds, or at least some sort of bird-like thingies, swooped through the air from the green meadows into the even greener trees.

The place was perfect.

Perfectly dull.

There was nothing for Jack O'Neill to do. He felt useless, unneeded, left out, and most of all, bored. So, yeah, he'd always had an extremely low boredom quotient, he knew that. He knew he needed things to do, activities to occupy his time, action into which he could channel his energy.

Daniel and Sam were busy in the ruins of a town, happily engrossed hour after hour, day after day , deciphering writing that covered the walls inside a huge old building. And Teal'c, well, Teal'c never got bored, or at least, he never let on that he was bored, if, in fact, he was. He was just, well, Teal'c. If he didn't have something specific to occupy his time, he meditated, did that kel no'reem stuff, for hours on end.

Jack was so bored he even tried kel no'reem. Lasted all of sixty-four seconds, but what the heck, he'd tried. He'd also tried sleeping, disassembling and reassembling every weapon the team carried with them, napping, honing his knife until the blade was so thin it was about to snap in half, dozing, trying to teach Teal'c the finer points of skipping stones, resting, and juggling smooth round rocks that Daniel kept taking away because they were artifacts. Or so he said.

Bored.

Bored, bored, bored, bored, bored.

Finally, in desperation, Jack had cut himself a fishing pole from a small sapling, tied to it the bit of thin monofilament fishing line he carried tucked away in his backpack, snagged a bit of pasta from last night's MRE on the small hook, and had spent another afternoon fishing. Or, well, acting like he was fishing, more like propping himself up with his back against a rock along the river bank, pole in hand, cap pulled down over his eyes, waiting for something to bite. Waiting and waiting and waiting.

Waiting was not something Jack O'Neill was good at.

He hated P5C-141.

Pushing the baseball cap off his face and back onto his head, covering the hair that seemed to get grayer every day (all this waiting would give anyone gray hair, he groused to himself silently), the Colonel went in search of his team, hoping to find some good news.

He sauntered through the ruins of the town and, keen ears catching excited voices, easily followed the chatter to Carter and Jackson. They were still in that damned temple/church/town hall/beer garden/whatever it was, still arguing over the nuances of a long dead language.

"Sam, I know this looks odd, but it's the same as the first glyph we saw. It says beware of the mighty River God." Daniel insisted.

"So who's the River God, then, Daniel? We haven't found any Goa'uld calling him or herself the River God."

Daniel shook his head in frustration. "I don't know," he said, running a hand through his hair. "I'm just sure that's what it says. The River God."

"Looks like an alligator to me," O'Neill interjected brightly, pointing at the drawing on the temple wall.

"Actually, Sir, if it's any Earth animal, it's a crocodile," Carter corrected.

The Colonel waved a hand in the air. "Alligator, crocodile, same difference."

"Actually, they are quite different species, Jack, the alligator being native to..."

O'Neill waved a warning finger in the air. "Enough! We haven't found any of either on this planet," he stared from one to the other, tilting his head. "Right?"

"It's quite likely that the species is extinct, as are the people who once lived here. This place has been deserted for centuries," added the archaeologist.

"So, do we know enough about the place so that we can desert it ourselves? Huh?" O'Neill stared from one to the other of his team's scholars, impatience getting the better of him.

"There's a lot more to do here, Jack, rooms and rooms we haven't even gotten to yet..."

"Daniel, there's always more, more rooms, more writings, more translations, more cutesy little pictures of alligators, err, crocodiles. What there's not any more of is my patience," O'Neill explained in exasperation, waving one hand in the air to emphasize his point. "If there's nothing of strategic value here, Danny-boy, like instructions on how to build an ion cannon or the top ten ways to dissect a gould, then we need to pack it in and go on to someplace else. Leave this for one of the follow-up teams."

"But Jack, we've barely touched what's here..."

"It's been six days Daniel, six endless, interminable, never-ending, 84 hour days..."

"Ah, Sir, the days here are only 27 hours long," interrupted Carter.

O'Neill glared at her, then shot his gaze back at Jackson "...and you've only *touched* what's here? How long will it take you to touch it all? Months? Years?"

"Ah, probably years," the archaeologist conceded.

"Well, we haven't got years. I haven't got years. My hair is getting grayer even as we speak. In the morning, we pack it up and head for home."

"Jack..."

"Ahhh," O'Neill waggled a finger at his team's archaeologist. "No. No more. Six days of this endlessly beautiful place and I can't take any more. Home. In the morning. Bright and early."

"Yes, Sir," Carter acknowledged reluctantly.

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SG-1 completed their evening meal, and settled in for sleep and night watches. Jack was surveying the horizon, sweeping his binoculars carefully along the mountainous vista from his vantage point atop the rubble of an ancient building, when he noticed something peculiar.

"Is my eyesight going bad, or are those clouds?" O'Neill asked Teal'c.

"Your eyesight remains fine, O'Neill. They do indeed appear to be clouds," the Jaffa agreed.

The Colonel grinned. "Well, fancy that. This planet may actually *do* something different."

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It did something different all right; it rained. Within the hour, the clouds had swept in from the distance, obscuring the planet's golden sun. The landscape turned dark and foreboding, and the air quickly chilled. The bird-things, and the insect-like creatures they normally heard making soft noises in the evening, went quiet. In the distance, Jack could see rain falling in heavy sheets across the mountains, watch lightning flicker among the clouds, and hear the distant rumble of thunder. The air took on the scent of a spring rain.

"We need to watch that weather," O'Neill worried, scanning the area. "There's something about this I don't like." Turning to the others, he quickly changed their plan. "Let's move into the temple for tonight. We'll be better protected from the weather. That looks like a vicious storm."

It was.

The team members had barely managed to get their gear moved into the ancient structure when the storm reached them. The wind howled, lightning scored the sky, and thunder crashed until the ground shook. Rain fell in sheets, whipped by the wind. There was something about big storms he liked, Jack admitted as he stood in the temple doorway, watching the storm rage. There was something about the power and the fury of nature that he found awe inspiring.

He watched the tempest for hours before turning in to his blankets.

None of them slept much. The rain continued to fall throughout the night, and in the morning it continued to pelt the ground in a steady downpour.

Jack and Teal'c hiked out to check the trail, returning within a half hour, soaked and chilled to the bone despite their heavy ponchos. O'Neill was grateful to see that Carter had started a fire. Its flickering light warmed and cheered the musty old temple.

"Well, kids, we won't be going anywhere for a while. The river's over its banks already, the whole meadow is flooded, completely underwater. We'll have to wait until the water goes down before going back to the gate."

"That's great!" Daniel enthused, then saw the dark look on Jack's face. "Ah, well, then I'll just use the time to ah, do a little more study..."

"You do that, Danny," Jack answered morosely.

-------------------------------------XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The rain continued unabated all day, the sky remaining dull gray and overcast. A cup O'Neill had set outside was filled with rainwater long before evening. "Wow. That's more than three inches of rain, on top of what we had last night. Damn," he muttered.

When the Colonel got up for his watch at 0400, he grabbed a cup of coffee and joined Carter at the temple door, looking out.

"Rain's let up a little, Sir. Maybe it will stop."

"Hope so, or we'll have to swim to the gate. There's going to be a lot of water in that meadow."

"Yes, Sir. Well, good night, Colonel."

"G'night, Major."

By dawn, the rain had stopped, and the air began to clear. Jack checked the meadow again, and found, to no one's surprise, that it was now indeed a very large lake.

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

Two days they waited, growing impatient, realizing they were cutting it close on supplies.

By the third day, the lake remained in place, but the water had receded to the point where O'Neill could pick out the rocks along the riverbank, or where the riverbank should be. He waded carefully out into the cool water, finding it knee deep or less in most places.

"I think it's a go, kids, before it rains more."

"Sir, it's still risky," Carter objected.

"Major, that's water out there, plain, simple, ordinary water. We can wade through it, not much fun, but it beats staying here and dying of starvation, which is what will happen in about two more days when our food supply is gone."

"We don't know what might be in that water, Sir," Carter warned.

"Major, you tested it before the storm and again today. Right?"

"Right, Sir."

"And I spent six days staring at it, fishing in it, and didn't catch a single fish or see anything bigger than an undersized tadpole."

"Sir..."

"Major, I know what you're saying. I'd rather go around it, if I could. But I don't see any other way to get back to the gate before we run out of food. Unless you want to scale that mountain and then hike clean around this blessed planet?" The Colonel cocked his head and stared at his 2IC.

"Uh, no, Sir. Wading it is."

"Good. Then let's get home. I'm hungry."

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They gathered up the gear they needed, their packs nearly empty now as they'd used up almost all the perishables they'd brought with them. Hiking down from the hillside town, they came to the spot where the path disappeared into the water. The flooding had receded somewhat, but it was still a lake filling the entire meadow, nearly half a mile wide. The edges seemed shallow and sluggish, easy wading, but there was an obvious fast-moving torrent in its center, maybe 30 yards across.

"Teal'c, you're on point," said O'Neill, taking out his climbing rope and knotting it loosely around his waist. "Then you Major, and Daniel, you follow Carter. I'll take our six. We don't want to lose anybody into that current. It looks strong," he said, worried now himself, though he was loathe to admit it. He just couldn't see any alternative, especially when he looked toward the distant horizon and saw more clouds, clouds that were turning the little knot of worry in his gut into a big one. "I don't think we can afford to wait, campers, so let's get a move on. Once we're across the mighty Mississippi here, it's just a quick walk to the gate."

By that time, all four SG-1 members had securely roped themselves together. O'Neill slung his P-90 over his shoulder, tightening the sling so the weapon rode high on his back. He checked the tabs for his backpack and the snaps on the holster holding his 9 mm as well as securing the sheath for his knife, noting the others doing the same. Once all had completed their equipment checks, and nodded, O'Neill pulled his baseball cap securely down on his head. "Home, James," he waved his arm from Teal'c toward the water.

"I am not James, but I will endeavor to lead us home, O'Neill," said Teal'c, deadpan as always.

Carter smiled at the exchange, and the Colonel chuckled. He still was never sure when the big guy from Chulak actually *got* the joke, or if the Jaffa had simply figured out the expected answer. Either way, Jack was amused. "Go."

Teal'c carefully slid down the bank and into the swift moving, chill water. Carter followed a dozen steps behind, then Daniel, and finally Jack's booted feet entered the water.

It was slow going. O'Neill could see that Teal'c had to choose his footing carefully, feeling for each footstep in the muddy water. On occasion, the Colonel noted with growing concern, he could see things floating in the water, debris washed down by the heavy rains, tree branches, logs, leaves, green vines and parts of unknown plants. Jack was watching everywhere: one eye on his team and the other on the water, then shifting to scan the shoreline ahead and behind.

He saw Carter stumble and slip to her knees. "Major?"

"I'm okay, Sir," she answered quickly, recovering by hauling herself out of the water with the rope. "It's slippery here, guys, and the water is getting deeper and stronger."

Far ahead, Teal'c nodded. "The footing is treacherous. Use caution. And when you pass the rocks, the current becomes much stronger."

"Oh goody," Jack murmured, liking this less and less, but knowing they had no choice. Sliding a quick glance toward the mountains, upstream he reminded himself, he could see the clouds had thickened, and the air seemed gray. "More rain," he said softly. Even though they were standing in bright sunshine, there was more rain falling on the mountains, filling the streams, rushing toward them. "Damn." The Colonel was torn between the need for caution and the suddenly strong feeling that they needed to hurry.

O'Neill peered ahead. They weren't one-third of the way across the water yet. Jack's well-honed sense of danger, that mysterious but nearly always on the mark something that told him trouble was headed their way, was beginning to tickle the hairs on the back of his neck. He tried to watch everywhere at once, impatient with the slow progress the situation demanded.

'Easy Jack,' he told himself, 'easy. You just don't like this situation. No commander would. Lots of things here that can go wrong. But you've got Teal'c out in front,' he mentally reassured himself, 'and you've got the six, and your people are damn good. They know how to handle themselves.'

Carter slipped again, disappearing completely under the water this time as the powerful current drove her feet out from under her. Teal'c and Daniel braced themselves, Jack anchoring, and the Major's blonde head quickly popped out of the water. She was coughing and spluttering, flailing, soaked now from head to foot, but once again upright.

"Carter! Now's not the time to go swimming!" SG-1's team leader hid his concern, as always, behind light words.

"Sir, I'm okay. Wet but okay. The current's just really strong there. And I think something hit me, debris..."

"Are you hurt?" O'Neill called, worried, suddenly wishing very, very badly to be bored again.

"No." Carter wiped water off her face, shook water from her hair.

"Okay, Teal'c let's get out of this..." O'Neill's foot hit something, a rock or a log, and he slipped, catching himself, muttering.

The team resumed it's slow progress through the water. Daniel turned around once, looking at Jack, shrugging, and O'Neill saw with trepidation that the water seemed even deeper. Daniel was struggling to push through water nearly hip deep, and the Colonel felt the cold liquid lapping up his thighs.

"Step it up, Teal'c," O'Neill shouted ahead.

"I cannot increase my pace, O'Neill. The terrain beneath the water is rough..."

"Just keep moving," Jack ordered, uneasiness curling in his gut. Something wasn't right, something, he had that awful feeling, that sixth sense of danger that had kept him and his team alive many times in the past.

A dozen steps in front of him, Daniel disappeared. One moment he was there, and the next, all O'Neill could see was flailing arms disappearing into the water. A gurgling shout, and then there was nothing visible except Jackson's boonie hat floating away in the rapidly moving current.

Jack braced his legs, ignoring the sharp pain in his knee as he felt the archaeologist's weight hit the end of the line with a hard jerk. The rope went taut in O'Neill's hands, burning across his fingers despite the gloves he wore. Jack staggered, slipped to his own knees, getting a mouthful of dirty water, and swore.

The rope went slack in his hands and O'Neill experienced a moment of panic before he realized the reason the tension was gone from the line was because Daniel was once again upright. Jackson was coughing, spitting up the brown water, shaking himself like a wet dog, but looking relatively okay, O'Neill saw with relief.

Jack worked his way toward Daniel, putting each foot down cautiously, fighting the strong pull of the current with every step. Reaching Jackson's side, the Colonel patted Daniel's back as the younger man continued to cough.

"Are you injured Daniel Jackson?" Teal'c called.

Jack waved a hand at the Jaffa. "He's okay, I think." he spoke up for SG-1's archaeologist who was still gasping for air.

They stood a moment or two more until Daniel's breathing finally began to ease.

"Better?"

Daniel nodded, still finding speaking difficult. "Wind.. knocked... out... of me."

Jack shook his head in agreement. "Yeah, rope will do that. But..."

Daniel staggered.

Jack spun, this time there was no doubt about it. There *was* something in the water, something big. Something not moving with the current, but against it. Swimming. "Hey!" He'd felt it, the cross current created by the passage of something, something large and moving swiftly...

It hit them both, the blow taking Daniel's legs out from under him, Jack's knee buckling, and they went under.

O'Neill's hand brushed against something, something smooth and cold, not human, and he pushed at it, kicking out with his legs as whatever it was bumped him again. A hand grabbed his shirt, and Jack, realizing it was Daniel, reached out blindly. His hand contacted the familiar feel of cotton cloth and he too grabbed hold as the two men were tumbled down the stream.

With a lurch, they hit the end of the rope.

O'Neill's scrambling feet found the bottom. Slick as it was, he managed to push himself upright, Daniel's shirt still clutched in his hands. Sucking in great lungfuls of air as his face cleared the water, he staggered.

The Colonel could see Carter and Teal'c standing near each other, hip deep in the water, braced to hold them, worry etched on their faces. "Daniel?"

"What the hell was that?" Jackson was staring at the water all around them.

"I don't know," said O'Neill, sliding his gun around, unsure if the thing would work after the dunking in the stream. "Come on, we need to get out of here."

They tried to hurry, walking now side by side, pushing against the flow of flood water that was swirling angrily around their waists. Teal'c and Sam were backing up, keeping the rope taut, helping them make headway against the current.

O'Neill thought they were going to make it. They were out of the deepest water now, it had dropped a couple of inches from waist to thighs.

Jaws clamped around his foot, agony exploding as flesh tore, tissue gave way, and bone cracked.

"Agghhh," Jack shouted, as *something* yanked him off his feet, pulling him under. His mouth wide open in a cry of pain, he swallowed a mouthful of river water as the dirty liquid closed over him.

"Jack!" Daniel shouted, grabbing for O'Neill's hand, and missing. "Jack!" In a moment, he too was pulled off his feet by the rope around his waist.

In the swirling muddy water, O'Neill could see nothing, just feel the intense pain in his foot, the agony of airless lungs, and the backwash of the powerful swimming strokes of the creature that held him, dragging him.

Knife. He needed his knife. Jack's seeking hand found the sheath on his belt, pulling the weapon free. He swept the blade through the water around the agonizing pressure on his foot, encountered something, felt the blade bite, and the creature let go.

Jack pushed desperately for the surface, his face clearing the water and he gulped in a lung full of life-giving air.

Dimly he heard Carter shouting. "There he is!"

The predator had let go of O'Neill, but it was still in search of prey. It's ancient instinct tasted the blood in the water, and knew it had this creature at its mercy. It circled, gliding silently through the water.

Jack saw the monster's wake as it turned and started back for him.

"No!" he shouted, realizing the beast was going to come between him and Daniel and would catch the line that connected them.

It did. Daniel was jerked off his feet, re-surfaced, looking around frantically. At least he too had his knife out. Good, good, O'Neill thought. He saw the line tighten, saw Teal'c and Carter sliding, knew they couldn't hold...

He knew what had to be done. The Colonel swept his knife through the water, searching for the rope, his frantic movements finding only water and creature. Damn, he couldn't find the rope, he couldn't cut what he couldn't find!

"Cut the line," he shouted at Daniel. "Cut it!"

Daniel's panicked face watched as Jack went under again, the creature driving the Colonel underwater and starting away. Jackson knew exactly what O'Neill had just ordered him to do, save himself and the others.

Daniel fumbled in the water for the rope, but not the way he knew Jack had intended.

O'Neill's head once again cleared the water, his eyes desperately searching for Jackson's face. "Cut it!" he ordered.

Daniel did. Just not where Jack meant. Instead of cutting the rope between himself and the Colonel, setting Jack free, Daniel turned and sliced through the line between himself and Carter. He felt the rope jerk savagely, and in a moment he too was in the deep water, being towed by the creature, moving rapidly downstream, away from the shouts of Teal'c and Carter.

He was going where ever Jack was going.

The Colonel didn't see. He only knew the thing was back, the mighty jaws clamped once more around his leg, just above his boot this time. O'Neill swung the knife through the water, impacting smooth flesh. He kicked with his free leg, plunging the knife into the creature's body, ripping, tearing. The deadly grip on his leg loosened for a fraction of a second, not enough for the man to pull free, and then the viselike jaws bit down again. The animal shook it's mighty head, spinning O'Neill through the water, now red with the blood of both man and beast.

Prey. Food. The primitive creature's lust for blood was ruling it's tiny brain now.

Pain. Pain penetrated the dim brain of the beast. This prey had sharp claws, and then there was more pain. Something else was attacking.

Daniel swam toward the spot where O'Neill had gone under, where the water churned and roiled. Taking a deep breath, he dived, his hands encountering rough alien skin, and Jackson plunged the knife into the animal. The creature spasmed, its powerful thrashing pushing him away, but Daniel swung the knife again and again.

The beast shuddered, dropping it's dinner, turning now on its attacker, its long tail gliding through the water.

Jack surfaced, gasping, his lungs screaming for air. He managed one quick gulp before the rope quickly jerked him under again.

The rope. Damn it! Daniel hadn't cut the rope! Jack dived for the creature, feeling rough claws scrabble along his shoulder, but the creature was preoccupied. It was going after Daniel! O'Neill swung the knife with all his might, the blade breaking through the tough skin, penetrating into the soft underbelly, tearing again and again, thrusting for the monster's vital organs.

The monster thrashed, it's tail swiping mighty strokes through the water, its violent death throes shaking the human like a rag doll. The knife was wrenched out of O'Neill's hands as the rope, tangled around the body of the sinking, dying creature, pulled the Colonel helplessly down toward the river bottom.

Daniel felt the animal's death throes, realized he was being dragged down, and cut through the line, pushing quickly for the surface, expecting to find O'Neill already there.

Jackson surfaced alone. "Jack!? Jack!?" Gulping a hasty mouthful of air, Daniel dived for the spot he'd last encountered the animal, frantically feeling along the still quivering body, finding Jack's rope wrapped around the creature's foreleg. Daniel sliced the line, and dragged the Colonel's limp body upward.

Breaking the water's surface, he pulled O'Neill's head up into the air. "Jack, breathe, come on."

Daniel felt O'Neill shudder, coughing, choking, the air rasping desperately into his starving lungs.

Keeping one arm wrapped around the limp form of SG-1's CO, Daniel held on, straining to keep O'Neill's head above the water. The creature had dragged them far downstream, and here, where the river was larger the current was stronger, and it was carrying them with it.

Jackson stroked toward the near shore, hoping he had the strength to propel both of them, because Jack wasn't helping. At least he was breathing, Daniel reminded himself as he struggled futilely against the powerful current.

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Dismayed, Teal'c and Carter could do nothing but watch their friends disappear into the water.

"Teal'c come on. We've got to go after them!" Carter began splashing forward.

"Major Carter, desist. We must first get ourselves safely to shore, then look for a way to follow the river downstream in search of O'Neill and Jackson."

Carter took a deep breath, slowing her racing heart as she realized Teal'c was right. That thing could come back, or there could be more of them. "Damn!" she cursed. "We have to help them!"

"We will, Major Carter. We must believe that Colonel O'Neill and Doctor Jackson will escape the creature and the water, in which case they will require our assistance."

"You're right, Teal'c," Sam continued to stare downstream, then with a grim face turned toward the shore. "Let's get out of the water."

The two SG-1 team mates plodded on, reaching the safety of shallow water and climbing at last onto the shore.

Carter considered heading back toward the gate for help, but she had the feeling that Daniel and the Colonel might not have that much time. It would take a day at least to hike back to the Stargate, another day to return, and that was far too long. She couldn't order Teal'c to go, either, because she knew he would refuse to leave her.

Wearily, Carter started downstream along the riverbank, following the fast moving Jaffa.

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Three years ago, he couldn't have done this. Three years as a member of SG-1, though, had hardened his muscles and honed his survival skills. And he needed every one of those skills now; skills, ironically enough, that Jack had taught him, as the swift moving water dragged them further and further from their teammates.

Daniel's arms were aching from holding onto O'Neill's still unresponsive body. 'No, not body, don't think body,' Daniel ordered himself. Jack *was* breathing, just unconscious. For far too long. "Jack, come on, help me out here, I'm getting," Daniel's head bobbed under, and he fought to pull them both back to the surface, spitting out water, "I'm getting tired. You...you're no lightweight, here, either." His legs were leaden, his arms trembling, and his lungs fighting to draw air as he stubbornly pushed toward the shore. "I need some help here."

Daniel didn't know how long they'd been in the water before he finally broke free of the current. At last, exhausted, he dragged O'Neill through the shallow water and onto a rocky outcrop, shivering as the air touched his waterlogged clothes.

Jackson gratefully sank onto the warm, sun heated rock beside the Colonel's motionless body. A hand laid quickly against the man's throat revealed a pulse. Jack's face was unnaturally pale, but he was breathing okay.

Better than Daniel at the moment, the archaeologist thought as he wheezed, trying to satisfy his own body's urgent, overwhelming need for oxygen. Giving his quivering muscles a chance to recover, Jackson laid back on the rock, beside his friend, closing his eyes for a moment. It was hard to believe what had just happened, what had been in the river, and the simple fact that they were, miraculously, still alive.

O'Neill, still lying on his stomach, groaned.

Daniel quickly reached a hand over and squeezed the Colonel's shoulder. "Jack? Hey, come on, wake up now, would you?"

O'Neill coughed, expelling dirty water as deep rasping coughs wracked his frame as he choked and retched.

Daniel sighed with relief. At least Jack was stirring now.

"Ohhh, God," Jack moaned between fits of continued coughing and throwing up the river water. "Ah, crap," and there was intense agony in the sounds he was making.

"Jack, you're hurt."

"Ya think?" the older man rasped between ragged breaths, lying with his eyes still closed.

"Where are you hurt?"

"Just about anywhere you'd imagine," O'Neill answered, still coughing.

Daniel saw ripped cloth on Jack's shoulder. "Shoulder?"

"Cuts. Superficial," the Colonel gasped, still working on taking a normal breath.

"Ribs?"

"Hmm. Dented, not broken. Hit a few rocks I think. Just need a...couple minutes...to catch...my breath."

Jack spent those minutes trying to force his lungs back to a semblance of their normal working order, and eventually succeeded. And once he had sufficient air to keep from passing out again, he began to mutter.

"You okay?"

"Hmmmm."

Daniel sighed in relief. Just when Jackson thought things were looking up, he saw something on the rock, something out of place, a speck of bright red, and then another and another. Only then did Daniel look more closely at his friend, and see what, and why.

Jackson's face went white at the sight. Jack's left pant leg was shredded from just below the knee on down to the tattered and torn boot. Blood pooled on the rock beneath the foot. Even as he watched, blood welled steadily from a series of deep wounds in O'Neill's foot and calf, dripping brilliant red onto the gray stone.

"Jack?"

Daniel couldn't make out what the Colonel was mumbling. Leaning closer, he discovered O'Neill was cursing softly, steadily and vehemently.

"Your leg?" Daniel reached out to touch the limb.

"Dammit, yes, that's my leg," O'Neill answered, eyes still tightly closed.

"Jack?"

"I'm here, Daniel," he whispered in answer, a harsh cough turning into a moan. "Son of a bitch."

"Are you hurt anywhere else, besides your leg?"

"Nothing worth bothering with," Jack replied curtly, biting his lip as he felt Daniel's hands touch his leg again. "Ow! Oh God." Involuntarily, he jerked the limb away from Jackson's softly probing fingers.

"Jack, I have to look at this," Daniel said quietly, pulling away the torn tough fabric of the camo BDUs.

"So, does it look as bad as it feels?" Jack asked in a tight voice that betrayed the pain he was in.

"Ah, yeah. Looks, ah, looks like there are several deep punctures here."

Even Daniel's gentle touch on his leg sent shafts of pain streaking up O'Neill's nerves. "Ow, ummmm," Jack bit his lip again as Jackson continued to check the wound.

"How's your foot?" Daniel asked, unsure if he ought to remove the boot. He quickly counted six holes punched through the tough Air Force issue footwear.

"How the hell do you think?" Jack's voice was strained with the effort of not hollering as the pain swelled. "Damn thing hurts."

"Okay. I'm sure it does," Daniel tried to soothe. "I can see several punctures..."

"Several?"

"Umm, five, or ah, maybe six."

"Six. Lovely number, six," O'Neill muttered.

"They're bleeding a lot, and I can't tell if there's more damage."

"Take my word for it, that's a definite yes there," Jack whispered.

Daniel was pulling the tail of his t-shirt out of his trousers, ripping strips off the bottom. Jackson worked swiftly, sliding the cloth strip around Jack's leg below the knee.

"What are you doing?"

"Tourniquet, to stop the bleeding."

"Ummmm."

Daniel pulled the cloth tight.

O'Neill hollered, his breath coming in short gasps which started the coughing again. "Oh shit shit shit shit."

"Sorry."

The Colonel busied himself with getting his breathing back under control, with trying to suppress the pain that marched up his leg in excruciating waves. "Kay," Jack's waving hand found Daniel's.

"Ah." Long fingers clutched the hand in a crushing hold.

"Easy, Jack, easy."

O'Neill forced his eyes open, meeting Daniel's worried gaze. "You? What about you?" He asked between more bouts of hard coughing. "You hurt?" The brown eyes slid shut again.

"Nothing more than a few bruises and scrapes," Daniel added. "But I lost my pack. Yours is gone too. Our radios, knives, your P-90."

Jack's hand drifted down to the holster strapped to his thigh, and found it comforting to know his handgun was still in place. "Got this," he said. "Take it. That thing, might have friends."

"Oh, dear," Daniel whispered. He hadn't thought about that possibility.

"What the hell was that thing?" Jack asked softly.

"Crocodile, at least 40 feet long. It must have moved upstream with the floodwaters."

"We found their missing river god croc-agator, then, I take it?"

"Ah, yes. I think so."

"Hmm," Jack moaned as he pulled his arms under his body and started to roll over onto his back. Daniel quickly reached out a hand to assist the Colonel as he moved to sit up.

Leaning heavily on Daniel's arm, O'Neill sat up, arms braced, closed his eyes as his head swam, grateful for his friend's steadying hand.

"Easy. You've lost a lot of blood. You really shouldn't be sitting up."

"Oh, right," Jack muttered, looking at the torn flesh of his exposed calf. "There's bandages in my vest," Jack fumbled in the pocket, pulled out a pair of small dressings. "You better use these."

"Okay. But first, we've got to get these wet clothes off." Daniel helped Jack out of his jacket, long sleeved shirt and t-shirt, putting each out on the sun warmed rock to dry. The sun was warm enough for the moment, hopefully the shirts would be dry before the clouds covered the source of warmth and light. Jackson had postponed it as long as he could, but the unavoidable next step was to take a look at the damaged foot. Daniel bit his lip. "Do you want me to take your boot off?"

"No," Jack blanched at the idea, knowing he didn't want anyone touching the battered limb, "but I suppose you should."

Daniel dug through the pockets of both his and Jack's vest, finding a couple more bandages, a small tube of antiseptic ointment, and one soaked but intact packet of painkillers. He palmed a couple of the Tylenol, and gave them to O'Neill who dry swallowed them, laid back down and nodded.

Jackson carefully unlaced O'Neill's boot and as gently as he could he pulled and loosened the laces. The only sound Jack made was a low moan. Daniel spared his friend a quick glance, seeing O'Neill now lying with a hand covering his face, the other clenched so tightly into a fist that the flesh had turned white. "Here goes," said Daniel, and pulled slowly on the boot.

"Ahhh," Jack's fist was pounding on the rock as he fought to hold still, his face contorted into a grimace. "Ahh. Son of a... Get done, would ya? Yank it."

Jackson, realizing the slow method was nothing but slow torture for his friend, removed the torn leather in one swift move that elicited a grunt of pain from the white faced Colonel.

The sock was blood soaked, and Daniel quickly removed it as well, swallowing a gasp at the damage. The foot was already swollen, puncture wounds leaking blood, deep cuts scoring the instep, ankle and calf where more punctures penetrated deep into tissue and muscle.

A moment of helplessness overwhelmed Daniel. This wasn't something he could treat with crude first aid in the field.

"Oh God," Jack had pushed himself up to look, and appalled at the mess masquerading as his left foot, sank quickly back onto the ground, his face white beneath his tan. "Now that's a lovely sight," he muttered. "I've seen road kill in better shape than that."

Jack's attempt at humor fell flat, but it motivated Daniel to move. He dearly wished he had clean water to cleanse the wounds, but knew there was none, so he'd have to make do. Taking the ointment, he spread antiseptic on the surface of each wound. It wasn't much, hell, he knew it wouldn't be anywhere near enough, but at least it was something.

As he worked, Jackson couldn't miss O'Neill's battle to keep his composure. He heard the man's breathing turn rapid and shallow, saw the tension in the corded muscles of the Colonel's arms, heard the steady beat of Jack's hand rhythmically thumping against his right thigh, accompanied by a litany of muttered curses.

Biting his lip in concentration, Daniel worked as quickly as he could, trying to be thorough yet gentle, knowing he was unavoidably being neither. Once the wounds were covered in ointment, he used the few dressings to cover the most savage tears. Having sacrificed the rest of his t-shirt for additional bandages, he deftly wrapped the long strips of cotton around the leg from toes to calf.

"I need to release the tourniquet, Jack, to keep the blood circulating."

O'Neill nodded, his mouth too dry to form an intelligible answer.

Daniel's long fingers quickly unknotted the tight binding. With satisfaction, he noted that the bandages stayed clean. Good. He could see Jack's lower leg regaining some color and felt the warmth of the flesh, which meant the blood was reaching the limb again. He found a strong pulse in the ankle, too, thank God.

His task completed, Jackson reached forward and took hold of O'Neill's hand, the right one that was still fisted and tapping steadily against the Colonel's thigh, stopping the motion. "All done."

O'Neill moved his other hand from over his face, opening one eye. "Thanks." He remained silent a moment, slid the hand back over his face, and closed his eyes.

After a moment, Jack asked, wearily, "Okay, now what?"

Daniel sighed. "I don't know."

"Where are we?" O'Neill asked.

"Well, that thing dragged us downstream, and then the current carried us. I'm not sure how far."

"Teal'c and Carter will find us."

"I think we're a long ways from where we left them."

O'Neill repeated stubbornly, "They'll find us."

"Uhhh," Daniel paused.

Jack's hand once again moved away from his face. "Uhhh? What does that mean? Uhh?" Concern joined the pain in making tight lines around his eyes.

"It means that we're on the wrong side of the river."

O'Neill sat bolt upright, causing the world to spin sickeningly and blackness to shimmer in front of his eyes. Just as quickly as he'd sat up, he laid back down. "How the hell did that happen?"

"I'm sorry, Jack. It was closest. I didn't know if I could drag you over to the other shore. I doubt I could."

"Hmm, dead weight."

"Not quite dead."

"No, not yet," O'Neill muttered. "Dead wouldn't hurt half so much."

------------------------------------XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXx

Teal'c and Sam were making alarmingly slow progress downstream. They'd had to carefully wade through several full to the brim streams that were pouring into the river. There were no paths or trails paralleling the waterway, so they had to break a path through the brush, constantly on the lookout, afraid to miss any spot where their team mates might be.

As the hours passed, Carter tried to calm her rising fear for the missing members of SG-1. That creature had been huge, the current strong and the water deep. She'd seen the red stain in the water and knew that at least one of them had to be seriously injured. That monster could have killed them or the cold, deep water could have caused hypothermia, they could have drowned or been thrown against the rocks...

Stop it, Sam. She worried too much, she knew she did, the Colonel had told her that once before. Worry wastes energy, energy that could be better spent on finding or creating a solution. Think positive. Think survival. Daniel and the Colonel were together, they'd find a way to get out of this mess, like they'd gotten out of a hundred other impossible situations. They were an unlikely but effective combination, the smartest man she knew and the toughest most determined man she knew. Together, they could find a way to survive anything. That's what she kept telling herself, hour after hour, as they searched futilely and her fear grew exponentially.

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

The clouds which had hung on the northern horizon had drifted steadily towards them, and finally closed over the sun. Jackson could have sworn he felt the temperature drop 10 degrees in that one moment.

Daniel had left his hand lying soothingly on Jack's arm, and he felt the first movement, the first tremor.

Jack shivered.

"Hey, Jack, come on, we need to get some clothes back on you," Daniel suggested, helping the Colonel sit up, and easing the now dry t-shirt and long sleeved shirt over his torso. Jack looked longingly at his jacket. Daniel shook his head. "Sorry. It's still wet."

O'Neill just nodded, closing his eyes.

"How are you doing?" Daniel asked, worried.

O'Neill's brown eyes opened, fixed on Jackson's face momentarily, and slid closed again. "Just peachy, as you might expect." He thought for a moment, then held out his hand. "Help me up." he ordered.

"You should stay quiet."

"I should do a lot of things that I don't do," Jack snapped. "And while I'd really like to just take another nap right here, I think I'd rather get a little further away from the water and the chance that Godzilla's family just might come looking to finish his picnic lunch."

Daniel still hesitated. "Moving might start your wounds bleeding. "

Jack's irritation broke through. "Damn it Daniel, we can't afford to sit here and do nothing. Teal'c and Carter will be heading our way so we should try to go back upstream, toward them. I am *not* going to just lie here and wait to be rescued. Especially when rescue may be a long time coming." Jack didn't need to say the rest. He knew how deadly puncture wounds could be; he knew the bite of predators like that big croco-gator thingy would have all kinds of nasty bacteria and germs and other stuff eager to start an infection; he knew he'd lost quite a bit of blood; and he knew that without food and medical care he'd only get weaker. "Besides," he shivered, "moving will warm us up."

Daniel reached down and gripped O'Neill's wrists. With a groan, Jack propelled himself upright, staggering, letting Daniel pull his arm securely over the younger man's shoulders. Shutting his eyes for a moment, he gave the ground and sky a chance to settle back into their normal places. Once he knew each was firmly back in its appropriate location, the Colonel opened his eyes.

Daniel was peering intently into the pale face of his friend, watching Jack battle the pain, the dizziness and the weakness. When Jack's eyes re-opened at last, the silver haired head nodded, and they began their slow movement away from the water and upstream.

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

Their progress was maddeningly slow.

After an hour, Daniel realized they'd traveled less than a mile. It was awkward, trying to help O'Neill hobble along on one foot. They were both exhausted from the battle in the water. Daniel was weary, Jack so tired he was beyond pain, nothing but sheer willpower and determined Irish stubbornness keeping him upright and moving.

They moved without talking, without thinking, pushing themselves onward.

Finally, after another hour, Daniel looked down to see the bandages on O'Neill's leg were dotted with splashes of crimson.

"Jack, we need to stop. I have to check your bandages."

"No stopping." O'Neill muttered.

"Jack, your leg is bleeding. We need to stop, let you rest, try to stop the bleeding."

"It's nothing."

"It's a hell of a lot more than nothing," Daniel insisted, stopping so suddenly he almost toppled O'Neill off his feet, er, foot. "We rest here.

Jack opened his eyes. "Top of that hill," he waved ahead with his free hand. "We can stop there. Get the lay of the land. Maybe see Carter and Teal'c from there."

"All right," the younger man agreed. "Top of the hill."

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

Jack figured it was maybe 200 steps to the top of that hill. He could make 200 more steps. Nothing to it. A walk in the park, on this beautiful, peaceful, park like planet. As long as he stayed out of the water. He took another step, stumbled, clutching Daniel's shoulder even more tightly to stay erect. Wondering if this was the first sign of an impending infection, that he suddenly felt so, so, so dizzy. Hot, too, which was funny, because most of the time he was cold.

He stumbled again, his injured foot touching the ground awkwardly and he nearly screamed at the agony of it. Instead biting his lip so hard he thought it would be bleeding, too, he turned the garbled sounds of pain into curses, a muttered string of curses. One for each step, Jack told himself. Did he know 200 curse words? Probably did.

He'd miscalculated, of course. It wasn't 200 steps to the top of the hill, it was 267, and he ran out of new words long before he reached the crest of the hill.

And then it was Daniel's turn to utter just one profanity. "Oh damn."

At the sound, Jack looked up from his ongoing intense study of the lay of the land directly beneath his feet, the way his good right foot sank into the muddy ground and how his left foot looked about twice it's normal size.

"Son of a bitch," the Colonel muttered, the last of his energy draining completely out of his limbs at the sight below them. His knees buckled, and he felt himself falling. It took all of Daniel's strength to keep Jack from crashing into the ground. Instead, it was a barely controlled landing, and a bad landing at that, O'Neill's grunt of pain ending with another soft "son of a bitch."

They didn't need the Colonel's long gone into the river binoculars to see the situation. Ahead of them, a wide valley stretched away for miles, and at its center, another large river joined the one they were walking beside. It was big, wide, and completely blocked their path back towards the Stargate.

Sitting now on the damp ground, Jack let his face sink into his hands. God, he was tired, and sore, and he just wanted to lay down and sleep a couple of hours, get warm and comfortable and sleep.

Daniel sat beside him, too stunned by the twist of fate to say more. At last he asked, "Now what?"

"A fire."

Jackson's head spun to face the Colonel. "Fire?"

"Yup. There should be a couple of waterproof matches in my vest," Jack explained, fishing around in his pockets. "Warm us up." He shivered. "And a signal..."

Daniel grinned. "You stay here. I'll get some wood..."

Jack waved a hand. "Oh, don't worry. I'm not going to run off on ya'...."

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

Half an hour later, Daniel had a small fire started. Jack was sitting as close to it as he could without singeing his clothes, shivering, soaking up the heat and trying to ignore the worried frown that movement provoked from the young man. Once the fire was burning strongly, Daniel added some of the wettest wood, and a column of smoke soon began to spiral up into the pristine air.

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

"Major Carter. Look! Over there!" Teal'c was pointing ahead to a thin column of rising smoke.

"What's that? A lightning strike?"

"Perhaps it is a signal fire."

"Yes!"

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

Hours later, Teal'c and Carter finally found a way down the steep cliff and into the valley where the smoke originated. As they at last made their way through the brush choked gully which lead down to the riverbank, they made an unwanted discovery.

"They're on the wrong side of the river!" Carter's voice betrayed her dismay.

The smoke was rising from a spot a short distance into the trees, and they couldn't see the fire or any sign of their missing comrades.

"Colonel! Daniel!" Carter hollered.

"Major, they will not be able to hear our voices above the sound of the water," Teal'c reminded her.

Carter cursed. She was so distracted by her concern over them that she wasn't thinking clearly, she was wasting valuable time. Damn! "Teal'c, your staff weapon."

The Jaffa nodded, aimed his weapon at a small tree and fired, the wet wood quickly wafting smoke.

Carter stared hopefully across the river. "There!" she cried, seeing movement, pointing, her excitement quickly returning to dread as she saw only one figure.

"It is Daniel Jackson," Teal'c reported.

"Where's the Colonel?" Sam worried, scanning the far shore.

Daniel was waving his arms, holding up both arms, and then pointing into the trees.

"Perhaps Colonel O'Neill is back in the trees."

"Why wouldn't he come out?"

"He may be injured," the Jaffa suggested.

Daniel was still waving, back into the trees then grabbing at his foot, hopping.

"I believe Daniel Jackson is trying to show us that the Colonel has injured his leg."

Carter nodded.

"We must find a way to cross the river."

The Major looked around. "If the Colonel is hurt, they can't wade, or swim."

"We also do not know if there are more creatures in the water here."

Sam brushed a hand through her hair. "If there's one, there has to be more. Maybe they move with the flood, but we have to assume the water's too dangerous." Carter looked around. "We'll have to build a raft. There are trees washed up there, and we've got most of the rope. And some of those vines look pretty strong."

-----------------------------------XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXx

Daniel stared across the expanse of deep water, relieved they'd been found, but knowing help for Jack was still too far away. They couldn't cross the river. Damn, he should have tried to swim to the other shore right away.

"Daniel?"

"It's Teal'c and Carter. They've found us."

"That's good," O'Neill's voice lacked its usual energy.

Frustrated, Jackson watched Teal'c and Carter lay out rope, gather vines and push several large tree limbs into the water, suddenly realizing what they planned to do. "They're going to make a raft, I think." he explained as he headed back to the spot where the injured man lay.

He didn't like what he saw. Jack's face was white, pain lines furrowed across the brow and beside the eyes, and his left hand was once again sliding methodically up and down his thigh.

Jackson popped two more of the precious small supply of Tylenol. "Here," he offered, holding them out toward Jack.

O'Neill's eyes opened briefly, and he didn't protest, taking the pills, tossing them into his mouth, throwing his head back to swallow them dry.

Knowing there was nothing more he could do at the moment, Daniel made sure the fire was burning steadily. That done, he once again settled himself in against O'Neill, careful not to disturb the injured leg, until they were sitting side by side, shoulder to shoulder.

The Colonel's head soon slid down to rest on Daniel's shoulder, and before long he could hear the soft snoring as O'Neill slept.

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

"Jack."

"Hmmm."

"We need to move."

The brown eyes, darker than usual, opened. "To do what?"

"We need to find a spot where we can get out of the rain."

"Rain?" Jack looked around, confused.

His obvious confusion worried Daniel. "The rain is coming. We have to move, further from the water, find some shelter."

"Okay."

Daniel gripped Jack's hand, pulling the older man upright. "Easy now," he ordered, steadying the gray haired man as he came shakily erect. "Okay?"

"Umm. Yeah. Let's go," said the Colonel unsteadily.

Daniel pulled Jack's arm over his shoulders, shifted to take more of the man's weight onto his own lean frame.

They walked carefully away from the river, Daniel fighting to keep his balance on the wet, grassy slope with O'Neill's all but dead weight hanging onto his shoulder.

Just a few yards away from the river bank, Daniel found a huge tree with one of it's giant branches broken over, forming a leafy haven which should shelter them. "Okay, here's home. Not much, but..."

"Yeah," Jack agreed, moaning as Daniel helped him to the ground. Jackson quickly scooped leaves from under the giant tree's trunk, then helped O'Neill scoot under the slight protection.

Jackson also found some mostly dry sticks and bark under the tree's shelter, and quickly used them as tinder to start another fire, using one of their precious small supply of matches. He fed the small stack of dry sticks into the fire, then turned again to Jack. "I've got to get more wood. I'll be back."

Daniel left, and Jack lay back against the rough wood of the tree trunk, shifting in hopes of finding a more comfortable position, giving up when he realized nothing was going to ease the pain. With a sigh he looked around, watching the dark forest until Daniel returned, his arms filled with sticks he'd found.

"Not the best, but sort of dry," he quipped, adding more sticks to the fire which began smoking heavily.

"Feels good," Jack said, trying to smile to reassure Daniel, as he battled to suppress the shivers.

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

Daniel had pulled off his jacket and hung it next to the fire, as close as he dared, hoping it would finish drying. Worriedly, he glanced across the smoking flames toward Jack, huddled against the tree trunk, shivering and dozing. He couldn't miss the way every few minutes O'Neill shuddered in the cool air, beneath the damp jacket.

Finally, Jackson pulled his mostly dry jacket from the fire, picking up O'Neill's still sodden coat, and using the dry one to cover the Colonel. Jack's brown eyes opened, meeting Daniel's worried blue ones.

"How are you feeling?"

O'Neill simply shrugged.

"How's your leg?" Daniel asked, reaching down to check the bandage, noting the dressings were dotted with fresh spots of red. The wounds were still bleeding some, but not too much, he thought thankfully. At least his first aid had been something other than pointless torture for his friend.

"Just dandy."

Daniel didn't like the weary tone.

Jack shivered.

Daniel reached up to feel the furrowed brow. It felt warm. Maybe, Daniel, hoped, it was just reflecting the heat of the fire. "How do you feel?"

Jack brushed the hand away. "I'm okay."

"You're shivering."

"Well, I'm wet. And," shivering again, "cold," he answered, irritation marking the voice. "Just build the fire up, will ya'?"

Jackson walked out into the woods, found more sticks and stoked up the flames. Seeing Jack still shivering, he grabbed the mostly dry jacket from the other side of the fire, and sidled over to sit beside his friend, wrapping an arm around the shuddering shoulders. Wrapping one coat securely around O'Neill's legs, the other around the Colonel's torso, Daniel pulled Jack's shoulders in against his chest, hoping to share his body heat.

"Ah, Daniel..."

"Yes Jack..."

"This is nice..."

Daniel was surprised.

"But you know this doesn't mean we're engaged or anything, right?"

Daniel laughed. Count on Jack to have a remark for every situation. "Right. No engagements."

"Good. Wouldn't want the jarheads to be gossiping."

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

Raft building was tedious work with just the two of them. There were plenty of broken off tree trunks here along the shore of the river, washed down by the flood. Still, it was hard work even for Teal'c, disentangling the smaller ones that suited their purpose from the pile of oversized, twisted rejects.

Carter was cutting branches off the trunks of the small pine-like trees they'd already selected, dearly wishing she had an axe. An axe would make the job simple and quick, rather than hour after hour of hacking at branches with her rapidly dulling knife. Her hands cramped and her shoulders ached, but she worked on, worried about her teammates and especially concerned about the Colonel's unknown injuries. It was so frustrating, knowing that Daniel and the Colonel were only a few hundred yards away, but totally unreachable. They couldn't even send over their packs, the medical kit, dry clothes, anything useful.

The Major hacked angrily at another protruding tree branch. Damn! They'd been only a couple of minutes from safely reaching the far shore of the river when that damn oversized crocodile had appeared out of nowhere. She shivered, suddenly wondering if it, or one of its relatives, was watching her right now, contemplating her and Teal'c as its next meal.

She shouldn't have gotten so wrapped up in that translation, in trying to help Daniel. And she'd backed up Daniel's request to extend their stay to the maximum. If only they'd left a day sooner, they'd have crossed before the rain and the flooding...

Stop it, Sam, she ordered herself. Stop it. As the Colonel always says, you think too much. Thinking about what happened won't change it. It's only now and the future we can change.

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

"Major Carter, we must cease our efforts and prepare for the evening," Teal'c's voice intruded on her determined efforts at trimming branches from the logs.

Sam looked up at the Jaffa. She hadn't even noticed that it was getting darker, the daylight fading in the overcast sky. She didn't want to stop, not knowing how badly the others might need help, but this wasn't work she and Teal'c could safely do in the darkness.

"Our raft will be ready to sail early tomorrow, Major Carter," he added. "We must rest and prepare for the journey. Daniel Jackson and Colonel O'Neill will need us at our best tomorrow."

Sam nodded, knowing Teal'c was right, but not liking it.

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

Somewhere, late in the night, a cold rain began to fall, not the heavy downpour of the previous days' monsoon, but a thin, chill rain.

O'Neill woke to the realization that he was shivering again, and someone was holding him and speaking soothing words.

"Shh, Jack, sleep."

"Daniel?" he struggled to sit up, realized that his movement had dislodged the coat covering him, and immediately regretted the loss of its warmth.

"Jack, lie still. Rest."

O'Neill shuddered against his friend's chest, as another chill shook him. A hand pushed the hair back on his forehead. "You're running a fever, a pretty high one I think."

"How long?"

"You've been asleep for hours. It should be light in a little while. It will be warmer then."

"Good," Jack mumbled, trying once again to sit up.

"Jack, what are you trying to do?"

"Watch. My turn. I'll take watch."

"No, you need to sleep. I'll watch a little longer."

"You need your sleep."

"I'll sleep when Teal'c and Carter get here."

"They're coming?"

"In the morning, I'm sure. Rest now."

"Daniel," the words were mumbled as Jack let his head once again sink down to lie against Daniel's shoulder..."

"Umm hmmm..."

"Daniel..." the jacket was once again covering him, and O'Neill snuggled into it's welcome warmth. "Thanks..."

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

Daniel thought the night would never end. He hadn't slept at all, not just because he knew someone needed to keep watch, but because he knew Jack was getting worse. As the night wore on, O'Neill alternated bouts of shivering with periods of sweating, shaking, restless fever. Jackson clutched the two jackets around his friend, trying to shelter him from the cold and damp. Their haven under the heavy tree branches had been effective in keeping them dry, but the air was cool and moisture laden, and long before dawn the stack of wood he'd gathered earlier had been used up. The chill hours before dawn had been the worst, Jack's fevered ramblings interspersed with periods of weak attempts at climbing out of their shelter.

Daniel would talk to Jack then, and he'd calm down, lie quietly for a while, at least until the fever spiked again, or the chills returned and O'Neill tried to curl up under the inadequate coverings of the jackets and vests.

Jackson was exhausted when dawn finally began to color the sky. He had no clue what direction it was, if there was a direction on an uninhabited planet, but out of habit he called the direction of the sunrise east. Gradually, the darkness began to soften and fade. He could hear the small noises of the forest as the bird creatures began flitting around the woods.

Cramped as he was, tucked uncomfortably against the tree trunk, Daniel tried to stay still. Jack had been sleeping soundly, his breathing reassuringly rhythmic for more than an hour now, and he didn't want to wake the injured man. He needed every minute of rest he could get. Finally, after the sun had cleared the horizon, Jackson felt O'Neill stir. Brown eyes opened and drifted around to take in his surroundings. A grimy hand appeared from under the jackets, wiped across the stubble covered chin.

"Good morning," Daniel offered.

"Hmmm. Morning," the eyes sank closed again, then reopened slowly.

Jackson laid a hand across O'Neill's forehead. "Feels like your fever is down a little."

O'Neill pushed himself up to a semi-sitting position, leaning back against the tree branch. "That's what usually happens in the morning," he explained.

"How do you know that?" Daniel asked. "Have you been taking first aid classes or something?"

"Experience," Jack closed his eyes, remembering tending his own wounds for nine days in the desert, untended wounds for months in Iraq, a Black Ops mission where he'd carried a wounded teammate for three days while the man raved in feverish agony and died three hours before the rescue chopper came. He shivered. He knew way too much about untreated wounds and fevers.

Daniel's hand was on his shoulder. "Jack? You okay?"

The Colonel opened his eyes. "Yeah, just a bad memory."

"I need to check your foot." Daniel slid away from Jack's shoulder and moved to kneel beside the injured limb.

"Don't bother," Jack said wearily.

Too late. Daniel had already moved the jacket to find the leg swollen tight in the bandages, fresh blood having leaked through the cloth in the night. The skin was an angry red nearly all the way to Jack's knee, and Daniel didn't even have to touch the skin to feel the heat radiating from it. An infection, and a bad one, was already started.

"Look, I'm going to go check on Teal'c and Sam's progress. You'll be okay alone for a bit?"

"Yup. I'm a big boy. I'll be fine." Jack pulled his 9mm from the holster and handed it to Daniel.

"What's this for?"

"In case any of Godzilla's relatives are waiting down by the river."

"Will it work?"

Jack shook his head. "Actually, I'm not sure. Probably has seaweed growing in it. But it's better than nothing," he shrugged, letting his eyes fall closed.

Daniel stared. Jack was exhausted, even after a night of rest, his face as pale as he'd ever seen it, pain lines furrowing his face.

"I'll be back in a couple of minutes."

"Don't hurry on my account," Jack muttered, staring after the retreating figure.

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

Teal'c and Carter had been at work on the raft the moment it was light enough to see. Their craft consisted of eight small tree trunks and large branches, lashed together with the remnants of their ropes, reinforced with sturdy vines they'd cut in the forest. Still, to Carter's scientific mind, it seemed a fragile thing to carry four people.

"I believe we are finished, Major Carter," Teal'c suggested, looking over the makeshift vessel.

"I guess," said Carter uncertainly, looking over the wide expanse of the waterway. Here, in the broad valley, the river had spread out into a large, slow moving, sluggish lake. She picked up the primitive paddles she and Teal'c had carved to propel the craft, and climbed aboard, Teal'c pushing it off from the shore and joining her in paddling.

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

Just a few minutes after he'd left, Daniel arrived breathlessly back at Jack's side. "They're on their way, Teal'c and Sam are on the raft and paddling across the lake."

O'Neill nodded, and with Daniel's help got up on his feet. He swayed dangerously, clutching tightly at the smaller man's shoulder, waiting for the vertigo to pass.

"Maybe we should wait..." Jackson started.

"No. I'll be okay. Just got up too fast." Jack gritted his teeth. "Let's go, can't let the kids land without a welcoming committee. Sooner we meet them, the sooner we're home."

It was only a few hundred yards down to the river, but Jack was shaking and sweating by the time they arrived within sight of the water. The raft was already more than halfway across the lake.

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

The makeshift raft held together well, although Carter and Teal'c found it difficult to propel through the water. Thankfully, the current was slow, almost non-existent, and they moved slowly but steadily across the lake.

Finally, after nearly an hour of intense effort, the raft reached the shallows. Teal'c jumped into the water, towing the craft, Daniel hurrying out to join them.

"Are you well, Daniel Jackson?" Teal'c inquired.

"I'm fine, but Jack's not doing well at all." Jackson turned to the Major. "Have you got medical supplies?"

"I've still got the first aid kit," she said. "What's wrong?"

"That crocodile creature bit him. His foot and leg are badly mangled, bites, punctures, cuts, all infected. He's feverish..."

Carter didn't wait for the raft to touch land, she grabbed her pack and leaped off, heading toward the Colonel.

He was lying semi-upright with his back resting against a large piece of driftwood, eyes closed, dark rings around his eyes, lines of pain cutting deep into the pale face. Beads of sweat stood out on his forehead.

"Sir?" Carter asked, kneeling beside him, appalled at his condition. "Colonel?"

He opened his eyes and smiled thinly. "Hey, Major, hope you had a better trip than we did."

"Yes, Sir." She gently reached down toward his leg. "I've brought the med-kit, Sir. We'll have you fixed up in a minute."

"Good," he said, and jerked as she began peeling the stiffened, blood caked bandages away.

"Sorry, Sir." The dressings were sticking to the wounds with dried blood, fluid and exudates. She flicked her eyes up to his face in a brief gesture of apology, and then quickly she jerked the material away.

"Ow!"

"Done, Sir, with the worst of it."

He was banging one fist against the ground. "God, I hope so," he snapped. "Where did you study, the Marquis de Sade School of Medicine?"

"Jack..." Daniel handed the Colonel a canteen and four pills.

"What are these?"

"Antibiotics and painkillers," Carter explained. "Take them all."

O'Neill tossed them into his mouth and washed them down with no arguments.

Carter had removed all the bandages and dressings, exposing O'Neill's injured leg from the calf down. The whole area was swollen with angry red streaks flaring out from around the punctures. A row of deep cuts that sliced across the leg just above the top of his boot also showed signs of infection. Carter opened the small bottle of disinfectant, then looked up again to meet the Colonel's eyes. "Sir, I need to pour this into the deepest wounds..."

"Yes..." he waved a hand. "Get it over with."

Biting her lip in concentration, knowing she was going to be hurting him but that it had to be done, Sam poured the betadine directly onto the wound.

"Son of a...." O'Neill cursed, scrambling backwards, then clutching at his thigh, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he writhed. "God, what's in that stuff, acid?"

"Easy, Jack, easy," Daniel was grasping the shaking shoulders.

"Ahhh, son of a bitch, easy, right, easy. Easy for you to say," Jack finally laid back, throwing one hand over his face, the other squeezing Daniel's hand so hard the archaeologist thought the bones would crack.

"I've got to do more, Sir," Carter said, apologetically.

O'Neill nodded, and when she proceeded, his shoulders arched off the ground and his hand, clasped around Daniel's, again mashed the younger man's fingers for long seconds before his whole body went limp.

"Passed out," said Daniel.

"Good."

"Good?" he asked.

Carter nodded. "At least I'll be able to finish cleaning and bandaging this without putting him through more of that," she said, shakily. Working quickly, even as O'Neill began to mutter and stir restlessly, she quickly had a new set of dressings neatly in place.

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

He woke slowly, the fire consuming his foot and leg banked now, slow embers rather than searing flames, he thought, as he fought his way back to consciousness. O'Neill blinked, turned his head.

"Hey, Jack. Back with us?"

Daniel's voice, to his left. He turned his head. "Where'd I go?" he asked.

"Just took a little nap, Sir."

"Ummm," he lifted his head, and struggled to sit up. Daniel's arm was under his shoulders, easing him once again to a sitting position. The Colonel looked around.

"How are you feeling, Sir?" Carter asked, kneeling to check her bandaging handiwork.

O'Neill looked down at the clean, white dressings now covering his lower left leg. "Oh, I'm peachy. Just peachy, Carter," he said, a little more energy back in his voice.

She pulled the strip thermometer off his forehead and smiled. "Your fever is down some. Think you could eat something, Sir?" she asked. "You need to build up your strength a bit before we go boating."

He nodded and she handed him a hot MRE, lifting a spoonful toward his chin.

"Carter," he snapped, reaching up to take the spoon. "My leg's hurt, not my hands. I can feed myself."

"Yes, Sir," she grinned and stepped away.

He watched her go back to the water's edge and talk with Teal'c. Daniel was sitting on the ground next to him, finishing off his own MRE like a starving man. Well, hell, they hadn't had anything to eat for what, two days? Something like that. Jack wasn't very hungry, he knew he should be, but he wasn't. Still he forced himself to eat a dozen spoonfuls of the stew before letting his hand drop.

"Jack?" Daniel was beside him, a worried expression on his face. "You should eat more."

"Not hungry."

"Figured that. But you need to eat anyway. That's what you're always telling me."

That got a little grin to light the Colonel's tired face. "Yes, Sir, Colonel Jackson." O'Neill forced himself to eat another few spoonfuls, before quitting.

"Ready, Sir?" Carter asked.

"Sure, kids, I love a scenic little boat ride," he said, as Teal'c took one arm, Daniel the other, and they eased him upright. Letting him lean back against the driftwood to steady himself, he paused a moment, then nodded, draped one arm over each shoulder, and limped toward the raft.

"All ready for you, Sir," Carter said as she steadied the craft. At the water's edge, Teal'c and Daniel reached down and clasped hands behind O'Neill's knees, lifting him onto the raft. He bit his lip and groaned as his injured limb touched down.

The raft rocked as the others climbed aboard, Daniel kneeling beside Jack and holding the rudder Carter had added that morning, Carter and Teal'c cautiously beginning to paddle out into the lake.

"Always wanted to go on a cruise," O'Neill commented. "Thought I'd take the QEII though, not the USS Guppy. I'm missing the shuffleboard." He managed a grin.

"Next time, Sir, we'll get you a bigger boat," Carter promised.

"I'll hold you to that, Major," he answered.

He watched them paddle for a while, Daniel spelling Carter, then closed his eyes to take another nap. He wasn't sure how long he'd slept when he felt the primitive little watercraft tilt, sway, and

right itself.

"Sam?" there was an edge in Daniel's voice.

"The current appears to be stronger here," Teal'c's voice was, as always, reassuringly calm.

"I don't remember this on the way over," Carter's voice sounded strained.

Jack opened his eyes, looking around blearily, and realized they were no longer heading slowly but steadily toward the far shore, but were being carried ever more rapidly downstream. "Carter," the Colonel snapped. "What's happening?"

She was back at his side. "Nothing for you to worry about, Sir, the current's just a little stronger this time. We'll be fine..."

The boat lurched. O'Neill slid toward the edge, grabbing futilely for some sort of handhold as the raft tilted and swayed dangerously. Daniel shouted, Teal'c paddled furiously and Carter latched onto O'Neill's jacket to prevent him from sliding into the water.

"What the hell was that?" the Colonel asked.

"I believe we have found another one of those creatures," said Teal'c quietly.

"Oh good," O'Neill muttered as he pushed himself back toward the center of the raft. "We're in the middle of Moby Dick's family reunion."

"Here it comes again," Daniel shouted, pointing with the paddle.

O'Neill saw a rounded shape protruding just above the water, ripples curling away from the gray-green body gliding swiftly through the water.

Carter grabbed her gun, and fired, again and again, the bullets seeming to have no effect on the creature. It continued to come towards them, and then, as she emptied a clip and reloaded, it seemed to slow, pause, and lose it's focus on them. It slipped under, resurfaced, it's long crocodile shaped head coming up out of the water, opening its mouth to reveal blackened teeth, roaring.

"There are more!" Teal'c shouted, pointing, as he counted two, three, four, five more monstrous bodies gliding from the shore and into the water. But the monsters weren't swimming toward them, they were heading toward the spot where they'd seen the first croc disappear under the waves after Carter's shots. "I hope to hell they're cannibals," said O'Neill.

The others were paddling furiously, trying to propel the tiny craft as far as possible from the congregating creatures and their feeding frenzy. They seemed to be making headway now, having cleared the strongest current, and once again the far shore seemed to be drawing closer.

"Just a few more minutes, Sir," Carter promised.

"Look out!" Teal'c's shout gave Carter just enough time to grab the Colonel as something large struck the raft, not a croc this time, but a tree, carried downstream by the flood. The craft tipped, and this time couldn't right itself, flipping over in the water, throwing SG-1 and their gear into the dirty, cold water.

Carter had her hand wrapped in O'Neill's jacket as they were tossed clear of the craft and forced under. She felt something slide by in the water, and grabbed for it, feeling rough wood scrape her hand. With one hand wrapped around the floating debris, and the other clinging to the Colonel, she pushed her head out of the water, O'Neill doing the same next to her. She grabbed the tree, holding on, struggling to retain her grip on both.

"Colonel?"

He was treading water, gray faced, but she knew he wouldn't be able to do this for long, knew every minute he was in the water meant less chance for his survival.

"Where are Daniel? Teal'c?"

"I can't see them!"

O'Neill slipped under, pushed himself back into the air as Carter grabbed again for his coat. Looking around, she realized they weren't far from the shore, the tree now snagged against something. She didn't know how stable it was, how long it would stay in place, but she knew it was imperative she get her CO out of the water. "Here, Sir, climb on the tree," she suggested, shoving him upward as he climbed.

Panting with exertion, he managed to pull himself out of the water."Hey, Carter, there's another seat," he gasped, and pulled himself onto the huge tree limb jutting clear of the lake.

Carter shinnied up beside him and looked around, pointing suddenly at the shore. "There, Sir, they're safe!"

Jack looked up just long enough to see Teal'c dragging Daniel onto the shore. "That's good, because we've got company," O'Neill warned.

The Major looked up to see more creatures in the water, swimming upstream toward them. She reached for her weapon, hands coming up empty. "Damn! Sir, I must have lost it when the raft overturned," she explained.

"One pistol isn't going to keep them at bay," he noted dryly, wondering why they'd left their meal. And then he looked down at his leg, and the mystery was solved. The water soaked bandages on his leg were dripping blood into the water, like dumping chum in front of a school of hungry sharks. "Shit," he thought, watching the creatures swimming predatorily toward them-- three, four, five. Suddenly, he had another idea. O'Neill began tearing the stained bandages off his leg.

"Colonel! What are you doing?" Sam thought he must be suddenly delirious.

"Carter, these things are dripping blood into the water. Bait. Drawing them. I'm going to toss them that way," he nodded out toward the center of the lake, "and hope that buys us the couple of minutes we need to swim to there," he pointed across the last small stretch of water that led to the shore where Teal'c and Daniel stood.

"Sir, they'll follow us," Carter said, swallowing.

"Teal'c can cover us with his staff weapon. It's our only chance." His dark eyes looked steadily at her. "When I throw this, swim for it. That's an order, Carter. Make it to shore. I'll be right behind you."

"Sir," she looked hard at him, fearing he wouldn't follow, that he intended to sacrifice himself for her safety. "Yes, Sir."

"I'll be right behind you, Carter. Promise. I already know that those things' teeth can do, and I don't want another close encounter of the crocodile kind, eh?" He glared at her. "That's an order, Major. On three..." He took the mass of soaking, dripping bandages, wrapped them a round a bit of stick to make them easier to throw farther, and offered up one last prayer that this would buy them the few seconds they needed.. "One, two, three..." he tossed the stick, and she grabbed his arm, both of them plunging into the water, swimming as hard as they could, Carter dragging him through the water. They heard Daniel shout, heard Teal'c staff weapon crackle, felt the ripples caused by the creatures passage, and then O'Neill's leg hit something, the river bottom, sloping sharply upward. Carter was grabbing him hauling him forward, running and staggering, each step agony but no choice now, running toward shore, Daniel racing out to help, grabbing Jack's other arm.

They'd made it. On shore now, lungs heaving with the effort of swimming and running, hearts pumping madly, adrenaline slowly leaking out of their systems.

Jack rolled over onto his back, eyes closed, breathing harshly, exhausted. "We are on the right side of the river this time, aren't we?" he asked.

"Oh, yeah," said Daniel. "Yeah."

"Good, because I'm going to pass out now." O'Neill's eyes rolled back and he fell into unconsciousness.

-----------------------------------------XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXx

They'd lost their packs, and the first aid kit, so it was Teal'c's shirt that was sacrificed for fresh bandages. O'Neill still had his vest, so the nearly empty tube of antibiotic cream was their only dressing. While Carter doctored the Colonel, Teal'c and Daniel built a roaring fire to both keep away the crocs and dry out their sodden clothes. They kept two of the strongest, straightest tree limbs and, once the jackets were dry, used Daniel's and Teal'c's coats to form the base of a makeshift litter.

Not even waiting for O'Neill to regain consciousness, they lifted him onto the improvised stretcher and began the long trek toward the Stargate. The going was easier now that they didn't have to stay next to the waterway and the steep, rough hills surrounding it. They angled away from the water, out onto the plain, taking the most direct route toward the gate, knowing even at best it would take until tomorrow to reach it.

They'd been traveling several hours before the Colonel finally began to stir.

"Hey, Sir, you still with us?" Carter asked as she saw the brown eyes slowly open. They looked feverish, pain lines tightening around the eyes, but he responded.

"Can't get rid of me that easy, Major."

"Right, Sir."

"Where are we?" he waved a hand.

"We're on the way back to the Stargate."

"Good," he licked his lips, let weary eyes slide closed. "Everyone okay?"

"Yes, Sir. We're fine. How are you?"

"Been better," he admitted.

"It won't be long now, Sir, and we'll have you home."

"Ah, home, house, abode, dwelling..."

"Home as in the SGC, Sir," Carter said, smiling.

"The infirmary," he sighed. "I know." Doesn't seem such a bad idea right now, he thought, warm, dry, soft, motionless place to sleep with no crocodiles chasing you, and he wouldn't even complain about one of Doc's nice oblivion producing, pain reducing IVs.

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

O'Neill dozed as his team trudged on across the landscape of PC5-141.

The wide plain seemed to go on forever, the mountains, where the Stargate stood in a small clearing at the base of the foothills, seemed to be getting no closer.

Daniel stumbled, jolting the stretcher. O'Neill moaned.

"Take a break," ordered the Major.

"We still have far to go, MajorCarter," said Teal'c.

"I know, but we all need a rest. Daniel's exhausted, and even you need a break. And I'd like to check the Colonel." Carter didn't need to say more. O'Neill had not joined their conversation, made no sound but a quiet grunt of pain at the jarring he'd taken when Daniel slipped.

Carefully, the men set the stretcher down. Daniel slumped to the ground, head down.

"I will check the terrain ahead," Teal'c offered.

"Good. Thanks," said Carter, taking her canteen and kneeling beside the stretcher. Her CO looked awful. She tried to hide her worry, forcing a grin as she leaned over to touch his shoulder. "Sir? Colonel?"

It took a moment for him to respond, the eyes opening sluggishly, drifting around in confusion before coming to rest on her face. "Oh, hi, Carter. Are we home yet?"

"Not quite, Sir. Here, drink this."

He sipped the water, then raised his arm and weakly brushed the container away.

"Drink more, Sir."

"No."

Her hand touched his forehead, and felt the burning heat. "Sir, you have a high fever. You need to keep yourself hydrated." She put the canteen to his lips and he swallowed, unresisting. They'd lost the medical supplies in her backpack into the river, but thankfully she had put the painkillers and antibiotics into her vest pocket. "Here, Sir, take these."

As Daniel lifted the Colonel's shoulders, she slipped the pills past O'Neill's lips and trickled more water into his mouth. He gagged, had trouble swallowing, then forced them down.

"Good job, Sir," she bit her lip, fear curling through her as she realized how weak he was, how hot his skin felt, and she didn't even want to look at his leg. The bandages weren't stained with blood now, but with a thick, yellowish fluid draining from the wounds. They'd been infected even before that last dunking into the dirty, cold river.

He shivered.

She tucked her jacket once again tightly around his chest, and let her fingers rest lightly against his wrist. His long fingers reached out and clasped her hand, and he sighed, settling back into the hazy fevered sleep.

Teal'c was gone nearly an hour. By the time he returned, Daniel was snoring softly, lying back on the grass. Carter was sitting beside a sleeping O'Neil, her hand resting lightly on his arm, her eyes bright with worry.

"How is O'Neill?" the Jaffa asked softly.

"Feverish. Weak. We need to get him home."

"Daniel Jackson must have rest before we walk further. He did not sleep while caring for O'Neill."

"I know," Sam said, wearily, worried about them all. "We'll rest another hour."

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

Dusk was falling when they resumed their journey. Though the sleep had been short, it had refreshed Daniel considerably, but it was replaced now by a hard lump of fear in his chest. It would take them hours yet to reach the gate and Jack was worse, gripped in the harsh throes of the infection and fever.

"We will arrive in time to help O'Neill," Teal'c assured the others.

Daniel looked down at his friend, unresponsive now, shaking with chills between periods of raging fever.

Darkness fell. Sam walked in front, lighting their path with the flashlight, all of them stumbling now with weariness.

The first of the planet's moons rose, followed closely by the second. Carter switched off her flashlight, spelling Daniel at carrying the litter, then returning to lead the way.

In the dim light, at last she could make out the moonlight glinting off the ring, the DHD a solid lump of darkness nearby.

She ran to the device, dialing as fast as her hands could move across the panels, her fingers urgently tapping out the GDO signal. Behind her, she could hear O'Neill's harsh breathing, the tired gasps of her other teammates. "Come on, damn you! Acknowledge!" Finally, after endless seconds, she got the okay, and sprinted for the gate.

The moment her feet touched the metal grating she was shouting. "Medical team. Now. We need Janet," she shouted, turning back to watch Teal'c step through the wormhole, hands firmly locked on the handles of the makeshift stretcher, Daniel stumbling wearily through behind them.

Fraiser and a pair of orderlies ran breathlessly into the gateroom. "What..." She need ask no further, spying the Colonel's sweat soaked form on the stretcher. She spared a quick glance around at the others. "You okay?"

"Yes, just tired," Daniel answered wearily, dropping to his knees. "Help Jack."

The orderlies were already lifting O'Neill onto the gurney, Janet bending over the still form. "Colonel?" She checked his pulse, weaker than she'd like. She didn't like what her stethoscope told her either, or the hot feel of his skin. Even without a thermometer, she knew he had a raging fever. "Colonel?" she asked again.

He tried to respond, the eyelids fluttered, didn't make it open.

"Major?" Fraiser turned to SG-1's 2IC for details.

"He was bitten by a big creature, like a crocodile, three days ago, it's badly infected..." Sam pointed at the Colonel's leg and foot.

Janet ripped off the dressing, needing to see no more. "The infirmary, stat," she commanded the orderlies tersely.

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

Through the window from the hallway, Daniel and Sam could see the frantic activity going on around the curtained off area that hid Colonel O'Neill's bed. Frowning nurses occasionally rushed past through the hallway on the way to the lab or the supply room. They could occasionally make out the rumble of voices, none of them sounding reassuring.

Sam paced, running her hands through her hair endless times.

Daniel stood, leaning against the wall, arms wrapped around his chest.

Teal'c sat silently in one of the hard backed plastic chairs.

General Hammond came and went, his face reflecting the worry they all felt.

Finally, what seemed like hours after they'd returned from PC5-141, a tired Janet Fraiser stepped out from behind the curtain. She took a deep breath, counted silently to 10, then walked slowly out to the hallway, her face grim.

"Janet?" Sam stopped her restless pacing, moving to stand beside Daniel.

"I won't lie to you. It's not good."

"But he, he can't..." Daniel's eyes frantically searched Fraiser's face for signs of optimism, and found none. "He won't die, will he?" Daniel asked.

The doctor shook her head. "It's still touch and go. This infection is something I've never seen before, I'm only guessing at which, if any, of the antibiotics we have will do any good. And if something doesn't work soon," she paused, looked down, then raised her gaze to meet four pairs of eyes boring into her. "If we can't get the infection under control within the next few hours, the only way to save him will be to amputate his leg just below the knee."

"No!" Daniel protested. "You can't!"

"There may be no other way, Daniel, I'm sorry."

"What about the healing device? I can use it," Sam whispered frantically.

"I'm sorry, Major Carter, but we shipped it to Area 51 two weeks ago for study," Hammond reminded them. "We've had it here for months and never needed to use it."

"Well, Sir, get it back! Send for it now," she demanded.

"I will, Major. But at best, it will take hours..." Hammond looked around at the grim group. "I'll order it returned now. Dr. Jackson, try to contact the Tok'ra, or the Tollan, anyone who might be able to get here sooner. We've only got hours."

"He may not realistically have even that long, General. The infection is gaining. We're trying everything we can think of, but so far nothing is working." Fraiser looked again at the silent group. "He's not been very coherent, but I explained the situation. I think he could use some company."

"I will stay with O'Neill," Teal'c offered.

"Tell him we'll find a way," Daniel gripped Sam's hand for a moment, then hurried down the hallway, following in the wake of the General.

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

The wild activity in the infirmary had settled down to a steady buzz . Carter paused outside the curtained off area around O'Neill's bed, taking a deep breath, and fixing a smile on her face as she stepped around the barrier.

O'Neill lay on the bed, eyes closed, silent, quiet, his chest barely moving, wires and tubes everywhere, his face as ghostly pale as the white sheets he lay on. Carefully, she reached over and took his hand in hers, the long, strong fingers, letting her own fingers slide softly over the rough skin.

"Colonel. Sir," she said, softly.

He opened hazy eyes to look at her, blinked, "Hey, Carter," he whispered.

"I can only stay a minute. I'm going to help Janet in the lab. And once the healing device gets here, we'll have you as good as new in minutes, Sir. Daniel wanted you to know," she had to stifle a sob at the weak way his hand clutched hers, at the frustration and fear in his eyes. "Daniel's calling the Tok'ra and the Tollan, the Nox, trying to find Thor and the Asgard, see if someone is close enough to help. Just hold on, Sir."

"I'm holding, Major," he mumbled.

She didn't know what else to say, what to do, so she patted his hand, and moved to set it back down on the bed. Suddenly, his fingers gripped hers. His eyes were open wide now, awareness there. "Whatever happens, it will be okay, Major."

"Yes, Sir," she bit her lip, fighting to hold back the tears. Tired, she told herself angrily as she left the bedside and started down the hall, I'm just tired and worried, and Oh God....

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

Daniel had reached the control room and informed Sgt. Davis of his plans. "We need to try the Tok'ra first, dial up our last address for them, and hope..."

Suddenly, the gate began to spin. "What?" Daniel cried.

"Incoming wormhole..."

"Who?" Jackson asked.

"I"m not sure yet, Sir. No code."

As they waited, Hammond appeared quickly by Jackson's side.

"General..."

"I've got the device on its way back from Groom Lake, but by the time they get it on a plane and here, it will be at least three hours. I'm sorry, son."

Davis spoke up as numbers began appearing on his screen. "It's SG-10, Sir, returning ahead of schedule..."

"Open the iris."

Davis opened the shield, then waited. Security and medical personnel were standing by in the gateroom. Minutes passed, Daniel's fingers drumming nervously on the computer console in front of him. Damn. Every minute counted and he was waiting. Waiting. Then a figure strolled through the gate, Major Williams, laughing, and another Marine following, sauntering down the ramp.

"Major, where's the rest of your team?" Hammond shouted into the mike.

"They're coming, General. Nothing amiss. We just got done a little early and Franklin here wanted to get home for his son's birthday..." Williams caught sight of Hammond's face, noted the irritation, but there was nothing he could do to speed up the rest of his team. "They're following with the FRED sir, it's been a little cranky so it might be a little while."

Hammond turned a furious face to Jackson, trying to regain his composure. They couldn't deactivate the gate while the rest of SG-10 was coming through. They'd have to wait. "Sgt, the moment that team is through, start dialing per Dr. Jackson's instructions. Got that?"

"Yes, Sir," said Davis.

Hammond stormed out, heading once again for the infirmary.

The General hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but the thin cloth curtain around the Colonel's bed was no barrier to sound.

Teal'c's solemn tones carried easily. "Daniel Jackson, Dr. Fraiser, Major Carter and General Hammond will not give up, O'Neill."

"I know they won't," O'Neill's voice was a bare whisper. "But they may run out of time."

"If..." the voice died away, "you'll take care of them for me?"

"I vow on my honor as a warrior to protect them as you would, O'Neill. But I will not need to. I am confident you will recover."

"Thanks, Teal'c."

Hammond was about to step in when the quiet voice continued.

"Teal'c, do your people believe in an afterlife?"

"What do you mean?"

"After death? Heaven? Hell? Nothing?"

"We do not know, since no one has returned to tell us. But our teachings, from the time before the Goa'uld, tell us of the Second Life. Those who live a life of honor will be rewarded; those who have broken the laws of the Chulan will suffer the same fate they imposed on others. You, O'Neill, are a man of courage and honor, you would be beloved of the gods..."

"I don't think I'd be beloved of anyone Teal'c, not with all the mistakes I've made."

"No one is immune from mistakes, except those who do nothing. Those who endeavor to change the world and the universe will not always make the correct choices. Mistakes are inevitable."

"My mistake killed my son."

Silence.

"You will see him again, O'Neill. Your son, and your friend Kawalsky, and your friend Colonel Cromwell. But not for a very long time."

Hammond cleared his throat, stepped around the curtain, saw O'Neill's pale hand tightly gripping the large ebony one of the Jaffa.

"Jack, how are you doing?"

"Fine, Sir," he mumbled.

"The healing device is on it's way, three hours max. You hold on til then, son."

"Yes, Sir."

Softly, Hammond added, "That's an order, Jack, one I expect you to obey. Hold on."

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

In the hallway, Hammond met a tense CMO. "Dr. Fraiser?"

"No news, yet, General. He's not responding to any of the medications we've tried, the infection is gaining ground steadily. Frankly, I'm running out of options."

"How long?"

She shook her head. "Again, only a guess, two hours; if we're lucky, three."

"Make it three doctor, the healing device will be back here by then."

"No luck with the Tok'ra?"

He shook his head. "There was no answer on PX2-432, the last home base we had for them. They may still answer."

"And the Tollan?"

Hammond snorted angrily, unable to keep the contempt out of his voice. "They are taking the request to the High Council. SG-1 saved their planet and they have to discuss whether or not helping him would violate their no sharing of technology rule." He shook his head. "We're still trying, doctor. Keep him alive long enough for one of these solutions to work, huh?"

"Yes, Sir."

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

Daniel pulled off his glasses, only barely refraining from throwing them across the room. "The Tollan have refused our request. They can't interfere in the dealings of other races. It sounds like a bad episode of Star Trek," Daniel thought, figuring Jack would make some joke about the Prime Directive. Jack, who'd risked his life to help those people, and this was how he was rewarded? Some kind of allies they turned out to be, he thought sadly. The Tollan had even refused to pass on the request to the Nox.

"Sergeant, let's try the old address for the Tok'ra." Daniel didn't know what else to do, he knew he was grasping at straws he supposed, but he was desperate. Jack needed help, and fast.

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

General George Hammond looked around the briefing room table, from one worried face to the next-- Dr. Jackson, Major Carter, even Teal'c's concern showed in the stiff set to his shoulders. Lord, he didn't want to say the words, give these people this news. The only one he wanted less to tell it to was to Jack O'Neill himself, and that was his next job.

"News, Sir?" asked Carter, hopefully.

He could do nothing but shake his head. "Only bad news I'm afraid. The plane with the healing device had to turn back to Groom Lake..."

"What?" Jackson was on his feet. "Why?"

"Engine trouble. They've got another jet sitting on the runway, and as soon as they have the device they'll be in the air. But..."

"Oh, my God," said Carter, slumping back into her chair. "Sir, there must be something else we can do," Major Carter insisted. "Some way..."

"If anyone here has a suggestion, I'd like to hear it." He looked around hopefully, but hearing no answer, he said softly, "dismissed."

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

George Hammond didn't want to walk into that room and deliver this news to that man. It was one of the hardest things he'd ever done in a career full of difficult things. "Doctor Fraiser?"

She simply shook her head. "I, well, Sir, we're out of time. Nothing we've tried has affected the alien bacteria that is causing the infection. It's out of control. If we don't amputate now, he'll be too weak to survive the surgery. He'll die."

Hammond nodded and, taking a deep breath, followed her around the curtain to O'Neill's bedside.

"Colonel," he started, putting his hand on O'Neill's arm. The brown eyes opened, looked directly into his, and Hammond knew O'Neill understood. "I'm sorry, son, the healing device won't be here on time. We haven't been able to reach the Tok'ra, or, or anyone else that could help. Jack, I'm sorry. We tried..."

"I know you did, Sir." The brown eyes bored into his. "Guess I should cancel the tap dancing lessons, then, General?"

Hammond couldn't stop the tiny grin that crossed his face, and he saw Fraiser do the same. "Jack..."

"I'll be alright, General."

"I know you will, son," he said, and abruptly about-faced, hurrying out to the hall, past the grim faces of the rest of SG-1. He needed a moment to compose himself before he could face them.

O'Neill's eyes followed Hammond out the door, and then he let his gaze settle on Dr. Fraiser's face.

"Sir, we need to prep you for the surgery."

He swallowed, his mouth gone suddenly dry, his mind gone blank, all the smart remarks suddenly vanished. He nodded.

She picked up a syringe, and stepped to his IV, inserting the needle into the line. "This will make you feel relaxed and sleepy, Colonel, and then we'll take you to the OR. We'll administer the general anesthetic there."

As she started past his bed, unable to look into his face, he reached up a hand to take her arm. "You did your best, Doc."

"I'm sorry it wasn't enough, Sir."

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In the hallway, the other three members of SG-1 watched in silence as the gurney carrying O'Neill was wheeled into the corridor. Each reached out and touched his shoulder, and then Doc was hurrying him toward the OR and the staff waiting there.

Daniel dropped into a chair, burying his head in his hands. Sam turned to the wall, leaning her forehead against her fists propped against the cold concrete. Teal'c stoically looked from one to another. "O'Neill will survive."

"But SG-1 won't," Sam whispered, and walked quickly away.

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"Colonel, here we go, Sir," he looked up to see Doc's eyes, the only part of her face visible above the surgical mask, Dr. Warren standing beside her.

O'Neill blinked, nodded, and felt the drug carry him away to oblivion.

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The recovery room was a familiar place. Jack was cold, shivering, and then he sensed a calm presence and a soft voice, telling him something, but he couldn't understand the words. And then something warm, a warm blanket was laid over him, and he drifted again, drifted...

He didn't want to wake up, not to this reality. He knew what they'd done, what they'd had to do. Funny, he didn't hurt, he guessed he must be so doped up that he couldn't feel anything yet.

Except, he could wiggle the toes of his left foot.

Or so it seemed.

Then again, he'd heard stories about phantom feelings, how amputees could still feel limbs that weren't there, because, God, he could swear he was moving his toes, and they didn't hurt.

His eyelids weighed at least six tons a piece and though he tried desperately to lift them, he didn't have the strength.

Another odd thing, he didn't think he'd ever woken up here without one of those damn uncomfortable tubes jammed down his throat, and...

His eyes finally snapped open, and he managed to push enough air through his lungs to make a soft sound.

A nurse was right there, smiling, "Colonel?"

He licked his lips, nodded.

The nurse turned away. "Dr. Fraiser! He's waking up."

Doc was there. What was she smiling about? God, sure, he was awake, but he was, shit, he was... he was on his way out of the Air Force and officially into the ranks of the, what was that organization, Disabled American Veterans... Stop that, damn it, he ordered himself. "Doc?"

She was saying something, something that didn't quite register on his still anesthetic befuddled brain.

"Doc?"

More words, words that made no sense. "Colonel..." Doc was looking down at him with concern.

He could feel his leg. He could. With a desperate surge of strength he pushed himself up onto his elbows and looked toward the foot of the bed. His long legs were stretched out and they were still a matching set, thighs, knees, calves, ankles, feet. Feet? Two feet?

He grabbed at the blanket, and then Doc realized what he was trying to do, and pulled the covering away. His left foot was there, no longer angry red and swollen to twice it's normal size. It was in every way a normal, ordinary looking foot that wiggled happily at his command.

"Doc?" he switched his gaze from the miracle at the end of his leg to looking over at the grinning Doctor.

"Doc? Not that I'm complaining, but what the hell?"

"The Tok'ra came through with a healing device."

"But you..."

"No, Sir, we had just put you under, it would only have been a few more minutes," she shuddered. "We got an unauthorized gate activation, and Jacob and Aldwin came through with a healing device. It cleared up the whole infection, healed the cracked bones, probably even made some improvement in your knee. We just had to wait for the anesthetic to wear off. Give it a couple of hours, and you should be good as new."

O'Neill slumped back onto the bed.

"Rest, Sir," Fraiser turned to go, and as she reached the doorway, she turned back to hear his laughing words.

"Geez, Doc, this means the tap dance lessons are still on, right?"

------finis------

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