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Title: Necessary Sacrifices 5/6
Fandom: SG1
Characters: All of them
Genre: Gen
Rating: PG
Word Count: 53,110
Warnings/Spoilers: Mentions of episodes through the 4th Season
Disclaimer: Fanfic, for fun, not profit.
Summary/Notes: Col. Jack O'Neill blacks out the base and then promptly disappears. What is Jack planning and what is he willing to sacrifice in order to accomplish that plan? Can the team find Jack before it's too late? What if it's already too late?
Necessary Sacrifices: Part 1 -- Part 2 -- Part 3 -- Part 4 -- Part 5
Jack placed the last small charge of C-4 and gently inserted the detonator. It wouldn't take much explosive to knock the gate over, the trick was to make the gate fall backward and land right where it needed to. He put the remainder of the C-4 block into his pocket. He might need it later.
You always think that explosives are the answer to everything, don't you?
Jack blinked against the sweat that dropped off his forehead. Daniel's blurry form wavered in front of him. He blinked again and Daniel was gone. It had taken him far longer than he would have liked to set up the detonations. His team had become increasingly bothersome.
We're bothersome? You're the one always running off to play hero. Sam flitted around the edges of his vision. When's the last time any of us disobeyed orders?
Jack's laugh turned into a cough. "Dan'l," he choked out. "Never. . . never follows orders."
Not being military, I don't have to obey orders, you know. You should be happy that I follow as many as I do.
Daniel and Sam floated in front of him to merge into an indistinguishable blob.
"Stop that." Jack closed his eyes at the sight and leaned back against the base of the gate. He just needed to gather his energy before he pulled back a bit and blew the gate. A little rest, a short break from the annoying apparitions of his friends.
***
General Hammond took up his usual position behind Walter as the sergeant began the dialing process. Sam, Daniel, and Teal'c, fresh from a decon scrub, followed Janet down to the gate room. SG-3 and two medics waited at the bottom of the ramp, just behind the MALP the general insisted on sending in first. Sam knew it was the smart thing to do, but she still rankled at the idea that they couldn't just run through and save the colonel. Janet hadn't said so, but Sam knew that Jack's multiple injuries would speed the spread of the infection.
The gate spun to the first symbol and snapped into place.
"Chevron one engaged," Walter said.
Sam drummed her fingers as the gate spun again.
***
The cool stone felt good against his fevered face, as did the breeze that swept over him. The thought that he had to do something nagged at the back of his mind but he was too tired to try and remember what it was. If only the gate would be quiet, he could get some rest. Once he slept, he'd remember everything.
I do not believe you should sleep this close to the Stargate, O'Neill, Teal'c said.
Jack forced his eyes open. Teal'c was not to be seen, but the gate lit up above him.
***
Sam double-checked the ammunition for her P-90. She didn't expect trouble on the deserted planet, but years of training and experience made the action habitual. She glanced over at Daniel who bounced on the balls of his feet. The gate slid to a stop.
"Chevron two engaged."
***
As Jack stared at the Stargate, it warped in front of him and he blinked through the effect. Was the gate really opening?
Come on, sir. Can't you tell what's reality and what's not?
Sam sat next to him and wore a neon orange uniform. "Obviously not." He knew there was a reason he shouldn't want the gate to open, but he couldn't think what it was.
***
Janet reached over and touched Sam's arm. "It'll be okay. The colonel is tough, tough and stubborn. He'll be fine once we get him back here."
Sam smiled at her friend. "I know, it's just. . ." It just felt like she spent so much of her time waiting. She wasn't even sure what she was waiting for. She just knew she was afraid that by the time she figured out what she wanted, it would be too late to get it.
"Chevron three engaged."
***
Jack rolled to his knees and noticed that he held a detonator in his hand, but he couldn't remember what it was for.
You're going to blow yourself up, remember? Daniel said. Blow yourself up, and take Ra with you.
Jack glanced at a skinnier, longer-haired Daniel. He wore different glasses and he held a candy bar in one hand. Jack looked back at the detonator. It sounded like something he would do.
Daniel told me once that you had a death wish. Sam stood next to him. This time she had on the dress she had been forced to wear when they had dealt with the Shavadai. Do you really want to die?
"No." Jack's thoughts scattered before him, like leaves on the wind. "No. I'm not going to die. I've had the vaccine." As he said it, the fog around his memory cleared. If he let the gate open, the virus he carried would kill everyone who came through. The detonator was for that.
The gate announced the arrival of another chevron. Jack stood. He had to blow the gate.
***
"I wonder what Jack will say when we show up," Daniel asked.
"Since he still thinks he's infected by an incurable virus," Janet answered, "I'm thinking it's a good thing we're sending the MALP through first."
"I didn't think about that," Daniel admitted. "He might not be too happy to see us."
Sam hadn't thought about it, either. It was typical. The harder she had to work to rescue Jack, the less he wanted to be rescued.
"Chevron four engaged."
***
Jack stumbled down the steps. His team waited for him on the ground.
You sure you want to do this, Jack? You bury the gate and there's no way off of here.
"I knew it was one-way when I bought the ticket," Jack said.
Why would the Tok'ra require you to purchase passage to participate in this mission?
"It's a--" The sound of another chevron cut him off. He ducked down to use the platform for shelter and punched the detonator.
***
The gate shuddered and ground to a halt. A half a breath later, it started up again and inched toward its next destination.
"Sergeant?" Sam looked up at Walter.
"I'm not sure, Ma'am. It wasn't anything on our end. There were anomalous readings from the destination." He stared at his console. "All readings have leveled off and all systems are within acceptable parameters. There's no explanation for the anomaly.
Sam looked back at the gate, unwilling to do what she knew she should. "Hold the procedure, Walter. I'll check it out." The gate paused. "I'll be right back." She dashed out the door and up the stairs to the control room.
***
As the sharp echoes of the explosion died away, Jack stood and looked at the platform. Empty space stood where the gate had been.
"Still got it," he said.
It's easy to blow things up, sir. Even Marines can do it.
Jack's snappy comeback was cut off by the sound of the gate as it powered up again. He swore under his breath and limped around to the back of the platform. The gate had fallen where he had needed it to, but the dial-in was still in progress and the chevrons were still locked in place.
"Fine." Jack pulled out his pistol and pointed it at the package in the middle of the gate. When he shot through it, the chemicals would mix and the gate would be blocked for good.
That won't work, sir.
He ignored the image of Sam as she stood next to him. She didn't say anything more, and he wavered. "Why not?"
Sam morphed into a less helpful Daniel. You can't blow it up, what makes you think you can shoot it?
***
Sam did a quick scan of the gate diagnostics. She couldn't find an explanation for the gate's behavior.
"Major?" General Hammond prompted.
"I don't know, sir," Sam was forced to admit. "It had to be something on the other end."
"What?"
"I don't know, sir." She studied the monitor for a moment more, and then turned to Walter. "Let it dial the next coordinate only, then pause the dial again." She turned her attention to the gate below as Walter followed her orders. The gate made one complete circle and spun to a stop. The chevron marked it as the correct one and the gate paused.
"Chevron five engaged," Walter dutifully reported.
***
Jack glared at the phantom of Daniel. "Why won't it work?" he demanded.
Daniel melted into Teal'c, who stared at him impassively.
It came to him. "It would take too long to harden." The connection would establish before it was blocked. The forming wormhole would disintegrate everything in its path.
The fifth chevron lit up.
***
Sam continued to study the data from the gate. There was nothing wrong with any of it, but she couldn't account for the power surge. The data scrolled over her screen but she couldn't concentrate on it. It would be best to find out what was wrong before the dial continued, but she didn't want to. She wanted to save Jack.
"Wait a minute," she said. "Let me check Jack's dial-in to the planet and see if he ran into the same problem."
The seconds ticked by as she pulled up the gate-recording program she'd used to find Jack. She scanned the data and ignored the panic that pushed at her.
***
The solution came to Jack all at once and, as all his most desperate plans did, it sprang into his head fully formed, like Athena from Zeus. He holstered his pistol and scrambled across to the gate. His injured body screamed in protest when he climbed onto it and rolled into the center of the ring.
This is not an advantageous position to be in, O'Neill.
Jack pulled himself to his feet and hurried to the bundle of gate-blocker. There were only two chevrons to go before it -- and he -- were disintegrated in the forming wormhole.
***
Sam looked up from the computer screen in front of her. The gate had dialed the planet without problems last time. The entire control room waited for her to make a decision. "There is nothing to explain the gate's behavior, sir. Readings look good on this end. I say we continue the dial."
***
Jack grabbed the heavy bundle and dragged it toward the edge of the gate.
I thought you were over this death wish stuff, Jack. Daniel wavered directly in font of him. Jack stumbled through the apparition. Exhaustion and the roar of pain in his head almost drowned out the hallucination.
***
General Hammond nodded. "Continue, Sergeant."
Walter put his hand on the screen and the gate groaned to life. Sam watched as the sixth symbol spun into place. She willed it to move faster.
"Chevron six engaged."
***
Jack panted with exertion. The ropes that bound the heavy package cut into his fingers.
You're in no shape to do this, sir.
Jack ignored the comment and concentrated on breathing and moving. He had three steps to safety.
The sixth chevron lit up.
***
Sam scrolled through the data as the gate continued its dial. Everything looked good and the gate turned smoothly, headed to the final symbol.
She looked up at the general. "I'll schedule a full diagnostic once we get the colonel back."
***
Jack took two steps and struggled to hoist the package over the edge of the fallen gate. His arms gave out and it dropped onto the ring. A wave of dizziness swept over him and he retched.
***
The symbol for the Tau'ri slid to a stop by the final chevron.
***
Jack fell to his knees and leaned against the gate as the fog in his head threatened to overwhelm him. The unlit chevron under his hands was warm. As he blinked at it, it started to hum.
***
Sam held her breath as the final symbol snapped into place.
"Chevron seven locked."
***
Jack's hands slipped on the slick stone as he pushed himself to his feet. The hum built and the gate warmed under his touch. He leaned into the bundle and it crashed to the ground. A dull glow appeared in the center of the chevron. Jack pivoted to follow. His foot caught. The brace twisted, broke. The hum became a buzz. His knee buckled and the sharp edge of the gate scraped along his leg. Jack's hoarse scream merged with the sound of the final chevron locking into place.
***
Separated by half a universe, the gates on Earth and PT9-780 exploded to life; each gate spewed a geyser of lethal plasma into the air that disintegrated everything in its path.
***
The raised markings on the gate dug into Jack's shoulders as he rolled across it. The erupting gate drove a pocket of air before it that flung Jack's legs out of the way of the plasma surge. He continued his roll, and dropped off the gate and onto the unforgiving hardness of the ground. The drop may have only been a couple of feet, but the impact knocked the air out of him. For a terrified eternity, he thought he'd collapsed the lung again. Then he exhaled from his empty lungs and sucked in a full breath.
***
Sam smiled for the first time since she'd arrived in the control room. "Good work, Walter," she told the technician. She grabbed the microphone and spoke to the people who waited in the gate room.
"Just let me double-check the numbers and we'll send the MALP." She didn't wait for them to respond. Jack was so close now.
***
The world pulsated around Jack as he struggled to sit. The pain in his knee stole his breath. He tugged the broken brace off and tossed it to the side. Then he straightened the leg and tried to push the agony away.
Well, so far this plan is going swimmingly. Sam sat on the gate and trailed her hand in the event horizon.
I agree. Daniel did the backstroke on the surface of the wormhole. Although, you really haven't done anything yet.
Jack groaned and pulled himself to his feet. He leaned heavily against the gate platform, and ignored his ghosts.
You are mistaken, Daniel Jackson. With the Stargate in its current position, O'Neill has prevented travel to this planet.
Despite the pain, it appeared that he hadn't damaged his knee any further. He limped a couple of steps away from the active gate. The leg trembled but worked. It felt even stronger as he walked back.
He's still going to kill anyone who comes through. Daniel swam to the edge and rested his arms and head on the gate next to Sam. They'll fall back into it and be disintegrated.
"I'm going to fix that." Jack muttered. "Just wait." He pulled the partially used block of C-4 out of his pocket, steadied his shaking hands as much as possible and attached a remote detonator.
Do you know what the odds are of you successfully destabilizing the wormhole, sir?
"No." Jack attempted to blink away his dizziness as he squinted at his handiwork. He couldn't focus through the double vision. "But I bet I could make a killing off them."
***
"It looks good, General," Sam said. "The wormhole is established and the readings are currently normal. With your permission, we can send the MALP."
"You have a go, Major."
She looked down at the gate room and was surprised to see the large number of people that were gathered around the blast doors. It was as if the entire base had listened in. They probably had. By now, everyone knew what happened and most had helped in some way. She wondered if the colonel deserved that amount of loyalty. Of course he does. That's the problem.
The MALP drove up the ramp and headed through the gate.
***
Five feet from the fallen gate, Jack hoisted the primed C-4 in his hand and tried to judge the weight.
You can't let it fall into the event horizon, Jack. Don't wait too long before you hit the button.
But if you blow it too high, sir, it won't have any effect on the wormhole at all. You know what they say about men your age and premature explosions.
"For cryin' out loud," Jack said. "Why don't you quit yappin' and help me."
As we are an invention of your mind, O'Neill, we cannot assist you in any substantial manner.
"Right. I knew that." Jack measured the distance with his eyes again, and took two stumbling steps backward. He peered at the insubstantial figures of his friends; all three stood on the gleaming blue wormhole. "In that case, why don't you just go away?"
He tossed the C-4 in a high, slow arc. It flew through the air, crested above the gate and then fell, straight down on the phantoms of his friends. When it was even with Daniel's head, he pushed the detonator.
***
The MALP reached the top of the ramp and headed into the wormhole.
"Target is on route," Walter said.
The wormhole shuddered and Sam's computer spewed information across the screen.
"Whoa," Walter said. "I've lost transmission. No, wait. I've got it back now. Target has arrived." He checked the readings. "Hold on."
"What's happening, Major?"
Sam fought to keep up with the information she got from the gate. "There was another power surge, a big one. It appeared we'd lost integrity for a moment, but everything's back now."
Daniel appeared at her side. "Sam, is there a problem?"
Before Sam could assure him that everything was fine, Walter interrupted.
"Yes, there is. A big problem."
***
The concussion from the blast knocked Jack off his feet. When he managed to climb back up, the wormhole was closed.
"Yes!"
Nicely done, sir.
Don't encourage him, Sam. He'll just want to throw bombs at all our problems.
Jack made it a point to ignore them.
***
Sam turned to Walter. "Did we lose the MALP?"
"No, Ma'am, but it's not on PX3-780."
"What?" Sam turned to the computer that displayed the information from the MALP. It only took a second to confirm Walter's statement. "This can't be right."
"Is it gone?" Daniel asked.
"No. It's materialized on a planet somewhere," Sam said. "Just not PX3-780. This planet has a toxic level of methane in the atmosphere."
"I have a visual," Walter announced.
A dense, misty jungle appeared on the monitor. The DHD sat off to the right, barely visible through the vegetation that covered it.
"I need an explanation here, people."
"I'm not sure, sir," Sam looked back at the data that covered her computer screen. "I think the wormhole jumped."
"You mean like what happened with you and Jack in Antarctica?"
"Yes, and like we did when we couldn't disconnect with the black hole on P3W-451."
"I thought that there needed to be some kind of explosion for that to happen," The general stared at the gate, as if willing it to provide an answer. "Our gate is fine."
"Yes, sir. It had to have happened on the other end. Perhaps, a lightning strike or a bomb of some sort." She couldn't think of a reasonable explanation.
"Jack did it."
Everyone looked at Daniel.
"It's like Janet said: he still thinks he's infected with this killer virus. He wouldn't want anyone to come through the gate because they would just die when they walked onto the planet."
General Hammond sighed. "Suggestions?"
Sam chewed her lip for a moment. "I think we should try dialing PT9-780 again. Even if he attempts to destabilize the new wormhole, it may be possible to send him a message first. Something small."
"A message in a bottle," Daniel offered.
Sam nodded. "Just so that he knows it's okay for us to come through."
"Very well, mark where the MALP went, just in case we ever get back there. Get this message ready and dial the gate again."
***
Jack stumbled back to the now-still gate. Relief and adrenaline gave him the energy to stay upright. He climbed back into the Stargate and dragged the bundle of Instant Wormhole Blocker back into the center. Without the knee brace, it took all his concentration not to fall. He turned slowly and walked back to the edge of the gate.
It's not as exciting if the gate isn't dialing, Daniel observed.
Jack was too tired to ignore the hallucination. "You should try it in my body." He rolled over the fallen gate.
You really don't look well, sir. Carter wavered in front of him, translucent.
"You don't look so hot yourself." He steadied himself against the ring, drew his pistol and fired one shot into the package. It exploded into a foaming dirty-yellow mass that expanded across the inner circle of the gate. The grass burned where it touched and a cloud of foul-smelling smoke billowed into the air. The stench made his eyes water and he backed away before he gagged on it.
"Did you know how bad this stuff smelled, Carter?"
There was no answer and when Jack looked around there was no sign of his team. "Aw, guys. Don't leave now. It's not like you can smell it." Jack's plea fell on an empty clearing.
***
It took Daniel fifteen minutes to fashion a perfect 'bottle' for the message. He'd modified an empty air-rocket canister to make it fit on to a spear gun that he had picked up on an off-world mission. The note was easier to craft: You're not contagious. The Tok'ra got it wrong. Let us through, you idiot. He didn't bother to sign it.
He stuffed the note into the canister and screwed it to the end of the modified spear loaded into the gun. Then he handed it to the SFs who had volunteered to shoot it through the gate. Pleased with his part in the mission, he headed back up to the control room and stood next to Janet. Sam sat in front of them.
"What if he blows it again?" Janet asked.
General Hammond gave a small growl. "We'll keep dialing once every five minutes. He can't blow them all."
Daniel wasn't too sure about that, but he didn't say anything as the gate began to dial.
"Actually, sir," Sam began, "I don't know how he managed to do it even once. Both times this happened before, the jump was caused by a massive power surge to the gate initiating the wormhole. I don't see how the jump could have been caused on the receiving end. Perhaps the lack of DHD made the wormhole more susceptible to disruption."
Daniel listened with half an ear and watched the chevrons click into place. Walter announced each one with his usual patience until the final symbol slid into position. The gate tried, but it didn't lock into place.
"Chevron seven does not lock," Walter said. "Chevron seven does not lock."
Daniel wanted to scream. "What's wrong now?"
***
Jack sat on the ground and leaned against the MALP. A cloud drifted over the sun and he shivered with a sudden chill. He drank more water and choked down a tasteless nutrition bar, but what he really needed was rest. The persistent buzzing had returned. It clouded his thoughts and shrouded his vision. His skin was hot and dry to the touch but he shook from cold. Thick, green pus again drained from one of the larger gashes on his arm. From the way his clothes stuck on some of the other wounds, he knew that they festered, too.
Do you think it's the virus? Daniel peered at the wound, fascinated.
Jack was too tired to answer. Anyhow, he didn't know. Anise had started to detail the exact effects of the toxin, but Jack had stopped her. He didn't want to know then. He still didn't want to know.
Half the fun of being a scientist is in knowing the details, Colonel.
Jack's retort was cut off by the sound of the Stargate powering up.
Do you not wish to see if the gate is blocked, O'Neill?
"No." He didn't think he could. As with most things, he'd just have to trust that Sam's genius would save him. There was no kawoosh of an opening gate. The foam worked. He smiled. "Way to go, Sam."
Thank you, sir.
He rested for a couple of minutes and enjoyed the thought that, even this far from home, his team still helped him.
I would rather not help you, you know. Not to do this.
"Yeah, I know. It was necessary. Sorry."
The images of his team faded away. Lead seemed to flow through his veins and he flashed alternately hot and cold. The gate was buried but there was a good chance he wouldn't live long enough to appreciate that fact. He dragged his tent closer to the MALP and used the machine as an anchor. Then he piled several boxes of food and water within reach, stripped off his weapons and laid them inside the tent, along with a couple boxes of ammunition. By the time he added four blankets, a change of clothes and the rest of the necessary survival gear, the tent was crowded.
Exhaustion settled like lead in his hands and feet and his good leg ached more than the injured one. Satisfied with the supplies in the tent, he pulled over the naquadah powered light and the large medical box. It was still daylight, but he switched the light on. He might not have the strength later.
The pus from the wound on his arm soaked through his sleeve, cold and sticky in the late afternoon air. Despite the shivering it caused, he peeled off his clothes. All of the wounds were again red and raw and most of them oozed the greenish pus. He didn't have energy or the equipment to clean them properly again, so he wiped them as clean as he could with an antibiotic wipe then dusted them once more with the Polysporin powder. Instead of bandaging them individually, he settled on wrapping gauze around his arms and legs. He may have looked like a reject from a mummy movie when he finished, but it would be easier to change once the wounds soaked through. It took too much energy to pretend that they wouldn't.
When he finished, he decided not to dress and pulled a warm wool blanket over his shoulders instead. It would be hard enough to clean his injuries in the tent without clothes to worry about. Then he sat next to the medical kit and searched through it. He had no idea if there was anything in it that he would know how to use, but he'd be damned if he'd go without a fight.
***
Thirty minutes after they first failed to establish a connection to PT9-780, they were no closer to finding out what was wrong. Daniel began to feel that this latest setback was one that he'd not be able to handle. It was obvious that he wasn't the only one that felt that way. Sam had become increasingly taciturn as each subsequent dial-out failed. Teal'c had taken to glowering at the people who had gathered to keep on eye on the proceedings until they had drifted away as self-preservation overcame their curiosity. General Hammond retreated to his office with strict orders to be updated the minute they discovered anything.
"Major?" Walter's voice pulled both Sam and Daniel's attention to him. "It's time."
Sam nodded at him. "Go ahead and dial."
Daniel and Teal'c crossed to stand behind Sam, who looked up at them. "If this doesn't work. . ."
Daniel knew what she meant. If Jack had opened the gate on his end in an effort to block an incoming hole, it would have automatically closed by now. They'd dialed PT9-780 every five minutes in the hope that they would be able to dial-in when it shut down.
The last chevron circled around to its final position.
It didn't lock. Daniel swore.
"Chevron seven did not lock." Walter looked over at SG-1. "I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault, Walter."
"I just don't understand it." Sam again turned to her computer screen. "We should have been able to get in. I can't make any sense of the readings I get off of gate diagnostics, either. It's almost as if he's buried the gate."
"I do not believe that O'Neill would be capable of such physical exertion at this time."
"Not to mention it would take longer than he had," Daniel added. "Unless you're saying that Jack has an instant gate burying kit."
Sam paled. "Oh, my God." She dug through the piles of paper that sat next to her and flipped through the report she pulled out. Four pages from the back she stopped and scanned the page. "He does."
"What?"
"He took a bale of the gate blocking foam that I've been working on." She flipped the report around for him to see and she pointed to the line on the list of missing supplies.
The pit of Daniel's stomach fell away. "I didn't think that had been tested."
"It hasn't, but I think we can say it works." Sam flung the report back on the pile. "The reason we can't get through is because the gate can't establish a wormhole." Sam looked at him, his hopelessness mirrored on her face.
"But if he's buried the gate. . ."
Teal'c finished when Daniel was unwilling to go on. "We will be unable to rescue O'Neill,"
***
Jack sat outside his tent, blanket wrapped around his shaking form and the med kit spread open before him. He'd checked out his symptoms in the 'Basic Field Medicine Guide' in the kit. Most of them matched the descriptions for severe bacterial infections. Hallucinations weren't listed, but they were a possible effect of extreme temperature. The ibuprofen that he'd been popping should be helping with that. Pain and fever he understood; infections were beyond him. For the past hour he'd sorted through the drugs included the medical box. They all had basic use instructions on the labels and were cross-referenced in a dauntingly thick manual.
He'd tried to read the documentation for the different antibiotics on hand but the small print waved in front of his eyes and it was written in indecipherable medical jargon. From what he could tell, each antibiotic seemed to have it's own niche and he wasn't confident that Earth antibiotics would work on an off world virus, anyway. The one thing he did get from the book was that antibiotics didn't work instantly. He needed to use them over a period of days in order to kill off the infection. Never thought I'd miss the Doc this much. He finally settled on a couple of bottles of liquid antibiotics listed as 'broad-spectrum'. A guess was better than nothing, just not by much.
There were several boxes of hypodermics in the medical supplies. Jack pulled out two-dozen syringes and filled each one with the maximum recommended dose of the drugs. Re-capping the needles, he laid them in the small, insulated bag he'd found in the medical box. Finished, he returned the medicine to its storage container and set the filled hypodermics in the corner of the tent. He pulled his wristwatch from his pocket and fumbled with the buttons to set the alarm for six hours.
Once the timer blinked its countdown at him, he tied the watch to the inside of the tent next to the medicine. He pulled the cover off one of the syringes and injected the first dose into his arm. The medicine burned as it slid into him. His plan was simple: Take the max dosage now, wait the minimum amount of time, then max out again. He'd repeat that until he was well or until he couldn't do it any more.
The clearing was quiet and empty in the fading light. He hadn't seen his team in a while and he wondered if that meant he was better. Somehow he didn't think so. The sun crept behind the trees and his body shook in the cool dusk air. Jack pulled out the bottle of ibuprofen and downed four of them before he set the medicine next to the filled syringes. He climbed into the tent and buried himself beneath the blankets. His teeth chattered and his vision dimmed. It wasn't the first time this mission that he thought he might not make it. The difference was, it would be all right if he didn't. He'd destroyed the virus, he'd made it here and he'd insured that no one else would ever be exposed. If he did die, that wasn't too bad of an epitaph.
***
General Hammond studied SG-1 as they sat huddled at one corner of the conference table. After they'd given him their reports, they had lapsed into complete silence, an unheard of occurrence. Hammond watched his premiere team and knew they had pushed the limits of their endurance. Experience had taught him that the forced inaction and emotional strain that came from being unable to save a friend was the fastest way to destroy good people. The fact that Jack worked against them to block their every move only made the strain worse. Dr. Fraiser was also seated at the table, Hammond wanted her there to keep on eye on SG-1 as much as to give a debrief.
Hammond turned his attention to the reports and ignored the sounds of the gate dialing out. Jacob and Anise were contacting the Tok'ra about the findings from the planet. He would be glad when they left the base. He'd always liked Jacob but if he never saw Anise again it would be too soon. There was an appeal to Jack's 'never trust a snake' attitude. Then again, is seemed even Jack didn't always follow that rule.
With an effort, he turned back to the matter at hand. "So, we have no way of gating to this planet?" It wasn't necessary to ask the question. The reports they'd given him were clear on that matter. He wanted to know their reactions to those reports, to judge their energy levels and to see if they wanted to give up.
"No, sir," Sam replied. "The gate is essentially buried, the only way to use it would be to go there and remove the foam."
"And we could do that?"
"I designed it to be removable. The foam isn't an adhesive; it doesn't stick to anything. It expands to fit the area and then hardens into a solid barrier that prevents a wormhole from forming. Remove the foam and the gate works again."
Hammond nodded. "What are our options at this point?"
"Time is our biggest problem right now, General," Dr. Fraiser answered. "Nirrti's planet had developed a virulent bacterial form. Any cut exposed to the planet's atmosphere is infected and it can lead to overwhelming septic shock in as little as forty-eight hours. Without treatment, it has a mortality rate of one-hundred percent."
"How much time does that give Colonel O'Neill?"
"It's hard to say, sir. I estimate there is a forty-eight to sixty hour period before an untreated infection would progress beyond my capability to fight. The colonel has been gone for almost two days, but if we assume he wasn't injured until he initiated the attack on the laboratory, it will give him some more time. The number of injuries he's sustained concerns me because there is some indication that a larger number of wounds will make for a faster progression in the infection. From the abrasions apparent on his holographic message, I'd cut that estimate by a quarter."
Hammond did a quick calculation. "So he has under a day."
"It's all guesswork at this point but once the sepsis gets a foothold, there's nothing I can do to treat it."
"But you can treat it before then?"
"Yes." Janet appeared happy to give some good news. "The bacterial agent responsible for the infection isn't too far removed from several strains found here on Earth. We've developed a modified antibiotic that is effective."
Hammond took a deep breath. "That brings me back to my original question, without the gate, how do we get to the colonel?"
"I believe that I can help you out there, George." Jacob appeared at the top of the steps.
Sam stood. "Dad, I thought you'd left."
"I'm not leaving until Jack's back." He gave her a small hug. "I've just talked to the Tok'ra council. This planet Jack's on, PT. . ."
"PT9-780" Sam supplied. "You said the Tok'ra don't have any bases in that sector."
"We don't. But we do have a scout ship in the area to check out a report of Goa'uld activity."
"How close are they?"
"They're about two days away, but they could cut it by half if they push it."
"I could give them the information I have on the infection," Janet said. "It would help if they began treatment immediately."
"I can do you one better," Jacob said. "One of the planets they investigated has a working Stargate. Selmak convinced them that you should gate through, ring up to the ship, and travel with them. I left the gate address with the sergeant."
"With your permission, General?" Sam asked.
"Granted."
The team exploded into action. Daniel, Teal'c and Sam headed for the steps before Hammond answered. Janet gathered the reports in front of her. She looked up at the general.
"I would like to accompany them, General."
"I wouldn't have it any other way, Doctor."
"Yes, sir." She vanished down the steps.
Hammond looked over at Jacob.
"Thank you. Thank Selmak, too."
Jacob shrugged. "It's the least we can do. I just hope that it's not too late."
"Jack's good at beating the odds," Hammond said. "I'm not giving up on him yet."
***
Jack stood, surrounded by thick, wet fog. It clung to his skin and pushed at him, a suffocating cloud, chill and close. He fought to see something beyond the grey mist. Random spots of light and dark melted into nothingness, only to reappear moments later. Jack waved at the fog, and it swirled around his hand, smoke caught in an updraft. He shouldn't be out in this. It couldn't be good for him, not as sick as he was.
Sick. The thought stopped him. He was sick, wasn't he?
There was a flicker of light off to one side. It pulled at his attention but lingered just out of view. It grew brighter when he took a step toward it, so he took another. The light continued to grow and the fog thinned. He walked faster.
Do you have a destination in mind, O'Neill?
Jack turned, his team stood behind him. They were indistinct figures as the fog swirled thick around them. Jack stepped back into it to see them clearly. "I was just going to the light."
Kind of clichéd, don't you think, Jack? Especially for you.
"You're making even less sense then usual, Daniel."
I'm not Daniel, and I'm making perfect sense.
"Right." A thought lingered on the edge of Jack's mind, but he couldn't pin it down.
Don't you remember, Colonel? Sam asked.
Jack tried to focus on her, but she fuzzed around the edges and when he blinked, the fog swirled through her. Images of Jaffa and explosions drifted through his memory. "I was on a mission. There was a virus." The light behind him dimmed. "You're not real."
That is correct, O'Neill.
Memory returned in a flood, and the light behind him blinked out but the fog persisted. Jack looked around again. The mist quivered.
"Where am I then?"
I don't know. Daniel shrugged. There was another pulse in the fog. It's kind of weird, though.
"Ya think?" One more ripple moved through the air. It vibrated through the figures of his team, too. "There's something I need to do."
Another wave moved through the fog, a quiet electronic tone chased it. The mist began to melt away and his team went with it. Jack took a step toward them. He didn't want to be alone. A second later another beep washed them away with the fog.
Jack opened his eyes and looked at the ceiling of his tent. The blanket wrapped around him was wet with sweat and the alarm on his watch sounded. The cold air bit at him when he sat up, the sweat that covered him chilled instantly, and his teeth began to chatter. His head felt as thick as the fog he'd just stood in and he couldn't shake the feeling that this was still a dream. He grabbed the watch and pushed a button to silence the alarm. It automatically reset for another six hours.
His hands shook as he reached for the syringe. He counted the used ones that sat off to the side. Had he done this three times already? The hypodermic wavered in his trembling fingers, but he took a deep breath and injected the medicine. The cold pain of the antibiotics slipped into him, and he dropped the empty syringe on the pile. The gauze on his arm was colored with seepage and when he ran his hand over his face he could feel the angry inflammation of the cuts that he'd left uncovered.
He reached for a bottle of water to ease the dryness in his mouth, but it was hard to get it past his swollen tongue. The lukewarm liquid that dripped onto his chest chilled him. With a growl of frustration, he capped the bottle and tossed it aside. He snatched up another hypodermic full of antibiotics. One dose wasn't working.
The second shot hurt more than the first and he retched before he pulled the needle out; he seized a bag and dry-heaved into it, the bile burned his throat. His side spit agony at him and his world dissolved into pain and desperation. He dropped the bag just outside the front of the tent and crawled back under his sweat-soaked blankets. As he fell into unconsciousness, it occurred to him that he didn't know why he fought so hard.
***
Sam sat in the back of the Tel'tak and drummed her fingers on her leg as she stared at the papers in front of her. They'd been traveling for almost twenty hours, most of which they'd spent resting; exhaustion and boredom made an unbeatable sleeping elixir. Now she tried to catch up on some research, but she couldn't focus on the words. All of her attention was on the door that led to the cockpit. Daniel would return any moment with a report on how much longer it would be before they got to Jack. She shifted position to drum her fingers on the seat.
"Stop that or I will sedate you." Janet reached out and stilled the incessant movement of Sam's fingers.
Sam looked over at her friend who sat amid a pile of supplies on the floor. "Sorry." She dropped the papers and ran her fingers through her hair. "I'm no good at waiting, Janet."
"None of us are. Except for maybe Teal'c." She nodded toward the Jaffa who sat in the middle of the room with his eyes closed in meditation. "I'd tell you to get some sleep, but that's not the problem is it?" She offered Sam a thermos. "How 'bout some coffee?"
Sam took it with a smile of thanks and poured herself a cup. She was exhausted in a way that even her recent eight hours of sleep hadn't helped. It had been easy, in the beginning, to focus on the puzzles: find out what happened to the colonel, figure out the gate address, research the virus and find a way to get him back. Now just one puzzle remained, the biggest one of all: Jack O'Neill himself. Most of the time she thought she knew him, as her commanding officer, as a fellow soldier, as a friend. Then, suddenly, he would be this unfathomable creature who didn't follow any of the known laws of man or soldier. She'd realize that she didn't understand him at all. With his farewell message to the team, he'd become his most enigmatic.
"Want to talk about it?"
"What if this is a mistake?" Sam asked the question before she decided that she was going to.
"You don't think you have the right planet?"
"No, not the planet, the rescue." She'd watched the colonel's message enough times to have it memorized. The last thing I need is you hovering around me, ruining my peace and quiet. At first, she'd just accepted it as his usual sarcastic bravado, but the more she'd listened to it, the more sincere it sounded. "What if he doesn't want to come back? What if this mission was his way of retiring, of getting away from everything? Getting away from us?"
"I'm sure that's not what he's doing, Sam."
"But how can we be sure?" Sam took three even breaths before she spoke again. "I feel like I'm coming apart, Janet. Last year, I spent over three months working day and night to rescue him from P5C-768 and when I get there, what do I find? He's happy living the pioneer life. He was good at it, too. He'd managed to leave this life and start a new one." It felt good to say it out loud. "Now he does this. Are we so easy to leave behind? Do we mean so little to him?"
"You are mistaken, Major Carter." Teal'c's low voice made them jump. Sam assumed he'd been deep in Kelno'reem. "O'Neill has demonstrated many times that he places the lives and safety of his team above his own."
"This is different. This isn't about battles or missions, this is about walking away from everyone." Sam didn't understand it. "He doesn't seem to have any problem with the thought he'll never see any of us again."
"You have mistaken ability for desire." Teal'c stood and stretched his tall frame. "That O'Neill is able to make the necessary sacrifices despite his natural reluctance to do so is what makes him a great warrior."
"Yeah. Well, it sure the hell makes him a lousy friend."
"Perhaps." Teal'c crossed to Sam and sat next to her. "There is much about O'Neill that makes him a difficult friend. However, I do not doubt that he is our friend."
"Teal'c is right," Janet said. "We know the colonel cares for all of us. He cares for some of us even more than he thinks he should."
Sam nodded in mute acknowledgement of what Janet alluded to. Both Janet and Teal'c had been in the room when Anise's Zatarc detector made it necessary for Jack and her to admit that they both cared for each other -- cared more than they should. That's why he had stayed with her when she'd been trapped in Apophis' ship. It had been proof enough that he'd never leave her behind.
Now, he had. "How can he just leave us and start over?"
"It would not be the first time that O'Neill would have had to start over after the loss of someone he cared about," Teal'c said. "I do not wish to contemplate how Rya'c's death would affect me."
Sam sighed. It was hard to reconcile the man she knew as Colonel O'Neill with the man that Daniel had met before going through the Stargate for the first time. Jack never spoke of his family or his life before they had met. It was easy to think that he'd always been the way he was now. Sam ran her hand through her hair. Someday, I'm going to fall for a simple man. She looked up at her friends and tried to smile.
"Are you going to be okay?"
"Yes." Sam realized it was true. "It's just. . ." She shrugged, not knowing what she wanted to say.
"I agree, completely," Janet said. "We'll both throw darts at his picture once we get him back to base."
Sam smiled and this time it was genuine. "It's a deal.
"Well, you're going to have to wait a little longer for that to happen." Daniel walked into the room. "We're not going to be there for a while."
Sam got to her feet. "How much longer?"
"Another six hours." Daniel's disgust was obvious. "Minimum."
The bad news settled on them like a weight. Sam looked at Janet. "It's already been twenty hours, are we going to be too late?"
"I don't know, Sam. I just don't know."
***
Jack stood in the fog again. Pea-soup thick, it clung tight to him. Was this what dying was? He waved his arms in front of him and watched the mists churn. The fog clouded his vision and stuffed in his ears. A monotonous apathy settled on him. This could get boring, fast. He peered into the fog and tried to see the figures of his team. Shapes of light and darkness abounded, but none of them solidified into people.
Tired of standing, Jack started to walk. Every once in a while, he'd stop to listen for the sound of the alarm and to search for his friends. After a long while, the fog started to thin and the murkiness lifted. There was light ahead. He headed toward it. Perhaps Daniel would return with another comment on clichés. The light intensified but Daniel didn't show.
Jack slowed as the fog settled. It curled around his feet as he walked and became soft wisps of cloud. Ahead he could see a gentle light, peaceful as the rising sun, melt away the mist. It reminded him of early morning fishing, breakfast with Sara and Charlie, and long summer afternoons. He looked back the way he'd come and the fog rose like storm clouds behind him. Shadow and light swirled in it and it churned as if stirred by a wind. Low thunder rumbled within. It felt like Minnesota tornado weather but it called to him in a way that the still peacefulness in front of him did not.
Have you decided?
The voice, naggingly familiar, pulled his attention away from the mist. A shadowy shape stood off to his left. He blinked and the shape appeared closer. It was a child, a young boy. The memory of the voice came back like the slash of a knife.
"Charlie?"
The figure didn't move, but he stood closer now. It was Charlie. He was dressed in jeans, his favorite baseball jersey and had a mitt on his hand. Jack wanted to run to him and throw his arms around him. Never let him go.
He forced his legs to stand and found his voice. "You're not real."
Maybe not, the Charlie vision said. It's hard to be sure.
Jack studied the apparition to find a flaw in its appearance. Charlie was perfect, happy, alive. The dream Charlie was always better than the specter of his son that haunted his nightmares. "Why are you here?"
I wanted to see you. Have you decided?
"What am I supposed to decide?"
Which way to go, of course.
Jack looked from the warm light to the dark mist. "It doesn't seem like it should be that hard of a choice." He didn't move.
It's a very hard choice. Charlie tossed a baseball in the air and caught it. The familiar action tore at Jack's heart. That's why it's usually not a choice at all.
It worried Jack that that made sense. "I could stay here."
Why would you want to? It's boring here.
"You're here."
I can't stay.
The roar of the mist grew closer and pulled at Jack's attention. "What if I don't want to choose?"
You have to choose, Dad. That's the way it is, this time.
"What if I choose wrong?"
You won't.
"How can you be sure?"
You're my dad.
"But you're not real."
The Charlie ghost just smiled.
Jack studied him again and waited for the inevitable pain that came whenever he remembered his son. Instead, there was only peace. Even if this wasn't real, it was good.
It's easier to choose when you know what you want, Charlie offered.
Jack considered that for a moment. He wanted to run to Charlie, to watch him play ball and to make everything right. He wanted to choose the way that meant he would never lose Charlie again.
He wanted to choose the light.
"I'm tired," was all he said.
I know.
The chaos of the mist pulled at Jack's mind. He fought to ignore it as he waved at the light. "It's quiet there."
It's beautiful, too.
"I could rest."
Yes.
It would be good to rest. Jack looked back. The storm clouds solidified; it's thunder rolled and the shades roiled within it. Lightning pierced the darkness like a harsh searchlight. The mist swelled toward Jack and a wind blew past. It smelled of grass and ozone and the SGC. The memory of SG-1's voices washed over him.
His life called to him from the fog. He took a step toward it and the serene light behind him faded.
So, you've chosen.
"Yeah." Jack again faced Charlie, now bathed in his own soft light. The fog rose around their legs and drifted through the distance that separated them. "Are you going to be okay? Here, by yourself, I mean?"
I don't belong here.
Jack knew that. Charlie belonged in the light, the light that Jack walked away from.
"Will you be able to get back?" The thought of Charlie lost in this limbo terrified him.
Yes. Charlie smiled from the peaceful side of the rising mist. Don't worry about me, Dad. I'm fine.
Jack blinked against the brilliance that enfolded the figure of his son, and then he turned and walked away. At the edge of the fog bank, he stopped and touched it the way Sam had touched the event horizon the first time she'd seen it. The fog rippled out and made waves in the mist. "Sweet." He looked back. Charlie still watched him, a bemused expression on his face. Jack hesitated, frozen by a sudden fear. "What if you're real?"
You'll see me again.
"Right." Jack took a deep breath, turned away from his son and stepped into the fog.
"Janet, he's coming around." A voice shouted in his head.
Bright lights and pain buffeted him. He tried to take a breath and fought to pull free from unseen bonds. There was a sharp pain in his arm and a cool numbness spread through him. Hungry for the noise and chaos of life after the murky fog, he clung to consciousness. He reveled in the sensory overload. And opened his eyes. A face swam into view above him, blue eyes and blonde hair.
"Welcome back, sir. Just relax we've got you."
He felt Sam's cool hand brush his face and panic rose in his throat. "No," he choked, "Get away."
"Anise was wrong, Jack." Daniel's voice cut through his fear. "You're not contagious. Anise was wrong."
Carter's head nodded in front of him as Daniel's words sunk in. Not contagious. Jack wanted to laugh -- all his work, all his planning, all for nothing. Unconsciousness tugged at him and he gave into it. It serves me right. Never trust a snake. He slid into darkness when a sudden thought forced him to open his eyes.
"Real?" As he rasped the word out, he freed his hand and reached up to touch Sam's face.
"Yes, Jack, we're real," Sam said. "We'll all be fine. Daniel's here and Teal'c has opened the gate. We're taking you home."
Her voice faded in and out and her face was marble cold against his fevered fingers. "Sick. Virus?"
"It's not the virus. You're not contagious, but you are sick. Janet will take care of you. Just relax."
Jack dropped his hand and let unconsciousness claim him. He didn't understand it, but he would believe. He was safe. His team was here. They'd come for him.
They always did.
Part 6
Fandom: SG1
Characters: All of them
Genre: Gen
Rating: PG
Word Count: 53,110
Warnings/Spoilers: Mentions of episodes through the 4th Season
Disclaimer: Fanfic, for fun, not profit.
Summary/Notes: Col. Jack O'Neill blacks out the base and then promptly disappears. What is Jack planning and what is he willing to sacrifice in order to accomplish that plan? Can the team find Jack before it's too late? What if it's already too late?
Necessary Sacrifices: Part 1 -- Part 2 -- Part 3 -- Part 4 -- Part 5
Jack placed the last small charge of C-4 and gently inserted the detonator. It wouldn't take much explosive to knock the gate over, the trick was to make the gate fall backward and land right where it needed to. He put the remainder of the C-4 block into his pocket. He might need it later.
You always think that explosives are the answer to everything, don't you?
Jack blinked against the sweat that dropped off his forehead. Daniel's blurry form wavered in front of him. He blinked again and Daniel was gone. It had taken him far longer than he would have liked to set up the detonations. His team had become increasingly bothersome.
We're bothersome? You're the one always running off to play hero. Sam flitted around the edges of his vision. When's the last time any of us disobeyed orders?
Jack's laugh turned into a cough. "Dan'l," he choked out. "Never. . . never follows orders."
Not being military, I don't have to obey orders, you know. You should be happy that I follow as many as I do.
Daniel and Sam floated in front of him to merge into an indistinguishable blob.
"Stop that." Jack closed his eyes at the sight and leaned back against the base of the gate. He just needed to gather his energy before he pulled back a bit and blew the gate. A little rest, a short break from the annoying apparitions of his friends.
***
General Hammond took up his usual position behind Walter as the sergeant began the dialing process. Sam, Daniel, and Teal'c, fresh from a decon scrub, followed Janet down to the gate room. SG-3 and two medics waited at the bottom of the ramp, just behind the MALP the general insisted on sending in first. Sam knew it was the smart thing to do, but she still rankled at the idea that they couldn't just run through and save the colonel. Janet hadn't said so, but Sam knew that Jack's multiple injuries would speed the spread of the infection.
The gate spun to the first symbol and snapped into place.
"Chevron one engaged," Walter said.
Sam drummed her fingers as the gate spun again.
***
The cool stone felt good against his fevered face, as did the breeze that swept over him. The thought that he had to do something nagged at the back of his mind but he was too tired to try and remember what it was. If only the gate would be quiet, he could get some rest. Once he slept, he'd remember everything.
I do not believe you should sleep this close to the Stargate, O'Neill, Teal'c said.
Jack forced his eyes open. Teal'c was not to be seen, but the gate lit up above him.
***
Sam double-checked the ammunition for her P-90. She didn't expect trouble on the deserted planet, but years of training and experience made the action habitual. She glanced over at Daniel who bounced on the balls of his feet. The gate slid to a stop.
"Chevron two engaged."
***
As Jack stared at the Stargate, it warped in front of him and he blinked through the effect. Was the gate really opening?
Come on, sir. Can't you tell what's reality and what's not?
Sam sat next to him and wore a neon orange uniform. "Obviously not." He knew there was a reason he shouldn't want the gate to open, but he couldn't think what it was.
***
Janet reached over and touched Sam's arm. "It'll be okay. The colonel is tough, tough and stubborn. He'll be fine once we get him back here."
Sam smiled at her friend. "I know, it's just. . ." It just felt like she spent so much of her time waiting. She wasn't even sure what she was waiting for. She just knew she was afraid that by the time she figured out what she wanted, it would be too late to get it.
"Chevron three engaged."
***
Jack rolled to his knees and noticed that he held a detonator in his hand, but he couldn't remember what it was for.
You're going to blow yourself up, remember? Daniel said. Blow yourself up, and take Ra with you.
Jack glanced at a skinnier, longer-haired Daniel. He wore different glasses and he held a candy bar in one hand. Jack looked back at the detonator. It sounded like something he would do.
Daniel told me once that you had a death wish. Sam stood next to him. This time she had on the dress she had been forced to wear when they had dealt with the Shavadai. Do you really want to die?
"No." Jack's thoughts scattered before him, like leaves on the wind. "No. I'm not going to die. I've had the vaccine." As he said it, the fog around his memory cleared. If he let the gate open, the virus he carried would kill everyone who came through. The detonator was for that.
The gate announced the arrival of another chevron. Jack stood. He had to blow the gate.
***
"I wonder what Jack will say when we show up," Daniel asked.
"Since he still thinks he's infected by an incurable virus," Janet answered, "I'm thinking it's a good thing we're sending the MALP through first."
"I didn't think about that," Daniel admitted. "He might not be too happy to see us."
Sam hadn't thought about it, either. It was typical. The harder she had to work to rescue Jack, the less he wanted to be rescued.
"Chevron four engaged."
***
Jack stumbled down the steps. His team waited for him on the ground.
You sure you want to do this, Jack? You bury the gate and there's no way off of here.
"I knew it was one-way when I bought the ticket," Jack said.
Why would the Tok'ra require you to purchase passage to participate in this mission?
"It's a--" The sound of another chevron cut him off. He ducked down to use the platform for shelter and punched the detonator.
***
The gate shuddered and ground to a halt. A half a breath later, it started up again and inched toward its next destination.
"Sergeant?" Sam looked up at Walter.
"I'm not sure, Ma'am. It wasn't anything on our end. There were anomalous readings from the destination." He stared at his console. "All readings have leveled off and all systems are within acceptable parameters. There's no explanation for the anomaly.
Sam looked back at the gate, unwilling to do what she knew she should. "Hold the procedure, Walter. I'll check it out." The gate paused. "I'll be right back." She dashed out the door and up the stairs to the control room.
***
As the sharp echoes of the explosion died away, Jack stood and looked at the platform. Empty space stood where the gate had been.
"Still got it," he said.
It's easy to blow things up, sir. Even Marines can do it.
Jack's snappy comeback was cut off by the sound of the gate as it powered up again. He swore under his breath and limped around to the back of the platform. The gate had fallen where he had needed it to, but the dial-in was still in progress and the chevrons were still locked in place.
"Fine." Jack pulled out his pistol and pointed it at the package in the middle of the gate. When he shot through it, the chemicals would mix and the gate would be blocked for good.
That won't work, sir.
He ignored the image of Sam as she stood next to him. She didn't say anything more, and he wavered. "Why not?"
Sam morphed into a less helpful Daniel. You can't blow it up, what makes you think you can shoot it?
***
Sam did a quick scan of the gate diagnostics. She couldn't find an explanation for the gate's behavior.
"Major?" General Hammond prompted.
"I don't know, sir," Sam was forced to admit. "It had to be something on the other end."
"What?"
"I don't know, sir." She studied the monitor for a moment more, and then turned to Walter. "Let it dial the next coordinate only, then pause the dial again." She turned her attention to the gate below as Walter followed her orders. The gate made one complete circle and spun to a stop. The chevron marked it as the correct one and the gate paused.
"Chevron five engaged," Walter dutifully reported.
***
Jack glared at the phantom of Daniel. "Why won't it work?" he demanded.
Daniel melted into Teal'c, who stared at him impassively.
It came to him. "It would take too long to harden." The connection would establish before it was blocked. The forming wormhole would disintegrate everything in its path.
The fifth chevron lit up.
***
Sam continued to study the data from the gate. There was nothing wrong with any of it, but she couldn't account for the power surge. The data scrolled over her screen but she couldn't concentrate on it. It would be best to find out what was wrong before the dial continued, but she didn't want to. She wanted to save Jack.
"Wait a minute," she said. "Let me check Jack's dial-in to the planet and see if he ran into the same problem."
The seconds ticked by as she pulled up the gate-recording program she'd used to find Jack. She scanned the data and ignored the panic that pushed at her.
***
The solution came to Jack all at once and, as all his most desperate plans did, it sprang into his head fully formed, like Athena from Zeus. He holstered his pistol and scrambled across to the gate. His injured body screamed in protest when he climbed onto it and rolled into the center of the ring.
This is not an advantageous position to be in, O'Neill.
Jack pulled himself to his feet and hurried to the bundle of gate-blocker. There were only two chevrons to go before it -- and he -- were disintegrated in the forming wormhole.
***
Sam looked up from the computer screen in front of her. The gate had dialed the planet without problems last time. The entire control room waited for her to make a decision. "There is nothing to explain the gate's behavior, sir. Readings look good on this end. I say we continue the dial."
***
Jack grabbed the heavy bundle and dragged it toward the edge of the gate.
I thought you were over this death wish stuff, Jack. Daniel wavered directly in font of him. Jack stumbled through the apparition. Exhaustion and the roar of pain in his head almost drowned out the hallucination.
***
General Hammond nodded. "Continue, Sergeant."
Walter put his hand on the screen and the gate groaned to life. Sam watched as the sixth symbol spun into place. She willed it to move faster.
"Chevron six engaged."
***
Jack panted with exertion. The ropes that bound the heavy package cut into his fingers.
You're in no shape to do this, sir.
Jack ignored the comment and concentrated on breathing and moving. He had three steps to safety.
The sixth chevron lit up.
***
Sam scrolled through the data as the gate continued its dial. Everything looked good and the gate turned smoothly, headed to the final symbol.
She looked up at the general. "I'll schedule a full diagnostic once we get the colonel back."
***
Jack took two steps and struggled to hoist the package over the edge of the fallen gate. His arms gave out and it dropped onto the ring. A wave of dizziness swept over him and he retched.
***
The symbol for the Tau'ri slid to a stop by the final chevron.
***
Jack fell to his knees and leaned against the gate as the fog in his head threatened to overwhelm him. The unlit chevron under his hands was warm. As he blinked at it, it started to hum.
***
Sam held her breath as the final symbol snapped into place.
"Chevron seven locked."
***
Jack's hands slipped on the slick stone as he pushed himself to his feet. The hum built and the gate warmed under his touch. He leaned into the bundle and it crashed to the ground. A dull glow appeared in the center of the chevron. Jack pivoted to follow. His foot caught. The brace twisted, broke. The hum became a buzz. His knee buckled and the sharp edge of the gate scraped along his leg. Jack's hoarse scream merged with the sound of the final chevron locking into place.
***
Separated by half a universe, the gates on Earth and PT9-780 exploded to life; each gate spewed a geyser of lethal plasma into the air that disintegrated everything in its path.
***
The raised markings on the gate dug into Jack's shoulders as he rolled across it. The erupting gate drove a pocket of air before it that flung Jack's legs out of the way of the plasma surge. He continued his roll, and dropped off the gate and onto the unforgiving hardness of the ground. The drop may have only been a couple of feet, but the impact knocked the air out of him. For a terrified eternity, he thought he'd collapsed the lung again. Then he exhaled from his empty lungs and sucked in a full breath.
***
Sam smiled for the first time since she'd arrived in the control room. "Good work, Walter," she told the technician. She grabbed the microphone and spoke to the people who waited in the gate room.
"Just let me double-check the numbers and we'll send the MALP." She didn't wait for them to respond. Jack was so close now.
***
The world pulsated around Jack as he struggled to sit. The pain in his knee stole his breath. He tugged the broken brace off and tossed it to the side. Then he straightened the leg and tried to push the agony away.
Well, so far this plan is going swimmingly. Sam sat on the gate and trailed her hand in the event horizon.
I agree. Daniel did the backstroke on the surface of the wormhole. Although, you really haven't done anything yet.
Jack groaned and pulled himself to his feet. He leaned heavily against the gate platform, and ignored his ghosts.
You are mistaken, Daniel Jackson. With the Stargate in its current position, O'Neill has prevented travel to this planet.
Despite the pain, it appeared that he hadn't damaged his knee any further. He limped a couple of steps away from the active gate. The leg trembled but worked. It felt even stronger as he walked back.
He's still going to kill anyone who comes through. Daniel swam to the edge and rested his arms and head on the gate next to Sam. They'll fall back into it and be disintegrated.
"I'm going to fix that." Jack muttered. "Just wait." He pulled the partially used block of C-4 out of his pocket, steadied his shaking hands as much as possible and attached a remote detonator.
Do you know what the odds are of you successfully destabilizing the wormhole, sir?
"No." Jack attempted to blink away his dizziness as he squinted at his handiwork. He couldn't focus through the double vision. "But I bet I could make a killing off them."
***
"It looks good, General," Sam said. "The wormhole is established and the readings are currently normal. With your permission, we can send the MALP."
"You have a go, Major."
She looked down at the gate room and was surprised to see the large number of people that were gathered around the blast doors. It was as if the entire base had listened in. They probably had. By now, everyone knew what happened and most had helped in some way. She wondered if the colonel deserved that amount of loyalty. Of course he does. That's the problem.
The MALP drove up the ramp and headed through the gate.
***
Five feet from the fallen gate, Jack hoisted the primed C-4 in his hand and tried to judge the weight.
You can't let it fall into the event horizon, Jack. Don't wait too long before you hit the button.
But if you blow it too high, sir, it won't have any effect on the wormhole at all. You know what they say about men your age and premature explosions.
"For cryin' out loud," Jack said. "Why don't you quit yappin' and help me."
As we are an invention of your mind, O'Neill, we cannot assist you in any substantial manner.
"Right. I knew that." Jack measured the distance with his eyes again, and took two stumbling steps backward. He peered at the insubstantial figures of his friends; all three stood on the gleaming blue wormhole. "In that case, why don't you just go away?"
He tossed the C-4 in a high, slow arc. It flew through the air, crested above the gate and then fell, straight down on the phantoms of his friends. When it was even with Daniel's head, he pushed the detonator.
***
The MALP reached the top of the ramp and headed into the wormhole.
"Target is on route," Walter said.
The wormhole shuddered and Sam's computer spewed information across the screen.
"Whoa," Walter said. "I've lost transmission. No, wait. I've got it back now. Target has arrived." He checked the readings. "Hold on."
"What's happening, Major?"
Sam fought to keep up with the information she got from the gate. "There was another power surge, a big one. It appeared we'd lost integrity for a moment, but everything's back now."
Daniel appeared at her side. "Sam, is there a problem?"
Before Sam could assure him that everything was fine, Walter interrupted.
"Yes, there is. A big problem."
***
The concussion from the blast knocked Jack off his feet. When he managed to climb back up, the wormhole was closed.
"Yes!"
Nicely done, sir.
Don't encourage him, Sam. He'll just want to throw bombs at all our problems.
Jack made it a point to ignore them.
***
Sam turned to Walter. "Did we lose the MALP?"
"No, Ma'am, but it's not on PX3-780."
"What?" Sam turned to the computer that displayed the information from the MALP. It only took a second to confirm Walter's statement. "This can't be right."
"Is it gone?" Daniel asked.
"No. It's materialized on a planet somewhere," Sam said. "Just not PX3-780. This planet has a toxic level of methane in the atmosphere."
"I have a visual," Walter announced.
A dense, misty jungle appeared on the monitor. The DHD sat off to the right, barely visible through the vegetation that covered it.
"I need an explanation here, people."
"I'm not sure, sir," Sam looked back at the data that covered her computer screen. "I think the wormhole jumped."
"You mean like what happened with you and Jack in Antarctica?"
"Yes, and like we did when we couldn't disconnect with the black hole on P3W-451."
"I thought that there needed to be some kind of explosion for that to happen," The general stared at the gate, as if willing it to provide an answer. "Our gate is fine."
"Yes, sir. It had to have happened on the other end. Perhaps, a lightning strike or a bomb of some sort." She couldn't think of a reasonable explanation.
"Jack did it."
Everyone looked at Daniel.
"It's like Janet said: he still thinks he's infected with this killer virus. He wouldn't want anyone to come through the gate because they would just die when they walked onto the planet."
General Hammond sighed. "Suggestions?"
Sam chewed her lip for a moment. "I think we should try dialing PT9-780 again. Even if he attempts to destabilize the new wormhole, it may be possible to send him a message first. Something small."
"A message in a bottle," Daniel offered.
Sam nodded. "Just so that he knows it's okay for us to come through."
"Very well, mark where the MALP went, just in case we ever get back there. Get this message ready and dial the gate again."
***
Jack stumbled back to the now-still gate. Relief and adrenaline gave him the energy to stay upright. He climbed back into the Stargate and dragged the bundle of Instant Wormhole Blocker back into the center. Without the knee brace, it took all his concentration not to fall. He turned slowly and walked back to the edge of the gate.
It's not as exciting if the gate isn't dialing, Daniel observed.
Jack was too tired to ignore the hallucination. "You should try it in my body." He rolled over the fallen gate.
You really don't look well, sir. Carter wavered in front of him, translucent.
"You don't look so hot yourself." He steadied himself against the ring, drew his pistol and fired one shot into the package. It exploded into a foaming dirty-yellow mass that expanded across the inner circle of the gate. The grass burned where it touched and a cloud of foul-smelling smoke billowed into the air. The stench made his eyes water and he backed away before he gagged on it.
"Did you know how bad this stuff smelled, Carter?"
There was no answer and when Jack looked around there was no sign of his team. "Aw, guys. Don't leave now. It's not like you can smell it." Jack's plea fell on an empty clearing.
***
It took Daniel fifteen minutes to fashion a perfect 'bottle' for the message. He'd modified an empty air-rocket canister to make it fit on to a spear gun that he had picked up on an off-world mission. The note was easier to craft: You're not contagious. The Tok'ra got it wrong. Let us through, you idiot. He didn't bother to sign it.
He stuffed the note into the canister and screwed it to the end of the modified spear loaded into the gun. Then he handed it to the SFs who had volunteered to shoot it through the gate. Pleased with his part in the mission, he headed back up to the control room and stood next to Janet. Sam sat in front of them.
"What if he blows it again?" Janet asked.
General Hammond gave a small growl. "We'll keep dialing once every five minutes. He can't blow them all."
Daniel wasn't too sure about that, but he didn't say anything as the gate began to dial.
"Actually, sir," Sam began, "I don't know how he managed to do it even once. Both times this happened before, the jump was caused by a massive power surge to the gate initiating the wormhole. I don't see how the jump could have been caused on the receiving end. Perhaps the lack of DHD made the wormhole more susceptible to disruption."
Daniel listened with half an ear and watched the chevrons click into place. Walter announced each one with his usual patience until the final symbol slid into position. The gate tried, but it didn't lock into place.
"Chevron seven does not lock," Walter said. "Chevron seven does not lock."
Daniel wanted to scream. "What's wrong now?"
***
Jack sat on the ground and leaned against the MALP. A cloud drifted over the sun and he shivered with a sudden chill. He drank more water and choked down a tasteless nutrition bar, but what he really needed was rest. The persistent buzzing had returned. It clouded his thoughts and shrouded his vision. His skin was hot and dry to the touch but he shook from cold. Thick, green pus again drained from one of the larger gashes on his arm. From the way his clothes stuck on some of the other wounds, he knew that they festered, too.
Do you think it's the virus? Daniel peered at the wound, fascinated.
Jack was too tired to answer. Anyhow, he didn't know. Anise had started to detail the exact effects of the toxin, but Jack had stopped her. He didn't want to know then. He still didn't want to know.
Half the fun of being a scientist is in knowing the details, Colonel.
Jack's retort was cut off by the sound of the Stargate powering up.
Do you not wish to see if the gate is blocked, O'Neill?
"No." He didn't think he could. As with most things, he'd just have to trust that Sam's genius would save him. There was no kawoosh of an opening gate. The foam worked. He smiled. "Way to go, Sam."
Thank you, sir.
He rested for a couple of minutes and enjoyed the thought that, even this far from home, his team still helped him.
I would rather not help you, you know. Not to do this.
"Yeah, I know. It was necessary. Sorry."
The images of his team faded away. Lead seemed to flow through his veins and he flashed alternately hot and cold. The gate was buried but there was a good chance he wouldn't live long enough to appreciate that fact. He dragged his tent closer to the MALP and used the machine as an anchor. Then he piled several boxes of food and water within reach, stripped off his weapons and laid them inside the tent, along with a couple boxes of ammunition. By the time he added four blankets, a change of clothes and the rest of the necessary survival gear, the tent was crowded.
Exhaustion settled like lead in his hands and feet and his good leg ached more than the injured one. Satisfied with the supplies in the tent, he pulled over the naquadah powered light and the large medical box. It was still daylight, but he switched the light on. He might not have the strength later.
The pus from the wound on his arm soaked through his sleeve, cold and sticky in the late afternoon air. Despite the shivering it caused, he peeled off his clothes. All of the wounds were again red and raw and most of them oozed the greenish pus. He didn't have energy or the equipment to clean them properly again, so he wiped them as clean as he could with an antibiotic wipe then dusted them once more with the Polysporin powder. Instead of bandaging them individually, he settled on wrapping gauze around his arms and legs. He may have looked like a reject from a mummy movie when he finished, but it would be easier to change once the wounds soaked through. It took too much energy to pretend that they wouldn't.
When he finished, he decided not to dress and pulled a warm wool blanket over his shoulders instead. It would be hard enough to clean his injuries in the tent without clothes to worry about. Then he sat next to the medical kit and searched through it. He had no idea if there was anything in it that he would know how to use, but he'd be damned if he'd go without a fight.
***
Thirty minutes after they first failed to establish a connection to PT9-780, they were no closer to finding out what was wrong. Daniel began to feel that this latest setback was one that he'd not be able to handle. It was obvious that he wasn't the only one that felt that way. Sam had become increasingly taciturn as each subsequent dial-out failed. Teal'c had taken to glowering at the people who had gathered to keep on eye on the proceedings until they had drifted away as self-preservation overcame their curiosity. General Hammond retreated to his office with strict orders to be updated the minute they discovered anything.
"Major?" Walter's voice pulled both Sam and Daniel's attention to him. "It's time."
Sam nodded at him. "Go ahead and dial."
Daniel and Teal'c crossed to stand behind Sam, who looked up at them. "If this doesn't work. . ."
Daniel knew what she meant. If Jack had opened the gate on his end in an effort to block an incoming hole, it would have automatically closed by now. They'd dialed PT9-780 every five minutes in the hope that they would be able to dial-in when it shut down.
The last chevron circled around to its final position.
It didn't lock. Daniel swore.
"Chevron seven did not lock." Walter looked over at SG-1. "I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault, Walter."
"I just don't understand it." Sam again turned to her computer screen. "We should have been able to get in. I can't make any sense of the readings I get off of gate diagnostics, either. It's almost as if he's buried the gate."
"I do not believe that O'Neill would be capable of such physical exertion at this time."
"Not to mention it would take longer than he had," Daniel added. "Unless you're saying that Jack has an instant gate burying kit."
Sam paled. "Oh, my God." She dug through the piles of paper that sat next to her and flipped through the report she pulled out. Four pages from the back she stopped and scanned the page. "He does."
"What?"
"He took a bale of the gate blocking foam that I've been working on." She flipped the report around for him to see and she pointed to the line on the list of missing supplies.
The pit of Daniel's stomach fell away. "I didn't think that had been tested."
"It hasn't, but I think we can say it works." Sam flung the report back on the pile. "The reason we can't get through is because the gate can't establish a wormhole." Sam looked at him, his hopelessness mirrored on her face.
"But if he's buried the gate. . ."
Teal'c finished when Daniel was unwilling to go on. "We will be unable to rescue O'Neill,"
***
Jack sat outside his tent, blanket wrapped around his shaking form and the med kit spread open before him. He'd checked out his symptoms in the 'Basic Field Medicine Guide' in the kit. Most of them matched the descriptions for severe bacterial infections. Hallucinations weren't listed, but they were a possible effect of extreme temperature. The ibuprofen that he'd been popping should be helping with that. Pain and fever he understood; infections were beyond him. For the past hour he'd sorted through the drugs included the medical box. They all had basic use instructions on the labels and were cross-referenced in a dauntingly thick manual.
He'd tried to read the documentation for the different antibiotics on hand but the small print waved in front of his eyes and it was written in indecipherable medical jargon. From what he could tell, each antibiotic seemed to have it's own niche and he wasn't confident that Earth antibiotics would work on an off world virus, anyway. The one thing he did get from the book was that antibiotics didn't work instantly. He needed to use them over a period of days in order to kill off the infection. Never thought I'd miss the Doc this much. He finally settled on a couple of bottles of liquid antibiotics listed as 'broad-spectrum'. A guess was better than nothing, just not by much.
There were several boxes of hypodermics in the medical supplies. Jack pulled out two-dozen syringes and filled each one with the maximum recommended dose of the drugs. Re-capping the needles, he laid them in the small, insulated bag he'd found in the medical box. Finished, he returned the medicine to its storage container and set the filled hypodermics in the corner of the tent. He pulled his wristwatch from his pocket and fumbled with the buttons to set the alarm for six hours.
Once the timer blinked its countdown at him, he tied the watch to the inside of the tent next to the medicine. He pulled the cover off one of the syringes and injected the first dose into his arm. The medicine burned as it slid into him. His plan was simple: Take the max dosage now, wait the minimum amount of time, then max out again. He'd repeat that until he was well or until he couldn't do it any more.
The clearing was quiet and empty in the fading light. He hadn't seen his team in a while and he wondered if that meant he was better. Somehow he didn't think so. The sun crept behind the trees and his body shook in the cool dusk air. Jack pulled out the bottle of ibuprofen and downed four of them before he set the medicine next to the filled syringes. He climbed into the tent and buried himself beneath the blankets. His teeth chattered and his vision dimmed. It wasn't the first time this mission that he thought he might not make it. The difference was, it would be all right if he didn't. He'd destroyed the virus, he'd made it here and he'd insured that no one else would ever be exposed. If he did die, that wasn't too bad of an epitaph.
***
General Hammond studied SG-1 as they sat huddled at one corner of the conference table. After they'd given him their reports, they had lapsed into complete silence, an unheard of occurrence. Hammond watched his premiere team and knew they had pushed the limits of their endurance. Experience had taught him that the forced inaction and emotional strain that came from being unable to save a friend was the fastest way to destroy good people. The fact that Jack worked against them to block their every move only made the strain worse. Dr. Fraiser was also seated at the table, Hammond wanted her there to keep on eye on SG-1 as much as to give a debrief.
Hammond turned his attention to the reports and ignored the sounds of the gate dialing out. Jacob and Anise were contacting the Tok'ra about the findings from the planet. He would be glad when they left the base. He'd always liked Jacob but if he never saw Anise again it would be too soon. There was an appeal to Jack's 'never trust a snake' attitude. Then again, is seemed even Jack didn't always follow that rule.
With an effort, he turned back to the matter at hand. "So, we have no way of gating to this planet?" It wasn't necessary to ask the question. The reports they'd given him were clear on that matter. He wanted to know their reactions to those reports, to judge their energy levels and to see if they wanted to give up.
"No, sir," Sam replied. "The gate is essentially buried, the only way to use it would be to go there and remove the foam."
"And we could do that?"
"I designed it to be removable. The foam isn't an adhesive; it doesn't stick to anything. It expands to fit the area and then hardens into a solid barrier that prevents a wormhole from forming. Remove the foam and the gate works again."
Hammond nodded. "What are our options at this point?"
"Time is our biggest problem right now, General," Dr. Fraiser answered. "Nirrti's planet had developed a virulent bacterial form. Any cut exposed to the planet's atmosphere is infected and it can lead to overwhelming septic shock in as little as forty-eight hours. Without treatment, it has a mortality rate of one-hundred percent."
"How much time does that give Colonel O'Neill?"
"It's hard to say, sir. I estimate there is a forty-eight to sixty hour period before an untreated infection would progress beyond my capability to fight. The colonel has been gone for almost two days, but if we assume he wasn't injured until he initiated the attack on the laboratory, it will give him some more time. The number of injuries he's sustained concerns me because there is some indication that a larger number of wounds will make for a faster progression in the infection. From the abrasions apparent on his holographic message, I'd cut that estimate by a quarter."
Hammond did a quick calculation. "So he has under a day."
"It's all guesswork at this point but once the sepsis gets a foothold, there's nothing I can do to treat it."
"But you can treat it before then?"
"Yes." Janet appeared happy to give some good news. "The bacterial agent responsible for the infection isn't too far removed from several strains found here on Earth. We've developed a modified antibiotic that is effective."
Hammond took a deep breath. "That brings me back to my original question, without the gate, how do we get to the colonel?"
"I believe that I can help you out there, George." Jacob appeared at the top of the steps.
Sam stood. "Dad, I thought you'd left."
"I'm not leaving until Jack's back." He gave her a small hug. "I've just talked to the Tok'ra council. This planet Jack's on, PT. . ."
"PT9-780" Sam supplied. "You said the Tok'ra don't have any bases in that sector."
"We don't. But we do have a scout ship in the area to check out a report of Goa'uld activity."
"How close are they?"
"They're about two days away, but they could cut it by half if they push it."
"I could give them the information I have on the infection," Janet said. "It would help if they began treatment immediately."
"I can do you one better," Jacob said. "One of the planets they investigated has a working Stargate. Selmak convinced them that you should gate through, ring up to the ship, and travel with them. I left the gate address with the sergeant."
"With your permission, General?" Sam asked.
"Granted."
The team exploded into action. Daniel, Teal'c and Sam headed for the steps before Hammond answered. Janet gathered the reports in front of her. She looked up at the general.
"I would like to accompany them, General."
"I wouldn't have it any other way, Doctor."
"Yes, sir." She vanished down the steps.
Hammond looked over at Jacob.
"Thank you. Thank Selmak, too."
Jacob shrugged. "It's the least we can do. I just hope that it's not too late."
"Jack's good at beating the odds," Hammond said. "I'm not giving up on him yet."
***
Jack stood, surrounded by thick, wet fog. It clung to his skin and pushed at him, a suffocating cloud, chill and close. He fought to see something beyond the grey mist. Random spots of light and dark melted into nothingness, only to reappear moments later. Jack waved at the fog, and it swirled around his hand, smoke caught in an updraft. He shouldn't be out in this. It couldn't be good for him, not as sick as he was.
Sick. The thought stopped him. He was sick, wasn't he?
There was a flicker of light off to one side. It pulled at his attention but lingered just out of view. It grew brighter when he took a step toward it, so he took another. The light continued to grow and the fog thinned. He walked faster.
Do you have a destination in mind, O'Neill?
Jack turned, his team stood behind him. They were indistinct figures as the fog swirled thick around them. Jack stepped back into it to see them clearly. "I was just going to the light."
Kind of clichéd, don't you think, Jack? Especially for you.
"You're making even less sense then usual, Daniel."
I'm not Daniel, and I'm making perfect sense.
"Right." A thought lingered on the edge of Jack's mind, but he couldn't pin it down.
Don't you remember, Colonel? Sam asked.
Jack tried to focus on her, but she fuzzed around the edges and when he blinked, the fog swirled through her. Images of Jaffa and explosions drifted through his memory. "I was on a mission. There was a virus." The light behind him dimmed. "You're not real."
That is correct, O'Neill.
Memory returned in a flood, and the light behind him blinked out but the fog persisted. Jack looked around again. The mist quivered.
"Where am I then?"
I don't know. Daniel shrugged. There was another pulse in the fog. It's kind of weird, though.
"Ya think?" One more ripple moved through the air. It vibrated through the figures of his team, too. "There's something I need to do."
Another wave moved through the fog, a quiet electronic tone chased it. The mist began to melt away and his team went with it. Jack took a step toward them. He didn't want to be alone. A second later another beep washed them away with the fog.
Jack opened his eyes and looked at the ceiling of his tent. The blanket wrapped around him was wet with sweat and the alarm on his watch sounded. The cold air bit at him when he sat up, the sweat that covered him chilled instantly, and his teeth began to chatter. His head felt as thick as the fog he'd just stood in and he couldn't shake the feeling that this was still a dream. He grabbed the watch and pushed a button to silence the alarm. It automatically reset for another six hours.
His hands shook as he reached for the syringe. He counted the used ones that sat off to the side. Had he done this three times already? The hypodermic wavered in his trembling fingers, but he took a deep breath and injected the medicine. The cold pain of the antibiotics slipped into him, and he dropped the empty syringe on the pile. The gauze on his arm was colored with seepage and when he ran his hand over his face he could feel the angry inflammation of the cuts that he'd left uncovered.
He reached for a bottle of water to ease the dryness in his mouth, but it was hard to get it past his swollen tongue. The lukewarm liquid that dripped onto his chest chilled him. With a growl of frustration, he capped the bottle and tossed it aside. He snatched up another hypodermic full of antibiotics. One dose wasn't working.
The second shot hurt more than the first and he retched before he pulled the needle out; he seized a bag and dry-heaved into it, the bile burned his throat. His side spit agony at him and his world dissolved into pain and desperation. He dropped the bag just outside the front of the tent and crawled back under his sweat-soaked blankets. As he fell into unconsciousness, it occurred to him that he didn't know why he fought so hard.
***
Sam sat in the back of the Tel'tak and drummed her fingers on her leg as she stared at the papers in front of her. They'd been traveling for almost twenty hours, most of which they'd spent resting; exhaustion and boredom made an unbeatable sleeping elixir. Now she tried to catch up on some research, but she couldn't focus on the words. All of her attention was on the door that led to the cockpit. Daniel would return any moment with a report on how much longer it would be before they got to Jack. She shifted position to drum her fingers on the seat.
"Stop that or I will sedate you." Janet reached out and stilled the incessant movement of Sam's fingers.
Sam looked over at her friend who sat amid a pile of supplies on the floor. "Sorry." She dropped the papers and ran her fingers through her hair. "I'm no good at waiting, Janet."
"None of us are. Except for maybe Teal'c." She nodded toward the Jaffa who sat in the middle of the room with his eyes closed in meditation. "I'd tell you to get some sleep, but that's not the problem is it?" She offered Sam a thermos. "How 'bout some coffee?"
Sam took it with a smile of thanks and poured herself a cup. She was exhausted in a way that even her recent eight hours of sleep hadn't helped. It had been easy, in the beginning, to focus on the puzzles: find out what happened to the colonel, figure out the gate address, research the virus and find a way to get him back. Now just one puzzle remained, the biggest one of all: Jack O'Neill himself. Most of the time she thought she knew him, as her commanding officer, as a fellow soldier, as a friend. Then, suddenly, he would be this unfathomable creature who didn't follow any of the known laws of man or soldier. She'd realize that she didn't understand him at all. With his farewell message to the team, he'd become his most enigmatic.
"Want to talk about it?"
"What if this is a mistake?" Sam asked the question before she decided that she was going to.
"You don't think you have the right planet?"
"No, not the planet, the rescue." She'd watched the colonel's message enough times to have it memorized. The last thing I need is you hovering around me, ruining my peace and quiet. At first, she'd just accepted it as his usual sarcastic bravado, but the more she'd listened to it, the more sincere it sounded. "What if he doesn't want to come back? What if this mission was his way of retiring, of getting away from everything? Getting away from us?"
"I'm sure that's not what he's doing, Sam."
"But how can we be sure?" Sam took three even breaths before she spoke again. "I feel like I'm coming apart, Janet. Last year, I spent over three months working day and night to rescue him from P5C-768 and when I get there, what do I find? He's happy living the pioneer life. He was good at it, too. He'd managed to leave this life and start a new one." It felt good to say it out loud. "Now he does this. Are we so easy to leave behind? Do we mean so little to him?"
"You are mistaken, Major Carter." Teal'c's low voice made them jump. Sam assumed he'd been deep in Kelno'reem. "O'Neill has demonstrated many times that he places the lives and safety of his team above his own."
"This is different. This isn't about battles or missions, this is about walking away from everyone." Sam didn't understand it. "He doesn't seem to have any problem with the thought he'll never see any of us again."
"You have mistaken ability for desire." Teal'c stood and stretched his tall frame. "That O'Neill is able to make the necessary sacrifices despite his natural reluctance to do so is what makes him a great warrior."
"Yeah. Well, it sure the hell makes him a lousy friend."
"Perhaps." Teal'c crossed to Sam and sat next to her. "There is much about O'Neill that makes him a difficult friend. However, I do not doubt that he is our friend."
"Teal'c is right," Janet said. "We know the colonel cares for all of us. He cares for some of us even more than he thinks he should."
Sam nodded in mute acknowledgement of what Janet alluded to. Both Janet and Teal'c had been in the room when Anise's Zatarc detector made it necessary for Jack and her to admit that they both cared for each other -- cared more than they should. That's why he had stayed with her when she'd been trapped in Apophis' ship. It had been proof enough that he'd never leave her behind.
Now, he had. "How can he just leave us and start over?"
"It would not be the first time that O'Neill would have had to start over after the loss of someone he cared about," Teal'c said. "I do not wish to contemplate how Rya'c's death would affect me."
Sam sighed. It was hard to reconcile the man she knew as Colonel O'Neill with the man that Daniel had met before going through the Stargate for the first time. Jack never spoke of his family or his life before they had met. It was easy to think that he'd always been the way he was now. Sam ran her hand through her hair. Someday, I'm going to fall for a simple man. She looked up at her friends and tried to smile.
"Are you going to be okay?"
"Yes." Sam realized it was true. "It's just. . ." She shrugged, not knowing what she wanted to say.
"I agree, completely," Janet said. "We'll both throw darts at his picture once we get him back to base."
Sam smiled and this time it was genuine. "It's a deal.
"Well, you're going to have to wait a little longer for that to happen." Daniel walked into the room. "We're not going to be there for a while."
Sam got to her feet. "How much longer?"
"Another six hours." Daniel's disgust was obvious. "Minimum."
The bad news settled on them like a weight. Sam looked at Janet. "It's already been twenty hours, are we going to be too late?"
"I don't know, Sam. I just don't know."
***
Jack stood in the fog again. Pea-soup thick, it clung tight to him. Was this what dying was? He waved his arms in front of him and watched the mists churn. The fog clouded his vision and stuffed in his ears. A monotonous apathy settled on him. This could get boring, fast. He peered into the fog and tried to see the figures of his team. Shapes of light and darkness abounded, but none of them solidified into people.
Tired of standing, Jack started to walk. Every once in a while, he'd stop to listen for the sound of the alarm and to search for his friends. After a long while, the fog started to thin and the murkiness lifted. There was light ahead. He headed toward it. Perhaps Daniel would return with another comment on clichés. The light intensified but Daniel didn't show.
Jack slowed as the fog settled. It curled around his feet as he walked and became soft wisps of cloud. Ahead he could see a gentle light, peaceful as the rising sun, melt away the mist. It reminded him of early morning fishing, breakfast with Sara and Charlie, and long summer afternoons. He looked back the way he'd come and the fog rose like storm clouds behind him. Shadow and light swirled in it and it churned as if stirred by a wind. Low thunder rumbled within. It felt like Minnesota tornado weather but it called to him in a way that the still peacefulness in front of him did not.
Have you decided?
The voice, naggingly familiar, pulled his attention away from the mist. A shadowy shape stood off to his left. He blinked and the shape appeared closer. It was a child, a young boy. The memory of the voice came back like the slash of a knife.
"Charlie?"
The figure didn't move, but he stood closer now. It was Charlie. He was dressed in jeans, his favorite baseball jersey and had a mitt on his hand. Jack wanted to run to him and throw his arms around him. Never let him go.
He forced his legs to stand and found his voice. "You're not real."
Maybe not, the Charlie vision said. It's hard to be sure.
Jack studied the apparition to find a flaw in its appearance. Charlie was perfect, happy, alive. The dream Charlie was always better than the specter of his son that haunted his nightmares. "Why are you here?"
I wanted to see you. Have you decided?
"What am I supposed to decide?"
Which way to go, of course.
Jack looked from the warm light to the dark mist. "It doesn't seem like it should be that hard of a choice." He didn't move.
It's a very hard choice. Charlie tossed a baseball in the air and caught it. The familiar action tore at Jack's heart. That's why it's usually not a choice at all.
It worried Jack that that made sense. "I could stay here."
Why would you want to? It's boring here.
"You're here."
I can't stay.
The roar of the mist grew closer and pulled at Jack's attention. "What if I don't want to choose?"
You have to choose, Dad. That's the way it is, this time.
"What if I choose wrong?"
You won't.
"How can you be sure?"
You're my dad.
"But you're not real."
The Charlie ghost just smiled.
Jack studied him again and waited for the inevitable pain that came whenever he remembered his son. Instead, there was only peace. Even if this wasn't real, it was good.
It's easier to choose when you know what you want, Charlie offered.
Jack considered that for a moment. He wanted to run to Charlie, to watch him play ball and to make everything right. He wanted to choose the way that meant he would never lose Charlie again.
He wanted to choose the light.
"I'm tired," was all he said.
I know.
The chaos of the mist pulled at Jack's mind. He fought to ignore it as he waved at the light. "It's quiet there."
It's beautiful, too.
"I could rest."
Yes.
It would be good to rest. Jack looked back. The storm clouds solidified; it's thunder rolled and the shades roiled within it. Lightning pierced the darkness like a harsh searchlight. The mist swelled toward Jack and a wind blew past. It smelled of grass and ozone and the SGC. The memory of SG-1's voices washed over him.
His life called to him from the fog. He took a step toward it and the serene light behind him faded.
So, you've chosen.
"Yeah." Jack again faced Charlie, now bathed in his own soft light. The fog rose around their legs and drifted through the distance that separated them. "Are you going to be okay? Here, by yourself, I mean?"
I don't belong here.
Jack knew that. Charlie belonged in the light, the light that Jack walked away from.
"Will you be able to get back?" The thought of Charlie lost in this limbo terrified him.
Yes. Charlie smiled from the peaceful side of the rising mist. Don't worry about me, Dad. I'm fine.
Jack blinked against the brilliance that enfolded the figure of his son, and then he turned and walked away. At the edge of the fog bank, he stopped and touched it the way Sam had touched the event horizon the first time she'd seen it. The fog rippled out and made waves in the mist. "Sweet." He looked back. Charlie still watched him, a bemused expression on his face. Jack hesitated, frozen by a sudden fear. "What if you're real?"
You'll see me again.
"Right." Jack took a deep breath, turned away from his son and stepped into the fog.
"Janet, he's coming around." A voice shouted in his head.
Bright lights and pain buffeted him. He tried to take a breath and fought to pull free from unseen bonds. There was a sharp pain in his arm and a cool numbness spread through him. Hungry for the noise and chaos of life after the murky fog, he clung to consciousness. He reveled in the sensory overload. And opened his eyes. A face swam into view above him, blue eyes and blonde hair.
"Welcome back, sir. Just relax we've got you."
He felt Sam's cool hand brush his face and panic rose in his throat. "No," he choked, "Get away."
"Anise was wrong, Jack." Daniel's voice cut through his fear. "You're not contagious. Anise was wrong."
Carter's head nodded in front of him as Daniel's words sunk in. Not contagious. Jack wanted to laugh -- all his work, all his planning, all for nothing. Unconsciousness tugged at him and he gave into it. It serves me right. Never trust a snake. He slid into darkness when a sudden thought forced him to open his eyes.
"Real?" As he rasped the word out, he freed his hand and reached up to touch Sam's face.
"Yes, Jack, we're real," Sam said. "We'll all be fine. Daniel's here and Teal'c has opened the gate. We're taking you home."
Her voice faded in and out and her face was marble cold against his fevered fingers. "Sick. Virus?"
"It's not the virus. You're not contagious, but you are sick. Janet will take care of you. Just relax."
Jack dropped his hand and let unconsciousness claim him. He didn't understand it, but he would believe. He was safe. His team was here. They'd come for him.
They always did.
Part 6
