Flyboy Soup
By BadgerGater - Badgergater@cs.com

                         *******************

Includes: Flyboy Soup
          Strays

                         *******************


Flyboy Soup
By BadgerGater - BadgerGater@cs.com


RATING: PG, an adult word or two

WARNINGS: None, except there's a bit of gross description for those with 
queasy stomachs

CATEGORY: Action Adventure, Hurt/Comfort

TIME FRAME: Late season four, early Five (that's what I was watching at 
the time I wrote it)

SUMMARY: A little research trip turns ugly when SG-1 finds something 
very unexpected on a quiet little planet

URL: http://www.geocities.com/sg1_oneills_house

DISCLAIMER: Don't own 'em. Couldn't afford their medical bills if I did. 
<sob> No copyright infringement intended. No money changes hands. Not to 
be posted without the author's permission

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Thanks Jack fans, for your support.. and welcome to fic 
number 100 by the Badger. 

With special thanks to some wonderful people who helped me when I was a 
tentative, uncertain fanfic newbie, especially Tanya, Carol, Corine and 
Margo... Jack clones to all of you... this wouldn't be happening without 
you believing in me and sharing my vision of the best character to grace 
the TV screen in many, many years...; 

To the Jackfic list, a refuge in the ocean of SG-1 insanity; 

And most of all, to Colonel Jack O'Neill (or at least the writers and 
the actor who created him), a wonderful, complex character of depth, 
passion, courage and vulnerability... and always my hero. To borrow one 
of his lines, "for this, (he) can stay at my place."

                         *******************

Part One

I started out thinking that wasn't such a bad planet, but I should know 
better, shouldn't I? P4B-397.

Ewww.

Doc's gonna let me go home tomorrow, I think. My leg's no longer swollen 
to twice it's normal size, the stitches came out yesterday, the lump on 
my head has almost disappeared, and the triple vision has settled down 
to only the occasional bout of double vision, as long as I don't move 
too fast. Which I don't think will be a problem for a few days yet.

They let me up to walk today, and while admittedly my legs were a little 
wobbly, I did actually manage to stroll down to the end of the hallway 
and back. So, yeah, okay, I *was* leaning on Nurse Carroll all the way, 
but I really didn't need to. Not much, anyway.

                         *******************

Maybe I should go back and start at the beginning?

I do have a mission report to write anyway. General Hammond let me have 
a few extra days to get it finished, generous of him considering I find 
it rather hard to write reports while comatose. And no, I'm not going to 
use bullet point summaries.

                         *******************

So...

SG-1 was gathered in the briefing room for, what else, our first morning 
briefing of the week. I'd already taken my favorite seat on what would 
be the General's right when Carter came in with that look on her face. 
You know the one, the 'I've found something splendiforous' look, the one 
that tends to give me heartburn. Or a heart attack. See, what Carter 
thinks is fun is usually *not* my idea of fun.

I was right, of course.

"Good morning, Sir," her eyes were shining, her smile so bright I was 
nearly blinded.

"Morning, Carter." I peered across the table at the stack of folders 
she'd carried in with her. I twisted my head around to read the title: 
"P4B-?"

"P4B-397. There's some great stuff there, Sir," she enthused.

"Great stuff, eh, Major? Like sun-kissed beaches? Crappie filled ponds?"

She was still grinning. "Even better, Sir."

"Better than an untapped fishing hole? Not possible, Major, in this 
universe or any other."

Daniel strolled in, coffee cup in hand, seating himself next to Carter 
as we talked. Teal'c followed, taking the chair next to mine.

"Better, Sir," Carter insisted.

"Better?" I challenged.

""Naquadah deposits, Sir."

"Oiy," That girl has a weird idea of fun. At least Daniel's rocks are 
sometimes, okay, I'll admit it, actually artifacts. But when Carter 
starts talking rocks, she means rocks. Stones. Pebbles. Boulders.

"Good morning, people," Hammond breezed in. I stood, the others 
following

suit, then we all re-sumed our seats as the General settled in at the 
head of the table. "Major, I hear you've got something exciting for us 
this morning?"

"Yes, Sir, something new," she beamed. Tapping the remote, Carter dimmed 
the lights, turned on the slide projector, and showed us a picture of... 
bluish sky, rocks and trees.

"Now *that* looks like something I've never seen before," I smirked.

Teal'c raised one eyebrow. Daniel sipped his coffee. The General shot me 
a withering look, but hey, I don't wither easily. "A new species of 
evergreen?" I guessed.

"Something the survey team thinks may be a new type of ore containing 
Naquadah." Carter pushed the advance button and another slide appeared. 
"SG-14 visited P4B-397 last month, and collected rock samples in this 
area," the slide showed a rugged hillside, towering boulders 
interspersed among the pines. "The lab got pretty backlogged, so no one 
tested them until late last week. They didn't appear to be promising, 
since we rarely find naquadah in apatitic rock formations. Usually, they 
appear in ordinary igneous rock..."

"Ignited rock? Sounds frightening," I commented.

"Volcanic rock, Sir, probably forced up from deep within the planet's 
core. But in this case, we're not sure if this is really naquadah, or 
something that simply mimics it. We'll need to perform more tests."

"Sounds like a routine job for a geologist, Major," I suggested.

"Well, it might be, except that Major Pemberly's team also found this." 
Carter advanced to the next slide.

Daniel sat up so fast he almost fell out of his chair. "That's..." in 
seconds he was on his feet and up to the screen to study it more 
closely. "That's amazing. That looks like a variation on the writing of 
the Ancients." He turned to look at me. "Do you recognize any of it?"

I stared at the scratchmarks on the rock. "Looks like nonsense to me. 
Teal'c?" I swung to face the Jaffa.

"It is unfamiliar to me as well, O'Neill."

"Any other signs of life?" I asked.

"None, Sir, a few small animals and bird-like creatures, some fairly 
large deer-like animals down in the meadows, but no wildlife comes up 
into the higher altitude where the gate, and these ore deposits, are. No 
signs of human habitation within the fifty mile sweep pattern conducted 
by the UAV. Air quality tests show no indication of any sort of human 
activity affecting the environment. SG-14 found no signs of any 
inhabitants."

"A prize just waiting to be claimed, then?" I suggested.

Carter's smile hadn't dimmed. "Yes, Sir. Since the computer system was 
down for maintenance last week, and we don't have any other missions on 
the schedule, I thought this would be a good opportunity for both Daniel 
and me to work on this. Teal'c can assist Daniel with the translations."

"And I can go fishing?" I asked, plaintively.

"You can stand watch, Colonel." Hammond chuckled. "Major, are you sure 
this is worth the time of the SGC's number one team?"

"Yes, Sir, I think it is. It could be extremely important. Obviously, 
other races have visited this planet. Deciphering the message and doing 
further tests on this ore are both worthwhile objectives. I'd like to 
request that Lt. Farley of SG-14 join us. He's got some first-hand 
experience on the planet, and his specific knowledge of geology will 
help me with the tests."

"Good idea, Major."

I groaned out loud. "General, really..." As if two scientists on my team 
weren't bad enough, now I'd have to put up with a third?

Hammond swung towards me. "Your objections are noted, Colonel, but I do 
agree with the Major. You'll leave at 0900 tomorrow."

                         *******************

I should have been a geologist. Or maybe a disc jockey, playing rock 
music. Hehehe. Rocks.

I love my job, I love my job, I love my job, I chanted silently as I 
headed back to my office to prepare the mission plan.

                         *******************

At 0855 the next morning, SG-1 was gathered in the gateroom, geared up 
and ready to travel. "What is that, Major?" I pointed at a large, 
unfamiliar box stowed atop the FRED.

"Testing equipment, Sir," she answered.

I walked over and took a closer look. "Looks like explosives to me, 
Carter."

"Yes, those are," she pointed at another small box. "That equipment," 
she waved a hand at the unfamiliar electronic gizmos sitting atop the 
heavily loaded vehicle, "is a sort of underground radar. This sends 
radio waves through the Earth and that device will measure the speed of 
their return. It will show us what's buried in that hill."

"And the explosives?"

"If we need to do a little underground exploration."

"Got it," I said, and didn't, and didn't care that I didn't.

Lt. Alex Farley joined us just as the sergeant started dialing up the 
coordinates. I waited impatiently as the wormhole formed, kawooshed, and 
settled back. We paused while the control room crew checked the current 
MALP video. "All clear, Sir," said the sergeant.

I turned to Hammond. "See you in a week, Sir."

"Good luck, SG-1."

I turned to Carter. "Okay, Major, let's go. Warp speed ahead."

The FRED trundled up the ramp and disappeared into the wormhole at 
something certainly much less than warp speed.

With a sigh, I followed.

Ah, the excitement of intergalactic exploration.

                         *******************

Part Two

For the third day, I was on watch. The only thing I was watching, of 
course, was the grass grow. Carter and the lieutenant had all their 
sensors in place at last, and this morning they were going to turn on 
their doohickies and, I don't know, look at pretty little pictures of 
underground rocks. As if looking at above ground rocks wasn't enough for 
them. Scientists. Hmmph. I shook my head in disbelief.

Just then, my radio crackled to life. "Sir?"

"Yes, Major."

"We're ready to turn on the ground radar, Colonel. Just thought you 
ought to know, and you might want to warn Daniel."

"Warn Daniel about what?"

"Probably nothing, Sir..."

'Probably nothing, Sir,' I mumbled. 'Then why warn?" I shook my head and 
thumbed the radio send button again. "Fine, Major. Give me five 
minutes." I know, I could have just radioed the warning to Daniel. But I 
know him well enough to know that he'd distractedly answer 'Yes, Jack' 
without ever having actually processed the words I uttered. Scientists. 
Hmmph. Shaking my head, I left my watch spot and hiked over to where 
Daniel was staring contemplatively at the little boxes and circles and 
triangles and squiggly lines carved on the rock. Teal'c, helping him 
translate, was kneeling nearby.

I could hear the two of them talking in low voices as I approached. 
"Hey, Dynamic Duo, got it figured out yet?"

"No. But I think that word is fractured. Or maybe fried," Daniel said, 
brow furrowed in concentration.

"I prefer fricasseed, actually."

Daniel glared at me, unamused. He just takes this stuff soooo seriously. 
"Well, Carter says they're going to turn on their ground zero radar 
thingys, and I should warn you, about what I don't know. But just be 
alert in case something weird happens."

"Ah, right, Jack," Daniel didn't shift his gaze from his study of the 
writing. "I'm warned."

"I will heed the warning, O'Neill," Teal'c nodded to me.

Good, at least someone was taking me seriously.

Daniel obviously wasn't. He was already busily mumbling to himself, one 
hand touching the carved rock, the other sketching the drawings into his 
notebook. Pausing, Daniel distractedly waved a hand in my direction. 
"Bye, Jack."

Knowing when I'm not wanted, I left, hiking back to the spot where 
Carter and Farley were still fussing over several scientific gizmos 
scattered around a small clearing. "We're all warned, Carter. Go for 
it."

She nodded, smiling brightly. "Lieutenant..."

He flipped a switch.

Nothing happened. No glowing lights, no rumbling or crumbling, not even 
any humming or buzzing.

Science can be such a disappointment.

"That thing working?" I asked, leaning over Farley's shoulder.

"Yes, Sir," he pointed at little wavy lines on a screen. "See? The first 
readings are coming in now, Colonel..." he looked distracted a moment, 
then excited. "Major!" he called.

Carter hurried over. "What is it?"

"Look at this, ma'am."

Even I could see something odd, a big round dark blob.

Carter seemed impressed. "Whoa, ah, lieutenant. Now that's strange."

"What? You found the Hope Diamond? Amelia Earhart's plane? Jimmy Hoffa?"

Carter smiled. "Not quite, Sir. It's just that the inside of that 
mountain, it's not at all what we expected. There are three, four..."

"I've already counted seven, Major," the lieutenant interjected.

"Seven large caverns."

"Caves? In there?" I waved a hand at the coneshaped mountain.

"It's honeycombed."

"Like Swiss cheese?"

"Yes, Sir, like Swiss cheese."

"Holy cow."

Farley shot me an odd look, Carter smiled distractedly. She's used to my 
brilliant humor.

"Look, there's another cavern. And another," she enthused.

"That's odd," Farley turned a knob on his machine, the view switching to 
something different. "Major, look, see how evenly shaped they are."

Sam nodded. "Spheroid."

"Huh?"

"Oval, Sir, sort of eggshaped."

"Then why didn't you say so?"

"I did, Sir," she had turned back to the screen. "That doesn't make 
sense, lieutenant."

"Unless they're not natural," he suggested.

"Man made? Goa'uld made? Ancients made?" I offered, my danger radar 
suddenly jumping into high gear.

"Actually, there could be many reasons, even natural ones, Sir. Some 
sort of unique phenomena we don't know about. It's a volcanic area, so 
it could be some unusual form of gas vent." Both of the scientists had 
their eyes raised, staring at the mountain. "I think we need to get a 
better look," Carter finally suggested. "Lieutenant, let's continue the 
pattern, but raise the pulse intensity by degrees of ten with each 
pass."

"Yes, ma'am."

I stood and watched for the first six or seven pulses.

Nothing happened of course.

Bored, I walked back to my watchpost.

Flipping my cap around to sit backwards on my head, I pulled out my 
binoculars and studied the landscape. Nothing had changed from my last 
look an hour ago. Nothing had moved, either. Damn. I strolled on over to 
check on Daniel and Teal'c.

Jackson was sitting in the same spot. I swear he hadn't moved at all. 
Nor Teal'c, either.

"So, Sherlock, got that thing figured out yet?" I asked.

He shook his head. "Not exactly. See, here," he reached forward and 
touched a spot on the stone, pointing out a squiggly line that looked 
remarkably like a hockey stick with two blades on one end and a bend in 
the middle. "This could be a modifier for that," he pointed to another 
squiggly line that looked like an upside down J with a double bend in 
the middle. "If it is, the phrase means be kind to the whole of the 
valley. If not, it means beware the holy mountain."

A sudden shiver washed over me. "Holy as in sacred, or holey, as in 
holes like Swiss cheese?"

"Well, ah, that's debatable. Depends on this symbol right here," Daniel 
pointed at a small line that could either be a golf club or an upside 
down and backwards number 9.

"What symbol is that?"

"Don't know," the archaeologist's answer was plaintive. "I didn't bring 
all my notes on the language of the Ancients..."

"Why not? You knew you were going to be translating this," I waved a 
hand, "this rock, thing."

"Jack, my notes on the Ancients language fill two filing cabinets and 
six boxes. Unless you wanted to carry them?" he looked up at me 
pointedly.

"Oh, okay then. Never mind." I know when I'm not wanted.

I turned to go back to find Carter and her cohort.

I'd taken six steps when the ground suddenly shifted underneath my feet, 
vibrating. "What the hell? Carter!!" I ran for their camp. Arriving 
breathlessly, I discovered the two of them standing, head to head, 
staring at the view screen on their fancy doohickey, voices raised in 
excitement. "Carter! What the hell was that? An earthquake? Did you do 
that?"

She turned to look at me. "Ah, I don't think we did, Sir."

"Major," Farley started, "the tremor did start right when we initiated 
the last pulse."

I stared from one to the other. "Well?"

"Colonel, I don't know," Carter answered, running her hand through her 
hair in frustration. "There's no reason why the equipment should cause a 
quake. It's harmless. But I'll double check the calibrations on the 
pulse emitters."

"Okay, I'm going to take a walk around our perimeter. Don't turn that 
thing on again before you talk to me, got that, Major?"

"Yes, Sir."

                         *******************

I spent the next thirty minutes hiking around the area. Nothing seemed 
to have changed, nothing seemed amiss. Until I stepped around a big rock 
we'd walked past on the hike to the worksite. It was cracked, top to 
bottom, a jagged scar across the 10 foot tall boulder.

I toggled my radio. "Carter, got a minute?"

"Ah, sure, Sir. Where are you?"

"About ten minutes down the trail back toward the Stargate, Major."

"I'll be right there, Sir."

I waited impatiently, walking around to look at another of the cluster 
of tall, vaguely cone shaped rocks. Three of the dozen boulders were 
similarly cracked.

"Sir?" Carter called out as she hiked over the crest of the little 
knoll. "Holy Hannah!" She stopped dead in her tracks, staring.

"Humpty Dumpty, hey, Major?"

"This is unbelievable, Sir," she said, running her hands along the 
cracks. "I don't remember these..."

"Oh, they definitely weren't cracked like this before, Carter. That I'd 
remember."

"Right, Sir," she was still peering closely at the jagged gaps. 
Unclipping the light from her P-90, she shone it into the crack. "Hmmm." 
She pushed her hand into the gap.

"Careful, Major," I cautioned.

She threw me a look, then went back to her study of the rock.

"Think your little earthquake did that?"

She shook her head. "I'd have to say yes, Colonel, but I don't have a 
clue why."

"Clueless? Carter? You? I'm stunned."

She tossed me an annoyed look. "Sir..."

"Okay, I know. So your little doohickies made the Earth, ah, the P4B 
shake, and busted a couple of oversized gravel stones. Are we in any 
danger?"

She shrugged. "It would be unlikely, Sir."

"Good, then. Let's get back to work, get your studies done, and get the 
heck home. I can still be there in time for this week's episode of 
Martha Stewart."

Side by side we walked quietly back toward her worksite.

                         *******************

Part Three

Later that afternoon, Carter and Farley, having checked all their 
equipment twice, restarted their tests. No more quakes, nothing unusual.

It was a peaceful evening. We heated our MREs and drank coffee as the 
unfamiliar stars slowly appeared overhead.

After the meal, Daniel and Carter sat with their heads together pouring 
over his notes and drawings of the writings he'd spent the day staring 
at, arguing over what the little picture drawings were.

"This is plainly one of the deer we saw down in the valley," Daniel 
showed her a stick figure, "and this is a bird, although it seems bigger 
than anything we've seen so far."

"Well, it's possible that the bigger birds migrate through here so they 
would only be present part of the year," she theorized.

"That could be," Daniel sounded pleased. "But what about this? I haven't 
seen anything like this." He was pointing to another drawing on his 
page.

"Me, neither," Carter shook her head at the drawing. "Teal'c?" She 
handed the sheet to the Jaffa.

"I have not seen a creature like this on this or any other planet, 
MajorCarter," he stated.

I leaned over and looked at the drawing. "Looks like a spider to me."

"A spider?" Daniel raised one eyebrow in his classic 'don't be a smart-
ass, Jack' look.

"A really big spider," I realized in comparison with the deer and the 
birds, but then, who knew if these aliens could draw in perspective? 
"Well, it's got eight legs and long feelers, looks like a bug to me."

"Spiders aren't bugs, Sir," Carter started. "Actually, they're 
arachnids..."

"Ah!" I waved a finger. "Ah! Stop! I don't care whether spiders are 
bugs..."

"They're not, Colonel..."

"It doesn't matter. They are bug-ish, and that's good enough for me."

"Jack, I don't think that's a spider, though, the proportions are all 
wrong," Daniel insisted. "And when taken in context, if that's a spider, 
it's three times the height of those deer we saw."

"Maybe those are big deer." She pointed at the feelers. "Maybe those are 
poorly drawn antlers..." Carter suggested.

Daniel shook his head. "These drawings are thousands of years old, Sam. 
Maybe some of the artists were drawing fanciful, fantastic, imagined 
things." He pointed to another series of figures he'd copied. "See there 
are really big deer here, in this section of the carvings, but there are 
none later on. So maybe they weren't real, maybe they were just what 
these beings *wanted* to find when they went hunting."

"The Giant Elk God?" I smirked.

"The big deer could have existed, then have gone extinct," Sam 
interjected.

"Why would that have happened? The climate and plant life certainly seem 
suitable to support a population of large mammals." Daniel asked.

"Maybe the big spiders ate them all," I said smugly.

"Right, Jack," Daniel dismissed my suggestion.

I get no respect from these people, you know that?

                         *******************

As we generally do when off world, we turned in early. Daniel took first 
watch, Teal'c relieved him, then Carter followed, while I was set for 
last watch.

I rolled out of my blankets two hours before dawn. Running a hand 
through my hair, I pulled on my boots and laced them quickly, shrugging 
into my jacket to ward off the pre-dawn chill. The air was cold enough I 
could see my breath as I stood outside my tent, stretching to work the 
kinks out of my back. Sleeping on the ground was *not* conducive to the 
comfort of 45 year old bones, I thought dismally as my back cracked.

Strolling over to the fire, I poured myself a cup of lukewarm coffee. 
"Major? Anything happening?"

"Quiet as a tomb, Sir."

I shivered. "Lovely choice of words, Carter."

"Sorry, Sir. But nothing's happening."

"Grab some rest then, Major."

"Thank you, Sir."

She retreated to her tent. I heard rustling for a couple of minutes 
while she settled in to her sleeping bag, and then the camp was quiet. I 
sipped my coffee and listened.

The first time I heard it I thought I was imagining things. The second, 
I figured it was the wind in the trees, but then, there wasn't much 
wind. Birds, or those bird-like things maybe, up in the trees. But I 
hadn't heard them any other night.

A whisper of sound, from the ground this time, coming from the area back 
along the trail. More rustling, sounds so slight I wasn't sure they were 
real.

I picked up my P-90 and stepped away from the fire, allowing my eyes to 
adjust to the darkness. Dawn was still quite a while away, the woods 
were pitch black, the dim light of the stars failing to penetrate the 
area under the trees.

Wshshsh.

Click.

I spun to face the noise. There was something out there in the dark. I 
backed up toward the camp. "Teal'c," I whispered softly. "Teal'c?"

His answer, from the far side of the fire where I assume he'd been kel 
no'reeming, was equally quiet. "Is there something wrong, O'Neill?"

"Something's out there."

In a split second he was standing at my side, senses alert, staring out 
into the night, his staff weapon clenched in his hand. "Have you seen 
anything?"

"No. But I can hear..."

Wshshshsh.

Click.

"Yes, O'Neill, I hear it, also."

"I'll wake the others." Quickly, I stepped back into the camp, 
scratching softly on Carter's tent, then the one Daniel shared with 
Farley. Within minutes, all three were standing beside Teal'c and me, 
peering sleepily out into the darkness.

We saw nothing, heard only an occasional wshshsh noise, and once in a 
while a 'click.'

The sky began to brighten, dawn was approaching. At last, the rim of the 
sun cleared the horizon, bathing the valley in light.

"Teal'c and I are going out to have a look around. The rest of you stay 
here, and keep alert."

"Sir, is that wise? Splitting up?"

"We can't sit here in camp all day, Carter. We need to know what's out 
there.

It's just a short recon, and we'll keep our radio channels open."

I nodded at Teal'c. Carefully, rifle raised and at the ready, I led the 
way through the trees, the big Jaffa alert at my back. Cautiously, I 
worked my way down the trail, taking a step, pausing to look and listen, 
making slow but steady progress.

We saw nothing, heard nothing.

Hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil, the thought trailed through my 
brain unbidden.

                         *******************

We found nothing unusual in the forest.

"All's quiet here in the woods, Carter," I whispered. "Proceeding toward 
the trail."

Feeling with each footstep, eyes raking right to left and back again, 
every muscle tense and alert, I stepped quietly out of the trees. Just 
before I set my foot on the dusty trail, I let my eyes glance down.

"Damn!" I muttered.

"O'Neill?" Teal'c inquired quietly.

"Tracks," I nodded toward the ground at my feet. There in the dust, atop 
our own boot prints from the day before were the tracks of... something. 
Oval prints, big oval prints, as big around as my outstretched hand. One 
here, one over there, widely scattered, four, maybe six feet apart, 
indicating a long stride, indicating something big. Oh shit. "I guess 
we're not alone in Paradise anymore, brother Teal'c."

Teal'c was beside me, kneeling to examine the tracks more closely.

I kept my eyes trained on the surrounding landscape, watching for any 
kind of movement.

My radio crackled softly. "Sir?" Carter's voice was low but plainly 
conveyed her worry. "What's happening?"

"We found some sort of...animal tracks, I guess. Big tracks," I 
answered.

"Very large, O'Neill, and quite heavy. See how deeply the print is 
embedded in the dust," the Jaffa pointed out.

I chanced a quick glance down at the mark he was studying. "I'll take 
your word for it. Got any idea what it might be?"

"It is difficult to tell," he said as he stepped forward to examine the 
next track. "The pattern is unusual. If it is an animal, it has no 
claws."

"Ah, that's good."

"Although many animals, like some of the felines of Earth, are able to 
retract their claws."

"Ah, not so good, then."

He shrugged. "I have never seen tracks such as these, O'Neill. I do not 
know what type of beast may have made them."

"Just full of answers, aren't you?"

"I do my best, O'Neill."

"I know you do, Teal'c. Always," I said softly.

The Jaffa continued to study the tracks, walking slowly while I kept one 
eye on him and the other busily scanning our surroundings. We advanced a 
few hundred feet, and then what I saw stopped me in my tracks.

"Ah, Teal'c, do you see what I see?" I nodded to my left.

The man from Chulak turned to look where I indicated, and saw what I'd 
seen.

One of those dozen or so big and honkin' rocks was tipped over, and 
appeared to have split open along the crack Carter's safe and effective 
tests had apparently caused yesterday.

"Ah, Carter, remember those big rocks with the big jagged cracks in 
them?"

"Yes, Sir," her voice sounded tinny coming through the radio.

"Well, one of them has fallen over and burst open."

"The rocks opened up?"

"Burst open, Major," I'd taken another six steps forward. "It was hollow 
inside, like a shell, with a big scooped out hole in the middle."

"Empty?" she asked, her voice sounding tight.

"Ah..." I looked at Teal'c, who shook his head no, so I stepped forward 
to look.

"Well, there's some stuff in there, like hair or something..."

"Like a nest, Sir?" I didn't like the tone I was hearing in her voice, 
not at all.

"Ah, yeah, you could say that, Carter." The hair on the back of my neck 
was suddenly standing up, my neck tingling with that awful feeling you 
get right before the shit hits the fan, you know the one I mean?

"Sir, I think you should get away from there..."

"Right, Major, I think we should all get ready to retreat to the gate. 
Keep one person on guard and start packing up your gear, only the most 
vital and..."

I didn't get to finish my order.

Wshshsh, click.

Loud and distinct this time.

Behind me.

Teal'c spun from his spot crouched down to study the rock nest thingy at 
the same moment I turned toward the source of the noise.

Oh shit.

The 'thing' stood there, ten maybe twelve feet tall, on eight long 
spindly, jointed legs. It's long, hairy antennae waved in the air in 
front of its 'face,' a part I could distinguish by the large, dinner 
plate sized eyes, which were staring straight at me. Under the eyes was 
a mouthlike thing, no lips but a slit from which a string of something 
thick and ropelike dangled wetly. Behind the bulbous head was a round 
and lumpy, sacklike body.

It looked for all the world like a supersized spider.

My mouth had gone suddenly dry.

"Teal'c, have I ever mentioned that I hate bugs?"

                         *******************

Part Four

For long moments, we stood staring at each other, big giant spider thing 
and small surprised humans, neither side moving, except, of course, for 
the creature's long thin antenna which were waving more and more 
frantically.

"O'Neill," Teal'c's voice was tense, his gaze focused completely on the 
spider, "I think it is contemplating some action."

I was staring at the thing over the sights on my P-90. "Because those 
antenna-feeler thingys are moving?"

"Yes. We should be prepared to retreat with all haste."

"Ya think?" I asked.

"I do, O'Neill," he said softly.

Keeping my eyes fixed on the creature, I leaned my chin towards my 
radio. "Carter?" I whispered. "Grab what you need, keep your weapons 
ready, and retreat toward the Stargate. Now. Go around the far side of 
the hill. Don't come this way. At the moment, we're eyeball to eyeball 
with a big honkin' spiderish thing that's damn near as big as your 
house, and no, I'm not exaggerating. It hasn't made any hostile moves 
yet, but ah, I don't think it's friendly. Teal'c and I are going to 
start a slow withdrawal now. See you at the gate, Major."

"Sir, we could meet you, provide more backup...."

"I said back to the gate, Carter. Now. We do *not* need anyone else 
wandering around out here. Go. And keep your eyes and ears wide open, 
Major. There could be more of these things."

"Yes, Sir."

The thing was still staring at me.

And then it blinked, a big huge eyelid sliding across the glittering all 
black impenetrable eye.

Two legs moved slowly forward, in unison, then the others, in pairs.

The one step brought it about four feet closer.

Too close.

Way too close.

I took a step back and another, standing side by side with Teal'c now.

One foot at a time, we backed away from the thing.

It started forward. Wshshsh. Click. The sound of eight legs sliding 
slowly through the grass, joints snapping. Wshshsh. Click.

We kept moving, Teal'c and I staying side by side, weapons trained on 
the creature, moving cautiously backwards while it followed, keeping its 
distance. Still, I had the distinct feeling that it was studying us as 
much as we were studying it, a tense Mexican standoff.

This was going to be one very long walk back to the gate.

After half an hour, we'd traveled only a couple of hundred yards. We 
were now on the far side of the cone-shaped hill we'd come to P4B to 
study. Carter had checked in once to tell me that the others were within 
sight of the gate, and would be waiting for us. That, at least, was one 
less thing I had to worry about. This was definitely not a time for 
distractions.

Still stepping slowly backward, Teal'c and I rounded a small grove of 
trees.

"O'Neill," the Jaffa's voice was quiet and low and I knew this wasn't 
good news. "There is another creature, in the trees to our right."

I flicked my eyes in that direction and saw the second spider emerge 
from the forest.

The creature following us stopped, one immense eye swiveling to look at 
the new arrival. Suddenly, it squealed, a high pitched screech like 
fingernails on a chalkboard, the kind of noise that sends shivers 
through every nerve in your body.

The other one answered, and came closer, their antennae waving wildly in 
the air.

As we retreated, they advanced, and now we were faced with a dilemma. 
The trail back to the gate led across an open meadow, a direct route but 
with no cover, and one that would take us to the right and very, very 
close to Spider 2. On the other hand, we could leave the trail and move 
to our left, a longer route, but it would put some distance between us 
and the second creature. Considering the way the two of them were 
hissing and squealing, maybe they'd even forget about us.

"That way?" I suggested.

"I concur," Teal'c nodded and we stepped back, off the path, and away 
from the spiders.

For a moment, they simply watched us through their gleaming huge eyes, 
and then they followed.

"Shit," I cursed. "Just keep walking, Teal'c."

We had gone about a hundred yards when it happened.

Without warning, a third spider charged out of the trees.

I honestly don't know where the hell it came from. I never saw it, just 
heard it hiss, heard the click-click of its legs and then in a flash of 
motion it was there. You wouldn't think such an awkward looking thing 
could move that fast, you'd think its legs would tangle up and trip it, 
but you'd think wrong.

Teal'c's staff weapon snapped and discharged behind me.

In front of me, Spider1 and Spider2 charged.

I emptied a clip into the nearest creature, Spider2 I think it was, 
though it doesn't matter. It screeched again, shook itself, and kept 
coming. Something thick and yellow and very, very putrid smelling was 
dripping out of the lumpy bulb of its body as I frantically changed 
clips. Lead spewed from the muzzle of my P-90, but that thing kept 
coming. They both kept coming, both squealing, as was the one behind me. 
The staff weapon discharged again, and I heard Teal'c shout "look out" 
and then the spider was on me.

I emptied the P-90 into the looming body, and the creature staggered and 
veered away from me, but it was the second one that got me.

One of the long antennae, not nearly so thin or whispy looking when seen 
up close, but thick and heavy like a rope as big around as my wrist 
slapped against my thigh.

Okay, so it wasn't very heroic, but I screamed, because the touch was 
like getting hit with a torch. I felt my skin sizzle and my nerves short 
out, my whole body spasming like I'd just been hit by a hundred thousand 
volts or something.

Nerve shattering pain raced up my leg and then it went numb, which was 
both a good and a bad thing, as it turned out.

I landed flat on my back, finding myself looking up at the open maw of 
the thing with saliva-like stuff leaking out in long wet ribbons. I 
tried to push myself back and away with my hands, but the antenna was 
swinging back at me. I grabbed for my knife, slashing at the appendage, 
getting another jolt up my arm this time that sent the weapon flying out 
of my suddenly numbed hand. At the same time, the spider reared up, 
screaming. I'd hurt it with the knife, and it was waving the slashed 
antennae high above it's head, fluid dripping from it. A drop of the 
'blood' splattered onto my chest, burning through my vest like acid and 
I writhed.

One of the eight legs reached forward, the end wrapping around my foot. 
I didn't feel it at first, being numb from thigh to toes, until I felt a 
hard jerk. The thing was backing up, dragging me by the leg, moving 
faster, my shoulders bouncing along the ground as it retreated across 
the meadow.

I heard Teal'c shout my name, heard his staff weapon discharging again 
and again, but the spider didn't stop.

I was sliding across the grass, going faster now, and I reached out to 
grab at anything, grass and rocks until my hand connected with a thick 
stemmed bush. I hung on, and the creature lost its grip on me, squealing 
in what sounded like frustration. I rolled over, scrambling away from 
the thing on hands and knee, dragging my useless left leg, unable to get 
to my feet because I still couldn't feel my left leg at all.

I'd only gone five or six feet when it hit me again.

Another blow from the intact antenna sent a shock wave of agony racing 
up my previously numb leg. Every nerve vibrated, not numb now, no, and I 
hollered in agony again. I rolled in the dirt, clawing at my holster for 
the 9mm. Even as I brought it up, slipped off the safety and poured shot 
after shot into the creature, it swatted me once more with the antenna.

Pain flared across my chest. For a moment, everything went dark. I was 
gasping for air, unable to breathe, numb from head to foot now. Oh, God, 
I was suffocating, not getting any oxygen, my heart hammering futilely, 
my lungs empty and desperate for air. I felt blackness swirling around 
the edges of my vision.

There must have been some sort of paralyzing agent in the sting from the 
creature's antenna.

Everything I had was concentrated on breathing, on drawing air into my 
lungs, a small breath, enough to beat back the darkness, a few precious 
molecules of oxygen reaching my bloodstream. Gasping, wheezing, I 
frantically sucked air into my lungs. Vaguely, I was aware of being 
moved again, of something dark hovering above me, of something tight and 
constricting wrapped around me, but I couldn't spare a thought for that, 
I needed every bit of willpower, of concentration and of stubborn will 
to force my lungs to work.

By the time I could breathe without all my conscious thought being 
focused on the process and I could think again, the creature was 
dragging me into the dimness of the forest.

It stopped.

The spider had one leg wrapped around my torso just above the waist, a 
second held my ankles. I struggled, twisting from side to side, trying 
to pull away. The legs tightened their grip until once again I was 
gasping for air. My arms were free and I pushed at the hard shell of the 
leg wrapped around my body. The spider didn't seem to notice, and it 
sure as hell didn't let me go.

Above me, its head tilted until one great eye could swivel around to 
look at me. Below the eye, its toothless mouth was working.

"Let go of me you oversized tarantula," I shouted. "Damn you! 
Let...me...go!"

I hammered at its legs with my fists. It didn't seem to notice. The eye 
was still fastened on me, the mouth still making those weird gulping 
motions and then the head began to drop toward me.

Oh crap.

Can you spell arachniphobia?

I did tell you I hate bugs, didn't I?

I struggled wildly, kicking with the one leg I could feel, twisting and 
thrashing in the thing's strong grip.

Oh God, I was going to be lunch for an eight-legged monster.

                         *******************
 
Part Five

The mouth descended, opened, and a long string of thick goop began 
sliding out.

Not eaten, slimed.

By the time I realized what the creature was doing, it was too late. A 
third leg moved forward, deftly wrapping the ribbon of sticky goo around 
my body. It was wrapping me up like a mummy, like a cocoon, oh shit, 
like a take out lunch. The stuff smelled so rancid I gagged, fighting 
for breath, wildly waving my left arm around, somehow keeping half of 
it, from the elbow down, mostly free of the tightening binding.

The spider, having its prey, me, now firmly bound, picked me up in its 
mouth and began hurrying away through the forest, carrying me like a dog 
that had just uncovered a bone.

The thing's movements were bouncy, a rolling gate like a camel, the 
motion making me sick, or maybe it was the smell or the whole idea of 
being wrapped up like a pig in a blanket that was making my stomach 
churn. I caught an occasional glimpse of my surroundings through the 
trees as we moved, but all I could tell was that we were moving in the 
general direction of the cone-shaped mountain.

Suddenly, the thing stopped, stooped lower and entered something, a cave 
or a hole, I couldn't tell, just that it was someplace dark, the air so 
rank and fetid I could hardly breathe.

And then the stinkin' monster dropped me.

Right on my head.

In the split second I realized what was happening, and knew I couldn't 
so much as reach out a hand to break my fall, I knew what was going to 
happen. 

I hit the ground head first.

Good night, Jack.

                         *******************

**Teal'c**

I watched helplessly as the creature carried O'Neill away, unable to 
break away to assist him, surrounded as I was by the other two 
creatures. My staff weapon had proved ineffective in stopping, or even 
slowing the giant beasts, until, in the midst of the conflict, a chance 
blast struck one of the creatures in the eye.

It shrieked and fell back, digging at its smoking, charred orb with its 
front legs. Realizing that there was a way the spider could be harmed by 
my weapon, I turned to fire on the other. It was backing away, toward 
its wounded companion, making small soft hissing sounds, much like a 
parent trying to soothe an injured child. Side by side, the two 
creatures retreated into the forest.

I depressed the switch on my radio. "Major Carter?"

"Teal'c?" worry was evident in the tone of her voice. "What happened? 
Where are you? We're waiting at the gate..."

"We have encountered trouble, MajorCarter," I informed here. "We came 
upon two more of the creatures and they attacked."

"Are you and the Colonel okay?"

"I am unscathed, but one of the creatures injured ColonelO'Neill."

"What's your situation? How badly is he hurt?"

"I do not know, MajorCarter. The creature has taken him away."

"What?"

"While I was engaged in battle with two of the creatures, the third took 
O'Neill. At this moment, I am endeavoring to follow its tracks into the 
forest."

"Teal'c, we'll be there in fifteen minutes, no, make that ten..."

"I cannot wait. O'Neill was injured. He is in need of assistance."

"Teal'c, you can't go after those creatures without back-up."

"Indeed, Major, it would be difficult to both fend off the spiders and 
rescue O'Neill."

"Then wait for us, we're on our way now. Carter out."

                         *******************

**Daniel Jackson**

"What happened?" I asked, a sinking feeling in my chest. I'd overheard 
just enough of Sam's end of the conversation to be worried. After all, I 
was the one who'd dismissed Jack's suggestion that the spiders were 
real, and big.

"Teal'c and the Colonel were attacked by the spiders."

"Spiders attacked them?"

"There are at least three. And one of them injured the Colonel somehow 
and carried him away. We need to go meet Teal'c now."

We ran, eyes scanning the trail and the woods, looking for more of the 
creatures, but not spotting any. The minutes ticked by, and my mind was 
racing faster than my legs as we worried to rendezvous with Teal'c.

Spiders had what... had Jack been bitten? Run over? Stung? God, there 
were poisonous spiders on our world, deadly poisonous spiders. Teal'c 
apparently hadn't explained.

At last we arrived, in nine minutes, breathless and gasping for air 
after the double time run.

"Teal'c? What's the situation?" Sam asked.

The Jaffa was plainly worried. "I have followed the trail of the 
creature into the forest, but there are many tracks there, going in 
numerous directions. I was unable to determine which are the tracks of 
the creature that took O'Neill," Teal'c informed us. "However, it 
appears that the majority of the traffic is in the vicinity of the cone-
shaped hill where you were conducting your studies."

"Then that's where we'll go," Sam stated.

                         *******************

**Jack O'Neill**

Headache, oh yeah, big and honkin' headache.

Blood trickling down across my face, more dribbling out of my nose.

Crap.

I tried to roll over, couldn't, and remembered.

Slowly, I forced my eyes to open, well, the one that wasn't swollen shut 
at least.

Why can't I ever get a room with a view, huh? The light was so dim I 
could see very little, and I didn't much like what little I could see.

I was in some sort of dark, dank and damp hole in the ground, pretty 
big, maybe 20 by 20. There were more cocoon like things, just like the 
one I was at the moment, stacked up next to me. Across the 'room' sat my 
friend, the spider.

I felt very much like the fly, all trussed up in my own little spider-
glop bubble. The first thing that dawned on my traumatized brain was 
that I was in really, really big trouble because good ol' Spiderman over 
there hadn't brought me down here for my health.

The only good news I could see was that, since he had other little 
packages all wrapped up like me, that just maybe the first thing on the 
menu wasn't going to be flyboy soup du jour.

So maybe I had time to get out of here. Like that was about to happen. 
That sticky rope stuff I was wrapped up in was strong, tough, and 
getting harder by the minute, like being encased in a plaster bodycast, 
accentuating the fact that my left leg wasn't exactly numb anymore. 
Nope, I could feel it swollen tight in my boot, really rather 
agonizingly tight when I thought about it, my whole leg, from toes to 
thigh was in fact throbbing with every heartbeat.

Wonderful.

And that was just the start.

My arm was sort of tingly yet, where I'd been hit a glancing blow. My 
head hurt where I'd landed on it when my arachnoid friend had dropped me 
on it. My shoulders were bruised from where I'd been dragged across the 
ground for what, ten miles, fifteen? And my chest ached because it was 
difficult breathing encased in Spidey's hardened goo.

Of course, the good part of the shallow breathing was that it mitigated 
the smell somewhat.

Spidey was *not* a good housekeeper.

The place reeked of rotted something, what, I figured I *really* didn't 
want to know.

I closed my eye for a moment, trying to gather my scattered thoughts, 
trying to find something positive in this mess.

Well, I did have my left hand free. I scratched my thumbnail across the 
now shell-like cocoon that encased 90% of my body, and succeeded only in 
breaking off my thumbnail. So much for the idea of clawing my way out.

I shifted my weight a bit, not an easy task, trussed up as I was, trying 
to see if there might be anything I could reach.

Bad move.

When I moved, ol' Spidey noticed. He, she, it, whatever stopped whatever 
it was doing over there on the other side of its hideyhole and stalked 
back to stand over me.

Oh shit.

What if it decided to cover over the rest of me, like my nose and mouth? 
Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn.

The big bug was just hovering above me, staring at me once again with 
one eye, its head tilted sideways.

His one feeler, the one I'd chopped at with my knife, was held high 
above its head. The other one sank down towards me.

I tried to get away, tried to push myself away because I knew what that 
thing felt like and I really, really didn't want to feel that again.

Useless effort.

The long antenna reached out, ever so slowly and touched my leg, the 
left one, again.

Pain galloped along already raw nerves, leaping from synapse to synapse, 
racing through me like wildfire, like flowing acid. I writhed, my cocoon 
wrapped body sliding off the pile of other similar things, falling 
toward Spidey's feet.

The creature jumped back, it's injured antenna spilling drops of blood, 
I suppose you'd call it, you remember, the nice, acid stuff spraying 
across my spider silk wrapped legs.

So, yeah, I yelled a bit. You would, too. And then the numbness started 
again, the tingling, paralyzing so I couldn't breathe stuff.

Mr. Spider jumped back another step, stood staring, and suddenly lost 
interest and walked away. Maybe he thought this time I was dead, since I 
wasn't wiggling around any more. I didn't have the energy to wiggle, it 
took every ounce of energy I had to breathe.

Breathe, Jack, breathe.

Just...one...breath...please....God...

And everything went black.

                         *******************

Part Six

Odd crunching noises woke me, really gross, disgusting crunching noises.

Spidey was having lunch.

Not me, fortunately, but he was kneeling over a similar cocoon wrapped 
something only a few feet away from me.

I couldn't see what he was eating, thank God, but the sound of it, and 
the smell, were bad enough. I've got a pretty strong stomach, and I've 
eaten some pretty disgusting stuff myself a time or two, in training, in 
the field, in that stinkin' Iraqi jail. You can't be queasy and be in 
Special Forces. You'll die of starvation. I've eaten snakes and rats and 
bugs, but listening to that big honkin' bug eat, and smelling what it 
was eating, was too much.

I began to retch.

Bugman didn't like it.

Apparently, Spidey likes the food in his cupboard to be dead, and I 
wasn't cooperating to his satisfaction.

He hissed at me.

I couldn't stop my body's revulsion, especially when he stepped toward 
me and hissed again, blowing the putrid smell from his mouth into my 
face. Didn't help that I could see pieces of bone and grey-green rotted 
meatlike stuff flopping around in there. This bug needed some Altoids, a 
truck load of TicTacs, hell, a tanker truck full of Listerine.

My stomach turned inside out.

Spidey got pissed.

He reached over and swatted me with one of those long spider legs, 
throwing me across the room.

Oh shit.

The last thing I remember was my back smacking painfully into the wall.

                         *******************

**Teal'c**

We had advanced carefully through the forest, until we were once again 
within sight of the cone shaped hill. We found no further signs of 
ColonelO'Neill among the myriad of tracks.

"So how many of these spiders are there?" Daniel Jackson asked.

I shook my head. "We encountered three, but it is impossible to say if 
there are more."

"There are an awful lot of tracks here for only three creatures," Carter 
commented.

"That is true, MajorCarter, but three active beasts can make many 
tracks, even in a short time."

Lt. Farley was staring from one to another of the SG-1 team members. He 
appeared to be very worried. "Where did they come from?"

"I'd guess they were in the rocks..." Carter suggested.

"Like eggs?" Farley sounded incredulous.

"Probably. Our tests cracked the eggs and the spiders emerged."

"Or," Daniel was looking hard at Sam. "Or the 'rocks' contained babies, 
and when they hatched, Mom came looking."

"There were three of the spiders, DanielJackson," I reminded him.

"Okaaay, so Mom, Dad and Uncle Joe."

I nodded. "It is possible. The first two creatures we encountered did 
seem to recognize each other."

"So if there were existing adults here, where were they?" Carter 
demanded. "We didn't see any sign. And you didn't on your previous visit 
either, did you Lieutenant?"

Farley shook his head. "Not a sign of anything. Although, maybe the 
'parents' were hibernating. In those holes in the mountain. And our 
tests woke them up."

"Oh boy," said Daniel softly.

                         *******************

**O'Neill**

This was getting really, really old, waking up in another uncomfortable 
position, my head hurting worse with each incident.

I didn't know how long I'd been unconscious this time.

The last thing I remembered was hitting the wall, and then nothing 
except odd, really odd, dreams about trying to climb up water spouts, 
and sitting on some weird thing Daniel called a tuffet while eating an 
MRE of curds and whey, whatever the hell that was.

I opened my eyes and saw nothing. Panicked for a moment, before I 
realized I was lying face down this time. Oh great. Lucky I hadn't 
smothered, though with the smell in this place it was still a distinct 
possibility. Especially since I was still having more than a bit of 
trouble breathing, partly due to the smell, but more so because of the 
awkward way I was lying. I was on my stomach, on top of my P-90 which 
was clipped to my vest and firmly wedged against my ribs. Bruised ribs, 
from falling on the useless thing. Useless because the clip was empty, 
well, doubly useless because the bullets hadn't done a thing to the 
creature anyway.

I bit my lip to contain a groan, because while I was having trouble 
thinking about much beyond the pounding in my head, I did know that I 
definitely did not want to attract my eight-legged buddy's attention 
again by making too much noise.

You are in trouble, Jack-man, I told myself sternly.

Yeahsureyoubetcha, I answered.

Bad sign, answering myself.

Bad all around.

Head hurt, leg hurt, arm hurt, ribs hurt, hurt all over.

Cold fingers, left hand numb.

Move the fingers, warm them up, grub around in the, ick, 
stuff/debris/dirt on the floor.

And touched something sharp.

"Ahhh," I caught myself before the sound got too loud.

Jesus, I can't buy a break. On top of everything else, I'd just cut my 
hand.

Cut my hand.

Cut.

My.

Hand.

Something sharp, there, beside my hand.

I groped with my fingers, carefully this time, and found the thing, a 
piece of bone I figured it was, though I couldn't move my head far 
enough to see.

Very cautiously, I felt along the sharp edges, finding a smoother place 
to grip the thing and then cautiously began digging at the spider-silk 
cement goo wrapped around me.

It was slow going, frustrating, chipping away at the stuff. My fingers 
began to cramp. Several times my hand slipped and I jabbed the sharp 
thing into my own thigh, although I had to admit I barely felt it since 
my whole left leg was already so inflamed and sore I couldn't even 
notice one more point of pain. Thoughts of nasty infections trailed 
through my brain, but that was the least of my worries. I'd have to 
still be alive a day or more from now for the infection to kill me. And 
since that was about as likely as snow in Miami in July, I wasn't going 
to worry about the possibility.

I had enough to worry about now.

Dig.

Dig.

Dig.

I hadn't seen or heard anything from Spidey for quite a while. 
Hopefully, ol' Daddy Longlegs was enjoying his after-dinner nap. And 
wouldn't wake up hungry.

                         *******************

**Teal'c**

We had experienced no success in our search for any sign of Colonel 
O'Neill when MajorCarter found a solution.

"Teal'c, wait," she called out to me suddenly.

I stopped my march through the forest and turned to her. "Major Carter?"

"Teal'c, we've got to go back to our camp."

"What?" Farley asked.

Carter turned to him. "Lieutenant, we need the data we extrapolated from 
the underground radar images."

"Why?" Daniel was puzzled.

"Because we found a group of holes in the mountains, holes that could be 
caves where the spiders might be hiding.

"And what, we're going to go looking for them?" Farley asked.

I nodded. "We must find ColonelO'Neill, lieutenant."

"Look, one of those things carried him away hours ago. What makes you 
think he's still alive?"

"What makes you think he isn't?" Jackson countered quickly.

Farley looked from one to another member of SG-1. "Shouldn't we go back 
to the gate and go for reinforcements?"

"There is no time," I stated simply.

"We won't leave him behind," the Major insisted quietly.

"He wouldn't leave us," Jackson explained.

"Or you, lieutenant, he wouldn't leave if you'd been the one taken away 
by one of those creatures." Carter added. "So, let's get going."

                         *******************

Part Seven

**O'Neill**

By the time I'd opened up a fair sized hole in the hard shell of the 
cocoon covering my left thigh, I'd also opened up a fair sized hole in 
my own leg, a rather steadily bleeding hole. Which, surprisingly, proved 
to be a good thing.

Bet you're thinking I've lost my mind, right?

Well, people have thought that before, and for good reason, but not this 
time.

Apparently, there's something about human blood and spider goo that's 
incompatible.

The blood did something to the spider silk. I'm sure Carter could give a 
scientific explanation of what was happening, how molecules of this 
reacted with molecules of that. All I knew was that wherever the blood 
touched the otherwise nearly impenetrable spider spit stuff, it softened 
enough that I could pull it away, like peeling back an eggshell.

The hard part was getting the blood where it needed to be to free my 
limbs. The human wrist isn't designed to bend in some of the directions 
I was trying to bend mine to get myself free.

I was making progress when a second problem reared its ugly head. My leg 
stopped bleeding.

Oh shit.

Why do I always have to do these kinds of things?

I dug around until I found the sharp piece of bone again, and, grimly 
gritting my teeth, sliced my thigh open again. Warm blood began to slide 
wetly, steadily, across my skin.

I smeared it on my fingers, spreading it across the hard cocoon that 
encased me, freeing myself bit by bit. I uncovered my legs and feet, a 
big area around my waist and chest, more of my left arm until finally I 
could wrench my whole arm loose.

Things moved faster after that.

At last, I was free.

Now, to escape ol' Spidey's lair.

                         *******************

**Teal'c**

Using Major Carter's printout of the pattern of underground caverns, we 
began our search in earnest.

I was deeply concerned about the fate of my friend and commanding 
officer. When we were trapped in the glider, and all hope appeared lost, 
I had called him brother, meaning it sincerely. O'Neill is a warrior I 
honor, a man I respect, a friend I cherish; a person I would be glad to 
truly have as my brother. We understand each other. Side by side, we 
have fought together now for many years, and I wish to continue to do 
battle against our mutual enemies, my brother at my side. I fear for his 
life. I heard his shouts of defiance, and pain, when the creature 
carried him away. I know him well, and therefore know the injury must 
have been severe or he would not have reacted so. The 'spiders' were 
large and vicious, perhaps even angry at us, if I can credit a beast 
with such emotion.

I do not think my commander and friend will fare well in the company of 
the creature.

We must find him soon.

                         *******************

The first cave we checked was empty.

The second had only a very small entrance, much too small for any of the 
spiders to enter.

The third had once been occupied by one of the creatures. It was 
littered with old bones and dried spoor but plainly had not been used in 
a lengthy period of time.

We hurried on to the next cave.

I feared time was running out for O'Neill. He is a strong and 
resourceful man, but only human, and thus, his body is frailer than his 
indomitable spirit.

                         *******************

**O'Neill**

Spidey was still napping, his lumpy head resting on his forelegs, his 
huge eyes closed. He was making a soft hissing noise, like he was 
snoring.

Maybe I could just slip past him, and out of his little hidey hole nest.

Cautiously, I shifted my hips and sat up.

Whoa.

Okay, so I was a little dizzy.

And a little loopy.

And a lot nauseous.

Blood loss, concussion, dehydration, exhaustion, and probably a few more 
things.

Oiy.

I closed my eyes again, leaning back against the damp cave wall, and 
rested for a few moments, subduing my rebellious stomach. After a few 
minutes, I carefully re-opened my eyes. Whew. Big improvement this time. 
Things pretty much stayed in place.

First things first.

Each movement careful and silent, one eye watching the snoozing 
arachnid, I dug the sterile dressing out of my vest pocket and wrapped 
the bandage around the still oozing wound in my thigh. Next, weapons. My 
P-90 wasn't going to help me at all. The clip was empty, and the others 
I'd had stuffed into the pocket of my BDUs were gone, fallen out when 
the creature had dragged me away across the meadow I suspected. I pulled 
my little hideout knife out of my boot and moved it into a more 
accessible place in my vest pocket.

Just those few movements had exhausted me. I closed my eyes again to 
gather my strength, to force myself to concentrate, to think.

Wound treated, weapon in place, time to move.

Problem.

My left leg was not responding to commands. I could feel a sort of 
tingling, vibrating pain, and an occasional sharper, shooting stab of 
pain when I shifted my weight, but the muscles were not answering my 
requests to move.

Crap.

Okay, so no walking out.

Crawling.

I can do crawling.

I slipped to my hands and one knee, and began sliding myself cautiously 
toward the cave's exit.

Hard to be silent, dragging one leg. Hard to move far and certainly not 
fast, when I had to carefully place one limb at a time, trying to avoid 
sharp bones, gobs of putrid smelling stuff, crumbs from some of Spidey's 
old meals, cocoons that contained the creature's future meals. Spiders, 
quite obviously, like dinner dead. Long dead. Fermented, to put it 
delicately. Just imagine the rest. Or maybe you shouldn't, if you're 
squeamish.

I crawled past a stack of other cocooned things, some of those deer-like 
animals we'd spotted out in the plains and over piles of their shattered 
bones. I was going to have to pass awfully close to my sleeping pal.

Inch by inch, I maneuvered toward the sleeping creature.

Suddenly, it moved.

Oh shit.

One leg shifted, another moved sideways, and I had to scramble backwards 
to avoid the thing inadvertently hitting me. My numb leg snagged on 
something, throwing my balance off, and I threw out an arm to steady 
myself. My hand bumped the pile of cocoons, and one of them slid off the 
stack and hit the ground.

I froze in place.

Spidey's eye opened, blinking sluggishly, the head turning slightly to 
look for the source of the noise.

I was barely breathing, afraid any small movement would attract it's 
attention, terrified the creature would hear the hammering of my 
adrenaline fueled heart.

Spidey's eye swiveled around, looking right at me, past me, moving back 
to look around, and then slowly, the huge eyelid slid closed.

Oh God.

I dropped my head down into the crook of my elbow, using the cloth of my 
jacket to muffle the sound of gasping as I sucked in lungful after 
lungful of air. That had been close, too close, way too close.

Once more, I began moving toward the bright spot that marked the way out 
of the cave. With a sigh of relief, I moved past the sleeping monster.

It was then I discovered another problem.

Spidey hadn't had any trouble getting in and out of his hideyhole.

But then, Spidey was more than a bit taller than me, and his legs were 
very, very long. Much longer than mine.

I wasn't sure if I could get myself upright to start with, what with my 
left leg being nothing more than a dangling weight. And even if I could 
stand up, the edge of the exit hole was at least three feet beyond my 
reach.

Shit.

                         *******************

Part Eight

**Teal'c**

We found the first spider in the fourth cave. MajorCarter carefully 
pointed the light of her P-90 into the ground opening, and recoiled, a 
look of disgust on her face.

"There's one in there, all right," she said quietly, wrinkling her nose. 
"And it reeks, like something died in there."

Daniel Jackson's face had a momentarily panicked look. "Like..."

"No," Major Carter answered him quickly. "Whatever is in there creating 
that smell has been dead quite a while. That's too much decay for the 
Co...for a....a.... fresh body. It takes days for an odor like that."

Jackson nodded. "So what do we do?"

"O'Neill could be in there," I stated.

"We can't tell from out here, I guess," Carter stated reluctantly.

"The smell is not so offensive to me, MajorCarter. Let me attempt to 
ascertain the contents of the cave," I offered. She nodded gratefully, 
and handed me her light.

I climbed to the opening, snapped the light on, and cautiously played 
the beam across the interior of the underground chamber. Bones. Debris. 
Something that looked like stacks of hardshelled containers.

A noise sounded from further back in the cave, an angry hiss, and I 
quickly raised the light. The bright beam blazed, reflecting off the 
huge obsidian eye.

The creature neither blinked nor moved.

"MajorCarter," I said softly.

She was immediately there at my shoulder. "Teal'c?"

"I believe the animal is mesmerized by the light. If I leave the beam 
pointed at it's eye, I am certain it will not move. You will have to use 
your light to check the rest of the cave."

"Right," she answeredd, and I heard her swallow convulsively, but she 
quickly snapped on another light, and carefully studied the remainder of 
the cave.

After long silent moments, she turned the light off. "Nothing. If the 
Colonel's in there, I can't see any sign."

"Good, then," I stated softly. "Withdraw, and we will move on to the 
next cave."

While I kept the light trained on the beast's eye, she backed away to 
rejoin the others. I turned off my light, and retreated hurriedly. The 
spider hissed repeatedly, but did not come out of the cave.

"Okay. On to the next. That way," Major Carter pointed further up the 
hill.

                         *******************

**O'Neill**

I slumped against the cave wall, defeated. I couldn't reach the exit. 
Damn. Double damn. Damn.

Spidey shifted, but the eye did not open this time. Instead, the critter 
seemed to sink down lower, as if snuggling deeper into sleep.

Fat lot of good that was going to do me, if I couldn't find a way out of 
here.

I turned to examine the wall, desperately seeking a way out.

There, a tiny knob of rock protruding from the wall. That could act as a 
handhold, maybe. Not much, but something.

First, I had to get to my feet, er, foot, since my left leg was not 
going to be helpful in any way. Carefully, I pushed myself up off the 
floor, onto one knee, then straightened slowly, balancing on my right 
leg. The little rocky knob was still a foot or so above my reach.

I pulled the small knife out of my vest pocket, digging a little pocket 
in the wall about two feet above the cave floor, another about four feet 
up, a third about six feet up, and the final as far up as I could reach. 
Switching the knife to my left hand, I reached as high as I could and 
thrust the blade all the way to the hilt into the wall of the cave. 
Grunting in concentration, I dragged myself up off the floor in a one 
handed pull up.

My right hand clawed at the little knob, and found a grip.

Right hand pull-up this time, my right toe digging at the wall, 
searching for the little step I'd made.

Clawing, digging and pulling, I maneuvered up the wall until my left 
hand gripped the edge of the exit.

One more pull and I'd be out.

Arms shaking with exhaustion, I took a deep breath and summoned up the 
last of my strength for one final effort.

                         *******************

**Teal'c**

The next cave contained another creature.

Unprovoked, it attacked the moment it sensed our presence.

Even as we walked toward the cave, perhaps the vibrations of our 
footsteps giving away our approach, the spider emerged from its 
underground hole, emitting a highpitched whine that was painful to one's 
ears, antennae weaving wildly in the air, hissing.

I raised my staff weapon. Beside me, the three humans raised their P-
90's in unison, the loud rattle of the Earth weapons chattering as my 
weapon snapped and discharged, the blast hitting the beast in the eye.

It shrieked, but to my surprise, it continued its charge.

I shot it again and again, severing a pair of legs, unable to hit the 
other eye as the creature flung its head around in random, frantic 
movements.

"Concentrate on its legs!" MajorCarter shouted the order, and a hail of 
bullets cut across the creatures remaining limbs, knocking aside the 
legs on its left side, the beast toppling to the ground, still crawling 
forward, the whining, keening noise it was making increasing in volume 
and pitch. I fired a finishing blast to the beast's head, and the noise 
stopped.

I could hear Daniel Jackson's ragged breathing, Major Carter's gulping 
breaths, and Lt. Farley's mumbled chant, "Oh god oh god oh god oh god."

And from the cave, I heard more noises. I turned on my flashlight and 
carefully waved the light down into the hole. Inside was a seething mass 
of smaller spiders, each one about the size of a large Earth dog.

Retreating hastily, I fired a blast at the rock above the cave entrance, 
a landslide of dirt and stone raining down on the cave's entrance, 
entombing the creatures.

"Teal'c?" Carter was staring at me.

"Juveniles, dozens of them. That is why the beast attacked so 
aggressively."

"It was protecting its young?"

I nodded yes.

"But what about Jack?" Dr. Jackson inquired.

"If ColonelO'Neill was inside that cave, he was beyond our assistance, 
DanielJackson."

His face went pale.

And then I heard a noise, faint, but familiar, a sound quite like 
Colonel O'Neill's voice, raised in anger or fear or horror, coming from 
several hundred yards away across and up the hill.

                         *******************

Part Nine

**O'Neill**

My hand had just reached up over the lip of the exit when the noise 
began, a familiar noise, the chatter of P-90's and the snap of a staff 
weapon.

Unfortunately, I wasn't the only one who heard it.

Spidey heard it, too, of course.

I heard him hiss behind me.

Sheer terror pumped another gallon of adrenaline into my flagging 
muscles.

I pulled myself up once more, up and over the edge of the cave, out into 
the fresh air and sunshine, tumbling and sliding and skidding 
uncontrollably down the rocky hillside.

Spiderman was right behind me.

                         *******************

**Teal'c**

"Quickly! We must hurry!" I cried, and began running with all haste 
across the mountain. In a moment, I saw O'Neill, and one of the great 
eight legged creatures moving toward him. "O'Neill!" I shouted.

                         *******************

**O'Neill**

My precipitous slide down the hillside ended with a jolting, bone-
jarring collision with a tree. My left shoulder hit first, followed by 
my head snapping back and things going all gray and wobbly.

Oh man, my head hurt.

I wanted to lie there and die.

And then I remembered that oversized bug coming down the hillside after 
me.

Groaning, I opened my eyes, bright sunlight sending spikes of pain 
through my aching head.

I heard him coming, hissing, clicking, wshshshing.

Pushing myself off the ground with shaking arms, I turned to face Mr. 
Spider, armed only with the small knife I still clutched in my hand.

And then I heard the most blessed sound in the whole world.

"O'Neill!" Teal'c's shout echoed across the mountainside, hell, maybe it 
only echoed inside my addled brain.

Teal'c's staff weapon fired, the charged bolt flashing over my head at 
Spidey, hitting its mark.

Spidey's hiss turned to a shriek, but he kept coming.

Bullets whipped through the air over my head. Ah, Carter then, maybe 
even Daniel and Farley, I thought distractedly.

Daddy Longlegs wasn't stopping. Thirty yards away, twenty, ten.

Teal'c's staff weapon sparked and spat a stream of energy at and into 
the creature.

With a high-pitched wail it reared up, legs waving, then crashed to the 
ground, thrashing in its death throes. A hard-shelled jointed leg 
whipped against my hip, knocking me head over heels, and then, quite 
suddenly, everything went dark and silent.

                         *******************

**Teal'c**

I feared we were too late. I saw my shot stop the creature, but in its 
final frenzy, its leg struck the downed form of the Colonel, flinging 
him further down the hillside.

"Jack!" Daniel Jackson shouted, dashing toward the spot from where 
O'Neill had disappeared.

MajorCarter and I were just a step behind the archaeologist as he 
reached the Colonel.

The Tau'ri leader, my friend, was not moving, lying slumped against a 
boulder. There was blood matted in his gray hair, more soaking his torn 
left pant leg, and yet more dried on his face and left hand.

Dr. Jackson slipped to his knees beside O'Neill, gently rolling the man 
over, placing a hand against the grime-covered neck, checking for a 
pulse. "He's alive!" the scholar stated gratefully, wiping blood off the 
too-pale face. "Jack?" he asked softly.

A pained grimace crossed the still face, and the brown eyes opened 
slowly, rolling, unfocused. "Hmmmm."

"Easy," Jackson soothed.

The eyes were glazed, the ragged breathing easing even as we watched. 
"Wh--?" Suddenly, O'Neill snapped upward, pushing at the archaeologist, 
frantically trying to sit up. "Spider. Spiders!!"

"Whoa, Jack. Easy. It's okay. The spider is dead. You're safe."

"Bugsy's dead?"

"Yes. Dead."

"Dead? Sure?"

"Yes, we're sure."

The brown eyes slowly sank closed, then snapped open again. "More, there 
were more..."

"We are safe for the moment, O'Neill," I promised my commanding officer. 
"We have slain one other of the beasts, and left another trapped in its 
lair."

"Safe?"

"Yes, for the moment we are safe, O'Neill. But we should retreat to the 
Stargate as soon as possible," I suggested.

"That's an understatement," said Farley, who was standing, gun still 
raised, eyes still studying the landscape.

"Colonel," Carter was kneeling beside our team leader, offering him her 
canteen as Daniel kept his shoulders raised. He drank greedily, then 
sank back with a sigh.

"Thanks," he said softly.

"Sir, you've got a nasty bump on the head here, and cuts on your leg and 
hand. Are you injured anywhere else?"

His chuckle surprised them. "Anywhere else?" The chuckle stopped 
abruptly as he coughed and gasped for air. "Sorry, my ribs aren't up to 
laughing."

"Okay, then, sore ribs, too. Broken?"

Eyes closed, he shook his head slightly. "Bruised."

"Can you walk, then, Sir, if we help?"

"Ah, that would be a no, Major," he answered very matter of factly.

"Sir?" worry clouded her voice as she frowned.

"My leg. It's all numb. Can't move it. Spidey stung me," he explained.

"We'll rig a stretcher, then, Sir." Carter raised her glance to mine, 
and I nodded.

Quickly, I moved to the edge of the woods, ever alert for more 
creatures, but seeing nothing. I used my staff weapon to blast a pair of 
small trees, creating a pair of six foot long poles. Carrying them back 
to the spot where Dr. Jackson and Major Carter waited with O'Neill, the 
Major used her knife to trim off the small branches. I utilized my own 
jacket and that of Dr. Jackson to create the sling part of the 
stretcher, and gently we eased Colonel O'Neill onto it.

The Major and the Lieutenant provided their blankets to cover the 
Colonel as Lt. Farley took one end of the stretcher, and I took the 
other, and we began the long walk back to the Stargate.

Somewhere during that walk, O'Neill lapsed into unconsciousness.

We could not rouse him when we reached the gate, and so it was with 
great trepidation that we carried him into the wormhole.

                         *******************

Three days have passed since our return, and O'Neill remains gravely 
ill. Doctor Fraiser and her medical staff have remained vigilant around 
the clock, but the wound on O'Neill's thigh is badly infected. His 
temperature remains very high, and his breathing is labored.

Though strong medications keep him sedated and ease the pain, so the 
doctor explained to me, he seems uneasy and uncomfortable.

I have remained here at his bedside throughout the long nights. Though I 
am unable to do anything to assist him or ease his pain, I feel that he 
knows he is not alone, and that knowledge gives him some small comfort. 
It is all I can do for my friend, and I do it gladly.

Even as I watch, Dr. Fraiser is here to check on him. She speaks 
soothing words and moves gently. Her touches are soft as she goes about 
her medical tasks, her face expresses worry and weariness, but she does 
not allow those feelings to affect her work.

The Colonel and the Doctor have an interesting relationship. Though she 
and O'Neill most often exchange words that seem sharp or cutting, I have 
come to understand that these exchanges merely hide the respect and 
trust that underlies their friendship.

"Teal'c, you should rest."

"As should you, Dr. Fraiser."

"I've had a few hours sleep..."

"And I have performed kel'noreem while I await O'Neill's awakening," I 
say softly.

"It will be a while yet, Teal'c, I'm afraid." She turns to glance at her 
patient. "He's fighting it but this is a virulent infection. Our drugs 
can only slow the rapid growth of the infectious organisms, the Colonel 
has to be strong enough to beat them back."

I nod. "O'Neill is a warrior, he will never concede defeat."

Her smile is tired, and she sighs softly. "No, he won't give up or give 
in, that I know. We just have to help him hang on long enough to beat 
this." Gently, she uses a damp cloth to wipe the sweat from O'Neill's 
face and brow. Though not awake, he turns instinctively toward the 
comforting feel of the soft cloth. "You hold on, Colonel. Hear me?" She 
smoothes the blankets that cover him and checks the monitors one more 
time before turning to me. "I can stay with him for a while, if you'd 
like to take a break," she offers.

"Thank you, Dr. Fraiser, but I shall remain." I lift the book that is 
sitting on my lap. "I have been reading to him. The sound of my voice 
seems to soothe him..."

"Yes," she nods. "It's been shown that even comatose patients respond to 
familiar voices. What are you reading?"

"The book was a gift from O'Neill. It is called the Joy of Fishing," I 
tell her solemnly. "It is a book he said I would enjoy."

She smiles again, and pats my arm. "It doesn't matter what you read, 
Teal'c, it only matters that you are here."

I nod, and smile, and a look of understanding passes between the tiny 
Earth woman and myself.

                         *******************

**O'Neill**

I don't remember the last few hours I was on that planet. I was 
peacefully unconscious at the time, a blessing considering how many 
places on my body hurt.

Things didn't get much better once we reached the SGC. I have vague, 
scattered memories of Doc calling my name, of her shouting orders to her 
medical staff, of being wheeled through the corridors and to the 
infirmary, and then it all went dim and hazy.

For days and days.

Remember that infection thing I wasn't worried about?

I should have been.

Doc says I nearly died.

Fever of 105 and spiking above it; difficulty breathing; fluid filled 
lungs.

I don't remember any of *that,* thank God.

I do remember my teammates, though, being there every time I surfaced: 
Daniel, Sam, Teal'c, Doc, even the General a time or two. Lots of 
worried looks, exhausted faces, and encouraging words. I complain a lot 
about Doc and her medical staff but when a man needs 'em, they are the 
best. Don't get me wrong, I don't like much of what they do, but the 
results are generally pretty positive. Hell, they've kept me alive 
through a crisis or two. Or eight or ten or twelve.

                         *******************

I'm feeling pretty good now, good enough to be up and out of bed, to 
complain about the food and the lack of privacy and mostly the boredom. 
But I'll be going home soon.

Before I go, though, I'm going to call the exterminator.

I don't want to see a single, solitary spider anywhere in my house.

I don't think my heart could take it.

The End


                         *******************


Strays (A Sequel to Flyboy Soup)
By BadgerGater - Badgergater@cs.com


RATING: PG

WARNINGS: Kleenex alert

CATEGORY: Drama, Angst

SEQUEL: Though the story could stand alone, it really is a sequel to my 
100th fic, Flyboy Soup

TIME FRAME: 4 or 5, not specific

SPOILERS: Nothing specific

SUMMARY: Jack's POV: After the events in Flyboy Soup, Jack finally gets 
to go home to recuperate

DISCLAIMER: We all know the drill. Stargate is owned by MGM, Gekko, 
Double Secret Productions, Showtime/SciFi Channel... anyone but us fans. 
This story is written for (hopefully) entertainment purposes only. No 
money changed hands.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Fic # 101: Thank you, my friends, for sharing my 
Stargate/Jack O'Neill obsession.


                         *******************

Human nature is an odd thing.

Whatever you haven't got, you want.

And when you get what you want, it's not what you wanted.

                         *******************

I'd spent three interminable weeks stuck in the mountain, actually, in 
Fraiser's infirmary in the mountain, and all I wanted to do was go home. 
I spent all my time lobbying Doc to send me home, okay, not quite *all* 
my time. That might be a little exaggeration. I was unconscious for the 
first couple days, and even I haven't mastered the art of trying to 
cajole Doc while I'm lying in a coma. Though that doesn't mean I'm not 
trying. 

And then the next couple of days, yeah, I admit it, I wasn't exactly a 
sparkling conversationalist. Mostly I kept drifting off into never-never 
land, but really, I think that was those nasty drugs Doc was giving me. 
Sure, she said they were for the pain and the fever and the infection, 
but what do I know? I'm just her United States Air Force special order 
guinea pig.

All right, okay, I concede, the drugs did stop the muscles in my injured 
leg, the one ol' Spiderman zapped with his stinger, from doing all sorts 
of weird and um, yeah, make that painful things like spasming, 
twitching, and knotting. Most of the time.

But see, my leg could just as efficiently spasm, twitch and knot up at 
home as in the infirmary, while I could curse, swear and grind my teeth 
until they ached, and no one would have to listen. 

So, from the time I knew which universe I was in, which planet I was on, 
and who the hell I was, I wanted to go home.

Especially since, yeah, okay, I'll admit it if you don't tell anyone 
else, I was scared. No, more like a litle bit worried. Just a teensy, 
tiny bit, mind you, but the idea was there in the back of my brain. See, 
it started the first day Doc let me up to walk and I discovered that, 
while my leg hurt a bit, and yeah, sure, my ribs, too, and okay, I was 
still a little dizzy if I moved too fast, my body wasn't right. I know 
how my body heals, or should heal. Hell, I've had more experience at 
recuperating than a dozen average folks put together, what with all the 
damage I've done to myself, or had others do to me, over the years.

I should have been able to walk. And I couldn't.

My left leg wouldn't work for more than a couple of minutes before it 
went numb. Hmm, well, numb probably wasn't right, because numb implies 
without feeling, and boy, I could *feel* my leg all right. What I got 
was sharp, shooting pain washing in waves through every nerve, which in 
turn left my leg a quivering, useless thing that obeyed orders worse 
than Daniel Jackson. Pretty much exactly what had happened each time 
that big and honkin' oversized bug had zapped me with his antennae 
thingy. Except that was days and days ago.

I tried to ignore it, grit my teeth and walk anyway. Tried to push 
through it, fight through it, will it away or just plain bullishly 
resist.

Didn't work.

Doc gave me some long, complicated explanation filled with big words 
that Carter might have understood but I didn't. Bottom line, as near as 
I could figure, was that the nerves in my leg were having their own 
happy little 'seizures' because they kept 'remembering' the spider's 
sting. As if I could forget.

For the next week or so, Doc tried a lot of different stuff. I got 
poked, prodded and pestered; took pills and had IVs and tried about 142 
kinds of therapy.

Finally, then, I'd spent a whole morning having test after test after 
test, all the standard things I'd come to expect, and more that I hadn't 
heard of or undergone before. At last I was ushered back to my own 
little corner of the infirmary. Doc arrived a few minutes later wearing 
*that* look on her face, the 'I don't want to have to tell him this but 
there's no getting around it look.' It's a look that gets my attention, 
because, despite all the flack I give Doc, I know she's always on my 
side. I could see she was worried, and once she started to explain, I 
was worried, too. She was pretty quiet while she checked the dressing on 
my thigh, and tested the circulation, muscle strength and reflexes in my 
leg. Her expression didn't improve as she finished her exam.

"So, Doc?" I needed her to talk to me.

"Yes, Colonel?"

"Ah..."

She looked up at me, her gaze meeting mine and my heart nearly stopped. 
"What?"

I could see she was gathering her thoughts.

"What's wrong?" I demanded.

"Sir..."

"Tell me. Now."

She cleared her throat. "The infection is clearing up nicely," she 
started.

"But..."

"That's the good news."

"What's the bad news?"

"You're still having muscle weakness?"

"Once in a while," I hedged.

She nodded. "And sometimes your leg just goes numb..."

I shrugged. "Not nearly so often anymore."

"But it still happens."

"Yes," I conceded.

"That shouldn't be happening."

"Gee, I'd never have guessed." Okay, so the sarcasm goes into overdrive 
when I'm, um, concerned.

"Colonel," her look, that worry in her eyes, worried me.

"It *will* stop, won't it?" I insisted.

"Sir, I..."

"Doc!"

"Colonel, I don't know. I'm hopeful. I think it will disappear 
eventually. But it's possible that the toxin in the spider's bite may 
have done irreversible damage to the nerves in your leg."

I swallowed.

So if I was going to have to deal with some permanent fall out from my 
trip to the Planet of the Arachnids, I wanted to cope at home. In 
private. On my own.

I needed to get the hell out of here.

Soon.

Soonest.

Now.

                         *******************

Doc's not easy to convince.

Okay, I'll let you in on a little secret. Half of my protest to anything 
Doc makes me do, is just because I figure it's my duty to object, you 
know? Just to keep Doc on her toes, and hone my argumentative skills (as 
if they don't get enough practice with Daniel).

So I lobbied to go home. Endlessly. Continuously.

And no, contrary to what Doc says, I do *not* whine.

Granted, I may have been close to whining a few times. Damn, but those 
muscle spasms hurt! But I didn't whine... never, ever. Complain maybe. 
Make my wishes clearly known. Gripe a bit. Get a touch grumpy, but who 
wouldn't? Just try letting a giant spider decide to take you home to 
dinner, to *be* dinner, and see how good you feel afterwards. Huh.

My request was simple. I just wanted to go home, where a man can suffer, 
er, sleep in peace.

Eventually, Doc relented. She always does, of course, but then, sooner 
or later she has to. Fraiser has gotten pretty good at figuring out the 
right moment to send me home, the one that falls precisely between 'if I 
send him home now he'll fall flat on his face before he makes it to his 
front door' and 'if I don't send him home now the nursing staff will 
mutiny, resign or call in sick, and I think I'll join them.'

I don't make things difficult for Doc on purpose, really.

I just hate being stuck in a hospital. Call it an infirmary, but it's 
still a hospital.

I'm not sure what they do in medical and nursing schools to teach 
people, people who seem to be otherwise quite nice, normal, non-sadistic 
people, to perform painful, annoying and intrusive practices on the 
bodies of us poor unfortunate souls dubbed as patients.

And yeah, there were a few days when I had that infection, and I felt 
sort of, um, under the weather, dizzy, nauseous and sweating when I 
wasn't just plain zonked out with fever dreams taking me to places I 
didn't really want to go, and believe me, you wouldn't want to go there, 
either. I don't remember talking in my sleep, I really hope I didn't. I 
do remember them covering me with one of those cooling blankets, and 
people giving me sponge baths, for cryin' out loud, which do absolutely 
nothing for a man's dignity and command presence.

Of course, no one has much command presence while delirious with a fever 
of 105.

But I did start to feel better, in a remarkably expedient manner, by the 
way, which led me to explain to Doc, the General, my team, the nurses, 
the orderlies, even the cooks and the cleaning lady, why I needed to go 
home. Yesterday, if not sooner.

So, once I'd convinced Doc I was no longer so dizzy that I couldn't 
walk, talk or eat; once I'd demonstrated that, despite the sore ribs, I 
could hobble around on my crutches without dumping myself onto the 
floor; and, once I'd vowed, Scout's honor, to eat what I should and not 
eat what I shouldn't, get plenty of rest, avoid stress, and take all my 
meds in a timely fashion, she agreed to sign my release papers.

Hallelujah.

Of course, freedom came with a price. It was Friday, and I had to agree 
to let one of my teammates stay over at my house for the weekend, to 
prove I could and would follow all orders, instructions and edicts.

It took forever for 5 p.m. to arrive. About noon, I dressed in the 
comfortable sweat pants and sweat shirt Daniel had picked up from my 
house. Just wanted to make sure I wasn't late, or spent an extra thirty 
seconds in the infirmary, you know. I conned one of the nurses into 
tying my shoes, since my ribs were in more than the desirable number of 
pieces and bending over that far was still a bit of a challenge. 

I sat and waited patiently.

Okay, so I can't fool you, it wasn't patiently.

About five minutes before my parole, Doc showed up, giving me one last 
check up, listening to my heart and lungs, taking my temperature, and 
checking the dressing on my leg. The infection had cleared up at last, 
and the wound in my thigh was no longer draining that nasty yellowish 
stuff from where I'd cut it while escaping from my friend Spiderman on 
the Planet of the Arachnids. I hadn't used that dirty bit of jagged bone 
to cut myself on purpose, but I'd done what I had to do, knowing there 
might be consequences.

Then, of course, I still did have some tingling and numbness in left 
leg, where Daddy LongLegs had stung me. The damn thing would just give 
out on me on occasion, which was the real reason I was still using 
crutches. It was happening less every day, though, and it was going to 
go away completely, despite what Doc was worried about. I just wasn't 
going to consider any other possibility. The ribs vigorously protested 
any sudden movement, but that, too, was to be expected for the next 
couple of weeks. I've had enough broken ribs to think of them as old 
hat, painful old hat, but old hat none the less.

Doc, of course, couldn't let me go without one last warning. "Colonel, I 
know you're eager to be out of here..."

"But..." I started theatrically, knowing the 'but' was coming.

She glared. I shut up. I wasn't safely out of her clutches yet. Don't 
ever annoy the person who signs your orders for leave, your promotion 
recommendations, or your hospital discharge papers. That's my advice as 
a Colonel.

"Colonel O'Neill..."

I tried to look contrite. I know that tone of voice.

"I know you are feeling better, and you think you're ready for anything, 
but you are far from back to 100%. You need to follow your care 
instructions or you'll wind up right back here, and I know you don't 
want that. And," she added sternly, "neither do I. Now, I've got your 
meds packed up right here: the last cycle of antibiotics; muscle 
relaxants if you start getting cramps in your leg; and pain relief 
medication. Use them as needed. They'll help you rest and regain your 
strength. If you start running a temperature, feel nauseous or lose your 
appetite, or experience increased levels of pain or numbness in your 
leg, you let me know. Call anytime, day or night. And I'll be by your 
house to give you a check-up Monday morning."

"Okay already, Mom. I'll take the meds, eat right, sleep a lot, and 
avoid all spiders, big or small." I grumped. "I'll even brush my teeth, 
wash behind my ears and take my afternoon naps..." 

"Good," Frasier smiled. "You've made a remarkable recovery, Colonel, and 
I just don't want to see you experience a set-back at this late date."

Just then I heard footsteps in the hallway. 

Please let it be Daniel. 

It was Carter.

"Here to see me off, Major?"

Sam was smiling. "Yes, Sir. I'll be stopping by later with some food, 
and some movies."

"Just so it isn't Titanic. I know the plot." I lowered my voice to a 
conspiratorial whisper. "I hate to tell ya', Carter, but the boat 
sinks." I smirked.

Carter nodded with a sigh. "I know, Sir. Only John Wayne, the Marx 
Brothers, or Judy Garland."

"Right. The classics."

Daniel arrived at last.

I grabbed for my crutches, sliding off the bed and onto my feet, er, 
foot, in one smooth maneuver.

"Not so fast, Colonel," Doc chided, placing a hand on my chest to push 
me back down on the bed, before pointing to a wheelchair. "You ride out 
today, Sir." 

"But I can walk, Doc," I reminded her.

"Yes, I know you can. But you'll need to save your energy for walking at 
home. It's a long trip out of here, and the hallways tend to be crowded 
this time of day."

"Doc..." I wheedled.

"Colonel..." She glared.

We stared at each other.

Okay, I'll let her win this time.

Besides, it means I can harass Danny about his wheelchair driving.

Putting an aggrieved frown on my face, I carefully slipped off the bed 
again, bracing myself with one hand and hopping over to sit in the 
chair.

"Let's go, Daniel. And drive like an Andretti..."

"Who?" he asked.

Daniel is so hopeless when it comes to the real world. "Never mind," I 
shook my head. "Let's just get out of here."

As we crossed the threshold, I looked back to see Doc standing and 
watching, a slightly worried look on her face, I thought. "Hey, Doc, 
can't say it was fun, but it was better than ol' Spidey's 
accommodations." I waved goodbye without a regret, feeling like a man 
just let out of prison.

                         *******************

**Janet Fraiser**

With mixed feelings, I watched Colonel O'Neill leave.

I felt a great deal of relief. Frankly, there'd been many days early on 
in this crisis when I didn't think this day would ever happen, at least 
not in this way. I'll never forget my horror when he'd arrived home from 
P4B-397, more dead than alive. My initial assessment had been 
frighteningly grim... head trauma, broken ribs, infection, blood loss, 
unknown toxins in his system, and neurological damage to his left leg. 

Did he realize what a close call he'd just survived? I think he did, but 
with the Colonel, you never know. He holds his emotions, his fears, so 
close to the vest, that even as well as I know him, I rarely know what 
he's thinking. 

So I was most certainly relieved to see him discharged from my 
infirmary, yes, but I was worried, too. Worried he wouldn't follow his 
after care instructions, but mostly, worried that what little we could 
do for him wouldn't be enough for him to make a full recovery. I'd told 
the Colonel the truth, told him what I knew, which unfortunately wasn't 
much, but the truth was, the outlook was uncertain... maybe his leg 
would heal, maybe it wouldn't.

Maybes, speculation and what ifs. See, that's the biggest problem with 
what we do here. The SG teams are out there, facing unknown threats, 
unknown dangers, entirely unknown medical crisis, and far too often, all 
I can do is guess at what to do, believe that what I'm doing won't make 
things worse instead of better, hope that we have an Earth based 
treatment that will be effective, and then pray that somehow, someway, 
we'll find the answer, in time.

It had been a near thing, and it hadn't been easy, watching him, day 
after day, fighting, struggling, stubbornly trying to hide his pain. By 
this time he ought to know he doesn't need to do that, doesn't have to 
prove anything to me, but he can't help himself. I know that, and I wish 
I could get him to acknowledge it, and make things easier on himself and 
my staff, and yes, me, too.

When things were worst, he fought grimly, never complaining. The day he 
started complaining was the day a load was lifted off my shoulders, 
because it meant he was getting better at last.

The Colonel is difficult, obnoxious and frustrating, and just when it 
seemed I couldn't stand to have him in my infirmary one single second 
more, he'd make me laugh, and I forgave all the trouble he caused me. 
He's a hard man who's had a difficult life, and he deserves my best, and 
the best my staff can do for him. 

Thank God for his team. They showed up regularly to humor, cajole and 
entertain him. General Hammond was a frequent visitor, too. They had 
long, quiet heart to heart talks, often late at night, sharing those 
burdens only senior officers know and understand. 

I heard Daniel and the Colonel laughing as they disappeared down the 
hallway. I knew he was happy to be going home, and I just wished I knew 
he'd soon be happily back at work here with the SGC. 

I know how important Jack O'Neill is to this place. It's a shame he 
doesn't.

                         *******************

**Jack O'Neill**

We had to wait at the elevator, and it was crowded.

I hate using a wheelchair, not just because it makes me feel like an 
invalid, either. I hate the way people look at you like you *are* an 
invalid, all that sympathy and pity makes my teeth ache like too sweet 
candy stuck in a cavity.

And then of course, I'm tall, so I hate being so damnably short, sitting 
down when everyone else is standing.

But I wasn't going to complain, nope, because I was on my way home at 
last.

A small grin finally escaped onto my face.

"So, Jack, glad to finally elude the good doctor's clutches, are you?" 

"Whatever would make you think that, Daniel?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe that silly grin on your face has something to 
do with it."

I shot him a stern look. "Silly grin? I don't do silly. I'm a Colonel."

"Riiiight, Jack, you don't do silly. I'll remember that the next time 
you and me and Carter and Teal'c are sitting around a campfire and you 
start..."

"Enough, Daniel."

"Oh, I don't think it's ever enough with you, Jack," he said, but with a 
good natured grin.

                         *******************

We finally got all the way out to Daniel's car, and an orderly took the 
wheelchair back. Carefully, I slid down into the seat of the low-slung 
little vehicle. Damn. Not much room in here for my long legs, especially 
since the left one still didn't bend quite as far as it should, and had 
a nasty tendency to cramp up at the most inconvenient times. Like now. 
Sticking my crutches between the seats and onto the back seat, I used 
both hands to pull the uncooperative limb into the car, and then sat 
forward, breathing deeply, massaging the thigh with my hands until the 
muscle spasms died away.

I hadn't even noticed Daniel climbing into the driver's side seat and 
waiting patiently for me to get myself together.

"You okay?" he finally asked, a look of concern on his face.

I nodded.

He drove.

                         *******************

What always strikes me after spending a few days, much less two weeks, 
cooped up in the mountain, is how bright everything is, how vivid the 
colors are after endless hours of staring at gray walls. The air feels 
fresh no matter what the season, the sky seems bluer and the grass and 
trees greener. Hell, I'd been inside so long I was even glad to see 
trees. Now that tells you how stir crazy I was.

I tried to drink in all the sights and sounds and sensations during the 
drive.

Of course, what I managed to do was fall asleep.

"Jack," Daniel's soft voice woke me. I hadn't even realized the car had 
stopped.

He'd pulled up right by my front steps. With a sigh, I looked at my 
obstacle course. If I had to do it again, I wouldn't buy a house with so 
many steps. Steps out here, steps in there, not a problem when you're 
healthy and hearty and have two good, perfectly functioning legs. Which 
I didn't have at the moment.

Crap.

Oh well, nothing gets done by sitting and wishing it were easier.

I opened the car door, grabbed my crutches out of the back, swung my 
legs out to the ground, and rocked my hips up off the seat. My left leg 
still had that alarming tendency to want to buckle when newly upright, 
but I made it. Taking a deep breath, I crutched up the stairs, Daniel 
following solicitously at my heels.

Crutches are just so damned annoying.

But better than wheelchairs, I quickly reminded myself.

                         *******************

They say a man's home is his castle, but I like to think of mine more as 
my sanctuary. Surrounded by my things. No one to order me around. Free 
to do as I please. Master of all I survey. Lord of my domain. Leader of 
the pack. Major General O'Neill

Of course, Daniel is here, so that means someone to nag me to follow 
orders in this place where I've made a vow never to take orders.

Sigh.

                         *******************

I made it up the sidewalk and stairs at last, and by the time I got to 
the front door, Daniel had it open.

"Why don't you go up and lie down, rest a bit?" he suggested oh so 
helpfully.

I was not in the mood for suggestions, and instead of heading upstairs 
to my bedroom, I slipped past him in the hall and over to the couch. 
Carefully, I sat down, sliding down to the far end, pulling my leg up 
onto the cushions, stuffing a couple of throw pillows under it. That was 
a comfortable position for my leg, but strained my ribcage, so I pulled 
the pillows out and stuffed them behind my back. Better for the ribs 
anyway...

Just then, Daniel arrived with a couple more pillows and a blanket. "If 
you're going to stay down here, at least get comfortable," he said. Once 
I'd squirmed around until I found a way I could both breathe and keep my 
leg from going numb, he handed me the remote, covered me with a blanket, 
and set a glass of water and two pill bottles on the table beside me.

"You know, anyone ever tell you you'd make someone a good mother?"

He just shook his head, and disappeared into the kitchen.

I heard the sound of the refrigerator door opening, then the sound of 
stuff hitting the bottom of the wastepaper basket. Not that I ever have 
much in my fridge, but I hadn't been home in over two weeks, so there 
must have been a few rank things living in there. I heard paper 
rustling, then the back door open. Wow, he even takes out the trash. 
Maybe I could hire him as a housekeeper?

After a few minutes he was back, book in hand, and he flopped down on 
the chair across from me. "Good thing Sam's coming over later with some 
food. There's nothing edible in your kitchen."

"There must be some cereal and maybe some eggs."

He shook his head. "Stale cereal. Old eggs."

"TV dinners, pizza and Spam, I'll bet."

"That's not food," he complained, and opened the book to read.

"Hmmpph." Ignoring him, I turned on the TV, surfed through a couple of 
channels before finding an old black and white movie, and before you can 
say Barbara Stanwyck and William Holden, I was asleep.

                         *******************

It was dark when I woke up. I could hear Carter and Daniel talking 
quietly in the kitchen. Teal'c was sitting in the chair across the room 
from me. "Hey, Teal'c, when did you get here?"

"O'Neill, you are awake."

Why is it people always do that? Make really, really asinine remarks 
when they've caught you napping? "Ah, yeah, eyes open, vocal chords 
working, awake would be my first assumption."

Raising an eyebrow, Teal'c nodded in that stately fashion he has.

"Oh, hey, he's awake," Daniel had just walked in.

"Wow, another brilliant observation."

Carter stepped up behind him. "Sir, you're..."

Hurriedly, I raised a hand. "Ah, Major, don't say it."

Her mouth snapped closed, and she was silent a moment. "Okay, are you 
hungry then?"

There was a heavenly scent coming from the kitchen, and I don't mean the 
trash. "Carter? Have you been cooking?"

"No, Sir," she said with a smile. "Shopping. Take out. Murphy's."

I started to push myself upright.

"Wait. Jack, why don't I just bring you a plate?"

Usually, I use rooms for their intended purposes. Sleep in the bedroom, 
eat in the dining room, watch TV in the living room. But, since I'd 
never before had to recuperate from the attack of a giant spider, I 
decided to throw caution to the winds, and break a few rules. "Okay."

I ate the thick soup and tasty sandwich, although I have to admit, I 
wasn't up to my usual standards of devouring the food from my favorite 
deli.

Carter then counted out my pills, making sure I swallowed the required 
number, and stomach full and heart content, I promptly fell asleep 
again.

Damn, this is bad for my reputation.

                         *******************

"Jack, come on. Wake up. You should go up to bed."

"Wake a guy up so he can go to sleep? That's making even less sense than 
you usually do, Daniel." I said, opening my eyes to my own dimly lit 
living room. Teal'c and Sam seemed to have left. The landscape outside 
my windows looked pitch dark.

He frowned. "Jack, come on. You shouldn't sleep down here on the couch. 
It's bad for you."

"Yes, mother." I took hold of his outstretched arm and carefully pulled 
myself to my feet. My leg protested, twinged, but stayed relatively 
calm, and with Daniel hovering, I crutched up the stairs to my bedroom 
suite. I used the facilities, brushed my teeth, and gratefully sank down 
on the bed.

Despite the fact that I'd spent most of the last four hours sleeping, I 
fell asleep promptly.

                         *******************

I slept late, really late for me at least. My teammates stayed during 
the day. Between naps, I watched TV, played chess with Daniel and got my 
butt kicked as usual though he tried to be polite about beating an 
invalid, kicked his tail at gin three games out of four (and no, I 
didn't cheat. Not much) and supervised while the kids barbecued steaks 
out on my deck.

Ah, that's the life.

Sunday night, they all went home at my insistence, and left me in peace.

No hovering friends, no bossy nurses; privacy, peace and quiet at last.

                         *******************

So now I'm home and I'm bored.

Don't get me wrong. Being home is a thousand times better than being 
stuck in the infirmary or a hospital, but, you know me, Jack needs to be 
busy to be happy. Or content. Or at least, not quite so grumpy.

There's not a whole hell of a lot I *can *do. With broken ribs and only 
half my wheels in working order, I can't play hockey, hike or even swim, 
none of my usual activities to burn off excess energy. Even yard work is 
on hold for the time being. I'm not supposed to drive so I can't go 
anywhere. And now that it's Monday and the rest of my team is back at 
work, I don't even have anyone to pick on, irritate and annoy. And since 
they all refuse to go fishing with me (just what *did* Teal'c tell them 
about our fishing trip, huh? Someday I'm going to have to find out), and 
going fishing by myself isn't much fun, here I am.

Yes, I know it's hard to believe, but even I can reach my limit of 
sitting quietly watching movies and hockey.

I need to move, do something, do anything besides sit here and vegetate.

I'm so not into rocking chairs.

                         *******************

It was a welcome relief when the doorbell rang , until I remembered 
who'd promised to stop in. It's not that I don't like Doc, it's that I 
don't like what Doc *does*, you know?

So the doorbell chimed again, and I hollered, "Give me a minute, would 
ya?" not meaning to sound cranky, but it came out that way anyway. 
Reaching across to latch onto my crutches, grimacing at my ribs' 
complaints over the movement, I got upright with a minimum of fuss and 
worked my way over to the front door. The bell was ringing again. "Geez, 
Doc, give a gimp a chance, would ya?" I said as I opened the door.

"Well, you sound like your usual self," the diminutive doctor said as 
she stepped into my hallway.

Man, I don't always sound that cranky, do I? Maybe I need to work on my 
presentation a bit, I thought guiltily as I followed her into my living 
room.

She was checking the pill bottles, counting them to be sure I'd taken 
what I was supposed to (as if I wouldn't be smart enough to toss out any 
ones I'd forgotten to take. I didn't though. Really. Not this time.), 
looking satisfied at the totals. Turning to me as I re-seated myself on 
the edge of the sofa, she eyed me carefully. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine."

"Colonel," how does she know that was exactly my mother's tone of voice 
when she caught me... well, you don't need to know doing what.

"Really. I'm doing okay."

"Took all your pills?" she asked, pulling the stethoscope out of her 
medical bag.

I nodded.

"Drinking plenty of fluids? No beer? Eating good meals? Avoiding 
stress?" she queried as she slipped the stethoscope against my chest.

"Yes. No. Yes, and you don't see Daniel here, do you?" I smirked. SG-1's 
civilian has to be responsible for adding at least 10 points to my blood 
pressure.

She grinned as she listened to my heart and lungs, then took my temp and 
checked my blood pressure.

I like it when Doc is grinning. Means things are going okay and she's 
not about to order me back to jail, er, the infirmary.

"How's your leg?"

"I still get some tingling and numbness, especially if I sit for a 
while. Walking a bit actually seems to help," I told her as she peeled 
off my sock and checked the circulation in my foot and toes. 

"That makes sense, because movement improves the circulation." Holding 
her hand flat against the bottom of my foot, "Push" she ordered. 

I pushed and after a bit I felt the tremors start, from my toes all the 
way up to my thigh. I ground my teeth and kept pushing, until the 
cramping started. Shit, that hurt.

"Okay," she relented, and with a sigh of relief I sagged against the 
back of the couch, calf muscles still bunching and twisting painfully. 
Doc expertly massaged the cramping muscles until the tremors began to 
subside.

"That's an improvement over just last Friday," I think she was trying to 
make me feel better.

"Not much," I groused.

"Have you been taking the muscle relaxants?"

"They make me," I waved a hand in the air, "dodgey, you know."

"But they do help?"

"Some," I admitted reluctantly.

"Then use them."

"I don't like them," I insisted.

"I know," she sighed wearily, once again reminding me of my mother. She 
used to sigh at me a lot, too, with that same kind of long-suffering 
'why me' expression on her face. "Colonel, this is going to take time. I 
don't think that there's any permanent damage to the nerves in your leg, 
but we just don't know. Anything that will help, that will give your 
body more time to heal, is a good thing at this point. I know you're 
anxious, I know you want to get back to normal *now*, but this is going 
to take time and work and patience."

I wasn't even going to consider the possibility that it might not happen 
at all. Doc had already given me the worse case scenario lecture. And 
I'd flat out rejected the thought. "Then tell me what I can do to help 
move things along."

"I just did, Sir. Use the muscle relaxants. Take one at night, before 
you go to bed, and take one again after lunch. Remember that afternoon 
nap you promised me you'd take? Take it. If walking seems to help, do 
some walking in the morning, and again in the late afternoon, after the 
nap. Some walking, not too much. Start slow. If you go the end of the 
block and back the first week, that's fine. I don't need to remind you 
of this, but I will. Let your body be your guide. When it starts to 
hurt, you've overdone things. Back off, take a break, and rest." She was 
packing her medical gear back into the little black bag, thank goodness.

I got up to see her to the door, well, started to, because, like it was 
prone to do on occasion, my left leg took an extra minute to answer the 
call to duty. It's an odd feeling; I tell it what to do, and then it's 
like the signal from my brain to my muscles is detoured. Yeah, it's a 
bit of a scary feeling, too. 

So I have control issues. Do you blame me?

I wobbled, but caught my balance before Doc had to try and catch me.

Her face had that worried doctor look, the one that usually scares the 
hell out of me.

"I'm okay. Just a little slow, Doc," I reassured her.

She looked at me for a long minute before finally nodding, picking up 
her bag and heading for the door. I followed, my crutches thumping 
softly on the bare floor. At the door she paused. "You'll call if you 
need anything, Colonel? Please?"

"Yes."

"I mean it, Sir," she tried to look stern.

"So do I."

"So, then I'll just drop by again in a couple of days. Check how things 
are going."

"No need, Doc."

"I'll do it anyway. Humor me, Colonel."

"Right," I smiled, waving as she headed down the walk to her car.

                         *******************

The house was quiet, way too quiet. I turned on the radio, listening to 
a discussion of biotechnology that was more in Carter's line than mine. 
Switched the station to classical music. Tried the TV, nothing on but 
soap operas and loud, obnoxious talk shows.

Stir crazy already.

I needed to move, get outside.

Doc did say I could go for a walk.

I pulled my jacket out of the hall closet, slid it on, still a bit of a 
trick with my ribs feeling like they did, stuffed my house keys into the 
jacket pocket, and crutched out the door.

Outside felt good.

Moving felt good.

Determinedly, I started down the block, past the houses of neighbors I 
didn't even know. I spent so little time at home, and usually when I was 
home I was sleeping or maybe doing some yard work, that I'd never met 
most of the folks on the block. I knew the Darnell's, their son liked to 
play street hockey in the driveway; and the Tewens, who had a couple of 
cute blonde-haired kids who always waved at me when I drove by; and the 
Thorntons, whose dog sometimes came over. But that was about it, except 
for Mrs. McGilligan, the nice little old retired lady with a yappy 
little dog she loved to no end.

I took my time, like Doc had ordered, feeling a little silly for 
hobbling down the street with my crutches in the middle of the day. I 
used to jog around the neighborhood a lot, but since my knees had 
started to bother me, I'd switched to swimming and weights and bicycling 
to save what little cartilage I had left. So it had been a long time 
since I'd done the neighborhood tour.

I didn't make it all the way around the block, of course. I wasn't even 
to the end of my street when I felt my left leg begin to tense up, and 
knew the damn cramps were going to start again. Shit shit shit.

Looking around, I spied the steps up to Mrs McGilligan's house, and 
crutched over, sitting down on the concrete steps just in time, mere 
seconds before I was about to fall down as my leg knotted up something 
fierce. With both hands, I massaged the calf, then up into the thigh, 
trying to tame the muscle spasms.

I was so wrapped up in what I was doing that I didn't even hear her come 
out of the house. "Are you all right, Mr. O'Neill?" she asked.

"Oh, yeah, fine," I bit my lip, feeling the sweat pop out on my face as 
I continued kneading the knotted muscles in my leg.

"You are not fine, young man," she shook her head, studying me. "You 
really should be more careful, Mr. O'Neill. That job you do is just way 
to dangerous, it seems to me. You get hurt far too often."

"Once is too often," I mumbled under my breath. Fortunately, her 
hearing's not so good and she didn't hear me. "Yes, ma'am, I'll agree 
with that," I amended, speaking more loudly.

"What happened?"

Oh good, should I tell her the truth, how an oversized, giant spider the 
size of her living room had stung me with his feelers so he could carry 
me home and eat me for lunch? "Just a little training mishap, Mrs. M."

"You look warm. Would you like a glass of water, young man?"

Not a bad idea. "Yes, I'd like that, ma'am. Thank you."

"Then you come on up here on my porch and set yourself down right there. 
Prop your foot up on that empty chair while I get you some nice cold 
water."

So that's how I ended up sitting on Mrs. McGilligan's front porch.

She likes to mother me. And it's kind of nice to have someone call me 
'young.'

So call me vain. See if I care.

The morning visit to Mrs. M's porch became a daily ritual. Truthfully, 
for the first couple days, that was about as far as I could walk without 
needing a rest.

Pretty humbling. Jack O'Neill, interplanetary explorer, friend to the 
Asgard, scourge of the Goa'uld, on the galaxy's top ten most wanted 
list, gnarly heroic Air Force Colonel, rescued by a little old lady with 
a yappy little dog and a big front porch.

But, as long as you don't tell anyone, I'll admit that I kinda liked it, 
actually. Gave me somebody to talk to. And she sort of reminds me of my 
grandmother.

By the second week, I'd managed to build myself up to covering a lot 
more distance. Finally made it all the way to the end of the block, 
across from the park. So, yeah, that's only what, four hundred yards 
from my front door, but that was 400 yards further than I was walking a 
week ago, so there.

It was a nice day, sunny, warm, and the park looked damn inviting. 
Besides, I could see a bench over there that would be just the place to 
rest. Only for a minute, of course, just so I didn't overdo things. 
Wouldn't want to disobey Doc's orders, nope.

I crutched across the quiet street and over to the bench, hot, sweaty 
and tired, dropping heavily to the seat. Damn, this was all still such 
slow going.

Closing my eyes, I sat back, tilting my face upward to catch the warming 
rays of the sun while I waited for the trembling in my legs to go away, 
along with the stitch in my side.

That's when I heard something behind me.

Not moving my head, I slowly opened one eye, then millimeter by 
millimeter, shifted my gaze toward the bushes behind me.

There was someone there, no, too small, more like something there, 
creeping cautiously through the bushes toward the trash can next to the 
swings.

The animal darted from the cover of the plants, snatched a tattered 
piece of paper lying near the trashcan, and retreated back into the 
concealing foliage.

I'd only had one very quick glimpse, but it looked to be a dog, a 
skinny, ill-kept, scared dog.

"Hi, pup," I said conversationally. All I could see of the animal, in 
the darkness under the bushes, were gleaming black eyes, staring at me 
with mistrust and fear. And hunger. The poor thing looked ravenous, 
digging through the trash.

I rifled through my pockets. I had on jeans and a sweatshirt today, no 
need for a jacket, and there was no food in my pockets. Damn. Nothing at 
all. Not even a crumb.

"If I go home and get you something, will you stay here?" I asked the 
dog.

As you'd expect, it didn't answer.

"I'll be back, fast as I can. Which I'm sorry won't be very fast, I 
know," I rattled on, keeping my voice soft and soothing and hoping the 
animal might respond. "I'll be back. Promise."

The dog slunk back even further into the bushes, growling low in its 
throat as I levered myself upright.

Home seemed a million miles away. I can hop aboard a wormhole and be 
halfway across the galaxy in a matter of seconds, but on crutches, with 
a numb leg and broken ribs, it took me forever to go three-fourths of a 
block back to my house. Sweating, stumbling, cursing the damn crutches 
and my damn leg and my goddamn ribs, I struggled back to my house. I 
rifled through the refrigerator, not finding much, but there was a loaf 
of bread, and the leftover steak from the other night, and the ham 
someone had bought me for sandwiches. Tossing it all into a plastic bag 
that I could slip over my wrist, I hobbled back to the door, grabbed my 
keys, and went out to the garage.

So yes, I knew I wasn't supposed to be driving yet, but it was only to 
the end of the block, and if I tried to walk, I'd damn sure overdo it. 
So which was worse, walking too far or driving? Sometimes you've got to 
make choices. So I chose the truck. Somehow managing to haul myself up 
into the cab, I backed out carefully and drove slowly down the street, 
parking across from the park.

                         *******************

The dog was still there, still cowering back in the bushes.

I sat down on the bench and opened the bag, pulling out the ham, waving 
it in the air to be sure the pup got the scent.

The dog licked his lips, still staring at me. I could see his nose 
twitch. Ah, good, I had his attention now. "Here, pup. Come on. Din-
din," I chanted softly.

The creature whined, but stayed put. 

"Ham. Real, sugar cured ham. Good stuff. Makes great sandwiches."

The dog was shivering but not moving.

"I won't hurt you, pup, I promise."

I could see the animal tense, wanting to come out, but still afraid.

Breaking a small bit of meat off the slice, I gently tossed the tidbit 
into the bushes, not too close to the frightened animal, afraid I'd 
scare it off if the throw came too close. It raised itself up on its 
haunches, preparing to flee, and then its hunger got the best of it. 
Quickly, the brown muzzle reached forward, snatching up the meat, 
gulping it down so fast I'm sure the animal never tasted it.

"That's good, pup. A good start," I kept up the soothing chatter, 
throwing another piece of meat, not quite as far as the first. Bit by 
bit, I lured the animal a little closer to the edge of the bushes, but 
despite its hunger, that was as far as it would come.

"Hey, pup, that's okay. I understand. Sometimes the world's a scary 
place." I was remembering a time when my world had been dark and empty 
and barren; when my own belly had growled with hunger, and my eyes had 
reflected only distrust, hatred and anger, and all I wanted was a place 
to hide from those who would hurt me.

Pup became my project, because I knew what it was like to be him.

                         *******************

Every morning, and again every afternoon, I'd hobble on down to the park 
and sit on the bench, a bag of treats in my hand, and patiently toss 
them into the bushes. "We've got all day, pup. You take your time. 
Trust's not an easy thing."

I know I'm an impatient man. It's a flaw I've had since I was a kid, and 
one I've never been able to tame. Too much restless energy, I suppose. 
Too much to do and too little time to do it. And mostly, just no need 
for the superfluous details. I'm a big picture kind of person. I want 
the capsule version, the summary, straight to the point, no-nonsense, 
just the facts basics. You do know Carter drives me crazy, and Daniel's 
right next to her, right?

But for some reason, with kids, and dogs, I have an ocean of patience, 
maybe because I don't waste it on adults.

Whatever, it's there, and it was there for Pup. 

                         *******************

Pup quickly learned when to look for me. I think he had a hideout, back 
there under the bushes, because that's where I always saw him.

I was late one day, when Doc came by to give me another check-up, and 
the animal seemed almost relieved to see me. Good. That was a start.

I'm sure the folks who lived across from the park thought I was nuts. 
I'm probably lucky they never called the cops on me. I mean, there I'd 
be, every morning, rain or shine, hobbling down the street, plastic bag 
flopping against the crutches. And then I'd go sit on the park bench, 
for hours at a time, seemingly talking to myself because ol' Pup stayed 
hidden in the bushes. 

I talked to him a lot. Pup was a good listener. I told him about Doc and 
her twice a week visits to check up on me; about my friends at work; 
about my boss, Hammond of Texas; about how quiet and empty my house felt 
at night; about how after all this time I still mourned Charlie and 
missed Sara and regretted the mess I'd made of all the good things in my 
life; about Minnesota and fishing. I told him about all the things I 
couldn't tell a human being, because a human might judge me, or reject 
me or take pity on me, none of which I could abide. Pup would listen, 
and he wouldn't scold or criticize or look down on me for my failures. 

Humans should be so forgiving.

I have told you that dogs are my favorite people, haven't I?

                         *******************

A couple of weeks went by, and my life was filled with excitement-- 
eating, sleeping, taking pills, watching TV... I was feeling better 
every day, my leg getting stronger and truth be told, Pup had a lot to 
do with it. I had someplace to go and someone to talk to. I had a goal, 
and my goal was to get that dog to come out of hiding and let me be his 
friend.

The breakthrough came the day when he finally slunk out of the bushes to 
take a treat right out of my hand. Of course, he snatched it and 
retreated into his safe hideout, but that was okay. He'd made the first 
gesture, it wasn't much, but it was a start.

Pretty soon he'd come out from his hidey-hole and sit there, tongue 
hanging out, a big brown mutt with a rough coat, but at least his ribs 
weren't sticking out anymore. He never quite wagged his tail at the 
sight of me, but he was glad to see me, or at least the food I'd bought.

So no, I didn't tell Doc that I'd driven to the grocery store and bought 
dog food and dog treats, those little ones that smelled like sausages 
and bacon.

                         *******************

And then one day I went to the park, and Pup wasn't there.

I waited. Hey, he'd waited for me when I was late.

He didn't show.

Hours passed.

I contemplated looking for him, and since I could now walk something 
akin to normal, and needed only a cane instead of crutches for the now 
rare occasions when the leg tremors threatened my balance, I strolled 
around the park, looking for him. There was no sign.

I was sitting there on the park bench as dusk descended, feeling a bit 
lost and forlorn, when Daniel drove up.

He got out of his car and walked over, sitting down beside me on the 
bench. His eyes scanned over my face, and whatever he saw there made him 
frown. "Nice day to go to the park."

"Uh huh." I'm a great conversationalist when I'm worried.

"Did you forget I was coming over, or did you just not want my company?" 
he asked finally.

"Sorry. Forgot."

"Ah. Lots on your mind then."

"Yes."

"Care to talk about it?"

"That would be a first."

"Yes, it would," he said, that little perplexed frown on his face.

We were quiet for quite a while.

"You come here a lot?" he asked at last.

"Shit, Daniel, that's a pick-up line!" I snarled, exasperated.

"Not in this case, no. It's an honest question."

"Which I don't have to answer."

Daniel jumped to his feet, pacing in front of me, pausing finally to 
glare at me. "No, Jack, you don't. But I'm your friend, or at least 
sometimes I think I am, and I'm worried about you. It's not like you to 
forget that we were going to meet Sam and Teal'c for dinner."

"Guess I wasn't paying attention to the time." I tried to cover, feeling 
guilty now on top of being worried.

"No, I guess you weren't. So, are you mad at me or something? Cause I 
can't figure out what I might have done... this time."

I swiped a hand across my face, feeling tired. "I'm not mad at you. Just 
lost something. Something important."

"What?"

"Probably my mind," I tried to joke. "Look, Daniel, I'm just not in the 
mood for eating out tonight."

He looked oddly at me. He knows I really like to eat out, mostly because 
I don't like to cook in, and we'd been planning this dinner as a sort of 
SG-1 anniversary gathering.

"You feeling okay?"

"God, not you, too..."

"Well I *am *Doctor Jackson."

"Doctor of Archaeology Jackson."

"Right. So?"

"So you guys go without me. I'll be there some other time."

"Look, Jack, I know you must be tired of being stuck at home and anxious 
to get back to work, but..."

"This isn't about that, Daniel. Really. I'm fine. You guys go. I'll see 
you all Friday night, right?"

Daniel studied my face intently. I lifted my chin and gave him my best 
'I'm fine' look and at last he shrugged. "Whatever, Jack. Need a ride 
home?"

"No. I'll walk. Good for me you know."

I watched while he walked over to his car and drove away. Carefully, I 
stood up, my legs stiff from sitting for so long, twinges of muscle pain 
flickering through my thigh and calf after the long period of idleness. 
I gave myself a minute, then started the walk home, still feeling like 
I'd lost something important.

                         *******************

I was at the park early the next day. No sign of Pup again. I actually 
went over and asked a couple of the moms with small kids who I saw often 
at the park, but they didn't remember seeing the dog.

Finally, not knowing what else to do, I walked over to the house across 
the street and rang the bell. A middle-aged woman came to the door, 
looking suspiciously at me. "Can I help you?"

"I'm just wondering if you've seen anything of a big, shaggy coated dog, 
brown, about this big," I held my hand about knee height.

"Oh, the stray that's been hanging around the park the last few weeks?"

"Yeah."

"A car hit him yesterday."

My heart skipped a beat.

Shit, Jack, get it together. It was just a dog, just a poor, damn, 
helpless, friendless, scared, dog...

"Ah, thanks." I turned to go.

"Mister, if you'd like to know, the people from the humane society took 
him to the shelter I think."

I turned back and smiled at her. "Thank you."

                         *******************

I hurried home, grabbed the truck keys, and drove to the pound.

It's a place I usually avoid, because my instinct is to want to take 
every last sorry, sad dog home with me. Yeah, sure, I'm Mr Hardass 
Military Guy, but I can't walk past a sad-eyed dog without choking up. 
What's it to ya'?

I walked in to the shelter, and up to the woman sitting behind a big 
desk piled with almost as many papers as Daniel usually has on his, 
meaning a lot. "Hello, Judy," I read off her nametag.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"I'm here about a dog."

She smiled, sensing a customer I guess. "We have lots," she smiled 
brightly.

"Ah, actually, I'm here about a specific dog, one that was picked up 
yesterday..."

Her smile dimmed with disapproval. I'd obviously been demoted from dog 
lover to unworthy careless dog owner. "We picked up several strays 
yesterday."

"This one was found by the Centennial Park. Big brown dog, the neighbor 
said it was hit by a car."

"Dogs shouldn't be left to roam, mister...?"

"O'Neill, Jack. He wasn't roaming per se. And he's not mine. I've been 
feeding him, over at the park, trying to make friends with him..."

"A noble desire, Mr. O'Neill, but..." she was shuffling through one part 
of one stack of paperwork, stopping with an "ah hah" and looking up at 
me at last, "you could have called us and we'd have picked him up, 
gotten him safely in here."

In hindsight, maybe she'd been right, but I didn't want to think so. 
"So, is he here?"

"Yes, he was very lucky. A broken leg and minor injuries. We've treated 
him, but I'm afraid he's not very friendly and probably won't be 
adoptable."

Before my brain knew what my mouth was doing, I said, "I'll adopt him."

"Do you know anything about dogs, Mr. O'Neill?" she asked skeptically.

"Tons. Had a couple when I was a kid, and another a few years ago."

"What happened to it?"

"My wife got the dog in the divorce."

"Oh. What kind of job do you have?"

"A good one, good enough so that I can afford to own my own house and 
feed for a dog," I snapped.

"You're home everyday?"

"Yes." Okay, so I lied. Sort of. I *was* home everyday now, and I would 
be for a few more weeks yet, and by that time I'd find the dog a 
permanent home. I knew if I left him here no one would want him, and I 
knew what happened to unadoptable dogs.

She looked me over suspiciously from head to foot.

I don't suppose I looked very prosperous, or very impressive either. I 
mean, there I was in sweats, unshaven, walking with an appreciable limp. 
Then I saw her eyes flick out to see what vehicle I'd arrived in, and 
when she saw the big Ford, her assessment improved immeasurably. 

She took me back to see Pup. He was lying in a kennel, on a soft rug, 
sleeping, probably sedated, one leg bandaged. 

"Hi, Pup," I said softly.

He woke sluggishly, then raised his head to look at me, his eyes sort of 
glazed. Man, did I know how he felt, drugged, in pain, confused, and 
scared. Been there a few times myself.

Was that an attempt at wagging his tail? I thought so.

"He does seem to know you, Mr. O'Neill," said Judy. "Are you sure you 
want to do this? He's actually an older dog. The vet figured 5 or 6 
years old according to his teeth, but it's hard to tell with strays. And 
he'll need lots of attention and care."

"I've got the time."

                         *******************

So I took Pup home with me, fixed him up a bed next to mine.

We made a pretty good pair, one as battered as the next.

It was good having him there. I enjoyed it, having Pup to talk to. He 
didn't like riding in the truck, maybe he didn't trust my driving? And 
he hated the collar when I put it on him the first day, but he didn't 
fight the leash I put him on so he could walk with me yet stay safely 
out of the street. He hadn't always been a stray then, he'd had some 
training once, back when he really was a pup.

I knew I'd be going back to work soon. I didn't know what I was going to 
do about Pup. Sure, at first I'd be doing desk work, so I'd be home 
every night, but truthfully, a part of me was getting damn impatient to 
get back to my real job, with SG-1.

But another part of me was perfectly happy here at home with Pup for 
company.

We got along well, a pair of cranky, antisocial, gimpy old timers. He 
even had gray hairs showing on his muzzle. Well, you know they say 
people and their dogs *do* look alike.

                         *******************

My first day back at work was pretty anticlimactic.

And boring.

After all the obligatory 'glad you're back, Colonel' pep talks, a nice 
chat with the General, and breakfast with Carter, Daniel and Teal'c 
having gone off world with SG-4, I limped down to my office.

The paperwork was stacked about 12 feet high on my desk.

Okay, so that's a slight exaggeration. Six feet. Four. All right, two. 
Really.

After a couple of hours, I had writer's cramp, eyestrain, and one hell 
of a headache. The paperwork stack was still about 23 inches high.

Surprisingly, it was Doc who came to my rescue, dragging me over to the 
infirmary for another check-up and another round of tests.

As I buttoned up my shirt, she strode back into the room, a smile on her 
face. "All your test results look excellent, Colonel. I want you to 
intensify your workout schedule this week, and hopefully by the week 
after I'll be able to allow you on light duty.

I guess my smile didn't seem too genuine.

Hers dimmed. Doc stared at me worriedly. "Colonel?" she asked softly. 
"Something wrong?"

I was staring down at my hands. "No."

"I see. Something's right, then?"

I looked over at her. She was giving me one of those looks, no not that 
one, the other one, the 'this time he's got me completely baffled' one.

"I thought you'd be glad to be back on active duty," she prompted.

"I am," I answered quickly. "Sort of."

"I see," she said, and clearly didn't. "You enjoyed having some time 
off?"

"Not exactly."

"So what's..."

"Nothing, Doc." I stood. "Guess all that paperwork on my desk is just 
depressing me, huh." And I walked out. 

                         *******************

Daniel and Teal'c got home the next day, and that night, Daniel stopped 
over. I was sitting on the deck, watching the sunset, Pup curled up by 
my feet, as I heard his car pull up. "Back here," I shouted. He came 
around the corner of the house with that sheepish little smile that 
drives all the nurses mad as in 'isn't he cute', and just plain makes me 
mad as in 'isn't he annoying today.' "There's more beer in the fridge," 
I offered.

"Nope. Driving." He stood, jacket in hand, leaning against the deck 
railing.

I nodded. "So how was PXX... whatever."

"PC5-449. Nice planet."

"Trees, rocks, ruins..."

"Yes. Some very nice ancient cave paintings."

"No Goa'uld?"

"None."

"Nice neighborhood, then."

"Very."

"So what did you come to ask?" I asked.

"Janet was worried about you."

I shrugged. "It's Doc's job to be worried about me, and about you and 
Sam and even Teal'c."

"This is a different kind of worried." He raised his gaze to look into 
mine. "She said you seemed uncertain about coming back to work."

"I've been there the last two days."

"No, not in the mountain. With SG-1."

"Oh." I sat, quiet.

"Something wrong?"

"She asked me that."

"And you didn't answer her."

"Does there have to be an answer?"

"For you to not be jumping at the chance to get back to doing the job 
you love? Yes, there does have to be."

I shrugged. Truth was, I didn't know what I felt, or what I wanted. And 
that was scaring me, because I know I can't do the job for SG-1 if I'm 
not 100% there, every minute of every day we're out there.

"I'm thinking retirement."

"You've thought that before."

"Yup."

"And rejected it."

"That was then..."

"And now is different because... what?"

"Because I'm older, grayer, probably not any wiser..." Hell, how could I 
explain it to him when I didn't understand it myself?

"Jack..."

"Daniel, I just don't know. And because I don't know, I know I'm not 
ready, you know."

He nodded. I think trying to follow that bit of O'Neill logic was making 
him dizzy.

And then he looked over at me, to where my hand was scratching Pup 
behind the ears, and I think he understood.

Maybe. Daniel's not a dog person, and I'm not sure if you can 
understand, if you're not a dog person, what it means. Pup was company, 
a friend, a constant when my life had been chaos for the past six years. 
He made my empty house less empty. So what if he wasn't a brilliant 
conversationalist? I get enough of that at work every day, between 
Daniel and Carter that's more brilliance than one normal human being can 
handle. And unlike my team, Pup followed orders and *never* talked back. 
He didn't care if I was cranky or moody or having a bad day, because Pup 
needed me, like I hadn't been needed by any human being for a very long 
time. Not since Charlie...

Daniel just looked from me to the dog and back to me, and nodded, said, 
"See you tomorrow, Jack," and left.

                         *******************

Two days later, Sgt. Siler knocked at my office door. The sergeant is a 
good guy, and a damned good technician, steady in a crisis. Besides, 
anyone who can understand even a tenth of what Carter says has to be 
brilliant. And, okay, I still owe him for the concussion and the broken 
arm, even though I swear it was entirely, 100% accidental, all the fault 
of those damn Tok'ra and their double damned Superman armbands.

"Colonel O'Neill?"

"Come in, Sergeant."

"Ah, Major Carter said you might be able to help me out."

"With?" Me? Help Siler? Unless he had a problem that required a gun, I 
doubted there was much I could do to help him out.

"Well, Sir, my son's 12, and pretty shy, and last week he lost his dog. 
The Major said you'd taken in a stray who needed a good home."

Damn that Carter. Using a kid to weasel in under my defenses ought to be 
a court martialable offense.

"Zach needs another dog, and we don't have time for a puppy right now. 
He'd have a great home, Sir, I promise."

I swallowed a big lump in my throat. "Why don't you bring the boy over 
on Saturday and see if he and Pup get along?" I offered reluctantly.

                         *******************

When the doorbell rang I had the irrational urge to ignore it and hope 
the Silers would go away. But I didn't; I opened the door and let the 
Sergeant and his young son enter the house. "Come on in," I invited. 
"Pup's back here." We walked through the living room and out onto the 
deck, where Pup had been happily snoozing on a rug strategically placed 
in the sun. Naps in the warm sun are good for mending bones and aging 
bodies. I know.

Pup raised his head and thumped his tail when he saw me.

Siler's quiet son smiled and slapped his hand against his thigh in that 
universal 'come' gesture every dog lover knows.

Pup looked over at me as if apologizing and climbed carefully to his 
feet, limping over to the boy. Zach bent down to Pup's level and looked 
the dog in the eye, boy to beast, his hand stroking across the soft 
brown hair on the dog's skull, scratching the droopy ears. Pup's long 
pink tongue darted out to lick the boy's chin. Zach smiled and threw his 
arm around the dog's neck, and Pup's tail began to wag slowly. 

They belonged together. I could see it, in the boy's eyes and in Pup's, 
too.

But it didn't make it any easier to send him away with them.

Sometimes, doing the right thing hurts.

But the right thing is the right thing, and they needed each other and 
belonged together, that quiet boy and that old dog.

                         *******************

So that's how Pup went to live with the Siler's. I stop in and visit now 
and then, and he's always happy to see me. Seems like he gets grayer 
every time I see him, sort of like me I guess. His broken leg healed up 
just fine, and he only limps a little. You hardly notice though, because 
he walks with the happy swagger of a well-fed and much loved member of 
the family. It's hard to recognize the scared, starving stray I'd found 
in the park.

I'm happy for Pup, who's named Colonel now.

He's found himself a home, a family and a good life.

I'm glad.

But I miss him.

Maybe some day, after I really do retire, I'll get myself a dog and move 
up to Minnesota, live in Granddad's cabin beside that fishless lake, no 
longer a stray myself, but home at last.

Mostly, though, I know it's just wishful thinking.

I'm not as lucky as that dog.


**The End**