Summary: Colonel Jack ONeill makes a run for his life.

Rating: T

Setting: Stargate Continuum - SPOILERS!

Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

SALVATION

Fire raining from the skies... His catholic background had always screamed to him that he will end in hell. The many things he had done for the right reason with the wrong means during his years in Special Operations had earned him a place in the deepest pits, he believed. It never came to his mind that he will die in this desolate wasteland of ice. So un-hellish. Somehow he had accepted that it should be a hot sun-scorched desert where he'll draw his last breath. There was some kind of twisted logic in it after all these years in Iraq, Iran and Afghanistan.

But here he was – zigzagging through an icy cavern, his team hot on his heels, doing his best to avoid the falling daggers of ice, shattered from the roof by the merciless bombing of the surface. The cables on the floor and the different boxes the geeks had left behind did not help much. They were only hindering his movement without any hope of shelter. O'Neill darted himself forward, waving to the new addition of the team towards the mushroom of the dialing device. It took ages for the geek to get there, find his notes and start punching the address. "Clumsy geeks", he hissed quietly, which got him a strange look from his teammate. The symbols of the Ring were going to life, lights glowing one after the other. He hated the idea of doing this. Escape was never his favorite tactical option. And yet he could not come out with a viable solution for survival in a situation like this – hundreds of alien spaceships attacking this planet with unheard ferocity. The ring spаt its watery-bluish insides forward. O'Neill gave a sign to his 2IC to activate that GDO just in case and gave a wave to the team to enter the ring. He ran toward it, but something pulled his heart. O'Neill stopped to a halt and took one last look behind. The cavern was falling in. Without wasting any more time O'Neill dove in the puddle.

The feeling was one of a kind. He had taken prototype planes into steep dives during his test-pilot years before the Special Ops snatched him. Never had he experienced something like this. The tunnel was twisting and rolling as a maddening rollercoaster, flashes of blue and red alternating, a detour here and there, but no control at all of the direction he was tossed to.

The ride came to an abrupt end as he hit a metal ramp with his head going in first. He never thought he could be happy to see a manmade grey concrete ceiling instead of the blue skies above the canopy of the aircraft or this unique blue of the sky over Minnesota peeking through the tops of the pines.

'O'Neill, you are getting too old for this', he murmured to himself. The adrenaline rush gone, he was starting to feel all the scratches and bruises over his body, his right knee screaming with red-hot pain. 'Argh, no crying in front of the troops, bad for the reputation', O'Neill reminded himself, drew himself up the railing of the ramp and headed towards the suspicious SFs at its bottom. He handed down his equipment and allowed himself to be somewhat respectfully guided to the briefing room with his men.

'We made it', a bright flicker of happiness ran through him. He was alive, his team was in one piece, there was hope for another battle – the war was not over. O'Neill sat at the briefing table, looking semi-dreaming to the coffee-machine on the little table by the wall. This could wait but, oh, how hard he was craving for a cup of coffee. Or tea. Or whatever, it was enough the drink to be hot, to wash away the chill and horror of the Antarctica.

And then that Mitchell guy, together with the astronaut and the freaking archeologist, came through the door. O'Neill felt his world collapsing. His heart was tearing with pain, shards of unbelievable ache digging in his brain, his inner self was shattering into pieces with agony. Because he realized that in his salvation and new life Charlie was no more.

I would like to thank Jumble and the ship-family for their encouragement. Thanks a lot, folks!