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Prologue

Loud voices crashed into him like violent waves against a cliff. He blinked up into the yelling faces around him and wondered who they were and why they were shouting at him. But, he didn't have the strength to ask.

"Come on, Jack, talk to us! Where's Sam?"

"Colonel O'Neill! Report!"

"O'Neill! You must wake up and tell us of Major Carter."

"Colonel, can you tell me where you're hurt? Do you know where you are?"

Their words and questions meant nothing to him. He only wished they'd shut up and let him figure out who he was and what he was doing flat on his back with a giant, stone ring looming over him along with umpteen people-some of them armed with guns-yelling in his face.

He gave a small shake to his head, but it didn't clear his thoughts or silence their voices. If anything the people around him seemed to take his movement as encouragement and redoubled their efforts. Their urgency only served to confuse him more.

"We have to know, Colonel. Where is Major Carter?"

"Where is she, Jack...is she all right?"

It was the pronoun that finally got through to him...she. Names and titles meant nothing, but he had a vivid image of a blond-haired, blue-eyed, smiling She. He gave a growl and swung himself up past their startled faces to sit. He had to think. There was something important about Her...something.

He was vaguely aware of a woman's voice saying, "Let's give him some room," and people backing off a short distance.

A man's voice, loud and authoritative, ordered, "Stand down and clear the room." The men with guns turned and left. A door clanged shut behind them. There were others though who remained: the short, bald man giving the orders; another bald man, this one large and dark with a golden emblem and a ferocious scowl; a tall, lanky man with a bad haircut and a concerned look; the woman poking and prodding him while ordering others to give him room; and, beyond them, two people in white jackets hovering with a stretcher.

In the sudden silence, he recognized he knew this place and these people. But he didn't have time to waste a thought on them. Because there was something urgent, desperately urgent, he needed to remember about Her. And he couldn't think, couldn't force it into his awareness.

"Colonel?" the woman before him said, and he understood she was talking to him. Colonel. That's what She had called him, too. Whoever She was.

"Yes?" he said. His mouth and throat were so dry it came out almost a croak.

"Do you know what happened? Can you tell us where Sam is?"

It was too difficult to force words out of his parched throat and not worth the effort. He didn't know where Sam was or who he was...and he didn't care. The important thing was to remember where She was...where had he lost Her and how could he find Her again?

"That's all right, Sir. We'll get you to the infirmary and get you taken care of," the woman assured him, but the look she threw at the short, bald man was not a look of someone who found things 'all right'.

"Can't," he croaked out, "got to find Her."

The tall, lanky man was suddenly, eagerly back in his face. "You remember what happened to her, Jack?" he asked.

He shook his head, "No...but got to find Her." He tried to get up but found he couldn't. He looked dumbly down at his legs which refused to support him, and at the dark arms of the big man which were keeping him from falling on his face.

"Easy, Colonel," the woman told him. "You're injured. We're going to take care of you." Injured. He didn't have time to be injured; didn't have time to be taken care of. But, apparently, that didn't matter because the next thing he knew he was waking up in an infirmary bed. Wires ran from under his hospital gown to machines beside the bed, tubes ran from hanging solution bags over his head into his arms and, worse, into his nose and down his throat. He fought the desire to gag. The noise brought a nurse to his side.

"I'll get Dr. Frasier," she told him and left him at the mercy of all the wires, tubes, and machines. He looked at them all in confusion. Where was he and why was he hooked up like this? Dr. Frasier turned out to be a familiar face. He squinted at her a moment and then remembered her from before. Before when he had had something he had to do...something to do with...he shook his head in frustration. It wasn't a good idea. The tube pulled against the side of his nose, and its movement made him want to gag again.

"Oh good, Colonel. I'm glad to see you awake," the doctor said. She must have noticed his discomfort with the nasal tube because she told him, "I'm sorry about that, but we need to leave it in until we know if you're going to be able to stay awake and eat on your own. You were in such bad shape we had to get some nutrition into you." He understood her words, but they didn't make any sense to him. "You've been out almost two days, Sir," she continued. His lack of response must have finally gotten through to her because her explanation didn't continue. Instead, she started up again with her poking and prodding and questions. "Tell me what you remember, Colonel."

He licked his lips, and the nurse held a cup up for him. He meant to reach for it, but his arms wouldn't cooperate. Instead, he had to allow her to hold the straw to his lips. The water was lukewarm and tasted like the plastic cup that held it. He sucked it down thankfully anyway. When he was finished, the doctor was still looking to him for an answer, and, with a sigh, he gave it to her. "Not much. I remember being on my back in that room with you all yelling at me. Trying to get up and waking up here instead."

"That room, Sir?" she asked.

"Yea, with the big donut and the bald men and the guys with guns-you were there. That's all I remember. Except..." he wrinkled his face in the effort to remember something but then shrugged. Whatever it was, it was gone.

"And you don't remember anything before that? About where you were? About...where Sam is?" the doctor asked. He could see and hear the importance of this information to her, but he had no answer for her.

"Sorry," he said, "don't even know who he is."

"Who he is," the doctor repeated and then with a sad shake of her head met his eyes. "Sam's a woman, Colonel. Major Samantha Carter."

He stared at her in surprise because now he remembered whatever he needed to remember involved a woman.

"Blond?" he asked. "Blue-eyed?"

The doctor looked at him intently. "Yes," she answered.

"Something important I've got to remember about Her," he said.

"Yes, Sir, there is. The two of you went missing on a mission over five weeks ago. You showed up out of the blue yesterday, but she didn't. We need to know where she is."

He nodded at her making the tape holding the tube in his nose pull at his cheek. That was it. That was what he had to remember. He'd promised Her-Sam, Major Carter, whoever She was-he'd come back for her. And then he'd forgotten who she was and where he'd left her or even why.

The doctor sighed and said, "From the condition you were in, Sir...we don't have much time. We have to find her soon, before it's too late." He avoided looking into her eyes and reading the fear there that it was already too late. The doctor didn't need to spell it out. Finding Her depended solely on him remembering where he'd left her: if they'd known where to find her, they already would have.

JSJSJSJS

Sam drew in one ragged breath after the other. It was all she could do. She'd promised the colonel she'd hold on until he could get back with help, and she was doing the best she could. But, it wasn't good enough.

And where was he? Had he made it? Was she dragging out this agony in a hopeless attempt to keep a promise to a dead man? How long had he been gone? She'd passed out and came to so often her time sense was screwed to pieces. It felt like days, but surely it had only been a matter of hours. She simply couldn't have had days left in her when he'd gone away to find help. It didn't really matter, though. However long, he'd better hurry because, regardless of her promise, she couldn't hold on much longer.