I do not own SGU. Duh.

Stuck!

If there was one thing worse than being stuck in a deep dark dungeon with slimy walls and strange insects, it was being stuck in a deep dark dungeon with slimy walls, strange insects, and Doctor Rush. Unfortunately, those things are exactly what Colonel Young found that he was stuck with as he slowly came to.

"Colonel? Colonel? Where are you?"

"I'm right here! Dang, I can't believe those aliens knocked us out and threw us down here! What the hell?" Young picked himself up and began walking in the direction of Rush's voice.

A few moments passed. "Colonel, you're stepping on my foot!" hissed the Scottish man.

"Oh. Sorry." Young shifted his position, shuffling backward a few steps. He found his pack and began to dig blindly around for his flashlight. "At least they didn't take the packs," he mused.

"You know, Colonel, the stupid ones are often the most violent..."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Gah!"

"WHAT?"

"I felt a bug..."

"Come, on Rush...this is serious. Help me find a flashlight."

"Right."

"Um, Rush..."

"Aye?"

"I assure you, that thing you're touching isn't the pack."

"Then what is it?" he asked testily.

"My ass."

A dead silence hung heavily over the area for a few moments. "Oh," breathed Rush, finally. "Right. Sorry."

"No worries," whispered Young, practically dying with embarrassment. Rush cleared his throat.

Later, the two men had given up on trying to find a way out of the dungeon and were sitting dejectedly against the wall. Young had finally found his flashlight, which was lying on the wet ground beside him. Its artificial light cast an odd glow over the chamber, but at least they could see. Young glanced at Rush. Actually, he'd rather be in the dark. At least then he wouldn't have to look at that jerk's face all the time...

"What are ye lookin' at, colonel?" snapped Rush.

"Your face," the other man snapped back, turning to frown at the opposite wall instead.

"What's wrong with my face?"

"Nothing's wrong with it."

"Then why were you starin' at me like that?"

"No reason," Young huffed, sounding like a petulant five-year old.

Rush decided to change the subject. "I wonder if we're underwater."

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, this moisture on the walls must be coming in through the cracks between the stones, don't you agree?"

"Erm...I guess," said Young, looking nervously around. "I hope not, though."

"What good is hope?"

"Um...what?"

"What good is hope? Hope isn't goin' to get us out of here."

"No, but it might kill you if I hope hard enough."

"Excuse me?" Rush whined. "I'd like to have you know, colonel, that..." Everything else that came out of the Scot's mouth fell on deaf ears. Young had zoned out, bobbing his head to the music he was listening to inside his brain. "Are you listening to me?" Rush screeched. "Are you listening?"

Young's head continued to bob, and he even started humming. Rush sputtered until he was red in the face, but then he gave up and stalked over to the other side of the chamber. Eventually, after a few rounds of humming every TV show theme song he could remember, including the one from the Brady Bunch, Young fell into an uneasy sleep.