Observing O'Neill, Daniel realised he had been holding his breath again. Once more – SG-1's luck seemed to be holding. A military-issue olive drab jacket suddenly obscured his view of O'Neill's rescue efforts.

'So much for 'DanielJackson - do you require assistance?', Daniel thought wryly as strong arms grabbed him by the fabric of his jacket and hauled him half-way out of the pit.

"Okay-okay, I got it!" he called out a little more shrilly than intended. It felt as though Teal'c were wrenching one arm out of its socket, and Daniel saw the man's other hand reaching for his belt. Now was not the time to explain the concept of wedgies to Teal'c.

"Very well, I will go assist Captain Carter." If possible, Teal'c sounded slightly miffed at Daniel's refusal of help.

Panting, Daniel pushed against the sand until he could flop onto the surface. Looking over toward O'Neill, he could see that Sam's shoulders were now free, and Teal'c was slithering over there slowly. 'When in Rome...' Daniel grimaced as he set out on his stomach, pulling himself across the treacherous expanse of blistering sand.

After several pitfalls, Teal'c joined O'Neill. Daniel managed to arrive on his heels just in time to grab Teal'c's boots as the funnel side collapsed, and the large man started to slide in.

"Whoa – watch it!" O'Neill yelled as their scrabbling sent a new cascade of sand down over Carter and him.

Daniel, out of breath and sweating profusely, helped Teal'c away from the unstable edges of the pit. Both men ended up flat on their backs, gasping for air.

"Let... let's not do that again," Daniel panted.

"Agreed," came Teal'c's usual understatement.

Being the lighter of the two, Daniel rolled over and slithered back to the edge of the pitfall, watching Jack O'Neill clear the sand away from Carter's head again.

"Can I help?"

"Yes. Go away," came the terse reply from the Colonel.

"Right." Crawling back from the edge, he patted Teal'c's leg and the two men made their way back to the safety of the temple walls and reed matting.

Once O'Neill had her head cleared again, he stopped to catch his breath, laying his head on outstretched arm that was still clutching her hand and wrapping his other fist in the material of her jacket.

"I was kidding about the arm wrestling, sir," Carter panted.

O'Neill raised his head, snorting at the Captain's comment.

"We'll get you out in no ti-" Jack stopped speaking abruptly. Captain Carter's eyes had rolled upwards, leaving only the whites exposed. "Daniel, get over here!" he bellowed.

Their resident archaeologist bit off his usual sarcastic reply. This was no time to point out Jack's inconsistent orders, Carter was still buried up to her neck, and the sun was at its zenith. "Give me your canteen," he asked the man sitting beside him in the shadow of the wall.

There was no sound from his teammates, and as he crept back to the lip of the funnel, Daniel saw why O'Neill was no longer digging. The depression was unstable. The slightest movement brought down more sand, covering Carter again. Jack lay unmoving, head down the slope of the sinkhole, calling out to Carter. She wasn't responding. "Here, Jack," he called the man's attention to the canteen of water dangling above him.

"Grab my boots," O'Neill ordered.

Scooting precariously closer, O'Neill forced water from Teal'c's canteen into Carter's mouth as she moaned in protest. Peering over the tops of Jack's boots, Daniel recognised the reddened flesh of her arm, and slurred speech as signs of heatstroke. If the rest of them were overheating in the open desert, Sam was in much worse shape, buried in hot sand under the same sun. She wouldn't last much longer.

"Jack, we've got to get her out," Daniel called down.

"I'm open to suggestions."

Hearing Teal'c move up behind him, Daniel ventured, "What if we form a chain and Sam can climb over us?"

"She's barely conscious. Anyone besides Carter got rope in their packs?" O'Neill's query was answered by a large belt and an olive jacket hitting the sand beside him.

"Okay, Plan B," he accepted, pulling loose his own belt. He tied the two together, and then looped the buckle end around Carter's exposed forearm, and tossed the other end of it up to Daniel. "Keep it tight, Daniel – don't let her slip if the ground gives way again."

He worked the jacket down, under her arm, and then knotted the sleeves on the opposite side of her neck making a sling. Stripping off his own jacket, he forced it under the knot and gripped it tightly to further anchor her.

"Teal'c, PULL!"

Daniel quickly moved away from O'Neill's boots, allowing the larger man to take up position. It was tedious work. Every few inches gained, Teal'c would need to rest, Daniel would take up the slack on the belt, and more sand would pour down. Jack used the rest breaks to encourage Carter to help extract herself as much as she could with nothing to push against except the yielding sand and gravel of the pit.

After forty-five gruelling minutes, Sam was far enough out for Jack and Teal'c to grab onto her and climb out of the pit.

Noting that neither Daniel or Teal'c had encountered an air pocket on the second trip from the temple, O'Neill pulled Carter to her feet, and half-supported, half-carried her along their route to the meagre shade of the temple wall.

The team sat for an hour, passing the canteens back and forth. O'Neill's normally craggy face was grey and gaunt with dehydration, but still he forced sip after sip of the precious water into Carter, ignoring his own need. He tore a strip of the black cotton from his tee-shirt and dampened it to clean away the grit from her face. "Better?" he asked, carefully clearing as much away from her nostrils as possible.

"Sir, you need to drink something," she responded, noticing how hard it was for him to speak through parched lips.

His reply was drowned out by another coughing fit. Captain Samantha Carter could honestly say that the sand hurt just as much coming up out of her throat and lungs as it had being sucked in.

O'Neill placed his arm around her shoulders and held the canteen steady as she drained the remaining water. She touched his hand, focussing on the Colonel's swollen, bleeding nails and knuckles, turning his palm over to examine the abrasions. Gently, he pulled it away, and swiped her across the nose with a fingertip, as if to say, it was nothing.

"You okay, Sam?" Daniel asked in concern, offering the canteen that he and Teal'c had been sharing to O'Neill. "Here, this is the last of it."

"You need to drink, sir," she managed to gasp before her gravelly voice dissolved into another round of coughing. When it was over, her head dropped against his shoulder, shaking with exhaustion.

"Stop talking, Captain, that's an order." To forgo any further response, he raised the metal canister to his lips and took a few swallows of the spit-warm liquid, while picturing how good an ice cold beer from his fridge would taste right about now.

She accepted the next sip without resistance, content to watch the shadows lengthen around her, and feeling the reassuring presence of the man beside her. His shoulder was a sharp, bony pressure under her cheek, but as long as he didn't object, she was content to lean against him and conserve her strength for the trek ahead.

Later, as the edge of the alien sun dipped lower on the horizon, the gathering shadows turned the desert a deep purple and blue.

"Dial it up, Daniel," O'Neill rasped, staggering to his feet with Carter still held at his side.

Across the bruised landscape, four weary travellers headed home, as if this were the end of a normal day's work, but with a sinking feeling in the pits of their stomachs. O'Neill, normally a man of few words on a mission, did not speak on the journey back, seemingly lost in reflection. Daniel noticed his eyes on Carter, and did not want to give a penny for those thoughts. Loss and grief, he usually wore them like a cloak – well-worn and comfortable with the misery. Not this time. They had come too close to re-opening old wounds.

The twilight's reign was interrupted by an ancient roar, and for a moment the lightning of the Gods briefly flashed once more across the desolate sands.


Daniel Jackson's remembrance was interrupted by the descent of SG-3 upon the locker room. 'Here come the Jackasses on Parade, and Finch is the lead ass.' He tensed, ready for the onslaught, and wishing fervently that Jack would hurry up and make an appearance.

"Ah, man. I got chiggers or something all over me," Devlin whined.

"What you want is to build up a good crust all over you so that even the fucking mosquitoes can't bite through. And for God's sake, don't shave. That just gives the sombitches more places to bite you," was Webb's less-than-hygienic advise.

For the thousandth time, Daniel thanked the Almighty that he was assigned to SG-1. He would never fit in with a traditional military team, and certainly never be accepted by people such as Finch. He stood up and stepped into the doorway, blocking their path.

"Hey, boys, look what we have here. Indiana Jones waiting to shower with a real man!" Finch smirked at the archaeologist.

"Carter's still in there, hold up." Out of the corner of his eye, Daniel could see Teal'c had also regained his feet, crossed through the locker room from the other entrance, and was now standing just behind him in the doorway offering silent support.

"And that means what to me, exactly?" Captain Finch asked, purposely baiting the archaeologist. "Stand down, men – 'Science Boy' is giving the orders now."

Aronson and Dumas joined in with the guffaws, and retraced their steps in the corridor, leaving their CO, First Officer, and Beckwith to stare down SG-1's non-military half.

Jack heard the boisterous chatter erupt into an angry exchange between Daniel and Captain Finch as he approached the corner with a pilfered, half-eaten apple in hand.

"Call off your dog, Jackson," Webb chimed in, eyeing Teal'c's menacing stature.

"You will not pass," was Teal'c's only response.

"Move it, Bowser. I don't want to hurt you." Webb drew up to his full height.

"You will not," Teal'c assured the taller man. "I do not promise to do the same."

"Look, Colonel O'Neill wants us, all of us, to wait here until the room is clear," Daniel tried reasoning one more time with the men who simply didn't want to listen.

"That's funny, I don't see Colonel O'Neill here," Finch replied, sarcastically.

"Try turning around," O'Neill said quietly.