He woke up first. Irritated by the unusual position. He had spent days strapped to the wall, so lying on the floor was a new sensation. For a moment he just rested, then the thoughts of his and her most reason death flickered through his head. He hefted himself to the side and saw her lying in the other corner. On her back, arms spread out, head dropped to the side. He tried to focus to see her torso raise and fall, but he couldn't. Panic rose in him, and he crawled over. Good old military crawl, his legs too weak to get him up.

"Carter," he whispered in her ear, searching with trembling fingers for her pulse. When he felt the steady throb under his thumb the tension inside him released. She was alive—again. Relieved he fell back.

"Sir," her weak voice whispered next to him.

He rolled to the side and found himself staring into her eyes.

"Welcome back," he said with a grim sense of humor—it was the only thing he could think of.

"Why are you here?" she asked.

For a moment he wondered if she was confused, if she was hallucinating just like he had, but then he understood that she meant 'Not on the wall.'

"Oh, he killed me too this time," he said while he was still staring into her eyes.

"Ouch."

"Yeah."

"That was weird. How he killed the Jaffa," Carter said.

"Seems like this snake can lose it's cool too," he grinned.

"Not sure if that's a good thing," she said, and he heard the concern in her voice.

"Probably not."

They fell quiet for a little while.

"I'm not sure I could do it," she said with a shaky voice.

"What?" he asked softly.

"If I had the information he wanted, I think I would give it away soon. The pain is so…"

"You wouldn't," he interrupted her. "You're strong, Carter. You are the strongest person I know."

He saw her getting lost in his eyes and he let go too, drifting along with her. He knew he shouldn't, but here they were—over and over dying together, watching each other go through unbearable pain—so what bad would a little touch do? Slowly he pushed his hand to hers and first let his fingers touch hers, then when she didn't pull her hand away, entwined his entire hand with hers. For a moment they stayed like this, then something in her eyes changed, and she pulled her hand away and rolled onto her back.

"That's what he wants," she said after a silence.

"What?"

She hesitated, then said, "That you care for me."

"Good news for him. I already do," and because he sensed it could sound inappropriate he added, "That's my job."

"That's not what he thinks," she said.

The whisper, he remembered. Now he needed to know.

"Carter?"

She pulled a deep breath and then slowly said, "He thinks…"

"What?" Curiosity killing him.

She bit her lip, then continued carefully sending one word after the other, "He thinks you love me."

Jack flinched and blew up his cheeks, "Oh… that…"

Before either of them could say another word, they heard the inauspicious sound of the sliding door and Ba'al came in. He had composed himself again. Nothing shining through from that explosive anger when he had killed his Jaffa for touching Carter. All back to the nonchalant gentlemen torturer with always a soft smile around his lips and a witty comment on his tongue.

"Ready?" he said, and Jack was surprised that he didn't even comment on the compromised position he had found them in.

The Jaffa jerked Jack up and restrained him back on the wall while the other one grabbed Carter by the scruff of the neck, dragged her behind him and pushed her onto her knees right in front of Jack. Ba'al roughly pulled her head back so that she was forced to look up to Jack. Everything about this position felt so wrong—how she sat there on her knees only inches away from his crotch looking up to him, just like… For crying out loud Jack, that's where your head's going now? He ripped his eyes from her and met Ba'al's.

"Isn't that something you always imagined," Ba'al hissed and ripped her head back further, so she had no other choice but to look at him. He was surprised that given the situation, she still managed to look embarrassed. Hotness rushed over his body and another round of thoughts he shouldn't be having crossed his mind. He probably looked embarrassed too. Embarrassed for the kind of man he was. For not being able to not go there in his head. For stepping right into Ba'al's trap.

"She does have beautiful eyes," Ba'al continued, "unfortunately they will close forever if you don't tell me where it is."

Jack huffed, and Ba'al understood it right, "Maybe one time I won't put her back in the sarcophagus."

Those words sent a chill over Jack's body. For the first time, he entertained the thought that death under normal circumstances meant the end. That he might lose her, that she would die here and he could do nothing about it. He quickly looked back to Carter and noticed how she tried to mask her panic.

"And I won't be telling you when. So where is it?" Ba'al commanded, but Jack just sighed and closed his eyes. As much as he wanted to protect her, he couldn't tell him. He couldn't be so compromised. That was what they were trained for. That's why what he felt for her wasn't allowed. While he heard her gasp for air and watched Ba'al press the torture stick into her body again, he realized for the first time that he had lied to himself. Even if he didn't act on it, he was compromised. She wasn't just his 2IC for him; she was the woman he loved. And he watched her die. Again.

The last rounds—Jack's suffering brain couldn't think of a better word for it— had passed uneventfully. Ba'al had asked 'Where is it?' and Jack had replied with a mix of 'I don't know' and 'Go to hell.' In the end, Carter had died. Sometimes after only minutes of pain, sometimes after hours. Always in a new cruel way. And every time she had woken up in the corner, and he had watched her from his hanging-on-the-wall-position. The more Ba'al tortured her, the more he tried to convince himself he didn't care. Every time she died, he wanted to think he was okay with that. He was trying to prove that Ba'al was wrong. Trying not to admit how he really felt. Trying to save her by betraying her. But this thought in itself just showed how forlorn this attempt was.

They didn't talk much anymore. In the beginning, they had thought about ways out, wondered how long it would take Daniel and Teal'c to free them, but after a while, hope had vanished. It had become a numbing routine. Every time he feared they wouldn't put her back in the sarcophagus. Every time something of him died with her, and he wasn't sure how much of him was left. Besides his head and heart being mush, his body wasn't much better. Some times in the last rounds, he had been treated with the torture stick. Never too long, but slowly if he wouldn't be put in the sarcophagus soon he knew it would get him. The death of a thousand cuts. In this cloud of pain he didn't notice when Ba'al came back carrying a new instrument of torture: a P90. Oh shit.

To his surprise, a Jaffa stomped towards him and undid his straps. Without strength in his body he slumped to the floor. Lying—oh it felt good. But only for a second. The Jaffa pulled him up and grabbed his hand with an iron grip. Then Ba'al shoved the P90 in Jack's hand, and the Jaffa pointed it towards Carter. The thought of shooting Ba'al flickered through Jack's head, but he couldn't even stand without the support of the Jaffa. So no point in even trying.

"Where is it?" Ba'al said unceremoniously.

Jack repeated his answer, his mouth almost incapable of forming other words, "I don't know."

The Jaffa squeezed his finger on the trigger, and Jack felt the power of his gun shutter through his body and release a deadly hail towards Carter. As if in slow motion he noticed how every bullet that hit her yanked her backward and bit a bloody hole into her body. She stared at him with terror, and only when her mouth formed his name, he was able to throw himself against the arm and knock the Jaffa to the side. When he looked up again, he saw her bleeding. So much blood. From so many wounds. Surprisingly she was still alive. He wanted to call her name, but he couldn't give that to him.

Ba'al's voice was full of hate and cruelty when he said, "Maybe this is the time."

He snatched the gun from the ground and seconds later Jack stared into the nuzzle, hearing the trigger click before he felt a sharp sting in his guts. In a cloud of pain, Jack watched Ba'al leave the room. Carter still strapped to the wall, losing so much blood.

No, he thought. Nonononono.

"Carter," he pressed out but didn't get any reaction back. Panic rose in him—this was the time he would lose her. And with this realization, a new strength came to him. Under pain, he pushed himself up and tumbled towards her.

"Carter, you're not gonna die. OK?"

He almost slipped in the puddle of blood that had formed in front of her. Holding his breath, he carefully lifted her head. She had her eyes closed, but there was a slow pulse under his fingers.

„Carter," he said again while trying to open her restraints, his trembling fingers failing him. Suddenly her eyes blinked open.

„Sir," her voice a whisper, "you're hurt."

She looked at him with cloudy blue eyes. Clearly in shock, clearly not noticing what was going on with her.

"Don't make me laugh Carter," he said while trying to open the shackles. "Have you looked at yourself?"

As if the words were the bullets that caused the pain she suddenly frowned, "You shot me."

No, but yes. He didn't know what to say.

"It hurts."

"I'm gonna get you into the sarcophagus." Finally, his fingers followed what his brain told them to do, and the restrains clicked open, dropping her into his arms, which threw him backward. Carter fell heavy on him, and the pain in his stomach was almost unbearable. How was she still alive? Carefully he rolled her over and looked into the countless dark red holes on her chest.

"Just let me go," her eyes looking up to him. Her blood coloring his hands.

"What are you talking about?"

"It hurts…" she sighed, "I can't anymore."

He knew she wasn't talking about her injuries. He remembered how he was about to give up how he had just wanted to die. But he wouldn't let her go. Just like Daniel had been there for him, he would be there for her and help her through this. And once Teal'c and Daniel would get them out of here, and they would make it back home he would, he would…

"It's gonna be fine," he said, holding her head with both hands. Trying to give her the power she needed.

"It's never gonna be fine again."

And with her words came the revelation that there was nothing left of her. The fearless soldier, the passionate scientist, the warm-hearted woman—all gone. Every uncountable time she had died, it had stolen something from her. But other than back when Ba'al had done this to him, it wasn't the torture or the sarcophagus. It was because of him. Because he had denied how he felt for her a hundred times and in response made Ba'al do something cruel to her. Ba'al was the one hurting her, but he was the one hurting her soul.

"Just let me go," she pressed out under pain.

"You know I can't." The simple truth. Just like when they were trapped behind the force field, and he had admitted it for the first time. But this time it didn't seem enough for her.

"Why?" Big blue eyes suddenly so demanding.

"Carter…"

"Why?"

"You know why." He wanted to tell her—to finally say it.

"Why?"

"It hasn't changed..." Hoping she would remember as vividly as he did.

"Why?"

He didn't know if it was the illusional pain clouding her or if she actually asked the question over and over again.

"Because..." What if his words could bring her back?

"Why?"

"Damn Carter, because… because I love you," surprised he noticed how good it felt to say those words. To finally let it out. After years of denial and suppression, it felt like his heart started a victory dance in his chest. But only for a brief second, because while he uttered the words he had held back for so long, he felt her body relax in his arms, and the light leave her eyes.

Nonononono.

"Carter, not now," suddenly he felt his pain again, twisting his insides. Life seeping out of him as well.

In panic he stumbled up, dragged her with him, painting a trail of blood behind them. With his last strength, he lifted her into the sarcophagus and closed it before darkness wrapped him and pulled him into death.