At least it isn't dirty straw and rats this time, Pat mused fuzzily as she awoke. She had rather hoped that when she passed out she would wake up back at the SGC in bed, but that hadn't happened. She could tell by the pain in her left shoulder and knee, and the sound of Dr. Jackson--no, Daniel--talking to her.

"Pat? Are you awake? How are you feeling?" Daniel's voice, sounding upset and worried.

The real Daniel probably didn't even know her first name. So she was still in the "create-your-own-adventure."

"Pat?" Now Daniel knelt at her side, his voice much quieter. "I think they're gone." She felt his hands, first at the neckline of her tee-shirt, then her abdomen. At any other time she would have enjoyed his touch. But she knew this wasn't real--especially when he asked, "Is the baby okay?"

Definitely still not back to reality. She was not pregnant! She sighed and opened her eyes. Trying to sit up demonstrated to Pat just how sore she was. That bumpy trip in the jeep, as well as everything else, had added bruises on bruises. She felt a warm arm along her back, helping her up. It was easy, and comforting, to lean against Daniel--but he couldn't help in this situation, because she couldn't tell him about it.

"The baby is just fine," she said, and knew it was true--in this reality--as she felt that odd little flutter in her abdomen again.

"You were lucky," he said, "the bullet that got you in the shoulder hit your vest. You've got quite the bruise, but I don't have to add 'surgeon' to my list of accomplishments quite yet."

Daniel sounded exhausted, and Pat twisted to look at him. His face was pale, though the burn on his cheek looked much better.

"I'm okay," Pat said, "but you need sleep. Lie down, and I'll watch out."

The fact that he didn't protest, but just lay down on the rumpled and rather smelly blankets and closed his eyes, worried Pat. She folded one blanket under his head and pulled another over him. Would wounds they got here--wherever here was--carry over to the real world? She didn't think so, but how could she be sure?

To pass the time--and to keep herself warm--she pushed herself, groaning, to her feet, checking her surroundings out as she paced. They were in a roughly built building, cold wind blowing between unchinked logs. The floor was packed dirt, and besides the two of them, their blankets, and a bucket that she guessed from the smell was meant for a toilet, the building was empty. The only light came through two small windows just below the roofline.

Pat used the bucket, pushed it to the corner farthest from the two of them, and inspected the single door. Its hinges were on the inside, but their captors had taken her multi-tool, along with her vest and uniform jacket. They'd left her boots, pants --with the pockets emptied--and tee-shirt. No more McGyver tricks with what she had in her pockets!

Daniel coughed, and she thought it sounded bad--kind of bubbly. Although she remembered how gray and tired he'd looked, she suspected this was just Whoever pulling her chain, trying to get something dramatic going again.

What if I don't play along? she thought. She suspected Whoever would give her something to react to, in that case. Better to have events under her nominal control than Whoever's. She stopped her pacing of the walls and bent over Daniel. "Nothing's wrong with him that a good night's sleep won't cure," she stated emphatically.

The grumbling of her stomach reminded her that it had been a long time since those energy bars. "It's about time we got some food here," she complained. She was shivering, sitting on the cold ground, so got up and started pacing again.

The light coming in from the tiny windows had nearly faded when noise outside the door alerted Pat. Since this building obviously hadn't been a prison originally, the door opened inward and she could hide behind it. She seized the stinking bucket and waited.

Two men came through the door. The first held a pistol and a flashlight. The light swept across the room until it halted on Daniel, asleep in the tangle of blankets. As the man stepped in farther Pat threw the contents of the bucket into his face.

The man yelled an obscenity, dropped both pistol and flashlight, and started wiping at his face with his shirt tail. The second man, taken completely by surprise, collapsed when Pat hit him with the bucket.

Pat dived for the pistol. She grabbed it, rolled, and came up pointing it at the man dripping with piss. Still swearing, he lunged toward her, and she reversed the pistol and hit him in the temple with its butt.

He kept coming.

"That always works in the movies," Pat said under her breath, scrambling backward and almost falling over Daniel. The man rushed for her, and she hit him again with the pistol butt. This time he fell and lay still.

"What. . . ?" asked Daniel muzzily.

"No time to explain. Can you walk?" Pat grabbed a blanket and pulled it over her shoulders like a shawl.

"I think so." She helped him to his feet. "Bring a blanket."

As he slung a blanket around his shoulders, she picked up the flashlight from where it had rolled against the wall and lay illuminating part of a log, turned it off, and stuck it in one of the pockets on the leg of her BDU pants.

Daniel helped her drag the two unconscious men farther into the hut. "They smell like an outhouse," he said as she peered cautiously out the door.

"Shhh."

In the dusk she counted seven men moving around in the camp. Lights on poles illuminated the headquarters building and the area where the vehicles were parked, but the rest of the camp was dark.

Daniel joined her in the doorway, gazing out into the gathering darkness. "I think we can get around the building without anyone seeing us if we're careful," he whispered. "Then head for the forest. How's your leg? You seem to be walking on it okay now."

She had forgotten that her leg had been hurt. It ached a bit, but the pain was mostly gone. "Much better," she whispered back. "How about you?"

"My ribs ache something fierce," he said, "but I don't think they're broken, just bruised."

Daniel leaned forward a bit, intent on the activity outside the building. "Follow me," came his voice, just a thread of sound.

"Do you want the pistol?" she asked, as quietly as he.

"I'm not that good with guns." Even in his whisper she heard the self deprecation. "You keep it." A long pause, then, "Let's go now."

He slid out around the side of the building, and Pat followed, feeling her back prickle with the dread that someone might be behind her with a gun.

Once around the building, Daniel bunched his blanket under his arm and walked with a purposeful stride, as if he had every right to be there. Pat also pulled the blanket off her shoulders and stayed at his side; just two more people in military uniforms with business elsewhere in the camp. They kept to the darkness between the car park and headquarters, and were almost to the trees to the north when yelling began in the camp.

"We'll make it," Pat whispered; half a prayer and half a command to Whoever. Both she and Daniel turned toward the shouting, the picture of people with no idea what anyone had to yell about.

It didn't work. People were running toward them, and the first crack of gunfire made Pat flinch.

"I think we run now," Daniel said, and they did.

The forest at night was a tangle of branches and brush that tore at hair and clothing and tripped them up. After a few minutes of crashing through the trees, Daniel grabbed Pat's arm. "Down into this brush. They'll think we kept running."

Again she had to wonder if he'd caught on. That flat statement. . . .

Shouts, pounding feet, bullets through the brush until somebody yelled, "Hey, you jackass, you almost shot me." Their captors bumbled farther and farther away from where Pat and Daniel crouched, scarcely breathing.

When the sounds were far away, Daniel wormed his way as quietly as possible out from under the sheltering branches. He stood for long moments, his barely seen profile silhouetted against a starlit sky. "Coast is clear," came his whisper.

Pat started crawling out, until one leg pocket of her BDU pants caught fast on a branch. "Hang on," she whispered. "I'm stuck."

Daniel was just bending to help her when someone stepped out from behind a tree. "Stop right there. Don't move."

They froze. Belatedly, Pat remembered the pistol she'd taken from the men who'd brought them dinner. It had been hampering her progress out of the brush, and she'd set it down. Figuring she was almost invisible in the dark, she inched her hand toward the weapon. When she had it in her grasp she aimed, squeezed the trigger, and shot the man in the calf.

The shot was startling loud in the stillness of the forest. The man cursed and grabbed for his leg. Daniel, barely seen in the darkness beneath the trees, seized a branch from the ground and brought it down on the man's arm. Only when something flew into the underbrush near her did Pat realize the man had been holding a gun.

Daniel scooped up the weapon and aimed it at the man. "Quickly!" he called to Pat. She ripped her pocket away from the branch that held it and wriggled out of the bushes, out of arm's reach of the man. He didn't seem to have been badly injured by her shot, and remained a threat.

Grabbing her hand, Daniel started off through the trees at an angle to where they'd last heard pursuers. The man Pat had shot started yelling, and Daniel muttered something Pat couldn't quite catch. He yanked her off at a different angle, and they stumbled on through the trees and brush for awhile, listening to the renewed shouts of their pursuers.

After what seemed like forever, as exhaustion set in and they moved more and more slowly through the dark, Daniel said, "Let's go to ground again." People were still crashing around and yelling throughout the forest, and it was more likely she and Daniel would run into their erstwhile captors than away from them if they kept stumbling about.

"Sounds good," Pat replied. "Let them shoot each other." She could hope that comment influenced Whoever.

Daniel was exploring ahead of her, and she heard his soft, "There's a boulder or something here. No, wait, it's not a cliff. It's ruins." His voice caressed the word 'ruins,' and Pat smiled. Archaeologist heaven.

Pat managed to stop herself before, 'Won't they expect us to hole up in the ruins?' was more than just a thought. Instead she said, "These guys are from off planet just like we are. I doubt they know the ruins are here."

Her comment was answered by nothing but the rustle of his clothing. Pat squinted through the dark to see what he was doing. She edged closer to the ruins, putting out a hand to feel the rough stone. The wall seemed to be covered with vines, in the best Indiana Jones fashion, and Pat had to stifle a giggle. Yeah, tropical vines in this cold climate.

"In here," came Daniel's whisper. "This part feels stable." She slid fingers lightly along the wall, found what might be a doorway, and stepped with some trepidation into complete blackness. She wondered if predators laired here. She'd smell rotting carrion, or maybe feces, if this were an animal's den; all she caught with a tentative sniff was the musky smell of the vines she'd disturbed.

"Do you still have that flashlight you liberated from our captors?" came Daniel's voice. "These walls seem solid enough that light shouldn't alert anyone looking for us."

Pat pulled the flashlight out of her pocket and groped in the dark until she found Daniel's hand. She enjoyed the touch of his fingers, as she transferred the flashlight to his grip, rather too much for her peace of mind. Daniel Jackson doesn't even know me. This might not even be the real Daniel Jackson, just a figment of my imagination. I didn't have feelings for him before now. Why was he picked for my companion in this . . . adventure? Why not someone I know better?

Befuddled by her reaction, she wasn't paying attention to what Daniel was doing until he whispered, "Look! These are the same as the symbols in the ruins on P3R-118."

P3R-118 was the planet SG-1 had been exploring when she'd been sent to help. The SGC had been trying something new--sending a truck through the Stargate to bring back artifacts too bulky for the team to carry. She'd been the driver of the truck.

"This is great!" Daniel continued. "I didn't find much writing on P3R-118, so I had nowhere to even start translating it. It's like nothing I've ever seen before, on Earth or any other planet." He swept the flashlight around the room they found themselves in. Writing covered the walls and ceiling, incised into the stone. "The Goa'uld destroyed the civilization on that planet pretty thoroughly, but from the few things we found, it must have been advanced--maybe even more advanced than ours."

"Uh, Daniel." Pat tugged his shirt sleeve.

Daniel ran a hand over the incised symbols on one wall. "I wish I had a camera. I recognize this grouping--it was in the ruins on P3R-118."

"Daniel!" Pat was more insistent now. "This isn't reallya good time. There are people out there trying to shoot us. You know the ruins are here now, and we can come back with reinforcements from the SGC. But right now, I think we need to worry about--"

A shout--much too close--cut her off. She seized the flashlight out of Daniel's hand, turned it off, and stuffed it back into her leg pocket. Then both stood silent, listening to the sounds out in the forest.

When Pat got her alarm under control, she realized that she huddled against Daniel. His rapid breathing matched hers, and his chest was warm against her shoulder. Stop it, Pat told herself. This isn't real. He is a hunk, but he won't even look at you in reality. And there are far more serious things to worry about right now.

"We need to get out of here," Daniel breathed against her ear. "We're sitting ducks in here if they find the ruins."

"And ducks are bad," Pat retorted absently, feeling her way out through the darkness.

Back into the forest. Outside the shelter of the ruins, Pat shivered in the wind, wishing her captors hadn't taken her uniform jacket, and she hadn't left that blanket tangled in the bushes.

Feeling her shivering, Daniel pulled her against him. "Seems a lot colder now, doesn't it?" he whispered.

Pat couldn't even answer. Why did it have to feel so nice, snuggled against this man? She had to keep reminding herself that this wasn't real.

"Where to now?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Daniel sighed. "Out. Away. Somewhere there aren't people trying to shoot us." He released her, and the wind against her shoulders and back, where Daniel had warmed them, was doubly cold.

The sky was lightening in the direction that must be east. They'd better find cover fast. It was still dark under the trees, but it wouldn't be for long.

They needed to go east to get to the Stargate. If they had to hide from search parties all day, they should move closer to the Stargate, so it would be easier to reach it after dark.

"Daniel--" Pat began.

"That's them!" Crashing through the brush and trees all around them. No way they could have found us! Pat thought. Is Whoever cheating even worse now? Giving us away to the enemy?

Daniel grabbed her arm again. "This way," he panted, already running, pulling her along. They headed north, since shouting and crashing through the trees and brush sounded from the other three directions.

Pat tried to remember the map Daniel had brought out of the headquarters building. She thought the trees thinned out to the north, part of the lower terrain like that around the Stargate. Right now they needed cover, and there wasn't cover to the north.

"Daniel, we need to circle around as soon as we can," she managed between gasps, ducking a barely seen branch and nearly tripping over a stone. "We'll lose the cover of the woods if we keep going north."

"If we can," he answered.

To validate his statement, a yell came from the east, "Over there." Then from behind, "I see them."

"We still have the pistols," Pat reminded Daniel as she followed him.

"Not enough ammo in them to make a difference," he said.

Pat winced. It would be true now. "It might make them back off long enough that we can get away." She did not want to think what their captors would do to them if they re-captured them. Whoever would probably get more creative this time.

"Stop!" someone yelled behind them. "Stop or I'll shoot."

Daniel's answer was to duck behind a tree, putting it between him and the man who had shouted. Pat followed an instant later.

The sky was much lighter now, so it was easier to find their footing, but they were also obvious among the spindly trees and underbrush--they were definitely out of the thicker part of the forest.

A bullet whined through the branches, then another. Pat winced and ducked, but kept running. She and Daniel were heading northeast now, and a glimpse of the rising sun momentarily blinded her. She stumbled, and a bullet flew over her head. Then she and Daniel were in the midst of a veritable barrage of bullets. From three sides bullets ricocheted from branches and whizzed past their heads.

"Keep running," Daniel said.

Pat kept running. The trees were barely as tall as they now, and the underbrush was thicker. They had to watch their footing constantly, all the while cringing from bullets pinging past. "These guys shoot as badly as the Storm Troopers in Star Wars," she said between gasps for breath. A stitch was starting in her side, and her knee and the shoulder where she'd been shot throbbed.

"Let's hope so."

They ran up a short grassy bank, where the undergrowth thinned out. Pat clutched her side where it ached and put on a burst of speed to keep up with Daniel.

Then, with a choked "Oh my God!" Daniel flung up his hands, scrabbled for a hold on the brush, and disappeared from view.

Pat tried to stop, her boots slipping as they crushed the fleshy grass-like plants. A bullet thudded into the ground just behind her, and she recoiled, put too much weight on her bad knee, and overbalanced. She tried to find purchase among the whippy branches of the brush as she slid sideways over the edge of a cliff.

#

Well, it's not a cliffhanger! They actually fell over the cliff! ;)