Hours later, as the sun was setting behind the distant mountains, it began to rain. The clouds had rolled in silently, unexpectedly, coming over the mountains. As night approached, the temperature dropped rapidly, while the clouds dropped a gentle mist to the ground like a thick blanket of fog.

The two men hadn't moved in the last four hours, both exhausted and recovering from the battle and their escape, but the gentle shower prompted them to consider seeking shelter from the elements as well as the enemy Jaffa. There had been no signs of a Jaffa search party, and since they had left no survivors at the 'Gate it was possible the Jaffa didn't even know there were any enemy survivors still on the planet. Less than a mile from the 'Gate, the two members of SG-1 shouldn't have been that difficult to locate. However, the fact that they had been seemingly ignored didn't mean they could let their guard down.

As the sun finally disappeared behind the distant mountains Teal'c pulled the extra jacket from his back, which O'Neill had given him to protect his wound, and handed it to his teammate. With just his left hand, since he was lying on his right side, he helped O'Neill to sit up to put it on.

O'Neill grunted softly, his body aching and complaining from overuse, but he slowly pulled off his vest, put the jacket on, and replaced the vest, his motions short and erratic. He fell back, gasping, his breath catching in his chest and throat. "Under the trees," he instructed with a shaky voice, his weakened condition making him more susceptible to the damp chill from the mist.

Teal'c rolled onto his stomach, deciding not to bother with trying to stand up just to move the fifteen feet or so to be under the protective cover of the tree branches. He pulled himself forward about a foot, glancing back at O'Neill who was still lying on his back, breathing deeply. A wracking cough was followed by an agonized spasm of pain, and Teal'c began to suspect that O'Neill had suffered internal injuries from when they had fallen. A cracked rib or two was highly probable.

He glanced up into the sky, noticing the rain was beginning to fall harder now, and they would need to stay as dry as possible if they were both going to survive. He turned his body slightly, reached back and got a firm grip on the back of O'Neill's vest, and with a mighty heave, he dragged O'Neill along his back until they were side by side.

Obviously, O'Neill was startled by the unexpected ride, but he was too tired to complain about the rough treatment. He allowed Teal'c to drag him along, pushing with his legs to help, as they worked their way together to the shelter of the trees. They stopped once they reached the trunk of the nearest tree, feeling the dry ground beneath them. O'Neill helped roll Teal'c onto his left side this time, so that his exposed back was facing O'Neill. Then he pushed himself back to the base of the tree and lifted himself up, bracing his back against the sturdy trunk so he was sitting up. He cradled the P-90 with his right hand and reached out to tap Teal'c on the shoulder.

Teal'c lifted his head slightly to acknowledge O'Neill. "Let Junior work," O'Neill whispered, his voice raised slightly to compensate for the fact that he couldn't hear himself. "I'll take first watch."

Teal'c nodded then shifted closer until his back was less than an inch from O'Neill's thigh. He closed his eyes, focusing on the warmth at his back and the rhythmic but strained breathing of the man behind him as he cleared his mind of everything else and put his mind and body into a state of kel'no'reem, achieving harmony with his symbiote to effect repairs to his injured back.

O'Neill remained diligently awake, his eyes darting across the darkened landscape for any signs of movement. He wrapped his arms around himself tightly, warding off the night chill. There wasn't a single place on his body that wasn't aching, swollen, throbbing, or worse. His chest hurt, and he should have probably done something about the cracked ribs he knew he had, but their options were very limited and there hadn't been a lot of time for first aid. His right knee was swollen but the pain was dull and he knew the damage wasn't permanent. His head hadn't stopped throbbing since the second explosion knocked out his hearing, which seemed to be slowly coming back if the constant ringing in his ears was anything to go by. And his back…well, he just didn't want to go there. In short, he felt miserable and was trying very hard not to compare his condition with any of the old clichés about semi trucks and avalanches.

There was no moon around this planet, so the only light source was the distant stars, not enough to truly see anything on the ground around him. In the unnerving quiet of his mind, he thought about their options. The DHD was busted, they had no hope of getting it to work, or even rigging an alternate power source to dial-in manually. Their best chance was for Hammond to send in the troops but the likelihood of that diminished with each passing hour. He began to wonder if the 'Gate itself had been damaged as well. If so, that severely limited their options of getting home.

Basic survival training: what did he know?

The Jaffa had death gliders, and from the tattoos on their foreheads he knew they had served Cronos. Cronos had been killed a few months ago, so it was anybody's guess who they were serving now. It was possible they didn't even know their 'God' was dead, which meant they were isolated from galactic affairs. He wasn't willing to put money on it, though. With all the recent deaths among the System Lords at the hands of SG-1 there was a real power struggle among the survivors to be Top Dog and gain the liberated resources from the dead Goa'uld. They wouldn't want to pass on the word that the Gods could be killed. Defeated, yes, but killed, no.

His head hurt.

He decided to focus on escape plans. Ships. If there were death gliders it was possible there might be a cargo ship. An alkesh would be able to travel the distance to the nearest planet with a Stargate and they could just 'Gate home from there. They'd also have a fancy new piece of Goa'uld technology capable of space travel to present to the Area 51 guys that just might get those other guys in Washington controlling the purse strings to cough up more money and support for the program.

His head hurt, again.

He looked up at the stars, so different from the ones seen from Earth, yet comforting just the same. He loved nights like this. Quiet, though perhaps a little too quiet aside from the irritating buzzing that was slowly driving him insane. Chilly but not freezing, reminding him of his youth in Minnesota. Everything else, aside from the nearby presence of a man he thought of as a brother, just plain sucked. Big time.

At least Carter and Daniel were okay.

They would make sure Hammond didn't forget about them, not that Hammond would ever do that. He may not authorize a rescue mission, but he wouldn't forget about them. Price of command. At least he wouldn't have to be writing any letters of condolences to family members. SG-1 was the only family he had, and Rya'c and Bratac would hear about it from Daniel or Carter.

Shut up, Jack.

He knew the SGC would never give up on finding them, dead or alive, and O'Neill knew for sure that he and Teal'c were not going to die. They'd made it so far, they would get out of this. They just needed time to recover, to get their strength back, to mend their broken backs.

And then they'd find a way home.

TBC