Chapter 4 - Yet To Come
In the early hours of the morning, Lopbell dragged Jack to Maldo. The leader sat proud in his largely over decorated chair, his role of leadership unquestionable. "Leave it here," he said smarmily as Lopbell and his other guard dropped O'Neill by Maldo's feet.
Jack wasn't even granted the privilege of being labelled a human. He was unworthy, and therefore, merely a possession. 'It' referred to him. After Sam left, Jack was treated, as best he could be, by an insider. One of the guards had a brief knowledge of medicine and often helped the torture victims immediately after their torture. Before they even left the chamber. Jack was another of them. His injuries had been fairly severe in comparison to the usual torture, but the medic had done as best he could for the Colonel. Putting his knee in place again and tending to some of the lesions. It had been a hurried job, but Jack had been grateful for it.
"Leave us," Maldo said to the guards and they left. Maldo wrenched Jack to his knees by his chin. "Where is the other one?"
Jack's eyes slowly pried themselves open and he saw the blurred face of Maldo. Once the guards had found that Sam was gone, they'd gone straight to the source. Jack was beaten for a second time. The guards had no time for reasoning or interrogation. It seemed the only way these people knew how to obtain information - torture first, ask questions later. Torture had come first, and now it was Maldo's job to ask the questions. Maldo's temper began to rise above boiling point and his captive gave away no information. No indication of anything at all. No answers.
"Where is the other?!" Maldo demanded angrily, raising his voice to a pitch that didn't seem to be his own. His face creased into an livid frown and his eyes darkened beyond explanation. The intensity of his gaze almost hurt for Jack.
"Where is it?!"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Jack lied, his own voice weak, insignificant next to Maldo's.
"Do not lie to me," he gave fierce instructions, his words sharp like the whip used to torture.
"I'm not," O'Neill said, his vision beginning to clear. The face before his own was frighteningly dark. His features accentuated by his anger and the lack of light in the room.
"Lies!" Maldo shouted and threw Jack away by the grip he held of O'Neill's chin. Jack stumbled and landed a few feet away from where he'd been and his head could vouch for it. Brief pain struck through the mark. He sat up slowly with a hand resting on the ground.
"You will tell me where the other has gone," Maldo persisted, leaving his royal chair and proceeding over to the grounded Colonel.
Now in Maldo's hand, was a sword he'd picked up from the table by his chair. A long, silver blade, cut to perfection. The minimal light filtering in from the windows caught its polished surface and bounced from it, sending beams of white to various points in the room as Maldo twisted the swords' handle in his hand.
"And if you do not tell me," he continued, "I shall not spare your life any longer." The tip of the sword dug itself sharply under Jack's chin and forced his head back.
"Do I make myself clear?" Maldo prodded.
"Crystal," Jack replied.
"Where did the other one go?"
"What other one?"
Maldo sighed, but not from exhaustion. This was an angry sigh. The kind most people dreaded to hear, especially from someone as volatile as Maldo. The sovereign kneeled, lifting his sword away and then lowering it to rest on Jack's chest, close to his heart. Maldo's face was passive. He blinked unnaturally slowly and stared his black eyes into Jack.
"Why," he said eerily, "do you try my patience?"
However, this was not a question he awaited a response to. It was a statement of his anger, a deeply disturbing rage that caused him to obliterate all visual signs. His anger bubbled like lava inside of him, and very soon, it would erupt. Jack stared into the eerie face until it began to disturb him. He looked down at his knees. Not a second later, he watched the tip of the sword run through his right thigh.
White hot, blinding pain ripped through the wound as blood slowly began to ooze from it. Jack's face immediately went ghostly white as he stared unblinking at the red mark. Air stopped entering his half opened mouth as he gasped, trying desperately to draw breath. The lack of air - the absence of it - tried to choke him. It wrapped around his neck like a noose and began to strangle him. Electric pulses of pain ran up and down his leg, as though someone had just tried to connect a power cord to him and switch him on like a lamp. Even the urge to yell in pain was too far away. His eyes were blinded by the whiteness of pain. Maldo's gleeful expression never reached Jack's eyes. The evil king finally removed the sword and left the man.
After some time, two servants took the limp body away to tend the injury. They'd seen worse. The doctor of the village was a servant too, but the other servants had taken her chores for her so as she could remain a doctor for all the villagers. There was often sickness in the small village, and the servants had no time to be ill. When the doctor saw the two servants bringing in the injured Colonel, she asked that they bring her all the supplies they had left. Jack needed attention immediately. After bandaging the wound thickly, and giving him the best medicine they had available at the time, the doctor sat with her new patient, waiting for him to wake up.
After nearly two hours, the doctor's wish came true. Jack's eyes briefly opened, before closing again. He moaned softly in pain and tried to sit up. The doctor put a hand to his shoulder. "Please," she said gently, "remain still. It will do you better."
"Who are you?" Jack's voice croaked weakly.
"I am Azyalae," she replied. "I am a friend."
"I'm gonna ask even though it makes no difference, but, where am I?"
"You are with friends, in a barn. Please, you must lay still. Your leg will take time to heal. You will need to remain off it for some time."
"I can't do that," Jack disputed, again trying to sit. "I've got jobs, if I don't do them, they'll - "
"Do not worry," Azyalae interrupted softly, "others will complete your chores while you heal."
"And Maldo?"
"He will be none the wiser."
Azyalae smiled, her bright blue eyes lighting up her pretty face. Her long burgundy hair was tied back loosely, with strands free around her face. Her skin was smooth and young. She wore a light beige dress with a brown vest. Her hands were small, but her touch was kind and gentle. Just like that of Dr. Fraiser's. "May I look again?" she asked, nodding to the thick bandages around Jack's thigh.
"Yah," he replied.
Two young villagers came into the barn and stood a few feet from the door. "Azyalae," one of them said, "we require your assistance in the fields."
"Wait one moment, Jaun," Azyalae said, and then looked to Jack's eyes. "I do not know your name, sir."
"Jack," he replied, "Jack O'Neill."
Azyalae smiled, her white teeth sparkling like diamonds.
"I am pleased to meet you, Jack," she said and then left with the two villagers for the fields.
For a small village, and a fairly primitive appearance, this doctor seemed to know what she was doing. She'd seen to Jack's leg wound very quickly and slowed the bleeding efficiently, but being bound to a bed, even if it was only made of hay, was something Jack had always had little patience for. He sat up gradually and felt the nausea rush to his head immediately. Closing his eyes, the nausea slowly passed and he was able to re-open them without feeling as though his stomach was being sucked into a black hole. Not long after he broke Azyalae's first request, Jack broke another. Pushing himself away from the bed and onto his unsteady legs, his bare feet flattened onto the ground. Putting the majority of his weight onto his good leg, Jack balanced delicately on his left leg, relying heavily on his own strength and will to hold him up. With his right hand clutching at the wooden beam beside him, he slowly began to ease pressure on his leg. The burning pain strangled the veins in his leg and stopped his blood dead. The initial agony forced a small cry to burst from Jack's mouth as he crumpled to the ground. A few seconds later, the two men that had come into the barn earlier, looking for Azyalae, burst in once again with Zat's aimed at Jack.
"State your purpose immediately!" they both shouted, clearly not remembering O'Neill's face. Pain initially prevented Jack's voice from leaving his throat.
"Immediately, or we will be forced to fire upon you!" One of the men yelled, brandishing his Zat like an old man would a walking stick at a naughty child, only he seemed nervous apposed to grumpy.
Just at the right moment, Azyalae appeared at the door and saw the picture before her. "Stop!" she cried as she saw the men, with their Zat's aimed readily at Jack. "Do not fire," she said, pushing the two men's hands down quickly. "He is our guest, he is injured. Jaun, Roa, remember this man's face. He will be with us for some more time yet, and this event shall not repeat itself. Can you both remember this?"
Azyalae's voice was so calm, and soft. Not demanding or harsh. Not like Maldo. Her wishes were granted without a question, not because she scared everyone into obeying her, but because they all respected and trusted her. She had earned their respect, not demanded it. The two men nodded and left the barn; they were both feeling low about having suspected Jack of something sinister. Azyalae helped Jack onto the hay once more, asking that he trust her this time, and not attempt standing again. Somehow, even she didn't know why, he agreed.
"I apologise to you for the actions of our guards," Azyalae said, while cleaning her hands of dirt from being out in the fields. "They are accustomed to having servants from nearby villages come here and steal anything they can find. You must understand that they were merely being precautious and doing their job." Jack nodded.
"It's all right," he assured, his voice crackly and weak.
Azyalae smiled kindly and sat by Jack's side, on the hay. "You came here with another," she stated after a while. "Is that not true?"
The reminder of the way he'd made his 2IC leave made Jack fall silent.
"I should not have asked this," Azyalae chastised herself.
"I came here with my second in command," Jack said.
"She is no longer present?" Azyalae asked gently, noticing how her patients' mood had changed since her asking about Sam.
"I told her to leave. Ordered her."
"Why?" Azyalae wondered if perhaps she should leave the situation alone. It did have nothing to do with her after all, but she was incredibly curious as to why Jack had ordered his friend to leave him.
"Because I knew she could get to the Stargate safely without me. She had the chance. I wasn't going to let her pass it up."
"That was very noble of you."
At this, Jack closed his eyes and lay still on the hay bed. He was glad Sam was safe, back at the SGC now. He didn't regret making her go. He just wished they'd come and help. Come and help the people of this planet. I didn't do it to be noble, Jack thought.
@
A week passed by and there was no sign of help on P4C 237. Just as there was no sign of Jack at the SGC. Sam was beginning to lose hope. She had hoped her CO would take a chance and go maybe a day or a few days after she did. Unfortunately, so far, her hopes had not come true.
Carter paced uneasily around the Infirmary. She'd been there for two hours now. Two hours before, Dr. Fraiser had given her a check-up and cleared her. The doctor had said her injuries were healing nicely. A little while longer and they'd be gone completely. Only a few scars would stay as a reminder of the torture. Just enough to ensure the experience was never forgotten. Sam chewed nervously at her fingernails - a hobby she'd newly discovered. Janet eyed her friend as she checked up on another patient.
"Sam," Fraiser said, approaching the Major, "you need to stop pacing." Momentarily, she obeyed, but quickly she was back to pacing.
"Sam, please," Janet begged, grabbing her arm. "You've got to stop."
"Stop what, Janet?" Sam snapped. "Stop worrying? Well, if you tell me how, I'll try to do it, but right now the only way I see myself not worrying, is when Colonel O'Neill walks through the Stargate."
"Listen to me for a minute, Sam," Janet persisted. "I understand you're worried. I do, I'm worried for the Colonel too, but this isn't helping. Just, give him some time."
"Time?" Sam choked. "He's had a week! I thought he'd be back by now."
"Sam, forgive me for needing to say this, but, you seem.I don't know the right word.you seem more worried than I've ever seen before. Colonel O'Neill has been in terrible situations before. Maybe not like this, but pretty bad, and you've been worried, but not this worried. Tell me if I'm wrong, but is there something else going on here that you haven't told anyone about?"
"No," Sam replied shortly. "I'm - I'm just worried. That's all."
"Ok."
"Sam," an extra voice invited itself into the conversation. It was Daniel.
"Daniel," Carter acknowledged, letting him approach her.
"What's going on?" Jackson asked. "The General said - "
"Colonel O'Neill is alone on P4C 237," Sam interrupted to tell her friend quickly. Daniel's face fell into a frown.
"Alone?" he queried. "Didn't you both go?"
"He - ordered me to leave."
"Why?"
Sam looked at the floor with her mouth slightly open. Her eyes were stinging, as though tears wanted to hurt her. She squinted a little and looked back up to answer her friend's question. "We were both tortured," she paused, the words were hard to say, although she didn't know why. "Colonel O'Neill was pretty bad. He knew of a short route back to the gate and told me to take it. He told me to leave him there."
Daniel felt a strange anger towards his friend, but as well, a sadness and sympathy. She'd left her CO behind. Daniel knew it would have been hard for her to do, but he wished she hadn't. Somehow though, he knew she had to. "It's ok," Jackson said sympathetically as he pulled Sam into a hug. He knew she needed it. "He'll be fine."
"I hope so, Daniel," Carter mumbled into the archaeologists shoulder. "I really hope so. For the Colonel's sake."
Two hours later, Teal'c joined Daniel and Sam. Naturally his questions were the same as Daniel's had been. Where was O'Neill? Why was he not with Major Carter? Why had she come back without him? Sam struggled, but explained the situation as best she could without feeling overwhelmingly guilty once again. Each time she thought about it, she wanted to cry all over again. She couldn't understand how she'd suddenly become so emotional. It wasn't like her to act this way. She wasn't alone in noticing that. They'd all taken a guess at the reason for her acting so emotionally about the whole thing, but even Sam didn't know the real reason. There were so many different things, that one reason just didn't amount to enough.
Sam, Daniel and Teal'c waited for a miracle. They waited for the one thing none of them truly believed would eventuate.
In the early hours of the morning, Lopbell dragged Jack to Maldo. The leader sat proud in his largely over decorated chair, his role of leadership unquestionable. "Leave it here," he said smarmily as Lopbell and his other guard dropped O'Neill by Maldo's feet.
Jack wasn't even granted the privilege of being labelled a human. He was unworthy, and therefore, merely a possession. 'It' referred to him. After Sam left, Jack was treated, as best he could be, by an insider. One of the guards had a brief knowledge of medicine and often helped the torture victims immediately after their torture. Before they even left the chamber. Jack was another of them. His injuries had been fairly severe in comparison to the usual torture, but the medic had done as best he could for the Colonel. Putting his knee in place again and tending to some of the lesions. It had been a hurried job, but Jack had been grateful for it.
"Leave us," Maldo said to the guards and they left. Maldo wrenched Jack to his knees by his chin. "Where is the other one?"
Jack's eyes slowly pried themselves open and he saw the blurred face of Maldo. Once the guards had found that Sam was gone, they'd gone straight to the source. Jack was beaten for a second time. The guards had no time for reasoning or interrogation. It seemed the only way these people knew how to obtain information - torture first, ask questions later. Torture had come first, and now it was Maldo's job to ask the questions. Maldo's temper began to rise above boiling point and his captive gave away no information. No indication of anything at all. No answers.
"Where is the other?!" Maldo demanded angrily, raising his voice to a pitch that didn't seem to be his own. His face creased into an livid frown and his eyes darkened beyond explanation. The intensity of his gaze almost hurt for Jack.
"Where is it?!"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Jack lied, his own voice weak, insignificant next to Maldo's.
"Do not lie to me," he gave fierce instructions, his words sharp like the whip used to torture.
"I'm not," O'Neill said, his vision beginning to clear. The face before his own was frighteningly dark. His features accentuated by his anger and the lack of light in the room.
"Lies!" Maldo shouted and threw Jack away by the grip he held of O'Neill's chin. Jack stumbled and landed a few feet away from where he'd been and his head could vouch for it. Brief pain struck through the mark. He sat up slowly with a hand resting on the ground.
"You will tell me where the other has gone," Maldo persisted, leaving his royal chair and proceeding over to the grounded Colonel.
Now in Maldo's hand, was a sword he'd picked up from the table by his chair. A long, silver blade, cut to perfection. The minimal light filtering in from the windows caught its polished surface and bounced from it, sending beams of white to various points in the room as Maldo twisted the swords' handle in his hand.
"And if you do not tell me," he continued, "I shall not spare your life any longer." The tip of the sword dug itself sharply under Jack's chin and forced his head back.
"Do I make myself clear?" Maldo prodded.
"Crystal," Jack replied.
"Where did the other one go?"
"What other one?"
Maldo sighed, but not from exhaustion. This was an angry sigh. The kind most people dreaded to hear, especially from someone as volatile as Maldo. The sovereign kneeled, lifting his sword away and then lowering it to rest on Jack's chest, close to his heart. Maldo's face was passive. He blinked unnaturally slowly and stared his black eyes into Jack.
"Why," he said eerily, "do you try my patience?"
However, this was not a question he awaited a response to. It was a statement of his anger, a deeply disturbing rage that caused him to obliterate all visual signs. His anger bubbled like lava inside of him, and very soon, it would erupt. Jack stared into the eerie face until it began to disturb him. He looked down at his knees. Not a second later, he watched the tip of the sword run through his right thigh.
White hot, blinding pain ripped through the wound as blood slowly began to ooze from it. Jack's face immediately went ghostly white as he stared unblinking at the red mark. Air stopped entering his half opened mouth as he gasped, trying desperately to draw breath. The lack of air - the absence of it - tried to choke him. It wrapped around his neck like a noose and began to strangle him. Electric pulses of pain ran up and down his leg, as though someone had just tried to connect a power cord to him and switch him on like a lamp. Even the urge to yell in pain was too far away. His eyes were blinded by the whiteness of pain. Maldo's gleeful expression never reached Jack's eyes. The evil king finally removed the sword and left the man.
After some time, two servants took the limp body away to tend the injury. They'd seen worse. The doctor of the village was a servant too, but the other servants had taken her chores for her so as she could remain a doctor for all the villagers. There was often sickness in the small village, and the servants had no time to be ill. When the doctor saw the two servants bringing in the injured Colonel, she asked that they bring her all the supplies they had left. Jack needed attention immediately. After bandaging the wound thickly, and giving him the best medicine they had available at the time, the doctor sat with her new patient, waiting for him to wake up.
After nearly two hours, the doctor's wish came true. Jack's eyes briefly opened, before closing again. He moaned softly in pain and tried to sit up. The doctor put a hand to his shoulder. "Please," she said gently, "remain still. It will do you better."
"Who are you?" Jack's voice croaked weakly.
"I am Azyalae," she replied. "I am a friend."
"I'm gonna ask even though it makes no difference, but, where am I?"
"You are with friends, in a barn. Please, you must lay still. Your leg will take time to heal. You will need to remain off it for some time."
"I can't do that," Jack disputed, again trying to sit. "I've got jobs, if I don't do them, they'll - "
"Do not worry," Azyalae interrupted softly, "others will complete your chores while you heal."
"And Maldo?"
"He will be none the wiser."
Azyalae smiled, her bright blue eyes lighting up her pretty face. Her long burgundy hair was tied back loosely, with strands free around her face. Her skin was smooth and young. She wore a light beige dress with a brown vest. Her hands were small, but her touch was kind and gentle. Just like that of Dr. Fraiser's. "May I look again?" she asked, nodding to the thick bandages around Jack's thigh.
"Yah," he replied.
Two young villagers came into the barn and stood a few feet from the door. "Azyalae," one of them said, "we require your assistance in the fields."
"Wait one moment, Jaun," Azyalae said, and then looked to Jack's eyes. "I do not know your name, sir."
"Jack," he replied, "Jack O'Neill."
Azyalae smiled, her white teeth sparkling like diamonds.
"I am pleased to meet you, Jack," she said and then left with the two villagers for the fields.
For a small village, and a fairly primitive appearance, this doctor seemed to know what she was doing. She'd seen to Jack's leg wound very quickly and slowed the bleeding efficiently, but being bound to a bed, even if it was only made of hay, was something Jack had always had little patience for. He sat up gradually and felt the nausea rush to his head immediately. Closing his eyes, the nausea slowly passed and he was able to re-open them without feeling as though his stomach was being sucked into a black hole. Not long after he broke Azyalae's first request, Jack broke another. Pushing himself away from the bed and onto his unsteady legs, his bare feet flattened onto the ground. Putting the majority of his weight onto his good leg, Jack balanced delicately on his left leg, relying heavily on his own strength and will to hold him up. With his right hand clutching at the wooden beam beside him, he slowly began to ease pressure on his leg. The burning pain strangled the veins in his leg and stopped his blood dead. The initial agony forced a small cry to burst from Jack's mouth as he crumpled to the ground. A few seconds later, the two men that had come into the barn earlier, looking for Azyalae, burst in once again with Zat's aimed at Jack.
"State your purpose immediately!" they both shouted, clearly not remembering O'Neill's face. Pain initially prevented Jack's voice from leaving his throat.
"Immediately, or we will be forced to fire upon you!" One of the men yelled, brandishing his Zat like an old man would a walking stick at a naughty child, only he seemed nervous apposed to grumpy.
Just at the right moment, Azyalae appeared at the door and saw the picture before her. "Stop!" she cried as she saw the men, with their Zat's aimed readily at Jack. "Do not fire," she said, pushing the two men's hands down quickly. "He is our guest, he is injured. Jaun, Roa, remember this man's face. He will be with us for some more time yet, and this event shall not repeat itself. Can you both remember this?"
Azyalae's voice was so calm, and soft. Not demanding or harsh. Not like Maldo. Her wishes were granted without a question, not because she scared everyone into obeying her, but because they all respected and trusted her. She had earned their respect, not demanded it. The two men nodded and left the barn; they were both feeling low about having suspected Jack of something sinister. Azyalae helped Jack onto the hay once more, asking that he trust her this time, and not attempt standing again. Somehow, even she didn't know why, he agreed.
"I apologise to you for the actions of our guards," Azyalae said, while cleaning her hands of dirt from being out in the fields. "They are accustomed to having servants from nearby villages come here and steal anything they can find. You must understand that they were merely being precautious and doing their job." Jack nodded.
"It's all right," he assured, his voice crackly and weak.
Azyalae smiled kindly and sat by Jack's side, on the hay. "You came here with another," she stated after a while. "Is that not true?"
The reminder of the way he'd made his 2IC leave made Jack fall silent.
"I should not have asked this," Azyalae chastised herself.
"I came here with my second in command," Jack said.
"She is no longer present?" Azyalae asked gently, noticing how her patients' mood had changed since her asking about Sam.
"I told her to leave. Ordered her."
"Why?" Azyalae wondered if perhaps she should leave the situation alone. It did have nothing to do with her after all, but she was incredibly curious as to why Jack had ordered his friend to leave him.
"Because I knew she could get to the Stargate safely without me. She had the chance. I wasn't going to let her pass it up."
"That was very noble of you."
At this, Jack closed his eyes and lay still on the hay bed. He was glad Sam was safe, back at the SGC now. He didn't regret making her go. He just wished they'd come and help. Come and help the people of this planet. I didn't do it to be noble, Jack thought.
@
A week passed by and there was no sign of help on P4C 237. Just as there was no sign of Jack at the SGC. Sam was beginning to lose hope. She had hoped her CO would take a chance and go maybe a day or a few days after she did. Unfortunately, so far, her hopes had not come true.
Carter paced uneasily around the Infirmary. She'd been there for two hours now. Two hours before, Dr. Fraiser had given her a check-up and cleared her. The doctor had said her injuries were healing nicely. A little while longer and they'd be gone completely. Only a few scars would stay as a reminder of the torture. Just enough to ensure the experience was never forgotten. Sam chewed nervously at her fingernails - a hobby she'd newly discovered. Janet eyed her friend as she checked up on another patient.
"Sam," Fraiser said, approaching the Major, "you need to stop pacing." Momentarily, she obeyed, but quickly she was back to pacing.
"Sam, please," Janet begged, grabbing her arm. "You've got to stop."
"Stop what, Janet?" Sam snapped. "Stop worrying? Well, if you tell me how, I'll try to do it, but right now the only way I see myself not worrying, is when Colonel O'Neill walks through the Stargate."
"Listen to me for a minute, Sam," Janet persisted. "I understand you're worried. I do, I'm worried for the Colonel too, but this isn't helping. Just, give him some time."
"Time?" Sam choked. "He's had a week! I thought he'd be back by now."
"Sam, forgive me for needing to say this, but, you seem.I don't know the right word.you seem more worried than I've ever seen before. Colonel O'Neill has been in terrible situations before. Maybe not like this, but pretty bad, and you've been worried, but not this worried. Tell me if I'm wrong, but is there something else going on here that you haven't told anyone about?"
"No," Sam replied shortly. "I'm - I'm just worried. That's all."
"Ok."
"Sam," an extra voice invited itself into the conversation. It was Daniel.
"Daniel," Carter acknowledged, letting him approach her.
"What's going on?" Jackson asked. "The General said - "
"Colonel O'Neill is alone on P4C 237," Sam interrupted to tell her friend quickly. Daniel's face fell into a frown.
"Alone?" he queried. "Didn't you both go?"
"He - ordered me to leave."
"Why?"
Sam looked at the floor with her mouth slightly open. Her eyes were stinging, as though tears wanted to hurt her. She squinted a little and looked back up to answer her friend's question. "We were both tortured," she paused, the words were hard to say, although she didn't know why. "Colonel O'Neill was pretty bad. He knew of a short route back to the gate and told me to take it. He told me to leave him there."
Daniel felt a strange anger towards his friend, but as well, a sadness and sympathy. She'd left her CO behind. Daniel knew it would have been hard for her to do, but he wished she hadn't. Somehow though, he knew she had to. "It's ok," Jackson said sympathetically as he pulled Sam into a hug. He knew she needed it. "He'll be fine."
"I hope so, Daniel," Carter mumbled into the archaeologists shoulder. "I really hope so. For the Colonel's sake."
Two hours later, Teal'c joined Daniel and Sam. Naturally his questions were the same as Daniel's had been. Where was O'Neill? Why was he not with Major Carter? Why had she come back without him? Sam struggled, but explained the situation as best she could without feeling overwhelmingly guilty once again. Each time she thought about it, she wanted to cry all over again. She couldn't understand how she'd suddenly become so emotional. It wasn't like her to act this way. She wasn't alone in noticing that. They'd all taken a guess at the reason for her acting so emotionally about the whole thing, but even Sam didn't know the real reason. There were so many different things, that one reason just didn't amount to enough.
Sam, Daniel and Teal'c waited for a miracle. They waited for the one thing none of them truly believed would eventuate.
