"This is not good..."

Clay's scowl stopped Moore from saying anything else, but the Major was just a worried as the Sergeant was. He was right; it wasn't good. Kinsey's information had been incomplete, and there had been an extra cadet in the room – completely unexpected. Even worse, they'd been seen by the other two roommates and had been forced to take them along instead of just knocking them out like they would have preferred. He wasn't sure what to do about that particular problem, but hopefully Kinsey would have something in mind. For now, Clay would just do what he could; keep the cadets separated, tied up and blindfolded until he received his orders.

"Is that kid still bleeding?" Major Clay asked Payne.

That was even worse, Payne hitting the kid to knock him out. He could just as easily have killed him with a blow like that in the dark.

"I don't think so," Payne answered from the back of the dark van they were in. "I'll check him out when we get to the safe-house."

"You'll do that, Captain," Clay said. "And you'll be the one to tell Kinsey if you've managed to kill him, or damage him."

"It wasn't my fault."

"You can tell that to Kinsey, too."

They all knew he wouldn't believe him – or wouldn't care.

"Fucking kid hit me," Moore complained. He wasn't talking about Shawn, though. He was talking about the one who'd come off the top bunk at him. Moore's jaw was swelling already, and there was a definite ache in his side where a kidney punch had landed.

"Yeah, the little one hit me, too," Payne said, scowling. "Big whoop."

"The little one probably doesn't hit as hard..."

"Shut the hell up, both of you."

Clay had had enough of their arguing.

There was silence in the back of the van, now, and Major Clay sighed, silently. He wasn't looking forward to reporting to Kinsey, so he'd wait until they knew how the target was doing before he made the call.

"How long until we're back at the safe-house?" he asked the Lieutenant that was driving the van.

"Ten minutes or so, Sir." He told him. "I could go faster if you-"

"No, don't speed. We definitely don't want to draw attention to ourselves."

OOOOOOOOOO

"Well?"

"It's bruising pretty well..."

"Is he going to be all right?"

Payne shrugged.

"I'm not a doctor, Allen."

"You hit him, Goddamn it. Is he going to be all right or not?"

"He's breathing normally enough, and his heart is beating..." Payne shrugged. "He'll probably be okay."

"Shit."

"I'm sorry."

Clay nodded. It couldn't be helped. He paced the floor of the living room for a moment, debating whether or not to call Kinsey just then or wait and see how the boy was when he woke up. He decided it was better to wait for a chewing out as long as possible and to wait for the boy to wake up.

"Let's go take a look."

He and Payne walked from the living room and towards one of the many holding cells in the house.

The holding cell was small – barely the size of a large closet – and held only a steel cot that was welded to the steel wall. There was a thin mattress on the cot, and a blanket, and resting on the blanket was the very still form of Shawn Adams.

The blood had been washed – more or less – from his head, although it matted his short hair and stained the blanket he was lying on. He was pale – but for all they knew he was pale anyways, so that didn't tell them much – although his ragged breathing told them that he was in some discomfort. No surprise there. There was a huge bruise forming from his temple all the way down his cheek.

"Get him covered up," Clay ordered. "And get an icepack on his head." It'd help the swelling at least. "Are the other two awake yet?"

Payne looked at his watch. It had been about two hours since they'd taken the cadets.

"They should be waking up anytime."

"Let me know when they wake up."

He turned and walked out of the holding cell, leaving Payne to follow his orders.

OOOOOOOOOO

He was sitting on the dock at his cabin, fishing pole in hand but not really paying attention to it since there wasn't a hook on the end anyways. At his side, soaking wet, was Jaffer, who was watching the fish swimming lazily in the water below. Every muscle on the black lab was tense, and he knew that he'd be jumping in the water soon enough, trying to catch himself another fish.

"You know Sam won't let you keep it..." he murmured to the lab.

Jaffer turned and Jack could have sworn he winked at him. Amazed, he turned, looking for Sam to see if she'd seen that – and heard a phone ringing in the distance.

That was odd. He didn't have a phone at the cabin. Only a cell phone, and that was turned off. Sam came out of the cabin just then, holding a telephone in her hand... that was odd, too...

"Jack?"

Someone was shaking him, waking him.

"No..."

"Jack, wake up."

Her serious tone was what made him wake up, not the words themselves. He sat up, immediately, suddenly wide-awake.

"Are you all right?"

"There's a phone call for you," Sam told him. She was wide-awake as well, even though she'd been woken up by the phone only moments before. "It's Commandant Kearns."

"What?"

Jack took the phone from her, looking at his watch. A phone call at 3 AM was not a good thing.

"O'Neill."

"Colonel O'Neill, this is Commandant Kearns of the Air-"

"Yes, Sir. What can I do for you?"

"We have a problem, Colonel."