As soon as his eyes came into focus, Jack O'Neill knew he was in trouble. The ceiling above was not the drab grey concrete of the SGC where he'd fallen asleep, and the mattress underneath him was far superior to anything the base had to offer. Whether he'd been the one to leave or someone had removed him, he could not remember for love nor money. At least he was fully-clothed. That was definitely a good thing. He tried to look around without moving his head, not wanting to alert any possible enemies that he was awake. Unfortunately, none of the furnishings were familiar. He carefully flexed the muscles of his legs, then his arms, and was astonished to note the total absence of pain from his healing wounds.

Hoping to catch any possible foes off guard, he leapt off the bed and to his feet in one smooth motion. He quickly determined that the only other occupant of the room was on the bed he'd just left, facing away from him. To his complete shock, he recognized the familiar profile and carefully moved around to the other side for a better look. The fact that she hadn't moved a muscle, not even when he jumped off the bed, sent a jolt of fear straight to the pit of his stomach.

As he drew nearer, the moonlight from the windows bathed her in a soft glow. He couldn't help but notice how very beautiful she looked. Like himself, she was fully-clothed, though she did have what appeared to be a long-sleeved shirt tangled around one wrist, as she lay on top of the bed covers. He frowned as he noticed a dark spot on the side of her neck and moved closer to examine it.

He stumbled backward in horror the minute he realized what he was seeing. Right above her carotid artery were two very familiar-looking puncture wounds, a small drop of blood trailing from each. There was also blood on her tank top, but it didn't appear to have come from the injury to her neck. But how did she get them? Sam hadn't been bitten on the planet and none of the planet's inhabitants had come to the SGC. As he puzzled out the possibilities, he reached for the identical wound on his own neck, only to find that it, like his shoulder injuries, had suddenly and miraculously disappeared. How could he have possibly healed that quickly? Only one answer came to him.

Stunned by the most probable deduction, his mind reeled as it searched for another explanation. No, it just wasn't possible. His test results had all been normal, and Fraiser had assured him that he was okay, that he hadn't ingested any vampire blood. And since that was the only way to be changed into. . .one of those, he couldn't possibly be the one who had attacked Sam. His thoughts drifted to the incident back in his quarters. As he relived those feelings and his nearly overpowering urge to taste her, there was only one possible conclusion.

He swallowed hard, unable to deny the truth any longer. In spite of all the doc's reassurances, it had happened. He'd turned into one of them. He had become a vampire. And worst of all, he'd bitten Sam. Oh, God, what if he'd gone too far, taken too much from her?

Though his instinct was to turn and run, he stepped forward to the bed again when he realized that he couldn't see whether or not she was breathing in the dim light. His hand shook violently as he reached out to check her pulse, and he nearly collapsed with relief when he found a steady beat. He thought it might be a little slower than normal, but it was strong and steady. She was alive!

Assured that Sam was okay, he turned and fled the room. He was so ashamed that he could think of nothing beyond getting out of there and didn't even notice the mess from their earlier struggle in his haste to get to the back door.

Once outside, he fell to his knees, gasping for breath. He pounded the earth with both fists and growled in anger, venting his rage and frustration at what had happened. He wanted to scream and yell as loud as he possibly could, but he somehow kept the presence of mind to stay quiet enough to not awaken her neighbors. When his anger was spent, he collapsed onto his side. With his chest still heaving from the exertion, he lay curled in the fetal position as he sorted his thoughts.

He had to go back to the mountain, no getting around that. He couldn't risk losing control and blacking out again. There was no way he would allow himself to be in a position where he could pose a threat to civilians. He knew both Fraiser and Hammond would do all in their power to help him, but what good could they ultimately do? There was no cure for him, at least not here on Earth. Even if they did eventually find a way to cure him, his career was over. He'd be facing certain court-martial for what he'd done to Carter--and rightfully so.

And what if the NID caught wind of the situation? Would the general have enough favors left to call in to be able to succeed in keeping him out of their clutches? Was he even worth the price it would likely cost his commanding officer? He'd gladly rot in prison for his attack on Sam, but there was just no way in hell he was going to allow himself to become an NID lab rat. Nope, never gonna happen. Try as he might to find an alternative, there seemed to be only one solution. IF he could pull it off.

His decision made, he stood and stretched. He debated driving back to the base, but he didn't seem to have his truck or a base vehicle here. That meant he'd have to take Sam's car or bike. He quickly discarded those options, unwilling to do anything that might cause her any further distress. He debated going back inside and calling a cab, but then he'd be putting a civilian at risk. No, he'd have to call for an airman. They'd probably send a whole squad of heavily-armed SFs and scare the crap out of her neighbors. Great, yet another wrong done to Carter that he'd be responsible for. He should probably have Fraiser come and check her out, too, just to be sure he hadn't done any permanent damage when he'd. . .done what he'd done. He looked up at the stars, seeking answers that didn't exist, and wished there was a way for him to just leave all this behind, soaring up there among them.

And suddenly, without him even realizing it, he was.

Dawn was breaking as he coasted down out of the sky. When his feet hit the ground, his wings again folded into his body without a thought on his part. He soundlessly made his way to the hatch he'd used to depart the complex and reentered the chute for his descent.

Not knowing if anyone had detected his absence from the base, all of his senses were alert for any possible threat. He put his ear to the door to listen for any sign of movement in the hallway, but heard nothing. After several minutes, he slowly opened the hatch and stepped into the corridor.

To his immense relief, he was alone. A bone-deep weariness set in as the adrenaline rush from attempting to sneak back in undetected faded. He turned and headed for his quarters, wanting nothing more than to collapse and sleep for a week.

He managed to avoid all base personnel along the way and finally stood outside his room. Again, he put his ear to the door and listened. Detecting no sound from within, he smiled and quickly entered the room.

"Colonel O'Neill, there you are!" As he reached his bed, he was startled by a voice behind him and whirled around to face the intruder emerging from his bathroom. "I was just about to let Dr. Fraiser know you were missing," the perky young tech informed him. "I'm here for your morning blood sample, sir."

He calmly shrugged it off. "I woke up and was thirsty, so I went looking for some juice." He recognized her from previous visits, but couldn't quite place the name. Cousins? Collins? It was something like that, he thought.

The airman frowned. "Sir, aren't you supposed to call someone if you need something?"

"Guess I forgot. Must not have been as awake as I thought." With a shrug of his shoulder, he flashed her his most charming smile. Connelly, maybe?

The tech smiled back and strode over to him. "Yes, sir. I'm afraid I'll have to inform Dr. Fraiser, though, sir." She reached for his arm and proceeded to tie the band around it.

"No, I don't think you will, Airman."

She stopped swabbing his arm with the alcohol pad, mesmerized by his voice. "Sir?"

He knew he had her from her tentative, confused tone and quickly deepened his hold on her. "No one needs to know about this but us, Kenley." The name finally came to him as he stared deeply into her eyes.

"But, my orders," she stammered.

"Sh," he crooned. He put a finger to her lips, cutting off her words. "No one but us."

He could feel her trembling as she nodded her agreement. "Yes, sir," she whispered.

He took her arm and pulled her closer. "Come here. I need you, Kenley," he demanded huskily.

"Yes, sir." She fell into his arms, willing to give him absolutely anything.

He smiled triumphantly and lowered his mouth to her neck.

The persistent ringing of the telephone next to her bed finally pulled Sam Carter from her deep slumber. She fumbled to find the receiver and answer it, not yet awake enough to notice her attire. "Carter," she mumbled sleepily.

"Sam, you'd better get back here right away!" Janet Fraiser urged. "The colonel's missing and. . . I'd better tell you the rest when you get here."

Instantly wide-awake, she sat up and gave her total attention to the doctor. "I'm on my way." She paused a moment, then couldn't help but ask about him. "Janet, is he okay?"

There was a long silence on the other end of the line, giving rise to a growing knot of fear in her stomach. "Janet?" Her demand in the single word was clear.

She heard the doctor sigh, but there wasn't an immediate answer. Just as she was about to ask again, Fraiser finally spoke. "I don't know. He's nowhere to be found and there's an unconscious airman in the infirmary." Again, she hesitated. "Sam, the airman was. . .bitten."

The tough soldier in her took over before she could panic and fall apart at the doctor's inference. "I need to grab a quick shower. I'll be there as soon as I can. Let me know if anything happens before I get there," she commanded. Without waiting for confirmation, she disconnected the call and hurried to the bathroom to get ready.

It was only as she was undressing that Sam noticed she'd apparently slept in her clothes. Disturbed at the implication, she unbuttoned the cuff of the shirt that was trailing from her wrist and assumed she'd fallen asleep in the middle of undressing. She had been exhausted when she'd left the base, but she didn't think she'd ever fallen asleep while undressing before. As she shed her slacks, she found that she was unable to remember going to bed. She could recall entering the house, but nothing after that until the phone call from Janet. As soon as the tank top she'd been wearing joined the pile of dirty clothing, she noticed the dark stain on the shoulder area and snatched it back up again. She knew instantly that she was seeing a bloodstain and immediately looked in the mirror.

Stunned, she was unable to do anything but stare at her own reflection. The entire area around her mouth and nose were smeared with blood, as was one cheek and the whole side of her neck and upper shoulder. Oddly, she didn't seem to have any wounds or marks on her face that would account for it. She gasped and looked closer when she caught sight of the marks on her neck, raising a shaking hand to probe the skin around punctures.

She was reeling from the discovery and stumbled over to sit on the side of the bathtub before her shaky legs gave out. There had to be another explanation. It could not have been him. He'd never do something like this to her, no more than she'd ever do it to him.

Suddenly, images of him standing in front of his locker after their initial contact with the people from the Land of Light flashed through her mind.

Her, grabbing him and kissing him. "I want you." And oh, how intensely she had, more than anyone or anything ever--before or since.

His attempt to reject her. "Carter, this is a little out of line, don't you think?"

Her, pushing him down onto the bench. Her, straddling him, trying to thrust her tongue into his mouth. "You want me?"

Him, resisting her advances. "No, no. . ." Her, stifling his protest with another desperate kiss. ". . .not like this, not like. . ." Her, doggedly cutting him off again and attempting to force her way in to explore every inch of his oral cavity. Him, pushing her away and trying to discourage her. "Carter! What's gotten into you?"

Her, ignoring his question and trying to silence him by again smashing her mouth to his. The two of them rolling onto the floor from the bench, her determination to have him unwavering. Him, rolling her over and ending up on top of her. Her, unwilling to let go and desperately clinging to him. "It's about time you saw a doctor, Doctor." Him, picking her up and carrying her to the infirmary, with her fighting him the entire way.

She let her head fall to her chest, fighting back tears. Unable to wallow in denial any longer, she knew with absolute certainty that he'd fallen under an alien influence and done the unthinkable. He'd attacked her, just as she'd done to him all those years ago.

She tossed the bloody tank top back onto the pile and stood to start the water for her shower. She froze as she reached for the faucet. What if he was still there, inside her house?

Without a second thought, she ran for the bedroom and grabbed the gun she kept in her nightstand. Still clad only in bra and panties, she slowly advanced to the door and began a careful, methodical search.

She gasped when she found the damage from their tussle, but her weapon never wavered as she continued her careful check of the house. The back door was standing wide open, causing her to shiver violently from the cold air blowing in. Her eyes widened at the sight of her ruined handset and cell phone, but she remained alert and continued on.

Once she'd determined that he was gone, she made her way back to her bedroom. She replaced the gun in the nightstand and reached for the phone to inform the base of her situation.

Halfway through dialing, she stopped and replaced the receiver. If she reported this, she'd be placed in quarantine like the colonel. There was no way she'd be able to help search for him--or more importantly, to help find a cure for him--if she was locked away in some boring ISO-room.

She returned to her bathroom without calling anyone, her mind still cataloging the possible ramifications of her actions. There was no proof that she was infected, but the amount of blood on her face and neck was far more than the small wounds on her neck would likely produce. That meant some of it was likely his, and it was very possible that she might have ingested a small amount. There was also the possibility that she could have absorbed a minute amount through the punctures.

She turned on the faucet and finished undressing, still pondering her course of action. Going by the timetable that it took for the colonel to show signs of infection, she'd should have at least a week before she would become a danger to others. She could always wait and begin to work on the problem, then turn herself in when or if she began to exhibit symptoms.

She sighed as she stepped into the tub and under the spray. Given the sheer amount of data from the lab on '332, it would take far, far longer than one week to find the information they needed. Unless Daniel found something specific to help them in the materials he was translating, there was no way they could find a cure before she became infected. And what about the colonel? There had to be something they could do to help him while they searched for the cure.

Having finished her shower, she turned the water off and reached for a towel. Of course! They could give him blood from the blood bank, just like they had done for the planet's inhabitants. And if she were to become infected, she could keep working on the cure by doing the same. Neither of them would be a threat to anyone else. If only there was a way to be certain that the general would allow it.

She quickly dried off and began to dress. No, she simply couldn't chance it. She'd suggest the colonel be given the banked blood, but there was no way she would risk being pulled from duty--and, most importantly, work on the development of a cure--by reporting her apparent attack. It's not like she could remember any specifics to tell anyway.

She pulled a black, long-sleeved top from her closet and pulled it on. If she were careful, the turtleneck and makeup would easily camouflage the evidence. By using the banked blood, she wouldn't be a danger to anyone and could focus her attention on finding the solution. She'd inform Janet and the general after a remedy was found if she developed symptoms.

She couldn't fail him, not after everything they'd been through together over the years. And she would not lose him, not to this or anything else. Not now. Not ever.


Author's Note: Wow! All the reviews have been very kind--a HUGE "Thank you!" to one and all! I'd like to assure everyone that the story is finished as far as the writing goes. Now it's entirely a matter of me having the time and patience to upload and edit the remaining parts. There will be 14 parts in total (excluding the index page)--13 chapters plus an epilogue. You can likely expect 2-3 new parts per day. I hope you enjoy it!! :)