Continued thanks to my wonderful readers. I wasn't going to update today but your reviews inspired me - and I didn't want to leave you hanging for too long. Enjoy!

The first thing he became aware of was that he was cold, freezing in fact. The second bit of awareness told him that his face was planted directly on concrete – probably one of the reasons he was so cold.

At least concrete indicated some kind of sophistication, so he most likely wasn't on a primitive planet – which would have meant lying on dirt, - at least he was pretty sure it would. Of course the problem was that other than that one idea, he didn't have anything else. He groaned softly and then wondered where that had come from. Probably because I'm cold, he thought.

His mind was sluggish and besides being cold he was so, so tired. Maybe he should just sleep for a while. His team would watch out for him.

His team! God – what about them? He groaned again and forced his eyes open. He didn't have a clue where he was, or what had happened, but he knew he had a responsibility to his team. He had to find out if they were okay and get them home.

After what seemed like hours he managed to lift his eyelids, although they kept wanting to drift closed. So – what did he see? Yes, his face was on concrete, that much was confirmed. Other than that? He tried to lift his head, at which time the terrible coldness gave way to scorching agony.

"God!" he hissed. The pain started in his chest and then burnt all the way down to his legs. What the hell was wrong with him?

He tried turning his head and managed to move it a few inches. Still not sure what was happening or where he was, he tried to look around even though the pain made movement – and thought – almost impossible.

His eyes lighted on a pile of – magazines? What the hell? Other than Earth he didn't remember any planet they'd been on that had magazines – at least not ones that looked like he could have bought them at the local corner store.

His head moved a few more inches as he attempted to focus his eyes, which didn't seem to want to work properly. Still no teammates – which could be good or bad – but there was certainly a lot of junk piled around him. It made no sense. Where was he and why was he here?

He made one final attempt to move – gasping and choking. Damn – there was something really wrong with him. It was at that moment of realization that he eyes focused on an object that looked – hell – it couldn't be! It was his father's tackle box.

What was it doing here? And where was here? Was this some alien device that had gotten into his head and made him think he was home? Home? Home! - Hell he was at home.

Everything suddenly came rushing back to him. He was in his own basement. He'd been cleaning and he'd fallen and – he looked down suddenly. Oh God – he'd stabbed himself and he was bleeding like a stuck pig.

He reached up to the wound, the T-shirt now completely saturated in his blood. He'd obviously collapsed, unconscious, while on his way to the stairs. Fortunately it looked like he hadn't landed on the knife, which probably would have killed him instantly. As it was, he knew he was dying slowing as his blood oozed out of the vicious wound.

"Idiot", he murmured. He had to keep going. He managed to lift his head, only to let it fall down in disappointment. He'd barely made it half way. How was he going to do this?

Stop it O'Neill, he told himself fiercely. You can do this. You've been in worse situations and made it out alive. Hell, you've died – repeatedly – and made it out alive so stop whining and get going.

Yeah, but you had a sarcophagus handy, a little voice in his head told him. No sarcophagus here, not at your home Jack. Not only that – no one – not his friends, nor his enemies had the slightest idea that he was bleeding to death in his basement. So – move it soldier! Your life depends on it.

Sam woke up and checked her bedside clock. It was just after 5:30 am. She didn't know what woke her but for some strange reason, she knew there was no way she was going to make it back to sleep. She had that strange feeling she'd had the night before and it was driving her crazy. She almost picked up the phone to call the base but knew she was being paranoid. If they had been attacked or something else was wrong they would have called her. It must just be that she was so used to being on missions that her body hadn't figured out how to stop and relax.

After getting up and taking a shower she still felt restless. What could she do? She thought about taking a quick run, but decided that what she really needed was speed! She hadn't ridden her motorcycle for weeks now. A good long ride would blow the cobwebs right out of her brain. And after that she'd stop by and see Daniel and invite him out for a hearty breakfast. Yeah – that sounded great.

She put on her leathers and retrieved her helmet. After locking the door she made her way out to her garage and pulled out the Indian – her pride and joy. With a quick grin she mounted the bike and in a few seconds was riding down the street. Her neighbors doubtless were unhappy to hear the engine roar at this time of the morning – but for once she didn't care. She needed this.

As she rode she kept expecting to feel that glorious feeling she got when on her bike. This time however, that niggling feeling followed her. It was telling her to do something – she just wished she could figure out what it was.

Find some company – that's what it was. She needed company. She wanted someone to ride with her – to go out into the country and spend a day enjoying the freedom and fresh air.

But who? The only person she knew who also had a bike was the Colonel, and he was in Minnesota. Or was he? He'd said he might go, but he hadn't been sure. What if he'd decided to stay in Colorado Springs? It wouldn't be wrong to ask if he wanted to go for a ride, would it? And it's not like it was inappropriate or anything – two friends simply enjoying the day.

She'd do it! She'd ride over to his house and check to see if he was home. If not – well nothing lost. If he was, well, she'd just have to gather up the courage to see if he wanted to spend the day with her. Taking a deep breath she turned her bike and headed towards the Colonel's.

She changed her mind at least a half a dozen times on her way there. One moment she figured the Colonel would be happy she asked – the next she could picture him giving her the superior officer eyebrow and telling her it was inappropriate. She laughed to herself at that. There's no way he'd do that – not after he'd invited her to go fishing with him. That was much more inappropriate.

She finally made it to his street and slowed down a few houses away. She turned off the engine on her bike and sat there, looking at his house and trying to gather the courage to wring his doorbell.

Well, his truck was in the driveway so he might be home. But then again, he could have called a cab to take him to the airport, rather than leave his vehicle parked in a public lot for the weekend.

Don't be ridiculous Sam, she told herself. Just go and ring the man's doorbell. If he's home he'll answer it, if not he won't. Nothing ventured …. She put the kickstand down on her bike and stood. She strode over to his house, taking off her helmet as she walked.

With another deep breath she reached out a finger and rang the bell. Oh God – what if he was sleeping? She glanced at her watch – it was just after 7:00 and it was his day off. He was going to kill her!

She waited a few moments and when no one answered took her courage in her hands and rang the doorbell again. By this time she was sure he wasn't home, and had to swallow down her disappointment.

"I hope you're having a good time Sir", she said quietly to herself as she turned away and headed back to her bike. "I just wish I could have gone fishing with you."

Jack started on his journey to the stairs once more. He was so weak he was trembling and his breathing was becoming more and more difficult. This time he knew he didn't have the energy to crawl so he resumed his push/pull technique with his arm and leg. It was unbearably slow, but he kept telling himself that at least he was going in the right direction. If he could keep from passing out this time he could make it.

As he pulled himself along the floor he thought back to the book of photos he'd been looking at last night. He started to think about his childhood to keep his mind off the all-encompassing pain. He thought about the wonderful times he'd spent growing up in Minnesota, about his parents, both of whom were older when he and his siblings had been born, but they hadn't let that stop them. He'd had a great childhood – running wild at the cabin, playing with his brother and sister and embarking on all sorts of great adventures with them.

Charlie had been so much like him, he suddenly thought. He was grateful his parents had known Charlie – and also that they'd both died before his son. They would have been devastated at his death.

He thought suddenly of his nephew and nieces and wished he lived closer to them. Even though he no longer had a child he could be a favorite uncle. When he got out of this mess he needed to spend more time with them. Maybe he'd invite his brother and sister and their families up to the cabin. It had been years since they'd all been here together.

How old was Mark, his oldest nephew? He must be – hell – almost 18 by now. He wondered what he was planning on doing. And then there was Emma, and Calli and James. Yup – he'd definitely have to get in touch.

He felt a wave of sadness wash over him. As great as it was to be an uncle – he wished with all his might that he could still be a Dad. Maybe, if he didn't get out of this it would be okay – at least he could see Charlie again.

"Don't – think – that way – Jack", he gasped. He couldn't let himself think he wasn't going to make it. He had to get to those stairs. He had to make it up those stairs and to a phone. For the first time he cursed himself for leaving his cell on the coffee table. In the future Jack, keep the damn thing with you when you go to the basement.

Not that he planned to come down here again for a while. So okay – his laundry was down here – but he wasn't ever going to spring clean ever again, that was for sure.

Of course that made him think instantly of Carter – his Carter. No, not his. But he wished she was his. Damn how he wished that. He wished there weren't any regulations, that he wasn't so much older than her, that he could be a dad again and that there wasn't a god-damned knife sticking out of his chest!

He pulled himself forward another few centimeters – he was no longer counting in inches. He was so tired he needed a rest. He put his head down on the concrete – its cool temperature feeling good on his burning skin, even though the rest of him was still freezing. Just a short rest – he'd sleep for just a few seconds and then he'd get going again.

Sam kick started her bike and pulled away from the curb. She gave the Colonel's house one last look, letting go of a regretful sigh. She looked behind her and then pulled a U-turn in the middle of the street. She was just about to speed up when something stopped her.

She slowed down and pulled back over to the curb, this time on the Colonel's side of the street. Something wasn't right but she couldn't put her finger on what it was. Again lowering the kick stand she threw her leg over the bike and slowly twisted around to look back at the house.

He must have gone to Minnesota or he would have answered the door. She knew he was a light sleeper and if he'd been there he would have heard her. So what was wrong? She looked again and then she saw it. A second floor window – the one she thought was his bedroom – was open.

If there was anything she knew about the Colonel it was that he would never leave his house for days without making sure it was locked up tight. Oh, he could be careless about leaving his door unlocked, but that was only when he was gone to the store or somewhere close by. Nope – he wouldn't leave a window open, of that she was sure.

So why hadn't he opened the door? Could it be that he was just sleeping or that he'd decided to ignore the doorbell? For a moment she decided that was the case and that he wouldn't want her to bother him again, but then she remembered her feeling last night and this morning that something was wrong.

She was probably being paranoid and the guys would tease her unmercifully, but she knew that didn't matter. She had to check this out – to make sure he was okay. They'd been through too many bizarre experiences together not to look out for each other. If she was wrong – fine, she'd make a fool of herself. That was still better than ignoring what could be a serious problem.

She walked slowly back to the Colonel's house and again tried the bell. After a moment, when there was still no answer, she knocked. She knocked again and then a third time with no results. He probably was in Minnesota.

She stepped back from the door and decided to take a look around. She just hoped the neighbors didn't think she was a thief come to rob him. Swinging her helmet in her hand she made her way around the back.

Everything looked fine. There was nothing out of place and the door to the deck was locked. She peeked in the window and carefully checked everything. It was then she noticed that the kitchen light was on.

Okay, that proved it. Jack might forget a window – he wouldn't forget both a window and a light. He had to be home – unless of course he'd run out early this morning.

God – that was probably it! She suddenly felt like a fool. What if he'd done the same thing as she had done and gone for an early morning ride – or even a run? She should just forget about this and go home.

She walked slowly back to the front, trying to figure out what to do. Was she being paranoid? Should she forget it and go home or should she double check?

To use one of the Colonel's hated cliché's – better safe than sorry. With that thought she reached into her pocket and grabbed her cell phone. She hit speed dial and lifted it to her ear.

"Daniel? Hi – sorry to bother you so early, but do you have a key to Colonel O'Neill's house?"

He'd reached the stairs! He would have shouted in victory if he had enough air in his lungs. As it was, he barely had enough to keep breathing.

The pain was still bad, although it had started to subside a bit. He knew this wasn't a good thing – it simply meant his body was shutting down. He'd lost too much blood and it had been too long. He knew it was a miracle he'd made it this far. His shirt was saturated as were the top of his pants and he could barely see, the black having taken over most of his sight. Even his leg no longer hurt so badly – it was pretty numb by now.

He reached out with a hand – a hand that was shaking so badly he wondered briefly if it was going to stay attacked – and touched the edge of the stairs. He'd thought – the whole agonizing journey – that if he reached the stairs he could make it. He had been fooling himself.

He looked up – up to the top where salvation lay – and knew there was no hope. He almost laughed at that, would have if he'd had the energy – it was almost a metaphor for his life. He remembered Daniel wanting him to ascend and his response. He had been sure than – and was almost sure now – that he didn't deserve salvation. He rested his head on the cold floor and knew this was the end.

He couldn't get up those stairs. He was too weak, too close to death. He would lie here until the last drop of blood, the last breath left his body. He had hated the thought of dying like this – but now it didn't matter. He was too tired and it was time.

"I'm sorry guys", he whispered. "Sorry to leave you but you'll be okay. Daniel – you're such a good man and one day you'll find happiness again. You so deserve it. And Teal'c – I wish I could be there with you when your people attain their freedom. You are my brother Teal'c – I'll miss you but I know you'll do fine.

"Sam – Sam I wish – I wish things could have been different. You know I felt for you – way more than I was supposed to – what you don't know is that I love you and wish we could have spent our lives together. You're an amazing woman and an amazing officer and you'll go far. I just hope – that sometimes you'll remember your old commander with affection."

His eyes slowly began to close. "God – if you're really there – and if you truly care for old soldiers like me then – please, let me see my son again. I know I don't deserve that but – I love him so much. That has to count for something, doesn't it? I just want to see Charlie – that's all I ask."

With that his eyes closed and he rested – letting go of the world around him.

"Daniel!" Sam walked up to his car as it pulled behind the Colonel's truck. "Did you bring the key?"

"Yeah", he answered as he got out of his car. "Sorry it took me a while – I had a bit of trouble remembering where I'd put it. Still no answer?"

"No and I think the neighbors are getting suspicious. I'm probably crazy and he's gone to Minnesota."

"Probably, but even if he has he wouldn't want his window left open so at least we can shut it – and we'll check on things quickly. He won't mind."

"I hope not." The two of them walked up to Jack's front door and Daniel pulled out the key.

"So, what were you doing over here in the first place?" her friend asked casually as he pushed the door open.

"Huh? Oh, I was out for a ride on my bike and I thought I'd see if the Colonel would like to accompany me for a bit. I know he has a motorcycle too. I know it was crazy, but for some reason I didn't feel like being alone and since you were writing your book and Teal'c was away …

"Yeah", Daniel agreed, not seeming to think there was anything suspicious in her answer. "I kind of felt the same. I tried writing yesterday and couldn't get into it. I thought about giving you a call, but didn't want to bug you", he grinned.

She laughed. "We're strange, aren't we? I was going to invite you out to breakfast this morning if the Colonel wasn't around." The two of them were standing in O'Neill's hallway as they were talking. "Uh – everything looks fine."

"Why don't you check out the living room and I'll go make sure he isn't just sleeping in."

"Okay – but be careful Daniel. If he is here we don't want him to think we're intruders."

"No, you're right. JACK!" Daniel yelled, giving her another grin. "That way he won't shoot me."

She giggled and headed towards the living room. It only took a couple of seconds to realize everything was in order and there was no evidence of anything bad having happened. She then went into the kitchen. At first things looked fine but then she noticed the sandwich and half full bottle of beer. She immediately frowned. Okay – something was definitely off. The Colonel wouldn't leave food out if he was planning on being gone for days.

"Nothing upstairs", Daniel said as he suddenly appeared in the kitchen. "Hey – that's not right", he said, nodding towards the food. "Jack wouldn't leave food out like that."

"I know. I'm afraid something's wrong Daniel", Sam said, her voice full of worry. "It looks like he left suddenly – but his truck is still here. This doesn't make sense."

"Do you think – could he have been kidnapped?"

Sam continued to frown. It was a possibility, although one she didn't want to contemplate. "There's no sign of a struggle", she told him. "Although he could have been knocked out I suppose."

"Hard to surprise Jack like that. And who would have done it? The NID aren't that stupid, are they?"

"I hope not." She continued to look around the kitchen, hoping something would jump out at her that would give her a clue as to what had happened. "I wonder if we should call General Hammond."

Daniel's eyebrows went up but then he nodded. "Yeah, I think that's a good idea. If he has been kidnapped the sooner we get people on it the better. I can call." Daniel pulled his cell out of his pocket and began to look up the General's home number.

While he was doing that Sam walked out of the kitchen and noticed a door that was slightly ajar. She frowned slightly, trying to remember – oh yeah – the Colonel's basement. They hadn't checked there. She walked over to it slowly and only when she arrived did she realize that the stair lights were on.

"Daniel", she called. She had a sudden premonition that she was going to find something – and she was afraid. "The basement – the light's on."

He turned his phone off and hurried over to her. "You think – could there be someone down there?"

"I don't know but – I'm going to look." Opening the door up wider she stepped down onto the first step. It was then that she looked down and instantly saw something – "Oh God!" She rushed down the steps, having recognized that it was a body at the base of the steps – and she was pretty sure whose it was.

"Sam?" Daniel called after her.

"It's the Colonel", she shouted back at him. In a second she was at the bottom and kneeling beside him. "Oh my God", she gasped as she saw the blood that covered him – and the trail that was smeared across half the basement floor.

"Is he -?" Daniel asked fearfully as he descended behind her and as she felt for a pulse. There was silence for a moment, as she searched, and the archaeologist stood, not breathing.

"He's alive", she finally muttered, "but his pulse is really weak and slow. Call for an ambulance and tell them to get here quickly."

He nodded and immediately lifted his phone once more. "Shit – no signal. I'm going upstairs."

"After you call look for his first aid kit. He's still bleeding."

Daniel nodded and then raced upstairs while Sam sat next to the dying Colonel.

"What did you do Jack?" she cried. She gently reached out and touched him – it was only then that she saw the knife sticking out of his chest. She gasped. "What the hell!" She immediately looked around the basement as if someone was lurking, waiting to attack her. "Who did this Sir?" She felt again for his pulse, relieved that it was still there, but worried at how faint it was. By the amount of blood around she knew he was in desperate shape.

"Here", Daniel leapt down the stairs, taking two and three at a time. He passed her the first aid box. "The ambulance is on its way. I left the front door open and told them we were in the basement. I'll go up in a second and direct them down. What can I do?" he asked as he watched her open the kit and rummage around for bandages.

"Not much", she said. "I don't even think there's much I can do. Wait – you can help me turn him on his side and get him into the recovery position."

"Shit – Sam, he's been stabbed", Daniel exclaimed when he saw the lethal looking knife sticking out of his friend.

"I know Daniel", she answered calmly – which was far from how she felt. "I don't' think whoever did this is still here. Come on – help me – oh crap!"

"What?"

"His leg – I think it's broken."

"Broken? But how – why?"

"Probably so he couldn't make it up the stairs. It looks like he was trying." She indicated the trail of blood and Daniel flinched.

"God – Jack! What the hell happened down here?"

"I need a blanket, or something to keep him warm." Sam had gingerly removed the soaked T-shirt and was trying to wrap bandages around the knife to hopefully stop the blood. She knew it was an almost hopeless task, and wanted to cry but knew she couldn't – not yet.

Her companion stood swiftly and looked around the basement. It didn't take him long to find a cupboard by the washer and dryer filled with old – but clean – linens. He grabbed a handful and made his way back to Sam – over piles of junk.

"Looks like someone was looking for something", he said. "That must be what happened."

"But what? The Colonel wouldn't keep anything classified at his house", she answered as she covered the Colonel as best she could.

"Maybe it didn't have anything to do with the program", he answered. "Maybe it was something personal."

She glanced at her friend, wondering what in the world the Colonel could possibly be involved in that would result in this. She didn't spend long thinking about it though as she could hear – faintly – the sound of sirens. "The ambulance."

Daniel nodded and again stood. "I'll bring them down." He raced back up the stairs.

Sam waited. There was nothing more she could do – nothing except pray. The Colonel looked like death. His face was completely gray and his lips were blue. She could tell, by his labored breathing, that the wound had affected at least one lung. She could also see a small trail of blood from his mouth. Great – not only was he bleeding out, there were obviously internal wounds as well.

"Oh Jack", she said softly, reaching for and holding his cold, cold hand. "Don't you die. Don't you dare die!"

She heard the clatter of boots on the stairs and the next thing she knew the paramedics were there. She breathed a sigh of relief and scooted back to allow them room to work.

By the almost frantic pace of their work – and the orders and requests that were barked out by the two men and one woman paramedic – she knew it didn't look good. They were working as quickly as possible to get him to the hospital.

They threw quick questions at her and she answered as well as she could. She could give his age, his general health (good) and whether or not he had allergies and whether he was on medication. She didn't know who his next of kin was but she gave the General's contact information, sure he would know.

"Okay – let's go", one of the paramedics said. They quickly placed the Colonel on a gurney, and had him up the stairs and out to the ambulance in the space of just a few minutes. Things must be really bad, she thought.

"We can take one person", one of the medics called. "But we have to go now."

Sam looked at Daniel, who gave her a faint smile. "You go Sam. I'll call General Hammond and meet you at the hospital."

"Thanks Daniel." She jumped into the back of the ambulance and instantly they pulled out. She watched the Colonel – and the medic who was again checking his vitals. "It's bad, isn't it?" she asked softly.

The woman lifted her head briefly from her patient. "I won't lie", she said softly. "He's in serious condition but don't give up hope. He looks like a fighter."

Sam gave a choked laugh. "Oh – he is."

"Good – then he just needs to keep fighting." The medic gave her a smile. "Why don't you move up and sit with him. In fact – hold his hand. It often helps to have someone they know close by. You can encourage him not to give up."

Sam smiled – a shaky one it was true – but the medic's words gave her hope. The Colonel was a fighter. "Don't you give up Sir", she told him again. "You keep fighting. We're all here for you and when you're better we'll take you out for cake." Her voice broke and the tears started. He can't die. She wouldn't let him die!

"Come on Jack", she told him softly. "After you get better – you and I are going to go fishing!"