SIX

Jennifer was beyond exhaustion.

She'd removed pieces of a metal projectile, cleaned the wound, stitched it, wrapped it, administered antibiotics and thrown off most of the blankets smothering the poor boy.

But it might not be enough.

Whoever had tried to help him before had done more harm than good. The wound was soiled with a bizarre mixture of what looked like tree bark and something that smelled like bad cheese. His fever was too high, his body too weak.

The bullet had entered his right side and shattered in his lower abdomen. With dim lighting and lack of proper surgical tools, she couldn't be sure she'd even gotten all the pieces, but she'd done her best.

She hoped.

Her advice to the father to get his son to a real medical facility had gone unheeded. As had her only plan of getting out into the open.

Burnon had assured her if she'd kept up her end of the deal, and helped his son, he'd return her to the village. But the longer she remained in his company, the less she believed his hollow promise.

The self appointed supreme commander of this little private army didn't seem to care what she'd overheard while she attended to his son. A steady stream of visitors came and went, each requiring his attention. A few, wearing matching navy uniforms, kept a wary eye on her as they whispered softly with their leader. The others, dressed like villagers, didn't care what they said. And apparently they were so enamored with their leader, they couldn't take a piss without needing his explicit instructions because they were asking his opinion on just about everything.

It didn't take long to figure out Burnon and his half a dozen soldiers were employing the farmers like a band of common thieves. Robbing, stealing, killing to get what they wanted. She repeatedly heard them discussing a large collection weapons they'd been amassing and were planning to sell. And Burnon didn't care if it was the farmers that were being killed in the raids, as long as he got what he wanted.

Between interruptions, Burnon had no qualms about making sure she understood the fate that had befallen the previous healer's he'd kidnapped when they'd failed to cure the wounded man he'd brought them to see.

Their patient died. And so had they.

Wouldn't you know her luck would be just as monumental? Her patient was the most important one of all – Burnon's son. Nothing like the impending death of a family member to bring out the love. He dies, you die - the repeated words kept ringing around her head.

Jen had seen the movies. They never let the victim go once they'd seen the face of their captors. And they always told you what they were doing if they planned to kill you in the end anyway.

Checking on her patient, she adjusted his blanket before sinking down onto the floor. The guard in the entrance way glanced over, then looked away.

She shivered and moved to wrap her arms around her middle, cringing when she touched the dried and caked on blood that covered the front of her shirt. She wished hadn't complained so much about being wet. Damp and muddy was way better than stiff and bloody.

Reaching up she dragged one of the heavy blankets off the end of the bed. Her left shoulder twitched and protested, but she ignored it. She'd managed to sneak herself a couple of painkillers while she'd worked, and the ache wasn't as bad as before. At least for now.

Folding the blanket around her torso, Jen leaned back against the rocky wall. Despite the added warmth she shivered. Pulling her knees up to her chest she wrapped her arms around them and dropped her chin. Closing her eyes she tried to imagine herself someplace warm – no hot – white sandy beach, baking rays of the sun, cool waves, Ronon…

Her eyes flew open.

Okay, definitely having issues. Maybe she was getting loopy from the lack of food? She had whacked her head pretty good, she thought, fingering the crusted blood along her hairline.

It was bad enough the man invaded her waking life, he needed to sneak into her escaping daydream?

He made her nervous, he made her stutter, he made her so flustered half the time she forgot where she was going or what she was doing. But right now she'd give just about anything to just hear his voice.

Hey Doc, he'd say with that low, sexy rumble.

Jen sighed.

Who was she kidding?

At this point she'd give anything to hear Rodney's voice.

Her mind flipped through random thoughts with the ease of changing TV channels. She had no idea what time of day it was, or how long she'd been gone. Did they even know she was missing? How before they noticed? Would they see the empty tent and just figure she'd gone out to finish her work? She never told anyone where she was going – would they think it odd she hadn't checked in? She groaned. Why couldn't she have just joined them for dinner? New rule. Someone asks you to dinner, you go! And why couldn't she have just given in and kissed Ronon? Just once? She'd had a dozen opportunities since then. Time's when they'd been alone – a quick passing in the hallway late at night, stitching him up after some bizarre sparring accident. So many chances wasted. And now she was going to die without knowing.

Brilliant Jennifer. She scolded herself. You're such a wuss.

If she managed to get out of here in one piece the first thing she was going to do was throw herself on the man and kiss him. Okay maybe she'd eat first. Then shower. And brush her teeth. Then kiss him.

"Oh lord," she mumbled. "I'm losing my mind."

Surely they'd be here soon. Wherever here was. Hell she might not even be - Oh God, no! Her heart pounded as she finished the thought that drove icy shivers through her soul. She might not even be on the same planet!

No. no. Don't think that!

They know you're missing. They're coming for you. She whispered the words over and over, eyes squeezed tightly shut, her head resting on her knees.