Author's Notes --- Jen's trapped in the underground lab, the boys are on their way (complete with large amounts of C4 and copious levels of testosterone) and everything's coming together nicely. You'd think. :) - Nika

A few moments later, Rousseau returned with a small fold up cot which he quickly set up in the corner.

Jen lay the sleeping child down, and glared at the skinny man. "She needs a blanket."

Rousseau refused to move.

Jen tried a different tactic. "Am I supposed to ask Mr. Franks?"

Rousseau blinked. He left and returned after a short moment with a grey blanket.

Jen snatched it and covered the sleeping child, her mind spinning. With Rousseau and Kotko guarding the hallway, she wasn't going to be able to find a way out of the lab. Which meant that whatever she was going to do… it would have to be from inside. While she watched the small child making faces in her sleep, Jen tried to keep herself calm. Inside. Inside she could do. This was a lab. Her domain. There was something here to use and she'd find it. Because if she'd discovered anything about herself during her years in Pegasus, it was that she, Jennifer Keller, was nothing if not industrious. She'd performed a brain operation with a power-drill for god's sake – she could get herself out of an… underground laboratory.

Right.

Jen sighed.

Or not.

Think, Keller!

Deciding the only sensible thing would be to start by finding out exactly what she had to work with – besides a pair of killer Athosian hair-sticks - she turned and began exploring as quickly, and subtly as possible. After searching through drawers, she found paper and a pen, and began a quick inventory of various chemicals and elements at her disposal. It wasn't more than a few minutes before an idea began to form, and with it, a silent prayer to Laura Cadman and her tequila slammers. If not for the drunken escapades of the Lieutenant, Jen would probably have no idea what chemicals you could mix with what to produce both a harmless smoke bomb, or a volatile piece of chemically explosive mastery.

The catch was – how to make either without looking like she was making it?

And…

What was she going to do with them once she finished?

Jen turned towards the doorway and the two bodyguards, who were watching her warily. She eyed the sleeping child, and settled her resolve.

If they hadn't found her by now, then there was a good chance they weren't coming.

She had no choice.

Turning on one of the computers, Jen searched until she found some of the research files and opened them up. Burying her head in the notes and files, she quickly calculated the required components necessary to make Laura's cocktails, her scribbled calculations a mix of mathematics, chemical elements, Ancient and Wraith. No one but Carson, Radek, or Rodney would be able to decipher it without a translator.

"I am curious." Franks voice cut in beside her and she jumped with a gasp. Her trembling fingers clutched her throat as she stepped back.

Franks ignored her obvious discomfort and picked up the notepad. He stared at the calculations, frowning.

Jen held her breath, hoping and praying he wouldn't really recognize anything. Knowing there was a snowballs chance in hell he'd know Ancient or Wraith but fearing the consequences just the same. She couldn't help but glance past him at the sleeping child.

"Hmm." He finally nodded.

Jen exhaled when he put the notepad down and turned towards her.

"Rousseau and I have a… little side bet going…"

Jen swallowed, warily eyeing the skinny man as he stepped forward.

"We are curious as to the origins of the creature which excludes this… enzyme."

Jen's heart quickened. How much did he know? How much was evident in the research? Exactly what research notes of hers did he have and how did he get them? From the SGC? Pegasus? Her mind whirled while she stared wide eyed at her captor.

Franks smiled, cold and hard. "I…" He placed his palm flat against his chest. "Believe we have many… undiscovered treats in this world. However… we have come to a stalemate on your… Ray-ith."

Jen blinked. "Stalemate?"

Franks nodded. "I say a creature with such power could only exist in an environment that supports a need for such enhanced skills. A place so… unforgiving… only the very strong could ever hope to survive. But it would also have to be a place that is yet undiscovered by the overzealousness of humanity. We have narrowed it down to two choices. You will tell us who wins."

Jen held her breath as Franks stepped closer.

"My choice… cold and ice… the far North, or perhaps south. Himalayas? Antarctica?"

When he smiled, Jen thought his grin was very much cold and icy. Then he angled his head towards Rousseau, who was eyeing her with distain.

"Rousseau," Franks frowned. "Believes something more tropical. Hot. Humid. Like this movie… what it is?" He snapped his fingers at Rousseau.

"Predator." Rousseau flashed a smirk then immediately returned to his scowl.

"Predator." Franks nodded. "Yes, yes. Rainforest. Deep jungle. You will tell us which one wins."

"I… I will?" She hesitated, which Franks did not like. His eyes narrowed and leaned closer. Jen's heart skittered and she nodded quickly. "I… Yes… I will. It's um…"

Space was cold. Technically.

"Cold."

"HA!" Franks clapped his hands, then clamped Rousseau on the shoulder. "I win."

Rousseau's expression didn't change. He merely shrugged.

Franks turned towards Jen, his smile not reaching his eyes. He angled his head, then leaned forward with excrutiating slowness to sniff her hair. "Do you wish to know what it is I have… won?"

Jen didn't want to know.

She really, really didn't want to know.

Time stopped.

Franks chortled, and stepped back. Then he tapped his index finger onto the notepad containing her scribbles, his smile fading. "I distract you enough. You may resume your work, Doctor."

With a precise nod, he turned and disappeared into the hallway.

Jen let out a shaky breath.

Okay.

Time to leave.

Evan ignored the tickling sensation of dry dust in his nose as he lay flat in the dirt, his eyes on the approaching plane as it taxied across the tarmac. The sharp whine of the small, single engine cut through the silent night, and covered over just about any sound they might be making as the teams slid into place around the main hanger.

The hanger doors were open on both sides, the bare insides brightly lit under the overhead fluorescents. Clearly visible, Franks small, private jet sat in the middle of the floor. The plane, and the building, was guarded by four men, each armed, and each wearing Kevlar.

Daedalus confirmed no other life signs… above ground. And only two life signs inside the Cesna. Six was no match… but that was the six they could confirm. Who knew how many more lurked beneath the surface?

"On my mark." Sheppard's voice announced, as each team stood ready to make their move.

C4 and detonators were in place on both the fuel tanks and the already disabled generators. Once the power was cut, the teams would move in, using the sudden plunge into darkness to their advantage. The guards inside would be instantly blinded, their night-vision ruined because of their position under the overheads.

Sheppard's team would take out the two guards on the west side, and Evan's team would flank the building from the north, moving in from behind the plane, taking out the pilot and passenger. The guards inside the east side of the hanger were the responsibility of Major Shannon's team.

Major Effingham's team would clear the inside office area, and meet the other three teams in the main bay before proceeding to the underground entrance, which Rodney had located inside a broom closet.

They would either wait for curiosity to kill the proverbial cat and someone come up from below, or hope McKay could find the entrance and get them inside. Evan was personally betting on option 2. This wasn't Michael they were dealing with. This booby traps and set up was pure Earth tech.

McKay would eat them alive.

The plane slowed, the thrumming chop of the propeller dropping in tone and volume as it rolled the final distance towards the open hanger doors.

He checked his watch. Oh-five-hundred. They were running out of time - and the bonus covering of darkness.

He sent up a silent prayer that she'd be fine – both would be fine – then cleared his mind of everything but the task at hand.

Find them, liberate them, and bring them home.

Jen pulled out several sets of chemical compounds from various storage units, and placed them on the counter in front of her. She tried to ignore the over-the-shoulder looks she was getting from Rousseau and Kotko, choosing instead to watch them from her peripherals, and concentrate more energy on keeping her hands steady while she poured. She glanced at the notes, then back at the volume of elements she was mixing, praying… praying she remembered Laura's drunken tirades in the right order. She set the pair of glass beakers carefully on the counter and reached for the rubber stoppers. Her hands were shaking and she clenched them quickly together, feeling the immediate shock of how cold her fingers were.

Realizing how suspicious she must look, she walked towards the little girl, and adjusted her blanket before turning back towards the work table. Trying to look as casual as she could under the circumstances, Jen stuck her cold hands into the pockets of Evan's jacket.

Her right fingers met with something thin and wiry and she almost pulled it out to look at it until she realized with a staggered step exactly what it was she was holding in her right hand.

Evan's com.

Oh god.

She yanked her hand back out of the coat and stood in front of her notepad, her palms flat on either side of the paper. Staring down at the scribbled blur, she struggled to breathe.

Could she activate it without them seeing? Were they watching her now? Could she turn and look without being overly blatant? Would it work underground?

Oh lord, oh lord, oh lord.

With a deep breath, she managed to get the rubber stoppers into both beakers, silently chanting a command to her fingers not to shake it.

Then, a quick glance at the doorway confirmed both men were guarding the room – not her. They looked forward or to the side down the hallway, but not behind them.

She was apparently no threat.

They were only there to make sure she did not leave.

Or… she supposed… kill her if she did anything wrong.

… talking on a radio kind of wrong.

Oh, hell. She glanced at the small child, with the realization that she had no choice.

Please let this work!

Jen took a deep breath, and pulled the com out of her pocket, her fingers shaking so badkly she swore she was going to drop it. With her head turned so they would only see her left side, should they look, she hooked the small unit over her ear and turned it on.

Before she could even comprehend what the hell she was supposed to say, aside from screaming for help, she clearly heard John's voice counting down.

Counting down to what?

"Three… two… one… mark."

And with a suddenness that made her cry out, the lab was plunged into complete darkness.