A/N's: I am so sorry, I killed Marc! I liked the guy, I really did... it just happened. The Commander saw red, I guess... He knows by now he isn't going to get what he wants...

Now, thanks for not yelling at me. You almost would have, though, as I came to the unpleasant discovery that I had split up this story in parts, and the parts from here were... EMPTY! OMG, and I couldn't find a backup anywhere, I searched and searched and started sweating... it was jut damaged, and...

Phew. Luckily for you, (and me) I have a very nice friend who keeps things... and I got the complete story back. The format is off, though, I did my best to polish it, I hope it worked. So, you can continue reading, it would have been bad, very bad, to leave Jack in that hellhole, right?

Happy halloween to all of you!

Having traveled south for several hours, Colonel Bayfield stopped the old vehicle on a spot he thought was best to keep it out of sight of possible passing Elite Forces. The team got out, gathering their gear. Carter took out a camouflage net and with Bayfield's help she covered up the truck to keep it hidden.

"All right, people," Bayfield announced. "This is as far as we could go by car. Camp Ockeloen is located about thirty miles to the west. We hike in from here. Teal'c, bring up the rear."

With that, Bayfield started leading them through the rough terrain of Tyberia, starting by climbing down into the first valley they had to cross.

It was hot, even though it was already late afternoon. Regardless, they moved, slowly, but continuously, taking brief rests to sip some water, unwilling to give up. Fraiser, not used to this kind of trekking, was hindered the most by the landscape and heat, but the tough woman kept on going without slowing the group down.

It was early in the evening when Bayfield stopped the hiking group, one hand cautiously held up in the air to silence them. A small group of Tyberian soldiers was marching on a path several feet below them. Teal'c silently moved backwards, searching for a safer hiding place while the others squatted down to stay out of sight.

Bayfield gathered his binoculars and watched over the rim to follow the small group, determining their direction. "They will probably pass us, moving that way," he whispered to the others, waving to his right. "Lets make sure they won't detect us. Fall back."

Carter and Fraiser crawled backwards first, followed by Daniel and the Colonel. Teal'c was already waiting for them and the team quickly moved away from the path to hide behind some rocks.

"Charlie!"

The seven-year-old boy ran away, angry, not wanting to greet his father who'd just come home from one of his missions. O'Neill had been gone for three weeks and had just missed another important event that had taken place at Charlie's school, the grand finale, a baseball game in which Charlie had been the pitcher of the winning team.

"Give him some time, honey. He'll come through," Sara said softly, letting one hand run gently through her husband's hair. She knew the man she loved had tried his best to be back in time, but once more was unable to make it. She also knew how utterly disappointed Charlie had been, and this time she had not been able to calm the young boy, to explain for the umpteenth time how important his father's work was and how unpredictable it was for him to tell them when he would be back. She never ever allowed herself to express her worry, her fear of not knowing if her husband would come back at all.

He had been looking forward to a hug from his kid so much. The angry words he got instead hurt him, cutting through his soul. O'Neill couldn't even blame his son. The boy was right, once again telling him in unmistakable words that he had needed his father to be there for him when, of course, he had been doing more important stuff he wasn't even supposed to talk about.

Sighing heavily he grabbed his wife's hand and squeezed it tenderly. "I hope so," he said, the emotional pain straining his voice. "I should have been there..."

"What's really important is that you are here now," Sara reasoned. "I know you wanted to be back in time for the game, Jack. There will be other games."

He embraced her, silently thanking her for her moral support. That was Sara for you; never blaming him for not being there, never complaining and even trying to tell him it was all right. He knew it hurt her, though. More than she would ever admit to him.

He'd been thinking so hard to find a way to make it up to her, and to Charlie. He hadn't told them yet, but he was considering leaving the Forces, finding another job within the Air Force with more reasonable working hours and less danger. He needed to be with his family, instead of crawling through Lord knew what deserts in hostile countries, retrieving important items or getting important people out of places no normal human being would believe existed.

"I'm going to find him," he said as he got up, intent on searching for his son.

"Charlie!"

"Charlie! I'm coming!" The words graveled, passing his cracked, dry lips. With the memory of that day still fresh in his mind, Jack couldn't figure out where he was, or what he was doing.

Charlie was waiting for him and he couldn't keep the boy waiting. He thrashed, his feet kicking against something solid, something made of wood. O'Neill forced his eyes open, which was hard because they seemed to be glued together shut. He also realized that for some reason his arms wouldn't obey his orders to wipe his face.

All he knew was that it was hot, wherever he was, that it was dark and that he couldn't see Charlie.

"Charlie?" he whispered, wondering if he was playing hide and seek with his son and had fallen asleep in his hiding place.

His right arm slowly moved, pain shooting through his shoulder, all up to his head and he briefly wondered what had happened to him. He couldn't recall. His throat was swollen from thirst. If only he had some water...

With his right fist, he investigated his surroundings, knocking on the solid walls next to him and above him. He was definitely locked up, and locked up good. Moaning softly as pain flared in his legs, he moved his feet, only to discover that he didn't have much room to move there as well.

He froze.

Tremors racked his body as another painful memory popped up, taking him to another dark place, to another time, a memory he wished would never haunt him anymore.

Furiously he started hitting the roof of his tiny shelter, realizing he was caught up in another box; another pit, another hellhole.

Hadn't the UN rescued him yet?

Vaguely he seemed to remember that they had gotten him out of this rotten, stinking prison, after God knows how many days, weeks, ...months.

Why couldn't he remember?

The image of Charlie appeared above him, and it looked so real, so very real. Charlie was smiling at him, one hand outstretched, motioning him to come, to follow.

He remembered now.

Charlie was waiting for him. He needed to hurry. Don't make him wait, Jack.

See? The lid was moving; he heard the sounds of someone trying to remove whatever was covering him. Charlie was really here; Charlie would get
him out...

The sharp light stabbed straight through his eyes, sending waves of agony through his head. O'Neill groaned unwillingly and quickly closed his eyes, unable to stand the brightness of the sun shining down on his face.

Laughter.

They, whoever they were, were laughing at him.

Oh, God. There hadn't been any United Nations. He wasn't rescued yet. It must have all been a dream. Wishful thinking maybe. Hope, illusion or delirium.

Rough hands pulled, raising his head and he felt something pressed against his lips. He'd been longing for water, but the flow that now filled his parched mouth was too much and he almost choked in it, swallowing bits, spilling the most.

"Enough," a sharp voice barked. "That should keep him alive... for now."

Before the coughing fit wore off, the lid was closed and Jack found himself in the dark once again. Alone with his memories, some good and some bad, without really knowing what was real and what wasn't.

Charlie was waiting; he knew that much and he vowed that one way or the other he would make it, would hang in there. For his boy, he had to.

He had to try and fight.

Colonel Bayfield took no chances and waited for an hour before he sent out Carter to check if the area was secure. The Major shortly returned, stating that the troops were gone, out of sight and that she considered it safe to carry on.

Silently the group of Americans continued their trek through the Tyberian Mountains, heading west, slowly gaining distance and getting ever closer to their target: Camp Ockeloen.

They had to set up camp for yet another night, reluctantly, unwilling to waste any more time now they were so close, but there was just no other way.

On Sunday, around noon, thirteen days after Colonel O'Neill had left the SGC on his solo mission, the small rescue team led by Colonel Bayfield arrived at Camp Ockeloen.

The Colonel found a perfect hiding spot for the team, planning to leave the only civilian and the two women there waiting, while he and Teal'c would go and attempt to rescue the two prisoners. "Okay, people," he spoke, after they all settled down. "This is our meeting point. Teal'c, you're with me."

The giant Jaffa merely nodded.

"Major," Bayfield started, addressing Sam. "From now on there will be no radio contact, no matter what, understood?"

"Yes, Sir," the blond woman responded.

"Your job is to keep them safe," Bayfield pointed at Janet and Daniel. "We'll meet back here, or, if the need arises, at this spot." The Colonel had spread out a map and identified their back-up meeting point. "Whenever you need to move, try to reach this, is that clear?"

The Major nodded, locking the coordinates in her memory.

Bayfield looked sharply at her. "Do you remember the pick up points, starting from Tuesday morning on?"

"Yes, Sir," she answered shortly.

"If we haven't reached you by noon tomorrow, either here, or at the second spot, make sure you catch one of them. Get those people out of here and never come back. Got that, Major?"

Sam bit on her lip. Although she knew the Colonel had to cover all scenarios, she still shivered unwillingly at the thought of having to turn around and leave without knowing what had become of any of the men. She shook off the uncomfortable feeling, straightened her shoulders and spoke up firmly. "Yes, Sir. Understood. We'll wait here for twelve hours, unless there's a good reason to retreat to our second meeting point. I'll make sure we're on one of the pick-ups if you don't manage to get to us by tomorrow, Sir."

"Good." Bayfield eyed the Major approvingly, knowing he could count on her. "That's one worry less for me."

Janet riffled through her pack, quickly gathering two small canteens with isotonic water plus two syringes containing pre-measured amounts of amphetamine. "Here you go, Sir. Try to get the men to drink this; small sips at the time, if there's an opportunity. Painkillers are in your own medkits, but these are stimulants. Use them only if they'll absolutely have to stay on their feet, but can't make that on their own."

Bayfield thanked her and carefully stuffed the handed canteens and syringes away before turning to the Jaffa. "Teal'c, are you ready?"

"I am."

"Let's go and find that second path through the minefield." Bayfield rearranged the backpack he was carrying, saluted at the remaining trio and took off.

a/n's... and finally we are getting somewhere...