A/N's: thanks so much for reviewing, especially the guests, who I cannot thank in person. Everybody else should have a reply from me, if not feel free to yell... you guys make me smile with your thoughts, excitement and curiosity for what happens next...

so, it is Monday again... a tiny bit longer chapter today...

General Hammond had explained the whole situation to General Carter as the two men sat in Hammond's office.

"So, Jack's in trouble again," sighed Jacob. "How the hell did he end up in the hands of the enemy. And in that country..."

"He was the only one with enough experience to go in," Hammond reasoned.

Jacob smirked. "The only one foolish enough you mean. Why do you think the Forces didn't send another team, huh? It was too dangerous, I'd tell you. Holy Hannah. Tyberia. That's a country the whole world tries to avoid and he just marches in all by himself. What was he thinking?"

"Major Crook, the leader of the missing team, is a close friend of Jack. I don't think Jack really had a choice," Hammond defended his Second.

Jacob Carter sighed, raising his hands helplessly in the air. "I know, I know, I know. I've got to admit that I admire his determination and devotion. But you know what? Sometimes I want to kiss him on one cheek for that and slap him on the other."

General Hammond gave him a weak smile. "I think I know that feeling. I really wish I had better news for you, Jacob," he apologized. "I shouldn't have let your daughter go."

Jacob Carter raised his eyes, searching those of his friend. "I can't say that I'm happy with this whole mess, George. But I'm damn proud of her, for whatever that's worth."

Hammond blinked a moment in surprise.

"A good team always takes care of each other, no matter how dire the situation. She's got the right attitude, not to mention the guts, too." The pride was visible in General Carter's features.

"I think she has learned something from her old man then, don't you think?" Hammond said with a smile.

Jacob straightened his back, looking a bit uncomfortable now. "So all we can do now is waiting, right? Waiting sucks. Is there anything else we can do?"

"If Sel'mac will allow it we could say a little prayer," suggested Hammond. "You never know which God will listen to it."

Colonel Bayfield pushed the small group forward until it became too dark to continue. He divided the night watches between the linguist, the Jaffa and himself, knowing the Major needed her rest because of her injured arm. Satisfied with their progress he estimated they would be able to reach the Turkish border the next day. There was only one thing left to do, but that had to wait until the next morning.

Before taking his position Bayfield stopped by the female doctor. "How's O'Neill doing, Doctor?" he asked, throwing a worried glance at the prone form on the stretcher.

"All things considered, not too bad, Sir," Fraiser said, tiredly running a hand through her short hair. "He's exhausted, but with that whole rescue operation of today that's no surprise. He's running a fever from the infections but I think I can keep it under control. As far as I can tell, he hasn't damaged his elbow any further by climbing down that mountain, which is a small miracle if you ask me. I'm worried about the damage the shrapnel has done to his legs, however. I don't want him to do any more walking than absolutely necessary, today's exercise was too much already. We also have to see what damage has been done to his kidneys or liver, I can't tell without the proper equipment. That's about it, Sir."

Bayfield pointed at the bandaged underarm. "And that?"

"Nothing to worry about, Sir. It's a cut from a knife but none too deep." Janet looked down.

Colonel Bayfield eyed her closely. He still had no idea what had happened to all of them. Now was not the time to find out, though. He would get the full story when they were safe. He turned to walk over to the spot where he would stand guard, but quickly looked back over his shoulder. "Make sure you get some rest, too, Doctor. We have another long day ahead of us tomorrow."

"Rest. Yes, Sir," Fraiser mumbled.

The night slowly ebbed away quietly. Janet stayed with O'Neill, making sure his wounds remained open to drain. Using the same methods as the night before she tried to cool him down as his temperature rose, although she estimated it to be less this time.

The Colonel was sleeping quietly most of the time, only now and then tossing and turning restlessly due to the fever.

Knowing she needed the rest, too, Janet curled up next to O'Neill, and attempted to get some sleep. She couldn't, however, as every time she closed her eyes, he was there, the guard with those scary dark eyes. She relived the horrible events over and over, as in her imagination she once again watched him move closer to her until she almost could feel his body pressing on hers again. Breathing in short gasps and trembling all over, Janet sat back up; terrified she would start screaming the next time she would try to sleep.

She stared at the dark sky and watched the stars, forcing back the urge to break down and cry. She couldn't; not here, not now. She would just have to deal with her demons when they got back home. Hadn't Bayfield said so? Concentrate on the mission and deal with the rest when we're safe.

Janet had no idea how long she sat there, silently staring into the dark night, trying to banish the bad memories. The sudden movements of the sleeping man next to her startled her, forcing her to concentrate on the here and now.

Suddenly, O'Neill's breathing increased as he gulped in air. His body started trembling badly and he thrashed, waving one arm uncontrollably. Before she could move closer, he jerked to a sitting position, his eyes wide open, his expression that of plain horror. Drops of sweat rolled down his temples, cheeks and along the bridge of his nose. He opened his mouth, but not a sound made it to his lips.

"Colonel?" Janet approached him carefully, softly whispering to the shaking man. "Colonel? It's okay, Sir. You're safe."

Without responding to her he shook his head, furiously, and mumbled softly. "No. No. No..." Suddenly his eyes closed and O'Neill moved his free arm to cover his face with his hand. "Marc..." he choked, his voice trembling just as the rest of his body.

Janet gently placed her hand on his shoulder, unsure of what to say.

"Oh, God," he breathed. He drew his knees up, placed his free arm over them and dropped his head, burying it deeply.

Fraiser softly rubbed his back and had a hard time keeping control over her own emotions. She forced herself to steady her voice. "I'm sorry, Sir. I know Major Crook was a friend."

He remained silent for a long time. She didn't withdraw her hand, but kept rubbing instead, wondering whether she should pull him closer in a hug but uncertain of how he would respond to that. It took a long time for the tremors to ease, for his breathing to return to a more steady rhythm but then he started shivering from the cold. Janet quickly moved away from him to grab a blanket and draped it over his shoulders.

"I don't know if this is the time to say it, Sir, but I'm really, really sorry about Major Crook."

He stiffened for a moment, then let go. "Yeah..." He lifted his head and stared forward.

"Were you there, Sir?" Janet asked gently.

He bit his lip, throwing her a quick haunted glance before dropping his head again. "Yes."

Janet despairingly closed her eyes as she heard his muffled, soft answer. She wondered if she needed to continue, asking him more questions now. "How?" she asked softly, realizing now was as good as ever with this man.

She watched, stunned, shocked, as he raised his head slowly. His eyes dark and distant he slowly lifted his arm, using his pointing finger and thumb to turn it into an imaginary gun. Touching his temple with the tip of his finger, his lips formed a silent 'BANG'.

With that he closed his eyes, sank back to the ground and curled up on his side, drawing his knees up.

Janet sat still for a long time, silently dealing with what she'd heard. Although the Colonel hadn't been specific, she figured they had shot Crook in front of O'Neill, unable to believe the alternative: that the Major had shot himself. Slowly she moved closer to reposition the blanket until it covered the still shivering man then checked his pulse and brow. He didn't respond at all and Janet knew she had lost him for now.

Somewhere during that long awful night filled with his and her demons, Janet must have drifted off. She woke up, startled, shocked to see the sun already rising and quickly sat up. Brushing her hair out of her face with one hand, she looked around in confusion, searching for her patient.

Daniel sat nearby, leaning with his back against the rocks, pressing one finger against his lips. O'Neill was curled up between the archaeologist's drawn knees, his head leaning against Daniel's chest. Daniel had one arm wrapped around the now sleeping Colonel.

"Bad dreams," Jackson mouthed at Janet. "He's finally asleep again."

Blaming herself for falling asleep when her patient needed her but silently thanking Daniel for being there, she nodded in understanding. "Did you get some rest?" she queried.

"Teal'c took my watch, so I could sit with him," he whispered at her.

She looked over her shoulder at the Jaffa, standing vigil on a higher spot to allow him to survey the area. Bayfield was arousing now as well, and only seconds later Carter woke up.

Letting the Colonel sleep undisturbed for as long as possible the team had breakfast, then cleaned up. While Carter and Bayfield started gathering up all their equipment, Janet brought Daniel his share of breakfast. The archaeologist gently lowered the sleeping man to the ground allowing himself to stretch his stiff muscles, finish his meal and get ready.

Fraiser ran a quick vitals check to find O'Neill's temperature only slightly elevated at the moment. When she took his pulse, he stirred, moaning softly.

"Morning, Colonel," she greeted him as he opened his eyes. "How are you feeling?"

Jack looked around, blinked a couple of times then shrugged slightly saying nothing. He struggled to sit up, and then silently took the canteen and pills Janet handed to him.

"We'll be leaving soon, Colonel. You need some dry clothes and I need you to fill this," she watched him swallow the pills and handed him an empty jar. "Drink a bit more, Sir," she urged.

He suddenly locked his eyes on hers. "Did you sleep at all?" he demanded, lines of worry etching his face.

"I did," she reassured him. If she would have had a mirror to look in, she would probably have understood his concern. The female doctor had dark circles around her eyes, a haunted expression on her face and a pair of now turning dark-purple bruises on her cheekbones in a sharp contrast to her otherwise utterly pale skin.

Rummaging through the packs, she came up with the last clean shirt. "Let's get that wet shirt off, Sir," she moved closer to temporarily remove the immobilizer and helped him out of his with sweat soaked shirt. Soon he had a dry shirt on, his arm was securely in place and Fraiser was pleased to find not much more blood in his urine than the prior day. She still hoped that his kidneys or liver were only bruised and not dangerously damaged.

Bayfield, who had everything ready to go, walked over with a map in his hand. "Morning, Jack," he visually examined the man sitting in front of him. "Rough night again, huh?" he said, already updated by the doctor and Daniel Jackson. "We've missed the scheduled pick-ups, but we'll reach the Turkish border somewhere this afternoon. Marc Crook's men told me the coordinates of where to find the hidden box. They didn't actually see Marc hiding it, but I think you'll be able to find it. What do you say?"

Fraiser wanted to voice a protest, and then took in the suddenly deadly expression that floated across the Colonel's face.

Daniel objected without giving it a second thought. "We can't do that! We need to get Jack to a hospital as soon as possible. Can't we send in another team?"

Bayfield shook his head. "Too dangerous. The Elite Forces will be patrolling the borders as soon as they find out we're gone and that we killed some of their men along the way."

"Plus the commander of the camp," Jack added, without looking at anyone.

"The commander?" Bayfield demanded sharply.

Jack slowly nodded, a shiver running over his back. "He was there... Teal'c took care of him."

"Damn," cursed Bayfield. "That will slow them down a bit but as soon as they've got their act back together we're in some serious trouble. We need to get out of here fast."

"We'll pick up the package first," Jack said determinedly. "Jack, we can't," Daniel protested.

"We have to, Daniel," O'Neill insisted. "As Bayfield said, we won't get another chance. And I don't..." he looked up now, swallowing a lump in his throat while searching the archaeologist's face. "Marc's death would be..." the Colonel's voice trembled and he looked down at his equally shaking hand which he tried to fold to a fist. "I owe it to him, Daniel. Please, don't let his death be in vain..."

The linguist slowly nodded, giving in as he understood why this was so important to his friend.

"We better go, then," Bayfield clapped his hands and got up.

O'Neill struggled to get up, too, but was stopped by Janet. The doctor firmly held up her hand. "Oh, no, Colonel. We're going, but you are NOT walking. We need you to conserve your strength, in case we really need to run."

Bayfield grinned. "You heard the lady, Jack. Lie down, relax and enjoy the ride."

Around ten in the morning, they reached the location indicated by Crook's men. The small group stopped, and Teal'c immediately took position to stand guard. Bayfield ordered Daniel Jackson to watch the other side, so they wouldn't be surprised.

"Well, Jack?" he asked, noticing the injured man had gotten to his feet to scan the area.

"They were so close," Jack sighed, realizing that the team had been only half a day away from safety.

"I know," Bayfield said softly, placing a comforting hand on O'Neill's shoulder. "You knew Marc well, Jack. What would he have done with the box?" Bayfield started searching the area, looking for possible places to hide a small box.

"We have to remember he was in a hurry," O'Neill thought out loud. "Marc knew he was being surrounded. There wasn't much time... Look for it in an unexpected place. Marc would have chosen a spot in sight, instead of hiding it. When people are searching for something that's supposed to be hidden, they tend to overlook the places they don't expect it to be..."

Carter, Fraiser, Bayfield and O'Neill searched the area, looking on, under and behind rocks, everywhere they could think of.

"It's got to be here, right under our noses," Jack said, absentmindedly looking over his shoulder to the area they'd already searched. "Come on, Marc? What did you do with it, buddy?" His eyes suddenly scanned the path they'd walked on. The path was uneven, with lots of loose pieces of gravel and rocks. They had been stepping through, naturally searching for the best spots to place their feet on.

Jack now stepped back to examine an uneven section of gravel and his face lit up. "Marc, you son of a gun!" Kneeling he shoved some gravel aside with one hand. The box, covered with a layer of dust and sand only fitted half in a natural hole in the ground, but Marc had covered the rest, making it all look like it was another bad part of the path.

Bayfield quickly joined O'Neill, a huge smile on his lips as he picked up the box, shaking the sand and dust off before opening it. "It's all there," he said, sighing in relief. "Well done, Jack. Now, let's get the hell out of here."

A/N's: well, I had to had them pick up the package, right? Mark died for it, it was only fair this way... Well, they have about half a day to get to the Turkish border... on Friday we will know more...

Have a great week!