Sam followed him willingly out of the caverns, letting Jonas usher her to his little perch overlooking the valley. There was no point in fighting anymore – he held all the strings, and they both knew it.

"It's going to be magnificent, isn't it?"

"What's the point, Jonas?" she asked sadly. "By the time it's built, there'll be no one left to worship you."

"Please," he scoffed. "Mere survival for these people will require unquestioning faith. Pure devotion. They must believe in me if I am to lead them into the desert to the promised land. I'm merely separating the wheat from the chaff." And then, to her alarm, he promptly dropped the magnanimous, godly tone and said wryly, "Besides, I'm supposed to be crazy, right?"

"I never said you were crazy."

"But you think it, don't you?"

The sudden switches between narcissism and insane megalomania weren't exactly putting her at ease, no.

"Well, that's all right," he said. "I still have faith in you, even if you don't believe in me... yet. You'll come around."

"I don't think so, Jonas."

She'd actually tried to phrase that in the most placating way she could think of, but it was still rejection, and his eyes went cold. "Come here," he ordered, grabbing her sleeve and hauling her back into the cave. Ordering the guards to wait outside – he had nothing to fear from her, and he knew it – he led her beyond his little throne room, pulling down a curtain and unveiling an old domed device.

Sam couldn't help it; she was curious. "What is it?"

"Looks like something the Goa'ulds left behind," he told her. "What I've gathered from the local folklore is that the ancient gods used it to make the sky orange to protect the people from the sun sickness."

"Some sort of shield," she mused. She'd never imagined such a thing was possible.

"Yes."

"You don't know how to work it."

His eyes landed solidly on her. "Not my area of expertise."

The truth hurt far, far more than it should have, and she laughed once to keep from crying as she said, "You never cared about my coming here because you wanted me, Jonas. You just wanted me to figure out how to turn this thing on for you."

"Oh, no," he soothed, his hands finding her waist. "That's not true. I sincerely hope that one day you will agree to be my goddess."

But she wasn't buying it, and she knew he could see it in her eyes.

He'd been everything to her. And now she knew for certain: she was nothing to him. Nothing but a tool.

"Turn it on," he ordered coldly.

"What if I won't?" she challenged.

"Then we will watch every last cave-dweller die in the sun before I kill us both."

Maybe he was sick. Maybe he was crazy. But he was one hundred percent serious about that.

~/~ ~/~

A shadow passed over Sam as several people entered the cave, and she pushed to her feet. "Colonel O'Neill."

His hands were literally tied, and that was bad news. Terrible news. Because he'd been about the only hope she had left.

"Captain," her CO greeted dryly. "I see everything's working out just as we planned."

That jab hit almost as hard as any of Jonas'. The plan had been for her to be an asset, not a liability. Not some poor, helpless woman who needed saving. After so many months of working for his respect, she'd failed him. She'd failed all of them.

Stripping the GDO from Colonel O'Neill's arm, her ex ordered, "Shoot him."

"No!" she cried, anxious. "All right, I'll..."

"Wait," the colonel said as she turned back to the device. "You're gonna turn this thing on in here?"

"Do it now. If it works, I'll spare him," Jonas offered.

With a sigh and a glance at her CO, she went back to work.

~/~ ~/~

The guards behind them weren't leaving much room, and every time Sam's pace faltered – to step over a branch, or navigate a slope, or whatever – the tip of a spear nudged against her back. She still had her vest on, and it wasn't so bad, but every time Connor grunted, she winced.

She could have put a stop to this, and she'd failed.

The colonel was clearly getting the spear treatment, too. And he'd obviously come to the same conclusion that she had. Between that and the idea that they were going to die at the end of this forced march to wherever – no matter what Jonas had promised – he was pissed, and she could feel it.

"I'm sorry, sir," she said softly.

"It's a little late for that, don't ya think?" he drawled.

She swallowed hard and kept walking.

"Tell me, Captain," he went on, "so I know who to haunt for the rest of eternity: did the Air Force know Jonas was a loon? You told Daniel you weren't surprised by this, but did you tell anybody? Did you do anything about it, or did you just hand him back his engagement ring and walk away and figure it wasn't your problem anymore?"

That accusation hit hard enough to make her miss a step, and the spear shoved her along again. Still, it took a moment for her to find the words. "Regardless of my personal opinions, sir," she answered slowly, deliberately, "the Air Force knew more than enough to put a stop to it."

"Like what?" he challenged.

"Christmas of '94 his team came home from a mission with two guys in body bags. That wasn't the first time, but this... Something had happened out there, and Jonas... He was freaking out, and there didn't seem to be anything I could do about it. He felt like he was losing control, I think, and that's not something he handles well. He got written up for insubordination, went to drink it off, and ended up starting a bar brawl that put three people in the hospital. One almost died." And she knew that because she'd been standing over them, yanking at the back of his shirt, trying to get him to stop throwing punches at a man who'd long ago lost consciousness.

"He mouthed off at the hearing," she went on. "Got knocked down a rank. Grounded. You can imagine how well he took that." Taking a shaky breath, she continued, "He's been through meds. Counselors. Group therapy. I guess that's where he got that Bible, because he sure wasn't a believer when we were together. When he ended up at the SGC, I thought he'd actually pulled things together. But now... I think he fooled them. Just like he fooled me."

The sigh was audible before he asked, gently this time, "What aren't you telling me?"

She didn't answer.

They stumbled along in silence for a long moment, and just when she thought she was about to burst into tears, he said softly, "Not your fault, Carter."

Well, at least he thought so.