2300

Colonel Raimi of SG-22 dropped his gear beside Colonel Bates and tipped his head toward the rock formation. His voice was muffled through the hood of his radiation suit. "You think it's all radioactive, or it's something inside?"

Bates shook his head. "The radiation seems to be coming through the outer strata, not from it. We thought it might be a device of some sort, but we've examined the exterior pretty thoroughly. No signs of an entrance, no caverns, no nothing."

Raimi nodded. "How deep do you think this stuff is?"

"I wish I knew. But without knowing how strong it is on contact, I have no way to calculate that."

"Well," the colonel said as his team began to unpack gear around him, "we can do this gently or we can do it quickly. And since there's a bunch of people waiting back home, I vote for the TNT."

Bates raised an eyebrow. "I'll pretty much never argue with blowing things up."

"TNT it is."

~/~

0030 Monday

She was right. He needed to sleep. And Jack had tried; honestly he had. He'd closed his eyes a thousand times.

But all he saw was Charlie.

And that was a problem, because he knew damn well he wasn't actually seeing Charlie. He was seeing the pictures of Charlie – the ones he still looked at. The ones he remembered. Because – and it pained him so much to admit it that he'd never told anyone – he didn't remember his son.

That was a lie, of course. Jack remembered him – remembered how he liked to play catch, how he loved spaghetti and hated black beans. How Sara had hung up his scribbles like they were the best art in the world.

But he didn't remember what any of those scribbles looked like. He remembered a few of the things Charlie had said, but not the sound of his voice. Not the feel of his arms. And though he knew his son had a birthmark on his shoulder, he couldn't remember what it looked like.

Because he didn't remember what Charlie looked like. Not really. He just remembered the pictures.

And so he watched her, trying to commit every beautiful feature to memory. Even if she was sick and hidden behind an oxygen mask, he needed to remember.

Because he didn't have any pictures of her. Not a single one.

Daniel would. Surely, in eight years of dragging that damned camera everywhere, he'd caught at least a rogue image or two. Jack wanted so badly to ask him, to make sure before he lost the chance forever, but the man was fast asleep on the other side of the bed. Teal'c slept next to him. Mitchell had left for the night.

So he watched her.

He wanted so badly to touch her, to file away her warmth and the feel of her skin under his, but it was too late for that already.

An alarm screamed, and he lurched upright as Teal'c and Daniel did the same. But the noise was from down the corridor, and he cursed the relief he felt as his teammates ducked out to see who had just flat-lined. Jack couldn't go out there. He couldn't face the reality that was coming for the woman he loved.

He sank back into his chair, and when he looked up again, Carter looked back. Her other eye had hemorrhaged, destroying the blue he'd adored for almost a decade. And he wondered how much time would pass before he couldn't remember their color at all.

She waited until the alarm stopped. Then she said, "You're gonna be okay, Jack."

He shattered.

He had nowhere to run; the corridor outside was filled with people. Subordinates. But he couldn't face her, either, and he dropped his head to his hands, then to the mattress beside her.

"Oh, Jack." Her hand landed gently on his hair, and she stroked it with her thumb. "You have to sleep, sweetheart. No one could do this without sleep."

He nodded into the sheet and, careful not to dislodge her, turned his head just enough to feel her skin against his temple.

"Good. Deep breaths," she murmured. "Try to rest."

From his position, he couldn't see Daniel peek through the curtain. He couldn't see the way she shook her head a little, sending the other man away.

And she was glad for it. Because he would be mortified to see that she was crying for him.