The next morning, Jack was awakened by the beeping of his wristwatch. He groaned and scratched at his belly with one hand and rubbed his eyes with the other. It had been a long time since he'd needed an alarm to wake him, but the hike had been long and the bed had been comfortable. He lay on his back and pried his eyes open to stare, for a few moments, at the ceiling and contemplate the day ahead. He had a long walk back to the gate, but first he wanted to find out if there was some sort of gate expert hanging around the town. He didn't have his hopes up, but he figured it was worth a shot.

He rolled out of bed sooner than he'd have really liked to and dressed down to his combat boots. He thought idly he'd probably spent more time in combat boots than he had any other shoes combined. He flexed he toes inside the boots as his put his cap on his head.

When he walked into the dining hall it was mostly deserted though the cooks had been up and ready because, as usual, there was a buffet of local breakfast fare lined up against one wall. Jack meandered over, wished there was a local variation on coffee, and settled for the closest thing he could get to a vegetable – a local fruit that wasn't too sweet - and a piece of sweet bread that he'd found he rather liked. He had energy bars in his pack that would take him the distance to the gate, but who was he to turn down the continental breakfast?

As he ate more people filtered into the dining hall and he was again struck by how strange it was that the townspeople all ate their meals together rather than in their own homes. It reminded him of the Academy a bit. He thought about how fascinating Daniel had found the everyday details of the townspeople's lives and he had another flash of worry that maybe his team hadn't made it through the gate. He stamped down on that as quickly as possible. Worrying about something like that would yield him nothing. He had to believe his team had made it home safely if he was going to concentrate on getting his own sorry ass back through the gate.

Jack ate slowly waiting for Astarte to arrive. The previous days she'd been up early and had eaten breakfast with SG-1 and he wondered where she was on this morning being that she hadn't shown up yet. And it was just as he was checking his watch and noting that he was getting a later start than he'd planned on, that she swept into the dining hall in the company of the one woman who always seemed to be with her, though Jack hadn't caught her name, as well as a younger woman Jack had seen in passing a few times.

He watched as Astarte scanned the room and he felt her eyes land on him like a caress. She spoke to the younger woman who was with her and the near-girl scampered off in the direction of the buffet as Astarte strode across the room to him. She slid into the seat across from him which he found strange considering up until that point she'd always sat next to him. He found the intensity of her gaze rather disconcerting as he was forced to meet her eye in their new seating arrangement.

"Good morning, Colonel O'Neill. I see I have come too late to share breakfast with you."

Jack gave her a half-hearted smile. "I need to get on my way back to the gate to see if anything can be done."

"Tell me about this trouble," she said, seeming genuinely concerned, though her people didn't use the Stargate for travel or anything at all, really.

"The gate and the DHD – the dialing device – were struck by lightning during the storm."

"And this has caused the... gate... to be unoperational?"

Jack nodded. "You wouldn't happen to have anybody around her who studied the gate and how it worked, would you?"

Astarte shook her head before he was even done asking the question. "As I have told you before, we do not travel through the giant ring, not for many, many generations. There is no one left who knows anything of it."

"Yeah," Jack said resignedly, "that's what I figured."

"And still you will make the trip again today?"

"I have to," he said, though he wasn't sure she'd understand that his need was as emotional as it was duty-bound.

"I do not understand what you think you will accomplish. If your gateway no longer will take you home then you must remain here with us."

Jack thought she looked entirely too pleased at the prospect. "I'm not ready to give up hope just yet."

"Our culture has much to offer a man like you, Colonel O'Neill," she said with promise in her voice. It was almost enough to make him curious what the culture would offer but he refrained from asking. That didn't mean, however, that she refrained from telling him. "There is space among those in my service." She made it sound as if that were a very attractive offer.

"Your service?" He didn't know what she was talking about, but he was certain he'd make a lousy servant. No, if he were to stay, he'd rather take his chances supporting himself.

"My consorts are well looked after," she cajoled. "I have thirteen," she boasted, "all of whom have access to greater things than the average citizen. It would be a... privilege. I do not ask just anyone."

Her consort? Did that mean what he thought it meant? God, he could really use Daniel right now. Not that he'd say yes no matter what it meant. "Well that sounds..." he shook his head, "really, but I'm pretty sure I'm not cut out to be in anyone's service. I'm a huge pain in the a— neck," he corrected.

"I find your spirit enticing," she said and her voice dropped in a way that made parts of him take notice and then he remembered that she was basically asking him to be a sex servant and that wasn't up his alley at all.

"Even so, and as flattering as the offer is, I have to decline."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "I am not generally a woman one says no to, Colonel O'Neill. I find it... frustrating." And there was, in fact, an irritated flash in her eyes.

"I'm not exactly giving up on going home," he told her. "Even if the gate is irreparably damaged, there are other ways to get back to Earth."

"And what will you do in the meantime?"

"I'll earn my keep," he assured her.

"And I am offering you a most pleasant way to do that," she said. Her usually soft, melodious voice had taken on an edge he hadn't yet heard from her and he had to admit he found it more than a little menacing.

"Still, my answer is no." He tried to put it as gently as he could considering he was being propositioned, but he didn't want to hurt her feelings even if she was being rather high-handed about the whole thing.

"My offer will not be made again," she said.

It didn't matter. He wasn't even going to consider it. "I think it's time I headed for the gate," he said and pushed himself back from the table. "Thank you for your hospitality, ma'am," he said formally in hopes that he could re-establish the balance between them.

He made for the gate as quickly as he could. It took him a little over four hours to make the trek on his own with an aching knee and the hot sun beating down on him. As he expected his attempt to dial the gate yielded him nothing. In a last ditch attempt to save himself he pulled open the panel on the DHD and peered inside at the crystal components before he realized he had absolutely no idea what he was looking at.

He sat down in the shade of the DHD, took off his hat and wiped his brow. He'd just sit there a while, see if the SGC could make contact. In fact, he'd sit there until four hours before dark. It wasn't like he had any reason to head back to town any earlier than that. And the less time he had to spend with Astarte today while she was still smarting from his refusal of her offer, the better, he figured.

He picked at a blade of grass near his hip as he thought about what might be going on at the SGC. Maybe they were having a meeting about their options right that very moment. He figured they'd debriefed the night before since he hadn't stepped back through the gate with the rest of his team. Which meant today they'd, presumably, be doing everything they could to get him home. And he figured everything meant applying Carter's considerable brain-power to the problem. He just hoped she had an ace up her sleeve.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Sam stared at her laptop screen as the most recent simulation finished and the data began scrolling. It was all a bit blurry in front of her eyes, but she chalked that up to catching only a couple hours of sleep the night before. Sure, the colonel had only been stranded for one day, but she'd been down this road before and getting him home as quickly as possible was her own personal mission objective – not to mention there was a considerable amount of pressure being applied from General Hammond, though General Hammond applying pressure was really not altogether unpleasant as he was, despite the stars and gruff demeanor, a gentle sort of man.

Sam hit the space bar to stop the data from scrolling up her screen and got up to get herself a cup of coffee. She needed to stretch her legs anyway. She took a peek at her watch and discovered she'd been at it so long she'd missed a couple of meals as well and her stomach took that opportunity to growl and remind her she had to feed it every once in a while.

It all felt oddly familiar. She remembered skipping meals and existing off coffee when the colonel was stranded on Edora. She couldn't pull that this time, Janet had already threatened her with being sidelined if she did. As Sam left her lab to head to the commissary she thought, briefly, of setting the computer to run one more simulation while she was away, but decided she wanted to go over the data she'd just collected before she did that. But first, however, she had to get some coffee in her so she could see straight. Her stomach rumbled again. Coffee and maybe a muffin.

The coffee was easy, the muffin was harder as it was late afternoon and muffins were generally only out at breakfast time but one of the cooks took pity on her and brought her a large, sticky-topped banana nut muffin that had Sam salivating before she'd even had it in hand. Though the commissary was mostly deserted anyway, she still opted to take her meal back to her lab to eat. She could already feel the coffee starting to perk her up – more psychosomatic than a caffeine effect – and she really was curious to see the results of the last simulation.

She sat down behind her laptop once more and shoved her muffin off to the side as she pulled the computer closer to her. She kept only her coffee close at hand. She pressed the spacebar once more and the data began scrolling again. She made a couple swift keystrokes and the printer whirred to life and spit out the most recent results so she could take her time over them.

She sipped her coffee as she reviewed the data. It was mostly what she expected – a direct lightning strike, no matter the strength, apparently – would overload the gate and cut off any open wormhole. The trouble was, short of being strong enough to fuse the stargate's rotating ring in place, lightning should only affect the gate momentarily. And they still couldn't connect. She supposed the lightning could have been as strong as it was in one of her first simulations and had fused the gate together, but it seemed unlikely as, on Earth anyway, lightning that strong was only common in certain geographic areas of the world. The likelihood that the gate was in one of those places on the planet was slim, Sam posited. Though she was basing her speculations on Earth knowledge and a little UAV data that showed the planet and its atmosphere were very similar to Earth – as most of the planets they visited were.

So, assuming the gate wasn't fused, there had to be another issue or the Colonel would have dialed home already. She'd just abandoned her coffee for her laptop to try another simulation, this time assuming lightning had struck the DHD, when the General walked into her lab.

She popped up out of her chair on muscle memory alone considering her brain was still mostly focused on her new hypothesis. "Good afternoon, sir," she managed.

The General waved her back down into her seat. "Major Carter," he greeted. "I came to see how you were coming along with your simulations."

Sam surreptitiously looked at her watch, she had a meeting with the General to give him that very information in a little over an hour and a half.

He must have seen her glance at her watch though because he chuckled humorlessly and said, "I know I'm jumping the gun a little, it's just that all of this feels a little too familiar right now," echoing her earlier thoughts.

"Yes, sir, I agree. So far I've found very little that could be considered helpful," she admitted. "I know that it would have taken a very powerful lightning strike to fuse the gate and make it unmovable, and therefore untraversable. Lightning strikes that powerful are just simply not that common on Earth outside specific geographic areas. It is possible that the gate is in a volatile geographic area on P3R-289 but I'd deem it unlikely. Which brings me to my current hypothesis that something has happened to the DHD, perhaps another lightning strike."

"And how do you fix a DHD that has been struck by lightning?"

"I guess that depends on how the lightning affected the DHD, sir. I've just started running simulations on the DHD. But the truth is, we don't have near as much data on the behavior of the DHD as we do on the behavior of the gate. Even if I do determine what likely happened to the DHD I may not be able to tell you how to fix it. Even if I could, I wouldn't be able to relay that information to Colonel O'Neill in order for him to fix the gate to come home."

"It sounds like you're saying you can't get him home through the gate."

"I just don't know yet. It's possible that something else happened to the gate or to the DHD."

"So you need more time."

"Yes, sir, I'm afraid so."

General Hammond rocked back on his heels. "Then, Major, I'll leave you to it. There's no need to keep our meeting for this evening. If you find something, you'll let me know?"

"Immediately, sir." But, she wasn't optimistic and she could feel the dread on her face.

He hesitated before turning towards the door. "Colonel O'Neill will be fine, Major Carter. You yourselves have said that the people of the planet couldn't have been nicer."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Jack trudged into town just as the sun was going down. He contemplated skipping dinner as all he really wanted was his bed. After seventy-two klicks in two days, he'd had it. But his stomach was rumbling and letting him know that three energy bars and the meagre breakfast he'd had weren't enough to sustain him with the kind of exercise he was doing. So, hot and sweaty he made his way into the dining hall.

Astarte spotted him immediately and her face, that so often had lit up when he'd appeared, took on a guarded, thoughtful sort of look. Huh. How about that? For the first time he didn't feel welcome at her side and he wondered, now, what was he supposed to do? Sit elsewhere and risk offending her further? Or go sit uncomfortably next to her in the wake of declining her proposal?

After a few heartbeats of him looking between her and the rest of the room, her shoulders squared and she waved him over. "Colonel O'Neill," she said coolly as he approached the table. She indicated the seat across from her rather than at her elbow and he wasn't sure if he was pleased or not. This way he'd have to look her in the eye and he was feeling a bit like a heel even if he hadn't been interested in her proposition in the slightest. He climbed over the bench and sat down trying hard to avoid her eyes. He wasn't entirely lucky. He saw a shrewdness there that he hadn't seen before. She finally looked like a leader instead of like a woman, and he suddenly realized how much she'd turned the charm on for him. It was so shockingly clear in its absence that he wondered how he hadn't been more attuned to it before.

He waited his turn as trays were passed around the table and he realized, then, what an honor it had been to be seated to the left of Astarte when he looked at the plate of picked-over meats. Not that it wasn't still tasty-looking, but it was clear the choicest cuts had been chosen by those that had come before him. It didn't really matter, he was hungry enough to eat a live horse, so he slid some meat onto his plate and dug in happily as he waited for the cheese tray to come around.

"I do not suppose you have reconsidered my offer."

Jack looked up at her sharply. He hadn't expected to have to turn her down again and it made him uncomfortable all over. He decided to shoot for diplomatic and see what happened. "I understand that it's a great honor to be chosen, but you have to understand that your ways are very different than mine."

"But if you are to remain here, must you not assimilate to our way of life?"

"I suppose I would, yeah, but I still haven't given up hope that I'm going home."

"And how will your people bring you home if your gate no longer will function?"

"There are other ways," he said, reminding himself, too, that he wasn't stranded for good, though he had no way of knowing how long it would take to come get him. For all he knew it would be after Earth built spaceships of their own.

"I will admit I am disappointed by your reluctance to join my service."

"That's very... flattering."

"I wish for you to join me after dinner."

"Why?" Uh-oh, was all he could think.

"I wish only to show you that your declination has not permanently harmed our friendship."

"That's kind, but unnecessary." Really, all he wanted to do was go to him room, take a hot shower and get some sleep.

"I'm afraid I must insist," she said with a smile obviously intended to curl his toes. All it did was make his stomach clench.

"Okay," he acquiesced. After all, how long could it possibly take to mend a few fences?

Once they were done eating Astarte led him through the dining hall, out into the street and then to her private home which SG-1 had never been invited into thus far. While her home looked quite comfortable he was anything but as he followed her deeper and deeper into the house and then, finally, down a flight of steps. He actually found himself thinking that he was bigger than she was and would have no problem overpowering her if it came to it. He shook himself suddenly. She hadn't done anything at all to give him the impression that she wanted to hurt him, why had he immediately gone there in his mind?

"Please," she said, indicating a beautifully tapestried wingback chair, "have a seat." She sat across from him on a chaise longue.

He took his hat off and sat down in the chair. He fiddled with the bill of his cap while she looked at him with a predatory smile. Okay, now he had a reason to be uncomfortable.

"There is no need to be nervous, I only wish to share a glass of wine with you."

"Uh... thanks, but it's been a long day, I don't think I'm up for a drink..."

Her gaze shifted to the doorway and his followed. Into the room walked the two young women he'd seen with Astarte before and a half a dozen more. One of the women was carrying two glasses of deep red wine. The back of his neck started to tingle like it did when something was about to happen, but he kept shoving it down wondering what he was so worried about. This was a woman who'd been nothing but solicitous since his arrival. He had no real reason to believe there was anything nefarious about her or her offers. So why did he feel like he was waiting in the lion's den?

The young woman with the glasses handed him one first and then Astarte the remaining glass. She lifted her glass to him, then with a twinkle in her eye she took a drink. In the back of his mind he figured if she was drinking it too, it had to be fine and he was being overly cautious, though he'd admit he'd have felt better if he'd watched them pour the glasses from the same bottle.. He raised the glass to his lips and took a sip. It tasted familiar, like a vintage he'd probably tried at home and discarded because of the way it scratched at the back of his throat, but he knew that this was no twelve dollar bottle of wine.

Suddenly, his eyes crossed of their own volition. He was able to pull his sight back into focus, and he looked at the glass askance. Surely he couldn't be drunk after one sip. Then he saw the young women closing in on him. One, with a smile, curled her hand around his on the glass and brought the stemware to his lips as the other women circled around the chair and placed their hands on his shoulders.

Oh, this just wasn't right, he thought. Part of his brain was kicking into fight mode but the rest of his brain was feeling rather fuzzy. As he contemplated the cotton wrapping up his thoughts, more of the wine was tipped into his mouth. He swallowed reflexively. It was then that it hit him. He knew where he'd tasted this wine before.

He felt himself begin to spiral down the rabbit hole and tried, desperately, to hang on to his sanity while he could.

He'd tasted it in Netu. He wasn't drinking wine, he was drinking the Blood of Sokar.