Author's Notes: Strong language, sexual harassment, threatened rape. Mild spoilers for "Lifeboat", "Fallen/Homecoming" (Season 7), "Forever in a Day" (Season 3), hints from Seasons 4-5 when things weren't well with the team, and "The Changeling" (Season 6).

It was the perfect day for a long drive. Although autumn was moving inexorably toward winter, today the air was still warmed by the sun. The leaves were changing color, making for spectacular swatches of yellow and gold whizzing by the jeep as it moved higher in the mountains.

Colonel Jack O'Neill leaned back in the driver's seat while enjoying an all-to-rare sense of contentment. He was headed for his favorite fishing spot (in Colorado, anyway), and, for once, he didn't have to worry about any of his teammates getting into trouble while they were out of his sight because-this time-he was keeping all of them in his sight.

As was his preference, Teal'c was sitting in the front passenger seat, his usual impassivity undisturbed by the pristine white cast on his left arm. Even though they were on vacation his eyes were never still, continuing to scan their surroundings as they drove ever higher into the mountains.

Behind the Jaffa, Major Samantha Carter was scrunched into the far corner of the back seat, half-concentrating on a massive, scary-looking volume on astrophysics while also keeping an eye on their youngest teammate, the unwitting cause of her uncomfortable position.

O'Neill glanced in his rear view mirror, adjusting it slightly so that he could see the semi-recumbent form of SG-1's resident archeologist in the back seat. When he first got into the jeep, Daniel had refused to put his injured leg up for fear of kicking Sam. But shortly into the drive the lulling motion of the vehicle, combined with his pain medication, had put him to sleep. At that point, Jack had pulled the jeep over and he and Carter had adjusted Daniel's position to allow his right leg to share the seat. Sam had insisted that she was fine where she was and the glint in her eye warned O'Neill not to pursue the issue.

Jack sighed to himself as he took in, yet again, the battered features of the younger man. They had all come out of this latest little brush with disaster with plenty of cuts and bruises but the worst damage (of course) had fallen on everyone's favorite trouble-magnet cum archeologist, Daniel Jackson.

His spectacular black eye was beginning to fade but yellowing bruises still encompassed most of the right side of his face. It was the torn ligaments in Daniel's right knee and a badly sprained ankle that had put him on crutches. But that only happened after Janet Frazier deemed his concussion sufficiently healed to allow the archeologist to be upright and (semi-) mobile.

Damn it to hell, Jack thought ruefully. All he'd wanted was a quiet, simple mission with some ruins Daniel could explore, and, in the process, hopefully begin to forget his up-close and personal encounter with a dozen lost souls all struggling for elbow-room in the archeologist's mind.

This mission had looked perfect-a deserted planet honeycombed with caves that contained ancient pictographs, and, more recent but still reassuringly old, Gou'ald writing. Daniel had been in his element, everything had been going smoothly, and then a damn earthquake had brought half of the planet crashing down on itself, including the cave in which Daniel had been working.

Just minutes before Daniel had called in Sam to examine some pictographs that looked as if they had something to do with astronomy. They'd both had their noses almost touching the cave wall when the world exploded around them.

Teal'c sensed the first tremors just before they hit, and shouted an alarm. O'Neill, who had been keeping watch outside, ran toward the entrance of the cave yelling for them to get out. But before anyone had time to move, the ground beneath their feet heaved upwards, immediately followed by a violent shaking that sent them sprawling as the earth roared and crumbled around them. Rocks rained down while dirt swirled up until they were blinded and coughing helplessly.

Without warning, chunks of the cave roof dropped straight down on top of Sam. Instinctively, Daniel shoved her aside just as Teal'c lunged toward them. The Jaffa managed to push everyone out from under the worst collapse of the roof and they only suffered from residual falling debris. Buried beneath both Daniel and Teal'c, Sam sustained only cuts and bruises. Daniel and Teal'c suffered the brunt of the falling rubble.

"O'Neill."

Dragged from his memories, Jack looked across the seat. "Yeah?"

"Should be not be at your cabin by now?"

Ah-hah. The Jaffa equivalent of 'Are we there yet?'

"It's not actually my cabin, Teal'c. I just rent it. And we should be there in just a little while."

The Jaffa nodded and resumed his study of the surroundings while Jack swallowed a smile. He was thankful that it had been Teal'c and not their normally hyperactive archeologist who had asked the question. He knew that Daniel would never have been satisfied with such a vague response. The thought made him glance in the rear view mirror again and this time he did smile as he recalled how perfectly everything had fallen into his lap.

Upon regaining consciousness in the SGC infirmary, Daniel immediately began agitating for his release. To no one's surprise, Janet Frazier flatly refused. In deference to his still-recovering memories, she reminded the archeologist-in detail-of the many times she had released him with the understanding that he would follow her instructions. Except then, she said, a bit more loudly than necessary, Daniel would fail to follow her instructions and thereby aggravate his condition-which often landed him right back in the infirmary.

The fact that everyone's emotions were still raw from only recently having gotten Daniel back from Oma Desala and Company was something Janet had no intention of mentioning . . . but that fact only strengthened her desire to keep him under her eye for awhile.

Standing at her patient's bedside, the petite physician said, "You're going to be on crutches until the ligaments in your knee have healed sufficiently-"

"I don't need to stay here just because of crutches," Daniel interrupted.

Standing discreetly in the corner, O'Neill was pleased to hear a note of desperation in the archeologist's voice. The more desperate Daniel was to escape from the infirmary, the easier it would be to get him to agree to his C.O.'s plan. Nonetheless, Jack couldn't help wincing in sympathy when he saw Dr. Frazier put her hands on her hips and glare at her recalcitrant patient.

"As I have already explained to you, Daniel, you also sustained a serious concussion. You're staying right in that bed until it's sufficiently healed for me to allow you on crutches. And by 'in bed,' I mean resting. No work. Is that understood?"

It had been a bold but rash edict. After three days of Daniel's sulking and low-key rebellion, Janet was in a mood to begin throwing bedpans around the infirmary. At that point, she had been more than willing to listen to O'Neill's plan.

For his part, the stir-crazy archeologist was ready to promise to personally hand over his next archeological discovery to the NID in order to escape. As Jack expected, getting him to agree to a little vacation with the rest of his team was child's play. It was indicative of Daniel's desperation that he didn't immediately recognize the conspiracy between Frazier and his C.O., and, Jack hoped, would not connect those dots any time soon.

It had all been a regretful but necessary-and ultimately benevolent-subterfuge.

Shooting another glance in the rear view mirror, O'Neill allowed himself a satisfied smile. Even after a year among Oma's glowing compatriots, Daniel was still clueless when it came to looking after himself. Fine, that was one of the functions of a team, to look after each other.

Jack gave a small, emphatic nod. Yes, they were a team again, as they had not been for the past year. Sweet, indeed.

His attention abruptly returned to the road as the steep incline they had been climbing for the past hour suddenly dipped down. Ah, there was the mile marker he had been watching for.

"Almost there, Teal'c," he said cheerfully as he slowed and turned onto the narrow dirt road.

The jeep bounced and jounced its way along the ungraded road to the accompaniment of a few stifled groans from the back seat.

"Seat belt securely fastened, Major?" O'Neill called.

"Y-yes, sir-Jack. Umpf!"

O'Neill smiled, feeling his sense of well-being expanding. He had not traveled this particular road for nearly two years but he remembered it well. From the highway it was just over two miles to the cabin, although it seemed longer because he had to go slowly, following the twisting turns around trees, and, on a few occasions, almost through some large bushes that had nearly grown over the road.

Through it all, O'Neill was aware of the unperturbed passenger beside him who made for a silent counterpoint to Carter's muttered imprecations drifting to him from the back seat.

As they came around the last corner of the road, the sight that met Jack's eyes turned his smile into a broad grin. "Feast your eyes, kids."

Teal'c turned his head to look and from the back seat Jack heard Sam's soft, "Wow!"

Before them lay a small valley encircled by mountains. Giant firs and blue spruce surrounded them, marching up the mountain ridges with almost military precision and making a striking contrast to the huge swaths of golden aspen interspersed throughout the dark green trees. The lake that filled most of the valley floor was crystal blue and reflected the panoramic sky above.

Directly in front of the jeep the trees fell away to reveal a large clearing, at the center of which sat a sturdy, two-story, genuine log cabin. A gentle slope to the jeep's left led down to a dock and the lake that stretched out away from them to the opposite shore some three miles in the distance. Just beyond and to the right of the cabin lay a large meadow that, despite the season, still contained some rainbow-hued wildflowers.

Jack turned around in the clearing and backed up to within a few yards of the cabin before shutting off the engine. "Welcome to Chez O'Neill, your temporary home away from home!"

Sam flung open the back door and exited, somewhat stiffly. Once outside she took a deep, grateful breath and stretched to the full extent of her limbs. Oh, much better-her breath caught in her throat as she got her first close look at the lake.

"Holy Hannah," she murmured.

This view was even better than from the jeep. Surrounded by giant, tree-covered mountains and reflecting the flawless blue sky-with the requisite puffy while clouds-in its placid surface, the lake possessed an ethereal beauty that made her catch her breath.

"Catching flies, Carter?"

She turned dazed eyes toward her superior. "Sir?"

His grin widened and Sam realized belatedly that she was standing there with her mouth open. She snapped it shut and quickly turned away, but not before she realized that he was fighting back laughter.

Hmph. Sam glanced at Teal'c to see him sauntering slowly around the clearing and it was her turn to smile. Relaxation, Jaffa style. First he had to check the perimeter, vacation or no vacation.

When Sam turned back to the jeep it was to see the fourth member of SG-1 still sleeping soundly. She shook her head, marveling.

"I can't believe he slept through the last two miles."

O'Neill moved to the opposite side of the jeep and peered in. "We're going to have to wake him up so he can go inside."

"Why not let him sleep until we're done bringing everything in?" There, she'd done it, avoided calling him 'sir'. One time, anyway.

"I don't want to leave him here while we're inside."

Sam suppressed another smile. They would only be inside as they were taking their gear into the cabin. Daniel would hardly be out here alone, at least not more than a minute or so at a time.

She knew what was really behind the Colonel's concern. They had lost Daniel so many times, and this last time, with Kelowna and all the business with Oma Desala and his ascension, had been-should have been-for good. Getting him back had been a genuine, major-league miracle. Daniel had used up all of his nine lives and then some. Sam understood the Colonel's thinking because it mirrored both her's and Teal'c's. Whatever the remaining members of SG-1 had to do to keep the archeologist safe would be done.

But as Sam studied Daniel's battered features she could feel her certainty waver. The fact that they had so recently failed to keep him safe was still painful. Granted, no one could have known a massive earthquake was going to assault the planet. Nonetheless, Sam could not escape the feeling that if they-if she-had only been more alert, moved more quickly, Daniel's injuries could have been avoided. Knowing that her own failure had resulted in his injuries was a bitter pill.

"Carter."

Sam abruptly realized that the Colonel was speaking to her, and his tone made it clear that this wasn't the first time he'd said her name.

"Sir?" At his patented look of disgust, she quickly corrected herself. "Yes, Jack?" And how come he kept forgetting to call her by her first name? But now didn't seem to be the time to remind him.

"I said, is it clear on your side? Maybe we can just slide him out without waking him."

Sam opened the door to peer inside. Daniel's feet were facing her and she shook her head. "We'll need to take him out on your side, si-Jack."

Teal'c loomed up beside O'Neill. "Would it not be preferable to awaken Daniel Jackson?"

Jack scowled at the Jaffa before yanking open the door. "If you'll recall, that was my first suggestion." He gently patted Daniel's cheek.

"Come on, Danny Boy. Rise and shine."

A faint, indefinable murmur came from the sleeping figure but nothing more. Still watching from the opposite door, Sam shook her head.

"I wish I knew how he did that."

"Did what?"

She gestured at the slumped figure. "How Daniel always manages to look twelve years old when he's sleeping."

Jack grinned. "Hell, Carter-Sam, he doesn't look much older than twelve when he's awake."

"I know," Sam nodded. "It's not fair."

"Daniel, come on. Wake up." Jack gave the archeologist's shoulder a shake but this time he didn't get any response. "There's your answer, Teal'c. Dr. Frazier's happy pills strike again. I'm going to pull him out. Can you get his legs with your bad arm?"

"I can."

"Wait." Sam slid into the jeep and gently slipped her hands under Daniel's feet. "Let me support his leg when you take him out."

"Okay. You got him?"

"Yes, sir."

O'Neill gripped Daniel's upper arms and slowly, carefully, pulled him out of the jeep while Carter guided his long legs from inside the vehicle. As Daniel's hips cleared the door, Teal'c leaned forward to take control of his legs.

"Watch his bad leg, Teal'c."

"I am observing it, O'Neill."

Jack shook his head. He wasn't sure if Teal'c was simply being factual or, more likely, if he was pulling his C.O.'s leg. The Jaffa's years on earth, surrounded by humans, had brought out a sly and subtle sense of humor that, even now, often caught his teammates unaware.

With Sam leading the way, they carried the still-sleeping archeologist up the front steps and into the spacious front room of the cabin.

"Through there," O'Neill instructed, "the door on the right."

The door on the right led to a bedroom containing two twin beds and they laid Daniel down on the nearer one. Jack straightened, stretching his back while watching the young man for a minute. When his peaceful expression remained unchanged, O'Neill nodded in satisfaction.

"Okay, let's get the jeep unloaded."

Suitcases, sleeping bags and miscellaneous gear were quickly transferred from outside to inside. As she went to and fro, Sam was pleased by the overall compactness of the structure. The front door immediately opened into a large combination living and dining room, beyond which lay a small but serviceable kitchen. While she inspected it, Teal'c went up the stairs to the second floor which housed the two smaller bedrooms he and Sam would use.

As he set a box of kitchen necessities on the counter, O'Neill glanced around the interior of the cabin with a sense of satisfaction. The cleaning crew had done an excellent job. All his team had to do was move in. Well, and get the generator up and running. He'd do that as soon as they finished unloading the jeep.

"O'Neill."

Jack turned to see the Jaffa descending the stairs. "What's up?"

"There are no facilities in this building."

"Facilities-oh." He grinned. "The bathroom's outside, Teal'c."

"Outside?"

O'Neill turned back to see his 2IC wearing a distinctly disgruntled expression. "Relax, Major."

"Si-Jack, I get enough of bush' facilities when we're off-world."

"No," he laughed. "It's actually a bathroom. Well, it used to be an outhouse but the owner turned it into a real bathroom several years back. It's just outside, a few steps out the back door."

Her expression softened but Jack knew she would not be satisfied until she had checked out the facilities' for herself. It seemed a good moment to absent himself and he returned to the bedroom he would be sharing with Daniel.

The younger man had not moved from where they placed him. As O'Neill stood over the bed, he could hear Daniel's deep and regular breathing. Good. For the first time in what seemed weeks, Jack could feel his tension beginning to subside. Daniel was safe. He was safe in a safe place under the watchful eye of his C.O. and fellow teammates. Now, if only they could keep him safe.

If only. The insidious thought that had been nagging at O'Neill ever since Daniel's return to them three months earlier was back. As this last mission had proven once again, no matter how careful he was, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't always keep Daniel safe. Not so long as the archeologist continued to go through the Stargate. More and more it was beginning to seem as though the only way O'Neill was going to be able to keep his best friend safe was by an act that could destroy SG-1 and possibly their friendship.

A loud thud broke into Jack's depressing thoughts and he turned quickly. As he stepped back into the main room, the first sight that met his eyes was a box upside-down on the floor with food stuffs spilled everywhere. Teal'c stood over it, wearing the most disgruntled expression the Colonel had ever seen on the Jaffa. Sam was beside the narrow kitchen counter behind Teal'c, unsuccessfully fighting back a grin.

"What happened?" O'Neill said as he started toward the mess.

Teal'c pulled the box upright and began shoveling the food back inside. "The device on my arm caused me to over-balance."

The cast. Teal'c had hated it from the get-go.

Not going to laugh, nope, not him, not a Special Ops Colonel, no way. Jack rubbed his nose vigorously. "Here, let me help."

"I have it, O'Neill."

The clipped words were typical Teal'c but the barely-veiled irritation was not. Although Jack liked to play dumb to avoid Carter's interminable science-speak, he was not really stupid. He backed away, not about to piss off an already obviously pissed-off Jaffa.

"Good enough." O'Neill jerked his head at Sam. "Let's get the rest of the stuff inside."

One more trip and everything was in the cabin. Jack rubbed his hands together in satisfaction. SG-1's vacation could officially begin.

Softness beneath him, so comfortable, inviting him to remain asleep. But a growling stomach was less sympathetic.

Daniel opened his eyes to darkness and a confusion equally dark. Where was he?

He lifted his head as he yawned and stretched-

Ow!

Daniel grabbed his leg, careful not to touch the ultra-tender knee. Gripping his thigh tightly, he breathed rapidly, shallowly, waiting for the throbbing pain to subside. After a few lifetimes, Daniel could feel it begin to recede and he slumped back down in relief. He waited another lifetime or two but the pain refused to subside any further. As much as Daniel hated the thought, he knew he was going to have to take one of Janet's magic pills. If he wanted to move.

Letting his head drop back onto the pillow, Daniel realized his eyes had adjusted to the dim light. He was in an unfamiliar room but the rustic appearance, emphasized by the log walls, told him where he was. They must have reached Jack's cabin while he slept. Gazing around him, Daniel noticed the small table beside the bed, on which rested his glasses, a glass of water, and, he was happy to see, a bottle of pain pills.

After he swallowed two, Daniel tried to relax while he waited for the pills to take effect. Who had thought to put the water and pills out for him? It could have been any one of his teammates but he figured it had to be the mother hen without equal, Jack O'Neill.

He felt a smile curve his lips at the thought. Although Janet Frazier had strongly argued for letting Daniel regain his memory on his own, he had recently, finally, been able to persuade General Hammond to allow him to review SG-1's previous mission reports. His memory still resembled a piece of Swiss cheese, containing far too many holes, but Daniel was remembering more all the time, helped along by those old reports.

Daniel had originally decided to read the reports in chronological order. Although he was only mid-way through their second year together as a team, his memories were returning in hopscotch fashion. His memories of Sha're had been the first to return, memories that included her death at the hands of Teal'c.

He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his face against the pillow. Ah, God, that hurt. It might have happened nearly four years ago but remembering it all over again so recently made those old emotional wounds bleed afresh.

Don't go there Jackson, he reminded himself. He was not going to wallow in that old grief. Concentrate on something else, something . . . someone . . .

Warmth overlaid Daniel's pain as his thoughts turned to his teammates. Even with his Swiss-cheese memory he would have known how important they were to him simply by the feelings that thinking of them engendered. Jack, Sam, Teal'c, even General Hammond and Janet to a lesser degree, were all special to him. Daniel knew it even if his memory was still full of holes. And Jack-

Lying there in the dim room, Daniel had to smile at the thought of his friend and C.O. As far as he could recall, no two people could be more different than he and Jack. And, although he couldn't be sure yet, he didn't think he'd ever had a best friend before Jack O'Neill. The fact that they had become best friends, despite all of their differences, was a testimony to . . . something. He had no idea what. Maybe he'd figure it out as his memories continued to return.

His stomach growled more loudly and Daniel simultaneously realized two things. The pain in his leg was finally dissipating and he was hungry enough to eat a mastadge.

Looking around the dimly lit room, he saw his crutches placed neatly beside the bed, within easy reach. Oh, yes, there was no doubt about it. His mother-hen of a C.O. had definitely been here.

After putting everything away, the first order of business was food. The frozen beef stew had been turned into a tasty meal, accompanied by dinner rolls from O'Neill's favorite bakery. He was enthusiastically regaling his teammates with some of the lesser-known lore of fishing when he noticed Sam's inattention.

"Carter."

She started. "Sir-uh, Jack?"

"Daniel's fine. He'll wake up when he's good and-"

There was a faint sound from the bedroom and she jumped to her feet. Before Sam could make it to the door, it opened and Daniel appeared on the other side, awkwardly maneuvering his crutches.

"Here, Daniel," she said as she caught his arm. "Let me help."

Daniel swayed and Sam tightened her grip.

"Thanks, but I think it'll be easier on my own."

Sam backed off but stayed close as the archeologist made his halting way over to the table. Still sitting, O'Neill shoved a chair toward Daniel with his foot and she grabbed it.

"There you go. Let me get you some dinner." She spun around for the kitchen, disregarding his feeble protests.

O'Neill swallowed a grin as he watched their youngest team member. He had lost count of how many times Daniel had tried to assure Carter that his latest brush with death wasn't her fault, totally without success. As had been obvious to Jack from the beginning, her mother-hen act was driving the archeologist crazy, although he did his best to hide that fact.

As Daniel's usual mother hen, Jack had been tempted several times to step in and assist his injured friend. But so far he had managed to refrain. He knew that if both he and Sam hovered over the archeologist, the combined effect would leave Daniel totally frustrated and demoralized.

O'Neill glanced over at Teal'c who returned the look with a quizzical eyebrow-his own version of a broad grin. He too recognized that Carter's smothering concern was driving Daniel up the wall. However, like O'Neill, he knew better than to interfere. The wrath of Major Carter was something all of her male team members knew better than to provoke.

Sorry, Danny, Jack thought, still grinning inwardly. You're on your own.

"So, Daniel," he said pleasantly, "how're you feeling?"

From his position across the table, Daniel glowered at his team leader. "I'm fine."

He knew perfectly well that Jack was silently laughing all over himself at the archeologist's predicament. What was that line O'Neill liked to quote? Something about revenge tasting best when cold. Oh, yes. Daniel looked forward to that inevitable day when Jack was the one who was laid up in the infirmary. Yes, indeed, that was something to look forward to . . . and plan for.

"Daniel?"

The archeologist looked up to find Sam standing over him.

"Which would you prefer?" she said. "I've got root beer, ginger ale, iced tea, or I could brew up some hot tea if you like." She hesitated before his hopeful eyes, but fear of Janet Frazier's wrath would only permit her to add, "And there's also decaf."

Daniel sighed to himself. Just what did Janet have against caffeine, anyway? It never failed. His gradually returning memories had confirmed that every time he ended up in the infirmary, the first thing she did (well, okay, after running lots of unpleasant tests) was to cut off his coffee. What he wouldn't give for just one cup- His eyes narrowed in thought. How guilty was Sam feeling? It wasn't her fault, of course, that he had been injured. But if she was feeling guilty enough, maybe she would be willing to let him bend-um, break-one of Janet's rules-

Guilt brought him up short, a feeling that was compounded when he looked into her anxious blue eyes. Right, Jackson, manipulate one of your closest friends.

"Root beer is fine, thanks, Sam."

"Coming right up."

"Did you sleep well, Daniel Jackson?"

Daniel turned his attention to his table companions. "Yes, Teal'c, thank you." He looked at Jack. "And thanks for the, uh, bedside necessities."

O'Neill gave a casual nod. Keep it light, he warned himself. Any mention of pain pills, crutches or the fact that Daniel was not 100% independent was all to be avoided right now. After their last difficult and painful year as a team (more in name than reality) two years ago, and then the horrific year while Daniel had been dead (to hell with 'ascended'), Jack was thrilled beyond words to have his best friend back. Despite Daniel's still recovering memory, their relationship was back on an even keel, better than it had been in years. O'Neill had no intention of doing anything to upset it.

He didn't think the archeologist had recalled anything-as yet-about when things had gone so wrong between them. A large part of Jack really didn't want him to. No one knew if Daniel would recall anything from his year of being ascended, but O'Neill would be more than happy if the memories of those bad couple of years prior to that event never returned. But he doubted if Daniel's memories would be so obliging. And Daniel himself had a right to them. Knowing the archeologist, Jack did not doubt that the man would want to remember everything, no matter how painful or terrible.

Jack swallowed a sigh. He was grateful for Frazier's insistence that Daniel remember on his own. This let Daniel's C.O. and best friend off the hook, to a degree. But Daniel would eventually remember and he, O'Neill, would have a lot of `splaining, not to mention apologizing, to do. But they would get through it. Jack knew they would because he was not about to lose his best friend again. Not ever.

"Uh, thanks, Sam."

O'Neill came back from his thoughts with a jerk to find said best friend eyeing the mountain of food on the plate being set in front of him. Daniel cast a dubious eye at Jack before managing a smile at Carter.

"This looks great. I hope there's enough for everyone else."

Jack couldn't resist. "Oh, we're done, Daniel. The rest is for you." He grinned at the glare from across the table while relishing a growing sense of contentment. Oh, yes. He had really missed this.

As Daniel took a bit of food he noticed Teal'c absently rubbing his broken arm. "How do you feel, Teal'c?"

"I am well, Daniel Jackson. And you?"

"I'm fine, thanks. How's the cast?"

Teal'c looked at the pristine white plaster with a lowered brow. "It is most uncomfortable."

"All casts are uncomfortable," O'Neill put in. "It's one of the requirements."

"Requirements?"

"Sure. Casts aren't supposed to be comfortable. Otherwise everyone would want one."

"I cannot imagine any person wanting such a device on their body." Teal'c extended his broken arm to look at it more closely. "It is most cumbersome."

"Yeah, I know. That's another one of the requirements."

Sam threw her C.O. a reproving look. "No one likes wearing casts, Teal'c. But a few weeks from now your arm will be healed and the cast will be removed."

Teal'c nodded but didn't look convinced. She couldn't blame him. For practically his entire life, Teal'c had had a symbiote to heal all of his physical maladies. It struck her all over again how difficult the past months must have been for the Jaffa as he adjusted to life without a symbiote.

"You know what part of the problem is, old buddy?" O'Neill said brightly.

"I do not."

"Just look at it, Teal'c. It's too damn white."

Everyone looked at the immaculate plaster and Teal'c's forehead creased slightly. "What does its color have to do with its lack of mobility?"

"Remember when I had that cast on my leg?"

"I do, indeed."

Although O'Neill had been injured more times than anyone could count, there had been only one occasion when he had worn a leg cast while part of SG-1. That memory still had the power to send a shudder through Sam. One time-when that damn energy spike had thrown them through the second, previously unknown, Stargate in Antarctica. She still had nightmares about that disaster.

Carter looked up to meet Daniel's brilliant blue eyes, now warm with compassion. Ah, she hadn't realized that he'd remembered that particular catastrophe. She felt a surge of affection for her science twin and smiled in return. Sam would be forever grateful that they had gotten him back.

Unaware of the by-play, Jack continued with his medical enlightenment of the Jaffa. "Then you remember how everyone wrote on it."

"Indeed," Teal'c repeated, his eyebrow now near the top of his head.

Jack gave him a satisfied grin. "There you have it."

"Have what, Jack?" Daniel said.

"The whiter the cast, the longer the bone takes to heal." O'Neill gave them all an expectant, isn't-it-obvious? look before re-focusing on Teal'c. "Now, I happen to have some colored markers in the jeep and I figured we could help the healing process by making your cast less white, you know?"

Sam snorted and immediately covered the lower half of her face with her napkin as Jack glared at her.

"Sorry, sir," she coughed. "It-uh, must be the dust."

"O'Neill, please explain the physical process by which coloring plaster induces more rapid healing."

Got'cha, sir, Carter thought. But she had not reckoned on the wiliness of her C.O.

Jack sighed. "Hell, Teal'c, you know I'm no good at all that medical crap. But trust me, it works. What d'ya say? Shall I go get those markers?"

Daniel fought back his grin as he watched Teal'c's suspicious consideration of O'Neill's words. He wondered if the Jaffa would call the Colonel on the most suspicious aspect of Jack's statement-that he just happened to have some colored markers in the jeep. Coincidence? Not hardly.

Both Daniel and Sam had previously observed Jack's unsuccessful efforts to persuade Teal'c to let him write on the cast. When had Jack thought up this new idea? Daniel had to give him credit. He wasn't going to let this go until he had succeeded in writing god knows what on Teal'c's cast. Noticing the wary look that Teal'c gave Jack, Daniel suspected that neither warrior was going to relinquish his stand.

Daniel glanced across the table to meet Sam's amused eye and winked at her, to which she responded with the faintest of nods. They didn't know if any fish were going to be caught during this fishing trip, but they both recognized that they could expect ongoing entertainment as O'Neill and Teal'c continued their struggle for the cast.

An hour later, despite Teal'c's refusal to allow him to decorate his cast, O'Neill was still feeling an abiding contentment. And he knew that most, if not all, of the feeling was the result of having his team-all of his team-together. It felt so good, so right, to be here together. He didn't even mind doing the dishes, he thought, as he rummaged for dish soap.

As he straightened, he glanced into the living room to see Daniel settling back on the couch with Teal'c at the far end and Sam curled up in the overstuffed chair beside Daniel. The archeologist had chosen to sit beside a lamp and the soft light brought his features into sharp relief, highlighting every bruise on his face.

Jack's contentment vanished. He concentrated on the suds building in the sink under the pressure of the stream of water as the familiar voices rose and fell behind him. Yes, they were together, again. And Daniel had almost died. Again.

He gritted his teeth. Why in the hell was the universe so insistent on throwing the worst shit at Daniel? Hadn't he done enough? Suffered enough? Hell, hadn't he died enough?

He reared back from the sink, sputtering and wiping the sudsy water off his face.

"Is there a problem, O'Neill?"

"No, no problem," Jack managed, making a face as he tasted soap. It served him right, throwing the sponge into a basin of suds. He methodically washed and rinsed several dishes while conversation continued behind him.

"I do not understand how you can differentiate between naquadah and this new element, Major Carter. Did you not say that it is identical to naquadah?"

"Yes, Teal'c, in appearance. However, the energy readings differ in several respects-"

With a mental shudder, O'Neill turned off Carter's words. Bad enough he had to endure that during a mission. They were on vacation, for crying out loud!

He cast a cautious look over his shoulder. Sam and Teal'c were engaged in an animated discussion while, between them, Daniel sat back with his eyes at half-mast. Jack was pleased to see a faint smile on his face. There was no doubting that the archeologist was feeling comfortable with his teammates. Although, he had to admit, the effects of the medication might have a little to do with that spaced-out expression.

Jack turned back to the sink with a sigh. Neither Carter nor Teal'c had any idea of his thoughts, nor did he intend to tell them. He had to think this through on his own. If his conclusions were what he feared they would be, then the first person he would have to talk to would be Daniel.

They had only had him back for a few months. He had only re-joined the team two months ago. And during this brief period, how many times had they almost lost him? Jack closed his eyes against the most recent, most painful memories. He could not lose his best friend again.

But how often could they-could Daniel-tempt fate? His life was at risk every time he went through the Stargate. Of course, the same could be said for all of them. But none of them had gone through as many lives as Daniel. That would not change as long as he remained on SG-1. And even if he joined another team devoted to scientific study or diplomacy or anything else not geared toward first contact, there was still no guarantee of safety.

Besides, there was no way in hell O'Neill would permit Daniel to go off-world with another team. Never again. He had made that very clear to all of the C.O.'s of the other SG teams, not to mention Hammond.

Which left him where?

If Daniel remained on earth . . .

He had already resumed his roles as head of the SGC's Archeology and Linguistic Departments. Even with his holey memory, he still knew more languages than anyone else and was still hands-down their number one expert on ancient cultures. As General Hammond had said, Daniel was an irreplaceable asset-not just to the SGC but to earth. The past year without him had reinforced that point with painful force.

Jack swallowed. He wanted Daniel to be part of SG-1. But what if the risk to the archeologist was too great?

If Daniel could be persuaded to let others go off-world, let others do first contact while he stayed on the base to focus his immense abilities on all of the work that needed to be done in his respective departments . . . it would be a hell of a lot safer life. He would be a hell of a lot safer than going off-world every week into god knew what kind of situations.

O'Neill had just gotten his best friend back. He desperately wanted to keep him safe. Could he go off exploring the galaxy on a regular basis while leaving Daniel behind to play with his rocks? But if he could leave him behind-at least then Daniel would be safe.

But more importantly, even if he could stand to leave Daniel behind, could he persuade Daniel to stay behind?

Jack grimaced at the thought. It would probably be easier for him to travel around the galaxy by flapping his arms, without benefit of the Stargate.

But he didn't think he could risk losing his best friend again.

And, therein, O'Neill knew, lay the real problem. Himself.

Everyone slept in the next morning, to everyone's mutual surprise. After a hearty breakfast of bacon, eggs, pancakes and oatmeal (the only downside being the decaf that O'Neill and Sam forced down in solidarity with Daniel), Jack was ready to drag everyone down to the lake.

"Jack, if you don't mind," Daniel said tentatively, "I have a book I'd like to finish."

O'Neill glared at him. "For crying out loud, Daniel, you can read any time. You're on vacation now, remember?"

The archeologist smiled. "I remember. And I'll come down when I finish."

Jack could have pushed it but didn't. He hadn't missed Daniel's pallor, a pallor enhanced by the morning light streaming in through the kitchen window. He knew the younger man had had a rough night and suspected the archeologist's reluctance to take more of Janet's magic pills last night was responsible. Hopefully, Daniel had taken some when he got up this morning. But they obviously hadn't kicked in yet.

"Fine," he said. "But I expect to see you down at the lake later today."

Daniel waved them off, not dropping his smile until they were out of sight. He closed his eyes but it didn't help the throbbing in his leg. Briefly he considered stretching out on the bed but the sounds of the birds singing outside, along with the lake-scented breeze wafting in through the open windows, turned him toward the meadow beside the cabin.

He carefully made his way along the rough footpath, alert for rocks or other possible impediments to his progress. The last thing he needed was to take a header that would cause more damage to his leg.

The thought made Daniel stop and he looked around for a likely resting place. Just a few feet away, a giant blue spruce loomed high above him. Surrounding the tree was a nice flat patch of grass. Ah . . .

Clutching his crutches tightly, Daniel slowly lowered himself to the ground, not relaxing until he was resting against the tree. Pleased with his success, he tossed the crutches aside and closed his eyes. Janet's pills were kicking in, easing his pain. That, along with the general soporific of medication and peaceful surroundings, were enough to let him drift into healing sleep.

As he sat on the dock in what O'Neill insisted on calling a lawn chair, Teal'c realized, somewhat to his surprise, that he was enjoying himself. The absence of the extremely annoying creatures called mosquitoes was doubtless part of the reason. But as he gazed out across the lake, the Jaffa was acutely aware of his companions, not only their presence but also their contentment.

They were all at peace, Teal'c realized. It was a peace that had been absent from his friends since long before Daniel Jackson's ascension. SG-1 had been at odds for longer than he wished to recall. After their first few years together as a team, each member had increasingly chosen to spend their time apart from the others-Major Carter with her science projects, Teal'c with Bra'tac and the Jaffa resistance, and O'Neill-

Teal'c turned his head slightly to see O'Neill slumped comfortably in his own lawn chair, fishing pole firmly in hand. The Jaffa could not be sure since the floppy brim of O'Neill's hat hid his eyes, but he was fairly certain that SG-1's C.O. was asleep. It was rare to see Colonel Jack O'Neill so relaxed and Teal'c smiled to himself at the picture before him.

If was as if time had turned back and they were once again the SG-1 of those early years.

And the catalyst for this transformation?

O'Neill had already been back to the cabin twice this morning, supposedly to use the facilities. But that subterfuge had fooled no one. Teal'c knew that he had wanted to check on Daniel Jackson. Teal'c himself had done the same just a short while ago. He had no doubt that Major Carter would be taking her turn soon.

Daniel Jackson had returned to them, and, without realizing it, he had also brought back the humanity of SG-1.

O'Neill had been right, Teal'c mused, all those years ago when he had spoken at Daniel Jackson's memorial service, when the sea creature, Nem, had convinced them all that the archeologist was dead. O'Neill had called Daniel Jackson the conscience of SG-1 and he spoke more accurately than he knew. Even years later, when the SGC was under increasing pressure for ever more and better weapons and technology, Daniel Jackson's stubborn refusal to compromise his beliefs had continued to warn them of the ever-increasingly shaky moral path the SGC was beginning to travel.

It had been an extremely difficult time for them all, but especially for Daniel Jackson. Increasingly isolated by his non-military mentality, Daniel Jackson had turned in on himself, his growing unhappiness obvious to those who knew him.

Teal'c knew that O'Neill had felt intense pressure from above, not only as C.O. of the SGC's premiere field unit but also as 2IC of the SGC itself. Despite his reluctance for the path they were being forced to take, as a soldier he had felt compelled to follow orders, orders that were increasingly at odds with Daniel Jackson's views of right and wrong.

The Jaffa was one of the few who recognized that the breakdown of the friendship between O'Neill and Daniel Jackson was a symptom of the greater problems assailing the SGC. But he had been unsure what, if anything, he could do about it. But then Kelowna happened and it was too late to do anything except grieve for their loss and torture themselves with what-ifs'.

Teal'c took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. The darkness that had troubled all of them lifted the day they found Daniel Jackson, descended. The Jaffa knew he was not alone in believing that they now had a second chance, not only with Daniel Jackson but with their own lives.

In his own heart, Teal'c would always be grateful to Oma Desala. She had not only saved Daniel Jackson from a terrible, lingering death but eventually returned him to them. And in the interim, she had allowed his absence to make each member of SG-1, as well as many of those in the SGC, realize all they had lost when Daniel Jackson was no longer with them.

Teal'c straightened, relishing the peace that filled him. Daniel Jackson was back with them. Their world was right once again.

After three hours of enjoying the lake while Jack, and, much to his surprise, Teal'c, had each caught and thrown back one fish, Sam had had enough.

"Si-Jack, why don't I go back to the cabin and start lunch?"

"Thanks, Carter," he acknowledged. "We'll be up in a little while."

Sam smiled at her teammates and headed back up the slope. She had no doubt that her C.O. knew the real reason his 2IC was so eager to return to the cabin. Three times during the morning, O'Neill himself had been back to the cabin, albeit briefly. Even Teal'c had recently disappeared in that direction for a short time. Obviously, both had been checking on their archeologist. And, although she trusted both the Colonel and Jaffa with her life, she felt it was long past time that she checked on Daniel herself.

She had nearly reached the cabin when she saw him in the meadow. He was sitting against a giant spruce, his injured leg extended before him and his crutches dumped on the ground several feet away. She shook her head as she wondered how in the world he expected to get back up.

Sam carefully lowered herself to the ground beside him. "Hey," she said softly.

Daniel's head jerked up and his eyes flew open, but his surprise immediately gave way to welcome. "Hi, Sam."

"What'cha doing?"

He grinned at her very passable imitation of the Colonel. "Just thinking. Remembering, actually."

She hesitated. Daniel remembering could be a very good or very bad thing and she wasn't sure how to react. Her conflict must have been obvious for he smiled.

"It's okay, Sam."

Well, that was marginally better than his habitual response of-

"I'm fine, really."

Damn, she thought, hoping her frustration was not visible. As much as Sam wanted Daniel to remember some things, there were so many memories in his past that she rather hoped he would not remember.

"I'm sorry I cause you all so much worry."

What? She blinked at him as she tried to make sense of his words. "Daniel, we've always worried about each other. That's part of being a team."

He shook his head. "What I've remembered is that I've caused you, all of you, much more than the normal amount of worry."

"What are you talking about?"

"Sam-" Daniel looked away, unable to meet her concerned gaze. "I've gone through a lot of our old mission reports. From the very beginning I did things that got me-got all of us-into trouble. If you'd had another soldier on the team instead of me-"

"Whoa! Stop right there, mister!" She made her voice deliberately harsh and he looked at her with startled eyes as she continued.

"I don't want to hear that kind of talk, Daniel. Obviously, your memories are still very fragmented if you haven't remembered any of the times you've been responsible for saving us, not to mention a whole lot of other people."

"I-what?"

Good. He was listening. Sam dared to give him a small smile.

"Janet has made it very clear to everyone that we're not supposed to help you remember. So, for now, let me just remind you of a few months ago, right after you came back to us. You saved Jonas on Anubis' ship, remember?"

Daniel looked at her, his forehead wrinkled by confusion. "I didn't-"

"Yes, you did."

"Wait, Sam. That was just-I mean, he helped me to escape from Anubis' Jaffa. I couldn't just-you know, leave him-"

There were times she just wanted to shake this man. "Even if he hadn't, you still would have done exactly what you did. Risked your life to help him. Just like you've done so many other times for so many other people."

Her stomach knotted unexpectedly and Sam had to pause for a moment to regain control. She knew Daniel didn't remember that ill-fated mission to Kelowna, didn't remember that he had thrown away his life for a world of ungrateful people who couldn't even spare him a thank-you for his selfless act. But even if he had remembered that horror, it still would have been the last memory she would have chosen to make her point.

Memories of her own surged through Sam, of all the times Daniel had given everything he had, everything he was, for others. There were so many memories and they suddenly crowded against her, overwhelming her with their intensity. She swallowed, coughed, swallowed again.

"Sam?"

She looked up to meet that intense blue gaze and the concern and compassion in his eyes was almost her undoing. It was her turn to look away for a moment before she could meet his gaze calmly, even managing to smile.

"It's all right. I'm fine." They both laughed, then, at her unconscious mimicry of the archeologist.

"Look, Daniel. Let me make this as simple as I can. Either you stop thinking badly of yourself or I'm going to disregard's Janet's orders and start reminding you, mission by mission, of every single time you've put yourself on the line for others, especially SG-1. And, I'm warning you, you are going to be completely embarrassed. Then I'm going to tell the Colonel and Teal'c about your concerns so that they can do the same. And you will be even more embarrassed. And then we're going to repeat everything to you again, in front of the entire SGC-"

"Sam, stop, please!"

Daniel was laughing, actual, genuine laughter, a sound so rare that she had to sit back and beam at him. It took several minutes of uncontrollable chuckling before he was finally able to calm down enough to wipe the tears from his cheeks. Only then did Sam lean forward to hug him.

"In case I forgot to say it before," she murmured into the side of his neck, "welcome back."

She relished the feel of his arms tightening around her and heard the slight catch in his voice when he said, "Thanks. It's good to be back."

They separated a little self-consciously but still smiling.

"I promised I'd start lunch," Sam said. "Want to help?"

"Sure." He reached for his crutches. Sam pushed them closer to him but allowed Daniel to pull himself up with them and fit them under his arms so that they could make their way back to the cabin.

As they walked inside, Daniel said, "So, are we having fish for lunch?"

Sam laughed. "I seriously doubt it. I think we'd better see what's available from our supplies."

"Anything but MRE's, please." Daniel shuddered and she laughed again.

"That much I can promise. Let's see what we've got here."

The hamburger patties that had been prepared and frozen prior to coming up here were placed under the small but serviceable broiler. Sitting at the table, Daniel finished putting together the potato salad while Sam sliced up tomatoes, cucumbers, carrots and mushrooms to mix with the lettuce. Plates were spread out on the table, the just-toasted buns were carefully arranged on another plate, and Sam set the bowls of potato and green salads, along with a large bowl of pre-cut fruit, in the center of the table.

"That should do it," she said in satisfaction. "Now if the Colonel and Teal'c will just-"

"Just what?" O'Neill demanded from the open door.

"Your timing is impeccable, Jack," Daniel said as he carefully took his seat.

"As always," O'Neill returned smugly.

Sam looked from Colonel to Jaffa with innocent eyes. "I don't see any fish."

Teal'c looked at Jack who refused to meet his eyes. "O'Neill insisted that every fish we caught was not of adequate size and so must be returned to the lake."

"They weren't big enough," Jack responded, wincing inwardly at the defensiveness in his voice.

He noted that everyone was careful not to look at him which was enough to confirm that they didn't believe him. They were barbarians, all three of them, thinking that fishing just involved pulling fish out of the water. He had a good mind to-

"Lunch is ready." Sam wisely changed the subject.

The active morning and clear, crisp air were more than enough to spur everyone's appetite. In near-record time, the meal was demolished. As Jack scarfed down the last bit of his third hamburger, he said, "Thanks for making lunch, Carter. Uh, Sam."

"Indeed," the Jaffa rumbled. "It was most delicious."

"You're both welcome but Daniel and I made lunch," she corrected, flicking a grin in the archeologist's direction. He saluted her with a wave of his fork before setting it on his plate and leaning back with a groan.

Jack straightened, immediately alert. "You okay, Daniel? You need some pain meds?"

Daniel smiled at the suddenly anxious expressions around the table. "I'm fine. I was just expressing my appreciation for all the food. I ate too much."

"That's what vacations are for, Danny Boy," Jack said, grinning in relief. "Relaxing and eating and just having a good time."

"Well, I've relaxed and I've certainly eaten," Daniel acknowledged as he shoved his chair back and started to rise, gripping the table edge for balance. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a little something that needs to be attended to."

"What? I thought you said you didn't need any pain pills! I can-"

"Jack," Daniel said patiently, "I appreciate your concern but I don't need any pain pills at the moment. However, nature is calling and I can't put it off any longer."

"Oh." Relief that Daniel wasn't in pain was immediately superseded by concern. Granted, the bathroom was right out the back door, but there were still a few steps that had to be navigated. Doing that on crutches could be a tricky proposition.

"Maybe I should come with-"

Daniel paused to give Jack a long look over his glasses. "Thank you, but I'll be fine. I just need to go slowly, which won't be a problem."

"Okay." O'Neill gave what he hoped was a nonchalant wave, deliberately not looking after Daniel as he made his halting way down the short hall to the back door.

"Do you have enough room for dessert, sir?"

Jack perked up. "Dessert? I thought dessert was reserved for after dinner, not lunch."

"We can do that if you want."

Damn, Carter was giving him that innocent look of her's again. Jack gritted his teeth. He was not going to ask.

"As you have said, O'Neill, we are on vacation. Thus we should eat, should we not?"

The Jaffa was wearing his usual imperturbable expression. This time, Jack figured he should put that expression in the same category as Carter's oh-so-innocent look. However, it did permit him a way to get dessert without looking as if he was begging.

"Well," he rubbed his jaw as if considering, "since you both seem so eager for dessert, I guess we should have some now."

Sam snorted, then coughed. "Yes, sir. Blueberry pie, coming up." She stood up, careful to keep her head turned away so that her C.O. couldn't see her expression.

Jack shot a suspicious look after her but he felt too good to keep up his glare. Leaning back in his chair, he gently patted his stomach.

"That sounds good, thanks, Carter. Teal'c, I think after dessert you and I-" he stopped at the sight of the Jaffa, sitting stiffly erect, his head tilted as if he was listening.

The Jaffa was suddenly on his feet and moving toward the back door. "O'Neill, there is-"

A loud crash echoed from the back yard.

Both O'Neill and Carter jumped up.

Teal'c stopped short. Spun around toward the front door-

"Freeze!"

A stranger stood in the open front door. Holding a shotgun. Pointed at the trio.

For a heartbeat they all stood motionless.

Teal'c's head abruptly swiveled around.

A split second later they all heard the choked gasp behind them.

A second stranger stood in the hall, holding Daniel upright by a forearm around the archeologist's throat, his free hand gripping a rifle.

As he pushed Daniel further into the room, Jack took an instinctive step toward them.

"Don't!" yelled the gunman at the front door.

Daniel's face was twisted with pain as he was forced to use his injured leg, but it was too painful to put much weight on it. Which meant that he was mostly hanging from his captor's suffocating arm. Obvious to all was the freshly-split lip and fast-forming bruise on Daniel's left cheekbone.

Son of a bitch!

Rage surged, molten hot, through O'Neill. It took all of his nearly thirty years of training and experience to remain still.

The man holding the shotgun took a few steps into the front room. "Anyone causes trouble, that one-" he gestured toward Daniel with his weapon- "dies. Now sit down."

They silently obeyed, watching as Daniel was forced further into the room, biting his lip, obviously trying not to give in to the agony that was his leg. When he was still several feet from the table, his captor suddenly shoved him hard in the back, sending him sprawling. Sam, who was closest, surged out of her chair to catch him, but was too late. He slammed into the floor and only her stretched-out hands were able to cushion his head from the hitting the floor with equal force.

"Don't!"

The figure at the front door moved closer, his weapon swinging back and forth between O'Neill and Teal'c who were both on their feet again.

"I said, sit down. I'm not gonna say it again."

Fighting back his fury, Jack obeyed, as did the Jaffa. O'Neill watched the two youngest members of his team as Sam knelt beside Daniel, stroking his hair while she murmured something to him.

Behind Daniel's erstwhile captor, a third man appeared, armed with yet another damn rifle. There was no doubt it, Jack thought. They were in deep shit. He bit back the anger that wanted to strike out, feeling it settle into the familiar icy rage that cleared his thoughts and focused him at his deepest level.

His lifted his head to meet Teal'c's cold gaze. They didn't need words to communicate their awareness of the situation or what was needed. Before they could act, they needed Intel, including the answer to a critical question. Was SG-1 merely in the wrong place at the wrong time, or did this have something to do with the SGC?

Jack quickly assessed the trio as they moved around the cabin. All three were dirty and disheveled. All three were wearing the same kind of clothing-faded blue shirts and dungarees ... ah, shit. He knew what that kind of 'uniform' meant. Five would get him ten that the trio had escaped from Hatton Penitentiary on the other side of the mountains.

SG-1 being in the wrong place at the wrong time was looking better.

The firearms carried by the trio were straightforward-two rifles as well as a .38 pistol that Daniel's attacker had stuck in his belt. Though a far cry from SG-1's usual P-90's, any one of the three weapons would be lethal if the team wasn't careful.

But it was the weapon of the man who had entered through the front door that most concerned Jack. A 12-gauge, slide-action shotgun. Oh, joy. A pump gun-the standard choice of shotgun for armies all over the world.

Let's take it slow and steady, O'Neill, he reminded himself.

Their biggest advantage was that the misbegotten threesome had no idea who they had stumbled upon. Undoubtedly, they figured SG-1 for ordinary tourists. The longer Jack's team could keep them from recognizing the truth, the more likely it was that one of the escaped convicts would make a mistake.

"Will you get a look at the pretty blondie!"

The man who had shoved Daniel to the floor was now looking Carter over like a hungry dog salivating over a steak. She met his gaze, her eyes flat and dark, absent of expression. Clearly, he was too stupid to recognize his danger for his grin widened and he licked his lips.

"You're here with three guys, huh? You like foursomes?"

The man with the pump gun shook his head. "Knock it off, Louie."

"Come on, Robert. It's been six years and this honey is about as sweet a piece as we could ever hope for!"

Gritting his teeth as he listened, O'Neill received another bit of Intel. The asshole had given the name a French pronunciation, leaving off the final "t". And both he and the Robert character had faint accents. Jack darted a quick look at Daniel, knowing French was one of the archeologist's many languages. But Daniel was just sitting up, and only because Sam was helping him.

The man who had come in behind Louie moved forward. "I don't know why you always have to be thinking just one way, Lou," he said. "Get a load of the blue eyes on pretty boy, there."

"Shut up, Frank, both you and Louie. Find something to tie `em all up."

"He needs his crutches."

Sam's voice was low but full of determination. Robert turned on her with beetling brows as he pointed the shotgun at her. Knowing he was trying to intimidate her, she met his gaze without flinching.

"Our friend needs his crutches to move around."

"You help him up," Robert ordered. "That'll do just fine."

"He needs his crutches," she repeated without inflection.

Sam deliberately avoided looking at the Colonel. She knew she might be making a mistake. It was best not to challenge them, best to let them think they were firmly in control and the four of them were thoroughly cowed. But she doubted if that would work, anyway. Granted, she was a female and Jackass #2 had already revealed his opinion of women. And Daniel was injured and so, to someone who didn't know him, not a threat. But neither the Colonel nor-especially-Teal'c looked anything but dangerous. Particularly now.

"If he's too heavy for you sweetie-" Louie started, only to be cut off by Robert.

"Frank, go get the fuckin' crutches. I don't have time for this shit."

The third man disappeared down the narrow back hall and Sam focused on Daniel. SOP in this kind of situation would have all of them showing as little regard as possible for each other to avoid giving the bad guys leverage against them. But the fact that they were here, together, pretty much made that a moot point.

She kept her head down so that the trio would not see the anger in her eyes. The bastards were ruining the first decent vacation the team had had together in several years. Worst of all, they had laid hands on Daniel. They were dead meat. All three of them.

Sam felt the presence of some one crouching down behind her.

"Hey, sugar," Louie murmured in what he probably thought was a suggestive tone, "why don't you and me go check out that room over there."

She swallowed the words she wanted to say, only to hear a familiar, beloved voice say, "She doesn't like rat bastards, especially when they smell as badly as you."

Sam stared down into the vivid blue eyes of her teammate but Daniel was not looking at her. He was staring at the flummoxed Louie with a cold, radiating anger he normally reserved for system lords. Louie had already proven that he was no genius but even he recognized the sudden danger and scrambled backwards while fumbling with his rifle.

"Daniel," she breathed just loudly enough for him to hear, while she gave him the tiniest shake of her head.

She suddenly recalled Daniel's penchant for infuriating the Gou'ald, and fervently hoped he was not going to continue this line of insult. Now was not the time, she tried to warn him with her eyes.

But, simultaneously, Sam had to fight back a sudden desire to laugh. Rat bastard? That had to have come from one of those silly action movies the Colonel enjoyed. It was certainly a phrase she had never before heard from the soft-spoken, ultra-educated linguist. Hearing it now was almost more than her strained senses could bear. When this was all over-and one way or another she was determined that it would end satisfactorily for her team-she would have to find out where Daniel had gotten the phrase or she would never be able to sleep again.

Of more interest at the moment was the sight of the .38 in Louie's belt slipping loose as he scrambled backwards. But before anyone could take advantage, Robert took several swift steps forward, his shotgun pointed straight at Sam.

"Louie, watch yourself! Frank-" he snapped at the just-returning man, "give her the crutches. You two-" the shotgun swung back toward the rigid figures of O'Neill and Teal'c at the table- "stay put. If I have to tell you again, someone's gonna get hurt and it won't be me."

Jack leaned back in his chair, hoping he looked more relaxed than he felt. At least the bastard wasn't targeting Daniel directly with this threat. He watched Carter helping Daniel with his crutches, then helping the linguist to his feet so that they could make their way to the table and sit down.

"Tie `em up," Robert ordered.

"With what?" Louie protested.

Robert cast a quick look over the four at the table before focusing on O'Neill. "Where's your rope?"

Jack shrugged. "Don't have any."

Robert nodded and moved suddenly, with unexpected speed, around the table to stand beside Daniel. He pressed the shotgun firmly against Daniel's left leg.

"Your pal here already has one bad leg. I shoot the other one from this distance and I'll take it off for sure."

Daniel did not react, his eyes direct and unblinking on his C.O. Jack knew that Daniel was offering his silent support but he also recognized the calm certainty in Robert's voice. The son of a bitch would do it. Would cripple-likely kill-Daniel. For some fucking rope.

"Left side of the sink," he said matter-of-factly. "Second drawer down."

First Teal'c, then O'Neill, had their hands tied tightly behind their backs. As Frank neared Carter, Louie grabbed the rope.

"I'll do the honey," he smirked and knelt down behind her.

She did not react to the man's closeness but Jack saw her eyes narrow ever-so-slightly and knew the bastard was copping a feel. He could feel his jaw clenching and looked down to hide the murder surging through his heart, and, he knew, across his face.

O'Neill had no doubt that if Louie did, in fact, make a move on Sam, she'd turn the bastard into dog meat. He had no intention of allowing it to get that far, but knowing that she was more than a match for the bastard was reassuring. At the moment Daniel was his greatest concern. Frank was obviously chomping at the bit for a shot at the archeologist and Daniel's injuries made him vulnerable.

For some reason, Louie had not given the rope back to Frank when he finished with Carter, so Daniel was not tied up. Jack didn't know if that was good or bad. The archeologist certainly looked incapable of even standing upright on his own, so O'Neill wasn't sure if the fact that his hands were free would do them any good. On the flip side, if the trio had deliberately left Daniel untied, then Jack was apprehensive about their plans for the younger man.

There was no way to know. They were going to have to play this very carefully.

Sam mentally gritted her teeth when Louie's hand slid over her breasts before he moved away. Not by so much as a blink of an eye would she give the piece of slime the satisfaction of knowing that his crudity disturbed her. If she could withstand the horrors of Jolinar's memories, the hell of Netu and Apophis' torture, she could damn well handle a little groping from this Neanderthal reject. But sooner or later she was going to get her chance. Then old Louie would rue the day he had thought breaking out of prison was a good idea.

Right now, all three of their captors were being careful. However, Louie didn't seem to be paying much attention to the pistol at his waist. Sam eyed it thoughtfully. It really was just stuck in his belt. No other support. Really, it would be pathetically easy to take away if her hands were free.

Louie chose that minute to look over at her. Immediately, Sam turned her gaze away although she knew it was too late. But his reaction surprised her.

Obviously misunderstanding her interest, he smirked at her as he patted the .38 in his belt. "Not to worry, honey. I got the safety on."

Sam barely swallowed a snort of disdain. As anyone with even a modicum of firearms knowledge would know, the .38 did not have a safety, nor did any other wheel gun. Even if he was ignorant of everything about the weapon except how to pull the trigger, he should have noticed that little item. Was this supposed to be some kind of half-assed attempt to impress her? Well, he'd certainly impressed her with his complete stupidity.

Teal'c had watched the little by-play closely as he continued working on the rope binding his wrists. It was not the way of a Jaffa to permit unbridled emotion but nonetheless he was immensely displeased with himself.

He had permitted O'Neill and Major Carter to draw him into the whole idea of a team vacation, a time of relaxation and safety. In an unfamiliar environment, surrounded by an unknown number of variables-yet he had let down his guard. Such laxness was unforgivable.

Just a moment before their attackers pounced, Teal'c had heard something outside-a noise too faint to identify but somehow out of the ordinary. He should have investigated immediately. But he had delayed, lulled by the idea of being 'on vacation,' until he heard the almost inaudible scuffle out back. Only then had he acted. Only then-when it was too late for his actions to succeed.

If harm came to any of his teammates, the responsibility would rest solely on his shoulders.

Teal'c studied their captors, one by one. He knew nothing about them but it was obvious that they were not true warriors, a fact that contained both positive and negative elements. The trio would be more vulnerable to SG-1's efforts to regain control of the situation. But they also could not be depended upon to follow standard tactics. They were, as O'Neill would say, 'loose cannons.'

But loose cannons were more likely to make mistakes.

Teal'c could wait. And watch. He had no doubt an opportunity would arise. He would be ready when it did.

Jack O'Neill was also watching and thinking furiously while he, too, worked to loosen his bindings. They were so in deep shit. Three escaped cons, three escaped armed cons. How long had they been on the run? On foot, climbing over the mountain must have taken several days.

Why in hell hadn't he listened to the news on the drive up here?

No time for side issues, Jack.

O'Neill watched as the trio rummaged through the kitchen, tearing through their neatly stored supplies and wolfing down all foods immediately edible. Shit, they had found the prime rib he had intended to save for his team's last night at the cabin.

It seemed obvious that at least one, maybe two, of the trio weren't troubled by a lot of smarts. But someone, probably Robert, had enough brains to figure out how to escape from prison. It would not do to underestimate that bastard's intelligence.

As the aroma of cooking prime rib began to drift through the cabin, Jack was glad he had just eaten. Of much greater concern was how long these three intended to stay. He had a strong hunch that his life span, as well as the life spans of his teammates, was going to come to an abrupt end when the convicts left. Of course, Jack intended to have his own say in that matter, when it came up.

He cast a quick, assessing eye over his team. Teal'c and Carter were sitting still but O'Neill did not doubt they were also working to free themselves from their bonds. But Daniel was another matter. Jack's concern ratcheted up another notch at the sight of the slumped form and closed eyes, apparently oblivious to his surroundings.

Had that bastard's earlier manhandling of the archeologist hurt Daniel further? Or was he pretending? There was no way to know. Jack could only pray that the archeologist wasn't concocting some half-assed plan of his own.

O'Neill knew what to expect from his 2IC and Teal'c. But Daniel-as always-was their wild card. Daniel, their 'peaceful explorer' and their conscience, who would often do what he was asked but almost never do what he was ordered.

Jack mentally shook his head. Even a year among Oma and Company had not changed his best friend and occasional bete noir. Hell, forget his hair turning gray. It was a miracle Jack O'Neill had any hair left at all.

It felt as if the rope was easing its grip but that might be because his wrists were now abraded and bleeding from his quiet struggle. Ignoring the pain, Jack tugged more insistently, deliberately tensing and then releasing his muscles as he worked to free his hands.

He kept an eye on the trio but they were too busy eating to pay attention to their prisoners. Amateurs, Jack thought in disgust, then immediately chastised himself. He was grateful they were amateurs.

Robert and Louie were talking to each other but they had slipped into the French that their accent had initially made him suspect was their native language. He gave another covert glance at Daniel whose eyes remained firmly closed. Damn, he wished he knew what those characters were talking about!

Unlike his C.O., Daniel could understand the pair and he was listening hard. He had recognized quickly that they were not speaking regular French. Some of the pronunciation and vocabulary were different from the common language the archeologist knew so well. His ears perked up when he realized that they were using the same pronoun for first person singular and plural, which gave credence to his growing hypothesis.

They were speaking Cajun French.

Which would mean they were most likely-though not definitely-from southern Louisiana. How they had ended up in Colorado, only they knew.

Although Daniel was no expert, he had studied the Cajun language in passing while in his teens, intrigued by the aspects that differentiated it from French. He could follow the conversation with only intermittent difficulty and increasing foreboding.

The trio had escaped from some nearby prison. Bad enough. Worse, by some of their comments Daniel had deduced the crimes for which they had been originally imprisoned-Robert, murder, Louie, rape and attempted murder. As far as Frank was concerned, he was either unable or uninterested in joining in the pair's conversation. All the linguist could pick up on him was that he had been the cellmate of either Robert or Louie, which was probably, Daniel thought, how he had come to be part of the escape.

The trio had stumbled on the cabin as they continued to make their way over the mountain toward freedom. At the moment, their only concern was to fill their starving bellies. But Louie's running commentary on Sam's 'attributes' made his next desired activity more than obvious. As for Frank's stated wishes about a certain blue-eyed 'pretty boy,' well, the linguist preferred not to dwell on that.

Daniel was careful to keep his eyes closed. Thanks to Jack's oft-repeated comments, he knew that he did not have a poker face and he did not want to alarm his teammates. Equally important, he didn't want to give himself away to Robert or Louie.

SG-1's future did not look good.

The team could identify them, as well as offer a close approximation of the convicts' geographic position. And if Robert allowed Louie and Frank to follow through on their 'entertainment' plans, it would be even more important to the convicts that SG-1 not survive this encounter. Murder was obviously something that didn't frighten either Robert or Louie.

No, SG-1's future did not look good.

Daniel swallowed. Maybe once upon a time he might have been used to battling evil aliens and saving the planet on a regular basis. But right now all of that seemed like a particularly gaudy, third-rate, scifi movie straight out of Hollywood. One from which he fervently wished he could awaken.

He also wished there was some way he could warn the others. But even as the thought crossed his mind, Daniel realized that he was being presumptuous. Even though they didn't know the language, Jack and Teal'c and Sam were seasoned soldiers, warriors, to use Teal'c's term. And he had no doubt that Jack had already threat-assessed the situation, examined every possible scenario and their corresponding responses.

An unexpected surge of emotion warmed Daniel and he almost smiled. His memories of desperate situations which SG-1 had survived might be faulty but the teammates who had made that survival happen were right here. They were together and, eventually, an opportunity would arise, one of his team would react, then the entire team would respond.

In his current state, Daniel wasn't sure how he was going to be able to help. But he desperately wanted to avoid being a hindrance to his teammates. He intended to remain alert and ready for whatever would happen. And . . . it looked like something was about to happen.

Louie stood up with such force he knocked his chair over. "We've got time!" he insisted, back to English.

Robert remained sitting, only his eyes following the other man. "The longer we sit here the more dangerous it is."

Louie exchanged looks with Frank who also rose.

"You may be made of stone, Robert, but Frank and me need a little relaxation, right, Frank?"

Frank licked his lips, his mouth widening in a distinctly ugly expression. "Relaxation," he grinned, "oh, yeah."

He threw a look over his shoulder at Daniel who was still sitting with his eyes closed.

O'Neill stiffened. Things were about to come to a head. He threw a quick look at Carter, gesturing minutely with his head.

Sam stared at him for an instant, her mind churning furiously as she tried to comprehend his signal. Ah, time for distraction. How about separating the trio?

"Excuse me," she said loudly. All three convicts looked at her and she said, "I need to go outside."

"You what?" Robert demanded.

Sam didn't know how to blush on demand but she attempted to look embarrassed. "The, uh, bathroom is out in the back. I need to, um, visit it."

Robert glared at her. "No."

"But I need-"

"I said no. If you gotta pee, just do it where you are."

The son of a bitch. Carter was very glad she didn't actually have to go. But she was banking on old Louie's libido to kick in-

"Hell, Robert, I'll take her." And Louie turned to leer at her.

"No-"

"Come on, she needs to go."

Sam swallowed an angry smile. He was such an appallingly obvious idiot. Did he actually believe she didn't know what he intended to do to her?

Obviously exasperated, Robert rolled his eyes and gestured savagely with the shotgun. "Fine. Go. Relax. A half hour and we're gone. Understand?"

"Yeah, sure." Louie spun back to Sam and grabbed her arm. Pulling her to her feet he shoved her toward the back door. "Let's go, sugar."

Sam obeyed. She hoped his lust made him oblivious to the progress she had made on her bindings. She had wrapped the loosened rope end in her hand just before he grabbed her but couldn't be sure how much might be visible. Fortunately, he wouldn't get a good look until they were outside in the sunshine.

Louie pushed the back door open and gave her another shove. She stumbled down the steps, barely managing to keep her balance. As soon as Sam reached firm ground she spun around to face him.

He stood just out of arm's reach, giving her the same, lascivious, head-to-toe, skin-crawling leer she had seen when the trio first broke into the cabin. She was surprised that his tongue wasn't hanging out.

"Come here, girl," he grinned.

"Why?" Sam dead panned.

"You wanna pee? I need to get you outta those tight little jeans first. Unless you wanna pee in them?"

Her heart soared as she felt the bindings suddenly loosen and she barely caught them in time to prevent them from dropping to the ground.

This time she allowed her smile free rein. "Thanks, but I've changed my mind."

Louie stared at her, his own grin faltering at what he saw on her face. "You don't wanna pee?"

Sam noticed with supreme satisfaction that he was within range and gently shifted her balance, readying herself. "I think I'll take your weapons instead, if you don't mind."

His jaw dropped. She brought the bloodied rope out from behind her back and dangled it in the air.

"Surprise," she said.

There was a sudden yell from inside the cabin. Louie made the mistake of glancing toward the sound before reacting to Sam. But it really wouldn't have made a difference in the outcome if he had kept his attention on her.

He started to raise his rifle but Sam was faster, taking a quick step forward to knock aside the barrel of the rifle while the edge of her other hand struck hard against the bridge of his nose.

Bone crunched, blood spurted and he yelped, falling backwards, leaving her holding the rifle while the pistol fell out of his belt to slide harmlessly away.

But Sam had no interest in the rifle and tossed it lightly behind her before kicking the pistol after it. She shifted her weight, leaning forward slightly and balancing on the balls of her feet. Then she waited, her hands held loosely in front of her.

Louie proved his stupidity once again as he clawed his way to his feet, his face a mask of bloody rage.

"Stupid fuckin' bitch!" he howled, lunging for her.

Sam waited one breath while he advanced. Close enough. She balanced on one foot while bringing the other up in a short but highly motivated arc that caught Louie squarely between his legs, hitting him with enough force to actually lift him momentarily off the ground. He screamed, doubled over, and collapsed into a writhing, moaning, whimpering lump on the ground.

Sam stood over her vanquished foe just long enough to be certain that he wasn't getting up again any time soon. As she snatched up the rifle and headed back for the cabin, she had time to wonder if it was wrong to feel such intense satisfaction after possibly crippling someone. But then she grinned.

Nope, no bad feelings over this one.

When Louie had pushed Carter out of the cabin a few minutes earlier, Frank moved up behind Daniel to grab him by the collar.

"Fair's fair, Robert. He gets a half hour, so do I."

O'Neill yanked more fiercely at his bindings while Robert glared.

"You be ready or you get left behind."

Frank laughed. "Plenty of time." He yanked Daniel upright. "Come on, blue-eyes. Time for some fun."

He took a step back, pulling the archeologist with him. Daniel staggered and grabbed one of his crutches, the other clattering to the floor, catching Daniel's attacker squarely on the foot.

Frank yelped and jumped sideways. "Shit!" he snarled. "Forget the damn crutch!"

Robert started to his feet as Daniel fell back against the table. Before anyone could react, he grabbed the end of his crutch and swung it up in a wicked arc that caught Frank full across the face and knocked him flying backwards.

Immediately, Daniel spun around. Robert was just bringing his shotgun up when he was unceremoniously cold-cocked by the crutch-wielding archeologist. He dropped like a rock to land in an unmoving heap on the floor.

Jack and Teal'c stared at each other, then at their unconscious ex-captors, then at Daniel who was leaning against the table and breathing hard.

"Uh," Jack finally said, "my rope's almost undone. How's your's coming, Teal'c?"

"It is nearly ready to come off," the Jaffa acknowledged.

O'Neill nodded. "Good, that's, uh, good."

There was a sudden clatter of rapid footsteps in the back hall and Carter burst into the room, rifle in hand. She stopped abruptly to take in the scene before her. Then nodded to herself.

She helped Daniel to sit down, finished untying the Colonel and Teal'c, and then retrieved her cell phone from the jeep to call for some official assistance. While she spoke to the authorities, Jack and Teal'c tied up the now-groaning trio and locked them in the bathroom outside.

They rejoined Sam and Daniel at the table and sat silently for a few minutes. Finally, O'Neill took a huge breath and let it out slowly.

"I've got a confession to make," he said.

His three teammates all looked at him.

"I've got two pounds of Jamaica Blue Mountain coffee hidden in the back of my jeep."

Two slowly widening grins and a cocked eyebrow were his reward. He met them with a grin of his own and got to his feet.

"Be right back."

Four hours later, it was over. The authorities had come in swarms, taken the escaped convicts into custody, taken everyone's statement twice, examined the cabin and surrounding area thoroughly, and debated taking the team in for further questioning. Fortunately, they heeded the Colonel's suggestion to contact Cheyenne Mountain first. After engaging in a protracted conversation with General Hammond, they reluctantly decided to leave SG-1 alone.

With the sun down, the weather had turned cold. But despite the chill and the hour, O'Neill insisted everyone bundle up, after which he herded them out to the lawn chairs on the dock. The sky was crystal clear above them, with what looked like all the stars in the galaxy thrown across it like diamonds on black velvet.

They sat silently for a while, relishing the clear, cold air, the amazing sky, and the comfort of one another's presence.

"I have to tell you," Jack broke the silence, "today wasn't part of my vacation plans."

"That is good to know," Teal'c rumbled. "It appears that fishing is a far more perilous activity than you led me to believe, O'Neill."

Sam giggled and Jack reared up in his chair.

"Perilous! Fishing? Never! Today had nothing to do with fishing, Teal'c. Now this morning, that was more like it. And tomorrow we can-"

Jack stopped abruptly. After today, would any of his team want to remain for the rest of their scheduled vacation? The nightmare with those bastards had lasted only two hours. Just two stinking hours. Were those two hours going to cost SG-1 the rest of what had started out as a great vacation?

He couldn't ask. This had to be their decision.

No one caught up his words and Jack swallowed his regret. Even if the vacation ended now, he was glad they had come. If nothing else, the events of today had quashed his fear-driven thoughts of taking Daniel off the team. Though injured, the archeologist had still managed to take out two of the bad guys while his Special Ops-trained C.O. and a Jaffa warrior sat on their butts and watched. Not to mention Carter's little extra-curricular activity out in the back yard. Speaking of which . . .

"Carter, did you happen to hear the paramedic who checked out old Louie?"

The bright starlight allowed him to see the bland expression his 2IC turned on him.

"No, sir."

"He said the bastard would probably need surgery. Bit of an overkill there, don't you think?"

"On the contrary, sir. I did exactly what I intended. From now on, I expect Louie will think twice about manhandling a woman."

O'Neill winced. He didn't think her choice of words was coincidence. Yep, definite note to self. Do not piss off his 2IC under any circumstances.

Sam turned her head to look at the archeologist bundled between her and the Colonel. "You're being very quiet, Daniel."

He smiled at her. "I was just thinking."

"Anything we should know about?" Jack queried.

Daniel looked at him. "I was enjoying myself until those three characters showed up."

Jack immediately straightened. "Really?"

Both Daniel and Sam smiled at the eagerness in their C.O.'s voice.

"Yes, Jack, really."

O'Neill glanced around hopefully at the faces looking at him. "So . . ."

The three of them exchanged glances and then Daniel returned his best friend's look.

"So, I think we should get back to enjoying our vacation."

Sam laughed and Teal'c gave his usual regal nod.

"Yes!" Jack threw his arms jubilantly into the air.

His 2IC watched him indulgently. The old saying was true. Sometimes men really were just little boys grown tall. Which reminded her . . .

She turned back to the archeologist. "Daniel?"

"Yes, Sam?"

"Where in the world did you pick up the phrase 'rat bastard'?"

She saw his eyes widen. "What?"

"Don't you remember when Louie first expressed his, um, interest in me? You told him something to the effect that I didn't like rat bastards like him. Oh, yes, you also said he smelled badly."

Daniel stared at her. As clearly as if he said it out loud, Sam could see him searching his memory. Suddenly his mouth snapped shut and she suspected that if the light had been a little better, she would have seen him blushing.

"Well, it seemed to fit the situation at the time."

"Yes, it did. But where did you get the phrase?"

"Um . . ." His eyes slanted toward O'Neill who immediately looked away.

The release of tension, delight in the companionship of her team and best friends, and the pleased realization that her guess had been dead-on, all exploded in a burst of laughter that swept Daniel up in it and forced a sheepish grin out of the Colonel.

"I knew it!" she crowed to the stars.

END