DISCLAIMER: All characters and property of Stargate SG-1 belong to MGM/UA, World Gekko Corp. and Double Secret Productions. This fan fiction was created solely for entertainment and no money was made from it. Also, no copyright or trademark infringement was intended. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Any other characters, the storyline and the actual story are the property of the author.
As far as Jack was concerned, it had been at least six months since he'd started inching his way across the cellar. Even with the pain-numbing capabilities of morphine, his shoulder ached unmercifully. Nothing he did seemed to alleviate the pain of his broken clavicle, but as long as he was careful, and didn't jar it too badly, his broken leg was okay. Almost. He'd quickly discovered what movements he could, and most importantly, could not make.
The shadows crossing the cellar indicated the sun was going down. Knowing he had very little time before the creatures were once again active, Jack attempted to speed up his progress. Shove and pull, shove and pull. Terrific, almost a rhythm. In his haste, however, he had underestimated his stamina, and the depth of his fatigue. Most of his weight was being supported by his one good arm, which buckled under the pressure of the increased speed. His scream echoed through the cellar as his broken shoulder protested the fall. Tears of pain and frustration worked their way free of his eyes, and dropped, unheeded, into the dirt of the cellar floor.
Marne was gasping for breath by the time he returned to the bathing room, armed with several bottles of the brew. "There are more in the cellar."
Sam rewarded him with a weary smile, but said nothing as she continued to swab down the sick man.
The Euleoan stared for a moment at his sick friend. "His breathing is easier, I think."
"I don't think he's quite as warm, ei..." Her words faded as the man in the water moaned softly. "Keep the cold pack on the pulse points, Teal'c. Tiamon? Can you hear me?"
"Ma...?"
Marne moved closer and knelt beside the tub. "I'm here, Tiamon. So are Major Carter, and Teal'c."
"Hot."
"I'll just bet you are. You're very ill, my friend, but I think you may be getting better. Your fever's down."
"No, I ... drink."
Sam moved quickly to the sink, and filled a mug with water. She passed it to Marne. "Don't let him drink too much too fast."
Marne gently held the cup to Tiamon's lips. The other man choked, and sputtered, then swallowed gratefully. After a moment, he sighed and tried to focus on his friend. "Th...anks, not wh...at I me...ant."
Sam shot a confused looked at Marne, then asked. "Tiamon, tell us. Please."
"Poison." Tiamon sighed deeply as his eyes slid shut again.
"Poison?" Sam spoke up softly. "You think Vraxas poisoned him?"
"I would place a year's wages on it."
Teal'c frowned. "I fail to see how this knowledge aids us."
"Well, Teal'c, we simply tell... Oh!"
"Exactly. Unless Tiamon is able to confront Vraxas, then what we have learned will not assist us."
Sam frowned. "Great. And the only way to do that is to find the antidote."
Marne spoke up. "Vraxas' home is not guarded. Perhaps the poison is still there."
"But how do we find it? We're not exactly able to search for it ourselves. What about Ferretti? Teal'c, do you suppose..."
The Jaffa shook his head. "Major Ferretti and his men are also prisoners, Major Carter. I do not see how they will be able to search for the poison."
Marne interrupted. "Excuse me, but I was not suggesting that you or any of your people search. I will do so."
Sam shook her head. "No, Marne. That puts you at too great a risk..."
"Tiamon is my friend. I cannot, in good conscience, let him die while there remains a chance to save him."
A not-so-distant scream roused the colonel from the lethargy that had overtaken him. Lifting his head from his good arm, he was not surprised to find that it was much, much darker. The last light of day was clinging to the sky, and Jack knew it was now or never to make it to the stairwell. Mustering what little appeared to be left of his supply of strength, he pushed himself upright, biting his lip as he did so to keep from screaming. With the creatures starting to prowl once more, there was no reason to attract their attention any sooner than absolutely necessary.
Sheer mulishness was the only thing that got him across the remaining feet of the cellar. He sighed with undeniable relief as his butt finally made contact with the bottom step. For a time, he'd been convinced that the damn thing could move, and was dodging him. Easing his way onto the first step, he allowed himself a glance upwards. The upper exit appeared not to exist. Daniel had obviously closed it, and knowing the young man, Jack made the assumption that the upper door was as secure as Daniel could possibly have made it. One less thing to worry about. That left the cellar door.
Jack studied the open door for a moment. It opened out, into the cellar. That meant he could hook it with his foot, pull it as close as possible, then grab it with his hand. Easy enough. Nothing any one-handed, one-legged slightly arthritic Air Force colonel couldn't manage. But how in hell was he gonna lock it? The door pull was well out of his reach, and his recollection of the previous night was sketchy at best. Did the damn thing lock automatically or not? Shit! Okay, he'd settle for getting it closed. Then he'd work on getting as high up the steps as possible. With any luck ... right, like he'd had some lately ... the creatures wouldn't notice him. He had enough ammunition for his weapon to take out a few of the things, and he hoped that none would be drawn by the smell of the now-decaying bodies on the other side of the cellar. 'Dream on, O'Neill. They'll notice. How could they not?'
Jack's breathing was ragged as the door finally slid shut with a satisfying clank. Closing his eyes, he opted to rest for a moment before tackling the stairs. A loud scream pulled him from his thoughts and he realized he'd almost fallen asleep. Taking a deep breath, he placed his good hand behind him for one more jolt up the stairs. He'd done two steps already, but knew he had to get higher. A frown crossed his face as his hand impacted with too familiar pieces of equipment. Turning so that he could see, he found extra clips for his weapon. His frown deepened as he counted them. Daniel had left his ammunition; from the count, the younger man had left all but one clip on the steps. That left the scientist alone, and basically unarmed. "Dammit, Daniel... Why?"