After their initial elation when they had uncovered the digital recorders, there was really nothing more to be done. They’d found the concrete evidence they needed to probably convict Wayne of kidnapping. Their main task—finding the Colonel—had been completed. With Daniel sitting with the sleeping Colonel O’Neill, only an occasional check was needed.

Janet had popped her head into the bedroom about an hour ago and Daniel had been slumped in the bedside chair fast asleep. The Colonel had shifted his position and had curled up onto his side—something Janet had been pleased to see. The paralysis had apparently worn off allowing him to get a little more comfortable. After lying for such an extended length of time on his back, he was probably grateful for the chance to lie on his side.

Sheriff Lane had departed several hours ago, but had left a handful of Deputies at the house with them to keep guard in case Wayne decided to come back, allowing SG1 to get some needed rest.

Sam, finally succumbing to her exhaustion—both mental and physical—had fallen asleep on the couch and Janet managed to find an extra afghan in the hall closet, throwing it over her slumbering form.

Teal’c sat on the floor in the corner nearest the bedroom door, a number of candles surrounding him, as he completed more of his much needed kel’no’reem. He’d discovered the large candles in the kitchen cupboard earlier. Apparently, Wayne had been prepared for every situation.

Janet had sent her nurse, Anne Matthews, along with the ampule and syringe, to the local area hospital with two of the Sheriff’s Deputies nearly ten hours ago. Amazingly, there was a pretty extensive facility there for research and testing and the doctors had been more than willing to assist her in trying to identify the substance that Wayne had given the Colonel. A Deputy that Janet hadn’t recognized had just dropped off Anne at the house. Much to Janet’s delight, Anne had the initial report with her.

Sitting down in the armchair adjacent to the sofa, Janet took a few minutes to examine the document. From the lab report, it appeared that the Colonel had been given some type of attenuated Polio virus—something, Janet knew was very illegal and had to have been secured somewhere on the medical black market. This drug was a particularly nasty little one. It attacked the nerves of the victim—as in the case of the Colonel, giving them paralysis and hypersensitivity of their sensory nerve endings. With other types of paralytics, you always had to worry about respiratory arrest or the diaphragm muscles becoming paralyzed, but not with this drug.

But apparently, once the symptoms wore off, there was no lasting impact on the victim. That would be good for the Colonel, Janet mused. If the pain from his burns became too uncomfortable, she would be able to manage his pain medically instead of relying on breathing techniques or self-hypnosis.

She could finally breathe a small sigh of relief. Even though the Colonel was injured pretty badly, it could have been much worse—especially if Wayne had used another more potent type of drug. The Colonel could have died a long time ago from respiratory arrest—smothering to death as his muscles froze. Maybe things weren’t so bad after all.

Approaching the house cautiously, Wayne first noticed the lights. There were lights on in his house and there were people on his porch, invading his space, touching his things. They’d overrun his house, polluting it with their very presence. He’d never be able to get their stench out of his house, his hideaway, his retreat.

Sitting at the edge of the tree line, out of sight from prying eyes, Wayne hunkered down, making himself comfortable as best he could, and watched. He was waiting. He wanted to see what had happened, if they had found O’Neill.

He was curious. He wanted to know—needed to know.

Part of him wanted to move closer, to try and listen to what was going on, to what was being said inside, but he knew that that would not be prudent.

And Wayne was prudent.

He was angry—with himself and O’Neill. It was because of O’Neill’s friends, of their single-minded determination to find him, that Wayne had not had the opportunity to fulfill his assignment—the first job he’d left uncompleted.

But more than anything, he wanted to see O’Neill one last time. He wanted to see the broken man Wayne knew him to be.

Images assaulted his mind. Memories merged with fears and became reality.

Jack was there again, locked in that small room. Locked in that room with Wayne towering over him. He could still feel the caress of the cuffs on his wrists and ankles—a constant reminder of his helplessness, of his inadequacies.

Wayne was there beside him, his presence filling the room with the foul stench of his evil. Wayne mocked him with his maniacal laugh, with his demeanor. Wayne mocked his weakness—leaving the cuffs on his limbs, but unlocking the chains. He was free of his shackles but still unable to move, to fight, to protect himself. The stun gun continued to descend, leaving angry red welts upon his skin. Pain coursed through his body, sending tendrils of sheer agony to every muscle, every nerve.

But deep down, Jack knew better. He might appear to be weak, but Jack’s last reserves had not been depleted. The pain along his nerves, his constant companion, had diminished to a dull throb.

If he could still move, he could still fight.

Wayne had turned his back to him, an ultimate show of his superiority, of his power—and of Jack’s weakness. It would be the last time Wayne would ever make that mistake.

This was the perfect opportunity.

It couldn’t have been better.

This couldn’t be sweeter.

Jack would get his revenge.

Even if it were the last thing he ever did, Jack would kill him.

Now.

It was nearly 2000 hours. The guards outside had checked in a few minutes earlier to find Janet still paging through the file from the hospital’s medical lab. Things were quiet and peaceful, they’d reported. Wayne was probably miles away by now.

Sitting silently listening to the breathing of her slumbering companions, she took several deep breaths, feeling a sense of calmness wash over her.

Janet wasn’t sure what had made her walk into the bedroom to check on Colonel O’Neill, but she was glad she had.

She opened the door just in time to see the Colonel leap off the bed, attacking Daniel—who was asleep in the chair—knocking them both to the floor.

"Teal’c!" Janet shouted running around the bed, her voice reverberating through the house.

Rounding the corner of the bed, she found O’Neill and Daniel on the floor in a tangle of arms and legs. The Colonel, while weak, still had the upper hand, and Janet knew he was very capable of doing some serious damage—even in his current condition.

She reached in, trying to grab his arm, to pull him off of the archeologist, but O’Neill managed to shrug her off, shoving her back, sending her backwards several feet to land awkwardly on the floor. One of his hands was around Daniel’s neck and it looked as if he was going in for the kill. The Colonel will probably just break Daniel’s neck, Janet thought absently, climbing back to her feet.

Sam had appeared only seconds after her call rang out and had seen Janet go flying, so she backed away watching for an opening.

Teal’c was coming.

In seconds, Teal’c’s long strides took him to the two struggling men and he was bodily lifting the Colonel from the floor, tossing him onto the bed. Sam moved in quickly to check Daniel while Janet rushed to the bedside where Teal’c was trying to hold the Colonel still.

He was weak, but he still could put up a fight—and he was. She didn’t want to give him anything, but if she didn’t he was liable to hurt himself—or someone else.

"Teal’c, hold him still," Janet said, reaching into her bag and withdrawing a needle.

O’Neill immediately stilled once his eyes caught sight of the needle in her hand.

"Please, oh God, not again," he pleaded, his voice harsh and weak. "I’ll cooperate. You can do anything you want, just please, not again. Please..." The last syllable faded as he slumped into the mattress, his eyes rolling back in his head.

Janet nearly jumped out of her skin. "Teal’c get off of him," she ordered, climbing up on the bed beside him, to check his vitals.

He still had a steady pulse and he was breathing—just unconscious.

Janet sat back, relief on her face. Daniel was just getting to his feet, his hands rubbing at his neck and the angry red marks there. "What happened?" he asked, his voice gravelly. Apparently, the Colonel had gotten a good hold on the archeologist.

Janet shook her head. "I’m not sure." She sighed. "Are you all right?"

Daniel nodded. "I think so. I forgot how dangerous it could be falling asleep next to him." Daniel turned to Teal’c offering a grateful smile. "Thanks, Teal’c."

"You are most welcome, Daniel Jackson," Teal’c said, inclining his head toward Daniel. "It would be most upsetting if something were to befall you, especially at the hand of O’Neill. He would never be able to forgive himself."

Janet nodded to herself, her mind already working, quickly making a decision—it was time to get the Colonel back to Colorado Springs. And if this was the way he was going to respond, she had preparations to make first. She didn’t need him strangling anyone—especially on the flight home.

She reached into her medical bag, pulling out an ampule and another syringe. A mild sedative would keep him drowsy, but not fully under, and it would also help to calm him down.

"Janet?" Daniel asked, eyeing the needle in her hand.

"I’m just going to give him a mild sedative to try and keep him calm," she said. While these words made sense to her, she knew that they wouldn’t understand her motives. They’d just seen Jack’s reaction to the sight of the needle. "I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t think it was necessary. I don’t want anything to happen on the flight home," she continued, her voice softening.

"I know, Janet," Sam said, stepping close to lay a hand on Janet’s shoulder in a supportive gesture, offering Janet a warm smile.

"Thanks, Sam," Janet said, readying the injection.

Jack didn’t flinch as the needle slid home, sending the sedative into his veins.

After that incident, things moved quickly.

Sam had gotten in touch with General Hammond and a plane was waiting at the airport for them for an immediate return trip to the SGC. Janet hadn’t wanted to wait any longer. She’d have an easier time treating him back at the base—especially if he tried anything else.

The EMTs loaded Jack carefully onto a stretcher, covering him with a blanket, and hooking the IV on a pole before heading outside to the waiting ambulance. They’d had to replace the IV in his hand since he had managed to rip it out during his tussle with Daniel. Janet and Daniel jumped in with the EMTs while Teal’c, Sam, and Anne rode with Deputy Thompson.

The trip back to the airport was uneventful and before Daniel knew it, they were in the air winging their way back to the SGC.

Daniel was grateful. They’d gotten Jack back—now it was a matter of getting his mind to come along.

From the forest, Wayne watched as Jack was loaded into the ambulance—the lights of the emergency vehicles lighting up the yard with an obscene brightness, turning night into day. All of Wayne’s specialized computer and recording equipment was placed into two waiting cars.

They’d taken it all away from him.

Jack was gone.

All his records were gone—his tapes, his recordings, his memories.

They’d stolen them from him.

It was time to make a new life, find a new place.

Fading into the foliage, Wayne made a promise to himself.

"One day, Jack will pay for his disrespect. He will learn obedience. He will feel the power of my hand. He will yield. Never again will he defy me."