Nightwear Nightmare

by Jb

"Oh, crap!"

Sam winced as the vocal outburst was immediately followed by an equally abrupt and unpleasant slip-slide-splatting sound. He was down. She didn't need to turn around to know that. It was pretty obvious. Besides, she couldn't safely turn around even if she wanted to. Not if she wanted to avoid falling victim herself, as had the colonel and Teal'c. Standing her ground as best she could considering the nature of the sludge beneath her feet, she winced again, this time in chagrined anticipation rather than empathy as a flippant voice from above them launched into song.

"Dump, dump, dump... Another one bites the dust... aaaand... dump, dump, dump, another one gone and another one gone another one bites the dust..."

Predictably, the colonel didn't appreciate the serenade. "Oh yeah, right. Great, Daniel. Funny as hell!" O'Neill's angry response was accompanied by varied slopping and sucking noises as he obviously tried to get back on his feet. There was another splat, a semi-vicious curse, and an only just audible muttered, "Miss you terribly, wish you were here, Dr. Jackson."

His failed attempt only served to highlight Sam's own predicament. She felt the thick – ah, mud, yeah, that was it, it was only mud, please let it be just mud – shifting under her feet. It sucked unevenly at her boots, it's instability and tenacious grip threatening to overcome her precarious balance at any moment. Daniel's altogether too nonchalant voice from twelve feet above and to her left offered no solutions, only another reminder of how blatantly stupid she had been.

"Well, I told you. I warned you, ohh, what, about fifty times not to go this way. I did point out salient aspects of the general topography and visible indications of what the people might be using this area for. You can't say I didn't tell you."

"Yeah, fine. And blah blah and all that. You told us entirely too many things, Daniel. Who listens?" Surprisingly, there was grudging capitulation in O'Neill's voice as he slurped and slopped his way toward who knew where. If anywhere.

Sam was still too chicken to actually try to turn and take a look to see how he and Teal'c were doing. One false move and the bruises on her behind from her slide down the twelve foot embankment would have company. The ground might be soft, but the all too numerous partially submerged branches, stones, and the odd portions of tree stumps sticking up here and there out of the mire didn't look all too cozy. She'd already had her BDU's fairly well ventilated as they had caught on every obstruction the whole way down, ripping in more than just a few places. As for Colonel O'Neill... she'd gotten a glimpse of the state of the rear end of his pants as he'd bumped, skidded, and rolled on past her, and it wasn't a pretty sight. Admittedly though, the trip down the hill for all three of them had been a gentler one than she would have thought possible given the grade, the recent sleet having turned the not-quite-frozen ground into a deep, slippery, tenacious mud which not only cushioned and slowed their descent but also, unfortunately, made it impossible to actually stop their slide.

Also admittedly, Daniel was right. As much as she really didn't want to face it, especially while standing in it, she knew he'd been right as to the probable use of the hard packed, clearly well traveled paths which led from the outskirts of the village to this area. He'd been right that they shouldn't walk along the pits edge as they had, and yes, he was right on another count: he had warned them more than once. 'Don't actually need to follow these paths. Yes, they're well used... but probably not for anything we'd be interested in checking out... no, you probably don't really want to go there, the ground is bound to be a bit soft along there... be careful... maybe you should just pull back... yes, see, it's a garbage dump, but that's not all they perhaps-probably-likely dump there, you really might not want to...'

But they did. Like a good little soldier she had followed her C.O. despite Daniel's repeated yet still somehow half-hearted warnings. Ahh, but, about that half-heartedness... she'd have to talk with him later about that. There'd been a decidedly equivocal quality to his warnings and recommendations, a lack of assertiveness which all but screamed of implied permission for the colonel to dismiss his opinions. It was, perhaps, possibly, almost as if he was hoping – No, nah. Daniel would never do that. He'd never knowingly place the team in a risky position. Would he? No, no way. Besides, once it had happened Daniel was pretty upset for a few minutes there, calling out with an edge of panic in his voice, making sure he not only heard but could believe the three answering assurances before he stopped dangerously jumping up and down and flapping around on the very edge he'd warned them to stay back from.

Yes sir, she had faithfully followed her leader and Teal'c right to the lip of the embankment to skirt it's edge, taking a casual walk around the deep pit as they peered down at the vaguely swampy-looking undulating ground strewn with lumps of what looked like detritus of land clearing. Ever predisposed to go beyond the call of duty – but not with intent this time – she had unfortunately followed them right on over the eroded edge in a tumble of six flying, tangled legs and six flailing arms. They had rolled and skidded right onto and, as it turned out, into the mushy surface and it had only been luck that had allowed her to regain her feet before she too got sucked into the unexpectedly deep muck. Thank goodness it was so cold out. Sam knew the cold was likely the only thing saving them from a fuller realization of exactly what they were standing in, and in the case of the colonel and probably Teal'c, sitting or laying in.

A sudden flash of movement to her right just made it into her peripheral vision, prompting a well-conditioned response, and before she could even catch herself she whirled to face in that direction. Her feet were out from under her immediately and she found herself sitting hip deep in what was, at such close quarters, now very unmistakably a thick, slightly but still recognizably smelly, extremely wet and sticky bed of... leavings. Tons of it. Oh golly, an acre at least. However many feet, probably yards, deep of years and years old livestock droppings. In of itself, that wasn't necessarily so awful as most of it was well on it's way to becoming rich loam... however, this particular area of the bog was most unfortunately surfaced with a good six inches of not years, but only weeks and days old typically lumpy manure. Yuck. Gag. The only saving grace was that the freshest stuff was partially frozen.

The change in her status did give her a better view, even as disgusting as it was. The movement was Teal'c, pulling himself through calf deep bleecch by grabbing at any available nearby object and using his staff as a walking-cum-pushing-cum-balancing stick. Okay... so if he was calf deep, weighing as much as he did, she probably wouldn't have that much trouble. She'd probably only be about ankle deep once she managed to get up off her rear end... which probably wouldn't be too difficult. But then she got a good look at her C.O. Colonel O'Neill was thoroughly covered mid-chest to toe in the stuff and barely able to make it to his knees and up onto one leg before the sludge under him shifted and took him back down. O'Neill was staring up at Daniel as he struggled, a mixture of grim determination and faint embarrassment clear on his face.

Sam turned her head to follow his line of sight. Daniel stood – oh, so fresh and pristine – at the top of the embankment, looking behind him, away from his teammates below him. She heard his voice, too faint for her to make out the words, and wondered if perhaps he was talking to himself. He may as well have been through most of this trip, for all the attention the rest of them had paid him once they had encountered the natives. He had waxed on effusively about offshoot cultures probably of Mongol descent and the similarities between these people and the Shavadia they had encountered years ago. The rest of them hadn't seen any overt similarity save the general physical appearance of these people, and had quickly gotten lost in the morass of detail offered on ancient Asian and eastern European nomadic cultures. That these people didn't seem in the least nomadic hadn't seemed to concern Daniel. Sam figured that probably was because he just hadn't yet worked his way on up in his dissertation on human societal development to the point where the cultures he was going on about had become stationary and agrarian.

There, what was that... oh, good, he wasn't talking to himself. It was Yenchai, the village master who had so effusively welcomed them not four hours earlier. Unable to take much time out from their labours, the people had stopped their work in the fields and with their livestock just long enough to gather round and marvel at their visitors, inviting them to stay for the upcoming evening meal. SG1 had explored the widely spread-out settlement, watched the people at work, lent a hand here and there, and tried to keep up with Daniel's enthusiastic observations on everything from the construction of the dwellings to the variety of stored foodstuffs and the obvious austerity of the lifestyle. There wasn't much to spare here, that was for sure. It was when Daniel began to theorize on both natural and intentional means of ensuring population didn't exceed available resources, citing the predominant use of small-animal intestines for condoms both on Abydos and in a variety of early Earth cultures as one example of instinctively adaptive behaviour and how a very early, pre- pre-industrial society might make the best use of what raw materials they have on hand, that Sam decided she really didn't need to know all that stuff and tuned out. Of course, there was that little question it raised about Daniel's stay on Abydos... but she quickly damped down that little snip of curiosity.

She wished she hadn't stopped taking him seriously, because Daniel had clearly known what the pit was used for. By the time they found the well traveled paths though, it was clear he was all too aware he'd been barely listened to enough to be even half-decently patronized, and a certain undertone – that one; the faintly but not really definably sarcastic one that said he knew he was being ignored and wasn't happy about it – had crept into his voice. Watching him talk to Yenchai now, waving down toward them below and gesturing to the crumbling area of the rim of the pit where they had walked, she got the impression from his body language that he just might be indulging in a little bit of compensation for having been so throroughly dismissed by his team. Then she heard it. Yenchai, letting out a loud and plainly jocular outburst of laughter, the cross-cultural kind of laugh that is universally identifiable as being a result of a shared joke or pleasure. Ohhh, Daniel... you little bugger.

The colonel seemed to sense it, too. And Teal'c. They both glared up at the men standing on the rim, O'Neill quickly – and all too loudly – giving in to his ire. A truly impressive bellow. "So? Daniel? You stand up there and giggle at our expense one more time and I swear the next time the 'gate opens, you're going to be our UAV."

Sam distinctly heard Teal'c mutter something about the possibility of instituting a policy of non-retrieval of errant UAV's should the threat come to pass. She would have laughed, except the sun was beginning to settle closer to the horizon and it was rapidly becoming far too cold to enjoy much of anything. She thumbed the switch on her radio. "Daniel? It's going to be dark soon..."

Yenchai left the rim, and Sam's radio blared to life. Daniel, apparently deciding it beat the colonel's imitation megaphone method of communication, was following her lead. His voice was serious and concerned, no sign of the amusement she thought she'd seen displayed just a moment ago with Yenchai. "Yeah, I... ohhh... uhm, do you guys read me? I hope you read me okay. Yenchai saw us head out this way. He, ahh, he anticipated. Apparently they stopped using this side just a few days ago because it's, ahhm, well... you know, unstable. Anyway, he's sent for some ropes and oxen." There was a click, a burst of static, then his voice again. "Just hang on a second, don't try to move around. Don't want anyone slipping and getting hurt. I'll bring the ropes down to you. Out."

Any shadow of displeasure with Daniel disappeared upon hearing his worried tone, and at his unquestionable willingness to risk a dump into the same manure in which they floundered in order to help them back up the slope. Far too many freezing minutes later, spent shivering and watching Daniel stomp his feet and rub his hands together above them, Yenchai appeared along with several other men. They tied a rope around Daniel's waist, and with several other coiled lengths in hand he cautiously started down the slope. Sam heard O'Neill's grunt of concern when Daniel slipped and ended up sliding on his rear end with one leg tucked awkwardly up underneath him. It was a recipe for disaster; the chance of him ending up with a nasty sprain altogether too high. He went down a good eight feet that way, but he kept hold of the ropes and managed to twist his leg out from under him. While it wasn't elegant, his recovery outclassed their own uncontrolled, graceless tumble by a long shot.

The rest of Daniel's trip was more or less uneventful... the trick was, now he was down at the bottom he'd need to keep to his feet. Mindful of that, Sam didn't even try to pull herself up on his outstretched hand. She opted for door number two, the prospect of being dragged onto her feet, or at least dragged on her butt a few feet up onto the upslope itself where the ground was not quite so iffy, at the end of one of the ropes. Tying it around her waist, she watched Daniel throw the other rope to Teal'c, who looped it around his own waist. The only remaining line was Daniel's, and as she felt the tension on her rope as the beasts above pulled her toward the climb, Sam half wished she could just stay sitting in the disgusting slop and watch the Jack-Daniel Show she was pretty sure was about to begin. The colonel was making no move to pull, push, shove nor wade his way over to where Daniel stood at the bottom of the embankment. Just as Daniel made no move to try to walk the ten feet to where O'Neill knelt.

"Daniel?"

"Jack?"

Yup, here they go. Overture, curtains, lights... this is it, the night of nights...

"Daniel?"

Oh, the dreaded 'hard D'. So soon, too. That couldn't be a good thing. Sam took a look back over her shoulder at the colonel. Sure enough, there was that set to his chin and the narrowed eyes, the look which said 'don't mess with me'... the very same look Daniel almost never failed to accept as saying 'c'mon, tell me more'.

"Jack... What?"

"The rope, Daniel. Bring me the goddamn rope."

"Teal'c can throw his down to me when he's done, Jack. And then I'll toss it to you."

A sucking sound accompanied Sam's emergence from the thick swampy muck onto hillside. Teal'c had hit the slope just before she did and planting his feet, he offered her his hand. Gratefully, but also regretful over leaving The Show behind, Sam accepted his offer and allowed him to guide her up onto her feet. Together, aided by the pull from above, they climbed the slope, the increasingly quarrelsome voices from below them rising in volume to match their ascent.

"You want me to just sit here and wait, Daniel? I'm covered in this stuff. It's wet, it's cold, it's sticky... and it stinks. Now get your butt over here."

"Umm, well, then what am I supposed to use once I give you this rope? That's assuming I can even make it over there without landing in the stuff myself, to begin with."

"Oh, I see. Sure, right; wouldn't want you to have to muddy your feet. Daniel, I'm probably getting some dreaded disease right now while you're standing around with your thumb up your ass! In case you hadn't noticed... this is manure, which, of course, being a linguist you'd know is just is a euphemism for shit."

"Jack!" Uh oh, heavy and plaintive emphasis on the first two letters... a 'don't make me do this' sort of 'Jack'. More of not a good thing?

"Daniel..." Hard – ohh, very hard – on the 'D'; just as hard an 'L'. Yes, definitely not good.

Sam stopped just shy of the top and glanced down at the two men. From up above, she could almost, just about understand why Yenchai had laughed. No, there was nothing intrinsically funny about the sight of a bedraggled, filthy man well and truly mired in the muck, but all three of them down there looking like that and the native having had foreknowledge of what might happen – of what did happen – must have made all the difference to Yenchai. As it occurred to her that the natives might have offered a warning, but had not, Sam began to wonder about these people. Mind you, they had been warned, hadn't they? Just... not by the natives. She took another giant step upward to follow the pull on the rope and wondered if maybe she should go back down. The good soldier, always ready to provide back-up. Daniel might need it; she didn't entirely trust O'Neill not to do something which might result in Daniel taking a not-mud bath.

Sure enough, O'Neill steadfastly remained on his knees, not having budged an inch. She'd known he wouldn't have. Daniel, however, had slowly edged toward the colonel a good couple of feet or so. She'd known he would. No more rehearsing and nursing a part... We know every part by heart.

A small spate of dirt came tumbling down to hit her in the chest, prompting her to direct her attention to the top, some five feet up from where she was. Teal'c had cleared the lip of the pit. He stood up on solid ground and immediately untied his rope. Gathering up the slack, he warned her to duck and then with a loud shout, threw the sizable coil as far out as he could toward O'Neill.

Sam watched with fascination as time seemed to slow almost to a standstill. She saw Daniel stop in the act of unwinding the rope from around his waist, obviously having untied it with the intention of tossing it to the colonel. She watched as the thrown coil of rope loosened and rotated in mid air, extending, snaking out from it's anchor in Teal'c's hand to bridge the distance. And, she watched as it became all too apparent it wasn't going to make it to where it needed to go.

She watched the unfolding mishap with increasingly horrified fascination as Daniel, realizing the line's path of travel was closer to him than to the colonel, instinctively took a giant step toward where the rope was heading, his arm stretched out to intercept it. The untied rope fell from his waist to land behind him in the churned up muck. Predictably, he slipped and missed the thrown rope, which whiplashed to land well back from his position as it hit the end of it's length. And, predictably, he fell. Fell hard. Full length, flat on his stomach. Great waves of wet chunky manure, mud, and small stones and twigs flew everywhere. In a split second which seemed to last almost forever, he impacted the surface and sunk in so far all Sam could see was his rear end and the heels of his boots sticking up out of the muck.

Alarmed and anxious for his safety she almost lost her footing on the slope, but as the sloppy mushroom cloud pattered and fell in heavy splats all around him she realized by some miracle he'd managed to keep his face just up out of it, his arms extended and entering the swamp just ahead of his shoulders. Total disaster averted. She could see from where she stood that his glasses were a goner, but she figured that was an acceptable loss under the circumstances. However, she was only too well aware of the health risk for all of them and quickly pulled herself up the rest of the way, intent on speaking with Yenchai about their immediate need for bathing facilities. If such a thing existed here.

She reached the top and untied her rope just as her radio came to life. Teal'c shook his head sadly, one eyebrow raised in his traditional equivalent of big-sigh-I- will-be-tolerant. With a definite air of resignation, he took her rope from her and disappeared over the edge to go back down just as Colonel O'Neill's voice issued forth.

"Help. We need some help here. Daniel's fallen and he can't get up."

Oh, yes. Heaven. Thank goodness for congenial – albeit definitely irreverent – and unstintingly hard-working natives. Sam leaned back against the hard clay wall of the sunken bathing pit as Yenchai-Aina and two other of the wives poured yet more heated water into the pool. The water had been through two full changes previously; now, at long last it was thankfully staying clean, indicating SG1 was largely free of the muck which had permeated their clothing and penetrated through to their skin. Permeated, absorbed, assimilated, incorporated...

The flicker from the many lit torches set into the walls surrounding the pool area sent red reflections dancing across the rippling surface. The interplay of firelight with the surrounding darkness, glitters of red off the lukewarm water, the soft sounds of splashing and muted voices of the nearby natives all combined with her fatigued light-headedness to lend a sense of unreality to the experience. It felt as though her body was floating, her mind aimlessly wandering between altered perception, a fantasyland of abstraction, and rational understanding. Perception; external stimuli received. Understanding; perception translated. Both of which her brain seemed to be doing pretty inefficiently, right then.

With an effort, despite the unseen multi-coloured magnetic threads which pulled at and divided her concentration, she brought her mind back to the here and now. Manure. Bathing. The need to get clean. Yes. She shouldn't be drifting off here; they were on an alien planet and had been exposed to God kows how many and what sorts of pathological organisms. Not to mention they were presently clothing and weapon -less. They ought to get on with it here. These were serious circumstances. Finally she was able to pull her mind back, but her limbs felt like dead weights, her head so heavy it was an effort to even turn her head to look toward her teammates. They sat across from her, squeezed shoulder to shoulder in the small pool, Teal'c planted firmly between the still glowering other two men.

The communal bath was a necessity, the village not having the manpower resources nor the time and water to do this more than once. As it was, their clothing needed a thorough washing just as desperately as their bodies did and the natives had insisted on doing that chore for them. The close quarters was no problem for Sam; she had lots of room at her end, the three boys being quite gentlemanly about not crowding her. Speculatively, she wondered if it would really be so bad had they not behaved that way. They all had their underwear on, and in her case the sports bra and loose cotton boxers covered more than most bathing suits would have... that being true for both men and women, these days. She felt a bubble of amusement rise in her chest as a nonsensical image of herself on a beach entered her head, in which she lay sunning herself in military issue boxers while a steady stream of men – short men, tall, men, fat and skinny men, tanned and immensly muscular men mixed in with pale medium-built men – all wearing itsy-bitsy bikinis in all colours and patterns imagineable paraded on by her. Hoo boy, so much for her ability to keep her mind on the serious aspects of this situation.

Sliding herself forward slightly and ducking her head back to re-wet her hair, she wondered who she should earnestly ask to get up to fetch the antibacterial soap from their packs. There was no way she wanted to venture out into the night air herself, at least not before she absolutely had to. It was getting far too cold out to be willing to go beyond the call of duty this time. Besides, the tub and the torches seemed to slip sideways as she shook the water from her hair, and she almost fell over. Wouldn't she be a sight, staggering from the pool in her wet underwear only to end up flat on her face due to limbs that wouldn't cooperate and a world which seemed to wander off in several directions at once?

But she also had a great excuse; the packs were on the side other side of the pool enclosure, much closer to the guys than to her. Darned good thing they had left the packs at the village before setting out on their ill-fated walkabout. Their weapons, however, were another story entirely. Yuck. She wasn't looking forward to stripping them down. To holding them, even. Maybe they ought to just take them apart and stuff the pieces into the plastic isolation bags in their packs, to take back to the Stargate? If for some reason they should need a weapon, they still had Teal'c's staff. That had been a priority he had taken care of almost immediately... to diligently clean off his staff weapon.

Anyway, their bodies had to come first. The soap. Teal'c? No, it was too soon; far to soon to risk mixing fire and ice. Teal'c was the only thing between The Rock-O'Neill and Dr. Hard Place-Jackson. The colonel? Well, look at him... all pissed off, under-fed, and over-tired. They'd missed dinner while Teal'c and the natives had struggled to bring Daniel and the colonel up and now it was getting on to full night, too late to make it back over the rough terrain to the Stargate. So, no. As miserable as he was, he'd probably just tell her to do it herself. That left Daniel. Fair enough. She figured she could cope with that; it was unlikely, even as tired and irritable as Daniel was, he'd take out his annoyance with the colonel on her.

"Daniel?" He responded by looking over at her, squinting slightly, and drew a hand through his wet hair. "Now that the water is clean, we really should scrub with the kit soap... do you think you could...?"

He was wearily moving before she could even finish, giving her a resigned look and a muttered, "Yeah, sure, why not." The armpit-deep water rippled and then sloshed as he rose and hoisted himself up to sit on the edge of the pool rim. He bobbled there for a moment, looking as though he might tip right over, and Sam wondered if he was having the same difficulties with light-headedness and concentration as she was. Well, it was possible – after all, he was every bit as exhausted as she was. He steadied himself, and reached out for the packs stacked along the nearby privacy wall. He couldn't quite do the distance and ended up practically laying on his side, his arm stretched as far as it could go, his fingers just snagging the loop on the nearest pack. And, ohh, she hadn't thought about this when she asked him... no military issue boxers for this guy; he was wearing a pair of black Fruit of the Looms, the clinging, stretchy, boxer style. Not a multi-coloured bikini by any means, but still... a tight second skin, free of the folds of fabric and bulky gathered waistbands of the standard loose boxers. Clinging ever moreso now they were wet.

Wet. Very wet. Soaked. Completely saturated. Clinging wet soaked saturated black tight stretchy stretching and pulling across the...

What? No! Surprised at her own voyeuristic reaction to seeing him stretched out like that, the flex of muscles in his arm and shoulder and all down his side and back, and oh the way those black – no; no, no, no – Sam quickly forced herself to look away. What was her problem here? Daniel was her teammate, her friend... as were the other two. This wasn't the first time she'd seen more of them than most friends see of one another. Her brow furrowed as she realized that in all of those prior instances the circumstances had been tense, more often than not with injuries involved. This time, however... for a change, unlike after most mission mishaps, they were all safe and sound here. Safe and sound, and tired... very, very tired... but also, what? She felt odd. The bubble of amusement was still there, lodged in her chest even though there really was nothing funny about anything, anywhere. Okay. Tired; it was just that she was at the end of an incredibly long and stressful day, that's all.

Okay, right, so that explained it then... it was perfectly normal and natural after a stressful event like that one to find some sort of outlet, now that they were safe and sound. Especially since her ability to concentrate was so minimal. Heck, look at Daniel and the colonel, de-stressing via a partial variant of The Game, this one being the Jack-Daniel bounce-the-glare-back-and-forth version. There was The Show, there was The Game, and there were the constituent elements and subsets of both... and hey, they weren't the only ones needing something to focus on. It wasn't like she was openly leching and leering and slobbering or anything... she was just... was... was just mildly appreciative, that's all.

Having convinced herself of the upright innocence of her appreciation Sam settled back to enjoy her choice, but before she could really get into it the ambiance was irretrievably spoiled. Daniel drew up one leg and she caught a glimpse of the extensive bruise extending right on up from his calf past his knee and around to despoil the inside length of his thigh. The leg he'd caught underneath him when he slid down the slope. Feeling foolish and self-indulgent – not to mention no small amount of guilt over the uncharacteristic voyeurism – Sam rose, pulled herself up and out, and crawled on over to help him. Crawled being the operative word, as her arms and legs behaved more like leaden weights than useful appendages and the ground under her seemed to tip and sway. Wow, it was chilly! Crouching next to Daniel, she grabbed one of the packs and pulled open the proper pocket. Something other than a shiver from the cold tickled, nagged, and tingled at the back of her neck and she turned her head to see the colonel watching them. Glaring at her. "Sir?"

"So once we're scrubbed up, what then, Carter? Sleep in our wet undies in a pool of rapidly freezing water? Or what?"

"Jack, the water is still warm." Daniel's voice was lifeless, his attitude one of tired resignation to whatever might happen next.

"Thank you, Daniel. Thank you very much for clarifying that. And they granted you student loans, did they?"

Daniel stilled his hands on his pack and looked up, peering intently across at the colonel. "What?"

Oh, Daniel. Oh no. Sam sighed; clearly a case of mistaken identity; the same-old same old 'don't mess with me' vis-a-vi, 'c'mon, tell me more' context confusion. Overture, curtains, lights. Here we go again.

"What, what? It's plain enough, Daniel."

"Oh, yes, really very plain, Jack. Plain as the pointed nose on your face."

Whoops. Okay, maybe it was her who was confused about The Game this time around. This now had all the earmarks of a recalcitrant Daniel understanding all too well the subtext, and deciding to butt up against it. But then he proved her only half right by reaching further into the pack and pulling something out, throwing to the colonel.

"Here, have some chicken. We're all cold, hungry, and tired, Jack, and I don't know about you but I'm not even certain I'm even really... uhm, here, or, or... somewhere..." Daniel's voice trailed off uncertainly, and Sam raised her eyebrows in commiseration as a confused, vaguely disconcerted expression settled over his face and he absently raised a hand to his head, almost but not quite doing the scratch-thing before he dropped it back down again. He shook his head and rid himself of the confused look. "Give Sam a break, we all know she's got something arranged for us with Yenchai, for the night." He turned to face her, his expression earnestly pleading. "Right? There is something arranged, right? Something... warm?" A particularly violent shiver ran through him, and Sam realized they really needed to get on with this, to get it done, dry off, and head for some shelter.

"Yes, of course. But let's take care of this first... get rid of this subliminal itch, okay guys?" Pulling the impregnated sponges out of the other packs, she scooted at Daniel with hands full of the sealed packages, and they both lowered themselves back into the pool. O'Neill placed the MRE on the edge of the pool deck and accepted one of the sponges. Within a few moments the water was full of the faintly reddish antibacterial soap, and with her hair and body thoroughly washed Sam felt closer to being human once again.

She filled them in on their accommodations as she watched them scrub away at assorted male body parts. "Yenchai said there's a small dwelling available for us for the night. It's the only one that isn't in use right now and he said it isn't all that close to the fire, but he can provide some blankets and clothing." As her C.O. reached down and contorted himself six different ways, obviously seeking and finding room in the boxers for the sponge, she wondered just how Daniel might go about accomplishing the same feat given the excellent fit of those black, stretchy, clingy – hmmm, maybe via the front door? Ah huh. Stop it! Before her scrambled mind could come up with anything else which might bring a noticeable blush to her face, she forced herself back on topic. "Yenchai-Aina apparently is washing out our BDU's right now..."

"Sam! She shouldn't have to do that..."

"You prefer to do it, Daniel?"

"Well, that would be better than increasing the load on these people any further, Jack. You saw how hard they work just to keep themselves fed. Sam, we shouldn't be this kind of a burden to them. I can't speak directly with Yenchai-Aina, it's not proper for her to be directly addressed by an unattached male from outside the immediate village... you'll have to do it. Tell her to leave it all and we'll take care of it in the morning."

"Right.. And end up with soaking wet clothing to walk all the way back to the Stargate in? Okay, fine, Daniel, so you and Sam can do the laundry, what do I care. But not in the morning."

"Well, exactly what are you suggesting then, Jack? That Sam and I sit naked in the dark scrubbing your crappy pants, whistling 'Show me the way to go home' while vital bits of our anatomy freeze and fall off?"

Oh, my. Daniel was being uncharacteristically forward. The line between courage and foolishness seemed all too narrow tonight and she for one didn't want to be around if it was to be crossed. Motivated by a desire to get out from the middle of this particular love-hate spat, Sam clambered out of the pool and almost jogged along the wall to the opening which led out into the village. Almost jogged. She tried to jog, anyways. Felt more like a sideways, lumbering, crab-walk than anything. As she rounded the corner she heard the colonel respond to Daniel, that no, he wouldn't like to see her lose any of her parts but as to certain of Daniel's bits, on the other hand, the word 'vital' just might not – She picked up the pace, desperately not wanting to hear the rest of it, nor what the rejoinder might be. Shaking her head over the conversation, not paying attention to much of anything except her escape, she bumped straight into Yenchai-Aina.

The small woman thrust a bundle of cloth into Sam's arms, smiling broadly. "Your clothings are washed, and Leeshan-Aina and Tarcha-Aina are mending them. We will hang them by the fire tonight to dry, and in the morning you shall be clothed once again as you were." The small pile of cloth now in Sam's hands was soft, the fabric almost flimsy. Certainly not blankets. The woman continued, gesturing at the bundle. "Your nightwear. It will be very cold tonight. We do not have much, but we have been able to find these nightwearings for you. They are old, and there are some tears, but they are better than... than..." Yenchai-Aina frowned, looking Sam up and down in obvious indecision.

"Ahh, yes, well, this is what we call underwear. Things we wear, uhm, well, under our clothing." Suddenly self-conscious, Sam clutched the bundle up to her chest, in front of her wet bra.

Yenchai-Aina brightened considerably. "Ah! I understand. It is like our nightwear, then. Wearings to be used at night, as your un, uhh, underwear? Yes, your underwear is wearings to be worn... under." The frown returned. "But why would you want to have wearings, under?"

At a bit of a loss to explain, Sam muttered, "Uhh, zippers, I guess? And to keep warmer."

Looking confused over the zippers comment, Yenchai-Aina seemed to understand the second part all too well. "Ah, yes. Keeping warm is very important. Do your men also have these underwearings?" She waved at hand up and down Sam's front, indicating her underwear. She appeared very interested in hearing an answer.

"Well, yes, they do... only theirs is, well..." Okay, enough of this topic. Underneath the object of the woman's fascination, Sam was freezing her buns off. "Yenchai-Aina, we thank you for being so willing to help us, but we don't want to put you to any more trouble. We can mend our clothing ourselves..." Sam drifted to a halt at the look on the woman's face; it was clearly a faux paux to refuse their help. Struggling to overcome the sudden dismay on Yenchai-Aina's face, Sam backpeddled. "But as you are doing it, well, we just wanted to let you know how much we appreciate it. And that you'll dry our clothing overnight. That's, it's... great. Thank you." A thought hit her. "Say, would it be possible for you to... well, after we put on the... ah, nightwear, maybe we could hang our underwear out to dry along with the rest?"

The response was a delighted and emphatic yes. Yenchai-Aina pointed out the hut they were to sleep in, told Sam they would find blankets inside, and advised her that if they placed their underwear outside the hut when they had changed into the nightwear provided, the ladies would fetch it and hang it to dry. Sam wasn't altogether certain as to why SG1 couldn't just go and do it themselves, but she assumed it must have something to do with acceptable behaviour. Daniel had indicated there were certain very strict rules around the women's exposure to males from outside the village.

Armed with her bundle of clothing and the details of their accommodations and fate of their BDU's, Sam entered the pool enclosure to find her three teammates out of the water, packs slung over their arms, stripped and bagged weapons on the ground at their feet. Hey, great minds think alike. How very cool. Nifty, wonderful, kind of like a brotherhood. Like-thinkers. "Whoohoo." What? Whoohoo? She snapped back to the present to see the three of them standing in a loose semi-circle, staring at her. They gave her questioning looks, as if she'd done something incomprehensible. Okay, well, she could appreciate that; maybe saying 'whoohoo' out loud for no reason might seem a bit 'off' to them.

They were visibly freezing their buns off, streams of water from their wet underwear running down their legs and pooling on the deck at their feet. The MRE package in hand, O'Neill gave her a mildly derisive look, then turned and complained to Daniel, "This isn't right. This is macaroni and cheese."

Teeth chattering and his arms wrapped securely around his chest and upper abdomen, the pack dangling from one arm to bump up against his front and upper thighs, Daniel managed to get out through slightly bluish lips, "Yeah, it's r-right. T-that's what I s-said. Ch-chicken."

Time to go, before the man turned into a popsicle. Danielsicle, definitely lemon-lime. O'Neillsicle... hmmm. Maybe, grape? As for Teal'c... Sam looked over at the big Jaffa standing there oh so impressive in his wet boxers and t-shirt, and decided she didn't even want to think on that one. Waving at them to follow her, she led them out through the village to the small hut Yenchai-Aina had indicated. Sam was certain, as they wound their way past the other dwellings, she heard some excited chattering and high pitched giggles come from behind the rear of the pool enclosure.

Small. Yes, well, they had told her it would be small. Frowning, Sam ducked her head as she went through the low entrance, then stopped dead, staring in dismay at the space the four of them had to share for the night. Oh no. This wasn't small; this was microscopic. Electron microscopic. Barely half the size of General Hammond's office, the tiny clay building had few comforts stuffed in close quarters. A lit torch affixed to the wall right beside the narrow doorway flickered wildly in the breeze from an uncovered, narrow window set high up in the opposite wall. Two thinly padded pallets pushed tightly together to form a sleeping surface, roughly the same dimensions as a queen-size mattress, pretty much filled the entire room stem to stern with just inches of clearance all around to the walls, except for a small space of about three square feet right at the entrance. A single, thick, folded blanket had been placed on the near end of the 'bed', as had a single medium-sized clay pot the purpose of which was all too clear.

A strangled sound came from the colonel as he poked his head through the doorway and took a look inside. Sam agreed 100% with the sentiment it represented. Not encouraging. Not pleasant. Not a happy camper. She stood there, hugging the bundle of 'nightwearings', not altogether sure what the clothes-changing arrangement should be. There was barely enough room inside to knock elbows with one other person, never mind three sizable men. The colonel solved the dilemma for her, pushing past her and plucking the clothing from her arms to dump them down on the pallets. As he quickly sorted through the tops and bottoms, Sam felt and heard Daniel's arrival from behind.

There was an impact, wet cloth on cloth against her rear, then an abrupt absence of that contact and a mumbled, "Sorry, Sam." That was quickly followed by a louder exclamation. "Oh, no... oh, wow... that's uh, that's..."

"Tight, Daniel. It's tight." Colonel O'Neill straightened up and handed her a set of the native version of pajamas. "Here. These are the smallest of the small, Carter. Crap, only us. Only SG1 would come to a planet of damned munchkins and end up needing to wear their clothing."

"Jack! They..."

"Oh yes they are, Daniel. Even the men are good five inches shorter and wider than us on average. In my book, if I have to actually wear their clothes, damned munchkins is a damned polite way of describing them."

The sullen mutter was loud enough to carry across the small space. "Right. In your book. A typically rude and condescending entry from the Jerks-R-Us O'Neill syllabus of life in the universe."

Oh, my. Ouch. Yes, they were both in fine form this night, weren't they? Another line from the Bugs Bunny Overture popped into her head: 'this is it, you'll hit the heights'. She glanced up at the low ceiling, wondering just how far the colonel was about to blow. Fortunately, for reasons she really couldn't begin to guess at, he chose not to respond to Daniel's comment. Instead, he simply snorted and bent over to once again paw through the clothing on the pallet, sorting the remaining garments into two piles. A confused look on his face, he straightened up and scratched his head, looking from the clothing to her and back down again. And then back to her. "Uhh, Carter? We're one set short."

Daniel slipped past her and knelt on the ground. He reached over toward one of the sets of pajamas and fingered the pale tan fabric before taking the top and spreading it out on the pallet. "Whoa. This is small. Pretty well worn out, too." He looked up at them. "No way this is going to even cover one of Teal'c's arms, never mind the rest of him."

"If there is an insufficient number and size of garments, I will be fine without, Daniel Jackson." Teal'c stressed the confines of the small hut as he squeezed through the doorway and past Sam, reaching out to snag the lone, thick blanket from the end of the pallet. "This will do nicely." She thought she saw a smirk pass across his face, but, Teal'c wouldn't...

"Hey! That's the only..." O'Neill chopped off what he was going to say, apparently reconsidering his objection. He abruptly reached out himself, grabbing the top Daniel had spread out and the pair of pants which went with it. "Okay. That makes sense. So... these are mine, then..." He clutched the clothing to his chest with one hand and pointed to the other set, a smile spreading across his face and an out of place, altogether too happy lilt entering his voice. "... and those are yours, Daniel. You lucky dog. Good. So. Let's get changed and get to bed. I'm swacked. Carter, you... ahh, we'll, uhh... we'll..." A frown creased his forehead as he looked around and saw nothing but the door to the cold outside as an alternative changing room.

Sam wasn't worried about changing outside; for all of the two minutes it would take her to shuck her underwear and put on the native garments she was sure she could take it. Admittedly, she still felt out of sorts and all she wanted to do was lay down and dream of men parading around in colourful... no, no she didn't. Concentrate. The here and now, not weird flights of fancy. And in the here and now it was pretty much pitch black, the women dealing with their clothing were the only ones out and about in the village, and she'd have to duck out into the cold to lay out their underwear for Yenchai-Aina in any case. So it made sense that she should just change outside the hut. "Sir... it makes more sense for the three of you to change in here. I'll be just outside the door and you can throw me your underwear when you're done. I'll make sure Yenchai-Ainu gets it to dry it all out."

She turned toward the door, glancing back just in time to see an inexplicable but altogether mischievous leer cross the colonel's face, to be quickly banished into blank-faced oblivion as Daniel rose unsteadily to stand – wobble, actually – beside him. As she stepped outside and the cold air bit into her, Sam was pretty sure she didn't want to know what that smirk-and-run might be all about. But it would be pretty naive to think she wouldn't find out... to think the reason for that look wouldn't be all too apparent all too soon. She had only just exchanged her boxers for the thin – oh, the really very thin, tight, and somewhat short – tan pants when she heard the first complaint filter through the thin door.

"Whoa... wait... Jack, these are way too small and there's a, a... oh, no, there's two... I, I can't – " Daniel's confused voice was immediately followed by a low rustling noise and a decently loud thump. A low outcry accompanying the thump, and she realized someone had hit the deck. Gee, wonder who.

The colonel's voice came through the door loud and clear, right down to the undercurrent of amusement lurking between each of the carefully concerned words. "Oh my, Daniel! Are you hurt? Here... let me help... you seem to have your foot caught in..."

"Jack! You did this purposefully!"

Sam couldn't help but grin at the wounded tone the colonel adopted. "What? What are you talking about? Hey, I'm just trying to be nice here. Do you want some help or not?" There was a moment of silence, and then, "Okay. Not. Fine, it's your choice if you don't want help. You figure it out on your own then."

"Yeah, I will. I'll do better on my own than I would with... ohh shit!"

Sam quickly pulled the top on over her head and stuck her arms into the sleeves, worried for a second as her elbow caught the seam of the armhole. The knit of the fabric was loose, the clothing well worn and threadbare. It wouldn't take much to punch a hole right on through it, even not at a stress point. The seam held though, and she returned her attention to the noises coming from inside the hut. Noises indicative of movement, a few grunts, and a low imprecation which quite clearly came from Daniel. Knowing she shouldn't, but for some inexplicable reason not being in the least bit interested in exploring just why she was doing it anyway, Sam leaned up against the door, pressing her face pretty much right up against it. She heard what was definitely a snort of laughter from the colonel, abruptly cut off and immediately followed by another thump.

Unexpectedly, the door swung inward and before she could stop herself she was stumbling forward into Teal'c, coming precariously close to inadvertently shoving her face directly into the wet underwear he held. An indignant shout came from behind and down... on the ground? She quickly regained her balance courtesy of a strong hand on her upper arm, and looked at Teal'c in confusion. She barely had time to register that he still wore both his damp t-shirt and the boxers and was holding what was obviously the colonel's wet green boxers and Daniel's black, stretchy, clingy... uhh, right... before she found herself involuntarily and rapidly moving backward out of the hut into the cold night air.

Teal'c quickly glanced over his shoulder, behind him and yes, down to the ground, and with a convulsive movement stepped forward into her, following his handful of underwear which had pushed her backward. As he reached behind him, grabbing the edge of the door and swinging it closed behind them, she looked past him and caught a glimpse of the scene inside. She felt her eyebrows hit her hairline and truly wasn't sure whether she wanted to laugh or cry. Then the door closed, leaving her and Teal'c on the outside and what she had seen, what she was still seeing in her mind, on the inside. The colonel, clad in altogether too small and tight garments, his face contorted and shoulders shaking with silent laughter... laying on his back just this side of a freeze-framed, unclothed Daniel who stared in wide-eyed chagrin directly at her from where he sat on a pallet, knees up, his hands fiercely clenched on the pants thoroughly tangled around his ankles.

Teal'c stood in front of her, between her and the closed door. He lifted his chin and gazed down at her through narrowed eyes. "I apologize. I wished to leave the room but did not realize you... were relying upon the door for support."

That was probably the most roundabout way she had ever heard anyone acknowledge eavesdropping. She certainly wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. "Oh, ah, yes. Well, I was just finishing changing, and I leaned my arm on the door for..." Never mind. He knew anyway. "Teal'c, just what is going on in there?"

"Daniel Jackson is having difficulty with the garment provided him." Well, right. Knew that. Sam gave him a expectant look and he elaborated. Quite fully elaborated – actually; unexpectedly fully, coming from Teal'c. Sam wondered if perhaps he was actually enjoying himself. "There are large holes in the seams of both pantlegs. Daniel Jackson successfully negotiated the first leg, however he accidentally placed his foot through a hole when donning the second, and he fell to the ground. When O'Neill attempted to aid him..." Teal'c tapered off to a halt, a stern expression on his face.

Ah. Enough said. Sam could well imagine the nature of the assistance rendered. In fact, it seemed all too convenient that Daniel had ended up in a position which provided such an opportunity for the colonel. Colonel O'Neill was clearly using Daniel to distract himself from his foul mood. Although she felt a twinge of regret for Daniel, on the whole she had to admit it was better Daniel than herself. Daniel was technically under the colonel's command, but not in the same context as she was. He had much, much more leeway in dealing with a badly-behaving Colonel O'Neill than she ever would. And she had no doubts that by the time they got back to the Stargate and then home, Daniel would have managed – whether through words or deeds didn't really matter – to find some sort of retribution... even if the colonel wasn't actually aware of it.

Sleep was impossible. Oh, it wasn't so much the intermittent cacophony of snorts, snores, and nasal grunts coming from far too close beside her keeping her awake as it was memories and images of the past day repeatedly flitting through her mind like some disordered, demented slide show. The village, the hard labour as men and women alike toiled to turn over the half frozen ground, readying it for the next planting season, those tight black... no, no, it was the older children busy with the livestock; ugh, SG1 stuck in the bog, in deep slippery sludge that filled her boots and the men's wet... ahh, no. The women and younger children working to prepare the last harvest of the year for storage, the large tear in the seam right under the... arrgh! What was wrong with her? It semed whatever had afflicted her earlier, had robbed her of not only her physical strength but also mental concentration and propriety, was still going strong. She almost giggled over the contradiction... going strong to make weak.

There was nothing funny about this kind of exhaustion, though, the kind that numbed the body and robbed the mind of all sense. Sleep. Must sleep. Tired. Worn out. God, it was cold. Flesh tingling, bone numbing, freezing cold. Giving the uncovered window above them a resentful glance, Sam shivered and instinctively reached down to locate the blanket... someone was hogging the... oh, right. Teal'c. Huddled over by the doorway, their only blanket wrapped around him as he leaned against the wall and either slept or did a wonderful imitation of sleeping. The body behind her was no help. Daniel was just as cold as she was, giving off precious little warmth. Of course, she wasn't completely sure of that, given as he'd shifted over not too long after they had settled. It would work a lot better if he was sleeping on his side, and they could actually get a bit of close body contact going... other than that elbow in the small of her back, of course.

Crossing her arms over her chest, Sam tucked her hands into her armpits. She turned her head and rolled her shoulders back to look at the two sleeping men behind her on the pallets. Next to her, Daniel grunted softly and muttered in his sleep, laying in a half-sprawl, his body unconsciously trying to adopt his preferred sleeping position – on his back – without much success due to the cramped quarters. His hand and forearm closest to her was tucked in underneath his top across his belly for warmth, he lay slightly tilted toward her with his back and side supported by O'Neill's chest, his other arm flung up across his eyes. Beyond him, still fully on his side in the body heat-conserving mutual spooning position they had all – somewhat abashedly, but nevertheless determinedly – started out in, Colonel O'Neill snored softly, oblivious of the back of Daniel's upper arm just millimeters from his face. Oblivious of the more or less bare underside of that upper arm, given the wide rip in Daniel's top which extended from the elbow all the way alongside the inner seam, down past his underarm and halfway down his side.

She resisted the ridiculous urge to take a gander further down, to where the pants legs of the nightwearings the colonel had selected for Daniel were in even worse condition. She'd already seen it once; it didn't bear repeating. Snort! Bear... bare. Oh, shut up, Samantha. Poor Daniel didn't deserve to be the object of her unseemly loss of sanity. The colonel had already made sure Daniel was as miserable as possible, what with the unfair clothing distribution and ensuing obnoxious commentary at Daniel's expense. The only saving grace for the poor guy was that the splits in the pants were mainly in the fabric a few inches above and to the inside of his knees – approximately where the original wearer's knees likely had been – and at both the inside and outside seams near the bottoms, which were approximately at mid-calf on Daniel. It could have been worse; the rips could easily have been in rather more delicate places. She was acutely conscious of the gap in the outside hip seam of her pants and of the way the fabric stretched precariously across her rear end every time she moved. She could only pray they'd stay intact through the night.

On the other hand, Colonel O'Neill's clothing was in excellent condition in comparison not only to Daniel's, which was the worst by far of the lot, but in comparison to her own as well. While too small for him, the colonel's top and pants weren't nearly so worn out, the only visible tears being small splits in the side seams just under his arms, one larger one on the inside of one leg, and a decent-sized ragged tear over his right side. And, ahem, talk about being in excellent condition... that was some impressive external oblique she'd gotten a glimpse of through there. Ohh, yeah. Her exhausted body shivering almost painfully from the cold, Sam mused over whether she should have gotten over the need for a release of tension by this time. Yeah, probably. No... not probably; more like, certainly. Maybe she was just a latent reprobate and all it had taken was a wallow in dung to bring it out in her? No, she didn't do that... fall into the bog, that is. The guys had done that, the rest of them, not her. And then they'd all taken that bath together and she'd found out about those tight, stretchy black... arghh, stop! She'd slap herself across the face to snap herself out of it, but frankly her hands were far too cold and she figured her fingers just might snap off.

Idly, she wondered if maybe she tried a flanking maneuver, sliding back into Daniel and pushing against him – or, would that best be called a rear assault? – it might just result in the re-establishment of the semi-warm sandwich they had started out with. Better yet, maybe she could just pull him fully up onto his side and worm her way into the small, undoubtedly much warmer space than the one she was presently in, which would be created in between the two men. Yeah, that was a good idea. Then Daniel could fidget his way into whatever position he might, and she'd still have at least one body right up close to stave off her rapidly approaching transformation into her own version of a popsicle. One of the blue ones. A blue Samsicle.

Sliding forward to give herself room, she turned onto her back and then around to face Daniel. The movement on the pallet disturbed him slightly, and she stilled as he dropped his arm away from his face and down onto his stomach. She was cold and wanted to switch places, yes, but she didn't want to disturb him. No, that wouldn't be very nice at all. But especially, if the truth be known, she didn't want to disturb the colonel. Bad enough she was about to purposefully insert herself right up against her C.O. – she certainly didn't want to have to actually ask for permission to do something so unseemly before the fact. What he didn't know until too late wouldn't hurt him. She lay there for a moment uncertain if she should even be doing this, especially given the colonel clearly had placed Daniel between them in proper consideration of her standing as his subordinate, and in deference to what he probably thought were her female sensitivities. Well, she had a news flash for him... when she was this cold not much mattered except keeping warm, including gender. Right. Go for it.

She carefully placed her hand on Daniel's shoulder and applied gentle pressure, intending to try to pull him toward her slightly without waking him. A small nudge – barely a touch – was all it took, though. A soft moan and he was moving, abruptly rolling over of his own accord, threatening to come over much too far. On his stomach would not be good; no, not at all what she wanted! Reacting quickly to his unexpectedly brisk movement, Sam put one hand against the front of his shoulder and shoved him back. And oh, lordy – Hurriedly, just as he began to bring his knees up, she tucked her legs up underneath her and pushed against the pallet with her other hand to bring herself up into a crouch, feeling the precarious stretch of fabric across her butt just as his roll reversed direction, as he brought both his knees up and...

Woooaaaee! What the hell...? Ohhh noooo...

Sam froze, Daniel's shoulder moving slightly against her palm as he shifted and settled into place. Uh oh. Sounded like a big one. A really big one. Darn it. Yup, she felt a definite new breeze there against her rear end. She couldn't be exactly sure how bad it was, but figured she really ought to find out before she actually went ahead and traded places with Daniel. It wouldn't do to nestle up against the colonel if it was as bad as it had sounded. Out of the question. Hesitantly, she removed her hand from Daniel's shoulder, letting it hover there just in front of him until she was certain he was not only going to actually stay asleep but wouldn't roll forward any further. Fortunately he stayed where he was on his side, knees up, shifting only slightly to bring his upper arm around in front and awkwardly stuff his hand between his thighs as he rubbed his face against the wadded portion of the pallet's padding, which served as a sort of pillow.

Okay. Good. Now to check out her situation. Sam reached behind herself feeling for what she really hoped she wouldn't find and much to her relief, after a quick but exhaustive search, all she detected back there was a relatively small rip in the fabric high on one side of her rear. She did a quick recon of the rest of her and upon finding her clothing in roughly the same shape as it had been when she put it on, her relief quickly turned to ambivalence. So... if that hadn't been all her... it must have been...

She really ought to check it out. If she found what she really was hoping she wouldn't find, she could rouse Daniel before the colonel woke up in the morning, woke up to the revealing light of day – she could warn Daniel about it. Guilt beginning to gnaw away at the edges of her consciousness, she reached over beside the pallet where she had left the flashlight and a midnight MRE snack. Taking the light and flicking it on to it's lowest power, most narrow beam, she crouched next to Daniel. A quick pass over his front didn't show anything out of order, except perhaps for the deep frown on his face. Oh, and of course, there was the way the alien version of pajamas fit too tightly across his chest and shoulders, pulling so taut across his back, threatening to, ahm... but one could hardly find anything out of order with that...

She hesitated a few seconds, the light held shining down roughly onto Daniel's hip, the idea of purposefully aiming a flashlight on a sleeping man's rear end in the dark of night just that much too far into weird for comfort. Just as she was about to withdraw the light, deciding instead to awaken Daniel and let him do the honours himself, she yelped and practically went through the roof with shock as a cold hand firmly clamped down around her wrist.

"Shhh... Carter, clam up!"

Oh, God... the colonel, she'd woken the colonel... here she was right in the middle of, well, at least it would appear she was right in the... and she'd woken him... he was awake and hissing at her...

The light did a sharp maneuver to the left and downward as he turned her wrist. She dared to turn her head and bring her eyes to meet his, only to find she couldn't because they weren't actually aimed at her. O'Neill's attention was firmly fastened upon the view illuminated by the flashlight. His low whisper was considerably less annoyed as he confirmed her fears. "Ahh, yes, did a really great job on this, Carter. So, you mind telling me just what all that was in aid of?"

Oh no, he'd been awake the whole time? Had he seen her turn Daniel, shine the light on...? She felt the heat in her face and was glad he couldn't see the intense blush in the dark. It would be far too incriminating. Forcing herself not to actually look down toward the object of the colonel's intense examination, she concentrated on a spot just north of O'Neill's ear and in a small whisper tried to mitigate the damage. "It was an accident... I just... I didn't want... he moved, turned over too quickly..."

O'Neill leaned in closer and tilted his head, surveying the scene of the crime. He shook his head sadly and tsk-tsked under his breath. Ohh no, it must be really bad... must be... Sam just couldn't help herself. Just a quick peek, a really quick glimpse so she'd know what... what to, uhh – Okay, well, it was her fault, so she'd have to check it out in order to figure out some way to fix it, right? Leaning forward overtop of Daniel, she craned her head around to see and very nearly bumped heads with the colonel. She adjusted the aim of the light right-just-so and more cautiously bringing her head and shoulders forward to meet with O'Neill's, she joined him in peering closely at the damage...

...just as a sleep-thickened but entirely too alert and acutely suspicious voice came from in between them.

"Just, ahh... just, what do you guys think you're doing?"

The sun had only just fully broken free of it's tether on the horizon when Sam ducked out of the hut, profoundly grateful for the soft summons from Yenchai and his wife just outside. Ever since dawn and the intrusion of pale shafts of light through the slats of the door, the narrow window, and the many imperfections in the walls and ceiling, she'd been desperate to escape out from under the baleful looks repeatedly cast in her direction by Daniel as he lay flat on his back with his legs steadfastly straight and crossed at the ankles.

After about the tenth accusatory glare, the over-tired and irritable part of her had wanted to snap at him that there really shouldn't be a problem. He preferred sleeping on his back anyway, didn't he? Huh? Right? So? But the guilt-ridden and repentant part of her just sat there picking at the MRE and cringing, protesting in a soft voice – for about the tenth time – that geez, Daniel, she already said she was sorry. But hey, it wasn't her fault both he and the colonel had made a big deal out of it. A little bit of skin and a few hangy-outy body parts wasn't a big deal to her. It wasn't anything to do with her that Daniel had spent the rest of the night freezing off his bu... uhm, freezing, laying on his back untouched by human warmth while she and the colonel had the benefit of each other's bodies to help stave off the shivers and Teal'c was, of course, warmer than any of them with his thick blanket.

Sure, Daniel's situation came about in part because of her desire to nest between two warm bodies, but no way was that alone enough to make her responsible. It hadn't worked out the way she had originally intended. It wasn't her fault the colonel relegated Daniel not to the other side of her but instead to behind O'Neill, placing himself between her and the various parts of Daniel's hither and thither regions which threatened to escape the confines of the all but shredded nightwearings should he relax his diligent hold even for a moment.

It really wasn't her fault. Who was to say the worn clothing would have lasted the night even if she hadn't prodded him to turn over? Yeah, okay, she'd had no right to do it and now, in light of day, she really couldn't figure out just why in the heck she had done it... but... fine, so she had prodded him and he'd responded and the damn things had torn wide open in the fabric along both sides of the butt seam right from the waist down and around into the crotch area. Wasn't her fault, that they did that. While the colonel had seemed to find it funny as hell, the resulting makeshift thong hadn't exactly been a winner with Daniel. After him pitching a fit and reaching back to rip the seam itself asunder to obtain some relief, the only things holding any fabric at all over his entire rear end, both hips and the lower portion of the front crotch were his hands and a concentrated lack of any body movement at all. And that was definitely his own fault. She'd never worn a thong before but heck, it couldn't be all that bad. Lots of people did it, even on purpose. Was his own fault. Not hers. She wondered how many times she would have to repeat that to herself before she even remotely believed a word of it. Billions.

She felt terrible. But really, after all, it was Daniel's decision to spend the rest of the night laying stiffly on his back six inches away from the colonel, rejecting any opportunity for shared body heat. Mind you, she was well aware of the reason for his choice. Colonel O'Neill had banished him to the opposite side of the pallets ostensibly to spare both her and Daniel any potential for embarrassment should things, ahm, shift a bit while he slept... but he'd gone and ruined the beneficent paternalism by giving Daniel a coarsely worded, thoroughly mortifying warning about the colonel not wanting to wake up to find himself in contact with anything which might – as, in the colonel's words, "things sometimes are wont to do" – come out to say hello during the night.

Slipping out through the door, cautiously avoiding tripping over the trailing edge of Teal'c's blanket, Sam breathed a sigh of relief as she reached back to pull the door closed behind her. At least her body seemed more or less rejuvinated; gone was the heaviness of her limbs and that sense of balancing on the edge of a spinning coin. She turned to come face to face with Yenchai and the bundle he held. Recognizing the armful to be their BDU pants, jackets, and a vest, she offered up a silent prayer of thanks. That there was only one vest there, not four, was hardly a concern. This was wonderful. Now she could go back in there and throw Daniel his proper pants and all this would be done with. He'd thank her, get dressed, they'd all get dressed, thank the natives profusely and set off for home and they could all just forget about the whole stupid thing.

"Your clothings. We do not have fabric such as this, but we did the best we could to repair damages..." Yenchai-Aina stood behind her husband, looking solemnly concerned as Yenchai thrust the large bundle into Sam's arms. "The dark upper wearings and one clothings set was too difficult to wash out properly." Her expression turned to one of hopefulness as she continued to explain what Sam was quickly coming to realize: the bundle was not nearly as large as it ought to be. "As your clothings were torn and you have been given nightwearings, we used the cleaner areas of that set to repair the others. So that the colours and fabrics of the repairs could be matching. That is to your benefit, is it not? That is all right?"

Oh God... please don't let it be the colonel's, please don't let it be his. With a huge effort, Sam managed to smile her reassurances through the sick, sinking feeling in her stomach. No, it was okay, repairing the rips was a wonderful and considerate thing to do, thank you very much. She plastered the smile in place as she quickly shifted the wad of clothing and tried to figure out whose BDU's were missing. Yes, thanks so much, it was an ingenious way to deal with the problem, and yes, they did have the generous offerings of the nightwearings to make up for it. Yes, yes, nod, smile, nod, thank you so very much. As Sam turned her hands over, flopping the pile over to have a better look at what was there, she recognized that some specific articles of clothing, in addition to the vests – and not to mention the fact there were only two jackets there and not three – appeared to be missing. "Uhh, Yenchai-Aina, I think perhaps you must have forgotten something? I don't see our..."

Instead of the rest of the question, the only thing which came out of Sam's mouth was a small squeak as the small native woman smiled bashfully at her and stepped out from behind her husband. Sam noticed the out-thrust hand with some balled-up little something in it, but was unable to maneuver her hanging jaw back into place to ask anything about that nor to unfasten her stare from the woman's body long enough to figure out what was in the hand. Nor was she able to divert her attention to behind her as she felt the door at her back swing open and a presence come to stand immediately behind her. She did catch the colonel's soft imprecation though, as he set eyes on what she was trying so hard not to believe she was actually seeing. Overtop of her coarse, loose native pants Yenchai-Aina wore a pair of forest green, cotton men's boxer shorts liberally decorated with sewn on pockets, tabs, and tags off a set of BDU's. Sam easily recognized the large pleated pocket sewn overtop of the boxer's fly as being the thigh pocket from a pair of their pants.

The pocket and the entire front of the boxers sagged alarmingly, the weight of whatever it was she had in the pocket threatening to pull the boxers right off. As Yenchai-Aina did a modest little twirl around, showing off her new under-outer-wearings, Sam noticed the belt. The previously green belt was now heavily beaded and gaily painted with reds and yellows and blues. Cinched up as tight as it could go, the buckle was at the small of her back rather than in front, with the long trailing end of the belt stuffed up back under itself to form a sizable, hanging loop which swayed and banged gently against the woman's rear as she moved.

Colonel O'Neill cleared his throat. Sam felt his breath warm the side of her neck as he spoke. "Mhm-hm. Oookay. Gee, wonder what's in the pocket?" His tone shifted for the worse and he bumped up against her as he leaned forward. "Carter? Does this mean what I think it means?"

Giving the two natives in front of her what she hoped came off as a friendly and politely approving smile, Sam turned her head slightly toward O'Neill and muttered under her breath, "Well, that depends on what you think it means, Sir."

He leaned forward and whispered into her ear. "I think it means one of us is going home shortless and pantless, Carter. And I know it isn't going to be me." He moved back and she heard the creak of the door as it swung open. She twisted around to watch him re-enter the hut. Just before he went through the narrow doorway, he turned and took one more look at Yenchai-Aina, cocking his head to one side. Sam could have sworn she saw him smirk at her – an altogether predatory look if she ever saw one – as he turned and disappeared into the hut.

So much for a night's sleep improving his mood. And so much for her getting a pair of underwear back, as well. Including those modeled by Yenchai-Aina, there were only two pairs of those boxers wandering free, seeing as Teal'c still wore his. Wherever the other pair was, along with Daniel's black Fruit of the Looms, was not yet clear but she supposed they'd locate them before long. After all, she had only to ask for them back, right? The colonel had made his position abundantly clear, so obviously even if she asked and they were returned, the one going home shortless would be her. Which, she supposed, was better than going home pantless... and surely she wouldn't be doing that, because no way would the colonel make her trek to the Stargate with neither underwear nor BDU pants, given the tear in the butt of what she currently had on. So that was okay. She'd gone commando before. Oh, wait... she didn't have to; she had what she was already wearing, for underneath. So, no big deal.

Sam turned back to Yenchai and Yenchai-Aina who stood patiently waiting, and realized Yenchai-Aina still held something out to her. Sam shifted the clothing in her arms to free one hand, and into it Yenchai-Aina deposited one balled-up, clean and dry sports bra. Good. So at least she'd have one article of her own clothing back if it turned out the missing BDU's were hers. And even if it were hers which were missing – which was doubtful as they'd been the cleanest of the bunch – it was a pretty sure bet she'd have a pair of fatigue pants for the return home. Which of course meant one of the guys would... ohh. Uh oh. The colonel said it wouldn't be him, and while Teal'c probably wouldn't mind so much... there had been that smirk... no... don't think about it. Just, don't.

Clutching the bundle to her chest, Sam turned and pushed the door open with her foot. The interior of the hut brightened as the light spilled in through the open door, and she stepped inside to see all three of her teammates up and apparently waiting for her, judging by the expectant looks on at least two of the faces. Teal'c reached out and took the pile of clothes from her before she had even made it all the way inside. Daniel stood plastered up against the left-hand wall, his legs tightly held together and his hands pulling the fabric at the front of his nightwearings pants firmly down toward his thighs. There were readily visible flashes of bare skin over each hip and she caught a quick glimpse of a patch of inner thigh, high up, as he adjusted his grip.

This time the smoldering look wasn't cast toward her though, but instead was directed at the colonel. "You said she wasn't coming back in right away, Jack. You said I'd have time to stretch my legs. You said you'd go and get our clothes in a minute." As O'Neill simply smirked and shrugged, Daniel turned his attention to her. "Sam, ahh, this really isn't very comfortable. Maybe you could just throw me my underwear and step back out, or turn around or something, just for a second?"

"Daniel Jackson, there is no underwear here." Teal'c kept hold of a pair of pants and a jacket, and tossed the rest onto the pallets. "As there are no t-shirts. As well, all four vests, two jackets, and one pair of pants are also missing." He inspected the tag on the inside neckline of the jacket and nodded with satisfaction. After doing the same with the tag on the inner waistband of the pants, he bent over and stepped into them.

Daniel's eyes widened with alarm as the colonel snatched up a pair of pants and the remaining jacket, looking very pleased as he checked the laundry identification tags. Sam winced to see Daniel's alarm turn to something just this side of frank horror as O'Neill proceeded to pull the pants on overtop of the nightwearings, casually chatting away, "What? No t-shirts? They stole our t-shirts. Daniel? I thought you said these were friendly natives?"

Daniel transferred his aghast look onto Sam. Uncertain as to what to say to him and certainly unwilling to take on the colonel on his behalf, she fidgeted as his gaze slowly lowered to purposefully fasten onto her more-or-less intact pajama pants. He stood there, frozen in place, intently staring approximately at her crotch for far too long for her comfort and she began to wonder if maybe her novel and disconcertingly lewd means of stress relief of the previous night had somehow been contagious. But thank goodness for a soldier's instincts; she caught the subtle shift in his stance and the barely perceptible twitch of his eyes just in time. With a wild leap, she managed to beat him to the spoils and snatch up the last pair of pants just before his fingers could close on them. She dumped her weight backward and ended up on the edge of the pallet sitting on her butt, as his forward momentum carried him right on past to land face-first into the thin padding.

Yeah, right, Jackson. Try to distract her, to mesmerize her with that intent stare and hide his ungentlemanly intentions, huh? Try to deke her out, would he? Well, it'd be a sad day in her life when Daniel Jackson could out-maneuver her in the tactical arena of battle strategy, not to mention good old fashioned physical reflexes and body-hand-eye coordination. No sir, no way would the young Dr. Daniel Jackson, most esteemed teammate but altogether and thoroughly amateur civilian warrior, Dr. of the stretchy black underpants, narrow hips, gently rounded smooth as a baby's...

Oh my. My oh my. There, not one foot away, was the full extent of the damage her selfish search for warmth the night before had wrought. Sam sat up straighter, an involuntary "Oh!" of embarrassment escaping her. She averted her eyes, pleased with the return of her will and good manners to do so. Expecting him to be as self-conscious as she was on his behalf and make a move to conceal his rear end, Sam was confused to see overt humour shining from his eyes and a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. And he wasn't even looking at her. His gaze firmly fixed on something past her, he allowed the grin to happen as he acknowledged her.

"Okay, Sam. You won fair and square." It was a bit disturbing, Daniel apparently talking to her while not even looking at her. The barely contained tremour of laughter in his voice was even more disconcerting, given his situation. Her gaze strayed just a bit despite her best intentions and she tried not to watch the flex of muscle as he levered himself up onto his forearms, seemingly not caring one bit that the asset he had taken such great care to keep to himself all night was presently exposed for all to appreciate. "Jack, if you guys are going to head out there..."

Sam quickly looked over her shoulder to see O'Neill, fully dressed in BDU pants and jacket, following Teal'c out through the open door. He stopped at the sound of Daniel's voice but didn't turn around, or even turn his head. Sam could imagine the look which had to be on his face, and didn't wonder for a moment that he would prefer to keep that incriminating enjoyment to himself for fear of escalating the later reprisals which were sure to come. Daniel would have his satisfaction... of that, Sam was certain. Maybe not right away, maybe not even that week or that month, for the good Doctor could be a very patient man when he wanted to be.

Something akin to dread curled in her stomach at that thought. She sincerely hoped she wasn't on the payback list for this one. Maybe she should consider... yes, yes she should. Most definitely. As she heard the colonel ask Daniel what he wanted, what O'Neill could do for him – an insincere question if she'd ever heard one – Sam almost frantically searched the inside waistband of the pants she held for the laundry mark which would show who they belonged to. Even as she did so, she knew from the size they were her own. Knew that even with his narrow waist and hips, they'd never fit Daniel even if she did offer them to him. He'd never even be able to get them up much past mid thigh. Oh, God. Did that mean she was doomed right along with the colonel? That... maybe not right away, maybe not even that week or that month...?

The inexplicable undercurrent of laughter was still there, lurking beneath the oh, so very politely worded request as Daniel answered the colonel. "Well, Jack, could you please check to see if you can locate my underwear for me? They have to be out there somewhere." Sam cast a puzzled look at Daniel's face as he spoke, and was surprised when he caught it out of the corner of his eye and turned his head slightly toward her, grinned ever so slightly, and jerked his head in the direction of the colonel in non-verbal instruction for her to look back that way.

"Yeah... uh, okay, D-Daniel...I, I'll check around." The slight stutter was a testament to just how hard O'Neill was trying to hold back on openly expressing his mirth over Daniel's situation. Sam wasn't sure what part of the colonel she was supposed to be looking at, if any part at all, and turned back to Daniel with a frown as the colonel continued. "I'd give you the pair of bottoms I have on, the things I wore all night, Danny, really, I would, but, well, what with that MRE I ate last night..."

"Uhhh... no, no, really Jack... that's ahh, okay..." If Sam hadn't been watching Daniel as he spoke, she would have thought the catch in his voice was actually alarm over the idea rather than amusement, and as she followed his gaze back to where the colonel was just beginning to move forward again, she caught sight of what Daniel seemed to find so entertaining. The entire rear of the colonel's pants, where he had slid down the slope and caught the pants on every protrusion and irregularity in the hard ground all the way down, had been replaced with the rear end of Daniel's pants... Daniel's butt, bootheels, and his head being the only parts of him which had emerged from the bog in anything less than utterly pitiful condition.

Okay, well, yes, given the women had not even nearly matched the shape and size of the patch to the hole they'd cut out of the colonel's pants it really did look quite silly, especially with that coarse red yarn they'd used for thread... still though, Sam couldn't figure out why that would be nearly as amusing as Daniel seemed to feel it was. The colonel and Teal'c left the hut, and she gave Daniel a questioning look and indicated his own rear with a flap of her hand, careful not to actually look at the object of her gesture lest she have difficulty tearing her eyes away again. "Well, he's still covered up, Daniel. That's a lot more than you can say."

"Ah. Right." Daniel craned his head around to look toward his own bare butt. "Nothing you haven't voyeured at in the dead of night with a flashlight though, right, Major Carter?" Low. That was low. But right on target. Sam felt her face burn with the guilty blush which flared up. He obviously saw it just as easily as she felt it. "Guilt and shame are terrible crosses to bear, aren't they, Sam? You can atone, though. Save your wretched soul. How about handing over those pants, now."

"Sure... but they won't help you, Daniel." Sam tossed them at him and laughed as they came to rest part way over his head.

"Yeecch. Well smoked, aren't they?" Daniel took a quick sniff and wrinkled his nose as he pulled them onto the pallet in front of him and did a quick search of his own, of the waistband. "Oh, nice. Yes. Perfect. The perfect world." He tossed them back to her with a look of open disgust on his face and crossed his arms in front of him, flopping forward to rest his forehead against them.

"Sorry, Daniel." While Sam had to admit she was pleased to have pants to wear, she really was sorry. Sorry about the whole thing. She knew he'd counted on her to do the right thing here, and she was willing, really... but they both knew she was the only one who could benefit from that pair of pants.

"Yeah. It's okay, Sam. Jack will come up with something. He may be an ass, but he's not going to make me walk home with my... with, my ass..." He interrupted himself with a small choke of what might have been suppressed laughter.

"Well, I'm sure if he doesn't get something for you to wear, Daniel, Teal'c will offer you his pants."

There was another small choking noise. Yes, sounded like stifled laughter, but definitely not the fun kind. "Yeah, I figured that, Sam. It's okay. Jack's just trying to torture me, that's all. It's a little stress reliever at my expense, nothing more. I can take it."

Sam wasn't sure what the deprecatory laughter was all about, but she did know about the stress-relief he was referring to. Not that she was about to mention the dubious nature of the de-stressing she'd been involved in since their misadventure with the swamp from hell. She slipped her feet into the legs of her pants, musing aloud over something which had confused her all night. "You're right, Daniel. We've all been pretty short tempered about the whole thing. Of all of us, it's turned out you're the one who has reason to feel most stressed out and really, you're being so good about all this. I don't know why the colonel is being so, so... well. Anyway, I really am sorry about the whole thing, really. But you know, it's weird. We've been in some pretty desperate situations, gone through some pretty hairy, life or death experiences..."

"Yeah." Daniel brought his head up and looked at her. "And normally we don't vent frustration by victimizing each other. I know. But Sam, this time we didn't come under enemy fire, or, or..."

She knew what he was getting at, and couldn't suppress the giggle which rose in her throat as she considered exactly what they had gone through. "Right... we, okay, so while it wasn't life-threatening... it was..."

Daniel's tone was infinitely serious, his face set in a rigid mask of forced objectivity as he framed the whole thing for her from a slightly different perspective. "Jack, you, me, Teal'c too... we're no different from peoples of any culture anywhere in the galaxy, Sam. We're a product of cultural history and of values handed down over the ages. There are some sensitivities and absolute taboos which are thoroughly and immovably ingrained, both consciously and subliminally. That was a highly disturbing thing to have happen..."

She tried to clamp down on the waves of laughter which threatened to roll on up and out, and actually succeeded for a few moments. But there was no way she could match Daniel's masterful control over the ludicrous and she had no choice but to give in the giggles as he went on to dryly observe, "What happened was, we fell into a shitload of trouble." Then with that same straight face he delivered the rest of the rationale she had hinted for, with a very slight wiggle of his bare butt as he did so. "Ass over teakettle. Jack literally fell ass over teakettle into the proverbial shit pile, Sam. Someone has to be punished."

She lost it. He raised his eyebrows and this time more than slightly wiggled his ass, and she thoroughly, completely, utterly lost any semblance of control over herself. Her chest ached from the laughter caught there which couldn't squeeze it's way out past the other laughter which backed up in her throat and choked her because of the surfeit of laughter which couldn't messily spill out of her mouth fast enough. She heard Daniel briefly and quietly join in, saw him drop his head onto his arms again, his shoulders shaking with it just as badly as hers were.

It didn't last long. She struggled for control, wiping at her tearing eyes as she watched Daniel's release fade away. As he rubbed his forehead against his arms, drew in and then let out a huge shuddering sigh, Sam realized just how seldom she had ever heard this man laugh. Not just let out a chuckle here and there or the rare giggle, but actually laugh. At all, at any time, over anything. The sobering thought that this very rare event, his outright laughter, was a product not of joy but of stress very effectively banished the remainder of her catharsis.

She peered at him, and as he lifted his head to look at her she knew this hadn't been the same cleansing experience for him as for her. His eyes were dark – tired and somehow almost sad – despite the smile which played at his mouth. He wagged his head slightly and broadened the smile, clearly trying to reassure her. He tipped his head, looking at the pants which she had started to pull on, and reluctantly admitted, "You know, to tell you the truth, I still feel kind of... I don't know..." He shuddered slightly, and she did know. "Anyway, even if they had been mine Sam, I don't really think I'd want them. I'm sure Jack will come back with something for me to wear."

"Especially if they were yours, you mean." The memory of him after they'd pulled him out came back to her, covered neck to toe in muck, scrambling up over the lip of the slope after having been dragged up by the men and oxen on the top, abruptly turning away to vomit the minute his feet hit level ground. Yes, she knew. The word he didn't want to come right out with was, dirty. Soiled. Disgusted. Okay, so that was three words... but she knew it was what he was trying to say; she felt it too. She suddenly felt unbearably itchy where the pants brushed against her bare feet and ankles and with a jerk she yanked them up past her knees and kneeled to pull them on the rest of the way, annoyed with herself. They were clean. Perfectly clean. They stank of the smoke from the fire they'd been laid out next to, but that was the worst of it. She sat back down beside Daniel's legs and shook her head, feeling foolish.

Daniel noted her behavior and frowned, mouthing a silent but easily interpreted apology for provoking the mental image. Coming up onto his forearms once again, he twisted his shoulders around and looked back toward the doorway for a moment before fixing his gaze back on her. "Seriously, Sam... I don't know about you, but I wasn't exactly feeling myself last night... I don't know how to explain it, but..."

"Light-headed, distracted? Weak and flighty?" At his look of surprise and sharp nod, Sam continued to pick apart the weirdness which she had felt throughout the night. "I was really tired, kind of dizzy, and my body felt like it was weighed down with chains... but even more than that, it was like I couldn't think straight or something. I kept getting distracted by things I normally never would have noticed or thought about..."

"Like at the pool, my underwear... on me?" He was serious, a frown accompanying the piercing gaze as he waited for her to admit it. God, he'd noticed. How humiliating. She grimaced and ducked her head; it was an explicit an answer as she was about to give him. "Okay, well, look Sam, it's okay. I understand... I think. It's a pretty common, healthy urge to look over the opposite sex, even if you normally wouldn't give into it with, with...us. There has to be something that affected us, Sam. Maybe, I don't know, maybe fumes from that swamp or something. You weren't the only one having some trouble with controlling your urges."

She looked up at him in surprise. She hadn't noticed any untoward looks sent her way, or any which way for that matter... but, maybe that was because she'd been too busy looking at other parts of him to notice where his eyes might have been trained. She was about to ask, but his face reddened abruptly under her gaze and he looked away. "No... no. That's not what I meant. I meant something... never mind." He turned back, speaking quickly and earnestly. "Sam, it must be something we were exposed to. I mean, look at Teal'c taking the blanket like that... and Jack. Jack wasn't exactly holding back on anything, was he?" He waved a hand back toward his own rear end in illustration.

"I seem to remember your mouth going at a pretty good clip last night, Daniel." She knew she need not have reminded him, as he flinched slightly and wrinkled his nose.

"Yes, all right, that's true. But that's just one more thing which indicates we were acting... badly. So, why? Why would we all do that? Manure decomposing could give off fumes, things like methane and stuff, right?"

Yes, it was possible there might have been something. The indications they shared, the lack of coordination, light-headedness, altered concentration and focus... Sam chewed on her lip, really hoping he was right – she really didn't like the thought she might actually be a closet reprobate – but knowing there was something wrong with his theory. "Daniel, even if there were some fumes which had an almost intoxicating effect, gases wouldn't be responsible for us being affected for such a long time. The minute we left the area and got rid of our clothing, we'd have been re-oxygenated and back to normal. Besides, I don't remember noticing anything until I was in the pool..."

"Right!" Daniel bobbed up and for a second Sam thought he was actually going to stand up, but he remembered his situation just in time and flopped back down onto his front again. "Right... that's right, me too. I was fine, other than feeling nauseated, until about what, half-way through that bath? Started feeling all woozy, and thinking about what it would be like to..." He snapped his mouth shut.

She did her best to push away the urge to speculate on what he had been about to say. Maybe there was just a wee bit of whatever might have affected them still floating around in her system, because she was finding it really difficult to stop herself from finding ways to complete his sentence. What it would be like for him to... to... oh, the possibilities... so enticing a puzzle...

"Sam? Maybe the water?" Sam wasn't sure if Daniel's question was a welcome interruption or not. There were far more interesing things to...

Wait. Yes, it was. The water. He was right on target with that; it was a distinct possibility. "Maybe... yes. It could be, Daniel. Possibly some chains of complex carbohydrates mixed with natural yeasts or something similar..."

Yes, if there was something about the water which would mimic the effects of light to moderate exposure to alcohol... she supposed it could have been absorbed through the skin, or mucouse membranes. Maybe that would explain why she and Daniel seemed to have been affected more than the colonel or Teal'c – if in fact that was the case – as Daniel had rinsed his mouth several times with the water Yenchai had offered him, after having been so sick... and in her case, she had significantly more mucous membrane surface exposed to the water in the pool than did the men.

Daniel was looking worried, anxious. Almost... afraid even. "It's okay. Daniel. Even if it is the water, we seem to be more or less back to normal now, right? So it's not likely to be harmful." But that didn't help and she suddenly realized that like her, he wanted – needed – a reason for his own behaviour. She only wished she knew exactly what that behaviour was, though. She gave him what he seemed to need, trying to assuage her own guilt in the process. "Okay, yes, I think that's most likely. Something in the water could very well have been absorbed into our systems, with a slight intoxicating effect. But it's gone now, and as long as we stay away from the water here we should be just fine."

To say Daniel looked relieved to hear that was an understatement. He looked as though he wanted to leap up and do a happy dance of some sort. But instead he just focused his attention back on the door, and asked, "Jack should be back soon with something for me to wear. So, tell me... what was it outside that had Jack looking so discouraged when he came back in here, anyway?"

Discouraged? To Sam, Colonel O'Neill had looked more like the cat readying to pounce on the canary, than anything else, when he'd given her that sneer and gone back inside. But she wouldn't quibble with Daniel's interpretation of his facial expression. She supposed it was possible that look was just for her benefit and it had dissolved into something else as he'd entered the hut. Maybe he was discouraged over the clear evidence that they simply weren't getting all their clothing back. But the bottom line was the colonel had in fact done his cat-thing with aplomb, once again victimizing Daniel and damn it, now that she was sitting there right next to her weary and demoralized friend's bare butt, it wasn't even remotely acceptable. Joy-juice water or not. She hoped Colonel O'Neill was out there, right that minute, trying to redeem himself... because her being his subordinate or not, if he didn't come back in with a viable solution...

A noise just outside the door prompted both her and Daniel to look back over there, and just as they did so the door swung fully open and the colonel entered the hut, his body twisted sideways as he reached out with his trailing arm as if to guide something in after him. "Hey, Daniel, Carter. These folks claim they don't have anything in good repair they can spare, they need all their clothing for the upcoming winter... and there's no sign of any of our other stuff. But at least we did find your underwear." He stepped further into the hut, motioning with his arm, ushering someone in behind him. "They're willing to give them back, but... well, they aren't exactly in the same condition they were when you last wore them..."

Sam felt her eyes pop as an adolescent boy stepped into the hut to stand next to the colonel. Teal'c came in on the boy's heels, announcing, "This is Yenchai-Xeao, the first born son of Yenchai and Yenchai-Aina. He has agreed to surrender your property, Daniel Jackson..." Sam stared in amazement at the underwear worn over the boy's pants as Teal'c continued, "However, only in exchange for the property of Major Carter, which was returned to her by Yenchai-Aina this morning." Teal'c stared disapprovingly at the young man, who defiantly lifted his chin and thrust his much decorated groin out with an alacrity which would make fans of the Rolling Stones green with envy.

Unable to take her eyes off the beaded, painted, and brazenly bedecked Fruit of the Looms, Sam missed the precise moment when Daniel must have squirreled himself around just enough to reach the crumpled up sports bra she had dropped on the pallet in her mad lunge for the last pair of pants... but she didn't miss the movement as he tossed them past her toward the group at the door. She tried to intercept the pass, but it was out of her reach and the bra landed just to the left of the young native. He was onto it with a whoop, and as he grabbed it up and made an abrupt turn and dart for the doorway Teal'c was onto him, placing a hand against his chest and glaring at him.

Shrugging good naturedly, Yenchai-Xeao carefully stripped off the over-underwear and handed them to Teal'c. He grinned widely as he examined his new prize, turning the bra inside and out, and around and about, until he had sorted out what he thought was supposed to be where with the straps. Sam choked so violently she was grateful the only thing in her mouth was her tongue, as he flipped the bra the wrong way up and with it's front facing forward and his hands grasping it at each side, bent over and stepped into it from the bottom. He carefully and with great pride maneuvered each foot through each widely scooped armhole and pulled it up to his waist, not at all concerned with the way the neckline encircled his groin, the armstraps plunging inward from his hips to divert around his genitals and bunch up between his legs. As he turned his back on them and bounced out of the hut, she practically swallowed her tongue at the sight of the innovative two-pronged thong he had inadvertently created. A first for this planet, no doubt. Soon, everyone on the block would be wearing one.

The very second the native was out of sight and hearing, Colonel O'Neill was driven to his knees, his face red with silent hysterics, twisting around and slowly sinking to the ground with his fist stuffed against his mouth to hold back the worst of it. A couple of guffaws escaped despite his efforts and beside him, Teal'c struggled not to break out into an actual smile. Sam wasn't sure if she wanted to laugh or to cry, but that was quickly decided as Teal'c took a few steps over to them and held out Daniel's underwear to him, handling them in such a way as to display the repeated, elaborately beaded, inverted 'v' pattern which now decorated the front fly.

Sam couldn't help but laugh as Daniel stared up at what used to be a relatively unremarkable pair of black stretchy boxers and quietly remarked, "Three chevrons. Looks like I made Chief Master Sergeant."

More laughter came from by the doorway. "Well, at least one part of you, maybe. But I dunno, Danny... think you've had enough experience for the rank? Or, wait... do you mean something else? Because, geez, I really didn't think the Sarge was your type." The laughter turned into helpless wheezing as O'Neill even more thoroughly amused himself. "Either that, or he's trying to remind you the... only way..." A weak flip descriptive flip of the colonel's hand accompanied the words he barely got out, "... to go is, you know... Up."

"Up yours, Jack." Quiet, calm, impenetrable.

Daniel's unruffled pronouncement did O'Neill in. He laughed once, long and loudly, as he dropped abruptly down onto his rear on the ground. There was a sudden, familiar noise just underneath the laughter, and even if Sam hadn't recognized it right away she would have realized what it was by the initially shocked and then strange, almost contemplative expression which quickly settled over the colonel. There was a soft, "Oh-oh" from beside her, and she turned to see a pained and somehow vaguely guilt-ridden grimace on Daniel's face. But it couldn't be guilt... he had nothing to be remorseful about; it wasn't his fault. Just as it hadn't really been hers that his own pants had...

Ah, hang on... Daniel had been virtually delighted at the sight of the sloppily applied patch on the back of the colonel's BDU pants. Obviously, the patch had given way and now Daniel was feeling contrite about his earlier behaviour. Well, he shouldn't. Sam felt a certain amount of perverse satisfaction about the whole thing, well aware the colonel still had those nightwearings on under the BDU's and no real harm had been done. At least he came close to getting a taste of his own medicine for once, anyway. But as he stood up and cautiously explored his rear end with one hand, a satisfied expression replacing the thoughtful one on his face, it became apparent she must be wrong.

Yup. Wrong she was. With a visible sigh of relief, the colonel cheerfully brushed the dirt off his pants and clapped his hands together. "Okay! Right. So, Daniel, we'll slip outside while you put those on underneath what you're wearing, and then we'll all get ready to go. Teal'c, Carter, grab your boots." He stooped over and sorted through the four pairs of wet boots lined up by the doorway – displaying a perfectly intact patched rear end as he did so – grabbed his own footwear, and disappeared through the doorway. Sam realized it must have been the nightwearings under the BDU's that had just ripped open.

She placed one hand on Daniel's thigh next to her and squeezed gently in an unspoken question. Teal'c joined with her in wondering if that arrangement suited Daniel, only in a much more direct fashion. "Daniel Jackson, I am willing to give you my trousers, should you prefer it."

Trousers? Daniel didn't bat an eye at the non-colloquial term, simply giving Teal'c a faint smile and rejecting the offer. "No, no, that's okay, Teal'c. It's still pretty cold out and these native pants won't fit you. I'll be fine with this combination." He turned his head to look at Sam, fingering the pair of underwear. "Uhm, maybe you could just close your eyes or turn around or something? You don't have to go outside... I'll just slip these on overtop the others."

"Ah, Daniel? If you put them on overtop, then when we get home..." She stopped as he stared pointedly at her, a 'well, duh' look on his face. Okay... so, if he was willing to step out of the wormhole into the SGC with red, yellow, and orange beaded chevrons pointing the way, not to mention the colourful spiraled decorations painted on each butt-cheek of the back of the underwear, well, who was she to be concerned about it? What a screwed-up mission this had turned out to be. Shaking her head with disbelief, Sam swiveled around to face the opposite direction.

Teal'c handed over her boots and she busied her self forcing them on, wincing at the cold dampness of the insides on her bare feet. She felt the pallets shift as Daniel turned over and moved about, and was glad to find the crude part of her which had temporarily taken control the evening and night before was nowhere in evidence. She hadn't the slightest inclination to turn around to take a peek, and nope, there wasn't the teeniest bit of conjecture on just how that torn fabric might shift over in the front when there was nothing to hold it where he needed it to be. Nope. Nothing. No inkling of speculation on what might happen should he sit on his rear to pull on the underwear. Not interested. Not in the least. De nada.

He stood up and nudged her in the ribs with his foot. "Done, Sam. You can stop concentrating on not thinking."

About to protest her innocence, she glared up at him and bit back the retort at the sight of the serious expression on his face. Something wasn't quite right with him; the worry was still there for some reason. But, well, that was a pretty stupid thought. Of course something still wasn't right. Despite the colonel's recent mood swing for the better and the fact they were all to head home with vital body parts safely covered up, for each of them it'd take several long, hot, soapy showers, firm reassurance from Janet Fraiser that they'd all survive over the long term, and a good night's sleep between clean sheets before this trip was set right.

But still, there was something else in Daniel's eyes, something different than just general worry, weariness with the situation and being the colonel's whipping boy. She just wasn't sure what is was, exactly, but it was there, something... and then he was moving away, gathering up his pack from where it lay at one side of the pallet. Sam heard him mumble something about mitigating damages, watched as he checked to be sure his stripped and bagged sidearm was safely stowed inside, gathered up his flashlight and knife which lay nearby, and finally headed over to collect his boots. Readying to go home.

Go home... yes. Time to go home. Well past time, actually. As she gathered up her own pack, also checking for the presence of her dismantled and bagged weapon, something else nagged at the corners of her consciousness. Something new, something she also couldn't quite grasp hold of but knew she had just heard... or seen... or thought, or –

Ah, the heck with it. It was time to go h