A/N: Since Halloween is coming up, I thought I would share this fic. It was initially written four years ago in response to the prompt: "Sam and Jack trapped together, unable to get out of a haunted house (alien) and have to huddle together until morning and rescue." Rated T for a couple of bad words.

It didn't work out quite the way I intended at the time, but my writing seldom does, so…

Jack knew. He just knew.

As soon as Daniel had suggested that they would need to delay their return home by an additional 24 hours in order to attend a celebration and thereby not offend the locals on PCZ-3R2, Jack knew that the mission would go to hell.

He ran a hand over his face and sighed. He had absolutely no idea where he was, let alone the other three members of his team.

SG-1 had been asked to attend a banquet organized by the chief elders of the planet. It was a friendly civilization, albeit primitive, but they were willing to trade with Earth. Flora was abundant on their world and it seemed to be that whatever plant life wasn't edible, it was alternatively able to be used for medicinal purposes – which seemed to be enough for the decision makers back at the SGC to side with Daniel and ensure the team stayed for the party.

It wasn't that Jack didn't like mingling with the locals, he just… didn't like it. Talking and networking wasn't really his style – especially when he and his team were the guests of honor and therefore would be expected to partake in the local customs. Having been going off-world for seven years, they'd all had their embarrassing moments when it came to alien traditions. Whether it was the cuisine, the local booze, or even the weird matrimonial ceremonies he and Carter always seemed destined to fulfil, they had learned to tread carefully where so-called celebrations were concerned.

The evening had started out smoothly enough, with a few speeches, some food and, of course, drink. There was laughter, excitement and a sense of fun in the air, which had made Jack nervous, but he didn't necessarily feel any danger. No, the problems only started when the celebration reached its climax, where the locals set fire to a large wooden effigy. The structure – which Jack vaguely thought resembled a werewolf at the time – was filled with a variety of local plants and flowers. According to Daniel, the ritual signified the end of one season and the beginning of the next; similar to the way harvest typically marked the end of the growing season on earth.

Once the effigy had been lit, it took around ten minutes before everything went to hell.

There had been no warning.

The creatures just appeared and then the screaming started. Distorted, bloodcurdling screams which had been haunting Jack ever since. Amidst the chaos, he'd shouted for his team to fall back to safety – and that was the last he saw of them. He had turned to seek cover behind a tree and they had disappeared; however, his movements had caught the attention of one of the creatures and it had given chase. But no matter how many times Jack tried to shoot it, it evaded the gunfire and kept inching ever closer towards him. Screaming and howling. It made his blood run cold and he'd swear the beast knew his name. It was calling him, taunting him. Deciding he didn't want to take any chances, Jack ran – and kept running – which was why he now found himself in what he could only describe as a glorified corn maze.

He stopped and hunched over, his elbows resting on his thighs as he tried to catch his breath. He couldn't hear anything over his own panting or the corn leaves rustling gently in the breeze, but he wasn't going to take any chances. He repressed a shiver. He hadn't been able to get a good look at the creature – and he didn't particularly want to – but whatever it was that was chasing him, its speed and agility defied its size.

"Dammit," he whispered.

He closed his eyes and tried to recall any detail that would inform him as to where he was on the planet, but he had nothing. When he opened his eyes, he realized just how dark his surroundings where – there was no light to be found nearby. He bit back another curse and patted down his vest until he found his flashlight and switched it on. He did a slow 360 and when nothing jumped at him, he let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He still had no idea where he was, however, and was just about to call his team on his radio when he heard a noise to his right. He flicked the flashlight off and waited.

He could hear panting. It was getting louder, like its source was soon going to be on top of him. Jack briefly thought about moving, but in the darkness, it seemed like a wasted effort so he stood still – only to be swiftly knocked off his feet.

"Shit!"

"Ow! Fuck."

A few seconds passed in heavy silence.

"Sir?"

"Carter?"

"Ow!"

"Oh, sorry," Jack mumbled as he quickly diverted the flashlight away from Sam's eyes.

The two of them sat in silence for a few seconds before Jack cleared his throat.

"Carter – what the hell's going on?"

"I have no idea, Sir. Where's Daniel and Teal'c?"

"Not got a clue. I didn't even know where you were until a few seconds ago."

"Oh."

"Oh? You sound surprised, Carter."

"Yes – well – no – I –" she sighed heavily and Jack could feel her breath tickle his skin. Realizing that they were still on the ground, he got to his feet and swooped the flashlight around to help Carter to hers. When he felt Sam's grip tighten on his hand, he frowned.

"Y'alright?"

"Ah, I think so – oh. Uh, Sir?"

Tilting the flashlight upwards, Jack hissed when he saw a dark stain on the front of Sam's BDU jacket, moments before he saw her fingers covered in red liquid. He reached forward to shield his teammate's eyes as best he could from the glare of the light.

"Easy, Carter," he soothed. Sam was pale – a little too pale for his liking – but what really concerned him was the contrast of her skin against the bright red stream of blood that had stained a route from her left eyebrow down to her chin. The cut looked fresh – too fresh – and Jack suddenly had a horrible feeling that he was responsible for the injury when they'd collided.

"Shit."

He quickly patted down his pockets but had no medical kit on him. Slowly, he reached out, his fingers ghosting over the side of Sam's face as he tried to assess the damage – and ignore the hitch he heard in her breathing.

"We gotta get that cleaned up, Carter," he murmured.

"I'm fine, Sir."

"Hmm," he answered non-committedly. He started to remove his BDU jacket when Sam reached out.

"Can we find some shelter first, Sir?"

He hesitated; he really wanted to try and patch up her face but he knew she was right. Standing in the middle of – wherever – they were, they were vulnerable.

He sighed. "Where do you think we're gonna find that?" he asked, letting his hand fall from her face.

"I don't know. Maybe if we – we tried to retrace our steps?"

"Look around you, Carter."

"I know, Sir," she replied, with a slight bite to her voice. "But I don't think we've any other option."

"Yeah, I know," he paused. "Can you move OK?"

He saw Sam nod, then wince as the movement obviously caused her pain. "I'll be fine, Sir."