It's hours before anyone approaches the cell. Jack bangs on walls, peers through the force shield, shouts whenever he hears footsteps.
God, he's such an idiot. He should have stopped them. He should have. He pictures her in the same room he was in, even though that was light years from here, and all he can do is yell to an empty corridor.
By the time three Jaffa come into his view, he's mostly yelled himself out. His throat burns. "I need to talk to your boss," Jack says.
Two of the Jaffa stand back against the opposite wall. The third, much older, looks Jack in the eye. "That is unlikely," he says.
"Yeah, I know. He's busy."
The Jaffa presses a switch on the wall, and the shield whirs off just long enough to let him step inside. He looks maybe five years younger than Jack, which probably means he's a hundred and twenty. The tattoo on his forehead is black, like the others': he's not Baal's first prime.
"She is your woman?" he asks.
Jack imagines Carter breaking the guy's jaw. Jack likes imagining that. "She's nobody's woman."
The other man grins. "My wife is much the same. We have been married for sixty-three years."
Charming, but Jack doesn't give a shit. "How nice for you."
At a signal from the older Jaffa, the guards outside check the hallway and then nod, presumably meaning the coast is clear. Or whatever the equivalent is in Goa'uld.
"Colonel O'Neill," the one in the cell says, "I am Sul'kesh. I am the commander of this base and one of the leaders of the rebellion within Baal's army."
"Well, that's convenient."
"For you, yes."
Jack frowns. He doesn't recognize the name -- which could mean nothing; he's met only a few out of tens of thousands of rebels -- and he can't tell yet if the guy is lying through his teeth.
"It is less convenient for us," Sul'kesh says. "But we are prepared to engineer your escape."
"How do I know I can trust you?"
"You do not."
"Fair enough." Points for honesty, at least. Jack leans against the bumpy, gold wall. "So tell me about this rebellion of yours."
"This is a distant outpost, O'Neill. Surely I know no more than you."
"Try me."
He gets a narrow glare for that. "I am here to help you. I could just as easily walk away."
"You could. But think about it. You obviously know who I am. Wouldn't you want to know a little about the guy you're considering entrusting with your life?" And with Carter's, too.
Sulky makes a sound low in his throat. "I received a coded message from Malek some days ago, from the planet you call Alpha," he says. So this isn't such a distant outpost, after all. "It contained the news that Teal'c has left your service and returned to the Jaffa. I find it difficult to believe that you are the man for whom Teal'c abandoned his family."
"So do I, to tell you the truth."
It seems to be a good answer; Sul'kesh nods thoughtfully.
"You're glad he did, though, right?" Jack says, and he can tell the Jaffa hears the real question. Okay, points for smarts, too.
"I had two sons," Sul'kesh says. "They both died young, waging needless wars in the name of Baal. That creature is no god. A true god would show mercy."
"I'm sorry," Jack says. He honestly is.
Sul'kesh acknowledges Jack's sympathy with a nod. "I wish my daughter and her children to die free, and I have been convinced that certain of the Tau'ri are instrumental to this cause." He relaxes his grip on his staff weapon. "Why do you fight the Goa'uld?"
"Because they're evil, mostly."
"That is also a good reason."
"Yeah," Jack says. "Hey, if you don't mind, I'm just going to sit down. Your guys have good aim."
"They have, indeed."
Jack settles onto the bench, adjusting his weight to his right hip. This guy could still be playing him, but Jack believes the stuff about his kids. No question. "What's he doing to her?"
"I do not believe he will kill her," Sul'kesh says, with what Jack thinks might be compassion. "Baal wishes to make use of the device that was recovered in the Tok'ra tunnels. He will not risk damaging her mind as long as he believes she can assist him."
Wait, the device from the tunnels? The power source? The thing they dragged their asses halfway across the galaxy to get? Jack's insides twist again. He'd assumed that Baal didn't know why they were here. "Oh, fantastic," he says.
"It is not welcome news that he will not risk her death?"
"Oh, yeah," Jack says. "Yeah, it's swell news." Oh, God, Carter. Please don't be too convincing when you say you know nothing. Please. "What about our other friend? Is he still alive?"
"We have as yet been unable to locate him."
Well, that's something. So Baal's full of crap, which is not a surprise, but Jack wishes he could let Carter know that her dad's not being tortured concurrently with her.
"He'll want to get in here and get us out," Jack says.
"I have instructed my men to prevent that."
"Excuse me?"
"It would complicate matters, O'Neill. The fewer of you there are, the safer my men will be in helping you."
"Hmm," Jack says.
Sul'kesh sighs. Jack's probably ticking him off already; he has that effect on people. "I will see that you go free," Sul'kesh says. "But I will dictate how you do it. Those are my terms."
Jack knows it's the best offer he's going to get today. So he says yes.
*
Jack waits, once Sul'kesh is gone. Jack hates waiting. He concentrates on the shield, willing it to drop. But he doesn't hear them coming until Carter falls on the floor and the force field whines back to life. God, he must be losing it already, if he can fall asleep by accident. Shit.
"Carter! Jesus, are you okay?" His voice is scratchy and thin. He slides gingerly off his bench and crawls over to her.
She groans, brushes a knuckle against his arm. "It was just a hand device," she says.
Yeah. Just a hand device. He checks her out briefly. Her bones look whole; her BDUs are intact. But her forehead is lined with pain, and she squints up at him. "You were gone a long time," he says.
Carter takes a deep, shaky breath. "God, I feel sick." It's not something she'd normally admit.
"Here." Jack takes off his jacket, folds it, and lifts her head to slide in the makeshift pillow. She's still breathing deeply and wearing an expression of distaste, like she has bile at the back of her throat. He wishes he had some water, but she might not keep it down, anyway.
She brings a fist to her mouth, stops herself, and tugs the cuff of her jacket back down over her wrist. Oh, that cannot be good.
The doorway is clear again, so Jack puts a hand to her forehead, to shade her eyes a little. He's only felt the hand device a few times -- and only for a few seconds, never like this -- but he remembers being sensitive to light for hours afterwards.
Carter swallows. "Thanks," she says. "That helps."
Jack angles his fingers lower, giving her as much darkness as he can, and checks the doorway again. Sul'kesh might have arranged for them to be left alone. Or he might not.
Her voice startles him. "Jack, he has it. The power source."
"Yeah, I heard."
Lashes flutter under his palm. "What?"
"Don't worry about it. I'll tell you later."
She grabs his arm and shoves it out of the way -- so she can glare at him, apparently. Jack notes that, yes, there are red welts on her wrist. She was tied up, or chained. "Jack, I'm fine," she says. "Worry about what?"
"Well, he's lying about Jacob, for starters."
She begins to lift her head, and grimaces in pain. "How do you know that? Is he here?"
"Lie down," he says. "He's not here. But Baal's got a little pest problem. Rebel Jaffa."
The creases in her forehead relax a little. "You talked to them?"
"One. Fellow by name of Sulky stopped by. Nice guy. Little intense."
"I know you know his name, Jack," she says, one corner of her mouth curling slightly.
Jack attempts a grin. "Sul'kesh," he says. "They're looking for Jacob. Hopefully they'll find him before the bad guys do."
"You trust him?" She frowns.
"Not exactly. I think he really hates Baal, though. That's always a plus."
Carter makes a small sound of assent. "Is there any food?"
"From them, no." To weaken their resistance, no doubt. But Jaffa often forget to search cargo pockets. "I've got half a powerbar. You hungry?"
"Just a couple bites. Might settle my stomach a little."
She chews carefully, and swallows even more carefully. "You eat the rest," she says, handing back the last quarter. She needs to eat, but Jack doesn't feel like arguing about it. He folds it up in the wrapper and puts it away. She covers her eyes again. "They're going to get us out, right?"
"That's the plan."
"Did he say when he'd come back?"
"When Baal's in his sarcophagus. Don't suppose he told you his schedule for the rest of the day?"
She smiles. "No." Then her hand moves, to rub his arm. "How're you?"
"Leg's about the same. But we'll be gone before it matters."
He knows she's not asking about his leg, though. She studies him, and sighs. "That's all I'm going to get, isn't it?"
She knows he doesn't like to talk about Baal; why would she think he'd change his mind now? "Yup," he says.
She snorts softly, shaking her head in disbelief, and looks away.
He really doesn't make it easy on her, does he?
Jack pulls at the threads of his pants, where the fabric's been burned away. He can still smell his own burned flesh. "I'm sorry," he says.
"For what? It's not your fault we're here."
"It's not yours, either."
She turns to look up at him, and her hand falls to the floor by her head.
"I shouldn't have given you a hard time about getting caught," he says. "I'd have lost focus, too, if it'd been you." It's not what he wants to say, but it's what he can say, right now.
She stares at him. "I didn't lose focus," she says testily. "They had seven staff weapons trained on you."
"Oh." Jack feels even more like an ass. "I didn't know that."
"No, you didn't. And I was talking about the mission."
Now he's confused. "Talking about the mission when?"
"Jack, you're only here because of me, and I'm only here because of Dad. So if it's anybody's fault, it's definitely not yours."
"Well, by my math, it's not yours, either."
He thinks she disagrees. And then he thinks he sees a much older hurt, so he tries to head it off before it can take full form. "And neither was the last time I paid Baal a visit, so don't start."
Carter looks relieved that he's brought it up, but she sighs just the same. "You said you wished we'd just let you die. You said that more than once."
"Can we not get into this now?" He said that when he was detoxing, for God's sake.
"You did, Jack."
"I know, Carter. I was there."
Carter gets that super-vulnerable look on her face, and Jack tries not to let it piss him off. "And now?" she asks.
Well, yeah, he does still think death would have been better than his previous sojourn with this particular reptile. He just isn't dumb enough to say it. "Sam, I was talking about the situation. It doesn't mean I'd rather be dead now." And everything he's learned about her in the last few months tells him she wants to hear more, so he says more. "I'm kind of fond of now," he says. "Well, not now. But ... now." He tries to devise a hand signal for everything except you being tortured by my least favorite Goa'uld and me being scared shitless, and ends up drawing a big circle in the air.
"Okay," she says. Jack can feel some of the tension leeching from her body.
He lays his hand back on her forehead, listening to her breathe.
*
She sleeps a little, wakes up, draws the sleeve of his jacket over her eyes, and sleeps some more. She's restless, reaching out for him, he thinks. Jack looks her over more closely; aside from the wrists, which also have a decent shot at infection, he doesn't see any other injuries. Nothing broken, nothing swollen. He lifts her shirt, and her chest and stomach are okay, too.
Later, he leans against the wall -- slouched down so he won't put any weight on his left thigh -- and thinks about how sore his back will be when they make it out.
He hopes, again, that Baal didn't buy it when Carter told him she couldn't use that thing. It's a crazy thing to hope for, but he thinks Sul'kesh was right: Baal will keep her alive as long as he believes she knows something he doesn't. Jack also thinks that before Baal risks killing Carter, he'll use Jack against her.
God, that light, every time he woke up and remembered where he was. Every time he opens his eyes here, he sees that light.
Jack's not afraid to die. He just knows he'll survive, one way or another, and that's worse.
A Jaffa patrol, a small one by the sound of it, marches down a corridor some distance from their cell. "Good Jaffa," Jack mumbles. "Gooood Jaffa. Stay far away."
He feels warm, sits up to take off his jacket, and realizes he already did that, hours ago: Carter's using it as a pillow. He slides down a couple inches on the wall.
"Jack."
Jack starts. Forcing his eyelids up is harder than it's supposed to be, and the cell is too bright. "What?" he asks, a little annoyed. He checks his watch: they've been in here just over a day.
Carter hasn't moved. "He knew what we came here for," she says. "He knew where to find it."
Oh. That. "Jacob was right, then." Jack doesn't feel too much remorse there, though he is pissed that they walked into a trap. And where the hell is Jacob, anyway? If he's dead, Jack's going to kill him.
"Yeah," she says, distracted. He tries to figure out where her brain is hurtling off to, almost gives up, and then groans as the pieces slot together.
"He talked to the Tok'ra before we left, didn't he?"
"One. He said it was encrypted."
"And yet another thing it might've been nice to know ahead of time. I love your dad, Carter, but -- "
"Jack."
Right. He shuts up.
"He talked to Selmak's closest ally. They've been friends for something like twelve hundred years."
"Aw, crap." It's not like Jack gives a shit about Tok'ra internal affairs. But Jacob will be, well, maybe not devastated, but really mad. And so is Jack, since Selmak's closest ally sold them all upriver. "How the hell do we fix that?"
"From in here? I don't think we do." She says nothing for a while, just stares at the gaudy ceiling. And then, finally: "God, I hope he's okay."
Yeah. Jack does, too. "Carter?"
"Hmm?"
"We're never gonna do this again, right?"
She laughs, quick and sharp and angry. "Oh, hell no," she says. "Never. Ever."
"Just checking," Jack says, and tries to believe they'll have the chance to say no.
*
They get food and two small cups of water, eventually, from the two Jaffa who accompanied Sul'kesh earlier. Neither makes eye contact, which could imply a hundred different things Jack's not going to think about now.
Carter wrinkles her nose and shoves the dish of gray-green mush aside. There's some flat, brown thing, too. That she ignores. "Later," she says. "I'm going to clean those burns first."
"We should drink the water, Carter."
"We will. One of the cups." She assesses his leg, and his position, and apparently decides that the burn on his thigh needs her attention first. "Now roll over."
He looks at the door. He can't see anything, but it sounded like Sul'kesh's Jaffa didn't retreat very far.
She sees him look. "What, it's okay when my head feels like it's going to blow, but not when you're risking infection?"
"It's not infected," he says. Only it is, and he knows she knows it, and he doesn't know why he's being so stubborn about this one stupid thing. Just -- the thought of Baal using her to get to him, or the other way around, makes him want to kick a wall. With his bad foot.
"Jack, you're being ridiculous, you know that, right?"
He tries to summon his CO voice. "Carter, not now, okay?"
Her eyes turn steely, her nostrils flaring. It makes Jack's head throb. "That's it," she says. Her voice is low and dangerous. "I am fed up with this crap. Now roll over, or I swear to God, Jack --"
He doesn't dare ask, Or what? "Geez," he grumbles. "Okay, okay." He rolls onto his right side. "Christ, Sam, they kicked me in the ribs. This is not pleasant."
"How old are you? Ten?" But she no longer sounds like she might tear his head off.
"I refuse to answer -- OW! Jesus! You could warn a guy, Carter!"
"You hate being warned first." She tears the cotton further, pours another trickle of water, probes with her fingers. Jack knows the burn must be blistered, and bright red with infection, and the bolt of pain that comes with her touch confirms his assessment.
He clenches his jaw. That hurts, dammit. Okay, maybe he is ten. "Damn you," he says. "You're right."
"I know I am."
The burn on his calf isn't as bad, and doesn't hurt as much. She examines the skin around the edges. "Jack," she says while she dabs it with water. He can't see her face. "I know he scares you more than the others."
"Carter, I'm not --"
She talks over him, raising her voice a little. "But I'm on your side, remember?"
Oh, that doesn't make him feel guilty at all. "United front," he says.
"Yes, please."
He hears her tearing fabric that doesn't belong to him, and tries to see over his shoulder. "Hey, I'd prefer it if you stayed fully clothed around here."
"Funny." Another rip. "It's just the lining of my jacket. Now be quiet."
She takes off the filthy tourniquet and ties the best bandages she can. Then she pokes around his ankle. Jack bites down hard. "Sam, it's broken. Trust me."
"I don't know if I should set it."
"Please don't set it."
"Well," and he can hear the indecision in her voice, "your foot's at a normal angle. It looks like a clean break, at least."
"Yeah," he says, his teeth still clenched tightly. "How'd they do that, anyway?"
"Um. Your boot got tangled in a stump and they yanked it free."
"Oh, very nice." Fun for her to watch, too. Not.
"The leather's probably giving it more support than anything I could come up with," she muses. The leather feels like a vise, and the swelling extends halfway to his knee. But it'll only balloon up more if she takes it off.
"Yes. Yes, it's good just like that. It's great. Thank you."
"You're welcome. I think."
Jack lies awkwardly on his back again, his head resting on one arm.
"Don't get too comfortable," she says. "You're going to have to sit up to drink that water."
"Trust me, I will not get too comfortable." Another hot wave of pain runs up through his hip. "Shit. Can I have some more of those pills?"
"Oh. Yeah. Of course." She tears one packet open, gives him the cup so he can swallow, and hands him the other two packets without saying anything. Jack gets it, though: take these in case we're separated. "You keep one," he says.
"Jack, I'm fine." And she pats his good thigh. Then she kneels, and stands -- unsteadily, he thinks -- so she can search the walls again. Her fingers, as she touches the hieroglyphs, are shaking.
Jack just watches her this time. It probably is pointless, but he doesn't mind anymore. When she was under his command, he thought one of the most valuable assets she brought to the team was her refusal to give up, no matter how hopeless it looked.
Shit, this is not how it was supposed to go. And this is not how Jack wants to go, not even once. But he's pretty good at not giving up, too.
He checks the doorway. Still clear. And he keeps watching her precise movements, her muscles strained, her jaw clenched.
Get us the hell out of here, willya, Sulky?
"You know," he says, "My parents drove each other nuts."
She bends down, attempting to loosen the top of the far bench, and asks absently, "Yeah?"
"I mean, seriously crazy."
Carter stops for a second, casting a sly glance back in his direction. She is so onto him. "Crazy, huh?" She turns back to the wall above the bench. Her fingertips glide along the surface. "Over what?"
Yeah, take the bait, Carter. Good girl. "Everything," he says. "Politics. Movies. When to plant the garden. Which gas station to go to." He shrugs, which is a mistake on a hard floor. Ouch. "They liked it."
She doesn't look at him, but he can make out a ghost of a smile from this angle. "They challenged each other," she says.
"That's a charitable way to put it."
"Come on." She finds one of those bird symbols that's sometimes a doorknob, and covers every millimeter. "You said they liked it. For 43 years, apparently."
Huh. When did he tell her that? "43," he confirms. And when his mother died of lung cancer, his father, ten years older, wasted away in less than a year. Not that Jack would recommend that, but there was something very loyal about it.
"My parents never argued."
Jack's breath catches, and he coughs, which hurts a lot. "Please," he says. "I have met your father."
"I know, hard to imagine, isn't it?" She rubs the edge of one of the symbols, then pushes off the wall and sits, pulling her legs up. She wraps her ams around her ankles. "They probably did and just wouldn't let us see. My mom ... she was really softspoken and it took a lot to work her up. But when she reached her limit she'd get this look." Carter laughs softly. It's not convincing. "She always got what she wanted after that."
"I have so much trouble picturing this." He believes it, though, from the pictures in her house -- Jacob obviously worshipped his wife; he still wears his wedding ring, for God's sake -- and from the Carter he sees sometimes, the one he's always assumed didn't come from Jacob's genes. The one who can say please and get him to put a snake in his head.
"Oh, he's never been like that with anybody else, believe me." She chuckles, but he can hear the undertone of fear in her voice. "When I was a teenager, I thought she was just subservient, and I didn't want to be like that. It took me a couple decades to realize I was wrong."
"You know you're not always going to get what you want with me, right?"
She snorts. He's caught her off guard again. "Oh, I have a pretty good idea."
"Just checking."
Carter gives him a warm smile, then turns her head a little and rests her cheek on her knees. He hears a little sigh he knows he wasn't supposed to hear.
Yeah, the point of this conversation was to get her mind off other things -- Calming Carter Down, version three -- and it worked for him, too. But he can't stop what comes out of his mouth next. "Tell him whatever he wants to hear," he says.
She doesn't move. "Jack ... "
"Make it up. Make up iris codes if he wants them. Tell him he could use that thing if he had some other impossible thing. Whatever you have to do to keep him talking."
Carter's no cadet; she knows how to stay alive just as well as he does. She puts her chin on one knee and stares at him, open and honest. "He hasn't asked for iris codes," she says. "And we don't have a garden and we have never argued about which gas station to go to."
"No, but we have had words about that crap you put in your car."
"Jack."
He likes this rant. It's one of his favorites. "It's a waste of money, Carter. Regular works just as well in a car as new as yours."
She knows as much about cars as he does, too -- probably more. But she's smiling now. "Jack -- "
He's closer to the door; he hears the footsteps first. He shakes his head, knowing she'll understand.
If those bastards are coming to take her away again --
Then he sees the face. Sul'kesh.
"Sulky! Buddy! Where've you been?"
Sul'kesh looks ready to bolt. He must think these Tau'ri are whacked.
Carter ignores Jack and walks to the doorway. "Sul'kesh," she says. "Samantha Carter."
"I am aware." The Jaffa looks her up and down -- and he'd better be making sure she's not injured -- then does the same to Jack. "How is he?" he asks Carter.
"Not good." She glances at Jack, and he can tell she's about to ask what she considers a stupid question. "You wouldn't have any medical supplies, would you? Bandages, antibiotics?"
The question seems to puzzle him. "We are Jaffa," he says.
She winces. "Yeah. How about some more water? Can you do that?"
Sul'kesh nods solemnly. "I will have it brought to you."
"Thank you."
"So," Jack says. He's starting to feel invisible, down here on the floor, and he'd really like to leave now, thanks. "Who's got a plan?"
Carter grimaces an apology, but the Jaffa looks amused. As much as Jack can tell these things, with Jaffa who aren't Teal'c.
"I am sorry I have not yet been able to secure your escape," Sul'kesh says. "Baal has not retired to his sarcophagus."
"How often does he use it?" Carter asks.
"Sometimes he will go without for three or four days. Occasionally longer. His host is not much older than I."
Carter's shoulders droop, just enough for Jack to see. They've only been in the cell for thirty-one hours. Jack feels queasy, and tells himself it's just a fever.
Sul'kesh checks out the corridor behind him. Jack can only see the hand of one guard, holding a staff weapon. "When he retires," Sul'kesh says, his face close to the force field, "one of my men will bring you sustenance. You will overpower him and the guard."
"We need weapons," she says.
"Yes. You will take their zatnik'tels and shoot them."
"Excuse me?" Jack asks. "Shoot the good guys?"
"You will only shoot them once, O'Neill," Sul'kesh says dryly. "It is for their safety. There cannot be any evidence of collusion."
"No, of course not," Carter says. "We'll make it look good."
"Yes. You must do so." Sulky sighs, probably at having to explain such basic concepts to humans. "I will place as many of my men as possible in your path. They will not resist you."
"But we'll have to shoot them, too," Carter says.
"Yes." He watches Carter exchange a look with Jack. "They will not be permanently harmed," he says.
"No," Carter says. "We'll only shoot once." Jack hears a thread of humor in that, and sees that Sulky heard it, too. Not only does the guy give a shit about his subordinates, he even gets a joke.
"You remember the way you were led in?" Sul'kesh asks Carter.
She's got it memorized, Jack knows. Old habits. "Yes," she says.
"You will exit the same way. Go northwest. My men will meet you and procure you a ship."
Jack is sensing some holes in this plan. Non-rebel Jaffa, for one.
"We have a ship," Carter says.
Sulky shakes his head. "There is no time to reach it. I cannot guarantee that your absence will not be noted immediately."
"Hey, Sul'kesh," Jack says. They both shift their attention to him. "How many of the Jaffa on this planet are yours?"
"Approximately one in five."
Jack shrugs. They've faced worse odds, that's for sure. He catches Carter's eye before she turns back to Sul'kesh.
"What about our friend?" she asks. "Have you found him? Has Baal?"
"We have not. We have seen his footprints, however. We believe he is alive."
"Was there blood?" Carter asks.
"A small amount. I do not believe he has suffered a debilitating injury."
Carter nods, and Sul'kesh observes both of them, slowly. "You understand what you must do?"
"We understand," Carter says. "And we're very grateful. Thank you, Sul'kesh." She pauses. "We have to ask you for one more thing, though."
Sul'kesh cocks his head.
"The machine that Baal has, that was in the old tunnels," she says. "We need it."
The Jaffa looks like he can't believe what he's hearing. Jack's not sure he can, either. Screw besting Anubis -- he wants to get her the hell out of here, and it'd be swell if he and Jacob got to go along, too.
"It is in the chamber. You have seen it," Sul'kesh says, obviously convinced that that will be the end of that.
"I know. And we know it's a risk for us to get it. But it really is important, Sul'kesh." She looks back at Jack, and Jack holds his breath, fighting down nausea. If Sulky's just playing them for information, what she says next could screw them all. "It might help us fight the Goa'uld," she says. "All of us."
"But you are not certain of this."
Carter sighs. "No, we're not. But we're ... hopeful."
Sul'kesh assesses them both for a minute, and jerks his chin. "I am hopeful, also," he says. He forehead creases as he thinks. "Can you reach the chamber, and then continue on to the exit?"
Carter thinks, too. "I can," she says. "Yes. I know the way."
"It will be much more difficult for you to escape by this route. More dangerous for us, as well. You are certain it is worth the risk?"
Jack isn't.
"Yes," Carter says. "We're certain."
***
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