DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognisable characters and property of Stargate SG-1 belong to MGM/UA, World Gekko Corp. and Double Secret Productions. This fan fiction was created solely for entertainment purposes and no money was made from it. Also, no copyright or trademark infringement was intended. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Any other characters, the storyline and the actual story are the property of the author. Not to be archived without permission of the author(s).
"Ah, dammit, Jack."
Daniel grabbed Jack's belt loop just as he started to drop bonelessly to the ground. Barely managing to keep them both from going down, he slid Jack to the ground. His head flopped forward until Daniel could lay him down properly.
He checked Jack's breathing and pulse again. Both of which seemed okay. Sitting back, he pushed the MP-5 back from where it had fallen forward and ran a hand through his hair. This was getting old. It was the third time in the last couple of hours this had happened--Jack passing out with no warning whatsoever. Just silently and casually deflating like an old balloon all over Daniel.
These repeated lapses of consciousness added onto the list of symptoms Daniel had been cataloguing. Even when Jack was awake, he was confused, unable to pay any attention, uncoordinated, unintelligible--all the classic signs of having had his bell rung good. Not that it was all that easy to tell with Jack, though, now that he thought about it. He could exhibit all those things on a good day.
Hopefully, that was all it was. Maybe just a good-sized concussion. But even with Daniel's limited medical experience, he knew it could easily be more serious than that. In either case, all he could do at the moment was to keep Jack moving; and prowling Jaffa were doing a good job of assuring that. On the downside, though, Deadweight Jack was a handful and a half.
Something caught the edge of Daniel's awareness.
Soft rustling? Crunching, maybe?
He spun his head around to look for the source, peering through the trees and foliage trying to make out anything other than inanimate objects. The forest got quiet, like it was holding its breath, kicking his worry into overdrive. Animals had a better sense of danger than he could ever hope to have, and it was a good plan to pay attention to it.
And pay attention he did. Looking around them, it was abundantly clear there was no cover here. He had been moving them slowly along the outskirts of a small clearing, following a small stream. At the edge of the tree line, though, some underbrush peeked through the darkness. That would work.
Growing more nervous as the seconds of silence ticked by, he reached down to slap lightly at Jack's face a few times. Just like before, Jack responded quickly, jerking himself awake. Daniel hauled him up once more and guided his dazed burden toward the promise of shelter.
Lowering them both to the ground in the middle of the bushes, he ignored the prickle of branches and thorns digging into him from all directions. They quickly became entangled in his clothes and hair. He pulled absently at the most annoying of them, trying to keep his movements small and quiet. His fingers stuck to something, and he pulled his hand away from his jacket with a distinct squelch, looking at it and flexing it warily. Something sticky covered the length of his hand, making his skin pinch and pucker with the movement.
Sap.
'Great. The entire planet to choose from and I had to pick this bush.'
He tried to wipe it off, but only succeeded in spreading the sticky stuff to both hands and his pants knees. 'This just tops off the night.' As leaves and branches pressed on him from above, he groaned at the image of the muck the sap had no doubt already left on his hair. He fought the urge to reach up and see what damage had been done, deciding he probably didn't want to know.
Jack didn't seem to notice any of it.
He battled the sappy bushes for several long minutes. Still, nothing happened beyond them. Daniel began to wonder how long he should wait before moving toward the Gate again. The fear of underlying damage to Jack's head filled him with an urgent need to get them home. And while sitting around in the underbrush had its definite appeals in the safety department, it wasn't exactly conducive to Jack's long-term health.
Then again, neither was getting them killed.
Crunching.
He could hear it distinctly now. And thudding that echoed through the quiet grove. He looked to the north, back the way they had been headed only a few minutes ago.
'God, am I glad we stopped.'
Jaffa. A whole platoon or horde or gaggle--whatever they were called. Coming out of the trees, slowly working their way from the north end of the small meadow to the south end of it. Glowing staff weapons cast a feeble light around them.
Daniel shoved farther back into the bushes, pushing Jack back until he grunted softly. "Sorry," he whispered.
He reached reluctantly around him for Jack's MP-5. Hefted the weapon into both hands, gripping it solidly. The stuff covering his hands made it particularly easy. The gun felt heavy in his hands, thick and dark and cold. He hated it. Hated them, and the fact that he had become intimately familiar with them.
The Jaffa were closer now, making a racket in the quiet, still night forest. Boots stomping and scuffling in the dirt, unconcerned by the noise they were making. Sure of themselves and their objective. After all, who could stand against the servants of a god?
'Well, us, for one.' He clicked the safety off the gun and moved to a crouched position in the dirt. His instincts were screaming for him to just leave. But there was no way he could outrun them with Jack along for the ride. For better or worse, this was as much of a retreat he could make in this situation. Jack stirred beside him, mumbling something incoherent. Daniel shh'd him quickly with one hand, hoping Jack would get the hint. 'Great timing, Jack--now you find your voice.'
He held still, in front of Jack, watching the Jaffa move. Stayed as still as possible, trying not to even breathe too loudly. The forest stayed just as quiet, focusing all his attention on the moving Jaffa. Hefting the gun once more, he tried to find a way to hold it that felt more natural. It never felt natural to have one of these in his hands, no matter how many times he did it, both on the range and on missions. Each time, it still felt as wrong--almost criminal--as the first time had.
But each time, he did it anyway. Because he never had any choice. Life or death, his or someone else's. Except for that one time so long ago...but they had deserved to die and he had deserved the right to kill them before they did to anyone else what had been done to his beautiful wife...
He shook his head. 'Now is not the time to go down that road, Daniel. Focus. You've got to get Jack back home in one piece.' Because he was certain if he failed to get Jack home in one piece, he would haunt Daniel for all eternity with a full repertoire of patented Jack O'Neill Irritated Glances.
That was pretty good motivation.
They were moving in front of him now, barely fifty feet from his hiding-place. He watched the little lights bob in the dark, casting an eerie shadow effect on the armor and helmets and staff weapons. As he watched, they kept moving past him. He held his breath, willing them to just keep going.
Just a little bit further...
Then, one stopped. At the very back of the group. He stopped and looked around. Straight through the darkness in their direction. Daniel's hands tightened on the gun, bile inching its way up his throat.
Oh, damn. 'We were this close.'
The warrior closed in on them, retracting his helmet as he did so. Daniel wished he hadn't done that. With those helmets on, it was so much easier to forget they were people. Just symbols, icons, statues. Not people. Not people like Teal'c, or like his son, or like Bra'tac. Not men who laughed and loved beautiful women and would do anything for their sons. Not slaves and unwilling accomplices. Not victims to the Goa'uld powermongers.
The moon took that moment to peek from behind clouds and light the forest up mercilessly. He saw the Jaffa look right in his direction then, saw his eyes lit with moonlight, and Daniel knew without a doubt he was going to have to kill the man. He didn't know any other way to do this. Jack had only taught him how to shoot to kill.
God, maybe archaeology didn't have anything on being a soldier after all.
Because that was what he had unwittingly become. Maybe not like Jack or Teal'c or Sam, but in his own twisted way. What else did you call someone crouched in the middle of a dark forest with a wounded man, looking his enemy in the eyes, gun in hand, waiting to have to kill the man because it was his job?
And, right then and there, it was his job. To do what Jack would have if their situations were reversed. What needed to be done.
No matter what it would cost him.
Dammit.
His finger squeezed on the trigger as the Jaffa brought his staff around--
And then something swished by Daniel's peripheral vision. The Jaffa's eyes rounded large with surprise as he clawed at his neck. Confused, Daniel watched the man tumbled backwards, his staff falling soundlessly onto the forest floor. His hands were still scrabbling to clutch at something. Daniel leaned out to get a better look...
A knife. Sticking out of the soft, bloody flesh in the man's neck.
He spun around to find Jack leaning upright against the bushes, breathing heavily. His knife was gone from his belt. Jack waved his hand in the vague direction of the fallen Jaffa.
"...my...job."
His job. Daniel stared. Jack's eyes were still uneven and huge, his forehead pinched up in little lines. But, even as incapacitated as he was--even then--he had taken care of them. Of Daniel. Done what Daniel could barely stand thinking about.
Because he was Jack and it was Jack's Job.
'God, you amaze me sometimes.' He smiled at the sad sight of Jack leaning crookedly in the sappy bushes, bits of leaves and twigs clinging to him. 'Not always, but often enough.'
And usually when he least expected it.
Looking back, he could see the Jaffa were through the clearing now, apparently unaware of their missing man, and moving into the edge of the forest to the south. He manhandled Jack gracelessly off the ground and headed them off through the underbrush down river again.
The remainder of the short trip to 889's Gate took almost two more long, shuffling hours. They came out of the forest just west of the clearing that held the Stargate. Grateful to get Jack's weight off his shoulder, Daniel set him down behind the trunk of an old, worn evergreen and eyed the Gate.
Particularly, the half-dozen Jaffa milling around the Gate.
"Great."
In response, Jack leaned around the tree, managing to sway only a couple of times. "Jaffa."
"Really? You're kidding." Okay, so Jack obviously was still running about a quart low. He probably shouldn't make fun of him right now. "If Teal'c comes through, he'll walk into the middle of a hornet's nest." 'Alright, Daniel, think. Think. Think. Think...
'"Dis'rc'tion."
He looked over at Jack, confused. That was supposed to make sense? "What?"
Jack concentrated. Enunciated slowly. "Dis-trac-tion."
Distraction. Daniel looked back at the Gate. Distract the Jaffa so they could dial out. 'Okay, how? Think, Daniel. What do we have to distract them with?' The gun. Three grenades between them. His knife.
Wait. Grenades.
"I've got an idea."