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).
Part 8: Daniel
I feel like there's a parade marching over my grave.....
I've died more times in my dreams tonight than I have in real life.
Jack's asleep under a blanket at the other end of the couch and there's another one over me. I guess Jack's in major watchdog mode tonight...
If I hadn't been having bad dreams before I'd blame it on the green toast.
One things for sure...I've had more than enough of these things for one night, I need some coffee. I start to get up, but a wave of dizziness hits me again...
Something is definitely not right about all of this.
The dreams...
So close to reality, but so...wrong.
I try again to raise up, but can't seem to find the strength.
It's so cold...
Cold.
Mind numbing, bone-chilling cold.
I open my eyes to find myself surrounded by ice.
Where the hell are we?
We should be back at the SGC....
Jack? Sam? Teal'c?
I raise up off the icy ground slowly. My head's throbbing...and bleeding, must've been what knocked me out.
Jack?
He's laying up against an icy wall, unconscious. When I turn him over, he looks...bad. His breath is raspy, his pulse is thready and erratic, his leg is obviously broken...
I don't see Sam or Teal'c anywhere...
I know I dialed Earth...I know it!
Jack is stirring. He comes back to consciousness with a yelp of pain...
"Daniel?"
"Yeah, Jack, I'm here..."
I try to sum up our situation for him as best I can, then try to prepare him for what has to be done. I've set broken legs more times than I can count, on Abydos mostly...but also a few times on remote digs where medical help may be hours, or even days, away.
Jack understands what I have to do, and I try to be as gentle as possible, but I know it hurts him. It can't be helped. He knows that as I do....
Once Jack's leg is set and splinted, I try to make him as comfortable as possible. He's trying to keep up a front for me, but I know there's something very wrong with him...
I've got to get us out of here. Somehow.
The Stargate is here, nearly embedded in the glacial ice, so the DHD has to be here too. After searching for what seems like hours, I finally find it, layered over with what could be millenia of ice, and start chipping away with my knife. Jack wants to help, but I tell him to keep still and talk to me...
I have a feeling that he should stay awake. If he goes to sleep in this cold, he could...
Can't think about that.
Jack talks away as I work; talking about sports, life in the military, flight simulations. When he runs out of topics, I prompt him with one of the many bad jokes that I've learned from him. Of course, I tell it wrong and he has to correct me, but I don't mind it...at least he's talking.
Jack's rather debatable sense of humor is one of the many things about him that it took me awhile to understand . It's definitely taken me awhile. In a way it's a compliment to have Jack aim his wit at you. If he doesn't like you, he aims that other weapon at you...that dripping sarcasm that lesser souls can't begin to comprehend. . They may think they've been insulted, but they're never quite sure...
I realize that Jack's stopped talking and climb down to where he is to check.
He's gone to sleep...
Got to wake him up.
Jack...
God, Jack, you can't do this...
You can't leave me here alone...