Title: Night Maneuvers

Author: Debby (entlzha@yahoo.com)

Category: Action/adventure, I guess

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: Not mine. No money made, no infringement intended.

Notes: Set at the end of Season 3, just prior to “Out of Mind”

*******************************

Jack was glaring at him.

Again.

"Well," Daniel asked, "you didn't think you had the only dangerous job in the world, did you?"

But from the look on Jack's face, he probably had thought exactly that. That Daniel had spent all his time in universities and libraries and conferences. That the first dangerous thing he did was step through the Stargate with one Jack O'Neill.

Don't flatter yourself, Colonel.

Granted, archaeology wasn't all Indiana Jones--full of booby traps and giant rolling boulders. But what Jack didn't realize was that life as an archaeologist wasn't exactly a bowl of cherries, either. Simple things like years of stiff necks and sore legs from alternately walking and crouching for miles at a time. Blisters, twisted ankles, heatstroke. A few more problematic worries, too. The occasional riot over remains or sacred artifacts. Sunburns that left him unable to move. Several obscure jungles diseases here and there. Broken-down trucks in the middle of vast desert wastelands. Not to mention being bashed on the head more than once by rickety buildings crumbling down on unsuspecting diggers.

It was the last one that Jack had just discovered. The hard way.

Sure, a little time spent excavating the temple they'd found on 889 had all the earmarks of a break from their usual danger-lurking-around-every-corner missions. But dangerous jobs come in all shapes and sizes. Sometimes they came in fairly obvious forms like a suicide mission to stop an alien tyrant from taking over your planet. But today, it had come in the form of a four-hundred-year-old wall that chose to collapse on Sam.

And, unfortunately for Daniel, it also came in the form of being left alone for the next several hours with one very, very annoyed Air Force colonel.

Technically, it wasn't anyone's fault. And the resulting gash she was sporting in her left thigh wasn't even all that bad as injuries went. Not by SG-1's standards, anyway. But anyone or anything even remotely responsible for damaging his team was automatically on Jack's black list. And since he'd gotten no response from glaring at the broken wall, Daniel--as their archaeologist--was getting the remainder of patented Jack O'Neill Irritated Glances.

"Fine," Jack finally responded to Daniel's very hypothetical -- and not a little bit sarcastic -- question. "Let's just get this done so I can go home and explain yet another team injury to Hammond, okay? Because I am just really looking forward to that."

Well, Daniel supposed Jack had his fair share of dangerous tasks, too.

As he headed back into the excavated tunnel, mumbling about being stuck digging in the rocks, Daniel checked his watch. Teal'c was due to drop Sam off at the SGC and be back in maybe six hours. If he could just stay out of Jack's line of fire until then, he could let Teal'c deal with him. He could defuse Jack better than any of the rest of them. There was a ton of artifacts to be packed up while Jack worked inside the temple, anyway.

Because while Daniel wasn't afraid of dangerous jobs, he certainly didn't seek them out either.

*******************************

"Oh, Daniel...?" Jack called, keeping his voice deliberately casual. Although he was more than a little...concerned by what he had found.

After several minutes, he heard Daniel making his way around the barrier of piled wood and stone created by Jack’s efforts in the last hour to clear the cramped passage after Carter's little mishap. He had been trying to get back their lost access to some burial chamber that had Daniel in hog heaven for the last three days.

Now, it looked like that hadn't been the big find on this little planet.

Daniel came up beside him, puffing slightly from the effort of climbing over the debris blocking the way. "Yeah?"

Jack pointed into the large hole in the wall created by the collapse. "Tell me -- is that what I think it is?">

Daniel moved closer to the hole, bracing himself against a jagged edge and bending over to peer inside the room now apparent beyond it. He looked sharply back at Jack, his eyes wide with confusion and a good portion of worry.

"Well, I'll take that as a 'yes.'"

"Jack, that's a sarcophagus! Do you know what this means?"

Oh yeah, Jack knew what that meant. "Goa'uld."

As if on cue, a low droning filtered into Jack's consciousness. He focused on it, running through a mental tally of known noises. It grew louder, filling his ears with a dreaded sound. He looked over at Daniel, whose eyes were raised toward the sky as well.

The both came to the same conclusion at the same time.

"Death gliders."

*******************************

Daniel burst out of the temple at a dead run, sticking to Jack's heels for all he was worth. Jack had pushed him out of the temple, mumbling something about not getting pinned in.

He nearly plowed into Jack when he suddenly stopped, grabbing Daniel's vest and pulling him to the ground behind a fallen tree just outside their small camp. Looking up to the north, opposite the temple, he spotted the outlines of three fast-approaching gliders. They were flying low, as if looking for something.

"Shit! I knew this mission was gonna be a pain in the ass!" Jack peeked over the log to look around their campsite. "Okay, listen. You stay here. I'm gonna go get our weapons," he gestured toward the pile of supply boxes sitting untouched across the site, "and then we're gonna haul ass to the Gate."

Daniel nodded, not wanting to break Jack's concentration.

"And you wonder why I stay armed," Jack chided. Taking one more look at the gliders on the horizon, he ran out of their hiding place and across the campsite toward the boxes stacked up near the little ravine behind the clearing. Daniel waited impatiently, staying out of sight.

And then without warning, movement appeared behind the temple. He swung around just in time to see another glider streak up from behind the building, weapons blasting out fire and death as it came.

"JACK!!"

He ducked back behind the log as energy blasts raked across the camp, filling his world with screaming noise and smoke and fire. Pulling himself up, he tried to peer through it towards where Jack was running.

A blast of energy engulfed the spot Jack had been.

"Jack!" Daniel screamed his name again in a knee-jerk reaction, not even able to hear his own shout above the blasts from the gliders. As the smoke cleared, Jack was nowhere in sight.

As the glider began an arc to come around again, Daniel took his chance. He scrambled across the camp toward where Jack had been until a second ago. The glider reduced to background noise as he could only focus on that smoking, charred spot. He skidded to a stop behind the largest crate and crouched down behind it as far as he could go. The glider was coming around again.

"Shit."

Well, Jack certainly would have been proud of having further shared his vocabulary with Daniel. Daniel risked another look. Stood up farther to get a better view, hoping he wasn't making himself too good of a target. "Oh, jeez." Just behind the gouged-out ground was an incline. Rocks and dirt had formed a slide pattern that disappeared down it.

He ducked back down as the glider flew directly over him. Its energy weapons strafed the ground. He tried to think. Jack wasn't there. There wasn't even any...well, anything… where he would have been. Which meant he was probably down that incline.

A blast right behind him made him wince instinctively. Too close. Way too close.

Immediately after that, though, there was a brief, blessed silence. Daniel knew it was time.

Time to do something incredibly stupid.

"Dammit!" He ran in a crouched position as fast as he could toward the incline, the glider looming over him. Knowing this was gonna hurt like hell, he threw himself over the edge just as another blast carved out a hole where he had been standing.

He rolled and tumbled, rocks digging into him and weeds slapping at his face and hands. Everything faded into nothingness as the ground came around and around to pummel him. Over and over again. He didn't even realize he had stopped until his brain caught up a couple of turns later. His stomach continued to churn and roil, and he responded by sucking in a few deep breaths, eyes closed.

"Well, that was fun." He pulled himself up onto all fours, pulling a stick out of his jacket collar.

Two more blasts roared from the ridge above him, and he ducked instinctively again. "I get the point!" He looked around, trying to orient himself. Trees, bushes, dirt, more trees....

Jack.

Daniel scrambled the ten yards over to where Jack lay sprawled face-up in the dirt. Face all dirt-streaked, marred red in a few small, jagged lines, he was the best thing Daniel had seen in...well, in about the last five minutes at least.

"Jack?" Getting no response, he tried again. "Jack? C'mon, I could use some help here." Nothing a second time, which began to worry him. He slapped at Jack's face a couple of times, still with no response.

But his fingertips came away stained red, shocking him for a moment. He leaned down to find the source, horrified to find a long line of red running down behind Jack's ear near the base of his skull. It could barely be seen, hidden in the gray.

When had Jack gone so gray?

More blasts rained on the campsite above, throwing dirt and tiny rocks over the edge on them. Daniel leaned over Jack to shield him. Okay, first things first--let's get out of here before they finish the job. Moving to Jack's head, he grabbed him up by the shoulders to pull him. Then stopped when something in the dirt a few feet way caught his eye.

Jack's gun.

Some deep, insistent part of his brain urged him to go get it. As he did so, he wondered where exactly he had picked up that new instinct. There was a time when he wouldn't probably have even noticed the stupid thing.

He slung the strap of the MP-5 around his shoulder and started the long process of dragging Jack away from the rockslide and its distinct lack of cover. "Ooof. Jeez, Jack, try working out some, huh? No wonder you make us carry the packs."

As they moved away from the hill, trees overhead made short work of the remaining daylight. At least we won't be visible from above. It wasn't a lot, but it was an upside to this mess they were in. That was exactly what Jack would have done --found the only good points to the mess, or the only bad points.

The new darkness, combined with his awkward position and load, made him trip several times on rocks and holes he couldn't see, each time barely catching himself in time to prevent going down while holding Jack. The fifth time it happened, he decided it was time to regroup. He was probably doing more harm than good here for Jack anyway. Step one was done, though. He'd gotten Jack out of the line of fire. Next was to locate a safe place to stick them both.

He looked around. Trees and more trees. Endless green and brown. The base of the hill they'd been on wound around to his right, disappearing in the darkness. In front of him, nothing but forest. Left, the same.

"Well, this doesn't look promising."

Considering the three choices again, it finally came down to the sheer fact that only one choice had any difference from the other two. "Okay. So, right it is." He hefted Jack up again and made their way around the rocks toward the hillside he could barely see in the darkness.

*******************************

He was moving.

Unfortunately, so was everything else.

Shadows above him swirled, rippling into bizarre shapes. Hard things below scraped and scratched at him. Noises gibbered and howled, pushing in from all directions.

He was being dragged.

By what?

He couldn't tell. He tried to look above him, but stars and spots filled his vision. The wracking pain that resulted from the movement stole his breath.

shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit

He tried to breathe. The spikes being driven through his head dulled after an eternity. Okay, so moving was out of the question. He was at the mercy of whatever was dragging him along. The thought filled him with fear. Helplessness that burned in him, fighting with the pain. The need to move, to get control, was almost more than the pain that forced him to stay as still as possible.

He tried to focus his brain instead. Questions, so many questions. Where the hell was he? What was dragging him around? What were the nightmare shapes looming around and above him?

It was all too much. Nothing made any sense.

So he closed his eyes again.

He'd think about it later. Soon. He just needed to close his eyes. It would look better in the morning...

*******************************

Only an hour later, Daniel sat shivering in the darkness wishing one more time -- just for good measure — that he could light a fire. Unfortunately, until he was sure the Jaffa were gone, he just couldn't risk it. They were pretty exposed as it was. The best shelter he could find them was a rock outcropping tucked only slightly in out of the wind. He had settled Jack in as best he could and run the standard checks for injury. The good news was the blow to his head seemed to be the worst. He was breathing fine, nothing broken that Daniel could feel, nothing rigid or distended. The bad news was Jack hadn't stirred during the entire process, making him worry there might be more hidden damage than the fairly obvious concussion.

The other bad news was that after the sun went down, the temperature had dropped significantly. Added to a healthy wind chasing down the edge of the hillside they were huddling against, it was fairly miserable by now. On the other hand, at least it had decided not to rain. Rain would have been the perfect addition to his night. A cliché, true, but apropos nonetheless.

Fortunately, whatever gods of irony and bad luck had been ruling his life lately, rain wasn't in their plan for the day. Now all he had to do was wait for Jack to wake up and take over their little situation. He'd done his part and soon Jack would be back to do his part.

"Ugghhh..."

It was more of a vibration in Daniel’s leg than a noise. Jack. Stretched out beside him, long legs pressed up against Daniel's legs, his face was tucked into Daniel's hip so he could keep constant pressure on the bleeding cut on the back of Jack's head. He was covered from the cold wind by Daniel's jacket and from the cold ground by Jack's own jacket underneath him. Not that Daniel thought either was doing much good. But all he had to work with was what they had been carrying.

Daniel moved his hand away in response to the new activity--noting the lessened bleeding—and shifted around to get a good look at him. At the release of pressure, Jack stirred again, moving his head to a more comfortable position. Well, as comfortable as he could get with his vest balled up as a pillow. While it served as good elevation, that thing had to be doing nothing in the comfort area. His eyes struggled to open.

"Finally." As much as Daniel had been worried about Jack's health, he was also just as glad at having the company again. He'd gotten awfully used to having someone around to share a crisis with.

Jack made another inarticulate noise, his eyes pinching up in pain. Daniel winced sympathetically. Oh yeah, the headache he's gonna have from that knock. They'd all had personal experience with that particular symptom way too many times in the last three years. SG-1 was not good for your head's health, with or without those stupid helmets.

His eyes still closed, Jack fumbled one hand up to blindly feel around on his head. Daniel grabbed it and carefully pushed it away from the injury. Another groan. He moved his hand to press down against Jack's forehead, pinning him to the ground.

"Don't move."

Jack moved anyway. Of course he did. Since when does Jack listen to orders?

About as often as you do.

Daniel pressed harder. "Don't move," he repeated.

Jack did as he was told this time, making Daniel both relieved and nervous. It was a fair indication of how bad he was feeling that there wasn't more resistance. Daniel almost didn't know what to do with a cooperative Jack.

Satisfied Jack wasn't going to do anything stupid immediately, Daniel released his forehead and refolded the improvised bandanna bandage to find a clean spot. Then he stuck his hand back under Jack's head, forming a perfect headrest while Jack lay blinking blearily at the night sky.

The clouds had cleared and the sky had gone completely dark by now, giving them both a perfect view of what Daniel considered the Milky Way. This planet, not being lodged in the outer rims like Earth, had a spectacular, almost-opaque band of stars across the sky. Jack had been admiring it for the last three days, wishing for his telescope. Daniel was too focused on getting what he could from the temple in his short time here to worry about what the sky looked like.

Besides, he'd gotten used to unfamiliar skies.

It was such a strange thing, to be so used to looking up at an alien sky at night. Not to be surprised to find no moon, or three or four of them instead. Not to be surprised by colorful nebulas and twin planets and strange galaxies littering the sky. Not to automatically look for familiar constellations. To make new ones. Jack had already christened the Great Hockey Stick constellation two days ago. Daniel added The Sphinx just above the horizon to the north. Sam's contribution had been The Giant Coffee Pot directly above that.

What a bizarre point in his life to have reached. To be sitting under the Great Hockey Stick constellation, who-knew-how-many light-years from home, waiting out enemy Jaffa while holding his friend's bleeding head in his hands and not even to be overly worried.

He was concerned, of course. But not any more so than what had become the background hum of his life in the last two years. Maybe it was the lull after his adrenaline rush earlier. Maybe it was that Jack would be taking things over soon. Maybe it was that Teal'c would be back soon. Maybe it was just that he'd been desensitized to a certain level of danger after all this time.

Which, though, probably wasn't much sign of a healthy lifestyle, either.

Movement in his hand. It pulled his attention back down from the sky. Jack was stirring, batting irritatedly at the pressure on his injury. Good -- signs of Normal Jack.

‘Normal’ being a relative term.

"Hey. How do you feel?"

Jack grunted.

"Ah."

"...wha...?"

"You fell down that hill." Daniel nodded tiredly up behind them, not caring that Jack wasn't looking and couldn't see it in the darkness anyway. "The gliders are gone, although I'm not sure if that means they're gone gone or still lurking around here somewhere. We've got," he checked his watch, "just over four hours until Teal'c is due back. We can just lay low here until then. He'll see something's wrong and come looking. And we both know he should have no trouble finding us."

Silence. Daniel looked down at Jack, who was staring at him like he'd grown a third eye. "Huh?" was the only response he got to his rundown of their situation.

So much for Jack taking over.

"Never mind. I've got it all under control."

"Oh." Jack seemed to think about it. "Okay."

And he closed his eyes again, leaving it all in Daniel's hands. Which, frankly, worried Daniel more than anything else did.

*******************************

"Jack?"

Jack swatted at the offending noise.

"Jack?"

This time, it was accompanied by movement. Poking at his shoulder. Something hit his face. He swiped at it again.

"Jack."

More forceful this time, firm and demanding. It made his head pound, his eyes hurt. Hell, his hair hurt at this point. And who was the banshee screaming at him?

"Shuttup."

"No."

The voice was urgent now, and hands pulled him into a sitting position. Jack forced his eyes open, momentarily confused by the blackness that greeted him. He blinked a couple of times. The space in front of him melded into a form--less-dark-against-blackness. Two more blinks and the form coalesced into a body.

It was speaking to him, looking around worriedly. He tried to make out the words formed by those lips, but they were jumbled. What had happened to that thing's mouth? It didn't work right.

He shook his head. Screwed his eyes up. God, his head hurt. Felt like it was going to explode.

"--'mon, we have got to go."

Daniel. Why hadn't he recognized him? Why was everything so confused? And what the hell did he want in the middle of the night?

Daniel was trying to make him stand up. Why? Jack tried to help. He pushed his legs under him, trying to force some strength into them. But they felt thick and heavy, like syrup. Maple syrup, flowing out of the bottle that was shaped like a woman with an apron and a bun and...

What woman?

They started moving, but Jack couldn't feel his legs working. He peered down at them owlishly, mesmerized by the way they moved -- forward and back, one in front of the other, of their own volition. It was hypnotic. Like watching the waves go up and back. Up and back. Up and back....

Better be careful or you'll be quacking like a chicken soon.

He laughed at his own joke.

"Be quiet and stay still."

Who was Daniel talking to?

Something was pressing into his back. Sharp and hard. He moved one hand back to push on it. A rock. A big rock digging into the small of his back. At least, he assumed it was his back. Everything was all jumbled and out of order. He could swear his arms felt longer than his legs and his feet weren't touching the ground.

He realized Daniel was holding him vertical between the rock and a hand pressed almost painfully against his chest, looking around anxiously. The part of Jack's brain that still seemed to be working got worried.

"...wha's wrong?"

Daniel looked back at him, forehead pinched up in little lines. Pain, worry, anger? Jack couldn't tell in the darkness. "Jaffa," Daniel whispered. "Are you with me now?"

Jack nodded once. Of course he was with him. Stupid question. Where else would he be? Even when he wasn't with that guy, wasn't he always with him?

Daniel just stared at him, looking deep into his eyes.

"Stoppit. Ya look like y'r gonna propose."

Daniel laughed a small, throaty laugh, his teeth flashing white in the moonlight. Jack didn't know what he said that was so funny. He supposed he'd never get Daniel's sense of humor.

With one more look around -- for what? -- Daniel turned back to Jack and started pulling his arm around his shoulder. "Okay, I think we should keep going. Work our way back towards the Gate. We'll either be closer when help arrives or we'll be able to Gate home. And maybe we can find somewhere to get out of the weather."

Jack tried to concentrate on moving his feet in time with Daniel's shuffling steps. He could go for that last idea. Stopping sounded good. Sleep sounded better. Maybe he could find a fork or something to stab at the back of his skull with. Anything had to be better than this...

*******************************

"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. Jack’s 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 in his way 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 the brush, 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. 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." All right, 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."

*******************************

Jack watched Daniel speak. He'd never noticed how many times that guy licked his lips. All the time. Each time he stopped to breathe. When he stopped to think. Before he--

"Can you hear me?"

Daniel was frowning now. And sure enough, licked his lips.

Jack tried to think. Daniel had been saying something, hadn't he? Okay, what had he been saying? Let's see. Something about the Jaffa. "Yeah, yeah."

Daniel sighed. "Right. Listen, just stay here and don't move. And be quiet. Okay?"

"My line."

"Yes, it is. So you should have no problem with the concept."

Jack smiled. Okay, so sometimes Daniel did have a sense of humor.

"Understand?" Daniel prodded.

"Yes. Alright?"

"I'll be right back." Daniel moved away a couple of feet, then stopped and turned back. Licked his lips again. "And ignore anything you hear me say."

"...always do."

Jack laughed as Daniel rolled his eyes and slunk off through the trees.

*******************************

A small clearing about fifty yards away was as good a place as any for his plan. Far enough away from the Gate, but not so far he would waste any time getting to it. He'd briefly entertained thought of doing this farther away, but frankly couldn't work up the energy to travel any farther. It had been a long night, and he'd been dragging around a ton of incoherent Jack O'Neill for too much of it. His arms were leaden, his knees screaming at him, and he was pretty sure the sap in his hair was soaking into his scalp now -- if the brain fuzziness was any indicattion.

He pulled Jack's radio from his vest pocket and set it carefully on the ground, disguising it slightly in a small clump of grass. Turned the volume all the way up and pulled out the earpiece. He figured Jack owed him enough for tonight to justify sacrificing his radio instead of Daniel's. Besides, Jack hadn't had to pay for any new equipment yet this whole month.

Moving back into the bushes, he thumbed his own radio on. What to say? He hadn't thought about, so focused on what he would do before and after. Finally, he settled on something from a long time ago.

"All the survivors of the war..."

He winced as the boom from the other radio reached him. He hadn't been prepared for how loud it could be. They'd never been actually trying to draw attention. Bracing himself a little, he started up again.

"...had reached their homes by now and so put the perils of battle and the sea behind them. Odysseus alone was prevented from returning to the home and wife he longed for by that powerful goddess, the Nymph Calypso, who wished him to marry her, and kept him in her vaulted cave. Not even when the rolling seasons brought in the year with the gods had chosen for his homecoming to Ithaca was he clear of his troubles and safe among his friends..."

He stopped. The Jaffa were looking his direction, a couple having moved towards the loud noise of his voice reciting Homer into the quiet night air. That's it, guys, come see what's going on...

"...Yet all the gods were sorry for him, except Poseidon, who pursued the heroic Odysseus with relentless malice 'til the day when he reached his own country..."

All six now began to move determinedly toward him. He pressed back into the shadows farther.

"...Poseidon, however, was now gone on a visit to the distant Ethiopians, the farthest outposts of mankind, half of whom live where the Sun goes down..."

Closer. He continued, his brain rattling off long-memorized passages on auto-pilot, as he watched them close in on him. The lead Jaffa spotted the small radio, his helmet cocking slightly as he studied it.

It was time. Odysseus would have to wait.

He pulled the pins and tossed all three grenades into the center of the loose horseshoe of Jaffa.

"Sorry."

Four seconds later, the explosion sprayed dirt and rocks over the entire clearing. By the time it settled over six dazed or dead Jaffa, he was halfway back to grab Jack.

*******************************

There was a sudden explosion, catching Jack off-guard. He looked toward it, but couldn't make out anything through the forest. A loud boom, a final crescendo. He tried to remember what opera he was listening to. And why is he listening to opera in the forest?

"Alright, let's go!"

Daniel. Sliding through the dirt towards him. Jack flinched slightly at the new activity. It didn't faze Daniel, though, who was hauling him up and moving him quickly out of the trees.

Right. They were hiding from something, running from something. What? Soldiers, he thought. Soldiers, right. Not guerrillas. Big, clunky soldiers who made more sound than a drunk at a football game.

Oh, man. Like Chuckie at that last game before Jack shipped out. God, they'd been so wasted, they couldn't tell what team they were rooting for. And then the burgers on top of it had them puk--

The movement had stopped.

He found himself leaning against something. A round thing, full of little pictures. Funny little pictures, like those drawings Charlie brought home that neither he nor Sara could figure out. A cow, a horse, a train, Mom and Dad, who could tell? He laughed at the memory.

"Here we go."

The voice right beside him startled Jack. Daniel was playing with the circle, like a game of Simon Says. Charlie loved to play Simon Says. Then Daniel straightened to watch something in the distance, the picture of intent worry. He had that look way too often, if you asked Jack. All pinched up, eyes big and round. That brain of his working overtime inventing trouble.

He should learn to relax more. Like Jack. Jack was very relaxed.

He followed Daniel's line of sight. "Cool. Nice circle."

Daniel looked at the circle thoughtfully. "Yeah," he agreed. "Nice circle. Most of the time."

Could use some paint, though. Maybe some color. A nice purple. Or blue. Blue was Sara's favorite color.

And then it was blue. A big glob of blue water in the center of the circle. Standing, though. Shouldn't water be on the ground? Stupid science tests.

"Okay, let's go."

They were moving again. Wow -- his feet worked better this time. He could almost keep up as they ran up some stairs and Daniel threw them both into the blue water.

*******************************

Coming out the other side of the wormhole, Daniel's feet landed on the grating of the ramp with a satisfying thud. Yes! He'd come to love that particular sound over the last two years.

"Close the iris!" he yelled.

Momentum caused Jack to stumble into him as he stopped. Daniel was forced to make some rapid adjustments in his grip to keep them both from pulling a Jack and Jill impression down the ramp. When he looked up, he found a Gate Room full of people staring at him. Teal'c was all geared up and standing at the bottom of the ramp. Behind him, the general, flanked by a dozen or so guards aiming guns at them.

Deja vu.

"Hel-lo..."

"Doctor Jackson, are you all right?"

He thought about it. Define all right, General. SG-1's version or most people's version? "No, actually. Jack needs some help."

"I'll say." The general turned to gesture at the Control Room window, which responded with a call for a medic. Music to Daniel's ears.

Teal'c came forward to take the bulk of Jack's weight from him. "DanielJackson, what has happened?"

He rotated his newly-freed shoulder a few times. "It's kind of a long story, Teal'c. Tell you what? I'll be happy to tell you the whole thing. As many times as you want. In the morning."

The general smiled. "How about the condensed version? Just once. In the infirmary."

"Deal."

*******************************

Daniel was poked and prodded, given a couple of Band-aids, and sent home -- a move he was more than happy to make. Jack, on the other hand, was pronounced to have a grade three concussion -- which left him, probably very unhappily, still in the infirmary when Daniel arrived back the next morning. Dr. Fraiser had assured them all he'd most likely be just fine. Trapped in the infirmary until the symptoms stopped, but then he'd just be sent home for a couple of weeks — by the end of which he'd probably be crawling the walls to get back out through the Gate.

Jack still looked pretty bad, though. Pale and strangely still. Daniel knew he had every right to look bad after all that trekking around with a head injury, and that it didn't mean he wouldn't be fine. But he'd feel much better if Jack was doing what he was supposed to be doing -- bitching and moaning, pissed to be stuck in bed, until the doctors either knocked him out or kicked him out. That was Jack. This unmoving, quiet Jack was distinctly unreassuring.

"Hey."

Daniel was startled to realize Jack's eyes were open, staring at him. Definitely a little more lucid than they'd been last night.

"Hey."

The eyes slid closed, causing Jack to grimace and open them again by force of will. Daniel was inwardly relieved. There was the Jack he knew.

"D'mmit..."

"Yeah. Been there."

Jack just grunted noncommittally. Blinked his eyes a few times deliberately, rubbing at them with one shaky hand.

"Well, the good news is you've earned us a vacation,” Daniel told him.

"Wh't?"

"A vacation. SG-1's on stand-down until you're up and running. Which means I can go to P8T-554 and excavate the ruins since we didn't get anything out of 889. Sam's all excited to have time to install that program she's been working on and Teal'c is packing his bag as we speak."

The hand waved absently. "Y'know me. Always here t' help."

"Well, thanks."

Jack was looking at him strangely at that point. Daniel could see his groggy brain working on something.

"What?" Daniel asked.

"Did you get your hair cut?"

Oh. He ran a hand through it self-consciously. His lone casualty from their traipse across the planet. He hadn't been able to get the sap out, so he'd finally given in and told the barber down the road to cut it off. His big mistake had been forgetting he was in the middle of Crewcutville, so he was probably served right to have gotten a military cut out of the deal. "Yeah. Why?"

Jack looked like he was considering taking it further. Then relented. Probably lacked the energy for banter.

Daniel, however, didn't. "Hey, can I see your scar?"

Jack eyed him humorlessly, eyes and mouth all squinted up to advertise his feelings on the matter. "No."

Daniel grinned, relishing having the upper hand. It wasn't a luxury he usually got. But he also knew enough to quit while he was ahead. "I guess I'll go, then. Before Fraiser decides to keep me, too."

"Sure."

He turned to leave, making it only a few feet away before Jack's unusually soft voice caught him.

"Daniel?"

He turned around. Jack was watching him with a curious intensity.

"Yeah?"

"You did a good job."

Daniel grinned. "Yeah, we did."

They had. And he realized maybe this particular dangerous job wasn't so bad to have. Maybe he occasionally had to fight off Jaffa. And maybe he'd learned to do things he never had imagined doing. And maybe he had to trek miles across planets in search of clues to questions humanity hadn't even thought of yet. And maybe he came back injured sometimes and his friends did way too often. And maybe he'd been killed on more than one occasion. And maybe he would be again.

But he didn't have to do any of it alone. And for some reason he couldn't fathom, that made all the difference.

~~finis~~