Damn. Damn. Damn!
Jack slammed his fist into his locker door, creating a dent that was momentarily satisfying. Seconds later, though, the sting of his knuckles added piquancy to his frustration that counteracted the temporary relief. He sucked in a sharp breath and counted slowly to ten. Breaking his hand on the furniture wasn't going to help Daniel any. And right now helping Daniel was what he needed to focus.
Damn it! He'd only just got Daniel back from Oma De Sultry. If some tinpot rebel leader thought he could just come along and snatch his archaeologist without so much as a by your leave, he had another thing coming.
He should never have let Daniel go on this mission without him. What the hell had he been thinking? He drew his fist back, preparing to take another potshot at his locker, but then thought better of it. Actually he knew damn well what he'd been thinking. He'd jumped at the chance to keep Daniel on Earth because every time Daniel stepped through the Stargate fate seemed to have a nasty habit of biting him in the ass. More precisely, he knew he'd still been reeling over the fact a quick visit to a crashed space ship had resulted in Daniel carrying a whole host of alien personalities inside his head. For a while there, it had looked as though they were going to have to get used to the fact that any one of twelve different people might suddenly take possession of Daniel's body. And that Daniel himself was apparently locked away deep inside, in some irretrievable place outside of which madness threatened.
Jack shivered at the memory of his friend's normally gentle expression being twisted into an arrogant mask by the ruler of some distant planet. As for that woman - sheesh! Her initial concern that it was going to be difficult to ply her trade in a man's body had quickly vanished when she saw Daniel's reflection in the glass. The smug way she'd decided she could make just as much money if not more using Daniel's body was a memory Jack could happily live without. Carter really needed to invent some doohickey that they could strap on to Daniel to make sure he stayed put and nobody else got to play ride along.
Uncurling his clenched fingers, Jack rummaged in his pocket and pulled out the key to his locker. Anger was a good thing, he reminded himself, but only if it was used to fuel action. Otherwise it was a distraction. It would serve him well once he was out in the field tracking down Daniel's kidnappers. Right now he needed to save his energy.
He took a deep, calming breath and turned the key in the lock. The buckled door opened with a groan of protest, and the strong smell of liniment slapped him around the face. The aromatic reminder that his knees weren't all that they could be wasn't welcome. He needed to be fully functional for this mission, and he couldn't afford to smell like he'd just come from a sports therapist out in the rain forest. Muttering to himself about the misfortunes of old injuries and middle age he wrapped his fingers around a bar of unscented airforce issue soap. This wasn't the time for any of Carter's fancy gift shower gels either.
Habit kicked in as he unwrapped the soap - the habit of his days as a black ops specialist preparing for a mission. His commanding officer had set the routine way back when Jack didn't need to worry about bad knees, grey hair, and trusting his brain more than his body. Now, the habit slipped around his shoulders like a friendly arm and a voice from his past echoed in his head.
"Another mission, Jackie boy. Start clean and it'll go clean."
It was a stupid superstition. And yet Jack found himself embracing it. This mission was too important to allow something as silly as not showering jinx his belief that success was already his. He needed to be sharp, on the ball, one hundred and ten percent ready - Daniel's life might depend on it.
He stripped off his clothes, grabbed a towel and then moved briskly to the shower room. The nearest stall was as good as any, and he tossed the towel over the door before cranking the water on hot and full. Steam began to form as he coaxed the soap to lather, and then transferred the creamy foam to his skin. South American rebels, damnit. His hands swept over his chest in short, firm strokes. They must've looked at Daniel and seen a walking dollar sign. His right hand paused over his heart and he offered up a brief prayer that this was the truth - that whoever had Daniel would think it worth their while to keep him alive and in good health. Dear God, don't let it be some macho group who thought they'd get more publicity displaying a beaten face or an abused body.
Or worse.
He lathered the soap again and bent forward so his hands could glide down the groove of muscle on his thighs, then down over his calves to ankles and feet. His brain registered the sensations, but hi mind was running calculations, turning the hours that Daniel had been missing into the potential damage of physical deprivations. No food - that wouldn't be overly serious. Daniel was strong enough to cope with an enforced fast. However, no water was an entirely different scenario, one that could be a big problem. Jack shivered despite the heat of the shower as his mind supplied unwelcome facts about dehydration. Headache. Muscle cramps. Confusion, eventually leading to delirium. Getting Daniel out wasn't like to be easy. Rescuing a badly dehabilitated Daniel would be that much harder. And, of course, Daniel wasn't alone. There were two men to save.
Jack shut off the water, and with it his dark thoughts. He'd deal with Daniel's condition when he knew the facts, rather than the nightmare.
It took him sixty seconds to towel himself dry. Another minute or two to dress in clean jungle fatigues. Finally he checked through his equipment - gun, knife, ammunition. And a few bits and pieces that were uniquely Jack O' Neill, the dark items of his past that changed him from a clean-cut airforce colonel into a dangerous killer.
He caught sight of his face in the mirror as he turned to go, and for a moment he paused to assess the expression he wore. His eyes were dark with veiled aggression, his mouth was predatory line. It was a look he'd forgotten he sometimes wore, but he didn't flinch from it. Neither did he feel guilt at its source. He was ready to do whatever it took. He was bringing Daniel home.
And no one was going to get in his way.
Author's notes: Just a quick snippet to celebrate the airing of Evolution II in the UK tomorrow. Whumped Daniel heaven!
© January 2005 The characters mentioned in this story are the property of Showtime and Gekko Film Corp. The Stargate, SG-I, the Goa'uld and all other characters who have appeared in the series STARGATE SG-1 together with the names, titles and backstory are the sole copyright property of MGM-UA Worldwide Television, Gekko Film Corp, Glassner/Wright Double Secret Productions and Stargate SG-I Prod. Ltd. Partnership. This fanfic is not intended as an infringement upon those rights and solely meant for entertainment. All other characters, the story idea and the story itself are the sole property of the author.