"Will you be okay for a few minutes?" Jack asked, looking down at Daniel's ashen face.
Daniel shifted the thin pillow behind his head in a vain attempt to make himself more comfortable on the narrow cot bed. He managed a brief smile that turned into a wince thanks to his split and bruised lips. "I'm fine," he said, before giving away his real emotional state by asking "Where are you going?"
"Just want to check the other buildings. See if I can find anything that might make you more comfortable." He glanced over at Doctor Lee, who was snoring loudly on another cot. "Maybe some earplugs."
The smile flickered again. "I'm fine."
"Sure," Jack replied. He patted Daniel's shoulder as he turned towards the door. "I won't be long."
Outside the ramshackle hut, Jack paused to take a long, deep breath of humid jungle air. Daniel was anything but fine. That bullet wound in his leg needed more than field first aid, and his rehydration really needed proper medical supervision, not a cross your fingers and hope approach. Plus, Jack had already used up the salt and mineral-rich rehydration packs he carried in his vest pockets, which meant that Daniel and Doctor Lee would have to make do with plain boiled water until Burke got back in the morning with transport. Things were definitely not fine, but keen though they all were to get home, walking out of the jungle in the dark with two badly abused men, one with a bullet wound, had not been an option.
He shivered despite the warm air as he remembered how close they'd come to having just one option - sending Daniel home in a bodybag. The image of that guerrilla wielding a machete that was mere seconds from being embedded in Daniel's skull was going to haunt him for a long time. A very long time. And then that damn zombie... He shook his head, trying to dislodge the memory. It was over now. Daniel was safe. And come daybreak, they'd get the hell out of this nightmare camp and back to civilisation, proper medical care, and whatever support Daniel needed to get over this - physically and emotionally. Daniel was going to be fine - no matter what it took.
His hand rested lightly on his P90 as he jogged over to the nearest building. Daniel had reassured him that all the guerrillas were dead and that there was no likelihood of them resurrecting now the device was off. 'Living forever is vastly over-rated', Daniel had said lightly as he deactivated the thing. 'dying isn't exactly a picnic either,' Jack had retorted. Then they'd looked at each - a dozen shared memories passing silently between them before Burke had broken the moment with some instantly forgettable comment. Device or no device, zombies or no zombies, it still made him feel better to be armed. Now he used the tip of the weapon to cautiously push open the door of the hut - just in case.
It was empty, except for a couple of cockroaches, a bird in the rafters and a store of food. Earlier, Jack had made airforce issue chicken soup for Daniel and Doctor Lee, well-watered down so as not to overload their abused digestive systems. So far, both meals had stayed down. He rummaged through the tins and packages, before helping himself to a pack of rice to bulk up another helping of soup.
Leaving the storeroom, he moved to the larger building next door, remembering how Daniel had protested 'not in there' when they'd hobbled back into the camp and needed to choose somewhere to spend the night. The door opened into a single living space - another cot bed, table, two chairs. Jack froze as he saw the plastic bindings on the table and the position of the chair. Slowly, he moved forward, his sharp eyes picking up the dried blood that had been spat onto the floor.
And then he saw the battery.
Damnit! He'd known Daniel had been slapped around and denied food and water, but neither Daniel or Doctor Lee had mentioned this kind of torture. He felt suddenly sick as he remembered the way Daniel had flinched at his touch. He'd assumed there were bruises hidden beneath his friends clothes, but now he suspected much darker injuries. His stomach muscles tightened painfully and his fingers clenched around his P90. Right now he'd like to shoot those bastard guerrillas again. And again. And again.
Jack's head jerked up as a soft plopping noise sounded above his head, his P90 swinging up towards the corrugated metal roof. A second plop sounded to his right. Then a third. Moments later he realised it was raining. Feeling somewhat foolish he lowered his weapon and went back to foraging, deliberately keeping his gaze from the evidence of torture and abuse. The bed provided him with an extra blanket and another pillow. A small closet contained an unexpected treasure trove of domestic items - a clean, if somewhat threadbare, pillowcase and a matching sheet, a towel, a fresh shirt, a packet of disposable plastic razors, cigarettes, matches and chewing gum. Jack used the pillowcase as a bag, sweeping the entire contents of the closet into it. If he remembered right, Burke was a smoker.
By now the raindrops were drumming a steady beat on the roof, and cooler, clean air was carrying the musty aroma of the forest into the hut. Unperturbed at the prospect of a soaking, Jack spent a few more minutes checking out the contents of the building and managed to add a couple of flashlights, two cans of beer and a bar of chocolate to his stash. The latter was sure to put a smile on Daniel's face.
Satisfied he'd grabbed everything of use, Jack pushed the hut door open with his foot. Oh crap! It wasn't just raining, it was a full-blown tropical downpour. The raindrops were hitting the ground with such ferocity they were bouncing a foot high before coming down to rest, and the dirt compound was rapidly turning into a mudbath. Heading out now would get the blanket and pillow sodden beyond use, not to mention he'd be soaked to the skin. He'd just have to wait it out, and trust Daniel wasn't so shell shocked he couldn't figure out the cause for the delay.
He was just about to turn away from the door when something caught his eye across the compound. A shadow. No, a figure. Standing in front of the open doorway of Daniel's hut. Heart-pounding he dropped his booty and brought his P90 up. The figure moved, or rather limped forward, and a sudden flash of lighting lit up his features. What the hell?!
Jack exited the hut at a sprint, the P90 now slung across his shoulders. "Daniel! What the hell are you doing?" he yelled.
The archaeologist had stripped off his filthy t-shirt and was standing in the deluge, his weight supported by the makeshift crutch in his right hand. His face was tilted skywards, eyes closed against the force of the downpour. Raindrops, pregnant with moisture, exploded on his bare chest and shoulders like mini water bombs, washing the dirt and grime from his skin. Lightening flashed again and Jack caught an unwelcome glimpse of the marks on Daniel torso. He couldn't tell if they were bruises or burns, but neither were acceptable.
"Daniel!" Jack pulled to a halt in front of him.
"Hi, Jack." Daniel replied as though they'd just met in the SGC briefing room, rather than out in the middle of a South American forest in the middle of a tropical storm. He swiped water from his face, then tilted his head again, mouth open to catch the rain.
"What the hell are you doing?" Jack demanded.
Daniel straightened up and shot Jack a guilty schoolboy look. "I just wanted to..." He licked his lips, wincing slightly as he did so. "I just needed to?" The sentence died, Daniel's needs clearly too complex for his to explain.
"For crying out loud, Daniel." Jack didn't know whether to slap him or hug him. He took a deep breath, saw what could only be a burn mark close to Daniel's right nipple and sobered at the thought of what Daniel had just been through. Swallowing his anger and frustration, he forced himself to smile at his soaking wet, bedraggled friend. "Good to be alive, huh?"
Daniel's look was penetrating, as though he wasn't sure Jack was being sarcastic.
Jack tilted his own head to the natural shower. Closing his eyes, he let himself feel every raindrop as it exploded on his face. "I know what it's like," he said as buried memories surfaced. Images flashed in his mind - the faces of his tormentors, the drab interior of a cell lit by a single light bulb. The dazzling sun as he stepped into freedom. The water soaked through his clothes and puddled around his feet, carrying his memories Earthward where they would mingle with Daniel's in the pool of soft, dark mud. "What you've just been through - I know what it's like." He sensed Daniel's gaze move from his face.
"It's good to be alive," Daniel echoed softly.
For a long moment they stood side by side, the cleansing rain beating its primal rhythm against their skin.
Jack opened his eyes first, and was just in time to grab Daniel as he swayed wildly. It was the perfect excuse to pull Daniel into a bear hug and reassure himself that Daniel was very much alive. That he was still very much solid human flesh. It also meant he felt the ripple of exhaustion that shuddered through Daniel as he relaxed into the embrace, knowing that he no longer had to be responsible for keeping himself upright.
"You really need to get off that leg," Jack said, as he manoeuvred himself under Daniel's left arm and got a firm grip around his waist.
"Yeah," Daniel agreed wearily.
"And you need to get dry."
"Yeah." Daniel allowed Jack to guide him back to the hut.
"And you need to drink more water,"
"'Kay"
"And get some hot food inside you."
"Jack?"
"Yes?"
"I'm going to be fine."
Jack tightened his grip. "I know, but if it's okay with you, I'll just hang around to make sure."
Author's notes: Dear Series writers - please learn to do comfort as well as hurt. Thank you.
© January 2004 MGM own Jack and Daniel. I wish I did but sadly I don't. Nobody is paying me to write this, I do it just for fun. Yadda, yadda.