CHAPTER 18 - THE FIRST ONES
Search and Rescue
Part 1 - Prologue
Journal Entry, Earth
I've finally got a go for the mission to P3X-888. Robert and SG-11 already had a go from General Hammond, but it's taken me a little longer to get the necessary authorization to accompany them. That's because the 'necessary authorization' had to come from Jack, and for some reason he wasn't in any hurry to give it.
When I put in the request, he developed quite a skill for not being where I was at the SGC. I finally tracked him down yesterday where I found him in his office with the mission file open on his desk. He was frowning at it, and I stood in the doorway for quite a while before he sensed I was there.
He closed the file and offered a brief smile as I walked in. "Hey."
"Hey." I dropped down into the chair beside his desk, nodding at the closed file. "That the file on 888?"
"Yes, Daniel, it's the file on 888."
"And?"
He sighed and rubbed his forehead like he had a headache. "You really want to go on a mission where you're going to be with Rothman for weeks on end digging up old bones?"
"I'm an archaeologist, Jack," I reminded him patiently. "I like digging up old bones."
"With Rothman?"
I didn't dignify that with an answer, and I saw his lips twitch as he looked back down at the file. He knew Robert and I went way back and that I'd recommended him for the Stargate program; and I knew he didn't think much of Robert's skills, but Jack didn't think much of mine when he first met me either. Robert's a fine archaeologist, but he's having a hard time fitting in with the military mindset at the SGC. I can sympathize; after four years I still have a hard time.
Jack tapped the closed file with an impatient finger. "Why's it so important for you to go to 888 anyhow?"
"What, you didn't even read my report?" As soon as the question left my mouth, I answered myself, "Of course you didn't read my report. I mean, why should you do that? I only spent how many months researching data, spent how many man hours running programs to narrow down possible planets from the many hundreds we've charted, presented an extremely comprehensive theory on my findings, and you can't even take the time to read it."
Jack gave me a bland look. "You said you thought 888 is the planet where all Goa'uld symbiotes originated, right?"
I stared at him. "I thought you said you hadn't read my report?"
"No, Daniel, you said I hadn't read your report. It so happens I did read your report. It was a very nice report with lots of...words."
I swear he was this close to adding, but no pictures. I sighed and cut to the chase. "What's the problem, Jack? SG-11 is leaving tomorrow. It's my theory; I'd like to go with them."
"SG-11." Jack grimaced.
"What's wrong with SG-11? I thought you liked Major Hawkins."
"I do like Hawkins; he's a good man," Jack said immediately, flicking his hand like a man swatting at a pesky fly. I had a feeling I was that fly.
"Then...?"
"SG-11, Daniel," he repeated with emphasis.
I could only shrug. I had no idea what he was talking about.
"These guys don't exactly have a stellar track record." I opened my mouth to remind him that Hawkins always seemed to bring his team back with all their limbs intact, but he held up his index finger. "It was SG-11 that bought it, thanks to Carter's old boyfriend."
"Sam's old -- oh, you mean Captain Hansen. No, Connor came back from that, remember --"
"To head up a new SG-11, which then got themselves captured by Tonane and his little tribe."
"That wasn't really their fault --"
"And then the entire SG-11 is captured and killed for information so Apophis can train new Jaffa to infiltrate the SGC. Like I said, not exactly a great track record." He settled back in his chair, hands clasped on his chest. "I rest my case."
"Case? What case? Jack, I never knew you were superstitious."
"I'm not superstitious. I'm just...careful."
"So is Major Hawkins. And General Hammond sent through a UAV --"
"Which did a sweep of a fifty mile radius from the Gate and found no signs of life," Jack recited. "No evidence of activity around the Stargate either, which indicates it hasn't been used for who knows how long. All in all, it appears to be a safe, uninhabited planet that the Goa'uld forgot about a long time ago."
"Then what's the problem?" I asked carefully.
He gave me a long look before answering, "No problem." Flipping the file around, he showed me his signature. "I've signed off on it. Come tomorrow, you're temporarily transferred to SG-11. Happy digging."
"Thank you." I slowly got to my feet, wondering both at the odd tone in Jack's voice and why he wasn't meeting my eyes. As I turned to leave, he said my name, and I stopped.
"You miss it, don't you?"
I raised my eyebrows in inquiry.
"The digging," he clarified. "Being an archaeologist. Staying in one place long enough to actually dig the stuff up instead of watching it brought back here by other archaeologists."
I thought about the question briefly and conceded the point with a small smile. "Yeah, sometimes. It's not something you can really understand unless you've done it, but seeing the artifacts in their natural environment, being the one to uncover them and piece together the simple everyday lives of an ancient civilization right there where they lived...well, it's not exactly the same when they're brought in already tagged and stacked in your lab."
He nodded as if I'd just confirmed something he suspected all along, but he still wasn't quite looking at me. "You ever get the itch to...you know...do it full time? Head up one of the archaeological teams instead of..."
Leave SG-1? I must have said it out loud because his gaze snapped to my face. I guess I looked suitably shocked because there was definitely relief on his face before he carefully wiped away all expression.
"You trying to replace me, Jack?"
"Nope." He jumped to his feet, seemingly suddenly full of energy. "Just doing what a good team leader does and making sure his team members are happy and motivated."
"Just consider me happy and motivated," I told him dryly and we both headed for the door. "I don't deny I want to go on this dig, but that's mainly because it's my theory and I'd like to see it through. But that doesn't mean I want to leave SG-1."
"Glad to hear it."
I suddenly realized he was steering me down the corridor away from my office, and I asked, "Where are we going?"
"The gym," he answered cheerfully, clapping me heartily on the shoulder. "For a little hand-to-hand. Been too long, Daniel. Can't have you getting rusty. You need to keep those skills sharp, y'know."
So we went to the gym with the usual outcome. I swear, one day I am going to knock Jack O'Neill on his ass.
D. Jackson
***
Part 2 - "Where's the rest of your team?"
*Jack O'Neill*
Unscheduled off-world activation.
Now what?
"It's SG-11, sir."
"Open the iris."
"Yes, sir."
SG-11? Shit. They're not scheduled to check in for another two days. Hands clenching into fists, I stick them into my pockets and stare at the Gate, trying to think of all the non-life-threatening reasons why they could be coming back early. Maybe they found something so significant Daniel decided it had to be brought back immediately; maybe he sent one of the team back to pick up a book he needed for reference; maybe Rothman tripped over his boot laces and broke his ankle...
"Daniel's with them, isn't he?" Carter asks.
Hammond sounds as tense as I feel. "They're not due to check in for two more days." He turns sharply and strides from the control room, Carter, Teal'c and myself right behind. When we reach the Gate Room, Rothman is stumbling onto the ramp... alone.
"Doctor Rothman," Hammond barks out. "What is it? What happened?"
More to the point: "Where's the rest of your team?" I demand.
Rothman drops to the ramp as if his legs can't support him any longer. A part of my mind registers the fact that the Gate on 888 is a three-hour hike from the dig. Rothman looks like he ran every mile of it.
"Loder's dead!" he gasps. "Some sort of indigenous life-form - it killed Loder. The rest of my team went after it."
"Daniel?" I ask immediately.
"No, no, no. It took Daniel! That's why the others went after it."
Carter asks urgently, "How long ago?"
Clearly rattled, Rothman fumbles with his shirt sleeve, but his watch is gone. "I don't - Maybe three hours." He squeezes his eyes shut. "Daniel...was still alive. That thing was dragging him!"
"You saw it?"
"Just for a second."
That's all the debriefing I need. I turn to Hammond. "Request permission to lead search and rescue, sir."
Hammond nods immediately, but Rothman isn't finished. "But if I had to say, I'd say it was an Unas."
Feeling like someone just kicked me in the gut, I stare at him, unable to draw a breath. "A what?" Be wrong, Rothman. Damn you, be wrong.
"It was like that thing you described in your mission report from Cimmeria."
"Basically we're talking about a Goa'uld with teeth and claws, sir," I tell Hammond tersely.
"Not necessarily, O'Neill," Teal'c says.
Hammond gives him a sharp look. "What do you mean?"
"Daniel believed 888 was the planet from which all goa'uld symbiotes originated," Carter explains.
Teal'c continues, "It may be there are Unas there who have never been taken as hosts."
"We're still talking about a big, stinky monster," I grind out. Goa'uld or no Goa'uld, the thing would still be bigger than Daniel, ten times as strong, and still have teeth and claws. "Makes no difference."
"Indeed it does," Teal'c contradicts me once again. Where the hell is an Atoneik armband when you need one? "These Unas would be far more primitive and lack the regenerative powers of Unas we have previously encountered."
Carter asks the question that immediately flashes through everyone's mind: "What would a primitive Unas want with Daniel?"
You mean, besides his next meal? Enough talk. "Recommend Units 1 and 2, P-90's. I also recommend we take off right now, sir."
"You have a go," Hammond agrees.
"Thank you."
***
I wish I could keep my mind a blank as I gear up, but I can't. First I think about the night before Daniel left on his mission. I took him to the gym for a little hand-to-hand work-out. Daniel will never be really good at hand-to-hand combat despite the fact he's probably as fit as anyone on the team; he just doesn't have the instincts. But it has helped sharpen his reflexes, which was what I was hoping for. And I like to think if he ever got attacked by someone his size and had to fight for his life, what I've taught him would kick in and give him a chance to come out of it alive.
But an Unas isn't his size. I keep thinking of the one Teal'c and I met in the labyrinth on Cimmeria and the one Simon and his people on P9X-whatever called a demon. Hulking, ugly, scary, flesh-eating monsters with big, big teeth and claws. And the one that took Daniel could be a primitive, which means - to my mind anyhow - the only reason he would have grabbed Daniel was because he saw a meal on legs.
"Dammit!" I give my vest a vicious tug to settle it and snap around from my locker, only to find a mountain of Teal'c standing directly behind me. "Oh, for cryin' out loud, give a guy a heart attack."
"We will locate Daniel Jackson, O'Neill." He says it calmly, firmly, and God knows I want to hang onto that. That's the thing about Teal'c: he can make statements about the impossible that make you believe they're not only possible, but damn likely. Teal'c's face is impassive, but I see a look in his eyes that promises that Unas is dog meat if anything has happened Daniel. Stand in line, big guy.
"Yes," I tell him flatly, "we will." This is search and rescue. No one had better forget that.
***
Part 3 - "I'll take first watch."
*Jack O'Neill*
"Sir. I think we should rest."
Carter makes her point. I glance at Rothman, who is clearly struggling with the pace I've set, then check my watch. Damn the little geek anyhow. If he'd stayed back at the SGC where he belonged... I stop that train of thought at the station when I remember I had a few thoughts along that same line about Daniel during our first few missions as SG1. "All right. Go to ground," I order. "Boots on. No fire." I hate to stop now when that Unas has such a head start on us, but Rothman aside, I know the men need rest too. "I'll take first watch."
I check my watch again as I take my spot, then let my gaze sweep over the surrounding landscape. I can't help thinking about how fast that thing ahead of us is moving and how he's dragging Daniel right along with him. Daniel's in good shape, no question about that, but even this battle-ready rescue team needs rest. Has that thing let him rest? Rothman said he'd been knocked unconscious. Does he have a concussion? Is he stumbling along dead on his feet and is that thing whacking him around if he can't keep up?
I draw in a deep breath as I continue to scan the area, hearing the sounds of the men settling in and making camp. At least I know he's still alive. We've got Unas tracks and we've got Daniel's boot tracks behind them, a little unsteady, a little wavery, but at least I know he's still alive.
Stay alive, Daniel. Whatever it takes, stay alive.
What will it take? If the Unas was some kind of intelligent being I'd say Daniel's chances would be better than Carter's, Teal'c's and mine put together because one way or another he'd find a way to communicate with it. But we don't know what this thing is; all I can think of is that it's a primitive flesh-eater and Daniel is a prime cut of meat. "Dammit!"
"O'Neill?"
I look up to find Teal'c standing nearby, staff weapon still in hand, his back ramrod straight. Teal'c looks calm enough on the outside, but when we first 'gated here he couldn't get me moving fast enough to start tracking Daniel and that Unas. He's been prowling the perimeter, unable to settle down; Carter's full of nervous energy, moving around the camp. Me? I think I can forget sleep tonight, not when I know Daniel's out there in the hands of that monster. "Nothing," I tell Teal'c. "Just... thinking out loud."
Teal'c gives me a long look, then walks over, stopping in front of me. "Daniel Jackson is still alive, O'Neill."
I nod. "I know. But for how long?" I get sick every time I think about why Daniel must have been taken, how at this very minute that Unas might be...
"We will find him."
There's that unshakable confidence again. I could use a little of that right now. "Yeah," I say finally. "We will."
Stay alive, Daniel. Just stay alive. We'll find you.
***
Part 4 - "Anybody with a snake in their head, raise their hand."
*Jack O'Neill*
For entire seconds afterwards, there is only silence.
The gunfire is still echoing in my head as I stare at Rothman's crumpled form. A Goa'uld. My God. He was a Goa'uld. I can't tear my gaze away from his bullet-ridden body as Carter sees to Griff's wound. I'd started to wonder if something wasn't up with Hawkins, but Rothman...? A geeky civilian. An archaeologist. Daniel's friend. He sure never signed up for anything like this. To be taken over by a parasite on an alien planet and then killed because he was going to kill every human who got in his way unless he was stopped. Jesus. The poor guy never had a chance. First the Goa'uld...and then me.
I force myself to turn my attention to Griff. "You gonna live?" I ask quietly. Staff burns like that hurt like hell, but he isn't in any danger.
He's biting back the pain like a good stoic soldier as Carter works on him. "Yeah. I think so."
"Meet up with Coburn. Get back to the Stargate."
Carter gives Rothman's body a long look, then turns to me. "They deserve a decent burial, sir."
Yes, major, I know. But right now we've got a rescue mission to complete before it's too late for Daniel. "Yes, they do," I tell her evenly. Unfortunately there's nothing I can do about that right now. Sometimes corpses just have to wait while you save the living, and right now we've got a friend out there who is hopefully still alive and still himself.
Griff speaks up, a note of gruff compassion in his voice." We'll take care of it, sir. Go find Doctor Jackson."
Go find Doctor Jackson. "Yeah." Be alive, Daniel. And be *you*, damn it. Don't you dare have a snake in your head, you hear me, don't you dare. Because I don't know if I can pull the trigger if it's you.
***
Part 5 - This way. <---
*Jack O'Neill*
"We are very close behind." As Teal'c makes his quiet announcement, Carter and I move deeper into the cave, our lights picking out scratchings on the walls. Carter's light illuminates the smear of red on the wall, and I move over to get a closer look, already knowing what it is.
"It's red. There's not much of it." I look at Carter. "That's something." The look she gives me pretty much sums up what I'm thinking: we just hope it's enough. I look at the rock floor and feel my stomach sink. How in the hell are we supposed to track Daniel now? This cave could have a dozen different passages, all leading off into different --
"This way."
Carter and I both immediately move over to where Teal'c is standing while I silently bless his tracking skills. I don't know how he knows which way to go, but...
This way.
I stare at the scratched words on the wall and the arrow drawn above them. Alive. Daniel's alive. Good boy. You kept yourself alive. We're on our way, buddy.
I give Teal'c a look. "You're good."
***
If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes I wouldn't have believed it. Daniel and that Neanderthal Unas were actually communicating. 'Friends', he says. The fact that it didn't tear Daniel limb-from-limb may mean Daniel actually got to him, but I'm not counting on the new alpha male of that clan of slobbering Unases to keep them in line if they suddenly get a craving for Daniel-Jackson-medium-rare.
I quickly go over to Daniel's side as Daniel's new 'friend' joins his clan. Before moving out of sight, it turns and says something. "What'd that mean?"
Daniel glances in my direction. "I have no idea. But I think I've just been invited to come back one day and find out."
Right. And I'll let you do that, too - the day after hell freezes over. Keeping an eye on the opening where the Unas disappeared, knowing both Carter and Teal'c are backing me up, I take Daniel's arm and begin gently tugging him back. "Come on, Daniel," I urge him quietly. "We can't stay here."
I can feel the vibrations running through his body, but I don't know if it's exhaustion, adrenaline or fear, or a bit of all three finally catching up with him. "No, it's okay, Jack." His voice is a little high and he's blinking at me very earnestly like a kid kept up way past his bedtime and trying to stay awake. "He's the alpha male now..."
"Well, I'm the alpha male of this team," I point out firmly, and tighten my grip as I pull him back the way we came. A nod to Teal'c and he smoothly moves between us and the 'clan' to cover our six; another to Carter and she immediately takes point as we leave this cave as fast as I can get Daniel to move. I see immediately this might be a problem. He doesn't look as bad as I'd feared, but he's stumbling a little as I urge him through the passage. I don't even take the time to cut those ropes around his wrists right now because I want us all outside in the open before I stop.
Finally, back in the fresh air and away from that wonderful smell inside the cave, I call a halt, and Daniel immediately drops to the ground with a mumbled, "Can I have some water?"
A moment later he's blinking in surprise as three canteens are urgently thrust at him. With a slight smile, he accepts one at random, and begins drinking greedily as I pull my knife to cut those ropes. "Ah ah," I murmur, taking control of the canteen. He reluctantly relinquishes it, but with such a wistful look I have to remind myself he's just going to make himself sick if he gulps it all down at once. "Remember the rules."
With Teal'c watching the entrance to the cave and Carter digging in her pack for the medkit, I gently steady his wrists and cut the ropes binding them together. He hisses as I peel them off, and I grimace in sympathy at the raw skin I uncover. "Damn."
"I've got the antibiotic cream, sir."
I let Carter go to it and sit back to take a good, long look at Daniel as she carefully cleans his wrists, applies the cream, and then wraps gauze around them. Out here in the light I can see how tired and filthy he is. But thankfully the deep scratch on his one cheek is the only real damage I see, apart from his wrists. And a probable concussion, I remind myself.
"When's the last time you ate?" I ask suddenly. The look on his face tells me all I need to know, and I pull a protein bar out of my pocket and tear it open for him before handing it over. "I don't want to stay here too long," I tell him apologetically. "I want to get at least halfway back to the Gate before dark. Do you think you can handle that?" His mouth too full to answer, Daniel contents himself with bobbing his head as Carter tries to clean the scratch on his cheek. As soon as he finishes the protein bar I produce a chocolate bar and open that too before handing it over, grinning as he eagerly accepts it. "And then, a hot meal and a good night's sleep," I promise, patting him on the knee. There's such a look of longing on his face at the prospect that I have to stop myself from providing both right here and now; but we're way too close to the Unas Family to set up camp here, and like it or not, we've got to put some serious distance between us and them before dark.
After he finishes the chocolate bar in record time I hand him the canteen again along with two Tylenol and watch as he washes them down with a long drink. But this time he monitors himself and hands back the canteen before I have to say anything. "You ready?"
He spares a look over his shoulder at the cave, then sighs. "Yeah, I'm ready." Teal'c immediately moves over; he takes one arm while I take the other, and we hoist Daniel to his feet. No one can miss the pained wince that crosses his face as soon as he puts weight on his feet.
"What?" I demand immediately.
"Feet hurt," he answers tersely. "Got them wet when I jumped into the water trying to escape. And then walking in wet boots and socks..." He breaks off when he sees the looks on our faces. "What?"
Carter finds her voice first. "Daniel, you were in the water?" she asks carefully.
Teal'c has taken a step back, face grim, shifting his grip on the staff weapon.
"It's infested with goa'uld," Daniel explains tiredly. "We were here for three weeks and we never knew that. When I think of all the times we made water runs..." He stops, frowning a little at our expressions. "What's wrong?"
"It is possible you have been taken over by a Goa'uld, Daniel Jackson," Teal'c says flatly.
"No, I --" He looks a little hurt, then resigned. "Okay, I can see how you'd think that. You're right, you can't take any chances." Holding out his bandaged wrists, he offers, "Maybe you'd better restrain me until you can make sure..."
A picture flashes through my mind of Rothman, eyes glowing, falling backwards as the bullets from my gun slam into his body. "No," I interrupt sharply, "that won't be necessary." Daniel does not have a snake in his head, and I'm not going to tie him up and drag him along like that Unas did.
I'm only too aware of Carter giving me a dubious sideways look. "Sir, are you sure..."
"I'm sure," I say flatly, and take Daniel's arm. "Sit down and take off your boots," I order gruffly.
Daniel is utterly confused. "What?"
"Your boots," I repeat impatiently. "Sit down and take 'em off. You've probably got blisters on top of blisters. You're not going to be able to make the hike back to the Gate until we get that taken care of."
As Daniel once again drops onto his butt and begins fumbling with his laces, Carter trying to help, Teal'c walks over and gives me a direct look. "Is this wise, O'Neill? Daniel Jackson admits he was in the water."
I kneel down and pull a pair of dry socks out of my pack. "We need to be cautious," I agree, "but I really don't think a Goa'uld was going to let himself be hauled all over this planet by a Unas who was planning to eat his host. He would have just taken over the Unas. Agreed?"
Teal'c looks at me a moment longer, then nods. "Agreed."
"Good." I bite out. "So now that we're all in agreement..." I nod to send him back to his place near the cave entrance. He gives me one more look, then moves back into position. Meanwhile Daniel has his boots and socks off and Carter is clucking over the bleeding blisters on his feet. I've probably had more experience with fixing up blistered feet than the rest of the team put together, so I wave Carter off and set to it with what I describe with all due modesty as brisk efficiency.
Finally, his feet bandaged and in clean, dry socks, I give Daniel a hand up. This time there's a brief wince, but he nods at me and I take that as his cue. As Teal'c takes point and Carter moves to bring up the rear, I take Daniel's arm to get him started.
I feel him giving me little sideways looks as we start out, our pace a little slow to accommodate him. "Um, Jack, don't you think you should...?"
"No," I say flatly.
"How do you know what I'm going to say?"
Oh, I know what he's going to say. "You having any Goa'uldy thoughts, Daniel?" I ask pointedly, steering him around an exposed tree root he's about to trip over.
"Not that I'm aware of," he answers warily.
"Good." Subject closed, and we continue on our way. The silence doesn't last long; but then with Daniel, it rarely does.
"Jack, what happened to SG-11 and Robert? Are they okay?" I look at him quickly and see him chewing his lip as he's obviously trying to remember all that happened. "I was knocked out pretty early, but I'm pretty sure I saw Loder..." He trails off and gives me an anxious look.
Up ahead I see Carter momentarily break stride, then determinedly pick it up again. I knew this was coming, but I was hoping we'd be back at base before I had to break it to him. He'd been working with SG-11 for three weeks on this planet; you get to know people pretty well under those conditions. As for Rothman, I know he and Daniel went back a long way. "I'm sorry," I say softly, giving his arm a squeeze.
"Sorry?" He stumbles a little and I tighten my grip. "You mean...all of them? Robert?"
"I'm sorry, Daniel," I repeat, even more gently. He turns his face away, but not before I see the stricken look there. "Carter, Teal'c," I call out. "Take five." We're going to have to give Daniel enough rest breaks to keep him on his feet; might as well start now. Stepping in front of him, I take him by the shoulders and easily push him down until he's sitting on the ground. Carter and Teal'c both move out of earshot to give us some privacy. Silently, I hand over my canteen, and watch as he automatically takes a drink and hands it back. I exchange that for another granola bar, which he waves aside.
"I don't want --"
"You need it, Daniel," I say firmly. "No arguments." It worries me that he doesn’t argue. Without another word, he accepts the bar and takes an uninterested bite. But he's so hungry his body makes the decision for him and he finishes it off without another word.
After he has taken another drink and handed the canteen back, he asks quietly, "How?"
Even though I know what he's asking, I automatically prevaricate. "How what?" I really don't want to have this conversation here. I really don't want to have this conversation at all.
A reproachful look from under his eyelashes shows me what he thinks of my stalling tactics.
I sigh and rub my forehead. "From the looks of it, Loder was killed by the Unas. Somewhere along the line Hawkins was taken over by a Goa'uld --"
"What!"
"--and he killed his own men."
"Oh my God." Daniel looks sick and actually lowers his head and takes some deep breaths. Then suddenly he looks up, eyes wide and bloodshot. "Robert? Was that how Robert died?"
I shake my head slowly. "No, Daniel, that's not how he died." As he continues to stare at me, almost grey with exhaustion, waiting for me to explain, I remind myself this is a guy who saw his parents killed in front him when he was eight years old, had his wife taken over by a parasite, and saw her killed by a friend in order to save his life. Time to admit I'm not really stalling here because of Daniel; I'm stalling because of me. I didn't have any choice with Rothman, I know that. But knowing that doesn't make it any easier to remember what I was forced to do. And knowing it could just as easily have been Daniel with the snake in his head because we thought this planet was so damned safe, isn't helping right now either.
"Jack? What happened to Robert?"
I meet his gaze. "Rothman came back to the SGC for help when SG-11 took off after you. He joined the rescue team to come after you. Apparently while he was on watch last night, he was taken over by a Goa'uld. He tried to kill us; I shot him."
Daniel's staring at me like he doesn't quite understand what I'm saying, but I can see the pain in his eyes. He understands. He takes a deep, shaky breath. "Poor Robert," he whispers.
Yeah. Poor Rothman. I take Daniel's arm and say quietly, "We have to keep moving, Daniel. You up to this?"
He gives his head a little bob, so I help him to his feet and we continue on. That's pretty much the way things go: he rests when I tell him to, drinks when I tell him to, and eats candy bars when I tell him to, all without argument. Then he gets to his feet and gamely plods on. We don't discuss SG-11 or Rothman again.
***
As I expected, there's a welcoming committee waiting for us in the Gateroom when we get back. Not only is Hammond here, looking anxious, but Fraiser has a team ready to hustle Daniel off for a hurry-up MRI. I still don't believe he's got a snake, but I won't relax until I hear it from Doc and her magic machine.
Even after eight hours of sleep last night, during which I don't think he moved a muscle, Daniel's still walking a little like a man in a fog, and I keep a hand on his arm to steady him as we walk down the ramp.
"Doctor Jackson, welcome home," Hammond says warmly. "I understand you had quite an ordeal."
"Thank you, sir. Ordeal? Yes, I suppose..." Daniel's voice trails off, and he rubs his eyes tiredly. "About SG-11 and Doctor Rothman, sir, they all died trying to protect or rescue me. I think there should be some tribute or service --"
"Doctor Jackson," the general interrupts gently, "those men all died in service to their country. Rest assured, they will be honored for their sacrifice." He actually pats Daniel on the shoulder. "We can talk about that later, son. Right now I think Doctor Fraiser's waiting for you." Flicking me a meaningful look, he says, "Colonel."
I nod my understanding and lead Daniel over to where Fraiser is standing with her team. "Come on, Daniel, let's get you checked out."
"You'd better do the MRI first, Janet," Daniel instructs her, his voice heavy with weariness.
"We'll take care of it, Daniel," Fraiser agrees, smoothly taking over and leading him out of the room, Teal'c close behind, still grasping his staff weapon.
"Colonel? Is there any chance that Doctor Jackson does have a Goa'uld inside him?" Hammond asks in a low voice.
"I don't think so, sir." Then again, I didn't know Rothman had one either. "With your permission, I'd like to be there for the MRI." Either way, I need to be there.
Hammond nods. "We'll debrief as soon as you have word on Doctor Jackson."
"Thank you, sir."
***
Fraiser doesn't keep us waiting for the outcome. As soon as I see her face I know it's good news, but she announces it anyway, "He's clean. No Goa'uld."
"Thank God," Carter murmurs by my side.
I feel a weight on my shoulders drop away as I admit the fear was there all along, I just didn't want to acknowledge it. Ever since I'd been forced to pull the trigger on Rothman, there's been a part of me asking, What if that had been Daniel and I'd been forced to kill him? What if we get back here and find out he has been taken as a host?
I give my head a sharp shake to clear it, then nod at Fraiser. "He's okay then?"
"We just finished the MRI, Colonel; the exam comes next." She gives us all a reassuring look. "Although from what I can see so far it doesn't look like anything some sleep and hot food won't fix. Come back in an hour and I'll have a report for you."
***
As good as her word, Fraiser is waiting for me when I come back from the debriefing. Before I can even ask she says, "He'll be fine, Colonel. A residual headache from a mild concussion and some bumps and bruises. You did a good job on his feet and getting him rehydrated. At this point, he needs rest and a good, hot meal or two."
I spot Daniel, shoeless, but still dressed in his t-shirt and BDU's, lying on a bed in the far corner of the infirmary. "You keeping him for that?"
"I don't have to keep him at all. He just made himself at home there."
I give her a look. "Daniel wants to stay here?" Shouldn't that clue someone in that something isn't quite right?
"It might be a matter that he's just too tired to cope with going home right now," she suggests, but I'm not sure she's convinced of that herself. "He has been off-world for the last few weeks. I doubt he wants to deal with opening up his apartment right now. Besides which, I don't want him driving just yet. He's still a little too tired for me to trust his reflexes right now."
She's probably right about all that...and yet there may be more to it than that. "No problem. As long as you're not keeping him...?"
"I only keep sick people, Colonel," she replies crisply, then takes her leave and quickly crosses the infirmary as one of her nurses calls for her assistance.
Okay, if there's no reason for Daniel to stay here, then I see no point in him actually staying here. Sliding my hands into my pockets, I saunter over to his bed and look down at him. His eyes are closed, but I don't think he's asleep. He does look tired though, way too tired to be behind the wheel of a car or in charge of feeding himself. "Hey."
His eyes open immediately. "Hey."
"What'cha doing here? Fraiser says you're sprung."
He blinks at me sleepily. "Grounded," he mumbles. "No driving."
I hold up my car keys and give them a jingle.
"No food," he yawns. "I was off-world for three weeks, remember."
"I wasn't," I remind him.
He looks interested. "Your place?"
I shrug. "Your old room's still there. And the kitchen's still open." Come on, Daniel, take me up on it. It'll solve both our problems. After being dragged around by a Unas all over that damned planet and nearly getting torn apart you really need a dose of safe reality, and I really need you nearby, for the same reason.
He immediately sits up, grabs his shirt and is off the bed. "How soon can we get there?" he mumbles.
As he heads for the door, clumsily pulling on his shirt, I sigh patiently. "Daniel."
He looks over his shoulder, blinking sleepily, but keeps moving toward the door. "What?"
I nod toward the floor by the bed. "Shoes."
***
I pour myself a cup of freshly brewed coffee and walk back into my living room to sit down in front of the droning TV. I brought Daniel home with me because...well, there were lots of reasons, I guess. First and foremost, I really needed to see him alive and safe in someplace familiar. Although the infirmary has become way too familiar to all of us, I wanted to see him alive and safe in my living room, eating Chinese in front of the TV, an untouched beer by his elbow, while he nods off over a hockey game. It doesn't get more 'safe and familiar' than that. And that's pretty much the way it went until I finally hustled him off to bed. I think he was asleep before he hit the pillow.
After what he went through, you'd think he'd be the one with the nightmares. Instead it's me sitting up at three o'clock in the morning, unwilling to go back to bed. Ironic, given the fact I probably had less sleep than he did on that planet. Still, it's me sitting here staring at some celluloid action hero touting the benefits of an exercise machine (which I could own by calling an 800-number and paying the low price of $49.95 in four easy installments) while Daniel's in the spare room lost in apparently peaceful slumber.
When I think about how close it was - and I've been thinking about that a lot - and how a delay of a mere sixty seconds would have meant we'd have been too late to keep him from being torn limb from limb - you'd think that would be the nightmare wrecking my sleep. After all, it hadn't taken much imagination for me to picture what the results would have been if we hadn't found him literally in the nick of time. But that's not the scene that has been creeping into my dreams. I keep feeling the recoil of my rifle when I pulled the trigger, keep seeing Rothman stagger back as the bullets slammed into his chest, keep hearing the deafening silence afterwards as I realized what had happened.
Except, of course, in my dream it isn't Rothman I blast into oblivion; it's Daniel, his eyes glowing as the Goa'uld inside him takes control of his body. I've just spent a lovely few hours doing that over and over and...
"Jack?"
Oh hell. Busted.
I look up to find Daniel standing uncertainly in the doorway, hair sticking up in disarray, dressed in a pair of my sweats a size too big for him. The sight would have made me grin if it weren't for the fact I see his eyes start to glow every time I close mine.
"What's wrong?"
He looks a little anxious, so I put on my 'I'm fine, no worries here' face and gesture toward the TV with my cup of coffee. "Nothing's wrong. What's the matter? Can't a man drink a cup of coffee and watch TV in his own home without someone thinking something's wrong?"
"It's three o'clock in the morning, Jack," he tells me patiently, then he screws up his face as he stares at the screen. "And you're watching an infomercial."
My eyes flick to the screen, and I wince when I see the same action hero is still working out on that damned piece of equipment. But I smooth the expression from my face as I look back at Daniel. "So?"
"You thinking of buying one of those?"
"Maybe," I shoot back defensively, then give him a deliberate look. "Might make a good Christmas present for people who don't run or work out in the gym or box or..."
He doesn't rise to the bait. Instead he makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a snort and pads out to the kitchen. A few moments later I hear the clank of another mug being set on the counter and then the sound of coffee being poured. Then he comes out and sits down on the sofa, fixing his gaze on the TV with an expression of polite interest plastered on his face.
I roll my eyes. All right, point taken. Offense always was and always will be the best defense. "Why're you up?"
He looks down into his cup. "Actually, I, ah, woke up and smelled the coffee."
I don't believe he said that. As I'm staring at him, he gives me a look from under his lashes to see if I get it. I get it. But I still don't believe he said it. He's been doing that a lot recently - making little dry jokes and shooting off one-liners. He never used to do that, at least not as much, and I've been trying to figure out why the change. Carter told me he'd made some wise-ass remarks to that Russian scientist on the sub, too. In fact, she said if she hadn't known it was Daniel, she would have thought it was me. Actually, I'm glad he can joke in the face of some of the things we come up against. But I wonder if the reason he's trying to joke now is because he's trying to distract me. Why is he up at three o'clock in the morning when by all rights he must be so tired he should be dead to the world?
"Is it Robert?"
I snap out of my woolgathering with a start. What? "Rothman?"
He's gazing at me with a mixture of sadness and compassion. "Sam told me how it happened," he says quietly. "Jack, you didn't have any choice."
"No, I know that," I tell him carefully. I never liked the little geek, but I sure didn't want a Goa'uld to get him, and I sure didn't want to be the one to have to kill him. But I know I didn't have any choice. "And it's not your fault because you brought him into the Program." It's subtle, but I see him stiffen, and now I've got a pretty good idea what's been disturbing his sleep. "Yes, maybe if he hadn't joined up he'd still be alive, or maybe he'd have gotten run over by a bus crossing the street. We'll never know, and it doesn't make any difference anyhow."
He grimaces and takes another drink of coffee. "I know."
He doesn't sound very convinced, but I know from long experience, both with him and with myself, there's not much I can do about that right now. If he wants to talk about it, I'll make sure I'm around to listen; on the other hand, if what he needs is distraction, I'll make sure he's distracted. From the silence emanating from his little corner of the world, it looks like it's distraction time.
Obviously, sitting here staring at some TV hero hawking a piece of exercise equipment isn't the answer. Neither is popping in one of the videos from the stack that has been growing next to my TV. Daniel keeps bringing them over to watch them and then never takes them back home; I doubt he even turns his own TV on unless it's to watch some documentary. I'd decided a long time ago Daniel needs to be introduced to popular culture as much as Teal'c does, so watching videos at my place has become something of a tradition. But tonight we don't need a movie that we sit through in silence. What we need is to keep his mind - and mine - occupied.
"How about a game of chess?" I ask suddenly.
He's been so lost in thought he almost jumps at the sound of my voice. "What?"
"Chess? How about it?"
He stares at me for a moment in confusion as his brain plays catch up, then his face clears. "Okay."
There's actually a note of relief in his voice which tells me I've found the right diversion this time. As I retrieve the chess set from the cabinet and he announces he'll make fresh coffee, I realize I'm as relieved as he is to have something occupy my mind for the remainder of the night.
***
Part 6 - Epilog
Journal entry, Earth
The SGC had its memorial service today for Robert and the members of SG-11. I gave the eulogy for Robert. It never gets any easier; writing eulogies and saying goodbye to friends lost because of the Goa'uld. I'd been locked away in my office crumbling up piece after piece of paper as I tried and failed to put into words what I wanted to say about Robert when Jack dropped in. Anyone else would have thought it was coincidence that he came by just when I was about to throw my pen across the room in frustration. But I know Jack better than that.
He dropped down into his usual chair and asked me how it was going. I just pointed to the overflowing waste can. He nodded, as if that was no more than he expected, then told me Robert's personal effects needed to be packed up, and he thought that should be done by someone who knew him rather than some anonymous airmen.
My first inclination was to politely decline the officer. Frankly, that was the last thing I wanted to do. But then I remembered going through Sha're's things. As much as it hurt to see all the things she had handled and loved, knowing she would never touch them again, it had been tremendously cathartic - especially with Jack standing there asking me about different pieces and encouraging me to talk.
So I went to Robert's lab, and Jack, no surprise, went with me. And we did what we'd done when I went through Sha're's things. I packed up Robert's belongings, and Jack asked questions and got me talking. I even came across an old snapshot Robert had tucked away in a drawer of the two of us when he was my assistant. Jack got a good laugh out of that. Robert had shoulder-length hair and big, round glasses, and I... well, I wasn't much better. Except my glasses were small and round. Jack said he didn't know they let twelve-year-olds into a university.
When everything was finally packed up, I went back to my office and wrote what I wanted to say about Robert. Just like Jack knew I would.
I sometimes wonder how it is that so many times Jack knows exactly what I need. Then I remember all the losses he's had in his life and realize he knows what I need because he's gone through it too. I hope there was someone to help him through it those times the way he's always helped me.
So the memorial service is over, and Robert's things are packed up for shipment. I've made sure he was given credit for discovering 'Cleo', and I'll catalog his notes and findings for the archives of the SGC. That's about all I can do for him now. I did keep the photo I found of the two of us and have it in a desk drawer along with some other snapshots I keep there - Jack, Sam, Teal'c, Cassie, Janet, all taken during outings and holidays over the years; even a few of Sha're, thanks to Jack, that were taken during that second mission to Abydos.
Even though life at the SGC must go on, things have been subdued today in the aftermath of the memorial service. I got to know the members of SG-11 pretty well in the three weeks we spent on 888 together, and of course I knew Robert better than anyone else here. So, in their memory, I wanted to have a sort of wake tonight at my place. When I asked Jack about it because I wasn't sure about military protocol, he immediately volunteered his place because he said my apartment would be overrun. He also asked if he and Sam and Teal'c could do their share because they owed a debt to SG-11 and Robert, as well.
The men of SG-11 died in service to their country and because they were protecting two civilians on an alien planet. Robert died because he was a good friend and a man of courage.
I'll never forget any of them.
D. Jackson
© January 15, 2001 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.