Leap of Faith (2/6)
Fandom: Stargate SG-1
Author: Sunrize
Rating: PG-13 for language
Characters: Jack, Daniel
Category: Gen, H/C
Season/Spoilers: Season 4, post "The Curse"
Synopsis: A trip to the mountains becomes a battle for survival
Fingers. Tapping his cheek.
Daniel tried moving his head, but the maddening touch not only followed, it grew rougher. With great effort, he lifted his hand and batted at the annoyance. Fire lanced across his chest, and he groaned. Instinctively curling into a ball, he panted, his own ragged breathing and a persistent buzzing filling his ears.
He hurt everywhere, but the worst of it centered in his head and chest. Pain pulsed rhythmically through his skull with each beat of his wildly thumping heart, and every breath he drew provoked a corresponding stab of agony, like a knife to his ribs. Fear combined with confusion added to his distress. He hurt, but he didn't know why. His muddled brain urged him to move, to escape...but he didn't know where.
As he lay there, gasping and shivering, he gradually became aware of two things: The persistent buzz was the sound of his own whimpering; and someone was talking to him, his voice low and gentle. Daniel concentrated, and the words began making sense.
"...concussion...pretty bad...Fraiser...check you out..."
"Jack?" His mouth and throat felt desert dry; he couldn't find enough moisture to wet his lips. He abruptly realized he was laying on a hard, lumpy surface that felt gritty beneath his cheek.
"Right here."
Hands, touching him, rolling him onto his back. His head was lifted, cradled by a large palm, and then lowered onto something soft. He whimpered again, this time with gratitude, as the throbbing ache receded a little.
The relief was short-lived. Callused fingers pried open one eyelid. The sudden explosion of light was like an ice pick driven into his brain--the pain was tremendous. Daniel didn't even think, just reacted, arms flailing as he tried unsuccessfully to roll away from those cruel, relentless fingers.
"Daniel. Daniel, stop!"
He flopped onto his back, his heart pounding and his chest cramping with each labored breath. Hands again, cupping his face, and now Jack's voice was strained with irritation and...worry?
"Damn it, Daniel! Hold still. I know it hurts, but I've got to get a look at your pupils. Help me out here."
Pupils? Daniel thought. I'm dying and Jack's talking about school? What?
A shadow fell, reducing the light that filtered through his eyelids. "Can you open your eyes for me? I'll try to block the light."
Clenching his teeth, Daniel eased his eyes open a bit. The glare still aggravated his already pounding head, but with Jack's body as a shield, it was bearable.
"Good, good." Jack carefully pried open one eye, then the other. "Hang on. Just a minute more. Follow my finger."
Daniel struggled to track a shapeless blob as tears leaked and ran down the sides of his face. Despite the earlier impatience in his voice, Jack's brown eyes were warm with sympathy. He released Daniel and sat back, his lips pressed tightly together and a tense, pinched expression on his face.
Daniel blinked furiously, fighting against a rush of nausea. He found he could now leave his eyelids at half-mast without too much discomfort.
Jack ran his hands down each of Daniel's arms and legs. "I know your head hurts like hell. Anything else I should know about?"
"Chest." Daniel tried once again to lick his lips, his voice little more than a froggy croak. "Ribs...broken, maybe."
Jack felt along Daniel's torso. When his hands reached a spot just above Daniel's waist, something shifted, and Daniel sucked in a sharp gulp of air.
Jack winced. "Yeah. Broken, all right."
"Jack?"
"Yeah?" Jack worked Daniel's tee shirt free of his jeans and hiked it up, carefully retracing the hard ridge of his ribs. His face wore the carefully neutral expression that signaled they were in deep shit.
Daniel tracked a hawk flying overhead, closing his eyes when the sky rippled and wavered. His lips felt numb, his tongue too large for his mouth. "What happened?"
Jack faltered, hands stilling for a moment before resuming their investigation. "A car full of kids--most likely very drunk kids--ran us off the road. We slid down the side of the mountain--only partway, thanks to this tree."
"You--" Daniel hissed, his eyes popping open when Jack's relentless fingers found another sore spot.
"Sorry, sorry." Jack muttered the words through gritted teeth, swiping the crook of his arm across his sweaty forehead.
Daniel puffed through his mouth for a moment. Thinking was like wading through mud--his normally sharp mind thick and sluggish. "You...all right?"
"I wracked up my knee, but otherwise..." Jack tugged the shirt down. "I had my seatbelt on, unlike a certain archeologist who shall remain nameless."
Daniel frowned. Jack's words chugged past him with the speed of a freight train while he floundered to keep up. "Huh?"
"You, Daniel. You were digging in the back seat for your journal, remember? That's why you took such a beating. Here."
Jack slid a hand under his neck and something brushed his lips. After a moment water, deliciously cool and wet, trickled into his mouth and slid down his parched throat. Daniel sucked greedily, whining in protest when the bottle disappeared.
"Slow down or you'll puke it back up. And I've gotta say, I've seen enough of your puke to last me a lifetime."
A few more swallows and then a cool, soft cloth stroked across his cheek. When it reached his hairline, Daniel flinched and pain sparked across his vision. "Ouch."
"Sorry. I'm trying to be gentle but there's a helluva lot of blood here. I need it cleared away before I can see how badly you're cut."
Daniel clamped his teeth together and held still, sighing when Jack finally finished. "Bad?"
"Enough." Jack said cryptically. He scrubbed a hand through his hair. "From what I can see, you've got at least four busted ribs, a bazillion cuts and bruises, and a pretty nasty concussion. That head wound is going to need stitches, but for now I can clean and bandage it with stuff from the first aid kit. Can't do much for the ribs except wrap 'em--I think I can make do by tearing up a few shirts."
Bazillion? Daniel screwed up his face in concentration, trying to untangle the long string of words. What?
Jack huffed and shook his head. "Never mind. You just lay there and I'll do my Doc Fraiser imitation."
Daniel frowned. "Don' be ridiculous, Jack. You don' look anything like Janet."
Jack disappeared. Daniel blinked, staring at the empty space where he'd been. He heard an odd, dragging sound, then a lot of thumps and thuds mingled with Jack cursing under his breath. Sunlight dappled through the branches above him, making his head throb more fiercely. He shut his eyes against the glare, gritting his teeth against the nauseating sensation that the earth was spinning beneath him.
"Daniel?"
He opened his eyes, startling at the close proximity of Jack's face. Confused by the way his friend seemed to appear and disappear without warning, he nodded. "Here."
"Head first, then ribs. Try not to move because this peroxide is gonna hurt like a son of a bitch."
Before he could attempt an answer, liquid fire seared his forehead. Daniel dug his fingers into the dirt beneath his hands, his body taut with the strain of holding still. Jack, damn him, was nothing if not thorough, and the procedure went on forever. Finally Jack pressed a clean gauze pad to his head and secured it with medical tape.
He re-wet the cloth and mopped tears and sweat from Daniel's face. "How are ya doing?"
"Jus'...peachy."
Jack grinned. "That's my boy. Now comes the tough part. We've got to get you upright so I can stabilize those ribs."
Tough part Daniel thought woozily. What do you call setting a blow torch to my head?
Sound of ripping cloth. Daniel could tell Jack was doing something with his hands but he didn't have the energy or the will to see what it was. After a few minutes, Jack looked down at him.
"Okay, here's the game plan. You let me do all the work. I'm going to sit you up, and you can lean against me while I wrap the bandage. Sound good?"
Daniel squinted at him, wishing vaguely for his glasses. "Game? Don't feel like playin'."
Jack stared at him for a moment, then heaved a sigh. "Yeah. All right, here we go."
He leaned over Daniel, then froze, sucking in a harsh breath. Daniel watched the color drain from his face. "Jack?"
"'S okay, 's okay." He puffed through his mouth for a moment, jaw clenched. Gradually, his tense body relaxed. "Note to self: Don't do that again." He didn't smile so much as show Daniel his teeth. "Let's try that again."
Daniel grunted as Jack slipped one hand behind his neck, the other under his shoulders. Panic washed over him. "Jack, wait, I really don't think--"
"Hang on, Daniel. Here we go."
Agony stabbed through his chest, pulling the air from his lungs. Daniel tried to scream but couldn't make a sound. He saw spots dance across his vision, as everything became a mixed up jumble of color and sound. His head thudded against Jack's shoulder, then, mercifully, he faded away.
**************************
They were in a world of trouble.
Jack tipped his head back, the rough bark from the tree trunk digging into his spine. The sun, a ball of red fire, was rapidly disappearing behind the trees. Lengthening shadows and the marked drop in temperature told him night was just around the corner.
And it was gonna get damn cold for a couple of guys stuck on the mountainside with only lightweight jackets and a couple of blankets between them.
When Daniel had passed out, Jack had momentarily panicked, terrified he'd done something to exacerbate his friend's injuries. Once he'd stopped being Jack and reverted to Colonel O'Neill, he'd realized that Daniel's pulse was still relatively strong, his respiration steady--if a bit labored.
He'd taken advantage of Daniel's unconsciousness, quickly and efficiently wrapping his ribs while his friend was oblivious to the pain. When finished he'd tucked one of the blankets snugly around Daniel's body and gone to scavenge what he could from the remainder of their luggage.
The results were dismal.
A half dozen bottles of water, four granola bars, and a thermos of cold coffee. Clothing--mostly useless except for their lightweight jackets and a couple of flannel shirts. A fishing pole and tackle box--that was gonna be REAL helpful. And the contents of the first aid kit, which included hydrogen peroxide and antibiotic cream, some bandages, and a much-too-small bottle of ibuprofen. Daniel's prescription-strength painkillers were MIA--if he'd even remembered to bring them in the first place. It would be just like his friend to pack reference books and journals and forget his headache meds.
Desperate, Jack had risked another attempt at starting the SUV's engine--and nearly got himself killed in the process. His weight moving around inside the truck somehow had caused it to shift, throwing off its precarious balance against the tree. A shotgun pop of cracking branches alerted him an instant before the back end lost purchase on the loose shale and the truck slid ass-first down the mountain, jerking to a teeth-jarring stop when the front wheels caught on a rocky outcrop. Jack had flung himself out of the car, relief temporarily obliterating the pain in his knee.
Talk about your close calls.
And it had all been for nothing. Turning the key in the ignition had produced only an impotent click and then silence. Battery was dead, maybe, or disconnected. Any way you looked at it, the vehicle wasn't going to be any help in getting them rescued. The horn didn't even work.
Neither did his cell phone.
His knee was swollen to the size of a grapefruit, hot beneath the fabric of his jeans. He'd barely been able to crawl back from the truck; he'd never in a million years make it up the steep mountainside to the road. Daniel's busted ribs were bad enough to impede his breathing. That, coupled with the chill night air, could all too easily land him a case of pneumonia. But what really had him worried was the head injury. Daniel was dizzy, nauseous, and confused. And to Jack's admittedly untrained eye, his pupils looked a bit sluggish. Of course, it could be just a really bad concussion. Maybe.
They were in a world of trouble.
Jack wiped beads of cold sweat from his upper lip, squirming a bit as he searched for a position that would ease the pressure on his knee Again he replayed the last few minutes before the accident, scrutinizing his actions and searching for something, anything, he might have done differently. Had he driven too fast? Were his reflexes too slow? Had he allowed himself to be distracted by Daniel hanging over the seat?
No matter what angle he chose, the final picture looked the same. The sharp bend in the road, the speed of the oncoming car, and the condition of its driver--hell, of the whole bunch--had left Jack no option but to meet the vehicle head on or get out of the way. Considering where he and Daniel wound up, it had been a lose-lose situation.
And somehow he didn't think any of those boys were going to be much help. If they'd even noticed what they'd done--and from his quick glimpse of the partying going on in that car, those idiots were probably oblivious--he doubted they'd be in any hurry to own up to it.
Daniel jerked, whining softly, arms and legs twitching. Jack leaned forward, intending to calm his friend before he could aggravate his injures. Unfortunately, in his haste he twisted too far to the left, wrenching his stiff and unforgiving knee. The grumbling pain blossomed into a squeal, and he slumped back, clutching his leg and gasping while tears rolled down his cheeks.
After a few minutes he fumbled open the bottle of ibuprofen, extracted three of the small brown pills, and washed them down with a gulp of water. All afternoon he'd gritted his teeth and endured the agony in his knee, hoping to save the painkillers for Daniel, but after his ill-fated adventure in the truck, he needed some relief simply to keep functioning. He was no good to Daniel curled into a ball, sobbing like a baby.
Not that he seemed to be of much use anyway.
Frustration gnawed at him as relentlessly as the pain in his leg. He was a man of action. He'd built a distinguished career by being the guy the brass called to make the impossible possible. The "go-to-it" guy. He'd damn near convinced himself that there was no problem too big, nothing he couldn't handle if given the chance.
Until a single gunshot changed his life forever.
Charlie's death couldn't be fixed, not even by the "go-to-it" guy. He'd held his son in his arms as life drained from his small body with every beat of his heart. Helpless.
Just like now. Jack looked at Daniel--dark bruises stark against pale skin, his brow furrowed with pain even in sleep--and anger welled up inside him like a dark tide. He was NOT going to lose Daniel, damn it. Somehow, some way, he was going to fix this one.
Daniel frowned, mumbling something unintelligible and moving his head back and forth. Jack placed a hand on him, but Daniel only became more agitated. When his friend crossed the line from restless to distressed, he decided it was time to intervene.
"Daniel. Daniel, it's all right. Wake up."
"...impossible...you're dead...can't...can't...not seeing...I..."
"Daniel."
"Jack!" Daniel gasped the name, halfway to sitting up before his battered body forcibly reminded him it was a bad idea. He latched onto Jack's outstretched arm with a strangled cry.
"Bad idea--but then, you've already figured that one out, haven't you?" Jack eased Daniel to a semi-reclining position against his shoulder, and placed a bottle of water and three ibuprofen tablets into his hand. "Here. It's not exactly Doc's happy juice, but it'll at least take the edge off."
Daniel did as he was told, mechanically and without protest. He downed the pills, but after a few swallows of water he froze and his breathing sped up. Even in the rapidly fading light Jack could see sweat break out on his forehead.
"Daniel?"
"Gonna...gonna be sick."
"No you're not. Listen to me, okay? I want you to take nice deep breaths, in through your nose and out through your mouth."
"Jack, can't--"
"Concentrate! In. Out. In. Out. Nice and slow. That's it. Mind over matter, Daniel."
"Easy...easy for you...to say." Daniel ground the reply out through gritted teeth, but after several minutes his tense body relaxed a bit and he sighed. "Better."
He seemed content to remain propped against Jack's chest, and Jack had to admit, the shared body heat helped combat the chill. They sat in silence, watching as the sun slipped behind the mountains and the first stars shimmered into view.
"What...what happened?"
Jack closed his eyes. Breathed. "There was an accident, remember? We were run off the road by a bunch of kids. You've got a knock on the head and some busted ribs, and I wracked up my knee."
Daniel's head thumped onto his shoulder. "I can't...I don't remember."
"Yeah, well, it's okay. Your brains are a little scrambled right now."
"Cell phone?"
"No signal." It was maddening to regurgitate the same information, but Jack held onto his patience. "We slid a couple thousand feet down the mountain. We're stuck."
"Getting dark."
"You noticed."
"Why are you still here?"
Daniel's soft question caught him completely off guard. Jack jerked his gaze from the sky and glared at his friend. In the dusky twilight, it was hard to read the subtle nuances in Daniel's guarded expression.
"What are you talking about?"
"You could climb up to the road. Maybe flag down a car...hike to...'s there a town nearby?"
"My knee is cashed. I'd never make it up the mountain, let alone five miles to the nearest town." Frustrated by his own impotence, his words came out sharp and angry.
"You made it out of Iraq. Telling me...you can't make it up one little mountain?" Daniel grabbed Jack's arm, his fingers curling painfully around his wrist. "This isn't a mission, and you're...you're not the team leader here. You don't need...to die for me."
Was there a more irritating pain in the ass on the planet? "You're right, I'm not your team leader here; I'm your friend. Doesn't matter. Same rule applies."
"No one gets left behind." Daniel said it very softly. "But, Jack--"
"Forget it. We got into this mess together, and that's the way we're getting out of it." He huffed and shook his head. "And it pains me to point this out, but Iraq was fifteen years ago. This body's seen some wear and tear since then."
Daniel didn't answer but a shiver wracked his frame. Jack pulled the blankets up around them. "You were out of it for a while. How are you doing?"
"Been better." Daniel shivered again, turning his face toward Jack's neck. "Ribs aren't bad if I don't move, but..."
"Head?"
He felt Daniel swallow hard. "Yeah. Feels like it's gonna crack into pieces and..." He blinked, lashes tickling Jack's skin. "Everything's all mixed up. Can't...can't think."
"It's okay." Jack kept his voice light. "Just let me be the brains of this outfit for a change."
Daniel's breathy chuckle quickly turned to a hiss of pain, and Jack felt moisture against his neck. "Gotta appreciate the irony."
"How's that?"
"All the close calls...Goa'uld, prison planets, giant bugs. Can't believe...gonna die because of a...bunch of kids."
Jack grasped Daniel's shoulders and sat him up, ignoring the fact that he was causing his friend pain. He looked into Daniel's eyes, his own expression grim. "Listen up, because I'm only going to say this once. No one is going to die here, Daniel. Not me, and sure as hell not you. Help will come eventually, and we'll be waiting for it when it does. You got that?"
Daniel blinked and a tear tracked through the dirt and blood on his cheek. He bit his lip hard and nodded. "Yeah."
Regretting his harshness, Jack settled Daniel against him and adjusted the blankets. "Try to rest, conserve energy. You're going to need it." He tipped his head back and gazed at the stars. "We both are."
Go to part 3
Author: Sunrize
Rating: PG-13 for language
Characters: Jack, Daniel
Category: Gen, H/C
Season/Spoilers: Season 4, post "The Curse"
Synopsis: A trip to the mountains becomes a battle for survival
Fingers. Tapping his cheek.
Daniel tried moving his head, but the maddening touch not only followed, it grew rougher. With great effort, he lifted his hand and batted at the annoyance. Fire lanced across his chest, and he groaned. Instinctively curling into a ball, he panted, his own ragged breathing and a persistent buzzing filling his ears.
He hurt everywhere, but the worst of it centered in his head and chest. Pain pulsed rhythmically through his skull with each beat of his wildly thumping heart, and every breath he drew provoked a corresponding stab of agony, like a knife to his ribs. Fear combined with confusion added to his distress. He hurt, but he didn't know why. His muddled brain urged him to move, to escape...but he didn't know where.
As he lay there, gasping and shivering, he gradually became aware of two things: The persistent buzz was the sound of his own whimpering; and someone was talking to him, his voice low and gentle. Daniel concentrated, and the words began making sense.
"...concussion...pretty bad...Fraiser...check you out..."
"Jack?" His mouth and throat felt desert dry; he couldn't find enough moisture to wet his lips. He abruptly realized he was laying on a hard, lumpy surface that felt gritty beneath his cheek.
"Right here."
Hands, touching him, rolling him onto his back. His head was lifted, cradled by a large palm, and then lowered onto something soft. He whimpered again, this time with gratitude, as the throbbing ache receded a little.
The relief was short-lived. Callused fingers pried open one eyelid. The sudden explosion of light was like an ice pick driven into his brain--the pain was tremendous. Daniel didn't even think, just reacted, arms flailing as he tried unsuccessfully to roll away from those cruel, relentless fingers.
"Daniel. Daniel, stop!"
He flopped onto his back, his heart pounding and his chest cramping with each labored breath. Hands again, cupping his face, and now Jack's voice was strained with irritation and...worry?
"Damn it, Daniel! Hold still. I know it hurts, but I've got to get a look at your pupils. Help me out here."
Pupils? Daniel thought. I'm dying and Jack's talking about school? What?
A shadow fell, reducing the light that filtered through his eyelids. "Can you open your eyes for me? I'll try to block the light."
Clenching his teeth, Daniel eased his eyes open a bit. The glare still aggravated his already pounding head, but with Jack's body as a shield, it was bearable.
"Good, good." Jack carefully pried open one eye, then the other. "Hang on. Just a minute more. Follow my finger."
Daniel struggled to track a shapeless blob as tears leaked and ran down the sides of his face. Despite the earlier impatience in his voice, Jack's brown eyes were warm with sympathy. He released Daniel and sat back, his lips pressed tightly together and a tense, pinched expression on his face.
Daniel blinked furiously, fighting against a rush of nausea. He found he could now leave his eyelids at half-mast without too much discomfort.
Jack ran his hands down each of Daniel's arms and legs. "I know your head hurts like hell. Anything else I should know about?"
"Chest." Daniel tried once again to lick his lips, his voice little more than a froggy croak. "Ribs...broken, maybe."
Jack felt along Daniel's torso. When his hands reached a spot just above Daniel's waist, something shifted, and Daniel sucked in a sharp gulp of air.
Jack winced. "Yeah. Broken, all right."
"Jack?"
"Yeah?" Jack worked Daniel's tee shirt free of his jeans and hiked it up, carefully retracing the hard ridge of his ribs. His face wore the carefully neutral expression that signaled they were in deep shit.
Daniel tracked a hawk flying overhead, closing his eyes when the sky rippled and wavered. His lips felt numb, his tongue too large for his mouth. "What happened?"
Jack faltered, hands stilling for a moment before resuming their investigation. "A car full of kids--most likely very drunk kids--ran us off the road. We slid down the side of the mountain--only partway, thanks to this tree."
"You--" Daniel hissed, his eyes popping open when Jack's relentless fingers found another sore spot.
"Sorry, sorry." Jack muttered the words through gritted teeth, swiping the crook of his arm across his sweaty forehead.
Daniel puffed through his mouth for a moment. Thinking was like wading through mud--his normally sharp mind thick and sluggish. "You...all right?"
"I wracked up my knee, but otherwise..." Jack tugged the shirt down. "I had my seatbelt on, unlike a certain archeologist who shall remain nameless."
Daniel frowned. Jack's words chugged past him with the speed of a freight train while he floundered to keep up. "Huh?"
"You, Daniel. You were digging in the back seat for your journal, remember? That's why you took such a beating. Here."
Jack slid a hand under his neck and something brushed his lips. After a moment water, deliciously cool and wet, trickled into his mouth and slid down his parched throat. Daniel sucked greedily, whining in protest when the bottle disappeared.
"Slow down or you'll puke it back up. And I've gotta say, I've seen enough of your puke to last me a lifetime."
A few more swallows and then a cool, soft cloth stroked across his cheek. When it reached his hairline, Daniel flinched and pain sparked across his vision. "Ouch."
"Sorry. I'm trying to be gentle but there's a helluva lot of blood here. I need it cleared away before I can see how badly you're cut."
Daniel clamped his teeth together and held still, sighing when Jack finally finished. "Bad?"
"Enough." Jack said cryptically. He scrubbed a hand through his hair. "From what I can see, you've got at least four busted ribs, a bazillion cuts and bruises, and a pretty nasty concussion. That head wound is going to need stitches, but for now I can clean and bandage it with stuff from the first aid kit. Can't do much for the ribs except wrap 'em--I think I can make do by tearing up a few shirts."
Bazillion? Daniel screwed up his face in concentration, trying to untangle the long string of words. What?
Jack huffed and shook his head. "Never mind. You just lay there and I'll do my Doc Fraiser imitation."
Daniel frowned. "Don' be ridiculous, Jack. You don' look anything like Janet."
Jack disappeared. Daniel blinked, staring at the empty space where he'd been. He heard an odd, dragging sound, then a lot of thumps and thuds mingled with Jack cursing under his breath. Sunlight dappled through the branches above him, making his head throb more fiercely. He shut his eyes against the glare, gritting his teeth against the nauseating sensation that the earth was spinning beneath him.
"Daniel?"
He opened his eyes, startling at the close proximity of Jack's face. Confused by the way his friend seemed to appear and disappear without warning, he nodded. "Here."
"Head first, then ribs. Try not to move because this peroxide is gonna hurt like a son of a bitch."
Before he could attempt an answer, liquid fire seared his forehead. Daniel dug his fingers into the dirt beneath his hands, his body taut with the strain of holding still. Jack, damn him, was nothing if not thorough, and the procedure went on forever. Finally Jack pressed a clean gauze pad to his head and secured it with medical tape.
He re-wet the cloth and mopped tears and sweat from Daniel's face. "How are ya doing?"
"Jus'...peachy."
Jack grinned. "That's my boy. Now comes the tough part. We've got to get you upright so I can stabilize those ribs."
Tough part Daniel thought woozily. What do you call setting a blow torch to my head?
Sound of ripping cloth. Daniel could tell Jack was doing something with his hands but he didn't have the energy or the will to see what it was. After a few minutes, Jack looked down at him.
"Okay, here's the game plan. You let me do all the work. I'm going to sit you up, and you can lean against me while I wrap the bandage. Sound good?"
Daniel squinted at him, wishing vaguely for his glasses. "Game? Don't feel like playin'."
Jack stared at him for a moment, then heaved a sigh. "Yeah. All right, here we go."
He leaned over Daniel, then froze, sucking in a harsh breath. Daniel watched the color drain from his face. "Jack?"
"'S okay, 's okay." He puffed through his mouth for a moment, jaw clenched. Gradually, his tense body relaxed. "Note to self: Don't do that again." He didn't smile so much as show Daniel his teeth. "Let's try that again."
Daniel grunted as Jack slipped one hand behind his neck, the other under his shoulders. Panic washed over him. "Jack, wait, I really don't think--"
"Hang on, Daniel. Here we go."
Agony stabbed through his chest, pulling the air from his lungs. Daniel tried to scream but couldn't make a sound. He saw spots dance across his vision, as everything became a mixed up jumble of color and sound. His head thudded against Jack's shoulder, then, mercifully, he faded away.
**************************
They were in a world of trouble.
Jack tipped his head back, the rough bark from the tree trunk digging into his spine. The sun, a ball of red fire, was rapidly disappearing behind the trees. Lengthening shadows and the marked drop in temperature told him night was just around the corner.
And it was gonna get damn cold for a couple of guys stuck on the mountainside with only lightweight jackets and a couple of blankets between them.
When Daniel had passed out, Jack had momentarily panicked, terrified he'd done something to exacerbate his friend's injuries. Once he'd stopped being Jack and reverted to Colonel O'Neill, he'd realized that Daniel's pulse was still relatively strong, his respiration steady--if a bit labored.
He'd taken advantage of Daniel's unconsciousness, quickly and efficiently wrapping his ribs while his friend was oblivious to the pain. When finished he'd tucked one of the blankets snugly around Daniel's body and gone to scavenge what he could from the remainder of their luggage.
The results were dismal.
A half dozen bottles of water, four granola bars, and a thermos of cold coffee. Clothing--mostly useless except for their lightweight jackets and a couple of flannel shirts. A fishing pole and tackle box--that was gonna be REAL helpful. And the contents of the first aid kit, which included hydrogen peroxide and antibiotic cream, some bandages, and a much-too-small bottle of ibuprofen. Daniel's prescription-strength painkillers were MIA--if he'd even remembered to bring them in the first place. It would be just like his friend to pack reference books and journals and forget his headache meds.
Desperate, Jack had risked another attempt at starting the SUV's engine--and nearly got himself killed in the process. His weight moving around inside the truck somehow had caused it to shift, throwing off its precarious balance against the tree. A shotgun pop of cracking branches alerted him an instant before the back end lost purchase on the loose shale and the truck slid ass-first down the mountain, jerking to a teeth-jarring stop when the front wheels caught on a rocky outcrop. Jack had flung himself out of the car, relief temporarily obliterating the pain in his knee.
Talk about your close calls.
And it had all been for nothing. Turning the key in the ignition had produced only an impotent click and then silence. Battery was dead, maybe, or disconnected. Any way you looked at it, the vehicle wasn't going to be any help in getting them rescued. The horn didn't even work.
Neither did his cell phone.
His knee was swollen to the size of a grapefruit, hot beneath the fabric of his jeans. He'd barely been able to crawl back from the truck; he'd never in a million years make it up the steep mountainside to the road. Daniel's busted ribs were bad enough to impede his breathing. That, coupled with the chill night air, could all too easily land him a case of pneumonia. But what really had him worried was the head injury. Daniel was dizzy, nauseous, and confused. And to Jack's admittedly untrained eye, his pupils looked a bit sluggish. Of course, it could be just a really bad concussion. Maybe.
They were in a world of trouble.
Jack wiped beads of cold sweat from his upper lip, squirming a bit as he searched for a position that would ease the pressure on his knee Again he replayed the last few minutes before the accident, scrutinizing his actions and searching for something, anything, he might have done differently. Had he driven too fast? Were his reflexes too slow? Had he allowed himself to be distracted by Daniel hanging over the seat?
No matter what angle he chose, the final picture looked the same. The sharp bend in the road, the speed of the oncoming car, and the condition of its driver--hell, of the whole bunch--had left Jack no option but to meet the vehicle head on or get out of the way. Considering where he and Daniel wound up, it had been a lose-lose situation.
And somehow he didn't think any of those boys were going to be much help. If they'd even noticed what they'd done--and from his quick glimpse of the partying going on in that car, those idiots were probably oblivious--he doubted they'd be in any hurry to own up to it.
Daniel jerked, whining softly, arms and legs twitching. Jack leaned forward, intending to calm his friend before he could aggravate his injures. Unfortunately, in his haste he twisted too far to the left, wrenching his stiff and unforgiving knee. The grumbling pain blossomed into a squeal, and he slumped back, clutching his leg and gasping while tears rolled down his cheeks.
After a few minutes he fumbled open the bottle of ibuprofen, extracted three of the small brown pills, and washed them down with a gulp of water. All afternoon he'd gritted his teeth and endured the agony in his knee, hoping to save the painkillers for Daniel, but after his ill-fated adventure in the truck, he needed some relief simply to keep functioning. He was no good to Daniel curled into a ball, sobbing like a baby.
Not that he seemed to be of much use anyway.
Frustration gnawed at him as relentlessly as the pain in his leg. He was a man of action. He'd built a distinguished career by being the guy the brass called to make the impossible possible. The "go-to-it" guy. He'd damn near convinced himself that there was no problem too big, nothing he couldn't handle if given the chance.
Until a single gunshot changed his life forever.
Charlie's death couldn't be fixed, not even by the "go-to-it" guy. He'd held his son in his arms as life drained from his small body with every beat of his heart. Helpless.
Just like now. Jack looked at Daniel--dark bruises stark against pale skin, his brow furrowed with pain even in sleep--and anger welled up inside him like a dark tide. He was NOT going to lose Daniel, damn it. Somehow, some way, he was going to fix this one.
Daniel frowned, mumbling something unintelligible and moving his head back and forth. Jack placed a hand on him, but Daniel only became more agitated. When his friend crossed the line from restless to distressed, he decided it was time to intervene.
"Daniel. Daniel, it's all right. Wake up."
"...impossible...you're dead...can't...can't...not seeing...I..."
"Daniel."
"Jack!" Daniel gasped the name, halfway to sitting up before his battered body forcibly reminded him it was a bad idea. He latched onto Jack's outstretched arm with a strangled cry.
"Bad idea--but then, you've already figured that one out, haven't you?" Jack eased Daniel to a semi-reclining position against his shoulder, and placed a bottle of water and three ibuprofen tablets into his hand. "Here. It's not exactly Doc's happy juice, but it'll at least take the edge off."
Daniel did as he was told, mechanically and without protest. He downed the pills, but after a few swallows of water he froze and his breathing sped up. Even in the rapidly fading light Jack could see sweat break out on his forehead.
"Daniel?"
"Gonna...gonna be sick."
"No you're not. Listen to me, okay? I want you to take nice deep breaths, in through your nose and out through your mouth."
"Jack, can't--"
"Concentrate! In. Out. In. Out. Nice and slow. That's it. Mind over matter, Daniel."
"Easy...easy for you...to say." Daniel ground the reply out through gritted teeth, but after several minutes his tense body relaxed a bit and he sighed. "Better."
He seemed content to remain propped against Jack's chest, and Jack had to admit, the shared body heat helped combat the chill. They sat in silence, watching as the sun slipped behind the mountains and the first stars shimmered into view.
"What...what happened?"
Jack closed his eyes. Breathed. "There was an accident, remember? We were run off the road by a bunch of kids. You've got a knock on the head and some busted ribs, and I wracked up my knee."
Daniel's head thumped onto his shoulder. "I can't...I don't remember."
"Yeah, well, it's okay. Your brains are a little scrambled right now."
"Cell phone?"
"No signal." It was maddening to regurgitate the same information, but Jack held onto his patience. "We slid a couple thousand feet down the mountain. We're stuck."
"Getting dark."
"You noticed."
"Why are you still here?"
Daniel's soft question caught him completely off guard. Jack jerked his gaze from the sky and glared at his friend. In the dusky twilight, it was hard to read the subtle nuances in Daniel's guarded expression.
"What are you talking about?"
"You could climb up to the road. Maybe flag down a car...hike to...'s there a town nearby?"
"My knee is cashed. I'd never make it up the mountain, let alone five miles to the nearest town." Frustrated by his own impotence, his words came out sharp and angry.
"You made it out of Iraq. Telling me...you can't make it up one little mountain?" Daniel grabbed Jack's arm, his fingers curling painfully around his wrist. "This isn't a mission, and you're...you're not the team leader here. You don't need...to die for me."
Was there a more irritating pain in the ass on the planet? "You're right, I'm not your team leader here; I'm your friend. Doesn't matter. Same rule applies."
"No one gets left behind." Daniel said it very softly. "But, Jack--"
"Forget it. We got into this mess together, and that's the way we're getting out of it." He huffed and shook his head. "And it pains me to point this out, but Iraq was fifteen years ago. This body's seen some wear and tear since then."
Daniel didn't answer but a shiver wracked his frame. Jack pulled the blankets up around them. "You were out of it for a while. How are you doing?"
"Been better." Daniel shivered again, turning his face toward Jack's neck. "Ribs aren't bad if I don't move, but..."
"Head?"
He felt Daniel swallow hard. "Yeah. Feels like it's gonna crack into pieces and..." He blinked, lashes tickling Jack's skin. "Everything's all mixed up. Can't...can't think."
"It's okay." Jack kept his voice light. "Just let me be the brains of this outfit for a change."
Daniel's breathy chuckle quickly turned to a hiss of pain, and Jack felt moisture against his neck. "Gotta appreciate the irony."
"How's that?"
"All the close calls...Goa'uld, prison planets, giant bugs. Can't believe...gonna die because of a...bunch of kids."
Jack grasped Daniel's shoulders and sat him up, ignoring the fact that he was causing his friend pain. He looked into Daniel's eyes, his own expression grim. "Listen up, because I'm only going to say this once. No one is going to die here, Daniel. Not me, and sure as hell not you. Help will come eventually, and we'll be waiting for it when it does. You got that?"
Daniel blinked and a tear tracked through the dirt and blood on his cheek. He bit his lip hard and nodded. "Yeah."
Regretting his harshness, Jack settled Daniel against him and adjusted the blankets. "Try to rest, conserve energy. You're going to need it." He tipped his head back and gazed at the stars. "We both are."
Go to part 3