Stars.
By Gumnut
2 Oct 2004
The woven krenna mat beneath him was rough on his skin, scratching him in places he previously hadn't realised existed, and he shifted restlessly.
The night sky above him beckoned and he could hear the call of the stars.
He hadn't noticed it before. Far too occupied with life on the ground. Sure, he had been a pilot, had revelled in the roar of speeding atmosphere, squinted into the sunlight as it bounced off the plane canopy.
He had his telescope. And when he wasn't staring at his neighbours, he had studied the night sky, marking places the stargate could go, the places he had been.
But he had never heard the call, not like this.
It spoke to him.
Of places, people. Things he had done, things he could never do again. Missed opportunities.
Lost friends.
Things he should have said.
They sung to him.
Every now and again, a streak of light would arc across the sky, a fiery reminder of why he was here.
He shut his eyes, hiding himself.
Paynan, lying next to him, snorted in his sleep, turning over with a mutter and breaking the silence of the empty meadow.
They had come out here, quite a distance from the settlement, to hunt for stray animals that may have survived the devastation. Survival was so marginal after the catastrophe that they needed every hand they had, and that included him.
He gave what he could, labouring with the rest of them. He was fit, healthy, knew a few things they didn't, and despite some initial wariness at his presence, they accepted him, oddities and all.
In reality, they had no more choice than he. Survival was the priority.
There was one factor in favour of this planet, however.
No mosquitoes.
Perhaps he could hear the call of the stars because his hearing wasn't drowned out by a hoard of bloodsuckers attempting to make a meal out of him.
At the thought of the tiny insects, his mind suddenly threw up the image of Teal'c slapping bugs at their last barbecue get together. He had to smile. The Jaffa has suffered so for his sake. Attempting to fit in with the status quo, while O'Neill did his best not to burst out laughing at the pained look on the former first prime's face. Teal'c was certainly not a fan of bugs.
It was no surprise considering the man's encounter with the insect from hell the year before. Having your entire body used in a giant bug's reproductive rights could do that to you.
The face of his friend floated in his mind. What he wouldn't give to see the Jaffa now.
Another streak of harmless fire coursed across the sky.
Teal'c had changed so much since he had joined their little Goa'uld hunting party, but at the same time, he hadn't. He was still the consummate warrior, still strong in his belief in honour. Still stubborn as a mule.
Never play poker with a Jaffa. O'Neill still owed him several weeks pay for that little lesson.
He found himself smiling again.
His friends were so far away, but they still managed to touch him.
If he had said that out loud in front of any of them they would have stared. Well, perhaps not Teal'c. The warrior understood O'Neill more than he cared to acknowledge. There was a depth to the Jaffa's gaze that sometimes made him uneasy. It spoke of the man's age and a wisdom beyond Jack's years, that he knew something no-one else did. Saw something in the Colonel that other's missed. Including the Colonel himself.
And that was the catch. Teal'c was so much older than any of the rest of them could ever hope to be. Had seen things of both horror and beauty denied to this lone human. Yet the Jaffa chose to follow him. He had answered a prisoner's desperate call on that fateful day, had gambled everything he was, everything he held dear, on a single chance at freedom for himself, and, one day, should he succeed, his people.
O'Neill had no doubt that one day Teal'c would succeed. With or without the Tau'ri Colonel who had drawn him on to the path. It was one bright spark in O'Neill's dimmed existence. Teal'c would lead the fight in his absence.
He considered himself a small loss in the scheme of things.
He was just one small cog in a human machine of determination that had proven its strength many times over. The Goa'uld were existing on borrowed time.
And they deserved to die.
So many humans had lost their lives, their freedom and their dignity to the race of parasites, any thought of mercy had been driven from him.
Apparently revenge was a dish best served cold, but in the case of the Goa'uld…..
There had been certain things he had considered beyond redemption, certain means he had encountered during his travels, certain things he swore he would never do.
If it resulted in the death of a Goa'uld, he was prepared to break everyone of those vows.
The tears of a friend forever scorched into his mind.
Daniel.
Jack was a soldier. He was trained. Experienced, educated and informed. He had built himself a steel cage to keep the world away from him. He could handle just about anything it threw at him with few exceptions.
He could handle it.
But Daniel was not a soldier.
No matter how hard he tried, and try he did, there was something in the archaeologist that just refused to disconnect from the world around him.
And he got hurt.
Empathy with the enemy was a weakness a soldier could not afford. Even when that enemy stared at you through the eyes of your dying wife.
Jack squeezed his eyes shut again.
The Goa'uld had taken so much from Daniel. The man had finally found a family, and for one blissful year, he had perfection. Daniel still spoke of those precious days on Abydos, usually with a smile on his face, recanting funny moments as the twentieth century Daniel encountered ancient Egyptian living conditions.
One particular moment stuck in Jack's mind, something about a sand bath. He had forgotten the details of the story, but the image of a recovering Doctor Jackson sitting in his living room a month or so after the encounter with sarcophagus addiction. The wilted look had still haunted the archaeologist's eyes, but his expression had lit up despite it, showing the stubborn vitality that was the core of the man who had survived so much.
There had been other times in that same room, other expressions. A good dose of the standard Daniel Jackson eagerness for his latest project, babbling a mile a minute in a language that was apparently still English, but of which not a single word made sense to Jack. Worry. Sam Carter and the memories of Jolinar. The tears the man could not hold back after the death of his wife.
And the times their roles had been reversed. Where Jack was the injured party.
His mind shuddered away from many of those situations. He had boxed them up, his steel cage denying him access to his own pain, protecting him from himself.
But Daniel always managed to find a way in.
That living room had seen its fair share of shouting matches as well. Only Daniel would stand up to him at his worst and for some reason it was something Jack cherished.
He could scream at Carter and she would simply do as she was told – she had to.
Teal'c would just raise that annoying eyebrow. It is extremely hard to have a screaming match when faced with serenity like that.
But Daniel….Daniel always rose to the occasion.
He had to smile at that.
He wondered if Daniel realised exactly how much enjoyment Jack derived from simply arguing with him, sometimes just for the sake of it.
Neither one had hit the other yet. Of course, he'd nearly been shot once, but to include that just wouldn't be fair to Daniel. He had been under the influence of an alien woman at the time, and Jack knew from experience exactly how treacherous those females could be.
A sudden image of Daniel and himself facing up to some Barbarella-like space babes dressed in silver miniskirts brought yet another thoughtful smile to his face.
His attention was suddenly drawn to the sky again as an extra large shooting star made an appearance complete with the appropriate sound effect.
Damn those things made him jumpy. He would never look at a falling star the same way ever again. The only wish he would be making in the future was one of near miss.
Ironically, he found himself calculating its trajectory and likelihood of impact. Carter would have been astounded had she had a telepathic moment.
Paynan's sleep was briefly disturbed by the distant roar, but he did not awaken. The villagers, including himself, had been forced to become used to the threat of the meteors. No more made it through the atmosphere and as far as the others were concerned, it was over. They were a determined people and had no patience for unwarranted fears. Some children still cried in the night, but the adults had chosen to ignore the nightly remnants of the fire rain.
Unfortunately, Jack O'Neill was a little more knowledgeable about astronomy than the average villager. He knew that there was always the possibility of the meteor that could end it for all of them. There was not a thing he could do about it, so he kept the knowledge to himself. But sometimes it still kept him awake at night.
Ironic really. Usually considered the ignorant one, here he was the most scientifically informed being on the planet.
Carter would have had a coronary.
It was a lie he lived daily back at the SGC. There he had to hide his knowledge to maintain his reputation and keep his team on their toes. Here he had to hide his knowledge because he literally did know too much. Sure, there were incidents where his survival skills were an excellent advantage. There were things he could share with his new friends. But there were also things he couldn't. Some because they were worthless. Others because they could do more harm than good should he mention them. His knowledge of astronomy and meteors a prime example.
And it had nothing to do with spoiling the fun.
Another smile? What was it with him? Memories of SG-1 happy day or something?
His mind skipped around the subject for a few moments, but inevitably his thoughts returned to a set of blue eyes and blonde hair.
A woman who always had the answers. How lucky was he to have her on his team?
The first thought that had come to his mind on seeing her for the first time was not worth remembering. Even if he did, he would have to slap himself for disrespect to a fellow officer.
She'd certainly slapped him verbally enough in the following sixty seconds or so of their meeting. He had no doubt as to her immediate opinion of him.
But what initially had started on a spat of verbal sparring had developed into, firstly, mutual respect, and then, eventually, friendship.
The incident in Antarctica had clinched the relationship.
He had found himself dependent on her. For someone as independent as himself he had found the experience frightening and not only of the fact that his life was in danger. Yet if there was anyone he felt he could be dependent upon, it was her.
And he did depend on her. On every mission.
There was the inevitable question, usually on the edge of a life or death situation, where he would turn to her for information or possibilities. In fact, she had become renowned for flying by the seat of her pants schemes that made other scientists on the base squirm at her scientific blasphemy. He knew it was partly his fault, his pressure, his demands that pushed her to the edge close enough to break the majority of the scientific laws she learnt during her several degrees. But he knew part of her thrived on that pressure. It was like a force that pushed her beyond her boundaries, forced her mind into places it had never been before.
And he had to admit to taking just a little bit of pride in his little contribution to the scientific powerhouse that was his second in command.
A cool breeze caught his hair and ruffled it. The planet was pleasant, he had to give it that. Lots of beautiful open spaces, fishing spots galore. A whole planet fashioned after his backyard in Minnesota. If there was a place Jack O'Neill could have chosen to be stranded, he had to say that this one would have been near the top of the list.
But ironically, by stranding him here, the planet had done the one thing he could never forgive it for. It had taken him away from his team. His friends. Friends he had come to rely on far more than he had realised possible.
He had lost count of how many times he had turned around automatically to ask Carter something, get an opinion off of Teal'c, or discuss something with Daniel, only to find them where they were.
Not with him.
It was a hard lesson to learn.
To stop relying on people who had always been there for you.
The thought cut like a knife, and despite himself he winced internally. He was homesick. Heartsick.
He simply missed them. All three of them.
He had grown so used to relying on them, losing them was like losing a limb, and he was suffering for it.
He stared up at the stars again. They were still singing. Perhaps he hadn't heard them before because before one of them hadn't held his home.
And his family.
-o-o-o-