He huddled beneath the dripping branches of an overgrown tree, wiping the water from his eyes. He felt sick to his stomach and his head hurt a lot. He couldn't remember much at all, except for running and running until his lungs felt like they would burst. He had no idea where he was, only that someone had been chasing him… someone very bad.
He leaned over, resting his hands on his knees, gasping for breath. He was so scared, but he couldn't remember what he was afraid of.
The only thing he was certain of was his name….
"Daniel!"
The voice was subdued, but carried a hiss of threat and he cowered back under the tree.
"Where the hell are you? I swear when I find you… If you ever go off on your own again without my express permission, I'm going to kick your ass into next week. Daniel?"
He ran.
o0o
Carter swept the area in front of her with both her sight and her P-90 before heading over to her commanding officer's side. "No sign of him, sir, and he's been gone for over two hours now." Her heart thudded in her chest and she knew it wasn't just from exertion. They'd almost lost Daniel too many times. She didn't think she could bear to go through it again.
Jack nodded at her tersely and she could see the worry in his eyes, his frown deepening as he scanned their surroundings. "T?" he called softly as the Jaffa appeared at the opposite end of the clearing.
Teal'c shook his head, looking more troubled than Sam ever remembered. "There is no sign of Daniel Jackson," he replied.
Jack rolled his eyes. "Damn stupid… Well, he's got to be here somewhere! What about his locator, Carter?"
"I got a signal for a second or two, sir, then it stopped."
"Stopped?" Jack glared at her.
Carter shrugged. "Jammed, destroyed or just malfunctioning, sir. I don't know."
A sharp burst of weapon fire interrupted her words then they were all ducking for cover as an explosion sounded, too close for comfort. Sam brushed dirt from her eyes and staggered to her feet, her ears still ringing from the blast. "Sir, we have to get back to the gate."
"Daniel's still out here, Carter!" Jack shouted over the roar of more weapon fire.
She shook her head, knowing their only chance of finding Daniel lay with them surviving. "We need to get back to the base. Get some back up… sir."
"Major Carter is correct, O'Neill," Teal'c added. "If we do not survive this attack, Daniel Jackson will be lost to us anyway."
Jack only paused briefly before heaving a sigh and nodding. He triggered his radio and spoke into it as he ushered Carter ahead of him. "Dillon, this is SG-1 team leader, dial up the gate. We're coming in hot."
o0o
Darkness was falling and his clothes were damp from the constant drizzle of rain. He shivered violently and his stomach rumbled with hunger. He staggered along a rough-hewn path, exhausted beyond belief, his eyes open wide, searching for obstacles in his path in the dim light, his ears still attuned for the sound of pursuit and explosions behind him.
He tripped over something and fell forward heavily, too weary to even catch himself, his outstretched hands skidding on the slick dirt, tearing skin. He lay where he landed, his gasping breaths giving way to heartfelt sobs of despair and fear, uncaring when the heavens opened and the rain torrented down, drenching him thoroughly.
A hand on his shoulder had him flinching but he had no energy left for either fight or flight, and he did not resist when he was lifted from the muddy ground and cradled against a broad chest.
"What are you doing out in the storm?" a deep voice said. A hand brushed his soaking hair away from his face.
He looked up, blinking the tears from his eyes and saw a tanned, lined face, rain dripping from black shaggy hair. The man smiled. "Fear not. You will soon be warm and dry. Sahira will see to that."
He opened his mouth to speak, to protest or utter thanks, he wasn't sure, but oblivion swept in without warning and he surrendered to it gladly.
o0o
Sahira poked the fire until sparks flew around the hearth and the hut was lit by a healthy glow. She wrapped her shawl more firmly about her shoulders then set water on the hub to boil. Micah would hopefully return soon with more wood and perhaps some meat for their meal tonight. She listened to the rain pounding against the straw roof then sighed and positioned a pot to catch the drips leaking through. The winter had been long and wet. Good for the crops as Micah always said when she complained of the constant dampness, but for a woman, accustomed to helping out in the small garden they'd cultivated, only a month away from giving birth, already confined more often than not indoors, it was nothing more than a nuisance.
She'd heard the faint sound of thunder before and prayed that Micah had the sense to shelter from the storm, shaking her head in fond exasperation as she settled down in a chair by the fire and picked up the soft scraps of cloth she was painstakingly stitching into a brightly colored jacket for the new child. Micah would come home, soaked through to the skin, as he always did. "The food will not catch itself and jump onto the table, Sahira," he would always say with a chuckle and a gentle kiss to her brow.
She paused a moment in her sewing and rested her hands on her swollen belly as the new life within her stirred and kicked gently. "Soon, little one, soon," she whispered. New life! Another son, perhaps. Micah would be pleased to welcome another son. A new beginning to make over the tragedies that had come before.
She jumped a little when the door was flung open and her husband strode in. Soaking wet, as she had predicted. In his arms, he held a cloth-covered bundle. Sahira stood awkwardly and went to greet him. At least he'd had the sense to protect the wood he'd collected from the rain.
"No meat for dinner, Micah?" she said, feeling disappointed. Their vegetables were almost depleted and the rain had washed much of the grain away.
"I found something… in the woods," Micah replied. He was huffing for breath, as though he'd run a very long way and his eyes were bright as though with fever.
"What now?" Sahira asked impatiently. "If we can't eat it then it's of no use to us."
Carefully, Micah pulled back the cloth and revealed what was beneath.
Sahira gasped and took a step back, tears instantly stinging her eyes. A child, no more than five, lay cradled in Micah's arms. His face was deathly pale, his eyes closed, his tiny chest heaving with an ominous rattle that spoke of illness. His blond hair was plastered to his face, and mud speckled his cheeks and clothes… Clothes unlike any that Sahira had seen before. She looked up at Micah. "A child in the woods? In this weather?" She stepped closer and brushed the wet hair from the boy's face. "He is not from the village," she said with certainty. "Who is he?"
Micah lay the boy down on their bed and covered him with the bedding. "Just a boy," he said. He straightened and stared at the child for a moment then strode over and stood in front of the fire.
Sahira followed him, anxiety churning her stomach. "Who would leave a child alone in the woods?" She pressed a hand to her mouth. "The Gods?"
Micah shrugged. "After Noah, I prayed to the gods for a miracle." He reached out and rested his hand on Sahira's stomach, smiling when the child within kicked. " Perhaps they have gifted us twice over."
