A Fine Aim Chapter 2
By marizpan77
GEN
SG-1
Set after Learning Curve, Season three, Jack isn't quite over what happened on Orban.
Written for the Screen Caps Challenge on stargatelegends (the screen cap is not necessary to understand the story)
Warning: Violence, anger.
Feeback: Very, very welcome
~o~
The drizzle had turned into a steady rain falling straight down without a breath of wind – it silenced their booted steps and muted every other sound – voices, the crack of twigs beneath feet, the rustle of leaves as figures slowly pushed through the undergrowth. It drummed against the slight protection of Daniel's boonie – he'd abandoned his glasses to a vest pocket a few yards back - and he squinted through his headache into the gloom that had grown beneath the large-boled trees as the team progressed.
Jack had slowed their pace when it was clear they'd never outrun this storm; now his back, jacket darkened to almost black by the rain, was visible as a moving shadow just ahead. Daniel turned to glance backward, strangely relieved by the sight of Teal'c's silent presence not too far behind. He hadn't realized how much he depended on his sense of hearing to map his teammates' places around him, to secure their positions nearby, even when he couldn't see them. Here, on an alien world, beneath a rain that seemed to drill into the ground, it wasn't his hopelessly rain-spotted lenses that he missed the most, but the small noises of his friends that his mind would process instinctively as a reminder that he didn't travel alone.
That lack of even a breath of wind, the emptiness of the air of all but the soaking downpour, was the only reason Daniel recognized the stinging brush against his cheek as an immediate sign of danger. He let out a warning shout and pushed Sam hard, sending her stumbling to one knee at the edge of the path. Daniel followed her down, automatically shielding her with his larger form and turning his pack-clad back to what he believed was the source of the projectile. Jack was at his side in a moment.
"Daniel – what?"
The inarticulate grunt behind him had spun Jack on his heels and sent him back along the pathway to crouch next to his downed teammates, eyes flicking from point to point to take in the seemingly empty forest, the Beretta in Daniel's hand, and the large figure of Teal'c standing, back turned to the other three, staff weapon pointed into the underbrush. The tension that had been growing along the back of his neck, that instinctual knowledge that the pounding rain was muffling the presence of watchers well-hidden in the trees, was whispering 'I told you so's' into Jack's mind, the voices all but shouting when Daniel pointed to the feathered shaft that had sprouted from the tree just off the path, and Jack's eyes narrowed on the thin stripe of blood that decorated the archaeologist's cheek. He nodded, one hand on Daniel's shoulder to keep him in place, as he pulled his weapon around to sight along the trembling arrow and follow its path into the blur of green leaves and dark wet trunks that surrounded them.
The sound of Teal'c's staff weapon opening fizzled sharply through the continued drumming of the rain.
"Teal'c?"
The dark head did not turn. "At least two – possibly three – O'Neill."
Jack sensed the frustrated movement of his 2IC at his knee. "Stay down, Major," he breathed, his sharp gaze trying to pick out the tell-tale movements of leaf or branch, or an undisguised footfall among the noises of the storm.
"Jack, let me…"
Daniel. Of course. The colonel felt his lips thin in annoyance. Probably wanted to do his 'we come in peace' speech for the guys shooting arrows at them.
"Daniel…" Jack let the threat sound clearly in that one word.
"It might just have been a warning, Jack. I mean, we've been out here in plain sight for over two hours, they've had plenty of time - I doubt they want to hurt us."
"Spoken by the guy with the blood on his face," Jack snapped, momentarily distracted by the paling streaks washing down against Daniel's white skin. He glanced down at Carter and saw that she'd pulled herself into a crouch, still sheltered by the bulk of Daniel's back and backpack, and she was peering over Daniel's shoulder, binoculars to one eye, scanning the forest. "Major – anything?"
"Maybe, sir," she replied quietly, barely moving her mouth. "A couple of dark shapes at about 100 yards."
Jack grunted. "That'd be a hell of a shot."
"Well, they missed," Daniel's quiet reminder was altogether too sarcastic for Jack's current level of anxiety. Someone was shooting at his team, but... Daniel wasn't wrong. Teal'c stood unmoving and untouched in the center of the path, making himself the biggest target the worst shot on record would ever need.
"Okay. Carter – flank left, I'll take the right. You and I will circle." He glared at Daniel, making sure to capture the younger man's wandering blue gaze and undivided attention for the moment. "Make nice, Daniel, but stay behind Teal'c. One target is enough - "
"O'Neill."
Jack snapped a glare at the Jaffa.
"There is movement – two voices."
He felt the movement too late as Daniel slipped away and stood, weapon holstered again, hands held out to either side in familiar supplication. Jack clenched his teeth and shifted quickly to the right, searching for the figures he knew were there, watching, waiting.
"My name is Daniel Jackson. We are not here to threaten you; we just want to talk, to meet with your people in peace."
The words floated through Jack's awareness. In his mind's eye he could see the earnest concentration on his teammate's face, the sincerity in his blue eyes, always ready to meet a new culture, strap on a smile, shake hands, and get down to the sharing, no matter what downright lethal practices that other culture held to. He shook his head sharply to flick the water from his face. Hopefully Daniel's yammering would draw the attention of whoever had targeted them and he and Carter would get closer before any more hell broke loose. He edged quickly between low hanging branches, careful not to make any more noise than the pelting raindrops. Movement ahead sent him to a silent crouch against the bole of a huge, gnarled tree and he shifted his aim to cover the one large and two smaller shapes that seemed to coalesce from the blur of the forest around them.
"Perduun, Nobelle. Nona abbene paresca! We mean you no harm!"
"Could have fooled me," Jack murmured to himself. He watched the figures move slowly between the trees passing from right to left, their clothing shades of tan and green that easily blended into the foliage around them. The deep voice obviously came from the taller figure – his posture and broad shouldered bulk beneath a dark brown cape and hood signaled strength and an almost regal bearing. The two smaller figures seemed almost childlike in comparison, each covered with cloaks and hoods of similar style in dark green and grey. Jack watched them pass through narrowed eyes, frozen in place, his wary gaze trained on the longbows held in the shorter figures' hands. The bows were strung but not aimed, no arrows were poised to threaten, but those cloaks could hide a world of hurt if those weren't the only weapons they carried. And he'd bet a pound of Carter's favorite chocolate that they weren't.
"Sounds like Italian, or proto-Italian, maybe Ligurian or Sabine…" Daniel's muttered comments carried clearly through the heavy air. "Amico – friend," his raised voice attempted the connection.
The trio continued forward towards the path, passing only a couple of yards from Jack's crouched position. The muzzle of Jack's MP5 followed them. It was only as the group slowed and made to step out into the open that one of the shorter figures slowly turned its head, the shadowed opening of the cloak centering on Jack's motionless position. One hand thrust upwards, pushing the hood back to lie against his back, and dark eyes within a tanned face stared straight into Jack's.
A boy. Jack moved his finger from the trigger. The face was smooth, adolescent, slightly soft in its features where the worries of manhood hadn't taken root. The large eyes were wide, the lips set in a semblance of dignified irritation, dark hair drawn back from a high forehead in braids that disappeared behind the boy's back beneath the cloak. And down the center of the forehead and on to the straight nose beneath were a series of black marks – dots or circles – that gave the human-looking boy an exotic, alien air.
It was the unblinking stare that drew the colonel to his feet, the muzzle of his weapon gradually falling to aim at the dirt as his feet. The youngster tilted his head as if in curiosity before turning back, the firm hand of the larger figure splayed on his back urging him forward. As soon as the dark eyes released him Jack moved left towards his exposed teammates, frowning at the look of dismissal on the young man's face as he turned away.
