Sam sat with Daniel and General Hammond in his office, stunned by what had happened an hour ago. After the Colonel's shocking display and disappearance, they'd immediately redialed 779 and sent a UAV through. There'd been no sign of the Colonel.
"Major; do you have any idea what could have possessed the Colonel?" Hammond asked.
Sam shook her head. She was at a complete loss. The last time she'd seen him that set on something was when he'd staggered through the 'gate holding Shallan's hand …
Damn.
"Sir; excuse me for just a minute?" she said. Hammond nodded his head and she crossed to the briefing room and retrieved the pad on which the Colonel had been doodling.
She went back into the General's office and handed him the pad silently. "This is the young empath I mentioned in the original briefing," she said. "She put herself in danger for us. What if he's gone back to rescue her?"
Hammond closed his eyes briefly. "Goddamn impetuous son of a …," he growled. "Major; I'm giving him 24 hours to get back here. Once that period has elapsed, I'll have no choice but to declare him AWOL. At that point, a team will be sent to 779 to retrieve him … for court-martial."
"General; is that necessary?" Daniel asked.
"Daniel …". Sam shook her head at him. Despite over five years serving with a front-line combat unit, Daniel was still a civilian, and still thought that way much of the time. "It's SOP once an officer goes AWOL – especially such a high ranking one as the Colonel."
Jack O'Neill and the Stargate Program had made many enemies both off world and on; Senator Kinsey and the NID for starters. If this wasn't handled in exact accordance with procedure, it could give Kinsey just the leverage he needed to get the SGC turned over to NID control … ergo his.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
The girl and the warrior emerged from the portal hand in hand, shivering slightly from its effects, and the girl looked around. Blue skies, green grass, trees and a lake. This world was beautiful and serene.
The warrior shook his head. "This sure as hell isn't Kansas," he said and turned back to the pedestal. He let go of her hand and input the same symbols as before – nothing happened. "Oh, for cryin' out loud!" he groaned.
Is this not the destination you sought?, she asked.
"Nope," he said, sweat beading once more on his brow. He kicked the pedestal and punched at the symbols once more.
Feeling oddly bereft, the girl watched as his tanned complexion paled noticeably. You are unwell, she said. You should rest before trying again.
"Forget that," he said. "I can rest once we're back on friendly soil."
She sighed softly. He was sweating and shaking, and seemed to be losing the battle to stay upright. Master; forgive my presumption, but you will not gain anything by driving yourself to fever.
He flinched. "I'm not your master, kiddo," he said, drawing the back of his hand across his brow. "Slavery was abolished on my planet a long time ago. Call me Jack, huh?"
Jack. Unusual, but she liked it. Of course, she replied. She had learned the value of unquestioning obedience a long time ago.
He kicked the pedestal once more, then turned back to the girl with a heavy sigh, folding his long body downward to sit on the soft grass. "Maybe I will rest for a few," he said, closing his brown eyes.
She sat down next to him and put her cool hand on his brow. He was running a fever, but was also shivering. Shock and possibly an infection too, she decided. She took off the large jacket he'd given her and placed it gently over the front of his body, careful not to touch the area around the wound.
"Thanks," he grumbled. Then one of the eyes popped open. "Ya know; with all the running round and shooting, I never did catch your name."
She was startled at that question. She was fairly certain that her sire had given her a name, but it was lost to the mists of time. She had been referred to as 'the girl' for so long that it was all she was used to. I … have no name, she confessed. People like me … do not have them. We are seen as … commodities.
The warrior … Jack … grumbled and shifted slightly. "Bastards," he muttered. "Well, I gotta call you something – can't just say 'hey you'." He squinted at her. "You kinda remind me of my first crush in junior high," he said. He sighed. "God, I loved that girl – and she didn't even know I existed!"
He was rambling now, and she put her hand to his forehead, startled at the dry heat emanating from it. Jack; please save your strength, she urged. You protected me from Remor; I wish to look after you now.
"Just a kid," he mumbled. "Just a damn kid. Bastards."
His head lolled sideways and she shifted closer to him, allowing his head to land on her shoulder. She stroked his gray hair. Rest now, she told him.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Jack opened his eyes and looked around blearily. His head rested on the young girl's shoulder and he'd somehow managed to snake his good arm around her slender waist. Christ … she'd just escaped that dirty rat-bastard – he didn't want her thinking he was like that. Yeah; he'd done a lot in his past that he wasn't proud of, but he'd never force an unwilling woman, let alone a child.
Seeming to sense his regard, she looked down, then pressed her lips to his forehead. He raised his eyebrows. Your fever still burns, she told him, but not as strongly. Perhaps we should seek shelter while you are strong?
"Yeah," he said. He grunted and used the girl's shoulder and the DHD to haul himself to his feet. His vision swam and he blinked rapidly. "Crap!"
Once his vision cleared, he saw some caves about half a klick east. "Over there," he directed, waving his P90 in the approximate direction.
The girl looked over – damn, he had to start calling her something! – and nodded her head. No life there, she informed him. Then she looked him up and down. Will you be able to traverse the distance?
"Sure," he grumbled. "Piece of cake." Cake. Pie. Steak. God, he was hungry!
She looked at him quizzically, then took his good arm and slipped her delicate shoulders under it. There is no shame in needing help, Jack, she declared before he could protest.
They made their way slowly along to the cave, the girl making him pause every now and then to rest. For someone who'd lived with an abusive would-be rapist slaver for most of her life, she was surprisingly unintimidated by Jack's complaints.
They got into the cave and he sat abruptly down on a handy ledge, worn out by that short painful trek. The sharp pain had subsided to a dull ache – he'd had enough staff wounds to recognize the signs of healing – but his head still hurt like a mother.
A tiny hand rested on his brow. Please sleep, he heard her ask.
Yeah, right. But rather than waste time arguing, he closed his eyes, deciding to just humor her. He wondered if she was somehow related to the evil Doc – just as tiny, just as stubborn, just as bossy.
He felt a giggle in his mind. I am empathic, she reminded him. Do you not think I can tell when you are feigning sleep?
Damn. Busted.
Another giggle resounded in his mind and he sighed. Oy; what is it with women and giggling at me? Then his rambling mind added; As long as it isn't pointing and giggling, you've got no complaints, Airman.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
The girl watched as the warrior's eyelids fluttered closed, surprised that she had actually laughed twice. This soldier … Jack, she reminded herself … was like no other man she had ever known.
He was funny, caring, strong, brave and honorable. Such a man as this would have been hand-fasted many turns ago, and she found herself envying his mate. Would she ever know the love of a good man?
Once she was certain he was sleeping, she carefully pushed aside the strange green top garment he wore, then examined the wound. Strong broad shoulders, muscled chest – but not overly so – and vicious scars around the wound. This man had been injured, often and recently. Some scars were white with age, whilst others were pink from recent healings.
She raised her head and pressed a soft whisper of a kiss to the silvery scar that bisected his eyebrow, feeling a tear come to her eyes for what this man must have endured in his life. He shifted and mumbled something and she shot backward as though she had done something wrong.
Yet she had not. Her people were a physically affectionate race, but she had had little opportunity to show affection most of her life. Her master did not deserve her affection – she could not even pretend to hide her hatred for him.
She had missed it more than she had realized – the warmth of knowing that you meant something to someone. That someone cared for your welfare.
The girl brushed another soft kiss across his heated brow. Call me … Alina, she decided. Alina – her people's ancient word for freedom.
