A/N: Thanks for the reviews, more please :) Hope you're still enjoying after this update
A/N 2: Thankyou to LeeMarieJack who pointed out that some of the end paragraphs of this chapter didn't actually make sense. These have now been changed and hopefully give a better idea of what's actually happening
Silver Creek, Minnesota. August 1994
Jack froze as he heard the rasp of footsteps coming closer. He strained his eyes in the dark, stretching his whole six and a bit foot frame closer to the sound, balancing on his toes where they skimmed the ground.
He'd been hanging there for hours and his arms and shoulders screamed with the effort of supporting his weight, his hands were long since numb.
The footsteps were coming closer, Jack's frenzied thoughts span, centring on one essential crux, friendorfoe, friendorfoe, friend or foe. He took deliberate breaths slowing the turbulent flow and wondered whether it even mattered, if a foe they already knew he was here and if a friend… he hoped for friend, took a deep breath and called out.
He waited as the footsteps stopped and then started again, faster now, less measured. His eyes strained against the all encompassing dark, picking out two figures hurrying towards him.
They cleared the room with military ease, flashlight beams tracking with their weapons, on to sweep and off to move. As they neared Jack the younger one broke off from the sweep and flicked open a knife. The light hovered over his face for a moment and Jack had to rapidly downgrade his age estimate, while the body didn't hold the awkwardness of a teenager, the face still held traces of boyhood. He couldn't have been more than sixteen years old. They were dressed in layers, jackets over shirts over tees. The clothes worn and faded and ill-fitting on the teen, a scarred leather jacket he hadn't grown into and a holey t-shirt he'd grown out of. They were definitely not military, no matter how they moved.
Jack tensed as the boy brought the knife closer and then relaxed minutely as he felt it saw into the bindings holding his wrists. As Jack worked his hands, the tingling sensation rapidly turning to pain as blood flooded back into the abused limbs, the kid froze his gaze fixed over the man's shoulder, "Dad? It's coming."
The man looked over, his dark eyes narrowing as he assessed Jack. Jack had the distinct feeling that he'd been found wanting in some way, like his bird had just been grounded. "Alright kiddo, I need you to get this guy outta here okay. I'll take care of it and catch up." Jack read something akin to panic on the kid's face, "Dad no…" the hushed voice was cut off at a single look from the father, the emotion brutally tamped down "Yes sir." Jack watched the man turn back down the shaft as a shoulder nestled itself under his arm and he was hauled gracelessly to his feet. The kid had quite a bit of muscle on him considering his lean frame, underfed though, thought Jack, cataloguing that along with his observations of his two…rescuers?
"Can you shoot?" The soft voice surprised him a little and Jack cursed his confused brain, "Colonel Jack O'Neill, US Air Force." He answered, adding the obligatory, "Two L's." Jack could almost feel the cogs turning in the kid's brain as he was re-categorized from 'burden' to 'potential ally'. That's a better feeling, Jack's spirits lifted a little, he still wasn't sure if these guys were friendlies or not but he figured if he could get the kid on his side then his situation might improve and hey, hands are free, that's an improvement. "Dean." The kid said, reversing his grip on the… colt 1911, seriously? It's been ten years since I used one of these, and handing it over along with another flashlight, "It's fast. Try and aim for the heart."
The kid eased out from Jack's armpit, freeing his arms to use the gun, then stopped again as if suddenly unsure, "and please don't shoot my dad. He'd be really pissed" Jack checked the load frowning slightly at the odd sheen of the bullets, "What about you?" The kid grinned, white teeth gleaming in the low light, "Don't worry, I got it covered." The kid slung a duffel down from his shoulder with a muted clunk and pulled out a…supersoaker? Charlie had one of those, "With a watergun?" Jack was beginning to wonder if this whole thing was an alcohol induced dream but his wrists hurt too much for him to believe that. The kid's only response was another cocky grin and he quickly moved past Jack, taking point as if he'd been doing it his whole life.
Jack saw a flame flicker as the kid lit a candle attached to the front of the watergun with some sort of wall bracket. Huh, Charlie's didn't have that. Dean moved forward through the tunnel, flame flickering weakly in the brighter light of the flashlights. The gap between them widened as Jack considered the unusual weapon, and then at an irritated wave from Dean decided to put the whole thing aside for later. Like when he was out of the creepy mine and back in his fishing cabin.
Jack followed Dean through the turns of the mine shafts, rapidly losing his bearings in the gloomy tunnels. Every so often Dean would freeze and listen intently to sounds that Jack couldn't hear and then cautiously continue. Suddenly Dean twisted and sprinted in another direction, the bag bouncing on his shoulder and the supersoaker sloshing in his hands. Jack followed after, skidding to a stop just in time to avoid ramming the kid from behind, and then Jack heard it, the distinct sound of gunfire rattling down the passage.