Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers or Stargate SG-1. They belong to their respective owners. I am making no money off of this fanfiction. It is for entertainment purposes only.

Into the Wild Blue Yonder

Part the Fourth

SG-21 had had a good start to the day. Everything seemed to be going well for them. They were even heading home early. In fact, it was going so well that their linguist, Captain Rodriguez, just had to make the comment, "Why's it been so quiet today?"

Of course, Murphy's Law took that as an invitation to hand them hell in a handbasket.

First, they had trouble dialing home. The Dialing Device wasn't cooperating, and then the IDC device had difficulty turning on to send their identification signals. Then, once they had finally dialed home, they didn't make it through the Gate before they were hit by a Goa'uld ambush. They didn't even have time to check their symbols to identify their System Lord.

An ambush they could (almost) deal with. If it wasn't a whole freakin' Goa'uld army.

Twenty feet from the Stargate, they were overrun and had to retreat back to the trees. Their radios jammed.

The Goa'uld made it through the open Stargate before SG-21 could.

Then, miraculously, their radios started working again. They radioed home and were promised they'd keep the door open. They just had to make it back to the Gate—

But then a Jaffa shot Captain Hartwood. He died before they reached him.

Lt. Colonel Vicenzo de Luca had no idea what he was going to do. One highly-trained SGC team couldn't take down an entire Goa'uld army singlehandedly on the ground with just regular ammo. Not even SG-1 could do that! He loaded his third to last magazine.

"This is SG-21!" Lt. Colonel de Luca screamed into his radio. "Captain Hartwood was killed by a Jaffa, and Captain Rodriguez is injured. We've got an army out here!"

"We can't send anyone through while the gate's open. Can you make it through the Stargate?"

"Colonel de Luca!" Major Charles Witkowski called from beside him. "The Gate!"

And Lt. Colonel de Luca turned just in time to see a kid in a bomber jacket tumble backwards out of the Stargate. "I thought the gate was still open from our side!" he shouted into the radio.

"It is."

"A kid just tumbled through to us!"

"SG-21, this is General Hammond," the new voice crackled over the radio speaker. "We don't have a hell of a clue what's going on, but bring the kid back with you immediately!"

De Luca didn't know if he could rescue what was left of his own team. "Yes, sir, General Hammond!" He didn't have time to rescue a wayward kid, too! But Lt. Colonel De Luca screamed into his radio anyway, "SG-21, fall back toward the Gate!"

"We're not going to make it right now, sir!"

"Try anyway!"

De Luca scrambled backward toward the Stargate, his remaining team following. The Jaffa directly nearby pursued.

A blast from a low-flying Death Glider created a large dust screen. When it cleared, small craters littered the ground, and a blast had narrowly missed the kid. But the force of the blast had propelled him away from the Stargate. Now he lied on his back about twenty feet away from them, two staff weapon wounds to his stomach and chest clearly visible.

What was a kid doing on the base? Just to die in a surprise attack? There was no way that he could possibly be alive. Why—

He twitched.

De Luca was seeing things. There was no way that the teen could have moved. He was dead, just like— but then what—

No, he hadn't seen things. The kid stirred. His muscles trembled, and he tried to rise. But he collapsed, coughing. On his back, the kid was likelier to choke on his own blood.

It didn't matter how the kid was still alive. If he hadn't died—and there was a chance to rescue him—they would take the chance.

"Rodriguez," Lt. Colonel de Luca called out to their linguist. "You cover Witkowski and I from here. We're going to try and rescue the kid."

"Even now, that's suicide."

Witkowski grinned. "Not anymore."

Captain Eduardo Rodriguez chuckled darkly. But he looked back up firmly as he loaded his second to last magazine into his P90. "Fine, I'll cover you. But make it fast. I refuse to sing your elegies, too."

Lt. Colonel de Luca and Major Witkowski nodded. "Your voice is terrible, anyway," Witkowski quipped.

Then they ran.

A Death Glider shot at them, but Captain Rodriguez tossed it a grenade and it crashed into a line of Jaffa, exploding. Witkowski dropped down beside the kid while de Luca defended against the newest group heading for the Gate.

Where were all of these Jaffa coming from…? It was like a System Lord's army was here. Maybe two!

"De Luca, the kid's still alive!"

The Lt. Colonel released the breath that he didn't know that he'd been holding. So, he hadn't been seeing things. "Then let's get him out of here!"

Lt. Colonel de Luca pulled out his last grenade and chucked it at the Jaffa in front of them, blasting them backwards and creating another smokescreen. He and Major Witkowski ducked the blind staff weapon blasts as they hobbled back toward Captain Rodriguez, one of the kid's arms slung over each of their shoulders.

"Took y'all long enough—"

Major Witkowski stumbled forward with a hiss, dropping the kid along with Lt. Colonel De Luca. They all tumbled into Captain Rodriguez.

"Hey—!"

De Luca's eyes widened as he saw the smoking stain of crimson dying the side of Witkowski's camos. No! "Witkowski! Are you all right?"

Witkowski chuckled humorlessly. "I've never been better—" His words died upon a hiss, and he curled inwardly, trying not to touch his side.

Captain Rodriguez cursed as he knelt beside Witkowski. He studied the wound for a second, and then he exhaled steadily. "They got lucky. It hurts like hell, but the heat cauterized the wound. You'll be fine once we get you back to the base. How you doing?"

"Fantastic!" Major Witkowski groaned before he looked with difficulty back toward their new charge. "How's he doing, De Luca?"

De Luca turned back to their rescued kid. With Witkowski's injury, he had almost forgotten that he was there. The kid had straw-blond hair, a small section of it sticking up strangely in the front, like a cowlick. He wore glasses and a beaten-up and singed WWII bomber jacket. He also appeared to be unconscious, incapable of the movement that he thought that he saw before. Perhaps the blast knocked him unconscious. If he hadn't imagined the movement and the wounds meant that the kid was actually dead. "I don't know," he murmured. "Can you take a look at him, Rodriguez?"

Captain Rodriguez crawled gingerly over to the kid. The Lt. Colonel checked the magazine on his P90 and saw that he had half of it left. He sighed in relief before turning back toward the Stargate, reaching for his radio.

"Stargate Command, this is SG-21."

For a breathless second, there was a static, and then: "SG-21, this is General Hammond."

Lt. Colonel de Luca released a breath of relief. The radios were still working. "We found the kid, General Hammond, but he's not doing too well."

"Copy that, SG-21. Do whatever is necessary to get back through the Stargate and bring the kid with you."

"Roger that."

Lt. Colonel De Luca dropped his radio back alongside his flak jacket. Readying his gun, he peered out through the underbrush.

Many of the Jaffa had cleared away suddenly from the vicinity of the Stargate, but the Gate was still on. They might have a chance after Rodriguez had assessed the kid, but something inside Lt. Colonel de Luca screamed caution. The Stargate lay in a clearing that was clearly visible from the trees. As soon as they exited, they had to reach the Stargate—otherwise, they were sitting ducks, just like before.

Besides, what happened to the Goa'uld army? Why clear out and leave the Gate on? Why not guard the Gate? Hadn't they been chasing them?

What's going on?

Captain Rodriguez inspected the teen's wounds with deft, dark fingers. What had a teen like this been doing in Stargate Command in the first place?

Well, he didn't know, and it didn't matter. The kid was alive, unlike—

No, he couldn't think about Nathan. He had no time to grieve, not even for his best friend.

Forcing the thought away, he focused on the teen in front of him. Wait a minute. Captain Rodriguez's eyes widened. He leaned closer. "That's not possible…" he breathed.

Lt. Colonel de Luca turned back sharply. "What's not possible?"

"This kid… His wounds…"

"What about his wounds?"

"Staff weapon blasts naturally cauterize the wounds, but these wounds look like they're already healing," Rodriguez murmured in amazement. He pointed to the stomach wound. "Do you see the size of this one? It was obviously close range, and it passed right through him. Yet not only is he not dead, there's new tissue growth around the edges of the cauterization." He shook his head. "I—I've never seen this before. That blast destroyed in whole or part of several major organs and a section of his spinal column, but instead, the wounds are stabilizing on their own."

"What are you talking about?" De Luca asked incredulously. He crawled over, catching his balance on Rodriguez's shoulder. His jaw dropped.

The captain was right. The kid was healing—albeit really, really slowly, but he was healing—right before their eyes. "Who or what is that kid?" he murmured.

With the room beginning to clear, O'Neill could almost reach out and touch the Stargate.

It would have been a sweeter thought, had he not been debating whether or not jumping through the Gate after Alfred and SG-21 was suicide. Carter had aptly reminded him that what had happened to Alfred was completely illogical. Not to mention that, even if they didn't vaporize automatically like Alfred should have, they risked crashing into someone coming in and dying anyway.

But there wasn't time to think it out. SG-21 and Alfred needed help now, and this freakish blip in Stargate programming might be their ticket to it! They just had to reach the Stargate—

Boom.

A Jaffa tumbled off of the platform, the remnants of a staff blast smoking his armor. Another stepped up, too close to shoot. The blunt end of the staff caught O'Neill in the chest, throwing him backward—

Shooo-oom.

He tumbled through the empty ring, falling over on to the other side of the platform.

Shoo-oom.

The Stargate's connection finally broke.

"Damn, it closed already?" Witkowski hissed. "How's it look out there, Colonel?"

"Is it clear now?" Rodriguez asked.

De Luca crawled over the edge of the undergrowth, eyeing the encircling tree line furtively. Could he trust that it looked empty? But could they afford to wait? He glanced back. No, they couldn't wait. "Let's go."

"Sounds like a plan."

Witkowski glared at Rodriguez as he helped him up. "No ojo this time."

The captain rolled his eyes. "Murphy's Law, not ojo. We've—"

"Not now, you two!"

Both silenced. De Luca swallowed thickly. When he was certain that Rodriguez had Witkowski supported, he reached down and carefully lifted the kid, forcing himself not to look at the last figure. He could only pray that they got the Gate open, that their radios and codes didn't jam a second time, that the way really was clear, but—

He looked, frozen, staring at their fourth's closed eyes. Then, gritting his teeth, he turned away to the tree line.

But it was like being dead either way.

"Colonel?" Rodriguez spoke up, alarmed. "What about—"

Click.

Dead either way.

Author's Note: Murphy's Law is, "Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong." It's usually considered to have been invoked when something goes terribly wrong following a question or statement like, "What could possibly go wrong?" or "Nothing could possibly go wrong."

Ojo malo is the Spanish term for "Evil Eye," although Cpt. Rodriguez taught the "border Spanish" colloquial term that literally translates as "eye," which is ojo. While the legends of Evil Eye (and how to defend against it) vary across cultures, this branch of the superstition is associated with uncontrollably sending negative energy to another person through a glance or a passing thought, making it quite different from Murphy's Law. Among others, belief in the Evil Eye exists in Mexico, Central and South America, Greece, Ukraine, and Turkey. The tradition/superstition of the Evil Eye is said to have originated in Turkey and been spread through the Ottoman Empire. In Ukraine, family members will not see newborn children for three months for fear of passing illnesses through Evil Eye. In Greece, bracelets with eyes on them are sold to ward off the Evil Eye, and there is a similar custom in Mexico.