It was Teal'c who woke Jack up for the last watch of the night. The Jaffa had told Carter he would take the mid watch since he'd had the early watch the night before. Sam assumed that Teal'c was simply doing what Jack would have done if he'd been awake and feeling better; namely coddling her just a little by making sure she didn't have to sleep, then wake, then sleep again as she would have if she'd had the mid watch.
That was part of it, of course. Teal'c was as protective of the other members of SG-1 as Jack was, although he wasn't always as obvious about it. Where Jack was domineering in his mothering, Teal'c was a lot quieter, although no less sincere. He truly liked the humans he'd allied himself with, and over the years had found little ways to make that known without trumpeting it about. Another reason he took the mid watch, though, was so he could see how Jack looked when he woke up. If O'Neill was really hurting, Teal'c could use the private moment to convince his friend that they should go back to Earth and return when he was feeling better.
Jack woke fairly quickly, though, and only with a little stiffness and groans. While it was obvious from the cuts Teal'c's sharp eyes could make out on his back and chest that he was injured, the gashes caused by the creatures weren't life-threatening, and weren't enough to slow him down too noticeably. Teal'c was satisfied by this, and headed to his tent content that Jack (and Jaffer) were both going to be fine, and didn't need him to mother hen them, as Carter called it.
Jack debated whether he wanted to put a shirt on as he headed to the fire and poured himself a cup of coffee. The night wasn't all that cold, but it wasn't really all that warm out, either. The problem, though, was that his shirts were rubbing just right against the cuts, and it was pretty much beyond uncomfortable. He decided to go without for the moment, until it became so cold that he was more cold than he was uncomfortable, then he'd put one on. He did, however, pick up the belt that held his holster and Beretta and slung it around his waist. He'd pretty much decided after his watch and his walks that the most dangerous thing on the planet were the felines, and he had no intention of ever letting one of them sneak up on him again. In a fair fight, he knew his Beretta could take them down just as well as a P-90. (a fair fight being one he could win, as opposed to being jumped on from behind)
He stretched, finished his coffee, and then headed out of the light of the dying fire so he could gain some night vision. With Jaffer beside him – and not distracted by a dead creature – there wasn't much that could sneak up on the two of them once he had the glare of the fire out of his eyes. And then, of course, something did.
He didn't see the man materialize. Had he been looking, he would have seen empty air one moment, and a man standing there the next, but Jack was looking the wrong direction, since the man had decided that it would be safer to not materialize right in front of him and startle him, and not even Jaffer's acute senses caught the scent of the man until he was completely solid.
"Sihla'sitde Ja-fer?"
Jack whirled when he heard the voice behind him, his hand going to the gun at his side. Jaffer turned as well, hackles raised from surprise, although he didn't growl. He saved growling for important occasions. The man phased out slightly when he saw Jack's initial reaction, but he didn't vanish completely, and O'Neill realized immediately that he was finally seeing one of the floating hand people. His hand moved from the butt of his gun, and he held them both up so the man could see he wasn't holding a weapon.
The man was small and wiry, and dressed in very little. A cloth around his waist that was brightly colored with reds and yellows, and an equally colorful sash across his chest. He had a pouch made of some kind of leather hanging from the belt that was holding his cloth skirt – or whatever it was called – on.
"Sihla'sitde Ja-fer?" The man repeated, solidifying once more, and pointing at the black lab beside Jack, who had relaxed as soon he saw Jack relaxing.
"Jaffer?" Jack repeated, unsure what the guy was saying, except for the word that sure sounded like his dog's name.
"Sah."
Uh huh. Jack looked around, wishing Daniel would suddenly wake up and get his butt out here and talk to this guy.
"Jaffer." Jack said, pointing at the dog.
The man nodded, then pointed at his chest.
"Y'soa."
Was that his name? Or what he was?
"Yesoa?" Jack asked, pointing at the man.
"Sah."
"Jack." He pointed at his own bare chest. "Jack."
"Ja-ck."
"Yeah. Um, sah." When in Rome, after all...
The man nodded.
"So..." Jack looked around. There really wasn't much he could say. "You... um... live around here?"
"Di'shafri digyl gibsa."
"That's a no?"
The two men stared at each other.
"Hey, thanks for the assist, today." Jack said, pointing at the scratches on his chest. "We were in a world of hurt, and you and your friends couldn't have come along at a better time."
"He'skfi fis la chidheq." The man pointed at Jack's chest again, but this time O'Neill was pretty sure he was pointing at the cuts.
"Um..." Jack shrugged. He didn't have a clue what the guy was saying, and didn't want to say something wrong. Unlike most of the people Jack met on other planets, he actually thought he'd like these folks if he could get to know them a little. Of course, that might have something to do with them saving his life and all.
"Ja-ack? He'skfi?"
The man untied the pouch from his waist and handed it over to Jack, who took it from him, hesitantly. Not that he expected it to be filled with poisonous spiders or anything. He just didn't get gifts from people who materialized out of nowhere every day, after all. It turned out it was filled with the salve that he and Jaffer had been smeared with earlier. It still smelled good.
"Thank you." Jack smiled, wishing once more for Daniel.
Y'soa smiled as well, and pointed at Jack's chest, and Jaffer's scratches, obviously telling him that he should use it on them, and Jack nodded, wondering if he should give the man something in return. All he had on him, though, was his Beretta, and there was no way he was giving that away. Friendly or not.
"Ja-ack. Dr'iserf al lidut Ja-fer."
With that – whatever it was – the man smiled and disappeared, leaving Jack and Jaffer both staring at the spot in disbelief.
That was part of it, of course. Teal'c was as protective of the other members of SG-1 as Jack was, although he wasn't always as obvious about it. Where Jack was domineering in his mothering, Teal'c was a lot quieter, although no less sincere. He truly liked the humans he'd allied himself with, and over the years had found little ways to make that known without trumpeting it about. Another reason he took the mid watch, though, was so he could see how Jack looked when he woke up. If O'Neill was really hurting, Teal'c could use the private moment to convince his friend that they should go back to Earth and return when he was feeling better.
Jack woke fairly quickly, though, and only with a little stiffness and groans. While it was obvious from the cuts Teal'c's sharp eyes could make out on his back and chest that he was injured, the gashes caused by the creatures weren't life-threatening, and weren't enough to slow him down too noticeably. Teal'c was satisfied by this, and headed to his tent content that Jack (and Jaffer) were both going to be fine, and didn't need him to mother hen them, as Carter called it.
Jack debated whether he wanted to put a shirt on as he headed to the fire and poured himself a cup of coffee. The night wasn't all that cold, but it wasn't really all that warm out, either. The problem, though, was that his shirts were rubbing just right against the cuts, and it was pretty much beyond uncomfortable. He decided to go without for the moment, until it became so cold that he was more cold than he was uncomfortable, then he'd put one on. He did, however, pick up the belt that held his holster and Beretta and slung it around his waist. He'd pretty much decided after his watch and his walks that the most dangerous thing on the planet were the felines, and he had no intention of ever letting one of them sneak up on him again. In a fair fight, he knew his Beretta could take them down just as well as a P-90. (a fair fight being one he could win, as opposed to being jumped on from behind)
He stretched, finished his coffee, and then headed out of the light of the dying fire so he could gain some night vision. With Jaffer beside him – and not distracted by a dead creature – there wasn't much that could sneak up on the two of them once he had the glare of the fire out of his eyes. And then, of course, something did.
He didn't see the man materialize. Had he been looking, he would have seen empty air one moment, and a man standing there the next, but Jack was looking the wrong direction, since the man had decided that it would be safer to not materialize right in front of him and startle him, and not even Jaffer's acute senses caught the scent of the man until he was completely solid.
"Sihla'sitde Ja-fer?"
Jack whirled when he heard the voice behind him, his hand going to the gun at his side. Jaffer turned as well, hackles raised from surprise, although he didn't growl. He saved growling for important occasions. The man phased out slightly when he saw Jack's initial reaction, but he didn't vanish completely, and O'Neill realized immediately that he was finally seeing one of the floating hand people. His hand moved from the butt of his gun, and he held them both up so the man could see he wasn't holding a weapon.
The man was small and wiry, and dressed in very little. A cloth around his waist that was brightly colored with reds and yellows, and an equally colorful sash across his chest. He had a pouch made of some kind of leather hanging from the belt that was holding his cloth skirt – or whatever it was called – on.
"Sihla'sitde Ja-fer?" The man repeated, solidifying once more, and pointing at the black lab beside Jack, who had relaxed as soon he saw Jack relaxing.
"Jaffer?" Jack repeated, unsure what the guy was saying, except for the word that sure sounded like his dog's name.
"Sah."
Uh huh. Jack looked around, wishing Daniel would suddenly wake up and get his butt out here and talk to this guy.
"Jaffer." Jack said, pointing at the dog.
The man nodded, then pointed at his chest.
"Y'soa."
Was that his name? Or what he was?
"Yesoa?" Jack asked, pointing at the man.
"Sah."
"Jack." He pointed at his own bare chest. "Jack."
"Ja-ck."
"Yeah. Um, sah." When in Rome, after all...
The man nodded.
"So..." Jack looked around. There really wasn't much he could say. "You... um... live around here?"
"Di'shafri digyl gibsa."
"That's a no?"
The two men stared at each other.
"Hey, thanks for the assist, today." Jack said, pointing at the scratches on his chest. "We were in a world of hurt, and you and your friends couldn't have come along at a better time."
"He'skfi fis la chidheq." The man pointed at Jack's chest again, but this time O'Neill was pretty sure he was pointing at the cuts.
"Um..." Jack shrugged. He didn't have a clue what the guy was saying, and didn't want to say something wrong. Unlike most of the people Jack met on other planets, he actually thought he'd like these folks if he could get to know them a little. Of course, that might have something to do with them saving his life and all.
"Ja-ack? He'skfi?"
The man untied the pouch from his waist and handed it over to Jack, who took it from him, hesitantly. Not that he expected it to be filled with poisonous spiders or anything. He just didn't get gifts from people who materialized out of nowhere every day, after all. It turned out it was filled with the salve that he and Jaffer had been smeared with earlier. It still smelled good.
"Thank you." Jack smiled, wishing once more for Daniel.
Y'soa smiled as well, and pointed at Jack's chest, and Jaffer's scratches, obviously telling him that he should use it on them, and Jack nodded, wondering if he should give the man something in return. All he had on him, though, was his Beretta, and there was no way he was giving that away. Friendly or not.
"Ja-ack. Dr'iserf al lidut Ja-fer."
With that – whatever it was – the man smiled and disappeared, leaving Jack and Jaffer both staring at the spot in disbelief.