Russian has finished for the term – consequently I may write more fan fic in my spare time. Note: I said may not will.
Thank you for the reviews – they remind me to sit down and write! Jack finds out about Daniel? Hmm. Not for a while yet. If at all.
Chapter 4
God my allergies are worse. Daniel thought as he sniffled around the campsite later that evening. One of these days I'm going to inflict this pain on Ali for a week – see how he likes it!
"Okay there Doctor J?" Asked Smithson from the entrance to his tent.
"Fine, fine." Answered Daniel. "Just my allergies playing up." He blew his nose, hoping to clear it before he tried to get some sleep.
"How are the ruins Daniel?" Colonel Carter asked.
"Fine, Sam. We should be looking at the perimeter ruins tomorrow, and hopefully the inner ruins the day after – all going to plan."
"With SG-1?" Sam said with a sceptical look on her face.
"Good point." Daniel answered wryly. He gazed up at the sky above him, noting how different it was from the desert. "You never know. Maybe this one will go to plan." He glanced at Sam's sceptical face and finished, "For a change."
Sam laughed before getting up and dusting herself off. "Night Daniel."
"Goodnight Sam."
Daniel gathered his belongings including his ubiquitous diary and made his way clumsily to his tent. He stumbled just before he got there but was caught by Simms.
"All right Doctor Jackson?" Simms asked.
"Fine, fine. Its the allergy medication. It makes me a little woozy sometimes." He explained. "I'll be fine in the morning."
With that he made his way into his tent and pondered on what he had observed today.
Sergeant Walter Harriman's day had been tolerable so far. Tolerable in that his superior, General Jonathon (Jack) O'Neill had been relatively easy to work with and well behaved. Not that Walter Harriman would have ever termed it as such to anyone like that. Ever. The truth was that Walter actually liked General Jack O'Neill being in charge. Better him than some of the other possibilities that could have ended up running the SGC. Saying that however, there were times when Walter really wished that General George Hammond had not left the SGC for another post. Unfortunately for Walter, today was going to be one of those days. He just didn't know it yet.
"Sir!" Walter said as he walked down one of the many corridors of the SGC as General Jack O'Neill appeared.
"Waaalter." Jack drawled in response seeing Harriman's arms full of what looked suspiciously like reports. "I thought I told you to go home."
"Yes sir. These are for you sir." He answered attempting to give the reports to the General. The General raised an eyebrow and stuffed his hands into his pockets.
"Now Walter. What did I tell you about not going home? You'll end up like Carter. Only instead of playing with things that can blow up the planet," He paused eying up the pile of paper that had remained in Walter's arms, "you'll be suffocating in paperwork whilst the rest of us run out of oxygen."
"Yes sir." Replied Walter, well used to the General's banter. "These are the reports for the new recruits sir."
Jack O'Neill sighed. It looked like another night of missing The Simpsons. Taking his hands from his pockets where he had stuffed them as soon as he realised the paperwork was for him, he took the large pile from Walter and began retracing his steps back to his office.
Walter sighed with relief. Now all I have to do is get the next lot into order and I can…
"Walter!" Came the voice of the General from just around the corner of the corridor. "Go home!"
"Yes sir."
General Jack O'Neill slumped slightly in his executive chair behind his desk. Sure the desk and chair were cool, but did they really go with the red phone sitting on the desk? Did it really coordinate well with the walls? These are the important questions that should be answered, He mused whilst avoiding glancing at the paperwork that threatened to topple onto the red phone and smother it. Eventually sitting up he picked up a report from the nearest pile and began to read.
Jack O'Neill's least favourite aspect of his new job, other than being deskbound, was paperwork. It wouldn't be enough to say that he disliked it; Jack O'Neill loathed it with a passion that any other sane person might describe as a mania.
If Mackenzie knew what I go through to avoid this he'd prescribe me some serious medication and schedule a large amount of time to discuss my 'feelings'. Jack thought as he signed yet another requisition form from a pile that never seemed to get any lower. Seriously, do I really need to know just how many peas we serve per plate! He grimaced at the next page. Okaaay. Knowing what goes into the meatloaf was something I could have done without. Remind me not to eat that next time its on the menu.
Signing off the last sheet from a pile that had been sitting on his desk for quite some time he debated whether he should find out more scary facts from the kitchen or try and shift something else instead. Eventually he reached past that pile to the reports that Walter had brought him. Great, maybe I'll manage to leave here sometime before tomorrow. He picked up the first report and groaned. Then again, maybe not.
As he worked past the hour of The Simpsons the paperwork did not appear to get any lower; but then, it didn't help when Walter reappeared and placed more on top of the ones he had just reviewed.
"Do you believe that anything will happen?" Queried Hassim Fahiya, Ali Bay's second in command after Daniel, as he and Ali Bay walked to the conference room in one of the many Medjai owned buildings around the globe.
Ali sighed. "This is Daniel Jackson we're talking about. Of course something will happen!"
Hassim chuckled. Then seeing the slight flinch that gave Ali away he stopped abruptly. "Ali, you know he can easily extricate himself from almost all the problems he encounters."
"I don't want him to ascend again." Ali bit out venomously, and then he glanced away, looking out the windows that lined the corridor.
Hassim was taken aback. It was a rare occurrence that Ali revealed exactly how he was feeling, especially with Daniel. It appears that the wounds of Daniel's death have not yet healed. He inwardly sighed. And now he goes off again on another mission that could turn dangerous and Ali has no way of stopping it. Daniel probably didn't want to be told not to go which is why Ali only found out after he'd left. He shook his head at the thought and then spoke. "Daniel is more than capable of looking after himself, after all – how many other members of the Medjai can lay claim to ascending and descending? Only Daniel." He paused, "And of course his grandmother." He chuckled and was relieved when Ali joined in.
"Of all the traditions in the family, only Daniel would keep up the tradition of dying and returning to life." Ali murmured, his temper restrained and his usual good humour returning.
"Indeed. Perhaps the SGC would like to keep a copy of the Book Of The Dead just in case?"
Ali laughed aloud. "With Daniel around I believe it might be a very good idea!"
Hassim smiled. It is good to get him to laugh. He does it so rarely. "Perhaps you are being overly pessimistic in regards to this mission?" He suggested.
Ali sobered up, "I doubt it. This is Daniel, and I have a bad feeling that the report I read was merely the tip of the iceberg."
Hassim nodded and the two continued to walk, each lost in their own thoughts.
"Sir! We've just found this!"
Ali Bay turned swiftly and faced the man running towards him wildly waving some pieces of paper. As the man stuttered to a halt in front of him, heaving as he tried to catch his breath, he held out the pieces of paper to Ali.
I just know I'm going to regret reading this. Ali thought as he took the papers with a sense of dread that was rarely wrong. Skim reading the papers he swore quietly and very fluently in several languages, impressing both the man who had delivered the papers and Hassim.
"Ali?" Queried Hassim.
Ali took a deep breath and passed the papers to Hassim before speaking. "Remind me to kill Daniel for doing this to me again."
Across the world another leader was also swearing. He too used more than one language. Swearing in languages he had long thought forgotten picked up during his time in Special Ops, Jack O'Neill took the report he was holding, lent over to his telephone, picked up the receiver and said in a voice that would have ignited fires beneath his SGC team-mates, "Get me Major Davies at the Pentagon."
There was a pause and his grip on the phone got tighter to the point that his knuckles began to turn white.
"Yes I'll hold."
He looked at his watch while he waited for Paul Davies to answer. His former team had been on the planet less than 10 hours. With luck nothing bad had happened yet. He winced and rubbed his head with his free hand. This is SG1 we're talking about. Everything has already gone to hell in a hand basket if our usual luck holds.
Feedback please – I re-wrote this more than once so comments would be appreciated.