This story is AU (alternate universe). In other words, it begins at the end of an episode in Season 6 - Paradise Lost - and takes a different path to the show for the rest of Season 6 and to the end of Season 7. Points to note: - It contains some strong language. It is NOT Sam/Jack. It is complete, and therefore the plot is staying the way it is.
A request - if you think you know what is going to happen, please don't send a review giving your idea. If you are right you can spoil the story for others.
Oh - I'm writing the next General Jack now. Won't be long, I promise.
O'Neill Interrupted – an interlude.
Jack O'Neill sat on the ground, his back against the rough hewn bench. One hand was holding a water bottle and the other a large, blackened piece of meat still attached to the bone. His toes curled, burying themselves into the soft soil beneath his feet.
"I don't mind telling you, Harry, but I'm feeling pretty damn pleased with myself right now." He brought the bone up to his mouth and gnawed at it, the juices running freely down his chin. "Who'd have thought you'd be right for once – breaking the habit of a lifetime, eh Harry."
He wiped at his face with the back of his hand then rubbed the now greasy appendage down his trouser leg.
"That trap idea of yours was good in principle, except that the grenade was a bit of an overkill. Pointy sticks worked much better, just like I thought they would. Damn thing put up a hell of a fight. Still, I got it in the end and voila – piggy sandwich." He stared ruefully at the bone. "Well, not sandwich I guess. God, what I wouldn't give for a slice of bread right now. And a beer – a beer would be nice."
Jack took a drink from the bottle and carefully replaced the cap.
"I figured I'd try drying the leftovers. That way it should last for a while, or at least until I find another source of meat – if there is one. Maybe Mister Piggy was stuck here like us, eh Harry. Maybe I shouldn't have killed him. Could have been an interesting ménage a' trios. On second thoughts – ewww – so don't want to go there. Well, gotta go check the fishing lines, see if there's anything left in that lake. Not that I'm annoyed or anything, Harry, but that was a moronic thing to do."
He stood carefully, keeping his right leg as stiff as possible, but was unable to hold back a low groan.
"I'll admit one thing – you sure got me good. The infection is getting worse. Why the hell didn't you pack more antibiotics if you thought you were going offworld forever? And while I'm asking, would it have hurt to include some MRE's?"
Jack sucked the end of the bone, getting as much of the marrow out as possible before throwing it as far as he could across the field. He rubbed his hands once again on his trousers. The effort it had taken to dig the pit, sharpen numerous stakes, and use himself as bait to run the wild boar into the trap had been worth it, but only just. Skinning, gutting and butchering the animal had been exhausting work and he was totally wiped. He sighed – it wasn't time to rest. There was still far too much work to do if he wanted to survive until rescue came.
"Well, Harry – nice chatting with you. Same time tomorrow, okay?"
He bent, straightening the makeshift cross on the mound of bare earth, stood and began his slow limp to the lake.
xoxoxoxoxoxo
"Sam!"
Jack sat blot upright, adrenaline pulsing through his veins.
The dream had been so vivid. Carter wreathed in sparkling light, suspended, twisting and in obvious pain. He had watched, the feeling of helplessness overwhelming, as she seemed to melt right before his eyes until all that was left was a puddle of water.
He wiped a shaking hand over his face.
Maybe the effects of the psychedelic lettuce hadn't worn off yet.
xoxoxoxoxoxo
"I found some paper in your stuff today, Harry. Okay, I admit, it wasn't just paper. A book. A nice thick book. You sure had your priorities right. Get in some quality reading. Forget about eating." Jack eased himself down until he was lying in the soft grass. "I thought I'd start a journal. Doesn't look like anyone's coming to find us anytime soon." He folded his hands across his chest and stared up at the planet dominating the sky. "I can hazard a pretty good guess where we are. Would have thought Carter could have worked it out by now. Must be some logical explanation…" He sighed and twisted over to prop himself up on an elbow and look down at the grave. "Anyway, I'm going to make sure they know what happened to us if they do come. Someone might care."
It was twelve days since Maybourne had died of his wound, despite Jack's best efforts to save him, and most of that time had been taken up with digging the grave, finding food and just basic survival, something made harder by the fact he had been injured as well.
He wiped the sweat off his forehead and grimaced at the greasy mark he left on his filthy BDU's when he rubbed his hand on them. The bandage around his thigh was stiff with dried blood he could no longer wash out.
"But before I start my career as a writer I'm going to take a swim and do some laundry. At least your shirts fit. I'll just have to go with the Robinson Crusoe look in trousers."
He pushed up then sunk back down again, his arms trembling.
"Then again, maybe I'll visit with you a bit longer."
xoxoxoxoxoxo
"Okay, I admit it – I'm not a journal writing sort of guy. I tried, Harry, I did. Wrote a couple of sentences down the pages of 'Ulysses'. Described how you were a rat bastard. Then I sort of ran out of steam. And while we're on the subject of rat bastards, why in God's name would you pick that book? I don't know anyone who's gotten past the first chapter, and that includes the people studying it at college."
Jack didn't sit. Instead he leaned crookedly on the thick stick he was using as a make-shift crutch.
"I have another confession to make, Harry. I'm not feeling too good at all. And I'm lonely, Harry. There are only so many conversations you can hold with a dead man, especially when he refuses to answer. It's ironic to think my punishment for killing you is to have no one to talk to. You do know I didn't mean to kill you, don't ya, Harry? I know I said I was thinking of it, but I did tell you it was a joke. My aim was off – probably something to do with the fact I was lopsided after you practically blew my leg apart."
He turned and pointed across the grass, changing the subject. "Did you see I put a roof on the new hut I had to move to after you blew up my last one? I used some of that cloth that's hanging around. Wasn't easy climbing up to secure it, you know. Would have been much easier with two of us, but you always did go to extremes to get out of work, didn't you, Harry. The cloth is pretty rotten, wouldn't keep much rain out, but so far it hasn't rained so it doesn't matter. Having said that, it'll probably hail later today just so I don't get too cocky. Anyway, look, I may not be able to visit you for a bit. I think I'll rest up a while. Now, don't worry about me, I promise I won't forget you. Okay?"
xoxoxoxoxoxo
"See, Harry – told you I'd be back, all better, and with a great scar to show for it. I ended up cutting the poison out. I know you're squeamish so I won't go into details about the yellowy-green, thick, oozing pus, or the revolting smell. Got a pretty big hole in my leg now. Look, I can push my finger right into it. Gross, isn't it?"
Jack stared ruefully at the gruesome scar.
"Well, can't stop. Places to do, people to be. Talk to you soon, okay?"
xoxoxoxoxoxo
"Bored, Harry, bored. I've decided there's no point in hanging around here waiting for rescue. I've done the vegetable garden thing, and I've just about fished out the lake. I think I was right about the pig – no luck finding another one. I've mapped and checked out all the ruined buildings in the area as well, and can I just mention that I haven't found a decent bar or restaurant in the lot. I doubt you would have enjoyed it here, Harry."
Jack paused, a confused look crossing his face for a moment. He looked around as if to check his surroundings, before continuing. "I really thought I'd lost it last night. I know this is going to sound stupid, but I woke up, in of all places, a fire station. Everyone was there, Teal'c, Carter, Jonas – even Bra'tac. The old man was sitting there, laughing at me, giving me that knowing look he has that so pisses me off. They were around a table, eating hamburgers – all except Bra'tac, he wasn't looking too hot. Looked sort of pale and sick. Then T got up, took a step towards me, and I saw he had Junior in his hands. He was holding the snake out as if he wanted me to take it. I turned and ran as if the devil was after me." He gave a rueful laugh. "Stupid, eh? Dreaming about hamburgers I can understand, but Junior?"
"Anyway - it's been over five months and I think they would have come if they were going to. So, now I'm properly back on my feet again, I'm off to explore a bit further. Thought I'd try and make it over the mountains – see if there's anything worth seeing. Maybe there was something you missed in the brochure on this place. But I'll come back, Harry. Promise. Now, don't go anywhere, ya hear?"
xoxoxoxoxoxo
TBC