Title: Luck
Pairings: none
Season: 4+
Spoilers: none really; tiny reference to Jolinar's Memories/TDYK
Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of the Sci-Fi Channel, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, Gekko Productions, and probably someone else I'm forgetting. This story is for entertainment purposes only, and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement intended.
File Size (kb): 7kb
Author's Note: Thanks to Pat for the challenge and to Crockett for the beta. All errors remain mine and mine alone. This was written somewhat tongue-in-cheek, for which I apologize (sort of). The challenge was posted on Sun Dec 1, 2002 at 6:02 pm (Jackfic message #27073). It spawned the beginnings of three fics in one night: one you will never see that really sucked, one that wants to be a long fic, and this one. Have I broken any records for the longest time between challenge and posting, do you think? Posted on Jackfic January 2005.
Challenge: Opening Sentence: Runny nose, watery eyes, scratchy throat …… and that's the least of my problems. Character Focus: Sam
ooxooxooxooxooxooxoo
Runny nose, watery eyes, scratchy throat …… and that's the least of my problems.
You know, if I didn't know better, I'd think I just have the cold from hell.
However, since the runny nose is actually running with blood, the watery eyes are tearing thanks to some caustic green stuff thrown into them by some damn Jaffa, and the scratchy throat is from something indescribably awful that I was forced to drink in yet another futile attempt to get me to tell yet another power-hungry Goa'uld what they want, I'd have to say the cold from hell would be preferable.
I'm currently huddled in the back corner of a cell that reminds me far too much of Netu trying to staunch the flow of blood from my CO's temple. He's not too happy with the situation, either.
"Damn it, Carter, I'm getting more blood on my face from you than me. Stop your nosebleed. I'll hold the rag on my head."
This, of course, is his way of showing he cares.
"What exactly were you trying to accomplish by agreeing to go with him?" he groused.
"Keeping you alive," slightly less than respectful pause, "sir."
Truly, this was starting to look like a bad copy of Netu all over again. But this time when Colonel O'Neill started his "I don't think so" routine when they came to get me, the Jaffa just knocked him out with the end of the staff weapon instead of shooting his knee. Thank goodness for small favors.
Did I say small favors? That thought just became large favors.
"Sir – I don't think the cell's locked," I whisper, leaning my head down next to his as my eyes dart to the tiny gap I see next to the latch.
"Really?" He sits up carefully and slowly turns his head in that direction. "They can't have been that stupid."
"I think the latch just didn't catch completely when they left."
"Let's not wait around to ask when they come back."
We stand up and make our way to the door, listening carefully for any sign of movement in the hall. Hearing nothing, I prepare to open the cell door. Colonel O'Neill stands on the other side of the frame, his stance tense and anticipatory.
"Be ready for a trap. Our luck can't be this good."
It's not good. It's great. Not only is the hall outside our chamber empty, but it's only a short way to the perimeter of the complex, and the door to the outside has a lock I can pick. The reigning Goa'uld obviously appropriated the unsecured building from the locals; it was old and run-down with no flashy gold décor or fancy touch pad locks on the doors.
"Hurry up, Carter. No telling when we're gonna get company here."
He's obviously not paying attention to my sticky, blood-covered hands trying to hold the small pick. If he wanted speed, he should've kept more of his blood to himself.
"Done." The door creaks as it opens, and I wince at the sound, waiting to hear the clanking sound of approaching Jaffa.
We slowly make our way around the compound, hugging the wall and staying in the shadows until we can see the forest that will hopefully shelter our way back to the stargate.
"Think they're all out at movie night?" Once again, no guards are in sight. If he thinks I'm going to laugh, he's mistaken. No one can be this lucky – not even us.
The colonel looks at me and nods, and we make a dash for the trees. Once we reach our immediate goal, we stop momentarily to take stock of the surrounding woods and check for any lurking Jaffa. Seeing nothing and no one in the area wishing to cause us bodily harm, we quietly make our way toward the stargate.
After an uneventful trek of only 20 minutes, we carefully approach the clearing, crouching behind the ever-present, strategically placed bushes.
"I count six," I whisper. He nods, wincing only slightly as moving his head is probaly still not something his gashed and throbbing temple wants him to do.
Suddenly a loud wail comes from the direction of the compound we were held in.
"Sounds like they found out we left the party,"the colonelsays quietly, signaling me to get down further.
One day his sense of humor is going to get us caught. I bite back my retort of, "With all due respect, shut up, sir," because just my luck the Jaffa would be conveniently deaf to his sarcasm but would pick up on mine in a heartbeat.
My nose chooses this moment to start bleeding again, probably thanks to the reverberations in my head from the exceptionally loud alarm that's still sounding. The leaves under my head are soon slick and red. I have the fleeting thought that it's a damn good thing the Goa'uld never got around to using bloodhounds for tracking escaped prisoners.
We watch as the six Jaffa jog by, not ten yards from us. "Y'know, since the stargate is our only real means of escape, you'd think they'd get reinforcements rather than run back to the compound."
He looks toward the gate. "Let's go before they get smart."
A quick sprint brings us to the DHD, and I dial Cimmeria while the colonel scans the edge of the clearing for returning Jaffa. None appear, so we hastily thank the false gods for their incompetence and head to a planet with the means to get us home.
As we walk down the ramp at the SGC, we see the worried faces of Daniel, Teal'c, and the General. Janet and her followers are waiting with stretchers and emergency equipment at the ready. Apparently, they didn't have much faith in us getting home this quickly and relatively unscathed.
"Colonel, Major," Hammond nodded in our direction. "What happened?"
"Well, sir, we got lucky."