There's a serious lack of Major Davis fics out there so I decided to do my part.
Takes place during 4x01 Small Victories from about 38:00 to 41:00. Dialogue taken directly from the episode.
No one is getting out of there alive.
Major Davis tenses in his chair and leans towards the small TV screen showing Colonel O'Neill's feed on the replicator infested Russian submarine.
This isn't going well. The anchor line snapped and the escape route is no longer viable.
"Listen to me," O'Neill shouts as he takes off his helmet and points the camera towards his face. "We are not getting out of here. Mission accomplished. Blow it!"
Davis has the phone to his ear, gripping it a bit too tight and wrapping the cord around his finger with his other hand in a futile attempt to quell his anxieties. The Dallas is on standby, ready to fire on his order.
He watches Jackson arguing with O'Neill, trying to convince the colonel there's a way he and Teal'c can get out of there alive. Jackson is not even trying to hide the desperation in his voice.
Moments like this make it clear that Jackson is a civilian and very much not military. He can say what means without worrying about the chain of command; governed by emotions rather than strict protocols. Davis is almost envious.
Almost.
"Davis, give the order!" O'Neill says.
It's a no-win scenario.
His very own Kobayashi Maru.
Destroy replicators and kill O'Neill and Teal'c in the process. Don't fire and the replicators win. Neither outcome is ideal.
But Davis knows he has to give the order. Yet he still hesitates.
The Dallas asks if they have a go to fire. He doesn't answer. Instead he loosens his grip and rests the phone on shoulder for a second. He can feel his projected calm demeanor crumbling and falters.
Davis tears his eyes off the TV screen and forces himself to look at Jackson. For guidance perhaps? He's not sure why.
Jackson is engrossed in the feed, wincing at the bursts of gunshots and disgusted by what he sees but can't force himself to look away. Davis can see he's visibly distressed. Visibly falling apart with every passing second.
"Okay. Okay," Jackson says, resigning himself to the fact that two of his teammates aren't getting out of this alive.
"Fire on target," Davis says into telephone as though his words aren't a death sentence. His words are even. Professional. Indifferent.
Siler counts down to impact.
Davis closes his eyes. The seconds feel too long and too short at the same time. The silence is almost deafening as everyone fixates on the outcome. He can hear Jackson breathing heavily next to him, or is it his own uneven breaths?
"Direct hit," Siler says.
Davis keeps his eyes closed and rubs his face as though trying to erase this moment from his memory. Two members of SG-1 are going to die. He knows this is the only option, but he can't help but speculate what the negative consequences will be in the future. How many times have they saved the planet now? What happens when the planet inevitably needs saving again and they won't be there?
He listens to the chaos on the sub. Their last moments will be ones of violence and pain.
But then there's another sound. A foreign sound—"They're okay!" Jackson says.
Wait—"What?" Cautious hope starts to claw its way into his mind.
Jackson stammers, thinking too fast to form coherent words and resorts to gesturing upwards.
Dizzying relief washes over Davis. They're okay.
They're okay.