AN: Enjoy. A little more action than we've had lately.
Reminder: Information about the members and purpose of various SG teams is from Stargate Wikia. Used as many identified team members as possible. Reference as we a few involved here: SG-3 -Marine combat/search and rescue, led by Colonel Reynolds; SG-5 - Marine combat, led by Major Altman; SG-6 search and rescue, led by Colonel Barnes (and I named one team member); SG12 Medical/military, no identified members on site - I named leader as Captain Mumar.
***SG1***SG1***
Wincing at the site of the ragged, weeping wound, Colonel Tom French pressed a fresh dressing on Nelson's leg before wrapping the tails around his thigh. "Not exactly what we planned to be doing today, eh?" he retorted, glancing up at the pale, sweaty, grimacing face of his coworker.
"No," Al Nelson ground out between clenched teeth. "I was suppose to be kicking your butt on the twelfth hole by now." The words were panted out between breaths. "Damn that hurts."
"I bet," French murmured, tying off the bandage. Reaching into his vest, he pulled a packet of pills. "Last one," he said gravely, holding it up for Nelson to see. "Now or later?"
Grimacing again, Nelson shook his head. "Better wait in case we have to move again."
Nodding, French slipped the package back into his vest before slumping down near Nelson. Glancing around, he noted the two members of SG-3 on watch and the other two trying to find some rest. They had been playing a cat and mouse game with some Jaffa for more than two days now. He had been carrying more and more of Nelson's weight each time they had to move and it felt good to let his muscles relax a little. Sighing, he rested his head against the tree both of them were leaning against and glanced around. "Reminds me a national park down in West Virginia."
A snort met the words. "Two hundred plus pound aliens shoot at you there too?"
A low chuckle rumbled in the air. "No," Tom breathed out. "Nothing like that." Silence descended again for a few minutes until he spoke again. "Think Hammond will send someone for us?" He felt Nelson's shoulder shift in a shrug.
"Hard to say. No guarantee they can keep control of the gate. May be too risky." Closing his eyes for a moment, Al cleared his throat. "Look, if you guys get a chance to get out of here, take it. Don't worry about me. I'll just slow you down."
"That's not how the SGC operates," Colonel Reynolds replied, dropping to his knee next to the other two Colonels. "No one gets left behind." Cocking his head, he lightened his voice. "Or did you miss that part when you did all that reading back there in DC?"
"Ha, ha," Nelson countered, a wave of pain making him grimace. The Marine had been teasing him for days about being a paper pusher to take his mind off of the pain and circumstances. "What's our situation?"
"Think we lost them for now at least. Low on ammo, food, water," Reynolds said lowly. Glancing around, he added, "Getting dark again."
Raising a shaky hand, he pulled the cartridge from his P-90. "Here," Al said. "Tired of it poking me in the ribs."
Reynolds eyes narrowed as he locked eyes with the other Colonel. "Not just words," he said solemnly, reading the latent acceptance of the fact he would likely not leave the planet alive in Nelson's eyes. Laying his hand on Nelson's arm, he tightened his grip. "Just hang on."
***SG1***SG1***
"O'Neill."
The hushed call caused Jack to gesture for everyone to drop down, his eyes automatically searching the area. Staying low, he moved up to the point. "Whatcha got?" he asked, kneeling next to the Jaffa.
"Patrol," the big man breathed, drawing Jack's attention to the four Jaffa warriors in the distance. "Also, SG-3 has been through here," Teal'c added, pointing to the distinctive boot print in the dirt.
"Hopefully that means we're close," Jack murmured, glancing back to gesture for Colonel Barnes to join him. When he arrived, Jack jutted his chin toward the nearby Jaffa. "Think you and Jenkins can quietly take care of our friends there?"
"Not a problem," Barnes said confidently.
"Good. We're going to take twelve and see if we find Reynolds before we loose all light," Jack whispered, pointing out the indentation in the deepening shadows. "Catch up as quick as you can."
"Yes, sir," Barnes replied, agreeing with the split. Gesturing for Jenkins to come up, he relayed their orders before the pair slipped soundlessly into the trees.
Retreating back to the others, Jack rested on one knee next to Daniel. "Found some tracks. We're going to follow them while Barnes takes care of a few nosy neighbors."
***SG1***SG1***
Peering into the darkness surrounding him, French let his other senses become his dominant source of information. The random thought that he was too old for this type of work trickled through his mind immediately followed by a mental snort. O'Neill was two years older than he was and he did it everyday.
He felt he understood O'Neill a little bit better after this. He had watched the interactions of SG-3 and noticed the bond the team had grown. They acted as a unit; relied on each other; trusted each other. He had expected that. He had been part of units in combat situations before and he knew that if the team didn't work well, they all would have been dead long before now.
What he hadn't expected was the depth of it or the easy way he had found himself becoming a part of it. There was an inherent difference from his other combat experience that he couldn't quite explain yet.
A snap of a nearby branch sent a tingle down his spine. Adjusting his grip on the gun, he swung toward it, listening for more. The hushed sound of his name was the last thing he expected.
"O'Neill?" Tom hissed back, his gun lowering a bit.
"Coming in," Jack said back, separating his body from a nearby tree to become visible. Stopping near French, Jack sensed more than saw the remainder of his team appear around them. "You okay?"
"Yeah," French breathed out, a flood of relief pouring through him. "Can't say I expected to see you out here though."
"Got bored. Where's the others?"
Tipping his head to the side, he said, "That way."
"Any unfriendlies around?"
"Been paying tag with a group; down to four. Haven't seen 'em for about six hours."
"SG-6 took care of one bunch," Jack said. "Maybe your friends." Reaching up to his radio, O'Neill pressed the button. "Sierra Gulf One Niner to Sierra Gulf Three Niner. Come in."
"Seirra Gulf One Niner, this is Sierra Gulf Three Niner. Sir, you're music to my ears. How far out are you?"
A smirk pulled on Jack's face. "We're with French. Be there shortly. O'Neill out."
Leading O'Neill into the camp, French pointed towards Nelson. A murmured, 'he's bad,' had the medics on SG-12 scampering to him. As they kneeled beside the injured man, French's attention was drawn to the sight of Reynolds striding in from his patrol on the other side of the camp and snapping a perfect salute to the rescuers.
"Knock it off," O'Neill growled, his hand extended to shake Reynold's hand. Releasing it, he pulled several clips from his vest and held them out. "Everyone okay?" he asked, also pulling a canteen from his back and handing over.
"Yes, Sir. Besides Nelson, nothing a recliner, a six pack and some pizza wouldn't fix," the beleaguered officer said before taking a drink.
Turning, French noted the other personnel were doing similar tasks. A pat on the shoulder, supplies handed over, a chuckle from some comment; relief palatable in the air. Accepting a canteen, rations and ammo from Daniel, he nodded his thanks.
"Five's holding the gate," Jack said, moving with Reynolds toward the medics and injured officer. "He good to go?"
Pulling back the applicator from the cannula, Captain Mumar connected two bags of saline. "Need a few more minutes, Sir." Making sure it was running freely, he grabbed two ampules of medications. Snapping needles on each, he pushed them into the IV. Stuffing the waste back into his bag, he nodded to the man on the other side dressing his leg before he snapped off the shielded light he had been using and stood, tipping his head to indicate they should move away. Taking a couple steps, he turned to the colonels following him. "He's bad. His leg's infected, he has a fever and lost quite a bit of blood. I'm bolusing him to see if we play some catchup," Mumar murmured. "I've given him something for the pain and started antibiotics but he really needs to get back ASAP."
"Odds?" Jack asked, a frown creasing his forehead. A wince and slight head shake from the Captain told him they weren't good. "Do what you can. He ready to travel?"
"Yes, Sir, as soon as we get him on the stretcher."
Looking around, Jack moved off toward the others, his arm telling them to come closer. "Listen up," he called out, his voice low but carrying to those that gathered around him. "I know it's not ideal but we're heading out in five. We'll rotate the stretcher every fifteen minutes. We don't know how many more Jaffa may be around so be as quiet as possible. Ground is fairly clear but there are some roots sticking up in places so watch your step."
Murmured 'yes sirs' pierced the air.
***SG1***SG1***
"No word, Sir?" Janet asked, handing over a file to the General.
"None from Colonel O'Neill. SG-5 reports they are still secure. Jack ordered them to return home at dawn if they don't hear anything by then," Hammond shared, his eyes unconsciously trailing up to the clock on the wall noting it was already 0100. At least another six hours before dawn on the planet. Averting his gaze, his eyebrow rose at the doctor. "A little past your shift, isn't it?"
A tight smile crossed Janet's face. "I think for both of us, Sir. Just didn't feel right leaving," she added in explanation, a slight shrug of her shoulders telling him she really didn't have a good reason.
"I understand," the General sighed, leaning back his eyes falling on the various files strewn across his desk. A second sigh escaped him.
"Sir?"
Janet's concerned voice drifted softly over him. George raised trouble eyes back to her. "I don't know what's worse; waiting for teams to come back, knowing you're helpless to do anything to help them do that, or being expected to find something to incriminate two of the finest people you have had the privilege of knowing," he said, his hand gesturing to the papers before him.
Glancing down, Janet scanned the desk. "SG-1's missions," she said, sinking into the chair beside her. "You're investigating Colonel O'Neill and Major Carter?" she asked, her tone one of confusion, her mind trying to link the current activity to recent events.
A slow nod met her words.
"To find out if they've what, acted inappropriately on a mission?" Janet pushed, alarmed.
"Not just missions," George added darkly. "Medical records, computer and surveillance security logs, telephone bills, credit cards, deed records, neighbor interviews," he said, tossing the files across the desk with each name. "I've been asked to do some damn distasteful things in my career, but this," he trailed off shaking his head. Sighing again, he leaned back again and closed his eyes. After a moment, a snort of derision escaped his nose. "Jack is right," he said, opening his eyes and meeting the gaze of the worried physician. "It is time to retire."
***SG1***SG1***
"Do you want something to help you sleep?"
Glancing over her shoulder at the nurse outlined by the light spilling into the dark room from the hallway, Sam shook her head. "I'm fine," she murmured, turning her gaze back to the window. Hearing the soft sound of the door closing, Sam glanced down at the cell phone gripped in her hand, wishing it would ring to tell her something. Its continued silence brought a sigh from her before she focused once again on the cars moving outside her window.
***SG1***SG1***
AN: It's a long night for everyone I'm afraid. sigh
