THANK YOU
CATEGORY: action/adventure
SPOILERS: minor mentioning to events from Bloodlines
SEASON / SEQUEL: one, after Bloodlines
RATING: PG - K
CONTENT WARNINGS: none
SUMMARY: Just how did Bra'tac learn to trust the humans?
DISCLAIMER: This story is written entirely for entertainment and is not intended as an infringement against the copy written material that belongs solely to Showtime, MGM/UA, Gekko Films, et al. I'm only playing with their characters and will return them as soon as the story is finished. The following story is the property of the author and is not to be copied, or published without the express, written consent of the author.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I am whumping Bra'tac! I can't believe what's happening…. But then again, you all know me, so keep on reading…..
My "Thank you" goes to Mary the Badger, Sandra G and last, but not least, Yoof, who managed to beta this for me without turning it into a Jack-Bra'tac DarkGate fic!
SOMEWHERE IN THE UNIVERSE, ON PX-SOMETHING-SOMETHING
Colonel Jack O'Neill stared at the gate for a brief moment, just after the wormhole disengaged, before turning his attention back to the situation at hand.
His team was through, sound and safe and probably pissed as well, he figured, since he hadn't followed them home.
What he was about to do was his decision, however, and his alone. Not to mention the fact that he'd had to make it in a split second, while it was already too late to stop them from stepping through the gate back to Earth.
Besides, there was no way he was about to endanger his whole team for a suicidal rescue mission and Master Bra'tac would kill him personally if he did.
The team had been exploring the planet when they'd stumbled across enemy troops. The troops marching through the fields and woods were a real threat, their numbers greater than SG-1 could realistically handle. They were lucky to have been able to mislead them and break through reaching the gate as they did. Maybe the fact the Jaffa were hunting something else was proving to be in their favor, who knew, but their chances were slim and O'Neill had been relieved to reach the big honkin' circle which led his team to safety.
They didn't know why the troops had appeared on PX-something-something. They weren't planning to stay and find out either. Their mission, exploring some ruins north of the gate couldn't be that important that it justified risking four lives. When O'Neill realized what he was up against, his order had been simple. Retreat and gate home. Double ASAP. This meant as soon as possible, as safe as possible in O'Neill's rules book.
What Jack hadn't counted on, was what he spotted while waiting for the wormhole to engage. From the corner of his eye he watched Daniel step through first, his focus still on his surroundings, making sure nothing could endanger his team. Carter was next to go when he spotted movement on one of the hills. He registered Carter's disappearance, as he saw some troops, in pursuit of somebody, on top of that hill. Too late to call out for Teal'c he finally recognized the person trying to stay out of the hands of the troops.
It was Master Bra'tac.
What was he doing on this planet?
More importantly: how was he going to escape?
Bra'tac needed help, and without thinking any further Jack ducked behind the DHD, waiting for the wormhole to disengage. Knowing the General would send a probe through as soon as they realized O'Neill wasn't with the rest of SG-1, he quickly wrote a message explaining what had happened then added some instructions for the SGC and stuck it against the back of the DHD.
At least now they would know he was all right.
Ducking into the woods, O'Neill then left the gate area and moved west, the direction he saw Bra'tac heading.
He would have to be extremely careful.
Some of the troops must have spotted the wormhole engaging. They couldn't have missed the sound it made alone. Question was, had they watched four people approaching and only three stepping through? He might be lucky, with the enemy thinking he'd already left. That would be to his advantage. If they knew he hadn't left, though, they would probably try to lure him into a trap.
As grandmother O'Neill used to tell him, a warned person counted as two.
He was going to take lots of precautions. Plus some more.
The hiding place Bra'tac had chosen was good. It kept him safe from his pursuers.
O'Neill, however, was good, too. He'd tracked the Jaffa down through fields and forest, carefully staying out of sight. He'd followed them for two tiring days, pleased that the Jaffa Master at least had managed to stay out of the enemy's hands.
Then, the tracks of the troops went on.
They failed to notice what Jack did see.
Barely visible, a cavern, the entrance facing downhill. Yes, the tracks went on. So did the troops. O'Neill, however, was certain that Bra'tac must have spotted what he had, the perfect place to hide.
It was worth checking out.
It took Jack some effort to wade through the brush, all the while making sure he wouldn't slide down the hill, but in the end he made it to the entrance.
Prepared for a surprise attack from the 134-years-old Jaffa, O'Neill kept his distance as he softly called out. "Bra'tac!"
No answer was forthcoming.
This could mean only one of two things. Either Bra'tac wasn't there, or he was unable to answer.
That last thought sent a shiver down his spine.
"Bra'tac!" he tried again, before approaching the entrance.
If the Jaffa was inside, he must have heard and hopefully recognized Jack's voice by now, so a surprise-attack was something that could be ruled out. O'Neill stepped inside the cave.
Gasping silently, Jack rushed forward and dropped to his knees beside the older man. Bra'tac was spread out on his back, grimacing, eyes closed, one hand pressed firmly over his midsection.
"Bra'tac..." O'Neill urged, his hands already moving.
"Hasshak," the older man grunted, his eyes still tightly shut. "You fool... You should have left with the others..."
Raising his brow at the unexpected response, O'Neill shrugged. "Haven't you guys heard of a simple 'thank you'?"
"Thank you?" Despite his injuries, the Jaffa managed to raise his voice. "Know your place, human. I lured the enemy away from you, to provide you with a safe escape."
"Ah." O'Neill pulled a face. "And you did a great job at it. Question is... how did you plan to escape?"
He'd taken off his backpack and gathered his med kit. Shortly after that he had a bandage, which he attempted to press to the wound in Bra'tac's side.
The injured man gasped, grasping at the gauze with one weak, trembling hand. "I can look after myself," he croaked. "Besides... it is a good day to die."
"Damnit!" O'Neill blurted out. "What is it with you people, huh? Dying is never a good plan!"
What started as a slightly annoyed roll of his eyes, ended when Bra'tac's eyes rolled all the way up as he jerked and lost consciousness.
Jack sighed, partly offended, but mostly worried about Bra'tac's condition. With the symbiote it would take a freight train to take the stubborn man down like that, even with all of his one-hundred-thirty-something years.
Bra'tac woke up, still feeling groggy and sore. His senses were running on full alert, however, and once he'd determined it safe, he opened his eyes.
The cavern he was lying in was empty, except for him.
He silently took stock of his injuries. The hole in his side was throbbing, but his symbiote was already working on the healing. The staff weapon burn on his shoulder felt hot and made his whole arm useless. The rest was minor. Still, it would take him at least a day or three to get his strength back.
With a grunt of dismay he found that he was lying on a makeshift bed of grass, covered by a blanket. A jacket served as a pillow, his wounds were neatly and professionally bound and there was a canteen waiting for him within reach.
"Weaklings," he muttered, realizing O'Neill was responsible for his treatment. It annoyed him, to be dependant, especially on the young and reckless.
Still, he got up to a sitting position, then moved to take the canteen, a movement proving more difficult than he thought, with his shoulder screaming from the abuse. He sipped slowly, drained and already exhausted. With his hand trembling, he lowered the canteen back to the ground and lay down again.
The soft scraping of leaves alerted him of somebody approaching, and Bra'tac reached for his weapon. A soft whistle reassured him, though, so he gave up and relaxed.
O'Neill came in, his clothes and every exposed area of skin including his face covered in mud.
"Are you okay?" was the first thing the man from Earth asked.
"What do you think you are doing, hasshak?" Bra'tac barked, one hand weakly motioning in O'Neill's direction. "Do you have any idea how many warriors are out there?"
His face grim, O'Neill nodded. "I kinda noticed that."
"You should have left with the others. You have no reason to be here," Bra'tac continued, although his voice was losing its force already.
"Well, I'm here, so you better get used to it," O'Neill shrugged. He sat down next to the Jaffa warrior, leaning with his back against the wall of the cave.
"You are in need of rest, human," the former First Prime of Apophis said, as he took in the other man's features.
"Look who's talking," O'Neill snapped. "And stop calling me human. I have a name, in case you have forgotten."
Noticing the other man's irritation brought a smile to Bra'tac's face. "I shall call you what I like. Now, great warrior of Earth, what is your plan to escape?"
The soldier threw a glare in the injured man's direction, then rolled his eyes. "We wait until you are well enough, then we head back to the gate."
Bra'tac's eyes widened. "That is your plan?"
"Yeah... I always prefer to keep it simple," O'Neill defended his strategy.
The Jaffa warrior shook his head in dismay. "How you humans have managed to defeat some system lords I do not understand. It must have been sheer luck..."
Trying not to respond, O'Neill let his eyes take in the way the man favored his injured side and how he was unable to hide the grimace after making certain moves. "So... How are you doing?" he asked again, his voice softer and filled with concern.
"I will be fine," Bra'tac said.
"Is Senior taking care of things?" O'Neill asked, making a faint motioning movement with his hand.
Bra'tac frowned. "Senior?" he demanded.
"Yeah," Jack pulled a face, pointing at the Jaffa's midsection. "I meant..."
"My symbiote..." Master Bra'tac understood now. "The healing will take another day perhaps two." With that, the subject was closed to the older man as he sank back down and closed his eyes. "Rest."
"Yes, Sir," O'Neill responded dryly.
Despite Bra'tac's protests, Jack made sure the stubborn warrior rested, drank and ate for the next two days. O'Neill knew the injuries had been severe, even for a Jaffa with a little snake-helper, and he wasn't fooled by Bra'tac's attempts to play it down. It was clear to both of them that the Jaffa needed time to heal, whether he liked it or not.
While Bra'tac was sleeping, O'Neill would leave the cavern, gather food and drinking water, search the perimeter and make sure that they couldn't be found by the enemy.
Each time the older man tried to warn him about the troops, O'Neill shrugged it off, telling Bra'tac not to worry until he was better.
Bra'tac muttered.
O'Neill smiled.
Bra'tac snapped.
O'Neill shrugged.
Bra'tac got annoyed.
O'Neill sighed.
Gradually, Bra'tac accepted his fate and concentrated on the healing.
Author's notes: hope you liked the interaction between Jack and master Bra'tac... Aren't the a great pair, huh? Well, they're not safely home yet, but I promise, I'll get them home. Tomorrow. Thanks for reading so far.