Jack's Fangtastic Adventure – Part 2
The Colonel was to regret his words about it cooling down as he lay shivering in his sleeping bag. The temperature had dropped rapidly, and despite the shelter the tents provided, he and his teammates were finding them of little benefit.
Rustling sounds came from beside Jack as Daniel edged himself out of his bag, preparing to relieve Carter from watch. Jack knew that it would be several degrees colder outside, especially with the breeze that had blown up as dark fell and felt a momentary twinge of guilt as he huddled up to conserve warmth, pulling his knees as close to his chest as possible. The tug of the bandage on his skin was a painful reminder of just how useless he would be if he were out there, so he burrowed his head down and tried to sleep.
xoxoxoxoxoxo
Daniel woke to the sound of Jack turning, the soft sound of cloth moving a counterpoint to the small moans of discomfort coming from the injured man. He flicked the cover off his watch. Forty minutes – barely time to warm up and get to sleep after he had finished his watch.
Jack moaned again.
Maybe he was cold. Rather than wake him up, Daniel sat up and peeled off his jacket, piling it on top of the other man's sleeping bag, hoping the added warmth would help. He lay for a while, listening until it seemed that Jack had settled, then drifted off to sleep himself.
xoxoxoxoxoxo
"Daniel"
Jack's voice woke the archaeologist. He opened his eyes to the blinding beam of a flashlight shining directly in his face.
"Hey! What are you doing?"
He didn't try to conceal his annoyance – it wasn't as if Jack O'Neill hadn't frequently chastised him many times on their early missions for doing exactly the same thing.
"Ah…I think I have a problem here."
Jack's reply was hesitant, his normally strong voice shaky in the extreme. The flashlight was turned away and Daniel blinked his eyes rapidly, trying to clear them.
"What's wrong?"
There was a movement and the beam of light was redirected, illuminating a hand held outstretched towards him.
A hand, shining with moisture.
Dark, red moisture.
Daniel lurched forward, his feet tangled in the confines of the sleeping bag. It seemed to take forever, but finally he was at Jack's side. The face that looked up at him was pale, the eyes holding a hint of worry carefully concealed.
The bag's zip was twisted, and Daniel fought with it for a moment before drawing it down.
"Oh crap!" The Colonel's comment was muttered, but none the less heartfelt, as he shone the light downwards.
"I better call Sam."
"Not planning on going anywhere, " was Jack's answer as Daniel crawled the short distance to the entrance, pulling aside the flap.
xoxoxoxoxoxo
Sam couldn't help grimacing as she carefully pulled the sodden bandage from the Colonel's thigh, wrinkling her nose at the acrid scent of fresh blood.
"I don't understand." She prodded the wound gently, watching as a small, but steady stream of thick liquid ran out to join the growing dampness soaking the sleeping bag. "There's no reason for it to start bleeding again, unless…" she raised her gaze and looked at the Colonel speculatively, "did you do anything to aggravate the injury, sir? Try and get up?"
Jack shook his head, his eyes tightly closed. "No, nothing."
"He was a bit restless earlier, Sam." Daniel chimed in in support, "but other than that he's just been lying there."
"That's odd." Sam took a new dressing, applying it to the Colonel's leg. "Hand me the roll of bandages, Daniel." She gave a tight smile. "You won't be able to put your trousers back on over this, sir, I'm afraid."
"Aw, come on, Major." Jack waved his hand in the air, "You can't expect me to go back through the gate like this!" The hand descended to point at his lower body, clad only in boxer shorts. "I'd never live it down." He narrowed his eyes at her slight smirk. "If the prospect of my humiliation doesn't move you, Carter, think of the mean case of sunburn I'll have by the time we get home."
"I'm sure we can think of something, Jack, but Sam's right, there's no way trousers will fit over that bandage." Daniel eyed the roll in the major's hand. "At least, not after…"
The sound of a staff weapon blast brought all three heads spinning round to face the entrance. A fraction of a second later Major Carter was out of the tent, her ever present P-90 in her hand.
"Give me some damn pants, Daniel." Jack growled urgently as he hauled himself up.
The other man didn't even try and argue, yanking some spare trousers from Jack's open pack, and throwing them to him, before disappearing through the tent's flap after the Major.
With a muttered "Crap!" the Colonel struggled to pull the clothing on, ignoring the flare of pain. Deciding that his boots were much too difficult to even consider, he limped hurriedly outside, grabbing up his weapon as he went.
The scene outside was reminiscent of a scene from one of the latest horror movies. Black shapes wove in and out of the shadows cast by the fire, darting in blurred motion at the edge of his vision. In the flash of Teal'c's staff weapon, Jack caught an impression of rough mottled hair and orange eyes, before there was a loud yelp, and a large body crashed to the ground barely inches from his feet.
"O'Neill!" The Jaffa's warning was enough, and he brought up his weapon, sending a blast of rapid bullets into the mass of creatures converging on him. On the other side of the camp he heard a staccato echo of his P-90 as Carter fought her own battle, accompanied by the crisp notes of Daniel's Beretta.
Then it was over, as swiftly as it had begun.
Jack stood, and turned slowly, watching for any movement. To one side, a paw twitched, and he stepped towards it to send a single shot into the animal's skull.
"Jack?" Daniel called, his tone worried.
"It's okay, Daniel. I'm just cleaning up." He continued on, limping from body to body, holding his weight on one foot as much as possible. The sound of shots from across the campfire indicated that his teammates were also engaged in their own clean up.
A large figure loomed up out of the darkness, but he merely nodded, expecting it.
"I have checked the perimeter and the surviving creatures have departed."
Jack nodded again, too tired to do more.
"I will finish checking the bodies, O'Neill. I suggest you sit."
For a second, he thought about arguing, but then the feeling of warm liquid dripping down his leg brought the Colonel back to reality. Again he didn't speak, contenting himself with a light touch on the Jaffa's arm to indicate his agreement. Instead of returning to the tent, he moved to the fire, reaching it at the same time as the other two members of SG-1.
"How are you, sir?" Carter asked, coming forward.
He grunted. "My leg hurts, I've got a force ten on the Richter scale headache, I'm so tired I feel like I could sleep for a week, and I'm pissed, Carter. How are you?" Without waiting for a reply, he turned to Daniel. "Scared of fire, eh? Shouldn't find a more defensible position? No need to be worried that we were camping right on top of the frigging things!" The Colonel's voice rose with each sentence until he was shouting.
Then he fell down.
xoxoxoxoxoxo