So glad you all seem to be eager to read this. I only hope it lives up to your expectations.
Thanks for all your great reviews again. It does me a world of good and helps make me hurry up with the editing of the next chapter.
"If At First You Don't Succeed..."
by Lingren.
Previously:-
"Okay Harry, I'm here, so what's with the cloak and dagger stuff? I've got a mission in..." Jack checked his watch and sucked in a sigh of impatience. "...just over 2 hours time, and this had better be worth it, because if I'm late back for that mission Harry, Hammond is so gonna have my hide."
Chapter 2 – Dammit Harry!
"Sorry Jack," Maybourne shrugged, and Jack knew without a doubt Harry wasn't as sorry as he was going to be when he got back to the base if he was late. "I did warn you I'd picked up a couple of strays. But, don't worry, I lost them a while back."
"You sure you lost them?" Jack narrowed his eyes at Harry but the suspicious glare was lost in the darkness of the evening.
"Jack!" Harry cried indignantly. "Trust me. I lost them!"
Jack thought that was a good one...him trust Harry Maybourne? Yeah right. He'd rather trust a snake...well, on second thoughts, maybe not.
"I was conducting a little research on the web and thought you would like to know what I discovered."
Jack looked at his watch again and groaned with frustration. Yes, he wanted to know, but he wished Harry would just spit it out. Time was a wastin'.
"And? So?"
"Okay, okay. There's something bid going down and I gotta warn you what Simmons is planning..." There was a soft phut, phut and Harry cried out "Aargh..." His face puckered in agony and he slumped forwards into Jack, already losing consciousness, as blood ran from two bullet wounds somewhere on his back.
Jack's reflexes were fast enough to catch Harry before he fell to the ground, but by doing so, it had also put him at a disadvantage. Before he had time to react, he felt the agony of a bullet as it tore through his right arm, quickly followed by another, this time high up near his shoulder. Instantly he felt a third and fourth bullet punch into him, this time to his chest. Although thankful that his kevlar jacket took the full force, it still made him stagger and fly backwards.
It felt like someone had smashed into his chest with a sledgehammer which completely knocked the breath out of him. For a short time he struggled to stay on his feet, but he wasn't so lucky with the next bullet, as it found it's way well below the bottom of the vest, catching him deep into his left thigh. The burning agony as that bullet tore into his flesh yet again, spun him round, and he crashed sideways to the ground heavily, finally losing the battle to stay alert as the inky blackness claimed his consciousness. The blood from his wounded arm, on which he now lay face down across, soaked the front of his jacket.
A lone figure emerged from the bushes and walked over to his fallen victims. Looking down at Maybourne he sneered at the blood covered inert body and kicked it, pleased when he got no reaction from the runt.
He then looked over at Jack's still form with a smile. Using his foot, he pushed him over onto his back to see for himself the damage he had inflicted. No-one could have survived that, he thought to himself, satisfied with seeing the blood smeared across the front of Jack's jacket. There were two bloodied and neat bullet holes to the chest.
He laughed cruelly to himself, Simmons' would be well pleased with him, even more so, having got Maybourne and the seemingly indestructible O'Neill. They'd made a complete mess of attempting to kill him before and the stubborn bastard had managed to survive; but not this time. Satisfied that his job was done, he walked back to his battered old Chevy, well hidden some yards away, and drove off quickly, knowing that by the time either of them was found, there would be little left after the critters had taken their fill.
OoOoOoOoO
General Hammond was absolutely furious. His 2IC had disappeared just before a damned important mission that was due to leave in less than 1 hour's time. They had practically turned the whole base upside down before he'd been informed that Jack had apparently left the base a little under 2 hours before.
He'd been trying to ring Jack's home number, and his cell phone. Hell, he'd even sent a couple of men round to Jack's house to see if he was there. Not only was he hopping mad at him, he was also deeply worried about him too. It just wasn't like Colonel O'Neill to go wandering off just before he was due to go off-world, especially a mission which involved the rescue of Jacob.
Jack O'Neill knew exactly where his duty lay, especially with Major Carter under his command. The General didn't know where else to look, and didn't know what to think. He sat in his office and waited rather impatiently for some news of what or where or why the man was AWOL.
He debated giving the mission to SG-4 only, but after much thought, decided against it. The Tok'ra had specifically asked for SG-1, and Jacob really needed their help. There was no way he was going to abandon his old friend out there. He could only sit tight and believe that Jack would show up sometime soon, and hopefully, before it was time they were due to embark. If he didn't show up soon he would be compelled to put Major Carter in charge, and hope to God it didn't put too much of a strain on her. Not that he had any doubts about her ability to oversee the team, but it would be a difficult test of her leadership skills, being so personally involved.
OoOoOoOoO
Meanwhile back in the forest, Jack fought his way back to consciousness. His eyes opened, gradually focusing them on what he could. With a mental sigh of relief, he made out dozens of stars shining in the night sky above him. For one brief moment, he thought he had fallen asleep on his roof. Somewhere where he often spent sleepless nights gazing through his telescope up at the night sky and it brought a slight feeling of comfort to him.
Testing his movements, knowing his knees would be stiff from lying still, he found his legs felt strangely heavy. He tried to move them but a deep agonising pain soon shot through his whole body. It was a very painful and poignant reminder, that he and Harry had been shot down in a hail of bullets. After a moment to collect his thoughts, he mentally assessed his condition before trying to move again.
"Okay... let's see - bullet to the leg. Remember that. Hurt like crazy." He gingerly felt his arm. "Aghh...God...two damn bullets holes. Geez...what am I? A pin cushion! Great...nice going O'Neill - Hammond's so goin' to have your butt for sure after this little excursion." He peered down at his feet, wondering why, apart from the bullet wound that was, that his legs felt so immovable, only to find Harry slumped across one of them.
"Guess that explains why I can't move," he groaned. His legs were going numb, but wasn't sure if it was because of Harry's weight or the bullet wound. He propped himself up onto his left elbow and immediately winced in pain at the tenderness in his chest where the bullets had impacted into the vest. Then after a huge and painfully slow manoeuvre he had finally managed to sit up. Holding his breath against the pain, he reached down to touch Harry's neck with his long fingers and surprised himself when he discovered that he was more than glad to find a pulse there, albeit a weak one which barely moved beneath his finger-tips.
Shuffling backwards on his butt, by using his healthy left arm and his good leg, he traversed slowly backwards along the ground. With each movement he made, it sent waves of agony right through him, but he knew he couldn't give up, because to do so would mean that they could both die before anyone found them. So, gritting his teeth, he had to persevere, he was the only one who could get some help for Harry and himself.
He also knew he couldn't take Maybourne to a local hospital, mainly because Harry was still a wanted criminal, and bullet wounds caused far too many questions to be asked. Therefore the SGC was their only hope.
After managing to get his injured leg free, he rested his back against the wheel of his truck in order to catch his breath. He reached into his pocket, took a neatly folded handkerchief out, folded it corner wise and wrapped it round his leg tight, trying to do something to stop the bleeding. He then withdrew his cell phone, and pressed the speed dial for General Hammond's number.
OoOoOoOoO
It was a very frustrated, angry and worried General Hammond that glanced at his watch again and reached for the phone to alert SG-1 concerning the problem of their missing CO. However, as his hand touched it, it rang loudly, startling him from his thoughts. He picked up the phone, wondering if this was Jack at last, and hoping the man had a damn good excuse for his being AWOL.
"Hammond!" the General barked into the phone.
"Ah...General…"
"Colonel O'Neill? Where the hell are you? I gave you a direct order to stay on this base! We've been trying to get hold of you for the past hour!"
"Yeah. I'm sorry about that General. Um...something came up," Jack sighed with regret, but Hammond was beginning to feel the first inkling that something was very wrong. Jack actually sounded weak. "I don't have much time Sir. I need to ask you a favour."
"Jack..." Hammond tried to stay calm, thinking that by using the Colonel's forename, it might prompt Jack to explain things a little better. "...your mission is less than a half hour away."
"I know that sir, and I'm truly sorry, but I don't think I'm going to be able to make the mission after all."
"Why in God's name...?"
"I'm with Maybourne Sir."
"What? Colonel Maybourne? Jack, what the hell...?"
Jack quickly interrupted him.
"He's been shot, Sir. Twice in the back."
"What?"
"Sir, he needs urgent medical attention or he'll die. I can't take him to the local hospital because he's a wanted man. General, I want to bring him into the SGC, so that Doc. Fraiser patch him up."
"Colonel, do you know what your asking?"
"Yes Sir, I do," Jack sighed heavily and couldn't help the tiny grunt of pain escape from his lips, hoping that the General hadn't heard it. "Without him we'd never have gotten Carter back that time, or catch that sonovabitch Simmons and put him away."
He was growing weaker, tiring fast. The blood loss was making him drowsy. He had to force himself to move every so often, so that the pain would wake him up again. He gasped, catching his lip between his teeth to stop himself from crying out. The General heard a slight moan and was instantly alerted.
"Colonel? Jack, are you hurt?"
"it's nothing I can't handle Sir," he said wincing, avoiding the truth.
"Stay where you are and I'll sent an ambulance to get you both."
"Negative Sir. Whoever did this might still be lurking out there somewhere. No sense risking anyone else, sir. I'll be fine!"
Liar he admonished himself. He could happily sit back and close his eyes and let the blackness wash over him again. But - he wasn't going to take the risk of anyone else getting hurt, especially because of Maybourne or himself, after all he wasn't even supposed to be there in the first place.
"Alright son, bring him here. I just hope you know what you're doing, Jack. What's your ETA?"
"Meet me topside in 'bout a half hour. Be waiting with a med. team Sir."
"Will do, Jack. Just go careful."
"Yes sir."
Jack snapped the phone shut and put it away, and looked down at his silent partner. "Okay Harry, that was the easy part." he murmured softly knowing all too well that Harry couldn't hear him, but not giving a damn. "Yeah. All I have to do is move. I mean how difficult can it be? I do it all the time. Okay, so I don't usually carry bullets around unless they're inside my gun; not in me."
He somehow managed to cling to the side of his truck and with difficulty, heaved himself upright. "So far so good, Harry" Holding onto the side of the truck so he didn't end up back on his butt if his leg gave way, he inched his way round to the back and opened up the tail board. Now all he had to do, was get Harry in there. "Yeah, easier said than done Jack."
Drawing a deep breath he sort of staggered hopped over to his fallen comrade. Forcing himself to use his injured arm, he hauled up the unconscious Harry by locking his hands underneath and then oh so slowly and very painfully, dragged him over towards the truck.
Eventually, with much panting and grunting, he hoisted him up and laid him down on the truck's flat bed, covering him with a spare tarpaulin to hide him and offer him at least some warmth. Fastening the flap back into place, Jack shuffled round to the cab and stood breathing heavily for a minute before painfully climbing up into his seat. He was exhausted. He checked his watch again and muttered wretchedly. "Half an hour I told the General, and it's taken me that long just to get this far. Crap!"
His arm was now hurting like the very devil, and he could feel the blood running down inside his jacket sleeve which was already soaked through. Despite his makeshift bandage, his leg was bleeding steadily too, soaking through his pant leg onto the seat beneath him. Ignoring it all, he started up and pulled out onto the deserted road, heading back towards Cheyenne Mountain. Hoping to God, that he would be able to last long enough to make it there before he passed out through loss of blood.
TBC