Khnum’s Jaffa dumped Daniel Jackson unceremoniously in the cell, the pain in his side bringing him down to the floor. The headache brought on by the ribbon device throbbed in protest as they slammed the door shut behind him. He lay on the floor for a long moment, enjoying the feel of cold metal beneath his freshly battered face. He was really learning to love these little Goa’uld torture sessions. A little too much, in fact. If he could just learn to keep his mouth shut, he might avoid the additional punishment that angry Jaffa could inflict.
Daniel slowly turned his mind to getting up, and to his relief, there were gentle hands pulling at him, helping him to his feet. He swayed dizzily and shut his eyes against the brightness of the room. His arm was soon draped over slender yet strong shoulders. That would be Sam, then. He could always count on Sam.
He let her guide him to the sleeping bench along one of the walls, leaning heavily on her. Daniel gasped at the pain in his side and abdomen as she sat him on the pallet, his back leaning against the wall. She left his side, and he heard a tearing sound, like ripping fabric.
“Sam?”
She shushed him. A moment later, a wet cloth was pressed to his throbbing forehead. Daniel sighed gratefully. That felt good. He wondered idly whether he would throw up. He really didn’t think his ribcage would appreciate it. Thankfully, the wave of nausea passed. Daniel knew he was going to pass out soon, and he wasn’t entirely against the idea.
Her hands gently pressed over his face. He winced as she probed at the bruise on his cheek, and her hands moved away to explore his scalp and neck. Daniel was puzzled for a moment and simply enjoyed her ministrations. Gradually, he realized she was trying to determine the extent of his injuries. He opened his eyes to tell her about his side and found that he really was losing consciousness. All he could see was a long dark tunnel leading to a blurry world. Daniel heard Sam’s sudden intake of breath and wondered what could possibly be upsetting about his eyes. Still, her gasp allowed him to locate her, and he caught sight of her eyes staring back at him. Sam had the most beautiful blue eyes. He really should tell her that someday. Except, these eyes were—
“Purple?”
Pain blossomed as the hands reached his ribs, and the tunnel closed suddenly and completely around him.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Jack O’Neill sat in a Goa’uld holding cell. Again. SG-1 had been captured while on a simple recon mission. Again. Jack was thinking about retirement. Again. Just get the team back from this one and take that nice pension he had coming. Nothing but beer, hockey and fishing for the rest of his life. Let someone else deal with saving the world for a while.
Jack sighed. Nice thought, but it was never actually going to happen. There’d always be one more mission, one more emergency, one more cliche-ridden bad guy. One more of these sweet POW moments.
He watched Sam Carter search the wall near the barred doorway yet again for an access panel she could use to hack into the security controls. He’d helped her look for a while. Then, after two hours, he’d decided there wasn’t one. He was pretty sure Carter had reached the same conclusion, but she hadn’t given up yet. Jack figured she needed to keep busy to keep her mind off what was undoubtedly happening to Daniel. Jack veered away from the thought himself, concentrating instead on how they’d gotten into this mess.
The MALP that had been sent through to P2C-whatever-this-was had shown no signs of Goa’uld activity. What it had shown was a large black obelisk with writing on it. The images had Daniel doing an excited, stammering, hand-waving dance of joy in the control room, prattling something about an Ancient Rosetta stone. It was the first smile Jack had seen from Daniel in weeks, and he’d quickly requested that SG-1 be given the mission. General Hammond knew that the team was still feeling the pain of Janet Fraiser’s death and agreed that an archaeological mission would be good for them. Jack had been prepared to spend his first mission since his recovery being bored to death waiting for Daniel. He just hadn’t expected to be bored to death waiting for Daniel in a Goa’uld cell.
When they’d arrived on the planet, they’d checked the area and found nothing overtly threatening. Daniel brought out his new digital recorder, chattering happily with Carter about the possibility of finally being able to decipher Furling script while he filmed the obelisk. Jack and Teal’c had wandered the perimeter, ostensibly protecting the scientists but in reality, staying far enough away from the conversation to maintain some semblance of sanity.
Then all hell had broken loose. Jack was still kicking himself for not seeing the ambush coming, though he did take some solace in the fact that Teal’c had been just as surprised as he had been. SG-1 had put up a respectable fight, but they were outmanned and outgunned. Jack had returned to the now broken obelisk to find Daniel and Carter disarmed and on their knees and was quickly captured himself. His one hope was Teal’c. He was still free.
Jack had seen his Jaffa friend watching them from the cover of the surrounding forest. He’d caught his eye and nodded back towards the Stargate. Teal’c had glowered from his hiding place but inclined his head in agreement. He’d go back to the SGC and bring help.
Now all they had to do was wait. And wait. And then wait some more.
The enemy Jaffa had brought SG-1 to what looked suspiciously like a mothership. It had appeared that the Jaffa were trying to repair it. One section looked like it had taken extensive explosive damage. Carter had guessed it to be an internal rupture of some sort, based on the blast pattern. Jack was pleased with that. Always nice when an enemy blasted themselves to hell, even if it was by accident. And the longer it kept them grounded, the better the chance that this encounter would soon be just a two line hiccup in their otherwise boring mission reports.
SG-1 had been left to stew in their cell for a while. Daniel had moaned incessantly about the destruction of the big rock he’d been enamoured with as well as the loss of his camera and journal. Finally, the gold-tattooed First Prime of somebody-or-other had arrived and announced with a disturbing sneer that their god would ‘interview’ them one at a time. Naturally, Daniel had volunteered before Jack could stop him, and off he’d gone with the Jaffa Gestapo, leaving Jack and Carter sitting there with nothing to do but wait. And worry.
Jack’s current mental tirade against archaeologists in general and Daniel Jackson in particular was interrupted by the sound of marching. Carter hurriedly backed away from the door and slouched on the bench across the cell from Jack, seemingly in an effort to look like she’d been there all along. The bars clanged open, and three large, irritated-looking Jaffa stepped in.
Jack had never been fond of staff weapons, particularly those pointed directly at his face. He stood up slowly, as did Carter.
“You will come with us.”
“Where’s Daniel?”
The Jaffa didn’t move.
“No, really. Carter, back me up here. Usually in these situations they drag Daniel out, torture him for a bit, then dump him back here semi-conscious and bleeding before dragging out one of us. Am I right?”
“Uh,” Carter’s eyes were on the three Jaffa. “Yes, sir. That seems to be the usual pattern.”
“See? You can’t take me before you return Daniel. That’s how it works. Where is he?”
The commanding Jaffa’s lip curled into a snarl. “Obviously, my lord has not yet finished his interrogation. Or he has executed him. Either way...” The staff weapon opened and charged menacingly.
“Okay. Carter, I’m just gonna go with these guys for a bit. Hold down the fort.”
Carter nodded slowly. As the barred door clanged shut behind him, Jack saw her sink back down onto the bench again. The Jaffa commander jabbed him forcefully with his staff weapon. Any time now would be good, Teal’c. When no ex-First Prime of Apophis swooped in for a well-timed rescue, Jack started walking with his escort towards another meet and greet with a Goa’uld.
Crap. He should really have been concerned for himself and the pain he would no doubt soon be in, yet all he could do was worry about Daniel. It would be just like him to get himself executed. There had better be a sarcophagus somewhere on this tub.