Waiting on Home, a Stargate: SG-1 fanfic

Title: Waiting on Home

Author: dragonfly

A/N: This is just a short, VERY quick fic I wrote for a friend of mine that was in the hospital. Takes place during season 7.

Disclaimer: Yadda, yadda. I don't own SG1. But it IS almost Christmas! bats eyes

He could do this.

Lying on his stomach, Daniel dug his battered fingers into the mud to steady his resolve—to hold onto something, even if it couldn’t hold back.

He could do this. He would do this––and hopefully this time he wouldn’t end up vomiting all over himself.

Inch by inch, he slowly opened his eyes––panting through the daggers piercing his skull as daylight met them. His stomach rebelled, but this time he managed to keep whatever remaining contents down.

For now.

Breathless with pain and dizzy with uncertainty, he kept as still as possible—as still as he could get while shaking so badly.

God, it hurt.

“Jack?” Ineffectively blinking away the double vision, Daniel took in his blurred surroundings from his position along a river’s bank. “Guys?” he called weakly.

But nobody answered.

Nobody came.

Exhaustion and shock overcoming him, his eyes closed against his will. He tried to remember what had happened before darkness claimed him, but no clarity came…and all alone, he passed out, bleeding into the rain.

/ 1800 hours, Daniel.” Jack said, reaching over and grabbing a random book to flip through.

“I heard you the first ten times, Jack.”

“Yes, well, usually you ignore me the first nine, so…”

Daniel plucked the book he’d been looking for out of this friend’s hands. He was reading it upside down anyway. “Jack, SG-3 and I will be back with plenty of time to spare,” he assured.

Picking something else up to fiddle with, Jack replied, “Daniel, it’s the day before Christmas eve. Doth that mean nothing to you?”

“Yes,” The archaeologist answered distractedly. “It does. It means if we don’t get the priceless artifacts from PX8-339 within the next twenty-four hours, we never will because the rising flood waters will have washed them away for good.”

“Scrooge.”

Daniel rolled his eyes. Jack put down…whatever the heck he had found to play with. “Daniel, even Carter is taking the week off. Carter!”

“Good for her,” he replied sincerely, still busying himself with packing.

“You know…” The older man leaned in against the desk. “The fact that pigs are flying and you still have your nose stuck down here, has me a tad concerned.”

“Yes, well, the fact that you’re seeing flying pigs, has me a tad bit concerned,” Daniel mocked back, not even looking up from his task.

Puffing out his cheeks, Jack slowly let the air slip from between his lips, deflating as he leaned back in his seat. It was time for Plan G. Yup. ‘G’. They’d been at this for awhile. “Teal’c’s dying.”

His friend froze and looked up at this. He wasn’t buying it and, to be honest, Jack couldn’t do that to him.

“Okay, fine…but you’ll be killing his Christmas spirit if you go.”

“Jack, I’ll be home tomorrow morning. I’m not going to miss anything,” he argued. “Teal’c won’t even be back from visiting Rya’c until late tonight.”

Jack looked mournful. “Yes, there is that.”

Finally finished packing his gear, Daniel stood before him, backpack in hand. “Why is it so import––”

“Daniel Jackson to the embarkation room.”

He ignored the announcement though, studying his friend and suddenly torn, uncertain. He raised an eyebrow. “Jack?”

Jack sighed. The kid looked ridiculously young when indecisive. “Go.” He stood, smiling gently, making the decision for him. “But if you’re late, you’re on elf duty at the charity ball.”

Daniel smiled back. “But then what would you be?” he asked cheekily, walking out the door side by side.

“Chafe free, my friend. Chafe free.” /

The pain stole his breath––and the cold made it near impossible to get back. Trembling, Daniel clawed at the ground, seeking leverage the mud wouldn’t give.

He didn’t know where he was. He didn’t know what had happened. And he didn’t know if he was in danger or not, so he was trying to reach a place out of the open to hole up until he could figure it out.

All he knew was that he was definitely hurt. He was definitely cold. And he was definitely alone. …and apparently offworld—unless the three moons in the sky were a result of his head injury.

Soaked to the bone and frozen to the core, not an inch of Daniel felt spared. His pants were torn––as were his legs, his head felt like it was going to fall off—he sort of hoped it would––his side was a ball of fire that not even the torrential rains falling on him could put out and the hiding place he spotted might as well have been on another planet.

And worse still…he had no idea where his team was.

“The UAV is running the grid, General.” Carter stepped up beside him. “Though to be honest,” she added solemnly, looking down at her clasped fingers, “I’m not sure for how much longer.”

“Storm getting worse?”

“Yes, sir.”

Shoulders straight, arms clasped behind his back, looking down on the ‘gate—on the man this hurt most, General Hammond’s stance suggested confidence, calmness. “Any signs of them?” But anyone that knew him saw the worry, the helplessness raging.

Her hesitancy told him what he already knew deep down––what he’d see in her eyes if he looked.

“No, sir,” she admitted softly. “And if the weather doesn’t break soon, the ‘gate will be under water within hours.”

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

It was the morning before Christmas, for cryin’ out loud. He was supposed to be stuffing the turkey, stealing cookies when Carter wasn’t looking and watching classics with Teal’c…and ultimately enjoying the fact that this year was going to be different than last.

This year, they had Daniel. This year, they had him back.

Standing before the ‘gate, Jack anxiously checked his watch again as he waited to hear the magic words from Hammond. He didn’t care if they’d be going in blind. SG-3 was supposed to be back four hours ago. They were running out of time.

And that meant, so was Daniel.

Every drop exploded against his flesh like tiny bombs of ice water. His cover did little to protect him from the near arctic rain and Daniel had long ago lost the strength to move. The second his feet had cleared the tree line, his body collapsed. Already on his stomach, he didn’t even have the energy to curl into himself, to try and preserve body heat—not that his damaged ribs would permit him to anyway.

Lying there miserable, in pain and shaking uncontrollably, Daniel tried again to remember what had happened. And again, he drew a blank—unable to recall anything before waking up alongside the river.

Well, at least this time he knew who he was, he thought with a wry smile. Jack would appreciate that one.

Sombering, “Jack,” he breathed longingly for his friend into the mud.

Where was his team?

Where was home?

“Incoming wormhole! SG-3’s IDC!”

Standing clear of the ‘gate, excitement raced through Jack. “Come on, Daniel. Come on, buddy.”

Teal’c and Carter ran to his side, eager to see, eager to hope. Anxious to watch their friend walk down that ramp. Anxious to know he was okay.

He didn’t walk down that ramp, though.

But the rest of SG-3 did.

“Where’s Daniel?!” Jack demanded.

Soaked, breathless and trembling, the remaining members of the expedition collapsed onto the ramp. No one said anything, but their eyes were all screaming it.

“Major, where the hell is my team member?”

Major Murphy raised a weary head. It took a moment for him to meet Jack’s eyes, though. “Dead, sir,” he whispered miserably, lowering his gaze. “Dead.”

tbc

(Just one more tiny section! Hopefully today if I can get to it with all this multitasking.)

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