BTG Zipfic

Busted

by Jb

Whoa! Okay... that hurt.

Never mind, just brush it off and keep on going. Seeing stars for a moment, Daniel darted into the elevator just before the doors closed. All too aware of the other occupants, he threw his shoulders back, overcoming the urge to hunch forward and let out a whole series of ows, ouches, and ohmigods. Instead, he sucked in a breath, gave the others a brief nod, and fixed his sight firmly on the grey of the doors in front of him. There. How's that for stoic? Jack would be so proud...

Jack. Impatience set his body to thrumming. The alarms, the 'gate activation; it had to be them returning. Sure, there were other teams who'd been stuck off-world and it was all too feasible this first off-world activation of the new 'gate could be one of them, but... but, hell, he hadn't just skewered his as yet incompletely healed intestines with some airman's elbow for one of the other teams – it had to be them. Jack, Sam, and Teal'c. All in one... err, three, piece, uhm, pieces? Intact, anyway. Just had to be. Please?

Out the doors before they were fully open, down the corridor and around the bend, avoid yet another insult to his sore side by the skin of his teeth, courtesy only of the quick reflexes of whoever that was he almost bowled over, and then slow it down, walk... walk into the gateroom, walk like a normal, rational, in-control – Okay, fine. So, it was more like the walk of a demented, uncoordinated, not exactly Olympics-material speed-walker. But at least he was... was... oh!

There they are! Walking down the ramp, in three individual, entire pieces. Thank God. Thank God! If it weren't for his new and unavoidable awareness of the rapidly increasing, burning sensation in his flank, Daniel knew the silly smile which plastered itself on his lips of it's own accord would have completely taken over his whole face. Taken over to the extent he'd have been helpless to do anything to prevent his eyes from shooting right out to land and bounce and roll around on the floor due to the pressure from his cheeks rising to... oh!

Oh. Oh, my. Ohhh-kay. A... distraction. He wished he could say it was a welcome one, but... well, there is that saying; if you can't say something nice, then don't say anything at all. Just, smile. Swallow, don't gulp. Whewph. Why, thank you, Teal'c. Very nice to see all of you, too. Shit, that pain is spreading. Nod and smile. Breathe through the mouth, slowly... it'll help with both problems. Wow, talk about rank. Ah. The crunch... honesty time; General Hammond obviously doesn't ascribe to the old saying. Maybe that's a good thing.

Daniel watched his team head off to the showers and, working to keep the remains of his smile from fading too quickly in the face of his growing discomfort, shared his pleasure over their return with the general. The man smiled back warmly, but as Daniel moved to leave, Hammond's eyes narrowed and he grasped Daniel's forearm. "Dr. Jackson? You seem... are you all right?"

Ohh, really needed to undo his belt and get some pressure off his flank. Daniel pressed his lips together and forced himself to widen what was left of the smile. "Yes, I'm fine Sir." He flapped a hand in the direction of the blast door. "I think I'll just go and, uh... and..."

He'd been about to say he'd go and catch up with his team, but that would be a dead giveaway. There's no way the general would believe even for a second that Daniel would willingly and purposefully place himself downwind of them. He'd be found out, busted. He'd find himself back in Fraiser's cold, prodding hands before he could blink. No way. He gently twisted his arm out from under the general's hand and edged toward the door. "I think I'll head for... uhm, wait for them to finish up with showering – I'll go wait for them in the infirmary..." Yeah. There you go. He wasn't a PhD. for nothing. That'd fool the general. No way he'd voluntarily head back there if there was anything wrong, right?

"Dr. Jackson."

Damn. He was almost through the door, too. Daniel turned to face the general, his heart sinking at the sight of narrowed eyes and a knowing look on the older man's face. He kept his own expression as bland as he could. "Sir?"

"I'll let Dr. Fraiser know both yourself and the rest of SG-1 are on the way to see her."

Piss. Busted.

He went to the locker room instead. To the lavatories. Shuttered himself in a stall, and leaned back against the cold metal side-wall. Unbuckled his belt, undid the snap underneath, and shoved down on the waistband of his pants over his right flank. Closed his eyes and tried to ignore the heavy sensation spreading out from the point of impact of the elbow, right on throughout his right side and lower abdomen – a direct hit; by God, that airman would have been useful on Hadante and a few other missions. He listened to the sound of the showers in the other room, to the low murmur of voices as Jack and Teal'c cleaned away a week's worth of sweat and grime. Wondered why they hadn't simply 'gated out to the Tollan or the Lland of the Light or something. Laughed quietly – and winced – at the wry thought that, for sure, he wasn't a PhD. for nothing.

Argh. It wasn't enough. Feeling slightly ill and more than just slightly wobbly, Daniel sucked in a tight breath and sank down onto the toilet, only to jump back up again. Nope, sitting was worse. Infinitely worse. Despite having undone his belt and waistband, it felt as though a wide, tight band was inexorably squeezing his insides downward to soon – and most unpleasantly – become outsides. Calm. Stay calm. Don't puke, because then calm would be impossible. It'll settle down. Just, wait it out. Shaking fingers sought out his fly as the pain spread further across and down, becoming crampy in nature as well as oppressively heavy. Open his fly. Just need to ease off on the pressure.

He knew he hadn't really injured himself. He'd had surgery just eight days ago; he had to expect some pain, still. Especially when colliding point blank with elbows. This was pretty much the same type of pain he'd felt growing several times over the last few days when he'd ignored Fraiser's warnings and stayed up too long... only, this time, it was brought on by a bump and run. Rapid onset, and worse – much, much worse – than before. This time, popping a few pills might not stay the course. Hell, he was way off-course already.

Shit! What the hell? Daniel tried again, renewing his thumb-forefinger grip on the zipper tab. Pushed up slightly and then pulled downward. The zipper head advanced the same three teeth down and stopped dead. He grabbed the waistband above the zipper with his other hand, leaning hard against the wall, and yanked down. Nothing. His gut screamed at him to get the damned pants open. Heavy, burning pain. Squeezing. Oh, crap. Pulled the zipper head back up and then reversed the action, with no success. Tried once more. Snick, snick, snick... snunk. Arrrrgh! Daniel yanked repeatedly on the zipper tab, feeling increasingly tense and nauseated with each pull, with each denial of relief. Come. On. You. God. Damned. Thing...

"Damn!" One leg lashed out in angry frustration, kicking the opposite wall of the stall. Pain flared in his side and Daniel lost his balance, falling seaward and very nearly depositing one arm into the bowl of the toilet. His head struck the back, concrete, wall behind the toilet with a bit of a thwack and his shoulder hit the flush lever. It... flushed. The toilet paper roll leapt off it's hanger on the wall he'd kicked, hit the floor and did it's God-given thing. It rolled. Out of the stall, out of sight, laying down a trail of white to mark it's progress out into the main room.

Daniel shook off the slight knock to the head, kneed the porcelain in the rim – take that, you cur – and worked to right himself, letting out a heartfelt if not somewhat shaky, "Damn it, ohhh, pleeeze..." as he pushed himself back against the side-wall behind him and spread his rubbery legs as wide as possible in the small confines of the stall.

"Daniel? That you?"

Ohhh no, no, No. Jack. It was Jack. Double-damn. Next stop, a hiding from Fraiser and an extra few days of enforced restrictions. Daniel took a slow breath in through his nose, let it out through his mouth. Composed himself. "Yes. It's me. I'm fine, Jack."

"Ah." There was a slight pause. "Sure, Daniel. Of course. Well..." Something bright caught Daniel's eye, down low. The roll of toilet paper slowly meandered back into the stall, obviously having been directed there by a helpful hand or foot. "So, is this the problem?"

Suck in a breath. Ouch! Steady on... "Uhh, yeah. Thanks." Go away, Jack. Just need a few minutes.

"Sure, no problem, Daniel." Another pause, then, "So, how are things with you? Had a good week?"

What? Oh, Jesus. "Yeah, it was... just fine, Jack. Look, I'm, uhh, busy here?"

"Oh, yeah. Yeah, of course. Sorry."  There was a low squeal of a metal hinge and a click, as Daniel heard Jack enter the stall beside him.

Daniel gave a particularly vehement yank on the zipper and choked back a gasp as his side flared. Holding up his shirt at the side with his right hand, he twisted a bit and tried to take a peek. Oh! No... no, not workable. Stupid. He laid his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. He really didn't need to look at it anyway. Nothing there he hadn't ever seen before. He hoped.

"Daniel Jackson."

Oh, crap. Teal'c was here too? There were indistinct rustling noises from the next stall over. Daniel sincerely hoped Jack would make it quick.

"Teal'c, I'll be done in a few minutes. I'll join you guys in the infirmary; we can talk then?"  Please? Leave? Daniel was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to walk out of there just yet... at least not without looking and moving like the Hunchback of NotreDam on broken stilts. And he really didn't want to worry anyone.

"I apologise, Daniel Jackson. However..."

Oh, just grreeaat! So what was this? A new practice picked up during their week in the wilds? Unfettered potty-time talk? "Uh, Teal'c? I'm, uh... busy, here. I'll be out in a few minutes, okay."

Ohhh. Groan. He was going to burst. His guts were about to be squeezed right out through his navel in a burst of flame. Daniel ignored the faint nonsensical noises coming from the stall beside him and hunched forward, working at the zipper in earnest.

"Daniel Jackson, are you not positioned incorrectly to make proper use of the facilities?"

"Yeah, Daniel. Something new we don't know about? Fraiser do more than just remove your appendix?"

Daniel ignored both Teal'c's question and Jack's off-colour joke. He bit his lip and kept on with what he was doing. Or, trying in vain to do. There was a sudden, loud bark of laughter, coming from... above? Oh, God. Daniel started, then sagged as he realized Jack was leering down at him from over the top of the adjacent stall, watching him struggle with his fly, no doubt thinking the obvious. Fine. Daniel bit his lip and desperately, silently, struggled with the zipper. Well, almost silently. He figured that pitiful whimper could only have come from him.

"Daniel?" Jack's tone changed from amusement to concern. Daniel clenched his hands around his fly and hazarded a look up, hoping his face wouldn't give away the true source and extent of his discomfort. Fat chance. Jack's eyes opened wider and his eyebrows lifted in surprise, and then he was moving... errr, up? Over? What was this... a pole vault competition? But he didn't come right over the top. Jack pitched himself forward and hung over the edge, reached down and with his fingers just catching the top edge of the metal slide, managed to unlatch the door to Daniel's stall. He pushed himself back and just before he dropped out of view, Daniel heard an authoritative, "Just don't move, Daniel. I'll be right there."

An image of a camouflage-painted, fully battle-attired Jack aggressively facing a closed toilet stall, well armed with caustic soda, brush and plunger, yelling, 'Right! Don't move! I'm coming in!' flashed across Daniel's mind. He giggled. Must be getting punchy. Or, something. He gave his zipper one last half-hearted yank and felt like bursting into tears as the tip of his pinkie finger of the hand clutching his waistband got caught in the tiny, three toothed opening. Shit.

Then the door opened, swinging inward to smack him in the face and drive the hand on his fly firmly into his groin. Oh, Perfect. He was so glad Jack was back.

There was a low "whoops," and the door was pulled back enough so it was no longer an implement of torture. Jack squeezed through the narrow opening and closed the door, sealing them both in the stall. "Okay, Daniel... what? Is this what I think it is, or...?"

Or? Or, what? Daniel shifted and the pressure in his side burned into him. Even despite that, he couldn't help himself. "It's not a hard one to figure out, Jack. It's a toilet."

The moment of silence during which Daniel was far too self-involved to check out Jack's face probably meant his joke was unappreciated. Or maybe not understood. Whatever. Daniel was pretty sure he was going to puke, so whichever it was, Jack was about to get a pretty clear answer. This was a toilet, and no, the problem was not what Jack probably thought it was. It was of the 'or' variety...

"You're sounding a bit shaky here, Danny." Jack's hands were suddenly on his, pulling his hand away from his waistband and then lifting his shirt to reveal his right side. Tugging down on his pants over his right hip. There was a muttered imprecation. Yuh-huh. Truly, busted.

But, it was okay, he was okay... it just hurt, that's all. And that was to be expected. But Jack likely didn't know that. "Jack, it's okay, really. I bumped into something, that's all. It just hurts some. Iit's only been a week."

Jack took his arm and hauled him forward; did a nifty little squish-together turn-around thingy and Daniel found both of them pivoting around the door, then swirling to the outside of the stall. One of them kicked the toilet paper roll on the way, and it bounced and skittered off across the room. Jack guided him around to lean on the back of the stall divider uprights. Daniel gave Teal'c what he hoped wasn't too sickly a smile.

There was a tug on his fly. "Yeah, Daniel. I know. Been there, done that. Here. Let's get this open."

Oh, okay, so maybe Jack did know?

"But you know, Danny, the feeling of pressure is from the inside, not the outside." The tugging became more insistent. "Shit, it's stuck." Daniel nodded. Jack grabbed the top of his pants, one hand either side of the zipper. "Here. I'll hold on and you give it another try."

"Can I be of assistance?"

Jack leaned forward looking closely at the zipper, and nodded. Teal'c gently took hold of the front of Daniel's waistband and pulled up as Jack pulled down on the zipper tab. Okay, now this was far too embarrassing for words. As they both bent over and leaned further in toward the zipper to see why their efforts bore no fruit, Daniel couldn't handle it and practically shouted, "No! No, it's okay. Just, leave it."

They both looked at him with concern, their hands still on his fly. Jack asked, "Hey, are you sure?"

Suddenly several pairs of footsteps came from the direction of the entranceway to the washroom. There was some shuffling, one muted gasp, and another muffled snort of laughter. Teal'c and Jack's hands moved away from him with alacrity. Daniel couldn't look. Closed his eyes. Didn't want to know. Then he heard a mumbled, "Oh, pardon us..." and the sounds of erratic whispering followed by more footsteps and shuffling, thankfully moving away this time.

Wrapping his arms across his stomach and trying his very best not to fold over nor heave, all Daniel could do was groan.

Cold fingers. Colder tone of voice as Dr. Fraiser told him in no uncertain terms that 'taking it easy' did not include engaging in any sort of behaviour which would produce the likes of the small hematoma now residing at the distal end of his incision. She didn't even blink as he promised to be good from now on.

But she did blink, and her eyes softened remarkably, as he quietly asked for a shot for pain and nausea. Yes, that's right. A shot. As in, injection. Big honking needle full of stinging fluids piercing his skin, digging into fatty tissue and heaving it's way painfully through muscle. He wanted – needed – a shot. The walk from the locker room washroom had been so much fun – Not. He hurt.

Then the nurse came, armed with said honking big needle full of stinging fluids, and told him to bare his butt for her. Nope. Sorry, no can do. Have to give it in the arm... zipper is stuck, don't-you-know. He helpfully offered his upper arm to her. Can't get into the down-below, you see.

She didn't see. She gave him a pitying half-smile – sort of but not really sympathetic – as though she thought he was just another one of those shy-guys, and told him there was way far too much stinging fluid in the honking huge needle for the smaller deltoid muscle to accommodate.  It'd have to be in his ass or nowhere.

And promptly reached down and with one smooth yank, you see, completely unzipped his fly for him.

This time folding his arms across his face, trying his very best not to laugh nor cry, once again all Daniel could do was groan.

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