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One
Punch Leads to Another
by
Ellen Caldera
Author's Note: This little ditty is a
response to the "1000 words, whump an SG-1 member while at the SGC and
have it be another SG-1 member's fault" challenge on the StargateSG1HC
list. A special thanks to Scribe, the official keeper and guardian of
Daniel's Diaries (and also instigator of this challenge), for allowing
me to take a little peek at our favorite archaeologist's journals while
she "distracted" the owner. Somehow, I think she got the better end of
the deal. And an additional "ta muchly" to Scribe for checking my transcription
afterwards to make sure I got it right. Yes, this is a bit more than 1000
words, but blame Daniel for being so verbose.
Excerpt
from Daniel Jackson's journal
October 10, 1999
Well, gee, let's see what happened today. Something completely
unprecedented in the annals of SGC history. A visit by yours truly to
the infirmary! And this time, I even managed it without setting foot off
the base.
I guess I should be thankful Nurse Clark is on vacation. Knowing her,
she'd find some reason why a blow to the head would make it necessary
to completely disrobe me. As it is, I'm getting a free overnight stay
in this lovely medical version of a Kraftmatic Adjustable Bed, complete
with a breathtaking view of either a waterstained ceiling or a blank concrete
wall. Change the view with just a click of the button! I swear one of
these days, they're going to put a little plaque engraved with my name
on the wall above this bed.
It's all pretty embarrassing, actually. Definitely not one of my brighter
moments. It seemed like a perfectly harmless artifact, one of a couple
dozen brought back by SG-7 from P3X-558. Reminded me of those cheap little
party favors - Chinese finger traps - but made out of metal. A magnificent
example of fine metalworking, in fact, fashioned like a two-headed serpent
with ruby eyes and wide-open mouths.
I did shine a light down it first, just to make sure there wasn't anything
in there that was going to slice my fingers off. There were some intriguing
bumps and ridges, but nothing that looked sharp. So I stuck one index
finger into one of the serpent's mouths. Nothing happened.
I should've stopped while I was ahead. But no, I had to go and stick my
other index finger into the other mouth. Just to see if my thoughts about
Chinese finger traps had any validity. Well, guess what? Bingo! Click-click,
and my fingers were thoroughly stuck. The thing wouldn't budge, despite
pulling, pushing, twisting, banging and cursing.
Then I saw it - what I should've noticed before I'd gone and shoved my
fingers into the thing. The inscription. Cleverly worked into the pattern
of the serpent's scales, but plainly evident once you realized it was
there. In Goa'uld no less. Seems the thing was a fancy snake-head restraining
device - like handcuffs, only with fingers instead of wrists. And the
directions for releasing the locking mechanism were right there, plain
as day. But there was a hitch, of course - it was completely impossible
to unlock without full use of two hands. Wouldn't have been much use as
a restraining device otherwise. So I had no choice but to go looking for
someone who might be kind enough to help an idiot in distress.
It was the middle of the night, so the SGC was nearly deserted. My choices
were limited. Sam had left the base for her apartment hours ago, and Teal'c
had gone to meditate. He probably would've done what I asked without saying
a word, but he's got a way of looking at people that can be worse than
out-and-out ridicule. Unless I wanted to head to the infirmary and take
my chances with whoever was on duty, that left Jack. He'd dropped by a
little earlier to see if he could talk me into a round of sparring, but
I begged off. Not exactly my idea of a good time. I always end up on the
defensive. By my choice. I just can't bring myself to punch back. Not
a friend. Now, if they were to give me Mayborne or MacKenzie as a sparring
partner, that would be a different story…
In any event, I headed for the gym, but I wasn't looking where I was going.
Like usual. I was so intent on maybe, just maybe getting the thing off
by myself I ended up walking right through the open door and up to Jack
without saying a word. And he was so intent on whacking the crap out of
the punching bag he didn't even notice I was there until I was right next
to him and said his name. I startled him and set off those damn lightening-quick
reflexes. Nice to have around in the middle of an unexpected firefight,
but not so nice when you're on the receiving end. He got me right between
the eyes. Knocked my glasses clear off my face, not that it mattered very
much because all I was seeing at that moment was stars - accompanied by
a lovely slow-motion sensation of falling.
When I came to something like half an hour later, I didn't know whether
to be angry at Jack or laugh my head off. He was trying to "apologize"
for accidentally decking me by attempting to get the finger trap off my
hands, but he obviously hadn't the slightest idea how to go about it.
He'd slathered some kind of gunk around either end of the trap and was
trying to gently twist and tug my fingers out of the thing. That explained
the weird dream I was having about a slimy little lizard critter that
had sucked up both my index fingers and wouldn't spit them back out.
He just about jumped out of his skin and turned a stunning shade of beet
red when I told him he wasn't going to get anywhere that way. A few minutes
of telling him where to push and twist and pull, and the thing obediently
click-clicked and let loose. As he went to rinse it off in the sink, I
realized what had caused his embarrassment. He tried to nonchalantly palm
the tube, but I saw enough to realize the stuff he was using to lubricate
my fingers was KY Jelly. Oh, yeah. Talk about embarrassing moments.
He offered me a sheepish apology as he handed me a damp towel to wipe
off my hands, then went on to accuse me of knowing better than to sneak
up on him like that, besides which, I should've been able to dodge that
punch or at least roll with it so I didn't get knocked out. This was followed
by his insisting I subject myself to a "refresher course" in reacting
to punches - taught by Professor Jack himself, of course.
There was a time when I might've objected. I've certainly done my fair
share in the past of digging in my heels when it comes to anything even
remotely related to violence. But the time I've spent on SG-1 has taught
me there are situations where it's a good idea to carry both a
knife and a gun and there's really nothing I absolutely don't
need to learn. So I accepted Jack's offer.
After all, you never know when the strangest bit of knowledge or the most
obscure trick in the book might be all that's standing between you and
the end of the line. The universe can be a frighteningly random place
at times. I've learned the hard way that luck doesn't always land on your
side. Sometimes you have to do whatever it takes to tip the odds - and
even then you don't always win.
November 3, 1999
I guess I can say now I really have been to hell and back again. And came
back dragging a whole mess of baggage. All of us did. It's going to take
a good long while to sort out everything that happened on Netu. If it's
even possible to pigeonhole that kind of experience, neatly or otherwise.
There's one thing I do know for certain. It's all one big crap game out
there, with lives at stake on a roll of the dice, but there are times
when something as simple as rolling with the punches really can help to
save the day. It certainly did on Netu. I think even Professor Jack would
give me an A.
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