First Contact, Last Encounter

by Jb

part four, of five

Whoa there, Nelly. Jack stopped abruptly and frowned as Teal'c wavered precariously and had to spread his legs in a wide stance on the muddy trail to regain his balance. He reached out to offer a steadying hand, but it was waved away. Oh, this was ridiculous. It was clear Teal'c was struggling, but Teal'c was also quite insistent, and an insistent Teal'c was not to be trifled with. Not under any circumstances. But, well, yeah, this was pretty ridiculous.

"You sure you can make the rest of this?" Teal'c glared at him, and admittedly somewhat fazed by the cold anger in Teal'c's eyes Jack half-heartedly waved an arm toward a large fallen log on the side of the pathway. "We should stop for a rest. I think y... uh, I mean, I think I really need to stop for a rest."

"You do not." Not just cold, but ice.

Shit. "Okay, right, yeah. I do not." Jack took a deep breath. "Teal'c, give yourself a break here. You've been shot. And you're concussed." He hurried on as impatience flared on Teal'c's face. "Okay, look, here's the deal. I think the world of Junior, really, you know I do, but hey, did you ever think that maybe he needs help now and again with doing his job... maybe right about now, just as much as you do, right now?"

Some indefinable but obviously negative emotion flickered across Teal'c's face, then his features re-schooled into hardened implacability. He turned away from Jack and set off unsteadily down the trail. Jack sighed, and checked his watch. They'd been on the move for close to an hour, and at this snail's pace, provided Teal'c could maintain it, they'd probably make Carter's position in just under an hour more. SG3, their destination altered back to the original at Teal'c's insistence, would likely be along at about the same time. He didn't disagree with Teal'c that as far as time and manpower efficiency was concerned this was the best option, but he wished it wasn't so hard on his friend. That Teal'c wasn't so hard on himself.

Jack hadn't found Daniel lying dead in the bushes as he'd fully expected. He had found Teal'c's pack, though, and had done what he could to clean and bandage the shoulder and head wounds. Subsequently, forty-five minutes into his thorough search for any clues as to what might have happened to Daniel, Jack had emerged from a telling exploration of the woods near where he'd dealt with their attacker, his mind and soul aching in time with one another, to find himself under observation. Teal'c stood silently watching him from across the clearing, leaning against the tree Jack had found him under. It had taken all of two minutes for Teal'c to confirm the grim thoughts that had started eating a hole right through Jack from the moment he'd first found Teal'c, with the blood from his wounds all but dried on his clothing and body.

Teal'c'd had no idea what hit him. One moment Teal'c had been talking to Daniel, readying them to head out, and in his next moment of awareness he had found himself on the ground pretty much out in the open, hurting beyond belief, and actually physically attacking Daniel in his confusion. Teal'c vaguely remembered Daniel telling him about an Ash'rak assailant, but couldn't recall much more than that. Culpability and an inexplicable sense of inadequacy had cut Jack to the bone when he'd figured out Daniel had not only temporarily fended off attacks from both Teal'c and a hostile armed with an M16 and two P90's, but even as disadvantaged as he was had managed to move Teal'c into deep cover. And it didn't take much imagination to figure out what Daniel had done next, because he simply wasn't anywhere to be found around here and the woods had told their tale.

Jack had gone as far as fast as he could, but he'd lost the trail he'd chosen to follow only a little ways in. He really couldn't be sure he was following the right one, so he'd tried again with another, but had no better luck. Hell, the trails he'd been able to find could have been caused by anyone or anything... the Goa'uld, Daniel, an Unas, one or more of those cat-things. It hadn't taken long for him to realise it was a hopeless task for one person to carry out. It had taken considerably longer to give up on it, though.

Jack watched Teal'c's back as Teal'c stoically stumbled along ahead of him. He understood perfectly Teal'c's anger with him. Daniel had saved Teal'c's life back there, no doubt about that. It had to have been Daniel firing the staff all along, and now he was missing. Missing, if he was still alive - which Jack had grave doubts about. No. Don't think like that. But if he had somehow managed to evade the Goa'uld who'd come back to the clearing, the bottom line was that unless something gave and gave fast Daniel was probably on borrowed time, running around somewhere on planet full of Unas, lion-tiger-bear-things, and snakeheads. Alone. Without any food or water, no radio, and his hands still bound. Maybe injured, definitely exhausted, and probably not exactly firing on all cylinders. The part about no water was a sizeable concern given their experience at the bivouac site, but surely Daniel would know better than to take another swim in the local spa. Right? Of course, it still could be that even though Daniel didn't know it he may not exactly be himself, in which case it wouldn't matter much if he did go down to the water, would it?

Shit! Stop that. Jack irritably dismissed those doubts as a waste of mental energy, berating himself over his lack of self-control, over his inability to also wave away the frustration of knowing that with SG3 still a fair distance out, there was no way he could launch a search for Daniel without leaving Teal'c and Griff unsupported. Carter alone wouldn't be enough. So no search, not now, and probably not for at least several hours to come. He looked up at the darkening sky, still full of clouds laden with moisture despite the heavy rain, thankfully now stopping, which had fallen for over an hour and a half. He and Teal'c were soaked through. God damn this fucking planet.

As they walked, Jack kept one eye solicitously on Teal'c and the other on high alert for any dangers. Teal'c wasn't talking to him - which was driving him thoroughly nuts - no matter what tactic he tried to get the man to give up the goods, and trying to focus his mind was much more difficult than his eyeballs. As they went along his thoughts drifted in a dismally undisciplined fashion not at all common nor acceptable for him. He found himself mired in a cycle of self-chastisement, compensatory claims of plausible deniability, renewed recrimination, and continued uncertainty. Which was all Rothman's fault, of course. Or... not. Dammit.

He stopped twice to share his water with Teal'c, and twice more to radio to Carter as to Griff's condition and the progress of SG3 - which inefficiency had the benefit of giving an obviously struggling Teal'c twice the number of breathers - and as they got closer he mulled over what to do once they arrived at Carter's position. Obviously they weren't going to make it back to the Stargate by nightfall. There was time left in the day though, and even with the two injured men to assist there was still a pretty good chance they could make it back to the dig site. Camp out there overnight, where they could fire up the heaters, tuck in their wounded, eat out of tins instead of cryogenically sealed foil packets, and take their boots off.

At least, the rest of them could. Carter and three of SG3 could handle traveling with Teal'c and Griff. He'd take the other member of SG3, and they'd head back to the clearing to start a search for Daniel. Which meant Jack was doomed to spend another uncomfortable night out in the open at Club Hellhole, where for rock bottom rates one minute lasts forever and there's a body under every tree. Speaking of which... Jack reached out and touched Teal'c lightly on the arm, halting him at his side. He thumbed his radio, and warned Carter that the crashing through the bushes she was about to hear was just them, so she ought to do her best not to shoot them. Please.

Teal'c didn't move forward with him when he set out again, though. He just stood there on the pathway, wobbling slightly, the pain and fatigue on his face and in his body language giving way to evident stubborn irritation as Jack first asked him to join him, then tried to wave him forward, then cajoled, and finally resorted to carefully yanking on his vest to try to get him moving again. Teal'c simply turned away from him to stare back up the pathway in the direction they had come from, though.

Jack gave up, flapping his arms at his sides in his own frustration. "What? What do you want from me, Teal'c?" His realised his voice was too loud, too peevish, and he forced himself to tone it down. "I don't like it either, but hell, I'm doing the best I can here, buddy. We all are. It's no one's fault." God, if only he really believed his own words. Sometimes being him really sucked. He was both confused and surprised when Teal'c finally spoke, his voice a low rumble that had Jack leaning forward in an attempt to hear clearly. "I have no doubt you have done what you judge to be best. In that, you are blameless. However, there is fault to be had, O'Neill."

Huh? Oh, jumping jiminy. So did that mean it wasn't him that Teal'c was so pissed with after all? Jack dragged a hand through his hair and sighed. "You did your best too, Teal'c. You were ambushed. Shot. Whacked over. Down for the count. It isn't your fault, either."

Teal'c turned, stared at Jack for a heartbeat, and abruptly moved off into the woods in the direction Jack had tried to drag him. As he stepped into the trees he threw a response over his shoulder that left Jack standing in stunned silence. "I did not intend to implicate myself, O'Neill. It is, in fact, the fault of the symbiote inside Robert Rothman."

What, so he was right? It was Rothman's fault? No, of course not. Shaking his head in a vain attempt to rid himself of his confusion, Jack hurried after Teal'c. Wouldn't do to end up with two men lost in the woods. As it turned out, he needn't have worried on that score. Less than five minutes in Carter edged out from behind a clump of trees, lowering her weapon and quickly moving to Teal'c's side, all sorts of compassionately sympathetic noises tumbling over Teal'c like water over pebbles in a stream. She fussed briefly, then went all soldierly again. The worry in her eyes at the sight of only the two of them didn't go away, though.

"Colonel. SG3 is homed in on channel one, and estimate they are about fifteen to twenty minutes out from our location. They said they ran into a bit of a delay, unavoidable, but they're coming through the woods to cut off the angle and make up some time, Sir." She cast a quick glance over her shoulder. "With some pain control Captain Griff seems to be doing better. He definitely won't be ambulatory, though."

Right. Well, he'd known that would be the case. "Okay. No problem. We can stretcher him." Carter was walking backward, and Jack ushered Teal'c along in her wake.

"Well, actually, Sir, the rescue stretcher is with Captain Pierce's gear, which is back at the bivouac. I guess we had forgotten that this morning when we continued on to find Daniel." She was practically bouncing. "But I got on it, Sir. It's all taken care of."

The flash of totally irrational fear that she might have gone back to the water - he knew she'd never do that, especially with a man down relying on her - turned into a flush of mild amusement as she backed off to one side and proudly waved an arm toward the fruits of her labour. She'd been busy, all right. Then Jack barely smothered an outright laugh as Griff gave them a feeble wave from where he lay on the ground beside the impressively constructed wood travois, and gestured with his thumb to it and then toward Carter while pulling an exaggeratedly fearful face. Oh, yeah, Jack could empathise with him on that, all right. Carter intent on constructing the eighth wonder of the world. Must have been terrifying.

Jack unslung Teal'c's pack from over his arm, shucked off his own, and went over to crouch down next to Griff. He was aware of Carter settling Teal'c down nearby and checking his wounds, but focused all of his attention on the SG2 captain. "So. Want to tell us what happened? Where's Pierce?"

Griff's face went all but blank, then he looked slightly panicked. Carter reached out and placed a reassuring hand on the man's arm. "He doesn't really know where Captain Pierce is, Sir. All he knows is that they were getting ready to transport the bodies, thinking they'd try to meet Coburn part way, and suddenly there was shooting."

Griff nodded. His voice was hoarse when he spoke, his expression haunted. "We took cover behind the big log. I saw movement in the woods, and returned fire. They ran, and I followed." He tried to shrug and paled, hissing with pain at the movement. "I messed up, Sir. I'm sorry. Zigged when I should have zagged. Got myself shot."

Jack nodded his acknowledgement that the captain had done his best. "Did you see who it was?" Griff's face twisted with distress, and Jack could see the answer was a clear yes even though the man was having trouble spitting it out.

Carter came to his rescue, softly advising, "It was Pankratz, Sir. SG11." She squeezed Griff's arm slightly in support. "Captain Griff was Captain Pankratz's best man at his wedding last month, Colonel. You remember."

Ah, shit. Yeah, he did remember. He also remembered Daniel arguing unsuccessfully with Hawkins three weeks ago, trying to have Pankratz excused from the dig as he'd only been married a week. Jack had pulled Daniel aside and told him in no uncertain terms to stop meddling with the composition of another man's team. As he recalled, in his pique over Daniel stepping all over military protocol he'd also had some harsh and completely out of line things to say about the wisdom of offworld teams' members maintaining long term romantic relationships in the first place. Complete with a not so facetious, basically nasty, compliment on Daniel's commendably successful failures in that regard. He'd regretted it even as it had come out of his mouth, even more so as all colour had drained from Daniel's face, but he had never apologised.

God. He'd never apologised.

Teal'c's voice interrupted his thoughts. "Including Daniel Jackson and Robert Rothman as part of the research site team, that leaves the fate of one member as yet unconfirmed. What was the condition of Captain Pierce when you left him?"

What? Oh. All right. Here he was reminiscing, while the guy with the head injury was doing all the thinking. Okay, so... Daniel and Rothman, Loder, Hawkins, Pankratz... uhhh...

"He was all right. Not hit. I have no idea why he didn't come after me when I didn't get back there."

Shit. Jack laid his fingers on the fabric of his vest, over the dogtags in his pocket. Carter was counting off. "Okay, so we have a total of seven members including Daniel and Robert. Loder was killed on site, Hawkins we know about, Pankratz is out there somewhere, and one member managed to get past Coburn and Heath and through the Stargate."

"Hawkins stated Sanchez was dead, however we should not rely on that information as accurate."

Jack glanced at Teal'c. "Yeah. Oh, yeah. You betcha." The tags were burning a hole in his pocket. "That means the one who made it through to the SGC was either Collier, actually the snake inside Collier, or it was Sanchez. Maybe."

"And we have no idea what happened to Pierce," Carter added. "So aside from Daniel being missing, that makes three we haven't pinned down yet. Pierce, Pankratz, and Sanchez."

Pinned down. What a lovely euphemism. Jack hated this place with a passion. He'd blown away one of the three, but that left two unknowns; potentially two guys running around with snakes in their heads. And Daniel. Had he mentioned that he really hated this planet? No time like the present. "Dammit. I hate this place." Carter gave him a 'duh' kind of look, and he reached into his pocket to pull out the tags. Process of elimination.

Carter's radio blared to life, SG3-niner's voice announcing their imminent arrival. And oh crap, asking for them to break out whatever medical supplies they had on hand. Carter dove for the packs, her eyes wide with surprise and concern. Jack rose to his feet and turned toward the sounds now coming from somewhere off to his left. "I gather they didn't mention this little gem when they called in earlier, Major?"

She shook her head, pulling the medkits out of the three packs they had with them. "Just that there had been a delay, Sir."

The noises got louder, and a moment later the four man SG3 team burst through a thicket into Griff and Carter's home away from home. Oh no, no, Godammit all... make that a two and two-halves man team. Two of SG3 were hanging off the other two members, both still weight-bearing and independent to varying degrees, but also both undeniably not fit for anything other than a return home. The thigh of one of the men was deeply gouged, unmistakable claw marks continuing on down the leg, the fabric shredded from upper thigh to mid-calf. The other injured man was nursing a torn-up shoulder and a useless arm and hand.

Certainly, SG3 as a team was not fit for what Jack had required of them. If he weren't a full bird colonel of such great dignity and vast accomplishments, Jack would have thrown a hairy hissy fit right there and then. So went the best laid plans of mice and men and full bird colonels.

His heart sank like a stone. Sorry, Danny. God. So sorry.

Daniel was finally ready to openly admit it now. He was irretrievably lost.

It was much easier going here in this totally unfamiliar part of the forest, the trees spaced much farther apart, the ground in between them predominantly grassy. It was relatively flat, and free of the annoying tangled undergrowth which he'd been limping and tripping through for... for how long? For way, way too long. For, forever.

He stopped, rubbing at eyes that intermittently saw doubles of everything, then dragged his hand across his face. Not to wipe off sweat, because there wasn't much of that. He was thirsty as hell, and knew he was becoming increasingly dehydrated. He was also beyond exhausted now, both physically and mentally. He'd found a rhythm with the staff and his complaining joints only with great difficulty, and only to lose it more frequently than was tolerable. He'd picked himself up off the ground more times than he could count, steeled himself against the throbs and stabs of discomfort, forcing himself to move on. He had fought against his rising fear - and then against the certain intolerable knowledge - that he was going the wrong way, had struggled to keep his composure as he'd switch-backed along trying to locate evidence of the pursuit which had brought him into the woods, or for that matter anything which seemed even remotely familiar. His knee throbbed mercilessly, but as he'd gone along his hip had loosened up, so at least he was still on his feet. Quite a feat, that, still being on his feet. He snickered. Maybe he should throw a celebratory fete.

Moron, his mind taunted him. You blew it, and all you can think to do is play juvenile word games? Oh, sure. Right, go ahead. Kick him when he was down. He'd done his best. He couldn't do any more than that. You got yourself fucking lost, the inner voice chided, and you think you've done the best you could? So, this is your best? What a feeb.

Shut up. Shutup shutup shutup.

Daniel sagged against his grip on the staff weapon, just about at the limits of his endurance. It wasn't just physical, either. He knew he was pretty close to falling apart here; hell, he was hearing a snide voice in his head and he was actually willingly answering it. Even though in his more lucid moments he knew that phenomenon was probably related to exhaustion and dehydration, he'd had a pretty-damned-bad few moments a bit ago when it had occurred to him maybe it wasn't actually his own inner voice he was conversing with. One mega hell of a bad time of it, just then. But he was better now. All better now. All... his hand was slipping down the staff, and he couldn't seem to gather whatever was needed to tighten his grip... better... and, uh oh, his body seemed to be following it down... now.

Daniel hit the ground in a disorganised heap, a dry sob ripped from his throat as he landed with his knee twisted underneath him. As he felt the pain and weakness flow through him and bile rise up to burn the back of his throat, he silently crowed in triumph over the nagging voice in his head, thanking non-existent Gods for great favours not of their making. He was hurting, and sick, and undeniably steadily deteriorating. So, he was fine. He was better than fine. He was free.

Damn. He was also scripted to do the Bra'tac Theatre 'I die free' finale if he didn't get up and do something about forcing a rewrite. But hell, just what does one do about being alone and sick and hurt and dehydrated and likely hunted and totally lost in the woods on an alien planet full of parasites, carnivores, and a heavily armed apparent homicidal maniac? He'd dismissed the idea of firing the staff into the air as some sort of signal, because he couldn't be sure the right eyes would see it against the heavy grey cloud cover before the wrong ones might, and heck, it wasn't exactly a GPS, was it?

Absently, he wondered how long it might be until dusk. Probably not as long as he might imagine, given that the days here were short. He was pretty sure he'd been wandering the woods for a hell of a long time, but the bitterly overcast sky was too opaque a dark grey for him to get any sort of fix on where the sun might be. So... what now? What would Jack do? Why, Jack would get right on up off the ground and soldier on, wouldn't he? Like the good soldier he was, right? You're not a soldier; you're just a geek, the unwelcome voice pointed out, and there's no such thing as geeking on, so you may as well just lay down and give up now. Daniel grabbed the staff weapon with both hands and swung it upright, silently telling the voice to just fuck off and die as he laboriously pulled himself to his feet. No doubt Jack would be evaluating and reassessing, right? 'Yeah, Daniel. Exactly right. What do you have, geekboy, and what do you need?', he'd say.

Yes! Thanks, Jack. Okay, he could do that; it was as good a thing as any to occupy his mind as his body struggled on. Staff, good leg, bad leg. Struggling on. Staff, good leg, bad leg. What did he have? A staff weapon. A leather rope. Boots, pants, and a jacket. A utility belt, with one unfortunately empty water bottle securely and uselessly strapped in place, the belt equally as unfortunately bereft of knife and the nice sharp little archaeological tools he'd left lying on the ground at the dig site. Daniel tripped slightly over his own feet, growling under his breath as he struggled to remain upright and keep moving forward. He could do this. He would do this.

In his pockets... what? Oh goody. He got to do a mental inventory. That should keep his mind off his stupid situation for uhmm, what? A good thirty seconds or so? A tape recorder securely wrapped in plastic, a previously soaked to a state of mush pocket-pack of kleenex, a disgustingly filthy bandana, an equally as previously soaked small notebook, a pencil... what else? Yes, a blister pack with one antihistamine tablet left in it, and he was pretty sure he still had Robert's mini bottle of glasses lens cleaner in his jacket pocket. Wonder if it would cause more harm than good if he drank it? Probably. He'd wait; save that experiment for later. What else did he have? A fierce headache, blurry vision, bruises on bruises, a buggered-up hip, and a knee that was singing what sounded more and more like a swan song. Hang on, though; he had level ground now, which he hadn't had before. So it wasn't all bad.

What did he need? People. Friendly people. Rescue. Barring that, he needed water, and after that a discrete and defensible place to rest. Okay! All right, that was better. Thank you again, Jack. Now he had something to aim for, a new purpose to this torturous trek through the grass and trees, in replacement of the one he could not fulfill. He ruthlessly shoved the reminder of Teal'c to the back of his mind. He couldn't do anything about that now, and if he allowed himself to dwell on it he knew he'd fall apart all that much faster. He just had to believe that Jack and Sam had gone back and found Teal'c before the... oh hell, just how do you refer to a co-worker who's been possessed and turned into a murderous something-or-other? He needed to find water. Daniel stopped walking, amusing himself momentarily with the deprecatory thought that his rate of forward progress was pretty much unaffected by the act. He wrinkled his nose in consternation as he tried to figure out how to go about locating a tall, cool one. In short order, he dismissed the ideas of making a divining rod, following his nose, digging a well, or going online to mail-order a hydrometer, and was left with... nothing. He had no clue. He hadn't encountered any streams in the woods as he'd - Oh, crap! Shit! Shit, crap, shit, hell! Why didn't you tell me, Jack? What the fuck were you thinking? Damn it, Jack, what the hell is wrong with you?

Nooo, oh nooo, he hadn't encountered any streams or creeks, had he? Except of course for that one way back there where he'd started out from. He'd heard it as he'd woken up, gurgling away somewhere behind him. Daniel thumped the end of the staff against the ground in frustration, the empty water bottle on his belt mocking him with its presence. See? A feeb. A moron. Don't say you weren't told. Oh, shit, it was back. Please, just shut up.

Daniel scanned his surroundings. Behind him, in the direction he'd come from, the trees were large and closer together than they were where he stood, their entangled root systems making the ground almost chaotically irregular in spots. No wonder it had been so hard to make his way across to here. The woods had thinned out to where he was now, and further to his left there were even larger gaps between small stands of younger trees. He caught a glimpse of what looked like a bit of tousled meadowland beyond the slender trunks. Go that way. Maybe there'll be a rabbit hole you can fall into. Shut up.

The larger trees behind him circled around to the right, forming a heavy treeline which visibly dipped and rose, a clue that the ground over there would be too uneven for him to travel in his condition. There was no point going back the way he'd come, so it'd be to the left or straight ahead. His vision blurred and filled with small floaters as he quickly turned his head to face forward, his peripheral vision going dark, and the ground ahead seemed to drop off into nothingness. There was a moment of vertigo, then it cleared somewhat. Daniel squeezed his eyes closed, raising his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. Whoa, what a trip. Open your eyes, geek. Let's do that again. Oh please, shut the hell up. He felt faintly nauseated, but forced himself to open his eyes and give it another try. This time he moved his head slowly, cautiously testing the waters. A bit dizzy, but manageable. The headache was flaring, though. He suspected that soon it would be bad enough to blind him even when his eyes could still see. Water. Had to find water.

Squinting at the view in front of him, Daniel thought for a moment he had just been wrong. It looked like his eyes were giving out first after all. Then he realised it wasn't him. The ground beyond the small clumps of young trees a hundred or so feet ahead of him actually did seem to drop away into a black hole. He took a few steps forward, peering past the trees. Yes. It was an optical illusion of sorts. The ground sloped gently downward past the edge of the forest up ahead, gently dropping off into an area of relative darkness where the green of the grasses and low underbrush apparently gave way to... to...? Dare he hope? He shuffled forward some more, moving to his right as he did so in order to see better past a small stand of trees. It looked like maybe -

His heart jumped. Was it? No. It isn't. Go the other way. Stick to looking for bunny holes, Boy-o. Much safer that way. He didn't even bother going to the trouble of telling the voice to shut up, because he knew what that was up ahead now and he really couldn't be bothered with cowardly second thoughts. He'd take his chances. Daniel planted the base of the staff weapon into the ground and pushed off, determined to reach the water's edge a couple of hundred feet or so ahead before what little remained of his endurance fled completely. He gamely picked up his pace, working just as hard to dismiss the aching heaviness of his limbs and pounding in his head as he was to move on. He lost his balance as the level ground increasingly gave way to the downslope through the remaining border of trees and low brush, and fell much of the way down the rest of the hill in a tumble of arms and legs, the staff flying from his grip to land farther along. He crawled over to it on all fours, his chest heaving, biting his lip and trying not to think about what that snap-crackle-pop in his knee might mean.

Hauling himself to his feet was getting harder and harder. He'd need to be more careful, because he suspected the next time he went down he just might not be able to get up at all. He staggered on down the rest of the slope and onto the flat, and then he was there. Breaking out past the last of the trees and shrubs onto the edge of the expanse of dirt verging the gently flowing body of water. And oh God... was he where he thought he was? He laughed out loud - an unpleasant, dry, brittle sound that made his stomach curl in on itself - as he realised he must have U-Hauled his ass in one hell of an artful arc and bend in his dash and wanderings through the forest. What a sad joke that was. In all those hours upon hours, he'd covered practically no distance at all in endless miles and miles upon miles of travelling.

You don't want to be here, buddy. Shut up. Yes he did. He needed water. Daniel moved forward, crossing the wide dirt bank. Shit! He came very close to yelling out loud as he realised he wouldn't be able to get to the water. The embankment he was standing on dropped off abruptly; it was very steep, and the loose dirt, his bum leg, and his failing strength all combined to make any attempt certain to result in a full dunking. Wait. He moved forward cautiously, and surveyed the shoreline. He was pretty sure he knew the way he had to go. The Unas had taken him... there. Up that way. It wasn't far. He could make it.

He did. One step at a time, satisfying visions of slaking his thirst - cupped hands; no bending into the water; be sure to use cupped hands, Daniel - and filling the water bottle before collapsing under the nearest tree distracting him from the increasing misery of each and every step he took. He slowly rounded the gradual wide bend, and instantly recognised how close he truly was. The path went downhill rather sharply as it turned, and he stumbled down it, anxious over the possibility of another fall. The embankment quickly gave way to the irregular wide open area along the bank as he reached the bottom of the hill and made his way right round the bend. Round the bend is right, geek, the annoying voice warned him. What are you, crazy? Leave here while you still can.

Daniel moved forward to just within a few feet of the water's edge, and nervously licked his lips with a dry tongue. The voice was wrong. All wrong. He sniggered; of course the voice was wrong. Hearing disembodied voices had to be a pretty good indication something was wrong. Right, Jack? Anyway, it was just like he'd told Teal'c... he knew of the danger, and forewarned was forearmed. He'd be fine, just so long as he didn't dally. Everything would be fine. He'd have a drink, move away from the water's edge and rest for a bit, and then head out. He glanced up the pathway. Jack and Sam would have gone back to Teal'c, he knew they would have. If he set out in that direction and stayed on the path, he'd eventually run into them. Everything was fine now. No, it isn't. Yes it is. Just bugger off.

Daniel carefully set the staff weapon down, leaning it against a nearby large fallen tree trunk, and reached back to unclip the water bottle from his utility belt. Tingling, stiff fingers didn't want to work quite right, and his abraded wrist twanged as he flexed it. He dropped the bottle, feeling frustration rise to new levels as it took a large bounce and tumbled down the slight incline towards the water. He lunged for it, bending forward, but all that netted him was a faceful of dirt. Laying prone on the ground, head held up to keep his face out of the damp soil, one arm impotently reaching forward with fingers spread wide, Daniel watched in alarm as the water bottle bounced its way right into the water and lazily started to float downstream. He scrambled forward in an awkward crab-walk, moving both forward and obliquely to try to head it off before it got to far. He just made it to the water's edge when there was a sudden turmoil of foam and fury just the other side of the water bottle, and Daniel jerked back in a state of full panic as he saw flashes of several fleshy, harshly segmented symbiote bodies in the maelstrom. Go! Get the fuck out of here, you idiot! Okay! Going! Going!

The water bottle bobbed maniacally for a second, and then disappeared beneath the froth. A discolouration spread in the water, and if anything the turmoil increased. Daniel stopped his frantic backpedalling on his butt as he realised with sick fascination that the idiot symbiotes were actually fighting to the death over the plastic bottle. Abruptly the water calmed, it's surface settling into a choppy version of its previously lazy downstream glide. Daniel sat on the shore, staring. Had they gone? What did they -

Shit! Oh God! Go! Go, go, go,go,go,go... He let out a hoarse shriek of surprise and frantically but mostly ineffectually kicked out to propel himself backward, as a symbiote came screaming toward him fully airborne, shedding water like a silk sheet. Somewhere underneath his own panicky noise and motion, Daniel thought he heard a dull plop and was pretty sure he felt something thwap him on the leg. He opened his eyes - he'd closed his eyes? - to see the symbiote laying on the ground beside his left thigh. A victim of its own kind, it was torn more than half open, globular bluish-grey guts obscenely glistening in a bed of darker blue visible through the large split up its middle. The head hung limply, the beady vestigial eyes vibrating slightly and the tail lazily flapping for a second until the whole thing shuddered and heaved up, scaring the shit out of Daniel yet again, and then suddenly deflated into gummy, runny, vile-smelling death.

Time to leave, hero. Okay, yeah. Daniel found himself in complete agreement with the voice in his head. He could go with that plan. Leave. Breathing heavily, his heartbeat hammering in his ears, Daniel moved to get up off the ground only to jerk onto all fours and scramble madly as the water rippled alarmingly in several locations far too near the shore for comfort. He heard splashing behind him as he got up and moved as fast as he could, pausing only to snatch up the staff weapon from where it lay against the log while doing his best to pelt right the hell on out of there. He didn't stop until he was well along onto the wide dirt pathway. He had no choice but to stop; it was that or fall again. He dropped the staff and bent forward, hands on his thighs, pulling in great gulps of air which did no more good than to near choke him, his legs trembling so badly he knew he was pretty much done with any sort of effective weight bearing for the time being. He sank to his knees, then down to lay on his back on the ground, arms spread widely to the sides.

Everything hurt. He couldn't seem to catch his breath. He still didn't have any water, and sincerely doubted he'd have the nerve to go try again. Teal'c had been right; Daniel was stupidly naive. So, that was it then. He couldn't do this after all. You said you could do it. The voice was bitterly disappointed, accusing. You all but promised me you could do it. Oh, come on... never did. What a crock. You did! You said...

"I never did!" Daniel screamed it out loud. "I never promised anything!" His dry throat felt as though it'd just ripped inside. Ouch. "I tried, Jack. I really tried," he whispered. "It's too hard."

Maybe for a geek. You shut up. You get up. Get out of my brain. Grab a brain. Your team is somewhere just up the street here. You can still do this. It's just a bit of exhaustion and dehydration. Not even very severe dehydration, at that. You aren't dying, you know.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Fine. If you say so. Daniel rolled over onto his belly and pushed himself up onto his hands and knees. He gazed down the pathway, not consciously registering much of the scenery. He was tired, so very tired. What's that? What? Don't 'what' me. What the fuck is that, over there? Where? Ohh... there? He squinted toward the treeline. There was something there. A mound of some kind, an off-colour something or other, in amidst the low brush just where the dirt gave way to patchy green undergrowth and weeds. He crawled toward it, remembering the staff just in time to scoop it up to take with him. He'd only gone a few more feet when he suddenly realised just what he was looking at.

A person. An SGC person, to be exact. An SGC person laying prone, facing away from him, half in the woods, half in the dirt, not moving. That wasn't good. It was bad. Very bad, in fact. Daniel pushed himself up and staggered over, knelt next to the figure, and ignoring all else for the time being placed shaking fingers over the man's carotid artery while keeping a close watch on his back for signs of breathing. The pulse was there... too fast and far too thready, but it was there. Ditto for respiration. The patch on his arm said SG2, and Daniel's own heart sped up as he remembered what Teal'c had said about the SG2 team. One man injured, one dead. Griff and Pierce, missing. He leaned over far enough to look at the face of the man, and recognised Pierce.

Daniel carefully ran his fingers entirely around Pierce's neck - front, back, and sides - and let out a sigh of relief at the result. He flicked a finger against Pierce's cheek, calling his name into his ear, but the man was deeply unconscious. Must have something to do with all those patches of blood on his lower back. Ya think? Be quiet. Just be quiet for once. Daniel dragged in a shaky breath. Pierce had been shot, multiple times. The same Goa'ulded person who'd shot Teal'c had to have done this. Wow, another brainstorm. You're on a roll, Dannyboy. Shut up, dammit. Have to do something. Have to help. Daniel scanned the immediate vicinity, but there was no sign of Pierce's pack, nor, Daniel realised with a sudden chill, of the automatic weapon Pierce was certain to have been carrying. Daniel checked the holster on his thigh; the sidearm was also gone. Wait! He reached carefully around and under Pierce's left shoulder, groping for the comm unit which should have been there. Which, unfortunately, wasn't there. Damn! He considered turning Pierce over to make sure it hadn't come dislodged and was laying underneath the man, but was afraid of those wounds being so close to the spine. He looked around again, this time letting his gaze travel a bit farther afield. Pierce's pack had to be somewhere, it just had...

What was that? Ooooh, don't go there... Over there, tucked neatly alongside the other side of the log he'd rested the staff against earlier... a large dark mound of some kind hidden in the shadow of the big trunk. No, you don't really want to know, you don't, you don't, you don't. A very large, long mound shaped like... Isn't one enough for you? What the hell is your problem, boy? You don't know when to quit, do you? Daniel absently reminded the voice it hadn't let him quit when he'd wanted to just a few moments ago, and after one more quick check of Pierce's carotid pulse he slowly moved back toward the large log. As he got closer, the large lump resolved into two discrete smaller lumps. Two. Oh, God, no.

The one jammed up right under the log was covered with a field blanket, and the other nearest Daniel was in a black, zipped-up body bag. Daniel realised no doubt the body bag was one which had been brought by the S&R team, intended for him in the event of a worst case scenario. His hands turned ice cold. Two. One of them... Griff? Yeah, probably. And, who else? Daniel's gut was clenched so tightly it hurt, his chest so seized up with dread that he couldn't take a decent breath. What had Teal'c told him? Something about more than one person having being Goa'ulded? He couldn't think straight. It just had to have been the guy who had shot Teal'c that had gotten Pierce, though, so maybe...

Never mind. Just turn around and walk away. Don't look. Quiet. Be quiet. He had to do this, if for no other reason than to see if either of them had a comm unit in place. Daniel leaned over, and with shaking hands reached across the body bag to draw the blanket down off the head of the far body. Oh, God! He pulled the blanket lower. The charring on the chest was all too familiar; Teal'c had done this, and it must have been for a good reason. Hell. Closing his eyes momentarily first, Daniel focused on what he had to do and pulled on Hawkins' collar. He immediately found the jagged entry site around toward the back, low on the man's neck.

"It's all right, Hawkins can do a water run."

Oh, dear God. God, God, God. It took Daniel an eternal moment to compose himself. To breath and see and hear and think again. There wasn't any radio. He pulled the blanket back up into place and sat back. Focus. Don't think about anything but what you need. Just concentrate on the objective; nothing else matters. Oh sure, right. That's so you. You don't know anything for certain yet. Don't assume. Just think about how you're doing this because you have to. Three men, three comms. Three tries. Don't think about the rest right now. Breathe. So far, it was two strikes... please let this last throw be a home run.

Don't know anything. No assumptions. Just a purpose. Just do it. Daniel gritted his teeth, and reached for the zipper tab at the head of the body bag. It stuck slightly when he tugged on it. He had to wiggle it to get it going, but then it released and snicked evenly on down over the teeth to slowly reveal the bag's contents.

He knew for sure even before he got it open past the hairline. He knew. Ohhh, he knew. He knew it, he knew it. Knew it. Oh no. No no no. Oh God no. He knew it. Please. No. Please, oh please.

He pulled Robert's body up onto his lap, cradled his head and shoulders in his arms, and rocked. No. No.

No... No... No... No... No...

Go on to part five

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Within the context and limitations of the site Disclaimer, Any and All original characters, situations, story line, dialogue and narrative © March 15th, 2002, the author