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WARNING:
This fic is rated R for language and graphic violence, and contains
Hand in Hand by Jb and Jmas part two, of four
Ch. 9: Jb
So it wasn't just my imagination playing tricks on me when Daniel was unconscious. He was out long enough that I was afraid of being... that he was... that I was... I thought I heard something - a distant, small avalanche of dust and rock, a faint scrabbling noise - but it went away and I discounted it as a product of a scared mind alone in the dark. Stupid. I am so stupid. I should have told Daniel about it the minute he woke up. It's a dark splotch against lesser darkness, erratically moving this way. Hard to track it by sight when it stops, but it's close enough now that we don't really need to see it. We can hear it, and smell it. A scraping dragging noise, ragged panting, and the same overwhelmingly acrid stench that first warned us of their presence topside. Not nearly enough warning, though. They were so quiet, and so damn fast. I've smelled bad things before, but this... the dead Linvris were like a bouquet of flowers compared to this. Daniel's gagging. He's trying to hold it back, but there's no point. It already knows we're here. He's thrown himself back off his chest, supporting himself on his right elbow. There's something in that hand... what? Oh. A rock. I don't know what he thinks he's going to be able to do with that; his right arm is pretty much the only thing he can move freely, and that's what's propping him up. I'm not much help It's coming, and I'm trapped under this rubble; what used to be the ground above is now my prison down here. Beyond moving my left arm, I can't even turn over. The best I can do is lift my head and chest up off the ground to keep my nose out of the dirt. To see... things I never wanted to see. But I can't see it anymore; Daniel's pushed himself over, up against a pile of rock, and now my view is of his front instead of his back. And of apology written huge on his face, in his eyes. As the Colonel would say if he were here right now... Dammit, Daniel! Why does Daniel always expect so much of himself? The noise is louder, the shadow larger. And the smell is... rancid. Daniel's retching now. Looks painful; I don't think I want to join him. There's only one way to deal with this sort of odour. To deny it. To replace it, before it convinces you the very air you are breathing is poison and it's tainted everything inside you. Concentrate; replace it. Springtime, fresh baked bread, baby powder. Oh God. It's so close. Overpowering. New leather upholstery, freshly mown grass, the dark rich smell of expresso brewing. Coffee. Daniel – the smell of coffee, aftershave, sometimes chocolate, always an underlying faint male musk... all blending together into the unmistakable scent of Daniel. Oh, God... it's here... Right here, now, its huge snout lifted and quivering, it sniffs the air not five feet in front of Daniel. There's something wrong... something about it... about the way it's moving so slowly, so low to the ground, about the noises it's making... It's hurt... definitely injured. I can see it now. Raw wounds, leaking yellowish pussy-looking fluid. It's one of the ones we got with our guns, above. That's probably why it's down here... it probably fell, maybe into a sinkhole like we did, and couldn't climb out. But it's still lethal. Its claws and teeth are just as sharp as they ever were, and it's more mobile than Daniel and I put together. We have two unreliable limbs and one rock to share between us. Not much of a defence. I suppose Daniel could always puke on it... looks like he's about to do that any time now, anyway. Ah, God. Its head is right here. It's smelling the ground in front of me and it's smelling up the place so badly I'm not sure I want to keep breathing. What... what is it doing? It's... it's... licking... Oh God oh oh no, no, no. The blood. Oh I am going to be sick... It didn't like that. I moved, turned my head. It's snarling, sticking it's snout under my nose. I can feel it's hot breath... Oh! Ahh - Claws. Claws... swiped at me, raked across my head... Pain. Black spots in my vision and wetness dripping into my eyes. Feel sick. Noise. Somebody... yelling. It's turning away. Roaring. It's roaring; it's deafening. Daniel. What's he doing? He's thrust himself forward to right in front of me, between me and it, and he's rolling... He screams once with the pain and he's rolling over in a quick movement. As he goes I see the fresh blood covering his back, thick, soaking through everything, extending down past his waist... and I can smell it, this sharp new Daniel-odour of sweat and pain and sickly sweet blood. He's facing me, inches away. Gently touching my cheek. Whispering to me... telling me - oh please somebody help him - telling me to close my eyes. There's a sound - a quiet wet, vile, noise. On, no... don't. Don't do that. No no no no... As my eyes close I see him in my mind's eye, rolling to muster the only defence he had for me and I smell him, his scent, both as he usually is and as he is now... and I see one other thing, in my mind's eye... I see what's still there against the small of his back, now turned away
from me... on his belt... Ch 10: Jmas
I can't suppress the moan low in my chest at the sensation of being...tasted...lapping at the blood on my clothing like some perverted tabby cat cleaning up the proverbial spilt milk. The creature may be injured, but it's gaining strength...through me. Strength to finish what it started. Strength to kill. Me...then Sam. I feel her hand reaching out to mine. Slowly. Trying not to draw the attention to the thing at my back. I move my own hand to still hers. It's too risky. Don't move, Sam...don't let it notice you, don't let this be for nothing... I look up into her eyes, the right one clouded now by blood from the shallow scratches across her forehead. More blood. More strength for the beast...at the cost of our own... She's whispering something softly, too softly. It's hard to concentrate beyond the sickening sensation of the hot, gritty tongue lapping at me, working its way deeper through the layers of my clothing seeking the source of the flow... God... I really don't want it to end like this... If by some miracle Sam survives, I don't want her to live with the memory of... Please, Jack...where are you? I look up again. Sam's still trying to tell me something. I can't seem to focus, all I can hear is my own pulse beating fiercely in my head and the weird echo of every scrape of the creature's tongue, the prickling heat setting raw nerve endings on fire. It takes every ounce of resolve I can muster not to move away, but I can't. Right now the beast is just idly feeding its own waning strength...God...I don't want to give it a reason for aggression. Time. We just need time. Jack? Teal'c? Please... A tear falls from Sam's eye, mingling with the blood to form a perfect pink track down her high-boned cheek. It helps to focus on that... It would be so easy to just lose myself in that image, drown in it and never return, but I promised. I have to stay until Jack comes. I won't leave Sam alone with this... Sam's hand touches mine, squeezing tightly, helping me to stay... Her fingers shift, moving over my palm and tracing a pattern...a letter... 'K'? I blink at her in confusion. What is she trying to tell me? 'N,' 'I,' 'F,'... Knife? I look into her eyes, they flicker down and back toward my belt My knife. I still have it. Great. I still have my knife. At the back of my belt...inches away from the tongue worrying at my soul as much as my flesh... It might as well not be there at all...
Ch. 11: Jb
Is happening. Oh, it is, it really is and I don't think I can stand it. Please, surely not all the Gods are false ones, because right about now I really need to believe that a higher power exists and will help us... will help Daniel. The Colonel and Teal'c. They're coming... they'll show up above us any minute now. They're almost here. They have to be. I can't see much more of that hellcat than the very edge of its head just above Daniel's side... and a set of sharp claws erupting from the huge paw that's clamped onto him, curving over his hip, terminating in four spreading stains on the front of his BDO's as they slowly knead in and out, back and forth... Schrodinger used to do that. He'd curl up in my lap and purr and settle his front paws onto my leg and the instinctive ritual would begin - first one paw and then the other, digging in, pulling back, rising and falling... rolling... rocking... I can hear it, sounding just like it looks. I imagine I can feel it, but the expression on Daniel's face tells me that I'm not even coming close. Even so, through the pain and revulsion, he made room for me. He focused on me and he understood what I tried to tell him. The hope I tried to engrave onto more than just the palm of his hand. I saw the realization flood his face... And saw it recede just as quickly as he mouthed to me, "Can't. Sorry". He can't try to reach his knife. He's given up on himself. His eyes search my face, seeking my understanding, apologizing yet again. He shakes his head ever so slightly and there's a quick flicker of an ironic smile as he squeezes my hand and once more his mouth moves in silent entreaty - for me to close my eyes. Oh, no, Daniel. Don't. Don't die for me. Not like this. Please, try. You have to try... That's stupid, Samantha. Don't punish him by asking the impossible. He couldn't have done it even before, with just one hand, with the limited range of motion of his arm. That almost-smile he just gave me - I remember now. The Colonel's always telling him to move that knife further over to the right, stow it over his hip instead of way along there almost at the small of his back. Can't get to it nearly fast enough with it way back there. Nope, no place for it, move it along, move it over... I can hear the typical rapid-fire argument right now, in my mind, just like I've heard it for real so many times. Jack, it's in my way there. It gets caught up on stuff. Get used to it, Daniel. Work on it. No. It pokes me in the butt every time I twist at the waist. Daniel, that knife needs to be accessible. It could save a life some day. A few extra dimples are a fair trade off. I don't have any dimples there to begin with, Jack, and I don't want any. My hand is suddenly caught in a death grip. My eyes snap open - when did they close? Daniel's face is twisted into a grimace and his eyes are full of pain. And panic. In a ghastly parody of the rapid give and take of the voices in my head, he's pushed forward and back as the gruesome ebb and flow of sound and motion momentarily turn into a roar and the impact of a heavy head. He gives in to the fear, his body going rigid and eyes squeezing shut as the tears finally break free. But he doesn't cry out. He sucks it back. For me. The beast behind him settles and as the primal massage resumes, the tension in Daniel's body slowly dissipates. His hand releases my own. He's passed out. So maybe there is a God. It's all up to me, now. Ch 12 : Jmas
Fire urging me onward...and pleading with me to stop. I can't stop...won't... The crumbled walls of the formerly great city are tantalizingly close...twenty, thirty minutes and we'll be there... Moon overhead now...strange noises penetrate my exhausted brain between breaths that sound harsh even to me. The animals in Daniel's frantic communication? Teal'c is puffing heavily ahead of me, his seeming limitless strength stretching and flexing as much as his muscles... We both know we can't stop...We feel it in a visceral, elemental, totally inexplicable way... No reason to talk about it. It's there. It's real. And time is running out... It's like we're in a race more vital than any we've ever known. A race against time, against the nature of this desolate world...and the pay off is the lives of our friends... A pay off too precious not to win. The thought gives me still another burst of adrenaline. I'm going to pay later for pushing my body beyond its limits... I'm not a kid anymore and even intense workouts won't make up for that simple fact. But it doesn't matter. Nothing matters except getting to Daniel and Carter... Just run, Jack... The mindless, driving motion leaves way too much room for my mind to wander. To create awful scenarios with one inevitable conclusion... They're dead. Breathe, Jack... It can't be, it can't be... Daniel, Sam... We've been through too much together... Breath rasps in my head... Almost there, almost there... Clouds moving over the moon, how do we find them in the dark...? A sharp intake as my foot hits a rock... Not going to happen, can't let it happen... They're alive... Hell, Daniel can't die...it's a proven fact... He'll keep Carter safe, no matter what. He would die before... I nearly choke on the thought... Hang on 'til I get there, Danny... Hang on... Ch. 13 : Jb
O'Neill's strength falters. I cannot allow that. He cannot hear what I hear. There are faint unfamiliar noises in the night which mingle with our own; the sound of our boots against the ground, dirt and small stones scattering, the harsh rustle of our clothing and faint creaking of utility belts... and the ragged panting of a man driving onward, through sheer stubbornness alone, well past the point at which his body demands to give out. All these things, I know O'Neill hears. But he cannot hear all that I hear. That which is ahead... only just ahead. And he does not know what I now know. He cannot detect the faint scent on the breeze, that which underlies the stronger foulness of what is just ahead, nor see the many subtle cues on the ground under our feet. I cannot permit this to continue, this desperate race against an unknown fate into a now very imminent danger. We must stop, rest and regroup. O'Neill will require his strength in order to face the challenge which is soon to be upon us. We must prepare for battle. They are not in Daniel Jackson's ruins. They are here. Reluctantly he relents to my voice, to my hand on his arm, the warning in my eyes. I can only allow him a few moments to regain his breath and gather himself. Now that our own discord with the night has been silenced, the danger is much more evident. O'Neill begins to understand now. He attends to me with an intensity borne of sharply honed instinct... and just as sharp-edged fear. Yes, O'Neill. I too am afraid for this delay, for what it may mean for our friends. The realization dawns on his face scant seconds before my hand signals provide warning, and his eyes narrow in unwavering concentration - one, some fifty yards ahead; two, very close on our right. Now O'Neill can hear them, smell them... but I fear he is not yet fully aware, does not yet comprehend all that I know. I cannot tell him right now. They are ever closer, on the right. I do not believe they are aware of our presence. I do not dare speak aloud for fear of drawing them to O'Neill. He is not yet fully recovered from the run. There is something wrong here. I do not understand why these beasts are unaware of us. For some reason their progress is sporadic and unfocused. Daniel Jackson said he and Major Carter were attacked by predators. These creatures do not seem attentive, are not stealthy, as are most predators. A clatter of rock and a snarl float across the distance from ahead. I sense the beasts to our right startle. They become silent, motionless. Ah. I see. They are the hunted. By their own kind. Cast out? The noise from ahead diminishes. That beast is retreating. The two on our right advance once again, toward us. They are noisy for predators. Noisy and inconsistent in their approach. A rank odour drifts across to us. There! Two dark shapes against the low hill to the right. Awkward movement. Sizeable four-legged creatures... even in its crouch as it attempts to slink along the ground, it appears the larger of them may almost reach my hip in height. O'Neill signals to me to proceed in their direction. Clearly he does not believe it is in our interests to attempt to avoid the beasts, to make our way around them and continue on toward the ruins. He understands we must hunt the hunted, or risk becoming the prey ourselves. Once again, as with many times before, my faith in O'Neill is proven warranted. Even not yet aware of that which is most important, he makes the best judgement. I am concerned that he may not yet be up to this challenge, however I concur with his decision. It is a correct strategy, for more reasons than he realizes. For he does not understand as yet... it is here, in this area, where we must remain. He still does not know what I do. That our friends never made it to the ruins. They are here. Somewhere. Ch. 14: Jmas
The image in my mind would be almost funny if this overgrown excuse for a tabby cat wasn't using my back as its own personal scratching post... In, out... Must've passed out... Sam's eyes are on me, the little crinkle between her eyebrows tells me she's got a major plan in mind. In, out... The major's got a major plan... Bad puns are Jack's thing. Must be shock. The big cat's smelly body is probably helping as much as it hurts. It's shifted around while I was out, covering my lower body like a perverse security blanket. The warmth of it is as soothing as the constant, double-clawed kneading is disturbing... At least it's not...feeding...anymore... In, out... Sam gives me a look as I swallow hard against the thought of being grateful to the creature that brought us to this impossibly macabre impasse. I try to nod a little, let her know everything is still okay... Well, maybe okay is a bit optimistic... Everything still is though. We're still alive. The night is half over, the moon shadows have shifted to the other side of where we lay. In, out... Jack and Teal'c have to be close by now... They have to be... I just hope they don't pass us by. Hopefully Teal'c's incredibly well-honed tracking skills will see our footprints up there, see we didn't quite make it to the ruins, see where the ground opened up and swallowed us whole dumping us into our own silent, intensely private version of hell...complete with feline Cerberus... In, out... God, that one hurt. My back and shoulders are going to look like a pincushion if...when...when dammit...we make it home... I can hear Jack now...wanting to get a look at these scars...He's like an adolescent that way. Hell, he's like an adolescent in a lot of ways. But I know he'll hurt with us. It's Jack's way...hurt us, hurt him...One of the things I respect most about him. He's coming, I know it... In, out... Sam is making little hand signals at me...She knows I can never get those things straight. Funny, a linguist who can't decipher simple military hand signals...Of course they could have them make a little more sense... I must be delirious, those two concepts rarely go together... She's going on about something... She wants to what...? In, out... I shake my head...the hellcat's not being aggressive...really... We should wait. A yowling scream from above stills all motion...even that of the cat... More of them. Coming here. Scenting our presence and wanting to share...or take...our captor's spoils... Damn... The cat grumbles deep in its throat, attention focused upward as it sniffs the night air... I think time just ran out for us. Ch. 15 : Jb
No. That's not the right word. Not that he isn't calmer all of a sudden... he is. But somehow it's different than just seeming calm. He's... he's almost tranquil, in an incongruous sort of way. His eyes are actually smiling at me... Sure, the Daniel I know can run contrary to canon sometimes; I don't always understand his take on things. He goes his own way and not infrequently, while I admire the traveller and the journey, his chosen destinations are not even on my list of marginally acceptable places to go. But this... this isn't a matter of him putting a novel spin on our situation. This is something different. Not more than fifteen minutes ago I thought I had lost him, when he broke down and then gave out entirely. And now.. Shock. It has to be shock. I know he's lost a fair amount of blood, that the longer this goes on the more the risk of physiological shock... but this, isn't that. This... wry expression that I see on his face, the almost-acceptance in his eyes - this is emotional shock. I thought I had lost him when he broke down and passed out... ..and I guess I have. I'm putting everything I can into transmitting my message through my face and eyes, but he's just watching me with an enigmatic look and fleeting inappropriate amusement in his eyes. No way I am going to get him to cooperate with what I want to do. I need to get at that knife... and soon. Although the cat is consecrating Daniel's offering in an entirely different way now – and anything has got to be better than what was going on before – it's still very dangerous. Maybe that's part of what this - this newly placid Daniel - is all about. About pain? Its paw is pretty low on his back right now, and the one against his hip isn't actually forcefully pinning him in place anymore. Its claws are probably only just making it through the fabric of his vest and jacket... probably beats the hell out of the scrape of its tongue against the exposed wound on his upper back. As much as I'm glad it doesn't seem to hurt so bad, God – I don't know what to do. While it's... so contentedly occupied... I need him to help me, to slowly – oh so so slowly, carefully – do a little roll forward. So I can just as slowly snake my hand in there, in the space right in front of its chest. I can't move and I can't reach all the way over him to the small of his back, from here. And we need that knife. But he's not entirely with me here. Even now, I can see the wandering path taken by his mind reflected in his eyes... dazedly straying off over my shoulder as he no doubt mulls over some stray thought. I redouble my efforts, staring at him with what I know must be a huge frown, and thankfully the precise movements of my hand catch his attention. But... oh damn. No matter how obvious I try to make my signals, he's just not with me. Or... maybe he is? He just shook his head, and the purposefulness of that gesture is clear. Oh Daniel, please, help me out here! If you aren't going to work with me, then I don't know what I can possibly do. Oh God! Loud... chilling... above us and oh sounding much too close for comfort. It's not so pleasantly occupied anymore. It's alert, tense, ready for anything... And now I really don't know what to do. Ch. 16: Jmas
Creeping, slipping here and there in the darkness left by the now hidden moon...darkness against a deeper darkness. I've counted eight, no telling how many there actually are. Teal'c is tensed up, his head cocked as he obviously listens for the movements in the shadows...pattering of rocks shifting, scrape of claw against stone, snarls and yowls as if they're fighting among themselves. Wish I had a set of night goggles... Or some... Light. Light against the shadows. That's it. I scramble in my pack, pulling out two flares. Should be enough... Enough or not nearly enough... Either way we have to do this. Now. We can't have these things lurking on our six and if...when...we find Carter and Daniel, we don't need to worry about these beasties giving us trouble on the way out. So we get them.. now... and don't give them the chance. I try to signal Teal'c in the darkness, hoping he can make out enough to realize what I plan. I see the vague hint of a nod, his hand tapping my arm to let me know he understands. He knows as well as I do to close his eyes at the initial flash to help our eyes adjust more quickly. I pull the zat from my belt, tucking it into my elbow as I make ready to strike the first flare. Now or never. Light against the darkness. Death so our friends might live... I pause just a minute to catch my breath. I've had to do a lot of things in my life, bought things worth a lot less than the lives in the balance here at a far higher price. This price isn't much at all by comparison. These things attacked, maybe killed, our friends... I'm ready. I whistle a soft warning to Teal'c, then strike the flare... And open my eyes to a scene from hell... Six of the... things... are less than twenty feet from us. I don't even hesitate, firing the zat as fast as I can... trying to hit them twice... three times if possible. In the guttering flare-light I get impressions of scruffy, filthy fur... Teeth, damn big teeth... Green-luminous eyes that help us spot them in the shadows... Six are down, but I see more glittering eyes among the rocks... Teal'c is in rapid-fire mode... pulling off shots so quickly I can't even hear the individual bursts. I send up a word of thanks once again for Bra'tac and his incredible training. We owe that old Jaffa master our lives a dozen times over... The flare is down to a bare glow now. I don't see any more eyes. I look at Teal'c, listening again... He shakes his head and we raise up, I fire off a few disintegrating shots, these things were pretty stinky alive... don't want dead ones lying around. When I'm sure they're all gone, I start to head out toward the ruins again. I hear two things simultaneously... Teal'c's voice, "O'Neill..." And another ear-splitting howl, just before the light goes out.
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