RATING: PG-13
ARCHIVE: DJA if they want it ;o)
SUMMARY: An archaeological mission goes drastically
wrong.......Daniel's POV
CATEGORY: Angst, Daniel&Janet
SPOILERS: None really, but there's a blink-and-you-miss-it reference
to 'The First Ones'.
STATUS: Complete
DISCLAIMER: "All publicly recognisable characters and places are the
property of MGM, World Gekko Corp and Double Secret productions. This
piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary
purposes and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was
intended. Previously unrecognised characters and places, and this
story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons,
living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author."
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Well, here it is.....my first DJ fic. It's one of
those ones that comes around when you're sitting up at 5am wide
awake. I therefore apologise if it's a little twisted ;o)
FEEDBACK: Ah, go on....you know you want to......
DEDICATION: For everyone on the list, who've been so welcoming.
Life.
Life is a curious thing.
So many times I've come close to losing mine, in so many different
ways, that I've practically lost count. But through all that, when I
return home, one thing remains constant. When I regain consciousness,
invariably in the infirmary, or on a gurney, she's there. I wake to
two, warm pools of hazel-brown, staring down gently, concerned, and
more often than not a little irked. It almost makes the
unconsciousness worth it, just so I can wake up.
But what do we need to live?
Food, water, sleep, air.
That's all I need, as I lie here, flat on my stomach in the mud of
some godforsaken planet: hungry, thirsty and exhausted, my breathing
laboured. Flat on my stomach, pointing a gun at the woman I love.
And if she moves...I'll kill her.
It had all started out so simply. *Too* simply perhaps, in
retrospect. SG-1 was on stand-down for a fortnight, as is customary
after a particularly strenuous mission. Teal'c was with his family,
Sam in her lab, and Jack had retreated back to Minnesota for a while.
No surprises there. I chose to use my time to accompany an
archaeological expedition to P7C-30G, to dig up what we believed were
more fossilised Goa'uld remains. Once bitten, twice shy; the area had
been swept countless times by the M.A.L.P, the U.A.V and SG-13.
And had been proclaimed safe. You'd think we'd have learned by now.
But no, we'd ventured forth to our 'safe' planet in the name of
scientific discovery to dig up some dead aliens. And who's bright
idea had it been to bring Janet along? Mine.
It was a day trip. A chance for the doctor and a few of her medics to
get through the Gate for once. My reason? I wanted Janet near me. My
excuse? We take a portable lab and the Doc.,we get our results on the
fossils quicker. And there was no danger. The planet was 'safe',
right?
Wrong.
Dead wrong.
They must have landed right before we arrived. And they must have been
pretty damned desperate, because when the took our camp, they did so
under a seething rain of weapons fire; a thunder of bullets that
struck so many of them down for I second I'd thought we'd won. But
they grabbed for us. Killed a few scientists and armed airmen, and
left with three archaeologists. And me. And Janet.
The ship they dragged us to was in a bad way, to put it kindly. So
were its proprietors. Jaffa, all of them, they were injured or dying
beyond the range of their symbiote's help. And we were the potential
new hosts. How she escaped, I don't know. Perhaps I'll never know.
But she did. Straight after the blending and I *knew* I had to go
after her. Before she reached the Stargate, before she reached Earth.
God knows I didn't want to, didn't want to hurt her. I had no choice.
So I fought my way from the remaining, weak Jaffa to the planet
outside. And I chased her, and I hunted her down, and I cornered her
in a dead-end swamp; terrified, breathless and exhausted.
And so I lie here. On my stomach, in the mud, pointing my gun.
And if she moves....I'll kill her.
I don't want to. I'll fight to the end to keep from hurting her. But
when that end comes, I'll have no choice. Will I?
"Daniel..."
Her voice reaches my ears and I struggle to quell the feelings it
invokes inside me. My hands are shaking so that I can barely hold the
gun, and God I wish only to drop it.
"Daniel.....please."
I don't know why the Goa'uld hasn't exercised full mastery, why the
host is allowed to retain some measure of control. Perhaps it's too
young; Charlie Kowolsky all over again. Or perhaps it's a trick, to
lure me into a false sense of security.
"Daniel...."
"NO!"
My voice is loud and harsh, unexpected, even to my own ears, and she
jumps, startled. Those gentle brown eyes are now filled with a fear I
thought I'd never see on those delicate features, and it gives some
part of me a perverse pleasure. *She* is afraid of *me*. But my soul
rebels as I remind myself that this is Janet, a woman who, for the
past three years has been nothing but my protector, my angel. Without
her, I would have died long ago. Without her strength, her
determination, I would have succumbed to the blissful beckoning of
eternal sleep. There would be no reason for my return
to the conscious world, to those eyes that haunt my dreams and my
fantasies, have done for so long now that I can no longer pinpoint
the time that I fell for her, cannot remember falling. It happened
quietly, softly; a slow seduction of my senses that held me a willing
captive before I even realised my bonds.
My hands tremble and tears sting my eyes as my vision begins to blur,
my internal struggle exhausting me to the point that I want only to
lay down my gun and my head and sleep, here in the enveloping murk of
the swamp. But I know to do so would mean instant death. And I can't
take that chance. Mine is not the only life I would risk.
I'm so involved with my own effort, that I barely register the sudden
flicker of Janet's eyes from my form, to a point somewhere above my
shoulder. I can't comprehend the distant voices, approaching en masse
from over the horizon. I don't realise the presence of two armed SG
teams, don't listen closely to the sound of Sam's familiar voice
caressing the wind. I think, hear, feel nothing until the sudden jolt
of a Zat blast jerks me from the waking world and into the bottomless
abyss of sleep.
**********
Life.
Life is a curious thing.
So many times I've come close to losing mine, in so many different
ways, that I've practically lost count.
My memories are vague: Tok'ra voices in Tok'ra tunnels, the eerie
whisper of a devil's voice deep within my mind, the drift in and out
of consciousness, the sting of some alien tool, then the quiet and
solitude of my own mind, freed.
What do we need to live?
As I wake slowly in the infirmary, hidden and surrounded at the heart
of a mountain, I find myself gazing into two dark, soulful
eyes...gentle, concerned, and a little fearful. Her presence
encompasses me, her eyes comprise my universe for a few precious
seconds, before I must close my aching eyelids against the harsh
light.
Food, water, sleep, air.
These we need to survive.
While my mind slides back into the cool darkness, I reach out and
feel her fingers twine with mine; a silent apology, a silent
forgiveness, and an unbreakable bond. And as I tighten my grip on
her, swear to myself to never let go, and lose myself in the comfort
of sleep, I know.
I'll survive.
She'll let me *live*.
**Finis**
Copyright (c) January 2001 Nike A. Johnston
E-MAIL: [email protected]
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