One Small Gesture

Author: Badgergater

Email: [email protected]

Category: Drama, Missing Scene: Prometheus

Season: 6

Episode: Prometheus

Spoilers: Prometheus

Summary: One small moment, one tiny gesture, that speaks volumes, between brothers

Warnings: None

Rating: G

Pairing: None

Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, Gekko Productions, SciFi Channel, Showtime/Viacom ; all the powers that be, not me; This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement intended. The story is the property of the author and may not be posted elsewhere without the author's consent.

Author’s Note: Season 6 has seen the friendship between Jack and Teal’c grow. This was one tiny moment that stood out during a season filled with superb Jack moments.

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It was just a tiny gesture, a brief moment as the adrenaline of a fight for life subsided. Yet the motion spoke volumes about their friendship, a thousand words and more, and betrayed emotions neither warrior could voice.

Two men more different, yet more alike, would be hard to find, anywhere in the universe. External physical opposites contrasted with who and what they were on the inside: one tall and lean, almost slight, skin lightly tanned, soft short hair a steely gray, loud and brash; the other tall but solid and muscular, with the frame of a bodybuilder, ebony skinned, his skull shaved bare; quiet and reserved.

Though they were from different cultures, indeed, from different worlds, each had a deep and true understanding of the other.

In the corridor of the Earth ship Prometheus, just moments after O'Neill's frantic fingers secured a desperate grip on Teal'c's hand, pulling the Jaffa to safety, the two men stood silent, facing each other.

Colonel Jack O’Neill reached out a hand and smoothed the collar of Teal'c's jacket, and patted the sturdy shoulder.

A tiny gesture.

But telling.

For O'Neill, it was a moment of reassurance. His friend, his teammate, his brother, was there… not an illusion, not a vision, not a hallucination, not ethereal and insubstantial like Daniel had so recently been, but real. There. Solid. Alive.

Despite what he had done.

O'Neill had risked his teammate's life. A righteous risk, he believed, justified, appropriate according to the desperate needs of the moment, proper, as dangerous as it had been, as likely as it had been that it could have sucked both of them out into the oblivion of space with the Goa'ulded Colonel Simmons.

O'Neill knew the terrible chance he had taken, and how fortunate they had been, and as the adrenaline surge washed out of his system, he was relieved.

And apologetic. The gesture was an apology, too, an unspoken plea for understanding and forgiveness over the risk taken. A hope that in that understanding the fact remained clear that he never risked so much without carefully weighing the cost to one against the needs of the many.

It was also a token of friendship, of the unbreakable bond shared between two warriors, comrades in arms, conveying the understanding words could not name.

Brothers, Teal’c had once proclaimed them.

Rightly so.

Despite their differences, Teal'c understood.

The hand of a brother.

A tiny nod of the regal head acknowledged all the words O'Neill had left unsaid: Apology accepted. Risk understood. Relief shared. Friendship intact. No word need be spoken aloud, because none was necessary.

"So, right. Let's go find the others," The Colonel turned, and felt the ship lurch beneath his feet, the floor drop out from underneath his boots as his knees buckled and deposited him unceremoniously on the hard metal decking.

Teal'c was half a second too slow to catch his collapsing commander. "O'Neill?"

Jack shook his head, reaching out an arm to brace himself as the walls and floor suddenly wavered unsteadily once more. "Whoa! What the hell? Did we just lose the gravity doohickies or what?" O'Neill looked around in confusion, surprised to see Teal'c standing and looking totally unperturbed by the turbulence.

"There is nothing wrong with the ship's gravity, O'Neill."

"Hey, now wait a…" O'Neill started to push upward, and at that very moment the walls once again seemed to swap places with the floor and the ceiling, and the truth was beginning to dawn on him.

"I believe you are experiencing the phenomena known as vertigo."

"Crap." Jack tried once more to lever himself upright, then sank back to the floor with a groan, closing his eyes.

"You received a substantial blow to the head when Colonel Simmons pushed you against the bulkhead," Teal'c reminded his team leader.

"Ya think?" snapped O'Neill as he raised a hand and carefully felt the back of his head. "Ow!" There, a substantial and quite tender knot forming on the back of his skull, the throbbing now clearly felt as the last vestiges of adrenaline drained out of his system.

"Perhaps you have sustained the injury Dr. Fraiser refers to as a concussion…"

"Perhaps not," groused the Colonel, avoiding the obvious. Holding up his hand, "Help me up, would ya?"

"It may be unwise for you to regain your feet so quickly."

"Oh for crying out loud…" halfway to his feet, O'Neill lurched, staggering as another wave of dizziness assaulted him. Teal'c's steadying hand was all that saved the Colonel from hitting the floor a second time. Jack stumbled sideways to lean against the corridor wall, eyes tightly closed.

"Perhaps I should go to find the others while you rest, O’Neill?"

"Just give me a minute," the Colonel forced himself upright, cautiously opening one eye, then the other as things remained essentially stable. He took a step, keeping one hand outstretched to trail along the wall, purely for precautionary reasons, he assured himself.

A step, and another, things were getting better, steadier, O’Neill decided as he took steps three and four. The walls were only shimmering a little, the floor was no longer rolling like he was in a rowboat in 40 foot seas, and the headache, well, that wasn’t going away anytime soon, but it was bearable. Or close to it.

Teal’c kept one hand on his friend's shoulder in silent support, steadying him, leading him down the corridor to an alcove where a ledge offered seating. The human was far too pale, unsteady and shaky.

Jack sat, closed his eyes, gathering himself.

“O’Neill.”

Jack opened his eyes, concentrating to focus.

“I shall go and release the others.”

“Good plan,” O’Neill waved a hand down the corridor. “I’ll go back to the… bridge. In a minute.”

The Jaffa nodded. “That would be wise.” He placed one hand on his friend’s shoulder, in perfect imitation of O’Neill’s earlier gesture.

Reassurance. Apology. Forgiveness. Understanding. Friendship.

All in one small gesture, as can only be understood by brothers.

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The End