Friends In Need
Author: BadgerGater
Email: [email protected]
Category: Missing Scenes & sequel to episode Need
Season: 2
Spoilers: Need
Warnings: None
Summary: What happened to Jack, Carter and Teal'c in the mines on Shyla's planet
Rating: PG
Pairing: None
Disclaimer: I don't own SG-1 and acknowledge the rights, privileges and power of those that do; I'm just borrowing the characters and concepts for fun, and will faithfully return them.
Author's Note: There are many stories telling Daniel's side of this episode and it's aftermath... but what did the rest of the team endure down in the mine?
-----------------------------
I’ve lost track of how many days we’ve been here now, me, Teal’c and Carter.
But I know we won’t be here very many more. Either we find a way out, or we’re going to die, sooner more likely than later.
None of us can keep this up.
~~~~~~~~~~
I huddled on the hard stone floor, my back against Carter, Teal’c lying on the other side of her, all of us trying to get some rest. Despite our exhaustion it wasn’t easy, what with the noise, the smell, the foul air, the aches permeating every square inch of our bodies, and the growling hunger in our bellies.
I’ve been in prisons before, so, yeah, okay, technically this isn’t a prison, it’s a mine which serves as a prison. Big difference, right? Call it what you like, but the guards, the chains and the pure misery of the place are a dead give away.
Dead. Don’t think dead, Jack. Except maybe Daniel. If I get out of here alive, I’m going to strangle the little son of a bitch with my bare hands.
He left us here. Okay, so he was mad at me. That little outburst was a bit of a surprise, mind you, I never thought he felt that way about me. I thought he realized I treat everybody that way. I thought he knew that if I thought as little of him as he seems to think I think, that he wouldn’t have lasted three days on my team, much less three months.
Damn.
And we’d been so glad to see him alive.
I thought he was a goner. That load of rock fell on him and he’d been dying, I’ve seen enough dead people to know one when I see one. I’d felt another semi-load of guilt land square on my chest because I’d been a hair too quick starting that little to-do, and Daniel’s leg irons hadn’t been taken off yet, and he couldn’t make the break with the rest of us.
And then Daniel had re-appeared, and we’d all thought it was good news. Well, turned out it was sort of good news, he *was* alive, but, well, not himself. Maybe they hadn’t gotten him into the dead-bed quick enough or that sarcophagus hadn’t worked quite so completely this time? Maybe he’d been brain damaged or something?
I’d tried to find an explanation. We’d all three of us wracked our brains to come up with a reason Daniel would be acting that way. Maybe it was all part of an escape plan. It had to be.
But it wasn’t.
He was walking around like a man with blinders on.
So I was stunned when he walked away and left us down there, dying slowly but surely.
Even if he *was* mad at me, even if he *hated* me, he had no reason to punish the others.
He left us down there in the mines.
Exhaustion. Starvation. Bad air, bad water, bad food.
Maybe we could cope if it wasn’t for the 20 hour work days. Sure, we get eight hours off, since this world has a 28 hour day, so Carter says. But humans from Earth don’t have the right bio-rhythms to adapt this fast to the longer day, so Carter also explained, when she wasn’t spouting Jolinar speak.
That scares me, too, I’ll tell you, when she starts talking weird that way. Scares me a lot. I’m not sure if it really is Jolinar, or just hallucinations, or the first stages of madness caused by this place we’re stuck in, but I don’t like it. She’s looking worse and worse every day.
Teal’c’s not looking so good either. He’s been covering for us, trying to do his own share and most of Carter’s and some of mine too, and it’s too much. Plus, he needs to do that meditation stuff instead of regular sleep, and he can’t do it properly here in this hell hole.
As for me, well, don't ask. You don't want to know.
God, what I wouldn’t give for a no star hotel. A hovel. A tent. An airless air mattress. A sleeping bag in the open air. Anything, as long as it didn’t come with these heavy chains and those surly guards and that awful, cloying, smothering smell in the air, of dust and fumes and unwashed bodies and the stink of fear.
I shifted on the hard ground, trying to find a way to lie that didn’t make me hurt somewhere. I failed, of course. I hurt in too many places from that last thumping I took from the guards because I didn’t move fast enough. That, of course, was only an excuse, because I’d pissed off that guy the first day and afterwards he didn’t ever need a real reason to shove me around.
Yeah, I know, I know, I never should have mouthed off to him the first time, but I couldn't help myself, never could. Didn't imagine at the time, of course, that we'd be staying here in Hellhole Hotel for however the hell long this has been, giving ol' Thumper there the opportunity to zero in on my knees day after day.
I squirmed again, trying to get into a position that didn't put pressure on my battered knees or my bruised hip or my aching shoulders or my just plain sore back.
The rough metal of the chains rattled as I tried to find a comfortable enough spot to get at least a little sleep. They were leaving our ankle chains on 24 hours a day since our aborted escape attempt. You remember, the one where Daniel got hurt and Shyla took him away and healed him in the sarcophagus. Fed him. Gave him nice clothes and a bed to sleep in.
He’s up there, living in the penthouse with the boss's daughter while we’re down here dying inch by inch.
He says he’s working on getting us out of here. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with him, but it seems to be a definite case of out of sight is out of mind.
Don't think about it now, Jack, you'll get mad and then you'll never get to sleep.
Too late.
Can't sleep.
Think of something else.
Like a way out of here.
There was no way around it.
We had to make another escape attempt.
“Teal’c? You awake?” I whispered.
“That question makes no sense, O’Neill. If I answer I must be awake.”
Good, at least *his* brain is still working. “Okay, okay. We have to get out of here.”
“That is an obvious conclusion, O’Neill. We are all in failing health.”
“Right. So tomorrow morning, when we go for ‘breakfast’ and I use that word lightly, I’ll create a disturbance and you make a break. Get into the tunnels and hide, make your way to the gate. We’ll hang out here until you can bring help.”
“That is an uninspiring plan, O’Neill,” Teal’c whispered.
“It’s the best I can do under these uninspiring circumstances, big guy,” I answer tiredly.
“How shall you cause this diversion?”
“I’ll be up at the front of the food line and start an argument with one of the other miners. Just be sure you’re at the back of the line. Rabbit when things get hot.”
“Rabbit? What does a long eared marsupial creature have to do with escaping enslavement?”
“Rabbit means run, Teal’c. Rabbits are fast.”
“Rabbits do not run, O’Neill. They hop.”
“Alright, run, hop, skip, jump. Snap crackle or pop, but get the hell out of here, any way you can.”
“I have grave doubts that your plan will be effective, O’Neill.”
I sighed. “So do I, Teal’c, but I haven’t got any other options. Do you?”
“No.”
The bad news was, Teal’c was right.
~~~~~~~~~
In the, and I use the term loosely, ‘food’ line the next morning, I pushed my way toward the front of the queue, behind a big, dirty, smelly (okay, so we were all dirty and smelly, though some of us not so big) guy who reminded me of a Bigfoot, with just slightly less hair. Checking that Teal’c was behind me in line, I shoved Bigfoot. “Out of my way!” I demanded, loudly.
He didn’t like the demand, or the loudness, or maybe just me. He shoved back.
Oh, I knew I was going to regret this, but I did it anyway. I took a big, looping swing at him.
He took offense, and swung back, knocking me into the guy behind me, who pushed me. I bounced off Bigfoot’s smaller footed friend, and suddenly the whole line dissolved into a shouting, shoving melee.
The guards waded in to restore order, poking and prodding with their staff weapons. I took a pretty good thump in the ribs as the guards cleared their way down to Bigfoot and me at the bottom of the pile.
“I should have known it would be you,” spat the guard, my old friend Thumper, yanking me to my feet.
I was a little dizzy from the blows and the exertion, and only his hand gripping my shoulder was keeping me upright.
“Just an innocent bystander,” I mumbled past my cut lip, spitting blood.
“He started it!” said the man who’d been behind me, and another and another agreed.
The guard shook me, rattling my teeth. “You’ll pay for th…”
“Hey, we’re one short! His friend, the big guy with the tattoo!” shouted a guard.
Thumper shoved me against the wall, pinning me with his staff. “Where’s your friend?”
“I don’t know. I was here, remember. He said so,” I pointed at the stoolie.
The guard clubbed me in the ribs with his fist. The air driven from my lungs, I slumped to my knees, blackness swirling across my vision. He grabbed my wrists, snapping a set of chains in place around them, dragging me roughly down the hall in angry jerks as I stumbled, hampered by the ankle chains and still gasping ineffectually for air. Every time I faltered, he’d jerk harder, ripping another layer of skin off my wrists until I could feel the blood running warm and slippery down my arms as the rough metal grated against my skin.
Oh, this was so not turning out to be a good day.
He dragged me along to the guard station, pulling my wrists way high above my head, hooking the chains in place on a ring set firmly into the wall. “We’ll be back for you,” he promised.
I twisted around to see where he was going. “Hey! You! You can’t leave me here like th…ooof.”
His fist buried itself into my lower back, once, twice and then one more time for good measure.
My guard buddy walked away, quite unconcerned that my empty stomach was trying to heave up that breakfast I’d never gotten to eat.
~~~~~~~~
Ever been left tied with your hands stretched high above your head? From personal experience, I’d advise against it. Might not sound so bad, might not even feel so bad for the first, um, ten minutes or so. After that it gets uncomfortable, and then migrates right straight on to amazingly painful. If they leave you there long enough, agonizing is the term that best comes to mind, quickly followed by excruciating.
Then try it when you’ve just gotten the snot kicked out of you. My arms and shoulders quickly began to ache, my legs too, my sore knee throbbing in protest with every minute I stood. To keep the chains from rubbing against my already bloody wrists, I had to constantly strain upward, and that didn't help my aching ribs any, either.
Damn. This better be worth it, I prayed silently. Go Teal’c.
The hours wore on. I swayed with weariness, hunger and thirst. More than once my weary legs buckled, sending my weight crashing against my damaged wrists, but somehow I struggled back upright, locking my knees and bracing myself as best as I could against the wall.
I don’t know how long they left me there before I finally heard footsteps approaching. ‘Please let it be Daniel,’ I prayed silently.
It wasn’t, of course. It was a guard, with Teal’c in tow.
“Slow rabbit, I guess,” I nodded weakly at my teammate.
They took three links out of the chains holding my ankles, making it harder to walk. Did the same to Teal’c and to Carter, too. “Try to escape again, and we’ll break her legs,” spat the guard who finally unfastened my lead weighted arms from the hook high on the wall. "She doesn't have to walk to be useful down here," he smirked. “Now get out of here and get to work. You have a quota to meet. If you don’t, no food for any of you tonight,” he snapped, before escorting us back to our work area.
We didn’t meet our quota, of course, didn’t get to eat the slop this place called food. Sure, it was tasteless, gritty, nasty stuff, but it kept us alive, or would, if we got any.
~~~~~~~
That night I lay again on the hard stone, and knew I had to find some other way to get us out of here.
I had to talk to Daniel, and soon. Our escape attempt had done nothing but make things worse for us. We were being watched more closely and our chains were more restrictive. They left my wrist chains on all the time now, too. Hard to work that way, as if it wasn’t hard enough already. My wrists were cut, bloodied and raw, and soon to be infected. I’d seen what open wounds exposed to naquadah ore dust looked like: weeping, oozing, festering hideous things.
The captain was fading fast, babbling and incoherent half the time, dazed with exhaustion the rest of it.
Teal’c, well, I’d never have believed it, but he looked exhausted.
Time for Plan B.
You know I always hate Plan B, don’t you?
Kardis was the man in this place, every prison had one, the man with the connections, the man who made bargains. I considered what we had to trade. They’d taken everything we had, leaving us nothing but our clothes. They’d take Carter in a heartbeat, but *that* was only going to happen over my dead body. Bad choice of words, Jack, I chastized myself, that would be exactly what happened if I didn’t get us out of here.
As I lay there, trying to rest despite the multitude of aches, I watched one of the other laborers walk across the floor. Watching him go, I realized what it was I had to trade.
I looked down at my feet, at the heavy duty military issue boots I wore. I’d had to fight to keep them the first night. They were highly prized footwear, not just because they were tough and still strong, but because the over the ankle leather protected the wearer from the rough metal of the ankle chains.
I sighed.
This was so not going to be fun.
In the end, I had to trade Kardis both my own boots and Teal’c’s boots, too, for an interview with Princess Shyla’s consort. He'd probably have demanded Carter's too, if he'd thought there was anyone else in the place who could fit into them. In return, we got Kardis’ old, thin soled, nearly worn through, often mended clunky workshoes.
~~~~~~~~
We worked our full shift, and then the guards had to all but carry me up to the palace. I missed supper again, of course. That was three meals out of the last four I’d gone without, and I was getting a little lightheaded.
Finally arriving in Daniel's exalted presence, my buddy the knee basher knocked me one more time to the floor. I didn’t even have the energy left to make a smart remark or try to get back on my feet. I just knelt there, in a heap, too exhausted to do anything but gather my thoughts, hoping I could find some way to reach Jackson.
Daniel looked clean and well fed. Daniel also looked weird. Odd. Wired. Manic. My brain was fogged by the exhaustion of days and days in the mine, but even I could see something was really, really wrong with him. At my best, I’m not too good at diplomatic persuasion, and I’ll admit, I was a little upset so I wasn’t exactly at the top of my game. Jackson wasn’t either, so I guess that made us equal. Besides, I was desperate. If this didn’t work, there wouldn’t be another chance. We had nothing left to trade, at least, nothing left we were willing to trade, and the truth was, time was running out for all of us.
One more long, endless, achingly sleepless night, but at least this time I had some hope. He’d promised us we were going home.
~~~~~~~~~
At dawn, the guards came for us, not to take us back to work, but to take us home.
Everyone tried to make nice. They took off the chains and returned our gear, hell, they even took our boots back from Kardis.
I was the soul of discretion. I didn’t strangle Shyla and I didn’t choke Daniel. Not that I didn’t want to, I think I was just plain too tired to do either.
~~~~~~~
Home at last, I strolled past a stunned General Hammond. Walked right on past the infirmary and straight to the locker room. Hell, I even managed to sneak in that heavenly shower before Doc sent security to drag me back to the infirmary, so I felt at least part way human again. Personally, I think that I got that shower because she took pity on me, or maybe, it was self defense on her own part. I mean, we weren’t exactly smelling like roses after umpteen days in that place. Even after using half a bar of soap and running the water as hot as I could stand it, I didn’t feel clean.
It was going to take a long time to feel clean again.
Places like that are dirty in more ways than one.
Doc finished checking Carter first, and finally stepped around the curtain to see to me. I was sitting slumped tiredly on an exam table, arms crossed over my chest, wearing one of those endearing backless gowns.
“How’s Carter?” I asked, before she could start on me.
“Exhausted and worn down, but I don’t think there’s any permanent damage…” and then Fraiser saw my wrists, the raw ragged inflamed flesh, and her face went white, her eyes flying up to meet mine.
I shrugged.
She took my hand gently, turning it over to look at the damaged tissue, fixing her face into that professional mask she uses when she needs to be in doctor mode. “I’ll have a nurse bring in an antiseptic solution. We’ll have to soak these before we can bandage them.” She looked down at my ankles, which weren’t nearly so bad. “There I think we can get by with some antiseptic cream and bandages.” Eyeing me appraisingly, she poked and prodded at the wide array of colorful bruises that pretty much covered nearly every inch of skin. “These look like you were in a fight, Colonel,” she said of my technicolor ribs.
“I was.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“Diversion.”
“For?”
“Teal’c to escape.”
“I take it that didn’t work.”
“No.”
“And these bruises?” She was checking my back now.
“One of the guards didn’t like me much. Punishment for starting the fight.”
She placed her stethoscope against my back, and asked me to breathe deeply.
I tried and coughed.
“Again, deep breath and hold it,” her face was tight with concentration.
I tried again, with the same result.
“Coughing a lot?”
I looked away, then nodded. “The air was pretty bad down there.”
“I imagine,” she said softly as she tapped on my back. “Dusty?”
“Yes. Among other stuff…”
Done with the stethoscope, her face grim, she asked, “Other than the obvious, how are you feeling?”
“Tired.”
“I imagine so.”
“My knee’s pretty sore, but that’s nothing new,” I added.
She nodded. “I’ve been telling you that sooner or later you’ll have to have that surgery.”
“Later.”
“I hope,” her dark eyes were full of worry as she asked me to lie back on the bed. Her hands gently probed the visibly swollen knee, then bent the joint up, then down.
“Ow.”
“Hmm,” I hate it when doctors make that noise. She twisted my knee left, then right. Even I heard the nasty crackling. I hate that sound even worse.
“Arrgghh.”
“I think we need an MRI on this knee just to be sure, Sir. We’ll get these tests and then let you rest.”
“At home, right?” I asked hopefully.
She shook her head. “Sorry, Colonel. Not yet. I need to keep you here under observation for a few days. And I’m going to get you started on IV fluids, and some antibiotics. You’ve got a touch of pneumonia, I’m worried about those wrists being infected, and you’re dehydrated, just like Sam.”
“Teal’c okay?”
Fraiser nodded. “He’ll bounce back quicker than either you or Sam, thanks to his symbiote. A bit of rest and Teal’c will be fine.”
“And Daniel?”
Doc’s eyes flickered past mine. “He seems physically okay, though a little hyper.”
“Yes, hyper’s a good word,” I answered laconically. “Almost like he’s high on something.”
“The blood tests won’t be back until the morning. Do you think…”
“Oh, I know there’s definitely something odd going on with that boy, Doc. He left us down there while he lived the highlife as Shyla’s royal consort. Almost like he forgot we were there. And entirely like he didn’t see what was happening to us.”
~~~~~
Two days of tests, bed rest, IVs-hell, even Carter got out of the infirmary long before I did. Doc is nothing if not thorough, and she made sure that I was well back toward normal before she let me out of her sight for more than just a few minutes.
And though she tried to hide it, I could see she was worried about Daniel.
Mad as I was at him, I was, too.
Rightly so, as it turned out.
---------------
You know that part of the story, how he flipped out, attacked Doc, tried to shoot me.
What a mess.
He and I spent quite a while sitting on the floor in that store room. I waved the SFs away, waved Doc away too, just sat next to Daniel and held him, letting him cry the way Charlie used to cry on my shoulder, letting him pour out all that emotion: the pain, the fear, the anger, the loss, the loneliness, the regret.
Sometimes it helps to cry, so they say.
As his friend, I was glad to be there, and I wouldn’t abandon him.
As the commander of SG-1, it was going to take me a long time to forgive him, and learn to trust him again.
That’s how I felt over the next few days. Torn between who I was and what I was.
I sat with Daniel during the worst of the withdrawal, well, the three of us took turns. I figured it might help all of us, to see that he was suffering, too. He hadn’t seen how desperate our situation was down in that mine, he hadn’t seen us falling apart. Though it had seemed like it at the time, it was now clear that he hadn’t gotten off scot free either.
I think it worked. It helped Carter to forgive him. I know Teal’c was okay about things afterward.
As for me, well, I wasn’t sure. I’m just not very forgiving.
Of course, it didn’t help that on about the third day, as I was sitting beside his bed, filling out the reams of paperwork that seem to grow like mold on my desk every time I’m away, I suddenly got a little lightheaded, a lot dizzy and without warning found myself lying on the floor.
Fraiser says I passed out. A fever of 104, pneumonia and exhaustion will do that to ya’.
It *had* seemed a little warm in there, come to think of it.
It’s much cooler down here on the floor.
~~~~~~~
“Colonel?”
People get real excited for some reason when they find you lying on the floor, especially when you can’t answer their questions, can’t open your eyes, can’t even squeeze their hand. Maybe I should have told her sooner that I wasn’t feeling so hot?
“Get him on a bed, now. He’s running a fever.”
So that’s how I ended up here, on the bunk next to Daniel.
Talk about team bonding.
Of course, we didn’t do much bonding the first few days. I was mostly unconscious, and even when I was awake, I had that oxygen mask over my face. I tried to take it off to talk, but then Doc threatened to tie me down to the bed, so I relented. Daniel wasn’t saying much yet either, which with him, means he’s feeling pretty punk.
Mostly, I spent my time trying to breathe, and sleeping.
Eventually, the fluid in my lungs started to clear up and I began to feel almost human again.
Doc sent me home for a week with strict instructions not to come anywhere near Cheyenne Mountain. She even made house calls to check up on me.
So now we’re going to go back to Shyla’s planet. That was Daniel's idea, and it was a good idea. Not that we made any friends down there in that hellhole, but I doubt any of those folks deserved to be in that mine any more than we did. Like Daniel says, we can help them, maybe help Shyla make things better for her people.
I don’t know about that. I’m not as forgiving as Daniel.
Me, I’ll never trust Shyla.
I’m not doing this for her.
I’m doing it for her people.
And mostly, I'm doing it for mine.
-----------------------------------