samandjack.net

Story Notes: FEEDBACK: Yes please! Feeeeeeeeeeedbaaaaaaaaack...drool...

SPOILERS: Set before D&C.


There was nothing she could do.

She looked around again, desperately flinging her head from one side to the other but there was no-one there, no safe haven, no gate to get home. She couldn't even reach her pack with the medkit, it was too far away. It lay across the clearing, but she knew if she lifted her hands...Before she could finish that thought a horrible choking sob drew her eyes downward, and Sam Carter had to blink back tears to see the face of the man she knelt beside. Colonel O'Neill lay on his back in the wispy straggling grass as she desperately tried to keep his guts inside his body.

It was a battle she was losing.

She pressed down on him, one hand lightly holding the wet coils of his intestines in his abdominal cavity, the other pressing down hard on his chest, trying to stem the flow of blood. It wasn't working. She could already feel the wetness seeping into the knees of her fatigues, see him slipping away in front of her very eyes. It had all happened so fast. She couldn't even remember where she was, or why, only that he'd been shot, he was hurt, and she had to save him, she just had to. He was still conscious, but his eyes were glazed now, staring somewhere over her shoulder, his hands bunched into ugly claws, arms drawn tight into his body with the pain.

She called again, shouted, screamed, begging someone, anyone to help her...help him...but no-one came. Somehow she knew there was no-one there to come to his aid, no-one but her, and she couldn't help him. She looked down at his face again, surprised to see moisture there, until she realised it was her own tears falling on his deathly pale skin. He choked again then, and as frothy red bubbles erupted from his mouth she knew he was choking on his own blood, she knew there was nothing she could do.

He was dying, in her arms.

His life was slipping away through her fingers, and she couldn't save him. His hand suddenly clutched hers as he convulsed, unable to draw breath in his sodden lungs. His eyes were wide, frightened, and as she leaned in to whisper to him, to comfort him, encourage him to let go. She was going to tell him...tell him finally how deep her feeling were, when she felt a pull on her shoulders, pulling her away. She struggled, tried to get away, tried to get back to him, to tell him, tell him, but the clearing faded, and she was pulled into darkness, and all she could see with stinging tears blurring her eyes were the shiny gold oak leaves that were suddenly there on her shoulder, reminding her, forbidding her, and he was gone.

**************************************

They had to run. They had to run faster, make more ground, make for the gate.

His lungs were on fire as he pushed himself to his limit, his legs burning with the accretion of lactic acid, but he couldn't catch his team-mates and fellow airmen no matter how much he tried. His chest was heaving, throat sore with the rushing air, eyes bulging, but still they were slipping away in front...slipping away. Colonel Jack O'Neill started up the long bare slope to the gate, and he could see the wormhole whoosh open, people starting to run through.

He gritted his teeth and leaned forward, lending his weight to his stride, begging with all his will that they would wait...that they would wait for them. Them?...that's right...them...Carter was behind him somewhere...where was she? He slacked on his headlong rush slightly to look behind, and just emerging from the trees was Carter. She practically flew out of the cover, racing towards him, eyes full of terror, FNP-90 banging against her side as it hung, abandoned in her flight. He yelled at her, swinging his arm to encourage her as he continued on up the hill, but she simply ducked her head and pushed forward, seemingly not seeing or hearing him at all.

He tried to focus on the gate, drive himself towards it, ignoring the searing pain of a stitch in his side but he couldn't stop looking back, checking on her progress, pleading with any God to let her catch up, let her make it home. All too suddenly he crested the hill, and finds there's nobody there. The gate is still open, but the event horizon fluctuates wildly, and he slows his pace, waiting for her, for Carter.

He lets his pace flag, his feet taking a few strides to slow to a walk, then finally comes to a stop in front of the gate, thrusting the muzzle of his FNP-90 into the iridescent blue in what he somehow knows is a futile attempt to keep the gate open till she appears.

He stands on his toes, trying desperately to see down the slope, to track her progress, and he yells her name again and again with no reply. He stretches away from the gate as far as he can with the gun still just breaking the watery pool, straining to see, when finally her blond hair appears over the edge, now about fifty metres away. He knows it makes no sense for her to suddenly be so very far away when she's moving so fast, but then he sees something else that makes his blood run cold. Behind her, in the trees, he sees movement.

A thousand shifting black shapes emerge from the wood, never coalescing enough to make out their form, but their speed and direction are unmistakable. They are heading for Carter. Seeing this O'Neill panics, yelling at the top of his lungs and signalling wildly. He tugs briefly on his gun but somehow the wormhole holds it fast. Carter starts to slow, her legs starting to fail her, and then she hears it, hears the terrible keening and moaning from behind, and her eyes widen in terror. She doesn't look back, not for a second, instead she lowers her head and pushes for the gate.

She's not going to make it.

Her legs are weak, her bolt shot, and though her adrenalin surges, she has nothing left to respond to it. She's not going to make it. O'Neill sees it, feels it, and as the seething shadows close in on her, almost on her heels, he decides to abandon his safety and tries to pull his gun free, to go to her...only...only his gun won't come free. Suddenly he feels himself pulled backward, feels the cold wormhole sucking at him. He struggles in its grasp, tries desperately to pull away, shouting Carter's name as one shadow catches her heel, and she falls. He screams and yells and struggles, his throat burning with the effort, his shoulder almost pulled out of its socket as he tries to desperately to get to her.

She lands awkwardly, and is suddenly engulfed, though she never screams. The black mass converges on her, winds around her legs then starts to drag her backward, back towards the trees, back where they came from. The Colonel screams again and again, and then at the last moment, before she disappears into the dark trees she looks up, tears in her eyes. He knows he's going to lose her, knows she'll be left here, left to die while he survives...without her. Words bubble in his throat, words he has to tell her, has to tell her, tell her how he feels, how he's always felt, but suddenly his mouth is covered, his words forbidden, and he feels the cool wormhole surround him as he tips backwards, into oblivion. The last thing he sees is a fierce silver eagle on his shoulder, the dark eyes making him seal his mouth against his will.

**************************************

Everyone was dead, or dying.

Daniel knew this without a shred of doubt. Somehow...he just knew.

The SGC was full of bodies, full of those already gone and those soon to follow. Disease, gun-shots, zat blasts, the causes were many, the outcomes the same. Everyone was gone, except for him. He wasn't sure how he'd done it, how he'd survived against the incredibly heavy odds, but he had.

He almost wished he hadn't.

The alarms were blaring, lights flashing, but no-one stalked the empty corridors except himself. The enemy, whoever they were, were gone, or hiding. He couldn't remember a single thing about the battle, if there had in fact been one, but he knew it wasn't over. They were coming back, regrouping, and he had to get away. He swiped his card at the gateroom entrance, and the door sluggishly pulled open. Smoke poured out from the ruined room within, but thankfully as he stepped in he could see the gate still stood. The DHD stood off to one side, also apparently unharmed, and though something didn't seem quite right about it being there, he walked over to it, stepping over dead airman as he went.

The alarms in the gateroom had long ago been destroyed, so the room now stood silent as Daniel stood contemplating the DHD. As he stood there, hand over the symbols, he slowly realised that he had nowhere to go. This battle had been fought on several fronts, and on screen and through other communications he had watched as one by one, the Tok'ra, the Tollan and the last inhabitants of Abydos fell to the terrible unknown enemy. None of the other races they'd contacted had replied at all, and it seemed to Daniel at that moment as if he were the only man alive.

His hand hovered above the symbols, and he slowly turned around to take a last long look at the gateroom. He knew instinctively everyone was dead, although he hadn't found every corpse. He'd seen General Hammond in his office, looking as though he were merely asleep, and Janet had defended her infirmary to the last. As he descended to this lowest level he'd passed an armoury, and within he'd seen Jack, lying on his side facing away, and the blood covering the back of his head told him all he needed to know without going in to check. He was dead. Beyond him lay the vast bulk of Teal'c, zat still clutched in his hand, eyes wide, and a swatch of blond hair showed behind his leg. Sam too. They were all dead.

He quickly punched in some random symbols, and was barely able to summon any surprise when the gate opened. He didn't look back, he simply left.

On the other side lay a small, quiet planet, covered in scrub and stunted trees. Daniel found himself shelter in a small infolding of rock, and there he sat while the rain came down. There were no paths from the gate, no signs of civilisation, and Daniel did not think he would ever find any. He'd been alone all his life and he was even more alone now. No Share, no SG-1, just him.

He was alone again.

And now...now he was alone forever...

*************************************

He wanted to squeeze his eyes shut, wanted to force this truth away, but he could not.

Teal'c pulled his hand from his face, feeling his grey beard as his hand slipped down. He could feel the age in his bones, feel the weight of his years, and when he looked up he saw something which turned his blood cold. He had failed.

Above him he saw the proud and full grown face of his son, his Rya'c. He had grown tall, and strong, and though horrified at what he saw before him, Teal'c could not deny the man his son had become. But he had become a man who served a false God, and the pain in Teal'c's heart was almost too much to bear.

His son was smiling, grinning, as he stood there in his resplendent gold armour, son of a son of a first prime. The new First prime of Apophis. Teal'c was tired, tired and old, and as his son brought the end of his staff weapon level with his heaving chest, Teal'c knew it would not be the blast that killed him, he would be dead inside long before his son pulled the trigger. His failure would kill him. His failure to love his son enough, show him what was right, protect him from Apophis.

Speaking of the very devil himself Apophis strode through the open door, his slow smile as he saw his primes captive piercing Teal'c to the very soul. Apophis stepped up, and ever so slowly draped an arm across the shoulders of Rya'c. The both looked at each other, and laughed, and Rya'c slowly pulled the trigger of the staff weapon aimed square at his father's chest.

But Teal'c was already dead inside.

***********************************

Pandemonium was the only way General Hammond could think to describe the scene in the base when he woke from his nightmare. He had come to like the others, slowly, eyes blurred with confused tears. He'd quickly pulled himself off his desk and ran down to the control room, to find his personnel reacting in exactly the same way. The technicians at their consoles were either lying on their keyboards, or slumped in their chairs. Others were huddled in corners, the only one standing was Colonel O'Neill. He stood in the centre of the room, one hand outstretched, one clamped to his chest, tears streaming down his face as he mouthed without sound. He snapped his head around suddenly, then his body jerked upright, his hand swiping at his eyes.

"General? What the hell just...what?..."

"I...I don't know son...the gate...you opened the gate..." The General could only shake his head. All he knew was the gate had opened, and then he had.then he had.seen things in his head he never, ever wanted to see, and it appeared they had all suffered the same fate.

The Colonel nodded, stumbling forward to shake a technician, appearing calm, but his voice breaking on his words.

"Hoffman...what was it?...do you know?..."

The technician sobbed suddenly, lurching in seat, before regaining some composure and stabbing at buttons, calling up numbers and readings.

"Sirs we...we opened the gate to 576 and...something...something came through. It was a standard...Uh...We were about to send the probe when some kind of energy came through. We didn't even have time to work out what it was before...before it..."

Another sob and he slid down in his chair, and the Colonel patted his shoulder, failing to comfort the man when he was trembling to his core himself.

"General...I...it seemed to...to..."

"To make us see our worst nightmares" said the General softly, knowing he was right.

They all knew.

*************************************

It had been barely an hour since the...incident...and things were still unsettled in the base, emotions still running high. Most people had a handle on themselves by now, but every so often there would be a sob, and people would run to comfort the individual still locked in a nightmare personally tailored for him or her. The General could see the tremendous effect this...event had had on his personnel, so at the first opportunity he'd called all personnel to the briefing room. There were not a lot of staff in at this time, but those that were here seemed to gravitate naturally to the hub of the base, seeking answers, and comfort. Those who were terrified and alone heard his summons, and they came.

He had busied himself with ferrying people in, trying not to think of the vision, the dream, the nightmare he had had while under control of...whatever it was. He tried desperately to focus his eyes on something, anything, and not think of the dead stares of his two granddaughters. He would not think of it. Slowly the room had filled with people, and though some staff tried to comfort others, each had his own personal nightmare to work through, to survive. The medical staff came in in a group, Doctor Frasier hugging one uninjured arm, starting at the slightest touch, seemingly afraid of being hit. Another male nurse would not uncover his ears, not willing to hear again something he must have lived through God knows how many times. Every time the General saw someone else suffer he had to squeeze his eyes shut tight and refuse to see the small, broken bodies of his granddaughters, lying so very still. Too still.

As if by mutual consent no-one spoke of their nightmare, their experience caused by the...by whatever signal that was received from through the gate. Most people however seemed to have been affected by some imagined personal tragedy, some calling for family members, begging to be allowed home. After the incident Hammond had sealed the base, requesting everyone stay until they were sure the threat had gone, but had quickly gave permission for each person to make a phonecall home. Some cried on the phone, many uttered words of love, and one airman who Hammond knew was having marital problems made up with his apologetic wife as he stood trembling, hugging the phone in the corner, creating for them another chance. Most people took up the offer of a phonecall, to hear the voices of those feared and imagined dead, but a few declined that offer, most notably, three members of SG-1.

Teal'c requested that he be allowed to visit his son, but Hammond could only permit him to pen a note and send it through the gate, telling his son in the land of light only to reply by note which he quickly did. Daniel seemed content merely to sit close by Teal'c and O'Neill, drawing comfort from them, from being in company, but the Colonel himself could not stay in one place for more than a second at a time, only appearing focused whenever new people found their way to the briefing room. O'Neill had been jittery since he came to, and the General was eventually given a clue as to his nightmare.

While people settled on chairs around the table and on the extra seating brought in, O'Neill continued to bounce around the room wringing his hands, refusing to settle or even share a word with the General. Hammond was concerned, but when the last group of stragglers from sublevel 6 arrived, all his questions, and perhaps fears, were answered. The small group of weeping scientists entered, ushered in by Major Carter. They slowly filtered in, but they didn't seem to be moving fast enough for her, and she struggled to enter the room, weaving between people, peering over their heads, searching for something. On the other side of the room, the wary O'Neill had suddenly sprung to life, and was pushing past seated people, craning his neck over the crowd to study those entering.

While others went to aid the newcomers, offer sympathetic looks, Hammond had his eyes firmly on O'Neill as he pushed his way almost aggressively through the crowd. He seemed desperate, eyes wide with fear, panting hard, and the General almost stepped over to try and calm him, reassure him, offer him a phonecall, but the person he was so desperate to see, to see they were okay, had just stepped into an opening, and stood staring at him across the table in exactly the same fashion.

Colonel O'Neill and Major Carter stood looking at each other across a crowded room, aware of nothing else, and no-one but the General aware of them. Their chests heaved, their eyes blinked rapidly and raked the other, making absolutely sure that they were there, that they were alive. Both stood ramrod straight, and General Hammond had never been exposed to a more tangible yearning in his life. He could almost swear that if he reached out his hands he would feel it in the air, coursing between them. Hands trembled uncontrollably as they forced themselves not to run into each others arms, comfort themselves and each other with touch, prove to themselves that their own personal worst nightmare had not come true. Not yet anyway. Still he watched them, unsure whether to interfere or not, but after a few seconds O'Neill nodded to himself, and they both carefully turned away, and joined separate groups on either side of the table. If the General had ever doubted their strength and commitment to their cause, it was not today.

It was strange to him to see those two officers deliberately stay apart, especially in such a situation. He quickly took command of the room and called a briefing, everyone desperate for some answers.

After a lot of analysis and theories, Major Carter surmised that the transmission received must have been some kind of automated signal sent from the planet to warn or dissuade visitors, and Hammond immediately had the address removed from the base computers. It was also the consensus that with the gate being closed so quickly, that they had in fact only received a small fraction of the signal that was sent. O'Neill had a few choice cross words to say to that, and for once no-one thought he had gone too far or overreacted. Pale and teary faces said it all.

Finally people settled for a night of fitful sleep, huddled in the briefing room under emergency blankets, seeing the night through together, getting some comfort from that until the nightmare, and the memories, faded. They huddled against the walls, shoulder to shoulder. Hammond roused himself and went to his office, mind racing as he settled at his desk to start the burden of writing up a report on this one. Anything to fill the time, occupy his mind. He filled in the main details, added Carter's theories on why, and how, ticked boxes and added a few choice comments of what exactly had happened. Hands shaking he'd had to stop half way through and take a long, long look at the photos of his two young granddaughters. He forced himself to remember hearing their sleepy voices a mere half hour ago, when he'd persuaded his daughter to wake them and bring them to the phone. Hearing the note in his voice she'd complied, and he knew that a few more children in the area had been woken from their pleasant dreams tonight to talk to parents who in a strange twist of fate needed their nightmarish fears assuaged by their children.

Bolstered by their happy faces he took a deep breath and continued. Doctor Frasier had battled her own horrible thoughts aside to be able to examine everyone, and after a barrage of tests recommended that they all stayed here tonight, but assured all that the brunt of the shock and fear would dissipate by the next day, when they could return home to their loved ones. Hammond paused as he remembered how almost everyone's nightmare involved losing a dear loved one or family, and how seeing this in their own heads had prompted them to say things, assure others of feelings that perhaps they had neglected. Hammond shook his head. Was he actually thinking that this whole horrible situation had an upside? Well if it helped to save Airman MacRae's marriage then is couldn't be all bad could it? Some people found it hard to tell those around then how much they were valued, how much they were loved, and others...

Others simply weren't allowed to.

A deep soulful sigh poured forth from General Hammond as he glanced up out of his office window, eyes resting on two officers who were huddled under blankets in opposite corners, sneaking terrified glances at each other every few seconds, just checking, just making absolutely sure that their loved ones were okay.

Yes.

Loved ones.

Hammond had always really known the truth about his best two officers, but he had never been forced to see it so clearly, never seen how the potential loss of one could affect the other. Yes loses happen in the military, but most of the nightmares had involved family, and those few nightmares he'd heard the details of were not childish horror, they were all too real, all too possible. They could happen, and that was what was most terrifying of all. He'd been given a chance though, they all had, to make sure the people that mattered in their life knew just how much they were cherished. They had all awoken jarred, afraid, changed, with an uncontrollable urge to do just that. Only...only two people out there couldn't, just because of the insignia they wore so proudly. Oak leaves and Eagles. It was all that held them apart.

Hammond simultaneously silently praised their strength of will and apologised for putting them both in this position. If anything, after all they'd been through, all they'd endured, they at least deserved to tell the other how much they were needed, loved even, but...they couldn't.

They just couldn't.

Hammond sat for a moment, watching his soldiers fight and win an internal battle most were unprepared for, a battle that was cruellest for two of his best. They would win and come through, of that he had no doubt, they all would, he just wished he could make it easier for the Colonel and the Major. Make times like this bearable by allowing them to lean on and draw from the other. They deserved it, didn't they?

Didn't they?

And so he sat, and he thought, and finally he came to a decision. It might not work, it might cause him more trouble than he needed, but it was the least he could do to try. He felt like a father to both of them, and any good father only wanted his children to be happy. It was both as simple, and as incredibly complicated, as that.

Hammond turned the page on his report, and moved down to the 'Recommendations' section. He already had a few comments there, about gate procedure that Carter had put forward, but taking up a pen he started a new paragraph, glad of the full page and a half of space he had left. He paused only to open a drawer in his desk, placing a copy of the SGC Regulations by his side, ready for reference as he touched pen to paper, and started to write.

Outside in the briefing room, two people whose only possible comfort could be each other, waited for permission to seek it.

**************************************
THE END
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