The fire crackled and sparked as Jack O'Neill fed another small pile of brush to it. The night air around them was silent, save for the sounds of the nocturnal animals, making their way through the woods in search of food. Jack's attuned ears easily gauged the sizes of the beasts. *Of course, just because they have a small body mass doesn't mean that they don't have fangs like butcher's knives,* he reminded himself. His gaze wandered away from their campsite and away from his sleeping companions. The full moon lit the clearing beyond the site and shone down on the gate, casting an eerie glow around it. *Tomorrow. Tomorrow we're going home. Tomorrow we're gonna dial that bastard and get through to Earth. Jesus, it's been three days. How long is it going to take them to unpack that beta gate?*
Satisfied with the amount of firewood he'd scrounged while the others slept through his watch, he sank down onto the chilled ground. The minutes crept by, almost painfully slowly. *No phones, no lights, no motorcars. Not a single luxury,* he mused. *Crap. I'm stuck in a bad ep of Gilligan's Island. If Carter starts baking coconut pies or Teal'c starts calling me 'Little Buddy' I'm gonna have to hurt someone.*
Since gating away from the crashing Asgard ship before it plummeted into the ocean they'd tried dialing home every few hours, hoping each time to see the wormhole establish. And each time they'd walked away, a little more disheartened, and a little more frustrated. Though reason and logic told them General Hammond could never have gotten the beta gate transported, unpacked, unsealed and set up in less than a day or two, they'd still had to try that first day. As night had begun to fall they'd sought food and relative shelter, settling for a hastily constructed lean-to, and piles of leaves to keep the cold ground from leeching out all body heat as they slept. Food was more of a challenge. While some of the native vegetation looked innocuous enough, even tempting, they hadn't wanted to take a chance. Instead, as morning broke, Teal'c and Jack had headed off on a brief hunting expedition. The results had been somewhat disappointing at first, as Jack had succeeded in completely blowing away a small rabbit-like creature with his assault rifle. Eventually the task had been delegated to Teal'c, whose weapon was more suited for the purpose.
That afternoon, while scouting the area, they'd been relieved to find a source of water. Though hardly more than a stream, it had provided not only drinking water, but dinner in the form of several small fish O'Neill was able to catch with a crude spear.
Three days cut off from home, cut off from news of what had happened following the crash of the Asgard ship, three days of helpless waiting were taking their toll on Jack O'Neill.
His gaze wandered over his sleeping companions; Teal'c, who had just abandoned meditation in exchange for sleep after first watch, and Carter, who seemed to retain her sense of humor, even under the current circumstances. Without the two of them, he had to admit, that Asgard ship would have either landed, infesting the Earth with replicators, or crashed with him onboard. Either way, without the two of them, he'd be dead at that moment. "Disobeying orders," he sighed softly, shaking his head as he turned his attention back to the long branch in his hand he'd been working on with his knife, sharpening the point for fishing. "Disobeying orders, after the fine example I set for you all every day."
The sounds of a barely stifled yawn and the shifting of leaves halted his muttered grumblings.
"Sir, is everything okay?" Carter asked as she sat up on her bed of leaves and fixed tired eyes on him.
"Yeah, sure you betcha, Carter. Everything's just ducky. I just put out a call to Triple-A and they're sending a tow truck. Remind me next time not to trust Teal'c to gas up the car, okay?"
Sam ran a hand through her tousled hair and pulled out a few dry leaves. "I'm sure they're doing the best they can to get us home. I'm sure they figured out why we beamed the gate aboard and are working on getting the beta gate in place as we speak."
"Unless Maybourne managed to sneak it out of there," Jack groused, voicing a speculation that had been bubbling away in the back of his mind since they'd gotten there.
Carter abandoned her bed of leaves, moving closer to the warmth of the fire. "He couldn't have. SGC personnel have been guarding it since we saw it sealed. There's just no way. It's just not possible," she said, dropping her voice.
O'Neill met her gaze and sighed in resignation. "You're probably right, Carter. I just get a little antsy when I have to sit around doing nothing." He twirled the makeshift spear in his hands, trying to push thoughts of Maybourne and his deceptions out of his mind. "What are you doing up already, anyway? You don't take watch for almost another hour yet."
"I couldn't sleep," she admitted with a hint of a smile, shrugging. "Every time I move, the bed... and I use the term loosely... rustles."
"All right, so it's no Ritz Carlton..." At the look on her face he raised an eyebrow. "Okay, okay... it's no Hilton..."
"It's not even a Motel 6, Sir."
O'Neill shrugged, feeling some of the weight of the night lifting from his mind. "Yeah, you're right, Carter. They're working on the beta gate right now, and we'll be back home in a day or two. Of course our quarters on base are gonna seem damn luxurious after this."
"I'll bet Daniel's going nuts," she laughed. "He's probably driving everyone around him crazy."
"Sometimes ya have to leave the kids home," Jack chuckled. "He wouldn't have enjoyed this place anyway. He'd be sneezing his head off out here."
Sam picked up a small handful of brush and fed the fire, stoking it back to a cheery blaze again. "My dad always wanted to take us camping when we were kids. He talked about it all the time, saying how great it would be... just us and nature. He just never managed to get around to it. It was always something."
"Your father's a pretty good guy. Or is that guys now, plural?" Jack asked as he started shaving the end of the fishing spear again.
"I think it's still just singular," Sam answered with a smile. She studied his face for a long moment. "You never talk about your family."
Jack shrugged, a studiously neutral expression on his face. "You know about Sarah and Charlie."
"No, I... I mean your parents, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles," she prodded. "Family."
"I was raised by a pack of wild poodles, Carter. You didn't know that?" O'Neill responded without hesitation.
"Oh, you were not," Sam laughed. "You know all about my family, and we know all about Daniel's family and Teal'c's. We've even met some of them. But yours we know absolutely nothing about. You're from Chicago, right?" she prompted.
He nodded. "Chicago. But that was a long time ago. Back in the days when poodles ran wild and free. Now, of course, things are different."
"Sir."
"Jeeez, Carter!" he groaned. "I know we're marooned here for the time being. I know we don't have a TV or anything, but do we really need to all sit around, sharing and stuff?" He shot his second in command a look he hoped appeared more humorous than he felt, and set down the spear he'd been carving. "If you're not gonna sleep, then I am. Rustling beds don't bother me."
Carter's expression turned apologetic, but she didn't pursue the subject. She simply nodded and moved closer to the fire. "Good night, Colonel. We're probably going home tomorrow, you know."
"I know, Carter. Good night."
FIN
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