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“Hey – you with me?”
The darkness was comforting. Quiet. Daniel frowned, turning away from the persistent voice.
“C’mon. Wake up and smell the coffee.”
Hmmm. He curled one hand beneath his cheek, cushioning it from the stony ground. Coffee.
“He should eat something, sir.”
“Yeah, Carter, and he could really use a bath but we can’t have everything.”
A bath. That would be nice. Daniel sighed and curled up tighter. Warm soapy water, dim lighting, a stack of journals next to the tub, and a glass of Pinot Noir …
Something touched his face, tried to turn him towards the light. He slapped at it – grunting.
“That’s it. Open those eyes, Unas Boy.”
Unas Boy? Jack’s monikers were sure going downhill. Rock Boy. Plant Boy. Space Monkey. Grave robber. Okay, but Unas Boy?
Thick scales. A clawed hand reaching for him. Talons digging into his skin. Snatching him from the ground. Imprisoning him close – too close. The symbiote’s wet flesh ground against his cheek, leaving a smear of neon blue blood. Cha’aka. Daniel’s eyelids fluttered.
A grunted sigh – hot breath on his cheek – Daniel snapped awake, eyes wide, body jerking away, up on one elbow.
A silver-topped figure reared backwards, pale features and shadowed eyes blurring in the dark/no glasses/exhaustion/fear that slammed Daniel’s heart into extra beats.
“Whoa, there!”
A firm hand clamped down hard on one shoulder.
“Carter’s coffee is good, but nothing to get so riled up about.”
“Jack?” Red and yellow flames licked at the night air to his left, snapping and crackling. Beyond Jack’s crouch, Sam’s blonde hair gleamed, glowing with reflected moonlight, her soft, sympathetic eyes turning his way.
“Who else?” The hand squeezed once as if it could drag Daniel back to the world from his comforting/terrifying/confusing dream. “You feel like you could eat something?”
Clearing his throat, Daniel frowned, trying to slice through the fog in his mind and the thick clog lodged behind his tonsils. He coughed and tried a smile. “It’s not roasted symbiote, is it?”
The way his teammates froze, eyes suddenly turned from caring/concerned to wary/suspicious brought Daniel’s simmering guilt boiling up to the surface. “Sorry – the Unas’ idea of healthy eating is not exactly vegan.”
“They eat symbiotes?” Sam shuffled closer and held out a battered cup.
Daniel shifted his weight to accept it, trying not to let the trembling in his limbs splash out a single drop of its heavenly content. “Thanks,” he breathed gratefully.
“Daniel?”
Face buried in the steam, Daniel didn’t look up at Jack’s prompting, focused completely on sucking every drop of liquid gold from the too shallow cup.
“Daniel.”
“Huh?” He blinked up into his friend’s concerned/patient/amused/impatient eyes.
“Not quite hitting on all cylinders, are we?”
“I’m not?” Daniel held the cup back out to Sam, eyes pleading. He’d beg – he’d be perfectly willing to beg if she wanted. “More?”
“Symbiotes, Danny. Tell us about the symbiotes.”
Danny. Much better than Unas Boy. A tiny ember of relief grew warm in Daniel’s gut. And then he shifted his gaze from the still outstretched, still empty cup in his hand – giving it an extra wiggle just to remind everyone of its sad emptiness - to Jack’s cold eyes and that little ember fizzled to an ashy grey.
“Um – there are symbiotes. In the lake. Robert and I thought …” Daniel frowned. “Is Robert –" He shifted as if to stand, to look around, to try to stir his unruly thoughts into a configuration that made sense. “Where’s Robert, anyway?” Sarcastic/annoying/self-important Robert Rothman was also loyal to a fault.
“Hold on there.” The hand was heavy on Daniel’s shoulder again. “Let’s just take a minute, Daniel. Can you help us out here? We need to know about the symbiotes.”
Shuffle. Click. Claws against stone. Shadows behind Jack and Sam, beyond the campfire.
“Where the hell are we?” Daniel lurched to sit upright, dropping his arms to his side. He knew he was confused. Sleepless. Hungry. Running out of adrenaline. His mind was as congested as his chest. His thoughts kept jamming together as if huddling for warmth. Even his blinking was slow and deliberate.
A dry breeze brushed against his skin as he raised his head. The moon – moons - and stars were bright – wisps of clouds barely obscuring them – as if they were but an arm’s-length away. No branches swayed against the horizon, none of the thick-leaved plants or tall grasses that had whipped at him on his forced march rustled. The clearing where the three crouched was bound by staggered rocks, flat and low, placed against the pebbled ground in curves and coils that could not have been natural.
Jack didn’t let go, but he did glance around, taking in the outer darkness that seemed to ripple and curdle just outside the light of the fire. “Teal’c found this knoll – more like a rock-shelf. Seems to be made of a bunch of these thick, flat stones piled up on bare soil. Almost like walking up a Giant’s Stair to get here, and, believe me, hauling your sorry – unconscious - butt all the way up wasn’t exactly the ‘rescue mission’ Teal’c and I were planning on.” His thin smile took the sting out of the words. “It’s safe, Daniel. No symbiotes are going to be able to crawl their way up here. But Teal’c’s on patrol just to make sure-”
Daniel leaped/stumbled/wobbled to his feet, his gaze flitting quickly around the oh-so-obviously man-made hillock. Not man-made. Not with those huge square boulders heaped up against each other. Unas-made.
“Jack, we should leave. Go.”
His friend stood at his side, one hand steady against Daniel’s back. “Yeah, because you look like you could make it the 20 miles back to the stargate. Hell, if I step back, we’re going to have to try to pry your face from the scenery where you’re about to be planted.” Jack demonstrated his words with quick timber/flail/’oh no!’ gestures of hands and face.
“Funny. But, no, Jack, you don’t understand –"
“-I so rarely do these days -”
Fear/frustration/annoyance tried to shove the last few ounces of adrenaline through Daniel’s overtaxed system. “Jack, it’s not the symbiotes you should be worried about – it’s the –"
Gravel. Stone. Shifted weight in the silent dark. Daniel’s hand went to his holster – empty holster. Empty knife sheath. Empty hands curled into fists. Jack moved in closer as if to intercept his movements.
“T?”
“It is I, O’Neill.”
More relief. And dizziness. It was Daniel’s turn to grab onto Jack to hold himself in place as his large teammate became visible at the edge of the light. “Good. That’s … good,” Daniel managed as he rode the waves of fatigue/giddiness/gravity to the ground much too quickly for his battered body’s liking. “Ouch.”
Jack had followed him down. “What don’t I understand this time? About the symbiotes?”
Daniel – carefully and slowly - shook his head. “You’ve got symbiotes on the brain, Jack. What I was trying to tell you is that this is not a naturally –"
“ … as long as you don’t …”
“– occurring geographic feature … err… what?” More blinking. More confusion.
Jack’s mouth was drawn into a thin line, his features sharpened into weapons. “Daniel. There are symbiotes here. Some of our people were taken by them. Are you getting this, yet?”
Oh. Oh. “I’m not a Goa’uld, Jack.”
“Uh huh.”
Three sets of eyes. Three hard stares. Blue and brown and brown. “Okay,” Daniel mentally reversed gears, “let me put this another way. There aren’t really any Goa’uld here.” No egos. No ruthless brilliance. Animals. Predators that hide within whatever being gets too close.
“You just said that.”
“No, Jack.” Daniel huffed a frustrated breath. “I mean, on this planet. There aren’t any Goa’uld on this planet. Well,” he pointed awkwardly towards Teal’c’s looming presence, “except for Junior.”
Sam had taken Daniel’s empty cup – finally! – and a step back towards the fire before she turned. Tilting her head in that particular thoughtful/curious/brilliant way of hers, she spoke. “Are you saying that these symbiotes aren’t Goa’uld, Daniel?”
“Well, we know that that’s not true.” Jack settled his weight, no longer touching or supporting Daniel; now his arms were folded across the weapon so suddenly – startlingly - apparent on his chest.
“We – we do? How?” Daniel managed to drag his eyes from Jack’s very capable grip on his P90.
“Because,” Teal’c stepped closer, but kept his eyes trained on the darkness, “before we were forced to defend ourselves against them, both Major Hawkins and Robert Rothman’s eyes glowed just as all Goa’uld's eyes glow.”
“That’s interesting.” Daniel’s mind was playing leap-frog, bouncing between no naquadah/no genetic memory/no sign of Goa’uld interference and firmly away from defend ourselves/Major Hawkins/Robert. Robert. Damn.
“'Interesting’? Nice way to put it.” Jack’s right hand was on the weapon’s grip now.
Somehow, all of sudden, Teal’c was right there, his hand swamping Jack’s shoulder. “O’Neill. I came to this world in hopes of saving our teammate, our friend, not in order to lose him once more.”
Daniel felt his eyebrows rising. As if the two over-balanced him, he fell backwards against a large rock, all of his words, all of his arguments to try to convince them, to make them see, disintegrating. The scrape/shuffle/crawl of gravel and rock barely registered, but Teal’c was instantly on guard, staff weapon trained over Daniel’s shoulder – he hoped.
“Teal’c.” Jack said so much with that one word. Regret/duty/control.
Teal’c’s response spoke of loyalty/faith/absolute certainty. “Hold.”
Those two teammates, of them all, were likely to read each other’s minds, to know, in any situation, what the other was thinking. Two sides of the same coin, Jack and Teal’c were men who could do – had done – those necessary things that people like Daniel struggled with.
Like killing a friend.
“Please, Jack.” Don’t raise your weapon, Daniel added silently. Believe me. I can’t – I –
The silence stretched, pulled like taffy. Behind him, the small sounds settled.
Jack blinked first, sitting back on his haunches, his hands slowly leaving their perch on his weapon to fall to his sides. “Okay. Okay,” he said, nodding. “Maybe you could tell us what you mean, Daniel.”
A hot breath on the back of Daniel’s neck sent a cold shiver down his spine.
“I’d love to get into all that with you, Jack. I’ve had a lot of time to think about it while I got the planetary tour. But, don’t you think we should prepare for our guests, first?”
Rapid fire emotions slipped across the faces of Daniel’s rescuers. Surprise/anger/fear/caution. Two pairs of dark eyes flashed towards possible exit routes, lines of fire, their packs in a pile beside the fire, and then back to Daniel. Teal’c straightened inch by inch. Jack slid to one knee.
“How many should we set a place for, do you think?” Jack seemed to wonder aloud – loud enough for Sam to hear him, anyway.
Daniel barely noticed her flinch, the way she, with no apparent hurry, set down the cup and pot and remained crouching near the fire.
Stones rolled, heavy grunts filled the air. “Quite a few I’d imagine.” Daniel staggered to his blistered/aching/unhappy feet, hands pressing downward, urging his teammates to stillness. “Cha’aka,” he said into the turbulent night, “you remember my friends.” He stepped forward and turned, placing himself between the approaching Unas and his friends.
He couldn’t miss the muttered, “Dammit, Daniel,” or the equally pissed off, “Daniel Jackson” behind him.
Yep, two of a kind his teammates.
“Dan’el …”
Moons coming into alignment. A sacrifice. A rocky shelf, made by the Unas, where no symbiote could interfere. Switches flipped in the dark hollow that was Daniel’s mind.
“Jack – Teal’c – um, remember when I talked about a ritual? A rite of passage? Well, I think you’ve made our camp in the middle of the temple.”
Unas took shape out of the night. Ten. Twenty. Thirty. More. Some carried crude weapons made of tree branches, chipped flint, and bone. Some simply flexed their long, scaled fingers, sharp talons gleaming – these were in-born weapons that all Unas came with, fully equipped. As they moved into the light, Daniel saw that each one bore a splash of green across one cheek. Blood. Unas blood. The blood of the vanquished leader, probably. Unconsciously, Daniel raised one hand to the scab on his own cheek.
Cha’aka walked fully upright, looming, eyes blazing. Right up to Daniel.
The Unas growled, scowling, lips pulling away from his bared teeth. One hand snatched at Daniel’s elbow to drag him away from his teammates, towards Cha’aka’s chest. The other hand thrust out, finger pointing. “Kek! Kek-a!” Orange/green eyes glared at Teal’c’s rigid figure.
The circle of his clan-mates drew in, forcing Jack, Teal’c, and Sam, towards the center.
“Daniel?” Sam gripped the handle of her pistol, but hadn’t pulled it from the holster.
“No kek, ka!” Daniel pressed one hand to Cha’aka’s chest, trying to get the new Unas leader’s attention. “Cha’aka – friends! These are my friends!”
Jack had risen to his feet and stood shoulder to shoulder with Teal’c. His hands tightened against his P90, using every ounce of discipline/effort/trust to keep from bringing the muzzle to bear on Daniel’s new ‘friend.’ Teal’c’s staff weapon never wavered in his two-handed grip – it was unerringly aimed at Cha’aka’s chest.
“You did tell them they couldn’t keep you, right, Danny?”
Cha’aka’s talons pierced the stiff fabric of Daniel’s jacket and sank into the skin as the Unas pulled him closer. His growl was echoed from two dozen more Unas throats. “Ona,” Cha’aka snarled, one claw jabbing towards Teal’c’s belly. “Kek Ona!”
“He – he can sense the symbiotes!” Daniel blurted. “He knows Teal’c has one in his belly.”
“But, Teal’c and I can’t sense them, Daniel,” Sam announced, backing up to stand with her teammates. “How can he?”
“Well, they live here, Sam. It’s probably a survival trait.” Cha’aka knew to avoid the lake. He wore the bone necklace to protect himself. They lived in rock caves and sought stony ground. He’d grabbed the symbiote out of thin air when it had launched at Daniel. “They may be unevolved in some ways, but they have survived here alongside the symbiotes for thousands – millions – of years.”
“So, these Unas could tell if you – if any of us – had been snaked?” Jack’s voice held a trace of reluctant admiration/hope/yearning.
Daniel smiled. “Well, he sure wouldn’t stand this close to me if I was a threat to him.” He winced as Cha’aka tightened his hold again. “Ka, Cha’aka.” He pushed against the Unas’ chest again. “Ka.”
“Dan’el. Ona. Kek.” Cha’aka pushed his chin forward, staring hard into Daniel’s eyes, his thick skin still expressive enough to communicate his fear/frustration, as if he was trying to teach a particularly stupid toddler about the dangers of taking candy from the strange man in the van.
Daniel kept eye contact and reached out with his free hand to cover Cha’aka’s outthrust fist. “Cha’aka. Ka. Teal’c is my friend. No kek. Ka. Please.”
“Daniel?”
“It’s okay, Jack.”
“Daniel Jackson.”
“Teal’c, please, let me handle it.”
Thank heavens Sam stayed quiet.
Cha’aka’s eyes narrowed, his gaze flicking back and forth between Daniel’s earnest expression and Teal’c’s studied blandness. “Dan’el,” he growled again, low and slow, under his breath.
“Cha’aka,” Daniel nodded.
Finally, the Unas allowed Daniel to guide his hand to his side and step backwards. Without taking his eyes from Cha’aka’s, Daniel spoke again.
“Teal’c, I want you to hand me your staff weapon – handle first, please.”
He couldn’t risk looking over his shoulder, but, if he could, Daniel could bet exactly what was going on. Teal’c – surprised/uncertain/determined. Jack – denying/angry/resigned. Teal’c would raise an eyebrow. Jack, press his lips together. Each soldier would be too disciplined to take his eyes from their perceived enemies to exchange glances, but they really didn’t need to, did they? Finally, Jack would nod just as Teal’c had made up his own mind to follow Daniel’s lead.
Daniel reached his hand back blindly to find the staff weapon’s grip just where he’d expected it. He swiveled it, tip up, and ground the end into the stony soil, jerking his head towards his friends. “See, Cha’aka? No kek.”
No kek. Kek-a. Ona. Cha’aka. Dan’el. With six words and a few careful gestures, the Unas and the humans maneuvered around each other. Made friends.
Ushered towards one end of the rocky shelf, SG-1 watched as the Unas completed their rite of passage, Jack and Teal’c shoring Daniel up, one on each side, when he threatened to fall over from exhaustion.
The moons set. The sun rose. Cha’aka turned from his loyal followers to peer into Daniel’s face and utter the seventh word shared between them, pressing heavily on his shoulder.
“Grrrr-rest.”
Laughing, Daniel let himself be laid out on a sleeping bag and shut his eyes. “Rescue mission, accomplished, Teal’c,” he murmured, cuddling the staff weapon to his chest as he would a teddy bear or a body pillow.
“Indeed, Daniel Jackson.”
Other thoughts could wait. Other explanations. His theories about the primordial symbiotes. His grief for Robert’s loss. And his oh so joyful discussion with Jack about how the Unas would most probably be ‘escorting’ SG-1 to the ‘gate and off their world later.
Exhaustion/relief/gratitude chased him into sleep.