cat_77 | The Speaker

New Stargate SG-1 Story.

Title: The Speaker
Category: Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Rating: PG-13 for aftermath of violence
Season/Spoilers: Any where Jack's a Colonel, Sam's a Major, and Janet is alive and kicking
Synopsis: Daniel speaks the language, but there are consequences when he does not share with his team.
Disclaimer: Not mine. The characters of SG-1 all belong to people with a lot of money and I am just playing with them in a strictly not-for-profit kind of way.

Notes: Response to Babs' Plot Bunny Challenge. I tried to respond to 2 of them, hopefully it worked. I list the two I used at the end of the story.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jack paced the length of their current quarters. Spartan, cramped, and with all the amenities of a jail cell, complete with a little sink and toilet off to the side and a slot in the door where they had received their mid-day meal. “Where is he?” he demanded.

Carter raised her head from where it had been rested in her hands, elbows digging painfully into her knees as she sat perched at the end of one of the uncomfortable cots. “Sir, it’s only been,” she began. She checked her watch and bit back a gulp. “Six hours,” she finished lamely.

O’Neill stopped his pacing and spun around to face her. “And you and I both know exactly how much can happen in six hours,” he spat. He plopped down heavily on one of the other cots, flopping backwards and covering his face, the anger he had let flare dissipating within seconds. He was not mad at her, and they both knew it. She was simply trying to calm him down, keep him steady. The thing was, at this point in the game, it was a futile attempt at best, something else they both knew. “Why him?” he asked the air, the room around them.

It was a question he did not expect answered, well, at least not without hearing, “Because he’s Daniel, that’s why,” but the final member of his team surprised him.

Teal’c turned away from the door for one of the very few times since they had been brought to this lovely cell. “If I am remembering Daniel Jackson’s translations from earlier, he advised the Kaleeans that he spoke for our people. It is possible they took that to mean it was he who was in charge.”

“Maybe he’s negotiating for our release?” Sam asked hopefully.

“Or maybe SGs 2 and 3 will come in with some heavy artillery and blast us out of here,” Jack snarked back. “Did they really look like the negotiating types?”

Carter sighed, clearly not wanting to answer her CO.

The Kaleeans were large, and that was an understatement. They made Teal’c look like a punk kid brother trying to seem as big and tough as the winning high school quarterback. From what the team had seen so far, they also seemed to value strength above all else, pesky things like words and intelligence included. The temple where they met SG-1 trying their best not to look like they were trespassing was apparently where feats of strength and endurance were to be held; at least that was what Daniel gleaned before he was interrupted by the large men with weapons. They took one look at the finest Earth had to offer and snorted, or at least did their culture’s equivalent. The group was herded together like playthings, interrogated as a whole, and then shoved into their current accommodations without their gear and sans linguist when it came to pass he was the only one who could communicate with them. That was roughly six hours ago and, aside from a fairly hearty though bland meal, they had no contact with either their captors or their missing teammate since.

“Sir, I’m sure...” Sam started, only to be cut off.

“You’re sure of what?” O’Neill snapped, shooting upright to look her in the eye. “I’m not sure of a damn thing and neither are you. Let’s deal with facts here, Major. What do the facts say?” He took a bit of quiet pride that she did not even flinch at his words. Both knew he was only venting his frustrations and that he was not mad at her, per se, but more angry at the situation in general and the fact there was not a damn thing he could do about it.

“What the facts say is that our group has been separated and that the only civilian in a primarily military unit has been taken into private custody,” she began, just a tinge of heat to her words. “What the facts say is that the only person of our team able to communicate with an unknown number of captors is currently attempting to do so. What the facts say is that we are clearly out numbered and out armed and our only hope at a peaceful resolution lays in the hands of the one person who is currently missing. What the facts say is that we must trust that person to do his job to the best of his ability as he has shown able to do so time and time again.” She sat at as much of attention as possible on the lumpy cot and spoke clearly as she dutifully reported to her commanding officer. If one did not know her, she was the picture perfect soldier. If one did know her, they knew she was seething inside.

Jack sighed, resisting the urge to wipe his hands across his face. “See, it’s that time and time again thing that bugs me, almost more than the whole being separated thing in the first place,” he commented. “Do you remember the last time this happened? Do you know how sad it even is that there was a last time?”

It was Teal’c that spoke next as it appeared Major Carter was at a loss for words while she tried not to look like she was chewing on her lower lip, caught in the memory. “The last time such an event occurred, Daniel Jackson was able to negotiate our release after the performance of only minor tasks and without the need for further teams to become involved.”

“Yeah, minor tasks for us,” Jack agreed, shaking his head. The image of that day was burned into his mind along with a few choice other events in the fun-filed adventures of SG-1. “Too bad it also involved nearly asphyxiating him.”

Neither of his teammates had any response to that.

*****

It was another eighteen hours and three bland meals later that one of the Kaleean guards came to their door. “You are free to go,” he said in heavily accented English. He handed them rucksacks heavy with their gear and ushered them towards the dimly lit hallway.

O’Neill refused to move more than a single step before he spun around and demanded, “Where’s Daniel?” The other man towered above him, but the human made sure it was clear he was willing to take on him and anyone else they had to throw at him to get his answers. Several other guards lined the passageway, but no one tried to encourage them on their way and a few even looked to be smiling.

The guard did the last thing he expected, and chuckled. “The Servii were correct, you may be small, but there is a fire that burns within you. Worthy allies indeed.”

“Servii?” Sam asked, just as Jack spit out, “Allies?”

The large man cocked his head to the side in confusion for a moment, before he smiled. “Ah, yes, that is correct. You do not know of our ways or of our ancient tongue, only your Leeal, your ‘speaker’ does.”

“Daniel Jackson,” Teal’c presumed.

Jack took a steadying breath. “Yeah, any chance of us seeing our little speaker any time soon?” He thought he did a decent job of keeping the worry from his voice, but one look at his teammates showed him he failed, at least with them.

“That is where I am to take you now,” the guard assured them. He led them through a maze of corridors, suddenly quite chatty after a day of no contact. “He had but one task remaining to complete, but has performed so well on all the others we knew he would succeed. This is why you were summoned. We thought you may wish to witness the completion, yes?”

Jack recognized where they were being led and remembered the purpose of the temple they had been found in. A sinking feeling grew in the pit of his stomach. “We would have wished to witness more than just the completion,” he told him grimly.

The guard’s smile turned sympathetic. “It is a noble request, but we know not of your people. It is possible, like other groups we have met in the past, that you would have attempted to take his place in the tasks, or pleaded for mercy when he would not have required it. No, this way we test the true merit of an individual member of your people. Should he had failed, we would have been willing to negotiate a new series of tasks with a new Leeal.”

O’Neill watched as Carter’s face turned white at the mention of the word “mercy” before realization set in. She swallowed only once before her jaw set in a hard line, righteous anger radiating off of her.

The temple door opened with a blinding flash of light. Torches lined the walls, but the floor and the ceiling both gave off an illumination found only through electronic means. As their eyes adjusted, they first saw only Kaleeans, small crowds of the large people gathered in various areas of the sacred space. There were some dressed like their guard, standing sentry at the entrances and exits, and others dressed in what could only be ceremonial robes, situated in a sort of semi-circle around a pole that stood in the center of the room.

Light glinted off metal and there was a clanking noise as if chains were falling to the stone floor. That was followed by a softer thud and a raspy gasp for breath.

Their guard looked disappointed for a moment, but held up a hand to stop any inquiries as the gathered clergy first chanted and then announced something in the garbled language none of the team knew. “I am sorry, I did not bring you here in time to witness the final task,” he whispered once they had finished.

As Jack eyed the glowing floor, dribbled with red drying to brown, and took in some of the extra equipment brought into the supposedly holy place, he was thankful for small favors.

He was only dimly aware of the guard cheerfully announcing that they could see their missing teammate now as he watched the priests separate and drift off to parts unknown. There, in the center of the room under an obscenely swinging chain, Daniel laid crumpled in a heap on the floor. His shirt was stripped from him, his back colored in swaths of purples and blues streaked with raw red, his pants stained dark with sweat and blood.

His team ran to him, daring anyone to try to stop them. Jack and Sam knelt beside him, looking for anywhere to touch him, to assess him, without causing him more pain, as Teal’c stood watch over the trio. Closer now, they could see the tiny scrapes mixed in with the bruised skin, tendons still taut with tension. None of the cuts looked deep enough to cause much scarring, seemingly chosen only for maximum pain and possibly blood loss. Nothing seemed too permanent, at least physically, which was a small blessing.

They watched as slowly, achingly, the man before them pushed himself up to his knees, the heavy manacles he still wore banging together hollowly before resting heavily on his thighs. His chest now exposed, they could see it bore the same abuse as the rest of his body, multicolored and heaving as he fought to bring in more life-giving air. His head remained bowed, the back of his neck imprinted with ligature marks from some kind of collar or restraint standing out in stark relief against a form that trembled ever so slightly, whether in relief or in fear, they did not know.

“Danny?” O’Neill whispered, his voice cracking with the single word. Before him sat the image of capitulation, of a man made to suffer for what, to entertain? To demonstrate some sort of sense of worth to a bunch of sadistic thugs? Or, was it to try to prevent the others from having to undergo the same torture? As Jack looked upon him, he had to ask himself if it was even worth it.

“I passed,” Daniel ground out hoarsely. He swallowed with visible effort, but still did not bother to raise his head, to look his friends in the eye as he licked his cracked lips and said, “You’re free.”

“Oh, Daniel,” Sam breathed, reaching out a hand to pull him closer. He collapsed into her side, the faint trembling from before becoming all out shaking now. She wrapped herself around him cautiously, trying to avoid the worst of the bruising as she stroked his sticky back and buried her face in his grimy hair. She tried to offer him her warmth and her comfort as Jack did the same from the other side. She whispered words of nothing to him, trying to keep the shaking to a minimum as Teal’c reached between them to unlock the cuffs with a key joyously provided by one of the Servii.

The old man looked at them proudly as he declared, “Your Leeal did wonderfully, we would be happy to negotiate trade between our peoples at any time.”

Jack raised his head to bite out the first sarcastic remark that came to mind, completely ignoring the fact that they were still technically in an enemy stronghold. One look stopped him, a look of pleading from shadowed blue eyes. “Take me home?” Daniel begged.

O’Neill closed his mouth reluctantly, settling for a glare instead. Turning his attention back to his injured teammate, he promised, “Anything you want, Danny. Anything you want.”

As the three of them carefully levered the man to his feet, he weakly quipped, “Does that mean all the chocolate chunk and coffee ice cream I want?” He gratefully accepted the canteen Teal’c offered, downing nearly half of it after a few stuttering sips before letting him take it away.

“Yes, it does,” Jack swore, readjusting his friend’s weight on his shoulder. “It also includes a little lecture on why we translate everything for our teammates, including the part where the mean alien priests mention beating the snot out of you to prove your worth.”

Daniel paused for a moment, his bare feet seeking better purchase on the smooth flooring. “No, I don’t remember asking for that,” he coughed, the spasms pulling his muscles in new and interesting directions. He groaned as his teammates held him for a moment, giving him time to get his bearings again.

“Yeah you did,” Jack assured him. “It was right after you promised to never volunteer yourself for ritual torture and let me have the remote at all team nights.”

“Now I know I never said that,” he muttered, shuffling his feet along side the others, leaning heavily on his two friends as the third cleared the path before them.

The gate was only a short distance away from the temple and none of the injuries looked deep enough to warrant staying a moment longer to wrap them before reaching the safety of Cheyenne Mountain and Janet’s tender care. With each step, Daniel’s strength seemed to dwindle, until he was supported fully by Jack while Sam dialed home. Certain no one was watching, or at least no one who cared one way or another, the team leader leaned down and whispered in his friend’s ear, “You did good, Danny.”

“I got you home,” the tired man mumbled.

“Yes, you did,” Jack agreed. “Now let us get you there.”

Daniel’s only response was to lean his head against the other man’s shoulder as they watched the gate swoosh to life together. They were going home. All of them.

End.

~~~~~~~~~~

The two challenges I tried to address were:
1. Daniel in chains, standing with bowed head before his teammates, looking beaten and defeated.
5. Sam curled up tight against Daniel, stroking his back and trying to keep him from shaking.

Feedback is always appreciated.