W.E.
(Written Excerpt)
 
 
 
 
(WE: Worthy Equals + US: Undeniably Similar [÷ Unveiled Sentiments] = WE: Whole Equation)
 
email: travelling_one@yahoo.ca
Website: http://www.travellingone.com/
Season: Any
Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of MGM Global Holdings Inc, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Film Corp. I have written this story for entertainment purposes and no copyright infringement is intended. Any original characters, situations, and storylines are the property of the author.
 
August/06
 
 
"I had no choice. Well I did, but leaving them there in the middle of the weapons fire didn't seem like any choice to me. So I radioed that I was staying behind and yelled at the others to make a run for it. They didn't want to; I knew they were worried, and leaving me in the middle of all that fighting wouldn't normally have been in their game plan, but they knew they'd be dead if they stayed. The enemy was closing in; I had no choice; they had no choice, as far as we all could see."
 
Daniel shifted, eyes narrowing. It was all picture perfect in his head; he could envision the battle around him, he could hear the gunfire, the grenade blasts. Strange, for his five senses to be so involved in a war when he had always sworn to be a peaceful nature-loving archaeologist.
 
"The mission wasn't supposed to go down like this, it wasn't planned this way. We were way outnumbered, and I knew my team had to retreat in order to save themselves. What I also knew was that in good conscience, I could not go with them. I remained behind to take care of the woman and her two children, caught in the middle of a battle they could not fight, freedom at arm's length, unattainable without the help of a stranger.
 
"This may have been a strange land, foreign, alien, but compassion is stronger at times than duty, and I knew within my own conscience that I was doing the right thing. It may eventually cost me my life, but that was a chance I had to take.
 
"It hurt to see them retreat. Knew they didn't really want - choose - to leave me there. Knowing that made it only a little easier to watch and accept; with their pulling back I had no idea when I'd be able to get out myself. Or if.
 
"The woman was injured; she could barely walk. Her leg was bleeding badly, although the shrapnel hadn't hit an artery. Wrong place at the wrong time, I suppose; or fate if one believes in that. But when it came to the 5 and 7 year-olds trembling beside her, trying to hide from the strange man in the green camo, fate really seemed to have nothing to say about it.
 
"I grabbed the kids first, and ran to the ruined structure. On first appearance, one would think the war had been taking out this town for years already, not just a few days. Was it our fault? The bitterness and uncertainty could have blocked my rational thinking, had I let it. But at the time I had more important things to worry about, not to mention I was pretty damn scared."
 
Daniel frowned, pausing. This was sounding … cliché. Didn't matter; facts were facts. He reread this for the third time, the report sounding so foreign yet so familiar at the same time.
 
"The woman was more scared than I was, but still she seemed grateful and relieved when I took the kids to safety. Temporary safety, anyway, but what else could I have offered? How great a mother's love and concern. At least she was starting to trust me. If I could get out, so could she. If not, we were both going to die. I think that's a damn good foundation of trust to begin with.
 
"I don't know how long we were there; days, but it seems longer when you don't know how long the water will last or if your team will ever be able to get to you. I had a hell of a lot of time to think, and realized there was nothing I would ever have done differently, no matter what my CO would say when - if - I ever got safely back to camp. In one piece. I guess I knew that if I was in pieces I wouldn't actually have to listen to him, and if I survived, then all would have turned out well. My conscience, if nothing else, was happy."
 
"Where the hell did you find that?"
 
Daniel jumped at the voice behind his ear, slamming shut the journal. From his cross-legged position on the floor, he eyed Jack with interest. Blowing the lingering dust off the thin volume with exaggerated effort, Daniel twitched up a corner of his mouth in a semi-smile. "Magazine crate," he nodded at the box sticking halfway out of the closet. "Been a while since you looked in there?"
 
Grimacing, Jack motioned to the worn item in his friend's hand. "Judging by that, I'd say yes. And you were supposed to be digging out my Bob Dylan albums."
 
"Found this instead."

"Get rid of it."

"No way."
 
"There's nothing in there you'd be interested in, Daniel."
 
"You're kidding, right?"
 
"Hardly. Since when are you interested in war tales?"
 
"Since I discovered you and I are not so different after all."
 
Jack's eyes narrowed. "And you base this on….?"
 
"On the fact that you kept journals."
 
"I was bored."
 
"And that you ignored an order to get the hell out of Dodge, staying instead to save a woman and two children."
 
Jack inhaled, stepping back as if slapped. "You were reading that?"
 
"You could have died."
 
"I didn't. And it wasn't an order."
 
"That's usually my line."
 
Jack considered Daniel carefully. "Scary thought."
 
"And you did exactly what I would have done. Well, except for joining the military in the first place."
 
"Bite your tongue."
 
"Why? Are you ashamed to admit that you and I may be more alike than you thought?"
 
"I'm not ashamed, Da - "
 
"Or do I remind you of who you used to be?"
 
And who I'm not any more. Jack stared at his friend, here in the comfort of his own home, and couldn't decide if he was annoyed with Daniel for getting his hands on that long-ago report, or relieved. Maybe now Daniel would think twice about always arguing, assuming that Jack didn't - couldn't - see things from any other point of view than that of a warrior. When you'd been there and done that and experienced war from every possible angle, nothing was ever black and white any more. His offworld decisions were based on his information at the moment and given that, he always tried to make the best possible choice. Or maybe, Daniel would just think he'd lost his soul somewhere along the line. Jack continued to stare, trying to read between the intense blue eyes.
 
Bingo. Daniel could see it in Jack's eyes. Eyes that he knew - thought he'd known - so well, full of self-assurance and strength, battle-wise and ready to plunge into the unknown with weapons at the ready. But Jack had stayed behind, choosing to ignore a battle plan and aid a local woman with her two children… a choice made from the heart.
 
"I was young…er and idealistic."
 
Daniel smiled, and squeezed the book back between the 1980s National Geographics he'd been aiming for in the first place. "Uh huh."
 
Jack relaxed, and grinned. Daniel always could see through people into their lost spirits. Denial would just seem pitiful. "Chili's ready." So maybe he and Daniel were not so different, deep down where it mattered most. "So maybe I was like you, once. Just promise me one thing, pal."
 
"What's that?" Rising to his knees, Daniel started to push the box back into the closet.
 
"Given ten more years, don't become me now."
 
Daniel paused, and frowned. You haven't changed as much as you think, Jack. The way he saw it, he had two choices: to answer honestly and from the heart, possibly setting himself up for more perceived put-downs and sarcasm, or… "I'll respond to that after I taste the chili; I've heard your secret ingredient is beer."
 
 
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