Title: Wild Boys
Series: Stargate SG-1
Part: 7/2 Sequel to SNAFU
E-mail address: firstname.lastname@example.org
Category: Slash Angst Action/Adventure Hurt/Comfort
Date: September 2001 - September 2003
Disclaimers: Don't own these characters, MGM, Showtime and the rest do. No copyright infringement is intended or inferred.
Warnings: may contain slash, H/C, violence, m/m hanky panky, sex scenes, drug use, nudity, coarse language, horror, dodgy research, adult themes, general silliness, etc.
Spoilers: Season Three
Summary: Jack and Daniel go native.
Daniel followed Jack's eyes, watching the children gambol about, playing in what passed for the village square.
"You miss it, being a father?" he asked softly.
"Yes," Jack admitted, just as quietly. "There's nothing like it."
Daniel was looking downcast and forlorn.
"I realise now I'll never have children. Some things just aren't meant to be."
"Don't say that, Daniel, you don't know until you try."
Something flared in Daniel's eyes.
"Don't humour me, Jack. At least you got to hold your own son in your arms."
Jack matched his anger. How dare he bring up Charlie - then it hit him.
“Sha're was carrying our child when she was taken."
Jack gave him a sudden hard look.
"And when she was taken as a host - "
"She would have spontaneously miscarried, yes."
Jack bowed his head.
"You never said anything."
"You never cared to ask about my life with Sha're."
Jack's head snapped up again. "It wasn't that. I just thought it was private, that you didn't want my size ten army boots stomping all over your memories. I do care, Daniel. And I'm sorry." Another thought struck him. "That's why, with the Harsesis child."
Daniel's eyes burned.
"He should have been my son."
"I'm sorry, Daniel."
Daniel's eyes softened. "I know."
Daniel shrugged off his concern. Jack let it be, but it did explain Daniel's obsession with finding Sha're's child by Apophis. Jack saw now, it was the child Daniel should have had with Sha're. Jack hoped Daniel remembered the child he searched for didn't actually belong to him. Jack wondered too, if darker motives like revenge also pushed Daniel's quest. The desire to rob Apophis of his own son and heir.
Daniel had never been comfortable wearing the horns of a cuckold.
Jack was still watching the children play. He’d tried to teach them the finer points of baseball, but it had evolved here into some sort of chasing and tagging game that Jack barely recognised, and the bat was wielded more often like a club on opponents than was strictly allowed, by Jack’s reckoning.
Jack actually heard the crack that time and made a move to wade into the wild melee of young boys battling viciously for possession of the ball when Daniel stopped him.
"They're not children, Jack. Life is hard and they grow up fast here. If they're old enough to hold a spear they're old enough to be considered a warrior and everything that entails. Just like on Abydos."
"No," Jack shook his head, still seeing his boy warriors as just that, boys.
The young boys chasing each other around the camp and playing with spears weren’t children, and tonight they would become men. Jack was terribly unhappy with this fact, still looking at the boys through American eyes. He knew there would be some form of initiation, and his imagination was running wildly as to what that could entail.
Daniel hadn’t helped, describing a great many of the ritual initiations on Earth, most seeming to involve sex, drugs, violence and mutilation at some point. Daniel tried to point out that some people saw circumcision as equally barbaric, but Jack as far from mollified.
For the rest of the tribe though this was a time of great celebration, especially given the odds of the boys even surviving to the ripe old age of ten or so. Everyone was in their Sunday best, wearing skirts and headdresses of feathers and bark and bone so elaborate that the whole place took on the air of a Las Vegas show. The girls were up and dancing, shaking their booty in search of a husband, and a great many had made a beeline for Jack, flashing flesh and smiles. Jack was lulled into happy contentedness, leaning back, drinking the local rot gut and enjoying the suggestive dances that were all for him.
Daniel was bemused. Jack always tried to be proper and never to be caught ogling the natives by Carter, because he’d do anything to avoid those accusing stares that said all too clearly: ‘you pig, Sir’. Carter wasn’t here now though and Jack was able to indulge his roving eye and again Daniel saw the man he must have been before Charlie had died: easily amused and not afraid to show it.
Daniel was contemplatively chewing the local leaves. The good stuff, shared with him by the elders. They were already preparing for the night’s initiation, imbiding a mashed concoction that that tasted like bitter and rancid lawn clippings, but it was slowly unscrewing the bolts that tethered Daniel to this reality, one bolt at a time.
Daniel smiled at Jack, happy to be free of the undigested pain their earlier conversation had brought up, if not the memory. Jack was shimmering with light and all in soft focus as he turned and murmured something to Daniel.
“Huh?” Daniel asked, not understanding over the throbbing beat of the drums which by now guided both his heart and thoughts.
“I said you looked wasted. You are, aren’t you,” Jack accused mildly.
Daniel just grinned at him blankly and Jack made a soft ‘Oy’ noise under his breath.
Jack leant over and patted him softly on the shoulder.
“Don’t get too shattered, we don’t exactly know what’s going to happen.”
Daniel nodded but Jack could see it was far too late for cautions. Daniel was as high as a kite, swaying back and forth with the music.
“For crying out loud,” Jack was murmuring indulgently when a terrible, keening howl split through the night, joined by a chorus of guttural roars, and the music stopped.
There were hundreds of them, white eyed wildmen in animal skins slashing heavy clubs that were studded with teeth and claws. One swipe from those suckers and you never got up. They swarmed over the wooden village walls, crawling up and over the sharpened poles like human cockroaches, then dropping to the ground and running screaming through the village swinging viciously at anyone they encountered as the villagers ran for cover.
A dreadful animal shrieking started up from the hut where the women and children were hiding. Jack and every other man or boy with a spear who wasn't fighting for his life ran to the hut in the far corner to find the daub wall roughly torn through and the enemy inside, tossing children aside with heavy blows from their clubs like wild boars on a rampage.
With a cry Jack ran forward, the other men following his lead, bringing down the enemy and stabbing them over and over with their spears until they were a bloody pulp and Jack's anger was still not spent. Turning, he and the other men guarded the hut, replacing the young boys, barely initiated by blood, who'd all been slaughtered. They stood their ground, ringing around the hut, furiously spearing and hacking any of the animal men who dared run at them.
Jack ran through man after man with his spear and knife, his last few bullets saved for himself and Daniel, should it come to that. Not that anyone was being taken prisoner, this was kill or be killed and the wildmen kept coming at them, screaming and flailing their clubs, leaping high with a terrible shriek, their eyes wide and white. They wired on some sort of jungle juice, whipped into a frenzy by their medicine man: there was nothing that was going to stop therm except iron, wood and bone.
And then it was over. Like a sudden rain squall of violence the animal men all vanished again, scrambling over the village walls and back into the night. The skirmish was over. Jack just stood, covered in blood and senseless, waiting for the mad frenzy to kill anything that crossed his path to fall away. Then one thought came to him as the red mist receded: Daniel.
Staggering through the wounded weeping over the dead, Jack found Daniel at last, bloodied and beaten, but alive, bearing bruises and scratches from a severe thumping and a nasty gash that splashed blood down the side of his face but he was alive. So were the rest of the elders Daniel had defended with Jack's MP5 and the last of their ammunition.
Jack ruffled Daniel's hair, in spite of Daniel wincing and ducking away, and pulled him close to hug him and pat his back. Daniel had done well, more than well, and Jack was so proud. And so relieved.
The shakes only began now as the adrenalin left his body and Jack allowed himself to think of what might have happened, of what he'd been sure had happened while he'd been defending the children - that Daniel was dead, clubbed to death with the rest of the wisemen. Daniel wasn't, but the flashes of images of the broken bodies Jack had seen, only with Daniel's face, kept slamming into his brain and Jack knew these dark visions would haunt his nightmares for weeks to come.
"Jack," Daniel panted, equally thrilled that Jack was alive.
breathed, feeling the same.