All publicly recognisable characters and places are the property of MGM, World Gekko Corp and Double Secret Productions. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended. Previously unrecognised characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

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What you need to know is:

Daniel is in peril. This story is hurt/comfort, but only a small amount of hurt and a generous dollop of comfort. It’s based in and around season 3, which means short-haired Daniel. And finally, it was inspired by and written in honour of the fact that the UK is finally getting episodes of MacGyver. Plot - what little there is - stolen, mangled and mutilated from an early episode.

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Sun-dried tomatoes and other barbecue essentials

by

Scribe

Oddly enough, being a sun-dried tomato had never been high on Daniel’s agenda of essential life experiences. Which was rather a shame given his current position. Looking on the bright side, though, if he got out of this alive, he could cross it off his list of ‘Things to Do’ and add it to his list of ‘Things to Avoid at All Costs’. Unfortunately the downside - which was looking altogether more likely as an outcome - was that this would be his last ever experience and, when all was said and down, he might’ve wished for a more noble way to die.

Okay, enough with the dark thoughts, Jackson. There had to be a way out. He strained against his bonds again, just in case the tough twine had mysteriously weakened in the last five minutes.

It hadn’t.

Damn. There was no getting away from the fact that he was still tied securely to the wooden stakes at each wrist and ankle. And that he was spread-eagled and naked except for a small strip of cloth one of the native women had thrown over his hips to protect his modesty. Like that was his main concern given he was being deliberately exposed to the sun so that he could demonstrate to the villagers the fine art of dying slowly and painfully.

He still couldn’t quite believe how quickly things had turned sour. He’d lived with these people for two whole weeks. Helped them harvest their crops in between translating the ‘holy writings’ on the nearby temple walls. They’d seemed so peaceful and friendly. Then Juna, the Holyman, had returned from his wanderings and declared that Daniel was a heretic for saying Ra was dead – a heretic who should die at Ra’s own hand. Hence the whole spread-eagled and naked in the sun thing.

That had been six hours ago. Six hot, thirsty hours in which his sympathy for sun-dried tomatoes had grown at roughly the same rate as his skin had turned a matching colour. All of which begged one important question.

Where the hell was Jack?

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Where the hell was Daniel? Leave the guy alone for a few hours and he disappears into thin air. It wasn’t even as though his orders had been difficult to follow. Stay here and enjoy playing with the chicken scratchings. We’ll pick you up on our way back to the village. How hard was that?

Jack stalked out of the temple and shrugged in response to Carter’s questioning look.

“No sign of him,” he said testily.

“Nor of any villagers,” Teal’c observed, his tone ominous.

“Yeah, I noticed that too.” Jack felt a shiver of apprehension dance across his shoulders.

Carter’s gaze drifted to the temple entrance as though force of will could make Daniel appear.

“There could be a dozen straightforward reasons for him to return to the village early,” she said, the worry in her voice belying her attempt to be optimistic.

Yeah, and there could be a dozen not-so-straightforward reasons, all involving Daniel being hurt, damaged and generally not in the same healthy condition as when they’d left him. The shiver began to do a clog dance down the vertebrae of Jack’s spine. He shrugged it off as his right hand curled instinctively around the cool metal of his P-90. His gaze met Carter’s and he managed an ironic smile before turning towards the narrow path that would lead them to the village.

“Let’s go find out which one is the lucky winner.”

Five minutes later they hit the jackpot.

“Crap!” Jack hissed as they dived for cover. “Please tell me that’s not Daniel.”

Hidden behind the thick glossy leaves of a large shrub, Carter pulled out her binoculars and scrutinised the view several hundred yards ahead of them.

“I’m afraid it is, Colonel.”

She handed the binoculars over as Jack gestured impatiently for them. Flat on his belly, damp earth cool against his clothes, Jack adjusted the focus and checked the scene for himself. His stomach twisted into a tight knot at the sight of Daniel staked out in the burning sun. Hurriedly he scanned the archaeologist’s near-naked body, looking for obvious injuries that might hamper a rescue, and was relieved to see that Daniel was apparently suffering from nothing worse than a severe case of sunburn and chafed wrists. The lack of movement was worrying, but, from this distance, it was impossible to tell if Daniel was unconscious or simply conserving energy.

He tore his eyes away from his tortured team-mate to check out the potential resistance to a retrieval operation. Almost immediately he spotted the stranger - a tall, imposing figure wearing a bright yellow cloak with the symbol of Ra boldly embroidered in blood red thread across the back. Juna, he guessed, his mind rapidly putting together the pieces of the puzzle. The villagers had warned them that the ‘Holyman’ would not welcome their presence. He wasn’t supposed to return to the village until the summer solstice, though. Obviously word of SG-1’s presence must have reached him somehow, and Daniel’s innate ability to attract trouble had guaranteed the man’s return on the one morning the rest of the team were absent.

Jack’s gaze drifted to the left and two large goons who were sitting in the shade of a palm tree, stuffing their ugly faces with roast meat. That, no doubt, was how Juna reinforced his ‘holy’ authority. Damn - his stomach tightened again at the thought of Daniel being grabbed and stripped by those two. If they’d so much as bruised his archaeologist...

“Do you have a plan, O’Neill?” Teal’c asked sotto voce from his position just behind Jack’s right shoulder.

Oh yeah, he had a plan. He was going to march into the village, gun blazing, and put several bullets into the men responsible for turning Daniel into a barbecued hors-d’oeuvre.

“Colonel?” The concerned lilt in Carter’s voice told him his murderous intent was showing on his face.

Reluctantly he swallowed his rage and reminded himself of the military dictate of a reasonable response. He took another look at Daniel, this time assessing the distance between the archaeologist and the nearest available cover. He turned to Carter, handed over his P-90, and then slid his knife from its sheath.

“We get up close, then you and Teal’c can cover me.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Very well, O’Neill.”

Slowly and cautiously, he began to steal towards the village, aware of Carter and Teal’c shadowing his every move as they advanced through the undergrowth. Approximately fifty metres from Daniel’s position he indicated his team-mates should hold their position as he took the time to observe the villagers going about their daily activities. Juna and his two goons was one thing, taking on a whole village would be a totally different ball game. Fortunately, from what he could see the local people weren’t likely to pose a threat. In fact, quite the opposite.

Two women were passing close to Daniel, their expressions pained at the sight of his suffering. Jack watched as they moved towards the well and then beckoned towards one of a group of young boys playing in the shade of a nearby hut. The taller of the two women tore a small strip of fabric from the bottom of her skirt, dipped it in the water and then placed it in the boy’s cupped hand. She leaned close, clearly giving him instructions. With a brilliant smile he nodded, then strolled casually away from her, back towards the hut. However, he didn’t join his playmates. Instead he slipped down the narrow opening between the hut and its neighbour. Moments later he reappeared on the opposite of the village and, equally casually, walked across the open ground - a route that took him right past Daniel.

Jack nodded in approval as the young lad glanced around, then stopped at the staked out archaeologist, swiftly bent and pressed the sopping cloth to Daniel’s parched lips. The archaeologist flinched at the unexpected touch, his eyes flew open and his sunburnt face creased with gratitude as he realised what was happening. In the blink of an eye the act of mercy was complete. The cloth, now squeezed dry, vanished up the boy’s sleeve and he strolled on, unobserved by any other than the watching airforce colonel.

Thank God. Daniel was both conscious and apparently lucid. Time to offer a more permanent source of relief. As silent as a shadow Jack slipped from his hiding place, raced across the open ground and dropped to his belly at Daniel’s head, grateful that his desert fatigues gave him some degree of camouflage against the sandy dirt.

“Didn’t you read Frasier’s warnings about sunbathing without lotion?” he hissed, as he began to saw at the thick twine around Daniel’s right wrist.

“Jack?” Daniel twisted his head so he could see him.

“The one and only.” He swore softly as the twine gave way unexpectedly and he narrowly avoided slicing through Daniel’s skin. A fast three-hundred-and-sixty degree roll took him to Daniel’s left wrist. “Want to tell me what happened?”

“Juna.” Daniel said the name with contempt. “We have to do something about him, Jack. Anyone who dares oppose his right to do as he pleases gets the St Tropez treatment. The villagers are all terrified of him.”

“What do you want me to do? Hand out bottles of Factor 35?”

“Actually I was thinking of something a bit more direct Like... ummm... maybe you could hit him right about now?”

“What?”

A shadow moved across Daniel’s face. Crap. Jack looked up to find Juna and his two henchman were staring down at him. Before he had chance to move, a heavy foot stamped down on his wrist, forcing the knife from his hand.

“Another heretic! Seize him!” Juna ordered. “Ra will be glad to devour a second sacrifice.”

“Hi guys. Figure I could use a little summer colour,” Jack replied with feigned cheerfulness as four muscled arms reached for him. He glanced down at Daniel as he was pulled roughly to his feet. “I was thinking more golden kiss than lobster red, though.”

Juna stepped forward and delivered a vicious back-handed slap to Daniel, who was desperately trying to undo the knots securing his left wrist. The blow knocked Daniel flat again, and Juna casually stepped over him as he moved to retrieve the knife. The priest of Ra gave Jack a contemptuous look. “You think the situation amusing?”

Jack shrugged, desperate to keep Juna’s attention away from Daniel. “I don’t get out a lot.”

It didn’t work. Juna’s gaze flicked to the dazed man at his feet.

“Indeed, then perhaps you will think it entertaining to watch me slit your friend’s throat?”

Crap. Crap! Crap!! Despite himself, Jack jerked against the restraining grip of the two goons.

“No, I don’t think that would be fun.”

Juna gave him a cruel smile. The knife blade glinted in the sunlight as he reached down towards Daniel.

“Carter!” Jack yelled in desperation. “Any time now would be good!”

The deafening noise of a round of P-90 bullets chewing up the ground was accompanied by the heat of a staff weapon blast and the foul stench of burning flesh. Juna dropped face first to the ground, a charred, smoking hole in the bright yellow cape where the eye of Ra had been embroidered, His two henchmen exchanged panic looks, let go of Jack as though he was scalding their skin, and then took to their heels.

“Hey, don’t go. Things were just beginning to get interesting,” Jack called after them. He shook his head in mock disappointment and then retrieved his knife. Seconds later the twine around Daniel’s left wrist was cut through.

“Thanks.” Daniel said as he was finally able to sit up. He rubbed at the sore skin of his wrists as Jack set to work freeing his ankles.

“Looks like we have company,” Jack observed as the first of the villagers began to approach cautiously. He waved them closer. “It’s okay. Juna’s dead. There’s nothing to be afraid of now.”

The two village women hurried towards them, one of them shouting something at the young boy who had helped Daniel earlier. Seconds later the youth pushed through the gathering crowd, Daniel’s uniform bundled in his arms.

“Thank you,” Daniel said, clutching at his scant covering as Jack helped him to his feet. As quickly as he could he pulled his underpants from the pile of clothes and struggled into them, wincing as the cotton snagged against his sore skin.

“Daniel, are you okay?” Breathless from running, Carter arrived on the scene just as Daniel managed to make himself decent.

“Oh yeah,” Daniel replied, snagging his pants and turning his back on her. “I’m… ummm… just fine. Thanks for the rescue.”

Jack couldn’t resist smirking, knowing that the archaeologist was probably grateful that his blush was invisible beneath the sunburn. His humour was short-lived as Daniel swayed unsteadily on his feet.

Sunburn. Dehydration. At least one sharp whack round the head.

“Damn it, Daniel. We were only gone a couple of hours.”

“I’m fine.”

“The hell you are. We need to get you to the infirmary.”

Teal’c stepped forward to hand Daniel his canteen. “Drink slowly, DanielJackson.”

“What about them?” Daniel asked between mouthfuls of water. He gestured towards the villagers who were standing around, jabbering like schoolchildren.

Jack looked down at Juna’s dead body. “I think they’ll be okay now.”

“But there’s so much they don’t know about their history and...”

“You can come back and tell them all about it just as soon as the Doc says you’re fit for duty,” Jack interrupted firmly, catching Daniel’s elbow as the archaeologist swayed again. He took Daniel’s shirt from the boy and grimaced at the feel of the stiff cotton.

“What are you doing?” Daniel asked, as Jack tossed the shirt to Teal’c, and then stripped off his own shirt.

“Figured you might be more comfortable in this.” Jack pulled his well-worn, well-washed t-shirt over his head and handed it to Daniel. “The last thing you need is airforce starch against your skin.”

“Thanks.” Daniel eased himself slowly into the garment. “I could use some food before we set off too.” He shot Jack an embarrassed look. “I missed dinner last night and then this morning…” He gestured at the wooden stakes.

“No breakfast, huh?”

“Kind of missed lunch too.”

“I can help with that,” Carter said, clearly eager to join in the ritual of offering Daniel small comforts. She slipped her pack off her back and rummaged in a side pocket, producing a small box containing a foil-wrapped package and a mini ice-pack. “Home-made sandwiches. I brought them back with me yesterday, so they should still be fresh.”

“Thanks.” Daniel shot her a smile as he unwrapped the foil.

“What’s wrong?” she demanded as his face fell.

“Sun-dried tomato bread?” Daniel said plaintively.

“From your favourite deli,” Carter protested, mystified. “You don’t like it?”

Jack flipped open a pocket in his vest and handed Daniel one of the emergency candy bars he kept for occasions such as these.

Daniel ripped it open with obvious delight, despite the fact the heat had reduced it to a soft gooey mush.

“What’s wrong with my sandwiches?” Carter protested again.

“Allergies,” Daniel mumbled, his mouthful of chocolate.

“You’re allergic to sun-dried tomatoes?” Carter sounded disbelieving. “Since when?”

“Just found out today.” He swallowed the last mouthful of chocolate as he turned away from the wooden stakes and the pieces of cut twine. Far off in the distance he could see the Stargate and the promise of a gallon of cooling after-sun lotion. “I think I’m ready to go home now.”

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Scribe