McSwain! asked me for a Stargate: SG-1 story. This is for her.

The War Works Hard
by Pares

Pon was crying, miserable little whimpering sobs that tore at Daniel's nerves. His sister, three year old Hata, sat mum and staring, so still that Daniel worried she'd hit her head somewhere along the way. Sam had Gifall sucking on a rag she'd soaked in a goat-thing's pungent milk, and Miri was huddled to her side, with her fingers in her mouth. The twin girls, Des and Ciy, 12 or 13, were kneeling beside Teal'c as he kept watch. He had carried them for miles; the soles of their feet had blistered as they'd run from their burning hut. That left Ban singing softly to himself, rocking gently in Daniel's lap, every motion pushing a little puff of smoke-scented air out of his scorched smock. Some of his fine black hair had burned away almost to the scalp and Daniel touched it briefly, feeling the stiff strands against his fingertips, feeling some of the longer, more brittle pieces crumble and give way. Ban ducked out from under his hand before kneeling up to tug one of Daniel's tac vest pockets open, poking around for chocolate. Daniel cupped his hands around Ban's face and when he had his attention, he mouthed, "No more." Ban had been born deaf on PX3-772, a planet under Ba'al's rule, but he apparently could read lips in standard American English, so he subsided with a sigh and started rhythmically banging his head against Daniel's sternum.

Three gliders whined overhead and Pon redoubled his sobs, pressing his face against Jack's shoulder. Jack stroked the boy's hair back and sat him up.

"Okay buddy. You've had a pretty tough day, huh?" The small boy rubbed at his streaming nose with one hand and Jack cupped his jaw. "I know it. But we have to make a break for it, okay? That means you have to be pretty tough, too. Now, if you don't think you can stop crying, that's okay. But I want you to try something for me: I want you to take a real deep breath for me. Can you do that?"

The boy made a concerted effort and inhaled a long, shuddery breath.

"There we go. That's a good start. Now: I need you to be as quiet as you can. Try for me, all right?"

Pon didn't look like he thought he could, but Jack continued, "And I need you to hold Hata's hand and keep her quiet, too. You have to be tough for Hata so we can all get out of here. Maybe you don't think you can do that, but I know you can."

A few blurted breaths and the little boy resorted to pressing his own mouth closed.

Really, Daniel wondered that they hadn't run across more orphans in the galaxy. The Goa'uld weren't known for systematic slaughter, but they did raid planets for suitable hosts and slaves, and as far as he knew, Ra had been unusual, even among the Goa'uld, for his taste for children. This particular village had apparently been attacked in some form of retribution, and the children's house mother had been lost in the fire that had consumed the small complex. Daniel hadn't asked, but he thought it was too much to hope for that all the children had gotten out.

Jack stood and hefted Hata, balancing her on one hip before crouching down so that Pon could clamber up his back and knot his arms around Jack's neck. Daniel didn't think Jack could breathe much, but he didn't resettle the boy, or ask him to walk. Even by moonlight, Daniel could make out the dark patch on Jack's hip on the side opposite Hata; his BDUs were shiny with blood, and explained why Pon was clinging to Jack's back.

"Jack," he said, and saw the coal-light glitter of the other man's eyes flick in his direction. "Take Ban, and I'll take Pon and Hata." Ban was four, and didn't seem to care who held him, as long as there was some promise of chocolate in his future. More importantly, he was smaller than Pon.

Jack didn't answer, and Daniel stood Ban on his feet and took his hand, leading him closer to Jack.

"Pon may not be able to hang on very long like that," he explained, hoping his diplomacy wasn't too transparent, and that Jack wasn't so stubborn that he couldn't see it was also true. Jack didn't nod, but Daniel knew he'd won this particular argument.

He tried to urge Pon to loosen his grip on Jack, but Pon just stared at him until Jack said, "He's right, kid. Besides, he's been working out. Go with him. And keep an eye on Hata for me," he reminded.

Pon let Daniel take him, and watched as Jack turned over Hata. As soon as Daniel had her, Pon reached over and wrapped his hand around hers. For the first time, she moved, looking over at Pon curiously for a moment before closing her eyes and drowsing against Daniel's shoulder.

"The People of the Light love kids," Jack said softly. Daniel didn't respond, but he agreed with the sentiment. For all their barbarous treatment of their sick, they were very tender and constant parents, and low birthrates (Janis had hypothesized that their diet was a natural deterrent to many pregnancies) made children highly prized. All of these children would likely find good homes on that planet.

Provided they all lived long enough to get off world.

"Sir," Sam said, her voice low and hopeful.

The gliders had banked and climbed out of sight and the gate swallowed the last of Ba'al's foot soldiers and blinked out of existence.

"All right campers, let's pack up and get back before they run out of marshmallows at the jamboree."

Daniel heard himself laugh, and Jack eyed him strangely. Jack's jokes were never really funny, they were just... Jack. He noticed that Teal'c and Sam, too, had turned their heads to study him, and he smiled a bit and re-settled the children in his arms, dropping his eyes to the faint path picked out in moonlight ahead of him.

Teal'c lead them out, the girls in each arm, carried as lightly as kittens, then Sam, resting her chin against baby Gifall's wooly hair, Miri's huge eyes never leaving her face, then Jack, waiting for Daniel, Ban in his arms, letting Daniel walk ahead so Jack could watch his six, so Daniel wouldn't see him limping.

END

Title from a poem by Dunya Mikhail.