Shit Happens
A fic to honour a fallen cricket in Twitchy’s bathroom. Lest we forget.
By Twitchy and the Nut
Oct 2003

It landed on his nose.

He didn't know how it got there, but when you have three inches of insect in front of your eyeballs you really don't care.

He stared at it.

It stared at him.

It was an impasse.

He could only do what the situation required to break the stand off.

He yelped.

Loudly.

One Colonel, scrambling backwards, losing his balance, arms pinwheeling.

One large many legged something holding on tight

Several words, a description of sorts – unidentified animal dung.

Bug went that way, Colonel went splat.

Shit.

Yep, that was it - shit.

Perfect way to describe it, really.

No other word necessary.

Just shit.

He lifted an arm and chunks of moist goop slipped off it. He could feel it in his hair, he could feel it on his skin. And even though there was an ominous silence, he could feel the laughter bubbling up around him.

"Crap!"

"Indeed, O'Neill"

"Well, don't just stand there! Help me up!"

One bronzed arm came down, and grabbed his shirt. The suction sucked and slipped as Teal'c pulled him abruptly to his feet.

Oh, god, there was shit in his pants, and it wasn't his own.

The three members of his team stood around him, straight faces twitching.

“Sir, can I ask a question?"

He ground out his reply, glaring at the bland face of his Second. "No, Carter, you may not.” He stabbed each of them with an eyeball. "In fact, if any of this reaches a report, I'm gonna tell on all of you."

"And what exactly are you going to tell, O'Neill?" Teal’c, eyebrow perched, calmly inquired.

"I'm going to say that you pushed me in."

Teal'c's face took on an almost threatening look “That would be a lie, O’Neill.”

“Okay, then, how about that time you and I visited that Jello tournament? And that challenge you LOST!"

Teal'c's look got even more dire, and Daniel looked like he was going to come to the Jaffa’s rescue. Jack held up a hand, and waved a finger in Daniel's face. "Ah, Daniel, I'm thinking the General's coffee machine here."

Daniel recoiled from the dripping digit, but opened his mouth in any case.

"What about that translation you gave SG7? Want them to know what it really said?"

Daniel shut up.

Carter’s turn. As if on cue, she opened her mouth.

Jack's glare in her direction could have melted ice. It is difficult to be effective when you are covered in manure, but O’Neill did his damnedest best. "Carter, does your Dad really need to know about what happened to his last birthday present to you?"

Her mouth shut.

Okay, blackmail firmly in place.

Authority restored.

He flicked his fingers, trying to get at least some of the stinking substance off his body.

Oops.

"Umm, sorry, Daniel."

The archaeologist calmly pulled off his glasses and wiped them clean. Well, as clean as he could get them. There seemed to be a lot of oil in the foliage on this planet. The world was blurred around the edges for Daniel for the rest of the trip…and somewhat smelly.

Carter backed off.

Jack continued to attempt to get some of the slime off, with little result. "Want to give me a hand here, T buddy?"

"No."

Short, and succinct.

Carter’s nose wrinkled to the point of merging permanently with her forehead. "Sir, there is a river, about a mile in that direction." She pointed vaguely off into the west, her eyes keeping track of his position at all times.

The look of disgust on his team mates’ faces made the decision for him. "Then a mile it is."

**********

They walked.

And walked.

And trudged.

The sun was hot.

The air was dry.

And the Colonel was starting to set.

One six foot two, smelly, dung statue.

Who always seemed to walk upwind of everybody else.

Occasionally bits fell off, but most clung to him with the tenacity of a limpet clinging to a wreck.

A mile had never seemed so far.

But finally they made it to the river. It was cool, deep and inviting. It was a pity that it was filled by what seemed like thousands of migrating buffalo.

"Shit, Carter, did you have to tell them about it, too?"

Four humans, one coated in dung, stood on the steep slope of the bank looking down with some trepidation. They had to have some water. Even muddy dirty water was better than none. Wasn’t it?

"Sorry, sir, but it is the only water around." She looked apologetic, but there was something in her eyes that still laughed. Damn it.

"Well, I am not going back through the gate smelling like the back end of a cow."

"Indeed, O'Neill"

Jack looked over at the Jaffa - Teal'c seemed to be enjoying himself far too much. “Teal'c get your butt over here, and give me a hand.” The warrior’s face seemed to curdle. “Don't look at me like that, I'm your commanding officer, and that was an order.”

"And you think that going down there is going to help, Jack? How?"

“Anything to get this stuff offa me. It can’t get any worse, can it?”

The archaeologist didn't look too sure on that account.

Jack’s attention turned back to Teal’c. The Jaffa stepped forward, reluctance written all over his face, and they made an attempt to descend down the steep, slippery slope.

Teal'c did help, but it didn't help.

One Colonel, one Jaffa, three dozen buffalo, one steep hill.

And one hell of a splash.

The kings of slapstick couldn't have done it better.

Not a pretty sight. Carter and Daniel stood at the top of the incline, helpless to do anything but watch.

And Jack had been wrong. It could get worse.

Someone had neglected to mention that manure isn't the only biproduct of bovine stock.

Jack was pissed.

Literally.

At least Teal'c had the presence of mind to keep his mouth shut.

Jack never could.

The taste was, shall we say, not for the faint hearted.

"Shit!" The Colonel surfaced, spraying river water everywhere.

"Indeed."

He swore that he was going to strangle the Jaffa.

"Colonel, are you okay? Teal'c?" Carter was kneeling, leaning over the edge of the incline, obviously being extremely careful not to end up in the river with them.

He spat the last of the river water from his mouth. "We're coming back up."

"Should we not endeavour to wash ourselves first, O'Neill?" The Jaffa’s sarcasm was cutting. Jack gave it all the attention it was due.

He ignored it.

Jack grabbed onto the bank and began the climb back up. Unfortunately, his hand landed on something soft, something squiggly, and something definitely alive.

For the second time that day, he yelped.

Jumped back.

Bumped into Teal'c.

And down they went again.

At least this time he kept his mouth shut.

This time, however, they both surfaced with even more urgency.

There was something in the water. Something moving, and it wasn’t human or cow.

What, he asked himself, could possibly live in this?!

He saw the same look of sudden desperation on the Jaffa's face. They had to get out of here – NOW!

"Sir!" Carter's voice had taken on a note of panic, reflecting their own sense of the situation. "There is something in the water. Get out now!"

What was it about the situation that made everyone want to state the damned obvious?

Jack did his best to obey, his feet struggling for purchase on the soft river floor. Something brushed past his leg.

Oh, god. Flashes of Jaws passed through his mind, and his legs pushed harder into the mud.

"We're trying, Major, got any brilliant suggestions as to how?"

Suddenly a rope slapped him on the head. "Jack, grab hold!" Daniel.

He fumbled, his hands slick with oily residue, but he finally managed to get a grip, one hand on the rope, the other on the jacket of one totally put-out Jaffa.

Jack felt Carter and Daniel tugging on the other end, and he and Teal’c began making their way towards dry land.

Something grabbed at his foot. It was pulled out from under him and he went under, yet again.

This was getting tiresome.

He vaguely heard Teal'c call his name before the water dulled it from his senses. He clung to the rope desperately, attempting to pull himself away from the vice that had his foot.

Surprisingly, there was no pain, but a swell in his middle soon started to remind him of a necessity of life.

Oxygen.

And there wasn't any anywhere nearby.

The world began to fade at the edges, and his life was flashing before his eyes – oh, must remember to ask Daniel for that fifty bucks he owes me. He began to drift, but suddenly he was pulled free.

Minus one boot.

One sock.

But, fortunately, not one leg.

Teal'c!

The Jaffa surfaced beside him, and together using the rope they finally made it to shore, to collapse on the blessed, dry earth.

"Jack, you okay?"

"Do I look okay, Daniel?"

The question seemed to come from the distance, its vowels fuzzy. Jack looked up and came eye to eye with the archaeologist.

Unfortunately said archaeologist seemed to have a large, hairy beetle crawling out of his nose.

"Daniel!"

One swat, one archaeologist, one broken nose.

"Oh, god, Jack, whaddya do that for?" Daniel clutched his bleeding nose with both hands, his eyes staring at O’Neill in shock.

Jack, in shock himself, stood up woozily, and gaped at the archaeologist. "It was a bug. I swear."

"Sir?"

Jack looked in the direction of Carter's voice. She was coming towards him, her body swaying.

Swaying.

Swaying side to side.

Oooh, Carter.

She seemed to be waving her body in front of him.

Alluring, definitely enticing.

But the motion was getting to him. His eyes were tracking, and the world was getting wobbly.

She got closer.

Closer.

Reaching out for him.

"Colonel? Are you alright?"

That was it, he couldn't take it anymore.

Lunch, and about three gallons of buffalo flavoured river ended up in her lap.

He spat on the ground, the vile taste of himself coating the inside of his mouth. He looked back up at his second-in-command, and with all sincerity said, "Sorry, Carter."

He had to admit he felt better. His head was a lot less woozy, and his vision had straightened itself out, but the look on Carter’s face, the shock….words could not describe.

Oh, he was so gonna pay for this one.

Okay, time for some O’Neill bravado in the face of certain doom. He clapped his grubby hands together in an attempt at joviality, and had to spit as flecks of the substance coating his hands flicked into his mouth. Urgh. As it was, he'd have to brush his teeth four times a day for weeks just to get the taste of that river out of his mouth, no need to add to it.

Okay, O’Neill, you’re in command, start acting it.

"Okay, kids, time to head back to the gate."

"O'Neill" The strained voice of Teal'c came from behind him. "I have no wish to appear in the SGC looking like this."

Jack looked from Teal'c's dirty, damp clothes, to his own, not only covered with green river slime, but almost oozing with now wet manure. He wiped a filthy hand across his face, clearing some more lumps from his nose and eyes, and shook his head to clear the fumes in an attempt to look professional. "Teal'c, I don't think you have a problem. Everybody, head out.”

And off they went.

One archaeologist with a broken nose.

One astrophysicist covered in vomit.

One Jaffa soaked in urine.

And one very dirty, very slimy, very smelly, very pissed off Colonel.

Minus a boot.

**********

They walked for hours.

It had been one mile to the river from the incident with the manure, but it was another ten to the gate.

They trudged, and the sun beat down, drying the substances coating each of them.

The Colonel walked one boot short. One sock short.

Over a whole lot of inconvenient rocks.

And, again, always upwind.

But this time, the smell was no longer noticeable up against each other’s own stink. Only Daniel managed to escape smelling like a zoo, and he had a broken nose, so he couldn’t smell the others anyway.

Jack was tired, and his head ached, but he kept going, ever the soldier, ever one to endure all.

It was the sudden appearance of some sort of ground cover cactus under his bare foot that was the final straw. He felt the needles start to pierce his skin, flinched back, attempting to avoid what he knew would come next, and twisting his body in midair, he over balanced.

This time it was more than a yelp that rent the air.

This time it had multiple syllables.

In a variety of dialects.

"Jack!"

Daniel looked more than shocked, he looked appalled.

One Colonel, yelling, once again arms pinwheeling, only to land on his butt.

No dung to break his fall this time. Who would have thought you could miss a pile of shit, and land in even more crap.

There was something on the ground, besides the cactus.

Ants.

Lots of them.

And these weren't your average type of ant. No, these were purple, had teeth, and liked the taste of Colonel, particularly as he was so nicely seasoned with manure.

One Colonel fell down, said Colonel stood up even faster.

But standing up quickly wasn't enough.

They were in his clothes.

They were crawling up his back.

They were in his hair.

And, oh, shit, they were in his pants.

Had to get them off. Had to get them off now!

SG-1, flagship team of the SGC, first point of contact for Planet Earth, stood back and watched their Colonel shed his clothing like ….a man with ants in his pants.

“Is there something wrong, O'Neill?”

“For crying out loud - would you help me here!” He was wrestling with his T-shirt.

“What seems to be the problem, Jack?”

“Ants!” The T-shirt was now over his head, but seemed somehow stuck in the goop coating their CO. A muffled expletive was followed by, “Get your butts over here, and help me, that's an order.”

“I helped you get down to the river, O'Neill, I feel that I have done my part today.” The Jaffa was obviously still stewing. Jack didn’t really care, he just wanted some help, any help – now!

One leg was desperately attempting to pull the boot off the other, and he was on the verge of falling over once again, head still stuck in the T-Shirt, when Daniel, looking at the others in disgust, jumped into the fray and caught him.

His reward was one purple ant crawling up his sleeve onto his face and biting him firmly on his already broken nose.

The Colonel got dropped.

Daniel yelped.

Jack yelped.

And the ants happily returned to their meal.

If Daniel had thought Jack's language colourful before, he really hadn't heard the half of it. His linguistic education suddenly was forcefully expanded.

It took only a moment before they had both scrambled to their feet. Daniel escaped with just the one bite, but, unfortunately, Jack was not so lucky. He had much more to contend with - hundreds more.

His shirt went west.

His pants went east, his one remaining boot having travelled in a southerly direction managing to just avoid hitting Teal'c in the process. Which was probably fortunate for Jack if Teal'c's expression was anything to go by.

Carter went red.

One half naked Colonel dancing around in the dust with enough energy to demand a rainstorm.

Unfortunately, he only danced up a dust storm.

It came in suddenly, no warning, a wall of red brown topsoil, and it enveloped them.

On the good side, the ants had no fancy for the change in weather, and disappeared from wherever the hell they had come from, taking only Jack's dignity with them.

On the bad side, it was so dark, Jack couldn't find his pants.

He heard Carter yelling for him above the wind, and moved in her direction. He ran into Daniel instead, knocking him to the ground. At least he hoped that it was Daniel, and not Teal’c. In fact, he hoped feverently it wasn’t Teal’c. Jack was pretty sure he’d done his dash with the Jaffa today.

He reached out a hand, finding fabric and clenched his fist. Pulling the figure into view he was greeted by one glasses-askew, dishevelled archaeologist, bleeding nose included. "Daniel?"

"Yes, Jack?" The answer was ground out, and not because of the grit in the air.

O’Neill chose to ignore it. "Hang on, we've got to find the others."

A hand wrapped itself around the waistband of his underwear. Thank god, he'd worn boxers today.

Jack, secure in the knowledge that Daniel was safe, started moving forward, calling out for Carter and Teal'c. He stretched out his arms, blindly, in the dust before him, searching, hoping to find the rest of his team.

His hands found something.

It was definitely Carter.

"Sir!"

Hastily dropping his arms, he thanked the dust storm for hiding his expression. Grabbing Daniel, he sent him in the Major's direction, dance of the conga line it was.

Two down one to go. Now they just had to find Teal'c.

This time he let Daniel go first. It didn't take long, a faint voice on the air leading them in the general direction,
until suddenly, whack, Daniel ran into something solid.

Definitely Teal'c.

He was like a large rock - standing strong against the wind. "We must find shelter!" He shouted towards O’Neill. The Jaffa took point, sheltering Daniel and Carter somewhat from the wind, but one glance in O’Neill’s direction led the Colonel to take their six – as far away as possible from the formidable warrior. Yep, he’d definitely done his dash with Teal’c today.

They had little chance to act on any possible plan to get to shelter, as at that point, the dust suddenly left as quickly as it had come. They stood in the middle of the plain, four very bedraggled, dust coated humans.

Of the four, Daniel again, was the least affected. His eyes had mostly been hidden behind his glasses - the eyes of the rest felt like they had been run through a beach backwards - and as the dust only attached where there was dampness, he only had a halo of brown masking his broken nose.

Carter, however, had a trail of brown down her pants.

Teal'c looked nothing less than a mud warrior straight out of the African Jungle.

But Jack…

Words seemed to fail when describing Jack.

The man seemed to have changed species, and morphed into something straight out of a B grade horror movie, perhaps the Creature from the Black Lagoon.

His hair stood on end, blown astray by the wind, frozen solid by the mud and the dust. Two dark eyes, red rimmed and streaming, looked pitifully out from a clay cracked face. He was coated in slime and mud, dusted brown by windblown soil, complete with his own delicate perfume. The fact that he was fully covered was fortunate in a way, as his clothing was now nowhere to be seen.

He looked awful.

"Are you okay, Colonel?" Carter's concern would have been touching, if it hadn't been tempered by a reluctance to look him in the eye.

His eyes checked over the team. Unlike himself, they seemed fine, if a little the worse for wear. His eyes returned to Carter, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Yes, thank you, Carter, just peachy. Now can we just get the hell out of here?" He motioned for them to head out, he wanted off this planet and now!

Jack took one decisive step forward.

And stepped right into the middle of that same ground cactus he had avoided earlier.

For the fourth time that day, he yelped.

Loudly.

And once again he was falling backwards.

Fortunately, this time Daniel caught him. Was that pity in his eyes?

"Let’s get you home, Jack."

He took Daniel’s arm gratefully, leaning on him, far too tired and sore to act the hero.

Several protesting squawks later, Carter had all the thorns out of his foot and wrapped it in a firm bandage for protection. Just for safety's sake, she also wrapped his other foot, and smiling slightly helped him to his feet. He looked down at the white bandages - at least some part of his body was clean. Leaning on Daniel, he started to make his way to the gate.

Bits of grimy, dust covered slime cracked, and began to fall off him as he hobbled along, his eyes scouring the ground all the way.

Ants.

Cacti.

He avoided them both.

And finally the gate came into sight. He heaved a sigh of relief.

But as Daniel led him to the DHD, he realised that he was about to enter the gateroom….looking like this! The Second-in-Command of the entire facility, hero of eight, repeat, eight, separate world saving events, looking like this. God, he was never going to live it down.

But there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

Resigned, he leant up against the DHD while Daniel dialled out. He closed his eyes. In a few minutes he could go home, shower, and deny this day ever happened.

Closing his eyes was a mistake.

For when he opened them it was back.

The bug.

The bug that had started it all - or one just like it.

He stared at it.

It stared at him.

It sat on his nose just like its predecessor, but Jack found he just didn't have the energy. It could just damned well stay there.

The wormhole swelled and gushed, and Daniel came once again to his aid.

"Jack, there is a bug on your nose."

"I know, Daniel."

"Well, don't you want to brush it off?" Daniel raised a hand.

"No, Daniel, don't -" Jack’s eyes widened in alarm.

The bug went flying, Daniel’s hand swiping it from his sight, but not before it left a little present.

Who knew a bug could create such a large load of-

“Shit!” That’s it! Jack O’Neill is going home now!

The wormhole swallowed him whole.

**********

George Hammond looked up from the report he was reading as the gate alarms went off. He dropped his head into his hands and sighed. He had good money that he would willingly bet on SG-1 stumbling through that wormhole, probably in pieces. They weren’t due back for several hours, and this could only mean that something had gone wrong.

He made a beeline for the stairs, barrelling down them to the control room. Yep, sure enough, it was SG-1’s code. When he saw what exited the wormhole he could do only one thing - he was in the gateroom within moments.

The people stumbling down the ramp looked exhausted, among other things.

One archaeologist, face full of grime, nose broken.

One Major sporting an apron of what seemed to be a mixture of dust and vomit.

One mud caked, obviously very irked Jaffa.

And one Colonel, at least George thought it was the Colonel. It was very hard to tell, until he saw, beneath a smudge of grime, the tattoo on Jack's…

“General?”

The man stood before him, dressed in only his underwear, leaning at an awkward angle against Doctor Jackson’s shoulder, smelling like the wrong end of a sewer pipe.

"Colonel, what happened?"

His Second-in-Command looking resigned, ran a hand through the mess that was his hair, before looking his CO in the eye. "Nothing much, sir, just the usual shit."

*********
FIN.