hattie_notqueen: (Default)
Define 'camping'. Define 'friends'. Define... 'happened'.

If 'camping' can be defined as a mission that took place in the woods and involved tents, MRE's, sleeping bags, flashlights, scary events (see: happened) and a fire that went seriously wrong? This was definitely camping by anyone's standards.

If 'friends' can be defined as the rest of SG-12, namely SGT's Rodriguez and Connor and LT. Michaels, then yes, friends it was. Especially if you would put yourself in harm's way for these people and/or they'd do the same for you (see: happened), this was definitely camping.

If by 'happened', you DON'T mean s'mores and campfire stories, followed by someone snoring outrageously loud in their tent, then, well... I do think that Rodriguez ended up with Poison something-or-other, though. I'm not quite sure what it was and frankly, I wasn't about to ask. Especially since the location wasn't on his um, posterior. Get it?

Needless to say, that was the first time I'd been 'camping'. Anything involving tents, anyway. Building a fort with my dad on the Odyssey involved a sheet from Grandpa Landry's bed and a few chairs from the Galley. Even then, all I did was read down there. I hadn't even heard a real bird until I was twenty-one. What does that say about my upbringing?

Putting up a tent was a chore in and of itself. I can shoot, with 97% accuracy, any number of firearms. Besides your normal handhelds, you've got your Zat's and the occasional staff weapon. Being hit with a Zat? Not nearly as much fun, let me tell you. That much electricity going through your body... let's just say there's a reason that a second shot kills. I could have said that there was a reason they didn't hit you with a practice shot from a staff weapon. It didn't matter. Putting up a tent was a pain in the ass and I spent more time swearing at it than I ever did actually IN it.

Apparently, my first camping trip would provide me with my first staff shot, though. On the upside, Cam says I got my first war-wound, so I'm apparently in his Cool Club or something. I don't know. If you want to compare war-wounds with someone? The fighter pilot who got shot down and had to re-learn to walk is NOT the guy to compare scars with, I'm just saying.

I didn't even see who shot me. I think that's the worst part. Who shoots someone in the back and MISSES? Still, the mark is there. Nothing too big, but it's there. Three inches to the left and it would have been ME coming home in the black bag, not Connor. I remember waking up on the ground with my face against the tree, scratched to hell. Pulling scorched uniform out of my back was excruciating. Thank God for morphine and lack of allergy to said drug.

Dad was pissed, Cam threw a few things, Teal'c wanted to go back and 'find the coward who-'... You know, I think he slipped into a dialect of Goa'uld that I wasn't familiar with. Mom told Walter to just dial the Gate. Grandpa Landry sent a team back but not that one and they didn't find a thing. Too much time and all that.

Jack offered the use of his cabin for camping trips in the future. He says there's fishing.


Hattie Jackson
Stargate OC
582 Words

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Catherine Hatshepsut (Hattie) Jackson

March 2009

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