Dark eyes see better in the night.

Daniel had to stay close, put his feet where Jack's feet had been, and tried to grow eyes in the back of his neck.

The shadows of trees fell across them and into the bubbles of the brook that ran next to them, masking the sound of their footprints, even though the moon was not full and its dim grey light polished the rest of the surfaces - rocks, blades of grass, tree bark - to just barely lighter than black.

Jack knew how to step so that he made no sound. Daniel could never be so silent. They both knew it. It occurred to Daniel that if he stayed behind Jack might have a better chance. It never occurred to Jack.

The brook curved around a hillock, where the tree had kissed into the ground and pulled it up. Around the outside curve rocks had tumbled. Jack avoided them, silently teaching Daniel about the loudness of shoes on rock. He stayed in the grass, trying not to crunch the leaves, trying not to weigh on the earth that was not Earth.

When Jack decided they were far enough into the trees, far enough from their potential pursuer, he paused. You shouldn't touch a tree, late at night, in the dark, when being pursued, on an alien planet. You don't know what will stick to you or crawl over you. But he was tired, and he had to lean on something, and the tree was there.

Daniel saw him lay his hand on the tree. The long blunt fingers looked alien in the bluegrey shadowy not-light. But the face, even with black hollows under the cheekbones and in the pits of the eyes, looked familiar as ever. Jack hadn't slept for three days, Daniel knew. And in the hand Daniel saw that fine tremble that gives away exhaustion.

Daniel touched Jack's arm. His head, bowed, turned just slightly. Are we stopping here? Daniel asked with his eyes.

There was no sound but Daniel could see Jack sigh. That was all the answer. Apparently so.

Daniel lowered himself to lean his back against the tree. Without patting - he didn't want to rustle any grass - he patted the ground next to him. Sit, his face said, lips slightly parted as he looked up to where Jack still stood, hand against the tree trunk.

Jack's knees started to bend but Daniel pushed on them, kept him upright. Surprised, Jack looked down. Daniel made a spinning motion with his hand that, for no reason at all, Jack understood.

Daniel wanted him to sit facing Daniel, next to him, his own legs pointing the opposite direction.

Jack couldn't hear the near-silent snick of the snap as Daniel unholstered his Beretta. The brook made too much noise for that. The thing behind them, if it was still behind them, shouldn't have been able to hear it either, but Jack couldn't be sure.

It shouldn't have been able to run without any legs but it had moved plenty fast, too fast as Jack was concerned, and Teal'c and Sam had made for the opposite side of the clearing while Jack ran just slow enough to entice it to follow him - at least that was what he hoped Teal'c and Sam would tell the General, if they made it back and he didn't. Please don't let them tell the General they thought his knees had slowed him down.

Daniel, of course, had stayed by Jack.

And now Daniel was leaning against the tree, not-patting the ground.

The last stage of any threat assessment, to Jack, was whether or not this would be a stupid way to die. He had a superstitious conviction that whatever happened next, death was not entirely the end of the road - and he hated the idea that he might spend some sort of eternity irritated about being pinned under a bookshelf in his own home after dodging so many bullets.

Jack looked at the ground, mossy grey, black, and silver. He looked at his hand on the trunk of the tree. And he looked at Daniel's eyes - wide awake, asking no questions. Like everything else on this desperate planet they had turned dark in the night, the pupil expanded, trying hard to see while surrounded with the thinnest ring of twilight blue. It was the only color left.

Daniel watching.

Jack lowered himself to the ground, hoping that the sound of the brook, nonsense musical notes that smelled as sweet as they sounded, would cover the aged crackling of his knees. He leaned forward, his flat chest against Daniel's, unconsciously scraping his cheek against Daniel's stubbly cheek as he laid his head on Daniel's shoulder; and this time Daniel could feel rather than see the sigh.

This would not be a stupid way to die, thought Jack as Daniel's left arm snuck around his waist to help hold him up while the right arm draped over his shoulder, Beretta making a cold hard weight between his shoulderblades.

Jack closed his eyes and Daniel's shoulder felt hard under his cheek but warm, easy to sleep on after all. In the morning there would be light and color again, or else they'd be dead. Till then, this was as good a place as any to rest.

And as Jack's breathing slowed, and his head dropped that last little eighth of an inch that gave away a man truly asleep, Daniel's eyes scanned the shadows and not-light, watched the grey bubbles that formed in the curve of the brook, and did not close.