He didn’t know he was alive again until he drew in his first breath. The sound and sensation startled him to consciousness from his abyss of peace and silence as rudely as a jangling alarm.
Without his bidding, for certainly he was not ready for directed thinking, his eyes eased open. Grey. Light. Too bright - hurts! were the flutters of partial information he received as he reacted to the last bit and shut them up again.
Where am I/What happened?
He tried to focus, to center himself around that thought, but it melted away from him effortlessly as he was distracted by another, louder yammering in his brain, something’s wrong something’s wrong something’s wrong.
He tried to follow that other, more urgent thought instead, but that proved as frustrating as the first set of questions, it was impossible to zero in, to concentrate, to think clearly. Everything was murky and muddled like he’d had too much coffee and too little sleep.
But that was never a problem anymore, was it? Was it?
Then why had he seen a hand…the glimpse of the answer slipped into and out of his thoughts like quicksilver.
He mentally groped after it, but it was gone.
He sighed internally. Rested. Marshaled his thoughts. Breathing? There was no mistake. He could hear it, feel it. Knew somehow it was himself he was feeling. Or was this an out-of-body-body experience? Had he coalesced himself into the familiar temporary trappings of a human body for some critical purpose once again?
He must have. But he couldn’t remember why. And he couldn’t remember breathing, when he’d taken the form those other times.
And he didn’t remember being cold. He didn’t remember how it felt to have his body pressed full length onto a cold, hard surface.
He was lying on a cold, hard surface.
Sweet Jesus.
His eyes popped open again.
There was the hand, right in front of him. Lying on the ground. It looked familiar.
He sent a now unfamiliar command.
The index finger twitched, then the thumb. As commanded.
His, then.
His?
How the-?
He tried to push up, to shove himself up, to look around this strange cold gray place, but the arms shook and wobbled and could not bring or bear him up.
He was quiet. But breathing harder now. And now one arm was awkward and uncomfortable beneath him.
And he was colder.
Up, he thought, but nothing happened. Nothing. No pleasant buzz of motion.
No flight.
He couldn’t see like he could before, couldn’t move, couldn’t think with that amazing clarity and wondrous effortlessness like he’d been able to of late.
He didn’t understand; decided to refuse to think about it.
He would do what he needed to get this stiff, cold, unwieldy body to work, figure out where he was, get warmed up, and get the hell back to where he was supposed to be.
Perhaps this was a dream? He relaxed as he accepted this answer. It was necessary for him to learn something, and the elder and wiser of his kind had determined that this was the most expedient method.
All right, then. This he was used to.
He opened his eyes again. This time, he allowed himself to be fascinated as he watched himself make his fingers flex, tap the surface, squeeze into a fist, and relax. He was utterly transfixed. He had no idea how long he was lost in this reverie, surely it didn’t matter.
Unfortunately, his arm beneath him was sending steady waves of complaint, his body was increasingly cold, and finally he began to shiver.
He reluctantly pulled his attention away from his hand.
He had to get up. He had to move up off his arm, and he had to sit up or stand up. Maybe he even had to try to find a way to warm himself.
This was too much, overwhelming. He felt a heated flush of anxiety bloom through his chest and gut. Calm down. I used to do this all the time. It’s my own body, for crying out loud. I can do this.
Slowly, awkwardly, he shoved himself to a slumped but sitting position. He wanted to lie down again. Something - emotion, something physical, he didn’t know which, was making his vision swirl and spin. He gritted his teeth, shut his eyes, and forced himself to be as still as possible. He listened to himself breathe and felt the cold smoothness of the floor under his hands, under his legs and butt. It was so cold. He would have to do something about that. Had he already decided that?
Then he forgot the swirling and looked at himself. No clothes? That was different, too. It explained why he’d been so cold, but before, there’d been clothes…he forced himself past the thought. Everything was different about this time. He needed to stop comparing, start coping.
He took a deep breath, then, and held it as he awkwardly shoved himself to his feet. He lost his balance immediately and banged hard into the wall. But he stayed up.
It looked so familiar, exactly like the plain gray walls of SGC. For all he knew, this could be SGC. Why not? He’d been to Earth before in these lessons. Or it could be an infinity of other places. Wasn’t Abydos, that was for sure. But thinking this was SGC because of its cold featureless halls would be like assuming he was on Abydos if he was in the desert.
He shook away the thought and told himself to let go of the wall holding him up, to move out. To go find what he was there to find.
He let go of the wall, and his knees started to buckle. He banged into the wall again, and barely managed to keep his feet.
"Well that’s no good," he murmured, startling himself by the sound of his own voice. The arm he’d been lying on was tingling. He shook it a little and hissed when the tingle turned to hundreds of tiny sparkles of pain. He leaned on the wall and grabbed his arm and rode out the sensation, wondering why it hurt so much. Everything seemed exaggerated; the brightness of the light, the sound of his breathing, the needles in his arm.
He had resolved to push on, to grope his way along the hallway with the sturdy assistance of the wall, when he heard it. Footsteps. A steady, purposeful boot-heeled clomp. And voices. Young. Male. Speaking English, as a matter of fact, which he registered much more casually than the moment actually called for. But perhaps his inattention to that important fact was excusable, for he was much more concerned about what was about to happen.
Hiding wasn’t an option. Running up the corridor the other way wouldn’t work either. There wasn’t a damned thing he could do but wait right here –
"Get your hands up – right now!" The reaction of the soldiers was impressive. They turned the corner, took him in and aimed their weapons in a split second. The snapped order was as much a motivation for him to yank his hands upward as the menace of their weapons.
One was already speaking quietly into a radio, and then he approached cautiously. "Turn around and put your hands behind your back, pal."
That was a problem, for it meant letting go of the wall he was leaning on so heavily. He meant to try though, but when he didn’t move quickly enough, Radio Man grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him. As soon as he lost contact with his wall, he was falling. Heavily.
"Good God," came the disgusted voice above him as his hands were efficiently cuffed behind his back. "I hope whatever the hell you’re on was worth your career, pal."
He heard more voices above him then, more than he could sort out. He heard a gasp when he was hauled unceremoniously back to his feet. "Dr. Jackson?" one of them, a man he half remembered, named Simmons, maybe? exclaimed.
Was he? He wished he could sit down and warm up and think about that. The group was muttering, gesturing at him and his lack of attire, composure, balance and any evidence of cognitive behavior. One sub group was arguing enthusiastically about whether this indeed could be Daniel Jackson, back one more time from the dead.
No one bothered to ask him, and he leaned a little more and more on the man holding him up, until with a grunt of irritation, he was shoved upright again. "Y’all go on ahead and have your little philosophical discussion. I’m taking this dude to a holding cell. I ain’t holding him up here all night."
Things got fuzzy after that for awhile; he was ‘escorted’ or rather, all but carried, down the hall, into an elevator, down a hall again, all the time accompanied by the group who couldn’t decide whether he was dead or alive or faking it or what, but no one bothered asking him, which was fortunate, because he sure as hell didn’t know.
A door was unlocked; he was pushed inside. This was definitely not the VIP guest quarters. This small dreary hole in the wall with a bunk and a prominent camera and very little else was obviously meant to make the occupant realize he or she was in deep, deep trouble.
He was dumped onto the bed, then to his gratitude for he could not form the words to ask, a blanket was drawn brusquely around his shoulders. The door clicked shut, and the voices hovered in the hallway.
He slumped, but knew he could not lie comfortably with the cuffs they had not bothered to remove. He thought about trying to call for them and ask; but didn’t think he could call out loud enough for them to hear. But he needed something behind his back, to hold him up. He sighed, and resigned himself to the floor once more. He tried to be careful as he scooted downward, but still a flash of discouraged hopelessness caught him as the blanket slipped down, despite his care, to puddle in his lap. He had no way to bring it up around himself once more, and this cell was every bit as cold as the hall had been. He leaned back against the bed, careful not to put his weight on his arms, and flinched as the cold metal from the bed frame bit into his back.
What else could possibly go wrong? He sighed again, and closed his eyes, impossibly tired.
He started to shiver, lost in misery, unable to think of anything very clearly. He was still trying to figure out whether he believed this was Earth, or a clever disguise, or an alternative universe, or some other derivative of reality. He supposed it was logical enough that this was the real thing; terra firma if you would, what better place to drive home whatever message he was supposed to learn and then go back to his life as a glowy-butterfly-thing. He smiled as he thought of Jack’s calculatedly-goofy descriptive phrase, but it faded rather quickly as he squirmed, trying and failing to get a little more comfortable. All he accomplished was to lose even more from his receding blanket line. He shivered; fascinated with watching his body shake.
Some indeterminate time later, there was a quick flurry of voices at the door, a scrambling at the latch, the door banged open, and Jack was there.
He was dressed like he’d been roused from bed, his hair was crazy, his shirt wasn’t tucked in, and he had on no socks. He was slightly out of breath.
The pair eyed each other warily. For all his obvious haste to get there, now Jack appeared to be in no hurry to move or say anything at all. Finally, he hooked a thumb towards himself. "Jack O’Neill. But you know that, I expect, since you’re wearing the Daniel Jackson suit. So? You wanna state your name and business? Planet of origin? Or are you here to oracle and stuff? I asked for some lottery numbers once upon a time as I recall."
Daniel felt his lips curve into his first tiny smile. "’Daniel Jackson suit’? How often does this happen, anyway?"
Jack’s eyes narrowed in that assessing stare that Daniel knew and often dreaded. He waited, shivering, determined to let whatever this was play itself out.
Jack’s eyes noted the shaking, and then widened a little as he seemed to notice Daniel’s attire for the first time. He squatted down then, so he could look Daniel in the eye. "Whatever you are, you seem…a lot more corporal this time."
This didn’t seem to require an answer, so Daniel sat quietly as Jack started to tug the blanket up around him once again. It snagged on his hands, and Jack’s eyes widened as he took in the handcuffs.
He didn’t take his eyes off Daniel as he snapped, "Somebody gimme the key to these things."
Bodies shifted out in the hall and the door opened, admitting a marine. He handed the key to Jack, then took a position in the corner of the room, automatic rifle aimed directly at Daniel.
"Stand down, marine," Jack snapped. The rifle did not waver.
"Sir. Regulations stipulate that aliens under quarantine who have not been examined must be restrained. Barring that – "
"I know what the book says," Jack interrupted smoothly. "Lock us in here. I’ll wait with him until they decide what they want to do with him. Now get out."
The marine obeyed, closing the door with a little more firmness than necessary.
Jack turned his attention back to Daniel. "You wanna turn a bit so I can take the cuffs off?"
Daniel scooched around so he could reach. He felt Jack’s eyes doing that slow assessment again.
"You wanna tell me the story now? You remember, I’m sure. Me Jack. You answer questions."
"Jack – it’s me. I think."
Jack held up a warning finger. "Stop it right there. I don’t want to hear it. Save it for the judge. I don’t believe it, and I don’t care for the B.S., because frankly, you pretending to be Daniel is going to piss me off faster than anything you could possibly do. I’m here out of respect for the form you took, that’s all. And when you get whatever the message is delivered, I’m gone. And so are you. Unless you wanna hang around and let them dissect you."
This all-business, no warmth Jack was painfully familiar from their early days. Daniel didn’t miss him a bit, and wondered fleetingly if this was what Jack had returned to in the time since he’d left. If so, the others certainly had his empathy.
He was exhausted. Still shivering, but at least now he could draw the blanket closer and keep the heat in.
He didn’t know what to say. "I don’t know what’s going on," he admitted. "I woke up a while ago. Down a few levels. I –" he swallowed. "I don’t know what happened. I think this is a dream, or a lesson or something I’m supposed to learn. Maybe I did something I wasn’t supposed to –" Something flashed across Jack’s face. "What? You know something I don’t?"
Jack shook his head. "Just keep talking."
"That’s it, really. I don’t know why I’m here or how I could be…as you said, corporal again. I don’t know how that could happen. It never has before, and, I don’t know, all of the sudden I feel…human or something again. Like what happened before was a dream. Or maybe this is. I can’t figure it out. I mean, I did…ascend, right? Or was that a dream?"
Jack’s face remained stony. "It was a nightmare. Not a dream. Yes, it happened."
"And I’ve seen you since then? But not in this form?" Jack gave a grudging nod. "I don’t know, then. I just don’t."
He swayed, then, out of words, energy, thoughts. "What happened to me, Jack?" he whispered, but there was no reply. "I think I better lay down," and he sagged towards the floor.
Hands caught him and held him. He sighed into the warmth of Jack’s solid presence. "Ah, shit Daniel, stay with me here – " was the last thing he heard before he passed out.
*********************************************************
It was a hard prospect, waking up. He was stuck, half awake and half out. But a steady slapping noise, thwap, thwap, thwap, kept him from slipping back under completely, so instead he worked on moving towards the light of day, as it were.
The noise was coming from, no surprise, Jack. He was restlessly slapping what Daniel presumed was his medical chart against his leg.
"So?" asked Daniel, and cleared his throat, and tried again. "Have we figured out who I am?"
Jack looked down at him and almost smiled. Almost. "No. We know a lot of things you’re not. You’re not a Goa’uld, thank God, or I’d have had to shoot you, which would have given me no small degree of satisfaction on some levels, but would have made me spend much more time with McKenzie than anyone should ever want to. You’re not a robot clone. Although the jury’s still out on whether you might be a regular clone. Your DNA matches you perfectly. Your dental records match. Oddly, you have no appendix but no surgical scar, either. In fact, you have no scars. At all. Which I think eliminates you from being from some alt universe. No way in hell any derivative of you is gonna be without a damned nice collection of souvenirs. So…who knows? You might even be human."
Daniel felt a surge of fear. "That isn’t possible," he said flatly. Abruptly, he looked up at the ceiling. "Is this a test?" he called out. "Hello? Some parameters might be nice if you want me to learn whatever it is I need to learn."
Jack carefully, theatrically, rolled his head to look in the same direction as Daniel. "Well," he said, "anyway, like I was saying, Janet says I owe you an apology, that you may very well actually be you."
"No, I’m not. I don’t think so, anyway."
Jack raised an eyebrow. "Whaddoya know? We’re finally arguing on the same side. Speaking of Janet, by the way, I’m supposed to call her –"
"Just as soon as Dr. Jackson regained consciousness, I believe our agreement was," came from an annoyed sounding Janet Frasier, who hadn’t appeared yet but whose voice carried quite well across the room.
"Yeah," Jack cleared his throat and coughed a few times. "I was getting ready to call you, Doc. I couldn’t get Dan – this guy, thing, whatever, to shut up to let me. It isn’t Daniel, but it sure as hell has some of his annoying characteristics."
"I wouldn’t shut up? Excuse me, Jack, but – "
"Excuse me," interrupted Janet, with a look leveled at Jack that she usually reserved for penicillin resistant bugs under her scope. Then she turned to Daniel with an utterly brilliant smile. "You look pretty good. But you ought to, considering you slept through seven different rounds of exams and tests."
Daniel tentatively returned her smile. "I do feel less tired. And, um, things seem a little less intense now. When I woke up, everything seemed…too much. Overwhelming."
She nodded and pulled the curtain around them with one hand, and her penlight out of her pocket with the other. "Let’s have a look at you now, then…"
********************************************
He had upgraded to the VIP quarters he’d missed earlier. But he was no closer to understanding what was happening or why, than he’d been before.
The one thing he was sure of was that far-fetched as it sounded, he had the oddest suspicion that Jack and the others were hiding something from him. Everyone was solicitous and kind, but he was catching the glances being exchanged and the many impromptu meetings taking place without him. He’d encountered this over-nice, nervous attitude from Sam and General Hammond, to name but two, before. When Sha’re had died. And every time he saw Jack, the man acted a little more uncomfortable, a bit guiltier, but also seemingly more accepting that Daniel was, indeed, Daniel. Corporal. Human. Which was odd, considering Daniel was no closer to thinking it himself.
It had to be a dream. A vision quest. Or something. Didn’t it?
His reverie was interrupted again, surprise surprise, by Jack, who sidled into the room with a slight frown and a hello. "Busy?" he asked.
Daniel smiled. "Funny. Ha, ha. Let’s see. I have no clearance, no permission to do anything but sit here or sleep. No TV, no books, damned few visitors, and despite your well-earned rep as a sparkling conversationalist, there seems to be some big topic we’re avoiding. Yeah. I think I can squeeze you in."
This time, though, Jack didn’t smile or offer a comeback. He crooked a finger instead. "Can you come with me? We need to talk."
"Who’s ‘we’?"
"Ah, you know. The usual suspects. In the briefing room." Jack remained sober as he padded alongside Daniel out of the room. Daniel couldn’t help but notice they had no escort. This was new and interesting. He refused to think about the obvious implications. He greeted the others waiting for him, General Hammond, Janet, Sam, Teal’c, and Jonas. He felt a flush of nervousness, then a tiny stab of irritation at Quinn’s presence. He had the feeling what was to follow might not be much fun, and he wasn’t sure he wanted someone he wasn’t very close to witnessing it. It de-personalized what ought to have been a happy reunion of close family, for this was the first time he’d seen them all together since he’d awakened.
He greeted everyone and sat down. He could tell from their faces that he’d been correct; that they knew something, and it was something he wouldn’t like to hear about.
Jack cleared his throat, glanced around to make sure the floor was his, and broke the silence before it became awkward. "Daniel, what’s the last thing you remember as a –" and he swirled several fingers upward.
Daniel blinked. "Ah, umm." He cleared his throat. "I’m not sure what…why do you want to know that? It’s not all that important. I don’t have any great secrets of the universe to impart, here."
Jack squinted and looked away. "Daniel, for God’s sake. This isn’t an interrogation."
Daniel’s temper flared. "Then what the hell is it, Jack? Excuse me, but I’m not used to being on the other side of the bubble like this. It feels weird and I don’t like it. I’m off-balance and insecure and just paranoid enough to wonder if you all want me that way."
"Dr. Jackson, I apologize for all of us. I’m the one that’s insisted that we take care in what we tell you and how. You aren’t aware of this, unfortunately, but there appear to be some significant gaps in your memory. I’m the one who ordered Colonel O’Neill and the others to be extremely circumspect in what they say to you."
"With my approval and support as well," added General Hammond, leaning forward for emphasis.
Dr. Frasier nodded. "Our purpose today is to tell you everything that we know and to begin your -" she cut herself off, "to determine our next steps."
Daniel nodded slowly, not noticing how he had wrapped his arms around himself protectively. His anxiety level was rising precipitously. "Look, guys. I appreciate the explanation. Really do. But the suspense, as they say, isn’t doing me any good at all. Can we get on with it now?"
All eyes turned to Jack. He squared his shoulders. "Okay. First thing you need to know is that…you’re really you again. Human. In the flesh. With all the privileges and responsibilities forthwith therein and so forth."
Daniel shook his dead in denial and disbelief. "No, I’m not. Why would you even think that?"
"Because Oma told us. This morning."
He was on his feet with no idea he’d moved. "What? What? Are you kidding me? Where is she now? Why would she come and talk to you but not me?" He quit talking when he heard the hurt in his voice.
"Daniel." Jack’s voice was sad and grim. "She said she’d see you when she could. But she was really pressed for time…and she said she’s expressly forbidden to have any contact with you right now. She has a bunch of stuff she has to take care of."
Daniel stayed on his feet. "What? I don’t understand. Why is she forbidden to see me? And who says so? The Others? Why would the Others – " his voice crashed to a halt and he paled, swaying. He grabbed the back of his chair. Teal’c half rose, hand raised to offer support, but sagged back down when he saw Daniel was staying up. Sam stared at her hands clasped on top of the table. Jonas stared dispassionately at Daniel. Hammond frowned at Jack, who was staring at the wall right behind Daniel.
Daniel took several breaths and went on. "The only reason Oma would be forbidden to see me is if I was persona nongrata. She’s being punished for bringing me across. Because I’ve been kicked out. Because I did something so wrong it was impossible for the Others to overlook." His face paled even further. "I’ve been...oh, God. I’m human again?" he asked in a whisper.
"God," he said, turning and stumbling towards the door, "I’ve got to get some air. Excuse me." He fumbled at the handle and was gone.
Jack rose to follow. "You’ve got to tell him the rest," Hammond said, grim.
Jack paused briefly at the door. "I told you all this was the wrong way to do this." He slammed his hand into the doorframe once, then disappeared.
He was right where Jack had expected him to be, in his old office. Sitting on top of a worktable, back to the door. He flinched when Jack came in. "If that’s you, Jack," he said in a shaky voice that Jack had heard too many times, "I probably shouldn’t be around anyone right now."
"I know," Jack replied, "that’s exactly why I’m here."
Daniel shook his head. "I – this is going to take some getting used to. Being back again."
"I bet so."
Daniel looked up sharply at that, but Jack wasn’t kidding around. His face was nearly as sad and sober as Daniel’s. Daniel held his gaze for a moment, then he closed his eyes quickly, but not before Jack saw them fill with tears. "Such freedom, such amazing freedom – " his voice broke and he bowed his head. Jack approached but before he was close, Daniel tipped his head back and shouted up at the ceiling. "Oma! Why? What did I do? I’m sorry! Please! Please give me another chance! Please take me back…" but his whole body slumped in defeat as he started to accept the terrible news.
Jack hopped up on the table beside Daniel and waited. There was silence for a long, long time. Daniel finally looked up, wiping his eyes. He looked at Jack. Jack waited.
"You know what happened, don’t you?"
Jack shrugged. "I know what Oma told us. Apparently you tried to take on Anubis."
Daniel’s eyebrow’s quirked upward. "Take on? What do you mean, ‘take on Anubis’? Why the hell would I do that? I couldn’t do that."
Jack looked hard at something across the room. "You could if Anubis was threatening Abydos."
"Abydos?" Daniel frowned, rubbed a hand across his forehead. "Why would he threaten Abydos?" His body stiffened. "He was looking for the Eye of Ra. It was there, wasn’t it? On Abydos."
Jack nodded. "Yeah. Let me help you out a little here. You showed up here a few days ago. Told me what was going down with Anubis. Asked me to help you out, help you protect Abydos. We went there, we found the Eye. But then you gave it to Anubis in exchange for Abydos."
"I did what?!" Daniel was stiff with shock.
"That’s what I thought, too. You knew he was a lying snakehead. But it was about the only option we had. He had the gate stopped up, we were trapped, and you thought you could take him on if it came to that."
"But it didn’t go according to plan, did it?"
Jack shook his head. "Of course not. He got the Eye, routed the system lords who came to kick his ass, and then, apparently, just when you started to kick his ass the Others pulled you out of there."
Daniel went very, very still. "What happened to Abydos, then," he whispered.
Jack squinted across the room. Shook his head. Daniel grabbed his arm. "What happened to Abydos, Jack?" he repeated.
Jack ran his hand through his hair. Shook his head again. He couldn’t say it.
Daniel released his arm and reeled back like he’d been struck. "Tell me."
Jack sighed, nice and slow. "Gone," he finally managed. "Anubis destroyed everything. It’s all gone, everyone died. Well, dead may be an overstatement. Apparently they all actually ascended, thanks to Oma."
Daniel was shaking his head. "Ska’ra. Ska’ra was betrothed. He – his second chance. He was supposed to get a second chance for a life, damn it! To have children and to be happy –" his voice broke on the word. He drew his knees up, put his head down and wrapped his arms around his head. Jack scooted up right next to the grieving man and rubbed his back. The door to the lab opened again and Jonas stuck his head inside. Jack held up his other hand as if to ward him away. Jonas took the hint and disappeared.
Daniel sniffed and wiped his face. He couldn’t have looked more destroyed than if he’d killed the inhabitants of Abydos himself. "There never are any second chances, are there Jack?" he asked in a hollow voice. "Ska’ra was chosen to be a host because my actions called their attention to him. I was finally starting to forgive myself for that. And I promised myself, with each child he fathered, each smile he put on Kasuf’s face, I’d forgive myself a little more." His face crumpled and the tears started again.
Jack wrapped both arms around him this time and held on tight. Through the shaking, through the terrible sounds of grief. "Shhh," he whispered. "It’s gonna be all right."
He heard a choked half-laugh. "How can you say that, Jack? All those people, gone. Their culture, language, history. They got rid of Ra for nothing. They’re dead."
"Ascended," Jack corrected.
"Whatever," Daniel replied. "Semantics. Let me tell you, being ascended, it’s great, yeah, but it’s also extremely limiting. I wanted to know what was going on, wanted to help. I couldn’t not care. But I wasn’t supposed to. You know? It was...like hell for me, Jack. Endless temptation. All the knowledge I ever wanted access to, but…I couldn’t share it. All I could do is watch you guys go on without me. And I wasn’t supposed to be involved. It was hell."
Jack pushed him away and waited till Daniel looked at him. "Hell’s Kitchen, you mean. You’d go back in a second and you know it. Just like you’d go back to Tantalus if you could."
Daniel took on a wistful look through his tears. "Yeah," he breathed. "It’s gonna be there for me for a long time." Then his face changed again, to horror. "God, what did I do? There’s no stopping Anubis now that he has all the Eyes. He’s probably headed straight for Earth."
"You gave us a chance to stop him, that’s what," Jack replied firmly.
Daniel made the choked sound again. "How do you figure that?" he asked mockingly.
"Because you found a tablet on Abydos. Giving the Eye to Anubis gave us a chance to get back to Earth with it. It made a connection between humans and the Ancients, don’t ask me what, you can read it for yourself, that isn’t the main thing. The big news flash, according to your translation, was that the Ancients have a damned awesome weapons cache hidden away on some planet somewhere. You said you’d help us locate it, and that they would give us a big advantage over Anubis."
Daniel sat up a little straighter. "Where’s the tablet?" he asked, a small but familiar gleam sparking deep in his eyes.
"Locked up pretty tight," said Jack shortly. "As you might well imagine."
"Oh," said Daniel, slumping again.
"Daniel," said Jack, tipping his head up with a finger under his chin, "look. You’ll get your chance at the neato frito tablet. I promise. But the way I look at things, it’s you that has a second chance, here. And me. And all of SGC. And things are going to be done a little differently this time. No, scratch that. A lot differently. You’re not burying yourself in work this time. You’re going to have a reason to live beyond the crisis at hand. You’re going to have a life, damn it. What you feel about Ska’ra? That’s how I feel about you. We’re going slow. S-l-o-w. You’re going to take the time to get re-integrated, re-acquainted. Smell some roses. Do some thinking. Less coffee, more naps. More hockey, if I can help it. Fishing. Any of this sound unreasonable to you?"
Daniel shook his head. Sure, he thought. I give it a week before we’re over our heads in some crisis or another. Still, it’s pretty nice he cares so much. But aloud he said, "So best case, how soon can I stop smelling roses and start analyzing the tablet?"
Jack smiled and cuffed him on the head. "That’s my geek." And they sat there, together again.
It was quiet, middle of the night, SGC time. Sam Carter sat at the computer console, with Teal’c and Jack and Daniel flanking her. No one else was in the control room or the gate room, as per their request. No one spoke. Sam tapped keys, the chevrons lit, the inner ring of the Stargate spun. Until the seventh symbol was entered. The Stargate slowed, stopped, and the gate did not engage. Jack’s hand squeezed Daniel’s shoulder where it rested, but Teal’c maintained the same firm grip he’d kept on his other shoulder from the beginning. And a single tear made its way down Daniel’s cheek as he stared blindly into the gate room.
Author’s Note: Hmmm. Hello, all. As you may have noticed, it’s been a while for me. Nice to be back. MS to MS (moochas smoochas to Michael Shanks) and SciFi for bringing the character, the series, and therefore my SG fic back to life. I hope there’s more to follow. And always, always, always, thanks Wendy, a true talent, genuine friend and all around best pest. (Are you writing? Did you see that ep? You can’t just LEAVE it at that, can you? Are you almost done? Call in sick! Can I see it?) There would be no Rather without ‘er.
© March, 2003 The characters mentioned in this story are the property of Showtime and Gekko Film Corp. The Stargate, SG-I, the Goa'uld and all other characters who have appeared in the series STARGATE SG-1 together with the names, titles and backstory are the sole copyright property of MGM-UA Worldwide Television, Gekko Film Corp, Glassner/Wright Double Secret Productions and Stargate SG-I Prod. Ltd. Partnership. This fanfic is not intended as an infringement upon those rights and solely meant for entertainment. All other characters, the story idea and the story itself are the sole property of the author.