Daniel’s hands moved slowly over the wall, pausing, touching here and there, almost as if they had a life and will of their own. One of them dipped into the bag, coming out with a small brush, and began to clean the years of dirt and soot away from the cave wall The figure of an animal began to emerge under the gentle brushing. Again, into the bag the hand went, retrieving a small jar of clear liquid. The hands struggled for a moment, then opened the lid to the jar. Dipping the brush into the liquid, the hands resumed their motion, one brushing gently back and forth, back and forth, the other hovering ever so slightly above the rough rock of the cave wall. The figure became clearer, almost recognizable. The brush was laid down, and both hands traced the figure painted on the wall so many, many years ago.
Jack leaned against the cave wall, watching Daniel’s hands in the artificial light. They were almost hypnotic in their graceful movements. Blinking somewhat in surprise, Jack frowned at his thoughts. ‘Graceful’ was not a term he was used to applying to Daniel, but in this instance it fit him perfectly. Jack half-closed his eyes again, throwing the scene slightly out of focus, and concentrated on those hands. The long fingers moved in an elegant dance across the wall, throwing shadows across the low ceiling.
Shifting slightly, Jack let his eyes close all the way, confident that his hearing and instinct would alert him to any danger that might rear its ugly head. Daniel was murmuring softly to himself, a soothing background noise that lulled Jack into a light doze. Unbidden, a memory long thought buried rose to the surface of his mind, unwinding before his eyes as if it happened yesterday.
About two weeks after Charlie’s seventh birthday, Jack walked into the house just as the sun was setting. Shining into the west windows, it bathed the kitchen in a rosy glow the lights couldn’t completely block out. Sara was stirring something on the stove, and Charlie was sitting at a table completely covered with very small pieces of something. Jack crossed the kitchen, and leaned over Sara, kissing her on the neck. She squirmed. “Jack, I’m cooking here.”
“So am I, so am I,” he breathed into her ear.
“You just got home, we haven’t even eaten dinner yet. Go get changed, and then we’ll eat and get Charlie to bed, you old dog.” Despite her stern intentions, Sara giggled like a schoolgirl.
“I’m not old,” Jack replied.
“Oh, hey, can you look at the lawn mower? I couldn’t get it started the other day, and the back yard is getting kinda high.” Sara knew Jack couldn’t fix the lawn mower; he was many things, but Mr. Fix-It was not one of them. But he liked to be asked, and he would go tinker with it, pronounce some diagnosis on it, then put it in the back of the car for her so she could take it to the shop in the morning. It made him feel useful, and gave him a sense of domesticity on those rare occasions when he was home.
Jack went over to the table. “Hey, big guy. What’cha got there?” He dropped his briefcase on a kitchen chair, and leaned over his son, ruffling his hair with one hand.
“It’s a B-17 model, the Memphis Belle. You know, the one I got for my birthday. Mom said I could start on it tonight since I didn’t have any homework. Hey, Dad, can you help me with it?”
“Sure, son. Just let me get changed, and I’ll be right back.”
Whistling, Jack grabbed his briefcase and headed down the hallway. He put his gun and briefcase away, then pulled on his shorts and t-shirt, and slipped his feet into the old shoes he tromped around the yard in. He headed back past the kitchen toward the garage.
“Hey, Dad, are you coming to help me now?” Charlie’s voice called as he passed the kitchen door.
“ Sure, son, in just a minute. Let me take a look at this lawn mower for your mom first, okay?”
Jack spent the next forty-five minutes looking at the mower. He checked the gas tank, the oil in the engine, the pull cord, and the spark plug. He checked the blade to be sure that is was turning freely, and tested to edge He finally had to concede that he did not have the faintest clue what was wrong with the mower. Sara called out of the kitchen that dinner was almost ready, and he had better get his butt back inside and get washed up.
He sighed in frustration, and grabbed a shop towel to wipe the worst of the oil off his hands before heading inside. Jack sniffed himself and decided he had better take a quick shower before dinner. As he passed the kitchen, he stopped in the doorway. Sara had poured herself a glass of wine, and was standing by the sink, gazing out the window. Charlie still sat at the kitchen table, diligently working on his airplane model.
Jack stood quietly and watched his son. He was totally focused on the myriad small plastic parts spread out in front of him on the table. Charlie’s body was still, his head moving only slightly from side to side, his eyes darting back and forth from the instruction sheet to the model growing in front of him. The only parts of him really in motion were his arms and hands, which seemed almost to be separate creatures in their own right.. He would glance at the instructions, then his hands would search over the parts until they found the right one. Darting in, one hand would grab the appropriate part as the other lifted the bottle of glue. Working together, his little hands would carefully apply a small amount of glue and ever so carefully place the part in the correct place, holding there for just a moment until it was secure.
Jack was entranced with the scene, and just stood there staring. “Jack? Jack!” He jumped, Sara was looking at him strangely. “Are you going to get cleaned up, or what?”
“Yeah, Dad, what were you staring at? Mom called you three times.” Charlie was frowning up at him.
“Oh, I was just watching you put that thing together. You look like you’re doing a pretty good job there I’ll be back in a minute, and then I’ll help you, okay?”
“Sure, Dad. But hurry up, ‘cause that Star Trek movie comes on TV tonight, and Mom said I could stay up an watch it.” Jack glanced at Sara, who sighed and hit her head with her hand. ‘I forgot’ she mouthed. Jack grinned and headed down the hall to take a quick shower.
Jack opened his eyes, the sound of the shower from his memories blending eerily with another sound penetrating his consciousness. He gazed around in confusion, as the sound of the pouring rain came clearly into the cave and a loud clap of thunder echoed from outside. His attention was captured by Daniel, whose head snapped up at the sound of the thunder, his hands becoming suddenly still. Sam and Teal’c rushed into the cave dripping and complaining.
“Hey, hey, over there you guys,” Daniel was waving them back. “Let me get all this stuff gathered up before you drip all over it.” He crawled over to his notebooks, and began gathering them up, protecting them from the drops that were forming a small stream toward his work area. His hands quickly stacked and packed most of his gear, moving it all to the back of the cave, up on a natural shelf of rock and out of danger.
Pulling himself to his feet, Jack moved stiffly to the mouth of the cave. He looked out at the thunderstorm, trying to sort out this reality from his recent memories. “Well, kids,” he said turning, “I guess we’re stuck here for a while. Good thing we already planned to sleep in here tonight, got everything we need.” Sam turned from Jack, shaking her head, and took off her wet jacket. She looked around for some place to put it.
“Um, just spread it out back here, Sam.” Daniel spoke up from the back of the cave. “Here, Teal’c, give me your jacket, too.” Daniel took the jacket and shook it out, then spread it over a large rock, next to Sam’s. “Hey, Jack, didn’t you gather some wood earlier? What about a fire?”
“I will prepare the fire, O’Neill. It is your turn to cook,” Teal’c intoned solemnly.
“My turn, didn’t I cook last time? Are you sure, Teal’c?”
“Gee, Jack, it’s about time you did some work around here anyway,” Daniel smirked. “Besides, you ought to be well rested, you did have a nice nap this afternoon, you know.”
“Nap, you got a nap?” Sam asked. "While we were out there hiking all over the place and braving the elements, you were in here asleep?”
“Yep,” Daniel snickered. “Snoring away. Really made it hard for me to concentrate. But you know these old folks, they get cranky if they don’t get their naps, just like children.”
“Hey, hey. Didn’t you ever learn to respect your elders? Now, do you want to knock it off, or do you want me experimenting with these MRE’s?”
“Its not like you could possibly make them any worse,” Daniel muttered, turning back to his cave wall.
The team settled into their routine like slipping on a pair of comfortable old shoes. Teal’c built up the fire, and Jack organized the food. Sam slipped back into a niche near the back to change into dry clothing, then began setting out the sleeping bags for the night. Teal’c then changed his clothing, too, while Daniel finished up in the back, putting all of his supplies away carefully. During dinner, Daniel explained what he had found in the cave, and what the images of the snakes, animals, and people painted there might mean. It was almost like telling stories over the campfire, and Jack found himself feeling pleasantly comfortable. Life didn’t get any better than this, these days.
Even though they had not seen any large animals on this planet, and it seemed as though any people were long gone, they set a watch out of habit Daniel volunteered to take first watch, as he wanted to get his notes in order before he went to sleep. Teal’c settled down for Kel-no-reem. Jack and Sam crawled into their sleeping bags. Sam dropped off almost immediately, her soft snores lost in the pounding of the rain from outside.
Jack stared at the flickering shadows on the roof of the cave for awhile, then turned over. Daniel was hunched over his journal, writing down his experiences and impressions of the day. Jack watched his hands holding the book and moving the pen across the page. He was reminded again of Charlie, frowning in concentration as he drew a picture of the model airplane he had finished. Charlie had given him the picture to put in his briefcase. Jack frowned, trying to remember what he had done with that picture. So many things that seemed so insignificant at the time, all lost to him now. He would give almost anything to have that picture back. But he did have his memories, and he would hold fast to them. Memories of Charlie, from not so long ago, really, just a few years. And memories of tonight, of Daniel’s graceful hands, his long, slender fingers, to store away for some future time when he needed to remember.
October 22, 2001 Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. We have written this story for entertainment purposes only and no money whatsoever has exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the authors. Not to be archived without permission of the authors.