Prologue
To commune; to hold fast, to be one with. Most often, I pass the early morning hours in a state of Kel-no-reem. But some nights I am unable to find peace in meditation. Tonight was, I feared, one such night.
Yet I was not filled with the apprehension that I would have been a few short years ago. On such nights I once paced within the confines of my room, flinching from the moving shadows. I found myself unable to admit my fear—I hid my shame and confusion and after such nights I was more brutal, more barbaric in my duties. On such days I drew deep satisfaction from my role as First Prime. Now, as I reflect, a different kind of shame fills me.
Slowly I rise and walk through the silent halls. I am well aware that the base is not empty; that there are many soldiers alert and ready at all hours. But no one crosses my path. Eventually I reach my destination; the "recreation room." This room contains a piano, and Daniel Jackson has taught me to "play." I do not feel that this music is –play—as O’Neill’s hockey is, but it is the term Daniel Jackson used. I sit down and lightly touch the keys. I remember well the details of this particular journey, and begin.
"
Dismissed. See you in three days."As the members of SG-1 gathered their files and stood, Jack O’Neill stretched extravagantly and asked, "So kids, any plans for your downtime?"
Sam smiled. "Actually, Sir, I’m attending a lecture in Houston."
Jack made a face. "Physics stuff? I know Danny here doesn’t grasp the idea of vacation—but you too?"
Daniel said neutrally, "My name is Daniel, not Danny." His face was unreadable.
Sam made a small, almost apologetic grimace. "I *like* astrophysics, Sir. I’ve been looking forward to this lecture for weeks." Forcing an interested look, she asked, "Do you have any plans?"
"As a matter of fact, I do. I’m heading to Chicago for Mom’s birthday. That reminds me—Daniel, I’m going to have to back out of dinner; I’m driving up tonight."
Daniel glanced up. "Oh. No problem, Jack. Far be it from me to keep the quintessential dutiful son from his family. See you Monday." Jack’s eyes narrowed slightly as he considered whether he’d just been insulted; then he shrugged and departed with Sam. Teal’c helped his teammate gather the papers scattered across the table. "Thanks," Daniel told him absently. Teal’c inclined his head and prepared to go. "Teal’c—"
"Yes, Daniel Jackson?"
"I was wondering—if you don’t have plans—if you might want to spend the weekend with me." He rushed on without waiting for a response, looking at his feet. "I just thought, you were still confined to base when I moved into my apartment, so you haven’t seen it yet. And it’s time you were introduced to more of Earth’s culture too."
Only a very astute observer would have seen the surprise flicker across the normally impassive face of Teal’c. "I am honored, Daniel Jackson."
"Really? Ah, OK then, great. I’ll just—go change and get my things together. Why don’t you get anything you’ll need for the weekend and meet me in my lab in—an hour?"
"Agreed." As Teal’c gathered some belongings, he pondered Daniel’s unexpected offer. He was unsure what to make of his sudden nervousness. O’Neill had promised to show him the culture of earth, but an opportunity to do so had not yet presented itself. Teal’c had not expected the archeologist to make an overture of friendship; every time he looked at the scholar he was reminded of his actions against him. It was humbling, and perhaps instructive, to see Daniel take the initiative where he, Teal’c, was afraid to. Precisely an hour later, Teal’c entered Daniel’s lab. He was not surprised to find the archeologist bent over an artifact, examining it intently. "Daniel Jackson."
Daniel visibly jumped. "Teal’c! Has it been an hour already?"
"Indeed. Do you require more time?"
"No." Daniel took off his glasses and absently rubbed his eyes. Teal’c watched him silently as he gathered together some items and finished off his coffee. "Let’s go." Together they walked to the elevator, discussing food. Teal’c’s main experience was with food Daniel described as "Middle-Eastern" and he announced they would be grilling steaks.
"
I have seen that item displayed in the ‘cafeteria.’ It does not look appetizing.""
Does *anything* in the cafeteria look appetizing?" Teal’c considered. But before he could respond, Daniel said, "That’s called a rhetorical question, Teal’c. That is, it’s a question that is asked merely for effect, with no answer expected."They got into Daniel’s vehicle, which was smaller and sleeker than O’Neill’s "truck." He found the design of the Tau’ri automobile far more primitive than that of a death glider, especially its lack of flying capabilities. However, it was an effective (if somewhat slow) method of ground transport. In addition, it was more available to the population as a whole than death gliders, which only the Goa’uld and a select few Jaffa could fly. Teal’c observed with interest as Daniel manipulated the controls. It appeared relatively simple.
Daniel glanced at him. "You’re quiet."
It wasn’t a question, and Teal’c was unsure how he should respond. "Indeed."
"You don’t have to come keep me company, you know."
"I have no other engagements and am curious how your dwelling will differ from O’Neill’s."
Daniel smiled at that. About a week earlier, the Colonel had dragged the rest of the team to his house for a hockey game, pizza, beer, and an interrogation disguised as team bonding. They had learned that Teal’c was oldest (and by quite a bit); that Sam had a brother and hated cooking; that Daniel was born in Egypt and finished high school at sixteen; that Jack had a cabin in Minnesota and loved fishing. Some topics were off limits—no one asked about the Colonel’s son or Teal’c’s former life. And between them, Jack and Daniel had kept the conversation from delving too deeply into Daniel’s past.
"
Yes, my place is very different. And here we are."Stepping inside, Teal’c surveyed the room slowly before pronouncing, "It suits you, Daniel Jackson." And it did. The apartment looked remarkably similar to Daniel’s lab at the base. Many items, including the furniture, appeared old but well-crafted. Artifacts, books and journals were prevalent, as were coffee cups in various states of cleanliness. Teal’c stepped forward to look closer at what appeared to be a game of some kind, with a wood board and carved playing pieces. The figures looked vaguely familiar.
He moved slightly, giving room for Daniel to come up beside him. "That’s a game from Ancient Egypt. It’s called "The Jackal and the Hound." Do you know it?"
Teal’c said pensively, "I am familiar with the game, but have not played it. I have observed the Gods—the Goa’uld—doing so."
Daniel’s face darkened slightly at the mention of the Goa’uld, but he said, "That makes sense. We think this set belonged to a pharaoh’s daughter, and the pharaohs were considered gods." Teal’c was unsure who the "we" Daniel referred to were precisely, but said nothing. Daniel continued almost wistfully, "When I play it, I feel as though I’m touching history." He glanced at Teal’c. "Perhaps we could play a game this weekend and see how the rules have changed since it was played here on Earth." Teal’c merely nodded, uncertain why the familiar game should cause him to feel a sudden longing for his home planet, and why he didn’t dare speak.
Moving on, Teal’c finally stopped before an unfamiliar wooden object. Daniel anticipated his question. "This is a musical instrument, Teal’c. It’s called a piano." Daniel gently lifted the cover like it was made of glass, exposing the row of black and white keys. He explained, "By pressing the key you cause a small, felt-covered hammer to strike a steel wire string. That produces the sound." He briefly lifted the top of the piano to let Teal’c see the strings. "Although there have been a number of similar instruments, the precise instrument we have today was invented between two and three hundred years ago." Leaning slightly towards the piano, he played a short scale.
It was unlike anything Teal’c had heard before. Daniel was looking at him; somehow Teal’c found his voice. "The Goa’uld have nothing like this."
Daniel tilted his head slightly as he thought, then said, "I didn’t notice any complex instruments on Chulak; I think I saw horns and reeds—those are instruments you blow air through—and some drums of one sort or another." A smile crossed his face. "I’ll play some Brahms while we eat. The tone will be quite new for you . . . I think you’ll like it." He moved away from the piano, and Teal’c reluctantly followed.
The weekend wasn’t as difficult as Teal’c had feared, mostly because to Daniel, teaching and explaining came as naturally as breathing. As they drove around the city, Daniel lectured on American history, the frontier and the development of cities. As they shopped, he explained how different objects were made or came to be used. As they ate, he talked about how eating habits differed between various cultures and religions. Teal’c began to believe there was no subject Daniel was unfamiliar with.
Teal’c began teaching Daniel the subtleties of spoken Goa’uld and the written aspect of the language. Daniel started teaching him written English. They played a game of "The Jackal and the Hound." Daniel won, but just barely. He taught Teal’c chess. Teal’c liked "The Jackal and the Hound" better. Neither talked of the past or future. The past was a minefield, ready to go off in an instant if approached, and the future was too cloudy to provide much comfort yet.
On Sunday after lunch, Teal’c finally asked that which had hovered around the edges of his thoughts all weekend: "Daniel Jackson . . . may I see the "piano" again?"
Daniel blinked. "Of course."
Teal’c reverently lifted the cover from the keys and looked at them. He reached out and touched one, pressing it down so slowly and gently that no sound emerged. He touched it again, more forcefully, and almost jumped at the sudden sound.
Daniel put down his book and walked over. "Would you like me to play a song?" he asked. Teal’c silently nodded and stepped aside. He watched avidly as Daniel pulled out the bench and propped some music on the stand. Daniel rested his hands over the keys and closed his eyes, breathing slowly. When he opened them, a change had occurred. His posture seemed tenser; he leaned towards the piano; his fingers arched over the keys. And he began to play.
Teal’c looked at the sheets covered in lines and black circles. They meant nothing to him, just ink splattered randomly over parchment. And yet somehow, they translated into the haunting melody he now heard. It struck Teal’c that he could describe cars and fried food to his family, malls and electricity to Bra’tac, but there was no way for him to convey this experience.
As he finished the song, Daniel glanced up at his companion. "Did you like—" he stopped. For the first time, he could detect the emotion behind Teal’c’s bland expression. Without thinking he offered, "I’ll teach you, if you want."
"Thank you, Daniel Jackson."
Daniel Jackson had once told him that music was a universal language. It did not require words to communicate images or feelings. Teal’c hadn’t understood then. Now, sitting in the darkened recreation room, he knew that language was communication, regardless of its form. It was in Major Carter’s beloved equations, in the power of O’Neill’s beloved Verdi.
Teal’c recalled the year during which Daniel was absent, a year in which he was capable of happiness or satisfaction, but never real contentment. A few weeks after Kelowna and what followed, Teal’c had traveled to O’Neill’s home, concerned that his team leader was refusing to accept the loss. O’Neill had remained collected and cold—until they listened to a recording of his favorite opera. As the songs grew in intensity, O’Neill grew increasingly agitated. At the climactic moment, his composure broke. He screamed and cursed and broke most of his kitchenware.
And he wept. Looking up at Teal’c through wet eyes, he gasped, "How—dare he—tell *me*--to let him go?"
"How could he do otherwise?" Teal’c responded. As they listened to the closing chords, O’Neill calmed. The next day he acted as though nothing had happened; but he wasn’t as remote.
Teal’c began playing the first notes of Chopin’s "Nocturne in E Minor," the song Daniel had played for him those years ago. He remembered his frustration when he realized the difficulty of the piece, and his pleasure as he mastered each note, guided by his friend.
He had learned about the first half of the song when SG-1 went to Kelowna. At first Teal’c had resolved not to touch another piano—even thinking of it and the nocturne he’d tried so hard to master caused him pain. When the team sorted through Daniel’s belongings, Teal’c took the compact discs of symphonies, but didn’t play them.
After listening to the opera with O’Neill, Teal’c began his late night walks to the recreation room. Occasionally he saw a janitor, but never spoke. He communed with Daniel Jackson’s spirit—for surely if his friend still existed in some form, he would be aware of this music; his music. Teal’c practiced the song with all the intensity and earnestness that he had put into becoming First Prime—and more. The emotion he normally kept hidden he poured into the notes.
A month later he knew the whole song. A month after that, he had memorized it.
Teal’c fingers flew up the scale with astonishing nimbleness. He no longer had to look at the keys, confident in remembering the well-traveled path. He came to play less often, since Daniel’s return. But some nights, like tonight, he sought out the music of his adopted instrument. He finished and the room was silent, but he could still hear echoes of the notes in his mind.
He started when he heard a soft voice behind him murmur, "The pupil has surpassed the master." Teal’c turned to see his friend holding a cup of coffee and smiling gently at him. Walking farther into the room, Daniel said, "A number of people who work the night shift have told me about the SGC’s angel of music," as though that explained his presence.
Teal’c nodded respectfully to his friend and said softly, "It is merely one of the gifts you have given me, Daniel Jackson," and was pleased when Daniel blushed. He started to get up and make room at the piano, but Daniel motioned for him to stay. Sitting down beside Teal’c, he said, "I think it’s time you were introduced to the duet."
Author’s note: Here’s the Nocturne I was thinking of when I wrote this. Web page: http://www.geocities.com/Vienna/4279/MIDI.html. (The site has been working on and off) The title is "Nocturne No. 19 in E m, Opus 72 no. 1" (Another personal favorite is the Prelude in Db, Op. 28 no. 15. It’s known as the Raindrop Prelude). Thanks to Katie and Megan for beta reading.
All feedback is appreciated, especially on my characterization, particularly that of Teal’c.
© August 2004 I didn't create them. They don't belong to me. Don't send me money, 'cause I won't take it, and above all, don't sue me!