Sonuva$#^%b^%$*&, God(*^+sonvua(*&=. . .Yeah, I know it’s not polite to swear. . #&*%, dammit all to particular hell and back, %<*>{%$. . .Yeah, I know it doesn’t change anything, either. But it makes me feel better. I’ve had a lot on my mind the lately, thank you very much.
It’s not Ba’al or that ex-NID nut factory. (The Trust—what the %$&^*( kind of name is that? Do these people spend all their spare time—you know, when they’re not whacking people, Tok’ra or Jaffa—watching Alias?) They’re a major pain in the &^%*. But that’s not what’s wrong
No, this is personal, something I haven’t been able to get out of my mind; it’s even been poking me awake at night, and I need my beauty sleep. (Joke. That’s a joke.) It’s something Daniel said, right before he beamed up to Osiris’s ship. It was going like usual, me talking and him not listening. I told him to give me one good reason to authorize this mission. I told him it was a totally insane plan. Even if I didn’t have a better idea it was still a totally insane plan. And my point, even if I was kinda incoherent, was it was an insane plan that could get him killed. Even if they would be surprised. And he gave that look that tells me I’m talking to a blank wall and he says to me— D’you know what he said?
He said, "Yeah. Where did I learn that from?"
And I had this—flashback. With the emergency I pushed it out of my mind, but later I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Charlie was in second or third grade and he’d done something, I can’t remember what but I remember thinking it wasn’t a big deal. The teacher threw this major conniption, though. I told Sarah this woman knew squat about what really happens on a playground. And Sarah kinda sighed and said, "You know, Jack, I wish Charlie didn’t have quite so much of his father in him." I wasn’t mad, I knew what she meant; did Charlie really have to pay so much attention to me? I had that same feeling again, thinking about it after my team was back home. Does Daniel really have to pay so much attention to the things I say and do? %$&*(&^+.
I’m glad his mom and dad aren’t ghosts. They’d probably haunt the hell out of me. (Daniel’s only talked about what happened to them a couple of times, after a little too much wine, and not many details even then. But Carter told Hammond and me what she saw, after we got back from P7J989. The Gamekeeper is lucky. If she’d had her way, he would’ve been singing soprano. And if I had known then what she told us later, I would’ve loaned her my knife.) What’s Daniel doing, trying to punch some creep’s lights out? I mean, it’s one thing for me, and even Carter and T. We chose to put ourselves in harm’s way, long before there was an SG-1. But Daniel—the biggest danger he should face is sunburn on one of those digs in Egypt or wherever.
Where did he learn that from, he says. Who did he learn that from, is what he’s really saying. We all know the answer to that—but how was I supposed to know he was learning from me? I know, it’s like every other uh, um, mentor, guide, leader, influential, uh, person who has influence on others; he was supposed to listen to me and do as I say (and only listen to the smart things I said), not watch me and do as I do.
And yeah, I know the word I’m dancing around—it’s parent. As in the guy who has to stand and watch while they put the things they learned from us into practice. As in the guy Daniel still turns to for advice (at least sometimes), and has to bite his tongue when he doesn’t listen to me. As in the guy who’s proud as hell of him sometimes, and sometimes as exasperated as hell with him. The guy who admires the choices he makes and simultaneously is scared %$&>less he’ll suffer the consequences. $#^<*&. And don’t even start. You’d cuss too.
Of course it’s different from Charlie. And it’s not like I’m a replacement for Mel Jackson. (From what I’ve heard he was a smart, polite guy, soft-spoken and patient. Hey, sounds exactly like me, huh?) But—a couple of times Teal’c has talked about us being like brothers, and I know what he means and he’s right, even if I don’t always act like it. Me and Daniel, though—that’s way different. I so didn’t expect this.
I didn’t even like him to start with. He got on my nerves—the fidgeting and chattering drove me nuts. (Although I have to admit I was impressed with the way he knocked those scientists on their collective asses. Fidgety and yet totally sure of himself.) But I wasn’t paying that much attention, really. I was so screwed up. My son was dead because of my carelessness, and despite what I told Daniel later I couldn’t forget. I didn’t have a second’s peace. I took the mission to Abydos expecting to die. I welcomed the idea. I was so screwed up I didn’t even care that much about Sarah, how she’d handle it. Even the suicide by heroics—I didn’t care if she figured it out. When I thought about it at all, I thought she might suspect but she’d never know.
But then Daniel saved my life. I know, that’s no feat. If all the people that saved my life voted in a bloc, they could swing some elections. Hell, on that one mission Daniel saved my life—well, to be honest, I lost count at three. But I mean something specific. I was sitting there with my back to everybody, sulking, if you must know. It was proving to be damn difficult to kill myself. And the situation was getting damn complicated. As I was working my way to a really bad mood this four eyed geek comes over, glaring through his bangs, and proceeds to start asking me questions, looking for a way to chew my ass. He didn’t understand and it wasn’t any of his business, but I told him about Charlie, kinda, to get him off my back. Didn’t slow him down. Maybe you want to die, he says, but the rest of us don’t. And that made me think about my responsibility, even though I so didn’t want to. I was the team leader; the others expected me to get them home. Besides, by that time we had the Abydonians to think of, Kusuf and Sha’re and the others. And Skaara. Hell of kid, Skaara. Hell of a man, too. I bet he’s a hell of an Ancient—being, or whatever they are.
That kick in the ass was what saved me, that and knowing Skaara and the kids were looking to me for help in getting free of the +(*&>= snake. The funny part was when it looked like I might really die, I found out I didn’t want to anymore. And I never did again. Daniel and Skaara—something about the way they trusted me to –to—I dunno, be the person they thought I was, I guess—started to pull me out of that despair.
That impulse never came back, not even when Sarah left me. I moved to Colorado Springs instead of doing something stupid. Even sitting there alone in that new (to me) empty house, bored out of my skull, I couldn’t feel the same way anymore. There was something about the thought of them, Skaara and Daniel and Sha’re and the Abydonians, knowing they were out there, free and happy. Some good had come out of disaster. That was cool.
But y’know, there was a little grain of truth in the act I put on for General Hammond, trying to pretend Daniel was just this annoying geek I barely remembered. He could be very annoying. Still can. Stubborn as hell, never did know when to shut up. Still doesn’t. I got used to him arguing with me, but you know the most annoying thing? He’s usually right. I still get annoyed by that.
Apophis. I hope his &+*$# snake soul rots in the deepest corner of god^%=$# hell. Daniel still carries this load of guilt about unburying the gate, but I think the Goa’uld would’ve found them anyway. Ra’s little hidden chamber would’ve attracted somebody sooner or later. %$#*&+.
I remember finding Daniel in the hall after I visited Lou in infirmary, the night we got back from Abydos. He was really lost. Sha’re meant so much to him. He would’ve died for her—almost did; I really think he would’ve let Amaunet kill him rather than pull the trigger on Sha’re. But at that time we didn’t even know where she was. He’s not me, but I could see it would be a bad thing to leave him by himself. So I hauled him to the house, poured beer down him (it only took one, for crying out loud) got him to talk to me. And without even realizing it I got this—friend. Millstone. Conscience. Occasional pain in the ass. Steadfast support. Someone who never gave up on me even in the worst times, and thanks to my stupidity it got pretty bad. ^%=+(#. I didn’t see this coming.
I swear to God I didn’t. I know I should’ve, but I didn’t. What happened with Nem (damn him too) should’ve clued me in, but I just put it down to the brainwashing. And that son of a %$&)&*ing ^%(*)$# Klorel—y’know, I think they have to live in water when they’re not enslaving people; wherever the Tollan sent him, I hope there’s a shark out there with his name on it. And I hope the shark took his time.
I always felt sorry for the scribe (y’know, we never did learn his name) but I’m kinda glad Apophis knew what was coming on the whole ride down to Sokor’s planet. So many people had to pay so much for the things he did. Skaara was a hostage for two and half years because of him. Shooting Skaara—God, I had nightmares for a couple of years. I did it because I knew Skaara would never forgive me if I didn’t stop that &%)(*^#. (I tried to apologize to him once after he was free, but he just looked at me like I’d gone nuts and said, "What other choice did you have, O’Neill?" Hell of a kid.) Everything happened so fast it wasn’t until we got home that I thought about the irony of it all—I shot Skaara to save Daniel, only to have to abandon him later. Of course I regretted that watch-our-backs comment; I left him in the hall because I thought he’d be safer there. &#()*^$. He was hurt so bad. . .
That definitely should’ve clued me in, the way I felt when Hammond said there was someone who’d like to see us and Daniel, in one uninjured piece, came walking through the crowd. Actually, it kinda did but I didn’t let it. I rationalized it away, a team leader thing, thankful nobody ended up left behind and all that. How could I admit, even to myself—hell, especially to myself—that sometimes it felt like he was my kid? The idea scared the living breathing hell right out of me. I had a kid and I lost him. I couldn’t go through that again.
It didn’t help that trouble just seems to find Daniel. Naturally Hathor zeroed right in on him. It wasn’t just his looks—hell, he’s the envy of every guy in SGC, including me, because of effect he has on women. But I think the truth is, she mostly chose him because she thought what she did to him would break him. Of all of the Goa’uld we’ve run across, she was the creepiest. Man, she loved inflicting pain; she got off on it, and the fear. You could see that when she snaked me. (Y’know, whatever else happens in my life I’ll always count turning that &^%(+)#= into a popsicle as one of the best things I ever did.)
Ma’chello almost got him twice, for crying out loud. Almost killed him the first time, drove him nuts the second—and that was after Ma’chello was dead! Who except Daniel? Who but Daniel would barely escape from an alternate universe—with that universe’s Teal’c trying to kill him? Who but Daniel would heroically stop some girl from committing suicide and end up a sarcophagus junkie because of it? Poor stupid Shyla—she was just selfish, she didn’t know that making a grab for Daniel would end up putting him (and us) through hell. A lot of people were really impressed by the way I faced him down, but it wasn’t exactly like it looked. He was already a hell of a shot—he could’ve nailed me right between the eyes if he wanted. I made him sweat for a while before I accepted his apology, to the point where T started making remarks about dragging things out. But Daniel never complained.
It wasn’t a one-way street. Carter and me, we’d be popsicles too if it wasn’t for Daniel. And when I got my head sucked the first time, he stayed with me as long as I let him. (Him and Doc. God, I miss Janet.) Without him we all would’ve been goners on Netu. Hell, without his pushing us, pretty much everybody on Earth would’ve been goners when Apophis attacked. I called him my conscience at the memorial service. (The first one.) For all the arguing I relied on him, just like he relied on me. A good thing, a team-built-in-adversity thing, but just a team thing. Not any different than me and T. I really talked myself into it.
Then Harry ^&*+=$# Maybourne had to get into the act. He has a lot to answer for—he swears it was Simmons who shot me, but Harry never told the truth when he could lie. More than anything he ever did to me, though, I resent the little bugs he planted in my house, when we were trying to catch him and his band of merry light-fingered %$#*&ups. Harry is a melodramatic %$)(*+ nit, but he really might’ve tried to take Daniel out if he thought Daniel was catching on. I sure as hell wouldn’t have been able to fool Daniel for long. I knew the quickest way to get him out of the house was to imply he was stupid about me, about people. I did it. And the only way I got through it was to keep reminding myself what was at stake, for Earth naturally, but for Daniel too. I would’ve welcomed him trying to punch my lights out, but he had enough self-discipline to walk away. &^+=$%&&.
He doesn’t know I saw him up in the control room, when I put on the act like I was leaving for good. I didn’t blame him for not coming to the Gateroom. We more or less patched it up, when it was over. (Damn, I wish I could’ve seen Harry led away in handcuffs.) But Daniel didn’t look at me or think of me the same way, not for a helluva long time. Too long.
Then I had to face it. I had to acknowledge how much I needed Daniel’s good opinion, and why. And all I could think about was protecting myself. I did and said things I’m ashamed of now. I was such a coward. The worst part is, it was Carter too. %$#&* happened, and I had to face up to how I felt about her. So I made myself into a moving target for her, always staying just out of reach. I couldn’t deal with how I felt but I wanted to keep her close, make sure she didn’t find anybody else. I hate to admit it, but I wasn’t thinking just of the guys around SGC, or even Narim or Marty. After all, Daniel was single by that time. Yeah, I know. But you can’t despise me any more than I despised myself.
I was not a nice man for a while. I still don’t know what happened on Euronda. I blew my stack at Daniel and he was right all along. And maybe the Eurondans deserved everything that happened to them, but my part in it—people were kinda surprised, I think. And naturally I had to shoot off my mouth and say I didn’t care what happened to that Unas when it—he—got kidnapped. A lot of things just started going wrong. I would’ve killed that &^%(# idiot on Katow if Daniel hadn’t stopped me. Then the whole Reese thing. . . %$#&*=. And as bad as the sarcophagus withdrawal got, I never found him at the edge of the roof ready to jump.
But it’s funny. That whole thing on P4X347, all that trouble with the light, really showed how strong the bonds were between us, all of us. Things hadn’t totally gone to hell. We pulled together when Teal’c needed us, when Janet and Cassie needed us; hell, we pulled together in that damn mine on P3R118, and we didn’t even know we knew each other.
I fooled myself into thinking nothing that happened—especially nothing I did—could screw that up. But—oh, hell, Carter and me, we were wrapped up in our thing and T had his own troubles, what with Drey’ac and Sha’noc and the rebellion. None of us were paying attention. I should’ve thought about what happened to me when Charlie died. Losing Sha’re cut the heart right out of Daniel. Without any of us realizing it he was on his way down for the third time. He totally blamed himself for Sha’re’s death. Add what happened to Sarah Gardner, and it was too much. And stupid me, I never saw it. I was spending all my time trying to stay invulnerable. And just like Charlie, Daniel paid for my mistake.
I know nobody ever talks about it; it never comes up, in a lot of ways it’s like it never happened. But I will hate that ^%)(=# planet as long as I live. I’ve managed to forget most of it, but not the way he looked when he was describing radiation poisoning. So flip on the surface and so scared underneath. And he didn’t even try to talk to me about it. I was damned if I was going to let the Collonans blame him, and he just said, "Why do you care?" Perfect opening—and I still couldn’t be honest with him.
Jonas took a lot of the heat, but it wasn’t so much his fault. He froze. But even if he hadn’t, what could he do? Everybody in the area still gets hit with a massive dose of radiation whoever disarms the ^%)(+# bomb.
No. The real failure was mine. When Jacob was working on him, and he pulled me into that Twilight Zone thing. He asked me to stop Jacob, and I just—caved. I couldn’t do for him what he had done for me. Back on Abydos he fought for me—and fought me, chewed my ass, because that was what it took. He’d known me, what, two weeks? And I’d known him seven years; instead of fighting for him and fighting him if necessary, making him see where he belonged, giving him that kick back toward life, I just—caved. I know how scared he was, but that’s no excuse.
I tried to tell myself it was because I knew he wouldn’t want to live—damaged. But T shot that one down. We only talked about it once, after we got back from Abydos. I told him why I gave in to Daniel. And he said, "You and I made many mistakes, O’Neill. We neglected much, we forgot much, we did not use our experience. Daniel Jackson might have been, as you say, damaged. The question still remains unanswered. Why did we not fight for our friend?" Yeah, I know he was right. "All the atrocities I have witnessed, all the incidents from my time as First Prime—I regret few things so much as my passivity in those days. We were not as helpless as we believed; we had the ability to find what we needed, given time. Perhaps if we had relied on the characteristics that made us strong, we need have feared nothing."
He said something else that day. I was trying to tell him how much I appreciated the way he propped me up when things went to hell. Especially with all he had on his plate, Drey’ac dying so soon after Daniel—left. You know Teal’c, the original stoic; but he kinda sorta talked about how hard it was. Then he said, "More than once I have considered asking a favor of Thor; surely the Asgard have the means to predict solar flares that would fit our requirements. Under those circumstances I do not think General Hammond would be averse to opening the gate, allowing a note to be sent directing us away from Collona to Pangara."
Think about it. Those sunuva$#^%* useless *&^+#=)( scientists on Collona would blown themselves up, and we would’ve found the trutonin to save Drey’ac. Even if everything else happened like it did, even me being Ba’al’s prisoner, I would risk it. T said he would too, would’ve risked the ambush on Kreshta, but he didn’t think Drey’ac or Daniel would let us gamble our lives like that. Then he said, "I would like to believe I would correct my mistakes, were I to live that time again. But if I am honest, I must acknowledge I cannot be certain."
Well, we didn’t have to go that far to find Daniel, so I never had to find out if I would’ve learned my lesson. (Teal’c isn’t the only one who can’t be certain.) I like Vis Uban. In fact I love Vis Uban. Reynolds so calmly announcing SG-3 had found something they thought I’d like to see. Daniel coming down the stairs, in one piece and healthy as a horse. I’ve rarely been so happy to see anybody in my life. I was speechless. And if you know me, you know how strange that was. You should’ve heard them when I reported home. Hammond asked to repeat myself. Twice. It was kinda cool, actually.
But—same old Daniel, even if he didn’t remember us—he still didn’t listen to me. It took Carter to talk him into coming home. When he got back to SGC he buried himself in these huge stacks of reports, buttonholed everybody who knew him even a little, trying to remember. He drove people crazy, and they loved every minute of it.
Same old Daniel. There are gazillions of people in the galaxy, and Ferron chose him to download all those people from the Stromos. And only Daniel could go looking for an Ancient whichyhoogy and find Central American thugs. Who but Daniel would get snaked by an Ancient? (I have a sinking feeling we’re not done with Anubis. But just like Apophis, I have a couple of scores to settle with him.) And who except Daniel would get caught in a global war, and then help them get their planet back? What is up with that constant jeopardy thing?
And of course he still doesn’t listen to me. He still doesn’t follow my lead. He’s still a pain in the ass, still pushing, still arguing. Still puts himself way too far out there. Still never fails me, still is there through thick and thin. And I have learned to thank God for him every day.
Of course there have been some changes. He’s more confident. A little tougher, although he’s never lost the compassion and intensity that make him Daniel. He teases people sometimes, and he doesn’t always get it right. Harriman wasn’t too happy with Daniel’s pretend ass-chewing after the gate vanished. And me—he came bouncing into my office, arm in a sling, just like he hadn’t been shot and damn near bled to death on us. (One time, one time I’m trying for a flesh wound—) For once I didn’t care if he was obsessed with those damn artifacts; he could mess around with them all day, just so long as he stayed still. And out of harm’s way. He’d been shot, for crying out loud. I pointed that out. And he said, "I know. You shot me." Idiot. But—damn, I couldn’t stay mad at him. Neither could Harriman.
But Daniel’s still got stuff to learn. He’s always worked out; it damn near became an obsession after Sha’re died. And he finally started paying attention to some of the self-defense stuff T and I tried to teach him. But—well, Carter was nice about it, but apparently that Hoskins guy didn’t have much trouble with him. He’s gonna have to learn how to do better than that. He will learn, though. I’ll insist on it. He’s my friend, the one I love like my own kid.
There. I can finally say it. And I mean it. You might not be able to teach old dogs—excuse me, dogs in their prime—new tricks, but once in a while you can teach them old lessons.
Author’s Notes: Feedback not only is encouraged, but is sought like a panhandler seeks small change.
© October 2005 Characters featured in this story are the property of Showtime, Inc., Sci-Fi Channel, Bridge Productions, Gekko Film Corporation; Sony Pictures Television and a host of other companies including, for all I know, the one with the logo of the shark on the bicycle jumping on the anvil. Characters from the series belong to MGM-United Artists, Double Secret Productions, Gekko Film Corporation and Stargate SG-1 Productions, among others. To attempt to use these characters for profit would be a species of intellectual theft that neither this author nor the operators of this website would be parties to, no matter how much we might secretly believe we could triple their ratings if they'd just give us a chance. . . Therefore, this fanfic is written just for fun, not intended as copyright infringement of any kind. The idea and any addional characters are the property of the author.
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