Sense of Touch - Daniel

One of my earliest memories of Egypt when I was a very young child is of darkness. I don't know that I have ever seen darkness as impenetrable as that of the Egyptian desert at night.

My parents were both archaeologists and their field of specialty was Egyptology. It was my great good fortune to be born to people who believed that a family should be together and thought that exposing their child to different cultures and a variety of new experiences could only be good for him. They were right. I loved Egypt. I loved the sights, the smells, the language, the folklore, the incredible antiquity of the place. But at night, in the desert, it was vast and dark and a little frightening for a small child.

I remember many times waking up in the middle of the night in a tent surrounded by that incredible, all encompassing darkness and being afraid. But always there was a comforting touch to let me know I wasn't alone, not to be afraid, I was safe.

My mother's hands were small and they bore the calluses you would expect from someone who spent a great deal of her waking hours working alongside the native diggers. But they were gentle hands, understanding hands. She understood my fears and she was always there in the darkness, her hand stroking my hair, soothing me back to sleep. I never felt more secure than those times in the darkness when she would promise me with her touch that I was safe.

Then I lost that safety, and I was alone in the darkness.

Funny how those memories are so sharp now and what should be my most recent memories... memories of pain and more darkness... are so confused...

I was alone in the darkness for a long time. I wasn't afraid of the dark any longer, but I was alone.

Then, on another planet, I woke up in the middle of the night in a desert to the same darkness I had known as a child. And this time there was another comforting touch, another small, callused hand to let me know I wasn't alone, I was safe, and soothing me back to sleep.

Then I lost that safety, too, and again I was alone in the darkness.

Pain... confusion... darkness... more pain... alone... alone...

I don't know exactly when it happened, but then another touch came into my life. There were other planets, other dark, vast nights, momentary disorientation, and always there was a... presence. It was a strong, sometimes silent presence, always nearby, always reassuring, like some indefatigable sentinel always on guard against danger. Sometimes there was conversation, sometimes not. But always there was the promise... I wasn't alone, I was safe.

There have been times of terrible pain: of physical craving for a piece of Goa'uld technology that had nearly destroyed me, and my friends; of nights spent in an infirmary fighting for my life after some mishap off-world. And there have been times of a different kind of searing pain: memories I couldn't deny, my DNA taken by a Goa'uld queen to produce new larvae; the nightmares that wouldn't stop after being forced to relive my parents' deaths over and over again to provide entertainment on an alien planet; the incredible aftermath of depression that descended when I returned from Abydos the second time after having delivered my wife of Apophis' baby and losing her again; the even darker depression that enveloped me after my not-so-gentle visit to Mental Health.

It was like being thrown into that same darkness that had frightened me as a child.

But... then there was that new touch that had entered my life. Callused hands again, but these were large and strong, and surprisingly gentle. These hands supported me while I sobbed in a storeroom from a pain that seemed to be tearing my body apart, called me from my nightmares, gripped my hand when I sank deeper and deeper into some fever-of-unknown-origin and was fighting for my life, pulled me out of my lab when I'd forget to eat, plied me with beer and pizza on those nights when I couldn't bear to be alone.

These hands promised: I wasn't alone in the darkness, I was safe.

... hard to think... why was it so hot? Why was I alone?

No, not alone. There was a touch... a small hand, cool, feminine. Familiar. It rested on my forehead for a moment, then I felt soft lips pressed to my cheek. I knew that touch. It promised friendship and support and... family.

There were other touches, too. A very large hand, very strong, rested on my head. It conveyed a sense of calmness, of silent strength, of deep caring. I knew that touch, too, had relied on that incredible strength many times.

There were a lot of different touches, many of then deft and professional, detached. I paid no attention to those. One touch though, while it was definitely professional, was different, as if this person understood the healing value of touch.

There was one touch that surprised me, although it probably shouldn't have. It was brief, a hand laid on my shoulder, a gentle squeeze, but it conveyed a sense of responsibility, an almost paternal concern.

But always in the background was that other presence, that... silent sentinel that guarded my sleep. The presence I had come to rely on. His touch was in turn gentle, desperate, supporting, cajoling, angry. So many raw emotions conveyed by his touch.

I can feel those strong fingers wrapped around my hand now, can actually feel the force of his personality pulling at me, promising me I'm not alone, urging me -- no ordering me -- to fight harder, to leave the darkness behind, to come back, not to leave him alone in the darkness.

I know what it's like to be alone in the dark. I can't do that to him.

So I concentrate, put all my strength into it, and from far away feel my fingers tighten feebly around his. I hear a choked exclamation and my hand is suddenly squeezed with a strength that nearly makes me wince. I manage to blink my eyes open and leave the darkness behind yet again.

Bloodshot brown eyes gaze down at me out of a face that is far too tired and much too worried. But the grin that is splitting that face takes years away, and the touch that has banished a hundred nightmares wraps me in a promise of quiet strength: I'm not alone. I'm safe.

"Welcome back, Danny."

It's good to be back.

~fin~

© September 19,1999 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.