DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognisable characters and property of Stargate SG-1 belong to MGM/UA, World Gekko Corp. and Double Secret Productions. This fan fiction was created solely for entertainment purposes and no money was made from it. Also, no copyright or trademark infringement was intended. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Any other characters, the storyline and the actual story are the property of the author. Not to be archived without permission of the author(s).
"Nooooooooo!" The echo died in the shadows of the bedroom as Daniel Jackson sat bolt upright in bed, drenched in sweat. Gasping, eyes wide with fear he glanced anxiously around the room. The full moon shone through the window, providing barely enough light for the young man to discern his surroundings. Burying his head in his hands he moaned. "Nightmare, it's only a nightmare." Realizing that he'd get no more sleep this night, he climbed shakily out of bed and made his way to the kitchen. He was relieved to see that, for once, the timer on his automatic coffeemaker had worked. Was there? Yes, the pot contained enough coffee for one cup. A small one, granted, but a cup nevertheless. As he tilted the pot over his mug, his hands trembled so badly that he almost spilled some of the precious liquid. Sinking down onto his sofa, Daniel sipped gratefully at the brew. Four am? Why had he set the timer for this hour? Oh yeah, Jack had set the briefing on P2R 732 last week for six am. That was 0600 hours, Jack's time. Guess he hadn't thought to reset it. Good thing 'cause he really needed the caffeine. Sighing he finally admitted that the events of the last six weeks had taken a great toll on his peace of mind.
Six weeks since he'd received the package which had started everything and still nothing. No sign of Jack's mysterious businessman. Nothing. Nada. Inquiries around the world, to all the major law enforcement agencies, had turned up absolutely nothing. And until three days ago, he'd still hoped to find the tomb, possibly finish his parents' work. Then the pieces of the puzzle had come together to isolate the probable location of the tomb in northern Chad, near the Libyan border. An area off-limits to US military personnel, and exceedingly dangerous for just plain tourists. An archaeological expedition might be safe, relatively speaking, but the State Department advised against it. There was no way in hell he'd be able to get within four hundred miles of the place. And if there was really a sarcophagus ... he shuddered at the thought. If there was one, it was probably the run-of-the-mill burial variety, just like most of what his parents had brought back.
The items from the tomb had proven to be pretty standard fare, at least as far as Egyptian tombs went. Only a handful of items had related to the Stargate and the 'gods' and those, thankfully including the infamous ribbon device, were safely tucked away in the depths of the SGC. The remaining articles were offered to the New York Museum of Art, which politely declined the offer. Egyptian artifacts were simply not in vogue at the moment. And, the director had told him, they already had enough. The local museum, however, had been more than grateful to receive his donation. It pleased him no end that he could visit the artifacts whenever he chose; it was almost like visiting his parents. He was just glad the columns and coverstone had not been found.
He could still hear their screams as the heavy stone fell, could still see his father throw himself on top of his mother in a valiant but fruitless attempt to save her life. Time had not yet erased the horror of that moment, and to know that their deaths had not been an accident merely served to make a horrible memory almost unbearable.
The first cup of coffee had done its job. He was awake and the trembling had stopped, almost. Rising, he moved deliberately to the kitchen for a much needed second cup as he realized that the other nightmare had once again preceded the one with his parents. The one with Parker's face haunting him, taunting him, threatening to ... No! He refused to go there. Catching sight of the clock out of the corner of his eye, he decided that one cup of coffee would have to do until he got to the base. Pushing the nightmares to the back of his thoughts, Daniel headed for his bedroom to dress.
"Good morning, Colonel." The young blond woman saluted as she approached the last security checkpoint before entering the heart of SGC command.
"Morning, Major." Colonel Jack O'Neill returned her salute as well as those of the sentries. Military formalities over with, he picked up the pen to sign in, and froze, almost dropping the pen in the process.
Major Samantha Carter glanced at her commanding officer. "Sir, is something wrong?"
He shoved the log book towards her. "I'm seeing things, right?"
Her own eyes widened at the barely legible scrawl. "Daniel? It's only five thirty."
"Ya think? Look at the sign-in time."
"0500? Sir, what's wrong with this picture?"
"I don't know, but I intend to find out. Sergeant Hendricks, did Dr. Jackson happen to say anything when he signed in?"
"No sir, but he did look distracted."
Jack sighed. "Daniel always looks distracted. Guess I better find out what's going on."
"He did take the news about the tomb's location badly. Do you want some help looking?"
Jack shook his head. "No. Thanks. Team leader job."
The search took longer than even Jack had anticipated. Daniel's on-base quarters, his lab, even the Gateroom were missing the presence of the young scientist. The cafeteria workers hadn't seen him, nor had anyone in the infirmary. A chance encounter with a bemused quartermaster took the colonel hurriedly to the outside shooting range. Sure enough, Daniel Jackson was there, blowing holes in the standard bulls-eye target, and doing very well.
Jack studied the younger man until Daniel placed his weapon on the counter to retrieve more shells. "Who are you and what have you done with Daniel Jackson?"
"Jack? Huh? What?" Daniel spun, eyes wide, definitely startled.
"Never mind, Daniel. Bad joke." O'Neill frowned as he took note of the dark circles underneath his friend's eyes. "I didn't expect to find you here."
"Couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd come up here, get some practice in." He turned around reaching for the replacement shells. "You did say I was getting a little rusty."
The older man interrupted. "You're never up here, not without me pushing you to practice. Now, why are you here and why couldn't you sleep?"
"Geez, Jack, I just couldn't sleep. Does there have to be a reason?"
"Yes."
The simple reply startled the young archaeologist. He'd expected a sarcastic retort, not an answer. "Oh, well, uh, okay. I've been having nightmares for the past three nights. No big deal. They'll go away, they always do."
The fact that the start of the nightmares coincided with the off-limits notification for the tomb was not lost on the colonel. Frowning, he asked, "Parker?"
"NO!"
The reply came too quickly and vehemently for Jack's taste, but he chose not to comment. Instead he pointed to the ragged target. "You need a new one."
Daniel grinned sheepishly. "I guess so. I'll go..."
"Nah, I've got a private stash in my locker up here."
"You have a locker up here?"
"I am a colonel, Daniel."
"Oh. Yeah. Sorry. I forgot."
"Be right back." Jack hurried away and soon returned with his own weapon and a batch of large human outline targets.
"Jack, you know I don't like to use..." His eyes widened as Jack silently unfolded one of the outlines, revealing Roland Parker's likeness.
"W..What? Jaack!"
The colonel merely shrugged. "Didn't get to beat the crap out of him. That's okay, though. Shooting him on a regular basis seems to work just as well and doesn't hurt my fist."
"I don't think..."
"Just try it. You might like it."
"That's what I'm afraid of."
Jack just grinned and handed the younger man the standard bulls-eye. "Thought you might think so. Mind if I use the 'P' one?"
Daniel sighed as Jack loaded his target on the pulley and moved it into position. Instead of loading his own target, Daniel stood back and watched in admiration as Jack put holes in a variety of places on the image of .... Somehow he couldn't bring himself to even think the name. By the end of the clip, Jack's target was unrecognizable and Jack looked inordinately pleased with himself.
The younger man shook his head in disbelief and started to refold the not-yet-used bulls-eye.
"Watcha doing?"
"Packing up?" Daniel replied hopefully.
Jack grinned, took the bulls-eye, swung it out on another pulley and handed Daniel his weapon and the ammunition. "Don't think so, Daniel. I saw the first one."
Groaning in frustration, Daniel reloaded and took aim. Jack watched him closely, complimenting him where his form was right, correcting him where it was not. Jack frowned slightly as he realized that sooner or later he would have to tell Daniel about the rubble from the coverstone, and allow him to choose whether or not to examine it, but now was not the time. The younger man had not yet come to grips with everything that had happened, and Jack steadfastly refused to add to his burden any more than was necessary.
The older man knew Daniel's nightmares would continue until the tomb was either unearthed or found to be irretrievably buried. Hell, there wasn't anyone at the SGC who wasn't concerned about it. But Hammond had pulled out all stops, and sooner or later - hopefully sooner - they'd have an absolute answer on the tomb. As for Daniel, only time would heal the wounds which had originated thirty years before due to the actions of greedy, soulless men and exacerbated by recent events. But, unlike thirty years before, Daniel would not have to go it alone. SG-1 would stand together as a team. Just as they always did.