DISCLAIMER: All 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 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.
The seventh chevron locked, the dynamic, surging irresistible force that was the activated wormhole roiled explosively toward him as if seeking to escape the confines of the looming silver circle that contained it. That terrible beauty, so much power, just LOOK at it they were MAD to think they could control this, never mind presume to understand it surely THIS time it will break free of their arrogance and consume them all and just as it seems it MUST succeed…. It is - restrained.
Forced to heel, the seemingly unstoppable was snapped obediently back on the leash and compelled to resolve itself into the placid, lightly shifting azure pool that was the passageway between this world and – wonders untold. Daniel Jackson stood raptly before the Stargate, looking with unabashed awe and a fair degree of reverence at a sight that few in this world would ever be privileged to see. It had irrevocably changed his life – this Divine Circle of Promethean Fire that they had dared to claim and had further presumed to profess to control.
Daniel Jackson knew that he held no such illusions about either ownership or mastery of the cosmic magnificence before him. He also disavowed any claims to understanding as well. Scientists such as Dr Samantha Carter might seek to chase the awe away with dry physics dissertations that attempted to convert the magic into terms more acceptable to the scientific mind, thereby disempowering all mysteries that challenged their limited view of the universe, but words like 'superconductors' or 'matter streams' could not diminish the power of the arcane portal for him. Nothing existed in this world that could not be explained within the confines of the purview of science? That might be Sam's contention, but he knew differently. A year with the people of Abydos had taught him that there was indeed such a thing as magic and that which could not be explained.
Beyond this veil – here be wonders! Once again, he took a quiet but significant moment to allow the awe to take him. Before him stood the potential to access marvels untold and the boundless opportunity to experience them, but there was also a terrible responsibility implicit in the same privilege. He renewed his vow to himself and to whatever power had caused him to be in this place that he would never allow himself to become complacent about the gift he now enjoyed or unmindful of the responsibility that accompanied it.
His 'pre-flight' ritual completed, Daniel began to ascend the ramp and was preparing to step through the event horizon when his forward motion and reverie were both abruptly arrested by the strident insertion of a sharp voice into his awareness.
"Dr Jackson! Stand down!"
The verbally identified unfortunate froze in his tracks, hung his head and let his shoulders slump as he emitted a long and very weary sigh. He supposed it had been a bit too much too hope for. That today was the day he was going to get away with not having to once again be the brunt of Jack's frustration. All he wanted was one day free of the bulls-eye on his back. Just one day. Twenty-four blessed hours all to himself without getting a verbal strip peeled off his already-far-too-abused hide by Colonel O'Neill. Since he had formally become a part of SG-1 just over a month ago and therefore a member of the aforementioned Colonel O'Neill's team and therefore by default fair game (or so it seemed) – again, for said Colonel – Daniel Jackson had not known a single day's peace.
It wasn't a lot to ask for. At least, he didn't think so. Just a small respite from the increasingly worsening verbal storm. That was all he wanted. Really. Except for maybe a pony. 'Who am I kidding?' Daniel thought to himself. 'Right now, if I thought there were any takers I would sell my soul rather than turn around.'
He hesitated, waiting in absurd expectation. Nothing happened. The heavens did not open to pluck him to safety and deliver him from the coming storm, nor was there any action from the other direction. Too late, you had your chance, offer withdrawn. Nothing for it but to turn around and get pasted. Again.
"Just kidding about the pony," Daniel muttered to the universe as he took a fortifying breath and forced himself to face his nemesis.
The expression on the Colonel's face definitely gave Daniel cause to believe he had much to dread. Full military mode, his snapping eyes promising a world of hurt to some poor unfortunate. Oh, that would be him.
Someone please, just SHOOT me!
O'Neill glowered menacingly at him for a few seconds more, then held up a hand to cock a beckoning finger in his direction.
"Front and centre, Professor," O'Neil's clipped, military tones reverberated through the gate room. He reversed the beckoning finger, pointing meaningfully at the spot of floor directly beneath the field of his scathing vision.
As she stood beside Teal'c and watched the latest version of the oft-repeated tableau beginning to unfold before them yet again, Capt. Samantha Carter could not help but feel no small measure of compassion for SG-1's official Whipping Boy. At least, that is what they were starting to call the unfortunate archaeologist 'below decks', along with a few other equally unflattering epithets. Some of them were barely fit to repeat in mixed company.
To say that Daniel Jackson was having a bit of a problem 'fitting in' was like saying - oh, just pick an appropriate simile for disaster and slot it in, it still wouldn't make it any less than the understatement of the century. If you looked in the encyclopedia under the heading 'totally lacking in social/people skills' there would be a picture of Daniel Jackson. The man was the absolute epitome of awkward in every sense of the word. He wandered about the complex enveloped in an insulating cocoon of – whatever it was that was going through his head at the moment. He made no effort to join in, to participate, to be 'one of the guys'. Thrown into the midst of an organization that was built on teamwork and the interconnectedness and smooth functioning of all of its constituent parts, Daniel was not only a fish out of water, he was a fish out of water riding a bicycle. Badly. As a part of the ultimate team that absolutely demanded that all its members be players, Daniel Jackson hadn't even managed to make waterboy.
And yet, if you stopped there, and judged the man solely on those criteria, you did him a grave disservice. Sam had read his dossier. She had even tracked down some of his papers. His work was obscure and not very popular but it was out there if you took the time to look. Which she did. A little trick her father had taught her. Find out everything you can about the people you serve with. Some day your life might be riding on one of them and it was a good thing to know what sort of stuff they were really made of.
Given the rather esoteric nature of the subject matter, Sam had been quite surprised to find that Dr Jackson's papers were both extremely readable and comprehensible. His passion for his work was patently obvious, and that excitement about and obvious respect for his subject infused his writings and quite successfully transmitted the enthusiasm of the author to the reader. Completely, conspicuously absent from all his writing was the usual academic grandstanding and intellectual posturing that all too frequently made wading through a 'serious work' so incredibly tedious. Daniel did not give a fig if you thought he was brilliant – which he manifestly was. He wanted you to know what he had discovered, what fired his creative spirit and intellectual curiosity. He wanted to inform, impart, educate, enthrall, but most of all he wanted to share.
Sam had had some experience of the hoary halls of academia herself, and after she had read his work and then met the man himself she could only shake her head sadly and think to herself, 'Oh my, you poor wee lamb in the midst of all those wolves. No wonder they ate you alive…'
And now it would seem that history was repeating itself. In coming to the SGC it appeared that all Dr Jackson had accomplished was to merely jump from one frying pan to another. Wouldn't you know it, it looks as if the Colonel is about to turn up the heat…
Daniel walked meekly down the ramp and stood before the Colonel on the spot he had indicated. Sam continued to watch, completely unaware that she was holding her breath. There was something different about this particular confrontation. Something a little more serious. She found herself becoming unaccountably afraid for the suddenly extremely vulnerable looking young man. Mentally hearkening back to her former 'lamb' among wolves analogy also made her extremely uncomfortable.
She'd done her homework about Colonel O'Neill as well. His name had been inextricably linked with the Stargate Program for as long as she had become aware of it and during her campaign to become assigned to the project she had encountered at least three people who had lost a sizeable amount of money when he had come back from the Abydos mission alive.
Given what she had heard about him she was not so sure which way she would have put her money.
She was even less sure the more she came to know about him through serving with him.
It was nothing she could put her finger on. The Colonel was a consummate soldier. No worries on that score. As highly trained, competent and dedicated as they come. He had shown himself to be an intelligent and capable leader, a clever and astute tactician and not above taking the slightly calculated risk when the situation called for it. He seemed to be everything that would inspire unshakable trust and confidence in his subordinates and yet, there was something…
Teal'c knew it as well. Not that they had ever talked about it. Not in so many words. Something was not right with the Colonel. It was there. She knew it, but didn't know what it was, couldn't prove it but one thing she did know for sure, whatever it was, something about Daniel Jackson set it off.
Something else she had no doubt of. When the excrement finally hit the fan somebody in this room would be very lucky if he wasn't buried alive. That was if she and Teal'c stood back and did nothing. Just let it happen.
She cast a veiled look at the massive black man beside her who stood as resolutely still as if he was carved out of stone, his arms crossed gravely across his chest. His face was impassive. Unreadable. However, he did seem to be aware of her covert scrutiny, for he slowly swiveled his head toward her and affixed her with a steady look that clearly conveyed its meaning to her.
We must do something about this.
Amen, Big Guy, she shot back at him.
However, further planning had to wait. Before them, the show was about to begin.
"Colonel O'Neill," Daniel said in a pleasant, open voice, blinking owlishly from behind his glasses and beaming him one of his broad, ingenuous smiles. He couldn't have looked anymore like the classic – nerd – if he had studied the part for weeks. All he lacked was the word 'victim' branded on his forehead.
Sam cringed. 'Oh GEEZ Daniel, at least make an EFFORT to play the game! You're being called onto the carpet, not being asked to tea. Wipe off the grin and TRY to look – serious…'
"Dr Jackson, if I may ask... WHERE IS YOUR SIDEARM?"
Daniel looked him straight in the eye. The man had guts even if he wasn't too people-smart.
Without warning Daniel suddenly snapped to attention as smartly as if he had been to the manner born. He tilted his head back filled his lungs with a painfully audible intake of breath and belted out "Begging the Colonel's pardon, SIR, but I expect it's still in the weapons locker, SIR!"
Sam was seized by an almost irresistible desire to giggle, which she instantly, ruthlessly killed. She also found herself wondering what kind of flowers Daniel would like for the graveside…
Teal'c thoughts appeared to be running in a similar direction. His comment was intentionally pitched so low that it was audible only to her, but hear it she did.
"It would seem that I will soon be becoming acquainted with your world's burial rituals."
Sam did not trust herself to either look at him or reply.
The two men stood almost nose to nose, certainly eye to eye. For a moment neither moved nor spoke. Daniel was not enjoying his front row seat to his own execution in the slightest. Part of his brain could not fail but register the dangerous, almost murderous fire in the eyes of the man before him. The other part was trying to figure out exactly what had possessed him to do what he had just done. He was not the type generally given to waving red flags in front of bulls, being a firm proponent of and practicer of the belief that avoidance was the better part of valor. What you were not messing with could not reach around and bite you on the ass.
However, it could be argued that what you were running away from… could…
Jack… why are we doing this? Why do you hate me so much? What have I done? Just – TELL me what's wrong and I'll fix it…
Just as suddenly as the words formed in his mind, he knew the reason. The heavens parted, the divine light of inspiration streamed down from above, the freakin' light bulb went on and he wanted to run around the gate room hitting himself over the head with something very hard while yelling STUPIDSTUPIDSTUPID.
A piece of information that had detached itself from a half-heard conversation in passing and had decided to hitch a ride in the conveyance of his background thoughts had just picked its moment to pull itself out of the mental filing system and dance around in front of his inner eye screaming "lookatme, lookatme!"
He looked. More than that, he suddenly understood. The Rosetta stone was nothing compared to the ultimate key to the puzzle that just made itself known to him.
This changes things. I'm sorry, Jack. I've done you a disservice. I forgot… I'm not the only one who's alone now…
Daniel shook himself free from his mockery of the posture assumed with pride and meaning by those who followed the code also fiercely upheld by the man before him. He felt ashamed for making light of that which was so important to Jack. Admittedly he had paid little attention to Jack's efforts to make him 'more military.' There was a very good reason for that; he did not have the slightest interest in being military. What he wanted to be – was Jack's friend. He felt himself in sore need of a friend now that everything was gone.
He still could not believe that Sha'uri and Skaara were… gone. Still could not take it in. It was a bad dream and he would wake up from it soon. He would.
That shining year in Abydos had been the happiest year of his life. He had found a home, acceptance, and a love that still made his heart ache to think of it. But most of all, he had found himself. Sha'uri's love had enabled him to reclaim parts of himself he had thought gone forever. He had never felt happier, more fulfilled or more at peace with who and what he was.
It had been the strangest thing, though. There had been something, now and again. A funny feeling that would well up within him, whenever he would think of Jack O'Neill. He remembered the circumstances of their parting quite vividly, standing there watching as Jack turned to look at him, that one last time – the very last time Daniel thought he would ever see him, as far as he knew then.
"Be seeing you around, Dr Jackson," Jack said to him, and then walked through the Stargate and out of his life. Jack's passage left a curious void inside him that he did not understand but could do nothing about, so he put it aside. Time passed, life with Sha'uri was sweet, it should have been sufficient. Well, it was, except for a strange, unanswerable curiosity that began to form within him. Curiosity about Jack. Wondering about his life, what had happened to him since they had parted. It was a frustrating curiosity, for Daniel had no way of satisfying it, no way of knowing how Jack was faring on the other side of the universe and the lack of that knowledge began to bother him more and more as time went by.
He spent many hours thinking about Jack. Hoping that he had been able to build on the seeds of new hope that his adventures in Abydos had planted within him. Hoping that Jack had gone home and had managed to pick up the pieces of his life. Hoping that Jack and Sara were as happy as he and Sha'uri.
It seemed that none of these hopes had come true for Jack. It seemed that neither one of them would now know the bliss of lying in the circle of love formed by the arms of their beloved. And it also seemed, to one who knew what to look for to know for, that having to live with this loss hurt Jack as much as it hurt him.
Hurt? Hurt? Oh God, what a small word for such a bottomless well of suffering. At first he did not know how he would survive without the help of the only arms that he thought could comfort him, but he slowly became aware that for whatever reason – he didn't know why, but part of Daniel's gift was knowing how to accept without questioning – being around Jack made him feel better. Maybe it was because of the former bond forged in the confrontation with Ra, maybe it was because of their mutual loss, he didn't know and he didn't waste a lot of time trying to figure it out, he just – went with it.
Being around Jack helped it hurt less. Didn't matter what was happening between them, just being in the same room was enough. He had tagged along, become of part of SG-1, Jack's team, one of the group but not really a part of what was going on, hugging the background of Jack's reality, content to be there without needing to draw attention to himself, using the gift of peace that Jack's presence gave him and things were getting better.
However, it seemed he was having quite the opposite effect on Jack. While Jack brought him peace, he seemed to be constantly inciting the Colonel to violence, just by existing.
So, what else was new?
He did not want to hurt Jack. Did not want to seem as if he was disrespectful of what was important to him. He did not mean through selfish disinterest in the training Jack had tried to impart to him to seem as if he was disdaining the gift or the giver. He just hadn't realized how seriously Jack took all this stuff. Hell, if it really was that important to him, he'd learn to juggle teacups if it meant that Jack would forgive him and let him be his friend again.
Or ever, even….
Unfortunately, in failing to give Jack what he most wanted from him - respect for and dedication to the goal of making a 'man' out of him, he had pretty much euchred whatever slim chance he might have had of achieving that increasingly unlikely objective.
It was in that instant of comprehending that he and Jack O'Neill might very well never ever find a way to get along that Daniel realized just how MUCH he wished this was not so. He could remember few other things he had every wanted more.
I've been a fool. A myopic, pea-brained, head in my ass up to my navel moron. Pull up your socks, Daniel and get with the program, already. Maybe it isn't too late.
"I'm sorry, Colonel, I know I was supposed to draw a weapon, but I just thought – we're going to P7J-843 to go to a wedding, not to shoot bad guys. I didn't see why I needed one…
One look at the implacable anger in Jack's black eyes and the rest of the sentence died in his throat. This is going to be bad. This is going to be really, really bad.
"You thought – did you? Did you? Did you 'think', Dr Jackson, for one instant? Did you use that prodigious intellect you are supposed to possess, to THINK what would happen to the members of your team if we found ourselves in a situation where we needed you to back us up and you COULDN'T, because you didn't THINK that you needed a weapon?" Jack's voice was so low as to be practically inaudible, but he was almost choking with rage. His jaw was clenched so tightly that Daniel was sure it had to shatter at any second from the strain of the forces it was being subjected to.
Suddenly Jack lunged forward, grabbed two handfuls of Daniel's shirtfront and almost hauled him off his feet. Fists firmly balled in the material of Daniel's uniform, the enraged Colonel shook the young man with all the fury and intensity of a wild dog savaging some hapless thing it has decided to rend limb from limb. As he shook him, he also let fly a tirade of abuse in his best parade square volume voice.
"You listen to me you useless, sniveling, four-eyed sorry excuse for a walking-around sack of SHIT! You don't deserve to wear this uniform and believe you me, if I wasn't wearing mine I'd make you EAT it! When you were ALLOWED to join this organization, this MILITARY organization, you were informed that certain conditions would apply to you. Conditions that you AGREED to abide by. Not the LEAST of which was your agreement to learn certain techniques and to adhere to certain procedures which would allow you to act in a way, when you were deployed in an action with this team under MY command, that would NOT cause you to be a danger to your fellow team members, and to yourself."
Sam took an involuntary step forward when she saw the Colonel beginning to manhandle Daniel. She glanced at Teal'c and then cast her eyes hurriedly up to the Control Room that overlooked the gate room. She knew that General Hammond was up there and she desperately hoped that he was not watching what was going on on the ramp in front of the Stargate.
The Colonel had crossed the line and if the General saw him roughing up Daniel like that his ass was grass. At this moment Daniel was well within his rights to press charges. The Colonel was inches from the hatless quick march into the CO's office for that lovely verbal reprimand. Or a whole lot worse.
"Well, here we are, Doctor Jackson, the Colonel continued, lowering his voice a little but not the man to whom he was speaking, " a month or so down the road and you have YET to do what you SAID you would do. You have refused to learn these techniques, you have not BOTHERED to learn or follow these procedures, you have not seen FIT to do ANYTHING by the book and as a consequence you have been a constant liability to this team – a liability I do NOT intend to put up with much longer. As of this moment I am putting you on notice, Doctor. You WILL get it together and you WILL do it my way or so help me I'll pack your bags for you and shove them up your ass as I throw you off the fraggin' mountain!"
Thank God! The General was no where in sight. Something that was happening on the other side of the room seemed to be drawing the attention of the duty personnel. No one had seen. There was still time to haul the Colonel off Daniel and get everybody calmed down. She looked imploringly at Teal'c.
The aforementioned officer was on the point of dragging the unfortunate archaeologist across the gate room, this time by the back of his collar, in order to refresh his memory as to the location of the weapons locker and the proper procedure for procuring the sidearm he currently was lacking.
"Colonel O'Neill,"
Teal'c's deep, powerful voice pierced the envelope of Jack's anger by the effectiveness of its utter novelty in the situation. As the ebon warrior spoke, he trained the full force of his steadying gaze upon the man he was seeking to reach, compelling him to listen to him and to look at him.
"Colonel O'Neill, we should go.
That was all he said. That was all he needed to say.
Suddenly, his anger spent, Jack was back. Where that rage had come from, he did not know, but seeing what he had done reflected back at him in the expressions on Sam and Teal'c's faces did not make him feel especially proud to be who he was at the moment.
He could not even look at Daniel.
A wave of complete and utter self-loathing ripped through him. In an effort to escape it and to put as much distance as he could as quickly as he could between himself and any reminder of what he had just done Jack wheeled abruptly, dragging Daniel behind him so violently that he almost caused him to stumble and fall. Ruthlessly he propelled the archaeologist up the ramp and then without pausing placed his hands on the small of his back and shoved him through the gate. Hard. The evidence disposed of; Jack then turned on the witnesses.
He jabbed a finger at them and opened his mouth to say – he didn't know what. Something in his defense? There was nothing he could say to defend his behavior. Nothing at all.
He expelled a weary breath and waved them through.
"Just – go. See if he's okay. I'll be right behind you. In a minute."
Teal'c inclined his head and strode past him, into the blue. Carter was on his heels. As she passed the Colonel she tried to catch his eye, to smile encouragingly at him, but he would permit himself no such luxuries at the moment.
He wasn't quite ready to allow anyone to forgive him just yet.
After giving Sam and Teal'c a few minute's head start, Jack finally turned and entered the Stargate. Just before he was briefly no more he thought wryly. "Geez, I'm gonna be a BARREL of laughs at this party…"