Work Text:
7.28 p.m. MST. Eight days after the events of The Shroud
“Hey.”
“Hi.”
“Watcha doin’?”
“Um, making dinner.”
“Watcha makin’?”
“Chinese. Some chicken thing with noodles and pak choi.”
“Damn.”
“What?”
“Well, if it really is chicken, I can’t crack the ‘tastes like chicken’ joke now can I?”
“Well, you could. You have before.”
“Some jokes do get old, though. Wouldn’t want you to think I was getting predictable. You might get tired of me. Swap me for a younger, more virile model.”
“Never. I have a great reverence for all things vintage.”
“Bastard. What was that?”
“What?”
“That noise?”
“What noise?”
“That ping….. It was the microwave oven wasn’t it?”
“Might have been.”
“No might have been about it, Daniel. You’re re-heating leftovers aren’t you?”
“Might be.”
“How old?”
“Sorry?”
“How old are the leftovers? I should have known you weren’t cooking anything with any nutritional value. And when did you last eat?”
“Jesus. You’re more of a nag than your mother.”
“She called you?”
“Yes. She did. Twice yesterday and once this morning.”
“Good. That takes the heat off me. She can nag for Minnesota.”
“I can see where you get it from.”
“I have to admit that particular apple didn’t fall far from the tree.”
“She didn’t actually say you’d told her to call me, but I’m guessing that’s what happened.”
“Busted, huh?”
“Yep. What exactly did you tell her?”
“Just that you’ve not been well. She knew something was up. I went bugfuck when you were missing. Tried to hide it from her but you know moms.”
“Ye-ah …”
“Oh fuck. Fuck! Sorry Daniel I didn’t….Look, I’m just worried, okay? You went back to work too soon.”
“Jack, do we have go through this again? I’m fine. I did as Lam told me. I took the painkillers, the headaches went away. I rested.”
“For three whole days.”
“It was enough.”
“No. It wasn’t. She said you needed at least a week.”
“I know my body better than her.”
“Not better than me.”
“I will admit that there are parts of my body you probably know better then her …. probably better than me, actually. However, that has nothing to do with this conversation. I’m fine. Really. There’s too much to do, too much at stake for me to be pulling a Camille at home.”
“See, that’s twice you’ve used the word ‘fine.’ Can you see why I might be a tad concerned?”
“This long-distance mother-henning is really starting to grate, Jack. It’s bad enough I have Sam and Mitchell calling every verse end, too.”
“What? They’re not allowed to be concerned? I’m not allowed to be concerned when you go back to work way too soon after having your mind taken over by a wizard with a pointy hat, and then getting the ultimate in extreme makeovers by an evil chick hell-bent on universal domination?”
“Interestingly novel interpretation. You have such a way with words.”
“Yes. It’s one of the many reasons you love me.”
“I do indeed love you for many reasons.”
“Then stop pretending that everything’s fine and tell me how you really are.”
“Okay, let’s see. Lonely? Very. Confused? Somewhat. Angry? Oh, yeah. Scared? Only all the time. Oh, and I lied about the headaches. They haven’t gone away. They come back in the evenings and they kill my appetite. Sometimes they make me feel sick, too. Sometimes I actually am sick. So…. I don’t want to eat and the headaches mean I can’t sleep even though I’m exhausted. Because I can’t sleep, I stay up late and work on stuff, get over-tired, thus making the headache even worse. And when I do finally crash out I have the most fuck-awful nightmares, which if Freud were to get a hold of them, he would doubtless say were related to issues over lack of control. I wake up disoriented, shit scared, wired and replay everything over and over and over. I can’t get anything straight in my head. I can’t work through it. I’m not even sure which thoughts are truly mine. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve started dialing your number at fuck o’clock and, as it stands, I’m losing any hope of fighting my way clear of this shit.”
….
….
“Fuck.”
“Well, you did ask,”
“Yeah. I did.”
….
….
“I couldn’t get leave. I hate that I have to be here when all I want is to be there with you.”
“I know.”
“One night wasn’t enough. I want to be there. I need to be there. I fucking hate not being there.”
“I know that, too.”
“I’ll quit. Put in my papers.”
“Jack….”
“We’ve talked about it. I’m way more than due.”
“Jack….”
“Screw it. I can get the red eye tonight. What are they gonna do?”
“Jack will you stop! We’ve gone through this, again and again. The timing is all wrong. You can’t quit, and neither can I. We can’t walk away now. Any of us.”
“Daniel, so help me, I am so far past the whole ‘Tis a far, far better thing’ thing.”
“I know.
“Christ, this sucks.”
“Yeah.”
….
“Will you at least talk to Lam?”
“If I talk to her, I’ll be taken off rotation. Possibly even sent for another psych eval. I can’t afford that.”
“I have no idea how you passed last week’s. I mean, I read it, but I still don’t believe it.”
“I was orphaned at eight. I have lots and lots of experience with psychiatrists and psychologists. It really isn’t difficult to snow them, when you know what they’re looking for. I used to treat it as a game. I became very adept at fucking with their heads”
“I could make it an order.”
“You could, but you won’t.”
“Oh yeah? Try me. Nothing is more important to me than your well-being.”
“The fate of the galaxy?”
“Nothing.”
“That’s touching.”
“That’s the truth. Gah! You are so fucking stubborn.”
“One of the many reasons you love me.”
“Right. It’s only slightly further down the list of top ten reasons than pissy, argumentative, occasionally condescending and often downright irritating.”
“Gee, Jack. Who knew I had so many fine qualities.”
“You know that I love you and you know why I love you. I’ve told you often enough.”
“Yeah. You have. I just…. think I need to hear you say it again.”
“I love you, Daniel Jackson.”
….
….
“Hey. You still there?”
“Yeah. I’m here.”
“You OK? You sound like ….”
“I’m OK.”
….
….
“Want me to say it again?”
“I always want to hear it, but the intellectual stimulus of the conversation will be somewhat lacking if that’s all you end up saying.”
“Mmmm. I love it when you go all long sentency on me.”
“You really do say the nicest things sometimes.”
“I like being nice to you. It’s like being nice to a puppy in a pound.”
“Oh, God.”
….
….
“It’s good to hear you laugh.”
“I think I’m forgetting how.”
“Then I’ll have to give you some reminders. You look sexy when you laugh. Those little crinkly lines at the corner of your eyes. Verrrry sexy.”
“My chicken’s congealing.”
“Is that some kind of euphemism, because I suspect mine is too.”
“No. It’s not. A euphemism, that is. You’re complaining I’m not eating. I’m gonna eat.”
“We could have phone sex first.”
“Good night Jack.”
“You will eat, right?”
“Yes.”
“And you’ll eschew the laptop for an early night?”
“Maybe.”
“I love you Daniel. You’ve gotta take care of yourself until I can be there to do it for you, OK?”
“OK.”
“I love you.”
“Yeah. Goodnight Jack.”
>>>>>
11.07 p.m. MST.
“I thought we’d said goodnight.”
“You said goodnight, I didn’t. Why are you still awake?”
“Because I don’t feel tired enough to sleep.”
“I’m thinking you are. The word ‘exhaustion’ was used, I believe. I’m thinking you’re afraid to sleep.”
“You’ve been at MacKenzie’s bookshelf again, haven’t you?”
“It isn’t hard to figure out.”
“Fascinating. Do you have a solution to my problem?”
“I think I might have, actually.”
“Oh, do tell.”
“Remember after Nicaragua? When you couldn’t, no wait, make that wouldn’t sleep?”
“Only too vividly.”
“What did I do to help?”
“Er, don’t think we can do that with a giant chunk of the continent between us.”
“Not that.”
“Oh. You mean….”
“Yeah. If I recall correctly, it sent you off like a baby.”
“You may also recall I was embarrassed as hell about it, too.”
“I thought it was sweet. I kinda got a kick out of it. Wanna try again?”
“It won’t work. I’m too….”
“Come on. Where are you?”
“I’m in bed. Reading.”
“Escapist Kathy Reichs?”
“Book of Origin.”
“Jeeze! So not light night-time reading. And you wonder why you can’t sleep! Come on. Give it a try. Lie down. Get warm. Relax. Forget about everything. There’s just you and me.”
“OK.”
“Ready?”
“Yeah.”
“Any requests?”
“No, just whatever you think.”
“OK. Just you and me ….close your eyes. I’m right there. We’re propped against the pillows. Your back is against my chest. I’m holding you safe. The book is in my right hand and I’m stroking your hair with my left. It’s late. The small lamp is lit. It’s quiet. There’s nothing to fear. No-one but us. We have all the time we need….”
….
….
“OK, Daniel?”
“Yeah.”
“OK. How about a little Mary Oliver, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began.
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice –
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
‘Mend my life!
each voice cried.
but you didn’t stop.
you knew what you had to do.
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations.
though their melancholy
was terrible ….”
“Still with me, baby?”
“Hmm.”
“It was already late
enough, and a wild night
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
but little by little
as you left their voices behind
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world
determined to do
the only thing you could do –
determined to save
the only life you could save.”
….
….
“Daniel?”
“Daniel?”
….
….
“OK, that’s good. You’re safe now …. you’re safe.”
Ends