Work Text:
Overlook <n> a place to stop in order to see the overall picture, view or situation. <v> to miss obvious or important aspects of a picture, view or situation.
1. Southwest, though a mist. Wednesday, 14:45.
When the shooting on P3X-722 finally stops, Jack inches his head over the ridge and counts. There are five bodies scattered around the clearing, two close in and three farther back, by a stone outcropping. One of the dead guys lost his head, literally, during the fighting; an energy blast from one of his own men must have gone wide. Even at this distance Jack can tell it's no one he knows lying there, but the memory from Juna lingers, and it's hard not to see the headless body as Daniel's. The other Daniel's. The Daniel from PX3-989, who probably drove his Jack crazy analyzing the possible derivations of Harlan's incessant "comtraya!" But still, Daniel.
Jack shakes his head to clear it of the image, and it dawns on him that this makes his arm hurt. When he looks down he sees blood seeping through a hole in his left sleeve. He adds this to his mental list of things to be dealt with later, checks again to see that the danger is temporarily at bay, and makes his way to the dead men to see what he can scavenge off them. Carter and Teal'c and Daniel - his Daniel, the one who still has his head - made it to the forest when Jack drew off their attackers, but they had to leave most of their supplies behind. If these guys have something his team can use, he'll take it. They aren't going to be needing anything now, after all, especially headless guy over there.
He circles the downed men, mechanically checking canteens and weapons. They have uniforms, but no insignia he can recognize, so he doesn't know who's the CO and who's not. He hopes the CO's dead. It's hard on a CO, losing a team.
Losing a friend.
He doesn't know how they did it. The other them, Harlan's them. And not just at the end, watching their Daniel die. He doesn't know how they coped with being what they were, where they were.
Or rather, he does. That's the problem.
That Jack would have adhered to the rules and regs, because that was all he had. All any of them had. Well, Jack, and Carter, and probably Teal'c, too. They were military. But after a while, too many memories of nights they never actually lived through, bodies they'd never held, lovers they'd never touched, would force them into new lives, and with them new rules. And that was where his mind blanked, because there were four of them, only four of them, and alliances were tricky things. Noah thought life was a matter of two-by-two, but Jack thinks sometimes that doesn't work out, even when the numbers are even. People pair up, but they also choose sides, and love and friendship are both complicated. Sometimes Jack thinks that means one thing, but then he isn't sure what it means. And he can only think so much before his brain starts to hurt.
He bends down to check the decapitated man; too young, too round-faced, too blond. Definitely not Daniel. He wonders if Daniel -- the other Daniel, the Daniel who had been stuck on Harlan's planet -- was the odd man out. Was that why he had allowed his own death? Had it been not a sacrifice, but a suicide? Oh, you could argue that Daniel, with all he'd been through, was unlikely to choose death just because life had become a little rockier, but...well, it was hard to see how "comtraya", no matter how interesting linguistically, could be enough for Daniel. And that two-by-two thing, well, where did that leave Daniel, when it was only the four of them, forever and ever? Nowhere good, clearly, as that Daniel had chosen to die.
Daniel, dead. That was wrong on so many levels. After all the times Daniel had cheated death, to die like that...It was a failure of the universe, Jack thought, kicking at a pack dropped by one of the dead men. And a failure of his CO, who was supposed to look out for his team. Protect them. Find a way.
Carter's voice crackles in his earpiece. "Sir?"
Jack bends down, picks up a knife and some sort of grenade. "I'm here, Carter. What's your situation?"
"We're okay, sir. I think we're about a two clicks north-northwest of your last position. If you head toward--"
"Copy that," he interrupts, finishing his examination of the last body and straightening, only to squat stiffly to place a discarded jacket over the decapitated head staring blankly at the sky. Well, it seems like the right thing to do. "Everybody okay?"
"Yes, sir. We ran into two more of those guys who ambushed us, and with those energy blasters of theirs it was dodgy for a bit, but..." Jack hears the hesitation, and stands again. Carter's voice continues, tight and precise. "Daniel took them out."
"Oh," he says. Anyone else, and he would offer congratulations on a job well done. But Daniel doesn't believe in killing the enemy, even after all this time, and after all the people who have tried to kill him. Daniel is funny that way.
"Understood, Major," he says evenly. "I'll be there in fifteen. O'Neill out."
He gets his bearings and starts walking. The air is thick, and a little heavy. He wonders what it feels like to walk through syrup. He wonders if Daniel ever wonders about things like that. What keeps someone like Daniel going? What makes someone like Daniel give up? He pictures that other Daniel, without his head, and sees the look in that Jack's eyes again. A cramp tightens his neck, and he twists his shoulders. It doesn't help.
That other Jack felt guilty over his Daniel's death, Jack knows. It was more than a CO feeling responsible for a member of his team. It was a guilt of complicity, of responsibility. Jack knows a few things, and this is one of them. What he doesn't know is -- is he doing the same thing? There was his...whatever it was with Carter, and "Shut up, Daniel," and the Gadmeer, and who knows what else. In every alternate reality he's seen or heard of, Jack O'Neill has been a regulation asshole. How likely is it that he's any different?
Different, that's the problem. That's what's behind all of this. That other Jack, dying, saying to him, "Are we still so far from real to you?" And they weren't, though they were. Who knows what went on with them? Who knows what choices they made? He can't be expected to know. He's not the same person as that Jack, the same way that his Carter isn't the same as their Carter, or...
Their Carter had been a Captain, he remembers. She never had the chance to be anything else. If somehow Harlan could copy them again, their Carter could be a Major. But that wouldn't fix the other things, and that new Daniel would know about Sha're, so maybe it's just as well it's never going to happen.
It's hard to think about that other SG-1, but he can't stop. He wonders if the other Jack managed to avoid thinking about them. It was strange, talking to him again. It still surprises him that the other SG-1 spoke English. It doesn't seem possible that any one language can cover such different experiences.
After a while he catches up with the rest of his team. The sun is low in the sky, but there is still enough time to move on, maybe even to get back to the Gate. The others have gotten water from the river, and eaten, and rested; Teal'c and Carter have been ready to go for some time. He's ready, too, once Carter patches his arm. Daniel is writing in his journal, murmuring about echoes and rocks and traces of civilization. Jack has to tell him three times that it's time to go.
Teal'c takes point. Carter follows, and then Daniel, with Jack watching their six. Carter chats softly at Daniel for a while, but Daniel isn't talking. After a while Carter moves away. Daniel turns once or twice, and Jack can see he's somewhere else. Daniel killed two men today. Jack shifts his gun. What do you say to someone who'd sooner give up his life than see someone else lose theirs? Stop?
Daniel turns again, looking at something. Jack sees him wince. Damn! Sometimes he wishes Daniel would just stop thinking. It would make things easier. Especially these days, when Jack has the gut-clenching feeling that he knows exactly what Daniel's thinking about.
2. To the East, without glasses. Wednesday, 3:30 PM.
Daniel is thinking about the stone in his shoe. It's nestled in the valley between the two smallest toes of his right foot, and it's pretty irritating. Which is good, actually, as it keeps him from thinking about things he doesn't want to think about, and focuses him on other things, like how this stone got into his boot, anyway.
An interesting word, stone. Piedra in Spanish; petra in Greek. Even the Abydonians had a word for stone. He'd been surprised, he hadn't thought they'd need it in that world of sand and sun. They could easily have used another word. "Irritant", maybe, but of course that has different connotations. Distraction. Reminder. Pearl-in-the-making.
Or blister in the making. Daniel considers stopping to pull off his boot, but decides against it. Teal'c and Carter would notice, and stop. They would be supportive and kind, but impatient. And Jack -- Jack is already in annoyed mode, for some reason. He's one good push away from getting that look, the one his foster parents got just before they called the social worker and requested a new placement for little Danny. Daniel knows the look was bound to show up sooner or later. He's not that integral to the SGC, and if he's being honest, he knows he's outlived his reason for being there. It's like school -- you can be a post-doc for only so long before people start hemming and hawing and mentioning a research opening in Ann Arbor. The trick is to leave before you're asked, and he knows the time is right. He's finished what he started: Sha're is free of Amaunet, in a manner of speaking, and he kept his promise about her son. Not that there was anything he could do for poor Shifu, really. Considering how little he'd been able to do for her, it's surprising Sha're thought he could.
Everything important is done. It's time to move on, before he's replaced like an old shoe. Or before he's crippled by his own shoe, with its damned stone.
He flexes his foot and grimaces. An interesting word, stone. You can stone someone, or get stoned. You can have a heart of stone. You can be a stone-cold killer. Once he would have said that described all killers, but the SGC has changed his mind. Sometimes to kill is to protect, and to save, and if you shy from the ramifications of that you merely push the job onto someone else. Though really, that was never supposed to be his job. He's no longer sure what his job is, or if it's important, or even if he's capable of doing it well. That's a change for him, and like the stone in his boot, he's not sure where it came from. People go through many changes in life, and it's hard to pinpoint where any one begins; like the collapse of a civilization, there are things you see only in retrospect. The changes in him, for instance, might have started anywhere -- one of his times in the sarcophagus, or when he went through the mirror to the alternate reality, or even on that first trip through the Stargate. Things change. And things stay the same. Maybe the changes he sees have always been in him. After all, he hasn't stopped being Dr. Daniel Jackson, any more than Rome stopped being Rome. But Rome is no longer so important. Many things are no longer important, as he's no longer important to...
Oof! He walks smack into Jack, who has somehow passed him -- has he been holding up the team again? Damn! -- and then stopped in the middle of the narrow path.
"You should get out," he hears Jack say, and he can't help the involuntary whoosh of breath that shoots out of him, as if Jack had punched him in the stomach.
"What?" he blurts.
"The stone," Jack says, gesturing. "You should get it out of your boot." He doesn't look particularly annoyed or impatient, but the sun is in Daniel's eyes, and it's hard to see much in detail. "Now, Daniel," Jack adds.
"Oh." Daniel hops on one foot and pulls at his boot, trying for once to show he understands an order, and can act on it immediately.
"Most people find it easier sitting down," Jack says.
Daniel thinks Jack probably talked to Charlie like that, when Charlie was dawdling and late to school. "It's a little one," he says, as though that will excuse something.
"The little ones can hurt the most," Jack says.
Daniel blinks and settles awkwardly on the soft grass. That sounded almost like Jack meant something else. Daniel fumbles with his bootlace, clumsy with the pressure to move quickly. The Jack he knows doesn't speak in subtext. This Jack, however, is difficult to read, and difficult to understand. Like the languages of his childhood, Daniel learned to speak Jack easily. He hadn't even noticed he was fluent, until one day Jack wasn't one of his languages anymore. He misses it. The things that come the easiest are always the hardest to lose.
He finally gets his laces unknotted, pulls off his boot, and shakes it. A jagged piece of shining black falls out, the size of a pea. Daniel brushes the bottom of his sock and feels the sharp grit clinging there.
"Little," Jack says, and Daniel doesn't know if he should have been able to walk another few kilometers without complaining, or if he should be amazed his foot is still in one piece. There is no phrasebook for Jack, no English/ Jack dictionary. Daniel searches Jack's face for clues, but isn't sure he understands what he sees there. Putting his boot back on is the only thing he's completely sure of at the moment, and even that seems fraught with complications.
He wishes, again, that he had been on Juna and seen the other Jack, the one who remembered Abydos but had never known the Gadmeer. It would have been like a reunion with an old friend, he thinks. He feels a sudden wave of longing and wonders how he can be homesick for a place he's never been.
"Daniel?" Jack says, motioning to the path, to the Stargate. He seems to be several subway stops beyond tired. Daniel has seen that look before, too.
"It's time to go," Jack says, and for the first time in a long while Daniel knows exactly what he means.
3. East, after sunset, with sunglasses. Wednesday, 23:48.
Back at the SGC, Jack doesn't want to think about it.
He doesn't want to think about it, but he has to, because his Daniel was on the ledge, and their Daniel lost his head. Once is a fluke, but twice is a trend. Next time it won't be some alternate universe Daniel, or an android Daniel, or Daniel under the influence of some alien technology. It will be this Daniel, here and now. And it will be his fault, because it will be his gun, and he'll have left the drawer unlocked.
4. South, in a strong wind. Thursday, eleven hundred hours.
He is ill at ease in Daniel's office. He doesn't remember when that started, when he stopped feeling at home in Daniel's space. Daniel is, as always, immersed in something that to Jack looks random, trivial, and incomprehensible. It is probably meaning-of-life stuff. It will probably turn out to be the key to everything.
"Hey," he says, after a false start. He is careful not to touch anything. He stands with his arms stiff at his sides, like a small boy in his great aunt's dining room.
Daniel looks up right away, which is a surprise. "Hey," he says. "How's the...?"
Jack follows his gaze to his own arm and is surprised to see the bandages there. For a minute he can't remember why his arm is wrapped up. "Oh, that's..." he says, and starts again. "Good," he says. "It's fine."
"Good," Daniel says.
Jack shifts from one foot to the other. It's Daniel who's the fearless explorer. He is career military; he takes orders, not first steps. "Well," he says.
"Well?" Daniel repeats, and Jack can hear the wariness. He swallows. This was hard with Sara, too, and he was married to Sara.
Daniel, being the brave one, finally speaks. He sounds resigned, Jack thinks, and in wondering why he misses the first part of what Daniel says. "...so if that's what you've come to tell me, I already know that you, that you--"
"I'm sorry," Jack blurts out, as much to his own amazement as Daniel's.
"You're--" Daniel starts, and he offers Jack a tiny smile which is clearly meant to be kind. "It's not your fault, Jack."
"I know," he says. "But still -- you're always having to leave, and I'm sorry."
Daniel just looks at him. He wonders if Daniel heard him. He wonders if he spoke English. He wonders if Daniel is going to hit him.
"Well," Daniel finally says, looking down and hitting Ctrl-S with precise, violent jabs, "it's not like I didn't have a part in it."
Jack wants to smack his hand away from the keyboard. "Have a...Daniel, how can you...for crying out loud, you're always telling us how important these sites are, and we're always dragging you away from them, anyway. We never allocate the time or money to explore these," he waves a hand around the room, "cultural thingies, even though you've said time and again that they could help us understand other races, and maybe help us find allies, or answers, or the meaning of life. And okay, sometimes you've been a pain in the butt. And maybe this site wasn't any more special than the others, and I know you agreed to leave the very first time I said we had to go -- and that was a surprise, I have to tell you -- and maybe we ran into an ambush on the way back to the gate. But it wasn't like you betrayed the universal brotherhood of archeologists. I'm just saying, I'm sorry you couldn't stay. This time. Every time, I guess, but this time, I'm sorry you didn't get to stay."
Daniel was staring at him. "Wait. This was -- you're sorry because I had to leave the site?"
It's Jack's turn to smile. "Very good, Daniel. There's a reason they call you a genius." When Daniel doesn't respond, he leans in to take a closer look. "Is there something else I should be apologizing for?"
"No! No, I just -- no. And it doesn't matter."
"Of course it matters, Daniel! It's--"
"No, Jack, it doesn't." Daniel is shaking his head, and smiling, but it's one of those smiles that might mean he's okay, he just has a knife in his gut. Jack can't tell, and he doesn't know when he stopped being able to tell. "I didn't mind leaving. I'm not..." He takes a breath and makes several fitful starts at explaining himself, his eyebrows shooting up and back in quick succession. This, Jack still knows. This is Daniel cycling through and then discarding words, probably in several languages. Once, he would have known what it meant.
"I know you hate doing the things a soldier has to do. I know you miss being a real archeologist," he offers. He is trained at shooting targets in the dark. He has never been all that good at it.
Daniel shakes his head slowly. "Actually--I know that's not the most important thing. The sites, the digs...I mean, I think they're important, I think they ought to be preserved and studied, yes. Just -- maybe it's not what SG-1 needs to do."
Now Jack's eyebrows shoot up. "What?"
Daniel gives him a rueful smile. "I know."
"But--"
"Things change," Daniel says, almost to himself. "Maybe I shouldn't even be an archeologist anymore. Archeology was a link to my parents, and through all the changes in my life, it was always there. An anchor. And I suppose it's always been easier for me to focus on the past than the here and now." He looks up at Jack, but Jack isn't sure if Daniel sees him. "People lived and loved and died all those years ago, and it all meant something, because I was studying the echoes of their lives. Maybe I thought someday my life would make sense, too, because some grad student would find a way to understand it."
Jack can't even see the straws he's grasping at. "So...you want to change careers?" Jack retired once, but only because he'd died inside, and was looking for a way to make it a full package deal. Of course, he'd had to go back to work to do that, but then he met Daniel, and Daniel stopped him. That other Daniel, though, the one who lost his head, had found a way to die in the line of duty.
Jack's palms are sweaty.
Maybe Daniel just wants to give up rocks for life as SG-1's diplomat. Or linguist. Or cultural expert. Maybe, but he can't tell, and he's feeling a sense of urgency. It's like leaving the house and wondering if you turned off the stove, or locked everything that should have been locked.
Daniel is nodding, but he's still talking to himself. "First I was hanging on from habit, I think. Then it was a sort of fear -- if I let go of everything I've been, what's left? Who am I? But you have to move on. Things change. It's like...you have a sweater you wear all the time, and then one day it's something you wear around the house, but can't go out in anymore."
Daniel is wearing BDUs, Jack notices. He always wears BDUs, even though he isn't a soldier. Sara used to say it was important in life to wear your own clothes. He'd never understood that before, but then, he's always worn BDUs, too.
"The possibility of change is exciting," Daniel says suddenly. "Change itself, however, is...kind of sucky." He blinks, and seems distinctly surprised to see Jack standing there on the other side of his desk. He looks down quickly and attacks his keyboard as though he's just remembered a report that was due yesterday. Jack thinks he might be blushing. Self-revelation isn't one of Daniel's strong points. He's still uncomfortable in the locker room.
"Well, things change, but they stay the same, right?" Sara always said he was no good at friendship. Sex, yes. And the buddy thing, he's always done that. He would have said that's what friendship was, before Daniel. But now it's something else, and he never got the book with the rules and regs and procedures. "I...things changed in my life, but I still like looking at the stars. And flying. And beer, I like beer. And things change in your life, but..."
Daniel looks up.
Jack has only ever known three languages well: English, the language of the Ancients, and Daniel. It's ironic, he thinks, that the two he learned on the job were the ones he learned with no effort, and had to work to lose. Now he's got only one language, and he was never that good at communicating in English. "...you like books," he finishes lamely. "You like learning new things. Right?"
Daniel shrugs.
"Come on. You're always reading, always trying to learn new things."
"I guess," Daniel says.
"That's got to mean something," Jack says. "Something basic and unchanging about you."
Daniel raises his eyebrows. Jack is suddenly angry that Daniel isn't doing more to help him out here. Shouldn't friends help each other out?" Okay, so why do you think you keep trying to learn new things?" he demands.
Daniel rubs his eyes. "I think," he says, in a voice Jack can barely hear, "it's in the hope that if I cram enough in, I'll finally be able to forget some of the things I want to forget."
Daniel has always upended all Jack's preconceived notions. You can't wallow in your own puddle of pain around Daniel, swimming gamely through the ocean someone has dropped him in. You can't hold on to a picture of yourself as unforgivable around Daniel, who accepted Teal'c and moved right along. You can't separate the world into geeks and flyboys around Daniel, who would give up his life to save yours. Jack thinks this would probably make sense to the Ancients, but he's lost their knowledge. They should have given it to Daniel. "We all lose things," he says without thinking.
"I'm sorry," Daniel says, instantly contrite. "I didn't mean to..." His face is all sympathy. It hurts Jack to look at him. Daniel sighs. "Sometimes," he says, running his hands over his eyes, "I think that all I am is holes." He gives a short, pitiful laugh that doesn't even deserve the name, and looks up for a moment. "That's overly dramatic even for me, don't you think?"
Jack wants to say something, but all he can think of is Swiss cheese, and how important it is to a good sandwich. It makes things come together, makes them better.
He nods at Daniel, who isn't looking at him anymore, and leaves.
5. East. Thursday, 14:05.
SG-1 is scheduled for a briefing about their next mission, to P3something-something, on Friday at 0730. Jack was supposed to get Daniel's pre-mission report a few days ago, but Monday was Fraiser's birthday, and Tuesday they had that problem with the weird virus SG-9 brought through the gate, and yesterday they were being ambushed. It's just as well; it would have been buried under the pile of papers on his desk. Now, when it's delivered, it goes to the top of the heap. He reads it three times, though he's fairly certain he understood it the first time. Daniel included a picture of some obelisk the MALP found. For a minute the writing looks like something Jack knows, but then it's gone. The report, though, is clear.
Jack knows some things, after all these years in the military. Sometimes you see the threat, and sometimes you don't. Sometimes when you're looking in one direction the threat comes in from another. You have to be flexible. And if you can't know what's coming at you, you can at least know what you have, and what you need.
This is familiar, and comfortable, and this is what he's trained to do. The Asgard named a spaceship after him, not because he did the right thing, but because he got the job done.
He checks in with his 2IC, because you should always make sure. Then he sends an email that says, "We need to talk about this before you leave today," and starts sorting through the mound of papers in front of him. He'll be here a while, and he might as well do something while he's waiting. His desk is a mess. He can barely find the things that are important, though he's starting to remember what they are.
6. Northwest, in a light mist. Thursday, 6:45 PM.
Daniel stands in the hall outside Jack's office, a report in one hand and a letter in the other. Eventually he has to discuss one or the other with Jack, he knows. You can only stand in the hallway outside someone's office for so long before you start to feel like an idiot. Daniel passed that point ten minutes ago.
He still doesn't know what he's going to say to Jack, but the hall isn't giving him any answers, and his life has been more about moving on than standing still. He opens the door and opens his mouth. "I know how you feel," is what comes out.
"About everything?" Jack says without looking up. He's at his desk, rifling through a pile of papers. The stack in his in-box is enormous. Balanced at the very top is an origami pyramid Daniel once made of sandwich wrappers during a very late, very clear night on Jack's roof. "Because I have to tell you, I was in the commissary this afternoon, and I think I've changed my position on their peach pie."
Daniel swallows and drops his report on a chair. The report and the letter say the same thing, he realizes. "About my report," he begins.
"I thought it was going to be tolerable, but it turned out to be really, really bad. Just bad."
Daniel stares at him. "My report?"
Jack looks up. "No. The peach pie."
Daniel breathes again. "Right. It's -- of course, you haven't read my report."
"Actually, I have, and though I disagreed with your position on page 9, and your conclusion on page 17, I thought it was intelligent, well-reasoned, and clearly written. Your reports generally are."
"Page...page 9?" Daniel looks down, but Jack's hands are nowhere near his leg, much less pulling it.
"Knowledge of languages and cultures, ancient and modern, is important to the SGC," Jack says. "But I disagree that just anyone, even with the appropriate training, could meet the needs of SG-1 in those areas. And though there is, as you note, an inevitable conflict between the military mindset and that of a civilian cultural specialist, I disagree that this creates a fundamental problem for the SGC. Unlike you, I believe that this conflict is a...a...catalyst for creative adaptations of military strategy to the unique situations encountered during even routine -- if you can call them that -- missions through the Stargate. Also--"
"You read my report," Daniel says.
"I read all your reports," Jack says. "Well, most of them. The ones that seem important to the well-being and safety of my team."
"You read my report," Daniel says again, sitting down heavily. The letter is still in his hand. The envelope is smooth and cool.
"And I understood it," Jack says. He's smiling a little, which Daniel finds alarming. "Not like Carter's reports. I don't know what it is with her. She could write directions to my house from the base, and I wouldn't be able to follow them."
But Daniel is still sniffing the other trail. "What do you mean about the well-being of the team?"
"It's my job to learn about anything that can adversely affect my team," Jack says. He picks up the paper pyramid gently, and turns it over and over. "Sometimes I don't have to read your reports all that closely -- I trust you to tell me anything I need to know -- but when I become aware of larger threats I collect every possible bit of intel before I come up with a defensive strategy."
Daniel runs through possible threats on the upcoming mission to P37-212, and comes up empty. That's why Jack's the CO, though; he sees where the threats lie. Lucky for SG-1. "I didn't realize," he says. How can he have been this careless? He was so preoccupied with getting the team an adequate replacement for their mission that he never thought about problems with the mission itself. "I didn't notice any indication of recent Goa'uld activity on the planet, or any danger from indigenous plants or wildlife." He turns the letter over and over. His hands are sweaty, and the paper begins to buckle a tiny bit. "I didn't -- what did you see?"
"You could say I saw a definite threat to the team," Jack says.
Daniel chews the inside of his cheek. "From the natives?" He hopes Jack isn't going to discount even the possibility of a diplomatic approach; the culture doesn't seem to be warlike, and there are indications of ritual use of some so-far unidentified plants, which might indicate interesting psychotropic or medicinal possibilities.
"From an archeologist."
Daniel is formulating an argument against a military stand. The natives show evidence of both Polynesian and Micronesian cultural influences, with an unusual clan structure but no real indication of the xenophobic tendencies which might make -- "An archeologist?"
Jack is looking at him now, at the letter, and Daniel tries to shove it in his pocket, but it doesn't fit.
"You could put it here," Jacks says, holding out his wastebasket.
"It's--" Daniel begins, not sure how to explain. Resignation is from the Latin resignare. It's another way of saying, "tired".
"I know," Jack says, and Daniel thinks he might. Jack wiggles the trashcan in Daniel's direction. Daniel remembers, suddenly, that the word for "stone" is "caregan" in Welsh. He hasn't used his Welsh in a long time; he thought he'd forgotten it.
"I do know," Jack says. He looks a little worried, but when Daniel drops the letter into the can, he grins. Then he takes the papers from his in-box and tosses them in the can, too.
He sits the paper pyramid in the middle of his desk.
In Welsh, Daniel remembers, "bera" is a pyramid.
7. North northwest, as the sun sets. Thursday, 19:09.
Jack buys Daniel a cup of coffee in the commissary. He thinks he should buy him a turkey sandwich, because he knows Daniel hasn't eaten, but going out for Chinese sounds better. They have to talk more about the mission to P3 whatever, anyway; Jack can't see that it's really necessary to collect plant samples and inspect the obelisk. The argument will go better with chopsticks and Mongolian Beef.
He wonders if the Ancients had a word for "sandwich". When they sit down, he asks Daniel. He knows Daniel will know. And he knows Daniel will laugh, and then tell him.
8. North northeast, by star light. Friday morning, around 0100.
Daniel looks up from his beer. His pupils are dilated; he's slightly drunk, though not soused. Yet. From here, on Jack's roof, the sky is a mass of tiny lights. Earth is just another star, and all the stars are connected.
"Everything's connected," Jack says, throwing out one arm, though he thinks Daniel already knows this.
"And everyone," Daniel agrees, and then laughs. "Though Dr. MacKenzie would say our team has extremely dysfunctional connections."
"I think we've already established that MacKenzie is an asshole," Jack says. "Our team belongs together. As androids, as humans, even in other realities..."
They look at each other.
"We're the only us left, now," Jack goes on, "which just proves we're at our best together."
"I wasn't sure if that was true anymore," Daniel admits.
"It's always true," Jack says, "but sometimes people forget important things."
A moment passes. "I just remembered something!" Daniel announces, beaming.
"And...?"
"I'm pretty sure I know how to say 'drunk' in Welsh."
Jack grins at him. If he could stand without wobbling, he'd hug Daniel. Instead he burps, which makes Daniel giggle.
They say, "Let's get a pizza," at the same time.
9. The view from across the way. Friday, 07:30 .
The conference room is stuffy. Sometimes that's the ventilation, Teal'c knows, and sometimes it's the air between his teammates. He hopes it's the ventilation today.
Major Carter comes in and smiles at him. Colonel O'Neill and Daniel Jackson come in together, arguing. "That's just stupid," Daniel Jackson says, as Colonel O'Neill says over him, "No, that's stupid." It reminds Teal'c of a television program Major Carter likes to watch, "The West Wing". There is too much talking there, too.
"The ventilation system is off again," Major Carter says. She may be right. O'Neill is pouring Daniel Jackson a cup of coffee. "The Ancients probably call this 'hangoveris curis'," he says. Teal'c expects Daniel Jackson to explain that the Ancients would probably not have had a word for coffee, as is obvious, but instead Daniel Jackson laughs so hard it appears that the coffee he has just ingested is being ejected through his nose.
Teal'c does not understand. In truth, he has never understood Daniel Jackson, and at times that has caused him great concern. Though the Tauri are strong, and O'Neill a formidable warrior, Teal'c has always felt he has the most to fear from Daniel Jackson. It is not because the law of revenge gives Daniel Jackson the right to take his life. It is because Daniel Jackson has forgiven him, and so has changed his life. Teal'c respects power. Daniel Jackson has the kind that brings life out of chaos and death. Teal'c, who no longer fears the false power of the Goa'uld, can't help but fear the man who has the real thing.
They are waiting for General Hammond, who was called to the red phone for reasons no one expects to be explained. Daniel Jackson is marking his report. O'Neill is needling him. "They're back to normal," Major Carter says softly, nodding in the direction of their teammates.
Teal'c thinks she is partly right. There is something different in O'Neill's tone, however. The colonel is assessing new terrain. Daniel Jackson appears unaware of this, but he often appears to be unaware of things others consider important.
At times Major Carter is also unaware of important things, Teal'c knows. She sees the shapes and edges of things, but not the impact of the shadows they cast. She loves Daniel Jackson for his mind. Teal'c likes this about Major Carter; it makes her strong and clear-headed and easy to understand. Major Carter's light rarely flickers.
O'Neill is also easy to understand, for he is much like Teal'c. They have both been shaped by war. They have both been shaped by their own darkness. And they have both been shaped by Daniel, though they do not speak of it. The Tau'ri do not speak of such things, and Teal'c does not know the words for such subtleties, anyway. It is difficult to explain redemption.
O'Neill looks up then and catches his eye. Teal'c nods. O'Neill glances at Daniel, and again at Teal'c, and smiles.
General Hammond comes in and the briefing finally starts. "About Dr. Jackson's report," he begins. "I have some questions."
Teal'c has questions about Daniel Jackson's report as well. It is not like his usual reports, and in fact seems permeated by a strong emotion not warranted by anything on P37-212. He asked Major Carter about this on Thursday, and she assured him that these things were merely a matter of language and perspective. He is not sure she was correct.
"This report--" General Hammond says.
"Contains some exceptionally stupid ideas," Colonel O'Neill breaks in.
"Sir!" Major Carter protests, darting an anxious glance at SG-1's civilian consultant.
Daniel Jackson is scribbling on his pad; when he feels all eyes turning his way he looks up, makes a quick succession of faces, and says, in O'Neill's direction, "Stupid may be a bit harsh."
"Nope," O'Neill says.
"Sir!" Carter says.
"That's fair," Daniel Jackson says with a shrug, and grins.
"Nobody's perfect," O'Neill says kindly. General Hammond and Major Carter are watching them both. Teal'c knows what they are seeing.
"Indeed," he says. "Perhaps you have reconsidered your ideas since writing this report?"
"I--why--yes," Daniel Jackson says.
"Did you decide that the important thing is that we contain the surface radiation so you can get a good look at the obelisk?" Major Carter asks. "I was thinking about your conclusion on page 17, and like I told the Colonel yesterday, I'm sure we can compensate for any problems you might think you see." She is smiling.
"Page 9..." O'Neill says, leafing rapidly through the report.
"Ten pages before the summary, Sir," Major Carter whispers loudly, and Daniel Jackson has to struggle not to laugh.
"Let's hear your new ideas, son," General Hammond says.
The room is no longer stuffy, Teal'c notices. Sgt. Siler must have taken care of the problem with the ventilation system. "...the interaction of the cultural influences should prove invaluable to our understanding of the other races in the galaxy," Daniel Jackson is saying. "And the river has fish, right?" O'Neill asks, tapping a pencil. "I'm sure I can figure out the source of the radiation, and the effect it's had on the plant life," Major Carter adds as she scribbles, "Check muons" on her report.
"We should depart before their second sun rises," Teal'c says, but it doesn't matter. They are all saying the same thing.
10. True North. Friday, 0800.
"Are you all agreed, then?" General Hammond asks.
The question doesn't even need to be asked, Jack thinks.
He's sure Daniel's thinking the same thing.
11. True North. Friday, 8:00 AM .
"Are you all agreed, then?" General Hammond asks.
The question doesn't even need to be asked, Daniel thinks.
Jack, he's sure, is thinking the same thing.
END