SG1 Gen Fic: The Leavers Dance 1/2
Jan. 10th, 2009 12:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
superbadgirlTitle: The Leavers Dance
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
superbadgirl
Category: Angst, Daniel-centric (I am predictable)
Season/Spoiler: S7, tag-like qualities for Heroes I & II
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: @11,550
Summary: Daniel seemed all right at first, but dealing with the loss of Janet Fraiser wasn't as simple as that.
A/N: Story originally appeared in Brotherhood 5, so my thanks to the editors of that zine for the help and guidance. Title shamelessly stolen from The Veils.
The sun gleamed down from high in the sky, casting a cheery glow onto the Earth. The day didn’t warrant such radiance. If he could, Jack O’Neill would take a giant slingshot and launch an equally giant rock at it. He’d extinguish the brightness, and turn yellow and blue into gray and black and shadow. He pulled the baseball cap down over his eyes, stuck his hands in his pockets and ducked his head, manufacturing his own little pall because he was no David to the sun’s Goliath. The shadow of the cap’s brim didn’t do nearly as much to help protect him from the light as he would have liked.
He walked by home after home, each of them more saturated with generic suburban perfection than the last. He resisted the urge to snap off a perfectly proportioned tree branch in one yard, trample the vivid, crisp daisies in another. It was difficult. On this day of black and shadow, he felt like he was made completely of destruction and grimness. Children’s bubbling, happy laughter traveled down the street toward him, serving as a warning about what he approached. He should have taken the joyful sounds as omens and simply turned away. He didn’t, couldn’t. Jack wasn’t there, searching, by choice but out of necessity. His legs knew this and carried him forward until the perfect neighborhood made way to something more idyllic, therefore more difficult to bear. Though he knew it was part of the neighborhood, it was still a blow to see children gathered, playing and laughing. It always was, for him, but today differed even from that old, familiar feeling.
He stood on the sidewalk, as if the edge of it was really a line that if…when crossed would only bring more grief. Jack took his hands out of his pockets and folded his arms across his chest, seeking protection in any way he could. He didn’t want to be there. He knew this terrible new place, though, was somehow where he was supposed to be, and he knew it because everything about the scene before him made him hurt. A deep ache filled his chest, attacked him from inside and out. Jack bled just a little more, but no one would know it from looking at him. Sometimes the worst wounds were those not visible to the naked eye. The residual effects of being struck down in combat weren’t what were causing his true pain. He watched the children play and laugh. A bittersweet smile formed on his lips.
One little boy with blond hair, almost yellow like dandelion tufts, squealed with delight as his mother pushed him higher, higher, higher on the swings. His chubby hands reached for the same sky Jack wanted to obliterate, questing to capture clouds Jack wished would produce thunder and lightning. It started to occur to him, then, that he might simply be seeing things through the wrong pair of eyes. It was only his world that was dark. He blinked, trying to clear vision that was suddenly hazy with useless tears. If the small boy knew what Jack knew about this day, then maybe … but, no. He couldn’t wish that on anyone, let alone a sweet child.
He looked away. A group of boys and girls, older than the boy on the swing but still so small, ran around in circles after each other. Their giggles were gleeful and buoyant and, he found, the perfect accompaniment to the warm sun’s rays. Further on, the merry-go-round twirled so fast Jack was certain the children riding it must believe the world was one big blur around them. It was one big blur around him, and he was standing still. He smiled again, starting to mean it for the first time in what seemed forever. His attention landed on a girl, her dark hair unkempt and billowing in the breeze, as she was lifted high on a teeter-totter. Terror forced her eyes into enormous disks, and Jack knew the feeling – she was afraid she’d fly off into space. That feeling and expression only lasted a second and then her face transformed into a massive grin and delighted giggles.
All of this was life, Jack thought, and it was beautiful. For a few hours and days, he had allowed himself to forget this … life … still happened. His gaze moved to parents making small talk on park benches, adult voices lending strange timbre to child’s play. He froze on the slightly slouched figure occupying an isolated bench. Clad in dark wool, disheveled and pale, the man looked every bit the grim reaper. Black dissonance surrounded him in this place of life, almost a tangible thing, like a dark cloud. A coil of fear wrapped around Jack’s spine. He let his hands drop to his sides.
He didn’t know how the kids and parents could carry on normally, not with the man sitting there so motionless among them. Jack had thought he wanted darkness and destruction. He had been wrong. The modicum of cheer that had crept into his soul seemed to leak out onto the well-groomed grass below his feet much more quickly than he had gained it. His ears provided the thunder he wished for. The sunlight and laughter seemed to disappear, for Daniel Jackson was darkness and was destroyed and Jack couldn’t help but be affected by it.
This was loss, Jack thought, and it was dreadful.
He did the only thing he could, though once again all it did was make him hurt. His legs were tremulous at best, muscles like jelly around brittle bones at worst. He would think nothing of it if he fell upon the earth instead of carrying forward. The ache in his chest returned more strongly, and he reached up to massage the bruise there. All that did was make him hurt more, but that was merely a physical pain. Physical pain healed if given enough time. The closer he got to Daniel the more he hurt, until he was right next to the bench. Daniel didn’t move.
“You weren’t at home,” Jack said quietly as he eased down next to Daniel.
He wished he could still hear children’s happiness in the air instead of thunder, but it was like they weren’t even there anymore. Daniel didn’t speak. If anything, Jack thought he seemed to withdraw into himself even further. The lack of response was like a fist pounding against Jack’s sore chest. Worse, it reached in and squeezed the life out of him because he didn’t know how to fix this. Some things couldn’t be repaired, Jack knew, but he desperately needed this to not be one of them.
“Daniel?” A particularly boisterous, happy shriek filled the air, breaking into the thunderous haze. Daniel reacted at last, cringed as if the sound tore at his flesh and soul, and so Jack could find no joy in it either. “You don’t have to talk, I suppose.”
Neither of them did, for long moments. Despite the sunshine, the day was cool and the breeze was starting to pick up. Jack was close enough to touch arms with Daniel. Their thighs brushed against each other, but there was no warmth from the contact. He got nothing at all, except for an increased sense of cold fear. He wasn’t sure, now, why he’d come without some sort of plan. He also wasn’t sure that it would have mattered. No amount of preparation would have given him the right words to say.
He thought what an odd pair they must look, he in his casual grunge and Daniel still dressed from the memorial service. He started humming to fill the air and himself with something besides cold. The notes were flat, toneless. Jack wasn’t sure he and Daniel could be considered old friends as the tune suggested, at least not anymore. He wanted that thought to be wrong, though so many things had happened to them and around them and between them. He stopped humming, trailing off before the second part of the song.
“Time it was and what a time it was,” Daniel said, voice gravelly, harsh and hoarse, filling in the lyrics.
The roughness in tone was probably from lack of use, but to Jack it just sounded like heartache. He had no idea how long Daniel had sat there; he didn’t know how long it had been since Daniel had spoken to anyone at all. Thinking about that, Jack realized he hadn’t done much in the way of speaking either. None of them had for days now, except maybe Carter. There wasn’t much to talk about, at least nothing that wasn’t depressing as hell. Tragedy robbed words of any real value; that was a particularly tough truth to deal with for Daniel, Jack thought.
“It was,” Jack finished the verse.
Any illusion Jack had that they were going to have some type of conversation now that Daniel had finally spoken disappeared when heavy silence returned. This was no time of innocence or of confidences, he thought. Mostly he and Daniel were polar opposites, but in some small ways, Daniel was a lot like him. Too much like him; this silent grief happened to be one of those unfortunate similarities. When Daniel was ready to talk, he would. Jack had known this simple fact about Daniel for years. Maybe Jack was a fool for even trying, maybe he suspected Daniel might have changed by being glowy for a year, that it wasn’t really his Daniel sitting on the bench next to him. Or maybe it was because he’d come there for himself more than for Daniel. Funny, though, how neither of them seemed to derive any benefit despite the goodness of intentions.
“Why are you here, Jack?” Daniel said after a time.
Trust Daniel to surprise – it was just one of the many talents he had. Jack glanced over, but Daniel wasn’t looking at him. It didn’t appear as though he was seeing more than a foot in front of his face. It was the same lack of expression he had displayed every time Jack had seen him since … since then. Since they’d come back to the SGC without Fraiser. He’d heard about the damned tape, video documentation of tragedy and bloodshed that shouldn’t have happened. Jack had demanded to watch it, and had regretted it ever since, coward that he was. Daniel might be different, a slightly refurbished post-Ascended human, but that voice on the tape, and the sheer desperation it contained was Daniel to the core. That scared Jack simply because that Daniel was absent now.
“Where else should I be?” Listen to him with the damn psychobabble “answer a question with a question” technique. Jack watched as the little dandelion-haired boy on the swing was helped down. Once he was left on his own, the tot wobbled and then fell to his hands and knees. Jack winced at the shocked cry cut into the other children’s laughter. “I’m here for you.”
“You shouldn’t be,” Daniel said. “None of this is about me, Jack.”
Then Daniel stood up and walked away. The little boy with freshly skinned palms kept crying and crying. Jack watched his mother attempt consolation through hugs and kisses. It seemed to work. The boy became quieter at last. Jack knew ninety percent of the boy’s distress had been from reaction and shock rather than from actual pain; he would have been fine after a few minutes of letting those emotions run free.
Jack frowned, and stared at Daniel’s departing back.
~~*~~
The bread was unleavened, and had a sweet hint to it. Small bowls filled with spices and syrup with a slight pungent kick were placed around the table. Jack first dipped a chunk of bread into a fine light green powder, tasting vaguely of cinnamon, then into the syrup, which might have come straight from Vermont or maybe Canada. The whole thing looked a helluva lot more unappetizing than it actually tasted. Anyone keeping track of his servings would realize that; he had eaten three of the oddly-shaped pancakes in rapid succession. He was a bit surprised he’d been able to put so much away after the big meal SG1 had just been treated to.
“You should probably ease up on those, Jack,” Daniel said. “Or at least the honey. It’s alcoholic.”
No wonder the stuff was so good. And no wonder the room and all its contents seemed softer around the edges, come to think of it. Jack noted Daniel didn’t seem to give the information because he cared, more like he felt he had to, but he chose not to call Daniel on it. He might very well just be interpreting things incorrectly.
“Now you tell me,” Jack said with forced lightness. “It’s apparently potent. My peeks feel chink.”
Daniel didn’t smile at his intentional spoonerism. Daniel never smiled anymore. Even in his slightly buzzed state, Jack started to see the error in his plan. He had thought they all needed to get back to the basics. He had thought, more specifically, that was what Daniel needed. It had been years since they had gone on a purely first contact, ‘safe’ mission, or at least it seemed like it to him. First contact didn’t hold the same thrill as it once had. They were too mired down in politics and negotiation and the Pentagon’s bottom line these days. Jack wished he could explain Daniel’s poorly disguised apathy with such a convenient excuse. He suspected the real reason for it (if it existed anywhere but in his own head) was back on Earth, under six feet of cold dirt. He clenched his jaw unhappily.
“Very cute, sir,” Carter piped up, a cheerful tint in her cheeks as well. “Chink peeks.”
He appreciated that someone appreciated his joke, but Jack wanted to slap Carter just a little. Whatever nothing that was between him and her had no place there, where he was trying to get to Daniel through his mysterious, dark, yet invisible barrier. Ever since the day of Fraiser’s service, he couldn’t shake the feeling something was so very wrong with Daniel. Jack’s irritation with Carter was out of place, because she could have no idea of his intent, or what his thoughts were. She’d be surprised if she could get into his head for a quick poke around, he thought, probably unpleasantly so.
“Anyway, it’s mild,” Daniel said. “I’m sure you’ll be fine if you don’t eat too much more of it.”
“You have consumed far more than O’Neill, Daniel Jackson,” Teal’c said.
Normally, Jack would feel vindicated by the comeuppance Teal’c had just issued. Daniel glared at Teal’c for a moment, something black brewing in his expression. Black as death. In his head, Jack saw Daniel on a park bench, wearing a shroud of his own making. It lasted a moment, then the effect was gone. Suddenly Daniel’s posture changed and he rolled his eyes at Teal’c. Jack smiled, only because it felt appropriate for the situation. He put down the piece of syrup-saturated flatbread in his hand and watched Daniel dip his own chunk into a bowl, as if daring Jack to stop him.
“I told you it was mild,” Daniel said, as if that should clarify and therefore close the topic.
Mild or not, alcohol was not something Daniel used. He would enjoy it once and again, of course, but Jack had never seen him set out to drink just for drinking’s sake. It didn’t matter if this stuff wasn’t a bottle of Glenmorangie, the effect would eventually be the same. Jack wondered how he could get someone to clear the table, and wondered if he was getting worked up for no good reason at all. He looked at Carter and Teal’c to see if he could figure out if they held similar suspicions regarding Daniel’s behavior. Neither of them seemed to be paying attention to Daniel or the alcoholic honey anymore. So apparently Daniel really had ended the matter. Jack shook his head and pushed his plate away. He was uncomfortably full all of a sudden.
“Aren’t you pleased with your meal?” Oten said.
Jack turned to his left, embarrassed to have forgotten their host while his mind wandered on more troubling things. Oten, a sturdy, broad-backed fellow, stared at him with concern on his face. The man was a living oxymoron. When Jack had first met him, he couldn’t help the flicker of fearful intimidation he’d felt. Couple the sheer burliness of the guy with strong jaw and brow lines, obsidian eyes and a deep raspberry-colored scar running from the left corner of his mouth to the middle of his chin, and Jack had to admit the guy was not someone he’d want to meet in a dark alley. The perpetual, gap-toothed smile and high pitch to his voice were the saving graces, huge contrasts to Oten’s physical stature.
“Oh, very pleased,” Jack said. He patted his stomach for effect. “It was all great. The best meal I’ve had in ages.”
“Yet you cease eating.”
“Jack just means his appetite has been satisfied.”
Daniel spoke with his mouth full. Jack winced. It wasn’t the first time his friend had exhibited that bad habit, but it had never bothered him before. He wasn’t sure why it did now.
“He’s much … slighter than you are, Oten.”
Something about Daniel’s tone turned the comment into an implication that since Daniel was still eating, it meant Jack was ‘slighter’ than him as well. Jack was too old to care about proving his manhood because of someone else’s innuendo, but he was bothered that Daniel had said it. The comment was vindictive. Daniel just wasn’t or at least he had never been purposely nasty. Oten didn’t seem to notice. The alien laughed and clapped Jack on the back, apparently reassured. Daniel ate some more flatbread-laced syrup, undoubtedly to show off his vigor.
“I’m slighter, too,” Carter said, “I was full half an hour ago, but it all just tasted so good I didn’t want to stop.”
Oten smiled and then went back to eating what was probably his fifth helping. Carter’s ingratiation was apparently the icing on the cake. Jack observed Oten put away more and more food. These folks probably didn’t have a word for leftovers. Robust, however, was a word they surely understood; the Leondrans epitomized it. They also had an air of simplicity about them, not mentally so much as in their lifestyle. If Earth took nothing else from the Leondrans, it should at least take the relaxed manner in which they conducted themselves.
Americans in particular could adopt this way of life. Industry existed on Leondra, much of it comparable to what was found on Earth, yet by looking around the modest gathering one would never know it. People here left work at work. Jack was going to do his damnedest to make sure the good ol’ US of A didn’t stomp on in a la the SGC to exploit this planet. For whatever his damnedest was worth anymore, or had ever been worth. He wasn’t convinced he’d ever been effective in that capacity, not at the level he wished he had been.
Jack shook his head. He used to be a happy drunk. Now he was just a maudlin SOB with nothing better to do than to find things to worry about. Jack looked at Daniel’s alcohol-flushed cheeks, and the slight bleariness of his eyes. Daniel smiled and laughed at something Oten said. Jack decided he really was just imagining things. Hell, he should be glad to see Daniel finally relaxing a little. Still, he couldn’t quite relax himself. He wished Daniel had been upfront about the alcoholic content of what they were eating; no way would Jack have had any at all had he known. He guessed he wasn’t quite through thinking on this subject. Carter leaned across him, blocking his view of Daniel.
“It’s a good thing we don’t have to go home until tomorrow,” she said as she pulled slowly back, a piece of honey-soaked flatbread in her hand. “I’m pretty sure I’m a little drunk.”
Great, just what he needed – two drunken team members. At least Daniel wasn’t being ditzy about it. He leaned away from Carter’s intruding figure. She had no concept of personal space after she tipped back a few. Jack narrowed his eyes. Carter was acting like he’d expect, but Daniel…there it was again, that cold feeling of unease. Daniel should have a dopey grin on his face and relaxed posture, an entirely loose countenance. Carter finally resituated herself in her own seat. Yeah, and there was Daniel – acting as sober as a priest on Sunday. If he didn’t suspect any better, the red cheeks and bleary eyes could be interpreted as exhaustion. After all, it had taken a fair amount of hiking to reach the village.
“Hey, I have an idea,” Jack said, to no one in particular. He shifted his attention from Carter to Daniel. He didn’t bother with Teal’c, because Teal’c was always trustworthy and, in this case, hadn’t eaten any of the alcoholic dessert. “How about we stop eating this stuff now? I don’t think the general would appreciate us returning with hangovers.”
He saw Carter nod and put her piece of bread down. She licked her fingertips clean of the syrup. Jack watched as her cheeks puffed out momentarily in a contained, mostly silent burp. He rolled his eyes, but was a little relieved by her unintentional antics. He slid his gaze to Daniel, who remained focused on Oten and either didn’t hear the order or was choosing to disregard it.
“Probably,” Carter said. “But I really am only buzzed. I don’t think I’ll get a hangover.”
Jack was glad to see her so relaxed. In the weeks since Janet’s death, Carter had become haggard and drawn. She hadn’t looked like herself in weeks. If alcohol helped even for a short while, then maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing. No, he corrected himself, alcohol off-world was usually more trouble than it was worth. He glanced around at his friends. Actually, the haggard and drawn thing seemed a common thread for the whole team. Maybe he had been too focused on Daniel when he should have been aware of all of them.
“That wasn’t really my point, Carter. We don’t consume more than a toast’s worth of alcohol while on a mission. And even that shouldn’t really happen.”
“Yes, sir.”
Carter looked puzzled at his insistence, and Jack couldn’t really blame her. He was apparently the only one who felt the flatbread and honey combination was sitting in the stomach like a boulder. He was the only one feeling a lot of things, it seemed. Jack reached up and rubbed at his chest. Though the twinges of pain from the staff blast were gone, he wasn’t sure he’d use the term healed to describe himself. The doctors had proclaimed his insides whole, yet he felt as though something was missing. Crazily, he wondered if he could finally make himself feel right, then his team would be better as well. He watched Daniel reach for the alcoholic honey again.
He opened his mouth to reiterate the cease and desist order with more authority, but didn’t get the chance. With some relief, Jack saw several Leondrans begin to clear the tables. The meet and greet had gone pretty well, his misgivings about Daniel aside, but he was glad it was drawing to a close. Maybe after a night’s sleep his concern would prove unfounded. After all, neither Carter nor Teal’c seemed bothered at all by Daniel’s strange behavior. It was possible the problem, like the ache of an unhealed chest wound, could be attributed to him and not Daniel at all. He wondered how many times he’d tell himself that before he believed it.
Either way, Jack couldn’t really trust himself at the moment; his head was just foggy enough that his judgment could be impaired. That was about the only thing he knew with any certainty. Well, that and the fact there was no way in hell he should be leading a team if he was this irresolute. He looked over at Daniel once again, and again he was almost convinced everything was fine. He needed to get his mind on something else. He was vacillating way too much to be effective in any capacity as a team leader.
“Oh, Daniel?” he said.
“Jack?”
“Are we done for the night?”
“Not quite.” Daniel turned to Oten, then back to him. “They figured this was a special occasion. I don’t think we’re going to get much sleep tonight. Unless you don’t think you can handle it.”
There Daniel went again. Jack narrowed his eyes. Daniel plastered a smile on his face, all the picture of innocence. Except not so much. His eyes were not quite right.
“Handle what?”
“Dancing, singing, overall merriment,” Daniel said. He pointed to Jack’s chest, where his hand lingered. “Still hurt?”
“No, it’s just getting late is all.”
“I’ll see if I can get you guys out of it, if you think you can’t stay up for a few extra hours. I’m sure it’ll be fine if it’s just me.”
Jack wanted to protest, rebuke Daniel for being such a subtle jackass. He still wasn’t certain if that was the case, though, and it was too late to call Daniel out for any of his unfounded suspicions now. The guy had turned away from him and was in quiet, earnest conversation with Oten. If Jack’s radar hadn’t pinged already, he would have thought this Daniel was the Daniel of six years ago. This Daniel looked the same, played diplomat the same. Jack narrowed his eyes. Or not. Daniel wasn’t moving his hands or using his body to get his point across, which was something Jack probably would never have noted until it was gone. He looked over to Carter and Teal’c again. Once more, neither of them seemed to notice anything unusual about their friend. He turned back and found Daniel staring at him.
“Jack, Oten says someone will show you guys to your quarters. I do think at least one of us should stick it out,” Daniel said.
Jack simply nodded and got to his feet, feeling a bit like he and Daniel were playing some kind of messed up chess match and Daniel had just maneuvered him one inevitable move closer to checkmate. He was concerned, really, that there was no way out for him. In a few moves he’d lose the game, and that wasn’t acceptable. The problem was, Daniel had always been a better player than him.
“Okay,” Jack said. “But don’t stay out too late. You’re the primary here, Daniel. Carter, Teal’c, you guys ready to call it a night?”
He desperately wanted one of them to stick around longer. He wished he could pinpoint a definitive reason. Unfortunately, they both were up and moving toward the door at his query, neither of them offering objections. Jack turned to Oten.
“Thank you for a wonderful evening,” he said, keeping the departure quick. “Good night, and we’ll see you in the morning.”
Oten smiled happily and clasped him on the shoulders. The sheer size of the man had never been so apparent, nor had the fact that the guy could snap Jack in half if he really wanted to. Jack felt a return of his nervousness as Oten leaned close. God, it almost looked like … and then Oten kissed first his right cheek and then his left. The big man didn’t stop there. A final kiss to the forehead completed the ritual, and Jack dazedly wondered how he was the lucky one to endure this kind of thing. He looked at Daniel uncomfortably, expecting something, some kind of assistance or reaction. He didn’t know why, because Daniel wasn’t Daniel, standing there without one iota of amusement or empathy on his face.
“Well,” Jack said. He cleared his throat. “Thanks again.”
He turned to follow Carter, Teal’c and another gigantic Leondran. As they moved out, several of the aliens brushed past them carrying what looked suspiciously like kegs.
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, Daniel,” Carter said in singsong from the doorway.
Which did little to nothing to ease Jack’s mind; Carter was drunk and a drunk Carter was usually way, way less inhibited than her usual self. He wondered nervously if he should stay and keep an eye on Daniel, but was quickly swept forward by their guide and the decision was taken from his hands.
~~*~~
He came out of sleep abruptly, sitting up so fast his brain seemed to spin a little until it caught up. Jack could hear his own breathing, nothing else. It was ragged and harsh in his ears. He wondered if it had been a dream. He wondered where he was. It didn’t take him long to recall Oten’s goodnight kisses. He glanced at his watch, touching the button to illuminate the face. 1300 hours. He didn’t know what that translated to here. It was still dark. He squinted around the room. Carter had crashed on a cot on the other side of the room, Teal’c was sitting ramrod straight off to Jack’s right. Something was wrong.
“What’s going on?” he said stupidly, because something had to be wrong for both him and Teal’c to bolt awake at the same time.
“I am uncertain, O’Neill,” Teal’c said.
Jack looked around the room again and frowned. “Daniel’s not back yet.” Outside, clamoring voices sounded. Or they’d always been there and Jack’s senses were only now starting to function normally. “The party’s still going strong.”
More screams. Wait, screams … those were not joyful sounds. Jack launched himself to his feet, ignoring the protests of his sluggish body. Teal’c was already at the door, and Carter had finally started stirring. Jack tugged on his boots. He didn’t bother lacing them. Once he crossed the threshold, the cold night air stimulated his brain into action, and he immediately understood the reason for the frightened cries, the gravity of the situation. The community hall that had hosted SG1’s welcome party was going up in flames. People scattered about every which way, most of them screaming. Carter stumbled out of their quarters, still tugging her jacket on, and stood next to him. He spared her and her tousled hair a quick look.
“Shit,” she said.
Jack and Teal’c started running at the same time, straight into the chaos. Jack looked everywhere for a figure wearing olive drab, but he couldn’t find a trace of Daniel. He never should have left his team member alone at the party. Sick fear ate away at his insides, but he refused to give it control. Daniel was a big boy, no matter how strangely he’d been acting. He spotted a group of Leondrans forming a water line, and though he doubted anything could save the building he nodded Teal’c in that direction. A woman nearly ran him over, her red hair reminding him of the flames. For a moment, he even thought she might be on fire. She uttered something at him, but he couldn’t hear her above the ruckus.
“Do you see Daniel?” Carter shouted, making herself heard. “Colonel, I don’t see him anywhere. God, he was still in there. Do you see him?”
Jack lifted a hand, silencing her. He would like nothing more than to make tracking Daniel down his number one priority, but that wasn’t practical. There were slightly bigger issues to deal with at the moment. A recognizable face appeared before him, Oten carrying two young kids to safety. Jack shouted instructions to Carter to find somewhere to help, or he hoped he did, and raced to Oten’s side.
“What happened?”
“I don’t know, O’Neill,” Oten said, his voice barely discernable through the din. “It happened so quickly.”
“How many still inside?”
“It’s difficult to say.” Oten scanned the crowd, looking somewhat dazed and confused by the suddenness and severity of the situation. “We’ve never had to test our emergency protocols before. It would seem we’re failing at them.”
“We’ll do what we can to help.” Jack peered around, squinted against the searing heat. “Have you seen Doctor Jackson? Where is he?”
“He’s assisting people out of the building,” Oten waved toward the flames, “As I must also continue to do.”
Okay, good. Jack’s mind eased a little, just knowing that someone knew where Daniel was. Oten took off without further words, and Jack gave the situation a more thorough review. Despite the chaotic feel of the evacuation, people were moving very efficiently. Someone, somewhere had taken charge, if Oten hadn’t. Jack ran closer to the building, choking through the thick smoke. What looked like the Leondran versions of fire engines finally pulled up. Multiple men and women dressed more appropriately for the conditions leapt into action.
The next several minutes were a blur of smoke and coughing and flailing people. The stream of Leondrans exiting the building seemed endless. Jack hadn’t realized so many were in the community, let alone crammed into the hall. Through all the activity, he kept a line on Carter and Teal’c, happy to see them handling themselves very well. Worry continued to niggle at the back of his mind, and he kept an eye out for Daniel. The longer he went without visual confirmation of his team member’s well being, the more distracted he became. He had a sense that Daniel was in a state of mind where he’d do something stupid. Even if it meant he was paranoid like he’d been for hours (days, weeks), it ate away at him.
The whole evacuation couldn’t have taken more than ten minutes, but he was sweating, exhausted and his leg muscles were trembling slightly by the time he started helping with phase two – triage. The number of people who hadn’t escaped without injury was staggering. They needed help. He raced to where he’d last seen his 2IC.
“Carter,” he shouted. His voice was hoarse, but he still got her attention. “Get to the ‘gate, dial for back-up. Medical personnel and equipment. Whatever Hammond’ll spare, and tell him there isn’t time for bureaucracy and red tape.”
“Yes, sir,” she said, patting a Leondran woman on the arm quickly before running off.
Jack took over administering inadequate first aid to the woman Carter had been tending. He had no idea how Carter had had time to collect her pack from their quarters, but the medical supplies were already almost depleted. Jack saw Teal’c and the haphazard water brigade give up the ghost. The firefighters also looked as though they had stopped actually trying to put the fire out and were focused on containment. He still couldn’t see Daniel, and his worry ratcheted up a thousand-fold. A quick survey showed him that those uninjured were quickly setting about helping others, and things were less chaotic. The crackling roar of the fire continued, interspersed now with the crash of beams falling. Part of the roof and two of the walls started collapsing.
Through it all, Jack managed to hear Oten’s high-pitched voice shout of Daniel’s name. He knew it was bad without even looking. The tenor of the call was something he’d used himself. It was full of semi-controlled panic and fear, and suddenly so was Jack. He somehow had the wherewithal to make sure his current patient received someone else’s assistance before he headed for Oten.
“What?” he shouted, grabbing Oten as he surged for the building. “Where’s Daniel?”
“He … he went back in.” Oten blinked at him dumbly. “He said he thought he heard someone still in there.”
Oh, shit. Jack watched as the third wall crumbled. Ohshitohshit. Daniel could not be in there now and get out later. History had shown Daniel to be reckless with his own life for the sake of others, a quality that was admirable and so frightening. Jack honestly didn’t know if he could endure it if Daniel died again, no matter how nobly he did it. Valor caused as much pain and grief as a senseless death, because death was death was death. More of the roof fell, causing an eruption of heat and sparks and, almost impossibly, more smoke.
“Daniel,” he shouted. He and Oten moved at the same time, but both of them were held back by firefighters. And Teal’c. He stared at the Jaffa’s sweaty, sooty face. Jack was a mess of anger and sheer helplessness and, God help him, strange relief. “Teal’c, Daniel’s in there.”
“I am aware, O’Neill, but I cannot permit you to follow.”
Permit … why had Daniel been permitted? Where were the damned firefighters when Daniel had decided to play hero again, where had Teal’c been? Jack let his head bow for a second, resting it on Teal’c’s sturdy arm as he coughed. The sounds of people in distress coupled with the loud engine noises, water and thumps from the building’s collapse were overwhelming. He relaxed a little to show Teal’c he wasn’t going anywhere, but Teal’c didn’t let up. Jack looked back at the building, a coldness settling in his gut. Every passing second lessened Daniel’s chances of survival. He couldn’t seem to tear his gaze from the spot where the door had been, now awash with golden, orange flames.
“Shit, Teal’c.” Jack’s voice was hollow. He didn’t even care that he sounded pathetic. Jack pulled out of Teal’c’s grasp. “Tell me this isn’t happening.”
Teal’c didn’t respond. Five seconds seemed like an hour sometimes, he thought. Right then it seemed as though time truly was slowing down. His ears once again filled with the sound of his own breathing, the rapid thud of his heartbeats. Everything else faded into the background. It was like someone had stuffed earplugs into his ears. The point came where he couldn’t watch for the impossible anymore. He lifted a hand to his face and pinched the bridge of his nose in order to combat the prickly hot feeling of looming tears.
“O’Neill,” Teal’c said, somber as usual. Maybe more so.
Jack didn’t move. He couldn’t face anyone or anything just yet. He needed to pull himself together. There were still a lot of people he could help.
Teal’c grabbed his arm for a split second, then let go and moved away quickly, shouting, “O’Neill!”
He dropped his hand, was running before he fully registered what was before him. A dark shape, no, two of them, looking like silhouettes against the brightness of the fire stumbled out of the building. Daniel. Jack lost momentum for a second, as his legs turned to jelly before strengthening again. Impossible was a word Daniel Jackson refused to learn the meaning of, and Jack was never so glad. Whatever else might be going on with Daniel, he was still one stubborn son of a bitch.
“Damnit,” he said, relief fading when he got close enough to see Daniel and the hapless, semi-conscious Leondran in his arms. There were burns. Lots of them, and not just on the alien. “Damnit, damnit.”
Daniel wheezed. The rattle and drone of abused lungs and esophagus made Jack wince in sympathy. Teal’c and Oten disengaged the rescued from the rescuer. Jack only felt a little bad for not concerning himself with the poor guy, who was wheezing and coughing even more than Daniel was. Daniel started slumping to the ground in what looked like a dead faint the second he lost contact with the hurt Leondran. Jack stepped up and caught him. Daniel wasn’t unconscious, but his half-closed eyes looked glazed and devoid of any emotion. No fear, no relief, just cold blue and black. Jack eased him down to a seated position, letting Daniel use him as a backrest. He took a closer look at the burns. Daniel’s hands were a blistering mess, his face covered with scattered sores. Oh, crap, for a second it looked like Daniel’s watch had melted a little. He blinked, and the watch was fine again. It had just been the smoke in his eyes, the tears. Jack’s stomach hurt, though. The injuries looked far, far too familiar.
“Oh man, Daniel, what did you do?”
He received no “I’m okay, Jack,” no sign of reassurance at all. Hell, Jack didn’t even hear Daniel utter sounds of pain, only the continued struggle for breath. Looking at Daniel’s impassive face, it felt like his friend couldn’t possibly care less about what was going on around him. He could explain that away as shock, but something told him it was more than that. Priority number one had, selfishly, become getting Daniel back to the infirmary.
“Teal’c, I’m getting Daniel out of here,” Jack said. He was assuming the facilities here wouldn’t be able to cope with a tragedy of this scale. That might or might not be the case, but it was better to be prepared. “Carter’s contacted Hammond for help. I’ll go back and tell them to expect incoming patients.”
“I will assist you,” Teal’c said, glancing at Oten to ensure he could handle the victim.
A swift nod from Oten sent Teal’c to the other side of Daniel. Together they got him to his feet, kind of; Daniel was a dead weight between them, though Jack could see he was conscious. This had been a mistake. He never should have quashed down his misgivings concerning Daniel’s state of mind. He definitely never should have let Daniel go off-world. He had this horrible feeling Daniel’s latest act of heroism wasn’t born from a very good place. There was no hard proof however. As they navigated swiftly through the injured crowds, Jack remembered a bright and sunny day not too long ago. The setting now was the polar opposite. Daniel was almost exactly the same. It wasn’t a comforting thought.
Déjà vu all over again.
Carter was at the ‘gate when they arrived, pacing anxiously. She saw them coming and halted, a dismayed, confused look crossing her features. At any other time her expression coupled with her slightly disheveled appearance might tickle his funny bone, but at the moment Jack doubted he’d even find Homer Simpson amusing. Her stupefaction didn’t last long. She started dialing.
“Sir?” she said.
“He fucking ran back into the burning building,” Jack said, more forcefully than he’d intended. Daniel still hadn’t made the slightest effort to walk under his own steam. Belatedly, Jack thought maybe they should have carted the victim Daniel had pulled out with them as well. “His hands are fried.”
Carter stared at Daniel for a second, and then closed her eyes. The wormhole established, brightening the area. Jack could see Carter was reliving the same things he was behind her closed eyelids. Teal’c probably was, too. The only one who wasn’t, ironically, seemed to be Daniel. In a sick sort of way, Jack wished Daniel would react instead of just hanging there limply.
“At least one of us stays here until help arrives.”
“I’ll stay, sir.” Carter sounded old, weary. Scared.
Jack saw her staring at Daniel again, expression haunted. They’re not radiation burns, he wanted to say to her, it’s not the same thing. Because it wasn’t the same thing. Jack thought it could be worse, worse even than a slow, agonizing death by radiation sickness.
“I have the most medical experience.”
“Right. Thanks, Carter.” She gave him a wince that he thought was supposed to be some kind of smile. “Come on, Teal’c, let’s get Daniel to the doc.”
The klaxons were blaring on the other side. Instead of Daniel stalking to the infirmary demanding no one touch him, medics pulled him away from Jack’s grip and carted him off. He followed grimly, answering Hammond’s concerned inquiries. But Jack would be damned if he’d let this incident mirror the other any further than it already had. Daniel would not die today, not anytime soon and definitely not for doing something reckless.
Chapter Two
Author:
superbadgirlCategory: Angst, Daniel-centric (I am predictable)
Season/Spoiler: S7, tag-like qualities for Heroes I & II
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: @11,550
Summary: Daniel seemed all right at first, but dealing with the loss of Janet Fraiser wasn't as simple as that.
A/N: Story originally appeared in Brotherhood 5, so my thanks to the editors of that zine for the help and guidance. Title shamelessly stolen from The Veils.
The sun gleamed down from high in the sky, casting a cheery glow onto the Earth. The day didn’t warrant such radiance. If he could, Jack O’Neill would take a giant slingshot and launch an equally giant rock at it. He’d extinguish the brightness, and turn yellow and blue into gray and black and shadow. He pulled the baseball cap down over his eyes, stuck his hands in his pockets and ducked his head, manufacturing his own little pall because he was no David to the sun’s Goliath. The shadow of the cap’s brim didn’t do nearly as much to help protect him from the light as he would have liked.
He walked by home after home, each of them more saturated with generic suburban perfection than the last. He resisted the urge to snap off a perfectly proportioned tree branch in one yard, trample the vivid, crisp daisies in another. It was difficult. On this day of black and shadow, he felt like he was made completely of destruction and grimness. Children’s bubbling, happy laughter traveled down the street toward him, serving as a warning about what he approached. He should have taken the joyful sounds as omens and simply turned away. He didn’t, couldn’t. Jack wasn’t there, searching, by choice but out of necessity. His legs knew this and carried him forward until the perfect neighborhood made way to something more idyllic, therefore more difficult to bear. Though he knew it was part of the neighborhood, it was still a blow to see children gathered, playing and laughing. It always was, for him, but today differed even from that old, familiar feeling.
He stood on the sidewalk, as if the edge of it was really a line that if…when crossed would only bring more grief. Jack took his hands out of his pockets and folded his arms across his chest, seeking protection in any way he could. He didn’t want to be there. He knew this terrible new place, though, was somehow where he was supposed to be, and he knew it because everything about the scene before him made him hurt. A deep ache filled his chest, attacked him from inside and out. Jack bled just a little more, but no one would know it from looking at him. Sometimes the worst wounds were those not visible to the naked eye. The residual effects of being struck down in combat weren’t what were causing his true pain. He watched the children play and laugh. A bittersweet smile formed on his lips.
One little boy with blond hair, almost yellow like dandelion tufts, squealed with delight as his mother pushed him higher, higher, higher on the swings. His chubby hands reached for the same sky Jack wanted to obliterate, questing to capture clouds Jack wished would produce thunder and lightning. It started to occur to him, then, that he might simply be seeing things through the wrong pair of eyes. It was only his world that was dark. He blinked, trying to clear vision that was suddenly hazy with useless tears. If the small boy knew what Jack knew about this day, then maybe … but, no. He couldn’t wish that on anyone, let alone a sweet child.
He looked away. A group of boys and girls, older than the boy on the swing but still so small, ran around in circles after each other. Their giggles were gleeful and buoyant and, he found, the perfect accompaniment to the warm sun’s rays. Further on, the merry-go-round twirled so fast Jack was certain the children riding it must believe the world was one big blur around them. It was one big blur around him, and he was standing still. He smiled again, starting to mean it for the first time in what seemed forever. His attention landed on a girl, her dark hair unkempt and billowing in the breeze, as she was lifted high on a teeter-totter. Terror forced her eyes into enormous disks, and Jack knew the feeling – she was afraid she’d fly off into space. That feeling and expression only lasted a second and then her face transformed into a massive grin and delighted giggles.
All of this was life, Jack thought, and it was beautiful. For a few hours and days, he had allowed himself to forget this … life … still happened. His gaze moved to parents making small talk on park benches, adult voices lending strange timbre to child’s play. He froze on the slightly slouched figure occupying an isolated bench. Clad in dark wool, disheveled and pale, the man looked every bit the grim reaper. Black dissonance surrounded him in this place of life, almost a tangible thing, like a dark cloud. A coil of fear wrapped around Jack’s spine. He let his hands drop to his sides.
He didn’t know how the kids and parents could carry on normally, not with the man sitting there so motionless among them. Jack had thought he wanted darkness and destruction. He had been wrong. The modicum of cheer that had crept into his soul seemed to leak out onto the well-groomed grass below his feet much more quickly than he had gained it. His ears provided the thunder he wished for. The sunlight and laughter seemed to disappear, for Daniel Jackson was darkness and was destroyed and Jack couldn’t help but be affected by it.
This was loss, Jack thought, and it was dreadful.
He did the only thing he could, though once again all it did was make him hurt. His legs were tremulous at best, muscles like jelly around brittle bones at worst. He would think nothing of it if he fell upon the earth instead of carrying forward. The ache in his chest returned more strongly, and he reached up to massage the bruise there. All that did was make him hurt more, but that was merely a physical pain. Physical pain healed if given enough time. The closer he got to Daniel the more he hurt, until he was right next to the bench. Daniel didn’t move.
“You weren’t at home,” Jack said quietly as he eased down next to Daniel.
He wished he could still hear children’s happiness in the air instead of thunder, but it was like they weren’t even there anymore. Daniel didn’t speak. If anything, Jack thought he seemed to withdraw into himself even further. The lack of response was like a fist pounding against Jack’s sore chest. Worse, it reached in and squeezed the life out of him because he didn’t know how to fix this. Some things couldn’t be repaired, Jack knew, but he desperately needed this to not be one of them.
“Daniel?” A particularly boisterous, happy shriek filled the air, breaking into the thunderous haze. Daniel reacted at last, cringed as if the sound tore at his flesh and soul, and so Jack could find no joy in it either. “You don’t have to talk, I suppose.”
Neither of them did, for long moments. Despite the sunshine, the day was cool and the breeze was starting to pick up. Jack was close enough to touch arms with Daniel. Their thighs brushed against each other, but there was no warmth from the contact. He got nothing at all, except for an increased sense of cold fear. He wasn’t sure, now, why he’d come without some sort of plan. He also wasn’t sure that it would have mattered. No amount of preparation would have given him the right words to say.
He thought what an odd pair they must look, he in his casual grunge and Daniel still dressed from the memorial service. He started humming to fill the air and himself with something besides cold. The notes were flat, toneless. Jack wasn’t sure he and Daniel could be considered old friends as the tune suggested, at least not anymore. He wanted that thought to be wrong, though so many things had happened to them and around them and between them. He stopped humming, trailing off before the second part of the song.
“Time it was and what a time it was,” Daniel said, voice gravelly, harsh and hoarse, filling in the lyrics.
The roughness in tone was probably from lack of use, but to Jack it just sounded like heartache. He had no idea how long Daniel had sat there; he didn’t know how long it had been since Daniel had spoken to anyone at all. Thinking about that, Jack realized he hadn’t done much in the way of speaking either. None of them had for days now, except maybe Carter. There wasn’t much to talk about, at least nothing that wasn’t depressing as hell. Tragedy robbed words of any real value; that was a particularly tough truth to deal with for Daniel, Jack thought.
“It was,” Jack finished the verse.
Any illusion Jack had that they were going to have some type of conversation now that Daniel had finally spoken disappeared when heavy silence returned. This was no time of innocence or of confidences, he thought. Mostly he and Daniel were polar opposites, but in some small ways, Daniel was a lot like him. Too much like him; this silent grief happened to be one of those unfortunate similarities. When Daniel was ready to talk, he would. Jack had known this simple fact about Daniel for years. Maybe Jack was a fool for even trying, maybe he suspected Daniel might have changed by being glowy for a year, that it wasn’t really his Daniel sitting on the bench next to him. Or maybe it was because he’d come there for himself more than for Daniel. Funny, though, how neither of them seemed to derive any benefit despite the goodness of intentions.
“Why are you here, Jack?” Daniel said after a time.
Trust Daniel to surprise – it was just one of the many talents he had. Jack glanced over, but Daniel wasn’t looking at him. It didn’t appear as though he was seeing more than a foot in front of his face. It was the same lack of expression he had displayed every time Jack had seen him since … since then. Since they’d come back to the SGC without Fraiser. He’d heard about the damned tape, video documentation of tragedy and bloodshed that shouldn’t have happened. Jack had demanded to watch it, and had regretted it ever since, coward that he was. Daniel might be different, a slightly refurbished post-Ascended human, but that voice on the tape, and the sheer desperation it contained was Daniel to the core. That scared Jack simply because that Daniel was absent now.
“Where else should I be?” Listen to him with the damn psychobabble “answer a question with a question” technique. Jack watched as the little dandelion-haired boy on the swing was helped down. Once he was left on his own, the tot wobbled and then fell to his hands and knees. Jack winced at the shocked cry cut into the other children’s laughter. “I’m here for you.”
“You shouldn’t be,” Daniel said. “None of this is about me, Jack.”
Then Daniel stood up and walked away. The little boy with freshly skinned palms kept crying and crying. Jack watched his mother attempt consolation through hugs and kisses. It seemed to work. The boy became quieter at last. Jack knew ninety percent of the boy’s distress had been from reaction and shock rather than from actual pain; he would have been fine after a few minutes of letting those emotions run free.
Jack frowned, and stared at Daniel’s departing back.
~~*~~
The bread was unleavened, and had a sweet hint to it. Small bowls filled with spices and syrup with a slight pungent kick were placed around the table. Jack first dipped a chunk of bread into a fine light green powder, tasting vaguely of cinnamon, then into the syrup, which might have come straight from Vermont or maybe Canada. The whole thing looked a helluva lot more unappetizing than it actually tasted. Anyone keeping track of his servings would realize that; he had eaten three of the oddly-shaped pancakes in rapid succession. He was a bit surprised he’d been able to put so much away after the big meal SG1 had just been treated to.
“You should probably ease up on those, Jack,” Daniel said. “Or at least the honey. It’s alcoholic.”
No wonder the stuff was so good. And no wonder the room and all its contents seemed softer around the edges, come to think of it. Jack noted Daniel didn’t seem to give the information because he cared, more like he felt he had to, but he chose not to call Daniel on it. He might very well just be interpreting things incorrectly.
“Now you tell me,” Jack said with forced lightness. “It’s apparently potent. My peeks feel chink.”
Daniel didn’t smile at his intentional spoonerism. Daniel never smiled anymore. Even in his slightly buzzed state, Jack started to see the error in his plan. He had thought they all needed to get back to the basics. He had thought, more specifically, that was what Daniel needed. It had been years since they had gone on a purely first contact, ‘safe’ mission, or at least it seemed like it to him. First contact didn’t hold the same thrill as it once had. They were too mired down in politics and negotiation and the Pentagon’s bottom line these days. Jack wished he could explain Daniel’s poorly disguised apathy with such a convenient excuse. He suspected the real reason for it (if it existed anywhere but in his own head) was back on Earth, under six feet of cold dirt. He clenched his jaw unhappily.
“Very cute, sir,” Carter piped up, a cheerful tint in her cheeks as well. “Chink peeks.”
He appreciated that someone appreciated his joke, but Jack wanted to slap Carter just a little. Whatever nothing that was between him and her had no place there, where he was trying to get to Daniel through his mysterious, dark, yet invisible barrier. Ever since the day of Fraiser’s service, he couldn’t shake the feeling something was so very wrong with Daniel. Jack’s irritation with Carter was out of place, because she could have no idea of his intent, or what his thoughts were. She’d be surprised if she could get into his head for a quick poke around, he thought, probably unpleasantly so.
“Anyway, it’s mild,” Daniel said. “I’m sure you’ll be fine if you don’t eat too much more of it.”
“You have consumed far more than O’Neill, Daniel Jackson,” Teal’c said.
Normally, Jack would feel vindicated by the comeuppance Teal’c had just issued. Daniel glared at Teal’c for a moment, something black brewing in his expression. Black as death. In his head, Jack saw Daniel on a park bench, wearing a shroud of his own making. It lasted a moment, then the effect was gone. Suddenly Daniel’s posture changed and he rolled his eyes at Teal’c. Jack smiled, only because it felt appropriate for the situation. He put down the piece of syrup-saturated flatbread in his hand and watched Daniel dip his own chunk into a bowl, as if daring Jack to stop him.
“I told you it was mild,” Daniel said, as if that should clarify and therefore close the topic.
Mild or not, alcohol was not something Daniel used. He would enjoy it once and again, of course, but Jack had never seen him set out to drink just for drinking’s sake. It didn’t matter if this stuff wasn’t a bottle of Glenmorangie, the effect would eventually be the same. Jack wondered how he could get someone to clear the table, and wondered if he was getting worked up for no good reason at all. He looked at Carter and Teal’c to see if he could figure out if they held similar suspicions regarding Daniel’s behavior. Neither of them seemed to be paying attention to Daniel or the alcoholic honey anymore. So apparently Daniel really had ended the matter. Jack shook his head and pushed his plate away. He was uncomfortably full all of a sudden.
“Aren’t you pleased with your meal?” Oten said.
Jack turned to his left, embarrassed to have forgotten their host while his mind wandered on more troubling things. Oten, a sturdy, broad-backed fellow, stared at him with concern on his face. The man was a living oxymoron. When Jack had first met him, he couldn’t help the flicker of fearful intimidation he’d felt. Couple the sheer burliness of the guy with strong jaw and brow lines, obsidian eyes and a deep raspberry-colored scar running from the left corner of his mouth to the middle of his chin, and Jack had to admit the guy was not someone he’d want to meet in a dark alley. The perpetual, gap-toothed smile and high pitch to his voice were the saving graces, huge contrasts to Oten’s physical stature.
“Oh, very pleased,” Jack said. He patted his stomach for effect. “It was all great. The best meal I’ve had in ages.”
“Yet you cease eating.”
“Jack just means his appetite has been satisfied.”
Daniel spoke with his mouth full. Jack winced. It wasn’t the first time his friend had exhibited that bad habit, but it had never bothered him before. He wasn’t sure why it did now.
“He’s much … slighter than you are, Oten.”
Something about Daniel’s tone turned the comment into an implication that since Daniel was still eating, it meant Jack was ‘slighter’ than him as well. Jack was too old to care about proving his manhood because of someone else’s innuendo, but he was bothered that Daniel had said it. The comment was vindictive. Daniel just wasn’t or at least he had never been purposely nasty. Oten didn’t seem to notice. The alien laughed and clapped Jack on the back, apparently reassured. Daniel ate some more flatbread-laced syrup, undoubtedly to show off his vigor.
“I’m slighter, too,” Carter said, “I was full half an hour ago, but it all just tasted so good I didn’t want to stop.”
Oten smiled and then went back to eating what was probably his fifth helping. Carter’s ingratiation was apparently the icing on the cake. Jack observed Oten put away more and more food. These folks probably didn’t have a word for leftovers. Robust, however, was a word they surely understood; the Leondrans epitomized it. They also had an air of simplicity about them, not mentally so much as in their lifestyle. If Earth took nothing else from the Leondrans, it should at least take the relaxed manner in which they conducted themselves.
Americans in particular could adopt this way of life. Industry existed on Leondra, much of it comparable to what was found on Earth, yet by looking around the modest gathering one would never know it. People here left work at work. Jack was going to do his damnedest to make sure the good ol’ US of A didn’t stomp on in a la the SGC to exploit this planet. For whatever his damnedest was worth anymore, or had ever been worth. He wasn’t convinced he’d ever been effective in that capacity, not at the level he wished he had been.
Jack shook his head. He used to be a happy drunk. Now he was just a maudlin SOB with nothing better to do than to find things to worry about. Jack looked at Daniel’s alcohol-flushed cheeks, and the slight bleariness of his eyes. Daniel smiled and laughed at something Oten said. Jack decided he really was just imagining things. Hell, he should be glad to see Daniel finally relaxing a little. Still, he couldn’t quite relax himself. He wished Daniel had been upfront about the alcoholic content of what they were eating; no way would Jack have had any at all had he known. He guessed he wasn’t quite through thinking on this subject. Carter leaned across him, blocking his view of Daniel.
“It’s a good thing we don’t have to go home until tomorrow,” she said as she pulled slowly back, a piece of honey-soaked flatbread in her hand. “I’m pretty sure I’m a little drunk.”
Great, just what he needed – two drunken team members. At least Daniel wasn’t being ditzy about it. He leaned away from Carter’s intruding figure. She had no concept of personal space after she tipped back a few. Jack narrowed his eyes. Carter was acting like he’d expect, but Daniel…there it was again, that cold feeling of unease. Daniel should have a dopey grin on his face and relaxed posture, an entirely loose countenance. Carter finally resituated herself in her own seat. Yeah, and there was Daniel – acting as sober as a priest on Sunday. If he didn’t suspect any better, the red cheeks and bleary eyes could be interpreted as exhaustion. After all, it had taken a fair amount of hiking to reach the village.
“Hey, I have an idea,” Jack said, to no one in particular. He shifted his attention from Carter to Daniel. He didn’t bother with Teal’c, because Teal’c was always trustworthy and, in this case, hadn’t eaten any of the alcoholic dessert. “How about we stop eating this stuff now? I don’t think the general would appreciate us returning with hangovers.”
He saw Carter nod and put her piece of bread down. She licked her fingertips clean of the syrup. Jack watched as her cheeks puffed out momentarily in a contained, mostly silent burp. He rolled his eyes, but was a little relieved by her unintentional antics. He slid his gaze to Daniel, who remained focused on Oten and either didn’t hear the order or was choosing to disregard it.
“Probably,” Carter said. “But I really am only buzzed. I don’t think I’ll get a hangover.”
Jack was glad to see her so relaxed. In the weeks since Janet’s death, Carter had become haggard and drawn. She hadn’t looked like herself in weeks. If alcohol helped even for a short while, then maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing. No, he corrected himself, alcohol off-world was usually more trouble than it was worth. He glanced around at his friends. Actually, the haggard and drawn thing seemed a common thread for the whole team. Maybe he had been too focused on Daniel when he should have been aware of all of them.
“That wasn’t really my point, Carter. We don’t consume more than a toast’s worth of alcohol while on a mission. And even that shouldn’t really happen.”
“Yes, sir.”
Carter looked puzzled at his insistence, and Jack couldn’t really blame her. He was apparently the only one who felt the flatbread and honey combination was sitting in the stomach like a boulder. He was the only one feeling a lot of things, it seemed. Jack reached up and rubbed at his chest. Though the twinges of pain from the staff blast were gone, he wasn’t sure he’d use the term healed to describe himself. The doctors had proclaimed his insides whole, yet he felt as though something was missing. Crazily, he wondered if he could finally make himself feel right, then his team would be better as well. He watched Daniel reach for the alcoholic honey again.
He opened his mouth to reiterate the cease and desist order with more authority, but didn’t get the chance. With some relief, Jack saw several Leondrans begin to clear the tables. The meet and greet had gone pretty well, his misgivings about Daniel aside, but he was glad it was drawing to a close. Maybe after a night’s sleep his concern would prove unfounded. After all, neither Carter nor Teal’c seemed bothered at all by Daniel’s strange behavior. It was possible the problem, like the ache of an unhealed chest wound, could be attributed to him and not Daniel at all. He wondered how many times he’d tell himself that before he believed it.
Either way, Jack couldn’t really trust himself at the moment; his head was just foggy enough that his judgment could be impaired. That was about the only thing he knew with any certainty. Well, that and the fact there was no way in hell he should be leading a team if he was this irresolute. He looked over at Daniel once again, and again he was almost convinced everything was fine. He needed to get his mind on something else. He was vacillating way too much to be effective in any capacity as a team leader.
“Oh, Daniel?” he said.
“Jack?”
“Are we done for the night?”
“Not quite.” Daniel turned to Oten, then back to him. “They figured this was a special occasion. I don’t think we’re going to get much sleep tonight. Unless you don’t think you can handle it.”
There Daniel went again. Jack narrowed his eyes. Daniel plastered a smile on his face, all the picture of innocence. Except not so much. His eyes were not quite right.
“Handle what?”
“Dancing, singing, overall merriment,” Daniel said. He pointed to Jack’s chest, where his hand lingered. “Still hurt?”
“No, it’s just getting late is all.”
“I’ll see if I can get you guys out of it, if you think you can’t stay up for a few extra hours. I’m sure it’ll be fine if it’s just me.”
Jack wanted to protest, rebuke Daniel for being such a subtle jackass. He still wasn’t certain if that was the case, though, and it was too late to call Daniel out for any of his unfounded suspicions now. The guy had turned away from him and was in quiet, earnest conversation with Oten. If Jack’s radar hadn’t pinged already, he would have thought this Daniel was the Daniel of six years ago. This Daniel looked the same, played diplomat the same. Jack narrowed his eyes. Or not. Daniel wasn’t moving his hands or using his body to get his point across, which was something Jack probably would never have noted until it was gone. He looked over to Carter and Teal’c again. Once more, neither of them seemed to notice anything unusual about their friend. He turned back and found Daniel staring at him.
“Jack, Oten says someone will show you guys to your quarters. I do think at least one of us should stick it out,” Daniel said.
Jack simply nodded and got to his feet, feeling a bit like he and Daniel were playing some kind of messed up chess match and Daniel had just maneuvered him one inevitable move closer to checkmate. He was concerned, really, that there was no way out for him. In a few moves he’d lose the game, and that wasn’t acceptable. The problem was, Daniel had always been a better player than him.
“Okay,” Jack said. “But don’t stay out too late. You’re the primary here, Daniel. Carter, Teal’c, you guys ready to call it a night?”
He desperately wanted one of them to stick around longer. He wished he could pinpoint a definitive reason. Unfortunately, they both were up and moving toward the door at his query, neither of them offering objections. Jack turned to Oten.
“Thank you for a wonderful evening,” he said, keeping the departure quick. “Good night, and we’ll see you in the morning.”
Oten smiled happily and clasped him on the shoulders. The sheer size of the man had never been so apparent, nor had the fact that the guy could snap Jack in half if he really wanted to. Jack felt a return of his nervousness as Oten leaned close. God, it almost looked like … and then Oten kissed first his right cheek and then his left. The big man didn’t stop there. A final kiss to the forehead completed the ritual, and Jack dazedly wondered how he was the lucky one to endure this kind of thing. He looked at Daniel uncomfortably, expecting something, some kind of assistance or reaction. He didn’t know why, because Daniel wasn’t Daniel, standing there without one iota of amusement or empathy on his face.
“Well,” Jack said. He cleared his throat. “Thanks again.”
He turned to follow Carter, Teal’c and another gigantic Leondran. As they moved out, several of the aliens brushed past them carrying what looked suspiciously like kegs.
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, Daniel,” Carter said in singsong from the doorway.
Which did little to nothing to ease Jack’s mind; Carter was drunk and a drunk Carter was usually way, way less inhibited than her usual self. He wondered nervously if he should stay and keep an eye on Daniel, but was quickly swept forward by their guide and the decision was taken from his hands.
~~*~~
He came out of sleep abruptly, sitting up so fast his brain seemed to spin a little until it caught up. Jack could hear his own breathing, nothing else. It was ragged and harsh in his ears. He wondered if it had been a dream. He wondered where he was. It didn’t take him long to recall Oten’s goodnight kisses. He glanced at his watch, touching the button to illuminate the face. 1300 hours. He didn’t know what that translated to here. It was still dark. He squinted around the room. Carter had crashed on a cot on the other side of the room, Teal’c was sitting ramrod straight off to Jack’s right. Something was wrong.
“What’s going on?” he said stupidly, because something had to be wrong for both him and Teal’c to bolt awake at the same time.
“I am uncertain, O’Neill,” Teal’c said.
Jack looked around the room again and frowned. “Daniel’s not back yet.” Outside, clamoring voices sounded. Or they’d always been there and Jack’s senses were only now starting to function normally. “The party’s still going strong.”
More screams. Wait, screams … those were not joyful sounds. Jack launched himself to his feet, ignoring the protests of his sluggish body. Teal’c was already at the door, and Carter had finally started stirring. Jack tugged on his boots. He didn’t bother lacing them. Once he crossed the threshold, the cold night air stimulated his brain into action, and he immediately understood the reason for the frightened cries, the gravity of the situation. The community hall that had hosted SG1’s welcome party was going up in flames. People scattered about every which way, most of them screaming. Carter stumbled out of their quarters, still tugging her jacket on, and stood next to him. He spared her and her tousled hair a quick look.
“Shit,” she said.
Jack and Teal’c started running at the same time, straight into the chaos. Jack looked everywhere for a figure wearing olive drab, but he couldn’t find a trace of Daniel. He never should have left his team member alone at the party. Sick fear ate away at his insides, but he refused to give it control. Daniel was a big boy, no matter how strangely he’d been acting. He spotted a group of Leondrans forming a water line, and though he doubted anything could save the building he nodded Teal’c in that direction. A woman nearly ran him over, her red hair reminding him of the flames. For a moment, he even thought she might be on fire. She uttered something at him, but he couldn’t hear her above the ruckus.
“Do you see Daniel?” Carter shouted, making herself heard. “Colonel, I don’t see him anywhere. God, he was still in there. Do you see him?”
Jack lifted a hand, silencing her. He would like nothing more than to make tracking Daniel down his number one priority, but that wasn’t practical. There were slightly bigger issues to deal with at the moment. A recognizable face appeared before him, Oten carrying two young kids to safety. Jack shouted instructions to Carter to find somewhere to help, or he hoped he did, and raced to Oten’s side.
“What happened?”
“I don’t know, O’Neill,” Oten said, his voice barely discernable through the din. “It happened so quickly.”
“How many still inside?”
“It’s difficult to say.” Oten scanned the crowd, looking somewhat dazed and confused by the suddenness and severity of the situation. “We’ve never had to test our emergency protocols before. It would seem we’re failing at them.”
“We’ll do what we can to help.” Jack peered around, squinted against the searing heat. “Have you seen Doctor Jackson? Where is he?”
“He’s assisting people out of the building,” Oten waved toward the flames, “As I must also continue to do.”
Okay, good. Jack’s mind eased a little, just knowing that someone knew where Daniel was. Oten took off without further words, and Jack gave the situation a more thorough review. Despite the chaotic feel of the evacuation, people were moving very efficiently. Someone, somewhere had taken charge, if Oten hadn’t. Jack ran closer to the building, choking through the thick smoke. What looked like the Leondran versions of fire engines finally pulled up. Multiple men and women dressed more appropriately for the conditions leapt into action.
The next several minutes were a blur of smoke and coughing and flailing people. The stream of Leondrans exiting the building seemed endless. Jack hadn’t realized so many were in the community, let alone crammed into the hall. Through all the activity, he kept a line on Carter and Teal’c, happy to see them handling themselves very well. Worry continued to niggle at the back of his mind, and he kept an eye out for Daniel. The longer he went without visual confirmation of his team member’s well being, the more distracted he became. He had a sense that Daniel was in a state of mind where he’d do something stupid. Even if it meant he was paranoid like he’d been for hours (days, weeks), it ate away at him.
The whole evacuation couldn’t have taken more than ten minutes, but he was sweating, exhausted and his leg muscles were trembling slightly by the time he started helping with phase two – triage. The number of people who hadn’t escaped without injury was staggering. They needed help. He raced to where he’d last seen his 2IC.
“Carter,” he shouted. His voice was hoarse, but he still got her attention. “Get to the ‘gate, dial for back-up. Medical personnel and equipment. Whatever Hammond’ll spare, and tell him there isn’t time for bureaucracy and red tape.”
“Yes, sir,” she said, patting a Leondran woman on the arm quickly before running off.
Jack took over administering inadequate first aid to the woman Carter had been tending. He had no idea how Carter had had time to collect her pack from their quarters, but the medical supplies were already almost depleted. Jack saw Teal’c and the haphazard water brigade give up the ghost. The firefighters also looked as though they had stopped actually trying to put the fire out and were focused on containment. He still couldn’t see Daniel, and his worry ratcheted up a thousand-fold. A quick survey showed him that those uninjured were quickly setting about helping others, and things were less chaotic. The crackling roar of the fire continued, interspersed now with the crash of beams falling. Part of the roof and two of the walls started collapsing.
Through it all, Jack managed to hear Oten’s high-pitched voice shout of Daniel’s name. He knew it was bad without even looking. The tenor of the call was something he’d used himself. It was full of semi-controlled panic and fear, and suddenly so was Jack. He somehow had the wherewithal to make sure his current patient received someone else’s assistance before he headed for Oten.
“What?” he shouted, grabbing Oten as he surged for the building. “Where’s Daniel?”
“He … he went back in.” Oten blinked at him dumbly. “He said he thought he heard someone still in there.”
Oh, shit. Jack watched as the third wall crumbled. Ohshitohshit. Daniel could not be in there now and get out later. History had shown Daniel to be reckless with his own life for the sake of others, a quality that was admirable and so frightening. Jack honestly didn’t know if he could endure it if Daniel died again, no matter how nobly he did it. Valor caused as much pain and grief as a senseless death, because death was death was death. More of the roof fell, causing an eruption of heat and sparks and, almost impossibly, more smoke.
“Daniel,” he shouted. He and Oten moved at the same time, but both of them were held back by firefighters. And Teal’c. He stared at the Jaffa’s sweaty, sooty face. Jack was a mess of anger and sheer helplessness and, God help him, strange relief. “Teal’c, Daniel’s in there.”
“I am aware, O’Neill, but I cannot permit you to follow.”
Permit … why had Daniel been permitted? Where were the damned firefighters when Daniel had decided to play hero again, where had Teal’c been? Jack let his head bow for a second, resting it on Teal’c’s sturdy arm as he coughed. The sounds of people in distress coupled with the loud engine noises, water and thumps from the building’s collapse were overwhelming. He relaxed a little to show Teal’c he wasn’t going anywhere, but Teal’c didn’t let up. Jack looked back at the building, a coldness settling in his gut. Every passing second lessened Daniel’s chances of survival. He couldn’t seem to tear his gaze from the spot where the door had been, now awash with golden, orange flames.
“Shit, Teal’c.” Jack’s voice was hollow. He didn’t even care that he sounded pathetic. Jack pulled out of Teal’c’s grasp. “Tell me this isn’t happening.”
Teal’c didn’t respond. Five seconds seemed like an hour sometimes, he thought. Right then it seemed as though time truly was slowing down. His ears once again filled with the sound of his own breathing, the rapid thud of his heartbeats. Everything else faded into the background. It was like someone had stuffed earplugs into his ears. The point came where he couldn’t watch for the impossible anymore. He lifted a hand to his face and pinched the bridge of his nose in order to combat the prickly hot feeling of looming tears.
“O’Neill,” Teal’c said, somber as usual. Maybe more so.
Jack didn’t move. He couldn’t face anyone or anything just yet. He needed to pull himself together. There were still a lot of people he could help.
Teal’c grabbed his arm for a split second, then let go and moved away quickly, shouting, “O’Neill!”
He dropped his hand, was running before he fully registered what was before him. A dark shape, no, two of them, looking like silhouettes against the brightness of the fire stumbled out of the building. Daniel. Jack lost momentum for a second, as his legs turned to jelly before strengthening again. Impossible was a word Daniel Jackson refused to learn the meaning of, and Jack was never so glad. Whatever else might be going on with Daniel, he was still one stubborn son of a bitch.
“Damnit,” he said, relief fading when he got close enough to see Daniel and the hapless, semi-conscious Leondran in his arms. There were burns. Lots of them, and not just on the alien. “Damnit, damnit.”
Daniel wheezed. The rattle and drone of abused lungs and esophagus made Jack wince in sympathy. Teal’c and Oten disengaged the rescued from the rescuer. Jack only felt a little bad for not concerning himself with the poor guy, who was wheezing and coughing even more than Daniel was. Daniel started slumping to the ground in what looked like a dead faint the second he lost contact with the hurt Leondran. Jack stepped up and caught him. Daniel wasn’t unconscious, but his half-closed eyes looked glazed and devoid of any emotion. No fear, no relief, just cold blue and black. Jack eased him down to a seated position, letting Daniel use him as a backrest. He took a closer look at the burns. Daniel’s hands were a blistering mess, his face covered with scattered sores. Oh, crap, for a second it looked like Daniel’s watch had melted a little. He blinked, and the watch was fine again. It had just been the smoke in his eyes, the tears. Jack’s stomach hurt, though. The injuries looked far, far too familiar.
“Oh man, Daniel, what did you do?”
He received no “I’m okay, Jack,” no sign of reassurance at all. Hell, Jack didn’t even hear Daniel utter sounds of pain, only the continued struggle for breath. Looking at Daniel’s impassive face, it felt like his friend couldn’t possibly care less about what was going on around him. He could explain that away as shock, but something told him it was more than that. Priority number one had, selfishly, become getting Daniel back to the infirmary.
“Teal’c, I’m getting Daniel out of here,” Jack said. He was assuming the facilities here wouldn’t be able to cope with a tragedy of this scale. That might or might not be the case, but it was better to be prepared. “Carter’s contacted Hammond for help. I’ll go back and tell them to expect incoming patients.”
“I will assist you,” Teal’c said, glancing at Oten to ensure he could handle the victim.
A swift nod from Oten sent Teal’c to the other side of Daniel. Together they got him to his feet, kind of; Daniel was a dead weight between them, though Jack could see he was conscious. This had been a mistake. He never should have quashed down his misgivings concerning Daniel’s state of mind. He definitely never should have let Daniel go off-world. He had this horrible feeling Daniel’s latest act of heroism wasn’t born from a very good place. There was no hard proof however. As they navigated swiftly through the injured crowds, Jack remembered a bright and sunny day not too long ago. The setting now was the polar opposite. Daniel was almost exactly the same. It wasn’t a comforting thought.
Déjà vu all over again.
Carter was at the ‘gate when they arrived, pacing anxiously. She saw them coming and halted, a dismayed, confused look crossing her features. At any other time her expression coupled with her slightly disheveled appearance might tickle his funny bone, but at the moment Jack doubted he’d even find Homer Simpson amusing. Her stupefaction didn’t last long. She started dialing.
“Sir?” she said.
“He fucking ran back into the burning building,” Jack said, more forcefully than he’d intended. Daniel still hadn’t made the slightest effort to walk under his own steam. Belatedly, Jack thought maybe they should have carted the victim Daniel had pulled out with them as well. “His hands are fried.”
Carter stared at Daniel for a second, and then closed her eyes. The wormhole established, brightening the area. Jack could see Carter was reliving the same things he was behind her closed eyelids. Teal’c probably was, too. The only one who wasn’t, ironically, seemed to be Daniel. In a sick sort of way, Jack wished Daniel would react instead of just hanging there limply.
“At least one of us stays here until help arrives.”
“I’ll stay, sir.” Carter sounded old, weary. Scared.
Jack saw her staring at Daniel again, expression haunted. They’re not radiation burns, he wanted to say to her, it’s not the same thing. Because it wasn’t the same thing. Jack thought it could be worse, worse even than a slow, agonizing death by radiation sickness.
“I have the most medical experience.”
“Right. Thanks, Carter.” She gave him a wince that he thought was supposed to be some kind of smile. “Come on, Teal’c, let’s get Daniel to the doc.”
The klaxons were blaring on the other side. Instead of Daniel stalking to the infirmary demanding no one touch him, medics pulled him away from Jack’s grip and carted him off. He followed grimly, answering Hammond’s concerned inquiries. But Jack would be damned if he’d let this incident mirror the other any further than it already had. Daniel would not die today, not anytime soon and definitely not for doing something reckless.
Chapter Two
