Archaeology (13a/30)
Title: Archaeology ( Table of Contents)
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Nothing you recognize is mine. I gain nothing of material value from this.
Pairings: Gen
Chapter1a-- 1b Chapter2 Chapter3 Chapter4 Chapter5 Chapter6 Chapter7a-- 7b Chapter8 Chapter9a-- 9b Chapter10 Chapter11 Chapter12a-- 12b
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Chapter 13: Archaeologists
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15 December 2000; Embarkation Room, SGC; 2300 hrs
Jack walked through the Stargate to find Daniel unconscious over Teal'c's knee, but he was stirring even as Dr. Fraiser clicked her way up the ramp. Stress from the trip through the wormhole, probably. That was okay. They could deal with that. "MRI first," Jack ordered.
Fraiser's head whipped up to him, as well as General Hammond's. "Sir? But wouldn't Teal'c--"
"There's no naquadah in the Goa'uld on that planet," Jack said, forcing himself to stand by and watch other people take care of Daniel. "No one knew they were there."
"Let go," Daniel was saying, squirming his way out of Teal'c's grasp. "No, let me go--"
"Kal shak, chal'ti," Teal'c said, loading him onto a gurney with the help of Fraiser and an orderly.
"Na nay," he insisted as someone tried to strap him in to make him stop struggling. "Jack!"
"Stop fighting and no one'll tie you up again, Daniel," Jack said sharply, because he didn't want to see Daniel tied up anymore, either. "That's an order--lie still. I'll be right there."
To his relief, Daniel acquiesced and froze, lying unnaturally still as Dr. Fraiser gave them all another confused look and hurried off to the infirmary behind the gurney.
"What happened, Colonel?" Hammond said, looking at the four of them left standing on the ramp. "Where's everyone else?"
Jack jerked a thumb toward Griff. "The rest of SG-2 is still searching for Captain Hatley's"--body, Jack almost said. "Still searching for Hatley, and they're scheduled to return within twenty hours from now. We have confirmation that the rest of SG-11 is dead." Something on the ramp caught his eye, and he bent to pick up the dusty journal that Daniel must have dropped.
Hammond stared at the journal, too. He stood very still for a long moment, then said evenly, "Captain Griff, do you need help to get to the infirmary?"
"No, sir," Griff said quietly.
"You're dismissed. SG-1, see me in my office."
"General," Jack said tightly as Griff walked past them, "Daniel's going to--"
"Come with me, Colonel," Hammond repeated. "Major Carter, Teal'c, you can go and see to Mr. Jackson if you'd like."
...x...
"Daniel's not a Goa'uld," Fraiser said immediately when Jack walked in, one agonizing debriefing later.
"Didn't think so," Jack said, but he was relieved anyway. "Is he okay?"
"Physically?" she said, looking at Daniel, freshly clean and damp and asleep under a pile of blankets. "Exhaustion, scrapes and bruises, dehydration... Much better than I expected, frankly. But I’m concerned about his mental state."
"He's just worn out, I think," Jack said, because Daniel was always okay in the end, but that was when Dr. Rothman had been alive to yell at them for making Daniel not-okay in the first place. And this time there was that other part... "Doc, he says the Unas was his friend. Gave it a name and everything. Wouldn't let us shoot it."
She stared up at him. "That would make things more complicated," she said slowly. "If... Do you think it's some misplaced sense of--"
"I don't know," Jack admitted. If that wasn't an abusive friendship, he didn't know what was, but then, the Unas had defended Daniel, too, both of them standing together against the other Unas and SG-1. "Frankly, I think Daniel and the Unas both got pretty confused about it."
"I can imagine," she said.
"Really?" Jack said.
"That two people might empathize with each other and form a bond over the course of a period of time spent together like that, no matter how twisted it seems to us?" she said. "It's happened before to others out of interdependence or self-defense."
"Only one of them was a person this time." Jack knew all he wanted about the psychology of people who got snatched by an enemy, but it should be different when one of them had horns.
"Maybe," she said. "But I doubt Daniel thought of it that way. He's gotten used to adapting to alien situations and accepting alien conventions for survival, whether it was at the SGC or with an Unas. Adapting is essentially what his life has been for the last years."
"The SGC never tied him up and hit him when he broke a rule," Jack snapped.
Fraiser winced slightly but responded, "If the Unas did, then you should keep that in mind."
He sighed. "Right."
"Colonel..." She hesitated, then said, "Sam told me about Major Hawkins' team."
Jack nodded tensely, watching Teal'c and Carter next to Daniel. Teal'c was still on watch, and he would be until someone told him to stand down. Carter was leaning her elbows on the bed next to Daniel, looking tired enough to fall asleep herself and disturbed enough about everything that Jack knew she'd probably spend tonight in her lab instead. "SG-2 got back about an hour after we did," he said. "They found"--most of--"Captain Hatley. He's dead, too."
When he looked back down at her, he realized she was trying hard not to cry.
"Janet. I'm sorry," he said, setting a hand on her shoulder.
That woke her up enough to say, "Don't be, sir. It certainly wasn't your fault." She held her place just long enough that it didn't seem impolite when she backed up a step and let his hand fall away.
He wanted to tell her, all of a sudden, that it was his fault, in more ways than one. He couldn't put that on his team, not right now, but Janet would understand.
But before he could start to say it, she shook her head firmly. "No, Jack," she scolded, like he was twelve, or maybe a dog that insisted on disobeying her. "It's not your fault."
"Yeah," he said, despite the part of him that knew she was wrong. His actions aside, Rothman and Hawkins had been under his command at the time. It didn't matter who'd pulled the trigger.
And maybe Hawkins had been a lost cause--maybe--but Rothman would probably have lived if he hadn't gone with them. No one knew for sure when he'd been Goa'ulded, but it was most likely during that night, when they'd taken separate watches by the river. Jack was the one who'd let him come along and let him get into that situation.
"How's Griff?" he asked when he didn't see the man in the infirmary.
"Already walked out," she told him. "He'll be fine, too."
"And Daniel? How long's he going to be in here?"
"I...could release him with you, sir, if he'll sleep better at home," she said. "But he'll be very sore for a while, and there's always a worry about infection from scrapes or from swallowing dirty water. I'd prefer to keep him on base, at least for a day or two."
Jack nodded. The house was catching up to the base in terms of which Daniel considered 'home,' but when there was still some medical question, and if Daniel might not want to be around his mentor's killer all that much, base was probably best. "We'll stay here, then," he said.
He made his way to the bedside and allowed himself to look at Daniel for a moment, just long enough for a visual check and to make sure he seemed all right. He looked more all right unconscious than he did awake. Jack tapped Carter on the shoulder to pull her aside.
"You have Daniel's tape recorder?" he said quietly.
"Yes, sir," she said, pulling it out of her pocket. "I haven't listened to most of it yet."
"I'm going to see if there's anything on it that we need to know. Can you stay here?"
She glanced back and Teal'c and Daniel. "Yes, sir. We'll stay."
...x...
16 December 2000; Archaeology Office, SGC; 0100 hrs
"...Please don't kill him," Daniel's voice said. "He has a sense of humor. It's kind of weird, though. I'm starting to ramble. I'll leave this here. Maybe you'll find it. Um. That's it."
Jack stared at the tape for a moment. When it was clear nothing more was coming out, he stopped it.
"I don't want to count the number of times I was sure we'd lost him," General Hammond's voice said, making Jack turn to see him in the back door to the office. "As you were," he added.
"You mean Daniel, sir?" Jack said, settling back into Daniel's chair.
"I mean Daniel," Hammond said. "The boy's had a lot of close calls, and I worry about that. Somehow, it rarely occurred to me to worry the same way about Dr. Rothman."
"Dr. Rothman wasn't usually in those kinds of situations," Jack said. "It was a different ball game with him." Except this time. This time, it had been exactly the same, and Rothman hadn't had the kind of lucky break that had saved Daniel so many times.
Hammond closed the door and stepped toward Rothman's desk, still looking at the tape in Jack's hand. "He was saying 'goodbye.'"
Jack felt the outline of the buttons against his skin. "Yes, sir, I guess he was."
And that made Jack angrier than anything else. They'd spent years teaching Daniel to fight without even realizing at first that they were doing it. Daniel fought for everything, even if it meant fighting them; how dare he have accepted that an Unas was going to kill him for some ritual mumbo-jumbo, and if he'd resigned himself to that fate, what the hell was wrong with him that he'd been its friend, anyway?
People thought strange things when it was a matter of life and death or pain at the hands of a captor, and Jack knew that. He just couldn't wrap his head around the fact that the same Daniel who could lie while being interrogated in an electrified cage and watching his teammates get shot could have folded in a day to this particular captor. Had he tried so hard to get under the Unas's scaly skin that he'd let the Unas get under his, too?
"How is he?" Hammond asked.
"I don't know," Jack said honestly.
Hammond nodded. "It's been less than two hours," he said, "and you may have noticed coming down the corridor... Barely anyone's still at work at this hour, and already, rumors are starting to filter into the Social Sciences department, and people are getting worried. No one really knows the whole story yet."
"There's no chain of command, sir? Is someone...taking over leadership?"
"That's what I need to ask you about," Hammond said. "Officially, Dr. Rothman never had a...second-in-command, if you will. But a lot of people, including myself and yourself, have considered his deputy in practice to be--"
"Daniel," Jack finished, already shaking his head. "General...look, no offense to Daniel, but I don't think he can take over everything. Or should."
"And I wouldn't want him to," the general agreed. "At the same time, he's the one who has shared Dr. Rothman's office--literally and figuratively--from the inception of the SGC."
"So...what are you saying, sir?" Jack said warily.
General Hammond sighed, looking at the desk for a moment as if to collect himself. "It'll make the transition easier if Mr. Jackson can help us pull things together. For one, I don't know whom I should look to for advice. That's the kind of thing that I know Mr. Jackson could tell me from inside this department."
"You're telling me," Jack said, not believing it, "that Daniel and Dr. Rothman were the only two scientists here you knew?"
"I'm telling you," Hammond said, "that not everyone here, however impressive his or her résumé, really knows what's out there. Mr. Jackson knows this department, and he knows this war; I've come to trust his judgment in these matters. You have an idea of how he is, and I need to know how much I--we--can expect to depend on him right now."
Jack sat back. "I think...if you asked, he'd do whatever you needed. But I'd rather you didn't ask too much."
Hammond gave him a tired look that told him just how unhelpful that was.
"When Daniel wakes up," Jack clarified, "if he's less disoriented, we'll ask him who can do Dr. Rothman's job and what things need to be taken care of in the short term. And then I'm going to ask you to lay off him for a while, sir. He needs a break, and this isn't his responsibility."
"All right," Hammond agreed. "Thank you."
Jack set the tape back down on Daniel's desk and left it there. Daniel complained sometimes that the other linguists' ears weren't sharp enough, and that was when the speech was human; he'd want to write the report on Unas language himself.
"I'm sorry, General," he blurted before the general could leave.
Hammond stopped in the doorway, took a breath, and turned back around. "Mistakes were made by a lot of people, and there were circumstances beyond anyone's knowledge or control. It's not your fault. You know that."
"Yes, sir," Jack said.
"Jack?" Hammond said. "I need you here now."
Jack nodded and stood up. "Yeah. I'm here."
XXXXX
16 December 2000; Infirmary, SGC; 0700 hrs
Daniel started awake the next morning, gasping, his eyes wide and staring at the ceiling.
"Nightmare?" Jack asked.
Daniel's head whipped around and, to Jack's relief, he relaxed slightly. "Yes," he said hoarsely, sounding puzzled. "Maybe. I saw my parents. I haven't... It's been..." He stopped.
Jack raised his eyebrows. "You wanna talk about it?"
"No." Daniel looked around the infirmary, then pulled an arm out of his blankets to see the bandage that covered his wrist. He made a fist and opened it. "I don't suppose," he said, touching the bandage on his cheek, "that P3X-888 was just a dream, too?"
"No," Jack said, pouring a cup of water as Daniel grimaced and sat up very carefully. "Here."
It took an extra moment, but finally Daniel accepted it, holding it awkwardly in two lightly bandaged hands. After a few cautious sips, he said, "I'm sorry I scared you yesterday. I couldn't get out of that...frame of mind. I don't even know--"
"S'okay," Jack said as lightly as he could. "But no more growling at me. We like you human." Daniel shivered. "Do you need to tell me what was going on?"
Not meeting his gaze, Daniel said, "It's just... If I followed the rules, and spoke to Chaka so he understood, he was nicer--"
"And otherwise he punished you?" Jack finished stiffly.
Daniel glanced up. "It wasn't... Not the way you're thinking. I told you, there were...misunderstandings. He was doing what seemed logical to him at the time."
Jack thought of the bruises that littered Daniel's chest and back. "Like tying you up, dragging you through a forest, hitting you when--"
"He saved my life!" Daniel said, his expression distressed but veering toward anger to cover it. "The rest... I did stupid things. Showing aggression, or trying to run from someone faster than I am, or fighting for control over a rope with someone stronger... Things that any observer with a brain, especially someone who's experienced at communication with foreign peoples, should have known better than--"
"Are you listening to yourself?" Jack said. "Do you...at least understand that what the Unas did to you was wrong?"
"But it wasn't," Daniel said earnestly. "That's just it. He had...incomplete information at the time, that's all. It was a misunderstanding."
"I can't believe..." Jack said, and forced himself to keep it calm. "Daniel. You're still defending him, even now?"
"Chaka wouldn't hurt me, not anymore," Daniel said, looking completely confident of that in a way that Jack found disturbing, given his last couple of days. But the Unas had said Daniel's name on the recording, so there was no pretending they'd still been confused about sentience at that point, and Daniel's voice on the recording had been terrified.
Jack rubbed a hand over his face, not sure how to answer, and when he looked up, Daniel's brief spark of passion had disappeared and faded into a blank stare at the cup he was still holding in his hand. "Why don't we talk about this later," Jack said.
To his relief, Daniel nodded, clearly not ready to tackle a full-blown debate right now, but then he asked hesitantly, "So...SG-11--"
"Yeah," Jack said.
"And Captain Hatley--"
"Yeah. They found him. I'm sorry."
Daniel nodded again, slumping. "Jack..." he started, then stopped, looking down and biting his lip.
"It's not your fault," Jack said, knowing what he was going to say. "You survived. That's all."
For a moment, he thought that was going to send Daniel over the edge. Jack let him sit and stare at his plastic cup in silence until he'd composed himself enough to say, "People talk about survivor's guilt when the guilt is unjustified. If it's not, then it's just..." He stopped again.
"You tell me one thing you did wrong," Jack said. "Tell me one thing you could've done that would have made the difference between dead and alive. If you can't, then it's not your fault."
"There was nothing I could do," Daniel said.
"Yes," Jack said firmly. "That's right."
He clenched a hand around his cup of water. "No one gets left behind," he recited. "They served and gave their lives with honor. There was nothing I could do. They knew the risks..."
Jack took the cup away from him. "I know it doesn't help," he said quietly. "I wish it did."
"Robert wouldn't have joined the search if he hadn't felt responsible for me. He said I'm always trying to get myself killed."
"Dr. Rothman joined the search because he wanted to find his friend and because I let him," Jack said. "You would've done exactly the same for him."
"You wouldn't have let me," Daniel whispered.
Jack knew that was the closest he'd come to saying, 'how could you let him die.'
"No, I--I'm sorry," Daniel said. "I don't mean... Thank you for...ending it before he k...before he killed someone."
He couldn't find a good way to answer that, so he moved on instead. "I know it's very soon," he said, "but we need to ask you a few things."
"I recorded..." Daniel started, then trailed off. "I guess the tape didn't make much sense."
"The word 'hysterical' comes to mind," Jack agreed. Daniel raised his eyebrows but didn't argue the sentiment. "But it's not about the Unas thing, exactly."
"Then wh--oh. We need a department head," Daniel guessed. "What day is it? People must be confused upstairs."
"It's Saturday, and early, so don't worry; not too many people are here right now. The general wants your opinion on how things should go--just point us in the right direction."
There was a short hesitation, and then Daniel said, "Figure out where to put things--finished assignments to be filed or distributed to some team, unassigned projects, requests for anything from advice to equipment... Everything usually goes in designated places on our desks, and we'd sort them from there. People are going to feel..." He paused. "Some will feel too awkward to keep following routine and others will do it anyway by habit, but that means no one knows where to put things, and before long we'll start losing files."
"O...kay," Jack said, thinking that sounded like a tiny thing, and that it was the kind of tiny thing that could easily muck up the works. This was going to be more complicated than he'd thought. "So how does this work? Who decides who has to do a job if someone doesn't want to do it?"
Daniel made a face. "Robert and I assign things, depending on who's on base; if neither is, people work out things for themselves and put aside the less urgent things for his approval. There aren't usually many arguments about too much work or doing things wrong, but if there are...people can veto my decisions if they disagree, but Robert can veto them, so no one complains about having to defer to me. Robert could," he amended. "Not...'can.'"
"Okay," Jack said again.
"Tell people to leave things in the same places," Daniel said, thinking. "I'll keep those organized. And I'll help with redoing the filing system for whoever takes over--"
"Someone else can do things like filing stuff," Jack said. "Don't worry about it."
"Maybe, if someone else could find things on the shelves," Daniel countered.
Jack considered the chaotic organization that he, at least, had never been able to understand, and conceded, "Okay. You'll probably have to help with that."
"But not everyone would want me to have ultimate authority, and there are things I don't know how to do: equipment, personnel, academic expertise in certain areas...oh. Training lessons and briefings...those are distributed around the department, anyway, depending on specialty, but Robert always did the first cultural briefing for new recruits. I could do it, but new personnel don't take me seriously at first. It's why I don't do them very often now."
"But you know who would be able to do all of that," Jack said, except he knew that there were only a few who could boast of as many diverse experiences as Daniel. It was time spent at the SGC and in the field, not age or rank or degree, that mattered there. "Someone you can play right-hand man to, like usual--who looks respectable on paper but will listen to your advice."
"Of the civilians..."
"There are a bunch of military personnel there. It doesn't have to be a--"
"It should be a civilian," Daniel said firmly. "We're a research department, Jack. It should be someone whose first priority will be research, and not just for military benefit."
"And we're in the middle of a war," Jack reminded him. "Not many of our civilians have seen that face-to-face aside from...well, you and one or two others."
Daniel looked down at the blankets still covering his legs. "I'm not going to help you let our department get eaten up by the military. Robert and I built that department, and I won't... It's been a civilian position, and it should remain that way. The field teams draw specialists from our department, not the other way around."
Jack wasn't always happy about how deeply Daniel hated the Goa'uld. He supposed it was a good thing now, since Daniel would at least recommend someone who'd care enough about that, too. "Maybe you're right. What about field personnel--like Dr. Balinsky?"
"He's still getting used to SG-13; too busy. And he's, uh..." Daniel frowned at his hands, then glanced up uncertainly. "He's too timid around people to make them listen to him."
"If you say so," Jack said. "You have someone in mind?"
"Sam can pick locks, right?" Daniel said abruptly.
Jack frowned. "Uh...yeah. She's not a civilian social scientist, though."
Daniel blinked, then shook his head. "Sorry. I'm just...I don't know where Robert kept the keys to his desk, and I have a spare set in my desk, but...I left my keys to my desk in my pack, which I left on '888. We'll need to be able to get in there at some point."
Jack waited. When it didn't look like Daniel was going to start talking business again, he said, "Daniel. We can take care of that. That's easy. But give me a name--even if it's just temporary, until we get things settled again--and I'll let you rest."
"Dr. Reeve," Daniel said, a moment later. "Rick--Richard Reeve. He, Nyan, Cameron, and Captain Lithell are among the few I'd call primarily archaeologists and not translators or some other kind of social anthropologist."
"I...don't think I've ever heard of Dr. Reeve," Jack said.
"Well, you don't deal with our department much. You probably wouldn't like him, anyway."
"Is that supposed to be a good thing?"
"He's an experienced classical archaeologist, he's Tau'ri, he knows the academic world, he...he's organized, he's on base all day every day because he doesn't go into the field..."
"That could be a plus," Jack admitted. Neither of them pointed out aloud that that meant the man was less likely to get killed on the job.
Leaning back gingerly, Daniel said, "He might not want the position, but for now, all he'd have to do is make things official, sign off on assignments, say 'no' when someone makes a mistake... It's good enough to keep things in order until we adjust to--until we adjust. I can take care of most day-to-day things for now, just like I did before."
"Then I'll tell the general," Jack said, making a mental note. "We'll deal with it from here."
"We'll deal," Daniel echoed, though he didn't look completely convinced. He started picking at a bandage, then winced and stopped. "Is that it? I haven't been debriefed--"
"That's it for now. You should get some more sleep, and the general and I'll debrief you later." He hesitated, then started, "You need anything? Are you in pain?"
"I'm fine," Daniel lied.
Jack eyed the raw-looking skin of Daniel's palms and the bruises visible at the edge of Daniel's scrub top, knowing it looked worse under there. "Right," he said. "Look, Dr. Fraiser says you can have medication--you're probably pretty sore right now. You're not going to get any rest if you're uncomfortable."
"I'm fine," Daniel repeated, gritting his teeth.
"You know," Jack said carefully, watching him rub the back of his neck, "Dr. Rothman wouldn't have wanted to see you in--"
"Don't you dare," Daniel hissed, looking up. "Please. Don't."
"All right," Jack said, reminding himself that the welts and bruises wouldn't kill, even if Daniel was being stubborn about meds at the moment. "Do you--"
"What do we tell them?" Daniel said, looking back down at the sheets. "We have to tell their families some story, don't we?"
Symbiotes aside, explaining the injuries on SG-11, especially with an archaeologist, would have been hard.
"General Hammond sent someone to Dr. Rothman's family," Jack told him. "Someone's probably at their door right about now. The rest of SG-11's families live near here, and they were told last night that we couldn't recover the bodies; the environment was discovered to be unsafe. All details--location, mission, cause of death--are classified." Daniel squeezed his eyes shut. "Daniel, you know we can't--"
"I know. I know. Are there going to be memorial services?"
Jack nodded. "If their families don't request something--and they probably will--we'll hold the service on base. Major Hawkins' service will be tomorrow; I don't know about the others', but I'll talk to the general and find out if you want. You know how it goes."
"We've never had a civilian die in the field before," Daniel said, fists clenching on the sheets. "Not like that. Aren't the customs different for...for Robert?"
"Well...yeah," Jack said. "I mean...it depends on whether Ro--Dr. Rothman left his preferences in a will, and on the preferences of his family. But Daniel, you've never gone to a funeral off-base--you really don't have to."
"I should. Shouldn't I? I was with them for weeks, and...and they were my team for a while."
Jack grimaced but had to point out, "What would you say if someone asked who you were? If you say you'd been with them for weeks when they died, they'll start wondering why and asking questions." Daniel pulled his legs toward his chest and dropped his head on top. Jack suppressed a sigh and set a hand on Daniel's head. "Hey. You're not forbidden from going--unless the doctor says so--and no one would probably notice you, but if they did...I don't think you'd want to have to give some lie as a cover story right now, that's all. Would you?"
"No," Daniel said into his knees.
"It's okay," Jack said. "I know you want to pay your respects, but you don't have to go to a ceremony do that. If you really want to, we'll work something out."
"I had a real job with Robert that wasn't secret. His funeral would probably be tomorrow--I don't even have to be here at work then." He shifted his head, his hair brushing against Jack's hand. "I shared an office with him, Jack. He gave me a..." He stopped.
Jack found a patch of shoulder that didn't have a bruise on it and squeezed gently. "We'll see," he finally said. "All right? That's all I can tell you now. I don't know how it'll be done, I don't know if Dr. Fraiser will be okay with you traveling that soon--"
"I'm fine," Daniel lied again. "I'll get up as soon as Janet comes and signs me out."
Sighing, Jack said, "All right. Well, we'll see. Do you want me to stay with you?" Daniel shook his head. "Are you--"
"Can you give me a minute, please?"
Jack stood up, patting his shoulder one more time. "Yeah. I'll tell the doctor to wait a bit and then come in. And I'm here all day--Teal'c and Sam, too. We'll check on you."
...x...
"Interesting choice," General Hammond said when Jack reported to him later. "Dr. Reeve."
"Interesting as in...good or bad, sir?" Jack said.
Hammond pursed his lips. "The man keeps his head down. He came in a year ago with excellent credentials but isn't someone I'd have fingered as a leader of any sort."
"I didn't even know he worked here, to be honest."
"That's what I mean. But with his academic record and maybe even because he's so unaggressive, I doubt anyone will complain about his taking over Dr. Rothman's position."
"It's who Daniel suggested," Jack said, shrugging. "From what I understand, everyone works pretty independently. They just need someone to keep it all organized--file their requisitions for them and write up personnel evaluations and whatnot."
"That's true, more or less," Hammond said. He raised his eyebrows at Jack. "And...Dr. Reeve holds Mr. Jackson's work in high regard. In fact, he's probably one of the highest ranked civilian researchers who takes Mr. Jackson and his advice most seriously, degrees or no."
Jack thought about that for a moment and remembered what Daniel had said about taking care of the everyday things himself. Even now, Jack had stuck his head into the archaeology office and found Daniel already changed into his BDUs and sifting through piles of unfiled reports. "I don't think this is some puppet-master scheme of Daniel's to take over."
"I'm sure it's not, or at least not consciously," the general agreed. "I'm also sure there's a part of him that would like things to stay the way they have been--a civilian instead of an airman, an archaeologist specializing in artifact analysis instead of one of our many language analysts... As he said, he helped Dr. Rothman build and run that department."
"I'm okay with that, sir," Jack pointed out. "I'd rather have someone in charge who'll listen to field personnel and not just people with letters after their names. What bothers me is whether the field personnel will listen to an academic who's never been through the 'gate."
Hammond nodded. "There are personnel with...different degrees of involvement in the field among the cultural specialists. Commanders who'd rather not listen to a pure academic might listen to someone with experience like Mr. Jackson, and those who won't take his advice will listen to others who will. It's always been like that, Colonel; you've just always had Mr. Jackson and Dr. Rothman as a buffer between your team and the rest of the department."
"If you say so, sir," Jack said. "Anyway. After that, it's just the issue of...well, sorting out Dr. Rothman's passwords and locked files, his possessions..."
"I understand," Hammond said, and stood. "Thank you, Colonel. I'll take it from here. Keep an eye on our boy for me."
XXXXX
16 December 2000; Teal'c's Quarters, SGC; 2000 hrs
When Teal'c entered his quarters, on the day after they had returned from P3X-888, Daniel Jackson was waiting for him. "It was unlocked," the boy said, his arms stiff and tense at his sides. "I hope you don't mind."
"You are always welcome here," Teal'c assured him, despite suspecting that he had come here to hide from O'Neill's scrutiny. Teal'c let the door fall closed again and carefully stepped around Daniel Jackson, studying him.
"Are you busy?"
"I am not," Teal'c said.
Daniel Jackson swallowed and glanced around the room. "Will you come and train with me?"
Teal'c raised his eyebrow. "I will not," he said. He could see that this answer surprised Daniel Jackson, who was usually the one between them who needed to be dragged away from his books and to the gymnasium. "You are not sufficiently recovered; you should be sleeping."
"But I...I'd be careful," Daniel Jackson said.
"I do not believe you are currently capable of restraining yourself to avoid further injury," Teal'c said.
"I wasn't that badly hurt. Please?"
"No," Teal'c said more firmly. Daniel Jackson was grieving now, and angry, and the flesh beneath his clothes still bore too many bruises for Teal'c to be able to control him without hurting him. "Do you wish to fight or to fight me?"
Daniel Jackson bit his lip and looked at the floor. "I want...to fight the Goa'uld, Teal'c. I want to kill every...single...one."
"Unless you wish to begin with me," Teal'c said, placing a hand on his symbiote pouch, "you will not accomplish that today."
He watched as Daniel Jackson's head rose, just enough to stare at the place where Teal'c's symbiote rested. "There's a Goa'uld in you," he said, quietly, his eyes bright with tears that he had not yet shed for fallen friends. "One day, it'll try to take a host. Sometimes I want to kill it."
Teal'c understood. Sometimes, he wished the same--this was the depth of hatred that could either harden a boy into a warrior or crush him, and all Teal'c could do was make certain that it strengthened Daniel Jackson instead of destroying him. "Is that what you truly wish?" he said, knowing what the answer would be.
"No," Daniel Jackson said dully. He sat gracelessly. "I just. I'm sorry."
"For what?" Teal'c said.
"For...for hating part of you. For Robert. For...I don't know. I'm sorry."
"As am I," Teal'c said, lowering himself slowly to a crouch. He took Daniel Jackson's bandaged hand and held it against his midsection, where he knew his friend could feel the symbiote's slight movements. "When this symbiote matures and is prepared to take a host, I will kill it. Until that day, I will use its strength to defeat others of its own kind. It will never take a host."
"If I'm taken by a Goa'uld," Daniel Jackson said, looking up intently, "you have to kill me."
Teal'c looked for any sign of insincerity and could not find it. "If you are taken," he countered, "we will kill the Goa'uld and save you." As we were unable to do for Dr. Rothman, he thought.
Daniel Jackson shook his head, his hand pressing against Teal'c's abdomen. "Sometimes you can't help it. If you can't--if... You can't let me kill someone. Or do something horrible. You have to do it, Teal'c. Promise me."
"You will not be taken by a Goa'uld during my watch," Teal'c said. "But you have my word that I would never allow you to endure such a thing." He released Daniel Jackson's hand and moved back, so they were sitting before one another on the floor. "And neither would O'Neill or Major Carter allow it."
"I couldn't ask them that," Daniel Jackson said.
"Then I am honored by your trust," Teal'c said carefully, pledging that he would never see his friend in such a position.
"I lost my..." Daniel Jackson said, subdued, touching his wrist where he had always before worn his brother's leather band alongside Teal'c's, replaced now with bandages. "Jack must have cut them off with the--with Chaka's rope."
Teal'c watched his fingers' nervous movements. "You have come very far. Do you still require strips of leather to remember why we fight?"
His expression seemed to crumple, and then hardened again. "No. I remember why we fight."
"And you remember what it is that we hope to save?"
"Sometimes," Daniel Jackson said. "Sometimes it's easy to forget."
"Tomorrow, you plan to attend Dr. Rothman's memorial service," Teal'c said. He waited for Daniel Jackson to nod. "Those who mourn him do not know what the Goa'uld can do. It is that which we hope to save."
"That's ignorance," Daniel Jackson snapped. "He died because he wanted to save me, and they'll never know. It was... It's not a fair trade. Robert wasn't supposed to die."
"But you were?" Teal'c said.
"Ye--no," Daniel Jackson said. "But that's part of my job, to be ready to give my life if the mission calls for it. His job was to learn things to help other people not die. He wasn't supposed to be there."
"Dr. Rothman was a courageous man," Teal'c countered, "and he was a true friend to you. Do not diminish his sacrifice, and do not diminish what you yourself suffered."
Daniel Jackson folded his legs under himself and rested his elbows on his knees.
Teal'c reached forward to pull his chin up and inspect the cut on his cheek. It was not deep or long; it would heal soon. What angered Teal'c was that it was not a mark received by any accident. Daniel Jackson had not spoken specifically of it, but it was clear that it had been deliberate, caused by something like a knife or a sharpened point. This was not the act of a friend, as Daniel Jackson had claimed; it was the act of someone who meant to cause fear--to look into a prisoner's eyes and see terror and pain and the understanding that he was helpless
"Jack thinks I'm crazy," Daniel Jackson said, not moving until Teal'c released him, and then he sat back, slouching in a posture that would have made Teal'c scold him at another time. "About Chaka, I mean."
"You have spoken to O'Neill of this?"
"He doesn't want to listen."
"Perhaps," Teal'c said, "you must explain it fully so that he understands your meaning."
Daniel Jackson frowned, then somehow sagged even more into himself. "You don't believe me, either."
Teal'c could not completely deny the accusation. "I do not understand how you can dismiss what the Unas did."
"He didn't understand, Teal'c," Daniel Jackson said earnestly. "If he'd captured a...some other wild animal and taken it to be eaten, you wouldn't think it wrong of him, would you? How is that any different?"
"You are not a wild animal, Daniel Jackson. Nor was Sergeant Loder when he was killed."
This made him pause, but only for a moment. "I know, but how was Chaka to know there was any difference? He'd never seen humans before, and he changed once he understood I could...talk to him and, and...do things that were helpful. The Unas were the first victims of Goa'uld oppression, Teal'c. We should go back and meet them, and they could be our allies--"
"I believe we should speak of this at another time," Teal'c said, not quite managing to keep his voice calm.
"Why?" Daniel Jackson challenged.
"Because I do not trust myself now to restrain my anger," Teal'c snapped. You did not see yourself when we first found you, he wished to say. Daniel Jackson narrowed his eyes. "You are in pain even now. The Unas did that to you."
"Bruises," Daniel Jackson protested. "That's all! It's not a big deal--"
"Do not continue," Teal'c ordered darkly.
"You hurt me worse. In the beginning. You don't think that hurt more than what Chaka did?" he continued nonetheless, knowing that those were the words to silence Teal'c. "But then I understood, and you understood, and it was different. And now I would trust you with my soul."
Daniel Jackson knew how to strike hard in anger, but he did so to Teal'c only when he was hurt and could not entirely forget that Teal'c came from the Goa'uld. Teal'c understood and did not strike back in answer, as he could have done and had done before. He stared at Daniel Jackson's hand, glimpsing reddened skin at the edge of white bandage; he wondered if that had been caused by the rope or by being dragged too many times to the ground. "Do you not know me better than a monster that held you captive for a day?" Teal'c said quietly.
Daniel Jackson looked at his knees. "Of course."
"You will give me your word," Teal'c demanded, "that, should you meet any Unas again, you will not trust it fully without knowing it fully."
"We have to go back," Daniel Jackson said. "We have to, and Chaka is our best protection there."
"We do not have to return," Teal'c told him. "SG-2 was able to collect the belongings of yourself and SG-11--"
"But we weren't done! Robert wanted--we still had another week. And now that we know there's more to that planet than we thought before...I have to finish it."
"There are other ways to honor Dr. Rothman," Teal'c said gently.
Daniel Jackson shook his head, looking toward one of the few lit candles. "Sometimes it seems like he's on a mission, and he'll be back. And then people come into the office to ask a question and it's... One person thought I was joking this morning when I said he was gone--she hadn’t gotten the...the memo yet. Can--can you believe there was a memo--"
"Daniel," Teal'c said. Daniel Jackson stopped, twisting his hands together until Teal'c reached out to make him stop for fear that he would hurt himself.
"I should talk to Nyan," Daniel Jackson finally said. "He's been...upset."
Daniel Jackson may have been Dr. Rothman's first protégé at the SGC, but Nyan had been his last, and Nyan did not have as many whom he could call friends. "I will speak with Nyan," Teal'c assured him, because Daniel Jackson's intentions might be good, but this was not his task.
"You'll tell me if you think I should talk to him?"
"Yes," Teal'c lied. He had brought the Bedrosian to this planet; he would take responsibility.
Nodding, Daniel Jackson looked back down, dragging one finger in an idle circle on the floor. Teal'c let him sit, seeing that he was about to speak but had not yet framed the words properly. He had removed his eyeglasses, and his eyes looked oddly large and even younger than normal without them as he studied the floor.
"We found Robert's will in Records," he finally said. "That's what they call it, his 'will'--it's like a letter or a...a list of instructions about what he wanted to be done with everything."
"And what is to be done with it?" Teal'c asked.
Daniel Jackson stretched his back gingerly, shifting uncomfortably on the floor. "I'm having trouble following what's going on," he admitted. "It's all very complicated. He named Major Hawkins as the person who takes care of things, but now... I think General Hammond's handling it or something. And it's not very thorough--mostly, he just mentions a few personal items. And his bookshelf--he had instructions for every book on his shelf, but I don't think he was really expecting to...you know."
Teal'c nodded. Few of them he expected Dr. Rothman to die. "Then let others do that," he advised. "You are in need of rest."
He waited until Daniel Jackson finally nodded. "I guess so. Okay. Um...can you help me up?" he said, and Teal'c saw he was trying not to settle too much pressure on his raw hands and feet.
"Sleep here tonight," Teal'c offered, carefully pulling Daniel Jackson upright. He had been privy to his friend's dreams several times before; he did not believe this would be a peaceful night.
"Jack will worry if he can't find me," he said, but even so, he took a step toward the bed.
"I will tell him you are here," Teal'c assured him, guiding him to sit on the mattress before moving to sit in a nearby corner where he could keep watch. "Rest. I will be nearby in kelno'reem."
XXXXX
Continued in Part b...