FIC: Sirocco
Those of you who watch Stargate know that Daniel Jackson was orphaned at 8 when his archeologist parents left their dig in Egypt to set up a museum exhibition and were killed by a falling capstone. He was raised by foster parents when his grandfather (his only living relative) refused to take him in. That's pretty much all we know in canon of his upbringing, which leaves us fanfic writers much room to play with. This is a story of young Daniel during his foster years in New York.
Synopsis: Daniel thinks he knows what he wants until something unexpected comes his way.
Title: Sirocco
Author: Catsmeow
Feedback: Yes, please! I'm a total feeback junkie.
Pairing: None
Rating: G
Series: Small Boy, Big City
Season/Spoilers: None
Notes: Thanks to my betas AnnO, Barb, and Mare.
Warnings: None
SIROCCO
by Catsmeow
Finally, it was Thursday again.
Daniel sat at his desk, sneaking glances at his classmates through his long blonde bangs. They were still laboring over the exercise that he had finished ten minutes before. Restless, he channeled his energy into his hands so he wouldn’t fidget and attract attention. He split his gaze between the palm trees he was drawing and the clock on the schoolroom wall. He drew an arc, added short lines coming from it to make a palm frond then checked the clock. Another frond. Another glance. Slowly it went. He added some bushes to the drawing and checked the time again. Still 20 more minutes. Frustrated at having to wait for the bell to ring, he immersed himself in his drawing.
With three minutes left, the page was filled with an oasis guarded by pyramids and a lopsided sphinx. As quietly as he could, Daniel pulled his backpack out from under his chair and put away his things. When the bell rang he was already shrugging into his heavy maroon jacket and sliding his pack onto one shoulder as he stood. Weaving up the aisle past the other kids who were just rising to their feet, he was the first one out of the classroom door. Almost jogging to stay ahead of the crowd of kids pouring into the hallway from the other classrooms, he made it through the outside door in record time.
The first breath of cold air burned his lungs and made his blue eyes water. The metal frames of his glasses took on the air temperature making his face feel even colder. Head down, watching his steps carefully, Daniel hurried along the sidewalk. Hundreds of feet before his had stomped the beautiful white snow into a mottled grey crust. Slick and uneven, it took all of his attention to walk without slipping. His hip was still sore from falling on the way to school the other day. Despite the treacherous footing, he sped up. Every minute it took to get there was a minute taken away from this precious free time. The cold wind slipped under the edges of the too-large coat, making him shiver. He tugged it tighter, wrapping his arms around himself to keep it in place. This was his second winter in New York, and he hated it almost as much as his first.
“Hey, look. It’s the baby.”
Daniel turned warily to face the three boys behind him. One problem with being three grades ahead was being towered over by his 12 year old classmates. Scrawny for his age, Daniel was no match for the smallest seventh grader much less hulking Jimmie Padgett and his followers. Jimmie cruised through the school sniffing out vulnerability the way a shark sniffs out blood. Larry and Dennis trailed in his wake like remoras waiting for the next strike. Daniel was a favorite target.
“I’m nine and a half. I’m not a baby.” Daniel kept his voice quiet, his head down a little bit. He flicked his glance up at Jimmie, but was careful not to stare too long. He’d learned the hard way that if he didn’t say anything, Jimmie would move from verbal abuse to physical, escalating until he got a reaction. But if Daniel started off defensive, Jimmie got physical that much quicker. After studying wolves in science class, Daniel tried using submissive posture to appease the bully. For the most part, it seemed to work.
For the most part.
“You’re a retard,” jeered Jimmie. His friends stood behind him, one on either side, effectively blocking Daniel from the view of anyone at the school.
“We’re in the same grade,” Daniel replied mildly. “If I’m a retard, what does that make you?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jimmie’s eyes narrowed, aware that he’d been insulted even if he wasn’t sure how.
Daniel was careful to keep his expression neutral as Jimmie stared suspiciously at him. He knew he shouldn’t antagonize the bigger boy, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. “Exactly,” he nodded.
As if on cue, all three boys frowned at Daniel. It was a little unnerving how they always moved and spoke as a group. Sometimes they made Daniel think of Cerberus, the three headed dog that guarded the gate to Hades in Greek mythology. Except with Cerberus each head could act independently. Daniel wasn’t so sure about Jimmie and his cronies. Larry and Dennis lagged slightly behind their leader, as though they had but one brain between them and had to wait for their turn to use it.
“You better not be mouthing off to me, shrimp.” Jimmie shoved Daniel in the chest, forcing him to step backward to keep his balance.
“I was just agreeing with you.”
Daniel could see Jimmie starting to think that over then give up. Not having a comeback, however lame, he shoved Daniel again, then knocked his backpack off of his shoulder.
“Come on,” he said to his friends, “Let’s not waste anymore time on the four-eyed freak.” He stepped past Daniel, deliberately ramming into him. Larry and Dennis did exactly the same, like some bizarre game of Simon Says.
Daniel pulled his backpack into place as he watched them leave. Overall, he was pleased at the outcome. It was over with quickly, none of his things were broken or ripped up and he didn’t have any bruises. Still, the confrontation took time that he didn’t have to spare. He hurried on his way, anxious to get there.
It seemed like forever before he arrived at Brentano’s, ten long city blocks from the school. It took both hands and all his strength to tug open the heavy door. The minute Daniel stepped inside the bookstore, his glasses fogged over. He stuck out his lower lip and blew warm air up, first at one lens then the other until they cleared. Moving past the displays of new releases, he went directly to the special order counter at the rear of the store. He could see that Miss Hudson was there. Good, he wouldn’t have to go find her. She was facing away from him, sorting books on the back shelf. Her glossy brown hair swayed just above her shoulders as she moved.
Daniel wasn’t sure if it would be rude to interrupt her, so he waited to be noticed. He figured if she hadn’t seen him in a minute, then he would say something. A minute was a long time, right? That would be polite enough, wouldn’t it? To wait a minute? Resting his chin on the countertop next to the register, he started counting slowly to 60 to make sure he waited a whole minute. By the time he got to 42 he couldn’t stand it anymore.
“Miss Hudson!”
She turned toward him, a smile on her face. “Why hello, Daniel. Is it Thursday again already?”
Daniel didn’t reply to that, focusing on what really mattered. “I’m ready to place my order.”
She raised one eyebrow in surprise. “So soon? I thought you would have to save your allowance for a few more weeks before you had enough.”
“Me too, but with all the snow we’ve had I made enough money shoveling walks. I can order it now, Miss Hudson.” What if she didn’t believe him and refused to order the book? He took off his gloves, stuffing them in his pockets then pulled a wadded handkerchief from the pocket inside his jacket. The four corners had been tightly knotted together and it clinked when he put it on the counter. “I have the money,” he said anxiously. “It’s exactly enough for everything including taxes. Honest.”
Miss Hudson touched the back of his hand where it rested on the counter. “I believe you, Daniel. I just worry about you shoveling snow. That’s a lot of hard work for a young fellow like you. Maybe you should leave it to the older boys.”
“I’m fine, Miss Hudson.” Daniel thought of the hours he spent in the freezing cold, wielding a shovel that was taller than he was. The cold made his ears hurt as though someone had jabbed a pencil in them and his upper lip chapped from his constantly running nose. Even with the blade half full, the shovel was so heavy he could barely lift it. His arms ached for days afterwards. He was careful not to let his foster mother see how tired he was or she wouldn’t let him do it. “Really.”
She stared thoughtfully into his eyes and Daniel had the feeling she could see everything, right down to the healing blisters on his hands. “Just promise me you won’t over do it.”
He nodded, both hands gripping the edge of the counter. “Can I order it now?”
“You sure are determined,” she smiled. “There’s no sidetracking you, is there?” Reaching around the register, she hunted down paper and pen. “Now, tell me again. What is the title and author?”
Daniel spoke slowly, watching her write each word before giving her the next one. “Egyptian Grammar: Being a Study of Hieroglyphics by Sir Alan Henderson Gardener.”
She finished writing then hesitated. “You know, I looked this up after we talked about it last time. There is a similar book that’s much less expensive that I could order for you instead. The author is Budge-“
“NO!” Daniel panicked. “Not Budge! Please don’t order that one! My dad said that Budge is an idiot who doesn’t know his hieratic from a hole in the ground. But Sir Alan’s good. Really good. He discovered the secret to the entire proto-Sinaitic writing system all by himself. He deciphered the Ba’lat inscriptions when no one else could. If it wasn’t for him, we wouldn’t know very much about the ancient Egyptians at all! In fact -”
Miss Hudson put up a hand to stop the ranting. “Okay! Okay!” she laughed. “I got it. No Budge, no how.” She rang up the order on the register and gave him the total. “That includes the taxes and the special order fee.”
“Sure thing.” Daniel picked at the knots holding the handkerchief closed. “I counted it all five times so I know it’s right, down to the penny.”
He got the first knot open right away but the other knot was locked down tight. Keeping the handkerchief on the counter, he tugged hard on one end of the knot. It gave way suddenly, spilling some of the coins onto the floor. Daniel went diving after them, afraid to lose one and not be able to pay for the book. A quarter rolled the farthest, coming to rest against a box on the floor at the end of the counter. As his fingers plucked up the coin, he saw the box was full of stuffed toys. A small patch of brown caught his eye from the jumble of color and fabric sticking out of the box. Clutching the coins in one hand, he reached into the container with the other. He blinked in surprise when he pulled out a camel. He stood up, absently placing the runaway coins back on the counter with the others, his gaze centered on the camel in his hand.
Miss Hudson paused a moment to see what had his attention then returned to sorting and counting money from the hankie. “Those are leftover from Christmas. There was a whole series of nativity animals in the children’s section.”
“It’s a dromedary,” Daniel whispered to himself. “One of the workers at the dig, Hasan, had a boy camel named Mosi that they used to move stuff at the dig site or pick up supplies from town. Sometimes, my mom let me ride Mosi as long as Hasan rode with me. Mosi was smelly and sometimes he spit, but when I got to ride on him, it was like being ten feet tall and taking giant steps all over the world.”
“Everything in that box is on sale for half off. There are some sheep and donkeys in there too, as well as other stuffed toys. That’s the last camel, though.”
The last one. The camel was a desert animal all alone in a cold land far from home. No one else could appreciate how lost and lonely the camel felt, except Daniel because he felt that way every day. This place was so strange. The food smelled funny and had all the wrong spices. The animals seemed so unusual but he’d never say that again, not after the way everyone in class looked at him when he first started school here and asked what a squirrel was. And Egypt got cold, sometimes below freezing. But that was at night and the next day, the bright sun brought the heat back. Here, when it got cold, it stayed cold for months and months at a time. The cold settled in his bones making itself at home until he thought he would never be warm again.
Looking at the camel, it was like he could feel the rays of the Egyptian sun, feel the heat radiating from the rocks. He remembered the hot winds, the Siroccos, that brought sand storms that shut down the dig while everyone huddled inside, faces covered against the dust. His mom would keep him close to her, sitting on her lap with a blanket tossed over both of them as an extra layer of protection. It made him feel special, safe, and loved. He hadn’t felt any of those things in so long that he had almost forgotten them. But this toy, with its silly hopeful expression, brought those memories up so clearly he could feel them as though they were new.
“I want this.” Daniel wasn’t aware of speaking.
Miss Hudson had finished putting the money in the register drawer. “Daniel,” she said gently, “if you get that, you won’t have enough for the book.”
His throat closed up and he couldn’t answer her. He was a big boy, not a baby. And big boys didn’t play with stuffed animals. He knew he should put the toy away but was unable to let it go. He watched as if from a distance as his hand slowly moved forward, put the camel on the counter and released it. He stroked it lightly once, running his hand over its length then drew his hand back to his side and looked up at Miss Hudson. She had a sad look on her face, not like pity which he hated, but more like understanding.
“Tell you what, sweetie. I’ll go ahead and order the book now anyway. All you have to do is pay the difference when you pick it up, okay?”
Daniel nodded gratefully, blinking hard to fight the sudden urge to cry. He was nine and a half, practically a grown up, and grown ups didn’t cry. He would be fine. He already was fine. He didn’t need to cry because he was fine.
Miss Hudson added the price of the camel to the total, then wrote down how much money he would need before he could get the book. He carefully folded the slip of paper and put it in his pants pocket.
Sniffing a little, he whispered “Thank you, Miss Hudson.”
When she asked if he wanted a bag, he shook his head. He started to put the camel in his backpack, but thought it might feel cold and uncomfortable there, all squished in with his books. Carefully, he eased it into the inside pocket of his jacket. It only went halfway in, but was wedged tightly enough that he knew it wouldn’t fall out. Zipping his jacket, he headed for the door, pulling his gloves on as he went. He could feel the camel pressing against his chest, right over his heart, and as he stepped out into the biting wind, the winter seemed just a little bit warmer.
FINIS