078. Discovery
Infirmiry
PG-13
570 words
Stargate SG-1
Prompt (078) Discovery
Daniel, Janet
Part two of the Cenaris series. Daniel and Janet meet again. Warning: Dark!Daniel
LINK TO MY TABLE.
Two armed, stony-faced airmen escort him down the halls, as if he was a threat--he thinks, maybe he is. Thankfully, they don’t insult his memory by trying to guide him to the infirmiry; he remembers the way well enough. He walks into the infirmiry, and it’s as he remembers it: white beds with white sheets surrounded by white curtains. The smell of antiseptic greets him like a long-lost lover. Daniel realizes he missed this place, despite the less-than-cheery hours he’s spend in those beds. This place is familiar, is home.
Janet walks out of her office, face buried in a manila file folder. She glances up as she registers the presence of others, and then stops, her mouth falling open in shock. The whispered “Daniel” is drawn softly and unwillingly from her lips.
He knows what she is seeing: a thin man, with long hair tied back loosely, dressed in a simple pristine white shirt and pants. His only concession to color is a dark purple sash embroidered with gold threads that is tied about his waist.
“How…?”
“SG-1 found me,” he says, and can’t help the smile that lifts his lips at the incredulous joy in Janet’s eyes. The folder closes with a flap of paper, and suddenly she’s pressed against him, her arms around his neck. Daniel isn’t sure what to do, and tenses, but she doesn’t seem to notice.
“We missed you,” she whispers into his shoulder.
“I missed you too,” Daniel murmurs back, and that’s truth, whole and unblemished. He doesn’t remember when he last told the truth so fully; perhaps before Cenaris.
Finally the petit physician draws away, and surreptitiously passes her hand over her eyes to wipe away tears. “Well, let’s get on with it, shall we?”
Daniel nods. Janet looks severely at the two airmen, and the two soldiers about-face, taking up guard positions outside of the infirmiry door. Janet walks over to a bed, Daniel following, and pulls the curtains shut. Daniel remembers after-mission physicals as well, so he begins to strip: first the sash, symbol of a position that is no longer his; then the shirt, quickly over his head and halfway down his arms when he hears a gasp.
He feels a gentle touch to his back and automatically tenses--when people touched him it was usually a bad thing. The touch is feather-light, and flutters from one old scar to the next; not that there is much of a distinction. Most of his back is scar tissue, now, from whips, blades, and flames. Then the hand is gone.
Daniel turns, the shirt hanging from his hand. Janet is standing, one hand holding a clipboard too tightly, her lips pressed firmly together, her face pale. She sees the large 'C' carved into his left pectoral and all the color drains from her face. Daniel thinks of the matching 'C' on the inside of his right thigh, but says nothing. She will find that soon enough.
"Who did that?" she asks, her voice shaking with supressed emotion, anger darkening her eyes.
"Carissa," Daniel answers simply enough; she'll hear the rest at the breifing.
The rest of the physical is done in silence, rage radiating from the doctor's small frame. Daniel accepts it, but feels no wrath of his own. His anger came and went, and he took vengeance on those he remembered hurting him. For him, that is satisfying enough.
Next: commissary
PG-13
570 words
Stargate SG-1
Prompt (078) Discovery
Daniel, Janet
Part two of the Cenaris series. Daniel and Janet meet again. Warning: Dark!Daniel
LINK TO MY TABLE.
Two armed, stony-faced airmen escort him down the halls, as if he was a threat--he thinks, maybe he is. Thankfully, they don’t insult his memory by trying to guide him to the infirmiry; he remembers the way well enough. He walks into the infirmiry, and it’s as he remembers it: white beds with white sheets surrounded by white curtains. The smell of antiseptic greets him like a long-lost lover. Daniel realizes he missed this place, despite the less-than-cheery hours he’s spend in those beds. This place is familiar, is home.
Janet walks out of her office, face buried in a manila file folder. She glances up as she registers the presence of others, and then stops, her mouth falling open in shock. The whispered “Daniel” is drawn softly and unwillingly from her lips.
He knows what she is seeing: a thin man, with long hair tied back loosely, dressed in a simple pristine white shirt and pants. His only concession to color is a dark purple sash embroidered with gold threads that is tied about his waist.
“How…?”
“SG-1 found me,” he says, and can’t help the smile that lifts his lips at the incredulous joy in Janet’s eyes. The folder closes with a flap of paper, and suddenly she’s pressed against him, her arms around his neck. Daniel isn’t sure what to do, and tenses, but she doesn’t seem to notice.
“We missed you,” she whispers into his shoulder.
“I missed you too,” Daniel murmurs back, and that’s truth, whole and unblemished. He doesn’t remember when he last told the truth so fully; perhaps before Cenaris.
Finally the petit physician draws away, and surreptitiously passes her hand over her eyes to wipe away tears. “Well, let’s get on with it, shall we?”
Daniel nods. Janet looks severely at the two airmen, and the two soldiers about-face, taking up guard positions outside of the infirmiry door. Janet walks over to a bed, Daniel following, and pulls the curtains shut. Daniel remembers after-mission physicals as well, so he begins to strip: first the sash, symbol of a position that is no longer his; then the shirt, quickly over his head and halfway down his arms when he hears a gasp.
He feels a gentle touch to his back and automatically tenses--when people touched him it was usually a bad thing. The touch is feather-light, and flutters from one old scar to the next; not that there is much of a distinction. Most of his back is scar tissue, now, from whips, blades, and flames. Then the hand is gone.
Daniel turns, the shirt hanging from his hand. Janet is standing, one hand holding a clipboard too tightly, her lips pressed firmly together, her face pale. She sees the large 'C' carved into his left pectoral and all the color drains from her face. Daniel thinks of the matching 'C' on the inside of his right thigh, but says nothing. She will find that soon enough.
"Who did that?" she asks, her voice shaking with supressed emotion, anger darkening her eyes.
"Carissa," Daniel answers simply enough; she'll hear the rest at the breifing.
The rest of the physical is done in silence, rage radiating from the doctor's small frame. Daniel accepts it, but feels no wrath of his own. His anger came and went, and he took vengeance on those he remembered hurting him. For him, that is satisfying enough.
Next: commissary