In Memoria (PG)
For SG-1 Gen Fic Day and ziparumpazoo, who probably doesn't even remember that she once asked me for five things that Daniel learned about himself/reflected on/did to pass the time while he waited for the future!SG1 to show up in ancient Egypt. It morphed into this instead, and is probably more angsty than she'd hoped. Hope you like it anyway, Zip. :)
Summary: He owed it to them not to give up: five things Daniel did in Ancient Egypt to honor his team's memory. ~1,040 words. Spoilers for Moebius, and rated PG for reference to canon character deaths.
Special thanks to aurora_novarum, who helped me get the flow of this right.
In Memoria
Every SG team that stepped through the Gate secretly harbored the unspoken fear that something would go wrong and they wouldn't be able to make it back to Earth. No one ever mentioned it aloud, but the surreptitious dread meant that they made sure, over the course of time, that each person was equipped with the basic skills to survive if they ever got left behind. Possibilities ranged from malfunctioning Stargates to inoperable DHDs, mysterious transportation beams to literal alien abduction, and, of course, the ultimate horror: Earth's destruction.
"Stranded 5,000 years in Earth's past" had never been listed among those possibilities, but it didn't change the basic facts: no way home, no hope of rescue, and the need to survive in minimal, primitive conditions. So when Daniel found himself alone in Ancient Egypt, his friends dead and the responsibility of righting the timeline falling squarely on his bowed shoulders, he didn't just rely upon his own archeological and anthropological skills. He also utilized everything his teammates had ever taught him, grateful for the pool of knowledge that had been so freely offered over the years.
Knowledge of Jaffa tactics helped his nascent rebellion evade patrols, and Teal'c's personal training saved his life on the occasions when he was forced to fight hand-to-hand. Jack's example of command guided his own efforts to lead Katep and the others; his dirtiest Special Ops tricks solved some particularly knotty problems. And while he never got the chance to use Sam's patient instructions in rewiring the DHD, the basic engineering principles she'd taught him helped Daniel cobble together some very basic machinery -- nothing that corrupted the timeline, but enough to stave off starvation during one particularly dry summer.
He wasn't just Daniel Jackson, making do; he was carrying SG-1's banner every step of the way. It was a small triumph, but he would take what he could get.
As the lonely years crawled past, Daniel made sure to let himself laugh sometimes. After all, Jack would've killed him if he'd spent the whole time moping, and Sam and Teal'c would have knocked some sense into him afterwards. Wallowing had its charms -- so did getting drunk, actually -- but he knew he couldn't just retreat into his shell and let history flow past unimpeded. His team had sacrificed themselves, trying to fix the irreparable and twist time back onto its proper axis. The least he could do for them was stay alive, and keeping himself sane was an important part of that. His humor might have been a little black, but at least it kept him going.
Still, he didn't get too close to anyone. Katep was a friend, and he had the potential to be a good one; there were others, too, with whom Daniel felt a strong rapport. But he had a job to do here. He would prevent what deaths he could, but he didn't hesitate to send someone into danger if it meant the difference between success or failure in righting the timeline. He'd be letting his team down if he failed because he hesitated at the wrong moment. Sometimes Daniel hated Jack for teaching him such cold pragmatism. But he kept his distance anyway.
There were times Daniel almost spontaneously combusted from the strain of keeping the timeline preserved. It drove him nearly crazy to stop himself from teaching certain concepts that would have improved these people's lives: basic hygiene, childbirth techniques, better ovens, water purification methods. He had no idea how much -- or even if -- such minor tweaks could affect history. But Sam's warnings still rang in his ears, even years after her death, and he didn't dare try.
He couldn't decide what was worse, either: the longing to change the little things that might better people's individual lives at the possible expense of their future, or the temptation to change the big things, the ones that would unquestionably make his original timeline an utter impossibility. Daniel fantasized sometimes about what it would mean if they never fixed their mistakes, and the Stargate wasn't buried on Earth to be discovered in 1928. He would probably die less often, for one thing. Abydos would remain enslaved by Ra, but at least it would still continue to exist. Teal'c wouldn't have SG-1's presence to push him into open rebellion, but he and Bra'tac probably would've gotten there in the end, anyway.
It wouldn't be so bad, would it? With the Tau'ri gate address permanently lost, the Earth could continue to spin around its sun in peaceful isolation... and the rest of the galaxy would languish under the Goa'uld, with billions condemned to endless misery. No, he couldn't risk it. He knew it was arrogant to assume that his timeline was the best possible one, but SG-1 and the SGC had always possessed a certain kind of conceit. Belief in the rightness of his mission was just about all he had left, and he was going to stick with it.
When the team from the changed timeline finally showed up, Daniel behaved with what he felt was incredible patience with the alternate versions of Sam and Jack. With the alternate Teal'c, the difficulty lay in remembering to keep a courteous distance, rather than displaying the warm friendship the two of them had developed over the years. But this Sam and Jack were infuriating: manic, neurotic... the linguist in him rebelled against the word "ditzy," but he had to admit it suited them well.
The core of their personalities remained unchanged; he could see Sam's enthusiasm for new experiences and discoveries, and beneath Jack's brittle shell was a stubborn determination that Daniel could easily imagine being channeled to save lives. But their pasts were so different from his own Sam's and Jack's that the overlaying mannerisms and reactions were nothing like the people he'd loved and lost. Still, he was stuck with all three of them, and they'd given up their own lives for the sake of their alternate selves' appeal, so Daniel pasted a smile on his face and tried to act friendly. His team would've wanted him to do it that way, so he made the effort to welcome them into his life -- even if they would never, ever take the place of SG-1.
Summary: He owed it to them not to give up: five things Daniel did in Ancient Egypt to honor his team's memory. ~1,040 words. Spoilers for Moebius, and rated PG for reference to canon character deaths.
Special thanks to aurora_novarum, who helped me get the flow of this right.
In Memoria
Every SG team that stepped through the Gate secretly harbored the unspoken fear that something would go wrong and they wouldn't be able to make it back to Earth. No one ever mentioned it aloud, but the surreptitious dread meant that they made sure, over the course of time, that each person was equipped with the basic skills to survive if they ever got left behind. Possibilities ranged from malfunctioning Stargates to inoperable DHDs, mysterious transportation beams to literal alien abduction, and, of course, the ultimate horror: Earth's destruction.
"Stranded 5,000 years in Earth's past" had never been listed among those possibilities, but it didn't change the basic facts: no way home, no hope of rescue, and the need to survive in minimal, primitive conditions. So when Daniel found himself alone in Ancient Egypt, his friends dead and the responsibility of righting the timeline falling squarely on his bowed shoulders, he didn't just rely upon his own archeological and anthropological skills. He also utilized everything his teammates had ever taught him, grateful for the pool of knowledge that had been so freely offered over the years.
Knowledge of Jaffa tactics helped his nascent rebellion evade patrols, and Teal'c's personal training saved his life on the occasions when he was forced to fight hand-to-hand. Jack's example of command guided his own efforts to lead Katep and the others; his dirtiest Special Ops tricks solved some particularly knotty problems. And while he never got the chance to use Sam's patient instructions in rewiring the DHD, the basic engineering principles she'd taught him helped Daniel cobble together some very basic machinery -- nothing that corrupted the timeline, but enough to stave off starvation during one particularly dry summer.
He wasn't just Daniel Jackson, making do; he was carrying SG-1's banner every step of the way. It was a small triumph, but he would take what he could get.
As the lonely years crawled past, Daniel made sure to let himself laugh sometimes. After all, Jack would've killed him if he'd spent the whole time moping, and Sam and Teal'c would have knocked some sense into him afterwards. Wallowing had its charms -- so did getting drunk, actually -- but he knew he couldn't just retreat into his shell and let history flow past unimpeded. His team had sacrificed themselves, trying to fix the irreparable and twist time back onto its proper axis. The least he could do for them was stay alive, and keeping himself sane was an important part of that. His humor might have been a little black, but at least it kept him going.
Still, he didn't get too close to anyone. Katep was a friend, and he had the potential to be a good one; there were others, too, with whom Daniel felt a strong rapport. But he had a job to do here. He would prevent what deaths he could, but he didn't hesitate to send someone into danger if it meant the difference between success or failure in righting the timeline. He'd be letting his team down if he failed because he hesitated at the wrong moment. Sometimes Daniel hated Jack for teaching him such cold pragmatism. But he kept his distance anyway.
There were times Daniel almost spontaneously combusted from the strain of keeping the timeline preserved. It drove him nearly crazy to stop himself from teaching certain concepts that would have improved these people's lives: basic hygiene, childbirth techniques, better ovens, water purification methods. He had no idea how much -- or even if -- such minor tweaks could affect history. But Sam's warnings still rang in his ears, even years after her death, and he didn't dare try.
He couldn't decide what was worse, either: the longing to change the little things that might better people's individual lives at the possible expense of their future, or the temptation to change the big things, the ones that would unquestionably make his original timeline an utter impossibility. Daniel fantasized sometimes about what it would mean if they never fixed their mistakes, and the Stargate wasn't buried on Earth to be discovered in 1928. He would probably die less often, for one thing. Abydos would remain enslaved by Ra, but at least it would still continue to exist. Teal'c wouldn't have SG-1's presence to push him into open rebellion, but he and Bra'tac probably would've gotten there in the end, anyway.
It wouldn't be so bad, would it? With the Tau'ri gate address permanently lost, the Earth could continue to spin around its sun in peaceful isolation... and the rest of the galaxy would languish under the Goa'uld, with billions condemned to endless misery. No, he couldn't risk it. He knew it was arrogant to assume that his timeline was the best possible one, but SG-1 and the SGC had always possessed a certain kind of conceit. Belief in the rightness of his mission was just about all he had left, and he was going to stick with it.
When the team from the changed timeline finally showed up, Daniel behaved with what he felt was incredible patience with the alternate versions of Sam and Jack. With the alternate Teal'c, the difficulty lay in remembering to keep a courteous distance, rather than displaying the warm friendship the two of them had developed over the years. But this Sam and Jack were infuriating: manic, neurotic... the linguist in him rebelled against the word "ditzy," but he had to admit it suited them well.
The core of their personalities remained unchanged; he could see Sam's enthusiasm for new experiences and discoveries, and beneath Jack's brittle shell was a stubborn determination that Daniel could easily imagine being channeled to save lives. But their pasts were so different from his own Sam's and Jack's that the overlaying mannerisms and reactions were nothing like the people he'd loved and lost. Still, he was stuck with all three of them, and they'd given up their own lives for the sake of their alternate selves' appeal, so Daniel pasted a smile on his face and tried to act friendly. His team would've wanted him to do it that way, so he made the effort to welcome them into his life -- even if they would never, ever take the place of SG-1.