Ficlet request: With All Due Respect (G)
Because George Hammond rocks, today will cover both Hammond prompts. This one is for abyssinia4077, who wanted Daniel and Hammond while Daniel was still trying to retrieve his memories after "Fallen." Moonshayde's will go up later today.
Word count: ~660. My brain has apparently not yet wrapped itself around the concept of snippet, but I'll keep trying... :)
With All Due Respect
Arrom - no, they said his name was Daniel - swung his feet aimlessly as he sat sideways on the uncomfortable bed. He wished he felt a little more confident about his decision to follow the strangers back through the Stargate.
Oh, he wasn’t questioning that he really did know these people. The emotions he’d felt when he met them had been too overwhelming for that; his heart clearly remembered them, even if his mind did not. After the initial shock, he’d tried to sort the welter of confused sentiment into some semblance of order.
First there was Samantha Carter - Sam, she’d called herself. He’d felt comfortable with her, but there was also that wave of intense affection that had almost startled him with its intensity. He’d assumed those feelings were romantic ones, but her honest surprise at his question told him otherwise. The idea that he could be so close to a person - to all of them, actually - on a purely platonic level was intoxicating. That was what had really tipped the balance in his decision to go with them.
Jack O’Neill had taken a little longer, because he kept feeling something was off - he was missing important cues, or perhaps he was misreading the man’s body language. O’Neill had clearly been disappointed that whatever he was expecting didn’t seem to happen. But the awkward dissonance only highlighted the unquestionable connection between them, and that was something he wanted to pursue and examine and find again. He wanted to hear the noiseless click of synchronization that he knew was somewhere just beneath the surface.
He wasn’t quite sure what to make of Teal’c. He’d heard stories of Jaffa from Shamda’s people, and the odd, subconscious well of knowledge that persisted despite his amnesia had easily identified Teal’c’s forehead tattoo as belonging to Apep, or Apophis. But in Arrom’s - Daniel’s - mind, Teal’c wasn’t intimidating; he was strength, and courage, and support, and trust. The dichotomy intrigued him, and he wanted to discover what history they’d shared to inspire such emotion.
But now he was here, in a dreary, gray world of concrete and metal, much more than a wormhole away from the bright skies and fresh air of Vis Uban. And this was a place under siege: soldiers stationed in nearly every doorway, the slightly smothering feel of hunkering down to weather the storm. Bare pipes and heavy doors and strident sirens...
He hunched his shoulders. Yes, he belonged with Samantha Carter and Jack O’Neill and Teal’c. And even the healer had sparked an emotional reaction, one of reassurance and warmth. But this place was another question entirely. How could he possibly fit within this structure of stark lines and tension?
Then another man came into the room, and Daniel focused on those mild blue eyes, the stocky figure, the economy of movement. O’Neill had identified him when they’d first arrived, he remembered - just after he claimed that Daniel owed him “fifty bucks,” whatever that meant.
“That man? He’s General Hammond. He’s the commander of this facility.”
Now, Daniel watched Hammond, and felt a wave of reassurance flood his senses.
Because if Samantha Carter was affection, and Jack O’Neill was friendship, and Teal’c was trust, and the little doctor was safety...
General Hammond was respect.
This man commanded here. The bleakness and grimness and tension and menace were all under his direction. And the Daniel Jackson whose memories were still blocked had unquestionably respected General Hammond, and accepted his guidance and leadership. He didn’t know what Hammond had done to earn that respect, but the feeling was unmistakable.
If this man was in charge, Daniel suddenly knew, then he was safe here. And, yes, he belonged.
Daniel straightened his posture as the commander of the SGC approached, feeling his own mouth curve into a smile to match General Hammond’s own.
“Doctor Jackson,” the man said with a genial nod. “Doctor Frasier tells me that you’ve gotten a clean bill of health. Is there anything I can do for you, son?”
“Thank you, sir,” Daniel replied. The honorific came easily, unbidden. “But I think you already have.”
