FIc: Evasive Maneuvers (Team, gen)
Title: Evasive Maneuvers
Fandom: Stargate: SG-1
Genre: Team, gen
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Not mine. Just playing.
Author's Notes: This s a warm and fuzzy story that I wrote a few years ago after Daniel returned from his time with Oma Desala. General spoilers for Season 7. This is during my "goofy humor" phase.
I lean out of my office and furtively glance down the hall. Deciding the coast is clear, I pull my office door shut and move quickly down the corridor. It’s times like these I’m thankful for all those weekend training sessions with Jack.
Rounding the corner, I spot Jack’s office. His door is closed, and the lights are off. So, he’s obviously not there. But he’s somewhere in the mountain. I know that.
Glancing over my shoulder, I lick my lips. If I can make it to the elevator, I’ll be okay. Summoning my courage, I exhale, square my shoulders, and sprint toward my escape.
“DanielJackson!”
I spin around just in time to see Teal’c running up the hall toward me.
“DanielJackson,” he says. “O’Neill has sent me to apprehend you.”
I back against the wall. “Teal’c, look…”
“T, buddy,” Jack says casually, as he ambles up beside Teal’c. “I asked you to ‘get’ him, not ‘apprehend’ him. He’s not a Goa’uld.”
Teal’c raises his eyebrow. “I am aware that DanielJackson is not a Goa’uld.”
“Well, good,” Jack smirks.
I flash a weak smile at Jack and raise a trembling hand to wave. “Hi, Jack.”
“Hi, yourself,” he says. “C’mon Danny-boy.”
Grabbing me by the arm, Jack drags me toward the elevator. Like a sheep being led to slaughter, I trundle behind Jack and Teal’c. How ironic that just moments ago, the elevator represented my liberation. Now, it is a symbol of my doom.
Jack places a hand on my shoulder. “It’ll be relatively painless, Daniel.”
I keep my eyes on the floor to avoid making eye contact.
“Hey, Daniel,” Jack says firmly. “Look at me.”
Well, there goes avoiding eye contact. Reluctantly, I look up at this man who is supposed to be my friend.
His mouth is twisted into a knowing grin. “Daniel,” he says evenly. “It’s just a birthday party.”
Wrapping my arms around myself, I shrug and mutter, “Yay for me.” I know Jack’s right. I should try to enjoy this. But I just get uncomfortable when people insist on making a fuss. And with Jack, it’s always a fuss.
When I was a kid, I was shuffled from foster home to foster home, and birthdays were a nuisance to most of my foster parents. Actually, I spent tenth birthday in the emergency room after one of my foster dads decided I blew out my candles too loudly. Wanting to have a party or a lot of presents just led to disappointment. So, I guess I learned not to expect anything. And as I grew older, my lack of expectations turned into an outright avoidance of my birthday.
Most people have albums full of happy birthday memories. But I don’t have an album or many happy birthday memories with which to fill it. I didn’t even really celebrate my birthday until I joined SG-1.
“So, I’m not happy with you right now,” Jack says.
“Nor am I,” Teal’c says.
Then cancel the birthday party, I think wildly. That’ll show me.
“Sorry Jack, Teal’c,” I say sheepishly.
Jack crosses his arms and stares at me. “You do realize that most people don’t have to be hunted down and dragged to their own birthday parties.”
I can’t believe it. Jack is actually scolding me.
“Well,” I say, laughing nervously. “You shouldn’t actually be surprised. You go through this every year.”
Jack lets out a breath. “No, Daniel. We don’t go through this every year.” He gazes at me. “We didn’t go through this last year. You weren’t here last year.”
Jack, Teal’c, and I stop at the checkpoint and sign out. Then we trudge toward Jack’s truck.
Jack walks briskly to the passenger side of the vehicle and opens it for me. “That’s the point, Daniel,” he says. “We didn’t get to do this last year because you were with Oma Desala. This, Daniel, is our first birthday with you back home.” He gazes at me for a brief moment, pats my cheek, and then closes the door.
*****
We pull up in front of Jack’s house and step out of the truck. “There are a lot of cars here, Jack,” I observe.
“Well,” Jack says. “I have a houseful of people in there waiting to wish you a happy birthday.”
“Houseful?” I say shakily.
“Daniel, they’re your friends. It’s not as if I’m marching you in to face down Apophis.”
“They’re not going to jump out and yell something, are they?”
Jack bites his bottom lip to keep from laughing. “No, Daniel. I told them not to.” He stops at the edge of his walk. “Besides, they’re probably all weak from hunger since we were waiting for you to show up before we ate. Good thing I got that veggie tray.”
“Indeed,” Teal’c says. It’s the first time Teal’c has spoken since we left the mountain.
As soon as Jack opens his front door, a throng of people immediately flood toward us.
Sam is the first to reach me. She throws her arms tightly around me, and I return the embrace. “Daniel!” She beams. “Happy birthday.”
I lean forward and kiss her on the cheek. “You smell good,” I blurt out.
She grins at me and shyly mutters a thank you.
“Hey, Danny.”
I glance up. Jacob. As in Sam’s dad, Jacob. As in Sam’s dad, Jacob, who was probably in earshot when I said his daughter smells good.
He reaches forward and claps his hand on my shoulder. “Good to see you, birthday boy.”
“You too,” I nod. “Thank you.”
I glance over Jacob’s shoulder. Jack really went all out this year. Not only are the usual suspects-General Hammond, Janet, Cassie, and my fellow members of SG-1-here. Jacob, Paul Davis, four or five archaeologists from the base, and a few others are here, as well.
A grinning General Hammond walks up to me and reaches out his hand. “Son, are you trying to make these people think I’m a slave driver who keeps you chained to the desk?”
“No, sorry,” I say guiltily, as I shake the man’s hand.
“Well, Daniel,” says a familiar voice. “Don’t we rate a hello?”
“Catherine and Ernest,” I say. Grinning, I embrace them both awkwardly. Catherine is the reason I met Jack in the first place. She’s the person who recruited me into the program. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen Catherine or her husband.
“Look at you,” she says. “You just get more and more handsome.” She turns to Ernest. “He could give you a run for your money.”
I make my way through the crowd, exchanging pleasantries with everyone along the way. I don’t think I’ve ever hugged so many people in one evening. I’m not generally touchy feely anyway. That’s Jack’s department.
Finally, I’ve greeted nearly everyone, and so we all sit around Jack’s living room to eat. I drop myself onto a small section of the couch by Janet, the one person I haven’t spoken to yet. “Hey,” I say, glad to see her friendly, compassionate face.
“Hey,” she says brightly, leaning over and pecking me on the cheek. “It’s a good thing you weren’t any later, or we’d be having this party in the infirmary.”
I swallow hard. I know better than to say something snarky to Janet. I have a physical coming up soon.
After dinner, people start piling presents onto my lap, and onto the table in front of me. Part of me wants to ravenously rip the paper off the gifts and see what’s inside. But another part of me is uncomfortable with all this attention. So, I gingerly tear at the edges of the first gift, not wanting to allow myself to get too excited.
Jack leans forward. “Daniel, just rip the sucker open.” He makes a pulling motion with his hands to demonstrate.
After some egging on from the onlookers, I comply. Within a few short minutes, I utterly to lose any illusion of restraint, and become a madman, flinging paper feverishly onto Jack’s living room floor.
*****
After everyone has left, Teal’c, Jack, and I sit lazily around Jack’s kitchen table. I glance up at Jack. “Where’s Sam?”
“Busy,” he says, and begins fiddling with a discarded bow.
I narrow my eyes at him. “Jack?”
He looks at me innocently and shrugs. “We have another present for you."
“You do?”
“We do, DanielJackson,” Teal’c says.
Sighing, Jack calls over his shoulder, “Hey Carter. Are you done yet?”
“Almost, Sir,” Sam replies.
“I’ll be right back,” Jack says, and heads into the other room to either help or annoy Sam, depending on your perspective.
A few moments later, Jack and Sam walk into the kitchen. Jack is carrying a large package wrapped in newspaper comic print.
“We ran out of paper,” Sam says apologetically.
I smile. “That’s all right.”
Jack sits the package down on the table with a thud. “This is from the three of us. It’s something we started before the…y’know.” He swirls his index finger through the air, apparently trying to signify my Ascension.
I pull the heavy package toward me, and pull away the paper. “What is it?” I say.
“Well, Daniel, open it,” Sam smiles.
I rip the last of the comic paper off the gift and gaze down at it. “A photo album?” I say, perplexed.
“Open the album, Daniel,” Jack says.
I shrug and flip open the cover of the book. I’m more than a little surprise to see a picture of my parents on the first page. I don’t have many pictures of them. Other than the one I keep in a frame in my office, I have, perhaps one more, and I haven’t the slightest idea where it is. Although, this certainly looks like it.
I browse through the album, and find myself staring at pictures of my life: the two or three existing pictures of me as a child; a snapshot of my college graduation; a picture of Jack and me right after I joined SG-1. Some of these pictures I haven’t seen in years. They’ve been stuffed under my bed or in a drawer. A few I’ve never laid eyes on before.
Besides photographs, the book contains old newspaper clippings, birthday cards, a ribbon I won for math in the fifth grade, a napkin from my favorite restaurant, and various other personal items.
Closing the album, I stare up at my friends, dumbfounded. “Where did you get all this stuff? When did you do it?”
“Well,” Jack says, leaning forward. “A couple of years ago, I was sorting through some photo albums and stuff my mom sent me from Minnesota. Remember?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, you said you never had a scrapbook or a photo album. And you were so interested in looking at dorky old pictures of me and relatives I don’t remember.” He clears his throat and looks down at the table. “I guess I just figured everyone should have their own photo album.”
Sam takes my hand. “And so we started collecting things. Some pictures Janet took, some I took, you know. And we tried to get some things from places we knew meant a lot to you. And of course, some of these things were crammed into boxes all over your apartment. We found them after you Ascended.”
“Guys, this is great,” I say, my voice cracking. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
“There is no need to thank us, DanielJackson,” Teal’c says.
We sit quietly for a moment, and then Jack says, “A group hug would work.”
Fandom: Stargate: SG-1
Genre: Team, gen
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Not mine. Just playing.
Author's Notes: This s a warm and fuzzy story that I wrote a few years ago after Daniel returned from his time with Oma Desala. General spoilers for Season 7. This is during my "goofy humor" phase.
I lean out of my office and furtively glance down the hall. Deciding the coast is clear, I pull my office door shut and move quickly down the corridor. It’s times like these I’m thankful for all those weekend training sessions with Jack.
Rounding the corner, I spot Jack’s office. His door is closed, and the lights are off. So, he’s obviously not there. But he’s somewhere in the mountain. I know that.
Glancing over my shoulder, I lick my lips. If I can make it to the elevator, I’ll be okay. Summoning my courage, I exhale, square my shoulders, and sprint toward my escape.
“DanielJackson!”
I spin around just in time to see Teal’c running up the hall toward me.
“DanielJackson,” he says. “O’Neill has sent me to apprehend you.”
I back against the wall. “Teal’c, look…”
“T, buddy,” Jack says casually, as he ambles up beside Teal’c. “I asked you to ‘get’ him, not ‘apprehend’ him. He’s not a Goa’uld.”
Teal’c raises his eyebrow. “I am aware that DanielJackson is not a Goa’uld.”
“Well, good,” Jack smirks.
I flash a weak smile at Jack and raise a trembling hand to wave. “Hi, Jack.”
“Hi, yourself,” he says. “C’mon Danny-boy.”
Grabbing me by the arm, Jack drags me toward the elevator. Like a sheep being led to slaughter, I trundle behind Jack and Teal’c. How ironic that just moments ago, the elevator represented my liberation. Now, it is a symbol of my doom.
Jack places a hand on my shoulder. “It’ll be relatively painless, Daniel.”
I keep my eyes on the floor to avoid making eye contact.
“Hey, Daniel,” Jack says firmly. “Look at me.”
Well, there goes avoiding eye contact. Reluctantly, I look up at this man who is supposed to be my friend.
His mouth is twisted into a knowing grin. “Daniel,” he says evenly. “It’s just a birthday party.”
Wrapping my arms around myself, I shrug and mutter, “Yay for me.” I know Jack’s right. I should try to enjoy this. But I just get uncomfortable when people insist on making a fuss. And with Jack, it’s always a fuss.
When I was a kid, I was shuffled from foster home to foster home, and birthdays were a nuisance to most of my foster parents. Actually, I spent tenth birthday in the emergency room after one of my foster dads decided I blew out my candles too loudly. Wanting to have a party or a lot of presents just led to disappointment. So, I guess I learned not to expect anything. And as I grew older, my lack of expectations turned into an outright avoidance of my birthday.
Most people have albums full of happy birthday memories. But I don’t have an album or many happy birthday memories with which to fill it. I didn’t even really celebrate my birthday until I joined SG-1.
“So, I’m not happy with you right now,” Jack says.
“Nor am I,” Teal’c says.
Then cancel the birthday party, I think wildly. That’ll show me.
“Sorry Jack, Teal’c,” I say sheepishly.
Jack crosses his arms and stares at me. “You do realize that most people don’t have to be hunted down and dragged to their own birthday parties.”
I can’t believe it. Jack is actually scolding me.
“Well,” I say, laughing nervously. “You shouldn’t actually be surprised. You go through this every year.”
Jack lets out a breath. “No, Daniel. We don’t go through this every year.” He gazes at me. “We didn’t go through this last year. You weren’t here last year.”
Jack, Teal’c, and I stop at the checkpoint and sign out. Then we trudge toward Jack’s truck.
Jack walks briskly to the passenger side of the vehicle and opens it for me. “That’s the point, Daniel,” he says. “We didn’t get to do this last year because you were with Oma Desala. This, Daniel, is our first birthday with you back home.” He gazes at me for a brief moment, pats my cheek, and then closes the door.
*****
We pull up in front of Jack’s house and step out of the truck. “There are a lot of cars here, Jack,” I observe.
“Well,” Jack says. “I have a houseful of people in there waiting to wish you a happy birthday.”
“Houseful?” I say shakily.
“Daniel, they’re your friends. It’s not as if I’m marching you in to face down Apophis.”
“They’re not going to jump out and yell something, are they?”
Jack bites his bottom lip to keep from laughing. “No, Daniel. I told them not to.” He stops at the edge of his walk. “Besides, they’re probably all weak from hunger since we were waiting for you to show up before we ate. Good thing I got that veggie tray.”
“Indeed,” Teal’c says. It’s the first time Teal’c has spoken since we left the mountain.
As soon as Jack opens his front door, a throng of people immediately flood toward us.
Sam is the first to reach me. She throws her arms tightly around me, and I return the embrace. “Daniel!” She beams. “Happy birthday.”
I lean forward and kiss her on the cheek. “You smell good,” I blurt out.
She grins at me and shyly mutters a thank you.
“Hey, Danny.”
I glance up. Jacob. As in Sam’s dad, Jacob. As in Sam’s dad, Jacob, who was probably in earshot when I said his daughter smells good.
He reaches forward and claps his hand on my shoulder. “Good to see you, birthday boy.”
“You too,” I nod. “Thank you.”
I glance over Jacob’s shoulder. Jack really went all out this year. Not only are the usual suspects-General Hammond, Janet, Cassie, and my fellow members of SG-1-here. Jacob, Paul Davis, four or five archaeologists from the base, and a few others are here, as well.
A grinning General Hammond walks up to me and reaches out his hand. “Son, are you trying to make these people think I’m a slave driver who keeps you chained to the desk?”
“No, sorry,” I say guiltily, as I shake the man’s hand.
“Well, Daniel,” says a familiar voice. “Don’t we rate a hello?”
“Catherine and Ernest,” I say. Grinning, I embrace them both awkwardly. Catherine is the reason I met Jack in the first place. She’s the person who recruited me into the program. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen Catherine or her husband.
“Look at you,” she says. “You just get more and more handsome.” She turns to Ernest. “He could give you a run for your money.”
I make my way through the crowd, exchanging pleasantries with everyone along the way. I don’t think I’ve ever hugged so many people in one evening. I’m not generally touchy feely anyway. That’s Jack’s department.
Finally, I’ve greeted nearly everyone, and so we all sit around Jack’s living room to eat. I drop myself onto a small section of the couch by Janet, the one person I haven’t spoken to yet. “Hey,” I say, glad to see her friendly, compassionate face.
“Hey,” she says brightly, leaning over and pecking me on the cheek. “It’s a good thing you weren’t any later, or we’d be having this party in the infirmary.”
I swallow hard. I know better than to say something snarky to Janet. I have a physical coming up soon.
After dinner, people start piling presents onto my lap, and onto the table in front of me. Part of me wants to ravenously rip the paper off the gifts and see what’s inside. But another part of me is uncomfortable with all this attention. So, I gingerly tear at the edges of the first gift, not wanting to allow myself to get too excited.
Jack leans forward. “Daniel, just rip the sucker open.” He makes a pulling motion with his hands to demonstrate.
After some egging on from the onlookers, I comply. Within a few short minutes, I utterly to lose any illusion of restraint, and become a madman, flinging paper feverishly onto Jack’s living room floor.
*****
After everyone has left, Teal’c, Jack, and I sit lazily around Jack’s kitchen table. I glance up at Jack. “Where’s Sam?”
“Busy,” he says, and begins fiddling with a discarded bow.
I narrow my eyes at him. “Jack?”
He looks at me innocently and shrugs. “We have another present for you."
“You do?”
“We do, DanielJackson,” Teal’c says.
Sighing, Jack calls over his shoulder, “Hey Carter. Are you done yet?”
“Almost, Sir,” Sam replies.
“I’ll be right back,” Jack says, and heads into the other room to either help or annoy Sam, depending on your perspective.
A few moments later, Jack and Sam walk into the kitchen. Jack is carrying a large package wrapped in newspaper comic print.
“We ran out of paper,” Sam says apologetically.
I smile. “That’s all right.”
Jack sits the package down on the table with a thud. “This is from the three of us. It’s something we started before the…y’know.” He swirls his index finger through the air, apparently trying to signify my Ascension.
I pull the heavy package toward me, and pull away the paper. “What is it?” I say.
“Well, Daniel, open it,” Sam smiles.
I rip the last of the comic paper off the gift and gaze down at it. “A photo album?” I say, perplexed.
“Open the album, Daniel,” Jack says.
I shrug and flip open the cover of the book. I’m more than a little surprise to see a picture of my parents on the first page. I don’t have many pictures of them. Other than the one I keep in a frame in my office, I have, perhaps one more, and I haven’t the slightest idea where it is. Although, this certainly looks like it.
I browse through the album, and find myself staring at pictures of my life: the two or three existing pictures of me as a child; a snapshot of my college graduation; a picture of Jack and me right after I joined SG-1. Some of these pictures I haven’t seen in years. They’ve been stuffed under my bed or in a drawer. A few I’ve never laid eyes on before.
Besides photographs, the book contains old newspaper clippings, birthday cards, a ribbon I won for math in the fifth grade, a napkin from my favorite restaurant, and various other personal items.
Closing the album, I stare up at my friends, dumbfounded. “Where did you get all this stuff? When did you do it?”
“Well,” Jack says, leaning forward. “A couple of years ago, I was sorting through some photo albums and stuff my mom sent me from Minnesota. Remember?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, you said you never had a scrapbook or a photo album. And you were so interested in looking at dorky old pictures of me and relatives I don’t remember.” He clears his throat and looks down at the table. “I guess I just figured everyone should have their own photo album.”
Sam takes my hand. “And so we started collecting things. Some pictures Janet took, some I took, you know. And we tried to get some things from places we knew meant a lot to you. And of course, some of these things were crammed into boxes all over your apartment. We found them after you Ascended.”
“Guys, this is great,” I say, my voice cracking. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
“There is no need to thank us, DanielJackson,” Teal’c says.
We sit quietly for a moment, and then Jack says, “A group hug would work.”