Fic: Musings (Stargate: SG-1, Daniel-centric Gen, PG)
Title: Musings
Author: sheryden
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1086
Characters: Daniel
Spoilers: Season 7
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: Daniel isn't mine. :/
Summary: Daniel reflects on his life experiences. Set after his return in Season 7.
Notes: Written for the littlebang challenge over at stargateland. My claim was "Daniel/experience."
Boxes were strewn around Daniel’s new living room, and judging by his current state of exhaustion, they would probably stay there for a while. The walls were still bare, and there were no personalizing touches anywhere-nothing that said “Daniel Jackson lives here.” His previous abodes had been cluttered with artifacts and photographs and CDs and plants and art.
Those things still existed… somewhere in these boxes. But right now, this new place of his was a barren wasteland, and he wondered if it would ever feel like home.
Plunking himself down on the sofa, Daniel grasped the flap of the box nearest to him and dragged it closer. Since he had a new place to decorate, he should probably attempt to downsize a little-or reorganize, more likely, since a packrat like him was probably not going to throw anything away. Despite the fact that he’d been back for a while, most of his stuff hadn’t seen the light of day in months. He didn’t even know how much Jack and the others had kept.
Tearing open the lid to the box, Daniel perused its contents. The box was filled with his journals-packed neatly but unlabeled. He wondered fleetingly if anyone had read them-well, he knew that Jonas Quinn had had access to some of his writings on the Ancients. Other volumes were more personal, and he shuddered to think about someone pouring through the contents of his life.
Daniel had kept a journal since he was a kid. A tired-eyed but well-meaning therapist had suggested that it might help him sort out his thoughts after his parents’ deaths. After spending some time in the foster care system, Daniel had learned that it was often best not to say much out loud unless he was asked directly. The journal, then, became his personal sounding board, his means of self-expression, his friend.
He had continued to keep a journal throughout his life. Of course, once he rediscovered archaeology, his copious record-keeping was not only a personal outlet but a professional lifesaver. Volumes of thoughts and theories and discoveries from his studies had been jotted down on lunch breaks, at dig sites, and in the middle of the night when sane people slept.
These books, he supposed, were the sum total of his life’s experience from the time he was eight years old. He wasn’t sure what it said about him that his life could be boiled down to musings shoved into a box. Perhaps he was becoming as much of an artifact as the things he studied.
Impulsively, he pulled one of the journals out of the box and flipped it open to a random page. It was one he had started keeping shortly after he had returned from Abydos. Sha’re had just been snatched from him, and he was still readjusting to life on Earth.
He scanned one of the pages, dated October 4th:
Still no word on Sha’re or Skaara. Jack assures me that we’ll keep trying until we find them. Surprisingly, I believe him. Or at least, I want to believe him. In my experience, most people say what they want you to hear… but I think Jack is genuine.
Daniel bit his lip. Loss was something he had grown accustomed to throughout his life-from the moment his parents were taken from him. He had lost them, his grandfather, Sarah, and later his academic reputation. And then he gained Sha’re and the people of Abydos only to lose them, too.
He flipped the page and smiled at the entry he saw:
I am as excited to learn about Teal’c’s culture as he is to learn about ours. He has been patient thus far with my incessant questions. Also, he experienced his first Pop Tart today. He was utterly fascinated (and startled) when it popped out of the toaster. Jack wants to introduce him to Twizzlers.
Those early days with SG-1 were good ones. Even though he ached to have Sha’re and Skaara back, Daniel had finally gained something-a family. Getting to know them and learning to trust them had been good for him. He had started to climb out of the shell he had built around himself and had started to let people in.
Thumbing his way through the journal, he came upon another entry:
To do list:
* Catalogue the artifacts found on SG-4’s most recent mission.
* Buy coffee
* Kill Jack (in case someone is reading this, I am speaking metaphorically. Don’t send security after me!)
Daniel arched an eyebrow and smiled a little. He wasn’t certain what Jack had done to deserve a metaphorical death threat that day, but knowing Jack, it could have been anything.
Tossing the journal onto the coffee table, Daniel leaned back into the sofa and surveyed his new home. It wasn’t as comfortable as his old apartment, but he was glad to be out of the mountain. He didn’t know how Teal’c had managed to live there all this time without smothering from the claustrophobia of having so many people around all the time. He knew people at the mountain meant well, but their extra attention since he had Descended had grown tiresome.
He and the rest of SG-1 were still feeling each other out in some ways, but they had fallen back into an easy rhythm, working well together and appreciating each other more than they had in years. He still caught Jack watching him from time to time, as though he thought Daniel would suddenly turn into a ball of light and disappear. And he sometimes felt like Jack and maybe even Sam were still a little mad at him for having chosen Ascension over them. Only Teal’c really seemed to understand.
He had a hard time explaining that it was never a choice between them. It had been a journey he needed to take. An experience that had taught him more about what he needed from his life and from the people in it than staying with the team ever could have. He understood now that Ascension was a brief detour that had put him back on the path he needed to be on.
Smiling to himself, he stood up and walked toward his kitchen table where a fresh journal lay open. Picking up a pen, he sat down at the table and wrote:
Today is the first day in my new house. There are boxes everywhere. I think I should just make furniture out of them.
My Master Fic List
***
Author: sheryden
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1086
Characters: Daniel
Spoilers: Season 7
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: Daniel isn't mine. :/
Summary: Daniel reflects on his life experiences. Set after his return in Season 7.
Notes: Written for the littlebang challenge over at stargateland. My claim was "Daniel/experience."
Boxes were strewn around Daniel’s new living room, and judging by his current state of exhaustion, they would probably stay there for a while. The walls were still bare, and there were no personalizing touches anywhere-nothing that said “Daniel Jackson lives here.” His previous abodes had been cluttered with artifacts and photographs and CDs and plants and art.
Those things still existed… somewhere in these boxes. But right now, this new place of his was a barren wasteland, and he wondered if it would ever feel like home.
Plunking himself down on the sofa, Daniel grasped the flap of the box nearest to him and dragged it closer. Since he had a new place to decorate, he should probably attempt to downsize a little-or reorganize, more likely, since a packrat like him was probably not going to throw anything away. Despite the fact that he’d been back for a while, most of his stuff hadn’t seen the light of day in months. He didn’t even know how much Jack and the others had kept.
Tearing open the lid to the box, Daniel perused its contents. The box was filled with his journals-packed neatly but unlabeled. He wondered fleetingly if anyone had read them-well, he knew that Jonas Quinn had had access to some of his writings on the Ancients. Other volumes were more personal, and he shuddered to think about someone pouring through the contents of his life.
Daniel had kept a journal since he was a kid. A tired-eyed but well-meaning therapist had suggested that it might help him sort out his thoughts after his parents’ deaths. After spending some time in the foster care system, Daniel had learned that it was often best not to say much out loud unless he was asked directly. The journal, then, became his personal sounding board, his means of self-expression, his friend.
He had continued to keep a journal throughout his life. Of course, once he rediscovered archaeology, his copious record-keeping was not only a personal outlet but a professional lifesaver. Volumes of thoughts and theories and discoveries from his studies had been jotted down on lunch breaks, at dig sites, and in the middle of the night when sane people slept.
These books, he supposed, were the sum total of his life’s experience from the time he was eight years old. He wasn’t sure what it said about him that his life could be boiled down to musings shoved into a box. Perhaps he was becoming as much of an artifact as the things he studied.
Impulsively, he pulled one of the journals out of the box and flipped it open to a random page. It was one he had started keeping shortly after he had returned from Abydos. Sha’re had just been snatched from him, and he was still readjusting to life on Earth.
He scanned one of the pages, dated October 4th:
Still no word on Sha’re or Skaara. Jack assures me that we’ll keep trying until we find them. Surprisingly, I believe him. Or at least, I want to believe him. In my experience, most people say what they want you to hear… but I think Jack is genuine.
Daniel bit his lip. Loss was something he had grown accustomed to throughout his life-from the moment his parents were taken from him. He had lost them, his grandfather, Sarah, and later his academic reputation. And then he gained Sha’re and the people of Abydos only to lose them, too.
He flipped the page and smiled at the entry he saw:
I am as excited to learn about Teal’c’s culture as he is to learn about ours. He has been patient thus far with my incessant questions. Also, he experienced his first Pop Tart today. He was utterly fascinated (and startled) when it popped out of the toaster. Jack wants to introduce him to Twizzlers.
Those early days with SG-1 were good ones. Even though he ached to have Sha’re and Skaara back, Daniel had finally gained something-a family. Getting to know them and learning to trust them had been good for him. He had started to climb out of the shell he had built around himself and had started to let people in.
Thumbing his way through the journal, he came upon another entry:
To do list:
* Catalogue the artifacts found on SG-4’s most recent mission.
* Buy coffee
* Kill Jack (in case someone is reading this, I am speaking metaphorically. Don’t send security after me!)
Daniel arched an eyebrow and smiled a little. He wasn’t certain what Jack had done to deserve a metaphorical death threat that day, but knowing Jack, it could have been anything.
Tossing the journal onto the coffee table, Daniel leaned back into the sofa and surveyed his new home. It wasn’t as comfortable as his old apartment, but he was glad to be out of the mountain. He didn’t know how Teal’c had managed to live there all this time without smothering from the claustrophobia of having so many people around all the time. He knew people at the mountain meant well, but their extra attention since he had Descended had grown tiresome.
He and the rest of SG-1 were still feeling each other out in some ways, but they had fallen back into an easy rhythm, working well together and appreciating each other more than they had in years. He still caught Jack watching him from time to time, as though he thought Daniel would suddenly turn into a ball of light and disappear. And he sometimes felt like Jack and maybe even Sam were still a little mad at him for having chosen Ascension over them. Only Teal’c really seemed to understand.
He had a hard time explaining that it was never a choice between them. It had been a journey he needed to take. An experience that had taught him more about what he needed from his life and from the people in it than staying with the team ever could have. He understood now that Ascension was a brief detour that had put him back on the path he needed to be on.
Smiling to himself, he stood up and walked toward his kitchen table where a fresh journal lay open. Picking up a pen, he sat down at the table and wrote:
Today is the first day in my new house. There are boxes everywhere. I think I should just make furniture out of them.
My Master Fic List
***