5 Ways Daniel Didn't Die
Word Count: 1939
1. Two months after Hathor visited the SGC, from a bullet through the head.
The goa'uld queen wasn’t going to leave her chosen consort behind, particularly after Sam, Janet, and the rest of the women of the SGC took automatic weapons and opened fire on their larval offspring. She vanished through the gate, lovestruck Daniel in tow.
It didn’t take too long to find her. She wasn’t trying to hide, after all, and as with most snakes of her kind, ostentatious egomania isn’t exactly inconspicuous.
Jack, unfortunately, wasn’t able to shoot the bitch himself. An all-female assault team went in and did the job. After Hathor was dead - Sam got all the fun - the male halves of the involved SG teams followed.
And that was when they found Daniel. Jack wasn’t surprised that he dressed up like a Christmas turkey - there was gold and not so much in the way of clothing. But he was surprised that Daniel was hiding from the SG teams, trying to make an escape out the side of the palace. The pheromones shouldn’t continue to affect him when their source was swiss-cheesed by a P-90.
“Daniel.” Jack shouted. “Hathor’s dead!”
Daniel jumped in place at the sound of Jack’s voice. Slowly, he turned around. The gold on his Vegas showgirl outfit glittered in the light and it was a few seconds before Jack realized that, in addition, Daniel’s eyes were shining.
“Oh, shit.”
Daniel - the snake in Daniel’s head, rather - started screaming. It was a rant about Hathor, assorted threats against Jack, typical Goa'uld shit. Jack didn’t really listen - all he heard was the hollow, alien echo that had replaced Daniel’s voice. He’d already hefted his weapon and aimed it at Daniel’s throat.
He was waiting for Daniel’s arm to come out from behind his back, for him to aim a hand device, for him produce a zat….Jack was waiting for the snake in Daniel’s head to do something - anything - so that Jack could say he shot him for a reason other than being in Daniel’s head.
It didn’t.
He could have just captured him, taken Daniel’s occupied body back to the SGC. Tried to figure out how pull that snake out without killing him. He could have looked away for a few seconds, let the snake climb out the window, taking Daniel with him, with the hope that something of the host survives and they’d get him back later when they knew how to de-snake someone.
The gold faded from Daniel’s eyes for a second. And it was then that Jack made the decision.
Jack pulled the trigger and didn’t let go ‘til the figure before him dropped to the floor dead.
2. Of asphyxiation, in a military prison cell deep in Area 51.
Three days after Sha’re died, Daniel left the SGC.
Or rather, he tried to leave it.
Very shortly after that, men in dark suits showed up at his door to politely request that he return to his position. Daniel declined, not rudely, but firmly, and asked them to leave. He was packing up his apartment, having told Jack, Sam, and Teal’c on their respective and collective visits that he was going to a dig in Egypt for the foreseeable future. Yeah, he was disgraced, but he could still wield a shovel. As long as he didn’t try to write about it, he had friends who needed dirt moved.
And the men stayed polite when they told him that he possessed knowledge classified by the U.S. government, and it wasn’t in the best interest of national defense for the holder of such information to go traipsing off into countries with unfriendly factions and high rates of kidnapping.
Daniel shifted in his seat. “You can’t prevent me from leaving the SGC or the country. I’m not in the military. I’m a civilian and I resigned.”
“Your services are still needed.” Said the man with the mustache, and his eyes flicked to the left of Daniel.
He had the instincts to dive to the right, but not the speed or strength to fight off the arms that grabbed and wrenched him back up, stabbing something small and burning through the sleeve of his t-shirt.
Daniel woke up in a cell. His clothes were gone, replaced with a thin grey cotton set that screamed uniform. He wasn’t restrained, which was something,
When Mustache Man came to see him, Daniel tried to make amends.
“I didn’t realize how serious you were,” he said, sitting on his small grey cot. “I’ll go back to SG-1.”
Mustache shook his head. “No. Our psychological profile indicates you’re a flight risk.”
“Where would I run to?” Daniel retorted. “Abydos’s gate is buried.”
“We don’t know,” Mustache said. “That’s why we can’t let you go.”
Two hours later, Daniel used his new grey pants to hang himself from a beam in the ceiling.
3. 3. Of exposure, on a planet with no known designation.
Because this time, Mustache Man hadn’t thought of the fact that a Daniel Jackson working under duress would be a Daniel Jackson that didn’t stick around for very much longer.
His very first mission back with SG-1 was his last. They gave him first watch, and he left them a note detailing the visit he’d received at home and said goodbye.
Then, Daniel took his pack and went through the gate. He didn’t pick any address, just hit the DHD symbols at random. There was no way they’d follow him if even he didn’t know where he was going. And he survived the wormhole - didn’t hit an iris or anything.
But the planet he came out on, cold, empty, and dark as it was, didn’t have a DHD.
4. At the hands of the Oraci, saving the world one last time.
Cameron Mitchell told SG-1 they’d saved the world thirteen times. It was over beers at Daniel’s place, and Cameron was very, very drunk. There was some debate over whether it was thirteen or fourteen, but Cam had the mission reports memorized, and Sam was having trouble formulating her argument because she was having similar trouble staying upright.
Four days later, Cameron, Daniel, and Vala went to check out yet another planet for the Ori. Teal’c was back with the Jaffa, on another fruitless mission to get their asses in gear - that’s not how he phrased it, but Cameron scowled and translated it for them all. Sam had something bubbling in her lab, and since it was just a simple recon mission, she stayed at the SGC.
Later, Daniel would wonder if it was planned, or just a coincidence.
The only inhabitants of the planet were several dozen kilos away from the gate. They had to make camp that first night, still several hours away from the village. It had been a hot day and they were all exhausted. Vala didn’t even bother asking either of them to sleep with her like usual; she just flopped down on her sleeping bag and shut her eyes.
Daniel followed suit, a couple feet away. He was tired and there was a stinging blister on his left foot. Mitchell took first watch, but Daniel drifted off so quickly he didn’t even say goodnight.
The sound of a Zat firing woke him. He only heard it because it was so close to his sleeping bag. Daniel tried to sit up, reached for his glasses, yelling for Cameron. It was still night and in the darkness, he couldn’t even see Vala. Daniel scrambled out of his sleeping bag and in the next second, another zat blast electrified it.
“Cameron!” Daniel screamed, fumbling for his own Zat.
But then, someone tackled him. Someone about his size, but made of concrete judging by how Daniel sank to the ground beneath him.
Daniel fought. He used every technique Jack and Teal’c had ever taught him, and it did nothing to dislodge the man wrapped around him. In no time, he heard the snick of handcuffs around his wrists. A knee was driven into his back and then his legs were bound with those plastic field restraints.
Plastic field restraints…
“Wait!” Daniel cried as he tried to turn over to see his attacker, even as terrible idea settled in his mind. “Cameron?”
And just like that, he was flipped over, so he was sitting in the grass, arms behind his back, legs out in front of him. It was Cameron. He was sweating and breathing heavily, wiping at his dripping forehead.
“What are you doing?” Daniel asked. At the same time, he cast an eye around for Vala. He didn’t know how many times the Zat had been fired. He saw her, still in her sleeping bag, body slack with unconsciousness.
“I’m sorry,” Cameron said. He sounded awful. Miserable, even, and Daniel realized that he wasn’t just wiping sweat from his face. The man was crying.
“What are you doing?” Daniel repeated. He tried to move his bound hands, to kick his feet. He didn’t have any movement at all.
“She wants you,” Cameron said. He didn’t look at Daniel. “You both. And she’ll - they’ll - leave Earth alone.”
“What are you talking about?” Daniel had a pretty good idea and he was starting to wiggle hysterically in his restraints, as if they’d pop off purely from his outrage. Cameron leaned over and retrieved the Zat he’d used to shoot Vala. “I’m sorry,” he muttered.
Daniel watched him cast nervous glances around their campsite. “Here?” he asked, finding he’d gone stone still. “Here.”
Cameron nodded. “I’m sorry,” was all he could say. “You have to save the world one more time, Jackson.”
Adria and her entourage swept into view, then. Daniel stayed frozen, unable to move even if he wanted to. He could still hear Mitchell sniveling and breathing thickly, even though his eyes were locked on the approaching Oraci. He wanted to say something to the man, but his tongue stuck in his mouth.
“I hope you’re right,” Daniel said, finally.
Adria dropped down before him, grabbed his chin with her small, warm hand, and then his vision exploded.
5. Of assorted natural causes at the age of 84.
Sweet River was a wonderful assisted living/retirement community in central Colorado. It had state of the art geriatric care, friendly staff, apartments with big windows, and several amenities like a well-stocked library and a big indoor pool.
Daniel selected it because of the library, for the most part. He also knew several retired West coast scholars had chosen to live their last years here, and he hoped to have some intellectual conversations in his old age.
Macular degeneration claimed his eyesight, though, so he never got to use that library as much as he’d planned. He liked the pool, though; swimming kept him fit and wasn’t as hard on his arthritic joints as other forms of exercise.
He got the Do Not Resuscitate order when he was 74, but they didn’t have to use it until ten years later. The highly trained medical staff didn’t do anything when his heart stopped and Oma ushered him out of this life for the final time.
Less than a day passed, and the late Daniel Jackson’s possessions were packed into a cardboard crate for collection by his next of kin. His neighbors had expected his most common visitor, his grown blonde niece, to come settle his affairs. They were a bit surprised by who carried the sizeable box out of the apartment. No one knew how Daniel was related to the enormous aged Black man who didn’t take his hat off indoors and shouldered the crate with one arm and no effort.
1. Two months after Hathor visited the SGC, from a bullet through the head.
The goa'uld queen wasn’t going to leave her chosen consort behind, particularly after Sam, Janet, and the rest of the women of the SGC took automatic weapons and opened fire on their larval offspring. She vanished through the gate, lovestruck Daniel in tow.
It didn’t take too long to find her. She wasn’t trying to hide, after all, and as with most snakes of her kind, ostentatious egomania isn’t exactly inconspicuous.
Jack, unfortunately, wasn’t able to shoot the bitch himself. An all-female assault team went in and did the job. After Hathor was dead - Sam got all the fun - the male halves of the involved SG teams followed.
And that was when they found Daniel. Jack wasn’t surprised that he dressed up like a Christmas turkey - there was gold and not so much in the way of clothing. But he was surprised that Daniel was hiding from the SG teams, trying to make an escape out the side of the palace. The pheromones shouldn’t continue to affect him when their source was swiss-cheesed by a P-90.
“Daniel.” Jack shouted. “Hathor’s dead!”
Daniel jumped in place at the sound of Jack’s voice. Slowly, he turned around. The gold on his Vegas showgirl outfit glittered in the light and it was a few seconds before Jack realized that, in addition, Daniel’s eyes were shining.
“Oh, shit.”
Daniel - the snake in Daniel’s head, rather - started screaming. It was a rant about Hathor, assorted threats against Jack, typical Goa'uld shit. Jack didn’t really listen - all he heard was the hollow, alien echo that had replaced Daniel’s voice. He’d already hefted his weapon and aimed it at Daniel’s throat.
He was waiting for Daniel’s arm to come out from behind his back, for him to aim a hand device, for him produce a zat….Jack was waiting for the snake in Daniel’s head to do something - anything - so that Jack could say he shot him for a reason other than being in Daniel’s head.
It didn’t.
He could have just captured him, taken Daniel’s occupied body back to the SGC. Tried to figure out how pull that snake out without killing him. He could have looked away for a few seconds, let the snake climb out the window, taking Daniel with him, with the hope that something of the host survives and they’d get him back later when they knew how to de-snake someone.
The gold faded from Daniel’s eyes for a second. And it was then that Jack made the decision.
Jack pulled the trigger and didn’t let go ‘til the figure before him dropped to the floor dead.
2. Of asphyxiation, in a military prison cell deep in Area 51.
Three days after Sha’re died, Daniel left the SGC.
Or rather, he tried to leave it.
Very shortly after that, men in dark suits showed up at his door to politely request that he return to his position. Daniel declined, not rudely, but firmly, and asked them to leave. He was packing up his apartment, having told Jack, Sam, and Teal’c on their respective and collective visits that he was going to a dig in Egypt for the foreseeable future. Yeah, he was disgraced, but he could still wield a shovel. As long as he didn’t try to write about it, he had friends who needed dirt moved.
And the men stayed polite when they told him that he possessed knowledge classified by the U.S. government, and it wasn’t in the best interest of national defense for the holder of such information to go traipsing off into countries with unfriendly factions and high rates of kidnapping.
Daniel shifted in his seat. “You can’t prevent me from leaving the SGC or the country. I’m not in the military. I’m a civilian and I resigned.”
“Your services are still needed.” Said the man with the mustache, and his eyes flicked to the left of Daniel.
He had the instincts to dive to the right, but not the speed or strength to fight off the arms that grabbed and wrenched him back up, stabbing something small and burning through the sleeve of his t-shirt.
Daniel woke up in a cell. His clothes were gone, replaced with a thin grey cotton set that screamed uniform. He wasn’t restrained, which was something,
When Mustache Man came to see him, Daniel tried to make amends.
“I didn’t realize how serious you were,” he said, sitting on his small grey cot. “I’ll go back to SG-1.”
Mustache shook his head. “No. Our psychological profile indicates you’re a flight risk.”
“Where would I run to?” Daniel retorted. “Abydos’s gate is buried.”
“We don’t know,” Mustache said. “That’s why we can’t let you go.”
Two hours later, Daniel used his new grey pants to hang himself from a beam in the ceiling.
3. 3. Of exposure, on a planet with no known designation.
Because this time, Mustache Man hadn’t thought of the fact that a Daniel Jackson working under duress would be a Daniel Jackson that didn’t stick around for very much longer.
His very first mission back with SG-1 was his last. They gave him first watch, and he left them a note detailing the visit he’d received at home and said goodbye.
Then, Daniel took his pack and went through the gate. He didn’t pick any address, just hit the DHD symbols at random. There was no way they’d follow him if even he didn’t know where he was going. And he survived the wormhole - didn’t hit an iris or anything.
But the planet he came out on, cold, empty, and dark as it was, didn’t have a DHD.
4. At the hands of the Oraci, saving the world one last time.
Cameron Mitchell told SG-1 they’d saved the world thirteen times. It was over beers at Daniel’s place, and Cameron was very, very drunk. There was some debate over whether it was thirteen or fourteen, but Cam had the mission reports memorized, and Sam was having trouble formulating her argument because she was having similar trouble staying upright.
Four days later, Cameron, Daniel, and Vala went to check out yet another planet for the Ori. Teal’c was back with the Jaffa, on another fruitless mission to get their asses in gear - that’s not how he phrased it, but Cameron scowled and translated it for them all. Sam had something bubbling in her lab, and since it was just a simple recon mission, she stayed at the SGC.
Later, Daniel would wonder if it was planned, or just a coincidence.
The only inhabitants of the planet were several dozen kilos away from the gate. They had to make camp that first night, still several hours away from the village. It had been a hot day and they were all exhausted. Vala didn’t even bother asking either of them to sleep with her like usual; she just flopped down on her sleeping bag and shut her eyes.
Daniel followed suit, a couple feet away. He was tired and there was a stinging blister on his left foot. Mitchell took first watch, but Daniel drifted off so quickly he didn’t even say goodnight.
The sound of a Zat firing woke him. He only heard it because it was so close to his sleeping bag. Daniel tried to sit up, reached for his glasses, yelling for Cameron. It was still night and in the darkness, he couldn’t even see Vala. Daniel scrambled out of his sleeping bag and in the next second, another zat blast electrified it.
“Cameron!” Daniel screamed, fumbling for his own Zat.
But then, someone tackled him. Someone about his size, but made of concrete judging by how Daniel sank to the ground beneath him.
Daniel fought. He used every technique Jack and Teal’c had ever taught him, and it did nothing to dislodge the man wrapped around him. In no time, he heard the snick of handcuffs around his wrists. A knee was driven into his back and then his legs were bound with those plastic field restraints.
Plastic field restraints…
“Wait!” Daniel cried as he tried to turn over to see his attacker, even as terrible idea settled in his mind. “Cameron?”
And just like that, he was flipped over, so he was sitting in the grass, arms behind his back, legs out in front of him. It was Cameron. He was sweating and breathing heavily, wiping at his dripping forehead.
“What are you doing?” Daniel asked. At the same time, he cast an eye around for Vala. He didn’t know how many times the Zat had been fired. He saw her, still in her sleeping bag, body slack with unconsciousness.
“I’m sorry,” Cameron said. He sounded awful. Miserable, even, and Daniel realized that he wasn’t just wiping sweat from his face. The man was crying.
“What are you doing?” Daniel repeated. He tried to move his bound hands, to kick his feet. He didn’t have any movement at all.
“She wants you,” Cameron said. He didn’t look at Daniel. “You both. And she’ll - they’ll - leave Earth alone.”
“What are you talking about?” Daniel had a pretty good idea and he was starting to wiggle hysterically in his restraints, as if they’d pop off purely from his outrage. Cameron leaned over and retrieved the Zat he’d used to shoot Vala. “I’m sorry,” he muttered.
Daniel watched him cast nervous glances around their campsite. “Here?” he asked, finding he’d gone stone still. “Here.”
Cameron nodded. “I’m sorry,” was all he could say. “You have to save the world one more time, Jackson.”
Adria and her entourage swept into view, then. Daniel stayed frozen, unable to move even if he wanted to. He could still hear Mitchell sniveling and breathing thickly, even though his eyes were locked on the approaching Oraci. He wanted to say something to the man, but his tongue stuck in his mouth.
“I hope you’re right,” Daniel said, finally.
Adria dropped down before him, grabbed his chin with her small, warm hand, and then his vision exploded.
5. Of assorted natural causes at the age of 84.
Sweet River was a wonderful assisted living/retirement community in central Colorado. It had state of the art geriatric care, friendly staff, apartments with big windows, and several amenities like a well-stocked library and a big indoor pool.
Daniel selected it because of the library, for the most part. He also knew several retired West coast scholars had chosen to live their last years here, and he hoped to have some intellectual conversations in his old age.
Macular degeneration claimed his eyesight, though, so he never got to use that library as much as he’d planned. He liked the pool, though; swimming kept him fit and wasn’t as hard on his arthritic joints as other forms of exercise.
He got the Do Not Resuscitate order when he was 74, but they didn’t have to use it until ten years later. The highly trained medical staff didn’t do anything when his heart stopped and Oma ushered him out of this life for the final time.
Less than a day passed, and the late Daniel Jackson’s possessions were packed into a cardboard crate for collection by his next of kin. His neighbors had expected his most common visitor, his grown blonde niece, to come settle his affairs. They were a bit surprised by who carried the sizeable box out of the apartment. No one knew how Daniel was related to the enormous aged Black man who didn’t take his hat off indoors and shouldered the crate with one arm and no effort.