Building Fertile Valleys Again - Part 2
Title: Building Fertile Valleys Again - Part 2
Original Title: Eroding Away the Mountains
Original Author:
abyssinia4077
Back to Part 1
====
General O'Neill is in a mood after they kill their latest Goa'uld. They've sent Anubis to a world where he's now a 'snake-cicle' as the newly minted general puts it. They've all learned-at cost-this may not be a permanent condition. But they've also learned to celebrate any success. Even after all these years, smiting a god still leaves O'Neill manic. He bursts into Sam's office, where Daniel is struggling to handle a translation with only one good arm-a handicap for Daniel who speaks all his languages with both hands-and while Sam is poking at a device found off-world by SG-6 that has already knocked Siler and two engineers unconscious.
The general's shout of, "It's Garden of the Gods time, kids!" causes Daniel to spill his coffee, right into the circuit where Sam has just inserted a volt meter probe.
She blinks awake in the infirmary with the memory of a flash and the smell of singed skin, and if she's lost her eyebrows someone is going to pay. The general and Daniel sit across from each other on facing beds opposite her, and a ball is bouncing between them. Daniel manages one-handed catches far better than he handles a gun, and she has no idea what any airman or nurse might think of a general who keeps a Superball in his pocket. She starts to say something about that, manages only a groan.
O'Neill catches the ball and freezes, looking slightly guilty. But Daniel gets up and steps close. "Hey, there. Jack says he's sorry for startling you. I'm sorry, too."
Sam manages a nod. A few years of this-of experiments on alien technology not quite working out-have taught her not to try to sit up or make sudden moves that will only start the room spinning. "General, you said something about hiking?"
"Carter, how hard did you get hit? Garden-Gods-you know. The usual." Now she feels stupid as well as fuzzy around the edges, but Daniel rolls his eyes as if the lack of clarity is the general's fault. Which it pretty much is. O'Neill glances at Daniel, then back to her, and adds, as if he shouldn't have to explain anything, "As in celebrate. Do a little Snoopy dance?"
This leaves Daniel frowning and he plucks at his sling-a not so subtle reminder about just who left him incapacitated. "Y'know, Jack, that didn't work out so well last time."
"Oh, now you remember this kind of stuff?" the general says, and Sam can't help but notice that he has fixed his stare on Daniel's face, as in he is not looking at Daniel's injury. Now the man is guilty for having put two of his own people in the infirmary within the past week, and Sam buckles-she can't stand seeing him like this. He hasn't even broken in his new stars properly, so the least she can do is to give him some support.
"Of course, sir." She offers a smile that leaves her wincing. And leave it to the general to decide now would be good for them to do something together-with Daniel still recovering from having been shot, and her just about fried. O'Neill isn't even that long out of the Ancient stasis chamber. "But can it wait a couple days?" she asks.
The general's face falls, and she gives in to the disappointment, offers, "Or tomorrow?"
"Sam," Daniel warns, making the single word a hard caution.
She doesn't look at him because the general is beaming again. He gives her a nod, stuffs his hands and the ball back into his pockets. He shoots a challenge over to Daniel who picks it up, sends it back, and raises an eyebrow in response.
The general offers back a bland 'what?' expression, his eyebrows lifting. Daniel's glower doesn't lift and the general loses some of his smirk, thumbs over his shoulder. "I'll, uhm, go tell Teal'c."
Daniel's glare follows the general out, and Sam wonders-not for the first time-just what kind of connection beyond the ordinary these two have. She's willing to bet that Daniel's stare is now lodged between the general's shoulder blades. Daniel turns back to her, his eyes and face loaded with worry.
"Look, Sam, I know you've been here, done this, have the medical file to prove you can handle something blowing up in your face, but you sure about a hike tomorrow?"
"I'll be fine, Daniel. Trust me. But you better warn Teal'c."
He nods, but he stays, and even with her eyes closing she feels his presence next to her bed until she slips into a light sleep.
As promised, she's released that evening from the infirmary and she is not going to think about how much she misses Janet. A night in her own bed takes away the remaining dizziness, and the hollow ache of Janet's memory, but Sam doesn't bounce back as easily as she did a few years ago. She has more sympathy for the general having accepted a desk job-there are times she thinks about an assignment that would put her into a lab. Cassie seems to have taken Janet's death as well as is possible, but there are times Sam wonders how much Cassie has learned from them about stupidly brave fronts. So maybe she should take her promotion and trade it in for a spot at Area 51. But a diet soda-the last in her fridge-restores her optimism along with her caffeine levels and blood sugar.
She pulls up in front of Daniel's apartment at ten in a roar of exhaust. He gave up his house after Osiris' last nocturnal visit, and she can't blame him. Blowing up a chunk of the neighbors' garden would not endear anyone to what had been a quiet community-and how creepy to go on living in a place where you've been visited for more than a few nights by the equivalent of a Goa'uld succubus. But she thinks Osiris was mostly an excuse for Daniel to move again.
Daniel moves-on average-once every eighteen months. She has charted it. She also asked the general about it-well, he'd still been the colonel then-and he made a quip that in some things Daniel is consistent. So she assumes this nomadic habit is a long-standing left over from his early years. Her own background, moving as the military reassigned her dad, left her wanting solid foundations as soon as she could afford them. But there is a restlessness in Daniel's soul. It's one of the things he has in common with O'Neill. That and a habit of reckless driving.
These days, the general has upgraded his truck to an SUV, but he still handles any vehicle as if he learned how to drive from watching James Bond films. She trusts her life to that man, but not her blood pressure to the near misses or her ears to his blistering curses.
Daniel looks a little surprised when he sees her motorcycle rather than her new BMW. The look moves fast to resigned. He takes the offered helmet, shrugs into it and slides in behind her, wrapping his good arm around her waist. As she accelerates from the curb, his good arm tightens and the one in a sling, and his shoulders, press against her back.
She's careful with the curves and takes it slow since this is supposed to be a pleasure outing. Teal'c and the general are waiting when she pulls into the parking lot, red rocks jutting into the sky around them in rough, stark beauty. The place looks more alien that a lot of the worlds they've been to. And Teal'c-in shorts, hiking boots, a black shirt decorated with large, white plumeria, and a Stetson-looks unhappy for reasons that Sam knows have nothing to do with the looks he's getting for his style sense. It's been years since they last came here, but Teal'c has always been sensitive to symbolism. The idea that any garden-even one of rock formations-should be dedicated to any gods offends his sensibilities. Large plumeria on shirts, however, do not.
"Morning, campers." The years have mellowed O'Neill, except for when he's taken it into his head that no one is ever too old for a second childhood. Or to hang onto a first. He beams at them, fills his lungs, pats his chest. "Ah, the great outdoors!"
"There will be no horses this visit," Teal'c states, his voice flat and final. The general shrugs, and Sam represses a smile.
She spent her tenth year in Texas, up to her elbows in dust and sensible Quarter Horses. Ten is a good age for horse crazy, and her mom was wise enough to know how to soften the loss of friends left behind in the last transfer. Sam had cried when the next one came, and she had to give up the riding lessons and Bertie, a mustang with a bone jarring gait and a sugar-sweet temperament. She did fine with the trail ride last visit. Other than for dealing with the inaccurate trail guide, so did Daniel.
Sam still entertains an impossible image in her head of Daniel as a young man, on an Arabian stallion, in a burnoose like Laurence of Arabia, the blue eyes startling as desert sky. Truth is he's probably ridden camels and donkeys and skinny third-world mutts like Bertie, but Janet taught her that accuracy should never stand in the way of a good fantasy.
O'Neill, on horseback, could live up to any illusion. But he's always had the ability to wrap the world around his will, makes everything fit him rather than molding himself to a situation, as she and Daniel will. Teal'c, however, did not take to the concept of relaxing into the saddle. Where Daniel slouched like an old cowhand, and O'Neill rode like a veteran cavalry officer, Teal'c sat stiff and frowning. All of them were sore the next day, but Teal'c walked as if sensitive parts were hurting for close on to a week.
Glancing around, Sam wonders if it's not horses, then what? The general pulls a light backpack out of his SUV and offers, "Kissing Camels? Siamese Twins?"
He says the names as if he just likes how they roll off his tongue. The Twins are the formation furthest away, and they've made the hike there before. At the mention of the name, Daniel frowns, shakes his head and says, "No. Not there."
"Why not?" the general asks, but Daniel won't answer.
Sam is not surprised. The last time they were here, nothing had been easy between the team. Meaning nothing had been easy between Daniel and O'Neill. The two men have always set the tone for the team. Sam doesn't know why this should be, but she has always known these two are the most volatile part of SG-1. She feels like the sensible, responsible one at times. She's certain Teal'c feels the same. The hike to the Twins hadn't been sensible or fun.
Of course, they'd still been trying to settle back into step after what had seemed a betrayal. Both O'Neill's undercover role to stop Maybourne's operation, and Colonel Makepeace's real acts of treason, had shaken everyone at the SGC. One of their own had gone bad. General Hammond had kept SG-1 inactive while O'Neill testified, and O'Neill in turn had apologized every way he could for the necessary lies he'd told. He'd even bought every round at O'Malley's for a month.
Now O'Neill has something else to be sorry for-he shot Daniel. At the time, Daniel was possessed by Anubis, and the choice of bullet that would wound or a second shot from a zat that would kill seemed an easy one. But there's never been much that's easy with Daniel. And Daniel's trust is an unstable equation-he will often trust strangers before he takes the word of a friend.
Something prickly is again simmering between the two men. Sam is uncertain if the roots of this lie with that older betrayal still-one paved over by time, but not with words-or if Daniel is wary of them all again. And for good reasons now. With Anubis loose, they'd each gotten in a shot at Daniel. If she'd been on the receiving end, she'd be wondering if there wasn't some hidden meaning, too. For his part, General O'Neill has only offered the explanation that Daniel was shooting up his gate room, so what else could he do. He doesn't seem to quite understand what else is wrong well enough to offer the right apology. Sam isn't sure she knows either.
But Daniel gives in to the general's persistent stare, throws up his one good hand, then takes point without a word. They all swap glances and follow.
The last time here, Daniel spent the first part of the easy walk explaining all the facts about native settlements that their mounted trail guide had gotten wrong earlier. O'Neill finally threatened to muzzle him. There's no need for that this time. Daniel doesn't say anything. A mile later, he slowly drops back to walk behind Sam, lets the other two men take the lead.
Daniel keeps his silence the entire hike. It's a different silence than he used to carry. After Sha're died, he locked himself in. After Janet died, he locked everyone out. Sam still remembers, too, how Daniel rebuffed her touch when they found him on Vis Uban-protecting himself, even though he didn't know himself or what could be the threat. He did the same at Janet's memorial-wouldn't stand with his teammates, wouldn't meet anyone's stare, wouldn't talk. He tolerated General Hammond's presence next to him, and left as soon as his duty was done, hands in his pockets and head bowed. Sam wishes now that she hadn't been hurting so much herself. She couldn't reach out, either. Not to him. Not then.
When they reach the Twins, Sam looks through the rock window to Pike's Peak, imagines she can look back in time and see two figures running into a field of flowers. Daniel edges in next to her, as he has before, his knee pushing into her thigh in the cramped space, and she points out the mountain and the memory.
"Feels like forever ago that we climbed it," she tells him.
"It was. Forever and a day," he says, reaching a hand to briefly squeeze her shoulder. "That's the time traditionally allotted for enchantments. Of course, it was another lifetime ago for me."
That is the literal truth. She glances over at Daniel. He's been through so much, but so have they all. Hathor-twice over. Daniel in a padded white room. Sha're's death at Teal'c's hands. Daniel dead. A trip to the hell of Netu and back. Teal'c brainwashed back into a belief in Apophis as his god. A love rekindled for him and then cut off by death. Another consciousness or two inside her-one Tok'ra, one utterly alien. Friends met and lost. Worlds lost, Abydos among them. O'Neill lost more than once to them-and not that long ago, frozen for what might have been the rest of eternity.
"We've changed," she says. "But this place hasn't."
O'Neill interrupts whatever response Daniel might have made. "Hey, kids, feed bag's on. Team outing-no wandering."
Sam catches a hint for help in the words as well as the habitual checking up. Turning, she puts a hand to her mouth to stop the grin when she sees a red and white checked blanket lying on top of a fairly flat rock. Teal'c is spreading out lunch from the general's backpack and the general looks cornered by the words flowing at him.
"This is not a garden, and there are only false gods, O'Neill," Teal'c pauses to raise an eyebrow at a container of potato salad, then smoothly goes on. "This place is therefore ill-named, and makes as little sense as the purchase of food to be carried for consumption out-of-doors when there are facility designed to provide far greater dining comfort."
"Ah, but the ambiance, Teal'c," Daniel says, sliding off the rock to help, and then spreading his arms wide-even the one in the sling-and not helping at all.
Teal'c pauses and glances around. "It is most pleasant. But the place for gods lies in favored temples and palaces filled with gold and displays of wealth. Even on Earth, you build elaborate structures to worship your gods. This is but a park that demonstrates soil erosion."
"Oh, don't get him started," O'Neill says, and he sprawls on the blanket.
Daniel ignores the interruption since he is not to be distracted from an argument. "Or, accidental perfection could be viewed as physical evidence of the power, beauty, and inherent benevolence designed into the universal order. A mortal being can work gold and build temples, and we've even seen machines that control weather, which could produce a place like this. But that this occurs on its own-that's remarkable. And perhaps it is evidence of a divine presence, that there's a system that's been structured to create wonders-hints of a greater infinity. You have to admit there is something…" He breaks off, glances around, then asks, "Haven't we had this discussion before?"
"We have. And I am still unwilling to concede this is more than the work of wind and water over long periods of time." Teal'c raises an eyebrow. "However, pleasing to the eye."
"Uh, General?" Sam asks, and thinks of déjà vu. She holds up the six pack she found under the rest of their lunch. "Park rules? I know you know them."
"Hey, general here now." He points to stars that are not to be found on the loose baggy shirt of civilian clothing. "Besides, would I break a rule, Carter?" He raises an eyebrow at her and answers before she can answer. "And besides-beside, see the labels?" Sam checks and grins. He's taped white stickers over the labels on which he's written 'root beer' in block letters. Two of the bottles really are root beer, but also have the fake labels over the real ones. "Those are for Teal'c," he tells her.
Lunch is good and when they are full there is still more food-the general's philosophy is that too much to eat and drink will cure most things. Sam wonders if he grew up with this idea. The beer is spreading a warmth through her limbs that matches the one on her skin from the sun. A sibilant lisp had slipped into Daniel's words as it does whenever alcohol hits his bloodstream and loosens his tongue. He and Teal'c are talking, so she glances to where the general lays with his baseball cap over his face and a beer balanced on his stomach, and she can't help but think about the second time O'Neill downloaded the knowledge of the Ancients into his head.
He stopped Daniel from taking that risk, took it on himself so they could find the lost city. Daniel's frustration had been as strong as his worry-and his assurances that somehow he could have handled it better. It's endearingly typical of Daniel to have reacted that way, and that makes her think the general is right. There are time Daniel needs to be protected from the universe, and times the universe needs to be protected from Daniel.
Teal'c sips his root beer, as calm and dispassionate as Daniel is loud and passionate, as they wander back into another philosophical debate about gods. Sam is aware that the general is not napping, even if he looks it. He chooses not to interrupt, lets the conversation flow over him, and so she does the same.
She is lying down, her hands linked behind her head for a pillow, one booted foot almost touching the general's thigh. The other boot bumps Daniel's knee when Teal'c asks, "Daniel Jackson, you have been a higher being-but do you believe in a god who is infinite and compassionate and good?"
"What-a creator? Uh, well, Teal'c, that's a difficult question," Daniel says and Sam rises onto her elbows to squint at Daniel, curious of the answer. She knows his parents taught him stories about ancient pantheons as well as modern religions; he has described himself as raised not in one religion but in all. He has claimed a belief in a higher power. Now, however, he's been one of those higher beings, and found himself unable to dispense even the simplest act of mercy or grace. Even for his friends. Beliefs can change, faith can shatter, and she wonders how Daniel's views have been shaped. Has he lost that much of himself?
"You've remembered about your time as an ascended being," Sam prompts, helping Teal'c dig for an answer. Daniel nods, lifts his half-drunk beer in a motion that seems more about buying himself time.
"Some," he admits at last.
"Sufficient to have allowed our rescue of Ry'ac and Bra'tac," Teal'c says, with a nod of deep respect.
Daniel starts to fidget. "Well, images, yes. Feelings. Not…I don't understand anything better, but I think I did. Now-well, I remember enough to know ascension might be a step on the path to godliness, but power in itself does not bring wisdom. And, as we've seen from Anubis, good and evil seems to be a conscious choice at every level of existence. So, ascension really is a means, not the answer, or even an answer. But, yes, I hope there is something more beyond that. Every single culture in Earth's history believed in something. There are remarkable coincidences, similar stories and personalities in the gods of cultures who could never have interacted, which indicates either an inherent need, or that we know on some basic level that we come from a common source. Of course, the Goa'uld changed everything I thought I knew at one time, so maybe these similarities aren't quite as miraculous as they seem. And maybe the Ancients changed just as much in our history and our belief systems." Daniel frowns, stares at his beer, then glances up, seems to remember the original question. "But a single god-a creator? I think any god I'm capable of imagining is by definition limited and therefore not a valid concept. Maybe that's why faith's required?"
"Faith and four bucks will get you a coffee these days."
The voice comes out muffled and cranky, the general has joined the discussion with his usual flair. Teal'c slants him a look and an eyebrow lifts, but the general doesn't come out from under his hat. "O'Neill, you once told me you were raised Lutheran."
"No. Told you I was raised in Minnesota, Teal'c." Lifting his cap, the general takes a large swallow of his beer, finishes his second bottle, and Sam makes a mental note to make sure Teal'c drives the general home. She's only had one beer herself, and experience has taught the buzz will wear off on the hike back.
"Lutefisk," Teal'c says, as if this explains everything about Minnesota.
Daniel smothers a smile and adds, "Ice hockey. Fishing year round. And dragged to the Lutheran church down the block. The ideal childhood-except for the part about you were actually born in Chicago, Jack."
"Hey, still had church there, too. Got the Chicago O'Neills and Catholic mass for that part, and you don't think I'd go for Minnesota after that?"
Sam grins and foresees more explanations about the diversity within Christianity. All these years and Teal'c still cannot grasp the concept of how any god would allow his followers to fragment into separate, and often warring, factions. This is where his decades as a Jaffa, fighting for one god, one planet-or even one system of planets-stands out the most. For Teal'c, a god consolidates power and destroys rivals. Followers do not fight with each other. There are things she does not understand about the Jaffa-the entire revenge thing for a start. And she wonders how well she would have done if roles had been reversed and she had had to adapt to their world, their faith, their ways.
"The religions on your world are very strange," Teal'c comments after Daniel finishes a recap of his short version of world religion 101.
"Yeah, I guess freedom to believe anything pretty much leads to believing almost anything," Daniel says.
"Flying Spaghetti Monster," the general mutters.
"O'Neill?"
"Hey, it's a religion. Look it up on the Internet. Didn't say it's a good one. But at least they're not out killing anyone. Don't go around promising white wings for good behavior, either. Or miracle healings. Damnit, some things we're not supposed to know until we are dead."
Sam hears the warning in the tone, shoots a glance at Teal'c. The last time they tread too close to O'Neill's past and any mention of faith, they stirred the memory of how his ex-wife had taken him to church one final time. O'Neil's last touch with the ritual of religion was to bury his son.
The shadow had crossed his face so suddenly Sam had expected to feel rain in the next instant. Instead, O'Neill had pushed violently to his feet, and told them, "I kill false gods for a living now and if there is a real god, he's a bastard. If he's mad I don't follow him, he can't do anything. I've already escaped from Hell once."
This time there is no bitter outrage. The empty beer bottle in the general's hand is not flung away, but tossed at his backpack. This time his mood is not about the distant past, but seems to be about the recent one-not that long ago, the general had the power to heal in his hands and the knowledge of the 'gate builders in his head. It has changed something in him. The general stands, turns and strides down the trail. He is not chasing after broken glass from a bottle he has thrown, but something else.
Daniel exchanges a look with Sam, then he stands and follows the general, leaving his own half drunk beer behind and cradling his injured arm.
Teal'c and Sam share a look. After this many years, there's no need for apologies. They both know to make allowances; some things cannot be mended, but can only be accepted.
Last time, Sam told Teal'c not to worry, that O'Neill wasn't angry with him. This time, as she helps him gather and put away the food, she's not sure what to say. But Teal'c knows.
"They have both been among the Ancients-Daniel Jackson in spirit and O'Neill in thought. They share this bond, but there are no words to speak of things which can only be experienced. This does not mean they wish to shut us out, only that there are places we cannot follow."
She looks at him and wonders if this insight and understanding is what almost a hundred years gives you. Or is this just Teal'c offering the Tau'ri the tolerance that youth needs after stumbling steps into a larger world?
"You'll drive the general home?" she asks. Teal'c nods assent and helps her pack the leftovers and the trash.
The walk back to the parking lot is quiet, and more amicable than Sam had hoped for. Teal'c and the general take point again, and she hears them discussing the finer points of curling-she didn't know they were any. Daniel dawdles at the rear, lets himself get distracted by lizards and bits of flora that he keeps plucking at and dropping. Sam walks between them, keeps herself in the middle, and out of habit her hand itches with having everyone so spread out. They're home and safe and she still misses her P90. No wonder the general keeps a Beretta in his SUV's glove box and another in his kitchen and a third in his bedroom.
When they reach the parking lot, Sam makes sure Teal'c has the general's keys. Teal'c looks more than pleased to be driving, so the general only offers a token complaint. But he slips Sam a look, then shrugs it off. She tells them she'll wait for Daniel, who is still making his way down the last part of the trail. O'Neill turns and watches Daniel for a minute, then tells Carter he's sure she's got it covered. She hopes he's right.
As Sam watches the other tourists leave, she plays a game of guessing who they are and what brought them here. What brought SG-1 here, even? Finally, Daniel arrives and she finds the nerve to ask the question that has been eating at her.
"Daniel, what's going on with you and the general?"
Daniel's eyebrows lift then fall. He pushes at his glasses, glances around, then gives a nod for her to follow to a bench and a less crowded area of the park. "It's nothing new. It'll pass."
"Will it? Daniel, on and off for the last year, ever since…." She can't finish the phrase and he looks at her over the tops of his glasses, and thank god, he looks amused.
"I got back? We are in public, Sam, so you may as well talk in code."
"I hate that. We should be able to say these things."
"Why? It's hard enough to live them."
She glances at him. She's willing to bet that Daniel and the general stood there amid the rocks, said not much of anything and somehow reached an understanding. God-men! "Okay, so what is it, Daniel? Do you think we don't trust you, or is it that you don't trust us?"
"You forgot one option there-what if I don't trust myself?"
Eyes narrowing, she studies him. Is this the truth, or is Daniel tossing out a thought as the starting point to unknotting what's tangled in his head?
He glances at her, then starts pulling at a loose thread in the hem of his sling. "Remember back after that whole Jack is a bastard fiasco, what I said when Hammond told us Makepeace would be put in charge of the team?"
"What-that I should command SG-1? Yes. And I told you Hammond made the right choice. He couldn't have put a major in charge of his top unit." Sam knows she lacked the field experience Makepeace had, and while she now has command of SG-1, there are days she wishes she was back to being one of the two scientists on the team. "Or that other thing?" she asks.
Daniel finds a smile, but its one that twists on the edges. "Yeah, that other thing. That never having trusted Jack's command thing," Daniel tells her quietly.
Sam lets out a breath. How will she feel if Daniel tells her now that he has never trusted her command either? Betrayed? Stunned? It will be none of the things that O'Neill felt-she is not that man, not that kind of commander. The general has always had an unshakable faith in the rightness of his calls. Even when he changes his mind and does a one-eighty. She tries to emulate that assurance, and mostly does, but she is also too much the scientist not to know the value of doubt.
"At the time, I didn't realize it was true until I said it out loud. But, Sam, I believed him. Even on Tollana when he was ripping the device from the wall I was furious at him, but I wasn't surprised. I believed his decisions, believed him capable of turning the way he did, and I believed that our friendship meant nothing to him." Daniel's voice is quiet and a little raw. "That's the real trouble with having to remember everything."
"Daniel, you know it was all a lie so he could go undercover. You know it was the only way to catch Maybourne's organization." Even now, Sam doesn't know all the details of what happened when Daniel visited O'Neill's house back then. But she'll never forget the look on Daniel's face when he showed up at her door afterwards. She also can't forget that he wasn't in the gate room when O'Neill left Earth-she learned later that he'd been watching from the control room, unwilling to show himself but unable to stay away. She isn't surprised that the repercussions of that mission still resonate. There are some things for which Daniel has no defenses.
"The best lies are those based on a kernel of truth," Daniel tells her. "I've trusted Jack with my life, trusted him to do all he can to protect Earth. To do what he thinks is best. But I think I've always known on a very basic level that I don't always trust him to know what is actually best and, sometimes, I don't know if he trusts me. And I don't know if I've lost the right to ask for that."
They're losing daylight and she doesn't want to have her bike on the road in the dark. Not the day after getting out of the infirmary. On the other hand, she can't leave Daniel like this, because any interruption and he'll put on that grimace of a smile and tuck this away where she can't get to it and where it can continue to fester like a two-by-four sliver. So she takes a guess.
"This is about Anubis…you said in the infirmary that you'd felt a presence. His presence. You knew it was him." Daniel nods and doesn't answer, but Sam knows how to extrapolate a theory from the bare minimum of data.
She'd had Anubis inside her as well. And she has the remembrance of Jolinar, of her mind being ransacked for use by another. That still offers disturbing, lingering dreams, and Jolinar had been reasonably benign. Anubis had been nothing like that.
"He opened some memories for you, didn't he?" she asks. "From when you were ascended-something about the general?"
Daniel keeps tugging at the thread and he will not look up now. But she can only come up with one thing that makes sense-when Daniel was ascended and not supposed to interfere in anything, O'Neill had been held and tortured by Baal. It's not hard to imagine the rest-Daniel knew about what was happening, and he couldn't do anything. No wonder Daniel is now thinking too much about trust issues. But then he glances at her.
"Sam, were you ever aware that the first mission to Abydos was meant as one-way for Jack? He was supposed to go, look around, send his guys back and blow the bomb. Well, actually, I was supposed to send everyone back, and when I couldn't that ended plan A."
She nods, and frowns. This might sound a tangent, but it's not, and she chases the connections. Daniel is not a linear thinker, so there is a matrix here with everything touching everything else. Then she makes the leap. She has seen O'Neill when he just doesn't give a damn, and is ready to step into the line of fire, and the only thing holding him back are the people who have to follow him.
God, if he asked Daniel-if he wanted, well, wanted it over. That wouldn't have been a good time for either man.
"I heard you were surprised when he showed up in Honduras to bring you home," she says, changing the topic, but really not. And she's taking a long shot in the almost dark.
"Yeah, well, at the time I was a little shocked to see anyone friendly. A few days without food or water can do that."
"He trusted you to stay alive, Daniel. At least long enough for him to show up. He trusted your stubborn ability to hang on-that's helped us all more than once. I trusted that, too. And that he would get to you in time."
He slants a look at her, and she can't read his expression. Then he looks away and says, "And with Janet?"
"You think her death's your failure?"
"No, I've been over that ground. It's all the other stuff I wonder about-I'm not sure how you guys.... If I'd still been ascended still, maybe…."
"Daniel!"
"But Jack wouldn't take that option from me. So I'm not sure she would have either. That could be the smarter choice in the long run. Go for dead and whatever that means instead of…" He makes a small bursting gesture with his fingers.
She takes his hand so he has to look at her and can't go back to fussing with that thread. "Daniel, when Janet died, the only thing anyone held you at fault for was not letting anyone share your grief. We were all going through it and, damnit, I wanted you there with me. But I figured you needed time. And I was furious with Bergman when I heard he'd been pressuring you to hand over that tape. But-god, Daniel, if Janet had lived and Wells had died, she would have…every death cost her so much." She forces lightness into her voice because he needs it, and so does she. "And, well, if you ever gave Janet a chance at Oma, there'd be more than thunderbolts flying."
The twist of a smile lifts his mouth. "Not her favorite person?"
"Not even in the top two hundred." She glances down at his hand, knows they hadn't gotten to the beating heart of this yet. "Daniel, what's been hard about having you back isn't you. It's us. We let you down. We didn't save you, and it got to be a habit that we always did. Janet's death-that's just…It's so hard, Daniel, but you have no idea how relieved I am on top of it that it wasn't you as well. Or…well, maybe now you do know how we felt about losing you."
Throat tightening, Sam blinks against the sting in her eyes, but she isn't going to break the stare she has locked on Daniel. He has to know this. She was with him when the Keeper recreated his parents' death, and she has a pretty good idea how an eight-year-old was shaped by that loss. He doesn't trust people not to leave-hell, he doesn't even trust himself not to go at some point. But Daniel's also never been one to take the easy path.
He doesn't disappoint now. He meets her stare, and the barriers drop, slowly, one-by-one. The shutters come down from behind his eyes, his face relaxes from tense guarded stillness, and he pulls in a breath, then lets it go. She wonders now how many times over this past year he's been uncertain not only of his past, but of his present-and how he has kept it from everyone. Daniel is nothing if not someone who questions, but she there is a danger in questioning yourself too much.
Now seems a good time to state the obvious. "Daniel, we didn't shoot you for hidden reasons. Anubis had me when I shot you, and he had you when Teal'c and…"
"I know. Jack shot me for my own good. It's okay, Sam, I get it." Standing, he pulls her to her feet. "But I'm still going to get all the mileage I can from this."
She reaches an arm around his back and he places his uninjured arm around her shoulders as they walk back to her motorcycle. "Daniel, I don't know if the general really can ever completely trust anyone," she admits. She has told Daniel this before, but there are things that he should hear more often than he does. "In our line of work, that may be a good thing."
"So we're right to be godless paranoids incapable of forming relationships outside our immediate circle of similar thinking teammates because that's what keeps us alive and able to do the job?"
She grins. "Well-yes. Of course, there is one person the general does trust."
"Thor," they both say at the same time, and then both of them grin. And Sam knows that, for now, tonight at least, they really are both going to be just fine.
continued -- Part 3...
Original Title: Eroding Away the Mountains
Original Author:
abyssinia4077
Back to Part 1
====
General O'Neill is in a mood after they kill their latest Goa'uld. They've sent Anubis to a world where he's now a 'snake-cicle' as the newly minted general puts it. They've all learned-at cost-this may not be a permanent condition. But they've also learned to celebrate any success. Even after all these years, smiting a god still leaves O'Neill manic. He bursts into Sam's office, where Daniel is struggling to handle a translation with only one good arm-a handicap for Daniel who speaks all his languages with both hands-and while Sam is poking at a device found off-world by SG-6 that has already knocked Siler and two engineers unconscious.
The general's shout of, "It's Garden of the Gods time, kids!" causes Daniel to spill his coffee, right into the circuit where Sam has just inserted a volt meter probe.
She blinks awake in the infirmary with the memory of a flash and the smell of singed skin, and if she's lost her eyebrows someone is going to pay. The general and Daniel sit across from each other on facing beds opposite her, and a ball is bouncing between them. Daniel manages one-handed catches far better than he handles a gun, and she has no idea what any airman or nurse might think of a general who keeps a Superball in his pocket. She starts to say something about that, manages only a groan.
O'Neill catches the ball and freezes, looking slightly guilty. But Daniel gets up and steps close. "Hey, there. Jack says he's sorry for startling you. I'm sorry, too."
Sam manages a nod. A few years of this-of experiments on alien technology not quite working out-have taught her not to try to sit up or make sudden moves that will only start the room spinning. "General, you said something about hiking?"
"Carter, how hard did you get hit? Garden-Gods-you know. The usual." Now she feels stupid as well as fuzzy around the edges, but Daniel rolls his eyes as if the lack of clarity is the general's fault. Which it pretty much is. O'Neill glances at Daniel, then back to her, and adds, as if he shouldn't have to explain anything, "As in celebrate. Do a little Snoopy dance?"
This leaves Daniel frowning and he plucks at his sling-a not so subtle reminder about just who left him incapacitated. "Y'know, Jack, that didn't work out so well last time."
"Oh, now you remember this kind of stuff?" the general says, and Sam can't help but notice that he has fixed his stare on Daniel's face, as in he is not looking at Daniel's injury. Now the man is guilty for having put two of his own people in the infirmary within the past week, and Sam buckles-she can't stand seeing him like this. He hasn't even broken in his new stars properly, so the least she can do is to give him some support.
"Of course, sir." She offers a smile that leaves her wincing. And leave it to the general to decide now would be good for them to do something together-with Daniel still recovering from having been shot, and her just about fried. O'Neill isn't even that long out of the Ancient stasis chamber. "But can it wait a couple days?" she asks.
The general's face falls, and she gives in to the disappointment, offers, "Or tomorrow?"
"Sam," Daniel warns, making the single word a hard caution.
She doesn't look at him because the general is beaming again. He gives her a nod, stuffs his hands and the ball back into his pockets. He shoots a challenge over to Daniel who picks it up, sends it back, and raises an eyebrow in response.
The general offers back a bland 'what?' expression, his eyebrows lifting. Daniel's glower doesn't lift and the general loses some of his smirk, thumbs over his shoulder. "I'll, uhm, go tell Teal'c."
Daniel's glare follows the general out, and Sam wonders-not for the first time-just what kind of connection beyond the ordinary these two have. She's willing to bet that Daniel's stare is now lodged between the general's shoulder blades. Daniel turns back to her, his eyes and face loaded with worry.
"Look, Sam, I know you've been here, done this, have the medical file to prove you can handle something blowing up in your face, but you sure about a hike tomorrow?"
"I'll be fine, Daniel. Trust me. But you better warn Teal'c."
He nods, but he stays, and even with her eyes closing she feels his presence next to her bed until she slips into a light sleep.
As promised, she's released that evening from the infirmary and she is not going to think about how much she misses Janet. A night in her own bed takes away the remaining dizziness, and the hollow ache of Janet's memory, but Sam doesn't bounce back as easily as she did a few years ago. She has more sympathy for the general having accepted a desk job-there are times she thinks about an assignment that would put her into a lab. Cassie seems to have taken Janet's death as well as is possible, but there are times Sam wonders how much Cassie has learned from them about stupidly brave fronts. So maybe she should take her promotion and trade it in for a spot at Area 51. But a diet soda-the last in her fridge-restores her optimism along with her caffeine levels and blood sugar.
She pulls up in front of Daniel's apartment at ten in a roar of exhaust. He gave up his house after Osiris' last nocturnal visit, and she can't blame him. Blowing up a chunk of the neighbors' garden would not endear anyone to what had been a quiet community-and how creepy to go on living in a place where you've been visited for more than a few nights by the equivalent of a Goa'uld succubus. But she thinks Osiris was mostly an excuse for Daniel to move again.
Daniel moves-on average-once every eighteen months. She has charted it. She also asked the general about it-well, he'd still been the colonel then-and he made a quip that in some things Daniel is consistent. So she assumes this nomadic habit is a long-standing left over from his early years. Her own background, moving as the military reassigned her dad, left her wanting solid foundations as soon as she could afford them. But there is a restlessness in Daniel's soul. It's one of the things he has in common with O'Neill. That and a habit of reckless driving.
These days, the general has upgraded his truck to an SUV, but he still handles any vehicle as if he learned how to drive from watching James Bond films. She trusts her life to that man, but not her blood pressure to the near misses or her ears to his blistering curses.
Daniel looks a little surprised when he sees her motorcycle rather than her new BMW. The look moves fast to resigned. He takes the offered helmet, shrugs into it and slides in behind her, wrapping his good arm around her waist. As she accelerates from the curb, his good arm tightens and the one in a sling, and his shoulders, press against her back.
She's careful with the curves and takes it slow since this is supposed to be a pleasure outing. Teal'c and the general are waiting when she pulls into the parking lot, red rocks jutting into the sky around them in rough, stark beauty. The place looks more alien that a lot of the worlds they've been to. And Teal'c-in shorts, hiking boots, a black shirt decorated with large, white plumeria, and a Stetson-looks unhappy for reasons that Sam knows have nothing to do with the looks he's getting for his style sense. It's been years since they last came here, but Teal'c has always been sensitive to symbolism. The idea that any garden-even one of rock formations-should be dedicated to any gods offends his sensibilities. Large plumeria on shirts, however, do not.
"Morning, campers." The years have mellowed O'Neill, except for when he's taken it into his head that no one is ever too old for a second childhood. Or to hang onto a first. He beams at them, fills his lungs, pats his chest. "Ah, the great outdoors!"
"There will be no horses this visit," Teal'c states, his voice flat and final. The general shrugs, and Sam represses a smile.
She spent her tenth year in Texas, up to her elbows in dust and sensible Quarter Horses. Ten is a good age for horse crazy, and her mom was wise enough to know how to soften the loss of friends left behind in the last transfer. Sam had cried when the next one came, and she had to give up the riding lessons and Bertie, a mustang with a bone jarring gait and a sugar-sweet temperament. She did fine with the trail ride last visit. Other than for dealing with the inaccurate trail guide, so did Daniel.
Sam still entertains an impossible image in her head of Daniel as a young man, on an Arabian stallion, in a burnoose like Laurence of Arabia, the blue eyes startling as desert sky. Truth is he's probably ridden camels and donkeys and skinny third-world mutts like Bertie, but Janet taught her that accuracy should never stand in the way of a good fantasy.
O'Neill, on horseback, could live up to any illusion. But he's always had the ability to wrap the world around his will, makes everything fit him rather than molding himself to a situation, as she and Daniel will. Teal'c, however, did not take to the concept of relaxing into the saddle. Where Daniel slouched like an old cowhand, and O'Neill rode like a veteran cavalry officer, Teal'c sat stiff and frowning. All of them were sore the next day, but Teal'c walked as if sensitive parts were hurting for close on to a week.
Glancing around, Sam wonders if it's not horses, then what? The general pulls a light backpack out of his SUV and offers, "Kissing Camels? Siamese Twins?"
He says the names as if he just likes how they roll off his tongue. The Twins are the formation furthest away, and they've made the hike there before. At the mention of the name, Daniel frowns, shakes his head and says, "No. Not there."
"Why not?" the general asks, but Daniel won't answer.
Sam is not surprised. The last time they were here, nothing had been easy between the team. Meaning nothing had been easy between Daniel and O'Neill. The two men have always set the tone for the team. Sam doesn't know why this should be, but she has always known these two are the most volatile part of SG-1. She feels like the sensible, responsible one at times. She's certain Teal'c feels the same. The hike to the Twins hadn't been sensible or fun.
Of course, they'd still been trying to settle back into step after what had seemed a betrayal. Both O'Neill's undercover role to stop Maybourne's operation, and Colonel Makepeace's real acts of treason, had shaken everyone at the SGC. One of their own had gone bad. General Hammond had kept SG-1 inactive while O'Neill testified, and O'Neill in turn had apologized every way he could for the necessary lies he'd told. He'd even bought every round at O'Malley's for a month.
Now O'Neill has something else to be sorry for-he shot Daniel. At the time, Daniel was possessed by Anubis, and the choice of bullet that would wound or a second shot from a zat that would kill seemed an easy one. But there's never been much that's easy with Daniel. And Daniel's trust is an unstable equation-he will often trust strangers before he takes the word of a friend.
Something prickly is again simmering between the two men. Sam is uncertain if the roots of this lie with that older betrayal still-one paved over by time, but not with words-or if Daniel is wary of them all again. And for good reasons now. With Anubis loose, they'd each gotten in a shot at Daniel. If she'd been on the receiving end, she'd be wondering if there wasn't some hidden meaning, too. For his part, General O'Neill has only offered the explanation that Daniel was shooting up his gate room, so what else could he do. He doesn't seem to quite understand what else is wrong well enough to offer the right apology. Sam isn't sure she knows either.
But Daniel gives in to the general's persistent stare, throws up his one good hand, then takes point without a word. They all swap glances and follow.
The last time here, Daniel spent the first part of the easy walk explaining all the facts about native settlements that their mounted trail guide had gotten wrong earlier. O'Neill finally threatened to muzzle him. There's no need for that this time. Daniel doesn't say anything. A mile later, he slowly drops back to walk behind Sam, lets the other two men take the lead.
Daniel keeps his silence the entire hike. It's a different silence than he used to carry. After Sha're died, he locked himself in. After Janet died, he locked everyone out. Sam still remembers, too, how Daniel rebuffed her touch when they found him on Vis Uban-protecting himself, even though he didn't know himself or what could be the threat. He did the same at Janet's memorial-wouldn't stand with his teammates, wouldn't meet anyone's stare, wouldn't talk. He tolerated General Hammond's presence next to him, and left as soon as his duty was done, hands in his pockets and head bowed. Sam wishes now that she hadn't been hurting so much herself. She couldn't reach out, either. Not to him. Not then.
When they reach the Twins, Sam looks through the rock window to Pike's Peak, imagines she can look back in time and see two figures running into a field of flowers. Daniel edges in next to her, as he has before, his knee pushing into her thigh in the cramped space, and she points out the mountain and the memory.
"Feels like forever ago that we climbed it," she tells him.
"It was. Forever and a day," he says, reaching a hand to briefly squeeze her shoulder. "That's the time traditionally allotted for enchantments. Of course, it was another lifetime ago for me."
That is the literal truth. She glances over at Daniel. He's been through so much, but so have they all. Hathor-twice over. Daniel in a padded white room. Sha're's death at Teal'c's hands. Daniel dead. A trip to the hell of Netu and back. Teal'c brainwashed back into a belief in Apophis as his god. A love rekindled for him and then cut off by death. Another consciousness or two inside her-one Tok'ra, one utterly alien. Friends met and lost. Worlds lost, Abydos among them. O'Neill lost more than once to them-and not that long ago, frozen for what might have been the rest of eternity.
"We've changed," she says. "But this place hasn't."
O'Neill interrupts whatever response Daniel might have made. "Hey, kids, feed bag's on. Team outing-no wandering."
Sam catches a hint for help in the words as well as the habitual checking up. Turning, she puts a hand to her mouth to stop the grin when she sees a red and white checked blanket lying on top of a fairly flat rock. Teal'c is spreading out lunch from the general's backpack and the general looks cornered by the words flowing at him.
"This is not a garden, and there are only false gods, O'Neill," Teal'c pauses to raise an eyebrow at a container of potato salad, then smoothly goes on. "This place is therefore ill-named, and makes as little sense as the purchase of food to be carried for consumption out-of-doors when there are facility designed to provide far greater dining comfort."
"Ah, but the ambiance, Teal'c," Daniel says, sliding off the rock to help, and then spreading his arms wide-even the one in the sling-and not helping at all.
Teal'c pauses and glances around. "It is most pleasant. But the place for gods lies in favored temples and palaces filled with gold and displays of wealth. Even on Earth, you build elaborate structures to worship your gods. This is but a park that demonstrates soil erosion."
"Oh, don't get him started," O'Neill says, and he sprawls on the blanket.
Daniel ignores the interruption since he is not to be distracted from an argument. "Or, accidental perfection could be viewed as physical evidence of the power, beauty, and inherent benevolence designed into the universal order. A mortal being can work gold and build temples, and we've even seen machines that control weather, which could produce a place like this. But that this occurs on its own-that's remarkable. And perhaps it is evidence of a divine presence, that there's a system that's been structured to create wonders-hints of a greater infinity. You have to admit there is something…" He breaks off, glances around, then asks, "Haven't we had this discussion before?"
"We have. And I am still unwilling to concede this is more than the work of wind and water over long periods of time." Teal'c raises an eyebrow. "However, pleasing to the eye."
"Uh, General?" Sam asks, and thinks of déjà vu. She holds up the six pack she found under the rest of their lunch. "Park rules? I know you know them."
"Hey, general here now." He points to stars that are not to be found on the loose baggy shirt of civilian clothing. "Besides, would I break a rule, Carter?" He raises an eyebrow at her and answers before she can answer. "And besides-beside, see the labels?" Sam checks and grins. He's taped white stickers over the labels on which he's written 'root beer' in block letters. Two of the bottles really are root beer, but also have the fake labels over the real ones. "Those are for Teal'c," he tells her.
Lunch is good and when they are full there is still more food-the general's philosophy is that too much to eat and drink will cure most things. Sam wonders if he grew up with this idea. The beer is spreading a warmth through her limbs that matches the one on her skin from the sun. A sibilant lisp had slipped into Daniel's words as it does whenever alcohol hits his bloodstream and loosens his tongue. He and Teal'c are talking, so she glances to where the general lays with his baseball cap over his face and a beer balanced on his stomach, and she can't help but think about the second time O'Neill downloaded the knowledge of the Ancients into his head.
He stopped Daniel from taking that risk, took it on himself so they could find the lost city. Daniel's frustration had been as strong as his worry-and his assurances that somehow he could have handled it better. It's endearingly typical of Daniel to have reacted that way, and that makes her think the general is right. There are time Daniel needs to be protected from the universe, and times the universe needs to be protected from Daniel.
Teal'c sips his root beer, as calm and dispassionate as Daniel is loud and passionate, as they wander back into another philosophical debate about gods. Sam is aware that the general is not napping, even if he looks it. He chooses not to interrupt, lets the conversation flow over him, and so she does the same.
She is lying down, her hands linked behind her head for a pillow, one booted foot almost touching the general's thigh. The other boot bumps Daniel's knee when Teal'c asks, "Daniel Jackson, you have been a higher being-but do you believe in a god who is infinite and compassionate and good?"
"What-a creator? Uh, well, Teal'c, that's a difficult question," Daniel says and Sam rises onto her elbows to squint at Daniel, curious of the answer. She knows his parents taught him stories about ancient pantheons as well as modern religions; he has described himself as raised not in one religion but in all. He has claimed a belief in a higher power. Now, however, he's been one of those higher beings, and found himself unable to dispense even the simplest act of mercy or grace. Even for his friends. Beliefs can change, faith can shatter, and she wonders how Daniel's views have been shaped. Has he lost that much of himself?
"You've remembered about your time as an ascended being," Sam prompts, helping Teal'c dig for an answer. Daniel nods, lifts his half-drunk beer in a motion that seems more about buying himself time.
"Some," he admits at last.
"Sufficient to have allowed our rescue of Ry'ac and Bra'tac," Teal'c says, with a nod of deep respect.
Daniel starts to fidget. "Well, images, yes. Feelings. Not…I don't understand anything better, but I think I did. Now-well, I remember enough to know ascension might be a step on the path to godliness, but power in itself does not bring wisdom. And, as we've seen from Anubis, good and evil seems to be a conscious choice at every level of existence. So, ascension really is a means, not the answer, or even an answer. But, yes, I hope there is something more beyond that. Every single culture in Earth's history believed in something. There are remarkable coincidences, similar stories and personalities in the gods of cultures who could never have interacted, which indicates either an inherent need, or that we know on some basic level that we come from a common source. Of course, the Goa'uld changed everything I thought I knew at one time, so maybe these similarities aren't quite as miraculous as they seem. And maybe the Ancients changed just as much in our history and our belief systems." Daniel frowns, stares at his beer, then glances up, seems to remember the original question. "But a single god-a creator? I think any god I'm capable of imagining is by definition limited and therefore not a valid concept. Maybe that's why faith's required?"
"Faith and four bucks will get you a coffee these days."
The voice comes out muffled and cranky, the general has joined the discussion with his usual flair. Teal'c slants him a look and an eyebrow lifts, but the general doesn't come out from under his hat. "O'Neill, you once told me you were raised Lutheran."
"No. Told you I was raised in Minnesota, Teal'c." Lifting his cap, the general takes a large swallow of his beer, finishes his second bottle, and Sam makes a mental note to make sure Teal'c drives the general home. She's only had one beer herself, and experience has taught the buzz will wear off on the hike back.
"Lutefisk," Teal'c says, as if this explains everything about Minnesota.
Daniel smothers a smile and adds, "Ice hockey. Fishing year round. And dragged to the Lutheran church down the block. The ideal childhood-except for the part about you were actually born in Chicago, Jack."
"Hey, still had church there, too. Got the Chicago O'Neills and Catholic mass for that part, and you don't think I'd go for Minnesota after that?"
Sam grins and foresees more explanations about the diversity within Christianity. All these years and Teal'c still cannot grasp the concept of how any god would allow his followers to fragment into separate, and often warring, factions. This is where his decades as a Jaffa, fighting for one god, one planet-or even one system of planets-stands out the most. For Teal'c, a god consolidates power and destroys rivals. Followers do not fight with each other. There are things she does not understand about the Jaffa-the entire revenge thing for a start. And she wonders how well she would have done if roles had been reversed and she had had to adapt to their world, their faith, their ways.
"The religions on your world are very strange," Teal'c comments after Daniel finishes a recap of his short version of world religion 101.
"Yeah, I guess freedom to believe anything pretty much leads to believing almost anything," Daniel says.
"Flying Spaghetti Monster," the general mutters.
"O'Neill?"
"Hey, it's a religion. Look it up on the Internet. Didn't say it's a good one. But at least they're not out killing anyone. Don't go around promising white wings for good behavior, either. Or miracle healings. Damnit, some things we're not supposed to know until we are dead."
Sam hears the warning in the tone, shoots a glance at Teal'c. The last time they tread too close to O'Neill's past and any mention of faith, they stirred the memory of how his ex-wife had taken him to church one final time. O'Neil's last touch with the ritual of religion was to bury his son.
The shadow had crossed his face so suddenly Sam had expected to feel rain in the next instant. Instead, O'Neill had pushed violently to his feet, and told them, "I kill false gods for a living now and if there is a real god, he's a bastard. If he's mad I don't follow him, he can't do anything. I've already escaped from Hell once."
This time there is no bitter outrage. The empty beer bottle in the general's hand is not flung away, but tossed at his backpack. This time his mood is not about the distant past, but seems to be about the recent one-not that long ago, the general had the power to heal in his hands and the knowledge of the 'gate builders in his head. It has changed something in him. The general stands, turns and strides down the trail. He is not chasing after broken glass from a bottle he has thrown, but something else.
Daniel exchanges a look with Sam, then he stands and follows the general, leaving his own half drunk beer behind and cradling his injured arm.
Teal'c and Sam share a look. After this many years, there's no need for apologies. They both know to make allowances; some things cannot be mended, but can only be accepted.
Last time, Sam told Teal'c not to worry, that O'Neill wasn't angry with him. This time, as she helps him gather and put away the food, she's not sure what to say. But Teal'c knows.
"They have both been among the Ancients-Daniel Jackson in spirit and O'Neill in thought. They share this bond, but there are no words to speak of things which can only be experienced. This does not mean they wish to shut us out, only that there are places we cannot follow."
She looks at him and wonders if this insight and understanding is what almost a hundred years gives you. Or is this just Teal'c offering the Tau'ri the tolerance that youth needs after stumbling steps into a larger world?
"You'll drive the general home?" she asks. Teal'c nods assent and helps her pack the leftovers and the trash.
The walk back to the parking lot is quiet, and more amicable than Sam had hoped for. Teal'c and the general take point again, and she hears them discussing the finer points of curling-she didn't know they were any. Daniel dawdles at the rear, lets himself get distracted by lizards and bits of flora that he keeps plucking at and dropping. Sam walks between them, keeps herself in the middle, and out of habit her hand itches with having everyone so spread out. They're home and safe and she still misses her P90. No wonder the general keeps a Beretta in his SUV's glove box and another in his kitchen and a third in his bedroom.
When they reach the parking lot, Sam makes sure Teal'c has the general's keys. Teal'c looks more than pleased to be driving, so the general only offers a token complaint. But he slips Sam a look, then shrugs it off. She tells them she'll wait for Daniel, who is still making his way down the last part of the trail. O'Neill turns and watches Daniel for a minute, then tells Carter he's sure she's got it covered. She hopes he's right.
As Sam watches the other tourists leave, she plays a game of guessing who they are and what brought them here. What brought SG-1 here, even? Finally, Daniel arrives and she finds the nerve to ask the question that has been eating at her.
"Daniel, what's going on with you and the general?"
Daniel's eyebrows lift then fall. He pushes at his glasses, glances around, then gives a nod for her to follow to a bench and a less crowded area of the park. "It's nothing new. It'll pass."
"Will it? Daniel, on and off for the last year, ever since…." She can't finish the phrase and he looks at her over the tops of his glasses, and thank god, he looks amused.
"I got back? We are in public, Sam, so you may as well talk in code."
"I hate that. We should be able to say these things."
"Why? It's hard enough to live them."
She glances at him. She's willing to bet that Daniel and the general stood there amid the rocks, said not much of anything and somehow reached an understanding. God-men! "Okay, so what is it, Daniel? Do you think we don't trust you, or is it that you don't trust us?"
"You forgot one option there-what if I don't trust myself?"
Eyes narrowing, she studies him. Is this the truth, or is Daniel tossing out a thought as the starting point to unknotting what's tangled in his head?
He glances at her, then starts pulling at a loose thread in the hem of his sling. "Remember back after that whole Jack is a bastard fiasco, what I said when Hammond told us Makepeace would be put in charge of the team?"
"What-that I should command SG-1? Yes. And I told you Hammond made the right choice. He couldn't have put a major in charge of his top unit." Sam knows she lacked the field experience Makepeace had, and while she now has command of SG-1, there are days she wishes she was back to being one of the two scientists on the team. "Or that other thing?" she asks.
Daniel finds a smile, but its one that twists on the edges. "Yeah, that other thing. That never having trusted Jack's command thing," Daniel tells her quietly.
Sam lets out a breath. How will she feel if Daniel tells her now that he has never trusted her command either? Betrayed? Stunned? It will be none of the things that O'Neill felt-she is not that man, not that kind of commander. The general has always had an unshakable faith in the rightness of his calls. Even when he changes his mind and does a one-eighty. She tries to emulate that assurance, and mostly does, but she is also too much the scientist not to know the value of doubt.
"At the time, I didn't realize it was true until I said it out loud. But, Sam, I believed him. Even on Tollana when he was ripping the device from the wall I was furious at him, but I wasn't surprised. I believed his decisions, believed him capable of turning the way he did, and I believed that our friendship meant nothing to him." Daniel's voice is quiet and a little raw. "That's the real trouble with having to remember everything."
"Daniel, you know it was all a lie so he could go undercover. You know it was the only way to catch Maybourne's organization." Even now, Sam doesn't know all the details of what happened when Daniel visited O'Neill's house back then. But she'll never forget the look on Daniel's face when he showed up at her door afterwards. She also can't forget that he wasn't in the gate room when O'Neill left Earth-she learned later that he'd been watching from the control room, unwilling to show himself but unable to stay away. She isn't surprised that the repercussions of that mission still resonate. There are some things for which Daniel has no defenses.
"The best lies are those based on a kernel of truth," Daniel tells her. "I've trusted Jack with my life, trusted him to do all he can to protect Earth. To do what he thinks is best. But I think I've always known on a very basic level that I don't always trust him to know what is actually best and, sometimes, I don't know if he trusts me. And I don't know if I've lost the right to ask for that."
They're losing daylight and she doesn't want to have her bike on the road in the dark. Not the day after getting out of the infirmary. On the other hand, she can't leave Daniel like this, because any interruption and he'll put on that grimace of a smile and tuck this away where she can't get to it and where it can continue to fester like a two-by-four sliver. So she takes a guess.
"This is about Anubis…you said in the infirmary that you'd felt a presence. His presence. You knew it was him." Daniel nods and doesn't answer, but Sam knows how to extrapolate a theory from the bare minimum of data.
She'd had Anubis inside her as well. And she has the remembrance of Jolinar, of her mind being ransacked for use by another. That still offers disturbing, lingering dreams, and Jolinar had been reasonably benign. Anubis had been nothing like that.
"He opened some memories for you, didn't he?" she asks. "From when you were ascended-something about the general?"
Daniel keeps tugging at the thread and he will not look up now. But she can only come up with one thing that makes sense-when Daniel was ascended and not supposed to interfere in anything, O'Neill had been held and tortured by Baal. It's not hard to imagine the rest-Daniel knew about what was happening, and he couldn't do anything. No wonder Daniel is now thinking too much about trust issues. But then he glances at her.
"Sam, were you ever aware that the first mission to Abydos was meant as one-way for Jack? He was supposed to go, look around, send his guys back and blow the bomb. Well, actually, I was supposed to send everyone back, and when I couldn't that ended plan A."
She nods, and frowns. This might sound a tangent, but it's not, and she chases the connections. Daniel is not a linear thinker, so there is a matrix here with everything touching everything else. Then she makes the leap. She has seen O'Neill when he just doesn't give a damn, and is ready to step into the line of fire, and the only thing holding him back are the people who have to follow him.
God, if he asked Daniel-if he wanted, well, wanted it over. That wouldn't have been a good time for either man.
"I heard you were surprised when he showed up in Honduras to bring you home," she says, changing the topic, but really not. And she's taking a long shot in the almost dark.
"Yeah, well, at the time I was a little shocked to see anyone friendly. A few days without food or water can do that."
"He trusted you to stay alive, Daniel. At least long enough for him to show up. He trusted your stubborn ability to hang on-that's helped us all more than once. I trusted that, too. And that he would get to you in time."
He slants a look at her, and she can't read his expression. Then he looks away and says, "And with Janet?"
"You think her death's your failure?"
"No, I've been over that ground. It's all the other stuff I wonder about-I'm not sure how you guys.... If I'd still been ascended still, maybe…."
"Daniel!"
"But Jack wouldn't take that option from me. So I'm not sure she would have either. That could be the smarter choice in the long run. Go for dead and whatever that means instead of…" He makes a small bursting gesture with his fingers.
She takes his hand so he has to look at her and can't go back to fussing with that thread. "Daniel, when Janet died, the only thing anyone held you at fault for was not letting anyone share your grief. We were all going through it and, damnit, I wanted you there with me. But I figured you needed time. And I was furious with Bergman when I heard he'd been pressuring you to hand over that tape. But-god, Daniel, if Janet had lived and Wells had died, she would have…every death cost her so much." She forces lightness into her voice because he needs it, and so does she. "And, well, if you ever gave Janet a chance at Oma, there'd be more than thunderbolts flying."
The twist of a smile lifts his mouth. "Not her favorite person?"
"Not even in the top two hundred." She glances down at his hand, knows they hadn't gotten to the beating heart of this yet. "Daniel, what's been hard about having you back isn't you. It's us. We let you down. We didn't save you, and it got to be a habit that we always did. Janet's death-that's just…It's so hard, Daniel, but you have no idea how relieved I am on top of it that it wasn't you as well. Or…well, maybe now you do know how we felt about losing you."
Throat tightening, Sam blinks against the sting in her eyes, but she isn't going to break the stare she has locked on Daniel. He has to know this. She was with him when the Keeper recreated his parents' death, and she has a pretty good idea how an eight-year-old was shaped by that loss. He doesn't trust people not to leave-hell, he doesn't even trust himself not to go at some point. But Daniel's also never been one to take the easy path.
He doesn't disappoint now. He meets her stare, and the barriers drop, slowly, one-by-one. The shutters come down from behind his eyes, his face relaxes from tense guarded stillness, and he pulls in a breath, then lets it go. She wonders now how many times over this past year he's been uncertain not only of his past, but of his present-and how he has kept it from everyone. Daniel is nothing if not someone who questions, but she there is a danger in questioning yourself too much.
Now seems a good time to state the obvious. "Daniel, we didn't shoot you for hidden reasons. Anubis had me when I shot you, and he had you when Teal'c and…"
"I know. Jack shot me for my own good. It's okay, Sam, I get it." Standing, he pulls her to her feet. "But I'm still going to get all the mileage I can from this."
She reaches an arm around his back and he places his uninjured arm around her shoulders as they walk back to her motorcycle. "Daniel, I don't know if the general really can ever completely trust anyone," she admits. She has told Daniel this before, but there are things that he should hear more often than he does. "In our line of work, that may be a good thing."
"So we're right to be godless paranoids incapable of forming relationships outside our immediate circle of similar thinking teammates because that's what keeps us alive and able to do the job?"
She grins. "Well-yes. Of course, there is one person the general does trust."
"Thor," they both say at the same time, and then both of them grin. And Sam knows that, for now, tonight at least, they really are both going to be just fine.
continued -- Part 3...