Stargate AU: The Alexandrian Tablet (5/15)
Pairings: John/Rodney, Rodney/Daniel, Rodney/Lorne, Teyla/Ronon, misc others (mention of whom would be spoilery)
Rating: R-ish
Words: 60K-ish
Genre: AU, Contemporary, No Stargate program
Author's Note: There are 15 chapters and about 60K words to this story, which will be posted at a rate of one chapter per week. Longtime followers of this journal may recognize bits and pieces of this. I was toying with the plot of this story years ago, but could never make it work, until I read the parts I'd written in 2002ish last fall and realized, "Huh. This was always supposed to be a Stargate AU!" Beta'd by the wonderful cathexys. Any remaining mistakes are my own.
Previous Chapter
Chapter 5
Rodney was late getting into work and barely had time to run past his office to collect his lecture notes before his 10 a.m. class. Evan was on the phone and tried to flag him down while he breezed through the office, but he just waved and mouthed, "No time, later," before heading on to the lecture theater.
The semester was two weeks old, and Rodney critically surveyed the room of eager faces while waiting for the last few stragglers to take their seats. He couldn't say for sure whether there were any faces missing yet, but that was bound to change by the end of today's lecture. Rodney liked to think of this particular lecture as the one where he rid himself of nincompoops that had been foisted on him by the rest of the graduate selection committee in exchange for the few truly brilliant minds he got to select every year.
He smiled to himself and began: "We left off with Pepy II at our last meeting and the decline of the Old Kingdom into the chaos of the Interregnum period. Does anyone have any working theory for the sudden decline of the 6th dynasty?"
The question was met with utter silence and Rodney sighed. "Anyone?"
Still utter silence. Rodney frowned and stepped up to the whiteboard. It took only a few seconds for him to scrawl a quote on it from memory: "In the six-hundredth year of Noah's life, in the second month, on the seventeenth day of the month, on that day all the fountains of the great deep burst forth, and the windows of the heavens were opened. And rain fell upon the earth forty days and forty nights."
Rodney put down his marker and turned expectantly to the class, which met him with blank stares until one girl raised her hand hesitantly. "Genesis 7.11-12, Professor," she said.
"Correct," Rodney agreed as several hands shot up.
"I fail to see the point of introducing a...a work of fiction into a history lecture," another girl objected, already poised on the edge of her chair.
Rodney sighed again. "Never underestimate the value of the Bible as a source--" he paused to glance at his roster. He'd never quite gotten the hang of remembering names, even with the small number of students classes in the Classics department usually attracted. "Alyssa," he decided. She looked like an Alyssa.
"Excuse me, I was under the impression this was grad school, not seminary," she replied.
Rodney had to admit he was starting to enjoy himself a little. "And so it is," he agreed. "Though I can't help wondering what made you choose St. Augustine's for pursuing your PhD when you clearly have such strong feelings about the Judeo-Christian tradition."
The girl huffed and got up to leave the lecture hall.
Rodney ignored her and asked, "Would any of you care to hazard a guess as to why I think the myth of Noah's ark relevant in this context?"
He was just about to launch into an explanation when a voice quietly replied, "Tidal waves."
Rodney froze for just a moment before putting on his best poker face. "Yes. Um. Did you--you're not on my roster, I believe."
"I just added this morning," the man replied languidly. "Jackson. Daniel Jackson."
Rodney tried to smile rather than grimace. "Of course. Joining us from MIT. I believe you caused the department secretary quite a few headaches over the summer."
"That would be one explanation for why he doesn't seem to like me very much," Daniel purred, smirking at Rodney.
Rodney pulled himself together. "Tidal waves," he said, his throat feeling a lot drier than it should so early in his lecture. "Go on."
Daniel grinned. "Seismic and volcanic activity often results in tidal waves."
"And?" Rodney prompted impatiently.
"And if you transpose bible time to the Gregorian calendar, you'll probably find that a rough date for the Great Flood would be the 23rd century BC."
"And the connection with our area of study would be?" Rodney asked. "Come on, Daniel, don't make me pull teeth."
"Recent research suggests that there were dramatic changes in the climate of the Eastern Mediterranean at that time," Daniel replied. "Much of which may have been due to strong earthquakes and volcanic activity in the region."
"Correct," Rodney agreed. "Yes, Stacy?"
"Isn't that a little far-fetched?" Stacy asked. "Egypt and Judea seem a little far from the active faults and volcanoes to have been affected."
Rodney smiled. "Daniel?"
"The eruption of Tambora in 1815 released enough sulfur dioxide into the atmosphere to cause a worldwide volcanic winter."
"Which still has very little to do with Egypt, or the 23rd century BC," Stacy insisted.
"Oh yes," Daniel agreed, smiling. "However, earthquakes and volcanic eruptions also trigger tidal waves, and a tsunami originating in the Greek Isles in 365 AD was felt as far away as Alexandria, where, according to sources, it swept ships into the streets of the city. You will concede that Alexandria is in Egypt?"
Rodney decided that, for one of Cam's choices, he quite liked her when Stacy wrinkled her nose in distaste. "One occurrence hardly--"
"The tsunami caused by the collapse of Thera made tidal waves strike at seven meters above sea-level north of Jaffa and Tel Aviv, 900 kilometers away," Daniel interrupted.
"Thank you, Daniel," Rodney cut in smoothly before Stacy had a chance to reply, "but I think you'll find that geophysics is in the next building over and we won't actually get to Minoan Greece until after midterms. Now, getting back to Pepy II. There seem to have been quite wide-ranging climatic changes in Egypt during his reign, possibly due to catastrophic events elsewhere in the region, and..."
*****
Rodney returned to his office having survived the rest of the lecture more or less intact, with the added bonus of three more undesirables having voluntarily withdrawn from the class. "Evan, a word," he growled on his way past Evan's desk. He didn't wait to see whether Evan would follow him.
A minute or two after Rodney had thrown his lecture notes down and resisted banging his head against the oak desk, the door opened behind him.
"Professor?"
Rodney sighed. "Close the door. Please." He waited for the faint click of the latch before asking, "Couldn't you have warned me?"
"I tried to," Evan replied apologetically. "But I had Marge from the chancellor's office on the phone and you were in and out of here so fast...you said you were cool with him being here."
"I am," Rodney agreed. "I just wasn't quite prepared for--he's still an overachieving little prick."
"I'd gathered that," Evan said dryly. "You might be able to get him removed from your class if--"
"By admitting to a relationship with him?" Rodney's eyes shot up. "Are you insane?" Evan made a show of studying his feet. "I can just imagine it, 'Oh, and by the way, Dean, the reason I can't teach Jackson is because I spent a few years fucking him at Princeton,'" Rodney continued. "Do you suppose the dog collar would fly off while Woolsey's head explodes?"
Evan made an admirable attempt to turn the chuckle into a cough.
Rodney shook his head. "No, I think in this case I'll just have to bite the bullet and do my best to survive the semester."
"Great," Evan smiled, "because he's scheduled to see you during office hour this afternoon."
Rodney slid into his chair and buried his face in his hands.
*****
Despite Rodney's best efforts to mentally prepare himself for the meeting, he was still taken by surprise by the knock on his door. "Come in," he muttered, quickly shoving the slide list he had been working on to the side of his desk. "Daniel. I wondered how long it would take you to find my office. How are you?"
"Pretty damn good...now," Daniel replied. "How've you been?"
"Rather intrigued by your insistence to come here, actually," Rodney replied. "Come on, rumor is that after you left Princeton, you spent a few years in Africa studying bizarre languages, then went on to MIT for their cog sci grad program, congratulations on getting in by the way, and eight years later you do a complete 180 degrees and badger my department into taking you on as a first-year grad in Classics?"
"I became disillusioned with linguistics," Daniel said.
"Was that before or after your co-writing credit on Chomsky's latest?" Rodney snapped despite his determination to stay calm. "The truth, Daniel."
Daniel smiled. "Would you accept irreconcilable differences with my advisor as an explanation?"
"Not unless you were married to him, no," Rodney replied. "You're not the type of person to throw away eight years of research because of personal differences."
"Ah, no, you've caught me," Daniel replied. "Though some people are quite prepared to throw away several years' worth of...devotion due to the tiniest of personal differences." The words were almost spat out. "In fact, some people don't even have the decency to explain their change in direction to the affected parties--"
Rodney closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "What exactly is it you throw eight years of research away for, Daniel?"
"A Rosetta stone," Daniel replied. Before Rodney could make a verbal dig at hieroglyphs having been deciphered 200 years previously, he continued, "The reason I've come to see you, Rodney, is to seek your advice regarding language instruction. I realize that most everyone else on the course has an undergraduate degree that entailed the study of various ancient languages, and while I believe I am at least proficient at reading Latin, I was wondering whether you would recommend I register for one of the intensive Greek courses."
Rodney was so distracted by the question, he didn't remember the cryptic Rosetta stone comment until long after Daniel had left his office.
*****
When Rodney returned home that evening, he found his house in a state of disarray. John was more than a little disheveled, hair sticking out at stranger than usual angles, sitting in the middle of the living room amid about twenty boxes, some of them with their lids raised open.
Rodney closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing. "Dare I ask?"
John rubbed his brow, which was already covered by a large streak of dirt, and sighed deeply. "Personal belongings. The bitch shipped over all my personal belongings. At least all the ones that don't actually have any monetary value."
"I see."
"I am so sorry," John said looking up a little helplessly. "I didn't know she was going to do this. I'll go and get a storage space tomorrow and have them out of here."
"Don't bother," Rodney replied. "There's plenty of room in the garage. You can just move them in there."
"Thanks." John sounded relieved. "I think under the circumstances--look, when I arrived I said it was only going to be for a couple of weeks until she moved out of the house, and it's been six weeks already and I'm thinking it'll take a while to get her out of there and I really don't want to impose--"
"You're not," Rodney interrupted. "Don't even think about it. Besides, remember how long I crashed on your ratty couch when I returned from Egypt?"
"Hey, that couch is an antique!" John said. He shuddered. "She's probably sold it by now, you know."
"Good. It was the most uncomfortable couch I've ever had the misfortune of sleeping on," Rodney responded, trying to keep his voice light.
John looked at him gloomily. "I loved that fucking couch."
"I'm sorry."
"My house, too." John's voice was starting to crack a little. "I know it's a bottomless pit of maintenance costs, but I love that house."
Rodney did his damndest to sound sincere. "You'll get it back, and until you do, you can stay here."
"Thanks," John said. He didn't sound very convinced.
Rodney sighed. He made his way through the obstacle course of boxes and squatted down on the floor next to John. "I mean it, John. As long as you need a place to stay, you're welcome to my guest room." He smiled encouragingly.
John's mouth lifted up just a notch in an attempt at a smile. "I really appreciate it."
"I know. And now I better start cooking, Evan's coming over for dinner." He got up.
"Do you want me to make myself scarce for the evening?" John asked. "I could go and see a movie, maybe?"
"You don't have to, unless it makes you uncomfortable," Rodney replied. "It's not like you don't know what we get up to after dinner." John grinned and rolled his eyes. "Besides, I think moving those boxes is going to keep you pretty occupied."
*****
Several hours later, Rodney was about to head upstairs and go to sleep, when he noticed the lights in the living room were still on. He pushed open the door, looking around the room until his eyes found John sitting in the far corner behind a box, leaning against the side of the couch with photographs and newspaper clippings and other scrapbook-like items spread out around him on the floor. "Hey," John said. "Evan gone?"
Rodney nodded. "Found anything interesting?"
"A few things I'd forgotten about." John smiled and held up a photograph. "Remember this?"
Rodney squinted and stepped a little closer before groaning. "Oh God, no. I thought I'd burned all evidence of that hairstyle!"
John grinned. "If it helps any, you carried it off a lot better than Simon LeBon ever did."
"That's a flimsy excuse for that haircut," Rodney replied. "What else did you find?"
John shuffled the various photographs and papers around a bit, then held up a page torn out of a newspaper. "Remember this?"
Rodney blinked at it. "Shit. I didn't know there were pictures," he said warily.
John laughed. "I'm not surprised, you'd had quite a bit of beer by the time the photographers honed in on us."
"Well, shit." Rodney looked at the page more closely, but the picture of him draped in a rainbow flag and leaning heavily on John on the Mall more than fifteen years and a really bad bleach job ago refused to disappear from the page. He scanned the byline. "At least they didn't put my name down," he mumbled. "I don't really look like I did in 1993 anymore, right?"
John sighed. "I remember you talking me into heading down to DC for that," he said sadly. "You used to be all about not giving a damn what everyone else thought. What happened?"
"Life." Rodney shrugged. "I'm Dr. Rodney McKay, acting head of the Department of Classical Studies at St. Augustine's University, and the dean does like to remind us at every opportunity that we have an obligation to uphold the fine moral traditions of this institution and Mother Church."
"You've got tenure, it's not like they can fire you," John said.
"Maybe not," Rodney agreed. "But I don't think they'd take very kindly to pictures of me draped in rainbow flags. I don't even think they'd take very kindly to my being seen in public in a date-like situation with another man."
"You're completely paranoid, you know that?" John said.
Rodney shrugged. "I'm a shoo-in for department head without the "acting" bit in front of it as long as they don't have a reason to start searching for a new hire."
"And that's worth crawling back into the closet for?" John asked.
"Why wouldn't it be?"
"Because you cornered me halfway through my freshman year at Brown and talked me into co-founding the lesbian and gay club with you," John started. "And then, during sophomore year, you badgered me into co-chairing that massive fundraiser for World AIDS Day, which absolutely nobody knew about, seeing as it was the first one," he continued, "and then at Princeton, you convinced me to help you organize the Princeton contingent for the March on Washington. Face it, Rodney, you're an activist."
"Everybody is an activist in college," Rodney pointed out. "Doesn't mean that they stay one."
"Maybe not," John agreed, "But I never thought you of all people would turn out to be ashamed of who you are."
Rodney rolled his eyes. "Shame has nothing to do with it. I'm just trying not to ruffle any feathers."
"Maybe some feathers are in need of ruffling," John said angrily.
"Could be."
John nodded slowly, carefully placing the newspaper cutting in a manila folder before putting it back into the box. "So why the hell aren't you?"
"Maybe because there's nobody around that's worth getting into a fight over," Rodney said.
John got up and made his way over to the door. Just before he switched off the lights, he asked, "Does Evan know that?"
He didn't wait for an answer before taking the stairs two at a time and disappearing upstairs. Rodney sat down on the couch in the dark and considered the question for a long time.
*****
There was a sharp knock on Rodney's office door. "I thought I said I didn't want to be--" He started as the door opened, then stopped when Elizabeth entered. "Oh, sorry, Elizabeth, I thought you were Evan."
Elizabeth adjusted her glasses and fingered the cross she wore on a chain around her neck nervously. "Sorry, he wasn't at his desk. I can come back later if this is a bad time."
"No, not at all." Rodney waved his hand dismissively. "I was working on that article for the Classical Review, but I seem to have run into one or two little problems that will necessitate a trip to the library, so now's as good a time as any."
"It really isn't that urgent, I'll come back another time," Elizabeth mumbled, her head bowed slightly and her hand already on the doorknob.
Rodney sighed. "Please, Elizabeth, I assure you, you are not interrupting. Sit down."
"Well, if you're absolutely certain," Elizabeth said hesitantly, edging about an inch closer to Rodney's desk.
"Positive," Rodney replied. "What can I do for you?"
"I'm a bit concerned about one of my first years," Elizabeth began and Rodney only just suppressed an audible sigh. He suspected that one of the reasons he had been appointed acting head when Hammond had unexpectedly keeled over had been that there had simply been no alternative. Elizabeth was far too reticent and spent most of her time fretting about her students, Laura was on maternity leave more or less continuously and expected to stay there until menopause, Cam had a disturbing habit of disappearing for large chunks of time, and Jack, while a wonderful researcher and an expert in his field, simply wasn't administrator material.
"Which student?" Rodney asked.
"Daniel Jackson," she answered.
Rodney rocked back in his chair and bit down on his tongue until the urge to say something unprofessional passed. "You don't say," he remarked dryly.
"Well, you see, I think he might be taking on rather more than is healthy," Elizabeth explained. "Have you seen his course schedule?" She held up a computer printout.
Rodney reached across the desk and took the paper. He couldn't help whistling as he scanned it and Elizabeth nodded her agreement. "Tell me, Elizabeth, I forget," he said. "Do we require our students to have mental health evaluations before admitting them to the program?"
Elizabeth bristled. "Of course not! That would be extremely inappropriate."
Rodney nodded. "Shame though. 'Cause I think he's a raving lunatic."
"Rodney!" she exclaimed, sounding shocked.
"Sorry, sorry," Rodney replied. "You have to admit though, a full load of first-year graduate courses, plus Greek I, Old Egyptian, Demotic, Coptic, and Jack's Early Aegean Scripts seminar... what is he trying to do?"
"I couldn't even begin to guess," she replied. "Though I wonder how he managed to talk Jack into letting him join his seminar. I've been here fifteen years and I've never even seen Jack talk to a first-year graduate before."
"Hm." Rodney had his suspicions, but he wasn't about to outline them for Elizabeth. "I agree, he's bitten off a bit more than he can chew, but he's an adult. I don't think there's much we can do beyond the usual academic advising."
"I thought that since you both went to Princeton..." Elizabeth trailed off uncertainly.
Rodney winced. "It's rather a big school, Elizabeth."
"So you did not know him?" she asked.
Rodney shifted around uncomfortably. "Well, I may have run into him on campus here and there, and he might have been in one of my survey courses for a gen-ed requirement, but know him as such? He was an undergraduate and I a graduate student..." He really hoped he sounded more convincing to her ears than he did to his own.
"I see, well, in that case..."
Rodney felt like a complete and utter tool. "Would you like me to talk to him?" he offered hurriedly. "He's in my Egyptian History class. Maybe I could have a word with him after our next meeting."
Elizabeth looked up, relief written all over her face. "Could you? I really wouldn't want to impose, but he strikes me as such a strong-willed young man, and, well--"
"It's no trouble at all," Rodney interrupted her before she could get around to apologizing for breathing. "I really don't mind."
"Thank you Rodney," she said, already rising.
Rodney waited for the door to shut behind her before letting his head fall onto the desk. He had to sit back up fast when the door opened again a few seconds later and tried to force his face into a smile, which faded as soon as he saw Evan standing in the doorway.
"What did Elizabeth want?" Evan asked.
"She came to share her concerns about one of her advisees," Rodney replied. "Tell me, did you assign Daniel to her on purpose?"
Evan smirked. "Not in any way you could prove, no."
"You're evil."
Evan carefully shut the door before ambling into the room, swiveling his hips much more than was strictly speaking necessary. "Possibly, but you like that about me."
Rodney quirked an eyebrow. "And don't we have some sort of limit on how many classes students are permitted to sign up for per semester?"
"We strongly recommend they don't sign up for more than five at the very most." Evan shrugged. "But it's not a requirement as such. At least I couldn't find anything specific in the handbook."
"I see."
"Rather interesting, isn't it?" Evan agreed. "I actually had to look it up the other day, not wanting to break any rules out of ignorance or anything."
"So I heard."
"But it would appear," Evan continued smoothly, "that if a student decided to hang himself, we are at liberty to step aside and watch the show, provided we warn him about the presence of a noose around his neck."
"I trust you did?"
Evan smiled brightly. "Oh, yes. I believe my exact words were, 'Christ, you must be fucking joking.'"
******
Rodney collected his notes while the students started shuffling out of the lecture theater. He did his best to sound completely disinterested when he said, "Daniel, a word please."
"Yes, Dr. McKay?"
Rodney waited for the last of the other students to leave and sighed. "Daniel, Elizabeth brought around your class schedule, and I have a question or two."
"Such as?"
"Such as are you completely insane?" Rodney replied.
Daniel grinned. "Well, you know what they say about MIT--"
"That you have to be slightly crazy to survive there, I know, I know." Rodney sighed again. "Still, nine classes?"
"I can handle it," Daniel assured him. Rodney couldn't figure out how he managed not to sound arrogant in the process.
"Hm."
"Seriously. I mean, most of those are language classes, and you know I have a bit of a knack for those," Daniel explained. "I promise I won't go insane and shoot up half the campus by Thanksgiving."
Rodney couldn't help glancing towards the door. "Not funny, Daniel."
Daniel met his eyes for a long second and uncharacteristically backed down. "Okay, that was an extremely bad joke, sorry," he apologized. "Doesn't really change the fact that I'll be fine though."
"Is there any particular reason you feel the need to take five languages?" Rodney asked exasperated. "Most students in this department never manage more than two or three, and that's spread out over their entire academic careers."
"Oh, I have my reasons," Daniel said.
Rodney felt the distinct urge to throttle him. "And those reasons would be?" he prompted.
"A tablet that needs deciphering," Daniel replied simply and picked up his backpack. "Thanks for taking an interest in my well-being by the way. Your social skills seem much improved since the last time I--"
"Hang on a minute," Rodney interrupted. "No way are you walking out of here without an explanation."
"You want an explanation?" Daniel asked sarcastically. "Well, I don't know how things work in the universe you inhabit, but in the rest of society, it's considered good manners to actually break up with someone before disappearing without a forwarding address."
"That's not what I meant," Rodney ground out.
"Of course not, we've already established that these things are different on planet Rodney," Daniel shot back.
"The tablet, Daniel," Rodney said, trying to keep his temper under some semblance of control. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"The usual," Daniel replied. "See, in the ancient world you get these pieces of clay or stone inscribed with characters and we call them tablets in the trade."
"And what trade would that be, Daniel?" Rodney snapped. "The kind that takes place down on Main and 7th?"
Daniel smiled. "You would know more about that than I do, Rodney," he said coldly. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm running late for my ancient scripts seminar."
"And that's another thing," Rodney called after him. "How the hell did you talk Jack into letting you sign up for that seminar?"
Daniel turned in the doorway and smiled brilliantly. "I told him about a tablet that needs deciphering."
Rodney managed to wait until the door closed behind Daniel before banging his head against the lectern.
Two hours later, after Evan had tut-tutted at him at length and handed him an icepack and some ibuprofen, Rodney lurked outside Jack's classroom waiting for the seminar to let out and tried not to look too conspicuous in the process. He was successful in the sense that Daniel breezed right past him when he strode out of the room, though Rodney suspected that that was for effect rather than anything else.
He finally caught up with Daniel just outside the building. "For real now, Daniel," he demanded. "Are you just trying to get up my nose by being cryptic?"
Daniel stopped and sighed. "No, Rodney, there really is a tablet. A very interesting tablet, in my humble and amateur opinion."
"And?"
"And I'm determined to decipher it, as I've told you already," Daniel said.
"And?"
"What is this? Twenty questions?" Daniel asked, frustrated.
"Something like that," Rodney replied, smiling. "There are certain benefits that accompany the complete headache of being appointed acting head of the department, and one of them is that I get to ask as many questions as I damn well please."
"Oh yes, congratulations on the promotion by the way," Daniel said. "How exactly did you manage that?"
"Process of elimination, mostly," Rodney replied. "There was nobody else who wanted or was halfway suitable for the job."
Daniel's face was the perfect picture of sincerity. "How very lucky of you."
"Will you stop evading the question?" Rodney thundered, then glanced around nervously. Thankfully there didn't seem to be anyone within earshot.
Daniel grinned. "So you want to know about the tablet?"
Rodney briefly wondered whether a manslaughter conviction was worth the deep satisfaction he would derive from strangling Daniel. "If you wouldn't mind terribly much."
"Of course not," Daniel said, then glanced at his watch. "However, I am a little pressed for time right now..."
"Dinner then," Rodney said desperately. "I'll make tuna casserole."
Daniel shook his head. "I always hated tuna casserole."
"You never said."
"Because you never asked, Rodney," Daniel replied. "Which was part of the problem, if I recall correctly."
Rodney nodded. "Fine, how about spaghetti?"
Daniel laughed. "Is your entire cooking repertoire still at three dishes?"
"Five now." Rodney hoped his ears weren't turning too pink.
Daniel considered for a moment. "Spaghetti would be fine. What time?"
"Seven-ish," Rodney replied, pulling a pen from his shirt pocket. "Here, let me write down the address for you."
******
Rodney spent the rest of the afternoon working himself into a panic. He suspected that inviting Daniel over for dinner ranked second among the worst decisions he'd made all year, the first place being occupied by the decision to admit Daniel into the program. He was in a foul mood by the time he let himself into the house and was stopped dead in his tracks by the sight of John's supposedly antique couch in the doorway to the living room.
Rodney closed his eyes and very calmly counted to ten before opening them again. The couch was still there. He suppressed the urge to scream abuse. Instead he took a deep breath and hollered, "John!"
John poked his head out of the kitchen looking in much better spirits than he had lately. "Hey, what's up?"
"What is that doing in my house?" Rodney asked.
"You mean my couch?" John asked. "Isn't it amazing? I guess the bitch didn't know how valuable it was and shipped it on over here."
"What is it doing blocking the living room door?" Rodney clarified.
"It's too heavy for me to move on my own," John explained. "I figured once you got home, you could help me move some stuff around in there to make space."
"John--"
"I know, I know, it's only temporary," John cut in, "but it's far too nice to just leave in the garage. Besides, I'd be concerned about the damp in there. Antique furniture is very susceptible to water damage and--"
"John, we're in fucking Southern California," Rodney interrupted testily. "There is no damp."
"Oh. Well. Critters then," John replied. "Lots of critters that like eating 100% natural fabrics."
Rodney closed his eyes and tried to remember everything Teyla had ever said about Zen and centering and lots of other new age hippy shit. It didn't help.
"So, can you help me move it?" John asked after a minute. "Because having a couch in the doorway really isn't feng shui at all."
Rodney was almost entirely certain that with Ronon acting as his defense attorney, he'd end up with no more than ten years. Except, he'd have to turn himself in before Daniel got there because how would he explain the presence of a stiff on that dreadful couch? And that meant he'd never find out about the goddamn tablet.
"So, are you going to help me move it?" John interrupted his train of thought.
Rodney opened his eyes and nodded slowly. "Yeah, but I need a favor in return."
"Sure, what is it?"
"Um. I kinda invited Daniel over for dinner," Rodney admitted peevishly.
John's face distorted comically. "You did what?"
"It sounded like a good idea at the time." Rodney shrugged.
"So did communism," John groaned. "All right, let's get this thing moved so I can get out of here."
Rodney shook his head. "No, that's the favor I'm asking. You have to stay."
"Does the phrase 'wild horses' mean anything to you?" John sputtered.
"Please."
"No." John said. "I still haven't recovered from witnessing the drama the first time around."
Rodney rolled his eyes. "It's not like that," he said. "He's coming over to tell me about some sort of tablet he's obsessing about."
"Viagra?"
"Not that kind of tablet, John." Rodney snorted. "Nice pun, though."
"Do I absolutely have to?" John couldn't really keep the whine out of his voice, but backed it up very nicely with the kicked dog look, Rodney thought.
"If you really loved me," Rodney said only half joking, "you'd stay at my side like a teenage girl's chaperone and prevent me from strangling him halfway through dessert."
"It's a good thing I love you then, isn't it," John replied a little too quietly and looked at Rodney quizzically for a moment before rubbing his hands together and saying, "All right, let's move the couch so you can get started preparing for dinner."
******
Rodney was just draining the pasta when the doorbell rang. He quickly wiped his hands and went to open it.
"Hi," Daniel greeted him, offering him a bottle. "I hope red's okay."
"Red's great, thanks," Rodney replied. "I'm almost ready. Let me show you into the dining room."
"Nice place," Daniel remarked as he followed Rodney down the hallway. "Tenure pays well, huh?"
"The Vatican has deep pockets," Rodney replied. "The main reason I came here, really. That, and Penn kept on passing me over."
Before Daniel could reply, there came a tremendous crash from the kitchen accompanied by much cursing. "Oh for--hold on a second, Daniel," Rodney said turning, then shouted, "John, I swear to God, if that's you trying to get out of dinner by damaging yourself so you can go to the hospital instead, I will kill you. Slowly and inventively." There was no response from the kitchen.
"John Sheppard?" Daniel asked, surprised. "He's here?"
"The very same," Rodney confirmed.
"I didn't know--are you and him...I mean, you were always close."
Rodney considered leading Daniel on a bit, just to see him stammering some more, but thought better of it when he remembered the last time John had been presented as a boyfriend. "No way," he laughed. "John's just staying here while he's working on evicting his former girlfriend from his house."
"But--" Daniel looked very confused. "John's gay. At least he was last time I saw him, which admittedly was about ten years ago, but--"
"There was a complicated arrangement involving the former girlfriend, the former girlfriend's husband, and John." Rodney's explanation was met by an incredulous stare. "Look, mostly, I try not to think about it too much, since it makes my head hurt," he explained. "The end result is that Michael went a little psychotic--"
"Do not mention that name in my presence!" John admonished, walking into the room. His shirt was covered in a fine layer of dust and he was limping ever so slightly. "Hi Daniel, how've you been the past few years?"
"Um. Fine, I guess." Daniel replied. "There seem to have been a lot of, er, changes."
"Not really," John said dismissively. "Just Rodney going back in the closet, me shacking up with a girl, and Teyla marrying Ronon. No big surprises really."
Daniel gaped.
"What?" John asked, then turned to Rodney when Daniel didn't reply. "Did I say something rude?"
"Daniel, close your mouth," Rodney said. "He's exaggerating. What John meant to say was that I still suck at the whole relationship business and he conducted a practical experiment in alternative lifestyles. The thing about Teyla is true, I'm afraid. We tried to stop her, but--"
"Being gay wasn't alternative enough for you?" Daniel cut in. "You had to experiment with the heterosexual lifestyle?"
John shrugged sheepishly. "There were incentives."
There were?" Daniel sounded doubtful.
"Oh yes, I believe that particular incentive's called a nine-inch cock." Rodney grinned. "John, am I going to regret going into the kitchen?"
"That," John replied, making a show of dusting his sleeves off, "depends entirely on how attached you felt to your garage door."
*****
"So let me get this straight," Daniel said, a forkful of spaghetti poised halfway between his plate and his mouth. "After you moved down to work at Lockheed, you met M--" John glared. "Sorry, sorry, the psychotic bastard, and started doing the dirty with him. And you didn't realize he was married?"
"How many gay guys do you think are--okay, never mind, that's a dumb question." John shrugged. "It honestly had never occurred to me to ask a potential fuck whether or not he had a wife waiting at home. You live and learn, I guess."
Daniel nodded understandingly. "Just out of curiosity, when exactly did you realize there was a wife waiting at home?"
John blushed and mumbled something inaudible before getting very, very interested in the scenery outside the dining room window.
Rodney cleared his throat. "Actually, I was the one who figured it out," he explained.
"But you were in Europe, weren't you?" Daniel sounded confused. "Or was that just a lie so I wouldn't--"
"No, no, he really was in Europe and the Middle East for about a year and a half," John jumped in hurriedly. "And then he came back to the States, fresh from some sort of dig in Egypt, and really needed a place to stay, so of course I offered."
"Yeah, and when the psychotic bastard came around for a booty call, I noticed the tan lines where he usually wore his wedding ring," Rodney explained.
Daniel looked at John incredulously. "You had been seeing him for how long at this point?"
John ignored the question. "So, anyway, of course I gave him an ultimatum, 'cause I'm not like that, and next thing I know, he suggests a threesome."
"And you just agreed?" Daniel sputtered.
"Of course not, what do you take me for?" John replied.
Rodney stifled a laugh. "Oh yeah, it took the wife turning up on the doorstep dressed up like a two-dollar whore for him to even consider it."
"She didn't look like a two-dollar whore," John said, sounding indignant. Rodney merely raised an eyebrow. "Hey, I'd have at least paid her twenty, if I were straight."
"Yes, and as a matter of fact, that's my next question really," Daniel said. "How the hell do you go from the jilted wife turning up on your doorstep to a threesome?"
John shrugged apologetically. "The psychotic bastard took off his pants and offered to fuck me while the wife blew me."
"I see."
It was rather clear to Rodney that Daniel didn't. "Look," he said patiently, "I don't understand it either. Just accept it as fact in a screwed-up world and you'll be much happier."
Daniel considered. "And this was going on for how long?"
"Until about three months ago," John replied.
Daniel shuddered. "So definitely not a fluke or drunken misunderstanding then?"
"They even turned up at Teyla's wedding as a couple--triad--whatever," Rodney explained helpfully.
Daniel nodded. "Ah, yes, Teyla's wedding, I was coming to that. What happened?"
"Ronon proposed," Rodney said, eyes glinting.
"Repeatedly," John threw in.
Rodney grinned. "We have a theory that she was holding out for a bigger rock or a better offer."
"What's wrong with Ronon?" Daniel asked. "They started fucking like bunnies round about the same time you and I--"
"But Ronon went on to law school," John interrupted quickly. "Specializing in corporate law. That pretty much made him the devil's right hand and Teyla was such a damn activist. I mean, she chained herself to trucks at G8 Summits before it was hip to do so."
"So?"
"So we might have had reservations about the chances of that lasting once the humping got boring," John explained.
"But they're still together?" Daniel asked.
"Oh yes, still humping away happily," Rodney replied. "No thanks to John over here."
John tried to look put upon. "What did I do?"
Rodney rolled his eyes. "Just stood up in front of the entire wedding party when the priest asked whether anyone knew of any reasons why the two of them shouldn't be joined in holy matrimony and gave a speech."
"He didn't!" Daniel exclaimed.
"I'm afraid he did," Rodney replied. "He's mostly alive because Teyla really couldn't run in those heels."
John had the decency to look slightly embarrassed. "Just pick on me, why don't you? Anyway, she forgave me."
"After running your car off the road, yes."
"She always had hell of a temper." John sighed wistfully. "But the entire experience just made our friendship stronger."
"Of course it did," Rodney agreed. "Once you groveled a bit."
Daniel raised his hand. "Okay, last question, I swear. What was that about Rodney being back in the closet?"
John shrugged. "He is."
"But aren't you fucking your administrator?" Daniel asked, turning to Rodney.
"Um. You're not supposed to know about that," Rodney mumbled. "Nobody is."
"Why?"
"Because," John replied, "there is absolutely no boytouching allowed for the lowly teachers. That privilege is reserved solely for the priests."
"John--"
"What?" John threw his hands up. "It's true!"
Rodney sighed and changed the subject before John could get really started. "So, anyway, apart from studying, what have you been up to, Daniel?"
"Not much besides that," Daniel shrugged. "Oh, except, I spent most of last year in Egypt."
"Really? How come?" John asked.
"My grandfather was dying," Daniel replied. When John and Rodney didn't respond, he added, "It wasn't entirely unexpected, he was very old, you know."
"I'm sorry," John said somberly. "But I always thought...why Egypt?"
"Because the crotchety old fool refused to leave," Daniel grinned. "Said he'd spent most of his life in Egypt and wasn't going to stop for a little inconvenience like dying."
"So the entire time you were harassing my department on the phone, you were calling from Egypt?" Rodney asked perplexed. "Why?"
"Because of the tablet."
"Ah, yes, the tablet," Rodney said testily. "Are you ever going to explain what the hell is up with that?"
Daniel nodded. "Right, so over the past few years, there's been a lot of excavation work done in Alexandria, as I'm sure you know," he began. Rodney nodded. "So anyway, the team working there is mostly interested in excavating the actual buildings of what they think might have been the university and library, but you know how it is down there: you start digging somewhere and artifacts practically jump in your face."
Both of them nodded, Rodney much more enthusiastically than John.
"Anyway, one of my grandfather's acquaintances there has a daughter who is married to this guy who works in some sort of ministry in charge of antiquities, and he kind of pulled some strings so I could get a private tour of the excavation sites they're working on," Daniel continued. "And while I was waiting around for him afterwards in the makeshift field office, I noticed crates full of stone and shards and God knows what else sitting in the corner, so I asked one of the archaeologists whether they'd found any interesting inscriptions, having a bit of a professional interest in language."
"Turns out this guy's specialty in school had been hieroglyphic and hieratic texts, so he was just dying to talk to somebody about all the tablets and seals and fragments they were finding and just shoving into boxes for the time being. Next thing I knew, we'd been talking for two hours and the minor official I was there with was tapping his foot and looking at me with a put-upon look on his face, so I made arrangements to meet Taddeusz--that's the archaeologist--in town later that evening to talk some more."
"Was he a good lay?" Rodney asked.
Daniel pushed his plate away and threw his hands up in the air. "Now why would you assume that wanting to talk to somebody some more means I want to sleep with them by default?"
"Didn't you?"
"Well, yes, as a matter of fact I did, but I am wounded, deeply wounded, that you would automatically--" Daniel was cut off midrant by John bellowing with laughter.
Rodney tried to join in, but his laughter sounded a little halfhearted to his own ears and he gave up on it long before John quieted down.
Daniel was tapping his fingers on the table and glaring at John before he turned to Rodney and said, "I thought you wanted to know about the tablet?"
"I do, sorry," Rodney apologized. "John, shut up."
"Can't help it," John wheezed. "This is better than watching re-runs of The Odd Couple."
This time both Daniel and Rodney glared at him before Daniel cleared his throat. "Anyway, to make a long story short, there's a lot of junk and fragments there, mostly Greek and Roman, but they're also digging up some Egyptian stuff, it really looks like they've found a library, or at least the city dump for used paper."
"Recycling in the Roman Empire," John said. "I always though that Egypt was ahead of its time."
"For crying out loud, John, I'm actually interested in this," Rodney snapped.
"Sorry, sorry, carry on."
"As I said," Daniel continued, "most of it is junk, but Taddeusz was really excited about this one tablet they'd found, because it was mostly intact and entirely covered in hieroglyphs."
Rodney whistled. "Nice. But if it's hieroglyphic writing, there are tons of Egyptologists who should be able to read it."
"You'd think so, yes," Daniel replied. "Except that the reason Taddeusz was rather fascinated by it was that he couldn't read it."
"That's impossible," Rodney said. "Do you have a transcription of the symbols?"
"Yes, and pictures," Daniel said. "Want to see?"
Rodney didn't even bother to respond, just got up and motioned at them to follow him into the living room. It took only a few moments for Daniel to spread the papers and photographs out on the coffee table.
Rodney leant in close and studied them for a while before asking, "Has the tablet been dated?"
"Late Middle Kingdom," Daniel replied. "Probably the 17th century BC."
Rodney nodded. It seemed about right stylistically. "Your friend was right, though. This is just gibberish. The symbols are there, but they don't actually form any proper syntax."
Daniel nodded. "That's what had Taddeusz so puzzled. He spent hours going over them with me, trying to teach me the basics."
"A scribe being trained, maybe?" Rodney suggested.
"We thought of that, but the craftsmanship...it just didn't seem likely." Daniel shrugged. "We spent a couple of months trying to figure it out, and then I had a bit of an epiphany. At least, I think it was an epiphany. Taddeusz mostly thought it was my way of demonstrating my complete lack of knowledge as far as Egyptology is concerned."
"Which was?" John asked, craning to get a look at the papers.
"I tried to read it phonogramatically rather than logogrammatically, except I didn't actually know the going conventions for inserting vowels into the consonantal script, so I inserted the vowels that seemed most intuitive to me," Daniel explained.
Rodney chuckled, "Ten out of ten for style and creativity, Daniel, but I doubt that's the right answer."
"Just humor me for a minute, Rodney," Daniel replied. "Try and read this as a phonogrammatic script in the way one Daniel Jackson would read it."
Rodney looked at Daniel like he'd grown another head but decided to give it a try; after all, what was the harm in it? His lips moved silently as his eyes worked their way along the line of symbols. Even though the words were only in his head, they sounded strange, wrong, alien, nothing at all like what hieroglyphs were supposed to sound like according to his schooling.
He was just about to give up when he got to one series of symbols that formed a word that sounded vaguely familiar. He stopped, did a double take, and read it over again, just to make sure he wasn't imagining things. Then his eyes shot up. "Jasasara. You would have pronounced 'dysesere' as 'jasasara'."
Daniel nodded.
"Are there any other recognizable words?" Rodney asked.
Daniel shrugged. "I think so, but I really don't know enough about Eteo-Cretan writing to be sure."
Rodney whistled. "Minoan written in Egyptian hieroglyphs, now there's an interesting proposition. Though I'm not sure that it would help any."
"That's because you're a historian and I'm a linguist," Daniel said. "All you see when you look at this tablet is further evidence of trade between Minoan Crete and Egypt."
"And what exactly is it you see, Daniel?" Rodney asked.
"A key to a language that's never been translated."
*****
They spent another forty-five minutes going over the transcript and photographs, Daniel pointing out several more instances of symbol strings that he thought might correlate to words found in Linear A tablets. Rodney was skeptical, to say the least, but he had to agree that provided the prominent current theories concerning the designation of Linear A symbols were correct, Daniel was on to something, he just doubted that it was in any way useful.
He finally stood up straight when his eyes and shoulders started to ache. "I need a break," he stated quite superfluously.
Daniel nodded and straightened, too. "I'll make coffee."
He walked out of the room and John, who had been so quiet Rodney had almost forgotten he was there, cleared his throat. "I don't get it," he said. "What's so special about the word 'jasasara'?"
Rodney sank down on the couch and tried to untense his shoulders. "It's one of the few sure guesses we have as far as the Minoan language is concerned," he explained. "There are two main problems that kind of stand in the way of cracking Linear A. One is that most of the examples of Linear A we have appear to be accounts, balance ledgers and such. The other is that the Minoan language has never been demonstrably linked to any known language, which is its own headache."
John scratched his nose. "OK, you're going to have to explain that to the engineer over here, because I was under the impression that most dead languages belong to identifiable families that have living descendant languages. Aren't most ancient languages Europe Indo-European?"
"Most, yes, but not all," Rodney agreed. "There are a few languages belonging to the Uralic family spoken in Europe right now, and there's at least one language, Basque, that doesn't seem to belong to any family at all."
Daniel entered the room again, carrying a tray with three steaming cups. "I hope you don't mind it's Egyptian-style coffee," he said.
Rodney laughed. "That's fine, I wasn't planning to sleep much tonight, anyway."
They sat around for a few minutes sipping their coffee before Daniel turned to Rodney and asked, "So, what's your opinion?"
"It's an interesting theory." Rodney said. "You are right, a few of those words look like they are Minoan written in Egyptian hieroglyphs."
"You don't sound very convinced," Daniel replied. "Come on, that definitely says 'jasasara.'"
"There is a possibility that those symbols say 'jasasara,'" Rodney corrected him, smiling.
"I still don't get it," John interjected. "Why is the word 'jasasara' so important?"
"Because we're almost entirely sure it's the name of a Minoan deity," Daniel replied.
John raised his eyebrow questioningly. "Almost?"
"Apart from balance ledgers, the other thing we have a lot of are libation tablets," Rodney explained. "Somebody petitioning a deity for something, in other words. The actual text differs from libation to libation, depending on who is asking for what, but they all follow the same very strict syntax in which the fourth word is 'jasasara,' so a lot of scholars have theorized that it is the name of the deity petitioned."
"I see," John nodded. "So if they're not related to any other tribe or culture, then--"
"The name 'Jasasara' cannot be found in any other pantheon," Daniel concluded smugly. "It's unique."
"As far as we know, at any rate," Rodney pointed out.
Daniel growled. "Spoilsport."
"I'm sorry, Daniel," Rodney said. "It would be a great discovery if your theory is correct, but just because you want it to be, doesn't mean it is."
Daniel nodded slowly. "Fine, I understand that, but apart from being a doubting Thomas, do you think I'm wasting my time?"
Rodney considered. Even if the tablet turned out to be Minoan written in hieroglyphs, he wasn't sure that it was worth abandoning an almost completed doctorate. "I think that if it is what you think it is, it's one of the most important archaeological finds of the century," he said, weighing his words carefully.
"That's not what I asked you," Daniel complained. "Just tell me if you think I'm barking up the wrong tree."
"I--" Rodney sighed and ran his hands through his hair. He really needed a haircut. He also had to get over his complete inability to communicate with Daniel in a mutually understandable manner, because that was what had gotten them into hell of a mess in the first place. "Look, even if it turns out to be Minoan, how does that bring you any closer to understanding the Minoan language? You'd still be reading something completely unintelligible, just written in a different script."
Daniel shook his head. "I don't think so. I think the different script could furnish the missing key."
"Explain."
"Think about it," Daniel leaned forward talking excitedly, his eyes gleaming. "What are the characteristics of Linear A?"
Rodney humored him. "That's easy, it's got about 200 symbols, which very likely makes it a syllabary, like Linear B and Cypriot, which seem to have been derived from it."
"Right. And now, what are the characteristics of Egyptian hieroglyphs?" Daniel asked.
Rodney rolled his eyes. "It's a logophonetic consonantal script. What are you getting at?"
"Are you trying to be more than usually obtuse?" Daniel muttered, jumping up from his seat and pacing back and forth in front of the couch. "What are the three categories of symbols Egyptian hieroglyphs can be divided into?"
Rodney did his best to sound bored and blasé as he rattled them off. "Logograms or morphemes, phonograms and--" he stopped and thought for a long time. "Well, fuck me, I didn't even think of that," he finally said.
Daniel nodded slowly. "Took me a few weeks to get around to it, and language is kind of my raison d'etre."
"What?" John asked. "Stop talking shop and explain what's going on."
Rodney relaxed into one of the cushions. "The final group of hieroglyphs are determinatives. They have no morphemic or phonetic value, but are used to give meaning to a series of symbols."
"I still don't get it," John said.
"Okay, look," Rodney said impatiently. "You know what a consonantal script is, right?"
John fidgeted. "Maybe?"
"A consonantal script is a script where words are written entirely in consonants. There are no written vowels. Egyptian is one, as are Phoenician and a number of scripts based on Phoenician," Rodney explained. "That causes hell of a mess in some languages, because when you have a script that lacks vowels, words that have identical consonants but different vowels are written identically. For example, if English used a consonantal script, the words 'hair' and 'her' would both be spelled exactly the same way, which could get really confusing. The Egyptians solved that problem by introducing determinative symbols."
"How is that useful for translating Minoan?" John asked.
"Because once you understand the grammatical structure of a language, puzzling out the vocabulary becomes a piece of cake," Daniel said excitedly. "Determining the grammatical structure is key, because vocabulary is usually borrowed left, right, and center from other languages, while grammar is language-specific."
"And Egyptian determinatives could help you figure out the grammar?" John asked. "How?"
Daniel shrugged. "I can't say for sure, but it's a reasonable guess that determinatives would be used to disambiguate words with identical consonants but differing vowels, say, for example, where different vowels would denote gender or inflection. Rodney?"
"I'm thinking," Rodney replied, distractedly picking lint off his pants. "Yes," he finally said cautiously. "If there are enough of the right determinatives used on the tablet, you might be able to work out the sentence structure, which means you could get a basic understanding of the grammar."
"But?" Daniel asked.
"But I think you're coming at this from the wrong angle," Rodney said. "This is really Jack's area more than mine, but in my opinion, you're looking at the wrong languages."
"How so?"
Rodney rubbed at his eyes. It was getting late. "From an anthropological and archaeological point of view, our best guess is that Crete was colonized in the Neolithic period by people from the Near East, so the most logical assumption is that if the Minoan language is related to any other language, and that's a pretty big if, it would be one from that general area, possibly a dialect of the Hittite culture."
Daniel nodded. "Okay, so what's your suggestion?"
"Stick with the Greek class, you're going to need that later on if you're really serious about getting a PhD here," Rodney said, smiling when Daniel snarled in response. "Obviously, you also want to keep with the Egyptian, because you need to get up to speed on reading hieroglyphs. Get rid of the Demotic and Coptic, both of those are more than covered by Greek and Egyptian anyway, and they aren't going to help with this. Other than that, I'd focus on Hittite dialects: Luwian, to be precise."
"Will you work with me?" Daniel asked. "I know Weir is supposedly my advisor, but..."
"I'm not sure that's a good idea, Daniel," Rodney said.
"Why? We're getting along, aren't we?" Daniel said. Then, turning to John, he added, "We're getting along, right?"
"Oh yeah," John replied. "I feel totally deprived of drama."
Rodney sighed. "John--"
"No, seriously, I expected a few more sparks and maybe a tiny nuclear holocaust," John quipped. "Very disappointing."
Rodney threw a cushion at him. "I honestly don't think it'd be a good idea, Daniel, no matter what the comedian over there thinks."
"Can we just try it, please?" Daniel asked. "I didn't choose St. Augustine's entirely at random."
Rodney raised an eyebrow. "Why exactly did you choose St. Augustine's?"
"For the same reason I chose MIT," Daniel said. "I wanted to work with the best in the field, and that's you in Egyptology and Jack in Aegean scripts."
"No other reason?" Rodney asked, doubtful.
Daniel kept a perfect poker face. "No other reason."
Rating: R-ish
Words: 60K-ish
Genre: AU, Contemporary, No Stargate program
Author's Note: There are 15 chapters and about 60K words to this story, which will be posted at a rate of one chapter per week. Longtime followers of this journal may recognize bits and pieces of this. I was toying with the plot of this story years ago, but could never make it work, until I read the parts I'd written in 2002ish last fall and realized, "Huh. This was always supposed to be a Stargate AU!" Beta'd by the wonderful cathexys. Any remaining mistakes are my own.
Previous Chapter
Chapter 5
Rodney was late getting into work and barely had time to run past his office to collect his lecture notes before his 10 a.m. class. Evan was on the phone and tried to flag him down while he breezed through the office, but he just waved and mouthed, "No time, later," before heading on to the lecture theater.
The semester was two weeks old, and Rodney critically surveyed the room of eager faces while waiting for the last few stragglers to take their seats. He couldn't say for sure whether there were any faces missing yet, but that was bound to change by the end of today's lecture. Rodney liked to think of this particular lecture as the one where he rid himself of nincompoops that had been foisted on him by the rest of the graduate selection committee in exchange for the few truly brilliant minds he got to select every year.
He smiled to himself and began: "We left off with Pepy II at our last meeting and the decline of the Old Kingdom into the chaos of the Interregnum period. Does anyone have any working theory for the sudden decline of the 6th dynasty?"
The question was met with utter silence and Rodney sighed. "Anyone?"
Still utter silence. Rodney frowned and stepped up to the whiteboard. It took only a few seconds for him to scrawl a quote on it from memory: "In the six-hundredth year of Noah's life, in the second month, on the seventeenth day of the month, on that day all the fountains of the great deep burst forth, and the windows of the heavens were opened. And rain fell upon the earth forty days and forty nights."
Rodney put down his marker and turned expectantly to the class, which met him with blank stares until one girl raised her hand hesitantly. "Genesis 7.11-12, Professor," she said.
"Correct," Rodney agreed as several hands shot up.
"I fail to see the point of introducing a...a work of fiction into a history lecture," another girl objected, already poised on the edge of her chair.
Rodney sighed again. "Never underestimate the value of the Bible as a source--" he paused to glance at his roster. He'd never quite gotten the hang of remembering names, even with the small number of students classes in the Classics department usually attracted. "Alyssa," he decided. She looked like an Alyssa.
"Excuse me, I was under the impression this was grad school, not seminary," she replied.
Rodney had to admit he was starting to enjoy himself a little. "And so it is," he agreed. "Though I can't help wondering what made you choose St. Augustine's for pursuing your PhD when you clearly have such strong feelings about the Judeo-Christian tradition."
The girl huffed and got up to leave the lecture hall.
Rodney ignored her and asked, "Would any of you care to hazard a guess as to why I think the myth of Noah's ark relevant in this context?"
He was just about to launch into an explanation when a voice quietly replied, "Tidal waves."
Rodney froze for just a moment before putting on his best poker face. "Yes. Um. Did you--you're not on my roster, I believe."
"I just added this morning," the man replied languidly. "Jackson. Daniel Jackson."
Rodney tried to smile rather than grimace. "Of course. Joining us from MIT. I believe you caused the department secretary quite a few headaches over the summer."
"That would be one explanation for why he doesn't seem to like me very much," Daniel purred, smirking at Rodney.
Rodney pulled himself together. "Tidal waves," he said, his throat feeling a lot drier than it should so early in his lecture. "Go on."
Daniel grinned. "Seismic and volcanic activity often results in tidal waves."
"And?" Rodney prompted impatiently.
"And if you transpose bible time to the Gregorian calendar, you'll probably find that a rough date for the Great Flood would be the 23rd century BC."
"And the connection with our area of study would be?" Rodney asked. "Come on, Daniel, don't make me pull teeth."
"Recent research suggests that there were dramatic changes in the climate of the Eastern Mediterranean at that time," Daniel replied. "Much of which may have been due to strong earthquakes and volcanic activity in the region."
"Correct," Rodney agreed. "Yes, Stacy?"
"Isn't that a little far-fetched?" Stacy asked. "Egypt and Judea seem a little far from the active faults and volcanoes to have been affected."
Rodney smiled. "Daniel?"
"The eruption of Tambora in 1815 released enough sulfur dioxide into the atmosphere to cause a worldwide volcanic winter."
"Which still has very little to do with Egypt, or the 23rd century BC," Stacy insisted.
"Oh yes," Daniel agreed, smiling. "However, earthquakes and volcanic eruptions also trigger tidal waves, and a tsunami originating in the Greek Isles in 365 AD was felt as far away as Alexandria, where, according to sources, it swept ships into the streets of the city. You will concede that Alexandria is in Egypt?"
Rodney decided that, for one of Cam's choices, he quite liked her when Stacy wrinkled her nose in distaste. "One occurrence hardly--"
"The tsunami caused by the collapse of Thera made tidal waves strike at seven meters above sea-level north of Jaffa and Tel Aviv, 900 kilometers away," Daniel interrupted.
"Thank you, Daniel," Rodney cut in smoothly before Stacy had a chance to reply, "but I think you'll find that geophysics is in the next building over and we won't actually get to Minoan Greece until after midterms. Now, getting back to Pepy II. There seem to have been quite wide-ranging climatic changes in Egypt during his reign, possibly due to catastrophic events elsewhere in the region, and..."
*****
Rodney returned to his office having survived the rest of the lecture more or less intact, with the added bonus of three more undesirables having voluntarily withdrawn from the class. "Evan, a word," he growled on his way past Evan's desk. He didn't wait to see whether Evan would follow him.
A minute or two after Rodney had thrown his lecture notes down and resisted banging his head against the oak desk, the door opened behind him.
"Professor?"
Rodney sighed. "Close the door. Please." He waited for the faint click of the latch before asking, "Couldn't you have warned me?"
"I tried to," Evan replied apologetically. "But I had Marge from the chancellor's office on the phone and you were in and out of here so fast...you said you were cool with him being here."
"I am," Rodney agreed. "I just wasn't quite prepared for--he's still an overachieving little prick."
"I'd gathered that," Evan said dryly. "You might be able to get him removed from your class if--"
"By admitting to a relationship with him?" Rodney's eyes shot up. "Are you insane?" Evan made a show of studying his feet. "I can just imagine it, 'Oh, and by the way, Dean, the reason I can't teach Jackson is because I spent a few years fucking him at Princeton,'" Rodney continued. "Do you suppose the dog collar would fly off while Woolsey's head explodes?"
Evan made an admirable attempt to turn the chuckle into a cough.
Rodney shook his head. "No, I think in this case I'll just have to bite the bullet and do my best to survive the semester."
"Great," Evan smiled, "because he's scheduled to see you during office hour this afternoon."
Rodney slid into his chair and buried his face in his hands.
*****
Despite Rodney's best efforts to mentally prepare himself for the meeting, he was still taken by surprise by the knock on his door. "Come in," he muttered, quickly shoving the slide list he had been working on to the side of his desk. "Daniel. I wondered how long it would take you to find my office. How are you?"
"Pretty damn good...now," Daniel replied. "How've you been?"
"Rather intrigued by your insistence to come here, actually," Rodney replied. "Come on, rumor is that after you left Princeton, you spent a few years in Africa studying bizarre languages, then went on to MIT for their cog sci grad program, congratulations on getting in by the way, and eight years later you do a complete 180 degrees and badger my department into taking you on as a first-year grad in Classics?"
"I became disillusioned with linguistics," Daniel said.
"Was that before or after your co-writing credit on Chomsky's latest?" Rodney snapped despite his determination to stay calm. "The truth, Daniel."
Daniel smiled. "Would you accept irreconcilable differences with my advisor as an explanation?"
"Not unless you were married to him, no," Rodney replied. "You're not the type of person to throw away eight years of research because of personal differences."
"Ah, no, you've caught me," Daniel replied. "Though some people are quite prepared to throw away several years' worth of...devotion due to the tiniest of personal differences." The words were almost spat out. "In fact, some people don't even have the decency to explain their change in direction to the affected parties--"
Rodney closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "What exactly is it you throw eight years of research away for, Daniel?"
"A Rosetta stone," Daniel replied. Before Rodney could make a verbal dig at hieroglyphs having been deciphered 200 years previously, he continued, "The reason I've come to see you, Rodney, is to seek your advice regarding language instruction. I realize that most everyone else on the course has an undergraduate degree that entailed the study of various ancient languages, and while I believe I am at least proficient at reading Latin, I was wondering whether you would recommend I register for one of the intensive Greek courses."
Rodney was so distracted by the question, he didn't remember the cryptic Rosetta stone comment until long after Daniel had left his office.
*****
When Rodney returned home that evening, he found his house in a state of disarray. John was more than a little disheveled, hair sticking out at stranger than usual angles, sitting in the middle of the living room amid about twenty boxes, some of them with their lids raised open.
Rodney closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing. "Dare I ask?"
John rubbed his brow, which was already covered by a large streak of dirt, and sighed deeply. "Personal belongings. The bitch shipped over all my personal belongings. At least all the ones that don't actually have any monetary value."
"I see."
"I am so sorry," John said looking up a little helplessly. "I didn't know she was going to do this. I'll go and get a storage space tomorrow and have them out of here."
"Don't bother," Rodney replied. "There's plenty of room in the garage. You can just move them in there."
"Thanks." John sounded relieved. "I think under the circumstances--look, when I arrived I said it was only going to be for a couple of weeks until she moved out of the house, and it's been six weeks already and I'm thinking it'll take a while to get her out of there and I really don't want to impose--"
"You're not," Rodney interrupted. "Don't even think about it. Besides, remember how long I crashed on your ratty couch when I returned from Egypt?"
"Hey, that couch is an antique!" John said. He shuddered. "She's probably sold it by now, you know."
"Good. It was the most uncomfortable couch I've ever had the misfortune of sleeping on," Rodney responded, trying to keep his voice light.
John looked at him gloomily. "I loved that fucking couch."
"I'm sorry."
"My house, too." John's voice was starting to crack a little. "I know it's a bottomless pit of maintenance costs, but I love that house."
Rodney did his damndest to sound sincere. "You'll get it back, and until you do, you can stay here."
"Thanks," John said. He didn't sound very convinced.
Rodney sighed. He made his way through the obstacle course of boxes and squatted down on the floor next to John. "I mean it, John. As long as you need a place to stay, you're welcome to my guest room." He smiled encouragingly.
John's mouth lifted up just a notch in an attempt at a smile. "I really appreciate it."
"I know. And now I better start cooking, Evan's coming over for dinner." He got up.
"Do you want me to make myself scarce for the evening?" John asked. "I could go and see a movie, maybe?"
"You don't have to, unless it makes you uncomfortable," Rodney replied. "It's not like you don't know what we get up to after dinner." John grinned and rolled his eyes. "Besides, I think moving those boxes is going to keep you pretty occupied."
*****
Several hours later, Rodney was about to head upstairs and go to sleep, when he noticed the lights in the living room were still on. He pushed open the door, looking around the room until his eyes found John sitting in the far corner behind a box, leaning against the side of the couch with photographs and newspaper clippings and other scrapbook-like items spread out around him on the floor. "Hey," John said. "Evan gone?"
Rodney nodded. "Found anything interesting?"
"A few things I'd forgotten about." John smiled and held up a photograph. "Remember this?"
Rodney squinted and stepped a little closer before groaning. "Oh God, no. I thought I'd burned all evidence of that hairstyle!"
John grinned. "If it helps any, you carried it off a lot better than Simon LeBon ever did."
"That's a flimsy excuse for that haircut," Rodney replied. "What else did you find?"
John shuffled the various photographs and papers around a bit, then held up a page torn out of a newspaper. "Remember this?"
Rodney blinked at it. "Shit. I didn't know there were pictures," he said warily.
John laughed. "I'm not surprised, you'd had quite a bit of beer by the time the photographers honed in on us."
"Well, shit." Rodney looked at the page more closely, but the picture of him draped in a rainbow flag and leaning heavily on John on the Mall more than fifteen years and a really bad bleach job ago refused to disappear from the page. He scanned the byline. "At least they didn't put my name down," he mumbled. "I don't really look like I did in 1993 anymore, right?"
John sighed. "I remember you talking me into heading down to DC for that," he said sadly. "You used to be all about not giving a damn what everyone else thought. What happened?"
"Life." Rodney shrugged. "I'm Dr. Rodney McKay, acting head of the Department of Classical Studies at St. Augustine's University, and the dean does like to remind us at every opportunity that we have an obligation to uphold the fine moral traditions of this institution and Mother Church."
"You've got tenure, it's not like they can fire you," John said.
"Maybe not," Rodney agreed. "But I don't think they'd take very kindly to pictures of me draped in rainbow flags. I don't even think they'd take very kindly to my being seen in public in a date-like situation with another man."
"You're completely paranoid, you know that?" John said.
Rodney shrugged. "I'm a shoo-in for department head without the "acting" bit in front of it as long as they don't have a reason to start searching for a new hire."
"And that's worth crawling back into the closet for?" John asked.
"Why wouldn't it be?"
"Because you cornered me halfway through my freshman year at Brown and talked me into co-founding the lesbian and gay club with you," John started. "And then, during sophomore year, you badgered me into co-chairing that massive fundraiser for World AIDS Day, which absolutely nobody knew about, seeing as it was the first one," he continued, "and then at Princeton, you convinced me to help you organize the Princeton contingent for the March on Washington. Face it, Rodney, you're an activist."
"Everybody is an activist in college," Rodney pointed out. "Doesn't mean that they stay one."
"Maybe not," John agreed, "But I never thought you of all people would turn out to be ashamed of who you are."
Rodney rolled his eyes. "Shame has nothing to do with it. I'm just trying not to ruffle any feathers."
"Maybe some feathers are in need of ruffling," John said angrily.
"Could be."
John nodded slowly, carefully placing the newspaper cutting in a manila folder before putting it back into the box. "So why the hell aren't you?"
"Maybe because there's nobody around that's worth getting into a fight over," Rodney said.
John got up and made his way over to the door. Just before he switched off the lights, he asked, "Does Evan know that?"
He didn't wait for an answer before taking the stairs two at a time and disappearing upstairs. Rodney sat down on the couch in the dark and considered the question for a long time.
*****
There was a sharp knock on Rodney's office door. "I thought I said I didn't want to be--" He started as the door opened, then stopped when Elizabeth entered. "Oh, sorry, Elizabeth, I thought you were Evan."
Elizabeth adjusted her glasses and fingered the cross she wore on a chain around her neck nervously. "Sorry, he wasn't at his desk. I can come back later if this is a bad time."
"No, not at all." Rodney waved his hand dismissively. "I was working on that article for the Classical Review, but I seem to have run into one or two little problems that will necessitate a trip to the library, so now's as good a time as any."
"It really isn't that urgent, I'll come back another time," Elizabeth mumbled, her head bowed slightly and her hand already on the doorknob.
Rodney sighed. "Please, Elizabeth, I assure you, you are not interrupting. Sit down."
"Well, if you're absolutely certain," Elizabeth said hesitantly, edging about an inch closer to Rodney's desk.
"Positive," Rodney replied. "What can I do for you?"
"I'm a bit concerned about one of my first years," Elizabeth began and Rodney only just suppressed an audible sigh. He suspected that one of the reasons he had been appointed acting head when Hammond had unexpectedly keeled over had been that there had simply been no alternative. Elizabeth was far too reticent and spent most of her time fretting about her students, Laura was on maternity leave more or less continuously and expected to stay there until menopause, Cam had a disturbing habit of disappearing for large chunks of time, and Jack, while a wonderful researcher and an expert in his field, simply wasn't administrator material.
"Which student?" Rodney asked.
"Daniel Jackson," she answered.
Rodney rocked back in his chair and bit down on his tongue until the urge to say something unprofessional passed. "You don't say," he remarked dryly.
"Well, you see, I think he might be taking on rather more than is healthy," Elizabeth explained. "Have you seen his course schedule?" She held up a computer printout.
Rodney reached across the desk and took the paper. He couldn't help whistling as he scanned it and Elizabeth nodded her agreement. "Tell me, Elizabeth, I forget," he said. "Do we require our students to have mental health evaluations before admitting them to the program?"
Elizabeth bristled. "Of course not! That would be extremely inappropriate."
Rodney nodded. "Shame though. 'Cause I think he's a raving lunatic."
"Rodney!" she exclaimed, sounding shocked.
"Sorry, sorry," Rodney replied. "You have to admit though, a full load of first-year graduate courses, plus Greek I, Old Egyptian, Demotic, Coptic, and Jack's Early Aegean Scripts seminar... what is he trying to do?"
"I couldn't even begin to guess," she replied. "Though I wonder how he managed to talk Jack into letting him join his seminar. I've been here fifteen years and I've never even seen Jack talk to a first-year graduate before."
"Hm." Rodney had his suspicions, but he wasn't about to outline them for Elizabeth. "I agree, he's bitten off a bit more than he can chew, but he's an adult. I don't think there's much we can do beyond the usual academic advising."
"I thought that since you both went to Princeton..." Elizabeth trailed off uncertainly.
Rodney winced. "It's rather a big school, Elizabeth."
"So you did not know him?" she asked.
Rodney shifted around uncomfortably. "Well, I may have run into him on campus here and there, and he might have been in one of my survey courses for a gen-ed requirement, but know him as such? He was an undergraduate and I a graduate student..." He really hoped he sounded more convincing to her ears than he did to his own.
"I see, well, in that case..."
Rodney felt like a complete and utter tool. "Would you like me to talk to him?" he offered hurriedly. "He's in my Egyptian History class. Maybe I could have a word with him after our next meeting."
Elizabeth looked up, relief written all over her face. "Could you? I really wouldn't want to impose, but he strikes me as such a strong-willed young man, and, well--"
"It's no trouble at all," Rodney interrupted her before she could get around to apologizing for breathing. "I really don't mind."
"Thank you Rodney," she said, already rising.
Rodney waited for the door to shut behind her before letting his head fall onto the desk. He had to sit back up fast when the door opened again a few seconds later and tried to force his face into a smile, which faded as soon as he saw Evan standing in the doorway.
"What did Elizabeth want?" Evan asked.
"She came to share her concerns about one of her advisees," Rodney replied. "Tell me, did you assign Daniel to her on purpose?"
Evan smirked. "Not in any way you could prove, no."
"You're evil."
Evan carefully shut the door before ambling into the room, swiveling his hips much more than was strictly speaking necessary. "Possibly, but you like that about me."
Rodney quirked an eyebrow. "And don't we have some sort of limit on how many classes students are permitted to sign up for per semester?"
"We strongly recommend they don't sign up for more than five at the very most." Evan shrugged. "But it's not a requirement as such. At least I couldn't find anything specific in the handbook."
"I see."
"Rather interesting, isn't it?" Evan agreed. "I actually had to look it up the other day, not wanting to break any rules out of ignorance or anything."
"So I heard."
"But it would appear," Evan continued smoothly, "that if a student decided to hang himself, we are at liberty to step aside and watch the show, provided we warn him about the presence of a noose around his neck."
"I trust you did?"
Evan smiled brightly. "Oh, yes. I believe my exact words were, 'Christ, you must be fucking joking.'"
******
Rodney collected his notes while the students started shuffling out of the lecture theater. He did his best to sound completely disinterested when he said, "Daniel, a word please."
"Yes, Dr. McKay?"
Rodney waited for the last of the other students to leave and sighed. "Daniel, Elizabeth brought around your class schedule, and I have a question or two."
"Such as?"
"Such as are you completely insane?" Rodney replied.
Daniel grinned. "Well, you know what they say about MIT--"
"That you have to be slightly crazy to survive there, I know, I know." Rodney sighed again. "Still, nine classes?"
"I can handle it," Daniel assured him. Rodney couldn't figure out how he managed not to sound arrogant in the process.
"Hm."
"Seriously. I mean, most of those are language classes, and you know I have a bit of a knack for those," Daniel explained. "I promise I won't go insane and shoot up half the campus by Thanksgiving."
Rodney couldn't help glancing towards the door. "Not funny, Daniel."
Daniel met his eyes for a long second and uncharacteristically backed down. "Okay, that was an extremely bad joke, sorry," he apologized. "Doesn't really change the fact that I'll be fine though."
"Is there any particular reason you feel the need to take five languages?" Rodney asked exasperated. "Most students in this department never manage more than two or three, and that's spread out over their entire academic careers."
"Oh, I have my reasons," Daniel said.
Rodney felt the distinct urge to throttle him. "And those reasons would be?" he prompted.
"A tablet that needs deciphering," Daniel replied simply and picked up his backpack. "Thanks for taking an interest in my well-being by the way. Your social skills seem much improved since the last time I--"
"Hang on a minute," Rodney interrupted. "No way are you walking out of here without an explanation."
"You want an explanation?" Daniel asked sarcastically. "Well, I don't know how things work in the universe you inhabit, but in the rest of society, it's considered good manners to actually break up with someone before disappearing without a forwarding address."
"That's not what I meant," Rodney ground out.
"Of course not, we've already established that these things are different on planet Rodney," Daniel shot back.
"The tablet, Daniel," Rodney said, trying to keep his temper under some semblance of control. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"The usual," Daniel replied. "See, in the ancient world you get these pieces of clay or stone inscribed with characters and we call them tablets in the trade."
"And what trade would that be, Daniel?" Rodney snapped. "The kind that takes place down on Main and 7th?"
Daniel smiled. "You would know more about that than I do, Rodney," he said coldly. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm running late for my ancient scripts seminar."
"And that's another thing," Rodney called after him. "How the hell did you talk Jack into letting you sign up for that seminar?"
Daniel turned in the doorway and smiled brilliantly. "I told him about a tablet that needs deciphering."
Rodney managed to wait until the door closed behind Daniel before banging his head against the lectern.
Two hours later, after Evan had tut-tutted at him at length and handed him an icepack and some ibuprofen, Rodney lurked outside Jack's classroom waiting for the seminar to let out and tried not to look too conspicuous in the process. He was successful in the sense that Daniel breezed right past him when he strode out of the room, though Rodney suspected that that was for effect rather than anything else.
He finally caught up with Daniel just outside the building. "For real now, Daniel," he demanded. "Are you just trying to get up my nose by being cryptic?"
Daniel stopped and sighed. "No, Rodney, there really is a tablet. A very interesting tablet, in my humble and amateur opinion."
"And?"
"And I'm determined to decipher it, as I've told you already," Daniel said.
"And?"
"What is this? Twenty questions?" Daniel asked, frustrated.
"Something like that," Rodney replied, smiling. "There are certain benefits that accompany the complete headache of being appointed acting head of the department, and one of them is that I get to ask as many questions as I damn well please."
"Oh yes, congratulations on the promotion by the way," Daniel said. "How exactly did you manage that?"
"Process of elimination, mostly," Rodney replied. "There was nobody else who wanted or was halfway suitable for the job."
Daniel's face was the perfect picture of sincerity. "How very lucky of you."
"Will you stop evading the question?" Rodney thundered, then glanced around nervously. Thankfully there didn't seem to be anyone within earshot.
Daniel grinned. "So you want to know about the tablet?"
Rodney briefly wondered whether a manslaughter conviction was worth the deep satisfaction he would derive from strangling Daniel. "If you wouldn't mind terribly much."
"Of course not," Daniel said, then glanced at his watch. "However, I am a little pressed for time right now..."
"Dinner then," Rodney said desperately. "I'll make tuna casserole."
Daniel shook his head. "I always hated tuna casserole."
"You never said."
"Because you never asked, Rodney," Daniel replied. "Which was part of the problem, if I recall correctly."
Rodney nodded. "Fine, how about spaghetti?"
Daniel laughed. "Is your entire cooking repertoire still at three dishes?"
"Five now." Rodney hoped his ears weren't turning too pink.
Daniel considered for a moment. "Spaghetti would be fine. What time?"
"Seven-ish," Rodney replied, pulling a pen from his shirt pocket. "Here, let me write down the address for you."
******
Rodney spent the rest of the afternoon working himself into a panic. He suspected that inviting Daniel over for dinner ranked second among the worst decisions he'd made all year, the first place being occupied by the decision to admit Daniel into the program. He was in a foul mood by the time he let himself into the house and was stopped dead in his tracks by the sight of John's supposedly antique couch in the doorway to the living room.
Rodney closed his eyes and very calmly counted to ten before opening them again. The couch was still there. He suppressed the urge to scream abuse. Instead he took a deep breath and hollered, "John!"
John poked his head out of the kitchen looking in much better spirits than he had lately. "Hey, what's up?"
"What is that doing in my house?" Rodney asked.
"You mean my couch?" John asked. "Isn't it amazing? I guess the bitch didn't know how valuable it was and shipped it on over here."
"What is it doing blocking the living room door?" Rodney clarified.
"It's too heavy for me to move on my own," John explained. "I figured once you got home, you could help me move some stuff around in there to make space."
"John--"
"I know, I know, it's only temporary," John cut in, "but it's far too nice to just leave in the garage. Besides, I'd be concerned about the damp in there. Antique furniture is very susceptible to water damage and--"
"John, we're in fucking Southern California," Rodney interrupted testily. "There is no damp."
"Oh. Well. Critters then," John replied. "Lots of critters that like eating 100% natural fabrics."
Rodney closed his eyes and tried to remember everything Teyla had ever said about Zen and centering and lots of other new age hippy shit. It didn't help.
"So, can you help me move it?" John asked after a minute. "Because having a couch in the doorway really isn't feng shui at all."
Rodney was almost entirely certain that with Ronon acting as his defense attorney, he'd end up with no more than ten years. Except, he'd have to turn himself in before Daniel got there because how would he explain the presence of a stiff on that dreadful couch? And that meant he'd never find out about the goddamn tablet.
"So, are you going to help me move it?" John interrupted his train of thought.
Rodney opened his eyes and nodded slowly. "Yeah, but I need a favor in return."
"Sure, what is it?"
"Um. I kinda invited Daniel over for dinner," Rodney admitted peevishly.
John's face distorted comically. "You did what?"
"It sounded like a good idea at the time." Rodney shrugged.
"So did communism," John groaned. "All right, let's get this thing moved so I can get out of here."
Rodney shook his head. "No, that's the favor I'm asking. You have to stay."
"Does the phrase 'wild horses' mean anything to you?" John sputtered.
"Please."
"No." John said. "I still haven't recovered from witnessing the drama the first time around."
Rodney rolled his eyes. "It's not like that," he said. "He's coming over to tell me about some sort of tablet he's obsessing about."
"Viagra?"
"Not that kind of tablet, John." Rodney snorted. "Nice pun, though."
"Do I absolutely have to?" John couldn't really keep the whine out of his voice, but backed it up very nicely with the kicked dog look, Rodney thought.
"If you really loved me," Rodney said only half joking, "you'd stay at my side like a teenage girl's chaperone and prevent me from strangling him halfway through dessert."
"It's a good thing I love you then, isn't it," John replied a little too quietly and looked at Rodney quizzically for a moment before rubbing his hands together and saying, "All right, let's move the couch so you can get started preparing for dinner."
******
Rodney was just draining the pasta when the doorbell rang. He quickly wiped his hands and went to open it.
"Hi," Daniel greeted him, offering him a bottle. "I hope red's okay."
"Red's great, thanks," Rodney replied. "I'm almost ready. Let me show you into the dining room."
"Nice place," Daniel remarked as he followed Rodney down the hallway. "Tenure pays well, huh?"
"The Vatican has deep pockets," Rodney replied. "The main reason I came here, really. That, and Penn kept on passing me over."
Before Daniel could reply, there came a tremendous crash from the kitchen accompanied by much cursing. "Oh for--hold on a second, Daniel," Rodney said turning, then shouted, "John, I swear to God, if that's you trying to get out of dinner by damaging yourself so you can go to the hospital instead, I will kill you. Slowly and inventively." There was no response from the kitchen.
"John Sheppard?" Daniel asked, surprised. "He's here?"
"The very same," Rodney confirmed.
"I didn't know--are you and him...I mean, you were always close."
Rodney considered leading Daniel on a bit, just to see him stammering some more, but thought better of it when he remembered the last time John had been presented as a boyfriend. "No way," he laughed. "John's just staying here while he's working on evicting his former girlfriend from his house."
"But--" Daniel looked very confused. "John's gay. At least he was last time I saw him, which admittedly was about ten years ago, but--"
"There was a complicated arrangement involving the former girlfriend, the former girlfriend's husband, and John." Rodney's explanation was met by an incredulous stare. "Look, mostly, I try not to think about it too much, since it makes my head hurt," he explained. "The end result is that Michael went a little psychotic--"
"Do not mention that name in my presence!" John admonished, walking into the room. His shirt was covered in a fine layer of dust and he was limping ever so slightly. "Hi Daniel, how've you been the past few years?"
"Um. Fine, I guess." Daniel replied. "There seem to have been a lot of, er, changes."
"Not really," John said dismissively. "Just Rodney going back in the closet, me shacking up with a girl, and Teyla marrying Ronon. No big surprises really."
Daniel gaped.
"What?" John asked, then turned to Rodney when Daniel didn't reply. "Did I say something rude?"
"Daniel, close your mouth," Rodney said. "He's exaggerating. What John meant to say was that I still suck at the whole relationship business and he conducted a practical experiment in alternative lifestyles. The thing about Teyla is true, I'm afraid. We tried to stop her, but--"
"Being gay wasn't alternative enough for you?" Daniel cut in. "You had to experiment with the heterosexual lifestyle?"
John shrugged sheepishly. "There were incentives."
There were?" Daniel sounded doubtful.
"Oh yes, I believe that particular incentive's called a nine-inch cock." Rodney grinned. "John, am I going to regret going into the kitchen?"
"That," John replied, making a show of dusting his sleeves off, "depends entirely on how attached you felt to your garage door."
*****
"So let me get this straight," Daniel said, a forkful of spaghetti poised halfway between his plate and his mouth. "After you moved down to work at Lockheed, you met M--" John glared. "Sorry, sorry, the psychotic bastard, and started doing the dirty with him. And you didn't realize he was married?"
"How many gay guys do you think are--okay, never mind, that's a dumb question." John shrugged. "It honestly had never occurred to me to ask a potential fuck whether or not he had a wife waiting at home. You live and learn, I guess."
Daniel nodded understandingly. "Just out of curiosity, when exactly did you realize there was a wife waiting at home?"
John blushed and mumbled something inaudible before getting very, very interested in the scenery outside the dining room window.
Rodney cleared his throat. "Actually, I was the one who figured it out," he explained.
"But you were in Europe, weren't you?" Daniel sounded confused. "Or was that just a lie so I wouldn't--"
"No, no, he really was in Europe and the Middle East for about a year and a half," John jumped in hurriedly. "And then he came back to the States, fresh from some sort of dig in Egypt, and really needed a place to stay, so of course I offered."
"Yeah, and when the psychotic bastard came around for a booty call, I noticed the tan lines where he usually wore his wedding ring," Rodney explained.
Daniel looked at John incredulously. "You had been seeing him for how long at this point?"
John ignored the question. "So, anyway, of course I gave him an ultimatum, 'cause I'm not like that, and next thing I know, he suggests a threesome."
"And you just agreed?" Daniel sputtered.
"Of course not, what do you take me for?" John replied.
Rodney stifled a laugh. "Oh yeah, it took the wife turning up on the doorstep dressed up like a two-dollar whore for him to even consider it."
"She didn't look like a two-dollar whore," John said, sounding indignant. Rodney merely raised an eyebrow. "Hey, I'd have at least paid her twenty, if I were straight."
"Yes, and as a matter of fact, that's my next question really," Daniel said. "How the hell do you go from the jilted wife turning up on your doorstep to a threesome?"
John shrugged apologetically. "The psychotic bastard took off his pants and offered to fuck me while the wife blew me."
"I see."
It was rather clear to Rodney that Daniel didn't. "Look," he said patiently, "I don't understand it either. Just accept it as fact in a screwed-up world and you'll be much happier."
Daniel considered. "And this was going on for how long?"
"Until about three months ago," John replied.
Daniel shuddered. "So definitely not a fluke or drunken misunderstanding then?"
"They even turned up at Teyla's wedding as a couple--triad--whatever," Rodney explained helpfully.
Daniel nodded. "Ah, yes, Teyla's wedding, I was coming to that. What happened?"
"Ronon proposed," Rodney said, eyes glinting.
"Repeatedly," John threw in.
Rodney grinned. "We have a theory that she was holding out for a bigger rock or a better offer."
"What's wrong with Ronon?" Daniel asked. "They started fucking like bunnies round about the same time you and I--"
"But Ronon went on to law school," John interrupted quickly. "Specializing in corporate law. That pretty much made him the devil's right hand and Teyla was such a damn activist. I mean, she chained herself to trucks at G8 Summits before it was hip to do so."
"So?"
"So we might have had reservations about the chances of that lasting once the humping got boring," John explained.
"But they're still together?" Daniel asked.
"Oh yes, still humping away happily," Rodney replied. "No thanks to John over here."
John tried to look put upon. "What did I do?"
Rodney rolled his eyes. "Just stood up in front of the entire wedding party when the priest asked whether anyone knew of any reasons why the two of them shouldn't be joined in holy matrimony and gave a speech."
"He didn't!" Daniel exclaimed.
"I'm afraid he did," Rodney replied. "He's mostly alive because Teyla really couldn't run in those heels."
John had the decency to look slightly embarrassed. "Just pick on me, why don't you? Anyway, she forgave me."
"After running your car off the road, yes."
"She always had hell of a temper." John sighed wistfully. "But the entire experience just made our friendship stronger."
"Of course it did," Rodney agreed. "Once you groveled a bit."
Daniel raised his hand. "Okay, last question, I swear. What was that about Rodney being back in the closet?"
John shrugged. "He is."
"But aren't you fucking your administrator?" Daniel asked, turning to Rodney.
"Um. You're not supposed to know about that," Rodney mumbled. "Nobody is."
"Why?"
"Because," John replied, "there is absolutely no boytouching allowed for the lowly teachers. That privilege is reserved solely for the priests."
"John--"
"What?" John threw his hands up. "It's true!"
Rodney sighed and changed the subject before John could get really started. "So, anyway, apart from studying, what have you been up to, Daniel?"
"Not much besides that," Daniel shrugged. "Oh, except, I spent most of last year in Egypt."
"Really? How come?" John asked.
"My grandfather was dying," Daniel replied. When John and Rodney didn't respond, he added, "It wasn't entirely unexpected, he was very old, you know."
"I'm sorry," John said somberly. "But I always thought...why Egypt?"
"Because the crotchety old fool refused to leave," Daniel grinned. "Said he'd spent most of his life in Egypt and wasn't going to stop for a little inconvenience like dying."
"So the entire time you were harassing my department on the phone, you were calling from Egypt?" Rodney asked perplexed. "Why?"
"Because of the tablet."
"Ah, yes, the tablet," Rodney said testily. "Are you ever going to explain what the hell is up with that?"
Daniel nodded. "Right, so over the past few years, there's been a lot of excavation work done in Alexandria, as I'm sure you know," he began. Rodney nodded. "So anyway, the team working there is mostly interested in excavating the actual buildings of what they think might have been the university and library, but you know how it is down there: you start digging somewhere and artifacts practically jump in your face."
Both of them nodded, Rodney much more enthusiastically than John.
"Anyway, one of my grandfather's acquaintances there has a daughter who is married to this guy who works in some sort of ministry in charge of antiquities, and he kind of pulled some strings so I could get a private tour of the excavation sites they're working on," Daniel continued. "And while I was waiting around for him afterwards in the makeshift field office, I noticed crates full of stone and shards and God knows what else sitting in the corner, so I asked one of the archaeologists whether they'd found any interesting inscriptions, having a bit of a professional interest in language."
"Turns out this guy's specialty in school had been hieroglyphic and hieratic texts, so he was just dying to talk to somebody about all the tablets and seals and fragments they were finding and just shoving into boxes for the time being. Next thing I knew, we'd been talking for two hours and the minor official I was there with was tapping his foot and looking at me with a put-upon look on his face, so I made arrangements to meet Taddeusz--that's the archaeologist--in town later that evening to talk some more."
"Was he a good lay?" Rodney asked.
Daniel pushed his plate away and threw his hands up in the air. "Now why would you assume that wanting to talk to somebody some more means I want to sleep with them by default?"
"Didn't you?"
"Well, yes, as a matter of fact I did, but I am wounded, deeply wounded, that you would automatically--" Daniel was cut off midrant by John bellowing with laughter.
Rodney tried to join in, but his laughter sounded a little halfhearted to his own ears and he gave up on it long before John quieted down.
Daniel was tapping his fingers on the table and glaring at John before he turned to Rodney and said, "I thought you wanted to know about the tablet?"
"I do, sorry," Rodney apologized. "John, shut up."
"Can't help it," John wheezed. "This is better than watching re-runs of The Odd Couple."
This time both Daniel and Rodney glared at him before Daniel cleared his throat. "Anyway, to make a long story short, there's a lot of junk and fragments there, mostly Greek and Roman, but they're also digging up some Egyptian stuff, it really looks like they've found a library, or at least the city dump for used paper."
"Recycling in the Roman Empire," John said. "I always though that Egypt was ahead of its time."
"For crying out loud, John, I'm actually interested in this," Rodney snapped.
"Sorry, sorry, carry on."
"As I said," Daniel continued, "most of it is junk, but Taddeusz was really excited about this one tablet they'd found, because it was mostly intact and entirely covered in hieroglyphs."
Rodney whistled. "Nice. But if it's hieroglyphic writing, there are tons of Egyptologists who should be able to read it."
"You'd think so, yes," Daniel replied. "Except that the reason Taddeusz was rather fascinated by it was that he couldn't read it."
"That's impossible," Rodney said. "Do you have a transcription of the symbols?"
"Yes, and pictures," Daniel said. "Want to see?"
Rodney didn't even bother to respond, just got up and motioned at them to follow him into the living room. It took only a few moments for Daniel to spread the papers and photographs out on the coffee table.
Rodney leant in close and studied them for a while before asking, "Has the tablet been dated?"
"Late Middle Kingdom," Daniel replied. "Probably the 17th century BC."
Rodney nodded. It seemed about right stylistically. "Your friend was right, though. This is just gibberish. The symbols are there, but they don't actually form any proper syntax."
Daniel nodded. "That's what had Taddeusz so puzzled. He spent hours going over them with me, trying to teach me the basics."
"A scribe being trained, maybe?" Rodney suggested.
"We thought of that, but the craftsmanship...it just didn't seem likely." Daniel shrugged. "We spent a couple of months trying to figure it out, and then I had a bit of an epiphany. At least, I think it was an epiphany. Taddeusz mostly thought it was my way of demonstrating my complete lack of knowledge as far as Egyptology is concerned."
"Which was?" John asked, craning to get a look at the papers.
"I tried to read it phonogramatically rather than logogrammatically, except I didn't actually know the going conventions for inserting vowels into the consonantal script, so I inserted the vowels that seemed most intuitive to me," Daniel explained.
Rodney chuckled, "Ten out of ten for style and creativity, Daniel, but I doubt that's the right answer."
"Just humor me for a minute, Rodney," Daniel replied. "Try and read this as a phonogrammatic script in the way one Daniel Jackson would read it."
Rodney looked at Daniel like he'd grown another head but decided to give it a try; after all, what was the harm in it? His lips moved silently as his eyes worked their way along the line of symbols. Even though the words were only in his head, they sounded strange, wrong, alien, nothing at all like what hieroglyphs were supposed to sound like according to his schooling.
He was just about to give up when he got to one series of symbols that formed a word that sounded vaguely familiar. He stopped, did a double take, and read it over again, just to make sure he wasn't imagining things. Then his eyes shot up. "Jasasara. You would have pronounced 'dysesere' as 'jasasara'."
Daniel nodded.
"Are there any other recognizable words?" Rodney asked.
Daniel shrugged. "I think so, but I really don't know enough about Eteo-Cretan writing to be sure."
Rodney whistled. "Minoan written in Egyptian hieroglyphs, now there's an interesting proposition. Though I'm not sure that it would help any."
"That's because you're a historian and I'm a linguist," Daniel said. "All you see when you look at this tablet is further evidence of trade between Minoan Crete and Egypt."
"And what exactly is it you see, Daniel?" Rodney asked.
"A key to a language that's never been translated."
*****
They spent another forty-five minutes going over the transcript and photographs, Daniel pointing out several more instances of symbol strings that he thought might correlate to words found in Linear A tablets. Rodney was skeptical, to say the least, but he had to agree that provided the prominent current theories concerning the designation of Linear A symbols were correct, Daniel was on to something, he just doubted that it was in any way useful.
He finally stood up straight when his eyes and shoulders started to ache. "I need a break," he stated quite superfluously.
Daniel nodded and straightened, too. "I'll make coffee."
He walked out of the room and John, who had been so quiet Rodney had almost forgotten he was there, cleared his throat. "I don't get it," he said. "What's so special about the word 'jasasara'?"
Rodney sank down on the couch and tried to untense his shoulders. "It's one of the few sure guesses we have as far as the Minoan language is concerned," he explained. "There are two main problems that kind of stand in the way of cracking Linear A. One is that most of the examples of Linear A we have appear to be accounts, balance ledgers and such. The other is that the Minoan language has never been demonstrably linked to any known language, which is its own headache."
John scratched his nose. "OK, you're going to have to explain that to the engineer over here, because I was under the impression that most dead languages belong to identifiable families that have living descendant languages. Aren't most ancient languages Europe Indo-European?"
"Most, yes, but not all," Rodney agreed. "There are a few languages belonging to the Uralic family spoken in Europe right now, and there's at least one language, Basque, that doesn't seem to belong to any family at all."
Daniel entered the room again, carrying a tray with three steaming cups. "I hope you don't mind it's Egyptian-style coffee," he said.
Rodney laughed. "That's fine, I wasn't planning to sleep much tonight, anyway."
They sat around for a few minutes sipping their coffee before Daniel turned to Rodney and asked, "So, what's your opinion?"
"It's an interesting theory." Rodney said. "You are right, a few of those words look like they are Minoan written in Egyptian hieroglyphs."
"You don't sound very convinced," Daniel replied. "Come on, that definitely says 'jasasara.'"
"There is a possibility that those symbols say 'jasasara,'" Rodney corrected him, smiling.
"I still don't get it," John interjected. "Why is the word 'jasasara' so important?"
"Because we're almost entirely sure it's the name of a Minoan deity," Daniel replied.
John raised his eyebrow questioningly. "Almost?"
"Apart from balance ledgers, the other thing we have a lot of are libation tablets," Rodney explained. "Somebody petitioning a deity for something, in other words. The actual text differs from libation to libation, depending on who is asking for what, but they all follow the same very strict syntax in which the fourth word is 'jasasara,' so a lot of scholars have theorized that it is the name of the deity petitioned."
"I see," John nodded. "So if they're not related to any other tribe or culture, then--"
"The name 'Jasasara' cannot be found in any other pantheon," Daniel concluded smugly. "It's unique."
"As far as we know, at any rate," Rodney pointed out.
Daniel growled. "Spoilsport."
"I'm sorry, Daniel," Rodney said. "It would be a great discovery if your theory is correct, but just because you want it to be, doesn't mean it is."
Daniel nodded slowly. "Fine, I understand that, but apart from being a doubting Thomas, do you think I'm wasting my time?"
Rodney considered. Even if the tablet turned out to be Minoan written in hieroglyphs, he wasn't sure that it was worth abandoning an almost completed doctorate. "I think that if it is what you think it is, it's one of the most important archaeological finds of the century," he said, weighing his words carefully.
"That's not what I asked you," Daniel complained. "Just tell me if you think I'm barking up the wrong tree."
"I--" Rodney sighed and ran his hands through his hair. He really needed a haircut. He also had to get over his complete inability to communicate with Daniel in a mutually understandable manner, because that was what had gotten them into hell of a mess in the first place. "Look, even if it turns out to be Minoan, how does that bring you any closer to understanding the Minoan language? You'd still be reading something completely unintelligible, just written in a different script."
Daniel shook his head. "I don't think so. I think the different script could furnish the missing key."
"Explain."
"Think about it," Daniel leaned forward talking excitedly, his eyes gleaming. "What are the characteristics of Linear A?"
Rodney humored him. "That's easy, it's got about 200 symbols, which very likely makes it a syllabary, like Linear B and Cypriot, which seem to have been derived from it."
"Right. And now, what are the characteristics of Egyptian hieroglyphs?" Daniel asked.
Rodney rolled his eyes. "It's a logophonetic consonantal script. What are you getting at?"
"Are you trying to be more than usually obtuse?" Daniel muttered, jumping up from his seat and pacing back and forth in front of the couch. "What are the three categories of symbols Egyptian hieroglyphs can be divided into?"
Rodney did his best to sound bored and blasé as he rattled them off. "Logograms or morphemes, phonograms and--" he stopped and thought for a long time. "Well, fuck me, I didn't even think of that," he finally said.
Daniel nodded slowly. "Took me a few weeks to get around to it, and language is kind of my raison d'etre."
"What?" John asked. "Stop talking shop and explain what's going on."
Rodney relaxed into one of the cushions. "The final group of hieroglyphs are determinatives. They have no morphemic or phonetic value, but are used to give meaning to a series of symbols."
"I still don't get it," John said.
"Okay, look," Rodney said impatiently. "You know what a consonantal script is, right?"
John fidgeted. "Maybe?"
"A consonantal script is a script where words are written entirely in consonants. There are no written vowels. Egyptian is one, as are Phoenician and a number of scripts based on Phoenician," Rodney explained. "That causes hell of a mess in some languages, because when you have a script that lacks vowels, words that have identical consonants but different vowels are written identically. For example, if English used a consonantal script, the words 'hair' and 'her' would both be spelled exactly the same way, which could get really confusing. The Egyptians solved that problem by introducing determinative symbols."
"How is that useful for translating Minoan?" John asked.
"Because once you understand the grammatical structure of a language, puzzling out the vocabulary becomes a piece of cake," Daniel said excitedly. "Determining the grammatical structure is key, because vocabulary is usually borrowed left, right, and center from other languages, while grammar is language-specific."
"And Egyptian determinatives could help you figure out the grammar?" John asked. "How?"
Daniel shrugged. "I can't say for sure, but it's a reasonable guess that determinatives would be used to disambiguate words with identical consonants but differing vowels, say, for example, where different vowels would denote gender or inflection. Rodney?"
"I'm thinking," Rodney replied, distractedly picking lint off his pants. "Yes," he finally said cautiously. "If there are enough of the right determinatives used on the tablet, you might be able to work out the sentence structure, which means you could get a basic understanding of the grammar."
"But?" Daniel asked.
"But I think you're coming at this from the wrong angle," Rodney said. "This is really Jack's area more than mine, but in my opinion, you're looking at the wrong languages."
"How so?"
Rodney rubbed at his eyes. It was getting late. "From an anthropological and archaeological point of view, our best guess is that Crete was colonized in the Neolithic period by people from the Near East, so the most logical assumption is that if the Minoan language is related to any other language, and that's a pretty big if, it would be one from that general area, possibly a dialect of the Hittite culture."
Daniel nodded. "Okay, so what's your suggestion?"
"Stick with the Greek class, you're going to need that later on if you're really serious about getting a PhD here," Rodney said, smiling when Daniel snarled in response. "Obviously, you also want to keep with the Egyptian, because you need to get up to speed on reading hieroglyphs. Get rid of the Demotic and Coptic, both of those are more than covered by Greek and Egyptian anyway, and they aren't going to help with this. Other than that, I'd focus on Hittite dialects: Luwian, to be precise."
"Will you work with me?" Daniel asked. "I know Weir is supposedly my advisor, but..."
"I'm not sure that's a good idea, Daniel," Rodney said.
"Why? We're getting along, aren't we?" Daniel said. Then, turning to John, he added, "We're getting along, right?"
"Oh yeah," John replied. "I feel totally deprived of drama."
Rodney sighed. "John--"
"No, seriously, I expected a few more sparks and maybe a tiny nuclear holocaust," John quipped. "Very disappointing."
Rodney threw a cushion at him. "I honestly don't think it'd be a good idea, Daniel, no matter what the comedian over there thinks."
"Can we just try it, please?" Daniel asked. "I didn't choose St. Augustine's entirely at random."
Rodney raised an eyebrow. "Why exactly did you choose St. Augustine's?"
"For the same reason I chose MIT," Daniel said. "I wanted to work with the best in the field, and that's you in Egyptology and Jack in Aegean scripts."
"No other reason?" Rodney asked, doubtful.
Daniel kept a perfect poker face. "No other reason."