SG-1 fic: U.S.D. Daniel Jackson, part 2, by kuonji (G)
Title: U.S.D. Daniel Jackson, part 2
Author: kuonji
Fandom: Stargate SG-1
Characters: Jack O'Neill, Daniel Jackson
Pairings: Jack/Sara
Category: AU, series fusion: Temeraire
Rating: G
Spoilers: none
Words: ~880
Summary: He wondered what Daniel ate, and he wondered, with equal parts unease and distaste, if he would become responsible for feeding him. Jack meets Daniel for the first time.
Link to: Part 1
U.S.D. Daniel Jackson, part 2
by kuonji
Sara was as dismayed by the news of the Jacksons' death as Jack himself. Although she had never met them personally, she was conscious and grateful for their role in bringing Jack and herself back together.
If it hadn't been for the Jacksons, who inspired, encouraged, and flat-out threatened Jack to give his marriage another chance, he and Sara would have continued drifting apart, probably to an inevitable divorce.
He had only the Jacksons to thank for Sara, his wife through better and worse -- and also the possibility of another child, something that he and Sara had been discussing lately.
Sara helped him pack for the emergency trip. She even offered to come along, but from what Jack knew of dragons, he figured that he'd have a better chance if she didn't. She didn't like the argument very well, but she conceded to it as the truth.
So it was that 36 hours later, Jack found himself in the mens room at the Belen station, sprucing himself up for his first face to face with the legacy of Melburn and Claire Jackson. He wasn't quite sure whether or not he was hopeful that Daniel would accept him as his new partner.
He stared hard at his own reflection. His hair was grizzled beyond his mid-forties age. His face was weathered with sharp lines of stress, slightly softened by the last months in retirement. He knew himself to be a closed, independant man. He felt no qualms in shutting out people he disliked, though he was generally friendly with ones he got a good vibe off of. Even close friends, though -- even his wife -- knew him to be a private man.
Jack scraped a hand through his short-cropped hair once again and sighed.
How on Earth was he to become soul mates and life partners with an alien creature, when he was unwilling to attain deep relationships with his fellow man?
The taxi ride out to the late Jacksons' ranch property was uneventful. Along the way, Jack was surprised to see quite a few dragons roaming the grounds. Having grown up in urban Chicago, Jack hadn't had the chance to meet many dragons in his lifetime. He supposed that New Mexico's more spacious grounds and easier access to large quantities of meat were a draw to dragons and the families who lived with them.
Some were apparently working at various tasks, some just lounging in the late afternoon sun. One had been messily devouring a live sheep, a sight that Jack could have done without. He'd seen dragons eating raw rations in the field, and it had always struck him as incongruous -- that creatures who worked with first aid teams and aeronautics engineers would tear their food apart like giant carrion crows.
He wondered what Daniel ate, and he wondered, with equal parts unease and distaste, if he would become responsible for feeding him.
The Jacksons owned a small-sized ranch, perhaps for the purpose of feeding their charge, and a two-story house in a shocking, modern Frank Lloyd Wright style. The house sat half a mile off of the main road, looking like a cross between a greenhouse and a dance studio.
Once there, Jack had no problem identifying his would-be partner: He was waiting for Jack's taxi at the side of the road, like a singularly intimidating butler. He watched Jack closely as he disembarked, and he made no move to welcome Jack indoors.
On the side of the asphalt road, in the boiling New Mexico summer, with the sound of the departing taxi the only sound between them, man and dragon regarded each other.
Daniel was about the size of a Moidedoa, Jack figured, the small van-sized creatures that had led devastating aerial guerrila attacks in Vietnam. He had a similar head shape, too, viper-ish and sleek like oil.
Instead of dark leafy green, however, Daniel was the color of iridescent sand. His scales shown gold and tan as he turned his head on its sinuous neck to study Jack from all sides. The eyes that he narrowed down at Jack were a startling blue, and breath-takingly human.
"Colonel O'Neill," he said, after a full minute had passed. His voice was a surprising tenor for his size. He sounded supremely put upon by Jack's presence, despite the fact that he was the one who had requested he be there. It kind of pissed Jack off, enough that a jawful of teeth the length of his finger no longer seemed an issue.
"Retired," he replied shortly.
Daniel blinked slowly, reminding Jack of a heavy-lidded iguana. He didn't seem to take offense, however. "My parents spoke highly of you," he said, in a tone that betrayed no emotion.
"Your 'parents', huh?"
"I know it's a little unusual. Please don't start." Jack was no expert at reading dragon expressions, but even he could tell that there was no 'please' about the request.
"Ah. Sure." Jack looked around. "Look, unless you're getting ready to reject me out of hand, could we continue this inside? I'd kill for a glass of water."
Daniel made a loud snort, and he tilted his head towards the house. "Come on, then."
That, Jack supposed, was about the best invitation he could expect to get.
END?