Starting when Vala kidnaps Daniel hmm...anyway, this first part with Hammond in the office, y'all should recognize, the rest is mine. Review!
"C'mon, Jack!" Daniel pleaded as the elevator doors slid open.
"Still no, Daniel!" Jack shot back quickly, stepping out in front of Daniel and out of the elevator car.
"It doesn't even have to be on a permanent basis!" Daniel argued back, breaking into a sort of jogging walk to keep up with O'Neill's long and hurried strides.
"I didn't let you go in the first place! What makes you think I'm gonna change my mind?" Jack bit out, obviously tired of having this discussion with the argumentative archeologist. It was quite obvious he thought the matter closed, only Daniel—who never could take no for an answer—didn't seem to think so. Thus, leaving Jack utterly frustrated with his best friend.
"Because..." Daniel said vaguely, floundering for a substantial reason that he hadn't already used. The list had seemed so long before…
Jack took the outstretched pen from Sergeant Harriman, who had stopped the arguing duo with a clipboard and papers he wanted O'Neill to sign. "Can you try to do better than that?" Jack furiously scrawled his John Hancock on the paper and Harriman swiftly stepped out of the way as the General began his rapid walk towards his office once more. Daniel had to jog to keep up again.
"Because they're gonna need somebody who can translate Ancient--I'm the most qualified person left on the planet for the mission!" Daniel latched quickly onto that bit of information like a life raft, grateful for another reason to add to his "Atlantis List".
Jack stopped abruptly "Which is exactly why you're gonna stay right here!" He pointed his fingers towards the cement floor of the SGC and gave Daniel a piercing look. He promptly resumed his hurried pace once more.
"Because I'll quit!" Daniel said hotly, in a last ditch attempt to get what he wanted. He didn't think Jack would even let him quit, come to think. But then again, he was a civilian and Jack hated to admit that he was wrong.
"Why don't you just hold your breath? You haven't done that in a while." Jack fired back quickly, not bothered by Daniel's rather obvious bluff. The man wanted to go to Atlantis, sure, but not at the expense of his job here at the SGC.
Finally they were at General O'Neill's office, only there was very old friend sitting in the old leather chair behind the desk. Jack and Daniel froze in the doorway, identical expressions of surprise on their faces. The first thought through Jack's mind was: he's come to save me! The second was: Damn, wonder what his real reason for being here is.
"General!" Jack greeted, equal amounts of surprise and delight in his voice, making it rise an octave. He had a wide grin on his face, unable to suppress it. After all, General Hammond had been his friend and superior for seven years and running seeing as he had a new post at the Pentagon, which had gotten him promoted to Lieutenant General.
"Jack. I let myself in--hope you don't mind." He gave the Brigadier General a small smile.
"Absolutely not! Welcome." Jack said quickly, still glad to see him and stuck in a small state of shock that didn't want to let go.
"Thank you." Hammond replied, sincere.
"Miss the chair?" Jack suggested, trying to drop Hammond a hint. He wanted out, dammit! He wasn't made for flying desks. He was too emotionally connected to his people to be objective and it tore him up inside any one of them came back hurt. He paced the control room worrying when they were late, driving the techs up the wall. But they weren't exactly brave enough to tell a General to get the hell out of their way and stop hovering before he either died of a heart attack or broke something.
"Actually, I do." Hammond replied seriously, choosing to take Jack's comment a different way.
Jack felt a small flare of hope clench in his gut. "Want it back?" He said, with a hopeful gesture and matching expression.
"As a matter of fact, I do. My new one just isn't the same." Hammond answered, completely ignoring O'Neill's plea for rescue.
Jack felt his shoulder's sag and he had to work to keep the friendly grin on his face. "That's not exactly what I meant." He gestured lamely.
Hammond swiveled the chair to better look Daniel in the eye, choosing to let Jack stew for a few moments. "Doctor Jackson – nice to see you again."
"Likewise. We miss you around here, sir." Jack gave the linguist a dark look for that comment. Daniel shot him a swift apologetic one, not really caring at the moment. "So, to what do we owe this pleasure?"
"I came to ask if you'd be interested in joining the mission to Atlantis." Hammond stated without preamble or warning, catching both O'Neill and Jackson off guard.
"You did?" They chorused, one hopeful and the other shocked and slightly angry.
"He's the most qualified person on this planet, and the mission commander needs someone who can translate Ancient." Hammond addressed this particular remark to O'Neill, who looked like he'd swallowed a gold fish and was doing a good impression of a deer caught in the headlights of a speeding semi.
Jack recovered quickly, and gave Daniel a look, warning him not say word. Daniel shrugged back, a smug smile playing at his lips that he couldn't completely banish. 'Take that, Jack!' He thought. 'I'd like to see you say no now, O'Neill!' He figured he should have felt guilty for that thought, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. He was so going to Atlantis!
"Really?" Daniel tried in vain to keep the smugness out of his voice.
"With all due respect, sir, I think you should tell the mission commander that I need Daniel right here." Jack decided it was time to intervene before Daniel started having delusions of grandeur. 'Not that he isn't already.' Jack thought bitterly. 'It'll just be worse now that he has someone besides Carter and Teal'c to go to bat for him. I can't exactly order Hammond to shut up, and I already tried that with Daniel. Didn't take.'
"You just did." Hammond said, with a smile back on his lips and a hint of a laugh in his voice.
"I did. I did?" Jack paused in thought his brows furrowed for a brief moment. Then the light dawned. "You, sir?"
"Yes." Hammond pushed himself to his feet. "Request denied. Doctor Jackson, you're with me." He walked past the duo standing in the doorway, then stopped behind them. He turned to look at the back of O'Neill's head. "I'll have the chair shipped to Washington. You can requisition a new one."
"I'll do that, sir." Jack answered distractedly, the other half of his mind working on ways to circumvent Hammond's decision to take Daniel with him to Atlantis.
"We leave tomorrow." Hammond informed Daniel. Jack felt a rock sink into his stomach. George fixed his eyes back to O'Neill. "Oh, and I'll be taking Walter too." With that, he turned and walked out of the doorway and down the hall, not noticing Jack's surprised stare glued to his retreating back.
'Wonderful!' Jack thought sarcastically. 'First he takes my chair, then Daniel and now Walter! How the hell am I supposed to get anything done around here now? I might as well hand the President my resignation myself, dammit!' O'Neill fixed Daniel with a look. The archeologist looked him in the eye briefly then turned away.
Daniel cleared his throat, then turned on his heel and walked out of the room. Leaving Jack to stand there feeling supremely stupid, if not a little bit cheated. 'Who the hell does George think he is anyway? Daniel's one of my people, therefore I say where he goes and where he doesn't!' Jack sighed loudly and collapsed bonelessly into his comfy leather chair that would not be his for very long.
'Well, he is the head of Home World Security, meaning he orders me around. Therefore, Daniel now has a one way ticket to Atlantis. Peachy. Now I'll never see him again.' Jack rolled his eyes. 'Stop thinking like that O'Neill!' He ordered himself. 'Daniel will come back, he always does.' He let out another sigh. 'I just hope his luck hasn't run out.'
Banishing those thoughts from his mind for the moment, Jack focused his attention to his desk. It was cluttered with file folders, forms and memos that he never wanted to see in his lifetime. With a low growl, he reached for the first file folder, only to knock over a rather tall stack of papers. He was about to let out a curse when he noticed a medium sized manila folder sticking out from under the military confetti.
The mess and file folder forgotten, he reached for the manila folder and flipped it around to the front to find the return address. Only, there wasn't one. Just a name. One he hadn't seen or heard in a very long time. Castor. It was written on the front in silver shimmering ink that seemed to almost float off the face of the package.
Swallowing past the lump that had suddenly lodged itself in his throat, Jack turned the folder over and broke the seal. He up-ended it and a leather-bound journal landed with a thump on top of a pile of SG team mission reports. The leather was black and worn and the spine was slightly cracked at the ends. The front cover had a dragon head made of silver with crimson red rubies for eyes. The dragon's mouth was open and facing down towards the bottom end of the book. It had two long crooked horns, and four fang-like front teeth that actually looked quite sharp. And when Jack looked into the dragon's eyes, he could have sworn he heard a faint roar echo in his office.
Gathering his courage, O'Neill picked up the journal, leaned back in his chair, then opened the front cover. He nearly jumped out of his seat when a loud roar that sounded like a cross between a lion and Godzilla resounded loudly in the room, making him wince and wish he'd had ear plugs in.
The journal nearly slipped out of his long fingers as he jumped to his feet to scan the briefing room through his window to see if anyone else had heard the roar. The SF by the stairs hadn't moved. In fact, he looked down right bored. 'Odd.' Jack thought, with some amount of relief. 'Well, I don't think I could have explained it if anyone had heard it anyway…'
Blowing out a breath, Jack sat back down in his chair and got as comfortable as he could. I.e. putting his booted feet up on his desk and leaning back in his chair with a slight slouch. Taking in a fortifying breath, he looked at the front page. The paper seemed to be made out of old parchment, and there was a small paragraph addressed to him written on the front page under an ink drawing of the dragon on the journal's cover.
My beloved son Castor,
Please read this journal carefully and fully. You must read all that it contains, for your own safety and my peace of mind. Now, listen carefully. Inside the journal is the reason behind the fact you were raised by humans, the O'Neill's. I know that young Michael doesn't like you very much, and I'm sorry but I had to leave you, then teach you in secret. It was the only way to save you from Him. Now realize by Him I mean your father, Oberon
The man is an evil bastard and wants you either dead or at the very least under his control. And by control I mean under the Orduithe Glór. The Order Voice, or the Command, which ever you prefer. Now, turn the page and learn the rest of what you need.
Your loving Mother,
Inaria Artemis Draconis nee Ventus
Jack clenched his eyes shut, trying to banish the feelings of hurt and heartache that his mother's voice brought back. The ink and journal was magic, enabling the reader to hear the writer's voice and feel their emotions to a certain extent. In some cases, touching certain words would send the reader into the memory that was magically copied into the page.
But, it didn't make for an easy read. It meant he got see his long dead mother's face and hear her voice again. It wasn't something that he wanted to relive. She was dead. Gone. Never to return. And now she had sent him some godforsaken magic journal to tell him everything he needed to know at this age in the event of her death. Or, if she had still lived, as a reminder to everything she would have, could have, taught him.
Now, he had to learn it from her memories and her words.
And it hurt. It hurt a lot. Like someone had grabbed hold of his heart and was squeezing it into a painful ball inside his chest. He bit down on the inside of his cheek in a pathetic attempt to gain control of his emotions. It worked, to an extent. 'I can't do this.' He thought brokenly. 'I can't live life through her eyes.' He sighed. 'But, then, I don't exactly have a choice. If this mad man is after me, I need her journal.'
He swallowed and turned the page again. The first entry was written in shimmering black-blue ink that seemed to jump up from the page.
June 12, 1958
Well, this is my first entry into my Dragon Journal. If you are reading this Castor, know I'm sorry.
Jack could feel her sorrow lift up from the page, but it only twisted the knife deeper into his insides.
But, I've been killed and there's nothing for it so you must see the Journal to completion. Do not be alarmed if you suddenly find yourself somewhere else. It's only the natural function of the Journal. You aren't really traveling anywhere. To an outside observer you're simply reading an old journal.
Time passes differently in the Journal. Going through several months of memories will only seem like an hour or so in real time, so you don't have to worry about that, Castor. Just worry about what's inside the Journal.
Now, the first place we are going is the Sidhe capital city of Avalon. Now, mind you Avalon is two things. Do you remember? Avalon is all the magic in and on the Earth. The King of Avalon controls all of the magic in the land, if his birthright is not forfeit. Like your sire's. Taliesin, your grandsire, forfeited your sire's birthright, thus passing it on to you.
I don't know how, but he knew there was something wrong with my 'husband' and I will forever thank him for realizing it soon enough. Before it was too late to retract the birthright to the magic. The reason He wants you is rather simple. He can force you to give up your birthright and restore it back to Himself. Or, He can put you under the command of the Orduithe Glór, a skill at which He is most adept.
The reason being simply this: He has little other magical power. At all. He has a little Fire talent and some Earth mastery, but they are very low and virtually useless. However, He does have one talent. The Orduithe Glór. As I explained before, it is a form of magical mind control, if you will. He is the highest recorded mastery of that talent in the history of the Sidhe.
And this is why He is to be avoided. At all costs, Castor. I know that you're thinking of rushing into Avalon and decapitating Him, but you mustn't. It will only serve to doom this planet and all that reside in it. Right now, He controls His Kingdom through fear and the Command and I'm quite sure that's still the case in 2004. You are 52 years old now in human years, merely the young age of 14 in Sidhe.
In one year, you will have reached the age that your birthright solidifies and no one can take it from you. That is when the residue of my Song will have faded and He will be able to find you, as Avalon will sing the Song of your Blood, of your Magic and it will recognize you as the rightful heir. When this happens you had better have a plan young man, or so help me God I will come back from the grave and kill you myself!
He had to stop and let out a chuckle at this statement. He could feel her anger and worry radiating off the page as if they were his own. He knew if it were possible she would come back from the grave and slay his ass if he didn't have any sort semblance of a plan put together by this time next year. Or rather, October 20th of next year. Fighting back the temptation to start planning now, he turned back to the Journal.
Well, most likely idle threats aside, you do need to be prepared for what's coming for you. I know you are a bright and cunning boy and if anyone could come up with a way to rid the world of that evil sod, then you're the one to do it, Castor. You always had a knack for scheming and planning. You are much better at it than you sire, even when you are barely six in human years! It is quite amusing.
But, I digress; we are to go to Avalon…
Jack stared blankly at the page, knowing full well he had to touch the word "Avalon" in order to go into the memory. But what memory could she want to show him? Though, judging from what she had written about earlier, it was most likely of her and Him. Something about His plans no doubt and something that could mean him living to see another day.
Taking in a deep breath, Jack touched the word. His office began to blur before his eyes, it was as if he was traveling high speed through it. Suddenly, the scenery began to change…
Uh...yeah. Ten o'clock at night is when I decided to post this, blame it on that. It was well recieved at my personal site so here it is. Review!