The Crossing of the Ibis
Rating: G
Genre: General/Smarm
Summary: Jack accompanies Daniel on an annual journey. Written as an assignment for my Creative Writing class.
By the time they started to taxi, Jack was already bored. He sighed as the G-forces pushed him back into the seat and fondly remembered hours upon hours spent in a flight simulator before progressing onto the real thing. At least that gave him something to do.
The silver-haired man fiddled with his seatbelt strap, slapping it against his good knee to the tune of Ride of the Valkyries. This kept him amused for at least two minutes before the novelty wore off.
"Jack, knock it off." Framed blue eyes blinked indulgently at him over a leather-bound journal from the seat next to him. "I told you, you should've brought a carry-on."
Jack leaned over and started rummaging through his companion's backpack, sliding past what seemed like an entire library before finding what he wanted. "Your luggage is my luggage, Daniel," he drawled as he excavated the plastic toy. "I always stash a Gameboy or two in your stuff."
Daniel shook his head, shaking blond hair out of his eyes. "I always wondered where those came from." Satisfied that his traveling buddy would be sufficiently entertained, he turned back to the journal to continue encoding his thoughts on the imminent downtime in the familiar shapes of hieroglyphs. His thoughts flew far ahead to the land that awaited: great golden monuments reaching up to Ra, and the shining ribbon of Nuhn's kingdom, so familiar to one who had spent several college-sponsored digs in the fertile desert. Almost a year had passed since his last annual voyage, but this time he wasn't alone.
"Thanks for coming, Jack."
Jack smiled. "As if there was any doubt. It's just a shame the rest of the team couldn't come, but maybe next year." He paused, growing serious. "I know how important this is to you. Your parents would've been proud."
"I like to think so," Daniel quietly replied, and shuddered to remember the horrific events of thirty years ago, the snapping of the chain holding the heavy stone, his mother's screams, and he knew he would never know for sure.