Author Note:
This story is ideally part four of a outlined 25 part series dubbed so creatively as "The Young Daniel Series." It takes place about eighteen months after the death of Daniel's parents, in November following his ninth birthday. The series is designed to take us through Daniel's life in foster care, from age eight until his emancipation at age sixteen. The series will focus more on Daniel's education and personal development through those years. Each story or set of stories in this series are designed to be individualized vignettes. They blend together in that they frequently refer back to items or people first introduced earlier in the timeline. However, I have started writing the series out of sequence, and so for now new characters or items will be introduced when needed and will be edited back out later as appropriate. A meta on Daniel's development (as I see it) and an outline for the series can be found (as soon as its added) at my personal writing journal at LiveJournal, the community username "quaintdiversion".
Disclaimer: Don't own Daniel as a character, kinda wish I did. Daniel, Claire, and Melbourne Jackson belong to Gekko, RDA, and a few other really rich people.
Title: The Weekend at the Library
Series: The Young Daniel Series
Author: samantilles
Word Count: 3708
Characters: Daniel Jackson, age nine
Categories: angst, hurt/comfort, family (for the series)
He didn't care that he soaked through his torn jeans as he ran through the puddled sidewalk, nor was he grateful of the scaffolding that protected him from the torrential downpour just inches away. He was small enough to maze through the crowded street corner but had to do so much more slowly than he wanted; his glasses were fogged over and wet locks of hair dangled precariously in front of him. He ran for a good four blocks before stopping to catch his breath, finally overcome with tears. The building across from him glowed in the misty November night; it looked so warm and inviting and he knew what lay inside: knowledge. Daniel ducked in just minutes before the library closed at six in the evening. He had never been to this library as he couldn't check out books and his foster parents didn't understand why a nine year old would want to visit such a place. The Humanitarian and Social Sciences Library to Daniel was like going to Disneyland; everything you could possibly want and more. He first went to the men's room and attempted to dry off. The bruising face glaring back at him in the mirror was sadly normal. The other kids at school were merciless.
He emerged from the men's room an hour later. He knew he should find someone at the request desk to help him call his foster parents or his caseworker, but no one seemed to be here. No one was here. The hallways were darkened and when he turned to the main doors he noticed a large chain around the push bars to the doors, and a giant metal gate caging Daniel inside. He collapsed to the floor and held his head low on his chest. He'd definitely be moved after this. His body was weary and battered; his head hurt from when he bounced off the brick wall and his side hurt from the repeated kicking. It didn't surprise Daniel that no one noticed three twelve year olds hanging outside the back of the McDonalds building instead of inside at the birthday party. It didn't surprise him either that no one cared that he too was absent from the festivities, but then again no on ever seemed to notice he was gone. Well someone would notice when an angry foster mother went to pick up her charge and he wasn't around. He'd done it this time, that's for sure. He began to stand back up when he crashed back to the floor, his head dizzy and his footing unsure in a newly formed puddle on the marble flooring. He took a second shot at standing upright, and successful this time, he decided to find a more comfortable place to wait out the night.
The main reading room was located on the third floor, and when Daniel emerged from the stairwell into the dimmed expanse, his mind forgot about his body and his heart leapt with eager anticipation. It reminded him of the university libraries he spent countless hours in helping his parents' research for an upcoming dig or finishing a paper. Even at the age of four, Daniel was an expert at finding books and retrieving them for his mother. All he had to do was match the letters and numbers of the card he had in his hand to the letters and numbers on a little sticker on the spine of the book. No two books had the same combination; at least he didn't think so. Now at the much older age of nine, Daniel not only could find the books, he knew what was in the books, and he knew why his mom and dad wanted them so much. To his right stood a massive wall checkered with small drawers, each pristinely labeled and demanded the awe of the viewer. He walked slowly, his fingers drifting over the drawer fronts, his eyes focused on the labels. Subject: E. The drawer flung open with the flick of a wrist, and his small fingers danced over the cards. There were so many titles to choose from, so many ways to return to his home, even if it was just for one night. Only one card was required to show Daniel where he could find countless books on Egypt, he just needed to find the code. With the letters CB repeating in his head, he began wondering the stacks, and he eventually found his prize.
Daniel awoke hours later, his head cushioned by his right arm, surrounded by books of Egypt, and Greece, and Mesopotamia on a reading table in the center of the reading room. He blinked and readjusted his glasses and noticed bright sunlight from the windows. It was morning. When did the library open? Daniel thought, but soon realized it should have already if the light was coming in the window. Did no one come up here? Should I go downstairs and find someone? No, I'm already in enough trouble. They'll come for me; I don't need to go to them. I can stay here with these wonderful books for a little while longer. He turned and picked up the book he was flipping through when he fell asleep. The Book of the Dead: A New Translation in Arabic and English. Daniel didn't need the English side, and the Arabic was so much more beautifully written.
By noon, Daniel realized something he should never have forgotten. Today was Sunday. How could he have forgotten this? It was then he realized the dull aching headache that, once he allowed it to permeate his thoughts, raged past dull into a gentle thudding. His concentration waned and he realized he needed to sleep this off. In a still darkened corner he relished in a deep leather chair, which cradled him and helped him curl up to keep warm in his slightly damp jeans and threadbare t-shirt. He returned home, his dreams about his parents and the deserts of Luxor and Thebes.
Getting out of the chair proved more painful than originally anticipated. Daniel's body was stiff and sore from the beating he took the day before: his chest hurt and his left arm was flourishing in a magnificent bruise. His legs were rubbery from the running yesterday and clammy from the wet jeans. Stretching out as he could, he walked past his reading table, glanced up at the setting sun through an opposite window, and once again was drawn to the card catalog. What am I looking for? Had he not enough material already sprawled out on the table to keep him entertained until someone found him? It was another pristinely typed label that caught his attention this time. Author: J. This time the drawer did not fling out with eager anticipation; it crept out slowly while curiosity and anguish battled each other.
Jackson, Claire. Pictograms: An Evolution from Phrases to Syllables. 1974. New York University Publications, New York. P315.860
Daniel ripped the card out of the sacred drawer and held it to his chest. His heartbeat now thumped in unison with his headache, but it also dulled it out once more. He couldn't move; he just stood there with the card next to his heart and his chest expanding rapidly. His feet carried him slowly around the stacks, but his heart was back in Egypt.
Claire swept Danny up off his feet into a ball. He squirmed in his mother's embrace and laughed wholeheartedly. Claire dug her face into Danny's neck and blew a quick raspberry, forcing more laughter from the young child. Even at eight, when most boys didn't, Danny threw his arms around her neck and returned the embrace without hesitation. It was then that Mel would come in and sandwich Danny and embrace his loving wife. Danny had never known anything but pure, unadulterated love and joy then, and he could never imagine living without it.
P127.68-P469.82. Daniel didn't yet have the courage to walk down the isle way. What was he going to find down there anyways? Images of his parents' death flashed before him, the single cry he emitted a year ago echoed as if he just cried it a moment ago. All in the name of knowledge. Did this book, this research, lead to my parents' death? Will I find hieroglyphs illustrated on these pages that lead them to that tomb? Will I face the same death my parents met if I read this book? Is that such a bad thing? No, I don't want to be crushed to death with a giant stone, but I do want to see my parents again. These thoughts were never quite rational, but then again when emotions led the discussion, what could possibly be rational? It was dark again outside before Daniel took the first step down the isle, his legs stiffly moving towards the center of the bookshelf. He dazedly passed P315.860 without realizing it, lost in his thoughts, his head spinning with images of his mother and father in the desert, gazing at a sandy wall, curled up with a book, tucking him in at night. He was so tired. He refocused and noticed his mistake, this time stopping in the right spot after he turned himself around. Pictograms: The Evolution from Phrases to Syllables, Claire Jackson, PhD. He lovingly caressed the spine of the book, his small fingers tracing his mother's name. With reverence, he pulled the book from the shelf and held it as closely as his mother used to hold him. He allowed himself to fall to the ground slowly, exhaustion temporarily overtaking him. Daniel flipped through the book slowly from the ending forwards, recognizing many of the illustrated pictograms from several languages, each bringing back memories of his mother tutoring him. He'd sit in her lap when they read together, the warmth of her body surrounding him even in the heat of Egypt. And here he was so cold. Daniel closed the book with an angry thud and could not help himself from sobbing. Even the book was a blur amidst his tears. He stroked the top of the book and rocked himself until he calmed down, on the verge of passing out. Once again he opened the book and gazed at the title page, his mother's name in black ink on the still pristine paper. Tears shed again, spotting the page, and Daniel removed his glasses, wiping his eyes. One more page was turned absentmindedly and when he gazed upon the words, he stopped breathing.
This book is dedicated to my darling son, Daniel M. Jackson, who is the light of my life. He is the best of me, the best of my amazing husband, Melbourne Jackson, and he is truly our future. Neither words nor pictograms can ever describe how much I love you my darling Danny!
The book was instantly crushed against his chest, still open to the dedication page. Daniel collapsed backwards and onto his side in overwhelming sobs until he could tear up no more. He coughed out the last sobs before sleep overtook him, but never did he let go of that book.
"Susan, I found him!" The voice echoed but did not penetrate into Daniel's mind. He barely noticed a feminine hand on his shoulder as they turned him over and stretched him out on the floor. The librarian took a hold of the book, but as she attempted to liberate it, Daniel's grasp tightened, his arms stiffened and secured the book to its rightful place next to his heart. "Oh my god! Susan, call an ambulance! I need help over here!" Daniel teetered on the edge of consciousness and quickly opened his eyes. "Honey, wake up for me please! Can you tell me your name? What happened to you?" Daniel only emitted a grunt and tried once more to curl up on his side. "What's going on?" This time a male voice rang out as Daniel felt the vibration of the fully-grown man running down the isle way. "I think this boy has been locked up since Saturday in here! Why didn't the guard see him before he left?"
"Is he the one who made the mess out in the reading room? What the hell is this kid doing reading books on Egypt? What is he, five?" The male voice was obviously angered at having to return books to the shelf so early in the morning.
"Oh hush it!" She pulled Daniel once again onto his back, and the growing bruises on his face and arm were now visible to both librarians. "Honey, I need you to wake up for me!" But waking up meant leaving the embrace of his parents. "Did someone call an ambulance, Tom? Look at him!" Tom's heart warmed up a bit and he began to stroke Daniel's hair. He stopped and backed to a bump on the back of Daniel's head. He pushed the boy back onto his side and visually inspected the goose egg, pointing it out to Elaine. "What happened to you child?"
Tom quickly searched for other injuries, patting Daniel down quietly for broken bones. He found a lump in Daniel's back pocket and pulled out a tattered cloth wallet. "Elaine, maybe something is in here, his parents name and phone number, something..." Tom was interrupted when Susan rushed down the isle, followed by two large paramedics carrying a stretcher and large orange bag.
"Can someone explain what happened here?" A gruff voice stopped the three librarians in their tracks. "Sir, we first noticed a small puddle in front of the main door, but thought maybe the janitor tracked it in somehow. It wasn't until someone came up to the reading room that we found books sprawled out on a table. And I can guarantee you those tables were clean when we left on Saturday."
"Stop! Just tell us what happened!" The second paramedic shouted from Daniel's legs.
"We don't know what happened!" Elaine cried back. "We just found him and we called you guys right away! No one has been in this building since Saturday night, about an hour after we closed at six."
"How the hell did he get these bruises then?" The first paramedic pulled up Daniel's shirt to show his entire left side purple. Elaine and Susan just gasped in horror. "Did some books fall on him or something? We need to know so we can better treat him!" The librarians just stood there stunned. Tom was the first to respond. "We haven't thoroughly checked the entire library yet, be we haven't seen anything that would indicate something fell."
The technicians lifted Daniel onto the stretcher. "Does anyone know his name? How about his parents?" Elaine suddenly remembered she still had his wallet in her hand. She carefully broke through the Velcro and pulled out the only card in the wallet. "Daniel M. Jackson." She continued reading the card. His birthday, indicating he was nine years old directly followed his name. "If found please call…" But the card was wet and the ink had dissipated into a blur. "That's all that's readable, but there's no address anywhere on this card."
"Danny?" The gruffy paramedic tapped Daniel's face to rouse the boy. Daniel responded with a grunt and once again opened his eyes. "Danny, my name is Chris, I'm here to help you. Can you tell me where you are?" Daniel turned on his side, still clutching the book tightly. Chris pulled on his shoulder and returned him to his back. Elaine once again tried grasping at the book, but this time Daniel bolted up in a start. "NO!"
"Danny, can you give me the book please?" Elaine did not expect the boy to scuttle away from her, holding onto that book like it was his lifeline. "No, no, you can't," he pleaded, "You can't take her away from me!" Daniel quickly glanced around from side to side and his breathing rapidly increased. Chris signaled over to the second paramedic silently and received a syringe deftly into his hands. Daniel didn't even notice as the second paramedic took hold of his arm and swabbed it. Daniel did notice though when Chris injected the needle into his arm. No tears fell from Daniel's eyes, but you could tell he was in pain. His body relaxed as he slumped into Chris's lap, but the little remaining strength Daniel had was in clutching that book. Tom grasped the book himself, and with more force than he expected the book was released from capture. He handed the book to Elaine, the dedication page still opened.
"Oh…" Tears glistened in her eyes as she silently read the inscription. "This book is dedicated to my darling son, Daniel M. Jackson, who is the light of my life. He is the best of me, the best of my amazing husband, Melbourne Jackson, and he is truly our future. Neither words nor pictograms can ever describe how much I love you my darling Danny!" Elaine simply closed the book and returned it to Daniel, tucking it in beneath the blanket Chris laid on top of him. She sat in silence as Daniel was carried away, just staring at the little boy.
"Elaine, why the hell did you just give back that book?" Tom looked at her incredulously. She wiped her eyes with the corner of her sleeve and stared back at him. "I think the author of that book is his mother! The dedication was made to that little boy right there." Tom dropped his head to his chest as he helped Elaine off the ground. "Why else would he hold onto a book about pictograms otherwise?"