A/N: *heh* I don't know either, don't ask me. Feedback would appreciated. I hope you enjoy.
Disclaimer: If I owned it there would have been less... clothing. Tehe
Summary: They say there is power in a name. (drabble like)
Title: Of Roses, Machine Gun Fire and Kleptomaniacs (519)
His parents called him Danny. Not right at first, mind you, the baby was Daniel. But as soon as he took on the role of the precocious, inquisitive, babbling not-quite-infant, well, he had to be Danny.
After they…after… most male social workers call him Dan. The women usually stick with Daniel. He doesn't actually acknowledge any attempt to add an 'n' or a 'y' to any variation.
If they persisted he'd politely inform them that was not his name.
When he makes it to high school, perhaps earlier than is really necessary, his fellow outsiders mostly referred to him as Jackson. It could be supposed that it's their way of imposing their own athletic camaraderie. A page torn from the book of the people that never gave them the time of day, whom it's easy to emulate. He rightfully never cares.
It sticks in college.
For a while there, he's called Doctor. Doctor Daniel Jackson. It's said with respect, it's carries weight. Until that conference, until that lecture.
He feels like Dan all over again.
His adoptive family and friends on Abydos, they pronounce it 'Dan-yell', as two distinct syllables, they put an emphasis on the 'e' that had melded into a 'u' for most Americans. He is known as son, as brother…husband.
My Dan'iel… he held no title sweeter.
He initially joins the SGC as Doctor Daniel Jackson, it's back to bearing some kind of substance, though even then there's a certain undercurrent to the moniker that is less than friendly, he hears what they're not saying, linguistic specialist after all, he's not one of them, a scientist not a soldier.
It matters.
He's also Daniel for the first time in over a year. To Sam, who doesn't think there's anything wrong with being an intellectual first, mostly anyway. To Jack, who despite the near constant ribbing is the only constant, for a while there anyway. To Janet, who didn't give a damn either way as long as they brought back enough pieces for her to put them right again, almost anyway.
No one calls him 'my' anything outside of his REM sleep.
It takes time, but one day, he's called Danny. It's not the same kind. It can't be. But it is. And it isn't. There isn't a particular frequency to mantle, but somehow that fits too, and it's the first time he answers when it's called since… He's not sure whether he earned the position of a Danny in someone's heart, or if they earned the right in his.
It doesn't really matter when you're busy blowing up a space ship.
When she steps through the gate she asks for him, she doesn't use the inflection that made is so singular, her accent is much different after all. It also doesn't evoke the sentiment it once held. He completely ignores it and never registers the similar claim of ownership. It takes some time before he considers even accepting the name.
However, it doesn't take as long for him to answer to another 'My Daniel' as it did to Danny.
Which shows some kind of growth. Right?
end
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