Eudaimonia, or a Dichotomy of Happiness
By Kyizi
Disclaimer: Stargate: SG1 and all related items do not belong to me. Only the story and any original characters therein are mine. No copyright infringement intended.
Characters: Jack, Daniel and the teeniest wee bit of Sam and Teal'c.
Spoilers/Setting: Season seven, some time after Homecoming.
Prompt (as supplied by the theemash): On an alien planet Daniel finds a tablet that says something about a "source of infinite happiness." Jack is intrigued. What could it possibly mean?
For theemdash, for her birthday
xxxxxxx
Eudaimonia , or a Dichotomy of Happiness
xxxxxxx
"Daniel!"
He jerks, his head hitting the low stone ledge he's currently crouched beneath, and curses in three different languages under his breath. Slowly edging out from under his current object of study, he balefully eyes his friend, hating Jack all the more for his cool, unaffected air, as the man pulls off his sunglasses.
"Yes?" Daniel asks, gritting his teeth and resisting the need to sniffle.
"Ya done?"
Taking a deep breath and counting to ten, he forces a smile. "No, Jack, I've barely even started. We just got here."
"Daniel, you've been staring at that rock for three hours."
Daniel frowns, blinks and glances at his wrist watch. Despite the deep crack in the glass -- courtesy of Jack manhandling him out of the way of some restless (armed) natives on P4X 576 -- it still tells the time perfectly. It also tells him that Jack isn't just lying so that he can get away from the 'boring rocks and stuff'.
Sighing, Daniel rubs the bridge of his nose with one hand and tries slowly counting to ten again. To be fair, it isn't exactly Jack's fault that his day has, so far, well, sucked, but neither has the man been helping matters in any way. He can't blame Jack for the fact that his shower broke that morning, sputtering freezing cold, almost-brown water on his head. He can't blame Jack for the fact that his car wouldn't start, or that his hay fever (despite the antihistamines he's taking) has been acting up, and he can't blame Jack for the fact that he accidentally walked into three doors on the way to the morning briefing, spilled his coffee on his notes and (inadvertently) bit Sam's head off for a reason he can't even remember. He knows he can't blame Jack for any of it.
But he really wants to.
Sighing, and feeling guilty because he knows it's misplaced anger, he glances back at the small etching in the bottom corner of a rock that he's been studying for the last few hours. Knowing that the meaning is just outside his grasp and wondering if his state of mind has something to do with the fact that he's spent at least thirty minutes just staring at it, he pushes to his feet.
"I'm going for a walk," he says, rolling some of the kinks out of his shoulders. "There might be something more outside that I can use to translate this."
Without really waiting for a response, and ignoring the bewildered look on Jack's face, he heads for what was once the entrance to the large structure. It's now merely one gap in the crumbling ruins, but for some inexplicable reason he wants to use the 'door'.
He even manages to convince himself that he's only mildly annoyed that there isn't one to slam behind him.
xxxxxxx
Walking aimlessly (which Daniel's now willing to admit is what he was doing) around the structure hadn't really helped in any way and the more he stares at the symbols in front of him, the less he finds he understands.
He's feeling slightly lost, vaguely discontent and agitated to the extreme. The fact that he has no idea where it came from or why it won't go away leaves him feeling slightly more frustrated with the faded text than is entirely normal. Even in his world.
"Daniel."
"Jack." He responds without turning and manages to convince himself that guilt has nothing to do with it. He feels entirely justified at his misdirected anger, because Jack's been…hovering. For over forty minutes.
Entirely justified.
Well, a little at least.
"Daniel."
The tone's a little harsher this time and Daniel finally turns, his eyes slightly contrite as he meets Jack's gaze. Whatever annoyance Jack has been feeling seems to slip away and Daniel's shoulders relax slightly.
Jack opens his mouth to say something, but it's lost amidst the loud, clear voice in Daniel's head that suddenly says, 'That's it!' Daniel swings back around, ducks under the ledge once more and grins manically as the translation slips into place.
"Daniel!"
He turns and looks up at Jack, smiling. "I've got it."
"Got what, exactly?"
"The translation."
Jack waits, but Daniel grins and turns back to the wall, tracing the faded, slightly sunken symbols with one finger and muttering the words under his breath.
"For those of us who speak English, Daniel," Jack reminds him and he jerks out of his thoughts, pulling out from under the ledge.
"Infinite happiness," he says, almost giddily. "The path to the source infinite happiness lies -"
Jack gestures inarticulately at the wall and Daniel feels something inside loosen; part of whatever is wrong with him fading. There's a certain calm that always comes with the degree of familiarity in that gesture, a vague sense of home and a definite sense of belonging that always manages to strike Daniel when he least expects it. Home isn't something he really understood for a lot of his life. God knows, it isn't like he'd had the most 'normal' childhood. And, no, rationalising the meaning of what exactly constitutes a 'normal childhood' never manages to make his seem any less than aberrant on a typical day and tragic and fucked up on the bad days.
Today, being a particularly bad day, the gesture seems to help more than usual.
Jack's palms are facing the skies, his entire body seeming to express his expectation. To clarify, he asks, "Meaning?"
"Infinite happiness, Jack."
"Sweet."
"The possibilities are endless," Daniel mutters, his head running off in so many different directions from Plato and Aristotle to religion and chakras, to single words flitting momentarily through his mind; bliss, euphoria, Shushumna-
"Sure," Jack says, breaking the internal litany of words, the lilt in his voice suggesting that he might be waiting for the other shoe to drop. Given their history, Daniel isn't really surprised. "So…what's it mean? Exactly."
"I don't know," Daniel replies slowly, pronouncing each word carefully. His irritation is fluttering at the edges again and he's having a hard time keeping it at bay. Partly because he's really beginning to wonder what's wrong with him today and mostly because he's genuinely annoyed, regardless of the reason. He shakes it away and glances (almost, but not quite, apologetically) at Jack. "I'll need more time," he says, taking a deep breath.
"Think you can find out before we have to head back to the 'gate?"
Daniel's brow furrows, and he glances longingly at the ruins surrounding them. It isn't like they have any actual leads and the half-destroyed, crumbling sentence he's finally uncovered poses more questions than answers…but that really isn't the point. He glances hopefully at Jack. The always unspoken whine of 'but there's stuff here and I don't want to leave it' somehow manages to fill the familiar silence between them.
"Right," Jack says, nodding. He presses his hand to his radio and sighs. "Carter, Daniel needs more time with his rocks. We're gonna make camp here. Keep heading for the 'gate. Report in and make your way here."
"Understood, Sir."
xxxxxxx
"But what does it mean?"
"I. Don't. Know."
Jack frowns and Daniel shakes his head ruefully. Far from being actually interested in the rocks (which is unsurprising, to say the least), Jack seems more intent on annoying Daniel into submission than anything else. The irritation, however, is gone, or rather pushed aside for the moment, and Daniel finds that they've slipped back into an almost forgotten dance of questions with no definitive answers, or at least not answers Jack's willing or able to accept.
In the time since he had, well, descended, Daniel had had a hard time trying to find his place again. The half forgotten memories that never seemed to form fully in his mind were constant reminders that he'd never quite be the same again. Even now, when he feels mostly in tact, there's a void; something missing and strained that never fully healed. He sometimes wonders if it ever will, but it's times like this; Sam stoking the fire, Teal'c covering the perimeter and Jack asking pointless questions over and over, that he almost thinks it might have gone completely.
"You must have an idea. An inkling, perhaps. Just a thought… Come on, Daniel, work with me here."
It's irritation, but it's familiar irritation and perfectly rational.
"It could mean anything, Jack. Until I know what these people, what this culture, valued above anything else, I couldn't even begin to comprehend the source of their 'infinite happiness'. There are thousands of possibilities. Individual interpretation of the word alone opens the meaning up in so many different ways, not to mention the cultural and religious connotations of the word. Bliss, euphoria, eudaimonia-"
"Edo-what-ia?"
"Eudaimonia. It's Greek, traditionally translated into the word 'happiness', despite the fact that the connotations can be quite different. It centres on the idea of the well being of the spirit and-"
"Ah!" Jack holds up his hands. "Enough. I get it. Different ideas. Could mean anything."
Daniel resists the urge to mutter, 'finally' and decides instead to settle on a small smile that in no way resembles a smirk. Well, not much.
xxxxxxx
"Cheese," Jack says, for the thirty-fourth time since they started walking. Daniel tried to stop counting at ten, but finds the practice strangely relaxing and notes that it helped him focus less on the fact that Jack's being annoying.
Sam's already gritting her teeth. Teal'c continues to look rather like he wants to pound Jack's head into the nearest tree, but is refraining. Probably because he doesn't want to have to explain the mess to Hammond. And there would be paperwork. Teal'c seems to hate paperwork more than Jack.
"No, seriously," Jack repeats. "Cheese."
Daniel sighs, sniffling and resisting the urge to reach for a handkerchief. He's beginning to think cold, or possibly flu, rather than allergies. "They worshipped a deity represented by a goat, Jack," he says. Again. "It's symbolic."
"Not even real cheese," Jack bemoans. "Goat's cheese."
"Sir," Sam grates and they fall silent again. Jack might be her superior officer, but they all live in fear that Sam might just snap one day. Jack knows just how to push her almost to that point, but usually knows when to stop.
At least he senses that he's reached the point of no return and says nothing further.
Daniel basks in the silence all the way back to the Stargate and takes pleasure in dialling home. He's looking forward to the quiet of his apartment and the next two days down time to sleep off his cold and the ill humour that's still lurking in the background.
When Jack says, "But seriously. Cheese!" Daniel snaps and pushes him through the 'gate.
xxxxxxx
Shuffling blearily through his apartment, Daniel tries to figure out if he imagined the noise and if he's likely to get sleep if he goes back to bed now. Hearing the rap at his door again, however, quickly dispels that pleasant dream and he makes his way slowly to the front door, knowing by the force and the staccato rhythm exactly who's on the other side.
He tries to glare at Jack, but fails miserably and erupts into a loud, full body sneeze instead, smacking his head on the corner of the door.
Jack winces and pushes past him. He closes the door, pushing Daniel into the living room amidst half hearted, incoherent mumbling. Daniel settles into the couch and closes his eyes. Just for a minute.
When he opens them again, he's unsure as to how long has passed, but it's dark outside and Jack's grinning madly at the television (he thinks). Daniel can only make out blurry figures and is about to start looking for his glasses when they're pressed into his hands. He knows what Jack's watching even before the glasses go on, so he focuses instead on the man next to him, feeling like he's still missing something; like he left part of himself somewhere when he was dead (that last time) and hasn't found it yet.
"Jack, what are you doing?"
"Just go with it, Danny boy."
"I don't…"
Jack hands him a beer and a packet of tissues, turns up the volume on the TV and (despite the fact that he's likely seen the episode many times before) focuses on Bart Simpson with the same degree of interest he always applies to hockey games and never applies to Daniel's briefings. There's a fleeting touch on his arm and Daniel looks down, noting that Jack is sitting relaxed and perfectly happy next him, their elbows grazing together occasionally. Jack doesn't seem to mind that he'll likely catch the flu.
There's a tin of chicken soup, a box of tissues and three chocolate bars on the table in front of him and he knows he should likely heat up the soup instead of sipping at his beer. But, somehow, even though it only just occurred to him, Jack knew he'd rather have the beer. Even if he'll regret it later.
Sighing, Daniel sinks into the couch, turns his attention to the television and thinks, quietly and in a small voice he'll later pretend he didn't hear, that he could get used to this, that he's missed it. He sees Jack looking at him out of the corner of his eye, but doesn't turn, just peripherally watches as the man's lips turn up slightly.
Jack takes another sip of his beer and, like Daniel's just suddenly fallen into synch with him all over again, clarity hits. He smiles, glances at Jack and nods softly, mostly to himself.
His happiness might not be infinite, but Daniel's got a pretty good idea of the source.
xxxxxxx
End.
Okay, I really need to watch Season 10. I did start, but I need to get back to it, or I'm likely to end up spoiled. Next episode, number 3 :)