1 Daniel
It's a very sharp dagger. For what I'm about to do with it, it can't be sharp enough.
SG-12 brought it back a few weeks ago, from a deserted planet. It's a beautiful thing, small, sharp and with an inscription engraved on the hilt, and they gave it to me to translate the inscription. I can now read basic Goa'uld glyphs better than I read English, so it took me a few seconds to translate the inscription as: "Blessed is he who wields the lightning bolt."
Not exactly what you'd expect to see in the hands of a Jaffa, so I can only guess that the lightning bolt is the dagger itself, and that the inscription, although it is in the language of the Goa'uld, was done by another culture or race of people, freed from the Goa'uld, but with no other written language than that of the aliens who held them in slavery for so long.
I didn't give SG-12 back their dagger for quite a while. I… had other things on my mind. I got that message from Kasuf and the other captured Abydonians, and I went with SG-1 to free them. And I found her.
Sha're. She was there, waiting. Ammaunet took me with the ribbon device, and Teal'C… did the right thing. He did.
I can see it shine in the light. It's a very sharp dagger.
Two weeks have passed. I'm not as withdrawn as I was, so my friends think I'm getting over it. I don't know about that… I don't know anything. I haven't ever sat down and thought about this, but I know what's been in my mind ever since I saw my wife die. I hadn't considered this before then… no, I take that back. There was one other time…
Hathor. She drugged us all, and in some ways I'm glad she did, because it means I don't remember clearly what happened. But I remember my dreams, and I know what surfaces in nightmares. Hathor… she raped me, and nothing I can do will ever change that. For a few hours, I was in shock, and confusion and terror and sheer horror made me think a few of the same thoughts I'm having now. But I made it through that because of one thing… Sha're.
Sha're isn't out there any more, I'll never find her on some alien planet, because she isn't out there. She's somewhere else, somewhere I'll never reach through the Stargate, but even so, I know how to reach her… I think.
That dagger has been sitting on my desk for a while now. I know I hadn't really thought about it, but I do know that all my life I've been a civilian archaeologist who wouldn't hurt a fly if he could really help it, so guns and firearms are not for me. But that dagger… that's different. In the end, SG-1 and SG-12 gave it to me, as NID don't have much use for it, and I've always liked it. It's beautiful, simply made, and the sort of artefact I've spent my entire life playing with or working with.
It's a very sharp dagger.
Jack found that out the hard way, when he gave it to me himself. Just handling it, his hands were cut, and I heard what he said to Teal'C.
"You can't give that to Space Monkey! He'll wind up in the infirmary in five minutes!"
Oh, Jack, not the infirmary. Not this time.
It's now or never. I pick up the dagger. I see the way the light plays off the deadly blade. I can see the inscription clearly… the last thing I'll ever see.
The door opens. For a moment, I think it's Jack. But it's not, and I let the blade fall out of my hands and clatter to the floor.
Sam is standing there, watching me.
Sam
I'm running… I have to get there in time… I throw my arms round Daniel's neck and force him to face me. His head falls forwards, but I push his long brown blonde hair out of his eyes and feel his gaze lock onto me. Those eyes… those brilliant blue eyes… I could have been five seconds later and the soft blue light could already be clouding over… misting over with death.
"Sam?" His voice is soft, gentle, and utterly broken. I can't believe it… How could we not have known? How could we not have seen this coming?
"Daniel!" I shouldn't be doing this, it should be Colonel O'Neill doing this. He understands Daniel better than I do. But the colonel's not here. I'm here.
Daniel's falling – he doesn't seem to have the energy or the will to stand on his feet any longer, and I can't hold him up by myself. I let him sink to the ground and let his head fall on my shoulder. He's crying now, softly, brokenly, and I hear him say just one word.
"Sha're."
I let myself sink to the floor beside him, and lift his head so he's looking at me. "Daniel," I whisper, "please… don't… don't ever…"
He doesn't say anything, but cries softly. I'm holding him close, making him choose – stay here with me, or reach for that dagger? Life or death?
Daniel's looking first at me and then at the shining blade, on the floor by his hand. He picks it up, and I hold my breath. I'm ready to grab it in an instant. Daniel is holding it as if he's never seen it before, and it's so sharp it's cutting his hands like it did Colonel O'Neill's, staining his hands red with blood. But Daniel is beyond caring. He holds that dagger an instant longer, and then gently, he throws it to the other side of the room.
That single movement has taken everything out of him, and he falls back, eyes closed, not even crying any more.
I stand up.
A few minutes later, Teal'C is here, to help me carry Daniel out of here and into the infirmary. Although he never betrays any emotion, I know he must be writhing with curiosity about what happened here. But that, I think, is our secret. Mine and Daniel's.
Daniel's eyes are closed. But soon, he'll live again.
It's a very sharp dagger. For what I'm about to do with it, it can't be sharp enough.
SG-12 brought it back a few weeks ago, from a deserted planet. It's a beautiful thing, small, sharp and with an inscription engraved on the hilt, and they gave it to me to translate the inscription. I can now read basic Goa'uld glyphs better than I read English, so it took me a few seconds to translate the inscription as: "Blessed is he who wields the lightning bolt."
Not exactly what you'd expect to see in the hands of a Jaffa, so I can only guess that the lightning bolt is the dagger itself, and that the inscription, although it is in the language of the Goa'uld, was done by another culture or race of people, freed from the Goa'uld, but with no other written language than that of the aliens who held them in slavery for so long.
I didn't give SG-12 back their dagger for quite a while. I… had other things on my mind. I got that message from Kasuf and the other captured Abydonians, and I went with SG-1 to free them. And I found her.
Sha're. She was there, waiting. Ammaunet took me with the ribbon device, and Teal'C… did the right thing. He did.
I can see it shine in the light. It's a very sharp dagger.
Two weeks have passed. I'm not as withdrawn as I was, so my friends think I'm getting over it. I don't know about that… I don't know anything. I haven't ever sat down and thought about this, but I know what's been in my mind ever since I saw my wife die. I hadn't considered this before then… no, I take that back. There was one other time…
Hathor. She drugged us all, and in some ways I'm glad she did, because it means I don't remember clearly what happened. But I remember my dreams, and I know what surfaces in nightmares. Hathor… she raped me, and nothing I can do will ever change that. For a few hours, I was in shock, and confusion and terror and sheer horror made me think a few of the same thoughts I'm having now. But I made it through that because of one thing… Sha're.
Sha're isn't out there any more, I'll never find her on some alien planet, because she isn't out there. She's somewhere else, somewhere I'll never reach through the Stargate, but even so, I know how to reach her… I think.
That dagger has been sitting on my desk for a while now. I know I hadn't really thought about it, but I do know that all my life I've been a civilian archaeologist who wouldn't hurt a fly if he could really help it, so guns and firearms are not for me. But that dagger… that's different. In the end, SG-1 and SG-12 gave it to me, as NID don't have much use for it, and I've always liked it. It's beautiful, simply made, and the sort of artefact I've spent my entire life playing with or working with.
It's a very sharp dagger.
Jack found that out the hard way, when he gave it to me himself. Just handling it, his hands were cut, and I heard what he said to Teal'C.
"You can't give that to Space Monkey! He'll wind up in the infirmary in five minutes!"
Oh, Jack, not the infirmary. Not this time.
It's now or never. I pick up the dagger. I see the way the light plays off the deadly blade. I can see the inscription clearly… the last thing I'll ever see.
The door opens. For a moment, I think it's Jack. But it's not, and I let the blade fall out of my hands and clatter to the floor.
Sam is standing there, watching me.
Sam
I'm running… I have to get there in time… I throw my arms round Daniel's neck and force him to face me. His head falls forwards, but I push his long brown blonde hair out of his eyes and feel his gaze lock onto me. Those eyes… those brilliant blue eyes… I could have been five seconds later and the soft blue light could already be clouding over… misting over with death.
"Sam?" His voice is soft, gentle, and utterly broken. I can't believe it… How could we not have known? How could we not have seen this coming?
"Daniel!" I shouldn't be doing this, it should be Colonel O'Neill doing this. He understands Daniel better than I do. But the colonel's not here. I'm here.
Daniel's falling – he doesn't seem to have the energy or the will to stand on his feet any longer, and I can't hold him up by myself. I let him sink to the ground and let his head fall on my shoulder. He's crying now, softly, brokenly, and I hear him say just one word.
"Sha're."
I let myself sink to the floor beside him, and lift his head so he's looking at me. "Daniel," I whisper, "please… don't… don't ever…"
He doesn't say anything, but cries softly. I'm holding him close, making him choose – stay here with me, or reach for that dagger? Life or death?
Daniel's looking first at me and then at the shining blade, on the floor by his hand. He picks it up, and I hold my breath. I'm ready to grab it in an instant. Daniel is holding it as if he's never seen it before, and it's so sharp it's cutting his hands like it did Colonel O'Neill's, staining his hands red with blood. But Daniel is beyond caring. He holds that dagger an instant longer, and then gently, he throws it to the other side of the room.
That single movement has taken everything out of him, and he falls back, eyes closed, not even crying any more.
I stand up.
A few minutes later, Teal'C is here, to help me carry Daniel out of here and into the infirmary. Although he never betrays any emotion, I know he must be writhing with curiosity about what happened here. But that, I think, is our secret. Mine and Daniel's.
Daniel's eyes are closed. But soon, he'll live again.