"A Moving Sea"

By marzipan77

GENish/UST/Angst/Friendship

SG-1/SGA

Missing scenes for SGA "First Contact" and "The Lost Tribe." Daniel's trip to Atlantis is motivated by more than pure research, much more than a desire to find Janus' lab. Is he burning bridges or is he searching for the boundaries of his connections, fingering the bruised edges of his friendships, and craving absolution in discovery?

"Love one another, but make not a bond of love: Let it be a moving sea between the shores of your souls." Kahlil Gibran.

Chapter Seven

Daniel Jackson was wired tighter than a thin-stringed Stradivarius – and Sheppard knew 'wired' when he saw it: he worked with McKay after all. John could practically see the air around the man vibrating with the tension his placid, earnest expression denied. He had to admit it; Daniel had a great game face. He smiled and chatted, teased McKay, and stood loose-limbed and relaxed before the combined scrutiny of all gawkers. And if his blue eyes occasionally held a sharp flash of fury when they glanced in Woolsey's direction, well, only John was likely to notice. Especially since he was looking for it.

Something dark was driving him, something that O'Neill's cryptic message had only hinted at. John had picked up the regret beneath the general's words of warning; words that sounded cynical and amused on the surface, but were tainted with a dash of guilt and, strangely, something else that John never thought he'd see on the veteran's face: a twisted sorrow at what might have been. 'Take care of him,' the message had ended, as if Daniel was an expensive piece of equipment, but O'Neill's tone had added everything the hard-assed career military man was unwilling to say out there where people could actually hear it.

John began steering the group along the corridor towards the infirmary, smirking to himself at the inherent sheepdog quality he'd damn near perfected working with a half-military, half-civilian command. Half the time, McKay didn't even realize he was being led as Sheppard maneuvered himself to the rear – Woolsey and 'Rod' flanking Daniel on either side. But based on the raised eyebrows and shrewd glare tossed his way by the visiting scientist, Daniel wasn't as easily distracted.

"Are we late for a meeting?" There was a definite edge there, a sharp, clean edge like a naked blade.

Sheppard stretched his neck in what he knew looked like discomfort. "Ah, no. Just want to get the usual formalities out of the way before Keller takes off." Yeah, just a military grunt here, Doc, you know the type, he projected, willing the man to fall for it.

Daniel didn't miss a trick. "So, I get to enjoy down home Atlantis hospitality in the form of some poking and prodding, huh?"

John watched Woolsey adjust his glasses, keeping his eyes fixed on the corridor in front of the odd little herd. "Standard operating-"

"-procedures, yes, believe it or not I'm somewhat familiar with the concept."

Sheppard dropped his chin so that his grin at Daniel's snide comeback wasn't quite as obvious. McKay, of course, had no such qualms.

"You know," Rodney's voice was loaded with sarcasm, "it's funny how many people who've kinda latched onto the Stargate program years after its inception seem to think they have so much to explain to those of us who've been there and done that, don't you think?"

"'Those of us'?" Daniel echoed in McKay's direction.

"Well, granted," Rodney quickly allowed, "everyone's a veritable greenhorn compared with you, except for O'Neill, I guess, but I am the second most veteran member of this little bunch, by a long shot. And, compared to Sheppard …"

"Okay now, no fair starting an 'old-timers' remember when' clique. Neither of you have enough grey hairs for that, Rod." Sheppard wondered if his teammate caught the way their visitor's muscles clenched at the sound of the general's name.

"Too true," McKay replied loftily. "Oh, and, don't call me that ever again," he added under his breath.

"Doctor Jackson, I didn't mean to imply …" Sheppard could almost see Woolsey squirming through the back of his uniform.

"It's fine," Daniel finally snapped. "I'd like to discuss something with Doctor Keller before she leaves, anyway."

McKay's chin lifted. "Oh, yeah? What's that?"

"Oh, I think you can figure that out, Rod."

Sheppard glanced up just in time to see Woolsey's step falter and then watched wordlessly as the train of 'hail fellow – well met' screeched and smoked and rattled off the rails. Woolsey stopped at the transporter doors, one hand raised, face set in grim foreboding. John shifted to the side, less out of a sense of self-preservation and more so that he wouldn't miss an opportunity to help – or to secure his own front-row seat. Judging by Daniel's fiercely determined expression, their visitor would just as happily have walked right over the Atlantis administrator, grinding in his heels with every step. But, as John stood wondering how a confrontation between these two could have taken even this long to develop, he saw the scientist pull his cloak of amiable reserve around himself and stand, outwardly relaxed, inquisitive, blandly curious. Holy crap, no wonder Doctor Jackson was known as the best diplomat in any galaxy.

"Wait," Woolsey began, "I hope you're not thinking what I think you are, Doctor Jackson."

"And just what would you know about how I think, Mister Woolsey?"

Ouch.

John watched McKay unconsciously position himself close to Daniel's side, shoulders brushing, and knew his teammate didn't have to use one iota of his brainpower to pick sides here.

Woolsey looked down for an instant, trying to settle himself, but he was no Daniel Jackson, that was for sure, and his face bore more than a trace of anger and resentment – and fear – when he raised his eyes again. "I am guessing, of course," his tone was half self-righteousness and half apology – and all ice, "that you are interested in the ATA gene therapy?"

"You are? Of course you are," McKay nodded, arms crossed over his chest. "Well, that's a good idea; you could pursue whatever useless research you wanted and I wouldn't have to follow you around to turn things on by my very presence." He stopped abruptly and pointed a finger towards nothing. "And that did not come out the way I'd intended it to sound."

Daniel turned slowly, a genuine, unfeigned light of humor breaking over his face and John could have kissed McKay right on the mouth to see it.

"Well, yes, although I'd miss your enlightening and … exciting … presence, Rod, that was just what I was thinking."

"No."

Too bad Woolsey couldn't get with the program, Sheppard sighed to himself.

"'No?'"

Woolsey shot a glare in Rodney's direction. "No, Doctor McKay. Doctor Jackson is here on a short-term mission with one particular goal, and, as he is not going to become a full-time member of the Atlantis expedition, he does not need the Ancient gene. Nor should he risk being exposed to the possible negative side effects," he added, very much after the fact.

"While I appreciate your concern, Mister Woolsey, that's my choice, isn't it?" The genial mask was back, although it was staring to thin and fray around the edges.

"I'm sorry, Doctor Jackson." Woolsey turned away briefly and activated the transporter doors. "This is not up for discussion. Now, if you and Doctor McKay-"

"I think you'll find you're wrong about that, Mister Woolsey." And still Daniel smiled. In that instant John realized that, diplomat or not, the guy was about to live up to every single thing he'd read about him. Stubborn. Brilliant. Falling just short of arrogant when he absolutely knew what he was talking about. And ruthless with those who stood in his way or just really ticked him off.

"Maybe you haven't heard, but, I've worked my way around military – and political – battlefields for many, many years now," the scientist continued, "and allowing myself to be steamrolled by personal short-sightedness or administrative expediency is not on my agenda. An agenda approved by the commanding officers of Homeworld Security and the SGC, I might add. They want my mission to succeed, and, oddly enough, they are willing to take my word for what tools and resources I'll need to make that happen." His words came out fast and hard, enunciated so clearly that the edges could have sliced through skin. He brushed past a gaping Woolsey and into the transporter chamber. "Check your orders. Make your calls." He shrugged. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I apparently have an appointment with a needle." He gestured towards the pad next to him. "Rodney, you coming?"

McKay coughed a nearly silent laugh before he hopped in and pressed the appropriate destination on the screen. John sighed. His teammate was busy reveling in the game, the always there competition between scientists and – well, everybody else. But one look at Daniel's too tight grin and narrowed blue eyes and Woolsey's flushed and angry face had John biting down against that roiling sickness in his gut again. Before the doors closed, John caught Rodney's eye and nodded, jerking his chin once towards Daniel in an order that neither scientist could miss.

Beside him, Woolsey's teeth were grinding, mouth snarling, and his hands were fisted at his sides as if, someday, he might actually get up the courage to hit someone. Maybe the IOA was right and he was a great administrator, a cool head, and organizational genius, but a veteran diplomat he wasn't. Even John knew that you never wanted to show your whole hand to the other side in the early stages of a negotiation, and with one heated statement about how Jackson 'was not going to become a full-time member of the Atlantis expedition,' he'd given his game away.

Round one had definitely gone to Daniel Jackson, and Woolsey knew it.

"Colonel Sheppard-"

John held out one hand and cocked his head. "Look. I know what you're gonna say." He turned to face the other man, lowering his voice. "But I'm asking you to take moment and think about this. He just got here. For all we know, he wants to bury himself in his research with McKay and just wants the ATA gene to expedite things."

"'For all we know,'" Woolsey muttered darkly. "You don't have the experience with Doctor Jackson that I do, Colonel. And giving someone with his … history access to Atlantis' control systems is like putting a loaded gun into the hands of a –"

"A what? A civilian, like yourself?" John scoffed gently. "He's got more arms experience than I do." He shook his head. "Or is it a man who disagrees with you about just about everything?"

Woolsey seemed to steady down, getting his teeth into the argument. "A man who has a greater knowledge of the Ancients than anyone else and reads the language as if born to it. Who we both know has some sort of agenda for coming here beyond what we've been told. A man who has threatened …" he scanned the empty hallway around them and closed his mouth on the words.

"Who, what? Who has threatened you, openly opposed you to follow his own plans for defeating the Ori?" John thrust his point home. "Who physically attacked you? Well, from what I hear, you went there first."

Woolsey's lips thinned to nothing. "As commander of this facility, allocating the ATA gene therapy to appropriate personnel is my decision to make."

"Yes," Sheppard hissed. "But, I'm telling you that you might want to pick your battles, Mister Woolsey." He slapped the transporter controls and stepped into the cramped alcove. "For now, I'll keep an eye on them. You might want to study up on your negotiation skills before you head off to confront Todd and his hive."

The doors slid shut soundlessly between them and John rolled his eyes at the heat of his own anger. "Well, that went well," he muttered as the transport beam gathered him up.