Daniel knew Jack was irritated. As usual, the colonel's impatience with things he didn't understand was beginning to get the better of him. He was having to rely totally on Daniel and trust his abilities as communication, without even having any insight into what Daniel was doing or whether he was making progress.
By habit, Jack tended to go elsewhere when Daniel was establishing a dialogue with people who didn't speak a language Jack knew. He preferred to feel like he was doing something, like scouting the terrain or something. But he also seemed to get embarrassed by some of Daniel's communication antics. This had at first escaped Daniel's notice, later puzzled him, and eventually he'd come to understand that it was less that Jack was embarrassed by Daniel than for him. He felt that certain things were degrading, hated that they were a necessary part of Daniel's job description, and preferred that neither he nor any other SG team member be around to see. Once Daniel understood the behavior for what it was, it had stopped bothering him. Jack didn't want to see Daniel at work because he was worried about Daniel's dignity. It was ridiculous, but it was one of those little things Jack quietly did to show he cared about all the members of his team, and not just that they came home in one piece. It was one of those things that would actually feel hurtful to anyone who didn't really understand how Jack ticked.
To a degree, Daniel had even come to see that Jack was right to be concerned. People like Jack watched people like Daniel and thought they were funny but absurd. There were members of the SGC who might have less respect for Daniel if they knew he sometimes ran around a room with his arms flapping, making airplane noises to establish a line of communication. And a loss of respect meant a loss of trust. In this business, that could prove deadly. The tendency of military men to ignore Daniel was already high, Jack's efforts were to see that it didn't get any higher.
It was also true to some degree that Daniel found laughter of others at his expense hurtful, and so often found the presence of other people distracting because he was afraid they would laugh at him, or perhaps interrupt by asking questions or making remarks. He worked best one-on-one to start with. You couldn't focus as intently on a group as on an individual, and it was a lot harder to concentrate when there were a bunch of eyes on you, even if their judgment was only silent (which it seldom was). Daniel was used to hecklers, but it still stung, and that slowed down progress. He felt that Jack knew that. For all his protestations of ignorance and stupidity, the colonel was surprisingly insightful and even brilliant at times, especially at what he did best, which was lead a team.
Because he knew Jack, Daniel knew that the colonel's irritation really wasn't for him, but the situation they were in. Elated by his success at finally communicating with these creatures -whether their ancestors were human or howler- Daniel didn't feel much offended by Jack's sarcasm. Jack didn't know what Daniel had actually accomplished, all he knew was that he couldn't do anything, couldn't even pretend he was doing anything, and he hated it. Jack was a man of action, and though he could enforce patience on himself, it ran counter to every aspect of his character.
Besides which, Daniel reminded himself, while he and Sam had been out working yesterday, Jack and Teal'c had been locked up in here, with nothing to do except play six billion rounds of rock-paper-scissors and draw smiley faces in the sand. Fine for Teal'c, patience was in his nature as much as his training, and he could tolerate extended periods of doing nothing when necessary; but torture for Jack, who by now must be burning up with the need to do something, anything to protect his people and try to bring them home safely. Since he could not, all that energy had to go somewhere and just now it was venting itself in Daniel's direction. He managed not to mind for the moment, partially because he understood, but mostly because he knew that they were actually making progress. He'd finally gotten his breakthrough, and he was so close to the answers Jack had been asking for that he could almost imagine he already knew them. Almost.
Riding on restored confidence and the feeling of serenity that always came to him after completing a successful translation (this always arrived before the frenetic excitement of what he'd usually discovered in so doing settled in), Daniel wasn't even entirely listening to Jack.
"Daniel-" Jack started to say, in a tone of voice which suggested he'd noticed Daniel wasn't paying attention and was about to ask if Daniel had even heard anything he'd said.
"Jack," Daniel responded, with what he knew to be annoyingly purposeful sounding innocence.
Jack hated it when his own attitude was turned on him, and for a moment he lost track of whatever words he'd planned to say. Before he could find them again, the monkeys outside started getting wound up. Their sharp cries as they yelled at one another were piercing, and then they settled into that one-note howl that they called as a if they were a single entity, before devolving once again into chaotic roaring and shrieking. Scar was coming. Daniel glanced at Jack, and saw that the colonel had realized it too. For someone who claimed no aptitude when it came to languages, Jack picked up on certain cues awfully quickly.
"Daniel..." Jack said slowly, realization dawning before he quite knew it, "What did you do?"
Instead of answering, Daniel tried to soothe Jack.
"It's okay," he began, "We're making progress."
"Last time you made progress with that monster, he nearly chewed your arm off," Jack reminded him.
Subconsciously Daniel touched his bandaged arm.
Though he couldn't move it well and it hurt a lot when he was paying attention, Daniel had been so absorbed with his translation breakthroughs that he'd all but forgotten the wounds Scar had inflicted. He couldn't see himself, but he suspected that his ear and the side of his head where the howler had slapped him were swollen and red. They certainly felt that way. Lacking glasses, he couldn't see Sam very well at her current distance in this light, but he knew she looked awful from all the bug bites she'd gotten the day before, and he knew he must look at least that bad (probably worse, since his body tended to overreact to mosquito bites). He knew all of that was important to Jack. Each injury acquired by the team while in the captivity of the howlers was a personal strike against the creatures to Jack, and he held their leader most accountable of all.
Daniel understood it, and a part of him was angry that Scar had purposely wasted his time, and that he had attacked Jack and the rest of the team, and that they were prisoners of the howlers because of this one. But he couldn't let that part of him interfere with the explorer he'd always been at heart, not only because the discoveries about history were worth almost any price to him, but also because along that path lay their way home, he was sure of it.
"Try not to piss him off again," Daniel said.
Jack gave him one of those looks that suggested Jack wasn't convinced he and Daniel were the same species, or even from the same planet, but otherwise he said nothing.
Apparently even Sam was feeling ill-at-east, because she said, "I hope you know what you're doing."
Doubt being contagious, Daniel found himself thinking that he also hoped he knew what he was doing.
The gate opened and Scar strolled in, the small reddish howler Daniel had been talking to following a few discreet paces behind and to the left. Unlike before, no other howlers accompanied them. Apparently this time no need was felt to engage in that extra bit of posturing. Either that or Scar didn't want a close up audience to watch this.
They'd all been standing when the gate opened, but as the howlers moved into the enclosure and the gate shut behind them, Daniel sat down, and encouraged the others to do the same by gesture. They did so, but with overt reluctance and seeming wariness as well. Daniel understood why, and some part of him shared their unease in the presence of Scar, but he couldn't let his personal feelings about this particular ape get in his way, he had to set them aside.
The howlers remained standing. Daniel had learned that shifts in their body often changed the nature of what they were saying. His comprehension of their language was limited, but expanding rapidly. It helped that the she-howler had apparently passed on Daniel's message that sometimes saying something slower (the equivalent for the howlers of one word at a time) or repeating it could help Daniel to catch the nuances and understand it better, for Scar vocalized more clearly, moved more slowly, and waited longer for a response than he had before.
What you? Was the best translation Daniel could do in his head.
He felt like he'd missed about half a sentence, but he couldn't make out the rest. So he wasn't sure if the howler was asking what they were, what they wanted or something even harder to guess. The what might also have been a where, in which case the question might be where they'd come from. In fact, the only thing he was completely sure of was that the question related directly to him somehow. It was a question about Daniel, and presumably be extension the rest of SG-1.
He decided to take it from the top, starting with his name, the fact that he and the team had come through the Stargate, the oft unbelieved fact that they were explorers and hadn't come looking for any trouble. From a wide yawn he got after the she-howler relayed this to the scarred one that Daniel knew was menacing because of the intentional flash of teeth directed his way, he got the impression he'd answered incorrectly. The she-howler gave him a look suggesting she'd expected better of Daniel.
Daniel opted to pretend not to notice the look rather than respond to it.
Scar grunted, seemingly to regain his undivided attention, and then asked another question. Daniel couldn't make that one out, except that it had to do with the device. The she-howler had been very clear on what the device was called.
"We don't know what it does," Daniel said to Scar, also writing some of it for the benefit of the she-howler, who was positioned at an angle to both; the better to look at each, "We came here because we were curious. We're trying to figure out what it does. That's what you want, isn't it?"
The she-howler conveyed whatever her understanding of this was to the scarred one.
This seemed to agitate the scarred howler, who made a series of rapid vocalizations and gestures Daniel had no hope of being able to follow. When he started to shake his head, the scarred howler made as if to clout him, but the she-howler intervened in the same way she had earlier interrupted Daniel's writing. She made a series of soft noises at the male, who bristled angrily at first, but eventually seemed convinced that Daniel was genuinely confused and not just being difficult. Or something. He wondered vaguely if he'd accidentally said something he hadn't meant to by moving his head. Possibly something extremely rude, he supposed, considering how things were going so far.
When the scarred male had finally calmed down again, Daniel decided to see if he could reverse the questioning process. Maybe if he asked the questions, he could get answers.
"What do you want?" Daniel asked.
The female howler relayed this to the male, who responded with the one gesture both SG-1 and the howlers seemed to have completely in common: he pointed at Daniel.
"Me? Why me? What about me?" Daniel asked, trying to think of a good way to phrase it based off the words the she-howler had picked up an understanding of earlier.
Behind him, he sensed Jack stirring uneasily. He didn't like it when a member of his team was singled out, because it usually meant the locals were going to try to make that member stay, or kill them... or something.
Scar began to grunt and gesture again. Daniel started to shake his head, caught himself, but this time Scar seemed to understand the gesture and didn't get upset about it. He stopped, sat, and stared at Daniel for a bit, as if he could make his intentions clear by sheer force of will. Daniel was open to the idea, since that would make things a helluva lot easier, but telepathy did not appear to be on the list of the howler's abilities.
It was more apparent by the second that neither party could understand the other well enough to answer these questions, which were really the only ones that interested them. But Daniel knew that didn't negate all the progress he'd made. They were talking. The more they talked like this, the more of the howler's language Daniel would pick up. He hoped the she-howler would be picking up more of his language as well. Even if she wasn't, the better Daniel learned the language of the howlers now he'd found the key to it, the more SG-1 would understand about their situation. The more they knew, the better off they would be, even if it eventually came to escaping or trying to fight their way out somehow. They'd done crazier things, but it wouldn't be his first choice.
Sighing, turning his head to address Jack, Daniel quietly said, "This could take awhile."
"I think we're making progress," Daniel said, when the howlers left.
"I disagree," Jack replied.
"What makes you say that?"
"Well, you're still asking the same questions you were two days ago, and you're still not getting anything that looks or sounds like an answer for any of them," Jack pointed out.
"But I'm not getting punched anymore," Daniel pointed out, "That's progress."
"At a speed that would blind Yoda on his deathbed, I'm sure," Jack said sarcastically, "But not all of us are going to reach nine hundred years old, and we certainly won't look as good as Yoda if we do."
Daniel was tired. He'd worked hard all afternoon trying to talk to first the she-howler, then Scar through her, then the she-howler alone again. He'd had to keep careful rein on his frustration because the wrong sort of a look was enough to set the howlers after him again, and he figured he'd gotten bitten enough for one mission. But each holdup and setback made him want to punch something to vent, and he'd been unable to do that.
He tried to take a deep breath to calm himself, but it only made him cough, which only made his headache worse. He'd been able to forget his allergies while the howlers were here, because he focused absolutely on what he was doing. But the longer he stalled out, the more aware he was of his discomfort, and now both howlers were gone again, it was about all his weary brain could focus on.
"Okay, okay," Jack said, backing off, concern in his voice and eyes, "I'm sorry. I know you're doing all you can. I'm not trying to give you a hard time about it."
"Jack, I'm okay," Daniel said quickly, "It's just my allergies."
Of course he wanted to win an argument with Jack. Always, but especially now as he seemed to be on a losing streak everywhere else. But he didn't want Jack to back off out of pity. When they fought, Jack and Daniel fought as equals, never taking unfair advantage over one another. Besides, this time Jack not only had a valid point, he was actually right. Language-wise, Daniel was making progress in leaps and bounds. But insofar as figuring out what the howlers wanted, or convincing them to let SG-1 go, Daniel was at a standstill and seemed to have been from the start.
"Sure, kid," Jack replied, but his voice was too soft to be convincing, "Sure."
Trying to find a spot on his head he could rub that would relieve the pressure with his fingers, Daniel muttered, "If you have any other ideas of how we're gonna get out of this, I'm open to suggestions."
A disheartening silence followed.
Eventually Daniel said, "I was afraid of that."
Before they could settle more deeply into the despair of that thought, there was a sound at the gate. Daniel looked up and around, and was surprised to see the she-howler had come back. He'd been sure she was done for the day. She'd looked tired and uninterested during their last communication. Then he realized she was dragging something with her. It took him a split second to recognize his bag, the bag he often carried in addition to the backpack. The she-howler dragged it close enough for Daniel to reach out and take it, then she dropped it and stepped clear. Daniel took the shoulder strap of the bag and dragged it closer, carefully watching the she-howler, who carefully looked back.
"Thank you," he said, without even looking in the bag.
He knew a friendly gesture when he saw one, even if he didn't know how much help this bag would be because he didn't know what, if anything, was still in it.
The she-howler made an acknowledging gesture, and then walked out, the gate closing behind her.
"What'd she bring ya?" Jack asked curiously.
Opening the bag, Daniel saw that several things had been taken out. But some things had also been put in, and he answered, "One of my notebooks, a pencil, my glasses, and these," he held up the sturdy plastic bottle of antihistamines with its childproof lid.
Jack cocked his head and said with what sounded like disbelief and maybe awe, "You really are making progress with them, aren't you?"
"Apparently so," Daniel murmured thoughtfully.
Daniel had earlier made some references to his antihistamines when a sneezing fit had alarmed the she-howler, and he'd tried to get his glasses back at the start. He figured the notebook was either just a bonus they'd left in the bag, or else the she-howler realized he could draw more efficiently on paper than in the dirt. But the presence of the antihistamines surprised him, because he'd never tried to explain what they were really. Maybe he'd said pills or made some sort of a gesture, but the she-howler's understanding of it indicated she had not only guessed what the gesture meant, she understood the concept of antihistamines. That suggested Daniel was completely off about his guess as to their technological level. Medicines of one kind or another had been around a long time, but antihistamines hadn't really been discovered properly on Earth until something like the 1930s or 40s in Italy, or somewhere like that. Daniel's grasp of ancient history was phenomenal, but recent history gave him fits.
He didn't know how long he'd been thinking when Jack's voice broke him out of it.
"You know," Jack said, "I've heard those work better if you take 'em instead of just lookin' at 'em."
"What?" Daniel blinked, looked at Jack, then back at the pill bottle, "Oh. Right. Yes."
Whatever else it might mean, the return of the antihistamines meant Daniel would find it easier to breathe and think from here on out. Even if they were still helpless, confused prisoners, Daniel was absurdly grateful for that small mercy.
Daniel hadn't fully realized how awful he was feeling until he started getting relief. Whatever was out there in the jungle was too strong for even Dr. Fraser's miracle antihistamines, but Daniel's life was immeasurably more bearable with than without. He could almost feel his thoughts clearing. His glasses, one lens cracked (wasn't that always the way?), meant he could finally see again. It was nice to be able to see the various blobs around him and not have to guess what they looked like. What bothered him though was that, the more his thoughts cleared, the less sense the howlers made to him. There were too many things that didn't fit together, too many things that seemed contradictory.
"I think I'm starting to like Ginger," Jack remarked after awhile.
"What?" Sam asked.
"Ginger, the little monkey," Jack explained, "She's a redhead."
"Personally, I would've gone with Bovet," Daniel said.
"Why? Is that some fancy word for red in another language?" Jack asked.
Sam laughed and explained before Daniel could, "No. It's the name of the person credited with discovering antihistamines."
Jack looked at Sam for a long second, as if trying to gauge whether she was joking or not. Then he looked at Daniel, who wore a similar expression to Sam's. He seemed to decide they were serious.
"Oh," was all he said.
"Ginger Bovet," Sam said thoughtfully, "Has a nice ring to it."
"It's not as if we can pronounce whatever her real name is anyway," Daniel pointed out, "She already has a name for me. I heard her use it when she was talking to Scar."
"Oh really? What's it translate to?" Jack asked with raised eyebrows.
"Pale Eyes. I think," Daniel answered reluctantly, "Or possibly Blind Eyes."
Jack smirked, but managed not to laugh outright.
"It actually makes sense," Daniel said, "All the howlers have dark eyes, brown ones, I think. And I'm sure their eyesight is better than mine."
"That's because you couldn't tell a salmon from an assault rifle without your glasses," Jack pointed out.
"My vision isn't that bad," Daniel protested, largely because it was true and Jack knew it.
Granted, he did need his glasses to see things, but he was hardly Velma Dinkley without them. Daniel's glasses had a tendency to get broken or taken away from him, and he continued to function reasonably well without them. Of course, he had practice. Even though he'd had poor vision his entire life, he'd spent a lot of his youth without glasses. It was a deficiency he'd learned to get around. But it had definitely contributed to his fondness for engravings, so he could feel any letters he was unsure of. Though of course he wasn't blind enough to need it, Braille was among the languages in which he was proficient. Technically it was considered a writing system and not a language, but in Daniel's head it was a language just as much as ASL was (another language he knew, if only passably well).
"Yeah, I know," Jack admitted, then shook his head, "You're something else, you know that?"
"I am?" Daniel asked, not sure what Jack was referring to, but sensing conversation whiplash was imminent.
"What were you thinking, throwing yourself into the teeth of that monkey?" Jack asked.
It took Daniel a moment to remember all the way back to when the scarred-howler had gone after Jack, and Daniel had put himself in the way. That seemed a long time ago now, and it hardly mattered now.
"He could've killed you, gone right through you to get to me," Jack went on when Daniel was silent.
"I know," Daniel said.
"You couldn't have known how it would turn out," Jack persisted.
"It wasn't the first time," Daniel reminded him.
"Yeah, and the first time got you killed," Jack responded, "You should've learned something from that."
"We killed Ra," Daniel pointed out, "Using his own arrogance and cowardice against him."
"That isn't the point," Jack snapped, suddenly angry for no reason Daniel could discern.
"Then what is?" Daniel asked, genuinely baffled.
"When are you going to realize your life matters too?" Jack said, then looked shocked by his own inquiry, like he hadn't even realized that was what he was thinking.
Daniel stared at him, and all the words in all the languages he knew were not enough for him to figure out how to answer that question. Jack understood. He always did. So he didn't ask anymore. He just stared at Daniel for a long time, and then a kind of pain came into his eyes and he changed the subject.