Chapter 21: The Virtue of Ignorance

Cassie was already half way down the steps by the time the group were beamed back into the city's 'gate room. The tension in the air was abating, slowly, as the frantic typing of technicians slowed, and scientists and soldiers alike milled out of the room, heading off to attend their regular duties.

"Lexy," Cassie started down the steps towards the group, a glance at the visiting team made her tense.

Things were complicated enough as it was, both here and at home, without having to deal with nosy time travellers as well; Cam was pinching the bridge of his nose and rolling his eyes when Lexy simply kept walking and Daniel and Vala looked positively pitiful in the desperation that was emanating from the both of them in waves. Yes, she knew she had to speak to Lexy, again, about her confrontation with Barrows, if only to satisfy the Major for another few weeks until the next time the two met. They would never agree. Barrows was as by-the-book as they came, and Lexy was everything he could not, and would not try to, understand. They were both sensational soldiers, fantastic at their jobs but together... Sheppard placing Lexy's F309 flying privileges in Barrows' hands was probably a carefully thought out decision that both placated those government officials who were less than impressed with the free-run Lexy was given, and allowed the good General to wind Barrows up. The Major's refusal to take any nonsense or disobedience from those under command, alongside Lexy's abstinence and adamant refusal to take orders, successfully terminated any chance the two of them would ever have of forming even the most tenuous of professional relationships before it even began.

"We need to talk," Cassie continued, pausing a few steps from the bottom, and watching Lexy's departing back.

"No we don't," Lexy replied without turning around. Her voice wasn't raised and her tone wasn't tainted with anger or frustration, instead, she sounded merely tired, and as she disappeared down the corridor, Cassie could not find it in herself to follow.

"I will never understand your people," Vala's voice had taken on that peculiar, half-an-octave, semi-indignant note that it did whenever whatever she was trying to wrap her head around was so far beyond her comprehension, all she felt the urge to do was laugh – or cry – at the hypocrisy of it all.

Daniel frowned, but said nothing yet, knowing his wife well enough that she would soon followed that statement up with a tirade about what exactly it was she did not understand about 'his people'.

"I will admit I have little experience with dealing with the civilians of your planet-" off Daniel's look she raised an eyebrow in a gesture she could have only learnt from Teal'c, "you do not count," she stated firmly, "but I have seen enough television to know that on Earth, sixteen year old girls are not given as much control as Lexy seems too," she flicked her hair from her eyes and placed her hands on her hips, pacing the room as Daniel stood, perfectly still, watching her frantic, impatient gestures with sympathy. "If I so much as look at a spaceship the wrong way I'm scooted from the room. She can just decide she's flying one into the middle of Wraith dart formation with no regard at all for the fact that she could die whilst she does it!"

"Jealous?" Cam's smirk was half-hearted, and at Vala's potent glare and Daniel's disapproving over the rim of his glasses had his attention rapidly consumed once more at his rapidly failing attempt at salvaging the scrunched up ball of paper that was supposed to resemble – but looked nothing like – an origami swan.

"Some things are obviously different here-" Daniel started.

"She won't even look at me Daniel," the brunette woman pleaded.

Daniel opened his mouth to respond but Vala cut him off once more:

"I know that to her we are dead, and that something horrible must have happened, but surely she should be happy to see us, I know for certain, I'd be delighted if my mother were to show up, alive and well,"

He tried not to make note of the fact that that was one of the few tid-bits of information Vala had ever voluntarily offered to him about her family that he didn't have to be concerned about being laced with half-truths.

"Everybody's different," Daniel said, "And she's a lot younger than you are,"

Cam sucked in a hiss of air, "oh Jackson, would have worded that differently," he cringed.

Daniel shot him another glare. "What I mean is," he said, turning back to Vala, "Lexy is not only a teenager, for a start. Not to mention the amount of death she's already had to face. Seeing people you know to be dead is hardly the most natural concept in the universe, Lexy's attitude is actually relatively healthy: she might be angry about it but at least it means she's accepted the fact her parents are dead,"

Vala was quiet for a moment, begrudgingly accepting that there might be some truth behind what he was saying.

"I hate this," she said suddenly, "I really do," she shrugged Daniel off when he reached out to touch her arm.

"Vala…" he tries.

"No, I mean it Daniel," Vala said firmly, blue eyes flashing as anger and hurt warred behind them, swirling together so much it made her voice break a little, "I really hate this. I truly wish you'd never convinced me that this was a good idea,"

The doors slid shut behind her.

Silence reigned for a few moments.

"Look, Jackson," Cam dropped the origami swan and leaned forwards in his seat.

"Mitchell, I'm really not-"

"Maybe you ought to try talking to Lexy,"

Daniel gave him a mild look.

"All everybody keeps telling the kid, is that her parents are back, why don't you, instead of just saying you're her father, actually step up to the plate and prove it to her?"

Nevertheless, however right Cam might be, Daniel barely felt qualified as a parent to a one-year-old, he certainly didn't feel ready to face the trials and tribulations of parenting a teenager. But then, of course, parenthood is certainly not a commitment that allows you to pick and choose the battles you fight, or the situations you may find yourself in. You just have to shrug it off and deal with whatever happens. At least this way, unlike most parents, he knew that no matter what happened, he would have a second chance.

"Thanks," he said, nodding once at the other man.

Cam shrugged, "any time," he said, resuming his paper-folding as Daniel, too, left the room.

"What do you want?"

The door to what was presumably Lexy's living quarters opened, almost uneasily. Daniel would have been surprised by it, had he not been more struck by the weary desperation in Lexy's voice. In the short time since his arrival in this time, he'd seen her angry, he'd seen her elated, defiant, arrogant, sarcastic, but not once had he seen her show one iota of weakness. She was sixteen years old and seemingly impervious, until now that is. Now she didn't just look tired, she looked exhausted, a bone weary fatigue that filled the room and choked the air. He hadn't seen anyone look so defeated since… since, well ever. He had expected, however much it hurt, her to argue, to scream, run even, but not this. He would never have expected this. He would never have even imagined that four words could carry the weight of a lifetime in them. That a girl so young, a child, could look so haunted as she did in that moment.

"Just to talk," he said, more careful than ever because this territory was newer than all the rest. This wasn't Lexy the soldier, or Lexy the scientist. It wasn't Lexy the brat, or Lexy the saint. No, this was Lexy the child, the world-weary little girl that he wants to wrap in cotton wool and never let go.

She said nothing. Plucking a Kleenex from the box on the nightstand as she sat on the bed, pulling her glasses from her nose and wiping the lenses with a meticulous precision with the tissue. The main lights were not on, and so only lamps illuminated the young woman sat, back straight at the head of her bed. Her delicates features sharpened by the dim light.

The room was far from cluttered but it felt lived in. The bed was half made. A few cosmetics and a radio earpiece were scattered across the dresser. An empty glass on the nightstand next to a book by an author he'd never heard of, and was probably still in high school back in his time. A combination of well-thumbed and some slightly more recent photographs were tacked to the wall surrounding the mirror. Her laptop sat closed on her desk, surrounded by a few slips of paper and a handful of pens jammed into a small, hand-crafted, ceramic pot. His daughter's entire life was in this room, painted in those images, filling her computer's hard-drive. A glance could show a glimpse into her habits, her hopes, her nightmares, into her life. Somehow, despite the infamous siege, the loss of her parents, the failing of Arthur's Mantle, and the certain knowledge that someday, very soon, the Earth was going to fall apart, had grown this beautiful, well adjusted, adaptable young woman. For despite all of her flaws, all of her anger and hurt and righteousness, rather than falling apart she had held it together. Found happy moments, even if only fleeting, and captured them for eternity in the lens of a camera and there they were. Her memories, her happy moments, stuck to the wall, creased and torn a little and maybe a little frayed at the edges but they were there and they were beautiful.

Daniel deliberated for a moment before moving towards the bed and taking a seat at its foot. It pained him to see his daughter tense at the proximity. He ought to continue, he knew that, but he realised that for the first time since he had met her, she was still, and quiet and he was entirely transfixed. She replaced her glasses, pushing them back into place with the back of her hand. Still she refused to look up, and he watched as she folded the tissue neatly into a square, apparently just so as to have something to do with her hands. He knew the feeling, a wry smile flitting across his lips as he realised he was fiddling with his watch strap. When she made no effort to either initiate the conversation or instruct him to leave, he felt something akin to hope. Far from comfortable, she did however appear content to let him take the lead. For now at least.

Stilling his hands in his lap, he spoke, "hey," he whispered, knocking her knee lightly with his own to get her intention.

Her flinch was disguised by a jerky, yet somehow fluid movement so she was sat with her back to her pillows, her legs crossed, folding herself into as small a position as she could whilst remaining prepared for flight.

"What're you doing here?" she said slowly, almost as if she were speaking through gritted teeth; the snap falling back into her voice, albeit with less ease than Daniel already found himself to be familiar with

"Just to talk," he repeated, shrugging casually.

Lexy snorted with derision and got to her feet, careful to place the bed between the two of them. Aware that he had twisted in his seat to watch her movements, she dropped the tissue in the wastepaper basket next to the dresser before standing next to it, and tracing an absent pattern with her finger in the word work, "you died when I was nine," she looked at him from under lowered lids, "what the hell is there to talk about?" she sounded more tired than angry.

"Lexy…" Daniel was torn between getting to her feet and hugging her or leaving the room entirely. It seemed like such a good idea to come in here, to demand answers, but now he just felt guilty, taking advantage of her at a weak moment, trying to coerce information out of her that he knew he shouldn't have. He'd started now, and Vala would never forgive him if he left before he finished. More to the point, he's not even sure he'd forgive himself no matter what he did by this point; he might as well see it through.

She folded her arms, the movement causing the frames of her glasses to catch the light for a second, "you know about the siege," she said, her tone twisted between guilt and accusation, "that I killed all those people,"

"You were six years old Lexy," his reply was soft, "it couldn't possibly be your fault,"

She flinched, but had he not been studying her so avidly he would not have noticed, "your death was my fault too you know," she was daring him to argue, and the normalcy of that made him want to smile. He refrained, "I was responsible for the deaths of over a hundred and twenty people before I even hit puberty. Is that what you want to talk about? That you precious little baby is going to grow up to-"

"Lexy!" he cut her off.

She glowered at him. Pausing for a moment, "it was my birthday," she began, emotionlessly, as if she'd recited this a thousand times in her head, that by detaching herself the story would be easier to tell, and then he would leave like she knew he would. The hassling would stop, the hushed whispers and wary looks would start all over again but at least then they would stop trying to pretend they were her family when they weren't because her family either fell apart or walked away. "I'd been begging you for weeks to let me go through the Stargate. You finally caved two weeks before we went through," she paused, and thought he thought she might have choked, he would never know, blinking hard once, she carried on, determined to finish, "when we got there, Adria was waiting for us. She killed our escort… barely lifted a finger."

Every word she spoke was like an accusation in itself. A dare, and the less it looked like he was going to walk out, the more infuriated she seemed to get.

"You and mom tried to protect me; you tried to stop her," her voice wavered a little, cracking mid-sentence and she paused a moment to take a few deep breaths. Her arms fell to her sides as she paced for a moment, "mom told me to dial home. To get back to Earth," she stopped by the window, staring at it but not really looking out; it was too dark anyway, "I should have done, maybe we'd of all go out if I had," she shrugged, "but I didn't, I waited, and Adria took us up to her ship,"

Daniel went to get to his feet.

"Don't get up," she said quickly, without turning around, "just… don't,"

He sat back down.

"It took four days," she spoke, and for a moment something akin to pride flickered through her eyes but he couldn't be sure. She turned to look at him, her jaw tight as she held her chin high and narrowed her eyes, challenging him, "now you tell me that there's something to talk about,"

"Lexy… I…" he hesitated, a little shell-shocked, then sincerely and slowly he concluded: "I'm sorry,"

She gave a hollow laugh. "I had to tell the entire Command that I'd watched you both die. I had to tell them there was nothing to bury, and I had to watch them bury empty caskets, beneath these stupid pieces of stone that were supposed to symbolise…" she spat furiously, her breaths coming in short, sharp bursts, "supposed to symbolise a testament to your lives, when all it was, was a lie," she blinked harshly and turned her back on him again "a stupid lie,"

"I'm sorry," Daniel said again, unsure of how else to react. She was talking about his death, what was he supposed to say? It was a little difficult to even believe it, not because it sounded like a lie, but because he was here and he was real and he was breathing and it was so very difficult to comprehend that to Lexy, he'd been dead for nearly eight years.

She whirled around again, a habit he noticed, though he doubted it was a conscious effort to appear dramatic, taking two steps closer before she realised what she was approaching and stopped. Her eyes were bright and wild. "I listened to every single person I met say that for months after you died. It didn't make a difference coming from them, what on Earth makes you think it's going to do anything if you say it? You're dead! Nothing you say matters!"

She choked, a strange sound erupting from her throat, but that didn't stop him. The girl was so consumed by her tears and her fruitless attempts to stop them that she didn't notice Daniel had stood until his arms were around her, enveloping her in an embrace that was filled with as much familiar comfort as it was cruel torment. She pushed at his chest for a moment, trying to get free of him, but she soon stopped and he knew that had she really meant it, then she most probably would have succeeded.

He closed his eyes and rested his chin on her had, heart hammering in his chest as her arms slowly unwound from around herself and clutched desperately at the back of his shirt. Squeezing him so tightly it almost hurt. It was a peculiar sensation. The Lexy he knew smelt of baby powder and could sit on one of his knees. Her tears came with screams, and dissipated within moments of beginning. Her arms could barely reach around his neck. This Lexy smelt like watermelons and cinnamon. Her head rested against his chest at a level similar to her mother's and her tears, her tears were truly heartbreaking in their intensity. Each sob that caught in her chest felt like a punch to his gut and the tighter she held onto him, the firmer his embrace became. As if he thought that if he held on to her long enough he could take it all away, that somehow, it might fix something.

She cried for a long time, and neither of them knew when exactly she stopped, but as he was not eager to let her go, she did not appear to be in a hurry to be released. Relishing, for the first time in eight years, being held by someone who spoke like, acted like, and to all intents and purposes was the father she had watched tortured and murdered at her feet. The moment soon came however, when she knew she had to end the embrace, her skin crawling with how exposed she now felt. Pulling away, she refused to look at him as she went and sat back on her bed, taking the time to regroup and rebuild at least something resembling her dignity before she would permit herself to speak.

Daniel paused a moment before following her example, a comfortable distance between them but still too much, as she unconsciously pressed herself into the headboard. Nevertheless, Daniel remained reluctant to admit that somehow, now sitting in something akin to companionable silence, discussing his and Vala's death had provoked some sort of truce. He was more than overjoyed by the breakthrough, the methods it took to get there, however, made him feel sick to his stomach.

The silence stretched on and despite its relative ease, Daniel was eager to break it, "Lexy," he said, the fingers of his right hand splayed out on the duvet between them, playing with a lose piece of thread. There were so many things he wanted to say to her - I love you. You're amazing. It wasn't your fault. – but he knew she would never accept them. Instead he caught her eye, pulled his hands back to his lap and said candidly, and without so much as quirking his lips: "I'm proud of you,"

Her smile, however involuntary it might have been, lit up her whole face.

Author's Note: Reviews are hugely appreciated, even if only a word or two, just to say there's still people wanting to see this through :).