[Hi Jaed… thanks for the reviews!  Are you the same Jaed that wrote 'Ketchup'?  If so, I quite liked it.  : )  (Even if you aren't the same Jaed, I still liked 'Ketchup'.  grin).  For anyone reading this, I'm venturing into Daniel's past here… let me know if you think I was close to what you think he'd be like.  Thanks!

Oh, yeah, to answer a question from Cams… I took my BSc in physical geography many moons ago, although I studied arctic environments not the resource extraction geomorph side of it.  Can you tell?  ; ) 

As always, thanks to Pettygrew… if you notice any errors, it's because I didn't listen to her.]

Signs – Chapter Six

Emma rested fitfully under her blindfold.  The boys had finally fallen asleep… somewhat.  Osiris had kept them separated for some time, playing with them individually.  The Goa'uld had finally brought them together in order to torture them as a group, playing one off against the other.  Ultimately, it was futile.  Nobody gave an inch.

Now, they were alone, but nervous.  Any sharp movement usually had everyone on their feet in short order.  Getting up to use the bathroom was torturous, slowly edging out of the tight little circle they had formed, trying to simultaneously assure everyone that everything was all right.

Despite the darkness and the silence, Emma was unable to throw herself into the oblivion that she so desperately craved.  Dimitri leaned on her left side.  His head had finally drooped and rested on her shoulder, despite the bulky mask, or whatever the hell the Goa'uld wanted to call their own private sensory deprivation tanks.  Patrick rested to Emma's right, his long legs snugged up against hers.  With sight and hearing gone, touch became so much more important.  Joe was on Dimitri's left.  Emma couldn't help but feel anxious for the one team-mate out of reach.  Was he all right?  What if someone took him?  When they got back to the SGC, this group would have some major separation anxiety issues to resolve.  When they got back… when… if…

No.  Emma ruthlessly quashed that line of thought, shifting in place, trying to get comfortable.  Beside her, she felt Patrick stiffen, and a hand touched her knee softly.  She reached her bound hands down and covered his, squeezing softly.  It's alright.  I'm fine.  My backside is going numb on these hard floors.  She tried to convey all of it, but she would be happy if he only understood the first part.  He gripped her knee tightly.  Hang in there.  Be strong.

His upper arm rested against her rib cage under her arm, so he felt her sigh as she tried to relax, tried to sleep.  There was a memory tugging at the back of her mind, something from so long ago… Half a lifetime ago.

She knocked sharply on the door, hoping she had the right place.  In one hand she carried a wrinkled and stained envelope.  The return address was written in a familiar, sharp hand.  She lived far away.  It had been an experience for the fifteen year old, leaving home in the morning.  She'd run away from home before, but rarely this far and never for this reason.  Her schoolbag was filled with clothes, candy bars and pop tarts.  She had taken a city bus to the bus station, and gotten a big bus up here.  It took her another half hour to figure out how to get to this address, and now she stood on the threshold, waiting for someone to open the door.

There was a long, long pause.  She put her hand up to ring the doorbell again when the hinges creaked and the door opened a crack.  She squinted into the darkness, grinning at the spectacled face staring back at her, mouth dropped open in shock.

"Em?"  His voice was soft, eyes red with dark shadows underneath.  He opened the door farther and looked around, seeing if anyone had noticed her arrival.

"Can I come in?"  She asked levelly, shifting her stance slightly.  His face went pale… paler.  He looked back into the house, and then back at her.  He appeared to be considering this problem deeply.  "Is he here?"  She then asked, a dangerously calm tone creeping into her question.

"No.  No, no.  Come-  Come in."  He shuffled back a few steps, opening the door.  He hid behind the door as he opened it, leaning on the doorknob, only his face and shoulder visible.  His eyes stayed on the floor.

Emma stepped in and looked around as Daniel quickly closed and locked the door.  His eyes went to his feet as he scuffed the carpet with his toe.

"Daniel."  She said softly.  He stopped, hands making fists at his sides.  "Daniel."  She whispered, lifting a hand to touch his cheek.  His eyes closed, and his wariness broke away.  He took a step forward and flowed into her arms.

Daniel never took the 'dominant' role in a hug.  She remembered this from the short time they spent together, and the few occasions, like this, that she had run away and visited him.  Her arms circled his shoulders, pulling him close.  She leaned her cheek into his neck, putting one hand on the back of his head.  His hands circled her waist lightly, ready to pull away the second she pulled back.  His head did not lean to meet hers.  His back stayed straight.  He never allowed himself to commit to a hug.  It was a particularly Daniel trait.

This hug was a bit of a shock for Emma.  It had been a year and a half since she had seen him.  They had both, um, grown in the mean time.  He was starting his growth spurt, while she, an early bloomer, had finished growing just short of five eight.  They were now almost the same height.  His shoulders were getting broader as well, while she had filled out in… other ways.

"You look good."  He said, looking at her sideways, head ducked down.

"Me?  Ah, well… parts are in all the right places.  Thankful for that at least.  You're looking good too."  She tilted her head, looking directly at him.  "How tall are you now?"

He shrugged, wrapping his arms around his chest.  "I haven't checked."

"You're going to be tall."

He nodded resignedly.  "My father was almost six feet."

"You'd rather be a runt?"  She grinned.

He looked up, startled and then gave a tiny smile and looked away.  "No… just.  Tall, school… they want you to play sports.  Basketball."  He shook his head.  "Hate basketball."

"Ooh.  Got it.  Hey, lookie."  Emma was good at drawing Daniel out, keeping the tone light.  She held up her left hand and straightened the fingers.  Her pinky finger refused to straighten up all the way.

Daniel frowned and uncurled his arms.  His long fingers came up and touched her hand softly, trying to determine what was wrong with her finger, turning her hand over like an interesting scientific specimen.  He peered at her over the rims of his glasses.

"Volleyball.  Didn't bend my finger right.  Black and blue and yuck all over.  Now it won't straighten up."  He sucked in a breath through his teeth and gave her an exaggerated wince.  Emma shrugged it off.  "Got me out of PE for a month.  Small price to pay.  They wanted me to throw the shot put in the state finals.  Told 'em I wouldn't and that they were damn lucky I wasn't going to sue them for ruining what could have been a very promising career as a professional bowler."

Daniel smiled despite himself, turning away as he grinned.  "Yeah.  I can see that, Em.  You, bowling shoes… how about the, uh, the polyester shirts?"  He made circles in the air with his index finger.

"Polyester shirts in garish colours with contrasting colour collars and embroidered novelty patches, or what's the point?"  She smiled back.

"Ouch."  She finally got an honest smile and a laugh out of him.

"Hey, I'll make sure to embroider your name on yours.  So… where's your room?"  She asked, and was rewarded by an industrial strength blush from him.  "What?"  She asked, confused.  "Dirty laundry, girlie magazines?"  She paused.  "Girlfriend?"  Emma was almost forced back by the heat of his embarrassment.  If she could have hooked him up to something, they could have heated half the town.

"Emma."  He said in a strangled tone, folding his arms over his head.

She was still confused, reaching out a hand to touch his shoulder.  "Jeez, Daniel.  What's up?  You don't want me to see-."

He shook his head.  "No.  Not that.  Just… you're a…"  The room temperature went up thirty degrees as the blush reasserted itself.

"Hey, Daniel.  Slow down.  You're going to have a stroke or something here."  She knocked herself in the forehead with the palm of her hand as understanding struck.  "Oh… it's because I'm a 'girl' now, right?"  Daniel's arms wrapped so tightly around his chest that she feared his fingers would meet in the back.  Emma diffused the situation with a chuckle, and then ruthlessly tried to make Daniel squirm.  "Okay, bright boy, let's get this out of the way.  I am not a 'girl', I am Emma.  Gender neutral for this situation.  You're a genius, you're brilliant, you're graduating from high school at the end of the term, but you're still a fifteen year old boy and I got these…"

She said the last in a coarse tone, grabbing her chest with both hands and pushing up.  Daniel looked like he wanted to sink through the floor.  Emma continued.  "Yeah… I know.  You and everyone else with a y-chromosome.  I swear, gain a little strategically placed fat and nobody knows how to speak English anymore.  They're called 'hormones', Daniel.  You'll get over them."

Emma's voice softened and she reached out, cupping his face in her hands, forcing him to meet her gaze, blue eyes meeting gold.  "Daniel.  I am still Emma.  I am the same Emma you met five years ago.  I am the same person in whose bed you slept for nearly three months, your head pillowed on my stomach."  Daniel's eyes attempted to look away, but Emma held firm.  "I am the same one who held you when those jerks beat you up.  I am the same one who can't write cuneiform to save her life, and to whom you write two letters a week.  I am the one who will always come when you call."

Daniel closed his eyes and sunk his chin into her palms.  "I know, Daniel.  Everything else is being tossed through the wringer now.  Everything else is changing and it's a big, scary world out there.  I'm here to tell you that I will remain constant.  Got it?  I'm not here to change things, I'm here to tell you that they are the same."

Looking back, Emma would realise that this is where their friendship became more than that.  More than friends, they were now family.  Daniel had slumped into her arms and given her a rare real hug.  Full on, leaning, crushing hug.  When friends would question the pair later, ask why they had never become romantically involved, they would shrug and say they didn't know.  But Emma knew.  It was because at that particular junction where it could have gone either way, they both needed family more than romance.  Emma could no more consider Daniel a romantic partner than she could consider her brother (had she had one) a possibility.  Gender neutral…  no, more than that… genuine platonic, gender irrelevant love.

They broke apart, and Daniel picked up Emma's backpack.  He held out a hand for her.  She gave him a little curtsey, which made him laugh, and took his hand.  Without a word, without a blush, he led her upstairs.

They spent an hour becoming reacquainted.  Daniel refused to speak of the subject that brought Emma to him, so they chatted about school, projects, future plans and old times.  Daniel pulled out the big picture book on Egyptology that had so fascinated Emma when they had met.  As far as Emma had known at that point, she was two weeks old.  Nothing existed before that date.  Daniel was the one to teach her, guide her in finding out who she was and who she could be.  That book was their touchstone and she greeted it like an old friend.

They dropped to the bed and leafed through the pages until Emma's back began to hurt and she flipped over, belly up.  Daniel sat up and they started to talk of current things, their respective foster parents.  Emma finally asked Daniel about what he had written in his letters.  The young man turned shy and he did not respond.  Emma pressed him for answers until he finally scooted away from her, down to the lower half of the bed.  She made to sit up, stopped by the gentle pressure of his hand on her stomach.

She lay back, troubled-teenage-girl warning bells going off.  Had he forgotten their discussion already?  Her frown eased and she smiled gently as Daniel simply stretched out beside her, head resting on her stomach, arm draped over her hips.  He gave a sigh and then slumped as his body relaxed completely for the first time in what felt like five years.

When they had first met, he crawled into her room one night, shaking from a nightmare.  He had somehow found this position to be soothing, curling up next to her, sleeping to the sound of her soft breathing, her heartbeat murmuring in his ear.  Now, he closed his eyes and rested.  With one hand on his neck, Emma closed her eyes and did the same, smiling softly.

They awoke two hours later with twin starts.  An angry male voice was yelling and slamming doors.  Frantically, Daniel pulled Emma to her feet and pushed her into the closet, with her backpack.  He pushed the closet door almost closed as a tall, skinny man stepped in to the bedroom.

"God damn it, Daniel!  I gave you one thing to do, you lazy little son of a…"  The man shook his head, disgusted.  "Take out the garbage.  That's all I asked of you.  I work my ass off all day, and you can't do this one simple little task."

Daniel was pale, bobbing his head, hands wrapped around his chest.  "I'll go now.  I forgot.  I'll go."  His foster father looked at him belligerently, smelling of smoke and cheap booze.  Daniel just desperately wanted him out of the bedroom, away from Emma, just… away.  The man sensed this and frowned.

"Trash calls to trash, I guess.  You'll go when I tell you to go."  He unbuckled his heavy belt.  "I think I better send you on your way with a lesson though."  The belt made a dry sound as it slipped through his belt loops and Daniel swallowed heavily.  The man's hand lifted.  Daniel just hoped Emma had the sense to stay still, to stay…

The man jerked sideways as five-foot eight-inches of angry high school shot-putter hit him side-on.  Emma had watched from the closet and knew exactly where this conversation was heading.  She'd had a similar conversation with a former foster parent of hers, and it had ended in roughly the same manner.

"Emma, no!"  Daniel cried as Emma bore the surprised man to the ground.  She recovered first and scrambled to her feet.  As the man sat up, Emma cast about for a likely weapon and grabbed the only thing she could find… a cheap metal lamp.  With sickening finality, she brought it down onto his head, dropping him like a stunned ox.

"Oh, God."  Daniel breathed.  "Did you kill him?"  The young man was nearly panicked.  Emma looked at him and then back to the man.

"I didn't hit him hard.  He'll survive."  Daniel was stricken by what he had witnessed his best friend do.  Emma turned to him.  "Daniel… nobody hurts you.  You got me?  They hurt you after they go through me."  Daniel stepped back, awed by the fire in her golden eyes.  Emma looked down at the man.  He was already stirring.  "You want to leave?"  She asked him.  Daniel nodded numbly.

They packed him a bag in five minutes.  Clothes, chocolates and his book on Egyptology.  He looked over at his school notes and texts, but nothing there was irreplaceable.  He knew it all pretty much by heart anyway.  Hand in hand, they ran down the stairs and out of the house.

Hours later, they found shelter under a bridge, next to a busy road.  Darkness had fallen, and with it came rain.  They were soaked as they searched for a place to hide.  Now that they had it, they huddled together for warmth trying to come up with a plan.  They had no plans… they had little money and no plans.  Running away had been instinct, reality was harsh and unwelcoming.  Daniel had curled up into a ball, tucked up against Emma.  She had her arms around his shoulders, his head tucked up under her chin.  She had sat watch for a little while, before exhaustion overtook her.  They slumped in each other's arms.

It was in this position that the police officers found them.  Rough hands tugging at their arms started them awake, bright flashlight beams cutting through the darkness and searing their eyes…

Emma jumped, coming awake with the feeling of police dragging her away, Daniel yelling for her.  Disoriented for a moment, she cried out and put her hands up.  She could see nothing, hear nothing.  Frantically, she cast about, feeling the handcuffs on her wrists, blinded by the officers' bright flashlights.  Where was Daniel?

She twisted away as hands grabbed for her, trying to roll away, but crashing into another body who also grabbed at her.  She kicked out, but missed.  A heavy weight pinned her legs.  No!  She twisted again.  Daniel!  Another weight crushed her chest, and this time she had to stop.  She couldn't breathe, couldn't see.  She could smell the police officer.  Sweat, blood… and the faintest stubborn hint of cologne.  She twitched as past and present collided.  Patrick?

It came back to her and she went limp.  She touched the weight on her chest and patted her hands against it, laboriously spelling out 'O… K.'  The weight lifted, then her legs were freed.  She stayed on the floor, a limp dishrag, worn out by the dreams and the stunning realisation that reality was worse than the nightmare.

She hadn't had that dream for years.  Certainly one of her low points.  Both she and Daniel had done the foster home shuffle, although she'd been a guest of the penal system for a couple of months.  There may have been mitigating circumstances, but her refusal to even consider remorse for what she'd done had gotten her incarcerated.  Fortunately, Daniel had gotten off without penalty.  She'd refused to allow him to take any responsibility for her actions.  It was a hard battle, but the judges had finally seen that he was innocent.  For her, the hardest part was losing track of Daniel.  Neither knew where the other had been sent, and it would be nearly three lonely years before their paths would cross again.  Emma bit back a frustrated sob.  She hated this… isolation.

Hands grabbed her arm, and she was pulled upright.  A pair of muscular arms settled around her shoulders and snugged up around her waist.  She relaxed, her head dropping to Patrick's shoulder as she leaned back against his chest.  They stayed that way only for a moment, aware that it would be dangerous for Osiris to find them in such a vulnerable position.  She edged to the side, leaning against Patrick as Joe leaned against her.  She reached over Patrick and clasped Dimitri's hands tightly.  Leaning back, they tried once again for the peace of sleep.

Oh yeah.  Emma thought as her head touched Patrick's shoulder.  Definite separation anxiety issues.

- - - - -

TBC