5.

This blank page

Summary: Daniel has to write a report for General Hammond.

This blank page

Daniel Jackson stared at the blank page in front of him.

Never before had a report been so difficult – no make that impossible – to write. The fountain pen fidgeted impatiently in his hand, dripping blue ink onto his fingers.

For three hours he had sat at his desk, the 'organised chaos' (a.k.a. muddle) pushed back to give him a clear space to work. Every so often, the pen dipped, it's nib heading for the paper. The tip would almost reach the destination it yearned, but then it always froze before sliding away to observe the empty sheet from afar again.

Daniel had stared at the desk lamp, the spinning SGC logo of the computer's screensaver, the rows of books on the shelving, the wooden cat-shaped idol from P2X-975 and the floor. He'd even stared an imaginary window into the wall. But none yielded any inspiration.

He had a PhD in linguistics for goodness sake! Why was this proving to be so hard?

General Hammond wanted the report handed in by 2 o'clock, before he reviewed him for reinstatement. If the general didn't receive it, his evaluation would be postponed until he had. Dr Jackson would be like a kid in detention for not doing his homework, only allowed out to play when it was done. Daniel sighed, raising the pen so that he could chew on the lid. He'd been given this task weeks ago, but had put it off and waited until the day of the deadline to reluctantly attempt it.

The hands on the clock had ticked around their circuit again and again, yet still nothing was written. How did he put into words what he didn't even know himself? How could he explain what he didn't understand?

Suddenly, it came to him. He would just have to start with what he did know, and that was that he didn't know.

Decisively the pen sprung into action and ink scrawled across the paper.

I do not fully understand all that has happened.

I began a journey on Kheb that led to my ascension into another form of life, the form I later learned to be the current state of the Ancients, the race that created the stargate. Upon reaching the threshold of death after receiving a lethal dose of radiation on Kelowna, Oma Desala (the Ancient SG-1 encountered on Kheb and the guardian of the Harsesis child) came to present me with the choice of ascension. Ultimately, I chose to abandon Human existence and enter a higher-plane of being.

Whilst in ascended form I was bound by the law of the Ancients not to interfere with other forms of life. However, when Anubis (since discovered to be caught between mortal and ascended form) threatened Abydos with annihilation, I found myself unable to stand back and watch. Upon attempting to take action, the others removed me from the scene. Luckily, Oma was able to guide the doomed Abydonians to ascension. Yet, she was unable to prevent them from forcing me back into Human form. Though, of this I am frankly relieved. Having the power to help but being unable to is a great burden to carry.

The manner of ascended form is impossible to explain. It was something that can only be comprehended when in that state. I have retained few memories of the past year, remembering only interactions with this plane of existence and having only distorted fragments of the knowledge I gained. The only useful residual is my ability to read the Ancients' dialect with greater fluency than before.

There is nothing more I have to tell. I wish I could offer some exceptional power to rid the universe of its many evils, not least the Goa'uld and Anubis. But I have none. All I can offer is my mortal services as before and my undying determination.

Daniel read through what he had written and then sat back.

Not the usual style of report he wrote for official records, he mused. But this situation was even stranger and unique than anything else he'd ever faced involving the stargate.

Sliding off his stool, he went over to the computer to rapidly type up his unconventional report in the five minutes that remained.

~ End ~