"Essene," Daniel said positively.
"Essene," said Ziv dreamily. "Just think about it!"
The two were standing at the highest point of the oasis, roughly 200 meters above the Dead Sea. Three days ago, Daniel had been practicing Budo with a staff, when he had tripped over what appeared to be an overgrown, half-buried well. Since then, focus of the professors had shifted from the main dig to this small settlement. So far, there was material evidence pointing to a reclusive community that had lived on this bluff, the dating running through the 1st and 2nd centuries C.E.
Daniel had been peering over Galya's shoulder as she translated a tablet in the village that spoke of a sect of individuals that lived in seclusion above Ein Gedi, and had let out an excited yell when he read the reference to the Essene. He'd scared Galya, as she hadn't been finished when he'd shouted.
The entire camp was abuzz with excitement. The undergraduate students had been turned loose in the main dig under the careful eyes of the graduate students, who were working in shifts in order to steal some time at the Essene site.
In the four weeks since Daniel had left the SGC, he'd been welcomed into the small archaeological community at Ein Gedi. He hadn't been given the chance to be shy, and where he'd have felt awkward barging into their set patterns and friendships, they gladly made room for him. Several nights ago he'd gotten deeply involved in a long-winded argument with Louie - who seemed to enjoy debating entirely too much - and his old instincts had jumped to life, causing him to halt almost mid-syllable. It was when Ziv had encouragingly urged him on that he remembered that he was among people who understood him, and could listen without tuning him out. It had hit him almost like a blow, as had a sudden wave of sadness. He'd lost heart at that point, and excused himself. He'd been trying to regain his center, understand what he was feeling, when he'd tripped over the well.
A loud ringing split the air. Daniel turned, and Ziv's smile prompted a puzzled glance. "It's mail call," the other man explained, turning back towards the palm grove. "Michelle goes every second Saturday, regularly."
Daniel followed Ziv back to the meal pavilion, where Michelle stood on a table amidst a group of students, all clamoring and talking loudly amongst themselves. Michelle reached into a large bag at her foot, pulled out a clump of letters and shouted a name. She distributed the mail with practiced efficiency. Daniel snatched the chance to grab a little relaxation, knowing that there would be nothing for him.
All the mail was handed out, and Michelle was puzzling over a letter in her hand. "Anyone know a - Cassie Frasier?" she shouted.
Daniel raised a hand, standing and going over to Michelle. "Next time, remind her to put your name on it," Michelle laughed.
Daniel grinned, grasping the letter. Mac ambled over, looking at the return address. "So, you left your lady-love in Colorado, eh?" he asked.
Daniel burst out laughing at the idea, and when he'd finally gotten control of himself he gasped, "Ah, no." He took a few deep breaths and sat down, opening the letter carefully, saving the return address. "She's sort of my adopted niece."
"Ah. You have brothers and sisters?" asked Louie. Daniel didn't contribute any information about his life in Colorado, or anything about himself.
"No," Daniel said, squinting at Cassie's tiny handwriting. Sensing the confusion, he said, "My - colleagues and I kind of 'found' Cassie - she was homeless. We got to know her, talk with her, and eventually a friend of mine who also happens to be my doctor adopted her. Cassie decided to adopt me, and my friends, as her surrogate uncles and aunt."
Daniel scanned the letter amid general noises of comprehension, and soon silence reigned in the tent as everyone perused two weeks' worth of mail.
Dear Uncle Daniel,
Hi! I loved your last postcard - and mom was really happy to hear from you. She takes your messages into work sometimes, to show Sam, Uncle Jack, and Uncle Teal'c.
Daniel frowned, and sighed.
. . . School's been boring, but I've scraped through math and Latin. Mom's planning a trip for us this summer - what do you think of Aruba?
I know mom told me not to say anything, but I still want to ask. Are you ever going to come home? I miss you, and I know mom does too. I haven't seen Uncle Jack or Teal'c or even Sam in a while, but they don't sound very happy when they call, even though they try.
The letter continued on, telling Daniel of Cassie's recent attempt to try out for her school's color guard, and that she was thinking about taking up the saxophone. Daniel mused over her question, glad that she'd asked it despite the fact that Janet obviously didn't want to pressure him. Knowing that there were a few people out there who missed him simultaneously comforted and saddened him - mostly because he missed them as well.
Folding the letter up, Daniel left the others to their reading. Ziv was exclaiming over a picture of his wife and two daughters, while Mac was sharing his four-year-old grandson's latest escapade involving a set of bagpipes and peanut butter with Galya. Saloma was chatting with Michelle over her boyfriend's latest missive, and Daniel felt slightly out-of-place. Shaking the sensation off, he went to his tent to grab his staff. As he bent, he felt the gun pressing into his back.
Despite his feeling of security at the dig, the knowledge that the NID was looking for him was ever present in the back of his mind. Moving near the oasis, Daniel found a somewhat sheltered clearing screened by palms in which to practice.
Removing his weapon and shirt, folding the letter securely in the cloth, he took up a ready stance and closed his eyes, breathing deeply. On the last deep exhalation, his eyes flew open and he began to move.
Over, around, down, out and in the staff wove complex patterns through the air. Flashing in a blur of sand-colored wood, Daniel twirled the staff using fingers and arms, around his shoulders and in sweeps. Blows and blocks, offense and defense melded into continuous motion, his long-fingered hands moving confidently over the length of the pole. He was involved in a complex pattern dance, the equivalent of the kata for a wooden staff.
Tension drained away, followed by uncertainty and unease. There was only himself and the staff. Minute after minute Daniel moved with seamless grace, switching into a more complex dance without a pause. Within moments he was airborne, practicing on this relatively even turf the few flips and gymnastic maneuvers that he'd mastered in his five years of training.
The pattern dance ended with an abrupt halt, the staff coming to rest at Daniel's side. He took a deep breath, and looked around the grove. From where he was he could see people starting to emerge from the pavilion, and he returned to the tent, putting away both staff and letter. Since he didn't carry the gun while excavating, he left it in the tent as well. He was discreetly armed, however, whenever he wasn't digging.
The rest of the day was full of an uncommon amount of conversation, as everyone exchanged stories of what their families in the outside world had been up to for the past two weeks.
The chatter increased even as the light decreased, and the dig was closed early for the night on account of it being a Saturday. The singing and festivities continued well into the night, which was usual, Daniel was told, on mail day. Privately, Daniel thought that it was simply the exuberant Mac's fondness for kicking back that turned every available situation into an excuse to have fun.
Daniel had been calmed by the exercise he'd done that day, but was feeling tired and so slipped away from the singing early. As he was heading back to the tent, he thought he saw movement by the dig. Frowning, he looked closer, and adrenaline sped into his system.
Moving closer to the tent he opened the flap and walked in. Tobe and an undergraduate - Kate - jumped away from each other. They were both looking more than a little hot and bothered, and it was obvious to Daniel what they had been up to.
"Sorry," said Daniel, grabbing his staff and the gun.
"What's that for?" asked Tobe, seeing the weapon for the first time. Kate's eyes were wide.
"Nothing," Daniel answered. "I thought I saw someone sneaking around by the dig. Probably just an animal or something, but I'm going to check it out."
The thought of someone illegally sneaking into the dig to steal the recovered artifacts had the embarrassed flush fading from the faces of both young people, and replaced with grim resolve. "I'm coming with you," said Tobe determinedly.
"I'll go tell Mac," said Kate, darting out of the tent toward the fire.
"Are you sure?" asked Daniel, looking Tobe over. The other man nodded grimly.
Daniel tucked the gun into the back of his jeans, where he could easily get at it, and hefted the staff.
"What are you going to do with that?" asked Tobe, eyeing the staff.
"Walk softly and carry a big stick," Daniel replied moving out of the tent.
"Roosevelt," Tobe replied, a grin lighting his face as he caught the paraphrasing of the famous quote.
"Follow me."
The two moved quickly and quietly toward the dig, unobtrusively using the tents and trees for cover. As they got closer, it was apparent that there were two men, dressed in black, moving toward the camp from the dig site. Daniel frowned. Anyone after artifacts would be staying in the central dig area. Which argued that these men were searching for something else.
The NID had finally come calling.
Tamping down his anger, Daniel hissed, "Stay here!" to Tobe.
He quickly circled around the outer rim of the dig, making for the man farthest from their truck. Daniel came upon him from behind and slammed the butt of the staff against his head. The man was out cold before he hit the dirt. Daniel dragged him around the opposite side of the truck, and grabbed rope from where it was holding up one side of a small tent. The canvas collapsed, but within minutes the man was securely tied.
Daniel was sneaking toward the second NID operative when the stadium lighting abruptly turned on. His night-sight was destroyed and he hit the ground behind a wall, blinking furiously to be able to see without spots dancing in his vision.
He peered over the wall and swore.
The man had found Tobe, and - knowing that he was caught - was holding his gun on the young man. Tobe was four feet away from a bullet aimed dead-center on his heart.
"Put away the gun," came Mac's voice, strong and authoritative. "No one has to get hurt!"
The man said nothing, and Daniel knew that unless he was seen, the man would kill Tobe.
Standing, Daniel moved out from behind the wall, his arms out to both sides. The NID man saw him, and his aim shifted from Tobe to Daniel.
"Go, Tobe," said Daniel calmly, approaching the NID operative. Eyes wide, the graduate student backed away, moving quickly so that soon he had disappeared in the palm grove. The remainder of the adults were still ringed - behind cover - above the excavated pit in which Daniel and the man were standing.
"Dr. Jackson," the man said.
"What do you want?" Daniel asked, knowing well what he would be asked.
"I'd like to extend to you an offer to work in Area 51," the man said simply. "If you say yes, I can assure you both ample pay as well as other . . . benefits."
"And if I say no?" asked Daniel, shifting his grip ever so slightly on the staff.
"I can assure you will not like the results," the man said simply. The deadness in his voice and eyes scared Daniel.
Without further conversation, Daniel moved. He threw himself toward the man's feet, twisting so that he landed on his back on the ground, swiping up and out with the staff. The wood impacted the man's arm and the gun discharged before it went flying. A snap assured Daniel that the man's arm was broken.
Shouting, the man jumped toward Daniel as he rolled to his feet, unable to do anything other than brace himself. He was crouched when the man impacted his left side, and he felt his left shoulder dislocate.
Gasping, Daniel rolled backwards and over on his right shoulder, using his feet to neatly toss the man over his head to the ground. Daniel pushed himself from where he ended up on his knees to his feet, grabbing his staff and racing for the gun. Unable to use his left arm, hanging limply by his side, the archaeologist yelled, "Mac!" and threw the staff as hard as he could over the top edge of the dig.
He was tackled as he dove for the gun. Struggling with the attacker, Daniel felt his head slam into the ground and blackness threatened at the edges of his vision. Sweeping with his legs, Daniel reached out frantically with his right hand, and felt cool metal under his fingers. Grasping the gun, he gave an almighty shout, pushing the man off him. Rolling to his feet once more, ignoring the pounding in his head and nausea swirling in his gut, Daniel kept his aim steady on the NID operative.
The man, bleeding from the lip and the temple, raised his hands.
Daniel glanced around for someone - anyone - to help, and saw the relief on the faces of the teachers change to horror in the second the man charged him.
Daniel pulled the trigger on reflex, and the report sounded through the air. The NID man fell at his feet.
Daniel backed away slowly, and someone came up on his other side. Louie's voice echoed softly in his ear. "Daniel? Are you all right?"
"Check him," Daniel said hollowly, the gun still aimed at the man on the ground.
Galya was the next one into the dig, and she moved over the man, feeling for a pulse. "He's alive," she said in shock, and Daniel lowered the gun, handing it to Louie.
"Eject the clip," he said, feeling wrung out. Daniel turned to face the stone wall they had been excavating.
"He's unconscious," Galya said, continuing to examine him. "I think he was wearing Kevlar."
"He needs a doctor," said Ziv.
"He's going to need a lawyer," said Mac grimly. He was holding onto the staff like grim death. Daniel had intended to have Mac help him double-team the agent, but it had ended up being all for the best that there was only one weapon in the pit, and Daniel had gotten his hands on it first. In their close quarters, it was simply best that there was no weapon the agent could have used against him.
Daniel was still staring at the wall. He could feel his own gun pressing at his back, now that the adrenaline was leaving his system and the pain was making itself fully known. That was funny - he'd completely forgotten he had a gun the moment he saw the danger to Tobe.
"Daniel? Are you all right?" came Michelle's voice.
"In a minute," he said tightly. Before he could think about it any longer, Daniel slammed his left shoulder against the wall, popping his joint back into the socket.
A strangled gasp escaped him and he slumped to his knees.
"Daniel? Daniel!"
There were people around him, voices, calling - Daniel lifted his forehead from where he had been resting it against the wall.
Holding his left arm carefully to his chest, he stood shakily. "I'm okay," he said.
"You're whiter than a ghost," Tobe informed him. "What happened?"
"Shoulder," Daniel winced. "Was dislocated."
"Was?" Mac was incredulous.
Daniel had seen Jack do something similar on one occasion, several years ago. He'd seen how much it had hurt, and had hoped that he would never have to do anything like it.
"Was. How's he?" Daniel gestured to the unconscious operative, turning the attention from himself.
"He must have ducked at the last second," Galya responded. "As far as I can tell, the bullet passed through his shoulder, taking a bit of the scapula with it. He needs to get to the hospital in Jerusalem. He's loosing a lot of blood."
Daniel nodded. "All right then. Let's get him back to the pavilion, patch him up. And he has a friend, tied up behind the truck." Daniel pointed toward the dark pickup parked unobtrusively on the edge of the dig. "He should be awake soon."
"Well, then," said Louie. "Why don't we get you somewhere you can lay down for a minute? Looks like you banged your head up good too."
"Concussion," Daniel murmured. "Had one before." The memorable Antarctica incident, where he had been thrown out of the wormhole onto the ramp so hard that he'd almost been knocked into next week. And more since then - more than he cared to think about.
Louie helped him out of the pit while Mac took charge of the wounded agent and Tobe organized the students to help him find a place for the other NID operative, where he could be tied and conveniently kept out of the way until the authorities arrived.
Daniel stayed with the unconscious man, insisting that he be tied despite the fact that he was wounded and probably wouldn't be able to move. Galya was leery of the idea, but Mac backed him up, and so the operative was tied.
Tobe came into the tent as they were finishing up. "The other guy's awake," he told Mac. "What should we do?"
"He's conscious?" Daniel asked, a little fuzzy himself. Galya had made him a makeshift sling, in which his left arm was resting.
Tobe nodded.
"Who has the gun?" asked Daniel. Louis pulled it out of his pocket, holding it carefully by the handle as if he wasn't quite sure what to do with it. "Bag it," he said. "Fingerprint evidence, no matter that we all touched it. There still might be something there."
Tobe nodded again, lifting the gun from Louie using two fingertips. Daniel reached for his own weapon, pulling it out and checking the clip.
"You're not going to shoot him, are you?" asked Louie, raising an eyebrow.
Daniel snorted. "I wish. No, I'm just going to see how far he'll let me intimidate him." He lifted his arm carefully out of the sling.
"What are you doing?" asked Galya, voice stern as she looked over from the other side of her bleeding patient and saw what he was doing.
"How intimidating is a man with his arm in a sling?" Daniel asked, keeping his voice light. God, he hated what he was about to do.
"About as intimidating as a man who looks like he's going to pass out at the slightest provocation," the Latin teacher returned snappishly.
Daniel grinned. "I'll be a good boy and put it back on right away," he promised, trying and failing to sound innocent.
Galya chuckled at the effort and said, "Mac, go with him. Ah!" She raised her voice in an almost Jack-like mannerism that got Daniel's mouth snapping shut in reflex response. "If you faint in there, ten to one that heathen will just let you lie until we come looking. Mac?"
"I'll take care of him," the Scotsman replied.
Daniel just shook his head slowly, and left the tent. In contrast to the strength of his tone, his every movement was careful and slow. "You going to be all right, Daniel?" asked Mac, his voice low and concerned.
Daniel bit his tongue, curbing the snappish retort waiting on his lips. "Not in the next five minutes. But yes, I will be."
The two men entered the tent silently, and the man looked up at them.
"Tell the professor to go away," the man commanded in Goa'uld.
Daniel laughed bitterly. "Showing off the advances of the NID's linguistics department?" he asked. The archeologist glanced at the prisoner and said, "I doubt he'd leave if I asked him."
The man snorted. "Then I will tell you nothing," he responded in English.
"And yet you would talk to me in private?" Daniel mused. "Most probably to extend to me the same offer your partner did."
"The offer still stands, Dr. Jackson," the man retorted. Daniel felt Mac stiffen beside him.
"And if I said no?"
"That is not an option. One way or another, you will work for us."
Daniel stared thoughtfully at the man, and then pulled the gun from his back pocket, turning it contemplatively in his long-fingered hands.
"I'm wondering," he murmured, "which knee you'll lose first. The right, or the left." Daniel pointed the barrel of the gun at each knee in turn. His face was an impassive, emotionless mask, his voice light and dangerous.
"You are a scholar, Dr. Jackson," the man said confidently. "You are a pacifist. You do not harm, you protect."
"And using that logic, the best way for me to protect those on this dig would be to eliminate you," Daniel mused, his voice still contemplative, light. Yet there was an unmistakable element of danger in his stance.
"I am not afraid to die," the man said proudly.
"Who ever said you would die?" Daniel asked, pretending at surprise. "There are nine bullets left in this gun. One for each knee, hand, foot - and then three extra. Shoulders, maybe? Or elbows . . . perhaps one of your vertebrae, severing the spinal cord. By the time you reached the hospital in Jerusalem, there'd be barely anything left of you the doctors wouldn't have to amputate. Infection sets in so quickly, especially when there's only limited first aid available. It can be quite . . . debilitating."
The man's face had paled considerably as Daniel spoke. He had obviously not been expecting the soft-spoken, pacifistic scholar to know how to play this game, and was not prepared for the cold face of death that met him.
Daniel smiled gently at the man, whose eyes widened further. "Think on that," Daniel said softly, standing and leaving the tent. Mac followed him soundlessly.
Daniel moved quickly, long legs striding away from the tent toward the palm grove. His stomach lurched, and Daniel dropped to his knees behind a tree. Leaning over, he heaved, vomiting.
His head was pounding, tears streaming down his face as his stomach clenched. He spat bile on to the ground, finally finished after minutes of dry heaving. He moved away from the mess, curling into a ball and rocking slowly as he sobbed.
He felt a hand on his back and pulled away, still crying. The hand returned, soothing, rubbing in comforting circles as he wept, gasping and trying to stay silent. "Shhh, shhhh," he heard.
Looking up, Daniel wiped ineffectually at his face. "Mac?" he asked, voice muffled as he spoke into his knees.
"Yes," came the Scotsman's quiet voice.
Daniel sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, barely able to hear over the pounding in his skull.
"Let's get you to bed," Mac suggested, and Daniel nodded tiredly. "Everything else can wait until morning."
Daniel stood shakily, and Mac helped him to his tent, bringing him some water as he got settled. "You might have a concussion," Mac said, quietly concerned. "I'll have one of the students check in on you every hour."
Daniel grunted, lying back carefully.
Mac zipped the tent flap shut as he left, leaving a small lantern lit in the tent. Despite the light, darkness enveloped Daniel the moment he closed his eyes.
- - - - - - - - - -- ---
Alright, here's an extra-long chapter for you. I felt guilty about disappearing without warning, and so am posting this now.
The situation is looking grim. Between ffnet's new policy on "acceptable format" which posed a slight problem this morning, and my impending familial kidnapping, the next chapter may be several days. I can guarantee inside a week, however, despite my enforced family bonding. (shudders). This may be a position not even chocolate can improve. Fudge, perhaps . . . and I happen to have some handy . . . (grins) Ah, obstacles make life fun! Enjoy!