Someone's hand was on his shoulder, shaking him. Daniel opened his eyes to find Tobe staring worriedly down at him.
"Whazzat?" Daniel managed. He'd been woken every hour for the past eight with a ruthless regularity that had done absolutely nothing for his rest and recuperation.
"Sorry," Tobe said. "We were gonna let you sleep but - there're people here. They choppered in about an hour ago, but Galya refused to wake you up until she had to. I think she was shocked you slept through it."
"People?" Daniel asked, his mind muzzy as he fixed on the word.
"An older dude, a big black guy, and a blond chick," Tobe informed him.
Daniel sat up and covered his face with his hand. "No," he muttered. He could have dealt with it - but now he would have to deal with them, face to face.
"Yes," Tobe countered. He had a mug of coffee in one hand, and said, "Galya said you could have it if you were good, and wore your sling."
Daniel shoved ineffectually at the cumbersome sleeping bag, focused on the mug in Tobe's hand. "Gimme."
"Nope," the grad student said. "Sling first."
"You're enjoying this," Daniel accused. Tobe just grinned. Daniel grumpily maneuvered his arm into the sling, shoved his feet into his shoes and made his way out of the tent. He felt filthy, and knew that he looked it. There was still blood in his hair, and he would bet that his entire left side was one massive bruise.
"Mac's in the pavilion, stalling them and ripping them each a new one for choppering in without warning. The dust played hell with some of the trickier bits of the excavation," he finished, lips twisting angrily.
Daniel sighed wearily. Better to get this over with, then.
He walked next to Tobe, trying to ignore the concerned looks the younger man was giving him on the way to the pavilion. He could hear Mac before he could see him, shouting loudly.
"What, exactly, made you think that you could fly a chopper into a sensitive dig site? Not only does it show a complete lack of concern for the delicate work of others, you didn't even have the courtesy to try to hail us and warn us of your approach. What makes you think that your presence is required here? What -"
"Mac," said Daniel, making his way into the pavilion where all the students were crouched over their breakfasts, shooting death glares to the members of SG-1, who were being thoroughly chewed out by Professor Macauly in all his glory.
"Daniel," said Mac, never taking his eyes off the people in front of him. "These people have been asking for a Dr. Daniel Jackson. Know him?"
"Professor Macauly," Daniel said. "May I introduce Murray, Major Samantha Carter, and Colonel Jack O'Neill, US Air Force. My - former colleagues." Sam's face paled at the distinction, and Teal'c took on a wooden look. Pain flashed through Jack's eyes, before it was quickly concealed.
"Under the circumstances," Mac began. Daniel took a sip of his coffee, and sputtered indignantly. He spat it out on the ground, turned toward the rest of the pavilion, which was looking on with interest, and shouted, "Galya!"
A single head rose from the teacher's table located conveniently across the length of the tent, and out of immediate reach. "Yes, Daniel?" For someone who hated the morning, her voice was disgusting cheerful.
"Decaf?" The word left his lips like a curse, and his temper was not improved by the grin he could see clear across the tent.
"Concussion," she sang back.
Daniel snarled ineffectually, stomping rather than walking to the pots in the chow line. "They're all decaf," mourned a nearby student.
"Really," Daniel stated, his eyes locked on the teacher's table. "War, Galya, war," he hissed. The student winced.
He could hear Mac sniggering behind him, and shot a glare at the Professor that had him laughing outright.
Daniel settled for a cup of orange juice and some toast, and made his way to the teacher's table. Noting the people following him, he grasped the edge of a table and dragged it one-handed across the dirt to extend the surface space available.
"Allow me, Daniel Jackson," said Teal'c, picking up the table and positioning it next to the one where the Professors were eating. At the intrusion of the military on their turf, the teachers pulled back behind the secure fortifications of their trays and cutlery. In their turn, the members of SG-1 stayed far back from the scholars, Jack occupying a position at the end of the table, directly opposed by Mac.
Daniel was left in the middle, once again to act as mediator. He gave a silent sigh, and opened his mouth.
"Concussion, Danny?" asked Jack, cutting him off.
"Don't call me that," said Daniel, voice devoid of emotion, hands still. Mac looked at him worriedly. "NID," Daniel continued. "Two of their men came to the dig last night. We have one of them tied up in a tent just outside the palm grove. The other -" Daniel's face creased in confusion. "Mac, what happened to the other one?"
"Michelle, Ziv and Louie took him to the hospital in Jerusalem last night," Mac said carefully.
"Oh, right."
Jack and Sam exchanged glances. "They took him into the city?"
"He was bleeding out," Daniel snapped. "If he went anywhere, it happened after he was checked into the hospital and transfused."
"He couldn't stay here?" Sam asked uncertainly.
"He had lost a good amount of blood," Galya said abruptly. "We're prepared for almost anything out here. But we just don't have the expertise to deal with gunshot wounds."
"Gunshot wounds?" Teal'c asked, his voice low with displeasure.
"Dan - Daniel, what happened? From the top," Jack ordered.
Daniel sat back in his chair. "Saturday night, I was heading to the tent to go to sleep. I thought I saw someone moving by the dig, so I got Tobe and Kate, told them to tell Mac. Tobe decided to come with." He saw Tobe give him a grateful look. "There were two men. I approached the first one from behind and knocked him out. I was trying for the second when the stadium lights came on. He had Tobe in his sights, and so I traded places with him. I went for the gun once Tobe was out of the way, and it went flying. We beat up on each other for a bit. He dislocated my shoulder and gave me a concussion. I got hold of the gun and shot him."
"That's it?"
"Yes. Oh, and they want me to come and work for them. 'No' is apparently not in their vocabulary."
"What?" Came at least four shocked voices at once. Jack and Mac looked repulsed at finding themselves in agreement, but quickly got over it.
The buzz of voices rose, and Daniel slammed a hand against the tabletop. Surprised, the others slowly quieted. Daniel rubbed his head, and looked up into the concerned faces of Galya and Sam. "I need some air," he said quietly. He pushed his chair back, and left the pavilion.
He made his way across the dig, his ultimate goal the oasis and a bath. He heard feet pounding behind him. "Daniel!"
Jack. Why was Jack coming after him?
"What, Jack?" Daniel asked, not slowing down on his way down the slope.
"Slow down for a minute, willya?"
Daniel stopped abruptly and turned toward him. "Jack, I spent all yesterday excavating the Essene site. Then, I got into a fight with NID agents, and was summarily tucked into bed and woken up every hour, on the hour, since. I'm tired, filthy and caffeine-deprived, I'm going to take a bath, and God better help you if you get in my way, because I sure won't. Having to listen to you and Mac butt horns before I'm even fully awake this morning has done nothing for my temper," he snarled.
Daniel took a deep breath, rubbing his pounding head. "I'm sorry," he said quietly a moment later. "It's been - a long, never-ending day."
"It's all right," said Jack soothingly. "Trust me, I understand."
Daniel found himself looking into Jack's eyes and seeing something that he'd been looking for, and unable to find, for a year now. Caring. Friendship. Concern.
He turned away, unwilling to let himself believe he wasn't imagining it. "Why are you here, Jack?" he asked tiredly, not in the mood to play games.
"Honestly?" asked Jack. "Hammond got word that the NID might try to make a move on you. Officially, we're here to act as a protective force. Unofficially - I want to apologize."
Daniel heard the last word and froze.
"Daniel?"
"Don't," he said tightly. He felt stretched thin, as if his whole world was a thin sheet of glass playing at being steel. "Whatever you have to say, I just - I can't hear it right now. Give me some time to get - all this - worked out. Please."
Jack nodded. "All right," he said softly. He followed Daniel to the tent, where the archaeologist bundled clothes and soap in his towel, twisting it into a makeshift sack that he slung over his good shoulder, before proceeding to the oasis.
When they reached the water, Daniel toes off his shoes and pulled his socks off. He unwound the sling, and then found that taking off his shirt was going to present a difficulty.
"Jack?" he asked uncertainly.
"Yea, Danny?"
The nickname slipped out, and Jack saw Daniel's face harden. "I'm going to have a little trouble with my shirt," he said stiffly.
"Oh. Sure. He dislocated your left shoulder?"
"Yea," Daniel grunted as Jack guided the shirt over his head, and down his stiff arm. The entirety of his shoulder and a good deal of his chest was stained with blue-black bruises, standing out obscenely on his skin. Jack sucked in a breath. "The back, too, huh?" asked Daniel wryly.
"God, it looks horrible," Jack said with a morbid interest. "Who un-dislocated it?"
"Me."
"You?"
"And a convenient wall in the excavation," Daniel admitted, unbuttoning his jeans and pushing both pants and boxers down in a smooth motion, moving into the water. He submerged briefly and stood, gasping happily. "Shampoo?" he asked.
With Jack tossing him the bottles he needed and intercepting them when he was done, Daniel managed to get clean without much trouble. After drying off and changing into clean underwear and pants, Jack helped him into a fresh button down shirt.
"What's this?" Jack asked, looking at a healing, vividly red scar that was almost hidden amid the bruising on his left arm.
"Our last mission," Daniel said without heat, pulling the sleeve up and settling the shirt on his shoulder. Daniel hissed as he carefully renegotiated his arm into the sling, and took a breath, squaring his shoulders.
Time to return to the pavilion, and deal with the inevitable questions there. First - he owed Mac and the others an explanation.
Once he reached the meal tent, he found the students gone, prospectively back to the dig. Jack took his cue from Sam and Teal'c, who were standing by the chopper, doing an inventory.
Daniel sat at the table and took a deep breath.
"Dr. Daniel Jackson," said Mac. Daniel couldn't read his expression.
"Yes," he said.
"Hmm. Galya? What do you think?"
Daniel glanced at the Latin professor. "A rose by any other name, Mac."
The Scotsman grinned. "Well, I do have to say that now a few of the more - intriguing aspects of your personality have cleared up nicely."
"Oh really?" asked Daniel, raising a brow.
"Your familiarity with digs across the globe," said Mac. "Being able to translate faster than Galya. Correctly identifying the site you discovered as Essene, on first try. Your - predilection for thinking outside the box." Mac ticked off each quality on a finger.
Daniel winced. "Yes, I know about that disaster in LA," Mac admitted freely. "I did read your paper though, and it was brilliant. You had very credible points, backed up with solid evidence. It just got lost in the blubbering of some excitable, over-exuberant bigots who really should have known better.
"But - I would like to know why you felt it necessary to change your name. And why you chose Nick Ballard, of all people," Mac added.
Daniel shrugged before he remembered that moving his shoulder might not be such a good idea. "I was jumped by an NID operative in Jerusalem," he admitted. "I didn't want to let anyone have an easy time finding me, so I played musical buses with my tickets, and then ended up walking out here. Too dangerous to rent a car, though it would have been faster. I thought it might be a good idea to change my name, but it had to be to something familiar, with a connection."
"Why Nick Ballard, then?" asked Galya.
Daniel stiffened. "He's - my maternal grandfather," he answered.
"Ah." Mac shrugged. "I didn't know."
Daniel replied, "It's - not common knowledge. Part of the reason why it was a good choice, at the time. Of course, it wouldn't have fooled anyone from the NID. But then, it didn't have to. Just had to keep me under the radar. And doubtless people would have talked if I'd let my somewhat infamous reputation precede me."
"No doubt about that," mused Galya. "I wonder how they found you? It's been months - why now?"
"Doubtless he'll talk once Jack and Teal'c get through with him," Daniel responded. "In all probability, they were systematically searching dig sites and got lucky." Daniel cocked his head to the side. "After all, where else would I go?"
Galya grinned. "Where else indeed."
"Desert bug," said Mac affectionately.
"Speaking of which." The smile faded from Daniel's face. "I'll understand if, for the safety of the students, you want me to leave."
Mac snorted. "Seems to me like you are the safety of the students."
"Those men came after me," Daniel couldn't help pointing out.
"And you kept them from hurting Tobe. No, Dr. Jackson," said Mac with a wicked grin, "you're not running away from us. Now that I've got you in my clutches, I think we'll need to have a serious debate. Since I know that you're on the same page, if not one chapter ahead. "
Daniel blushed, and nodded. "If you're sure . . . ."
"Of course he's sure," said Galya. "He wouldn't have insisted if he wasn't."
"It may mean that the three people who arrived today stay a bit longer," Daniel added, though he himself didn't pin much hope on it.
"Hmm. That could be interesting." The devious twinkle was back. "They're on my turf now," Mac mused.
"And God save their souls," Galya responded with a laugh. "Did you really work with them?" she asked, curious.
Daniel's face twisted. "Yes," he answered. "For several years."
Eyeing the unhappiness on the young archaeologist's face, Galya said gently, "Did they have anything to do with the reason you left?"
Daniel shuddered. "I - I don't think I can talk about it," he confessed. "I - I keep a journal, and things got so bad toward the end, I was wound so tight, that I couldn't even bring myself to write it down. As if that would make it real. That's never happened to me before. Even after my parents died, through all the foster homes, I could write it down, work it out on paper, decide what I felt about anything. But -" he shrugged. "I couldn't work this out. So many things went wrong, and it happened so slowly, that I didn't notice in time to fix it. I don't think they noticed until I had to leave."
"Why did you have to leave?" Galya asked softly. Daniel's hand was lying limp on the table, and she reached out to cover it with her own.
When he responded, the archaeologist's voice was wooden, his entire bearing stiff. "We were stuck in a tight situation. I had a choice. I could live with their deaths on my head, or I could kill an innocent man in cold blood, just because he was honor-bound to represent his people. I chose."
Daniel shook his head, self-loathing in every line of his body. "It shouldn't have even come to that. But it's over, done with."
"Not for you," said Mac, with surprising gentleness. Daniel started, having forgotten that he was there. "You still don't know how you feel about it, do you?"
Daniel shook his head, staring at the tabletop. "No," he whispered. He'd locked it all away, behind the high, strong wall inside of him. He'd pushed it down deep, just trying to move on. But now - the NID attack was dragging it all to the surface, and Daniel wasn't sure he would be able to weather this emotional storm. "No, I don't."
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
(looks around furtively) Snuck online today to post this, thanks so much for all the responses, they're all that's keeping me going now . . . (shrieks in fear at emminent discovery, cowers under desk) Gotta go! Hope you like!