"Daniel! Wait up!"
The archaeologist swung around in surprise, to see Jack trotting up behind him.
He had passed the night peacefully in an on-base VIP room. The next morning's briefing had been anything but, and he had handed in his written report of the kidnapping. Being an early riser had its benefits; he hadn't had to go through the entire story again. But they had ultimately stonewalled on what to do, how to find out if the Tok'Ra were once again jerking them around and playing two sides of the fence. They didn't even have enough information to go after the NID in Jordan, as it was almost certain that the base had been shut down and relocated on Daniel's escape and subsequent reappearance in Colorado Springs.
Hammond had finally dismissed them, and Daniel was hungry. Even so, he was more eager to check on his department of archaeologists. Curiosity had ever been his abiding fault, he gave a mental shrug. Especially intriguing was the much-bemoaned panel which had become the bane of the SGC, civilian and military alike. Though Hammond agreed that they were almost more trouble than they were worth, he wanted Daniel's opinion on their expertise. He wasn't about to fire them without adequate replacement. In his own words, the General thought it was about time that Dr. Jackson had some competent assistance.
Still bemused by the entire episode, Daniel shook his head as Jack came to a halt at his side. "Whatcha doing?"
"Standing in a hallway, Jack," Daniel grinned.
"You know what I mean," the other groused, sighing in a very put-upon manner.
So easy to fall back into the banter, into the way things used to be. Daniel was faintly surprised by that. "Actually, I was just going to find out who Hammond had hired to take my place," he explained.
Jack looked up, catching his eye. The seriousness of his expression pulled Daniel up short. "Jack?"
"Daniel, you know that no one could ever take your place," Jack told him somberly.
Taken aback, Daniel could only stare warily at the other man. "No one is irreplaceable, Jack," he responded after a pregnant pause.
"Not true."
Faced with such firm denial, Daniel didn't really know what to say. They continued down the hall in a slightly uncomfortable silence. "Hungry?" he finally offered.
A quick nod and grin dispelled the awkwardness as if it had never been. The two made their way to the commissary, intercepted on the way in by Teal'c. Once inside, Daniel spotted Sam sitting, nursing a mug of coffee, and they descended upon her table in a horde.
"Daniel!"
"And what are we, Carter? Chopped meat?" Jack inquired with exaggerated politeness, indicating himself and Teal'c.
"I'm sorry, Sir. Did you say something?"
Daniel hid a snicker, and Jack shook his head at the mischievous amusement shining in two pairs of blue eyes. "Underappreciated, Teal'c – that's what we are."
"On the contrary," Teal'c demurred. "I believe it is only to yourself that Major Carter and Daniel Jackson are not referring."
Sam sputtered into her coffee cup, and Daniel made a noise that might have been a cough. Or not.
Jack's brows shot up. So much for brother warriors who would stand unflinchingly together in the face of all enemies. "Laugh it up, big guy," he muttered. "You have a meeting with a beating, coming right up."
"Undomesticated equines could not remove me," Teal'c returned smugly, hearing the subvocal jibe.
Jack grimaced into his plate of mystery meat; now he would be the one who would be limping to Janet and begging for painkillers. Jack had nothing but faith in his own skills as a soldier; the problem was, he had much more faith in Teal'c's. "Daniel, referee?" he pleaded. "If I need someone to hold me back . . ." he implied, silently urging the archaeologist to agree.
Daniel raised a brow, conveying his disbelief that Jack would need to be restrained; it was clear he thought it would be the other way around. "Sure," he said easily. "Can the two of you hold off on your demonstration until after 0230?"
Eager for any excuse to delay the inevitable, Jack answered casually, "No problem."
"What's happening at 2:30?" Sam asked, emerging from her coffee cup to wipe the liquid off her lip.
"Janet wants to check me over again. Make sure there's no lasting side effects, she said."
"Oh," Sam nodded.
"Hey, Carter. You missed some," Jack jumped in, unwilling to let the ugliness of the past few weeks intrude on their peace.
"I can't imagine how that got there," Carter said calmly, demurely wiping several drops of coffee off her nose.
"Indeed."
Jack snorted.
After an hour of not-so-quiet conversation, Daniel had to leave for the infirmary. He couldn't shake Jack, however, who insisted on accompanying him in order to make sure that Teal'c couldn't bribe or intimidate the referee. Daniel was grateful for his presence, and for the easy fabrication that slipped from his lips.
The checkup was just that – and it went quickly.
"Well, we have the results of your tests back," Janet smiled at him, looking up from his chart. "Everything looks to be back to normal."
Daniel nodded, reaching for his clothes. "Good."
"I'm releasing you fully cleared for active duty," Janet told him as he dressed. "You'll come to me if you feel any dizziness, nausea, or any of the symptoms you experienced under the influence of the NID's drug?"
Daniel nodded, his intentions quite the reverse.
"Daniel?"
He looked over, to see concerned brown eyes fixed on him. "You promise me that you'll come straight here, if you experience a relapse in symptoms?"
Daniel smiled weakly, and nodded. "I promise." Caught, and held now by his own word. But Janet was a friend, as well as his doctor, and she cared. He couldn't throw that away, despite his own misgivings.
"There is one more thing," Janet added softly. Daniel peered quizzically at her. She smiled, but it was a strained expression. "Wait here a moment."
Fully dressed, Daniel finished tying his boots and was pulling on his jacket when Janet returned. His eyes locked on the object in her hands, and his motions stilled.
"You left this here," Janet told him quietly.
Resting on her outstretched palms was Senichi's katana. Sheathed, the live steel was no less deadly, simply more innocuous.
Janet was waiting.
Daniel finished pulling on his jacket, telling himself that he needed to take the weapon from her, that Janet shouldn't have had to care for this burden of his for so long. But he couldn't make himself touch it. Not yet. He needed a moment, just one minute –
"Daniel? Are you alright?"
Concern, now, and worry that he didn't want to face. Forcing a smile to his lips, Daniel threw aside his fear and picked the weapon carefully up by the hilt. He couldn't meet her eyes. "I'm fine," he replied absently, studying the weapon.
His focus on the steel, he didn't see the wariness in Janet's eyes at his statement.
Gripping the sheath in one hand, and the hilt in the other, Daniel pulled, exposing two inches of blade. "It's clean," he observed with surprise.
Janet winced. "Not properly," she admitted.
Daniel looked to her, brows raised. "You cleaned it?"
The doctor shook her head. "I didn't know how to do it properly. I just wiped it off, first with damp towels, then with dry, and finally with a little oil to keep it from rusting. I tried to clean out the sheath, too, but I don't think it's been done properly."
"Thank you," Daniel said softly.
Janet gave a short, nervous laugh. "It'll be rusted through," she proclaimed.
"You tried."
Janet smiled at that, seeing her own strain echoed back in pained blue eyes. "You're welcome," she said at last.
Jack's eyes widened when Daniel exited the infirmary, still thoughtfully considering the weapon in his hands. He fell into step beside the archaeologist, who didn't register his presence.
"Where did that come from?"
Daniel started at the words, head jerking toward Jack. The colonel eyed the white-knuckled grip the archaeologist had on the katana's hilt, and lowered his voice. "Danny?" The expression that greeted him was somewhere between pain and laughter, an awful caricature of a smile that he hoped never to see again.
"It's from the mission to P5Y-362."
Jack didn't need to ask which mission that was – at times it seemed as if the designation for that thrice-cursed planet was burned into his brain. "Ah," he said, trying to think of something more to give the other man.
"Janet kept it."
Jack couldn't quite place the expression in the archaeologist's voice. "Well, it is a genuine samurai sword," he offered.
Daniel's face hardened. "I would have tossed it into the event horizon." Strangled, bitter words. He meant every one of them.
"Daniel?" Jack was taken aback by the venom in his voice.
Daniel shook his head, a strange little smile quirking his lips. "Never mind," he murmured. They were headed toward his office; with any luck, he'd be able to put the thing down out of sight. He could forget about it until he was more ready to face the memories that welled up like a vicious spring each time his skin touched the corded hilt that fit so easily into his palm.
He had loved the blade-work, before. The history had spoken to him, and the natural art in its use had called to him; he had been unable to deny the pull. But that had been before deadly steel had proven its nature inherent. The beauty was lost to him now, and he abhorred that violence in himself. It was just a piece of steel, but it embodied a convoluted pain, dark and deep. The pain of innocence lost and betrayal of self, and the pain of the nightmare that had been his life in that one revealing moment of murder, all weighed down by the life he had taken. He felt his soul as black as the sheath he clasped so desperately.
"You know," he managed, searching desperately for a way out of his thoughts. "Sensei told me that one should never draw live steel unless you were prepared to kill with it."
The colonel started at the words. "Daniel?"
The archaeologist shrugged. "I wasn't ready," he whispered.
Jack flinched. "I know," he said quietly. And he wanted to know how – why – Daniel had been so familiar with the weight and heft of a steel-bladed katana before he set foot on that reed-woven mat, to fight for all their lives.
"I had killed before. I didn't want the blade," Daniel murmured, distressed.
Jack, not knowing the situation but knowing how to teach, responded, "Anything else wouldn't be respect, Daniel."
"Wh – what?"
Blue eyes struggling past tears met his, and Jack hurt for him. "Once you've been in battle," he said quietly, "you're changed. And it shows. Not so anyone who wouldn't understand would see it, but . . . . It would be an insult to you, to work only with practice weapons if you have the skill for more. Your instructor knew that."
Daniel shook his head. "I don't."
Jack reflected quietly that with Daniel, nothing was halfway. The man was difficult, in every way. Stubborn, hellacious, dedicated and damn-determined, loyal to a fault and the best man Jack knew. But it meant that now, trying to rebuild on both sides, there was a step back for every two forward.
He wouldn't have it any other way.
But it was times like this that made it hardest on his friend.
"Forgiving and forgetting," Daniel mused gravely, "are two vastly different things. And one is much easier than the other."
Jack winced, decided not to ask; he already knew.
They were at the door to Daniel's office; he paused in the entrance, as he had upon his first return from Israel. Still surprised, Jack could see, that they hadn't cleared it out and moved someone else in. This space had been uniquely Daniel since the beginning of the Stargate program; with the archaeologists' resignation, none of them had been willing to admit that he wouldn't return, as he had so many times. Even if they had moved past that point into acceptance, there would have been no way Jack would allow anyone to erase the last vestiges of comfort he might find in the piece of his friend that remained, embodied, in this space.
Daniel shook his head, and sneezed. Jack grinned. "Could've probably done with a dusting," he freely admitted. "But no way in hell was anyone but SG-1 getting in here while you were gone."
Amazement was blinked back, but blue eyes still stared, nonplussed. Jack smiled gently, and Daniel pulled his gaze away.
The archaeologist moved over to the table. For a moment he looked as if he would like nothing more than to drop the sword on the ground and kick it out of sight. But that wasn't his way; Daniel had always grabbed his fears head on. He set the sword on the table, laying it almost reverently over the books strewn across the surface.
Then he seemed to shut it from his mind, if only for a moment. Daniel turned slowly, taking in the entire office, literally seeing for himself that nothing had changed, and nothing had been moved.
But the sword was coloring everything. It worried Jack. He knew that Daniel needed to overcome his distaste for the weapon – but he was damned if he knew how.
Familiarity, he decided. And familiarity came through use.
"Daniel? It's almost 0330," he called.
Absorbed in a text he had plucked from the shelf, Daniel only nodded abstractedly. "Hmmm."
"You're coming with me to referee, remember?" Jack patiently prodded Daniel's memory.
The archaeologist nodded again, making a noncommittal noise, and Jack bit down on a grin. Gripping the other man's elbow gently, Jack led him from the room. Daniel was so distracted that he didn't notice Jack grab the katana from its place on the table, concealing it by his other side as they walked down the hallway.
He managed to maneuver both archaeologist and sword, each oblivious to the presence of the other, through the halls of the SGC and even through a short elevator ride. They reached the gym without incident, surprisingly.
It was there that the problems started.
Daniel pulled his nose from the book as Jack plunked him down on a bench on the side. It was then that he saw the sword in the colonel's other hand. He grew still. "Jack?"
Jack saw the questioning eyes, the pain, and hid a wince. "Daniel."
"Jack."
"Daniel?"
"Jack."
He ignored the warning. "Daniel." He groped for words for a moment. "Just think about it, okay?"
Daniel shook his head, immediately. There were too many people here; he couldn't expose himself to so many curious eyes. He would never be ready for that.
"They'll clear out in a bit." Jack read him easily.
Daniel watched as Jack moved out onto the mat. Teal'c had been there before they entered, having exercised and warmed up already. A few more men came over as Daniel watched Jack stretch out, joking and placing bets. Daniel smiled, and joined in the banter, but the sword was an ever-present fire in his thoughts.
He didn't really see the fight before him, only vaguely registering the slaps of flesh against the mat, signs of sweat and exertion. The cheers of the men around him brought his attention to the mock battle – Teal'c had pinned Jack. But only for a moment, before Jack's leg swept out from under, and he torqued his body, slipping through the Jaffa's grasp. Daniel's thoughts slid away again.
He was drawn back twice more; Jack had grabbed Teal'c in a headlock, but the Jaffa's enhanced strength meant he couldn't hold it for long. Both men were sweating heavily now, and showed signs of fatigue; but neither would stop.
It ended when Teal'c, in a surprisingly sneaky move, cut Jack's legs out from under him and pushed him to the mat in a hold that no amount of squirming could break. Jack finally slapped the mat in frustration, and the Jaffa released him, hauling the colonel to his feet with an outstretched hand.
Money changed possession around Daniel. Jack jerked his chin at the exchange. "Dannyboy – what were the odds?" He was carefully stretching the muscles in his arms, working on cooling down.
Daniel smirked. "Five to two. Against."
Jack grumbled something uncomplimentary, disgruntled. Teal'c also moved closer to the archaeologist. The Jaffa's dark eyes were focused on something next to his friend, however.
"Daniel Jackson. You carry a blade?"
Daniel jumped, his face going a shade whiter, but his expression didn't change. "No, Teal'c. Jack thought I should get used to having it around again."
Jack winced. Daniel had a mind like a steel trap – and he saw them more clearly than they could see themselves. Having his own motivations laid bare by the target of those impulses did not bode well for his future. Apparently, Daniel was refusing to let him get away with anything that he had before the disastrous mission that had torn them apart.
"Do you fear it?" Teal'c was unaccustomedly gentle, questioning the younger man no more harshly than he would Ry'ac.
"I don't fear the blade," Danielmurmured, painfully honest. "I fear myself."
True to form, however, the archaeologist did not back down. Fingers curled easily over the hilt, and with a strange metallic sound unlike anything Jack had ever heard, he bared the blade.
Practiced eyes inspected the steel, clouded with professional care for the weapon, and something darker.
"Danny?"
The archaeologist hesitated, then shook his head. Metal made a hissing noise as it was resheathed. "No. Not yet."
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To those who celebrate it, Merry Christmas! To all my readers, I hope this holiday season brings you joy!