Daniel walked into the 'gateroom, and pulled up short in surprise. Not only was most of SG-2 waiting for him, but all of SG-1 was present as well. The dialing sequence had already begun, chevrons locking loudly. He took a few steps closer, a puzzled frown on his face. "Guys? What's up?"
"We're here to see you off," Sam smiled, enfolding him in a hug.
It was his first mission back through the 'gate, a routine follow-up on a diplomatic treaty that had fallen into place about a week ago. Daniel had done the preliminary work on the document, and translated the puzzle-box that had given them several key insights into the culture of the people of PX9-817.
Carter stepped back, glancing from him to the 'gate, and back again. He smiled at her, and Jack slapped him on the shoulder. "Knock 'em dead," he suggested.
Teal'c simply inclined his head.
"Thanks, guys," Daniel returned, a shy smile on his face.
Ferretti was good enough to pretend that he didn't see how much this meant to them, and didn't give SG-1 any grief about being there. "Ready to go?" he inquired, glancing at Jack with knowing eyes.
"Get outta here," the colonel admonished him with a grin.
The final chevron locked and the wormhole whooshed into existence. Daniel stared for just a minute, wondering how he had ever given this up. Ferretti paused on the ramp, looking for him. "C'mon, Jackson."
Daniel shook his head, grinning, and strode up the ramp, never breaking stride as he disappeared through the event horizon.
SG-1 had a habit of getting simple in-out missions that morphed into catastrophes on a global scale. SG-2 . . . didn't. The simple arrival and follow-up talks about the treaty were just that, and no more threatening than a trip to the grocery store. Despite that, not once did Feretti let his guard down, nor did Eric and Phil, the other two members of Ferretti's team.
Daniel was a bit surprised by the smoothness of the mission; first time out with a new member notwithstanding, they worked well together.
Post-mission physicals were concluded without a hitch. The debriefing was likewise swift and painless. To Daniel's surprise, Jack was leaning against the wall outside the briefing room. Splitting off from SG-2 with a grin and a word, Daniel raised a brow at the waiting man.
"Hey," the colonel called easily. "How'd it go?"
"In and out," Daniel shrugged. His first time back through the 'gate in months had been the best of what he remembered about the SGC. It had helped.
The slight awkwardness between them eased as they made their way to Daniel's office. Dropping into the chair behind his desk, Daniel stared at the piles of paper that were waiting for him, and booted up his computer. Jack was fiddling once more with the puzzle-box, which he soon discarded in favor of poking through piles of books on the table in the middle of Daniel's office.
Daniel was buried in his post-mission report, and had completely forgotten Jack's presence, when a question caught him by surprise.
"What's this?"
Daniel glanced up. His fingers stilled on the keyboard. The archaeologist matched Jack's innocent look with a skeptical glare. "That," he said tartly, "is a katana. As you very well know." Jack's 'stupid' routine drove him crazy, it really did. The colonel was by no means as empty-headed as he liked people to believe, and in reality was downright sly and manipulative. This was one of those times.
Senichi's katana rested in the colonel's hands. Jack fiddled with the hilt, rubbing his palm along the tightly wound cord. When Daniel saw his fingers curl around the hilt, he stood to forestall what Jack was about to do.
"Don't," he said quietly.
Jack looked at him, puzzled.
"Don't draw live steel," Daniel reminded him. "Unless you're prepared to kill with it."
Jack nodded, and slid two inches of the blade from the scabbard. He paused, examining honed steel. "It looks different."
Daniel nodded, rounding the desk to stand by the colonel's side. "I cleaned it."
Jack looked at him sidelong, a quick glance. "Huh. How long did that take?" It wasn't the real question he wanted to ask, and they knew it.
Much as he never wanted to touch the weapon again, it wasn't proper to leave the blade dirty and uncared-for. Especially for the blood-price it had extracted, and the lives it had won.
"Not as long as you'd think," Daniel answered with forced lightness.
Jack eased the hilt home, and then looked at his friend. "Do -"
"No," Daniel answered, cutting the question off.
Jack looked a little put out. "Fine. But I'll tell Teal'c you said hi," he offered.
Daniel frowned at him. "What?"
"I was going to ask if you wanted to join me and Teal'c in the gym, and referee again," Jack told him. "But hey, you've got other things to do. No big deal."
Daniel raised a brow, but Jack refused to be deterred. "C'mon," he wheedled. "Just for a half hour. It won't take me any longer than that to whip his Jaffa butt all over the SGC."
Daniel smothered a smile. "A half-hour?"
"Fifteen minutes," Jack allowed. "Can't let him know how easily I can beat him. Wouldn't want him to get discouraged. Junior might take it the wrong way."
"Right," Daniel drawled, letting himself be pulled from the office. He noticed that Jack was still holding the katana, and mirth faded from his eyes. "What are you doing with that?"
Jack looked at the weapon he still held, then back at the archaeologist. "What, this? Nothing."
"Really?" Daniel radiated skepticism.
"Really."
"Jack?"
"Daniel?"
Blue eyes narrowed.
Jack held up placating hands, on seeing the anger simmering there. "Did you like it?" he asked differentially.
Shock overwrote Daniel's expression. "What?"
"Learning," Jack clarified. Some of the panic, fear – disgust – faded. "Practicing, going to the dojo."
Daniel thought, absently moving into the empty elevator car, staring at the illuminated buttons. "Yes," he admitted, away from the security cameras in the halls, and curious ears that would turn to their interaction with interest.
"So why don't you do it anymore?"
He flinched, looking away. "I was wrong."
"Wrong?"
At the casual tone, his temper boiled over. "Yes, wrong, Jack!" Daniel snapped, bursting through the open elevator doors and out, away.
The frown on his teammate's face said that he clearly didn't understand. Daniel pushed his glasses up, searching for his explanation. "I told you," he gestured at the weapon as they walked. "Don't draw live steel, unless you're ready to kill. Remember?"
He barely waited for the acknowledging nod. "But what I didn't tell you is that I was practicing with a live blade, for months, before P5Y-362."
Jack's brows rose. He might not know much about how a dojo was run, and even less about the one local to Colorado Springs, but he did know that you didn't practice with live blades. It was practically begging for a trip to the ICU. But if you did . . .
"And then you killed someone," Jack murmured, a step closer to understanding his linguist.
"Senichi. Yes, I killed him," Daniel bit out. No bitterness there, just sorrow.
Jack winced. It all had to come back down to that damn mission, didn't it? The straw that broke the camel's back. "But how were you wrong?" Careful, or it would break more than it would mend.
"I made a mistake," Daniel admitted tiredly. "I let Jiro give me the blade, train me in steel-on-steel."
Jack frowned. "You 'let' him? Isn't it the sensei's decision when a student is ready to progress to the next level?"
They had been outside the gym for minutes now, but Jack wasn't worried about Teal'c. He'd let the big guy in on what he was up to before he'd gone to track down their unusually-recalcitrant linguist.
A linguist who at this moment was looking exhausted, and miserable. "I -"
"He knew you were ready, Daniel." Jack leant against cool cement, lowering his voice.
"I wasn't."
It was not the sort of thing he could ease into. But Daniel had changed a lot since he had joined the SGC. Jack had never had reason before to wonder at Daniel's familiarity with guns. Such knowledge was a constant in his world, and it had taken time for him to realize that for a mild-mannered scholar, that kind of experience wasn't typical. As for the archaeologist's ease with bladed weapons, well, he was only just coming to terms with it.
Even so, this didn't mean that Daniel had ever been prepared to take a life. And Jack could see how in the scholar's mind, guns would always be associated with danger and death. He had fired a weapon so many times, and been fired on in return, that there was no separation of one from the other. But Daniel had practiced swordplay as an art, a way to focus mind and body, and train. It had been a comfort to him, a challenge and a source of release from the violence of his job and life. To have that brutally ripped away, and replaced with fear and blood . . .
Jack shook his head. "You were, Daniel."
"And how do you know that?"
Jack met the challenge, knowing that it would hurt them both. "You've killed, Daniel. It . . . shows."
Blue eyes widened, a soft gasp telling him that the hit had struck home. But it was the truth. It wasn't something the average person would notice, but to those with the eyes to see, it was written clear as day. But that didn't mean Jack had to like it.
"C'mon," he offered all the apology he could, guiding the stricken linguist into the gym, and down to a nearby bench.
The place was deserted but for Teal'c, who approached immediately. "Daniel Jackson?"
"It's fine, Teal'c." His face was pale, and he gripped the edge of the bench with white knuckles, but Jack heard steadiness.
"Daniel?"
A gathered breath. "I understand, Jack." The eyes that met his were clear, full of a saddened comprehension.
And the colonel breathed his own sigh of relief at the sight. Daniel hurt, but it was a cleansing pain. It would take a while to move beyond this, but they had taken the first steps.
Jack moved on to the mat, then, and Teal'c slowly followed. As they stretched and traded barbs, Daniel focused on what had and hadn't been said. He could understand it now, with distance. It would never truly leave him, but just as the scar on his arm, memory of the death he had dealt would fade, with time. He rather thought the lesson would not.
Watching his teammates wrestle – for a bare moment before Teal'c simply outmuscled Jack – Daniel smiled. Jack hooked a foot up and around, sneaking out of the hold and away, to Teal'c's obvious discomfiture.
He glanced at the weapon, innocuously settled on the bench at his side. He picked it up, turning the sheathed blade over consideringly. A motion laid bare steel across his palms, and Daniel pushed aside the revulsion that came with it. Light glinted off metal, and he tried to pull up older memories, overlying the golden temple of Amaterasu with Jiro's dojo.
It took a while, but his nerves calmed, and he was able to hold the weapon without flinching. Putting bad memories to rest was never easy.
"Daniel?"
The archaeologist jumped, a thin line scoring across his palm. Jerking skin from the sharp edge, he hissed.
"Daniel Jackson?" Teal'c, concern in his eyes.
Daniel looked up, to see his two friends standing over him. "It's fine," he said, looking over the blade once more. Tiny smears of red painted the sharp edge, and he smiled.
"What's wrong?" Jack's brown eyes locked on him, worried by the strange expression on his face.
"I guess I'm stuck with it now," Daniel murmured, wiping the blade with the edge of his shirt. At the puzzled look levied on him, he shrugged. "Old sword-lore. When you've had your blood drawn by a blade, it's yours." And the familiar pull of the scar on his shoulder made him realize that he'd been stuck with this blade long before, and simply hadn't thought of it.
Holding the resheathed weapon, he stood. "Who won?"
Accepting the change in subject, Jack grinned. "It's not who wins or loses, it's how you play the game."
Daniel glanced at Teal'c. "You kicked his butt?"
A brow rose in smug acknowledgement. "Indeed."
The sound of Jack's sputtered protests followed them out of the gym.