Chapter 6
Feretti groaned and pushed the last report aside, leaning back and rubbing his eyes. Reading wasn't one of his favourite pastimes, especially when the author was a scientist from another world. Lowering his hands, he glanced around the lab suddenly aware of how big it was when there was no one else in there with him.
It hadn't started that way, when Feretti had turned up to the lab there had been several archaeologists and linguists working on various projects, including the P5-2M7 artefacts and reports that had been sent by the Tok'ra. As if a spotlight had suddenly signalled him out, all work and conversation in the lab had ceased and he had found himself the centre of attention.
Not himself, he had realised almost immediately. They were staring at his companion, watching his every move, sizing him up, as if expecting something. As discretely as he could manage, he had glanced at Jackson out of the corner of his eye and found his companion already moving off towards the back of the labs, disappearing amongst the shelves of books. His back had been straight, his shoulders relaxed, his stride purposeful; he looked for all the world as though he had come there deliberately, so focused on a specific goal the others in the room did not exist for him. Under the intense scrutiny of men and women who had been his peers, Dr. Daniel Jackson had looked every inch the man he had been before his death.
It wasn't until Feretti had followed him to the back of the labs, and the quiet isolated desk space at the end of an aisle surrounded by books that he had realised the truth. Jackson had slumped into one of the seats running trembling hands through his hair. Not sure what to do, Feretti had reached out hesitantly and laid a hand on Jackson's shoulder and watched as the bewildered man he considered a friend jumped like a frightened deer and flinched away as if he had been burned.
Cursing himself for being an idiot for bringing him to the archaeology labs, Feretti then sank into a seat next to him and swivelled around to face him. "This the first time you've come here?" he had asked in what he hoped was an encouraging tone.
Jackson had sucked in a shaky breath and nodded silently, hands clasped to the back of his neck, elbows still resting on the table.
"I'm sorry. I didn't think."
Jackson had raised his head then and looked Feretti in the eye. His eyes looked glassy, intimidated almost to the point of tears and Feretti had again felt a sick churning in his stomach that hinted of guilt. "Everyone..." he paused and sighed again. "It doesn't matter. I'm used to it" he looked away again and began readjusting his glasses.
Feretti had frowned at that. "Used to it? You mean that happens every time you walk into a room?"
"I used to walk the halls when they... SG-1... brought me here. Everyone kept staring. I thought..." he shrugged absently. "It doesn't matter" he finished abruptly and firmly pushed his glasses back onto his nose.
Feretti had remembered the anger that had been on O'Neill's face when SG-1 had first returned with Daniel Jackson in tow, his argument to Hammond about bringing Daniel home to be among friends instead of the aliens Daniel had erroneously felt he belonged to. That anger had seemed strangely out of place to Feretti at the time but now he thought he understood it. Although a gentle, almost shy, man, Daniel Jackson had a powerful personality he was more than capable of forcing onto others when he needed to address issues that mattered to him. Often it had made Jackson annoying, even intimidating and abrasive, but it had been so much a part of who he was no one had ever considered what a Daniel Jackson without those qualities would be like. And looking at him now, Feretti had realised they were indeed qualities and not flaws. They were Jackson's weapons in a military world that demanded strength and aggressiveness at every turn, weapons fought not with metal, chemicals and force of numbers but with ideas, words and force of personality. Without any of these, he wasn't Daniel Jackson. He was broken, vulnerable. Devastated. Feeling the anger boiling in his blood, Feretti had suddenly wanted to know what had happened to his friend; wanted to face down the monster who could strip a man of everything he ever was and leave him for the vultures to pick over.
"Don't worry, kid" was all he had said, patting Jackson's arm gently. "I've got your six"
Feretti rubbed his eyes again, feeling the anger flaring again. He sighed and rose, stretching his legs. They had stayed hidden away in the back of the labs. Feretti had brought the boxes he had needed over to Jackson and gone through it. Jackson had occasionally picked up a folder and flicked through it without really reading it before rising restlessly to wander down the aisle, looking at the titles on the shelves. After a quiet debate on whether it was a good idea, Feretti had decided he wasn't a doctor, he couldn't second-guess this situation, and left Jackson to do whatever felt most comfortable to do. The younger man had quickly disappeared into other areas of the lab. That had been hours ago.
Now the lab was silent, Feretti walked out of his corner and looked around. Jackson was sprawled in a seat under the main light, engrossed in a large book.
"Hey" Feretti pulled up another chair. "What is it?"
Jackson looked up, a little bleary eyed and blinked owlishly at him. The Major grinned at the familiar expression as Jackson lifted the book to reveal the subject matter. "I wasn't sure if I should touch anything," he admitted. "And I wouldn't know where to start anyway" he looked around. "There's a lot of stuff here".
Stuff. Feretti's smile faded as the reality of the archaeologist's condition settled in again. It wasn't a word he had ever expected to hear from Jackson when talking about archaeology.
"Then I noticed this book" Jackson was continuing. He tapped it. "I don't know. It looked interesting so I decided to read it"
"Mesoamerican culture" Feretti noted with a nod. It was odd, he reflected, but somehow he had expected Jackson to be drawn to the Egyptology books. Linguistics and Egyptology had been the reason Jackson joined the Stargate programme in the first place. "Anything worth reading?" he tried.
"Yeah" Jackson turned the book slightly so Feretti could see the pages as well. "There's reference to a great epic associated with... Topiltzin and his father, Mixcoatl, although Mixcoatl seems to be found in Mixtec as well as Aztec sources, and his name means "cloud serpent", or maybe it's a title, there seems to be some debate about that, actually, since he was some kind of Chichimec lord, or a ruler of Culhuacan, and is found as a statue in Cholula, at least according to legend. Anyway, he marries the princess, Chimalman and their son, Topiltzin springs from her chest fully armed, ready to fight his father's wars, and together they create a great Toltec empire, until the four hundred brothers of Mixcoatl kill him, which leads to Topiltzin taking revenge and expands the Toltec empire to include Pueblo, Cholula, Coatzalcoalcos, Acallan, conquering the Maya and receiving the name Kulkulcan, which means "feathered serpent", and dies in Acallan, leaving an heir, Huemac, who is tricked by the evil sorcerer, Tezcatlipoca, sending the empire into decay. Huemac and Tezcatlipoca begin a battle that destroys Tollan and Huemac eventually makes it to Acallan where he throws himself into a bonfire, rising up to the heavens to become Venus, the Morning Star, and becoming known as Quetzalcoatl, the feathered serpent. Although, the archaeology and the myth don't really match all that well, and..." he paused, finally becoming aware of Feretti grinning broadly at him. "What?"
"Nothing" Feretti managed to hold back a laugh, but the grin refused to go away. "So. You like Mayan stories, huh?"
Jackson studied him suspiciously for a moment longer then shrugged and glanced down at the book he had been reading. "Yeah, I guess so, but it's not really Mayan..."
This time Feretti did laugh. Jackson pulled back, looking a little startled and confused, and the Major choked back his humour with a chuckle. "Sorry. I'm not laughing at you" he tried to reassure him.
Jackson raised both eyebrows at him, but eventually a faint smile tugged at his lips. "Look, uh.... what were you reading before?" he asked after a moment.
"The P5-2M7 reports? You want to come round back and help? Because, between you and me, I keep getting lost" Feretti paused as Jackson frowned, suddenly concerned he was pushing this too fast. He hadn't shown any sign of his memory returning, just occasional flashes of familiarity. Maybe what he was doing was wrong, maybe Doctor Fraiser would kill him slowly and painfully later but right now, Feretti didn't care. He had seen a spark of the old Daniel Jackson and he damn well didn't want to let it go again.
Jackson's expression cleared. "I don't know if I'll be any help," he said a little dubiously.
"Well, you can always fetch me coffee if I start falling asleep" Feretti grinned, rising and returning to the files.
"Right" Jackson replied dryly, but with a hint of humour in his eyes.
The truth was, Jackson didn't want to leave. Since meeting Feretti in the elevator, he was finally beginning to form a connection to something on this base that wasn't that overwhelming Stargate or the doctor. He had finally found someone who didn't make him feel like a circus act every time he entered a room and more importantly, someone who seemed to be able to get passed the hole in his memory. While there were times when that uncomfortable subject came to the foreground without ever really being said, Jackson felt an odd surge of confidence just by being around this man, and although he didn't want to admit it, he was frightened that if he left this man's presence, he would crawl back into that shell of overwhelming fear and isolation he had been a prisoner of ever since arriving at the SGC. So, if reading a bunch of files he knew nothing about with this man meant he could avoid another hour of self-doubt and circular arguments, he was more than willing to do it.