It's- he blinks at the clock- 4 am and his damned cellphone is ringing. He doesn't recognize the number, so he considers letting it ring. It's probably somebody he owes money, which is not actually urgent. Still, it's not like he has much else going on at 4 am, and if he can convince the creditor on the other end to leave him alone for a little while longer, it'd be at least a small victory. Daniel Jackson needs one of those.
"Hello," he says, picking up the phone.
"Hello, Doctor Jackson?" a vaguely familiar voice replies from the other end. Maybe someone who had harassed him before. He is too tired to place it, and it's not like he cares to.
"Speaking," Daniel says, staring at the dingy hotel ceiling.
"Yes, I'm sorry I'm calling so late. I'm calling from the States, and…"
The man on the other end does not sound like a creditor. Creditors do not apologize. Something is off here, but Daniel can't tell what.
"And what?" Daniel says impatiently.
"Well, I've stayed in that hotel myself a number of times, and I just thought that you might-" the other man replies. He sounds strange and hesitant, like he needs some kind of encouragement to go on. Whoever he is, he called the wrong man for gentle assurance. Years of mockery have worn the gentleness from him.
"Might what? Why have you called?" It's 4 am, he's lying in an uncomfortable hotel bed, and he's not in the mood for this man's tentativeness.
"Well, because I wanted to tell you something…"
This is such a fucking bizarre conversation. He would be laughing if he was in a better mood.
"What?"
"That you're right. About everything. About the pyramids, about what the glyphs said about aliens visiting Earth. Everything." The voice on the other end is urgent and excited, and god, Daniel is pissed. Nobody believes him and Daniel knows it just as strongly as he knows he's right. His theories had never gained any traction, and any time he brought forth new evidence it only led to a new round of mocking and scorn.
There is certainly nobody who believes in him so strongly that they would hunt him down so they could call him in this dingy Egyptian hotel to tell him so.
"Who is this?" he asks, gritting his teeth.
"It doesn't matter who I am. Let's just say I'm someone who believes in your work, and you should, too," the other man replies.
His laughter bubbles up through his chest and forces his way out of his chest. It's hilarious. The stranger could never possibly understand: If there's anyone who should have given up on his work- and himself- it's Daniel Jackson.
Deep, deep down he knew that if he was a little less pigheaded and stubborn- if he was smarter, basically- he would have given up trying to prove aliens had visited Earth a long, long time ago. There are plenty of other things he could have researched these past ten years.
"Yeah, I'm sure you do," Daniel says, his voice dripping with sarcasm and tinged with hysteria.
"No, no, no, I do. I really do. I-"
"I think you have the wrong Daniel Jackson," Daniel says.
"You have to have more faith in yourself, Doctor Jackson-" That's really all Daniel can take before he slams the phone back on the receiver. As far as jokes went- and Daniel had been the butt of too many jokes to count- this one is particularly cruel.