"Renaissance: K is for Kindness"
Sep. 30th, 2011 04:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
marzipan77Title: “Renaissance: K is for Kindness”
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
marzipan77
Fandom: SG-1
Pairing: None
Rated: T+ for language and memories of violence
Summary: A series of fics beginning at Daniel’s descent back to Earth from the Ascended Plane. Chapter by chapter, these fics, about 1000 words each, beginning with “A”, will explore Daniel’s attempt to regain his memories, his mortal existence, and his place within the SGC and on SG-1.
Warnings: Angst/Emotional Whump/Memories of Death
Disclaimer: I don’t own Stargate, or Jack, or Daniel, or anything but my cats.
Written for the Alphabet Challenge on the Stargate Drabbles List.
Summary: Kindness may be too much for Daniel right now.
Daniel lowered his chin, eyes closed, arms wrapped tightly around his chest. How had that one word spoken across light years through a strange mechanical device loosed the fragile hold he’d kept on his emotions?
“Son?”
It swept through him, lighting dark corners of his mind and opening him to such intense feelings of warmth and belonging that they threatened to tip him into an embarrassing emotional release. True memories were still fleeting, overwhelmed by the visceral reactions that shook his resolve, made his limbs tremble with weakness.
Other voices echoed within him – voices from the past, dusty with age and distance – that spoke kindness and compassion and love. And other voices – closer, brighter, undimmed by time – that took up the same warm sentiments. He recognized some: the deep, resonating voice, the lighter feminine tones, both undergirded with steel, the voice of support and experience he’d just heard issue from the speakers on the MALP, and the wry, demanding tone that did its best to hide a deep well of caring and connection.
Probably only a moment later, the firm hand gripping his neck tightened briefly before it eased him to the side and dropped away.
“Sorry, General, but Daniel’s not quite himself. Seems somebody’s messed with his memory.”
“But you’re sure it’s Doctor Jackson – and he’s … physically present?”
Daniel found the practical, unemotional exchange grounding him, allowing him to pull himself back together, to allow his hands to fall away from his body, to raise his head and his eyes to the silver-haired man at his side.
“Well, I haven’t tried to throw a shoe through him, but he feels pretty solid to me, sir.”
A fine trickle of regret filtered through the cushioning detachment Daniel had begun to enfold himself in once again. Regret – grief – frustration. Jack’s face mirrored the emotions. He struggled to hold on, to present a calm front when every casually uttered phrase sent him reeling.
“Any idea how this could have happened, Colonel?”
Daniel tore his gaze from the older man’s and saw that Sam eased forward half a step before Jack stopped her with a brief gesture.
“Ideas, theories, conjectures, wild speculation – oh, we’ve got those by the handful, General, but no real facts. I’d like to get Daniel into Frasier’s hands as soon as possible.”
.
… cool hands, firm but gentle and so small compared with his own … a bright light flashed before his eyes … eyes dark with concern, frantic with worry … “I really need to get back to Cassandra” … steely with resolve … “you’re very lucky, Doctor Jackson” … filled with tears as she stood, speechless, over him …
“Very well. Any precautions you believe we should take on this end?”
A shiver rocked Daniel for a moment before Jack turned his sharp-eyed regard in his direction. Without changing his focus, Jack continued to speak to the unseen man on the other side of the wormhole.
“I’d clear the corridors between the ‘gate room and the infirmary, sir.”
“Understood. Hammond out.”
The blue shimmer dissolved into the air with a snap and Daniel jumped, startled.
“Jonas, let’s give it a couple of minutes and then dial her up.” Jack seemed to gather the others without saying a word – Teal’c and Sam closed on either side, drawing Daniel into the circle of their company. It felt right standing with them – as if their nearness held a portion of his missing soul and he could regain himself by their very presence. The initial fear and denial were drowned by other, more immediate emotions. Daniel stood very straight, frowning, fists clenched to try to hold back a sudden, irresistible desire to reach out to feel their warmth against his skin. He knew a single touch might undo him.
“Listen, Daniel.” The older man placed the cap back on his head, eyes scanning for something over Daniel’s head. “I know this is all feeling very weird and,” he waved both hands, “wacky, but in a minute we’re going to step through there,” he pointed towards the Stargate, “and take a little trip to the SGC. Everybody there is a friend.” His seemingly nervous movements stopped and he tucked his hands on top of the weapon strapped to his chest, finally letting his gaze rest on Daniel’s face. “You have no reason to trust me, but-”
Daniel ducked his head. “I do,” he choked out. He wanted to say more, but words were like the first drops of a torrential rain; they wanted to pour out of him, released on waves of his floundering emotions. He had to bite them off, smoothing his features into a mask of controlled acceptance, before the mixture of comfort and relief and hope crushed him beneath his sudden expectations.
The expression on Jack’s face was just as guarded, as if he could understand, could see beneath the simple statement into the precarious hold Daniel had on his reactions. He nodded, once.
The cold, prickling of his skin, colors bursting to life, sliding through his veins, roaring, whirling, tugging him apart, leveling him to nothing and then building him up, molecule by molecule, into muscles and sinew and guts and anticipation and despair carried him through space to take a first, echoing step home. Grey walls rose around him, all harsh angles and rigid restraint. No sky. No horizon. But a barely contained contentment expanded within him, filling him, every inch, every cell exploding with relief. Daniel let gravity pull him down the ramp, answering the man who stood there, amazed, with a few mumbled syllables.
Again, it was Jack who rescued him with simple gestures, light tones, and an anything but effortless wit. He walked close behind him, easing Daniel away from wrong turns with a fleeting touch, and gracefully cutting him away from the others with a few words of command. No demands. No emotional scenes.
As he made his way deeper into the complex, each step farther from the naked man who was torn out of heaven and deposited on a planet beneath stormy skies, from the gentle comfort of Shamda and the cold detachment of a life of fear, from Arrom, he knew Daniel Jackson was rushing towards him, and the pain and confusion of memory and the weight of his past and the burden of friendships waited for one breach of his control – waited to drown him. One kind word, one entreating look would do it. But this man – this friend – stood guard, allowing Daniel to rebuild his walls, shore up his defenses.
White light spilled from an open doorway ahead and Daniel hesitated, his steps faltering for the first time. The presence at his back, close, steadying, never wavered, but matched him stride for stride.
“It’s okay,” Jack stated evenly. “I’ll be right here.”
Author:
marzipan77Fandom: SG-1
Pairing: None
Rated: T+ for language and memories of violence
Summary: A series of fics beginning at Daniel’s descent back to Earth from the Ascended Plane. Chapter by chapter, these fics, about 1000 words each, beginning with “A”, will explore Daniel’s attempt to regain his memories, his mortal existence, and his place within the SGC and on SG-1.
Warnings: Angst/Emotional Whump/Memories of Death
Disclaimer: I don’t own Stargate, or Jack, or Daniel, or anything but my cats.
Written for the Alphabet Challenge on the Stargate Drabbles List.
Summary: Kindness may be too much for Daniel right now.
Daniel lowered his chin, eyes closed, arms wrapped tightly around his chest. How had that one word spoken across light years through a strange mechanical device loosed the fragile hold he’d kept on his emotions?
“Son?”
It swept through him, lighting dark corners of his mind and opening him to such intense feelings of warmth and belonging that they threatened to tip him into an embarrassing emotional release. True memories were still fleeting, overwhelmed by the visceral reactions that shook his resolve, made his limbs tremble with weakness.
Other voices echoed within him – voices from the past, dusty with age and distance – that spoke kindness and compassion and love. And other voices – closer, brighter, undimmed by time – that took up the same warm sentiments. He recognized some: the deep, resonating voice, the lighter feminine tones, both undergirded with steel, the voice of support and experience he’d just heard issue from the speakers on the MALP, and the wry, demanding tone that did its best to hide a deep well of caring and connection.
Probably only a moment later, the firm hand gripping his neck tightened briefly before it eased him to the side and dropped away.
“Sorry, General, but Daniel’s not quite himself. Seems somebody’s messed with his memory.”
“But you’re sure it’s Doctor Jackson – and he’s … physically present?”
Daniel found the practical, unemotional exchange grounding him, allowing him to pull himself back together, to allow his hands to fall away from his body, to raise his head and his eyes to the silver-haired man at his side.
“Well, I haven’t tried to throw a shoe through him, but he feels pretty solid to me, sir.”
A fine trickle of regret filtered through the cushioning detachment Daniel had begun to enfold himself in once again. Regret – grief – frustration. Jack’s face mirrored the emotions. He struggled to hold on, to present a calm front when every casually uttered phrase sent him reeling.
“Any idea how this could have happened, Colonel?”
Daniel tore his gaze from the older man’s and saw that Sam eased forward half a step before Jack stopped her with a brief gesture.
“Ideas, theories, conjectures, wild speculation – oh, we’ve got those by the handful, General, but no real facts. I’d like to get Daniel into Frasier’s hands as soon as possible.”
.
… cool hands, firm but gentle and so small compared with his own … a bright light flashed before his eyes … eyes dark with concern, frantic with worry … “I really need to get back to Cassandra” … steely with resolve … “you’re very lucky, Doctor Jackson” … filled with tears as she stood, speechless, over him …
“Very well. Any precautions you believe we should take on this end?”
A shiver rocked Daniel for a moment before Jack turned his sharp-eyed regard in his direction. Without changing his focus, Jack continued to speak to the unseen man on the other side of the wormhole.
“I’d clear the corridors between the ‘gate room and the infirmary, sir.”
“Understood. Hammond out.”
The blue shimmer dissolved into the air with a snap and Daniel jumped, startled.
“Jonas, let’s give it a couple of minutes and then dial her up.” Jack seemed to gather the others without saying a word – Teal’c and Sam closed on either side, drawing Daniel into the circle of their company. It felt right standing with them – as if their nearness held a portion of his missing soul and he could regain himself by their very presence. The initial fear and denial were drowned by other, more immediate emotions. Daniel stood very straight, frowning, fists clenched to try to hold back a sudden, irresistible desire to reach out to feel their warmth against his skin. He knew a single touch might undo him.
“Listen, Daniel.” The older man placed the cap back on his head, eyes scanning for something over Daniel’s head. “I know this is all feeling very weird and,” he waved both hands, “wacky, but in a minute we’re going to step through there,” he pointed towards the Stargate, “and take a little trip to the SGC. Everybody there is a friend.” His seemingly nervous movements stopped and he tucked his hands on top of the weapon strapped to his chest, finally letting his gaze rest on Daniel’s face. “You have no reason to trust me, but-”
Daniel ducked his head. “I do,” he choked out. He wanted to say more, but words were like the first drops of a torrential rain; they wanted to pour out of him, released on waves of his floundering emotions. He had to bite them off, smoothing his features into a mask of controlled acceptance, before the mixture of comfort and relief and hope crushed him beneath his sudden expectations.
The expression on Jack’s face was just as guarded, as if he could understand, could see beneath the simple statement into the precarious hold Daniel had on his reactions. He nodded, once.
The cold, prickling of his skin, colors bursting to life, sliding through his veins, roaring, whirling, tugging him apart, leveling him to nothing and then building him up, molecule by molecule, into muscles and sinew and guts and anticipation and despair carried him through space to take a first, echoing step home. Grey walls rose around him, all harsh angles and rigid restraint. No sky. No horizon. But a barely contained contentment expanded within him, filling him, every inch, every cell exploding with relief. Daniel let gravity pull him down the ramp, answering the man who stood there, amazed, with a few mumbled syllables.
Again, it was Jack who rescued him with simple gestures, light tones, and an anything but effortless wit. He walked close behind him, easing Daniel away from wrong turns with a fleeting touch, and gracefully cutting him away from the others with a few words of command. No demands. No emotional scenes.
As he made his way deeper into the complex, each step farther from the naked man who was torn out of heaven and deposited on a planet beneath stormy skies, from the gentle comfort of Shamda and the cold detachment of a life of fear, from Arrom, he knew Daniel Jackson was rushing towards him, and the pain and confusion of memory and the weight of his past and the burden of friendships waited for one breach of his control – waited to drown him. One kind word, one entreating look would do it. But this man – this friend – stood guard, allowing Daniel to rebuild his walls, shore up his defenses.
White light spilled from an open doorway ahead and Daniel hesitated, his steps faltering for the first time. The presence at his back, close, steadying, never wavered, but matched him stride for stride.
“It’s okay,” Jack stated evenly. “I’ll be right here.”
