marzipan77 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
marzipan77) wrote2011-09-27 12:27 pm
marzipan77) wrote2011-09-27 12:27 pm
Entry tags:
"Renaissance: I is for Ignorance"
Title: “Renaissance: I is for Ignorance”
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: “Real knowledge is to know the extent of one’s ignorance.” -Confucius
The blue surge of energy swelled from the center of the circle, rushing towards him, but he didn’t feel an instant of fear. The light and sound splashed across him, tying him to the ancient ‘gate, to the people around him, and to the pain and discovery awaiting him on the other side. This was right. Felt right. Even though beneath this certainty lay a reservoir of doubt. A strange sensation ghosted across his skin and he looked up to find four pairs of eyes focused on him – some in open disbelief, some in hooded, wary suspicion. Daniel stepped back from the dialing device, not sure what he’d done wrong.
“You dialed Earth’s address.”
The man – Jack – spoke to Daniel’s unuttered question. He glanced down at the concentric rings of symbols.
“Yes?”
The dark gaze never wavered, holding him still as if pinned to the very air. He felt naked there, flayed open by the man’s intensity. The woman finally moved and broke the spell.
“Sir? Should I send the IDC?”
Jack nodded, still staring, and Daniel swallowed. He’d done it automatically, without thought, without real knowledge of his actions. He rubbed his fingers together, lifting his hand to regard it with frowning mistrust. His body had moved confidently, had reacted to the sight of this mechanism unconsciously. What else might it do without his clear intent?
A thin voice issued from the left shoulder of each of the green-clad figures. “SG-1, this is Hammond. Report.”
Samantha turned away and grasped the device, cocking her head to one side. “Sir, we have an … unexpected situation here.” He watched her glance towards the silver-haired man. “Perhaps you should send the MALP, sir.”
The voice carried a hint of impatience. “Very well. We’ll disconnect and ready the MALP. It should be coming to you within fifteen minutes.”
“Thank you, sir. Carter, out.”
The blue pool dissolved into nothingness with a noisy sigh.
Jack walked closer, hands quiet where they hung across his weapon. He jerked his head towards the symbols on the dialing mechanism. “Show me.” A command – a demand – but flavored with something that tasted like hope.
After a moment, Daniel nodded and moved back to his place at the device’s foot. He touched each symbol reverently, one finger barely brushing against the raised surface, tracing the patterns almost wistfully as he repeated the names that came easily to his tangled mind.
“Auriga,” the charioteer, he added to himself. “Cetus.” The sea monster, or, in modern times, the whale. His mouth had dried to desert sand and he looked up, blinking, to find the hooded eyes now laced with compassion, their former coldness replaced by empathy, and one hand moved quickly to his shoulder. The simple touch calmed the surge of frustration that had erupted in Daniel’s spirit. He dropped his gaze to the symbols and continued.
“Centaurus, the centaur,” ‘so close,’ his heart insisted. He cleared his throat. “Cancer. Scutum.” Crab and Shield. “Eridanus, the river.” His fingers traced down to the symbol that rested just below the globe in the center, a symbol that was noticeably different from all the others. “Vis Uban,” he muttered, sketching out the straight lines and uneven boxes of another language.
“Well done, Daniel Jackson,” the dark-skinned man bowed solemnly, a lightness spreading across his face. “You remember well.”
He turned back when he felt the hand on his shoulder squeeze gently. Jack’s other hand was tapping against the dull red jewel in the center of the device. “Who made this, Daniel?” he asked softly.
His reply was immediate, leaping from his lips. “Anquietas.”
Two raised eyebrows and a crooked half-smile responded.
“Sir, that’s Ancient – it means-”
“It means ‘the Ancients,’ Major.” Jack never released Daniel from his intense gaze. “You remember any other ‘gate addresses, Daniel?”
He frowned, images of unpatterned sand, a sea of waving grasses, a dark, shadowed forest, crowded rooms filled with dust and boxes, ornate golden walls, tents, ruined stone, sleek domes … his breathing sped and his heart pounded, the heavy hand barely enough to keep him from falling beneath the wave of memory.
Chulak – Tollana – Argos - Cimmeria – Abydos – six symbols and the constant seventh.
… “A funny little … with two funny guys …” …
A pyramid with one moon. Giza. Terra. Earth. Home.
His eyes must have answered, because Jack simply nodded and held him firmly at arm’s length. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you’d remember Stargate addresses before you remembered us.”
Disappointment. Daniel heard it even though the words were even, the face a careful mask of bland approval. This man who held himself so rigidly under a veneer of good humor and efficiency was waiting. Waiting for Daniel. He searched himself, digging mental fingernails into the morass of his mind, his memory, trying to tear away the clogging visions of symbols and worlds, to burrow beneath the confusing litany of addresses, the color of alien skies, and the wreckage of foreign cultures. As completely as he’d rejected his former life, as fiercely as he’d battled to remain ‘naked,’ with no ties to man or world, now he wrestled to find a way to soothe the regret in Jack’s eyes, to fill the emptiness that wrenched at him from the older man’s soul.
How could he forget these people who radiated their concern? How could he remember languages, words, symbols, and yet remain ignorant of the other lives that were connected to his own? Fleeting images, faces thrilled with discovery or burdened with grief were not enough. Not nearly enough.
“I’m sorry.” His voice cracked painfully in his throat.
Jack tapped his shoulder gently, shaking his head. “Don’t sweat it.” His smile slid quickly away. “You’re a pretty fast learner.”
Daniel tore his gaze away from the false amusement, brows drawn harshly, his mind denying the easy pardon offered from the man’s thin lips. The remembered sense of failure rose up again within him, Jack’s face surrounded by a nimbus of light.
… “You just giving up?” …
No. Not this time.
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: “Real knowledge is to know the extent of one’s ignorance.” -Confucius
The blue surge of energy swelled from the center of the circle, rushing towards him, but he didn’t feel an instant of fear. The light and sound splashed across him, tying him to the ancient ‘gate, to the people around him, and to the pain and discovery awaiting him on the other side. This was right. Felt right. Even though beneath this certainty lay a reservoir of doubt. A strange sensation ghosted across his skin and he looked up to find four pairs of eyes focused on him – some in open disbelief, some in hooded, wary suspicion. Daniel stepped back from the dialing device, not sure what he’d done wrong.
“You dialed Earth’s address.”
The man – Jack – spoke to Daniel’s unuttered question. He glanced down at the concentric rings of symbols.
“Yes?”
The dark gaze never wavered, holding him still as if pinned to the very air. He felt naked there, flayed open by the man’s intensity. The woman finally moved and broke the spell.
“Sir? Should I send the IDC?”
Jack nodded, still staring, and Daniel swallowed. He’d done it automatically, without thought, without real knowledge of his actions. He rubbed his fingers together, lifting his hand to regard it with frowning mistrust. His body had moved confidently, had reacted to the sight of this mechanism unconsciously. What else might it do without his clear intent?
A thin voice issued from the left shoulder of each of the green-clad figures. “SG-1, this is Hammond. Report.”
Samantha turned away and grasped the device, cocking her head to one side. “Sir, we have an … unexpected situation here.” He watched her glance towards the silver-haired man. “Perhaps you should send the MALP, sir.”
The voice carried a hint of impatience. “Very well. We’ll disconnect and ready the MALP. It should be coming to you within fifteen minutes.”
“Thank you, sir. Carter, out.”
The blue pool dissolved into nothingness with a noisy sigh.
Jack walked closer, hands quiet where they hung across his weapon. He jerked his head towards the symbols on the dialing mechanism. “Show me.” A command – a demand – but flavored with something that tasted like hope.
After a moment, Daniel nodded and moved back to his place at the device’s foot. He touched each symbol reverently, one finger barely brushing against the raised surface, tracing the patterns almost wistfully as he repeated the names that came easily to his tangled mind.
“Auriga,” the charioteer, he added to himself. “Cetus.” The sea monster, or, in modern times, the whale. His mouth had dried to desert sand and he looked up, blinking, to find the hooded eyes now laced with compassion, their former coldness replaced by empathy, and one hand moved quickly to his shoulder. The simple touch calmed the surge of frustration that had erupted in Daniel’s spirit. He dropped his gaze to the symbols and continued.
“Centaurus, the centaur,” ‘so close,’ his heart insisted. He cleared his throat. “Cancer. Scutum.” Crab and Shield. “Eridanus, the river.” His fingers traced down to the symbol that rested just below the globe in the center, a symbol that was noticeably different from all the others. “Vis Uban,” he muttered, sketching out the straight lines and uneven boxes of another language.
“Well done, Daniel Jackson,” the dark-skinned man bowed solemnly, a lightness spreading across his face. “You remember well.”
He turned back when he felt the hand on his shoulder squeeze gently. Jack’s other hand was tapping against the dull red jewel in the center of the device. “Who made this, Daniel?” he asked softly.
His reply was immediate, leaping from his lips. “Anquietas.”
Two raised eyebrows and a crooked half-smile responded.
“Sir, that’s Ancient – it means-”
“It means ‘the Ancients,’ Major.” Jack never released Daniel from his intense gaze. “You remember any other ‘gate addresses, Daniel?”
He frowned, images of unpatterned sand, a sea of waving grasses, a dark, shadowed forest, crowded rooms filled with dust and boxes, ornate golden walls, tents, ruined stone, sleek domes … his breathing sped and his heart pounded, the heavy hand barely enough to keep him from falling beneath the wave of memory.
Chulak – Tollana – Argos - Cimmeria – Abydos – six symbols and the constant seventh.
… “A funny little … with two funny guys …” …
A pyramid with one moon. Giza. Terra. Earth. Home.
His eyes must have answered, because Jack simply nodded and held him firmly at arm’s length. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you’d remember Stargate addresses before you remembered us.”
Disappointment. Daniel heard it even though the words were even, the face a careful mask of bland approval. This man who held himself so rigidly under a veneer of good humor and efficiency was waiting. Waiting for Daniel. He searched himself, digging mental fingernails into the morass of his mind, his memory, trying to tear away the clogging visions of symbols and worlds, to burrow beneath the confusing litany of addresses, the color of alien skies, and the wreckage of foreign cultures. As completely as he’d rejected his former life, as fiercely as he’d battled to remain ‘naked,’ with no ties to man or world, now he wrestled to find a way to soothe the regret in Jack’s eyes, to fill the emptiness that wrenched at him from the older man’s soul.
How could he forget these people who radiated their concern? How could he remember languages, words, symbols, and yet remain ignorant of the other lives that were connected to his own? Fleeting images, faces thrilled with discovery or burdened with grief were not enough. Not nearly enough.
“I’m sorry.” His voice cracked painfully in his throat.
Jack tapped his shoulder gently, shaking his head. “Don’t sweat it.” His smile slid quickly away. “You’re a pretty fast learner.”
Daniel tore his gaze away from the false amusement, brows drawn harshly, his mind denying the easy pardon offered from the man’s thin lips. The remembered sense of failure rose up again within him, Jack’s face surrounded by a nimbus of light.
… “You just giving up?” …
No. Not this time.