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crossoverficTitle: The Call Home
Author: Sanskrit (jacks_boonie)
Fandoms: Stargate: SG-1/Buffy The Vampire Slayer/Angel
Rating: PG-13 (If there are any complaints about the rating, feel free to contact me, and I will be more than happy to change it.)
Warning: Slash!
Pairing: Jack/Daniel
Summary: Daniel's been called to Sunnydale . . . Somewhere he hasn't been for a very long time.
This fic is not yet finished, and I cannot guarentee the date that it will be . . . but if you're patient, I'll finish it soon enough.
Scroll down for the beginning of this fic!!
Chapter Sixteen:
"Grandpa George?" a small voice interrupts the general as he scans through the evening newspaper. Hammond folds down the top of the thin, printed paper, revealing his reading glasses to the young guest.
"Emily," his tone is reprimanding as he glances at the late hour but his eyes shine with pure grandfatherly love. "Isn't it past your bedtime, young lady?"
Emily Jackson's cheeks flush a light pink as her hands wring nervously, her chest heaving deeply with a sigh. Hammond chuckles, laying the newspaper aside and patting his right leg. The small child's face relaxes with relief at the invitation, and she hurries forward, nearly jumping into the older man's lap.
"Now," the general smiles, his deep, warm voice echoing throughout the small den, "what seems to be the problem?" Emily is silent as she leans her head against the man's chest, relaxing as she feels the deep, slow breaths from within.
"Bad dreams?" Hammond questions quietly. The small girl merely nods, a sniffle escaping her. "Want to tell me what it was about?"
Emily swipes a sleeved arm across her nose before whispering, "Daddy . . . Daddy's in trouble."
"Sweet heart, I'm sure it was only a dream," the man says gently, squeezing her in a one-armed hug. "Your daddy's just fine. He's only been away for a few days. He'll be back soon."
"Uncle Jack said Daddy is sick," Emily counters. Hammond sighs.
"He did," he says, placing a kiss on top of the messy hair pulled sloppily into pigtails. "But I'm sure Uncle Jack is taking good care of him."
"In my dream, Daddy hurt Uncle Jack . . . and then a bad man hurt Daddy," Emily explains, tears forming in her eyes. "I don't want Daddy or Uncle Jack to get hurt."
Hammond cradles the small child close, rocking in his chair until she finally falls into a dozing sleep.
"Me either, Sweetie," he sighs wearily, leaning his cheek against the top of her head. "Me either."
0 o 0 o 0
Jack sits quietly at a cafe, a midmorning breeze gently pushing his hair back without his notice.
"Sir?" Sam asks softly, shaking his shoulder a little in an attempt to get his attention. He neither acknowledges the contact, nor awakens from his dreamlike state.
/Flashback/
"Danny, come on," Jack shakes the creature that has taken the young man's body violently, his voice cracking with emotion. "Snap out of it. Remember Em. Remember Sam and Teal'c and Ferretti . . . and me. You have to remember, Danny. Please!"
Daniel's eyes . . . Daniel's beautiful, pool-blue eyes . . . Where did they go? Masked behind a sea of crimson, so ugly, so shadowing . . . Bring them back, you bastard! Bring them back!
/End Flashback/
"Sir?" Sam asks loudly, drawing the attention of both the colonel and the others sitting around the table. "Sir, are you all right?"
Jack stares at her with sorrow-filled orbs, tears hiding just behind them as he fights to hold his composure.
"He's gone, Carter," the man replies in a whisper. "He's gone . . . And we didn't stop the bastard from taking him."
The group remains silent, none daring to speak after the colonel's solemn statement. Jack returns to his thoughts as the others continue their idle chats.
/Flashback/
"Daniel no longer belongs to you, Jack," Aaron spits venomously, staring at the pitiful sight. "He's not one of you any longer. He's mine."
"He'll never be yours," Jack seethes, his eyes narrowing as he continues to hold the struggling archaeologist at bay.
"I highly doubt that," the other man smirks. "Daniel, it's time to go, Love."
Immediately, Daniel's motions cease, and he rips himself from Jack's grip, finding his way to his former husband's side and burying his face in the Scottish man's neck.
"Daniel!" Jack calls, but before he has a chance to stand, the two are gone within an instant. The colonel searches the room frantically, but finds no sign of either men.
/End Flashback/
"Sir, what do you think we should-" Sam starts hesitantly, knowing that she is the only one who will venture to say anything to the grieving man.
"Pack it up, Carter," Jack interrupts quietly, his voice almost a whisper. "We're going home."
"S-Sir?" the major stutters in surprise.
"Jack, what the hell-" Ferretti starts in an appalled tone.
"I said pack it up," Jack replies harshly, his gaze hardening with every word. "If you can't follow orders, I'll get someone who can."
"O'Neill, we must continue our search for-" Teal'c starts, his face expressing that of concern, not only for their lost comrade but for his team leader as well.
"Daniel is dead," Jack stands, pushing his chair back harshly and causing the others to wince as the metal legs grate against the pavement.
"Jack, that's not-"
"If I have to order your asses around one more time, there's going to be hell to pay," Jack shouts, gaining the attention of many passerbys as well as shocked looks from the group around the table.
"Don't yell, Jack," a soft voice says from behind the colonel, causing the hairs on the back of the man's neck to stand on end. Turning slowly, he finds the man he had thought to never see again.
"Danny?"
0 o 0 o 0
Good and evil draw a very fine line.
If you aren't careful, that line could disappear
And you could find yourself
Wondering which side you are
Fighting for.
Chapter Seventeen:
Ring Around The Rosie
A Pocket Full Of Posies
Ashes, Ashes
We All Fall Down
A Curse Upon The Dead
Your Life Hangs By A Thread
Something's Coming
The World Falls Black
0 o 0 o 0
"A very small and worthless girl finds nothing less to do than any normal girl looking for a toy to play with."
"Where did you hear that, Emmy?"
Emily Jackson looks to her left, not having been aware that she had spoken the words aloud. She had slipped, just as father had told her not to.
Emily knew she was not like other children . . . Not like other children at all. She knew things that others her age would probably not learn for years. Her speech was far more articulate than her father would let anyone know.
She still does not understand why daddy would want to keep her a secret. He had said very long ago that the bad people would take her away if they knew she was special, if they knew what knowledge she possessed . . .
And this frightens her more than anything. Daniel is the only family she has ever known . . . but she has heard the story of her mother many times. She specifically requests the story on nights that her father is there to tuck her into bed.
"Daddy, the one about Mum! Please?"
"Again? But I always tell that one," Daniel's reply would always be the same because he could always predict her response.
"But I-"
"-love the story, yes, I know. Alright. Your mother was a beautiful woman. Long, raven hair that felt like silk, skin as soft as the desert sand, eyes that sparkled like a blanket of stars on a cold night."
"And that's why you loved her?"
And Daniel would chuckle.
"That's only a small part of what I loved about your mother. She was sweet and kind. She always looked at me with such a reverence that I can't explain. She was . . . my wife."
"And my mum."
"And your mum. That's right."
And Daniel would always tickle her when she corrected him.
"And we were very happy together . . . Until the day came when we had to make a horrible decision."
"You had to send me away."
"Yes," Daniel would reply softly, stroking her cheek and staring at her with sorrow-filled eyes. "We had to protect you. The village was not safe. The Goa'uld were searching for a child. And we were so afraid that it might be you."
"And you sent me to Uncle Aaron."
"That's right . . . Thor came to me one night, warning me that the Jaffa would search our village next . . . I had no way to hide you, but I begged Thor to take you. He told me that he had no time to care for a child. I still begged him, explaining that I had a friend . . . A very good friend . . . That you could go to. And he agreed."
"And he took me to Uncle Aaron."
And Daniel would nod very sadly, leaning forward to kiss her on the forehead.
"And the Jaffa came . . . And they killed your mother . . ."
And Daniel voice would crack as unshed tears hid behind his eyes.
"And I came back to Earth . . . But I was so very sad, Sweetie."
"And you couldn't bring me home when you were sad, Daddy," she would reply softly.
"No . . . Not when I was sad . . . Not when you . . . reminded me so much of your mother . . ."
"But then you got a call."
"From Mister Giles," Daniel would nod, swallowing the lump in his throat. "And he told me that Aaron had . . . had fallen very ill and could no longer take care of you."
"So you came and you got me."
"And I was oh-so happy to have you home again."
And Daniel would smile and stroke her cheek and try so hard to keep the tears from falling.
And he would fail.
And she would wipe them from his cheeks and pull him into an embrace.
And the two would fall asleep.
That is how the ritual went, day after day, night after night. It became so familiar that Emily could recite it in her mind word for word.
"Emmy?"
"Girls!" Hammond's strong voice calls from the kitchen. "Time for lunch! Hurry before it gets cold, now!"
And Daniel would sing her a lullaby that only they knew the words to.
Chapter Eighteen:
Emily awakens with a start, her eyes wide as her breathing comes harshly. She searches the room wildly. Had it been real? A dream?
"Emmy, dear, why so shaken?" Comes a warm, soothing voice.
"Dad?" the small child asks, squinting at the figure standing just outside her bedroom window . . . standing?
The room that the general had made especially for her is on the second floor of the grand house. Anyone attempting to 'stand' outside her window would have to be . . . floating . . .
Then again, Daddy had warned her about these things . . . The strange things that no one could explain.
"No, Sweetie," the lilting voice replies with a chuckle. "But I soon will be."
"Wh-Who are you?"
"A very small and worthless girl . . ."
Emily's breath catches in her throat before she finishes the lyric she had heard many a night from her daddy since she could remember, " . . . finds nothing less to do than any normal girl looking for a toy to play with . . . How do you-"
"I'm a friend of your father's," the silhouette replies, its head tilting to one side in the moonlight. "He told me to come here so that I could take you to him."
"You know where my daddy is?" Emily asks desperately, sliding from beneath the sheets and cautiously padding across the floor. She stops mere feet from the sill, remaining on edge as her father and Uncle Jack had taught her.
"You're . . . You're a stranger," she says quietly, carefully. "Daddy says I'm not supposed to go with strangers."
"Yes, Daddy is very smart," the man chuckles. "But I'm not a stranger. Don't you remember me?"
Emily thinks for a moment, attempting to see his features. She shakes her head quickly.
"I'm Aaron," the man says with a wide grin, spreading his arms as if it should be obvious who he is. Emily's eyebrows furrow for a moment.
"My daddy told me Aaron was dead," she replies skeptically.
"That's what he thought," the Aaron man insists with a short nod. "But I'm here, and plainly alive, so . . . why don't you invite me in? I'll take you to your daddy."
Emily took a step back, causing the man to grind his teeth.
'Damn it. Why can't she just be one of those ignorant little wits?'
"Is something wrong?" he asks in as innocent a voice as possible.
"Daddy told me never to invite someone in," the small child shakes her head. "He said that if they're meant to come in, they'll come of their own accord." Aaron's fingers clench into fists.
"Yes, your daddy is a very smart man," he manages to spit out, "but, you see, he's very sick. If I don't take you to him-"
"You," Emily interrupts breathlessly. "You're the one from . . . from the dream."
"Dream?" Aaron asks in a cautious tone.
Dreams are funny things. You never really know what someone means when they say that they 'saw you in a dream last night.' At least not by their tone.
Expressions are what reveal your deepest feelings. A tone is a tone, emotionless, expressionless, absolutely useless when expressing oneself . . . but the face, the mouth . . . the eyes . . . They can give you away.
And the look that this little girl, this 'Emily,' has on her face . . . the look of pure and utter horror, of disgust and loathing, is one that Aaron finds most disconcerting.
"You . . . You hurt my daddy," Emily accuses, stepping further away from the window.
"No," Aaron pleads, holding his hands out and attempting a smile. "No, no, Sweetie, I would never hurt your daddy. He's just . . . You have to come with me. He may not have much time left. He's very, very sick . . . Please."
Emily's eyes water, tears beginning to stream down her cheeks.
"Why . . . Why can't Grandpa George take me?" She whimpers, crossing her arms protectively over her chest in pure Jackson fashion.
"Grandpa George wouldn't be able to reach him in time, Emmy. You must come with me," Aaron reaches a hand forward, his fingers stopping just outside of the barrier keeping him from the child.
Emily stares at the hand for a very long moment, contemplating between keeping her father's promise or going with this strange man, believing him. She glances towards the door, willing someone . . . anyone . . . to enter and make the decision for her.
"No one is coming, Emily," Aaron whispers gently. "Come. Before it's too late."
Turning back to the man, the small girl glares with the intense gaze given to her by her father.
And reaching forward to place her soft hand in his rough, calloused one, she makes her decision.
0 o 0 o 0
I have you now, Danny.
I have everything you tried to hold dear.
I have everything you tried to protect.
I have everything that you ever loved.
And now, my Danny . . . You will love only me.
0 o 0 o 0
"Don't yell, Jack," a soft voice says from behind the colonel, causing the hairs on the back of the man's neck to stand on end. Turning slowly, he finds the man he had thought to never see again.
"Danny?"
A smile taints the younger man's lips . . . those lips that had looked oh-so luscious, oh-so beautiful, oh-so Daniel . . . now they are a sickly grey, matching his skin. His eyes, his once pool-blue eyes, are now a blank white.
"What the fuck . . ." Ferretti mutters, slowly standing from his chair, the others following suit. "Daniel?"
"Lou," Daniel's grin grows into a wicked curve. "So nice to see you all. How are-"
"Cut the bull shit, Daniel," Jack seethes under his breath. Barely noticible to the others, but Daniel registers it as if it were shouted next to his eardrum. “What’re you doing here?”
“Informing you,” Daniel replies smoothly, the silky smile never leaving his lips. “Go home, Jack. There’s nothing for you in Sunnydale any longer.”
Jack says nothing, considering Daniel’s words.
“You’re right,” he whispers to everyone’s surprise.
“S-Sir?” Sam stutters in disbelief.
“We should go, Carter,” Jack replies over his shoulder. “Dan- . . . This thing . . . has a point. Like I said before . . . We’re leaving.”
“Jack!” “O’Neill.” “Sir!”
Three protests come at the same time from the SGC personnel.
“We just can’t . . . leave,” Ferretti says matter-of-factly.
Jack’s attention remains on the former archaeologist.
“Go,” the archaeologist says, his tone almost sad. “Don’t . . . Don’t try to find me, Jack. I need someone . . . to take care of Em.”
Jack’s eyes narrow, the sudden change of emotion in the man before him causing suspicion.
“Emily is no longer your concern,” the older man says through clenched teeth. “And . . . I don’t ever want to see you in the Springs, you hear me?”
Daniel gives a soft smile, replying, “You have my word.”
Jack looks to the ground as a surge of anger takes him. Not long ago, Daniel’s word would have meant everything in the world to him. It was sacred, secure . . . safe.
But, now, there is no reason to hold his word as truth. His word means absolutely nothing.
With tears hiding behind his eyes, Jack manages to choke in a strained whisper, “I loved you, Daniel Jackson . . . I loved you.”
With that, he turns and walks towards the military-issued vehicle parked across the street, the other three members of the SGC slowly following suit and giving Daniel last pleading looks.
Daniel watches them, his face showing no emotion but his mind screaming to follow them, to utter the words he so desperately needs Jack to hear. And as the car screeches off down the near-deserted street, the archaeologist finds himself wishing he had.
Even though the symbiote still resides within him . . . Even though the part of him is a monster . . . the Daniel that everyone used to know is still beneath the surface, awaiting someone to set him free.
Turning to the Sunnydale gang, still occupying the café table and staring at him intently, he smirks, allowing his eyes to flash a golden glow before disappearing into the alleyway between the café and the restaurant next to it.
Chapter Nineteen:
AN: Bwa!! How is everyone this fine and wonderful morning/afternoon/evening? I am quite tired myself, having stayed up all night trying to organize my /life/.
Jack steps up to General Hammond's door cautiously, wary of the police vehicles parked in the driveway and on the street. He had not wasted anytime in getting to his commanding officer's house, taking a cab directly from the airport and leaving three protesting team members.
Now, he almost wishes that they were with him. His stomach clenches as he pushes open the already ajar door, walking into a scene of near chaos. Several heads spin in his direction, mostly uniformed men, but one face is recognizable amidst the sea of blue.
"Jack," Hammond sighs exhaustedly, stepping forward to greet the man.
"General," the colonel greets with a curt nod, his gaze not yet meeting the older man's eyes. "What's going on here?"
Hammond gives Jack a look of desperation, sadness . . . apology.
"Doctor Jackson isn't with you?" He attempts to veer the subject. Jack's suspicions heighten as he continues to stare at the other men and women around the room, most searching every nook and cranny they can find, others standing with notepads, pens poised at the ready.
"Where's Emily?" The colonel asks in a near whisper, his voice cracking as the pit of his stomach drops out.
Without awaiting an answer, he starts up the stairs, three at a time, to the small girl's room, the one that the general had insisted making for her, considering she spent an enormous amount of time at his home with his granddaughters.
Reaching the room, he places his hands on either side of the door frame, coming to an abrupt halt. Within, he finds more of the blue-uniformed officers, searching the entire room.
Some glance up at his arrival, but return immediately to their task of pulling clothing from the small, pink dresser, ripping stuffed animals from the shelves and the large toy hammock that hangs from the ceiling, and stripping the bed of the comforter and pillows to toss them, crumpled, on the floor.
A hand on his shoulder startles him, and he gulps in air, realizing that he must have been holding his breath. Turning, he finds the general, a sorrowful look in his eyes.
"Jack . . ." he starts softly.
"Where's Emily?" Jack repeats his earlier question, somewhat more defeatedly this time.
"Jack . . . We should probably go to the den and sit down. You don't look . . . your best."
The colonel hesitantly and reluctantly follows Hammond back down the stairs, the stares of the police officers upon them.
"Could we have a moment?" The general requests politely. Everyone clears the room immediately, either retreating upstairs, out the front door, or towards the back deck. Hammond motions Jack to sit on the couch nearest his armchair, but the colonel does not comply.
"Jack," Hammond sighs tiredly, "sit, please."
The other man shakes his head of the mist that has been clouding it ever since he left Sunnydale, finally realizing what must be happening.
"He lied," Jack says exhaustedly, placing his face in his hands as he sinks into the cushions. The general cocks his head to one side, staring at him oddly.
"Who lied?" He inquires gently. Jack scrubs his face roughly, his fingers finally resting in a clasped position beneath his chin.
"It doesn't matter . . ." he trails off as memories plague his mind.
"Jack, what happened to Doctor Jackson? Where is he?"
Jack stares into space for a moment before placing his hands in his lap and straightening to an attention position in his seat. If he cannot do this as Jack, then he will just have to do this as Colonel O'Neill.
"We arrived in Sunndydale, California at approximately 0300, Sir," he starts, his military tone taking over. "We intercepted Daniel at the drop point, Sunnydale High School, and immediately began setting up the equipment-"
"Jack," Hammond raises a hand to interrupt his second in command. "I don't want a /report/ . . . not yet, at least. Right now, I would just like to know where Emily Jackson's father is, and why he isn't with you."
It would seem that the general does not want the Colonel O'Neill version . . . He wants to hear what Jack has to say. The only problem is that Jack, at the moment, is a nervous wreck, his entire body trembles from exhaustion, exhertion, manipulation . . . heartache.
"Dead . . . Sir," Jack says slowly and in such a soft tone that the general almost misses it.
General Hammond's features reamain emotionless for a moment, as if waiting for the rest, as if waiting for Jack to tell him, "Oh, but not really. He and Emily are outside. We should have a bar-b-que this weekend."
But he knows perfectly well that those words are but a dream.
And so his shoulders sag. His eyes turn distantly dismal. His entire being seems to lose its usually general-like aire.
"You're certain?" He questions, just to make sure, just to force the words to be said once more so that there is no contingency in the colonel's words.
Jack is silent for a moment, hesitant in confirming his answer, which lights a small spark of hope in the general's eyes.
"Yes, Sir," Jack finally replies unemotionally. "Absolutely certain."
AN: Alright, this is all I have for now . . . I know you're probably not very chuffed with me, but this bloody tale is taking quite a while. Promise to work as fast as I can, and I'll get the rest of the story up asap, yea? Cheers!!
Author: Sanskrit (jacks_boonie)
Fandoms: Stargate: SG-1/Buffy The Vampire Slayer/Angel
Rating: PG-13 (If there are any complaints about the rating, feel free to contact me, and I will be more than happy to change it.)
Warning: Slash!
Pairing: Jack/Daniel
Summary: Daniel's been called to Sunnydale . . . Somewhere he hasn't been for a very long time.
This fic is not yet finished, and I cannot guarentee the date that it will be . . . but if you're patient, I'll finish it soon enough.
Scroll down for the beginning of this fic!!
Chapter Sixteen:
"Grandpa George?" a small voice interrupts the general as he scans through the evening newspaper. Hammond folds down the top of the thin, printed paper, revealing his reading glasses to the young guest.
"Emily," his tone is reprimanding as he glances at the late hour but his eyes shine with pure grandfatherly love. "Isn't it past your bedtime, young lady?"
Emily Jackson's cheeks flush a light pink as her hands wring nervously, her chest heaving deeply with a sigh. Hammond chuckles, laying the newspaper aside and patting his right leg. The small child's face relaxes with relief at the invitation, and she hurries forward, nearly jumping into the older man's lap.
"Now," the general smiles, his deep, warm voice echoing throughout the small den, "what seems to be the problem?" Emily is silent as she leans her head against the man's chest, relaxing as she feels the deep, slow breaths from within.
"Bad dreams?" Hammond questions quietly. The small girl merely nods, a sniffle escaping her. "Want to tell me what it was about?"
Emily swipes a sleeved arm across her nose before whispering, "Daddy . . . Daddy's in trouble."
"Sweet heart, I'm sure it was only a dream," the man says gently, squeezing her in a one-armed hug. "Your daddy's just fine. He's only been away for a few days. He'll be back soon."
"Uncle Jack said Daddy is sick," Emily counters. Hammond sighs.
"He did," he says, placing a kiss on top of the messy hair pulled sloppily into pigtails. "But I'm sure Uncle Jack is taking good care of him."
"In my dream, Daddy hurt Uncle Jack . . . and then a bad man hurt Daddy," Emily explains, tears forming in her eyes. "I don't want Daddy or Uncle Jack to get hurt."
Hammond cradles the small child close, rocking in his chair until she finally falls into a dozing sleep.
"Me either, Sweetie," he sighs wearily, leaning his cheek against the top of her head. "Me either."
0 o 0 o 0
Jack sits quietly at a cafe, a midmorning breeze gently pushing his hair back without his notice.
"Sir?" Sam asks softly, shaking his shoulder a little in an attempt to get his attention. He neither acknowledges the contact, nor awakens from his dreamlike state.
/Flashback/
"Danny, come on," Jack shakes the creature that has taken the young man's body violently, his voice cracking with emotion. "Snap out of it. Remember Em. Remember Sam and Teal'c and Ferretti . . . and me. You have to remember, Danny. Please!"
Daniel's eyes . . . Daniel's beautiful, pool-blue eyes . . . Where did they go? Masked behind a sea of crimson, so ugly, so shadowing . . . Bring them back, you bastard! Bring them back!
/End Flashback/
"Sir?" Sam asks loudly, drawing the attention of both the colonel and the others sitting around the table. "Sir, are you all right?"
Jack stares at her with sorrow-filled orbs, tears hiding just behind them as he fights to hold his composure.
"He's gone, Carter," the man replies in a whisper. "He's gone . . . And we didn't stop the bastard from taking him."
The group remains silent, none daring to speak after the colonel's solemn statement. Jack returns to his thoughts as the others continue their idle chats.
/Flashback/
"Daniel no longer belongs to you, Jack," Aaron spits venomously, staring at the pitiful sight. "He's not one of you any longer. He's mine."
"He'll never be yours," Jack seethes, his eyes narrowing as he continues to hold the struggling archaeologist at bay.
"I highly doubt that," the other man smirks. "Daniel, it's time to go, Love."
Immediately, Daniel's motions cease, and he rips himself from Jack's grip, finding his way to his former husband's side and burying his face in the Scottish man's neck.
"Daniel!" Jack calls, but before he has a chance to stand, the two are gone within an instant. The colonel searches the room frantically, but finds no sign of either men.
/End Flashback/
"Sir, what do you think we should-" Sam starts hesitantly, knowing that she is the only one who will venture to say anything to the grieving man.
"Pack it up, Carter," Jack interrupts quietly, his voice almost a whisper. "We're going home."
"S-Sir?" the major stutters in surprise.
"Jack, what the hell-" Ferretti starts in an appalled tone.
"I said pack it up," Jack replies harshly, his gaze hardening with every word. "If you can't follow orders, I'll get someone who can."
"O'Neill, we must continue our search for-" Teal'c starts, his face expressing that of concern, not only for their lost comrade but for his team leader as well.
"Daniel is dead," Jack stands, pushing his chair back harshly and causing the others to wince as the metal legs grate against the pavement.
"Jack, that's not-"
"If I have to order your asses around one more time, there's going to be hell to pay," Jack shouts, gaining the attention of many passerbys as well as shocked looks from the group around the table.
"Don't yell, Jack," a soft voice says from behind the colonel, causing the hairs on the back of the man's neck to stand on end. Turning slowly, he finds the man he had thought to never see again.
"Danny?"
0 o 0 o 0
Good and evil draw a very fine line.
If you aren't careful, that line could disappear
And you could find yourself
Wondering which side you are
Fighting for.
Chapter Seventeen:
Ring Around The Rosie
A Pocket Full Of Posies
Ashes, Ashes
We All Fall Down
A Curse Upon The Dead
Your Life Hangs By A Thread
Something's Coming
The World Falls Black
0 o 0 o 0
"A very small and worthless girl finds nothing less to do than any normal girl looking for a toy to play with."
"Where did you hear that, Emmy?"
Emily Jackson looks to her left, not having been aware that she had spoken the words aloud. She had slipped, just as father had told her not to.
Emily knew she was not like other children . . . Not like other children at all. She knew things that others her age would probably not learn for years. Her speech was far more articulate than her father would let anyone know.
She still does not understand why daddy would want to keep her a secret. He had said very long ago that the bad people would take her away if they knew she was special, if they knew what knowledge she possessed . . .
And this frightens her more than anything. Daniel is the only family she has ever known . . . but she has heard the story of her mother many times. She specifically requests the story on nights that her father is there to tuck her into bed.
"Daddy, the one about Mum! Please?"
"Again? But I always tell that one," Daniel's reply would always be the same because he could always predict her response.
"But I-"
"-love the story, yes, I know. Alright. Your mother was a beautiful woman. Long, raven hair that felt like silk, skin as soft as the desert sand, eyes that sparkled like a blanket of stars on a cold night."
"And that's why you loved her?"
And Daniel would chuckle.
"That's only a small part of what I loved about your mother. She was sweet and kind. She always looked at me with such a reverence that I can't explain. She was . . . my wife."
"And my mum."
"And your mum. That's right."
And Daniel would always tickle her when she corrected him.
"And we were very happy together . . . Until the day came when we had to make a horrible decision."
"You had to send me away."
"Yes," Daniel would reply softly, stroking her cheek and staring at her with sorrow-filled eyes. "We had to protect you. The village was not safe. The Goa'uld were searching for a child. And we were so afraid that it might be you."
"And you sent me to Uncle Aaron."
"That's right . . . Thor came to me one night, warning me that the Jaffa would search our village next . . . I had no way to hide you, but I begged Thor to take you. He told me that he had no time to care for a child. I still begged him, explaining that I had a friend . . . A very good friend . . . That you could go to. And he agreed."
"And he took me to Uncle Aaron."
And Daniel would nod very sadly, leaning forward to kiss her on the forehead.
"And the Jaffa came . . . And they killed your mother . . ."
And Daniel voice would crack as unshed tears hid behind his eyes.
"And I came back to Earth . . . But I was so very sad, Sweetie."
"And you couldn't bring me home when you were sad, Daddy," she would reply softly.
"No . . . Not when I was sad . . . Not when you . . . reminded me so much of your mother . . ."
"But then you got a call."
"From Mister Giles," Daniel would nod, swallowing the lump in his throat. "And he told me that Aaron had . . . had fallen very ill and could no longer take care of you."
"So you came and you got me."
"And I was oh-so happy to have you home again."
And Daniel would smile and stroke her cheek and try so hard to keep the tears from falling.
And he would fail.
And she would wipe them from his cheeks and pull him into an embrace.
And the two would fall asleep.
That is how the ritual went, day after day, night after night. It became so familiar that Emily could recite it in her mind word for word.
"Emmy?"
"Girls!" Hammond's strong voice calls from the kitchen. "Time for lunch! Hurry before it gets cold, now!"
And Daniel would sing her a lullaby that only they knew the words to.
Chapter Eighteen:
Emily awakens with a start, her eyes wide as her breathing comes harshly. She searches the room wildly. Had it been real? A dream?
"Emmy, dear, why so shaken?" Comes a warm, soothing voice.
"Dad?" the small child asks, squinting at the figure standing just outside her bedroom window . . . standing?
The room that the general had made especially for her is on the second floor of the grand house. Anyone attempting to 'stand' outside her window would have to be . . . floating . . .
Then again, Daddy had warned her about these things . . . The strange things that no one could explain.
"No, Sweetie," the lilting voice replies with a chuckle. "But I soon will be."
"Wh-Who are you?"
"A very small and worthless girl . . ."
Emily's breath catches in her throat before she finishes the lyric she had heard many a night from her daddy since she could remember, " . . . finds nothing less to do than any normal girl looking for a toy to play with . . . How do you-"
"I'm a friend of your father's," the silhouette replies, its head tilting to one side in the moonlight. "He told me to come here so that I could take you to him."
"You know where my daddy is?" Emily asks desperately, sliding from beneath the sheets and cautiously padding across the floor. She stops mere feet from the sill, remaining on edge as her father and Uncle Jack had taught her.
"You're . . . You're a stranger," she says quietly, carefully. "Daddy says I'm not supposed to go with strangers."
"Yes, Daddy is very smart," the man chuckles. "But I'm not a stranger. Don't you remember me?"
Emily thinks for a moment, attempting to see his features. She shakes her head quickly.
"I'm Aaron," the man says with a wide grin, spreading his arms as if it should be obvious who he is. Emily's eyebrows furrow for a moment.
"My daddy told me Aaron was dead," she replies skeptically.
"That's what he thought," the Aaron man insists with a short nod. "But I'm here, and plainly alive, so . . . why don't you invite me in? I'll take you to your daddy."
Emily took a step back, causing the man to grind his teeth.
'Damn it. Why can't she just be one of those ignorant little wits?'
"Is something wrong?" he asks in as innocent a voice as possible.
"Daddy told me never to invite someone in," the small child shakes her head. "He said that if they're meant to come in, they'll come of their own accord." Aaron's fingers clench into fists.
"Yes, your daddy is a very smart man," he manages to spit out, "but, you see, he's very sick. If I don't take you to him-"
"You," Emily interrupts breathlessly. "You're the one from . . . from the dream."
"Dream?" Aaron asks in a cautious tone.
Dreams are funny things. You never really know what someone means when they say that they 'saw you in a dream last night.' At least not by their tone.
Expressions are what reveal your deepest feelings. A tone is a tone, emotionless, expressionless, absolutely useless when expressing oneself . . . but the face, the mouth . . . the eyes . . . They can give you away.
And the look that this little girl, this 'Emily,' has on her face . . . the look of pure and utter horror, of disgust and loathing, is one that Aaron finds most disconcerting.
"You . . . You hurt my daddy," Emily accuses, stepping further away from the window.
"No," Aaron pleads, holding his hands out and attempting a smile. "No, no, Sweetie, I would never hurt your daddy. He's just . . . You have to come with me. He may not have much time left. He's very, very sick . . . Please."
Emily's eyes water, tears beginning to stream down her cheeks.
"Why . . . Why can't Grandpa George take me?" She whimpers, crossing her arms protectively over her chest in pure Jackson fashion.
"Grandpa George wouldn't be able to reach him in time, Emmy. You must come with me," Aaron reaches a hand forward, his fingers stopping just outside of the barrier keeping him from the child.
Emily stares at the hand for a very long moment, contemplating between keeping her father's promise or going with this strange man, believing him. She glances towards the door, willing someone . . . anyone . . . to enter and make the decision for her.
"No one is coming, Emily," Aaron whispers gently. "Come. Before it's too late."
Turning back to the man, the small girl glares with the intense gaze given to her by her father.
And reaching forward to place her soft hand in his rough, calloused one, she makes her decision.
0 o 0 o 0
I have you now, Danny.
I have everything you tried to hold dear.
I have everything you tried to protect.
I have everything that you ever loved.
And now, my Danny . . . You will love only me.
0 o 0 o 0
"Don't yell, Jack," a soft voice says from behind the colonel, causing the hairs on the back of the man's neck to stand on end. Turning slowly, he finds the man he had thought to never see again.
"Danny?"
A smile taints the younger man's lips . . . those lips that had looked oh-so luscious, oh-so beautiful, oh-so Daniel . . . now they are a sickly grey, matching his skin. His eyes, his once pool-blue eyes, are now a blank white.
"What the fuck . . ." Ferretti mutters, slowly standing from his chair, the others following suit. "Daniel?"
"Lou," Daniel's grin grows into a wicked curve. "So nice to see you all. How are-"
"Cut the bull shit, Daniel," Jack seethes under his breath. Barely noticible to the others, but Daniel registers it as if it were shouted next to his eardrum. “What’re you doing here?”
“Informing you,” Daniel replies smoothly, the silky smile never leaving his lips. “Go home, Jack. There’s nothing for you in Sunnydale any longer.”
Jack says nothing, considering Daniel’s words.
“You’re right,” he whispers to everyone’s surprise.
“S-Sir?” Sam stutters in disbelief.
“We should go, Carter,” Jack replies over his shoulder. “Dan- . . . This thing . . . has a point. Like I said before . . . We’re leaving.”
“Jack!” “O’Neill.” “Sir!”
Three protests come at the same time from the SGC personnel.
“We just can’t . . . leave,” Ferretti says matter-of-factly.
Jack’s attention remains on the former archaeologist.
“Go,” the archaeologist says, his tone almost sad. “Don’t . . . Don’t try to find me, Jack. I need someone . . . to take care of Em.”
Jack’s eyes narrow, the sudden change of emotion in the man before him causing suspicion.
“Emily is no longer your concern,” the older man says through clenched teeth. “And . . . I don’t ever want to see you in the Springs, you hear me?”
Daniel gives a soft smile, replying, “You have my word.”
Jack looks to the ground as a surge of anger takes him. Not long ago, Daniel’s word would have meant everything in the world to him. It was sacred, secure . . . safe.
But, now, there is no reason to hold his word as truth. His word means absolutely nothing.
With tears hiding behind his eyes, Jack manages to choke in a strained whisper, “I loved you, Daniel Jackson . . . I loved you.”
With that, he turns and walks towards the military-issued vehicle parked across the street, the other three members of the SGC slowly following suit and giving Daniel last pleading looks.
Daniel watches them, his face showing no emotion but his mind screaming to follow them, to utter the words he so desperately needs Jack to hear. And as the car screeches off down the near-deserted street, the archaeologist finds himself wishing he had.
Even though the symbiote still resides within him . . . Even though the part of him is a monster . . . the Daniel that everyone used to know is still beneath the surface, awaiting someone to set him free.
Turning to the Sunnydale gang, still occupying the café table and staring at him intently, he smirks, allowing his eyes to flash a golden glow before disappearing into the alleyway between the café and the restaurant next to it.
Chapter Nineteen:
AN: Bwa!! How is everyone this fine and wonderful morning/afternoon/evening? I am quite tired myself, having stayed up all night trying to organize my /life/.
Jack steps up to General Hammond's door cautiously, wary of the police vehicles parked in the driveway and on the street. He had not wasted anytime in getting to his commanding officer's house, taking a cab directly from the airport and leaving three protesting team members.
Now, he almost wishes that they were with him. His stomach clenches as he pushes open the already ajar door, walking into a scene of near chaos. Several heads spin in his direction, mostly uniformed men, but one face is recognizable amidst the sea of blue.
"Jack," Hammond sighs exhaustedly, stepping forward to greet the man.
"General," the colonel greets with a curt nod, his gaze not yet meeting the older man's eyes. "What's going on here?"
Hammond gives Jack a look of desperation, sadness . . . apology.
"Doctor Jackson isn't with you?" He attempts to veer the subject. Jack's suspicions heighten as he continues to stare at the other men and women around the room, most searching every nook and cranny they can find, others standing with notepads, pens poised at the ready.
"Where's Emily?" The colonel asks in a near whisper, his voice cracking as the pit of his stomach drops out.
Without awaiting an answer, he starts up the stairs, three at a time, to the small girl's room, the one that the general had insisted making for her, considering she spent an enormous amount of time at his home with his granddaughters.
Reaching the room, he places his hands on either side of the door frame, coming to an abrupt halt. Within, he finds more of the blue-uniformed officers, searching the entire room.
Some glance up at his arrival, but return immediately to their task of pulling clothing from the small, pink dresser, ripping stuffed animals from the shelves and the large toy hammock that hangs from the ceiling, and stripping the bed of the comforter and pillows to toss them, crumpled, on the floor.
A hand on his shoulder startles him, and he gulps in air, realizing that he must have been holding his breath. Turning, he finds the general, a sorrowful look in his eyes.
"Jack . . ." he starts softly.
"Where's Emily?" Jack repeats his earlier question, somewhat more defeatedly this time.
"Jack . . . We should probably go to the den and sit down. You don't look . . . your best."
The colonel hesitantly and reluctantly follows Hammond back down the stairs, the stares of the police officers upon them.
"Could we have a moment?" The general requests politely. Everyone clears the room immediately, either retreating upstairs, out the front door, or towards the back deck. Hammond motions Jack to sit on the couch nearest his armchair, but the colonel does not comply.
"Jack," Hammond sighs tiredly, "sit, please."
The other man shakes his head of the mist that has been clouding it ever since he left Sunnydale, finally realizing what must be happening.
"He lied," Jack says exhaustedly, placing his face in his hands as he sinks into the cushions. The general cocks his head to one side, staring at him oddly.
"Who lied?" He inquires gently. Jack scrubs his face roughly, his fingers finally resting in a clasped position beneath his chin.
"It doesn't matter . . ." he trails off as memories plague his mind.
"Jack, what happened to Doctor Jackson? Where is he?"
Jack stares into space for a moment before placing his hands in his lap and straightening to an attention position in his seat. If he cannot do this as Jack, then he will just have to do this as Colonel O'Neill.
"We arrived in Sunndydale, California at approximately 0300, Sir," he starts, his military tone taking over. "We intercepted Daniel at the drop point, Sunnydale High School, and immediately began setting up the equipment-"
"Jack," Hammond raises a hand to interrupt his second in command. "I don't want a /report/ . . . not yet, at least. Right now, I would just like to know where Emily Jackson's father is, and why he isn't with you."
It would seem that the general does not want the Colonel O'Neill version . . . He wants to hear what Jack has to say. The only problem is that Jack, at the moment, is a nervous wreck, his entire body trembles from exhaustion, exhertion, manipulation . . . heartache.
"Dead . . . Sir," Jack says slowly and in such a soft tone that the general almost misses it.
General Hammond's features reamain emotionless for a moment, as if waiting for the rest, as if waiting for Jack to tell him, "Oh, but not really. He and Emily are outside. We should have a bar-b-que this weekend."
But he knows perfectly well that those words are but a dream.
And so his shoulders sag. His eyes turn distantly dismal. His entire being seems to lose its usually general-like aire.
"You're certain?" He questions, just to make sure, just to force the words to be said once more so that there is no contingency in the colonel's words.
Jack is silent for a moment, hesitant in confirming his answer, which lights a small spark of hope in the general's eyes.
"Yes, Sir," Jack finally replies unemotionally. "Absolutely certain."
AN: Alright, this is all I have for now . . . I know you're probably not very chuffed with me, but this bloody tale is taking quite a while. Promise to work as fast as I can, and I'll get the rest of the story up asap, yea? Cheers!!
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Date: 2005-09-08 03:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-08 03:06 pm (UTC)