Author's Notes: Whew... made it! Thanks to Sanna for the French flavoring. My program won't put in all those little carets and accents... so any mangling is entirely my own! Just couldn't resist the temptation to allow Daniel to make use of one of the 23.
DISCLAIMER: All characters and property of Stargate SG-1 belong to MGM/UA, World Gekko Corp. and Double Secret Productions. This fan fiction was created solely for entertainment and no money was made from it. Also, no copyright or trademark infringement was intended. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Any other characters, the storyline and the actual story are the property of the author.
Jack had known they couldn't be lucky enough to get away from the dig site without incident; he'd been right. He'd no sooner seen that light of discovery and impending trouble appear in Daniel's eyes than he heard a voice behind him.
"Professeur Paquette?"
Luckily Daniel wasn't so deeply in thought as to forget his assumed name, but even as his friend turned to confront the speaker Jack knew from Daniel's expression just who it had to be. The posturing windbag. The one who knew Daniel from before.
"Oui?" Daniel's attitude changed instantly into one of bored disinterest.
The posturing windbag...Jack couldn't remember his name....obviously expected Professor Michel Paquette, Cultural Attache to the Canadian government, to recognize him. Jack didn't know much French, just enough to order a drink and to tell if he was being insulted, but it was obvious that Daniel wasn't giving the self-important archaeologist much ground.
"Et vous etes?"
"Jonathan Rosenthal. J'etais un des premiers a decouvert le nouvel systeme d'ecriture."
Jack had heard enough French to recognize the fact that Rosenthal spoke it badly. Daniel's expression grew ever more detached.
"Et puis...?"
Rosenthal looked flustered, "Votre reputaton vous precede, monsieur. Je voulais savoir si vous avez eu des impressions au sujet de la presentation?"
"Ma impression, monsieur, est que vous n'avez aucune idee de que vous ici, et selon toute probabilite, vous ne sera jamais."
Jack nearly laughed as whatever Daniel said caused Rosenthal to go red, literally and figuratively.
"Et je suppose que vous le savez?" The man's tone was indignant.
Daniel gave him a long hard look. In Jack's opinion they were treading on very shaky ground here, Rosenthal could put two and two together at any moment...but Daniel was obviously throwing himself into his role, and Jack trusted the younger man not to push things too far.
"Plus qu'un cul ignare comme vous-meme irez avoir jamais."
With those final words, Daniel turned on his heels motioning with an imperious hand for Jack to follow. Jack looked at the deflated...angry...windbag for a moment. " He gets that way..."
Jack trotted after Daniel, playing the good sycophant, and asked, "What did you just say to him?" Actually, Jack was pretty sure that at least one of the words involved a body part...or a barn animal.
Daniel just shook his head, smiling just a little "The truth. He doesn't know what he's got here...and he never will."
Daniel kept walking, leaving Jack confused...and with little choice but to follow.
By the time they reached the hotel, Jack had given up trying to get Daniel to reveal what had been said at the dig site. It was obvious Daniel had already put it out of his mind in favor of something more important.... the writing. As they packed and made their way to the airport, Daniel remained stubbornly silent and distracted. Jack maneuvered his friend through customs and onto the plane with the ease of long practice with Daniel's focussed concentration, but Jack had very nearly exhausted his limited supply of patience waiting for Daniel to reveal whatever it was that had caused his face to drain of color and the pupils of his unusual blue eyes to dilate to near total blackness. But Jack had learned to read Daniel's eyes the hard way, through life and death experiences, and infinitely painful situations. Jack had learned all he needed to know about his friend by watching those eyes, and right now Daniel's eyes were telling Jack that something big was coming...something bad. And that same long experience had taught him that pushing Daniel wasn't going to bring answers any faster.
Daniel was staring blankly through the window of the small jet that Hammond had commandeered for their use, part of the cover story designed to lend authenticity to Daniel's assumed credentials. But even now, thousands of feet above the ocean, Daniel refused to talk about what he'd read on that wall and Jack knew that nothing he could say would force Daniel to speak until he was ready.
Jack pulled out a couple of the prepared meals the pilot had stowed in the cabin for them and watched Daniel pick absently at his food; his friend's body was present, but his mind? It sure wasn't on the clouds passing by the window. Jack knew very well that Daniel wasn't even seeing the clouds; Daniel's mind was hard at work, churning over whatever he'd learned in Egypt...and what it meant for all of them. Daniel never stopped thinking. By some means inaccessible to most of them, Daniel processed information on multiple levels and arrived at conclusions that, more often than not, proved correct...and to Jack that was the bottom line.
Daniel finally fell asleep, still looking out of the window, and Jack draped his coat over the younger man. As he settled in to get some sleep himself, Jack realized that the past few months since Sha'uri died had been particularly difficult for Daniel, and it didn't look like things were going to be improving much in the near future.
Daniel was dreaming...
// A desert landscape stretched before him, the heat rising in distorting waves. Amidst the shimmering horizon, a figure approached. As Daniel watched the figure came closer, coalescing into features both familiar and alien.
Ra. But, somehow, not. The too perfect features softened and sympathetic, as they had never been in life.
The not-Ra came closer; smiling in an expression that was almost kind and handed Daniel a scroll. As Daniel unrolled the parchment, he realized it was written in Goa'uld, a warning, just like the one he'd read on the wall. When Daniel looked up the image of Ra was gone.
As Daniel started to read the words again, the scroll ignited in his hands.... //
Daniel woke up suddenly; biting off the outcry that almost escaped his lips. He sat up in the darkened cabin, trying to control his shaky breathing. Jack was apparently undisturbed on the lounge a few feet away; the worry lines from earlier still etched on his face. Daniel laughed at the sudden thought that while he couldn't stop thinking in his sleep, Jack couldn't stop worrying.
Daniel knew in his heart that both of them would be getting a lot of practice at those particular idiosyncrasies in the very near future.
Jack had awakened instantly when Daniel had come awake, the stifled gasp had been more than enough to alert the older man.
Jack had observed over time that Daniel had multiple levels of dreams: the come-awake-screaming kind that required steady, and sometimes forcible grounding to reality; the take-a-few-minutes-to-ground-himself kind that usually didn't require more than a steady presence and a little talking afterward; the get-up-and-move kind that generally just needed them to keep him from getting lost in the dark while his mind cleared, and then there were the too-hard-to-talk-about-so-don't-even-ask kind of dreams that Jack had yet to find a way to help his friend through. Jack realized this was the get-up-and-move kind as he heard Daniel rise and start pacing the small cabin.
If this problem was invading Daniel's dreams, then Jack knew it, whatever it was, was worse than he'd originally thought. He only hoped that when it did come, they would be ready.