Creation Myth

by Corby

Epilogue

For a man who had spent much of his working life around planes, airport lounges held no romance. They were simply places to wait, with increasing frustration, as schedules teased and tormented with what might have been. Jack O'Neill did not do the whole waiting thing well, least of all at five o'clock in the morning.

"You had to get the red eye special, huh?" he commented to his companion, who shrugged.

"It gets me a quick connection to Mexico City. Seemed worth the early start."

"For you, maybe." Jack shifted in the too-small seat and eyed the pile of luggage with distrust. "Christmas, right? You said 'Christmas'."

"Yes, Jack, I said Christmas." His companion ducked his head, hands loosely clasped between his knees.

"So…. They got phones at this Tula place? Not still using carrier goat, or something?"

"Probably." He looked up, the faint smile on his face cousin to a grimace. "I'll keep in touch, Jack, don't worry."

"Hey, it's the goats I worry about." Jack scratched at his knee, uneasy in the early morning quiet. On missions it felt right to be up and doing before the dawn, but here it seemed as though the underbelly of the world was showing in the secret life of the night-shift crew. He was suddenly unsure if he trusted the hour to care for Daniel, and he knew the hypocrisy of that concern. His own record in that regard was patchy, to say the least.

"I'll send regular updates." Daniel turned to burrow into his overnight bag beside him on the seat. "General Hammond wanted me to send something every two weeks." Sooner we know as much about the Tezhka as possible, the better."

"Yeah." The tone was unconvinced, but Jack didn't want to debate the idea with Daniel again. It seemed the last thing he could do for his friend before he left was to be a little up-beat, so he forced a positive note into his voice in defiance of the half-awake world about him. "Look, you and I know that I think you should have stayed at the base for a bit longer. But hey - the great thing is, you're back to normal, Daniel. You're okay."

There was a pause, then Daniel said softly, "No, I'm not."

Jack looked at him, as he sat quietly, checking his ticket. "Hey, I know what it's like. It's going to take a while till your sea-legs are back completely, I know that. But it'll happen. There'll be setbacks, and there'll be times you really feel like throwing something hard against a wall - and by the way, can I recommend that bag? I haven't seen anything that ugly since my drill sergeant went cross dressing - but you'll get there."

Daniel sat silently, his rounded shoulders signalling his denial.

"Yeah." The patter dried up, and Jack cast his eyes downwards, as if looking for a new topic of conversation. "So - this shrink doing any good?"

Daniel nodded, slowly. "She's helping me realise a few things."

Jack cocked his head. "Want to share?"

"Ohhh," and Daniel blew out his breath, and Jack thought there it is, there's that look that says this is nothing, as if the hurt that never left them both was nothing but a psychological hangnail. "She helped me understand that I - " He stopped, and frowned. "Jack, do you remember pain?"

"What?" A quick doubletake. "Like - 'pain' pain? As in arrow through the shoulder pain, staff burn to the leg kinda thing?" At Daniel's nod, he shrugged. "Sure."

"No, you don't." As Jack opened his mouth to protest, Daniel raised a finger. "Just - just hear me out. Jack, you remember the fact of the pain. You remember it felt bad, you might even remember what you said, how you acted - but you don't remember the feel of it. You can't. Humans have an in-built ability to screen out the reliving of pain. Just ask any woman who's been through childbirth more than once. We can say it hurt, but we don't remember what that actually means." When he saw Jack was listening, Daniel pinched the bridge of his nose and took the next step. "That's how I feel about Daniel Jackson."

"Ah - Daniel? Third person talking's something we try to avoid around here."

Daniel gave a slight shake of his head. "Jack, I remember everything about who I was. I just don't remember how to be it."

"You're doing it right now, Danny." Jack frowned. "You're being confusing and annoying and you're scaring me, all in some vague kind of way. That's what you do."

"Okay." The genuine smile was sudden, then gone so quickly Jack barely had time to savour it. "Sounds like a job profile to me."

"Good." Jack frowned again at the large mound of luggage. It looked too much like the amount demanded of a permanent move. "Back by Christmas?"

"Jack!"

"Okay, okay."

A boarding announcement echoed metallically above them, and both men promptly looked anywhere but at each other.

"Well, I guess I - " "Sure, right, better get - "

"Going, right."

They stood, irresolute, until Daniel bent to grasp the straps that tangled between them.

"Thanks for the lift, Jack." Daniel scooped the bags over his shoulder, and Jack knew the moment for a hug had come and gone.

"Ah - Danny?"

"Christmas, I know."

"No, I wasn't going to say that." Jack fumbled inside his shirt pocket, suddenly unsure. "I found this in the - er, the cell." He held out his hand. "For a while there the only time I thought about you was when I held onto a goddamn button. Maybe you should hang onto this, too? Luck kind of thing."

Daniel's eyes seemed very large in the artificial light of the airport lounge, and Jack could swear he saw his friend swallow. Daniel reached over and plucked the military issue button from Jack's palm as carefully as if he were handling a pearl.

"Luck kind of thing. I could - I could use that."

"Great. Great. " Jack shoved his hands into his pockets, as if ashamed of what he'd just done.

"Be seeing you, Jack," and Daniel was gone, heading to the check-in counter where no-one but a bored airline employee lingered. Jack stared after him, images of distress and danger and hate and love obscuring the sight of the thin young man with too many bags. If there was a meaning to it all, if there was a bedrock of truth in the past year's travails, he couldn't sense it. Maybe that would have to wait until Daniel returned from Mexico with his answers. And his questions. And a bad case of Montezuma's revenge, three souvenir pinatas and the bottle of duty free tequila Jack had ordered.

Maybe he just had to wait for Daniel.

The airline clerk watched with an infinite dislike of all passengers as Daniel hefted his bags onto the weigh-in tray.

"You're over."

"Yes, I know. They said the flight's only half-full, so it wouldn't be a problem."

The clerk's eyebrow indicated exactly what she thought of 'them', then punched in the details.

"Any chance of a window seat?" Daniel asked politely. Another razor look, then a savage click on her mouse.

"Aisle," she announced. Daniel sighed.

"Do you want my pa - ?" One look was enough to have Daniel fumbling with his passport holder. "Oh, right, yes, of course you do."

The clerk held it up. "Doesn't look like you."

"Well, my hair was a lot longer."

Daniel had never heard anyone actually 'harrumph' before, but he had a feeling he'd just experienced one from across the counter.

"Name?"

Name? "Doesn't it say it there?"

Green eyes that could out-drill lasers glared at him. "I said, 'name'?"

Name. He'd denied his name only weeks ago. Something that couldn't belong to him any more. That he didn't deserve. It had been lost for so long, buried with so many other things, he really wondered if there was any point in claiming it again.

But the name held power. The name, the ren. In so many cultures, the naming of someone was a source of magic; to know the name was to own the person.

He glanced back over his shoulder. Jack was still there, watching, unsmiling. He would be waiting all the weeks until Christmas, Daniel knew; waiting for the return of his friend, the one he'd left behind and then fought to recover. He would be here, at this airport, standing at the arrivals gate, grinning and trying not to; and Teal'c and Sam would be at his side, Sam's eyes alight, Teal'c giving one of those half bows that said "I am glad you are back, Daniel Jackson." Did they deserve to greet a friend who wouldn't even try to own the name with which they'd welcome him?

He drew in a deep breath, then smiled past the hostility and said the words aloud.

"Doctor Daniel Evans Jackson, Phd."

Feel free to contact the author... e-mail to: thepossum_au@yahoo.com.au

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Within the context and limitations of the site Disclaimer, Any and All original characters, situations, story line, dialogue and narrative © July 15th, 2001, the author