True to Form

by Jb

part nine, of nine

Daniel idly picked at the loose threads unfurling along the edge of the blanket, trying to distract himself from the thoughts whirling around in his head. Pain, deceit, death... incompetence. Oh, yeah. Yeah, that one. That was a good one, along with his personal favorite, betrayal. His fingers found a couple of threads he'd missed and as he pulled them, an interesting almost variegated pattern formed in the fabric as it's weave slowly disintegrated. It reminded him there was something else he'd much prefer to be pulling on - actually, a few things - but that would hurt, and he'd had his fill of hurting. He shifted slightly in the bed, feeling the tug at his groin and the pinch on his forearm, and smiled faintly to himself at the memory of Jack foretelling the benefits of tubes and new holes. He glanced at where the IV needle was inserted in his vein, wanting nothing more than to rip it out and scratch away at the reddened skin under the transparent adhesive patch covering the site. And as for the other -

Well, in fact... he did feel better. Much better. Amazing the difference a day makes. Okay, well, it was really three days, but that was how the expression went. He wondered just where that particular phrase came from. Pleased with the possibility of a new distraction, he eagerly pursued it. Actually, it was an interesting topic, how catch phrases and colloquialisms evolve from meagre beginnings to solidify their hold on contemporary language. If his memory served him correctly, it was C.A. Poullard, PhD-of-course from Stanford via - where he hell had Poullard done his preliminary work? never mind it didn't matter - via somewhere else who had done that hallmark retrogradation study on the origins and progression of...

Daniel started as the curtain around his bed was abruptly yanked open and unexpected voices raised in greeting invaded his small refuge. Rubbing his sore chest, he realized he had been lost in thought for a few moments. Long enough for Jack and Teal'c to sneak up on him, unfortunately. No opportunity now to whip the head of the bed down eight inches and lay back to do a long-suffering, at the end of a very long winding road, apathetic 'feeling so sick wanna die' routine. Shit. Busted.

He felt his face flush as both of them virtually squealed with pleasure - well, Teal'c more like grunted, but it was a long loud one - at seeing him sitting up at a good sixty degree angle, all bright eyes and bushy... no, that would be going just that little bit too far. But, it was true, he did feel better. Physically, anyway. Giving in, he managed to paste a small smile on his face in response to their pleased acknowledgment of how good he looked over the previous day. He just hoped they wouldn't expect him to actually talk to them, because it was hard enough to just sit there in their line of sight without burying his head in the pillow and trying to cocoon himself out of existence in the bed linen.

The initial pleasantries over with, both men stood at his bedside, shifting slightly in the ensuing moments of uncomfortable silence. Daniel ducked his head, concentrating on the edge of the blanket. It was all too obvious they didn't know what to say to him any better than he did to them. Other than the previous evening - when Fraiser had apparently decided to test his lucidity through a period of blessed abstinence - Daniel didn't remember most of the last several days with any real sense of clarity. From the self-conscious, faintly embarrassed looks on his teammates faces, he figured that was probably all for the best.

There were various images and impressions floating around in his head of white linen and cold grey metal, blurred objects, heat and cold and sickness, muted pain, dizziness and confusion. Bustling medical staff, tepid water and rough washcloths, far too loud whispered voices, and way far too many embarrassing intrusions upon the sanctity of his body to even bear thinking about had been his whole world. Witness... the horrible 'it' down below, the IV in his forearm and the other really big one securely taped in place in the crook of his elbow, multiple bruises and holes from repeated blood tests, and the electrodes still stubbornly stuck to his chest, sending their vital messages across a network of tangled, multi-coloured, thin wires which tied him down more securely than any ball and chain ever could.

He didn't fully recall, nor fully intellectually understand even now, his apparent attempted manipulation of Dr. Fraiser and the nurses... nor the visit from the General during which, he'd been since told, he had insisted Hammond order Dr. Fraiser not to treat him. He sure was aware of the outcome of that particular misbegotten adventure, though. He had spent the last two days in a drugged fog, not so much as able to even awaken fully before the next needle was plunged into either brown rubber injection ports or tortured muscles. Through it all, he was all too aware of the overwhelming sense of panic, the impression that something was wrong, of feeling the distinct need to try righting that wrong no matter what it took... and of his complete inability to do anything about it.

He remembered Jack's voice, and Teal'c's, both of them there just when he needed to hear them the most, to know they were safe from whatever incomprehensible danger threatened them and relentlessly tore at the edges of his confused mind. He felt an unexpected rush of thankfulness and looked back up at them only to quickly drop his head again, closing his eyes as the gratitude was immediately followed by stronger humiliation and feelings of culpability. He'd only found out that morning, courtesy of Dr. Fraiser's distinctly reluctant answers to a few choice insistent questions, that there was more to regret than he had even realized.

"Oh fer crying out loud. Daniel..." Daniel felt the side of the mattress dip precariously as Jack perched himself on the edge of the bed, and automatically scrunched his legs over to one side slightly. "Okay, wait..." As the mattress bounced somewhat violently, jarring him, Daniel scooted his butt over a few inches. "Great, thanks. I was about to slide right off onto the floor. Look, I don't know for sure what's running through your mind, but judging from the way you were babbling on... Daniel, you didn't do anything wrong. Just the opposite."

Yeah, sure. So, where was Panter? And Sam? Where was she? Oh, crap, wait - buh, buh... b-babbling? Oh, no. No, no, no. How disturbing, embarrassing, degrading. Disgusted with himself, Daniel muttered under his breath, his mouth barely moving to form the words, "Didn't exactly do anything right."

"You did everything right, and don't let anyone try to tell you any different." Aw, hell. Normally if Daniel wanted Jack to hear him, he'd need to raise his voice at least above a dull roar and choose a topic he knew Jack would approve of. Damn. This was perverse. "You went through hell to help us, Daniel, and you did things with that damned DHD no one else could have done. There's nothing wrong about the kind of determination and dedication you showed."

Don't want to do this, Jack. Can't do this. Daniel laid his head back against the pillow, aware of the beginnings of dizziness even though his eyes were closed. He'd messed up and the last thing he needed to do was discuss it. Go away. Maybe his chest would start to hurt, or his head, and he'd ask for a... No! God, coward, coward.

"I wish to thank you, Daniel Jackson." Shut up, Teal'c. Can't do this. Killed him. "Had it not been for your work on the glyphs, we would never have been able to leave P6V221." Killed. They died. Everybody died. Everybody but him. Apophis came and landed on the mountain and the ships blew up in space and Panter came and everybody died and he -

What? What did Teal'c just say?

Daniel opened his eyes, lifted his head. Teal'c's face did a slight dodge and blur and then settled into place. "What? I didn't get us here, Teal'c. Wasn't me. I got it wrong."

"On the contrary, Daniel Jackson. We would not have been able to dial the DHD if you had not deciphered the Tau'ri address. We would not be here."

Why did no one ever listen to him? Fine, they wanted to talk? Ignoring the pull of the tubes and wires and the sharp jab in his chest, Daniel pushed down on the bed and raised himself up onto his arms, leaning forward. "Teal'c, do I need to spell it out? I got it wrong. I messed up and sent Panter to God knows where; I killed him. Then I screwed up Oannes. I messed up on the glyphs. I got us nowhere."

"Oh, this is a load of crap. You are oh, so misled. Don't tell me Hammond or Fraiser haven't filled you in yet on what went wrong?" Jack place a hand on the opposite side of Daniel's legs and put his weight on his arm, leaning forward, his upper body forming an effective barrier which trapped Daniel between that hard place and the mattress behind him. "It was one glyph, Daniel. That's all. First off, you're too smart a guy not to understand if you hadn't of gotten all the rest of the glyphs done right, we wouldn't be here. It was just a matter of circulating through to find the real Cancer, and I'll double-damn guarantee if we go back and sort through that Altarian stuff, it's going to be one of the ones you were thinking it might be. You are so full of shit, you know that, Daniel. Martrydom doesn't suit you, so knock it off."

Jack moderated his tone of voice and leaned back, easing off the invasion of personal space. "Carter says it was a zillion to one shot, but you just happened to hit on an alternative glyph to Cancer that worked with the rest of the address. Daniel, believe it. You did good."

Wha... Cancer?  His jaw feeling like it was made of concrete and his breath catching in his chest, Daniel abstractedly wondered if the increasingly erratic pace of the low beeping from the bedside monitor had anything to do with Jack's bit of charity. Just one glyph? Cancer... not Cra? When Fraiser had relented and told him about Panter not being there, Daniel thought he must have gotten both addresses wrong - multiple mistakes. But now, oh God...

Jack gave Daniel's forearm a quick pat. "Look, as much as I hate to do this, there is something important we need to talk about, if you're up to it. It's, ah, well... it's not pleasant, Daniel."

Oh, well, fine. So what is, these days. Still trying to process what he'd been told, Daniel simply nodded dumbly, trusting that if Jack said it was important, in that tone of voice and under these circumstances, it would be.

"Okay. So you obviously know Panter isn't here." Jack waved an arm expansively around, indicating not only the rest of the room but likely the entire base. The entire planet.

"I asked Dr. Fraiser this morning if he was. She didn't want to tell me anything at first, but she said he never made it back. That the Earth address I came up with was a misdial."

"Yeah, well, she shouldn't have put it quite that way... but yes, Panter never got here. Why the hell didn't she explain how we got here?"

"I didn't ask." Didn't want to know. Hadn't wanted to know, after realizing that even though he had abandoned his team they had managed to do what he couldn't. He had been so sure he was the only one who knew what he was doing. Pitiful, disgusting arrogance to think he knew best. Sam had been right. Pride, false pride, really sucked. He heard Jack's incredulous snort, his amazement that Daniel hadn't asked the most obvious of questions, but ignored it.

He knew now; Teal'c and Jack had just told him. Cancer. He'd messed up with Cancer, the fourth symbol in the Earth address, and the fifth for Oannes. Of course. No wonder the DHD crapped out when it did with Oannes. The new realization that Cra had been right after all, and that yes, just as Teal'c said, in a way it was his address which got them home, provided little solace. He'd been banging away at the wrong door and Panter was off somewhere, likely having bled to death from the wound Daniel had inflicted. He killed him. He hadn't wanted to do that. He'd wanted to hurt him, sure, to disable him and prevent him from leaving so Daniel could get over there and retrieve the single GDO from him. But... he'd killed him.

He said it, voiced it, made it irrevocably real and as he did so a knife-like pain twisted in his chest. "Jack. I shot him. Panter would have come home by now if he could. He's... he's out there, God knows where, but... he must be dead or dying. I sent him off, to die." There. It was out.

Jack's voice was soft, full of understanding. "Daniel, we all know you never meant for anyone to die, even him. But if it hadn't of been him, it would have be you... and the rest of us. Hammond established a new contact time with Panter when he sent the supplies. If Panter had made it back they never would have sent a new MALP, and we'd still be playing ring around the rosy with the DHD dial. We never would have known it was Cancer that was wrong, and without you, we never would have even had a chance at figuring that out." The hand on his forearm squeezed slightly and held that grip for a few seconds before releasing him. It was a reassuring gesture which spoke of acceptance, and Daniel felt the knife-pain piercing his chest back off a few inches. "Better him than you, Daniel. Hell, better him than even me."

Oh... oh oh... Daniel's chest caught in a painful spasm as it suddenly occured to him if Panter had not attacked them, they would have all happily gone through the Stargate thinking they were going home.  He gasped, trying to breathe around the tight band of horror which closed around him as he realized what could have happened. A hand on his face, warm and gentle, was followed by understanding words, "Hey... don't even think about it, okay? Didn't happen." Jack pushed against Daniel's cheek, directing his head around to make eye contact. "You saved our butts, Daniel. What-ifs don't count.  Don't even exist."

"O'Neill, there is the matter of the debriefing." With Teal'c's words Daniel recalled Jack had said there was something important they needed to discuss.

"Yeah, right, thanks Teal'c." Jack stood up, his demeanor suddenly harder, more distant. For a second Daniel wondered what else he had screwed up, before remembering Jack had just unequivocally told him he hadn't done anything wrong in the first place. Daniel knew he'd done his best, and he intellectually understood what they were telling him. He also knew it would take a lot longer for his soul to acknowledge what his intelligence already was starting to come to terms with, but he'd try. He really would try to believe it.

"Daniel, this is important. Don't have a cow, but there's been some political garbage going on. Turns out Panter was part of some high mucky-muck's wet dream for the future of the SGC. It's distasteful, Daniel, but for our own protection the details of this mission have to stay between us. There's no debriefings, and if you hear any scuttlebutt about your part in it, no matter what it is, you bring it straight to me... you understand?"

Jack's expression was dark and brooding. Daniel looked in surprise at him, not understanding what was up but knowing if he had understood, it was definitely something he wouldn't like. It was the look on Teal'c's face which stilled the question forming on his lips. Teal'c was rigid, his jaw clenched so hard there was a small muscle tic jumping on one side of his face, his eyes staring straight ahead. This was something big, and very unpleasant. Jacks' words replayed in his mind, and he focused on the part about him. Scuttlebutt about his part in it...

His part in it... Panter being something special, no debriefing, no talk about it outside of the team - Shit. Sudden understanding swept through him like wildfire. No wonder Jack was so vehement about trying to convince him he'd done no wrong. Trying to compensate for the dismal political reality. "Jack... they're blaming me, aren't they? Panter was unstable and they don't want to admit it. He's gone, he can't convict himself, so they can sweep it away. But they need a scapegoat to account for him not coming back... and that's me, right?"

Right. Absolutely right. The complicated mix of anger, misery, guilt, and compassion on their faces told him what they obviously were reluctant to confirm out loud. Jack let a slight whisper of acknowledgment escape his mouth, in accompaniment to a regretful nod, tight jaw, and narrowed eyes. "Yeah, Danny. In writing."

A flash of almost overwhelming righteous indignation stole Daniel's breath for a moment and having no other choice, his voice shifting into reverse gear and his ability to somehow overtly defend himself firmly stuck in neutral, Daniel let his head sink into the pillow behind him and silently thought it over. So, what now... did he go off waxing philosophical about truth and lies and ethics and morals? Again? For about the twentieth time since joining the SGC? It wasn't just him who was being shafted here. It was Rykert, and Tyrrel and Paulson. Or... wait... was it? How would their names be best remembered? As brave men fallen in a battle for the protection of mankind, or as unfortunate victims of their insane commanding officer, their lives lost for no good reason?

No. That was a lie. It would be a lie... and Daniel didn't support lies. Did he? Or, did he? Were some lies...? Was his very participation in the program - Ugh. What would Rykert want? Awareness of the increasing pounding in his head and pressure in his chest reminded Daniel he wasn't exactly at his best here. Didn't have the energy nor tolerance for this.

So, okay, maybe not this time, or at least, not right now. He was still far too sick to use up his limited energy in that way. What did he need a pristine personnel file for, anyway? It wasn't as if he was up for promotion, or future job prospects hinged on what was written in a highly classified file no one outside of the SGC would ever see. He really hadn't wanted to talk about this mission anyway, and if there were to be any rumours that he'd sent Panter to his death... well, that part was true. And in a perverse sort of way, Panter's actions had actually saved SG-1.

Okay, then. For now, for the time being only, maybe he could live with this. He smiled slightly as it occurred to him that once he was feeling better and especially once his soul finally caught up with his mind, there'd be such localized hell to pay over this particular lie that his military friends would want to transfer to the Antarctic rather than listen to him go on about it. At Jack and Teal'c's puzzled expressions over his small smile, his uncharacteristic reaction to this latest outrage, Daniel couldn't keep it from broadening into a self-deprecatory grin, even though the stitches in his lip pulled like hell.

Keep 'em off balance, Jackson. Keep 'em guessing. Wouldn't want anyone to get to know him too well, would he? God... they might even come to trust him one day if that happened.

"Hey, Daniel."

"Hey, yourself."

He didn't look too bad. Not as bad as he had over the last couple of days, alternatively resisting the nurses attempts to care for him plus restlessly moaning and mumbling half the time, and in a disturbingly motionless sleep the other half. The Colonel had said he was much better today, but she hadn't been sure whether she ought to believe it or not.

Sam approached the bed, the fat pocketbook held behind her back in her clasped hands. He seemed much more alert, lucid. His voice still sounded pretty rough, but the words seemed to come out okay. Certainly, the glaze was gone from his eyes. Still had that death-warmed-over dragged-down look, though. She supposed that might take a bit longer to go away. Pretty obvious he was still sick. Maybe this wasn't such a great idea. Janet had said it would be another day or so before he got some energy back, as he still wasn't eating much of anything. Maybe she should come back later.

"What have you got?"

Yes, he's definitely much better if he could see she was carrying something. If he could even see her, for that matter. Nosy bugger. If she wanted to share with him, she would; he shouldn't have asked. He always had to know everything. She settled herself on the edge of the bed, allowing the book to slip from her fingers onto the blanket behind her. She never should have brought it in the first place, and in the second place it was only his business if she wanted it to be.

Oh, man. What was she just thinking? Boy, she was even more messed up than she thought. Daniel fixed his eyes steadily on her face and smiled, quite self-consciously, and Sam instinctively knew he wanted to set things right as much as she did. Maybe this wasn't a bad idea. Well, bringing the book... it needed to be burned, because he'd just look down his nose at her over it. But the visit, that was a good thing. Realizing how glad she was to see him actually aware of her presence, unlike the other times she had been here over the last few days, Sam found herself returning the smile with a broad, genuine, face-cracking grin. It felt good.

The skin around his eyes crinkled as he asked, "Is it something for me?"

Ahh, no. No. Suddenly, seeing the real Daniel here in front of her looking into her eyes, instead of the one who she'd had to watch suffer for the past week, Sam felt foolish for even bringing the stupid thing with her. She didn't need it. Whatever had possessed her? Ah well, yeah, she knew what had possessed her. She didn't know what else to do with herself, with him, how else to figure this out, that's what. But it was a Stupid Idea. "Oh, uh, no. No, it's just a book. Daniel, you're looking a lot better than yesterday."

He looked down at the blankets and she thought she saw the beginnings of a slight pink flush on his face and neck. "Yes. I feel better. Dr. Fraiser cut back on the meds. She told me you asked her to do that." He looked back up at her and she was surprised to actually see wry amusement on his face. "I think she was surprised to find I was actually in here somewhere. Sam... thanks."

She reached out and pulled the overbed table toward her, angling it to slide it's wheeled feet under the bed. Pulling the table around to fit between them over the bed, she leaned against it and folded her arms on it's surface. "Hey, I figured it was more the drugs keeping you from us than anything else. I..." She waggled her head, a bit nervous about the possibility of embarrassing him. "I wanted you back."

Spreading his hands wide, palms up, Daniel quipped, "Hey, I'm here. Now, give me my present."

She tried to laugh. Didn't quite work out. "No. I told you, it's nothing for you. I'm sorry... give me a minute and I'll run out and buy you something..."

He looked at her, tipping his head slightly as the amusement faded from his eyes. "Thank you for coming, Sam."

She had the urge to ask him if that was a dismissal, if maybe she did need to run right out and buy something for him, but she knew the time for humour had passed. "That's okay. I would have come sooner, but we're updating the dialing program and I had some stuff to get ready for the rest of the crew to work on. It ended up taking most of the day. Colonel O'Neill told me he was here this morning?"

As Daniel nodded, he winced and reached out to grasp the edge of the table. Seeing the same tell-tale signs of dizziness which she had gotten so used to discerning over the last ten days, Sam reached out and closed her hand overtop of his, rubbing her thumb along the line of his knuckles. He tried again, this time moving his head more slowly. "Yeah. Jack and Teal'c." There was a slight catch in his voice. "Sorry. I've been having some dizzy spells since they let me put the head of the bed up."

Sam reached over and pressed the button, decreasing the angle by half. "I hope you tried to eat your dinner. Janet says you need to start eating something. Actually, you're so much better than you were last night even now, Daniel. I'm sure now that you're on the mend, it'll all go away before you know it. You'll be up and about putting this all behind you in no time."

His eyes closed, Daniel pulled his hand out from under hers. "Putting all this behind me. Jack told me about the official stance on P6V221." He opened his eyes again, gazing at her with an unreadable expression on his face. Closed-off. Neutral to the point of being distant. "Is that why you came to see me? To tell me I can put it behind me? Or is this purely a social call?"

Sam found herself trying to stammer out an answer, but not knowing quite what to say without sounding patronizing. She knew why she was really here, but was worried he'd send her away if she said it. So she settled for some vague denials, wondering how to broach the real issue without sounding like some sort of wishy-washy emotional - "Uh, no, no, Daniel. I know it won't be quite that... I mean, yes, well, this is a social visit, I wanted to know how you were feeling, but it's not completely just social... but I would never...

"Sam." Daniel looked at her sternly. "You know you're about to break out into some serious babbling, don't you? Jack told me how I was babbling away over the last few days. Trust me... you don't want to go there." His voice softened, a wistful smile playing at the corners of his mouth but not really reaching the light of day. "Look, I know we have some fence-mending to do. I just... well, if that's why you're here, I hope you have a better idea of how to go about it than I do. Because I'm really lost."

Sam watched silently as Daniel looked down and began picking at the edge of the blanket. She couldn't help but notice the distinctly damaged rows of fabric along the entire width of the hem, loose threads and large gaps in the weave giving it a distinctly tattered look. This was not a brand new pastime for him. The minute that blanket hit the laundry...

"Sam, I'm really sorry. I apologize for the way I spoke to you. I wish I could take it all and stuff it back in, but - Anyway, it's over with now." Daniel's words trailed off into a deep sigh and an accompanying wince of pain.

She finished the first sentence for him. "But you can't stuff it back in, because that would be dishonest, Daniel." As he ducked his head even further and yanked the blanket higher to cover his chest, still pulling at a particularly fat bundle of threads, Sam reached out and pulled it out of his hands. "Stop. You're willfully destroying government property, and you're trying to avoid me."

He looked up at her, faint hurt and clear objection in his eyes and voice. "Hey. I'm the one who just apologized. And I'm the one who brought it up. You've been skirting all around it since you walked in here. " He frowned and looked slightly flustered. "Well, okay... so, not verbally... actually..."

She knew exactly what he was talking about. She'd come here hoping to find some common ground, something to help them feel more comfortable with the things that had been said and done, but she'd been too chicken to actually bring it up herself. But now that he had done it, he seemed all too willing to throw it away with one brief apology. That wasn't enough. They had hurt each other, and sweeping it under the same rug where Panter's remains lay wasn't going to do it. Steeling herself against the possibility of being scorned, derided, or even openly laughed at, she reached behind her and picked up the book. He better damn well behave himself because if he laughed at her, or made her feel any more stupid than she already did...

Feeling a flush of embarrassment rising in her face, before she could lose her nerve she stammered out, "Daniel... I, I'm sorry. I was wrong. I should have believed in you more, but I wasn't sure how. I... I'm not sure why... I'm not sure if I can change who I am..."

Expending her last bolt of misplaced courage, she yanked her arm around, pulled out the book, and plunked it down on the overbed table. And began to understand. To gain an inkling of just what Daniel had been yelling at her about in the village. A curious look on his face, he reached over and picked up the book. His eyebrows raised up as he read the print on the front cover and after a few seconds, he looked up at her. He said one word only, just her name, but the way his eyes smiled at her, from out of a completely understanding and accepting face, almost did her in.

"Sam."

He didn't laugh, he didn't tease or patronize her, he didn't even look confused. Of course he didn't. It was her who had done all those things, had been doing them to herself from the moment she had bought the book, it being so, so, so, so far from her usual fare that she had felt silly about even having thought of it. She realized that Daniel being Daniel, he never would have laughed at her even though he himself might never have done the same thing. She knew she had a ways to go, and may never get all the way there, but she was starting to understand. It was about acceptance despite differences. And about how easily actions toward others could be ruled by innate traits that have little to do with the other person.

He opened the book, rifling through the pages, and looked up at her. "You know, you can find some real gems in some of these. I've never heard of this book." He turned it over in his hands. "Looks brand new. Have you had a chance to go through it at all?"

She shook her head, nope, and found herself wanting to take the thing back. This was ridiculous. Chagrined, she dropped her chin and held her breath. Daniel shifted in the bed, grunting slightly, and Sam heard the sound of pages being flipped. Apparently settling on a passage, he began reading. Oh, God. Aloud. She covered her face with her hands.

"In pursuit of the attainment of one's wholeness of self, we must never lose sight of that which our lives are made of. The answers lie within our relationship with ourself and with those we seek to commune with. There can be no true harmony where there exists a state of separation from self and others, for the reflection of our true worth lays in our acceptance of self and those others..."

Oh, this really wasn't her thing. That what it said - if she could understand what it said - might be true was beside the point. For other people it might be wonderful, but for her... and to bring it to Daniel... She should have just found a way to talk to him. It wasn't a tool for breaking the ice, it was evidence of her failure.

There was a rustle of paper, and an exclamation which Sam couldn't tell for sure expressed pleasure or amazement, or both. "Hey! Sam, take a look! There's a chapter specifically on communing with others... wow, look at the diagrams... uh, oh my... gee, do people actually do that?"

Sam jerked her head up and grabbed the book out of his hands. The clerk at the bookstore had told her it was the most popular self-improvement guide found on the market focusing on understanding and improving relationships with others, and included excerpts from some of the most renowned philosophers. An an undeniable bestseller. Well, she guessed she knew why, now. How could she have missed - Daniel made a grab of his own, managing to get hold of the back cover as he complained, "Hey, I was looking at that. It's the most interesting thing I've seen in over three weeks..."

She yanked hard and the back cover ripped right off. Daniel held the torn cover in his hand, studying it, turning it over a few times. He raised his eyebrows at her and pointed at the book in her hand. "Uh, can I trade you? I kinda like the pictures." She laughed, and looked at the book with disfavor.

"Chapter eight, I think it was. Page one-eighty-five, anyway. Have a look, Sam." He prodded her thigh with his knee.

Okay, well, what would it hurt. Anything to find a connection, even visual communing. She'd actually bought the damn thing, hadn't she? Flipping through the pages, frowning as she got closer, Sam saw no sign of any diagrams of any kind. She went past the point he had directed her to, continuing to flip, and there was... nothing. Why, that little shit. He was making fun of her... laughing at her...

She raised her head, disappointment in them both rising in her chest. But he wasn't laughing. Just the opposite. With a serious and encouraging look, his voice soft, almost pleading, Daniel redirected her back. "Sam. Page one-eighty-five, top of the page." He pressed his lips together and smiled tightly, jerking his head toward the book.

She found the page, and started reading. Four lines into it, her heart did a nervous dance and then settled as she read further. The flow of it swept over her, the cadence lending a sense of peace and surety to the words, the emotion and meaning capturing her in a warm yet painful embrace. Half-way through she glanced up at Daniel to find him resting with his eyes closed, head back against the pillow, his lips moving ever so slightly in silent speech. She read the next line aloud and as she moved on to the rest, he joined in and softly recited it with her.

"You would touch with your fingers the naked body of your dreams.
And it is well you should.
The hidden well-spring of your soul must needs rise and run murmuring to the sea;
And the treasure of your infinite depths would be revealed to your eyes.
But let there be no scales to weigh your unknown treasure;
And seek not the depths of your knowledge with staff or sounding line.
For self is a sea boundless and measureless.
Say not, "I have found the truth," but rather, "I have found a truth."
Say not, "I have found the path of the soul."
Say rather, "I have met the soul walking upon my path."
For the soul walks upon all paths.
The soul walks not upon a line, neither does it grow like a reed.
The soul unfolds itself, like a lotus of countless petals."

                      ... excerpt from: On Self Knowledge; in: The Prophet, by Kahil Gibran

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