Revelations at the Meridian- Daniel

By BadgerGater

Email: [email protected]

Season: 5

Spoilers: Meridian

Category: sequel/missing scenes to Meridian

Warnings: Character death (er, sort of), but we all know that

Rating: G

Pairing: None

Summary: Daniel knows he is dying; Missing scene for Meridian; *Not* a fix

Disclaimer: I don't own SG-1, acknowledge the rights of those that do; and promise not to mess them up permanently. I'm just taking them out to play for a bit and when I'm done, I'll give them back, albeit reluctantly.

Author's Note: This is not a fix; Meridian is cannon, like it or not.

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**Daniel Jackson**

I'm dying.

There’s not much time left.

I know it, I knew enough and even if I hadn't, it was there in Sam's eyes, and Janet's, and in Jack’s uncharacteristic silence.

I'm scared.

Not that I'd change my mind, or undo what I did if I had the chance to do it over again. I did it and it's done.

Janet was honest with me, didn't spare me any of the ugly details, so I know what's going to happen and how bad it's going to be and how fast it’s going to happen.

It doesn’t seem possible at the moment, I mean, I feel odd, and a little weak, but I don't feel bad. I've felt worse many a time.

So what should I do? What last things need to be done?

I don't know what someone is supposed to do when they're dying.

Janet asked me if there was someone I wanted her to call, but there's no one. The few people who matter to me are here. My grandfather is off with the aliens on the Crystal Skull planet. Sha're is dead. Kasuf, maybe, or Ska'ara, but what could I say to them? I don't even know what to say to the people that are here with me now.

Janet is trying so hard to hold on to her professional demeanor. One of the nurses just left in tears. Hammond came in and asked if I needed anything, and of course, I don't. Whatever medical needs I have, I trust Janet to take care of, and there's nothing else I can do in the few hours that remain to me.

I'm scared for my team, for Sam and for Jack. She'll take it so hard and he'll, well, he'll deny it and try to ignore it, but I know Jack goes home and wrestles with his emotions all alone. I know how unhealthy that is. I wish he had someone to care about him. I wish he'd managed to straighten things out with Sara, because I know he still loved her. Jack is so alone. Not many people know that, but it's true.

I wish I'd gone fishing with him.

No matter how much I teased him about it, really, I should have gone with him, because he's my friend, the best friend I've ever had, even though we've never said words like friendship and brotherhood. Funny, words are, er, were my life, and I never said the most important words to the man who befriended me when I was more alone than I'd ever been, the man who taught me so much about life, the man who sometimes disappointed me, but never, ever quit believing in me.

Sam is alone, too. Her dad is some help, when he's not off being a Tok'ra guerilla warrior. She tries so hard to be the perfect soldier, to deny her feelings because she's not supposed to have them, but she does. She’s lost so much already, people she cared about, Martouf and Narim and Joe. I understand what it’s like to be her, to be the smart, bright, lonely, different one; to want to fit in and be unable to, at least until she got here, and found her place on SG-1. She’s special, so very special, and I’ve never told her, that either.

And even Teal’c, though he seems so solid, so unmoved by life, beneath that regal bearing, he has feelings, too. Our friendship was on shaky ground many times, but we always managed to find a way to overcome the barriers and see each other as kindred souls, trying to make the universe a better place. I’m glad he and Jack have become better friends in the last year or so; they’re so alike in so many ways; they share that bond that I can only imagine, because they have been through so much as warriors; they see situations similarly; they understand the military world we work in. Maybe they can help each other, and Sam, too. They will have to.

I'm afraid for them all, for how they'll fail to deal with this.

I don't want to die.

I've got too much to live for, too much still to do. There's so much left to learn and see and do. My only regret is all I'll leave undone and unseen.

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I’ve got a lot of time to think, while I wait.

Okay, maybe not a *lot.* Poor choice of words for a linguist.

But I’ve got nothing else to do, and there are so many things I don’t want to think about right now, and yet, all I can do is think. And I’d better think now, while I’ve still got the chance, or the ability, before the radiation and the pain medications…

Don’t think about that.

Think about something else.

Think about them, your team, your friends, your best friend.

Jack.

Now there’s a mystery for the ages, a puzzle more enigmatic than the Sphinx.

I used to think I knew Jack O'Neill, but, really, I always knew I was just deluding myself because no one knows Jack O'Neill, not even Jack O'Neill.

I know a lot about him, probably more than anyone except his ex-wife Sara, and what she knows, she's not telling.

What's really scary is that, in the last year, I've become afraid that the old Jack, or at least part of him, is back. That look on his face when we came back from Euronda...frankly, it scared the hell out of me, because it looked so much like the look on his face when we went to Abydos the first time-- that haunted, empty look of a man trying to reconcile his deeds with his own personal moral code, and failing.

And I saw a glimpse of it again after what happened with the Enkarrens and the Gadmeer. That day, I was so busy trying to get things arranged with Lotan and the Enkarrens, for their trip home, that I didn't get a chance to talk to Jack. Well, actually, he didn't give me a chance. When we'd made the deal, Lotan to take them home and stay with them, everyone standing in Hedrazar's tent, we were all smiling. And then I looked over at Jack, and our gazes met, and I saw something in his eyes, something frightening, just a flicker and it was gone, and he suddenly turned and left. I went after him, but there were so many people and so much confusion and then Lotan was calling for me, and Jack got away.

And the worst thing we did was let it slide.

I think neither one of us wanted to face up to it, face up to each other, confront what had happened. I know Jack is one to say what he thinks in the heat of the moment and regret it later, so I thought maybe a bit of time to cool off would be good for us both.

Except the bit of time got longer and longer since we were so busy.

And since then, all too often, when I’ve looked into his eyes, I’ve seen a stranger, a scary stranger.

We've all been through so much horror in the last year, make that two years, really, so many things we've never discussed, so many issues we've tiptoed around, assuming the wounds would heal themselves with time.

But they haven't. They've festered and maybe now they've gotten so deep that there's no cure for any of them.

I'm scared for him.

I know Jack better than anyone here, in some ways. General Hammond understands the soldier, as does Teal'c, but I know the man who went to Abydos to die, a man I thought was gone, and now I know he's not. He's still in there, with the rest of Jack, with the good side, the decent human being who tries so hard, along with the grumpy, impatient, sarcastic, weary one we've seen too much of lately.

We all have limits, even Jack.

He was far beyond those limits once before, when I first met him.

Sometimes I wonder what he was like before his son died. Was he a better man? A stronger one? A happier one, certainly. I think I would have liked that Jack O'Neill a lot more, but I don't think he and I would have become friends.

Tragedy like that is a terrible price to pay to learn who you are.

The Jack O'Neill I first met seemed to be the exact kind of person I'd always despised-- a gung ho mindless military yes-man who had no will, no thoughts, no opinions of his own; who lived to obey orders. I looked into those eyes and saw....nothing, emptiness, a shell of a human, burned out and soul-less. Dead, only his body didn't know it yet.

He didn't like me and I was both repulsed by him and terrified of him.

And then he opened up with that one simple sentence. ‘No man should outlive his child.’

It's a horror I can only imagine and one I never want to live. Losing Share was horrible enough, but what happened to Jack...

When I found out more, what had happened and how it happened, I suddenly realized that he wasn't soul-less and empty, he was shattered.

I've never told him how much I admire him for rebuilding himself. It couldn't have been easy.

I saw the start of his rebirth, how Skaara started that healing process. The first tiny bits of something inside him that was broken began to heal. It was like watching a man wake up from a coma.

I was afraid to tell him I'd decided to stay on Abydos. I expected to get the hard-assed Colonel routine, the 'no you can't stay here' answer, but all I got was a look, and a strange half grin, and a nod.

A year went by, the happiest year of my life, on Abydos, wanted and included, a family man, a husband, hoping to be a father, belonging, loving and being loved, teaching, learning, exploring, finding new wonders every day. God, it was heaven.

And then one day the gate spun and that Kleenex box flew out, and I knew it was a message from Jack. He was the only person who not only knew me well enough to send it to me, and at the same time would have the sense of humor it required.

I couldn't wait to hear what had happened.

Part of me didn't want to unbury the gate and answer his summons. Yet, I owed him. If somehow he'd gotten in trouble for leaving me behind, I had to do what I could to help him. He deserved it. And yes, the thought of being able to tell the world of the wonders I’d found, was quite irresistible.

I hardly recognized the Jack O’Neill who walked through the gate. It was like a completely different person, a man with life in his eyes, a purpose. A man who could smile, a sad smile maybe, but still a smile. New life was growing inside him. I could see it was hard, that sometimes the old demons still haunted him, but he was healing.

At first, I was a little hurt by the way he brushed past me to get to Ska'ara, but I realized his needed to see that this surrogate son was okay, that he was remembered.

And you know, it was nice to see that he was worried about Ska'ara, but was confident that I'd been alright.

And then all hell had broken loose, Ska'ara and Sha’re were taken, and my world crashed down around me.

This time, it was Jack O'Neill who rescued me, rather than me rescuing Jack O'Neill.

After all this time, I still don't understand our friendship. Jack and I are friends, brothers, co-workers, but we also are antagonists. We argue, fight, bicker, disagree. There are days, many days, when I cringe when I hear his voice.

At the same time, I know we need each other. I know he means well, even when he's irritating, annoying, bullying and obstinate. I know I can trust him to be a constant, I know I can lean on him, I know that he will keep his word, or die trying.

Without him, I wouldn't have gotten on SG-1 or any other team. Hell, he took me in that first night I was back on Earth, when I had nothing, absolutely nothing, not even owning the shirt on my back.

For a long time, I didn't realize what Jack had done for me when he returned home after Abydos. He'd lied to protect me and the people there, he'd given up his career for us. His life must have been awfully empty, without his family and without the Air Force. It took me a long time to realize how much he loves what he does, how important this family that is the Air Force is to him.

Under all that bravado, he hides his wounds so deep.

All this history we have, as friends, as the first Abydos expedition, the early days of the Stargate program, as SG-1 and all that's happened to us, doesn't seem to be enough anymore. We’ve been at odds so much lately, over so many things; we’ve let our differences matter more than our friendship; let the disagreements become bigger than the agreements; let our difficulties mean more than the many times we've worked well together to accomplish our common goal. We’ve forgotten why we’re friends, I think. And we shouldn’t do that. Because, despite our differences, we are friends.

Like the incident with Reece and her toys. I lashed out because I’d really believed I was getting through to her. But afterwards, when I thought about it, I realized that Jack had no way to know what she’d said to me; that he had only seen the swarming Replicators; that Sam in fact, had said, before I went to talk to Reece, that killing her would stop them. Time was running out, there were mere seconds left before the self destruct would go off. He hadn’t seen her as human, no, but he hadn’t ended her existence without thought, either.

I don’t always agree with Jack’s methods. Too many times he wants to shoot first and sort out the casualties later. But I know he did what he did that day, and many others, because he believed it was the only way to save us. I understand that Jack thinks too much in the here and now, instead of looking ahead. That he gets too fixed on the objective, and loses sight of the bigger picture. But I also know that sometimes that’s the only thing that’s saved us. He was right about the intentions of the Entity… it did come here to destroy us. He was as right in trying to save the Enkarrens as I was in trying to save the Gadmeer, and I never gave him credit for that, either, because I didn’t agree with his tactics.

I also have come to realize that Jack is military, that his perspective is very different from mine, but that, compared to the rest of the senior officers around here, Jack’s a card toting, flaming liberal. One week under General Bauer should have reminded me of the true meaning of blindingly rigid, inflexible military mindset, the same lesson I’d learned years ago in just one mission under Colonel Makepeace. General Hammond had tried to explain it to me, but I guess I’d always figured it was my job to tilt at military windmills.

I know Jack put up with more from me than he would have from any soldier; I know he allowed me more options and more leeway than he’d have ever given anyone else. I know that he listened, even when he didn’t seem to. I know that he didn’t have to explain or give his reasons, but usually he did. I put him in a tough spot, caught in the middle between his need to maintain military order for his superiors, for Sam, and Teal’c too, and his friendship with me.

I also know that there were times I didn’t even try to see his side, because I was so sure mine was right and his was wrong because I bought into his ‘dumb military guy’ front. Funny, I’ve been able to give the benefit of the doubt to almost everyone else, except the man I know was the best friend I’ve ever hand.

He let me take it out on him, too. He let me rant and rave and rage at him, let me batter at him with my frustrations over the ways of the universe. I’ve always wanted the universe to be fair. Wanted good to truly be better and stronger than evil. Wanted to believe that doing the right thing was reward enough in itself.

Jack never had that luxury. He had orders to obey and a planet to protect. He thinks in the concrete and deals in the hard reality of the situation in front of him. I think in the abstract, in the vision of a better universe, a perfect one where fairplay wins.

And honestly, I never acknowledged the burden of decision making that fell on his shoulders. If things went right, he always gave the credit to the rest of us. If things went wrong, he took the blame.

And for that I called him a stupid son of a bitch. Oh, yes, I was angry, at him, at myself, at all of us for not figuring it out sooner, and I took it out on him, because he was there. And, I think, I did it because I knew he wouldn’t fight back. I knew he’d stand there and take it, absorb my anger and my hurt and walk away. And you know, that day, he said he was sorry, just like he apologized for his outburst at me among the Eurondans and for his deceptions when he was undercover.

God, some of the things I’ve said to him.

And I've never said that I was sorry.

I wish I could take back some of those words now. I know he does, too. I know that look he gets, like a regretful child. Jack just doesn’t have the words to say what he feels, not when it comes to his emotions, to admitting his true feelings. He just can’t reveal that much of himself. Was he always that way? Or have all the years of military secrecy taken their toll?

I know how much it cost him to come to visit me, to tell me he admired me, because I know he never uses words lightly, never says more than he means, never talks just for the sake of talking, not seriously anyway. His admiration means more to me than the respect of a thousand other people. Funny, I’d never have thought that, even just a few days ago.

And I’m sorry I never told him how much I admire him, too.

I’m sorry our friendship has been so, so unfriendly lately. Our words and actions so permeated by bitterness and conflict. I guess that’s inevitable, in this insane place we work; the unreal, chaotic lives we lead; the horrors we’ve shared. We were bound to disagree, to let little things become big things and let big things become overwhelming.

During that year on Abydos, I'd thought of Jack a few times, and I had this mental image of him, back with the wife he so obviously loved, finding some sort of happiness together with her, maybe even having another child to fill that huge gaping hole inside him. I really thought, after all that happened, that he'd made his peace with life and he'd be able to go home and fix things. I never imagined it would be too late for him.

Jack isn't a bad man, just a wounded one, wounded more deeply than 99.999% of the people who know him will ever understand. He puts up that 'I don't have a heart' front, answers every question with 'I'm fine,' pushes away not just the sympathy, but the empathy and the comfort because to accept those things would be acknowledging that there’s something wrong… something he can’t fix.

I’ve been as guilty as everyone else in accepting that answer from him.

Yet, *he* doesn’t accept that answer from anyone else. He works so hard to see that no one goes without. Katherine, Ernest, Martin, Nyan, Loren, hell, he invited Teal’c to come home with us; not to mention the children, Merrin and the Reetou boy and Cassie. With them, he can show his gentle side. It’s a surprising thing to discover that a man who can be so harsh and cold when necessity demands it, can also care so much.

And he can forgive everyone but himself.

I’ll never forget that look on his face, when he told me, back when we came home from Abydos, that his wife was gone, that she had forgiven him about the death of his son, but he couldn’t ever forgive himself. He tried to say it like it meant nothing, just another throw away glib line, but it wasn’t. He was cut to the quick, and bleeding, and he didn’t know how to stop the hemorrhaging.

He still has so many secrets, secrets I know he'll never tell me or anyone else, not just because he's not the kind of person who shares, but because he believes no one should have to go through what he's gone through, even just to listen to the details. And, I'm afraid for him, because he thinks he deserves all the horrors life has dumped on him.

And yet, as little as I understand him, I do know that I can always count on him, that he'll always be Jack.

I’ve been willing to forgive everyone, except my friend, for being less than perfect, for being human.

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Strange, but the time I learned the most about Jack O’Neill was when he was light years away and possibly lost forever. I took care of his house while he was trapped on Edora. I’d stop and water his plants, check the mail, make sure everything was okay.

The first day, I’d felt so odd, like I was a thief of sorts, or a voyeur, going into his house when he wasn’t there, violating the privacy he cherishes so much. The place was so empty without him. Jack is a presence that fills whatever room he’s in, and I’d never been alone in his home before. It was eerie. So I went into the kitchen and turned on the radio, and the station was set to NPR, National Public Radio. I left it on, and suddenly realized that Jack was a man who listened to the news and erudite discussions of world issues, and to classical music. The stereo in the living room was the same, the stack of CDs mostly classical music mixed with blues and R and B. His VCR was set to videotape Nova and the History Channel.

There were surprises in his mail, too. Sure he got Sports Illustrated and the Hockey News, but he also got National Geographic and Omni and a couple of astronomy magazines.

He also donates to one of those children’s charities;, those international programs where you can sponsor a child. Near as I could figure, he was sponsoring six.

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Janet's given me something for the pain, but it's not enough. I can feel my body quitting, I can feel it breaking down, coming apart, failing bit by bit.

Is there an afterlife? Almost every human society has believed in one, and experience has taught me that most beliefs that strong, that pervasive, are based in some sort of reality.

Will they be waiting? Sha're? My parents? Robert Rothman? Kawalsky? Maybe I can look for Jack's son, too, so I can tell him what a wonderful friend his Dad is, and how much his Dad still loves him.

Who's here? Someone, some presence, is with me? A dream? A hallucination as dying neurons fire one last time?

Glowing, bright white lights surrounding me.... "Oma?"

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