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“And say hi to the President for me!” Daniel said, much more cheerfully than he really felt.
It was the anniversary of his life imploding.
With Teal’c as his only companion, today he was going back to Abydos. To the room where so many friends had lost their lives, where he had lost his everything.
To look into his Good Father’s eyes and tell him he’d failed, that his children were still lost and Daniel wasn’t any closer to finding them. That he’d seen Sha’re’s eyes glow and Skaara’s hand be used to kill.
But also, crucially, to swear to Kasuf that he hadn’t given up, that he would never give up.
With that in mind, he stepped into the event horizon.
Travel through a wormhole was not instantaneous, and Daniel didn’t understand the physics of it, but somehow his consciousness persisted, even as his atoms were being dispersed.
In the void outside space and time, his thoughts, as they always did, turned to Sha’re. Then, to the place where he was going to rematerialize.
Then, unbidden, memories bloomed.
Heart-achingly vivid memories of all the times he had made love to her, right there inside the great pyramid.
And of their last time, precisely a year ago by Abydonian counting.
Encouraged by his wife, he had just dialled Earth and thrown the Kleenex box back through. (‘Thanks. Send more.’)
The militia boys were preparing their weapons, the women were busy in the antechamber, preparing food for their expected guests.
With nothing to do but wait, Daniel and Sha’re had hidden together once more.
There was a small partition in the great hall that housed the Stargate, with curtains to offer a measure of privacy. The light filtered through, and so did the distant sound of laughter, but they only focused on each other.
He took off his glasses and sank to his knees in the sand, sitting on his heels to gaze up at her and thank his lucky stars.
“My Dan’yel, please…”
“Mmmm?”
“Don’t tease. Just – just… please.”
“Just what, my love?” he asked innocently.
She tried to guide him playfully, but he evaded her. Determined to prolong the moment, he shifted his position, from kneeling to sitting comfortably on the floor.
“Sha’re. Tell me what you need,” he said, switching to English.
When she’d first asked him to teach her, this had not been on her mind. She’d wanted to give him a taste of home, and to not have to depend on him if they ever made contact with Earth again.
But it had soon become their language of love.
“I want you to… work your magic,” she whispered, her accent vowel-heavy and lilting and sweet.
It sent a thrill from Daniel’s brain all the way through his body.
“Well, that can be arranged,” he replied. “But I need you to tell me exactly what you want.”
She laughed, a rich, resonant vibration deep in her throat. And she told him, in exquisite detail and with a sultry smile, despite the flush spreading from her cheekbones down her neck.
It wasn’t that his wife was some delicate, demure creature – not by any stretch of the imagination. She knew what she wanted, and she always made sure she got it. By verbalizing her desires, however, she was actively fighting against her upbringing.
It was fascinating. Abydonians had very few taboos, and almost everything that could happen between two — or more — consenting adults was considered good and natural and beautiful. But talking about it was another matter altogether.
That made explicit language a conscious, delicious transgression for Sha’re, one he knew she wasn’t engaging in solely for his benefit.
She’d always been a rebel.
Daniel’s pulse quickened, just as his heart swelled.
He reached for Sha’re.
Diligently, joyfully, he turned all his attention on her. He followed her cues, adjusting as he went, and was rewarded by her reactions.
It didn’t all go smoothly, but it didn’t have to. When something went hilariously wrong, he heard her laugh – really laugh, the kind that shook her whole body – and she called him a madman with such fondness that he was glad for the awkwardness.
Afterwards, he sat in the sand with a triumphant smile, and simply stared at her.
He filed the image in his mind, reverently: his wife, blissed out, eyes closed, leaning against the wall languidly.
“Mmmm, thank you,” she purred, and pawed at his chest in a way he’d learned meant that she wanted him to get up for a kiss. He did, and Sha’re claimed his lips the moment he was within reach.
By the time she let him go, she was fully alert again. She looked at him, chuckled, and ran her fingers through his hair, smoothing it back in place after having tangled it.
At any other time, Daniel would have loved her tender ministrations. But right now his body was thrumming. As he took her hand, it was his turn to plead.
“Sha’re, my love, will you—”
“No, my Dan’yel,” she cut him off. “Not today.”
“Oh?”
He was a little embarrassed by how whimper-like that sounded.
For a split second, he’d felt a pang of that old, familiar fear. Of having asked for too much. Of being too much. But then he looked into her eyes, and any feeling of rejection dissipated.
“Today, I want you,” she clarified with a mischievous grin.
Daniel’s whimper turned into a groan as he kissed her again.
Their urgency surprised him at first, all heat and impatience, her body demanding and his answering in kind.
If they had known it would be their last time, would they have made it gentler and sweeter, or crashed into each other even harder? He would never know.
As their passion surged, he allowed himself to be what she’d confessed she needed him to be, at least sometimes.
Ungentlemanly.
And then, something shifted. The woman who’d just been commanding and imperious became soft and yielding in his arms. The trust that required never stopped humbling him, and the enormity of it all washed over him.
Sha’re, the most extraordinary woman he’d ever met, was his.
And he was hers.
And he belonged. And he was happy.
And he was wanted, and needed, and lusted after, and loved.
With that, the world became nothing but bliss and the scent of her skin, and the perfect clarity that he was exactly where he was meant to be.
When they were done, she snuggled into his side, and he instinctively pulled her to him, so close he could feel her heart beating frantically against his. They sat like that for a long moment, fully at peace.
He was snapped out of his afterglow by the unmistakable sound they had been waiting for all morning.
The Stargate was activating.
Someone was coming through.
He counted the chevrons in his mind as he willed his ragged breath to even out, willed the drumming in his ears to quiet down.
He didn’t know if it was the lingering effect of what they had been doing, or a reaction to the fact that their life was about to change. Maybe this had been a mistake after all, maybe—
“Dan’yel. It’ll be fine,” his wife’s voice pierced his cloud of apprehension, tethering him before he could spiral.
He noticed she’d gone back to Abydonian. And that, for someone who’d just been trembling in his arms, her voice sounded remarkably calm and collected. He smiled goofily at that for a second, before the pit in his stomach brought him back to the real world.
Three chevrons were already engaged.
He could hear Skaara and his friends taking their defensive positions around the gateroom, just outside the curtain of their alcove.
“We talked about this,” Sha’re reminded him, all common sense and confidence. “They can’t take you away by force.”
He hoped she was right.
He nodded, digging his thumb and forefinger into the corners of his eyes hard enough to hurt, hard enough to focus.
Four chevrons.
“We’ll see what they want, and what they’re offering,” she continued calmly, cupping his face in both her hands so he had to look at her.
Her touch steadied him.
He nodded again.
“If it’s good enough, we’ll take it. If not, we’ll share a meal and a laugh, and send them on their merry way.”
He hoped whoever was coming would accept that. Good old Uncle Sam didn’t exactly have the best record when it wanted something, especially from people it deemed inferior.
I should’ve left the damn thing buried. If colonialism infected Abydos because of him, he—
Five chevrons.
“And if they have a way to make the Chappa’ai work with the map we found in the Vili Tao An,” Sha’re said, matter-of-factly, “then we’ll go with them. Both of us. Like we decided.”
Yes, that was what they had discussed.
Ra was dead. They were safe.
The cartouche room held a treasure of what could only be addresses. The temptation had been too great, and they’d unburied the Stargate and had run tests for weeks, trying to see if it went to other planets as well.
Other cultures to discover and explore. Other allies and trade partners. Other people to free from oppression, if Ra’s minions were still enslaving them.
For some reason, it hadn’t worked. The symbols on the mushroom-like control device did light up, just like they had when he’d sent Jack and the other two survivors back to Earth. But when they tried any other address, the chevrons simply wouldn’t engage.
They’d abandoned their experiments and travel plans, but they’d left the Stargate uncovered, in case Earth came calling one day.
Today.
Six chevrons.
“Okay,” he swallowed, forcing his throat to work again.
With a last sharp pinch to the bridge of his nose and two deep, bracing breaths, Daniel got to his feet.
He found his glasses and put them on. He wrapped and tied his robes back in place. Finally, he shook his head and ran a hand through his hair several times. He must have made himself presentable enough, because Sha’re looked him up and down approvingly.
“You got this. Go, husband.”
The seventh chevron locked into place, and they heard the kawoosh he remembered.
“You’re not joining me?” he asked her, confused. Even if she let him do all the talking, he needed her there by his side when he faced their future.
“I’ll just take a minute to… compose myself,” she explained with a wry grin.
Daniel hesitated, but there was no more time. By the sound of it, people were coming out of the event horizon right now.
“Go. I’ll join as soon as I can,” Sha’re promised.
The absurdity of it hit him.
In a few minutes, the woman who’d been so wild and free in private would just go out there and play the modest, bashful wife. Hiding that keen mind behind a coy smile, quietly evaluating everything and everyone, and strategizing her way to the outcome she wanted.
He’d probably have to say something ridiculous like ‘don’t be shy’ just to keep up the façade.
He chuckled, bent down, and kissed her again. Just a quick peck this time – anything more, and he wouldn’t have been able to leave.
Beyond the curtain of their little haven, he could already hear voices.
“I love you, Sha’re,” he told her, still sticking to Abydonian. “So, so much.”
“I love you too,” she replied in English, before switching back to her native language. “Now, go, go, GO! Before those idiots kill one another by mistake.”
She was right.
He burst into the gateroom. Just in time to find the locals and the Americans all pointing weapons in a tense standoff.
“Cha’hari! Cha’hari. Lower your guns.”
They did, thankfully, and a familiar figure started walking towards him.
He stood there with a self-conscious smile. If Colonel Jack O’Neill ever found out exactly why Doctor Daniel Jackson had been slightly flushed and a little out of breath when they met again… he’d never live it down.
The memory subsided just as his atoms fused back together.
He stepped out of the Stargate on Abydos. Exactly a year later, by local counting, from the day his life had been torn apart in this very room.
He’d lost his wife and his family and his home. But he was here now, and he had a duty to fulfill.
With a pang, Daniel turned to face his father-in-law, and tell him the truth about his quest, and his vow to never give up.
Sha’re was out there somewhere, and one day he would find her.
And when he did, he would make sure she knew she was still wanted, and needed, and lusted after, and loved.