Long Road Back, Part 8
Jan. 12th, 2007 12:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
catspawHe had him some serious thinking to do if he was going to make any sense of all this.
He pushed his lunch tray to one side and tipped his chair back onto two legs, swinging idly while he considered all the information that was jostling for space in his thoughts.
The whole thing felt wrong, somehow. And he wasn't sure exactly why, so that seemed a reasonable place to start. It wasn't just the change of tactics over the last few weeks, although that had been a continuing worry, that good treatment would succeed where ill treatment had failed. No, it wasn't that. He hadn't relaxed his guard at all, hadn't let anything slip, had managed rather well, in fact, to be non-committal enough to keep faith with his mission but not so offhand as to invite ill-treatment.
Now that was an odd way of putting it – 'keep faith with his mission'? Was that really what he was then? Onyel, the soldier? More than that, O'Neill the Colonel? He finally believed that after all? Or was that just the product of finding himself in an obviously military environment? Come to think of it, he did feel oddly at home here...
Consistency, that was what was bothering him: they were remarkably consistent. Daniel, Hammond, Fraiser, Carter and Teal'c when they'd been around, they'd none of them varied an iota from the line they were feeding him throughout the time he'd been held here. Was anybody ever that good? Part of him was willing to believe that they might be, hell, he had the evidence right in front of his nose. The other part, the part that was somehow gaining in confidence, wasn't so sure. Was becoming downright certain, in fact, that nobody could be so consistent, could carry all this stuff in their head without ever dropping their guard, making a foolish blunder. Fair enough, there had to be a first time for everything, but still... No, whichever way he looked at it, their sheer plausibility was impressive.
Okay then, suppose he rolled with it. They were both plausible and consistent because what they were telling him was the truth, it wasn't the mind-fuck to end all mind-fucks. As theories went, it had a lot to recommend itself: trouble was, there was no hard evidence to back it up apart from the periodic chaos of images in his own head. And this could be used as evidence either way. Damn it, he hated circular arguments.
It all came down to who and what he could trust, which held an irony of its own: he suspected that at the best of times he wasn't really a trusting soul. But at the moment, all he had to work with was his instincts, since his reasoning was still obviously not quite up to par, and those instincts were giving him a message now that contradicted all that he had previously thought about his situation. The kindness was too sustained to be a trick – and besides, he was sick and tired of just sitting around waiting for the other shoe to drop. Maybe he should take everything that he'd been told about his condition at face value.
The shouted denial that echoed through his mind startled even him. Instinct was well and good -- it had saved his butt on more than one occasion, but he was not used to running on instinct alone. Reaction without analysis was a loose cannon, pushing you into making unnecessary, sometimes fatal, mistakes.
He worried at the thought for a moment or two, then he realised that it too came from the reasoning part of his brain, the part that had been apparently letting him down all along. The part that supplied his hunches seemed to be functioning far better; maybe it was time to really go with that, open up and just ask, for crying out loud.
The reasoning part of his brain was putting up a spirited defence though. He thought back to when he'd originally been taken from his room, knotting his brow in frustration when he realised that his recollection of those events was becoming distinctly foggy for no apparent reason. But he didn't have time to worry about that right now, it would keep until he'd worked out the problem in hand. Something had happened then, something that had made him disinclined to trust any of his new acquaintances, something he needed to put his finger on. Something to do with Katen...
That far he could get, but no further. Whatever that 'something' was, it kept slipping out of his grasp: the harder he tried to clutch at it, the further it receded. He remembered someone, somewhere, sometime way back, once saying to him: 'If you stop actively thinking about it, it'll probably come back to you.' Not the best advice, possibly, but all he had for now. Worth a try, anyway, in the absence of anything better. He let his thoughts drift and was rewarded with a sudden certainty: Daniel. He could trust Daniel. And he had no idea why, but his instincts seemed absolutely sure of it.
He closed his eyes and let the reasoning part of his mind drift some more while he attempted to allow his instincts to clarify themselves and provide some explanation for this conviction. Another varied slew of images drifted up from under: Daniel poring over something or other cradled in his hands, turning it over and over, frowning in concentration, oblivious to his surroundings. Daniel glancing up at him, his face alight with laughter, something not many people saw that often, he was sure, although he couldn't have said why. Daniel stomping around waving his arms, eyes flashing with irritation, arguing passionately with him about who knew what. A much younger Daniel, sneezing and stumbling around, generally bugging the shit out of him; that same Daniel drawing in the sand, looking puzzled as the small, swarthy man standing in front of him erased what he'd done with one foot and a startled exclamation.
The pictures surfacing inside his head were vivid and compelling, most especially the ones that involved Daniel in some way. Real memories of real events and situations, bright and three-dimensional. Convincing, somehow, in a way that he didn't think they would have been if he'd merely been told about them or they'd been induced by drugs.
His chair settled onto all four legs with a thump as he jerked upright, shaking his head with annoyance. This half-life deal was starting to get more than aggravating and his patience was wearing thin. Just when he thought he was maybe getting a handle on things, something else came along and threw him for a loop. Maybe it was time, if he was ever to put a stop to all this white noise inside his head, to start doing a little fishing of his own – no overt questions, he still probably wasn't quite up to taking that risk, couldn't make the calculations come out right – but maybe bait a few hooks and trail them in the water, see what he could find out obliquely. At least try and get his reason and his instincts working together again.
He glanced up at the clock. Fourteen hundred hours: good, that meant Daniel would be back again soon after his lunch, ready and willing to talk. He found that he was looking forward to it now that he'd finally decided on his course of action, and waited for the next quarter of an hour in a mood of rising impatience. Now that the decision was made, he wanted to get going before any objections could surface, 'cause he just knew that if he waited long enough some other consideration would jump out and bite him in the ass.
A knock on the door heralded Daniel's arrival and with the knock, his resolve started to waver and he started to feel a little shaky again. He was about to take a huge risk here, against all common sense. Maybe he should just forget it after all, because if he was wrong --
No, he wasn't going to go there. He'd considered the angles and thought the risk was worthwhile. He forced the half-acknowledged fear down as Daniel's head came around the edge of the door.
"Hey! Can I come in?"
He noted that Daniel actually stood in the doorway and waited for his reply rather than just barging straight in and this odd little observation coupled with the sudden realisation that this was what Daniel always did helped settle him in a way that nothing else quite could. Daniel held all the cards here, but until now he had never abused his position of strength. That could all change of course and he would do well to bear it in mind, but for now he allowed the thought to boost him. He waited until Daniel had settled himself in the chair on the other side of the table before he took a deep breath and said tentatively, "I know you."
There, it was done, for better or worse. Now all he could do was wait and see if his boldness had brought the whole thing crashing down on his head.
*
"I know you."
Daniel blinked at the unexpected approach and wondered what was coming next. This was the first time Jack had actually initiated a conversation. He seemed more animated than usual, excited almost, even though it was carefully banked down, wouldn't be obvious to anyone who didn't know him very well. He fought a brief internal battle to remain calm himself as he said slowly, "Yes, you do. You've known me for a lot longer than you've been back here. We go back a long way."
"That's what I mean. I know that I know you, I just can't quite..."
"Why not take a moment or two to think about it, see if you can't come up with something concrete?"
The mobile face knotted in an agony of concentration: Daniel had the strangest feeling that there was some form of internal argument going on here which he was not party to, before it rearranged itself into an expression of calm acceptance and Jack blurted out, "You’re... the geek."
Daniel fought hard to keep his expression as bland as he could as his emotions went haywire, but something must have shown in his expression because Jack’s face crumpled into defeat tinged with a flash of alarm. His head dropped and he muttered, "No, I’m sorry. I was wrong. I must have been thinking of someone else. Sorry."
"It’s okay, Jack. Don’t worry about it." And then with the urgent realisation that he had to reassure Jack further, keep the lines of communication open any way he could, he added with a smile, "You’re part right, that’s how you used to think of me. At least, it was how you thought of me when we first met. We’ve moved on since then."
"I’m sorry. I didn't mean to step out of line." The response was muffled, Daniel had to strain to hear.
"Don’t be. You haven't, not really. It’s a start."
Daniel waited quietly, wondering if this was indeed the start of the breakthrough, hoping against hope that Jack wouldn't retreat back into his shell. The silence stretched out and his hope gradually faded. No, damn it, he wasn't going to give up hope yet. Maybe he could prod Jack along a little further.
"Exactly how much do you remember about me? About us and what we've done together?"
Jack's head stayed down, and Daniel thought that he was going to get no answer. Damn, he felt he had been this close to getting something positive out of Jack, to starting to blast past the walls that had been erected in Jack's mind. There had to be something that he could do, or say, that would help.
Jack's answer, when it came, was muttered so quietly to the tabletop that he almost missed it.
"Some. It feels like I remember some. Just bits and pieces, all jumbled up and making no sense."
With a sudden spike of irritability, he looked up at last and added, "They crowd me. Faces with no names, names with no faces, bits and pieces of events that I'm not even sure have happened..."
His voice tailed off again, his small spurt of irritation spent, and went back to his contemplation of the tabletop. No, not the tabletop: it took Daniel a moment or two to realise that the object of his concentration was different, but when he noticed, his heart leapt in his chest. Jack was drumming his fingers, both hands going at once, and his attention was on them.
Daniel felt like cheering out loud. This was the first time he'd seen this since Jack's return. Since he'd recovered consciousness, he'd been unnaturally and worryingly still, the hands that were usually so restless lying lax and immobile. This had to be the start of something good. He considered his next move. First order of business, force his emotions to behave - he had to remain calm, he didn't want to spook Jack now of all times. Fine, he could do this: just as he'd said to General Hammond, this was just another mission, another first contact, this was what he did.
"Would you like me to tell you about it again?"
The hands stilled again at once as Jack looked up again, a familiar assessing look in his eyes: another first. Daniel held his breath and made a concerted effort to relax, to keep his body language open and unthreatening, but in the confines of his head he was praying hard for a positive answer, willing Jack to make the leap of faith.
"Yeah, I suppose."
The feeling of relief was dizzying but he didn't dare show it. Daniel forced it down and when he felt composed enough, said neutrally, "What would you like to know first? You must have so many questions."
Damn it, he'd made a mistake there. Fear flared briefly in Jack's eyes before they dropped again to stare at the hands, now curling into fists on the tabletop. Daniel thought furiously, wondering how to get the conversation back on track again. He'd tried so hard to keep it innocuous, so what the hell had he said that was wrong? He'd just invited Jack to ask questions, it had to be something to do with that, everything had been going well up until that point. Acting on a sudden hunch, Daniel took a deep breath and started to talk.
"O-kaay, I can see you're not comfortable with that idea. How about I just start from the beginning, from when we first met, will that be all right? You can just listen, and pitch in if and when you do feel comfortable."
When no answer was forthcoming, he plunged on. Later, when he was thinking about it, he couldn't have said exactly what he talked about, only that he seemed to talk for hours. His mouth and his brain seemed to be acting totally independently. The story of the original mission and the reopening of the 'gate poured out of him again, in one continuous narrative this time rather than piecemeal as before, but he wasn't paying attention to that: he was watching Jack, cataloguing the moments when his hands relaxed again, when his interest was kindled, when his head came up and he really started to pay attention, when he looked sceptical and when something of what he was telling him connected some of the dots.
When he eventually ran out of words, Jack sighed, leaned back in his chair and said with a small measure of satisfaction, "So we have a history then."
A statement, Daniel noted, not a question. So his hunch had been right. He smiled his relief as he answered, "Yeah, we have a history." And maybe they'd just been given hope for their future back too. "So. What do you think?"
"I think... I don't know what to think."
"Yeah, I suppose it's a lot to take in at one time."
Daniel glanced at his watch, surprised to find that only a couple of hours had passed since he'd returned after lunch. "Tell you what, why don't I go and see if I can't scare us up some decent coffee? Then I'll leave you for a while to give you a chance to think it all over, see if it makes sense to you, see if it prompts any more memories. I'll come back this evening, after we've eaten, will that be okay?"
"Fine. That will be fine."
"Okay."
*
Plausibility. That was what it all came down to. Or maybe -- not. Thinking about what he'd just been told now that Daniel had gone, plausible and credible came fairly far down the list of possible adjectives to describe the content. Try far-fetched maybe, or lunatic. Virtually instantaneous trans-galactic travel via rings made of stone, for crying out loud, how believable was that? Egyptian gods - sorry, actually a race of megalomaniac snakey-assed aliens - surviving in the twentieth century, throwing their weight about, threatening the existence of the planet, travelling in giant space-worthy pyramids? Yeah, maybe in some crazy sci-fi scenario. And Daniel seriously expected him to believe it all, to eat it up with a spoon? Pfft!
And yet, while Daniel had been feeding him this load of baloney, he'd almost believed him. It was only now that he'd left that doubts were starting to set in. He'd certainly scored more than a few direct hits with the stuff that had been floating around in his head for the past week or so, stuff that he was pretty sure he'd never mentioned to anyone here. And when you really got down to it, what possible advantage could there be in spinning some yarn that was so far off the wall and getting him to believe it? None that he could see no matter what angle he approached it from. Very much the reverse, in fact: Daniel had spent a huge amount of time trying to win his trust. And Daniel was nobody's fool. Why suddenly go and blow the whole deal when he must have realised he was this close to doing exactly that? If he himself'd been feeding someone a line now, he'd at least have made sure that it was a credible one, not some load of batshit crazy mumbo jumbo.
It was almost crazy enough to be true. And Daniel obviously did expect him to swallow it, showed every sign of believing it himself, every last far-fetched morsel of it. He'd had a lot of opportunity to observe Daniel closely over the last couple of weeks, and one thing that he was certain of was that he wasn't much of a dissembler: his emotions were easy to read in his eyes no matter how hard he tried to hide them. And he was nobody's fool either, that was a given. He wouldn't be able to carry off such a blatant fantasy, either emotionally or intellectually, unless he believed it himself. And he'd positively radiated sincerity.
So who exactly was the basket case here? It had to be one or the other of them. Or both. Yeah, make that definitely both, because perverse as it seemed, on balance he was inclined to make a leap of faith and believe Daniel. Crazy sounding nonsense or not, it seemed to fit, both with the situation he found himself in now and with the bits and pieces that he was coming to think might be real memories.
At least now he had a way of testing it out. He could and should ask. And no, he wasn't going to get all twitchy at the thought of asking a few simple questions, it was the obvious thing to do: he had to get over this ridiculous aversion. He didn't need to make them obvious questions though, or rather, questions with obvious answers: if he could ask obliquely enough, cryptically enough to allow Daniel to tangle himself up in ambiguities if he was in fact lying, then the proportion of direct hits that chimed with his memories would give him the benchmark he needed for measuring the truth about this whole deal.
Dead simple, as strategies went, and because of that, very pleasing. It felt right somehow, in tune with experience, inclination and training. The least convoluted plans were always the best ones. And he was finally, at long, long last, back on surer ground.
He even retained the presence of mind to turn his head out of view of the camera in one corner of his room, just in case, before letting a smug grin split his face. Man, that felt good. It had been a long time since he'd felt he had anything to smile about.
*
Part 9
He pushed his lunch tray to one side and tipped his chair back onto two legs, swinging idly while he considered all the information that was jostling for space in his thoughts.
The whole thing felt wrong, somehow. And he wasn't sure exactly why, so that seemed a reasonable place to start. It wasn't just the change of tactics over the last few weeks, although that had been a continuing worry, that good treatment would succeed where ill treatment had failed. No, it wasn't that. He hadn't relaxed his guard at all, hadn't let anything slip, had managed rather well, in fact, to be non-committal enough to keep faith with his mission but not so offhand as to invite ill-treatment.
Now that was an odd way of putting it – 'keep faith with his mission'? Was that really what he was then? Onyel, the soldier? More than that, O'Neill the Colonel? He finally believed that after all? Or was that just the product of finding himself in an obviously military environment? Come to think of it, he did feel oddly at home here...
Consistency, that was what was bothering him: they were remarkably consistent. Daniel, Hammond, Fraiser, Carter and Teal'c when they'd been around, they'd none of them varied an iota from the line they were feeding him throughout the time he'd been held here. Was anybody ever that good? Part of him was willing to believe that they might be, hell, he had the evidence right in front of his nose. The other part, the part that was somehow gaining in confidence, wasn't so sure. Was becoming downright certain, in fact, that nobody could be so consistent, could carry all this stuff in their head without ever dropping their guard, making a foolish blunder. Fair enough, there had to be a first time for everything, but still... No, whichever way he looked at it, their sheer plausibility was impressive.
Okay then, suppose he rolled with it. They were both plausible and consistent because what they were telling him was the truth, it wasn't the mind-fuck to end all mind-fucks. As theories went, it had a lot to recommend itself: trouble was, there was no hard evidence to back it up apart from the periodic chaos of images in his own head. And this could be used as evidence either way. Damn it, he hated circular arguments.
It all came down to who and what he could trust, which held an irony of its own: he suspected that at the best of times he wasn't really a trusting soul. But at the moment, all he had to work with was his instincts, since his reasoning was still obviously not quite up to par, and those instincts were giving him a message now that contradicted all that he had previously thought about his situation. The kindness was too sustained to be a trick – and besides, he was sick and tired of just sitting around waiting for the other shoe to drop. Maybe he should take everything that he'd been told about his condition at face value.
The shouted denial that echoed through his mind startled even him. Instinct was well and good -- it had saved his butt on more than one occasion, but he was not used to running on instinct alone. Reaction without analysis was a loose cannon, pushing you into making unnecessary, sometimes fatal, mistakes.
He worried at the thought for a moment or two, then he realised that it too came from the reasoning part of his brain, the part that had been apparently letting him down all along. The part that supplied his hunches seemed to be functioning far better; maybe it was time to really go with that, open up and just ask, for crying out loud.
The reasoning part of his brain was putting up a spirited defence though. He thought back to when he'd originally been taken from his room, knotting his brow in frustration when he realised that his recollection of those events was becoming distinctly foggy for no apparent reason. But he didn't have time to worry about that right now, it would keep until he'd worked out the problem in hand. Something had happened then, something that had made him disinclined to trust any of his new acquaintances, something he needed to put his finger on. Something to do with Katen...
That far he could get, but no further. Whatever that 'something' was, it kept slipping out of his grasp: the harder he tried to clutch at it, the further it receded. He remembered someone, somewhere, sometime way back, once saying to him: 'If you stop actively thinking about it, it'll probably come back to you.' Not the best advice, possibly, but all he had for now. Worth a try, anyway, in the absence of anything better. He let his thoughts drift and was rewarded with a sudden certainty: Daniel. He could trust Daniel. And he had no idea why, but his instincts seemed absolutely sure of it.
He closed his eyes and let the reasoning part of his mind drift some more while he attempted to allow his instincts to clarify themselves and provide some explanation for this conviction. Another varied slew of images drifted up from under: Daniel poring over something or other cradled in his hands, turning it over and over, frowning in concentration, oblivious to his surroundings. Daniel glancing up at him, his face alight with laughter, something not many people saw that often, he was sure, although he couldn't have said why. Daniel stomping around waving his arms, eyes flashing with irritation, arguing passionately with him about who knew what. A much younger Daniel, sneezing and stumbling around, generally bugging the shit out of him; that same Daniel drawing in the sand, looking puzzled as the small, swarthy man standing in front of him erased what he'd done with one foot and a startled exclamation.
The pictures surfacing inside his head were vivid and compelling, most especially the ones that involved Daniel in some way. Real memories of real events and situations, bright and three-dimensional. Convincing, somehow, in a way that he didn't think they would have been if he'd merely been told about them or they'd been induced by drugs.
His chair settled onto all four legs with a thump as he jerked upright, shaking his head with annoyance. This half-life deal was starting to get more than aggravating and his patience was wearing thin. Just when he thought he was maybe getting a handle on things, something else came along and threw him for a loop. Maybe it was time, if he was ever to put a stop to all this white noise inside his head, to start doing a little fishing of his own – no overt questions, he still probably wasn't quite up to taking that risk, couldn't make the calculations come out right – but maybe bait a few hooks and trail them in the water, see what he could find out obliquely. At least try and get his reason and his instincts working together again.
He glanced up at the clock. Fourteen hundred hours: good, that meant Daniel would be back again soon after his lunch, ready and willing to talk. He found that he was looking forward to it now that he'd finally decided on his course of action, and waited for the next quarter of an hour in a mood of rising impatience. Now that the decision was made, he wanted to get going before any objections could surface, 'cause he just knew that if he waited long enough some other consideration would jump out and bite him in the ass.
A knock on the door heralded Daniel's arrival and with the knock, his resolve started to waver and he started to feel a little shaky again. He was about to take a huge risk here, against all common sense. Maybe he should just forget it after all, because if he was wrong --
No, he wasn't going to go there. He'd considered the angles and thought the risk was worthwhile. He forced the half-acknowledged fear down as Daniel's head came around the edge of the door.
"Hey! Can I come in?"
He noted that Daniel actually stood in the doorway and waited for his reply rather than just barging straight in and this odd little observation coupled with the sudden realisation that this was what Daniel always did helped settle him in a way that nothing else quite could. Daniel held all the cards here, but until now he had never abused his position of strength. That could all change of course and he would do well to bear it in mind, but for now he allowed the thought to boost him. He waited until Daniel had settled himself in the chair on the other side of the table before he took a deep breath and said tentatively, "I know you."
There, it was done, for better or worse. Now all he could do was wait and see if his boldness had brought the whole thing crashing down on his head.
*
"I know you."
Daniel blinked at the unexpected approach and wondered what was coming next. This was the first time Jack had actually initiated a conversation. He seemed more animated than usual, excited almost, even though it was carefully banked down, wouldn't be obvious to anyone who didn't know him very well. He fought a brief internal battle to remain calm himself as he said slowly, "Yes, you do. You've known me for a lot longer than you've been back here. We go back a long way."
"That's what I mean. I know that I know you, I just can't quite..."
"Why not take a moment or two to think about it, see if you can't come up with something concrete?"
The mobile face knotted in an agony of concentration: Daniel had the strangest feeling that there was some form of internal argument going on here which he was not party to, before it rearranged itself into an expression of calm acceptance and Jack blurted out, "You’re... the geek."
Daniel fought hard to keep his expression as bland as he could as his emotions went haywire, but something must have shown in his expression because Jack’s face crumpled into defeat tinged with a flash of alarm. His head dropped and he muttered, "No, I’m sorry. I was wrong. I must have been thinking of someone else. Sorry."
"It’s okay, Jack. Don’t worry about it." And then with the urgent realisation that he had to reassure Jack further, keep the lines of communication open any way he could, he added with a smile, "You’re part right, that’s how you used to think of me. At least, it was how you thought of me when we first met. We’ve moved on since then."
"I’m sorry. I didn't mean to step out of line." The response was muffled, Daniel had to strain to hear.
"Don’t be. You haven't, not really. It’s a start."
Daniel waited quietly, wondering if this was indeed the start of the breakthrough, hoping against hope that Jack wouldn't retreat back into his shell. The silence stretched out and his hope gradually faded. No, damn it, he wasn't going to give up hope yet. Maybe he could prod Jack along a little further.
"Exactly how much do you remember about me? About us and what we've done together?"
Jack's head stayed down, and Daniel thought that he was going to get no answer. Damn, he felt he had been this close to getting something positive out of Jack, to starting to blast past the walls that had been erected in Jack's mind. There had to be something that he could do, or say, that would help.
Jack's answer, when it came, was muttered so quietly to the tabletop that he almost missed it.
"Some. It feels like I remember some. Just bits and pieces, all jumbled up and making no sense."
With a sudden spike of irritability, he looked up at last and added, "They crowd me. Faces with no names, names with no faces, bits and pieces of events that I'm not even sure have happened..."
His voice tailed off again, his small spurt of irritation spent, and went back to his contemplation of the tabletop. No, not the tabletop: it took Daniel a moment or two to realise that the object of his concentration was different, but when he noticed, his heart leapt in his chest. Jack was drumming his fingers, both hands going at once, and his attention was on them.
Daniel felt like cheering out loud. This was the first time he'd seen this since Jack's return. Since he'd recovered consciousness, he'd been unnaturally and worryingly still, the hands that were usually so restless lying lax and immobile. This had to be the start of something good. He considered his next move. First order of business, force his emotions to behave - he had to remain calm, he didn't want to spook Jack now of all times. Fine, he could do this: just as he'd said to General Hammond, this was just another mission, another first contact, this was what he did.
"Would you like me to tell you about it again?"
The hands stilled again at once as Jack looked up again, a familiar assessing look in his eyes: another first. Daniel held his breath and made a concerted effort to relax, to keep his body language open and unthreatening, but in the confines of his head he was praying hard for a positive answer, willing Jack to make the leap of faith.
"Yeah, I suppose."
The feeling of relief was dizzying but he didn't dare show it. Daniel forced it down and when he felt composed enough, said neutrally, "What would you like to know first? You must have so many questions."
Damn it, he'd made a mistake there. Fear flared briefly in Jack's eyes before they dropped again to stare at the hands, now curling into fists on the tabletop. Daniel thought furiously, wondering how to get the conversation back on track again. He'd tried so hard to keep it innocuous, so what the hell had he said that was wrong? He'd just invited Jack to ask questions, it had to be something to do with that, everything had been going well up until that point. Acting on a sudden hunch, Daniel took a deep breath and started to talk.
"O-kaay, I can see you're not comfortable with that idea. How about I just start from the beginning, from when we first met, will that be all right? You can just listen, and pitch in if and when you do feel comfortable."
When no answer was forthcoming, he plunged on. Later, when he was thinking about it, he couldn't have said exactly what he talked about, only that he seemed to talk for hours. His mouth and his brain seemed to be acting totally independently. The story of the original mission and the reopening of the 'gate poured out of him again, in one continuous narrative this time rather than piecemeal as before, but he wasn't paying attention to that: he was watching Jack, cataloguing the moments when his hands relaxed again, when his interest was kindled, when his head came up and he really started to pay attention, when he looked sceptical and when something of what he was telling him connected some of the dots.
When he eventually ran out of words, Jack sighed, leaned back in his chair and said with a small measure of satisfaction, "So we have a history then."
A statement, Daniel noted, not a question. So his hunch had been right. He smiled his relief as he answered, "Yeah, we have a history." And maybe they'd just been given hope for their future back too. "So. What do you think?"
"I think... I don't know what to think."
"Yeah, I suppose it's a lot to take in at one time."
Daniel glanced at his watch, surprised to find that only a couple of hours had passed since he'd returned after lunch. "Tell you what, why don't I go and see if I can't scare us up some decent coffee? Then I'll leave you for a while to give you a chance to think it all over, see if it makes sense to you, see if it prompts any more memories. I'll come back this evening, after we've eaten, will that be okay?"
"Fine. That will be fine."
"Okay."
*
Plausibility. That was what it all came down to. Or maybe -- not. Thinking about what he'd just been told now that Daniel had gone, plausible and credible came fairly far down the list of possible adjectives to describe the content. Try far-fetched maybe, or lunatic. Virtually instantaneous trans-galactic travel via rings made of stone, for crying out loud, how believable was that? Egyptian gods - sorry, actually a race of megalomaniac snakey-assed aliens - surviving in the twentieth century, throwing their weight about, threatening the existence of the planet, travelling in giant space-worthy pyramids? Yeah, maybe in some crazy sci-fi scenario. And Daniel seriously expected him to believe it all, to eat it up with a spoon? Pfft!
And yet, while Daniel had been feeding him this load of baloney, he'd almost believed him. It was only now that he'd left that doubts were starting to set in. He'd certainly scored more than a few direct hits with the stuff that had been floating around in his head for the past week or so, stuff that he was pretty sure he'd never mentioned to anyone here. And when you really got down to it, what possible advantage could there be in spinning some yarn that was so far off the wall and getting him to believe it? None that he could see no matter what angle he approached it from. Very much the reverse, in fact: Daniel had spent a huge amount of time trying to win his trust. And Daniel was nobody's fool. Why suddenly go and blow the whole deal when he must have realised he was this close to doing exactly that? If he himself'd been feeding someone a line now, he'd at least have made sure that it was a credible one, not some load of batshit crazy mumbo jumbo.
It was almost crazy enough to be true. And Daniel obviously did expect him to swallow it, showed every sign of believing it himself, every last far-fetched morsel of it. He'd had a lot of opportunity to observe Daniel closely over the last couple of weeks, and one thing that he was certain of was that he wasn't much of a dissembler: his emotions were easy to read in his eyes no matter how hard he tried to hide them. And he was nobody's fool either, that was a given. He wouldn't be able to carry off such a blatant fantasy, either emotionally or intellectually, unless he believed it himself. And he'd positively radiated sincerity.
So who exactly was the basket case here? It had to be one or the other of them. Or both. Yeah, make that definitely both, because perverse as it seemed, on balance he was inclined to make a leap of faith and believe Daniel. Crazy sounding nonsense or not, it seemed to fit, both with the situation he found himself in now and with the bits and pieces that he was coming to think might be real memories.
At least now he had a way of testing it out. He could and should ask. And no, he wasn't going to get all twitchy at the thought of asking a few simple questions, it was the obvious thing to do: he had to get over this ridiculous aversion. He didn't need to make them obvious questions though, or rather, questions with obvious answers: if he could ask obliquely enough, cryptically enough to allow Daniel to tangle himself up in ambiguities if he was in fact lying, then the proportion of direct hits that chimed with his memories would give him the benchmark he needed for measuring the truth about this whole deal.
Dead simple, as strategies went, and because of that, very pleasing. It felt right somehow, in tune with experience, inclination and training. The least convoluted plans were always the best ones. And he was finally, at long, long last, back on surer ground.
He even retained the presence of mind to turn his head out of view of the camera in one corner of his room, just in case, before letting a smug grin split his face. Man, that felt good. It had been a long time since he'd felt he had anything to smile about.
*
Part 9
