I’m still dazed over all of this. Almost as if somebody had thrown a sucker punch to my solar plexus: that’s how it felt when we saw Daniel – Daniel – walk into the village with the rest of our force.
I couldn’t believe it: I just stood there, utterly dumbfounded. I mean, a year after he ascended – for all intents and purposes died. Months after we last saw him during the battle on Abydos with Anubis. After struggling to come to terms with the likelihood that this time I really would never see him again. After I railed at him and the heavens and whoever else I could think of for not giving me some sign that he was watching over us while he was ascended. After I grieved God knows how many times, shed God knows how many tears for him, begged absolution for all those nasty things I said about him after we lost Abydos. After all that, Daniel Jackson, one of my best friends on this or any other planet simply strolls into this village, and back into our lives.
Ah, it if were only that easy. If only we could pick up right where we left off. But there’s a price to be paid for having Daniel back. Daniel has no memory. Not of who he is, not of where and what he’s been, not of us. Nothing.
My feet were like lead as we walked up to meet him. It felt as though everything was happening in slow motion. And then I approached him, said, "Daniel? It’s okay." I reached out to touch his shoulder, to reassure him. "It’s me, S—"
And then he cut me off.
He blocked the gesture, brushed my hand away, his eyes cold. Blank. No recognition. God, that was like a knife to the gut. How could he not remember me? Remember us? Remember all we’ve been through together? What the hell happened to him?!
The Colonel talked with Daniel after that, tried to jog his memory. He didn’t make much headway, because he suggested afterwards that I give it a try. My heart was in my mouth as I walked into the tent where Daniel sat. The memory of that cold, unrecognizing stare was still fresh in my mind’s eye: what if he never recovered the memory of who he was? God, it was almost too much to deal with. I nearly crumbled right there: it was almost as bad as if we hadn’t gotten him back at all.
He was hesitant – he speculated about the consequences if he didn’t like the person he used to be. Another sucker punch: I was this close to opening the emotional floodgates, to reciting the Litany of Saint Daniel, desperate to give this man some idea of who he was, who he’d been, how much we cared for him and he for us, how many of our lives had been touched and changed for the better, simply by virtue of knowing Doctor Daniel Jackson.
And then it suddenly hit me: he’s in there, all right. Somewhere, I don’t know how deep, Daniel is in there. In that one question – what if he didn’t like the person he used to be? – I could see it. That brilliant intellect, oh yes, very much in evidence. Here was this man who has no idea who he is, what he’s done, who he’s affected, and yet he was calm, curious, inquiring, rationalizing, debating the pros and cons of recovering his memories. As if there’d ever be a question one way or the other.
But that spark, that enthusiasm, that zeal and joie de vivre that makes Daniel Daniel, that makes us love him – it just wasn’t quite there….
I think I caught a glimpse of that essence of Daniel, though. It was after I’d told him, in carefully chosen words, who he was, how much he cared, how much he wanted to help people, to make a difference. I offered him the chance to see for himself. Knowing that he’d ultimately have to decide for himself, I got up, turned to leave, fighting every instinct to go over and hug him, try to reassure him. As I reached the doorway, his voice stopped me again. He asked – hesitatingly – whether there’d ever been anything between us. I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or to cry. But when I said we were really, really good friends, I saw it. I saw him. I saw Daniel in there. There was a fleeting sparkle in those amazing blue eyes, the tiniest hint of a smile. That’s when I knew for sure. Even before he emerged from the tent and announced he was going home with us. I knew. I knew we’d get him back.
Daniel’s in there, and he’s going remember, and he’s going be okay. We’re going to be okay.
All that ranting I did last year after we lost you, after Anubis destroyed Abydos? I’m so sorry. What I said there in the tent, I meant every word of it, Daniel. You are a good man; you care passionately. You make us care passionately.
You’re back – well, you will be back. And when you’re whole again, we will be, too.
Author's Notes: The third part of a trilogy (with "Abandoned" and "Alienated") that follows how Sam deals with Daniel’s ascension, re-appearance, and return. Sam’s reactions during "Full Circle," both to Jack’s and Teal’c’s admissions that they’d previously seen Daniel, and to Daniel’s perfunctory greeting to her, made me wonder what she thought subsequently. Seeing "Meridian" and "Revelations" after I saw "Full Circle," I realized there was a nice arc here with Sam running the gamut of emotions while dealing with Daniel’s loss. "Fallen" and "Homecoming" simply tied the bow on the package. J
© November 2003 Any original scenes and characters are mine. Regrettably SG-1 aren’t: they belong to MGM, Bridge, Double Secret, Gekko, SciFi, et al. However, what Sam, Jack, Teal’c, and Daniel do when they’re off-duty isn’t up to MGM, Bridge, Double Secret, Gekko, SciFi, et al, now is it? J There was no financial profit on my part from this work of fiction. All writing is mine: mine, mine, mine! Please do not copy or reproduce it without asking me first.