Prequel: Daniel’s Rib
Sequel: Multiple Choice
Characters: SG-1, OC: Elizabeth Jackson

ESRB Rating: Teen - Mild Use of Language
Themes: Episode Tag, Daniel/AU Daniel-centric (Gender Bending), Angst, Friendships, H/C
Season: S3
Spoilers: S3 Point of View

Written: January 06

From their end, the mission went without a hitch. Major Carter established a defensive position before the Quantum Mirror, the SG-3 Marines were on hand with M90s over their shoulders, the base was on alert, and Elizabeth was quietly ensconced behind the sandbag barricade, zat at the ready.

The only real point of note had been shortly before SG-1 had returned, when the mirror had flickered to life several times in a row. There were a handful of Daniels, Elizabeth once, and once a sharp featured young man with a shock of dark, spiky hair. He’d given them a cock-sure grin and salute before flickering away. All of them were fumbling with the mirror’s remote in their own fashion.

“Can you believe this,” Sam had breathed with delight. “We’re actually watching parallel universes… well. Carrying out their parallety. They’re all looking to come back through to their own universes after their mission into another.”

Elizabeth frowned gently, mouth plucked into a thoughtful pout. “Is ‘parallety’ a word?”

Eventually their Daniel found their world and he and Teal’c were reaching forward to bring them back through. Jack stayed a moment longer to have a few words with Doctor Carter, a situation Major Carter watched with hooded eyes.

“Here,” Daniel said with a self-conscious shrug. He was favouring his right shoulder, but handed Elizabeth a battered duffle bag. Still sketchy around Teal’c, Elizabeth awkwardly flicked her eyes between all three - man, bag, former First Prime - before licking her lips and asking, “What’s this?”

“Not sure, really. Doctor Carter said it was your locker and some stuff from your office. She thought you’d like it.” Elizabeth could only blink slowly, deceptively lazy, clearly overwhelmed. Daniel and Teal’c exchanged subtle smiles. They’d done good. Eventually her surprised hand shocked itself into motion to accept the handles. She’d stepped through the first time with absolutely nothing to her name. Not even a treasured photo like Sam. She’d only assumed everything was lost to her. But leave it to Sam…

The distraction was adequate enough that everyone missed Doctor Carter stealing one last kiss from her dead husband. Everyone except Major Carter, that was.

Daniel and Jack’s post mission medical had included a few stitches, and then the debriefing had run longer then anticipated. Sam wanted to squeeze every detail she could out of Jack, Daniel and Teal’c , and then she had to wax theoretical on the mirror’s floor show, and then Janet had had to persuade the General to not have the mirror destroyed until they could be sure Elizabeth wouldn’t suffer an “entropic cascade failure” like Doctor Carter. He’d relented eventually, but not until establishing around the clock, heavily armed patrols for it.

George gave those around the table a stern, yet fatherly nod of his head. “Good work, people. SG-1, you’re on stand down for five days. Get off my base. And I don’t want to see you, or any… versions of you–” He shot Frasier a wry look down his nose. “Until next week. Dismissed.” He stood, leaving the team to collect themselves and get on home.

“C’mon, T. We’re going fishing.” Jack reached over to slap Teal’c in the chest with the back of his hand. The Jaffa gave him a raised eyebrow for his efforts.

“We are?”

“We are.”

“Indeed.” Teal’c felt the need to remind O’Neill yet again that there weren’t actually any fish in this lake of his in Minnesota, but Sam was grinning at them broadly and he reconsidered that maybe it wasn’t all that necessary after all. Instead, he lifted his chin and tucked his hands behind his back.

“Want to come, Carter? Nice, wiggly worms, all the warm beer a girl could ask for, lumpy spare beds?” Jack’s hands lifted invitingly over his shoulders.

Her smile for him was tight. It made Jack fidget, feel like he was in trouble for something. “No thanks, sir. I think for once I’m going to just take it easy at home. Maybe grab a picnic with you and Cass?” Sam gave Janet a questioning look as the doctor collected her mound of paper work against her petite frame.

“She’d like that,” the MD agreed with a wicked gleam to her eyes. “Maybe go out on a ‘rowboat’ again?” Sam and Jack groaned. Teal’c turned his lush mouth down disapprovingly.

Daniel couldn’t groan or frown because he was already heading up the stairs, Elizabeth Jackson propelled before him. He knew Jack was giving him — and Elizabeth — the chance to assimilate to each other in relative peace. If everyone was still in town or in other ways unoccupied, they’d feel obligated to stop by and do what they could. This way, if any wigging out was going to be had, it’d be the way Daniel preferred it: in private.

She was practically asleep on her feet while Daniel signed her out and left very clear and explicit instructions with the posted airman that he was going home and here was his cell phone number too if Doctor Frasier needed them for absolutely any reason. Bag still slung over her shoulder, Elizabeth muffled a yawn behind a hand when Daniel steered her towards the second elevator.

For the fourth time she protested. “You don’t have to do this. I still have the room General Hammond assigned me. And aren’t I some sort of National Security risk?”

“And you also heard the General. He doesn’t want to see SG-1 or any version of them on base for at least five days. And as we’ve already established…” Daniel knew he was liberally interpreting this, but he also knew he had to get her out of here. It was an echo to his - their - first night back on base after Abydos. The SGC wouldn’t know what to do with her yet, and she certainly wouldn’t know what to do with herself. Like Jack had done for him, he was going to take her home, put some real food inside her, and then give her the chance at a good night’s rest.

And he had seen her SGA. If she’d been spending these last few days inside that charon pit… he just needed to get her out of here.

In the parking lot, Elizabeth was in the middle of yet another yawn when she cut it off abruptly to laugh at his jeep. Digging his keys out of his pocket, Daniel turned a questioning frown in her direction. What was wrong with his car?

“It’s dark out here; is it blue?”

He thought about it for a moment before chuckling quietly through his nose. “Yes.”

“Of course it is. You have my snake bite scar, why wouldn’t you have my car too.”

Daniel joined her in laughing softly, hand on the small of her back as he helped her into the passenger side. She was asleep against the door before they even got all the way down the mountain.

Wrestling the somnambulistic woman up the stairs to his apartment building was something easier said than done. Elizabeth was walking — well. Elizabeth was shuffling, and mostly had her eyes open, but really she was kept upright and in motion more by Daniel’s propping shoulder and his free hand.

They passed Mrs. Schaffer on their way to the elevator. Daniel tried to give her a reassuring ‘what are you going to do’ grin, but it wasn’t exactly every day he hustled a sleeping woman in a blue jumpsuit up to his place. Mrs. Schaffer thought to herself yet again what a shame it was for such a nice looking boy to be so odd.

He more or less propped Elizabeth against the wall as he fiddled with the lock on his door. Then he had to scoop her up before she hit the floor and spun her into the studio. Daniel knew that they were going to have a fight over the bed - each of them trying to refuse it for the benefit of the other - but it looked like he was going to win by sheer force of being the only coherent Jackson around.

Dropping her bag near the couch, he steered her back into the bedroom and then into sitting on the foot of the bed. He looked up into her eyes. She was trying to protest again, but he thought he heard something about pie in there too.

“Ellie, when was the last time you slept? Like, really slept and didn’t just sleep when it wasn’t your watch?” Daniel was already bent over her feet, working the laces on her boots.

“Uhm. Tuesday.” It was Monday.

“Exactly.” Both boots off, he took a moment to think before just deciding. Tugging her back to standing, he unzipped and stripped her of her airman blues as quickly and effectively as he could. Elizabeth slapped at his hands, sleepy indignation in her bleary blue eyes, but he won anyway. And he’d kept his eyes up.

Then he was pulling the covers down and shuffling her in between the sheets in her black tee-shirt and… pink panties. Daniel had to resist laughing out “It’s a girl!” Instead he just cleared his throat in a serious manner and tried to not think of the Freudian implications here. The last few days had been weird enough, thanks. He plucked her glasses off her nose gently, setting them within easy reach on the night stand.

There was one last feeble protest before she was claiming the bed as her own: snuggling herself down into the middle, all four pillows tucked around her. It was how he slept.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t she.”

It was only 10:30pm. Not really late enough for Daniel to want to sleep, but he’d already had a shower on base. Showering again just for the sake of having a shower in his own house to waste time seemed sort of pointless.

Shoes off and changed into a pair of sweats and a sweater, he poured himself a glass of wine and thought about maybe grabbing one of the many books waiting to be read under his night stand. Elizabeth was about as gone as a person could go. He doubted she’d even notice him pawing through the selection not three feet away from her. Coming around his arm chair to set his glass down, he caught sight of her bag out of the corner of his eye.

Now, by nature — neigh, by their very definition, anthropologists are a curious bunch. More so those who decided to focus in archeology. The chance to finger other people’s things was almost irresistible. They just usually happened to be people who’d been long, long gone, not currently asleep in his bedroom. He knew he probably shouldn’t. Daniel wouldn’t be too keen on anyone digging around in his very last possessions on Earth before he himself had even had the chance, but… irresistible.

Under the pretense of ‘well, if there’s any clothes in there, it’d be nice to wash them for her’, Daniel brought her bag back into the living room and set it on the coffee table. His long fingers hesitated for a second more before, much like earlier, he just decided and unzipped the zipper.

There were indeed clothes. He could see them near the bottom. But on top were an assortment of books and journals, and what looked like the corners of picture frames. That was it. He was lost to it now.

With careful reverence, he pulled the books out. He recognized some of the titles, but not all of them. There were maybe seven in total. Then there was a collection of ten thin, leather bound journals. He didn’t need to even open them to know they were her mission journals. He had an identical collection back at the SGC. In time, he’d want to pour over these things letter by letter, but it was the promise of pictures that was drawing him like a lodestone.

Daniel had to stop his hand, hovering over the bag’s dark opening. It was shaking. Making a quick fist, he steadied himself with a deep breath before taking a seat on his couch. Then he pulled the coffee table closer, blue eyes brilliant as they ran down the dull canvass.

He hoped… but it was an absurd hope. And why did he even want to see this anyway? But so many other details had been nearly identical. Was it sheer curiosity, pure and simple? Or was it something… else. One finger crooked against the bag’s lip, pulling it wide so light could spill in. He saw the frame. He saw the frame. Before he went any further, he bounced up, went to his piano and picked up his own picture frame from its lid. He had an identical one like it back at his office, same frame and everything for both. For all four, he bet.

He also grabbed his wine glass on his way back to the couch. Everything else of Elizabeth’s Daniel carefully pushed aside. Then, with an almost ceremonial veneration, he set the hand carved frame down where he could see it easily. Then he reached in and unerringly pulled her copy out, setting it beside his. Then he took up his glass and sat back into the couch.

If you could - and he was sure someone down in one of Sam’s labs could if he’d just ask - somehow blend the images, they’d synchronize themselves perfectly.

Daniel eventually fell asleep on the couch, eyes shifting between the two even in his dreams.

Elizabeth had no idea what time it was, but her bladder was telling her it was time to Get Up and Go Now. A light was still on in the living room, but she didn’t need it to know how to find the bathroom. She’d made this particular walk thousands of times after all. She could do it in her sleep. Chances are she had. But the tile was colder then she’d anticipated, and so Elizabeth was awake now and found her glasses near her… his… the alarm clock. It read just after 4am. Was Daniel really still awake?

His bedding was different than hers. That kind of threw her. It was her bed, it was in the same place in the same room, had the right amount of pillows, but the bedding was burgundy with teal diamonds. Hers was a light blue checker. Flipping the comforter back, she could see teal sheets. Hers were lavender. All she could do was shake her head. It wasn’t going to be the big things that sucker punched her, she could tell, it was going to be these little things.

Little things like pants. Elizabeth vaguely remembered Daniel divesting her of the jumpsuit, but couldn’t be bothered anymore to be offended. Frankly, she couldn’t remember exactly how she’d even gotten up here. There was the car, and then Mrs. Schaffer, an elevator, and then her bladder a few moments ago. Was the woman down in 310 still named Mrs. Schaffer here? Everything was a curious jumble.

But she was still going to need something on her if she was going to go and see if Daniel was still awake. If she was him — which, she reminded herself, she was — then he kept his flannel pajama pants… here. And he did. Hers were heather gray and pink. His were black and blue. And they bunched over her feet. Elizabeth Jackson wasn’t exactly a short woman, taller then Sam Carter, but it was clearly a fact that Daniel Jackson was taller. It brought a smile to her for some reason.

Dragging a hand through her hair, she shuffled around the wall partition and out into the hallway before heading down into the living room.

No, Daniel was very much not even close to being awake. It looked like he’d fallen asleep sitting up, but eventually he’d sort of slumped over to the left until his head was on a throw pillow. His long feet were only just on the other end of the couch, arms tucked up against him for warmth. His mouth was slack in sleep, glasses knocked crooked on his nose and, again, she smiled without knowing why exactly. ‘He looks so… sweet. Tender. Do I look anything like that?’ Her smile wrinkled a bit under the weight of her curiosity, but didn’t leave completely. ‘You want to go over there and tuck a blanket around him and then smooth back his bangs. Maybe kiss his forehead.’ It was all a compulsion she couldn’t ignore.

In turning back towards the hall and the closet that lay wherein, and where she highly suspected he kept his spare bedding too, Elizabeth caught the wide sliding glass door. And stopped. Because the skyline wasn’t on fire.

She knew it shouldn’t be. Wouldn’t be. Daniel’s fate that he’d lent her world, after all. But… but it wasn’t on fire. Colorado Springs was not on fire.

Drawn to her own lodestone, Elizabeth first pressed herself against the glass and then succumbed to its lure and slid the door open, taking herself out onto the balcony. The air wasn’t filled with the stench of fire and worse. The sky was clear, stars bright in the early Fall weather. A sleepy car drove past, breaking into the early morning quiet. It wasn’t speeding by in some futile attempt to escape, it didn’t explode by trailing Jaffa shooting it. A gentle wind buffeted against her and the building. And all her ears heard was the wind, not the crack of fire or whimper of people suffering in the shadows.

“Oh, God,” she choked out, one hand coming up to lay trembling fingers against her mouth. Now, did this count as a big or small thing? Either way, it was a thing that sucker punched right into her solar plexus.

Daniel was cold. And sort of stiff. Cracking one eye open, the world made absolutely no sense… until he straightened his glasses with one uncoordinated hand. Ah, there. And why was the sliding glass door open? He’d fallen asleep on the couch? Guh, crink in his neck.

No one on SG-1 who’d spent the night off world with Daniel Jackson would be surprised by his just-awake confusion. It was sort of part and parcel with his fever genius nature.

The sliding glass door was why he was cold, so he should get up and close it. It was the first total and complete thought Daniel had, so he held onto it for further motivation.

Blinking his eyes roughly two or three times, he sniffed lustily and ran a hand over his face, sitting up before knuckling his glasses once more into place. Okay, things were coming back to him. That’s when he made out Elizabeth’s shape out on the terrace. Something was wrong, he could tell. The bend of her shoulders, arms wrapped around herself, the arch of her throat — whatever, however, it immediately made him feel protective of her. The irony didn’t escape him again, but it was slower in coming this time.

She was also wearing his pants. That was kind of weird.

“Ellie?” Coming up behind her, Daniel rested one hand against the large sill and leaned himself against it gently.

“Daniel.” He’d startled her despite his best efforts. The light spilled over his shoulder and cast its weak glow on her. She’d been crying. Hard. Bright red spots blossomed on her pale cheeks, nose pink and shinny, eyes rimmed violently. “Ellie?” he repeated, coming forward with his arms out.

“It’s not all on fire, Daniel.” Turning from the city, Elizabeth once again tumbled into this other Doctor Jackson’s arms. She’d cried more in the last three days then she had the last three years. When were the tears going to finally dry up?

“I don’t… I don’t understand.” And he didn’t, and it didn’t have anything to do with having just woke up. Well. He didn’t think so. “What isn’t on fire?”

“Everything. This street, Colorado Springs, the world. Your world. It isn’t all on fire.” Ah. Okay. Now he got it. In part, this was why he’d wanted to get her out of the SGC. So she could see, really see. And start to believe. Understand. Daniel had just sort of assumed he’d be awake for it all.

“No,” he murmured against her temple. “It isn’t. The Goa’uld never reached my Earth. And with luck - and your help - they never will.”

“How could I have let them talk me into this? I shouldn’t be here.” Her hand dashed against her cheeks, doing a poor job of getting rid of fresh tears. Pulling herself away, Elizabeth went back to the railing and rested her palms against the wrought iron. Her self recriminating glare shot out over the street.

“I shouldn’t be here,” she repeated. But Daniel knew what she was really saying was that she didn’t deserve to be here. Because… it’d be what he’d be saying if their places were switched. Why was it suddenly easier for him to known these things about himself when they were happening to her?

“Yes, you should be, Elizabeth.” Coming back up behind her, he rested his hands on her shoulders gently and tried to see this the way she was. See it through her eyes, so similar to his but ultimately her own. “Doctor Carter, Major Kawalsky, even your General Hammond… they want you here. Want you to continue your work in a place where you can flourish. You… you would have suffocated in the SGA. You belong here, now.”

But she was shaking her head, cornsilk hair swishing against the backs of his hands. “It isn’t right. I should be back where I belong. Why do I get to cheat fate when no one else does? It isn’t right.”

“They gave you a gift, Elizabeth Jackson. A precious gift, yes, but one they wanted to give and gave freely. They… they gave you a chance to be happy.” Daniel Jackson swallowed roughly. So much, too much, was rushing through his mind. He was thinking of Jack’s box of kleenex clattering down into the Abydos gate room. Of Sam’s gentle kiss when he’d been trapped inside of Ma’chello. Every time General Hammond called him ’son’ or ‘our boy’. The way Teal’c clasped his arm as an equal and not some flakey scholar just pretending to be a warrior like himself. Every day they gave him the same gifts Elizabeth’s people had given her in one lump sum.

He tugged gently on her shoulders, pulling her back towards the apartment. “C’mere. There’s something I want to show you.”

She licked her lips before pressing them together, looking over her shoulder before reluctantly following. Daniel took up her hand, leading her to the sofa where he pointedly sat her down in to middle. Right in front of their pictures. She gave him a wary glance, but he just pointed at the coffee table.

“Oh!” Her voice caught in a sigh when she saw.

“Yeah,” was his delighted answer.

It took Elizabeth’s breath away. Daniel sat next to her, easily falling back into his previous enthrallment.

In his frame, his parents were standing with arms around each other’s waists. They were dressed for the dig they were on: khakis, loose shirts, hats discarded for the moment though very near at hand to avoid the Egyptian sun. Their smiles were broad and deliciously full of life, laughter in their posture. Hamming it up around his mother’s leg, five year old Daniel Jackson was as dusty as a dirt devil, grinning with missing front teeth for the camera. His mother’s hand was lost around the back of his neck, tenderly cradling him to her.

In Elizabeth’s, she was playing around her father’s leg, pigtails in motion as she swung around, equally as missing front teeth on display for the cameraman. Her father was just as tenderly cradling his daughter to himself as his wife was cradling their son. Elizabeth was a bit cleaner then Daniel was, but both of her knees were scabbed while only one of his was. Both children were wearing the vest the local woman had made for them, though. It fastened up the front with the most amazing buttons a child had seen, hand carved and painted with deliberate care. He’d kept the buttons long after he’d out grown the vest. It wasn’t until one of the many foster care moves that he’d finally lost them. She’d still had one until this week.

Elizabeth Jackson didn’t let go of Daniel’s hand, instead twisting her palm so she could lace her fingers through his. They sat that way all through the Colorado sunrise.

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