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Stargate SG-1 fic: From the Personal Journal of Daniel Jackson

Just a short little piece in my alternate reality universe. #4 in The Great Ring series and inspired by the prompt: journal entry @ [info]writers30days (round 1). Hopefully I’ll finish #5 soon.

From the Personal Journal of Daniel Jackson
by jennickels (aka Jen Connelly)
Stargate SG-1
alt!SG-1
710 words
rating: K+

Daniel journals about his first day with the newly renamed SGP…he’s happy to see Sam again but isn’t sure O’Neill likes him very much.

don’t own… wish I did, but I don’t. No infringement intended.

June 11, 1997

My first week with the program. It’s nothing like I imagined. There’s a hustle and urgency in the air. People get out of my way when I walk down the hall. I don’t know if it’s because I’m the guy that predicted the future or because I’m the famous writer or because I’m the guy that’s supposed to fix the mess.

Sam called me six days ago with an offer to join the Program. The next day a car arrived to take me to the airport, a ticket to Denver in the back seat. I know Sam didn’t send it but there’s no doubt this wasn’t an invitation you could refuse.

I was happy to see Sam. We’d only spoken a few times since our meeting in Vancouver and subsequent red-eye back to the states. There were a lot of emails, though. And not just about what happened. I have to admit I missed her. So, I haven’t known her that long—just a few weeks or so—but we just clicked. Corny as that sounds. She’s easy to talk to and not so bad to look at either. I can still look and be friends.

Can’t I?

Oh, god, if she ever found out I said that.

I know she’s having trouble with the men on her team and feeling the stress of everyone looking to her for answers. I wish there was more I could do.

They put me to work as soon as I arrived this morning. Sam’s first mission didn’t go exactly according to plan. More like anything that could go wrong… did. There’s video to prove it. Well, there’s a lot of rough, jittery pictures of people running and being shot at. It’s the sounds they want me to pay attention to, though. They want to know if I recognize the language.

It’s hard to hear on the tape but it sounds like a derivative of ancient Egyptian. Which makes sense with what I know about our new enemies—the Goa’uld. So, I guess my new job is translator and interpreter. Sam says I’m perfectly suited for it. I think she’s losing it. I haven’t used my linguistics degree since applying for a job at Taco Bell after college. Just working on this one assignment is like jumping into rough seas with only a basic knowledge of the doggy paddle. I’m so lost.

The University of Chicago decided to award me a belated doctorate based on my original thesis. Funny how that goes. I’m officially Dr. Daniel Jackson now. Sounds weird still. Sam’s been going around calling me doctor for days now. I’ve been trying to ignore her while still hiding the little smile that wants to escape.

I don’t think Sam’s team likes me much. Mostly O’Neill. He balks at my chosen career. Well, my previous one. He calls me the “sci-fi guy.” Like that’s really an insult considering what we know now and what we do. Sam says he’s just teasing and to ignore him. I don’t know. It feels an awful lot like bullying which I know plenty about. I don’t like the way he looks at me or the predatory gleam in his eye when Sam is around. She doesn’t see it. Kawalsky does. He just laughs, though. At least he’s not openly hostile towards me.

I’m not sure what my time here will bring. Translating is awfully boring sometimes. I did figure out the Ring is called a Stargate. I guess they’re going to rename it the Stargate Program—the SGP for short. O’Neill isn’t happy. He doesn’t strike me as the kind to deal well with arbitrary changes like that. He likes things a certain way.. if it’s not broke don’t fix it. Maybe it’s a military thing.

I guess my only choice is to stick around (not that there is much of a choice really) and help Sam out. Be her shoulder to cry on, so to speak. Not that I picture Sam crying much. She’s too damn proud to cry. And always out to impress everyone, especially O’Neill for some unexplainable reason. She’s a colonel and he’s a major. I don’t get it. Must be more military stuff. I’ll probably never understand.

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