Heeeeeeyyyyyyyy
Feb. 27th, 2007 09:20 amThere is an extraordinary birthday being celebrated today. I don't often notice birthdays on my flist, because I work through a third party program that doesn't list such things for me, but this one caught my attention.
jenlev, you are one of the sweetest, funniest, most marvelous photographers of my acquaintance. I remain touched by your comments and presence, and still regret that we missed each other this year when I was traveling (too briefly, it seems) through your part of the world.
I looked through my WIP folder and dusted off a little Jack and Daniel ficlet for you to celebrate the day of your birth.
This needs a title so the title is now: Take Your Coffee Black
Characters: Jack and Daniel, S7,
Word count: 700
Rating: G, no warnings.
For:
jenlev. Happy Birthday.
He drew a blank.
From the moment he walked through the circle and down the metal ramp, out of the green of the forest and into concrete and weapons, he expected the memories to flood him, but they didn’t. He expected to feel at home, among family, and warm, but the light was different, the angles harsh. He felt on display and he froze up, cold.
Not even a removal of the armed men, a room with fabric walls like he was accustomed to, a woman he should have known, a return of his possessions (they said), none of these was enough to mimic torchlight, firelight, the smell and sound of crackling wood, the visual cues of home and hearth and warmth.
He couldn’t even tell them what he was feeling, couldn’t register good, bad, familiar, alien. Only different, all different.
A hollowed out shell of a man stripped of his borrowed identity, he was not sure he truly existed. Ever, anywhere.
His friend-- Jim, or John, or Jack-- was guiding him through the stares and starts of recognition he could not return, was challenging him with words, pushing, wanting, but never so hard that he—that Daniel-- lost his balance. And that was surprising, because he felt much more precariously perched than his companion seemed to think he was.
There was a box. Many boxes, probably. In the shock of images, nostalgia for the memories of places he could not name but looking at their daguerreotype, knew he had been. Where the sun beat down hard and the sand blew into your clothes, where the animals yawned awful breath but the horizon brought wonders. Familiar.
He was accompanied by ghosts he couldn’t name, and lights he couldn't blow out.
The next day, he walked the halls and remembered how to read, how to translate, how to feel, how to work the water system. After he spoke to people, listened to them, offered what he could and left the meeting more confused, he remembered the box.
He was half-way through it, paper rustling lightly around him, stone and glass and paper and ink set as reverently outside it as they had been stored within, that he ran his fingers over a lacquered surface, a perfect circle. Daniel felt the rise in varnish where an image was painted over the background, felt the porous underside where it was meant to be set down. Drew his fingers through the handle and knew how he would hold the cup firmly, carefully cradling whatever what inside it.
He scrambled through the sea of paper, still without his sea legs, to get to the door and find the man’s office. He had to ask several people and finally turned around for the assistance of his ever-present airman.
He forgot to knock, forgot to close the door behind him. Daniel walked into Jack’s office with a grin on his face and Jack set down the telephone receiver.
“You liked that one.” Jack said as Daniel placed the mug on his desk.
“I’ve never seen this one before, Jack.” Daniel said with certainty as he turned the face towards the other man; wish you were here, it said.
“You sure about that?” Jack asked, eyes never leaving Daniel’s face.
“Yeah. It’s starting to come back to me.” Daniel said, smiling broadly. It was infectious, and Jack’s eye’s crinkled out of their interrogating innocent look. When he smiled and shoved his chair back, Daniel knew Jack would hug him.
Still, he was surprised by the warmth of it, how it enveloped him; he knew he was not a small man. They fit, though. He fit, in this crazy concrete planet where warmth and sand and desert existed somewhere.
Or he would, when he remembered how. In the meantime, he had renewed faith that he had existed here once, and was welcome back again.
I looked through my WIP folder and dusted off a little Jack and Daniel ficlet for you to celebrate the day of your birth.
This needs a title so the title is now: Take Your Coffee Black
Characters: Jack and Daniel, S7,
Word count: 700
Rating: G, no warnings.
For:
He drew a blank.
From the moment he walked through the circle and down the metal ramp, out of the green of the forest and into concrete and weapons, he expected the memories to flood him, but they didn’t. He expected to feel at home, among family, and warm, but the light was different, the angles harsh. He felt on display and he froze up, cold.
Not even a removal of the armed men, a room with fabric walls like he was accustomed to, a woman he should have known, a return of his possessions (they said), none of these was enough to mimic torchlight, firelight, the smell and sound of crackling wood, the visual cues of home and hearth and warmth.
He couldn’t even tell them what he was feeling, couldn’t register good, bad, familiar, alien. Only different, all different.
A hollowed out shell of a man stripped of his borrowed identity, he was not sure he truly existed. Ever, anywhere.
His friend-- Jim, or John, or Jack-- was guiding him through the stares and starts of recognition he could not return, was challenging him with words, pushing, wanting, but never so hard that he—that Daniel-- lost his balance. And that was surprising, because he felt much more precariously perched than his companion seemed to think he was.
There was a box. Many boxes, probably. In the shock of images, nostalgia for the memories of places he could not name but looking at their daguerreotype, knew he had been. Where the sun beat down hard and the sand blew into your clothes, where the animals yawned awful breath but the horizon brought wonders. Familiar.
He was accompanied by ghosts he couldn’t name, and lights he couldn't blow out.
The next day, he walked the halls and remembered how to read, how to translate, how to feel, how to work the water system. After he spoke to people, listened to them, offered what he could and left the meeting more confused, he remembered the box.
He was half-way through it, paper rustling lightly around him, stone and glass and paper and ink set as reverently outside it as they had been stored within, that he ran his fingers over a lacquered surface, a perfect circle. Daniel felt the rise in varnish where an image was painted over the background, felt the porous underside where it was meant to be set down. Drew his fingers through the handle and knew how he would hold the cup firmly, carefully cradling whatever what inside it.
He scrambled through the sea of paper, still without his sea legs, to get to the door and find the man’s office. He had to ask several people and finally turned around for the assistance of his ever-present airman.
He forgot to knock, forgot to close the door behind him. Daniel walked into Jack’s office with a grin on his face and Jack set down the telephone receiver.
“You liked that one.” Jack said as Daniel placed the mug on his desk.
“I’ve never seen this one before, Jack.” Daniel said with certainty as he turned the face towards the other man; wish you were here, it said.
“You sure about that?” Jack asked, eyes never leaving Daniel’s face.
“Yeah. It’s starting to come back to me.” Daniel said, smiling broadly. It was infectious, and Jack’s eye’s crinkled out of their interrogating innocent look. When he smiled and shoved his chair back, Daniel knew Jack would hug him.
Still, he was surprised by the warmth of it, how it enveloped him; he knew he was not a small man. They fit, though. He fit, in this crazy concrete planet where warmth and sand and desert existed somewhere.
Or he would, when he remembered how. In the meantime, he had renewed faith that he had existed here once, and was welcome back again.
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Date: 2007-02-27 05:46 pm (UTC)Much happiness for Jenlev Day and for you adding this to it. :-) :-)
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Date: 2007-02-27 05:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-27 05:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-27 06:42 pm (UTC)This is such a wonderful description of just how Daniel's must have felt.
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Date: 2007-02-27 08:09 pm (UTC)*draws hearts and joins the crowd* Happy Birthday,
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Date: 2007-02-27 09:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-27 10:35 pm (UTC)and wheeee!!!!! story. *smooch* thank you.
oh i love this: "none of these was enough to mimic torchlight, firelight, the smell and sound of crackling wood, the visual cues of home and hearth and warmth."
and it makes sense that he would feel more hollowed out by the welcome and everything at the mountain. and the image of lights he couldn't blow out is perfect....goes very well with the ghosts.
and this is a gorgeous paragraph: "He was half-way through it, paper rustling lightly around him, stone and glass and paper and ink set as reverently outside it as they had been stored within, that he ran his fingers over a lacquered surface, a perfect circle. Daniel felt the rise in varnish where an image was painted over the background, felt the porous underside where it was meant to be set down. Drew his fingers through the handle and knew how he would hold the cup firmly, carefully cradling whatever what inside it."
what a wonderful hug, and the dawning glee of recognition, you write that exquisitely. thank you again for this.
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Date: 2007-02-27 10:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-27 10:36 pm (UTC);)
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Date: 2007-02-27 10:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-27 10:50 pm (UTC)I totally don't remember that either.
So then, hey! It's *JENLEV's* day and she's just such a gorgeous human being so let's go see what else my hard drive is hiding, yeah?
OMG what else have I done that I've completely forgotten, that's the question. Yipes.
(Also, I love that icon and have inside intel on an extraordinary Sha're fic being written nowish. I hope. And not abandoned, I hope, because it's ambitious, dude.)
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Date: 2007-02-27 10:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-27 10:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-27 10:52 pm (UTC)This has been an extraordinary day for SG-1 ficlets, must say. Happy to help, too.
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Date: 2007-02-27 10:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-27 10:55 pm (UTC)Which is a long winded way of saying, thank you, that is high praise.
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Date: 2007-02-27 10:57 pm (UTC)*throws little paper heart confetti and turns on the dance music*
This calls for a big banner sign, methinks.
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Date: 2007-02-27 11:03 pm (UTC)SHEYEAH. So there are all these fics sitting around my hard drive, quiet as you please! What's up with that?
Luckily, it's preferable to my previous writers block, so I've been scribbling away in coffee shops today. It's been a lark.
Also, oh Jack, you are such a dork sometimes. I just wrote a scene where Jack won't react to pain but flinches when he catches himself saying something schmaltzy. Doofus.
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Date: 2007-02-27 11:07 pm (UTC)That line about blowing out the lights was one of the only changes I made to this fic in the brushing off phase. I found it on my hard drive, but it's really a mystery to me how it got there. So I'm doubly pleased that you picked something that I actually *remember* writing as a highlight. Makes me think that I might actually be able to accept the praise. Hee!
I'm glad you like the dawning. It feels like it must've been just an excruiciating process for someone like Daniel. Good thing he was in the company of such good family.
Happy birthday, friend of words but not sight. Next year, maybe, there will be real hugs. *hugs*
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Date: 2007-02-27 11:09 pm (UTC)Hee! Yay indeed. I wish I remembered writing this, honestly. I'm a little worried that the elves just left it on my harddrive one night, as a changeling for a truly awful story or something.
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Date: 2007-02-28 12:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-28 12:08 am (UTC)and of course you accept the praise, you're quite deserving. and yes indeedy to the quality of the family he found himself with. i will read this story many times.
and i will store up those in person hugs and look forward to your next visit to this coast. *hugs*
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Date: 2007-02-28 07:11 am (UTC)Beautiful, striking image. And I love the idea of Jack drip-feeding him his life and not pushing so hard that he lost his balance :-) Lovely little ficlet, thanks for sharing with us all :-)
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Date: 2007-02-28 09:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-28 09:18 pm (UTC)Thanks re the icon! Heee, yes,
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Date: 2007-02-28 09:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-28 10:04 pm (UTC)The world needs more Sha're fic. Yes.
How far is yours from working? *is totally happy to read and provide alpha/beta love* *in fact, will line up for the honor*
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Date: 2007-02-28 10:08 pm (UTC)::wipes up some of that combined drool:: *g*
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Date: 2007-02-28 10:09 pm (UTC)That ho.
of course you accept the praise, you're quite deserving
If you say so. *doesn't remember*
i will read this story many times.
*squeeks and curls up into a little ball of writerly glee*
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Date: 2007-02-28 10:11 pm (UTC)You're icon never fails to amuse. Hee!
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Date: 2007-02-28 10:24 pm (UTC)and yup, you do deserve the praise.
also, writerly glee is a good look on you. *hugs*
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Date: 2007-02-28 10:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-02 02:07 am (UTC)Also, this:
Where the sun beat down hard and the sand blew into your clothes, where the animals yawned awful breath but the horizon brought wonders. Familiar.
Is just a stupendously beautiful sentence. It feels to me like something you must have written once you had *been* to that kind of place and gotten the sense of it into your own skin.
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Date: 2007-03-02 02:11 am (UTC)Oh Daniel...
This was a lovely look at Daniel finding his way back to himself.
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Date: 2007-03-02 06:26 am (UTC)Sweetness!
Really, really nice. :)
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Date: 2007-03-02 06:42 am (UTC)ps...sort of. :)
Date: 2007-03-02 05:36 pm (UTC)you really are a sweetie you know. *smooch*
Re: ps...sort of. :)
Date: 2007-03-03 06:29 am (UTC)And I can report actually two plot bunnies living in the computer right now. I've had writers block for a little while, so I'm really surprised that I have Jack/Daniel *AND* Cam/Teal'c on the brain. I suspect one will be a little more sexy that the other, though. Cam and Teal'c are just so aaaaaaangsty. But Rydra made me.
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Date: 2007-03-03 06:37 am (UTC)God, what a lovely compliment to say it sounded like I must know what I'm talking about. I wish I had a sense of when I'd written this, honestly. I'm sure it's time stamped in the file though...
Anyway, I do have this feeling that at some unremarkable time, say 5.76 days after he gets back to the SGC, Daniel stopped getting triggered by what he sees and starts remembering things on his own and searching out the context. He'll remember something extraordinary, and he'll remember the room. He'll dwell, and become convinced it was personal, and wonderful, and sexy. He'll be absolutely sure that he never would have let that go willingly, and quietly start investigating the insides of SG-1's houses and comparing it to the room in his head, searching out the person who made him feel that way.
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Date: 2007-03-03 06:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-03 06:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-03 06:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-03 11:49 am (UTC)Re: ps...sort of. :)
Date: 2007-03-03 12:38 pm (UTC)and go rydra, she's a good influence indeed. have fun writing...well, i hope it's fun. not that writing is always fun... ack, i hope you know what i mean. *bg*
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Date: 2007-03-03 03:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-09 08:05 am (UTC)That was just beautifully done *stores away in memories*
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Date: 2007-03-10 06:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-10 06:02 pm (UTC)