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prowler_pilotAnother day, another ficathon...
Title: Farewell to a kindred soul
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
valeria_sg_1
Pairing: Daniel/Elizabeth, hint to Elizabeth/Simon
Rating: PG
Prompt: Daniel and Elizabeth have dinner after the events of New Order
Author Notes: For the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
sg1sga_ficathon. Written for million_moments, betaed by my wonderful venom69
“This is very nice of you, Daniel, but you don’t need to take me out to dinner.” Elizabeth turned to look at him from behind long lashes as they both stepped inside the small Egyptian restaurant. She smiled at the receptionist and mouthed a silent ‘thanks’ as he took her coat and hung it on the rack standing behind the desk.
The strong, telltale smell of spices and hot bread reached her nostrils, warming them pleasantly after the long walk in the windy autumn evening and reminding her that her last meal had been the tasteless turkey sandwich she had eaten much earlier in the day. Her stomach rumbled.
“We accomplished a lot in the last few days, and that was thanks to your help. I think you deserve a farewell treat.” Daniel handed his own coat to the dark-skinned man, who placed it right next to Elizabeth’s.
“I see you have company tonight, Dr. Jackson. A table for two?” The young man spoke with just a hint of an accent that told Elizabeth he wasn’t a native speaker of English but had probably spent most of his life in the United States. He wore a distinctly north African twine shirt, light blue with gold embroideries that twinkled under the lights, a matching hat, and a pair of black, loose-cut trousers. He looked quite young, probably in his early twenties.
Daniel nodded. “Yes Hakim, thank you.” He gestured to Elizabeth to follow the receptionist through the heavy, thick damask curtains that separated the foyer from the actual dining room. It was still early, and the place wasn’t crowded. Only a few couples and a group of college students were sitting at the round tables, either studying the menus or eating from brightly colored plates.
In the middle of the table occupied by the students sat a tall water-pipe, and more were lined up on the shelves that ran along the back wall, all in different sizes and colors. The walls were painted in the rich nuances of desert sand, a stark contrast to the decorative arabesques that adorned the surfaces with their long, sinuous curves and deep, glossy shades of red, blue, green and gold.
The same patterns were repeated on the rugs that covered the entire surface of the floor, in paler colors, but Elizabeth couldn’t tell whether it was originally intended that way or the tints had faded from years of people walking on them. Large lamps overhead cast a dim light on the tables and an Arabic tune played in the background, oriental lutes and flutes adding to the oriental feeling of the restaurant and providing a pleasant distraction atmosphere, for the customers.
The heels of her boots sank in the plush fabric of the rugs as she walked through the room, and while the place was more about folklore than anything, she remembered with a small pang of nostalgia all the months she had spent in North Africa in her earlier years as a negotiator.
Hakim halted next to a table in a quiet corner of the restaurant, a little isolated from the other patrons, and moved the chair backwards for Elizabeth to sit.
“I’ll give our best table to you and your beautiful lady friend. I’ll make sure you won’t be disturbed.” She eased herself into the chair as Daniel took his seat across from her. She smiled inwardly at the young man’s mistake, her amusement growing when Daniel cleared his throat, embarrassment written all over his face, and promptly corrected him.
“That’s very kind of you, but that won’t be necessary. Dr. Weir is a colleague.”
“You are very lucky to be working with a beautiful woman like Dr. Weir, then.” He bowed his head to Elizabeth and she offered him a grateful, if somewhat self-conscious smile in return. “A waiter will be here soon.”
Elizabeth waited until Hakim was out of earshot before she spoke. “Nice guy.” Her eyes darted towards him, eyebrows slightly raised, as he disappeared behind the damask curtains.
Daniel nodded. “He’s the owner’s son, he gives his family a hand with the restaurant when he’s not busy with his studies.”
“So, this is supposed to be a goodbye, but if I recall correctly, you’ll be joining us in Antarctica very soon.” That seemed to take Daniel by surprise. His eyes grew wide behind the large frame of his glasses and he seemed to falter a little before the words came to his mouth.
“Farewell from the SGC.” He specified and, as she watched him pick up his menu, she decided not to mention that there were no SCG members at this farewell dinner but the one she would be spending the next few months with at the base over the Ancient outpost. She followed his advice and picked up her menu instead, her eyes quickly scanning over the main courses and desserts.
She recognized some of the dishes from previous culinary experiences, and she tried to associate the names with the tastes she remembered in her mind.
“Good evening Dr. Jackson, madam. Are you ready to order?” The waiter Hakim had promised was standing next to their table. He had the same olive skin and deep black eyes of the young receptionist, but was shorter and definitely less athletic, while not being overweight. He also had a much thicker accent.
His cheeks dimpled when he smiled, giving him an easy-going expression. His clothes were very similar to Hakim’s, but the shirt and hat were white instead of blue. He placed on the table a basket full of small loaves of a triangular, thin bread she remembered being called eesh baladi and a tall, glass bottle of water that reminded her of a djinni bottle from some Hollywood flick. He proceeded to open it and fill their glasses.
“Elizabeth?” Daniel turned the question to her as she gave another look at the menu. She looked up at the good-natured waiter and smiled. “There are so many things here and they all look good, I don’t know what to choose.”
He gave a little laugh. “Do you have any preferences? Chicken, lamb…”
“I was thinking about fish, actually. I’ve tried Sayyadiah before when I was in Egypt, I think I’ll have that.” She gave a sideways look at Daniel and saw him nodding approvingly.
Dimples appeared again on the waiter’s face as he scribbled on his notebook. “You’ve been to Egypt?”
“Several times, actually.”
The man spoke in Arabic next, asking her whether she had liked the country. Her brain struggled for a moment with the accent, a local one that she wasn’t used to, much different to the standard language they used at the U.N during lectures and negotiations.
She answered positively and that made the man laugh again. Out of the corner of her eye, Daniel was looking quite amused, too.
He said something in fast Arabc to the waiter with an impeccable accent, something about her being a diplomat, and this time the Egyptian gazed at her with a mix of surprise and acknowledgment.
“Good, good.” He quipped. “And what will you be having tonight, Dr. Jackson?”
“I’ll have the usual, Fattah with a side of pita bread, thanks.” He closed the menu and slid it over to the man. Elizabeth did the same.
“What about dessert?”
“We’ll have some Sahlab.” He turned to Elizabeth for a moment, his eyes telling her to trust his choice. “It’s chilly outside this evening.”
“Very well.” The waiter wrote everything down on his notebook. “It shouldn’t take long.” He gave them a conclusive nod and walked off to the kitchen.
Elizabeth finally relaxed against her chair and brought her glass to her lips, taking a small sip of water, welcoming its fresh taste in her mouth. She wasn’t used to the thick smell of incense lurking in the room, and it made her throat burn a little.
“I didn’t even ask you if you wanted something a little stronger to drink.” Daniel said, hitting his own glass with a fingernail before lifting it up. It produced a little tinkling sound. “They only serve Egyptian beer here. I’m not a fan, but if you want to try-”
“I’m fine, but thanks.” She swallowed another gulp of water. “So, I understand you’re some kind of regular here.” She looked around herself once more, taking in the décor and the ambience, and tried to picture Daniel sitting alone at one of the tables, a warm meal at his side, and a stack of notes in his hand. It was a fitting image, and yet slightly unsettling at the same time. She knew he and the rest of SG1 were very close, she had witnessed that in her few months as head of the SGC, but he was so different from them.
The life he had led for the past eight years had changed him, as it had all the soldiers she had come in contact with, but there had been moments, during the days they had spent shoulder to shoulder, negotiating with the System Lords, when she thought that, behind the solid body and the worry lines creasing his face, she had caught more than a glimpse of Daniel as he must have been in his first days at the SGC.
Like now.
“I usually come here when I can afford to take a longer break from work.” He smiled warmly at her, an open, genuine smile she hadn’t yet seen on him. It suited him, and despite the small lines that formed at the corner of his eyes, it took a few years off him. The relief at having escaped yet another close call was transparent on his face, and Elizabeth didn’t try to conceal hers. Truth be told, she wasn’t feeling broken hearted at the prospect of leaving the SGC. It made Earth’s internal conflicts look like kids’ squabbles. It could be overwhelming if you let your mind linger on that for too long.
She arched an eyebrow. “I’m going to spare you another joke about your attachment to your lab.”
He bowed his head lightly at her. “And I’m grateful for that.” His blue eyes sparkled in the dim light of the room, their color enhanced by the blue-gray sweater he was wearing. He had changed out of his BDUs before they left Cheyenne Mountain, whereas she was still in her work clothes.
It was nothing pretentious, a simple black pantsuit with a cream blouse, yet another variation to the formal attire required by her job, but it looked a little off in the casual environment of the restaurant and Daniel’s jeans and sweater. She didn’t want to give it too much importance, but Elizabeth had always paid attention to small things like body language and clothes to get an idea of who she was talking to.
She had grown accustomed to the business suits, and was comfortable in them, but they weren’t who she was, just like Daniel didn’t belong in fatigues and BDUs.
She wondered for a moment if he’d ever brought the rest of SG1 here, and although she didn’t dare to ask the question, she was fairly sure the answer would be no.
“I meant to tell you, your Arabian is great.”
She dismissed the compliment with a wave of her hand. “I can read it fairly well, but the language we speak at the U.N is standardized. There’s nothing genuine about my accent. On the other hand, yours is stunning.”
“Well, actually-” He started, but she cut him off.
“You grew up in Egypt, I know.” Daniel seemed taken aback by this. “I read it in your file.” She quickly added before the question took shape on his lips, the ghost of a grin playing on hers.
Having her subordinates’ personal files always at hand was useful, especially when she was directing such a large number of SG teams, but this wasn’t how she liked to learn about the people she was working with.
“I’d like to hear about it, your childhood in Egypt. The Air Force folders are so...impersonal, and I'd rather listen to people talk about their own life rather than read it on cheap paper.” He looked like he understood, and yet he had lost the charming smile he was sporting just seconds earlier.
It was as if he had suddenly realized that, after all, he was still talking to his boss. Which, technically, wasn’t true anymore.
Her high spirits dropped considerably, and she was fishing for words to get the conversation going again when rescue came in the form of the cheerful waiter carrying their dinner. Elizabeth sighed in relief, and her stomach growled again, as if to reprimand her for making it wait for so long.
“Here we go, Sayaddiah for the lady, and Fattah for you, Dr. Jackson.” The Egyptian set the plates in front of them, and a smaller basket of bread – darker, and thicker than the other kind- next to Daniel’s glass. “Enjoy your dinner, and call me if you need anything.”
They thanked the man in unison, and were left once more by themselves.
After a long awkward moment, which lasted the time they needed to take the first few forkfuls of their meal and quench their hunger pangs, Daniel resumed the talking.
“I loved those years. I don’t have many memories of them, though.” He started, fiddling with his fork as he searched for words. Elizabeth listened attentively to his recounts, commenting in between small bites.
He told her stories about trips to the desert, watching the magnificent remains of one of the greatest ancient civilizations of the planet emerge from behind the dunes, helping his parents out at the archaeological sites. He told her of how he had felt when he had touched the pyramids for the first time, and of that dark green fragment of pottery he found in the sand and that marked his decision to follow in his parents’ footsteps. Elizabeth’s average childhood sounded terribly boring in comparison.
Even with all the stimulating classes she had attended in prestigious schools, and her academic success, she couldn’t help but feel a spark of envy in her chest, which she quickly smothered when she remembered what happened soon after the Jackson’s moved back to the States.
He avoided mentioning his parents’ death, or the years he spent in foster care, concentrating on his following stays in Egypt. He asked her about her own trips to so many foreign countries, and they both laughed heartily when they admitted they never had much chance to play tourists, as wrapped up in their jobs as they were.
“Still, I hardly got the chance to bond with the locals the way you did.” She said, pointing a forkful of fish at him before she brought it to her mouth. It was delicious. “I do most of my work in an office, or in an all too luxurious salon of an embassy. I rarely get the chance to get past the façade.”
“Yet, you help make the world a better place to live.” It was her turn now to be completely dazed by her companion’s words.
“Something I’ve learned from studying history is that revolutions don’t happen in the blink of an eye. You might have already done more for them than you think. Saving the planet from a bunch of power-thirsty System Lords can be considered a considerable achievement if you ask me.” The smile was back on his face, lids half closed behind his large glasses in what could be considered an affectionate look, and a warmth that had nothing to do with the food settled in her stomach.
She held his gaze, her own eyes conveying gratefulness and a subtle question she did not dare address in any other way than by eye contact. And even then, the thought of the answer she could find in his blue depths almost made her turn her head away. Almost. Curiosity had the better of her, and something else that was making her heart beat just a little faster in her chest. Hope, maybe?
She abandoned that train of thought and concentrated momentarily on the waiter who had carried their empty plates away and had just returned with their dessert, a bowl glass full of a creamy, milk-white substance with chopped pistachios and a good sprinkle of cinnamon on top.
“Mh, good. It has a very peculiar taste.” Elizabeth stated once she had tasted the sweet concoction. It felt smooth in her mouth, not quite as thick as pudding but enough to need a spoon to eat it. She chewed the pistachios a little and swallowed.
“It’s made with orchid starch. You like it?” Daniel was already half-way through his portion, which told her the archaeologist might have more of a sweet tooth than she had originally thought.
“I love it.” She reiterated, her mouth curling in a little grin as she watched him lick his lips first and then wipe the last remains of white from his face with a napkin.
They didn’t leave right after they finished dessert. Hakim himself came to ask whether they had enjoyed their dinner and, along with the bill, left them a white and golden kettle and two small glasses with a golden rim, not much bigger than tumblers.
They sipped the strong, ink black brew slowly, alternating cups – well, glasses – with some more mundane conversation. Books, academia, some more or less embarrassing anecdotes from their youths and their first steps into the real world. She laughed like she hadn’t in weeks, releasing the tension she hadn’t realized she had kept bottled up in her during those difficult days at the SGC, and found herself disappointed when the tea, too, finished, and a quick glance at her watch told her the evening had come to an end.
They squabbled a little, albeit playfully, about who was going to pay the bill, her argument being her higher salary. They went Dutch in the end, much to Hakim’s amusement, and Daniel’s teasing about her making the big bucks continued outside the restaurant, on the way to their parked cars.
It wasn’t a weekend night, and they didn’t cross too many people on their path except for a few couples and some sleepy-looking people walking their dogs. She smiled inwardly and thought of Sedge, who was probably already asleep on her favourite rug in front of the couch.
The chill of the earlier evening had strengthened into a biting cold, and she tightened her light coat around herself. Dry leaves crunched under the soles of their shoes, and others were being ripped away from the branches and tossed around by the whimsical wind. They walked close together, shoulders touching, against the cutting wind as it lashed at their hair and skin. They were still discussing Joyce’s Ulysses, each of them admitting in turn how many times they had been tempted to abandon the book, when they reached Elizabeth’s red BMW.
“It was a lovely evening, Daniel. Thanks for taking me out.” She looked up at him even as she fished for her keys in her purse.
“Technically, I didn’t. You paid for your dinner.” He cocked his head to the side, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips.
She looked down for a moment, silent laughter escaping her lips in a huff that condensed into a small cloud and then disappeared into the night air in a swirl of white.
Her voice lowered a notch. “You know what I mean.”
His hand went into the pockets of his old, brown leather jacket and for a moment she wondered if he realized the effect he was having on her. He nodded. “Yes.”
She didn’t react when he stepped closer, trapping her between himself and her car, his feet precariously perched on the edge of the pavement. She did, however, tilt her head upwards, and she couldn’t blame him for interpreting it as a go-ahead. Hell, she had meant it as a go-ahead.
Her eyes fluttered closed for the briefest of moments. His lips, pressed against hers, tender and undemanding, were soft; the taste of cinnamon and milk lingered between them. She barely had the time to catch a whiff of his scent, the clean, plain smell of military soap that had become so familiar to her, when he drew back, his hands still in his pockets.
She licked her lips and looked away from him, stared at the steel of her car keys gleaming under a streetlamp. She knew what she had to say, the words rang clear and loud in her head, but she childishly tried to delay the moment. Discomfort settled between them like a rain-heavy cloud.
Daniel cleared his throat. “Look, I’m sorry-”
Elizabeth’s head snapped up, her eyes searching his in the dim light. “Don’t be.” A hand landed on his arm, right above the elbow. He gazed at it for a moment. “I can’t, I-” She released a shaky breath. “Someone is waiting for me at home.”
Simon. She could picture him easily, puttering around the kitchen or sitting on the couch with a book he couldn’t concentrate on, asking himself what was keeping her at the base tonight, like many others before. Simon, who was so kind and considerate and accepted that she couldn’t talk to him about some aspects of her work, and Daniel, who just understood and was so much like her she almost couldn’t believe it.
The disappointment on his face had meanwhile turned once again into surprise, his mouth slightly open and forming a perfect oval. His reaction was completely understandable. With their job, keeping a relationship could prove far more arduous than defeating an army of angry Jaffa.
“Gosh, I didn’t really-“
She dismissed his worry with a wave of her hand. “It’s okay, I don’t usually advertise my personal life on base.”
His fists unclenched and then clenched again inside his pockets. “I should have known. Forget it, I’m going-” He gestured vaguely in the direction of his car.
“Daniel, please.” Her voice had a pleading edge to it that she regretted the moment it came out of her mouth, but at least it seemed she had his attention. “I value your friendship deeply; I don’t want this to come between us. I’m going to need someone to back me up in Antarctica.” He snorted lightly, acknowledging her mock request of help. “For the record, this wasn’t at all unwelcome,” She admitted. “You don’t know how much I want to-” She rose up on her tiptoes and brought her mouth to his, unable to resist the impulse, or, more likely, simply unwilling to.
Leaning a little against him, her fingers closing around his arm, she brought her other hand up to his face. She traced the outline of his face, the strong angle of his jaw. The faintest ghost of a beard tickled her pads. One of his arms curled around her waist and kept her close as Elizabeth disclosed her lips and deepened the kiss.
It didn’t last long, and their tongues never met, but it was enough to leave them both panting lightly, white puffs of air mingling together in the few inches that separated them.
Elizabeth’s eyes went to her feet. “I should go now.” They parted reluctantly, arms falling limply at their sides once they didn’t have each other to hold on to anymore.
She climbed in her car. “I’ll be at the SGC tomorrow to collect the rest of my things.”
“You’ll find me in my lab.”
“Good.” She offered him a little apologetic smile. “Goodnight, Daniel.”
“Goodnight.”
She started the engine, and Daniel moved away to give her space to manoeuvre. She pulled out of the parking lot and into the road, her eyes drifting continuously to the rear-view mirror where Daniel’s image resided, a hand raised in a half salute.
Her vision blurred.
Title: Farewell to a kindred soul
Author:
valeria_sg_1Pairing: Daniel/Elizabeth, hint to Elizabeth/Simon
Rating: PG
Prompt: Daniel and Elizabeth have dinner after the events of New Order
Author Notes: For the
sg1sga_ficathon. Written for million_moments, betaed by my wonderful venom69“This is very nice of you, Daniel, but you don’t need to take me out to dinner.” Elizabeth turned to look at him from behind long lashes as they both stepped inside the small Egyptian restaurant. She smiled at the receptionist and mouthed a silent ‘thanks’ as he took her coat and hung it on the rack standing behind the desk.
The strong, telltale smell of spices and hot bread reached her nostrils, warming them pleasantly after the long walk in the windy autumn evening and reminding her that her last meal had been the tasteless turkey sandwich she had eaten much earlier in the day. Her stomach rumbled.
“We accomplished a lot in the last few days, and that was thanks to your help. I think you deserve a farewell treat.” Daniel handed his own coat to the dark-skinned man, who placed it right next to Elizabeth’s.
“I see you have company tonight, Dr. Jackson. A table for two?” The young man spoke with just a hint of an accent that told Elizabeth he wasn’t a native speaker of English but had probably spent most of his life in the United States. He wore a distinctly north African twine shirt, light blue with gold embroideries that twinkled under the lights, a matching hat, and a pair of black, loose-cut trousers. He looked quite young, probably in his early twenties.
Daniel nodded. “Yes Hakim, thank you.” He gestured to Elizabeth to follow the receptionist through the heavy, thick damask curtains that separated the foyer from the actual dining room. It was still early, and the place wasn’t crowded. Only a few couples and a group of college students were sitting at the round tables, either studying the menus or eating from brightly colored plates.
In the middle of the table occupied by the students sat a tall water-pipe, and more were lined up on the shelves that ran along the back wall, all in different sizes and colors. The walls were painted in the rich nuances of desert sand, a stark contrast to the decorative arabesques that adorned the surfaces with their long, sinuous curves and deep, glossy shades of red, blue, green and gold.
The same patterns were repeated on the rugs that covered the entire surface of the floor, in paler colors, but Elizabeth couldn’t tell whether it was originally intended that way or the tints had faded from years of people walking on them. Large lamps overhead cast a dim light on the tables and an Arabic tune played in the background, oriental lutes and flutes adding to the oriental feeling of the restaurant and providing a pleasant distraction atmosphere, for the customers.
The heels of her boots sank in the plush fabric of the rugs as she walked through the room, and while the place was more about folklore than anything, she remembered with a small pang of nostalgia all the months she had spent in North Africa in her earlier years as a negotiator.
Hakim halted next to a table in a quiet corner of the restaurant, a little isolated from the other patrons, and moved the chair backwards for Elizabeth to sit.
“I’ll give our best table to you and your beautiful lady friend. I’ll make sure you won’t be disturbed.” She eased herself into the chair as Daniel took his seat across from her. She smiled inwardly at the young man’s mistake, her amusement growing when Daniel cleared his throat, embarrassment written all over his face, and promptly corrected him.
“That’s very kind of you, but that won’t be necessary. Dr. Weir is a colleague.”
“You are very lucky to be working with a beautiful woman like Dr. Weir, then.” He bowed his head to Elizabeth and she offered him a grateful, if somewhat self-conscious smile in return. “A waiter will be here soon.”
Elizabeth waited until Hakim was out of earshot before she spoke. “Nice guy.” Her eyes darted towards him, eyebrows slightly raised, as he disappeared behind the damask curtains.
Daniel nodded. “He’s the owner’s son, he gives his family a hand with the restaurant when he’s not busy with his studies.”
“So, this is supposed to be a goodbye, but if I recall correctly, you’ll be joining us in Antarctica very soon.” That seemed to take Daniel by surprise. His eyes grew wide behind the large frame of his glasses and he seemed to falter a little before the words came to his mouth.
“Farewell from the SGC.” He specified and, as she watched him pick up his menu, she decided not to mention that there were no SCG members at this farewell dinner but the one she would be spending the next few months with at the base over the Ancient outpost. She followed his advice and picked up her menu instead, her eyes quickly scanning over the main courses and desserts.
She recognized some of the dishes from previous culinary experiences, and she tried to associate the names with the tastes she remembered in her mind.
“Good evening Dr. Jackson, madam. Are you ready to order?” The waiter Hakim had promised was standing next to their table. He had the same olive skin and deep black eyes of the young receptionist, but was shorter and definitely less athletic, while not being overweight. He also had a much thicker accent.
His cheeks dimpled when he smiled, giving him an easy-going expression. His clothes were very similar to Hakim’s, but the shirt and hat were white instead of blue. He placed on the table a basket full of small loaves of a triangular, thin bread she remembered being called eesh baladi and a tall, glass bottle of water that reminded her of a djinni bottle from some Hollywood flick. He proceeded to open it and fill their glasses.
“Elizabeth?” Daniel turned the question to her as she gave another look at the menu. She looked up at the good-natured waiter and smiled. “There are so many things here and they all look good, I don’t know what to choose.”
He gave a little laugh. “Do you have any preferences? Chicken, lamb…”
“I was thinking about fish, actually. I’ve tried Sayyadiah before when I was in Egypt, I think I’ll have that.” She gave a sideways look at Daniel and saw him nodding approvingly.
Dimples appeared again on the waiter’s face as he scribbled on his notebook. “You’ve been to Egypt?”
“Several times, actually.”
The man spoke in Arabic next, asking her whether she had liked the country. Her brain struggled for a moment with the accent, a local one that she wasn’t used to, much different to the standard language they used at the U.N during lectures and negotiations.
She answered positively and that made the man laugh again. Out of the corner of her eye, Daniel was looking quite amused, too.
He said something in fast Arabc to the waiter with an impeccable accent, something about her being a diplomat, and this time the Egyptian gazed at her with a mix of surprise and acknowledgment.
“Good, good.” He quipped. “And what will you be having tonight, Dr. Jackson?”
“I’ll have the usual, Fattah with a side of pita bread, thanks.” He closed the menu and slid it over to the man. Elizabeth did the same.
“What about dessert?”
“We’ll have some Sahlab.” He turned to Elizabeth for a moment, his eyes telling her to trust his choice. “It’s chilly outside this evening.”
“Very well.” The waiter wrote everything down on his notebook. “It shouldn’t take long.” He gave them a conclusive nod and walked off to the kitchen.
Elizabeth finally relaxed against her chair and brought her glass to her lips, taking a small sip of water, welcoming its fresh taste in her mouth. She wasn’t used to the thick smell of incense lurking in the room, and it made her throat burn a little.
“I didn’t even ask you if you wanted something a little stronger to drink.” Daniel said, hitting his own glass with a fingernail before lifting it up. It produced a little tinkling sound. “They only serve Egyptian beer here. I’m not a fan, but if you want to try-”
“I’m fine, but thanks.” She swallowed another gulp of water. “So, I understand you’re some kind of regular here.” She looked around herself once more, taking in the décor and the ambience, and tried to picture Daniel sitting alone at one of the tables, a warm meal at his side, and a stack of notes in his hand. It was a fitting image, and yet slightly unsettling at the same time. She knew he and the rest of SG1 were very close, she had witnessed that in her few months as head of the SGC, but he was so different from them.
The life he had led for the past eight years had changed him, as it had all the soldiers she had come in contact with, but there had been moments, during the days they had spent shoulder to shoulder, negotiating with the System Lords, when she thought that, behind the solid body and the worry lines creasing his face, she had caught more than a glimpse of Daniel as he must have been in his first days at the SGC.
Like now.
“I usually come here when I can afford to take a longer break from work.” He smiled warmly at her, an open, genuine smile she hadn’t yet seen on him. It suited him, and despite the small lines that formed at the corner of his eyes, it took a few years off him. The relief at having escaped yet another close call was transparent on his face, and Elizabeth didn’t try to conceal hers. Truth be told, she wasn’t feeling broken hearted at the prospect of leaving the SGC. It made Earth’s internal conflicts look like kids’ squabbles. It could be overwhelming if you let your mind linger on that for too long.
She arched an eyebrow. “I’m going to spare you another joke about your attachment to your lab.”
He bowed his head lightly at her. “And I’m grateful for that.” His blue eyes sparkled in the dim light of the room, their color enhanced by the blue-gray sweater he was wearing. He had changed out of his BDUs before they left Cheyenne Mountain, whereas she was still in her work clothes.
It was nothing pretentious, a simple black pantsuit with a cream blouse, yet another variation to the formal attire required by her job, but it looked a little off in the casual environment of the restaurant and Daniel’s jeans and sweater. She didn’t want to give it too much importance, but Elizabeth had always paid attention to small things like body language and clothes to get an idea of who she was talking to.
She had grown accustomed to the business suits, and was comfortable in them, but they weren’t who she was, just like Daniel didn’t belong in fatigues and BDUs.
She wondered for a moment if he’d ever brought the rest of SG1 here, and although she didn’t dare to ask the question, she was fairly sure the answer would be no.
“I meant to tell you, your Arabian is great.”
She dismissed the compliment with a wave of her hand. “I can read it fairly well, but the language we speak at the U.N is standardized. There’s nothing genuine about my accent. On the other hand, yours is stunning.”
“Well, actually-” He started, but she cut him off.
“You grew up in Egypt, I know.” Daniel seemed taken aback by this. “I read it in your file.” She quickly added before the question took shape on his lips, the ghost of a grin playing on hers.
Having her subordinates’ personal files always at hand was useful, especially when she was directing such a large number of SG teams, but this wasn’t how she liked to learn about the people she was working with.
“I’d like to hear about it, your childhood in Egypt. The Air Force folders are so...impersonal, and I'd rather listen to people talk about their own life rather than read it on cheap paper.” He looked like he understood, and yet he had lost the charming smile he was sporting just seconds earlier.
It was as if he had suddenly realized that, after all, he was still talking to his boss. Which, technically, wasn’t true anymore.
Her high spirits dropped considerably, and she was fishing for words to get the conversation going again when rescue came in the form of the cheerful waiter carrying their dinner. Elizabeth sighed in relief, and her stomach growled again, as if to reprimand her for making it wait for so long.
“Here we go, Sayaddiah for the lady, and Fattah for you, Dr. Jackson.” The Egyptian set the plates in front of them, and a smaller basket of bread – darker, and thicker than the other kind- next to Daniel’s glass. “Enjoy your dinner, and call me if you need anything.”
They thanked the man in unison, and were left once more by themselves.
After a long awkward moment, which lasted the time they needed to take the first few forkfuls of their meal and quench their hunger pangs, Daniel resumed the talking.
“I loved those years. I don’t have many memories of them, though.” He started, fiddling with his fork as he searched for words. Elizabeth listened attentively to his recounts, commenting in between small bites.
He told her stories about trips to the desert, watching the magnificent remains of one of the greatest ancient civilizations of the planet emerge from behind the dunes, helping his parents out at the archaeological sites. He told her of how he had felt when he had touched the pyramids for the first time, and of that dark green fragment of pottery he found in the sand and that marked his decision to follow in his parents’ footsteps. Elizabeth’s average childhood sounded terribly boring in comparison.
Even with all the stimulating classes she had attended in prestigious schools, and her academic success, she couldn’t help but feel a spark of envy in her chest, which she quickly smothered when she remembered what happened soon after the Jackson’s moved back to the States.
He avoided mentioning his parents’ death, or the years he spent in foster care, concentrating on his following stays in Egypt. He asked her about her own trips to so many foreign countries, and they both laughed heartily when they admitted they never had much chance to play tourists, as wrapped up in their jobs as they were.
“Still, I hardly got the chance to bond with the locals the way you did.” She said, pointing a forkful of fish at him before she brought it to her mouth. It was delicious. “I do most of my work in an office, or in an all too luxurious salon of an embassy. I rarely get the chance to get past the façade.”
“Yet, you help make the world a better place to live.” It was her turn now to be completely dazed by her companion’s words.
“Something I’ve learned from studying history is that revolutions don’t happen in the blink of an eye. You might have already done more for them than you think. Saving the planet from a bunch of power-thirsty System Lords can be considered a considerable achievement if you ask me.” The smile was back on his face, lids half closed behind his large glasses in what could be considered an affectionate look, and a warmth that had nothing to do with the food settled in her stomach.
She held his gaze, her own eyes conveying gratefulness and a subtle question she did not dare address in any other way than by eye contact. And even then, the thought of the answer she could find in his blue depths almost made her turn her head away. Almost. Curiosity had the better of her, and something else that was making her heart beat just a little faster in her chest. Hope, maybe?
She abandoned that train of thought and concentrated momentarily on the waiter who had carried their empty plates away and had just returned with their dessert, a bowl glass full of a creamy, milk-white substance with chopped pistachios and a good sprinkle of cinnamon on top.
“Mh, good. It has a very peculiar taste.” Elizabeth stated once she had tasted the sweet concoction. It felt smooth in her mouth, not quite as thick as pudding but enough to need a spoon to eat it. She chewed the pistachios a little and swallowed.
“It’s made with orchid starch. You like it?” Daniel was already half-way through his portion, which told her the archaeologist might have more of a sweet tooth than she had originally thought.
“I love it.” She reiterated, her mouth curling in a little grin as she watched him lick his lips first and then wipe the last remains of white from his face with a napkin.
They didn’t leave right after they finished dessert. Hakim himself came to ask whether they had enjoyed their dinner and, along with the bill, left them a white and golden kettle and two small glasses with a golden rim, not much bigger than tumblers.
They sipped the strong, ink black brew slowly, alternating cups – well, glasses – with some more mundane conversation. Books, academia, some more or less embarrassing anecdotes from their youths and their first steps into the real world. She laughed like she hadn’t in weeks, releasing the tension she hadn’t realized she had kept bottled up in her during those difficult days at the SGC, and found herself disappointed when the tea, too, finished, and a quick glance at her watch told her the evening had come to an end.
They squabbled a little, albeit playfully, about who was going to pay the bill, her argument being her higher salary. They went Dutch in the end, much to Hakim’s amusement, and Daniel’s teasing about her making the big bucks continued outside the restaurant, on the way to their parked cars.
It wasn’t a weekend night, and they didn’t cross too many people on their path except for a few couples and some sleepy-looking people walking their dogs. She smiled inwardly and thought of Sedge, who was probably already asleep on her favourite rug in front of the couch.
The chill of the earlier evening had strengthened into a biting cold, and she tightened her light coat around herself. Dry leaves crunched under the soles of their shoes, and others were being ripped away from the branches and tossed around by the whimsical wind. They walked close together, shoulders touching, against the cutting wind as it lashed at their hair and skin. They were still discussing Joyce’s Ulysses, each of them admitting in turn how many times they had been tempted to abandon the book, when they reached Elizabeth’s red BMW.
“It was a lovely evening, Daniel. Thanks for taking me out.” She looked up at him even as she fished for her keys in her purse.
“Technically, I didn’t. You paid for your dinner.” He cocked his head to the side, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips.
She looked down for a moment, silent laughter escaping her lips in a huff that condensed into a small cloud and then disappeared into the night air in a swirl of white.
Her voice lowered a notch. “You know what I mean.”
His hand went into the pockets of his old, brown leather jacket and for a moment she wondered if he realized the effect he was having on her. He nodded. “Yes.”
She didn’t react when he stepped closer, trapping her between himself and her car, his feet precariously perched on the edge of the pavement. She did, however, tilt her head upwards, and she couldn’t blame him for interpreting it as a go-ahead. Hell, she had meant it as a go-ahead.
Her eyes fluttered closed for the briefest of moments. His lips, pressed against hers, tender and undemanding, were soft; the taste of cinnamon and milk lingered between them. She barely had the time to catch a whiff of his scent, the clean, plain smell of military soap that had become so familiar to her, when he drew back, his hands still in his pockets.
She licked her lips and looked away from him, stared at the steel of her car keys gleaming under a streetlamp. She knew what she had to say, the words rang clear and loud in her head, but she childishly tried to delay the moment. Discomfort settled between them like a rain-heavy cloud.
Daniel cleared his throat. “Look, I’m sorry-”
Elizabeth’s head snapped up, her eyes searching his in the dim light. “Don’t be.” A hand landed on his arm, right above the elbow. He gazed at it for a moment. “I can’t, I-” She released a shaky breath. “Someone is waiting for me at home.”
Simon. She could picture him easily, puttering around the kitchen or sitting on the couch with a book he couldn’t concentrate on, asking himself what was keeping her at the base tonight, like many others before. Simon, who was so kind and considerate and accepted that she couldn’t talk to him about some aspects of her work, and Daniel, who just understood and was so much like her she almost couldn’t believe it.
The disappointment on his face had meanwhile turned once again into surprise, his mouth slightly open and forming a perfect oval. His reaction was completely understandable. With their job, keeping a relationship could prove far more arduous than defeating an army of angry Jaffa.
“Gosh, I didn’t really-“
She dismissed his worry with a wave of her hand. “It’s okay, I don’t usually advertise my personal life on base.”
His fists unclenched and then clenched again inside his pockets. “I should have known. Forget it, I’m going-” He gestured vaguely in the direction of his car.
“Daniel, please.” Her voice had a pleading edge to it that she regretted the moment it came out of her mouth, but at least it seemed she had his attention. “I value your friendship deeply; I don’t want this to come between us. I’m going to need someone to back me up in Antarctica.” He snorted lightly, acknowledging her mock request of help. “For the record, this wasn’t at all unwelcome,” She admitted. “You don’t know how much I want to-” She rose up on her tiptoes and brought her mouth to his, unable to resist the impulse, or, more likely, simply unwilling to.
Leaning a little against him, her fingers closing around his arm, she brought her other hand up to his face. She traced the outline of his face, the strong angle of his jaw. The faintest ghost of a beard tickled her pads. One of his arms curled around her waist and kept her close as Elizabeth disclosed her lips and deepened the kiss.
It didn’t last long, and their tongues never met, but it was enough to leave them both panting lightly, white puffs of air mingling together in the few inches that separated them.
Elizabeth’s eyes went to her feet. “I should go now.” They parted reluctantly, arms falling limply at their sides once they didn’t have each other to hold on to anymore.
She climbed in her car. “I’ll be at the SGC tomorrow to collect the rest of my things.”
“You’ll find me in my lab.”
“Good.” She offered him a little apologetic smile. “Goodnight, Daniel.”
“Goodnight.”
She started the engine, and Daniel moved away to give her space to manoeuvre. She pulled out of the parking lot and into the road, her eyes drifting continuously to the rear-view mirror where Daniel’s image resided, a hand raised in a half salute.
Her vision blurred.
