Good Soldiers
Jul. 10th, 2022 09:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
stringertheoryTitle: Good Soldiers
Rating: PG
Fandom: Stargate SG-1
Characters: Jack O’Neill, Daniel Jackson
Word Count: 1532
Categories: introspection, character study, angst, no dialogue
Spoilers/Warnings: none; set sometime between mid-S2 and early S3
Summary: Jack thinks about how Daniel has changed, and the part he’s played in it.
Sometimes Jack wondered whether he would be damned as much for what he turned other people into as for what he’d become himself.
He’d trained lots of soldiers. He’d led even more. Taught them to fight, to shoot, to listen, to obey. Watched them harden, watched them die. The higher up the chain the more lives you held in your hands. He’d never liked it, but he’d learned to live with it. Learned to survive it.
At least all of them had been soldiers. They’d volunteered for service and had known what they were getting into, at least as much as any new recruit could know. They didn’t understand, not yet, but they knew. Jack clung to whatever comfort there was in that hollow truth: his soldiers had signed up for the job. Whatever they had to do, whatever it made them, it had been their choice, same as his.
Jack was good at making the excuses he needed to make to himself to keep living. Most of the time they worked. Most of the time.
Daniel was good with guns now.
It wasn’t always that way. He’d been serviceable with a weapon from the start, but not comfortable, handling them in a way that said he understood what to do with them but he didn’t exactly trust them. Jack had initially eschewed firearms training in favor of the basics of hand-to-hand, the things a civilian on a military team might need to know if the three soldiers protecting him weren’t around. Maybe it was the situation inherent in that thought process that had Jack handing off the lessons to Carter and Teal’c and turning his attention to Daniel’s firearms skills. If Daniel had to fight with his bare hands, the enemy had already gotten too close.
Jack taught him to shoot. Not that Daniel asked—he would never ask—but he’d needed to know. So Jack took him to the shooting range on base and Daniel hadn’t protested, hadn’t even asked why because he understood. Daniel always understood.
Jack taught him the same as he had every soldier before him. Here’s how you stand, here’s how you aim, here’s how you hold a pistol, a rifle, a sub-machine gun. Here’s how you breathe, here’s how you focus. Here’s how you load, here’s how you reload without looking, here’s how you fix a jam. Here’s how you pull the trigger. Here’s how you kill in the most efficient way possible because we might all die otherwise.
Daniel picked it up like he did most things. Shaky at first, more so due to the information overload his brain created when presented with anything new to learn than because of any true fear or hesitation on his part. Then swiftly, like his mind was figuring out the next steps faster and faster.
Jack knew Daniel didn’t want to kill anyone, never wanted it to come to that no-going-back point. There were exceptions, of course. There were always exceptions and the galaxy seemed intent on putting more and more of them in SG-1’s path. Despite that growing list, Daniel was always the first to try to find another way. And though Jack would never tell him so, he relied on Daniel to be the last one to give up that fight, the last line of defense before death was all that was left. But Daniel had killed before, and they both knew he would have to do so again if he stayed at the SGC long enough.
So Jack put him through the paces and Daniel kept it up on his own. Jack watched as his hands grew steadier, surer. Watched his aim—which hadn’t been terrible to begin with—grow more and more precise. Watched until he realized that Daniel handled every weapon handed to him with instinct, without thought or hesitation. Watched him figure out alien weaponry with the same ease as Carter or Teal’c or Jack himself.
It struck Jack like lightning one day, on some planet however many millions of miles away from home, as he watched Daniel retrieve his pistol from the pile of gear their captors had carelessly left in the prison hallway outside their cell. Carter had picked the lock in record time, and while they were recollecting their gear Jack had made a joke about them all making it home in time for dinner.
Daniel smiled at the joke as he strapped his holster back on, then pulled out his gun to inspect it. With nimble, practiced fingers he ejected the magazine, checked the ammo inside, and replaced it. It only took him seconds, and he did it without a single break in the rapid-fire narration he was providing on the planet’s culture and how another team could probably be sent to make contact without any issues.
Watching him, a confused mix of pride and disgust washed over Jack and he clenched his teeth as he rode the wave. With more curtness than was called for he gave the team directions for their escape formation and headed for the prison door. He felt Daniel fall in place behind him, gun at the ready, and pushed down a sigh of resignation.
He’d turned an archaeologist into a soldier.
It wasn’t all him. He wasn’t so guilt-ridden that he would attribute all of Daniel’s changes to his influence. He wasn’t that powerful. Daniel made his own decisions. He had stayed, he had chosen to be part of a team he knew would get into scrapes—fought to be on it, even. And however much Jack had tried to prepare him for what they might encounter, Jack hadn’t been able to control the circumstances they found themselves in or the things those circumstances had required of them.
But he was still the one that taught Daniel to shoot.
He knew he wasn’t the only one bothered by it. He caught Daniel staring at his own hands sometimes. The look on his face was one Jack couldn’t describe, but one he’d seen in the mirror enough times to understand. Daniel might do what had to been done, but that didn’t mean he could forgive himself for doing it.
For all the words Daniel had, he and Jack never talked about it. Jack wondered whether Daniel saw it as a topic he couldn’t breach, a wall of Jack’s that should never be climbed. Considering how closely it tracked with things Jack had refused to discuss before, all the distasteful parts of his past he wouldn’t give name, he was sure that was the case. But he didn’t exactly lower the drawbridge, either. He would’ve talked about it, would’ve talked about any part of it Daniel wanted to, would’ve admitted all his own sins if Daniel needed him to, even if that wouldn’t have made anything better. But he couldn’t be the one to bring it up.
What was he supposed to say? A soldier knew what he was getting into and hoped he could live with what was asked of him and only learned whether he could or not by whether he did or not. He couldn’t lie and tell Daniel it got better. He wasn’t even sure he could say it was worth it.
So they talked around it, using the “are you okay”s and the “I’m fine”s every team went through as a post-mission measuring tool. Weary response? I’m okay but I need time. Sharp response? I’m not okay and I need to be alone. Long pause before response? I’m not okay but I will be. No response? I’m not okay. Jack wasn’t the best at field medicine but he did what he could do with distractions and distance and drinks. Sometimes they were the walking wounded but everyone got patched up and everyone hid their scars even though all of them knew exactly where the others’ were.
But damned if he was going to treat Daniel like he was broken or damaged because he wound up in situations where he had to kill to survive and he got good at doing it. Daniel knew what they did wasn’t just for them, knew they were fighting for a whole galaxy, and that was enough. It had to be enough because it was the only reason they had.
So Jack didn’t hesitate when they found themselves in danger. He moved Daniel around battlefields and through prison escapes and into hostile territories the same way he did Carter and Teal’c, the same way he’d moved every soldier that came under his command: by their skills and by the present need. Jack was still point, he was still the first one in danger and the last one out because that was his job, that was what the birds on his shoulders were for.
But Daniel fought, and Daniel got wounded, and Daniel kept dying on him and Jack knew which one hurt the most. So whenever they had a break, whenever he could pry Daniel away from his lab, they went to the shooting range. Because if Daniel had to be a soldier Jack wanted him to be an alive one.
Rating: PG
Fandom: Stargate SG-1
Characters: Jack O’Neill, Daniel Jackson
Word Count: 1532
Categories: introspection, character study, angst, no dialogue
Spoilers/Warnings: none; set sometime between mid-S2 and early S3
Summary: Jack thinks about how Daniel has changed, and the part he’s played in it.
Sometimes Jack wondered whether he would be damned as much for what he turned other people into as for what he’d become himself.
He’d trained lots of soldiers. He’d led even more. Taught them to fight, to shoot, to listen, to obey. Watched them harden, watched them die. The higher up the chain the more lives you held in your hands. He’d never liked it, but he’d learned to live with it. Learned to survive it.
At least all of them had been soldiers. They’d volunteered for service and had known what they were getting into, at least as much as any new recruit could know. They didn’t understand, not yet, but they knew. Jack clung to whatever comfort there was in that hollow truth: his soldiers had signed up for the job. Whatever they had to do, whatever it made them, it had been their choice, same as his.
Jack was good at making the excuses he needed to make to himself to keep living. Most of the time they worked. Most of the time.
Daniel was good with guns now.
It wasn’t always that way. He’d been serviceable with a weapon from the start, but not comfortable, handling them in a way that said he understood what to do with them but he didn’t exactly trust them. Jack had initially eschewed firearms training in favor of the basics of hand-to-hand, the things a civilian on a military team might need to know if the three soldiers protecting him weren’t around. Maybe it was the situation inherent in that thought process that had Jack handing off the lessons to Carter and Teal’c and turning his attention to Daniel’s firearms skills. If Daniel had to fight with his bare hands, the enemy had already gotten too close.
Jack taught him to shoot. Not that Daniel asked—he would never ask—but he’d needed to know. So Jack took him to the shooting range on base and Daniel hadn’t protested, hadn’t even asked why because he understood. Daniel always understood.
Jack taught him the same as he had every soldier before him. Here’s how you stand, here’s how you aim, here’s how you hold a pistol, a rifle, a sub-machine gun. Here’s how you breathe, here’s how you focus. Here’s how you load, here’s how you reload without looking, here’s how you fix a jam. Here’s how you pull the trigger. Here’s how you kill in the most efficient way possible because we might all die otherwise.
Daniel picked it up like he did most things. Shaky at first, more so due to the information overload his brain created when presented with anything new to learn than because of any true fear or hesitation on his part. Then swiftly, like his mind was figuring out the next steps faster and faster.
Jack knew Daniel didn’t want to kill anyone, never wanted it to come to that no-going-back point. There were exceptions, of course. There were always exceptions and the galaxy seemed intent on putting more and more of them in SG-1’s path. Despite that growing list, Daniel was always the first to try to find another way. And though Jack would never tell him so, he relied on Daniel to be the last one to give up that fight, the last line of defense before death was all that was left. But Daniel had killed before, and they both knew he would have to do so again if he stayed at the SGC long enough.
So Jack put him through the paces and Daniel kept it up on his own. Jack watched as his hands grew steadier, surer. Watched his aim—which hadn’t been terrible to begin with—grow more and more precise. Watched until he realized that Daniel handled every weapon handed to him with instinct, without thought or hesitation. Watched him figure out alien weaponry with the same ease as Carter or Teal’c or Jack himself.
It struck Jack like lightning one day, on some planet however many millions of miles away from home, as he watched Daniel retrieve his pistol from the pile of gear their captors had carelessly left in the prison hallway outside their cell. Carter had picked the lock in record time, and while they were recollecting their gear Jack had made a joke about them all making it home in time for dinner.
Daniel smiled at the joke as he strapped his holster back on, then pulled out his gun to inspect it. With nimble, practiced fingers he ejected the magazine, checked the ammo inside, and replaced it. It only took him seconds, and he did it without a single break in the rapid-fire narration he was providing on the planet’s culture and how another team could probably be sent to make contact without any issues.
Watching him, a confused mix of pride and disgust washed over Jack and he clenched his teeth as he rode the wave. With more curtness than was called for he gave the team directions for their escape formation and headed for the prison door. He felt Daniel fall in place behind him, gun at the ready, and pushed down a sigh of resignation.
He’d turned an archaeologist into a soldier.
It wasn’t all him. He wasn’t so guilt-ridden that he would attribute all of Daniel’s changes to his influence. He wasn’t that powerful. Daniel made his own decisions. He had stayed, he had chosen to be part of a team he knew would get into scrapes—fought to be on it, even. And however much Jack had tried to prepare him for what they might encounter, Jack hadn’t been able to control the circumstances they found themselves in or the things those circumstances had required of them.
But he was still the one that taught Daniel to shoot.
He knew he wasn’t the only one bothered by it. He caught Daniel staring at his own hands sometimes. The look on his face was one Jack couldn’t describe, but one he’d seen in the mirror enough times to understand. Daniel might do what had to been done, but that didn’t mean he could forgive himself for doing it.
For all the words Daniel had, he and Jack never talked about it. Jack wondered whether Daniel saw it as a topic he couldn’t breach, a wall of Jack’s that should never be climbed. Considering how closely it tracked with things Jack had refused to discuss before, all the distasteful parts of his past he wouldn’t give name, he was sure that was the case. But he didn’t exactly lower the drawbridge, either. He would’ve talked about it, would’ve talked about any part of it Daniel wanted to, would’ve admitted all his own sins if Daniel needed him to, even if that wouldn’t have made anything better. But he couldn’t be the one to bring it up.
What was he supposed to say? A soldier knew what he was getting into and hoped he could live with what was asked of him and only learned whether he could or not by whether he did or not. He couldn’t lie and tell Daniel it got better. He wasn’t even sure he could say it was worth it.
So they talked around it, using the “are you okay”s and the “I’m fine”s every team went through as a post-mission measuring tool. Weary response? I’m okay but I need time. Sharp response? I’m not okay and I need to be alone. Long pause before response? I’m not okay but I will be. No response? I’m not okay. Jack wasn’t the best at field medicine but he did what he could do with distractions and distance and drinks. Sometimes they were the walking wounded but everyone got patched up and everyone hid their scars even though all of them knew exactly where the others’ were.
But damned if he was going to treat Daniel like he was broken or damaged because he wound up in situations where he had to kill to survive and he got good at doing it. Daniel knew what they did wasn’t just for them, knew they were fighting for a whole galaxy, and that was enough. It had to be enough because it was the only reason they had.
So Jack didn’t hesitate when they found themselves in danger. He moved Daniel around battlefields and through prison escapes and into hostile territories the same way he did Carter and Teal’c, the same way he’d moved every soldier that came under his command: by their skills and by the present need. Jack was still point, he was still the first one in danger and the last one out because that was his job, that was what the birds on his shoulders were for.
But Daniel fought, and Daniel got wounded, and Daniel kept dying on him and Jack knew which one hurt the most. So whenever they had a break, whenever he could pry Daniel away from his lab, they went to the shooting range. Because if Daniel had to be a soldier Jack wanted him to be an alive one.