Decorations

By Biltong

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I have way too many decorations.

I still remember his face when I showed him my collection.

His face, a mixture of awe, envy and revulsion, all warring with each other, like I did, in wars I can’t even mention. In fact, to the general public, our government was even on friendly terms with whomever we were fighting.

Yeah right.

Tell me that at 03H30 in an orange plantation when you are being told to kneel or die.

‘Let’s all be friends’ cuts no ice in special ops.

And in black ops, our motto was even worse – if it moves, kill it.

So, the wars had finally ended, and I had joined the SGC.

There is a whole lot of blood shed in that sentence, isn’t there Danny?

Sometimes one single sentence can hide a lifetime of hurt.

You know that better than anyone.

"My parents died, leaving me an orphan."

Oh yeah Daniel, a lifetime of hurt in one tiny sentence.

No wonder we had found each other. So different on the outside, so alike where it mattered, in our tormented souls.

Whoops, I lost my balance there for a second, had to lean forwards and grab the back of that large chair that you insisted that my study needed, along with the latest computer will all that fancy encryption software.

You used to love ordering things on my behalf. The things I took for granted, you enjoyed with such relish.

If I wanted things done, I told somebody to do it, and presto, it was done. You never had that luxury until you met me, and once you had, there was no holding you back.

"The Colonel needs a faster computer set up in his study."

Yeah right, like I ever looked at the computer in the study. It must have been pretty darn old though, if they just threw the entire thing in the trash.

So, once you had the chair, and the new fancy complicator installed, you kind of, well, it was no longer my study.

I took to avoiding the room entirely. It was like you owned a tiny piece of my house.

Daniel’s study.

I’ll have you know I never resented this, no matter how many times you insisted I tell the truth.

I told you the truth, you just couldn’t comprehend the kindness.

Not that I blamed you. Taking someone at face value is so hard to do.

I don’t know if I can ever do that again, now that you’re…

Oh Danny.

So what? Even grown men cry, as long as it’s after midnight and there’s nobody around to ask awkward questions.

Besides, I can always blame it on the twenty year old scotch whiskey I found in the cupboard in the kitchen, the one you had wrapped up gaily and addressed to me.

It was in that cupboard where you had insisted I keep all the organic foodstuffs, for when you visit.

You were right. Had you been here, I wouldn’t have gone near that cupboard in months.

But you hadn’t been, and I had turned to that cupboard in desperation, missing you so much. I had wanted to just smell for one last time, the smell of you.

That nutty herbal tang that was Daniel Jackson trying to get Jack O’Neill healthy.

God, you had driven me crazy.

Suddenly I had craved a sip of that green tea, or Jasmine, or whatever. You know, the one I was used to just sipping politely after a hell of a Chinese meal before I met you and you made it commonplace.

I didn’t find the tea. What I did find was the scotch.

Oh geez, Danny, the sight of your neat handwriting had almost broken me.

Distraught, I had come here, to the one room I had always considered yours, only to see your one last gift.

Damn your eyes Daniel Jackson.

When had you had the time to frame all my decorations?

I told you this was your room. I neither asked, nor deserved to have such kindness shown to me.

Oh Daniel. Do you know how difficult it is, keeping up this pretense of normality when I am dying inside?

I thought I was actually managing to handle things at last. I mean, it’s not as if we actually had a body to bury or anything.

Maybe General Hammond was right, maybe after three weeks of mandatory grief counseling, I was finally managing to see the bigger picture again.

And then you had to go and do this.

Oh God. Scotch had never tasted so smooth before now.

EINDE