Crystal Clear

by Travelling One

Email: travelling_one@yahoo.ca
Website: http://www.travellingone.com/
Related episode: Crystal Skull 
Summary: This is a missing scene from Crystal Skull. Would Daniel really have been standing around idly, watching everyone else fail to find him?

September 2009

I’m not hungry or thirsty... why not?

Because I’m dead?

“Did anybody else feel that?” Carter knew she was stressed and still tired, but that had felt... inexplicably eerie. “I just got a shiver.”

Janet compassionately tried to rationalize Sam’s sudden fluster, ease her worried mind. “Well, you're still feeling the after-effects of the radiation.”

“No,” Daniel muttered to himself in bewilderment, the shockwave from his revelation still reverberating through him in undisguised horror, “I think that was me. Because I'm a… ghost??”

Ghost ghost... ghost ghost

Like the hissing of static in his ear, the unwelcome reality whispered its call for acceptance.

With the disturbing truth slapping him in the face, now more than ever before, Daniel was scared. For the first time, he realized there might be nothing his team could do to get him back, no matter how many theories they came up with, how skeptical Rothman was, or how long into the night they worked. If he was a... a ghost, then he'd been killed by the radiation in that neutrino-filled cavern, and there was nothing anyone could do to fix that. Ghosts were felt by those open enough to sense them, right? If one believed in that sort of thing, and why not? Aliens were real. There was life on other planets, a whole hell of a lot of it. Alternate realities where versions of his best friends played out daily, unseen, unsensed; hell, he'd even experienced a different reality himself. So why not dead people with spirits intact and lingering, wondering what had happened to them?

He may not have been thirsty or hungry, but - in his imagination at least - like that phantom limb, that dead and gone appendage that one still senses, Daniel's throat was dry. And his heart, real or not, was pounding.

He barely heard a word of whatever came next, and if Sam was still confused as to her momentary unease, she wasn't letting on.

He had to communicate with someone. Ghosts could do that, right? Right? How?

Sam. She was the one who seemed to sense him, although he'd have to get a hell of a lot better than creating a tiny breeze, or a shiver. Come on, come on, think. It wasn't as though he had any experience at this; it was all new ground and any attempt was better than nothing.

Well?

Come on come on come on… Daniel didn't pace, didn't swear, didn't show any outward signs of the terror that had suddenly begun to erupt within him, other than quicker and thicker breaths, a wide-eyed semi-focused stare; nothing his friends would notice, unless they could actually see him. Which was the whole entire problem here. Think think think. But all his mind kept wanting to replay in the way of thoughts was dead dead dead.

Ghost ghost... ghost ghost

Shut up.

God, he scowled. Just quit it. Quit it, Daniel. It wouldn't do any good to panic. Then again, if he could unintentionally cause a breeze, that flit of air Sam had noticed, maybe panic could beget a tornado? Oh, really good; he'd scare them all to death. Sam would tune him out, afraid to allow that part of her mind to remain open enough to sense him.

No, he had to do something that wouldn't frighten them. How he'd manage that when he couldn't control anything in their physical world, he had no clue. Did he even have a right, if he was dead? They wouldn't be able to help him, or get him back. What would be the point?

“Sam,” Daniel whispered in her ear as she headed out the door of Rothman’s office, but she just ignored him. “Sam.” He blew on her face; she didn't even blink. “Sam! God,” he shouted in mounting frustration.

She hesitated.

Daniel sucked in a breath of anticipation, a slim, momentary boost of hope nudging his morale, until he saw what had captured her attention, and his spirit deflated. Jack, with his long preoccupied strides, was making his way down the hall towards her.

He stopped, appearing somewhat frazzled, somewhat uncomfortable. “Carter. Got any fresh, innovative ideas?”

“Tell him yes. Yes, Sam. You can sense me,” Daniel urged.

“No, Sir.”

Daniel sighed, his defeat a cornerstone for the walls of frustration rising around him. “Wrong answer.” He followed his two teammates out into the corridor, back the way Jack had just come.

“You know,” Jack screwed up his face as he halted his steps, not meeting Sam’s eye. “We never took a good look into that abyss. We don't know Daniel didn't... fall into it.”

No. No, no, don't go there. Wrong road, very wrong. “Jack! I'm here. Here, not down in some deep dark depths of a dismal cavern.”

“We couldn't see the bottom, Sir.” Don't even think it, Colonel.

“Is there any way we can get down there?”

“Oh come on.” Daniel moved closer to Jack, and waved a hand in front of his face. “I dare you to sense me.”

“Not that I can think of, Colonel. We could lower a very long rope, but it would be extremely difficult to climb all that way.”

“Maybe not for… Teal'c.”

“Jack, Jack? Hey. listen to me, you old cowardly coot… with bad hair…and a golf swing that couldn't find a hole if you were peering down it… bet you couldn't hit a ball into that abyss… tell you what, give me an order right now and I'll follow it...  Oh come on, aren't you getting any of this? God.” Daniel closed his eyes for a brief moment, calming himself. “Not working, huh?” Neither was the hand-waving or cheek poking or hair tousling, even though his hand just went straight through the other man, and Daniel sighed again in escalating frustration. Jack was out, useless at this ghost stuff. Sam was his only hope. Then again, Teal'c had almost sensed his presence. He'd have to get the man in the middle of kelno'reem again though, probably.

“Colonel.” The tired voice bordered on reprimand, fatigue excusing her.

Jack shrugged. “Where the hell can he be, Carter?” He resumed his walking. “Some other planet? That skull thing work like a Stargate?”

“I doubt it. He could possibly have been transported to some other plane of existence, or another spot on the planet, the way ring transporters work, or that, um, that beaming technology Thor used on us and the Goa'uld. Or the one the people of Hadante use.”

Daniel's attention peaked. Plane of existence? Wasn't that what dead was?

“Then how far could he have gone? We have to check out the rest of that planet.”

“It's a big planet, Colonel.”

“Carter!” Quit the pessimism.

“No, she's right, Jack. Don't look so far away.”

“I know, Sir. We have to do something. I'll keep working on it.”

“You do that.” Jack pushed past her. “Since none of my ideas are good enough,” he muttered under his breath.

Daniel was torn between following Jack, or Sam. So far the team leader was zero for zero; if Daniel’s best taunting didn’t work, he was hopeless. Even Sam hadn't noticed anything unusual in any of that tirade, though. This poltergeist thing was way harder than they made it look in movies.

_____

Perched on a desk in Sam's lab, Daniel had tried to cover the lamp, blow the page of her notes, roll a pencil off a table, wiggle the tissue sticking out of the box, but had accomplished nothing for his efforts. The lamp remained bright, the notes intact, the pencil in place where Sam had dropped it, and the tissue steady in its artistic pose of folds and wrinkles. Now he sat, thoroughly disheartened, brooding.

When he opened his eyes, Sam was frowning, staring at her arm. She rubbed it, then rubbed it again.

Which was when Daniel realized he was sitting above her elbow, facing downwards, breathing. “Yes!” he jumped off the desk.”Yes! Yes!”

“Whoa.” Sam's attention turned to her laptop; the “Y” key was depressed and spewing a steady stream of the single letter across her monitor screen. Suddenly it stopped.

“What th…” Daniel gazed down at the keyboard. Had he done that? YYY YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

DDDDDD. He concentrated. D. “Come on, come on. Press. D. Press.” D. But try as he might, he couldn't affect that single letter, never mind spell his whole name. Maybe he needed to stop concentrating so hard? Maybe a gentle, continuous focus, driven by emotion?

“Daniel?” Sam looked around the room hesitantly.

“What? Yes! Yes, Sam, it's me!” He crouched by her, in front of her, trying to keep the focus of her eyes on his.

Sam shook her head, a measure of guilt and embarrassment. “Quit it,” she muttered. “Losing it here.”

“No, Sam. No. No, no, no, you're not. Here's where I am. I'm here.” And dead. “I think I'm dead though.” She'd never think of that. And if she did, she'd dismiss it automatically. Death would be their very, ultimately, final consideration.

“God. Ufh.” Daniel gave up… no; he gave in, and went to seek out Jack.

_____

“You know, I can say anything I want to, to you, with no repercussions,” Daniel told his team leader as they strolled down the hall together from General Hammond's office. Jack had, no doubt, been checking out the option of exploring the depths of that cavern. From the look on his face, he hadn't been successful.

“Irritating. Annoying. Wrong on oh so many occasions. Taciturn. Yo, Jack, talking about you.” Daniel jogged in front, facing his CO, waving his arms. “Persnickety. Cantankerous. Steadfast. Relentless. Jackass. Hate you. Love you.” He paused, squinting peripherally at the man beside him, so casually ignoring him. “Nothing, huh?” They'd reached the elevator. Daniel stood in front of Jack, blocking his path, for what that was worth. “Come on, Jack. Your best friend here. You'd die for me, even if you don't realize it. I'd die for you. Oh wait, I did. How can you not know I’m right here, huh? Jack? Come on!” Nothing; Jack‘s head was bowed, as he scuffed at the floor with a boot. “Boo!” Nothing. Not a single hair out of place. Reaction of a dead hermit crab. Defeated, Daniel shook his head. “Yeah, had to try. Probably a good thing you can't hear me. Uh, you can't, right? Not going to some day remind me of this conversation?” Daniel fluttered his lashes in mild, temporary embarrassment, before he was hit with the unexpected sense of loss that making a fool of oneself in vain elicited. This was almost as disconcerting as having someone walk through him, having Jack totally ignore his presence, and the inherent loneliness was overwhelming.

Jack looked around, squinting at the open door of the elevator.

Daniel stared. Why wasn't he stepping inside? Daniel moved out of the way.

With another moment's hesitation, Jack crossed into the otherwise empty cubicle, and pressed 21. Daniel pressed 22. It lit up.

“Oh my God.” He pressed 18. That lit up too. He pressed 17. Ditto. He pressed all the numbers available, and all but two lit up.

Jack frowned, an almost humorously puzzled expression draped across his face, the frown deepening when no one got on at 22. Arriving at 21, Jack didn't disembark.

“Your floor, buddy,” Daniel reminded him softly. The door slid shut with a soft thud.

No one got in on 20, or 19. Nor at 18, or 17. Jack got out, stared at the elevator door as it closed in front of him, stood there for a few moments, then took the stairs back down.

_____

“Carter.” Jack paused halfway into the lab, then hesitantly stepped through the doorway.

“Sir?”

“Uh…” he shifted uneasily, crossing his arms, before giving in and picking up a microscope slide, holding it up to the hanging light.

“What's up,Sir?”

“Carter…”

Sam gazed at him expectantly.

“You know… I mean… has anything odd happened in here lately?”

Sam chuckled. “Odd, Sir? Other than what, exactly?” Define odd, Colonel. And how many years can I go back for ‘lately’?”

“You know. Lights going on or off, noises. Odd.”

“No, I …” She frowned. That wasn’t what he meant, was it? “I did have a keyboard key stuck, but that's about it.”

“What key?”

“What key?” Sam’s confusion was apparent. “Y.”

“Y.” Jack suppressed his disappointment. ‘D’ would have been nice.

“Has anything odd happened to you, Sir?”

Jack paused. “No. I guess not.” He turned to leave.

“Jack! Come on, don't be a wuss. Tell her. Figure this out, damn it.” Daniel nearly stamped his foot. “Figure out that I'm here!” Instead, he grabbed for Jack's shoulders, trying to swing him around, but his hands just went straight through flesh and bone. God, that was unsettling.

“But when I was in the elevator, all the buttons lit up. Almost all. But no one was there when the doors opened.”

“Which numbers didn't?”

“Which numbers didn't?” Jack repeated incredulously. That question made less sense than his. “That makes a difference because…?”

Sam shrugged, “Grasping at straws, Colonel. Sorry.” Noting the dejected look on her CO's face, she gave in and voiced her supposition. Sort of. “Colonel… you don't think…”

“No. Not really.” Maybe. Wishful non-thinking happening here. But that wouldn't bode well for Daniel, so maybe wishful thinking would be the reverse way to go. Maybe he really should wish his friend to be on some other planet. One he could come back from, as soon as they figured out a way. Or where he went in the first place. Jack sighed; maybe thinking was wrong altogether.

Sam nodded, glancing at the floor, the dejected look having contagiously transferred to her face as well. “We just miss him, that's all.”

Ya think? “Or the radiation's getting to us.”

"You think so, Sir?" That stirred a memory of what Janet had said earlier. It wasn’t the answer Sam was looking for.

No, not really. “We’ll be sending a UAV back there in about an hour - ” Jack halted, struck by the tired lines of Sam's features, the grim set of her lips. "Spill it, Carter."

"Sir?"

"Penny for your thoughts."

Sam cocked her face to the side, a gesture that indicated the need to talk mixed with a hesitation to voice her thoughts aloud. "What if we can't find him?"

"Ever?"

Daniel froze. That same fear may have been plaguing his mind throughout this entire ordeal, but hearing the words out in the open sliced through him like a dagger. Words from the lips of the people he was desperately counting on to locate him, even if they couldn’t ever bring him home. Daniel did not want his disappearance to haunt the SGC for a lifetime, nor would he do so for much longer. Still, he didn’t want his disappearance to be an intergalactic cold case file, either. Looking sharply at Jack, he realized the expression on the other man's face scared him. "Don't give up, Jack. Please." It was a whisper, a plea, a need.

"We're not going to give up, Carter." The snap was harsh.

"No, Sir. Of course not. I wasn't suggesting - "

"No matter how long it takes." That tone, low and direct, abrupt, the one that meant determination against all odds.

A small measure of relief mingled with the already intense shock and terror pervading Daniel's psyche, that little drop of thankfulness so badly needed, a branch held over the river for the drowning - no matter how far away - signalling the remote possibility of help. "Thank you."

Then reality bit fantasy in the back, and Daniel again found himself struggling with internal demons; he knew where he was. He had the answer his friends were so desperately seeking. "No matter how long it takes?” he repeated. “You sure about that? I don't think anyone's ever come back from the dead, Jack." For even if he figured out how to depress the keyboard keys, send a detailed SOS to Sam, or make a disembodied phone call to General Hammond, nothing would change. Daniel sighed, closed his eyes... and finally gave up.

back home

comments

Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of MGM, etc. I've written this story for entertainment purposes only.