Title: Vindication or Paybacks Are Hell
Author: Brenda A
Author Page: Brenda A
Category: Angst
Spoilers: S1 Politics; Stargate the movie
Season/Sequel info: Second Season
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Daniel goes to the funeral of a friend and has confronts his past.
Disclaimer: Stargate Sg-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author.

"All right, SG-1, you're dismissed and on stand-down for twenty-four hours."

As General Hammond left the debriefing room and the SG-1 team gathered up their notes, Daniel Jackson spoke up. "Jack, I'd like to request some time off."

Colonel O'Neill glanced up from making one final notation on his report. "Anything wrong, Daniel?"

The young linguist closed his folder and tapped on it lightly with his pen. "A friend of mine passed away a little while ago --"

O'Neill stopped writing, Teal'c frowned in concern, and Sam Carter quickly laid a hand on Jackson's arm. "Daniel, I'm sorry. We didn't know --"

"No, no, it's okay, Sam, everyone. It happened while we were off-world on PX2778. I didn't even know about it until after the funeral, which was held in Central America. Doctor Erickson was an expert in Mayan culture," he explained, his eyes softening as he reflected on old memories. "Eight-three years old and still digging. He had more energy than anyone I'd ever met, and the most open mind and generous heart. He suffered a massive stroke and died on the site. But he died doing what he loved and that's the way he would have wanted it."

Looking over at O'Neill, he said, "He was a very good friend, Jack. He gave me a lot of support in the past when I needed it most." He grinned faintly. "Even loaned me money so I could keep eating on one or two occasions. There's a memorial service being held for him in Los Angeles next week by the Society for Archaeological Sciences. We're both members, and I've been asked to give a eulogy in his memory."

O'Neill nodded. "Take whatever time you need, Daniel," he said quietly. "I'll clear it with the general."

"Thank you."

As Jackson stood and gathered up his notes to leave, Teal'c spoke up for the first time. "This will give you an opportunity to visit with other scholars who are your friends in this...Society?"

It was an innocent question asked by someone whose knowledge of Daniel Jackson's history only started from the moment they met on Chulak, but Jack saw a flicker of something cross the younger man's face. "Yeah," Jackson said, his jaw tightening. "That should be fun." With that, he turned abruptly and left the room.

In the silence that followed O'Neill rubbed his forehead while Sam frowned at her clasped hands.

Teal'c looked at them with concern. "I have said something to upset Daniel Jackson?"

O'Neill indicated to Carter that she could field that one. Sam took a deep breath. "Teal'c, the last time Daniel was in Los Angeles, he was giving a lecture on his theory about the age of the pyramids -- how they were much older than the pharaohs who were supposed to have built them. I got this story from Catherine Langford herself," she said, glancing at O'Neill, "who was there to recruit him for the Stargate project. Daniel was literally laughed off the stage by his...friends in the Society.

"But Daniel Jackson was correct," Teal'c stated with a slight frown.

"Yes, he was," Jack agreed, "but he can't exactly prove that, can he? This is a top secret, classified, military operation. He can't tell anyone he was right."

"It can't be very pleasant for him," Carter murmured to himself, "to have to face those people again, knowing what they think of him."

Teal'c frown deepened. "But Daniel Jackson is a scholar, a wise man. On Chulak he would be revered for his knowledge."

"Well, here people aren't always revered for exposing the truth, especially when it opposes what everyone else believes," O'Neill said wryly.

"As far as Daniel's peers are concerned," Sam continued, "Daniel is a failure, actually something of a crackpot."

"Crack-pot?" Teal'c repeated dubiously.

O'Neill waved a hand. "A little crazy."

"Poor guy." Carter shook her head as she snapped her folder shut. "That Doctor Erickson must have been a really good friend for Daniel to go through that again."

***

O'Neill stood for a moment outside Jackson's office and watched the young scientist mutter to himself as he wrote something on a pad of paper, then impatiently scratch it out.

He rapped on the doorframe, and Daniel's head came up. "Am I interrupting something?" Jack asked, sauntering inside.

Daniel wrinkled his nose as he tossed his pen down on the pad, which Jack could now see was filled with lines of writing that had been scratched out. "I've never written a eulogy before. I don't know quite how to begin."

O'Neill nodded as he sat down in his usual chair across from the linguist. He'd had to write a fair share of them in his time, and it was never easy. "You'll find the words," he assured him. "Just remember the man, and they'll come."

Daniel stared at the paper filled with unsatisfactory attempts at doing just that. "I suppose."

"I was thinking," Jack said, abruptly changing the subject, "how would you like some company on your trip?"

Daniel looked up, puzzled. "Company? Who?"

"Me."

"You?" Jackson blinked in surprise. "Jack, why would you want to go to a memorial service for someone you never even met? You won't know anyone there --"

"I'll know you."

"You'll be bored out of your skull. Do you know what a room full of archaeologists talk about when they get together?"

"The last grave they robbed?" O'Neill asked innocently.

Jackson looked singularly unamused. "Very funny." He leaned back in his chair, frowning slightly. "Why, Jack?"

A memory flashed through Jack's mind, of a determined Daniel Jackson standing up to Senator Kinsey when the Stargate Project was threatened with closure. He hadn't enjoyed seeing Daniel being ridiculed by that ass, but he had been damn proud of his friend's courage to risk derision. That was another time Daniel had been right and everyone else had been wrong. Well, if he had the courage to put himself back in front of the crowd that had jeered at him two years ago, then it was about time he had a little support from the home team.

"I thought it might make things a little... easier for you if you had a friend by your side," he said simply.

Jackson was still frowning, then understanding slowly dawned. "Ahh." He stared at his pen for a few moments, then looked up at Jack; there was a rueful smile on his face, but it was forced, and his shoulders were stiff with tension. "I know what the academic world thinks of me and, under the circumstances, it's just something I've had to accept. There certainly isn't anything I can do to change it. At least this time I don't think they'll laugh me off the stage." He gave a dismissive shrug. "I can handle it, Jack."

"I know you can handle it, Daniel. The point is, you don't have to handle it alone." Jack paused, then said very deliberately, "I'd like to go with you."

O'Neill was gratified to see some of the tension drain from Jackson's shoulders and the defensive glint in his eyes soften with gratitude. After a moment he nodded. "Thanks, Jack. I'd like that."

Jack got to his feet. "That's settled then."

Daniel grinned, and it was genuine this time. "It'll be nice to have someone there who doesn't think I'm crazy."

As he left the small office, Jack leaned over and ruffled the younger man's hair, grinning to himself. "I didn't say that, Jackson."

***

As they stepped into the auditorium for Doctor Isaac Erickson's memorial service, Daniel slid a sideways look at Jack. "I still don't know why you wore your dress blues, Jack. You're not exactly going to blend in with the crowd."

"Told you, Danny. It's the best suit I've got. Besides," O'Neill stood up a little straighter, if that was possible, "if it's good enough for Uncle Sam --"

"--it's good enough for a room full of grave-robbers. Yeah, I heard you the first time."

"Then why'd you ask?" O'Neill asked with raised eyebrows. With a flourish, he pulled his 'dress shades', as he referred to them, out of his pocket and slipped them on.

Daniel stared at him in disbelief. "Jack, I really don't think you're going to need sunglasses in here."

"Goes with the uniform. Come on, Danny, I see food over there."

Jackson was left with little alternative but to trail along after his friend as Jack made a beeline for the food table.

As he picked through the offerings at the buffet, Daniel noted that Jack seemed oblivious to the stares and whispers being directed their way; but he was only too aware of them. He'd seen many familiar faces as they'd made their way to the buffet, but no one had deigned to acknowledge him. He smiled grimly. He felt like he should have the word 'pariah' emblazoned across his chest. Oh, let it go, Jackson, he thought crossly. Just get it over with, for Isaac, and then get the hell out of Dodge. Tomorrow they'd be back home and this would just be another unpleasant memory. He should be used to them by now.

"Doctor Jackson!"

Daniel tensed at the sound of the rumbling bass voice behind him, then took a deep breath to compose himself, and turned. He had rather been hoping to avoid this. "Doctor Dawson."

The portly, but still handsome, man gave him a patronizing smile. "I didn't expect to see you here tonight."

"I was asked to deliver the eulogy." Daniel paused, then added pointedly, "My name is on the program."

Gerald Dawson ignored that. "We haven't heard anything about you since... let's see, when was it?"

"Two years ago," Daniel furnished, refusing to rise to the bait.

"Yes...two years. Here in Los Angeles, wasn't it?"

"You should know," Daniel said with a thin smile. "You attended my lecture."

"Ah yes, your 'lecture'. Well, it was hardly that, was it? More like the ramblings of a --"

"Excuse me, Doctor Jackson. Is this man bothering you?"

Daniel jumped as Jack suddenly appeared at his side in full C.O. mode, directing a glare at Dawson that made the man involuntarily take a step back.

"I beg your pardon!" Dawson spluttered, wide-eyed.

For an instant Daniel was tempted to say, Yes, Jack, he is bothering me. Shoot him! But sanity took over just in time. "Um, Doctor Gerald Dawson, this is --"

"Colonel Jack O'Neill," the officer snapped, still staring at Dawson.

Daniel slid him a sideways look. "Uh, yeah, what he said. No, Colonel," he replied, stressing O'Neill's title, "he's not bothering me. We're just... rehashing old times."

O'Neill nodded once, and took a step back. Wondering what the hell he was up to, Jackson tried to return his attention to Dawson, who was still gaping at O'Neill like a gaffed fish. "He's with you?" Dawson asked warily.

"Um, yes --"

"Doctor Jackson doesn't go anywhere without either myself or a member of my team as escort," O'Neill stated briskly.

Totally lost now, Daniel could only say, "Wha -- What?" before he felt Jack's foot pressing firmly, and painfully, on his.

"Security," Jack explained. "You understand."

Dawson obviously didn't understand, and neither did Daniel.

"Doctor Jackson is too valuable a resource for us to take any chances."

"Resource...?" Dawson looked at Daniel, comprehension flooding his face. "You're working for the military?" He gave a bark of derisive laughter. "Why on earth would the government want to hire an uninformed, unsound --"

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to choose another topic of conversation, sir," O'Neill said sternly. "Doctor Jackson's work is classified." Turning to Daniel, his voice softened a degree. "Doctor, we've had this discussion before. You know you can't disclose information regarding any of the projects you're working on."

By now Daniel had decided to just go with the flow. "Yes, Colonel, I remember," he said, trying to sound duly chastised.

O'Neill nodded sharply, and again took a step back to let the two men continue their conversation.

Dawson looked from O'Neill to Jackson, his eyes narrowing as the implications set in. "So, Daniel --"

Jackson started at the use of his first name.

"You're working for the government." He held up his hand quickly as Jack's sunglasses turned in his direction. "No details. But you're working for the military?"

"Yes," Jackson said carefully, "I was recruited two years ago."

"Recruited? They came after you?"

Daniel's smile was tight. "Not everyone thought I was crazy." He thought he heard a strangled snort by his side, but when he looked at Jack all he saw was an impassive military mask.

"These projects you work on...are we talking linguistics, archaeology or anthropology?" Dawson asked cautiously, naming Daniel's three doctorates.

"Actually, I'm called on to use all three," Daniel replied, then when he realized what he said, he smiled for the first time that night, feeling as if a weight had dropped from his chest. "I could never find such satisfying and challenging work in the academic world," he said truthfully.

"Really?" The other man twitched. "You know, of course, my own field is Egyptology."

"Yes," Daniel said dryly, "I remember."

"Should there be a need for someone of my specialized field --"

"We don't take applications," O'Neill broke in flatly.

Dawson stiffened, then nodded his head at Daniel. "Jackson," he said shortly, and stalked away.

Daniel watched him go, then turned to Jack, rolling his eyes. "What was that all about?"

O'Neill was trying unsuccessfully to hide his grin. "Come on, Danny, tell me you didn't enjoy that, just a little?"

A slow grin creased the linguist's face. "Actually, I'm ashamed to admit, I enjoyed it a lot." Then it dawned on him. "You had this all planned, didn't you? That's why the dress blues, the sunglasses --"

O'Neill just rocked back and forth on his heels, looking smug.

"How'd you come up with this?"

"I can't take credit for the plan, just the execution."

"Then who --"

"Carter. She knows more about this academic stuff than I do. I just asked her what would make all these stuffed shirts here positively green with envy, and she said --"

"A secure job, plenty of funding --" Daniel's eyes widened. "Government backing, because --"

"Everybody knows the government has the biggest and best toys," O'Neill completed with a grin. He waved at the crowd surrounding them. "By the end of this night, everybody here is going to know you've got yourself a plum job with the government doing all kinds of secret research." He coughed discretely. "And that you're so important you never go anywhere without at least a full colonel as a bodyguard."

"They'll probably think I'm studying little green men," Daniel said wryly.

"They won't be far wrong, will they?"

From where he was standing, Daniel could already see a small knot of people gathering around Dawson and the man was holding forth to his rapt audience. "Well, I'll be..."

"Hey."

Daniel felt a tap on his arm and looked over at Jack.

"Since you can't tell anyone what you really do or how your theories really were right, we thought this might make up for it a little. I mean, their imaginations will more than fill in the blanks, and they'll know --"

"--that I'm not a failure and a crackpot?" Daniel took a deep breath and held it for a moment before letting it out. "You know, before I came here, I didn't realize how much... baggage I was carrying with me. But when I was standing here talking to Dawson about my job, I realized I've got a great job, the best job I could ever have, and what happened two years ago in front of these people and what they thought about me didn't really mean a thing."

O'Neill nodded approval. "Good."

"Learned something else, too." The colonel raised his eyebrows in inquiry. "I've got some pretty special friends," Daniel said sincerely. "Thanks, Jack. This meant a lot to me."

For an instant it looked like O'Neill was going to make some flip remark, but what he said was, "Anytime, Danny. Anytime." Then, clapping Daniel on the shoulder, he said, "Now, how about buying your bodyguard a beer?"

**fin**

May 1999