One of the Guys
by
Jackjunkie
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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
authors. This story may not be posted anywhere without the consent of the
authors.
One of the Guys
Daniel pulled his t-shirt over his head and dropped it on the bathroom floor. Craning his neck, he squinted into the small mirror as he tried to see how badly he was hurt. Dirt and blood mingled, obscuring the cut on the back of his shoulder. Moving his arm experimentally, he winced at the soreness. It would be stiff tomorrow, but nothing seemed broken or dislocated. He needed to clean it to get a good look at the wound.
Rummaging through Jack's cabinets, he located a washcloth and ran it under the cold water. Reaching awkwardly over his shoulder, he attempted to dab at the sticky mess. Ouch! Maybe a gymnast could manage this job painlessly, but not an unathletic academic. Giving up the attempt for the moment, he leaned on the sink and stared at his reflection. The Daniel Jackson who looked back was not the brilliant scientist who analyzed alien cultures but the geeky kid who was never any good at sports.
He didn't know why he'd let Jack drag him into that street hockey game. Did he really think this time was going to be any different? Daniel sighed. Despite all his experience to the contrary, he'd hoped it might. Once he'd gotten over his initial reluctance, he'd even been having fun... until the inevitable moment when he'd messed up, as he'd known he would. He'd gone sprawling on his back, slamming up against the curb, ripping his shirt and gouging his skin.
Worse than any physical injury, he'd lost the point and let down his team. He was sure his teammates must be sorry to be stuck with him. They hadn't even had any choice in the matter. As a boy, whoever was unlucky enough to get the last pick ended up with him. He'd been spared that indignity since as part of SG-1 he was automatically teamed with them, but it still meant somebody had to put up with him when they assuredly didn't want him.
Embarrassment at his fall flushing his face a deep crimson, he'd scrambled to his feet and attempted to laugh it off. His pride had gotten him away from the game and into the house before anyone could see the extent of his injury.
Distressed blue eyes closed, blocking out the disturbing image in the mirror. Daniel shuddered as the memories flooded back. "Crybaby!" The taunt rang in his ears as the years fell away.
Knees scraped and bleeding, Daniel huddled on the ground as the ball pounded his small body yet again. "You're s'posed to dodge the ball, twerp! That's why they call it dodgeball!" The jeering laughs pealed around him. Lip quivering, he knuckled his eyes beneath his glasses, trying to hold back the tears and failing miserably. He tried to dodge the ball. He couldn't help it if he tripped and fell. He thought at first Todd Wilcox had stuck a foot out to trip him, but he couldn't be sure. It was over so fast and Daniel was always tripping over his own feet anyway. He could just as easily have done it again on his own. No matter how hard he tried he just wasn't as good at games as the other boys. He knew he'd never be a jock, but how he wished he could be just good enough to be accepted as one of the guys. He supposed it would help if he practiced more, but that was hard to do alone. He was really more interested in his books anyway. It was easier to give up and go back to his reading.
"Daniel?"
The soft call and the knock brought him jolting back to the present. His eyes opened to see Jack directing a concerned look around the door he'd left ajar.
"How ya doin' in there?"
"I'm okay. Just getting cleaned up."
"Yikes, that looks nasty. No wonder you're having trouble, trying to reach back there on your own." Jack came the rest of the way into the room and took the washcloth from Daniel's hand. "Here, let me."
"No, really, Jack, I can do it..."
"For cryin' out loud, hold still, willya? There, done. All you needed was a little help. Hm, ya might wanna let Frasier have a look at it when we get back to the base, but it doesn't look too bad. We can patch it up to hold you for now." Opening the medicine cabinet, Jack took out a tube of antibiotic ointment and a box of Band-Aids. As he smeared the salve over the cut, Daniel flinched. "Stings, huh? Well, try not to fall on it again. We can be thankful it was your left shoulder. The soreness shouldn't bother your stick handling too much since you're right-handed."
"My...? You mean, you want me back in the game?" Stunned, Daniel blinked owlishly at his friend.
"Huh? Course we do. How do you expect us to whup SG-2's ass without you?" Tearing the paper wrapping off one of the adhesive strips, Jack carefully applied it to Daniel's back. "Teal'c's got the strength for the power plays and Carter's picking up the strategy real quick, but you got the heart, Danny my boy. You were really throwing yourself into the game - a little too literally maybe, but you're on the right track."
"Jack, I screwed up and gave them the point. You'd do better without me."
"Daniel, nobody expects you to be a star player in your first game. It's true I'd rather win, but all losing would mean here is buying pizza and beer for Ferretti's bunch. It's not a big deal. You made a rookie mistake. You won't make it again, right?"
"Uhhh, no."
"Okay, then. C'mon, let's get back to the other guys." With a clap on Daniel's good arm, Jack led the way out.
"Sure, I'm right behind you." Tugging his shirt on over his head, Daniel grimaced at the brief stab of pain and rubbed his shoulder. Shrugging it off, he hurried out of the bathroom. The other guys were waiting for him. "Wait up, Jack!" A smile lighting his features, he ran eagerly after his teammate.
The End