Siege, by Seanchaidh (PG)

[sg-fignewton.livejournal.com]

Rec Category: Jack and Daniel Friendship

Pairing: none
Category: Jack and Daniel friendship, gen, drama, angst
Warning: none
Author on LJ: Seanchaidh
Author's Website: The Home of Seanchaidh

Link: Siege

Why This Must Be Read: A very literal exploration of the closeness of Jack and Daniel's friendship, Siege puts the two men on a different planet, with different names and personalities. Seanchaidh leads us through a fascinating dance of memory and the essential sense of self that insists on creeping to the surface, no matter what influences might be imposed upon them.

Two brothers, Mladen and Aksel, lead a quiet life on their mother's farm. Aksel is used to watching not only the sheep, but his younger brother, who is not quite right in the head. But there are hints of something that neither can quite understand: their dreams, Aksel's automatic use of similies and expressions no one else has ever heard, Mladen's bizarre ability to read when neither brother has ever been taught, and, perhaps most poignantly, Mladen's "made-up word" for the heroes in the stories that Aksel tells him - "Jack."

The two men struggle to discover the reality of their lives, peeling back layer after layer to try and understand. Despite the overwriting of who they are, their essential characters still remain. This "leakage" proves dangerous, particularly to Mladen, for whom rescue might be too late.

The truth behind the manipulation of their memories is creepily plausible, considering that character's actions onscreen. And when the two of them finally return to themselves, their reactions toward the woman who had taken on the role of their mother is both heartbreaking and perfectly in character.

Seanchaidh gives us a satisfying epilogue back at the SGC, as Daniel and Jack revert to blessed normalcy, sheep jokes notwithstanding. Slinky therapy: if that's not Jack and Daniel friendship, I don't know what is!

 

What interest does Mutti have in the drawings?

I find another in the woodshed and I stare at the images. Birds and animals this time. I still have the old one in my pocket and this one joins it. A part of me really wants to know the significance these pictures have for Mutti, and why I should tell her. Another part of me wants me to keep this secret. I'm not sure why.

We moved the flocks forward yesterday to a new pasture. The Auge isn't very far away. I figure in two days' time, we'll be there if nothing goes wrong. I look forward to seeing the strange object. What will my dreams tell me, then?

Mladen falls back and plays by a tree while I inspect some of the sheep. I ignore him. This job is simple enough for one, so he can toss rocks at the trunk as much as he wants. I've decided we'll be ready for shearing in a few weeks, and by the size of the flock, six men should do. We'll have plenty of wool this year, and maybe I can start thinking about marriage and seeking a wife.

When I'm ready for a break, I find Mladen busy with a stick. He's scraping the damp earth and drawing again. He's concentrating as hard as he was with the bark. I watch him for a few moments, then move my boot to scrape over some of the marks.

"You ruined my word!" he protests. He squints up at me.

"Looks like a chicken scratch to me," I say. I sit next to him and take out the water.

"No, it's a word," he insists. He retraces the mark. "See?"

I examined the mark. "That doesn't look like writing to me."

"It is. See?" He recites something at the same time as he moves the stick over it. "Ah-bee-dose."

Loops and swirls. That's all I saw. "Mladen, even if it were a word?" Ah-bee-dose, what kind of word is that? It sounds as strange as Jack. "That's not writing."

"Then what is writing?" he asks.

"From what I've seen, it looks like this." I take the stick from his hand and traced a symbol I recall from the village. I don't understand how those combinations of lines and dashes work, but the runes represent letters and such. That much I know. "See, like that?"

He peers at it. "That's nice." And he utters a th.

"Huh?"

"That's the sound that one makes. A th." He looks proud of this.

"How do you know that?" I ask. Mutti's words from earlier came to mind, but this... What does this have to do with a stupid rock?

"I don't know, but I know a lot." He makes more loops and swirls that are visibly different from Ah-bee-dose. "See this? This is my name."

"Mladen." That's an easy one, even if it's gibberish.

He looks at me, and for a moment, I see something else in those blue eyes. I catch a glimmer of the Not-Mladen from my dream as my brother shakes his head. "No. My name is Daniel."

Comments

[captain-tiv.livejournal.com]

I love this story!

[sg-fignewton.livejournal.com]

I'm glad you enjoy it. :)