Proof, by Wonderland (PG-13)

[sg-fignewton.livejournal.com]

Rec Category: Daniel Jackson

Pairing: none
Categories: Daniel Jackson, gen, team, Janet Frasier, hurt/comfort, character study
Warnings: language
Author on LJ: sg_wonderland
Author's Website: Wonderland's fics
Link: Proof

Why This Must Be Read: Daniel needs to stay on the Stargate program when he first joins – both to save his wife and his sanity – but he isn't quite sure how to prove to General Hammond and the others that he's fully capable of doing his job. So what happens when his determination to prove his capabilities leads him into doing something dangerously stupid?

In Proof, Wonderland gives us a nice first-person POV of Daniel's thoughts as he employs old tricks to slide past his pre-mission checks and get permission to go through the Gate. When his little bit of chicanery turns life-threatening, it's teamy goodness that helps him get through some very scary moments – and then hit him over the head, in the nicest possible way, with the realization that he really is an integral part of SG-1. Although Daniel himself is quite sure that Janet would kill him if she really knew the truth…

Early season Daniel was a delightful mix of unconscious arrogance and a self-conscious tendency to sell himself short. Wonderland does a great job of portraying that Daniel in this short and thoughtful story.

 

Anyway, I fooled Fraiser and hit the gate feeling only slightly off kilter. Since it was cool with a soft mist falling, I held up for the hike to the local village and did the meet and greet with no problems. The folks were quite friendly, but basically had no use for either the Stargate or us. They more or less gave us the here's-your-hat-what's-your-hurry routine. I shrugged it off because they were satisfied with their life the way it was, and who are we to try to change that?

So we broke bread with them, thanked them for their hospitality, declined the gracious offer to sleep in one of their huts with them, and headed back toward the gate. Since it had been a four hour hike to the village and we had gotten a late start back, we made camp when it got dark and looked forward to a leisurely early morning stroll back to the gate. If only.

Since I had managed to hide the fact that I had eaten very little of the native fare and was still suffering from a fever and newly discovered muscle cramps, I was feeling more than a bit smug. Until, that is, Jack flopped down beside me and without warning, shoved his hand underneath my damp bangs. "Daniel, something you want to tell me?"

I rally quickly. "Just a bit of a cold, Jack, really, it's nothing."

He grunts, completely unconvinced. "Carter, thermometer."

They aren't actually thermometers, but those little strips you put on your forehead that read whether you have a temperature or not.

I did. Jack had noticed the flush on my normally pale face, and the fevered brightness of my eyes. He doled out a couple of Tylenol and ordered me to get some sleep. I grumble as I slide into my sleeping bag, making sure that Jack knows to wake me for my watch.

Unfortunately, when he tries to wake me four hours later, he makes a couple of startling discoveries. My fever is even worse than before, and I can't move my legs.