Believe
By: Random
CATEGORY: Friendship
SEASON/SPOILERS: Season 10 “Morpheus”
WARNINGS: None
AUTHOR’S NOTE: Set of by a line in “Morpheus”… “…for the first time, I’ve actually met someone who, in some small way, actually believes in me.” So this falls before Morpheus, after Flesh and Blood.
AUTHOR’S WEBSITE:
http://www.alldanielfic.com/viewuser.php?uid=110
She had them all believing her and bamboozled--a word she liked very much, thank you. Well, maybe not all, but enough, and that Tau'ri word fit perfect. Bamboozled. That was it.
She'd found the word in a book she'd borrowed from Teal'c. Well, technically she'd liberated it from his quarters, but it had been sitting on a shelf neglected when she'd happened to stop by for a chat since she had not much else to do. Slang and Euphemism. A fascinating amount of information, and it amazed her that these Tau'ri weren't all dead the way they splashed knowledge about themselves around for anyone to find. Except Daniel didn't do that. He was smart that way, didn't give anything much away, and she could admire that.
She could admire Teal'c, too, because he hadn't mentioned anything to the others about her having taken his book, but when they met in the gym the next day he did make one reference so she'd know that he knew what she'd done.
"I am pleased that you recognize how important it is to keep all one's skills honed through use."
He gave a little stress to the word 'all,' let her know it wasn't lifting weights on his mind, and that, if he chose, he could--oh, what was the phrase for it--ah, yes, blow a whistle. But he was right. She was just, well, honing. So she'd given him a smile, but she hadn't liked it when he'd added on something too much like a warning, with a proprietary reference to Daniel.
"It is not advantageous, however, to distance new friends with old habits. And I believe Daniel Jackson would agree with me on such sentiments."
Well, he would, now would he?
Teal'c knew Daniel that well, did he? And she didn't? As if Daniel wasn't more than a bit of a thief himself, and a very good one at that since only the best turned up their noses at gold and jewels the way that man did. Oh, yes, Daniel had to be one of the finest she'd ever met in this line of work. She'd seen what was in his office; and Daniel could say all he wanted that he didn't own any of it, but whose office held all those priceless valuables? And who was the only person allowed to touch Daniel's precious artifacts? Well, she was, but that was because she ignored Daniel's glares, and she didn't see anyone else fondling Daniel's acquisitions.
She did see that he had the best excuse to legitimatize gathering all those lovely things around him; he studied the past. Wasn't that the most brilliant pretext for digging up things and keeping them.
Daniel had certainly kept that book from Merlin's treasure with all that information about where you might find even more wonderful things, so she doubted he'd have much to say about her having borrowed a far less valuable book from anyone. At least not much that she couldn't punch a few holes in within seconds.
Didn't these Tau'ri have a saying about glass houses and throwing things? Or was that throwing glass at a house?
Well, no matter.
She still had them where she wanted them. Mostly. Because they actually believed she wanted to join them.
Her. Vala Mal Doran. Join them.
It had, in fact, been ridiculously easy to talk them into taking her with them. Well, actually, Daniel had done most of the talking.
"Where else is she going to go? The Ori are going to be looking for her."
"And that is just such a good reason for bringin' her home? Not like we don't have enough trouble, is it?"
She'd shot a narrowed-eyed look at Mitchell, decided maybe she didn't like him all that much anyway and, really, he didn't look a thing like Daniel when you looked close. No. Mitchell had those narrow, untrustworthy eyes. In fact, when you thought about it, not a very attractive person what with that suspicious nature.
So she glanced at Samantha Carter, blinked and did her best to look helpless and the infirmary bed helped because, honestly, if they'd pulled her out of it, she would have fallen on her face. Samantha didn't look back, just stood between Mitchell and Teal'c with her arms folded, but she did take Daniel's side.
"Cam, he's right. She has nowhere to go."
"And we are indebted to her
for the information she has given us concerning the Ori's plans."
She beamed at Teal'c for that rumble of approval, and
had to agree with a nod. "That's right. You do."
Daniel shot her a glance--well, it was more one of his
repressive, disapproving stares. So she shut up because she got the
message, and he was handling this pretty well.
Sitting up had also left her dizzy, and she didn't think Daniel would like it if she threw up on him. And she might; Tau'ri medicine was more than lacking, and while they'd given her something for the pain of that shot she'd taken for Daniel, it seemed to be doing something else to her stomach. So she'd let Daniel go on being protective, while she opted for a wounded but brave nobility.
"Look, I know she hasn't always been the most reliable--"
"Hey, whose side are you on?" she asked, sitting up again and swatting at him, and so much for Daniel's protective instincts.
"Or honest, or--"
"Excuse me, but I did tell you
the Ori were coming!"
Daniel's frown tightened and it looked like he might
have a headache, but that could be left over from his having been knocked
around a little back on the Ori ship. Then he nodded.
"Yes, and she did tell us the Ori were coming," Daniel admitted, then he glanced at Mitchell.
Keeping his chin down, Daniel tilted his head and the faintest smile lifted his mouth, and Vala started wondering what she could to Daniel that he needed to look at her like that.
"She also saved all our asses with that stunt she pulled with the super gate." Blue eyes suddenly swung around to fix on her, and sharpened, and someone should tell Daniel that was not a polite way to look at anyone. "And next time, she'd damn well grab help before--"
"Help? Oh, as if anyone was even listening to me!"
"If you'd had someone with you, you might have--"
"Alright, alright. We at least get a cease fire if she comes with?" Mitchell thumbed a gesture her way, and Daniel shrugged. And that's when she knew she had them.
Question now was what did she do with them?
They'd given her clothes--not the most stylish of outfits, but she could always work with black. And she had food and a bed. Quarters they called it, and if it was a quarter of something she wished she could figure a way to get a whole. And she had Daniel. Well, sort of.
He'd been busy. She'd dragged him out for a meal with her twice, and she'd started hanging around where he worked because he did have all those lovely things and she didn't have much of anything to do, and his books had drawings and maps in them. She liked maps. She also liked the way he smelled--a bit musty like one of his books, but warm, too, and with a hint of something she couldn't quite place. Men should always have a little mystery to them.
Daniel had enough to fill a Ha'tak and spill over.
When she asked any of his friends about his past, Teal'c would say, "You must ask Daniel Jackson." Samantha just smiled and changed the subject, asking how Vala was fitting in or started with questions about Ori technology, and that was boring. And Mitchell would warn, "Nope, not goin' there." So she hadn't yet worked up the nerve to ask Daniel anything, and when was she ever lacking in nerve?
She wasn't, but she did have the excuse of working hard to make them think she wanted to stay, and, alright, it didn't take that much work. But she was biding her time. So she didn't ask Daniel about himself because she keep walking in on Daniel while he had his face half buried in a book, or notes stacked up too high, or was sitting at his computer in near darkness, fingers moving fast over the keyboard, writing up yet another one of his reports.
So she'd bring him coffee, or something to eat. Why not--what else did she have to do, and it didn't take long to figure out that if there was food around, he'd grab it, eat without realizing he'd been hungry. Or he'd eat about half of whatever it was, so she'd get something she liked and eat the rest with him, leaning over his shoulder, and he'd explain what they were looking at and what he was looking for.
It was during one of those times, early in the morning after most of the night of doing this--and she liked those times because it was just the two of them, and she often fell asleep on his couch with one of his books open over her and woke with a blanket instead--and she realized two things.
The first hit after he'd given her a rare smile, wide and bright because he was close to something, and it clicked that he really was the best because the man had that extra sense for a trail that led to treasure, so where had he been all her life?
The second followed fast as she wondered why was he letting her do this with him? Why was she here at all, in fact?
Without sleep and sense to hold them back the words just popped out. "Why? Why me?"
His smile dropped and he blinked. He had a mug of cold coffee almost to his mouth and it stopped there. So she said it again.
"Why me, Daniel? You've had other refugees here--I know that. And you patch them up and send them on their way, but I'm patched and I'm still here. Why?"
He put down his coffee and then turned and looked at her, and leaned forward, put his elbows on his knees. She had all of his attention, so she scrunched down on his couch and waited. He glanced away, his mouth twisting on one side, and he took his time pulling words together. She watched, saw him lick his upper lip once before his stare fixed on her again and he frowned.
"Vala, a good friend once said something to me, and I didn't really understand at the time, but I do now." He smiled with a memory, eyes going distant before he came back to her. And his voice went very soft. "I may not always believe you, but I believe in you."
She shifted on the couch, listened to it squeak as she frowned. "What does that mean?"
He got up, came over and stood in front of her, his hands in his pockets and his feet braced wide, as if this was very important and he wanted her to focus.
"It means you're not here just because this is a safe place. No one's really safe. Not given the Ori's powers. You're here because you're intelligent and courageous and you have a lot to offer, more than I think you give yourself credit for. And you know that we've got a fight on our hands. A big one. You may be the one person, in fact, who knows just how big. And I--well, I believe you have a contribution to make. If you want to."
She'd always liked being in the center of everything, and she really liked having Daniel looking at her and nothing else, but something about this total concentration left her nervous and a little worried he saw more than she wanted to show. She needed something to toy with, some distraction, so she pulled at a strand of her hair, smiled wide and bright.
"You know, I think that's about the longest speech I've ever heard you give."
He watched her, speculation in his glance, light winking off his glasses, and his eyebrows arched and lifted high. "What--you don't know about the three hour lecture I give on the evolutionary distinctions in Goa'uld script over the past five thousand years?"
"No, really? Must have a full room for that."
"Actually, I generally do--it's mandatory attendance for SGC recruits."
"Well, that's one way to get an audience." She pushed up from his couch, slipped over to the table opposite and pushed at a clay figurine, then glanced at him. "But I'm not much use, am I really, Daniel. My contributions so far are to bring you coffee and keep your books from toppling over, and while that may be vital to you, it's not the best use of my talents. And I'm not very good at staying in one place for very long."
He came over to her, that stare still intent, his hands kept in his pockets and to himself. She always had to push extra hard to get him out of that self-enclosed space, but she didn't dare push him right now. That wouldn't be kind.
"If you stay, I'll talk to Landry. I can't make any promises, but, well, will you let me fight this battle for you? Can you be patient?"
She frowned at that. Patient? So far she'd been amazingly restrained. But...well, when had anyone offered to take her side in anything? She'd been fighting so long, she couldn't remember a time she wasn't squared off against someone. When she'd met Daniel, she'd taken him on--had him turn around and take her on in return. And she could respect that. But since then--well, it seemed as if they kept ending up fighting someone or something else, usually back-to-back.
How long had it taken her on the Ori ship to be on his side, and have him on hers? They'd slipped into working together as if they'd been doing this for years, and they hadn't. They didn't know each other, so why did she feel as if she knew all the important parts about him anyway?
"Please, Vala?" he said.
And then she got that look.
He dropped his chin but kept his stare on her and his head tipped and the corners of his mouth lifted in that faint, coaxing tease.
A shiver raced down her spine and curled inside, went soft and liquid, and she'd better make sure he never got the faintest idea what she'd do for that look on a regular basis. Yes, very good for him not to know.
So she put up her chin, walked to the door, back straight. She stopped there, glanced back, saw him still watching, worry slipping into his eyes, and that had her twisting her fingers together behind her back. He looked as if he cared, and of course he would, and she wondered if she hated him for it or herself for being so ready and willing to give in to him?
"You'll really talk to Landry?"
"I don't know what he'll say,
but--"
"Daniel, you could talk a Goa'uld into giving up
his host."
"Oh, I've tried. It's never worked, but...well, Landry may be a little easier."
"Daniel--"
He stopped in the doorway next to her, glanced at her, looked surprised that she might ask something honest of him. He didn't say anything, but his eyebrows rose again, then lowered and tightened, a question asked anyway.
She punched his upper arm in answer, a gesture she'd seen Mitchell use with him and a soft echo of when she'd once hit with the intent and need to lay him flat. "Thanks for, well--the short lecture version. I don't think I could sit through three hours."
The smile flickered, warmed his eyes, and her insides, and she folded her arms over her chest, the way he liked to fold his, and she turned and started away, fast. The belt loops tugged on the back of her trousers, got her pulled back. Just as she'd expected.
When she moved fast, or at an angle he didn't anticipate, that always ended with his hands on her. He tugged again, a sharp pull, and she turned, gave him wide eyes as he frowned at her; and she would just pretend that she couldn't feet his fingers curled and resting in the small of her back and his wrist and forearm on her hip.
"You'll wait here until I get back?"
She hesitated. Not long, just long enough that he wouldn't be certain. It wouldn't do to have him taking anything for granted. Then she nodded and offered, "I'll even behave."
He looked at her over the top of his glasses, didn't believe her. Smart man.
Then he was gone.
Gone to talk to Landry for her. She frowned at that, went to his desk and stared at his computer and his notes and his artifacts. Bits of the man scattered around. A photo of a woman on the wall. Clues to a treasure.
Or the trail to one.
But what if Landry didn't listen? She found that hard to believe, but the Ori hadn't heard anything Daniel had said, and was Landry that difficult as well?
She shivered, told herself not to be silly, because Laundry would listen. Or she'd leave. She'd go where she was wanted. She'd done that before. But Daniel wanted her here. And that seemed a sudden complication.
He believed in her.
The want, the need, to keep that rare thing rose strong, with a memory of Qetesh's ruthlessness in grabbing desires. Which meant that somehow she'd bamboozled herself along with these Tau'ri. And that never ended well.
Oh, Daniel, you'd better pull out another lecture for Landry, she thought. But if Daniel believed in her, she'd better start believing in him.
* * * *
He was insane. Deluded. Yes, self-deluded. That had to be the answer, because why else would he be on his way to make an argument for why Vala should be better utilized and made part of SGC. Unfortunately, he was right. And insane ideas might be the only thing that could get them out of this mess. That had pretty much been the case over the last however many years they'd been doing this.
You had to be insane to fight gods; and the current crop were a lot closer to the real thing than snake-like parasites had ever been. So maybe he could excuse himself with that argument.
But Vala?
Were they that desperate?
He let out a sigh, because, yes, they were. They needed her.
So far, she'd bought them invaluable time. A year of it to gather more intel and a few victories--very few. And the things she might know now about the Ori could make the difference between ultimate defeat or victory. There were precedents for that belief.
In all the universes he'd seen fall to the Goa'uld, Teal'c had been on the winning side; he'd been loyal to Apophis in the realities where things ended bad. Which meant that Teal'c becoming part of SG-1 had been a critical factor to defeating the Goa'uld. And the similarity of having Vala come to them, essentially a traitor to the Ori movement, stood out strong. But there were differences, too, and those had him worried.
Teal'c had always had a warrior's code of honor. He did not lie to his friends. He was a man of great stoic resolve and only a few wicked surprises; Vala seemed to have an inverse ratio of those attributes.
So why did he trust his life to her?
And he had. More than once.
On the Ori ship, he'd been prepared for an enemy; he'd had his gun on her, wasn't sure what he'd be facing. But the moment she started that tangled explanation of what was going on, he'd known she was pretty much the same Vala he'd always known. Then she'd said hide, and he had. God, it was scary.
He'd moved without thought, and yet he also still knew he shouldn't leave her alone in a room with anything pocketable. However, he was fine with putting his life in her hands.
Of course he'd once seen her with people for whom she'd play-acted the god, and she'd fought for their lives. She'd put her own life on the line. All of which left him frustrated as hell that she hid, ignored, or generally shrugged off anything that looked like an admirable trait.
He could only figure that of course she'd have surprising emotional depths and a skewed sense of honor if for no other reason than to aggravate him.
He hated lies and liars--the core of his profession was to find and present the truth. But he'd been forced into learning the art of deception, and unfortunately he could see how Vala would have needed that skill to survive. So it was getting harder to hate her for what she sometimes did to the truth.
He despised thieves. Stealing violated not just his personal ethics, but those of a profession that had begun as grave robbers and which still needed to keep its distance from all that that name implied. He understood the acquisitive instincts that often came with too strong a love of the past. But it was one thing to bring relics home from a dead world, another to take a people's heritage just because it was beautiful and those people might not value their history. Vala did not have such scruples.
God, sometimes he wondered if she had any.
But he'd seen her toss aside the kind of loot a magpie would horde because she'd rather have the knowledge of the Ancients. And while she acted bored and restless, she still hung around, spent hours with him following a trail hidden within historic records.
It was a pity she'd never found her way to any kind of formal education because she had the instincts of a first rate archeologist; the profession wasn't that evolved from being treasure hunters. And he'd die again before he told her that.
But he was going to tell Landry that they needed her. He couldn't see that going over well.
Thank god it wasn't Jack he had to convince. Jack would have been an easier sell, but Jack would have never let him live it down that he'd made an argument to work with a woman who'd knocked him on his ass a few times. A woman who'd taken too much enjoyment out of having him tied to a chair. He'd catch hell from Jack anyway--Landry was Jack's man and his mole, and Jack made sure he got the gossip that never made it into any report. And Landry had been in on the disaster with the bracelets, which had led to the debacle of Vala insulting a senator in DC, so he was not going to be happy about this.
Oh, god, he really was insane, and now Landry would know it. Of course, he might just get away with this because of that reputation.
The advantage of his past was that pretty much everyone expected him to be the guy who came up with the odd ideas, but Vala was even more out of any box. That was something of a relief. He'd been the outsider, the non-military guy; Vala was so beyond military order that he'd end up looking conservative by comparison.
But he wasn't doing this so he could have someone around who was even more flaky than he'd ever been--on any day.
No, it was more a matter of payback.
Ten years ago Jack had gone out on a limb for Teal'c; he'd gone out on another one for a civilian no one wanted back. He owed Jack for that, and couldn't ever repay him, but he was now in a position to be the one to urge others to listen, to ask for lenience for an outsider, to encourage the military to be a little more open minded.
And if Landry said no, he'd think up more reasons, see if he could sway Sam and Mitchell and Teal'c, and go back again. If nothing else, he'd learned you could wear the brass down with persistence. And this was worth a fight.
He'd just have to hope he wasn't
being delusional. After all, Qetesh, the Goa'uld who'd once used Vala's
body for a host, had been a god of pleasure and sexual prowess; she'd been
linked to Hathor, and that alone stirred too many uncomfortable memories.
Thank everything merciful, Vala didn't care to talk about her time as a sex
godess. But he had the sense that she had a lot in common with him, as in
a deep hatred for just what kind of degredation a Goa'uld could put you
through.
But Vala didn't like pity or anyone's sympathy any
more than he did. And he trusted her more for that.
He trusted her to be an opportunist, and cover his back as well as anyone else on SG-1. He trusted her to bend the truth until it screamed, and fight the Ori until whatever end came. He trusted her to help herself to what she wanted, and help him if he needed it before he even said the words.
She would confuse, frustrate, throw everyone off, thoroughly and completely. Which was about the best argument for keeping her around; she might be able to do all that to the Ori, too.
Stopping at Landry's door, he frowned, had to ask himself one more question.
Was he doing this for such altruistic reasons? Was he thinking of the big picture? Of the fight they faced? God, he hoped so. But he couldn't ignore the truth lurking deeper. A simple thing. Stupid really. But--oh, hell, the truth was that he liked her.
He didn't want to, but he did. He liked that she wasn't impressed that he'd died--she'd shrugged that off, hadn't seen the percentage in it. She'd been a god, after all, so something close to angelic didn't seem like much. She didn't care about his educational accomplishments, thought they were about as useful as he did. She could get as caught up in the hunt for a find as he could, was just as interested--even if her reasons had less altruism. And she wasn't serious about much of anything. Thank god.
He hadn't had anyone around as childish, aggravating, flippant or diverting since Jack--and that comparison unsettled. It also left him certain that he was never letting those two spend any time together to compare notes.
But to keep Vala around, he had to convince Landry, because he could already see the restlessness building. Vala had that in common with Jack, too--that need to be moving, to be in the center of action. So the choice was clear--get her cleared for some action, or watch her leave.
And that, no matter what the reasons, was no longer an option. So he pulled in another breath, then put up his hand and knocked on Landry's door. And he'd just have to believe he was doing the right thing here, and if he wasn't--well, he'd made worse mistakes. He'd make more. He could believe that.
** The End **
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