Fic: Crouching Linguist, Hidden Ninja
May. 20th, 2003 07:23 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
galaxysoupFANDOM: Stargate SG-1
SUMMARY: Response to the Daniel-as-Ninja challenge issued by Michael Shanks at United Fan Con.
SPOILERS: Brief Candle, The Fifth Race
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Oh, it had to be done.
CROUCHING LINGUIST, HIDDEN NINJA
Jack put a box of spaghetti in his basket and stifled a yawn. It had been a long day and all he really wanted right now was to curl up someplace and go quietly unconscious. Sadly, his stomach had voiced complaints at that plan, so he'd stopped by the grocery store on his way down from the mountain for supplies. Jack's refrigerator was a place best not visited by man or beast after six days offworld on a mission... not without heavily armed back-up and haz-mat suits, anyway.
He made his way to the counter and unloaded his purchases, yawning again. Damn. Maybe he'd be better off with take-out.
"That'll be thirteen twenty-five, sir," the disturbingly perky cashier chirped. Jack fumbled for his wallet and left with his purchases.
The parking lot was mostly empty, just one or two cars that probably belonged to employees and Jack's truck, sitting forlornly under a street light. He set down his bags to pull out his keys and heard the scrape of shoes on gravel behind him.
He turned to look. Nothing.
Frowning a little, he put the key in the door and unlocked it. Behind him, there was a sudden rush of movement and he found himself pinned against the truck, the key digging painfully into his abdomen.
Jack reacted instinctively, slamming his elbow back into his assailant and twisting to the side. The man fell heavily and Jack had just enough time to register a circle of figures before something hit him, hard, in the back of the head.
He fell to his hands and knees, head swimming. There was a low chuckle to one side and someone dragged him upright, shoving him back against the truck.
"Looks like we got a tough guy here, huh guys?"
Jack blinked to clear his vision and swore. He counted four people, including the one still gasping for air near the driver's side door, all armed with a variety of makeshift weapons. Too many for him to take on, certainly. Jack raised his hands.
"I'm not looking for any trouble. You want the truck, take it." It wasn't worth getting killed over. There was no way he was going to survive ribbon devices, alien invasions, and over-enthusiastic scientists just so he could buy it in an empty parking lot over some hubcaps.
"Fuck that, man." The man who had attacked Jack first had finally made it to his feet, still wheezing painfully. "You're gonna pay!"
Jack groaned inwardly. Great. By taking out Wheezy he'd embarrassed him in front of his cronies, unintentionally throwing down the gauntlet.
"Sure." Jack smiled brightly. "Loan me that crowbar for a minute and I'm all for it."
Wheezy scowled, but the Speaker laughed again. He pretended to give Jack's suggestion some thought, then shook his head sadly. "Sorry, man. You're on your own."
Wheezy stepped forward, grinning ferally, and took the crowbar from the Speaker. The other two men fanned out until Jack and Wheezy were in a circle of sorts. Someone pushed Jack from behind and he stumbled forward, ducking to one side just in time to hear the crowbar whistle past his left ear.
Bad. Very very bad.
There was an ear-splitting yell from behind Jack, and Wheezy dropped the crowbar in surprise, staring over Jack's shoulder. Jack took the opportunity to get Wheezy a good shot on the temple and he went down like a rock.
Jack spun, ready to take his next attacker... only to find it wasn't necessary. One man was down already, and the Speaker was currently duking it out with a figure dressed all in black, wearing a mask, with what looked like a sword strapped to his back. In three quick moves, almost too fast to see, the masked man took out the Speaker and turned towards the last guy.
The sole remaining thug pulled a knife from a sheath on his belt, his hands shaking noticeably. The masked man pulled his sword. Knife Thug decided discretion was the better part of staying alive, dropped the knife, and ran.
The masked man straightened from his fighter's crouch and sheathed the sword with one fluid movement.
"Are you all right?"
His voice was barely above a whisper, but there was something kind of familiar about it. Jack frowned, and pretended to stagger to one side a little. "I'm fine."
The masked man stepped forward and took Jack's arm, holding him up. "Here, sit down for a minute."
Jack nodded, then turned quickly and snatched off the mask. The man turned away, hiding his face, but not before Jack had recognized him.
"Daniel?"
Daniel winced and turned back. "Uh, hi, Jack."
"Daniel?!"
Daniel blinked. "Yes, Jack."
Jack looked at the unconscious bodies of his former attackers, then at Daniel's dark clothing and... and sword.
"Daniel?!"
Daniel rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, and the move was so purely Daniel it snapped Jack out of his shock.
"What - you - it - "
Well, mostly snapped him out of it. He stopped and took a deep breath.
"Daniel. Explain."
Daniel rubbed his nose, looking embarrassed. "Sure you don't want to go somewhere else? I really think you should sit down for a minute, Jack. You don't look so good."
"Explain. Now."
"Right." He shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot.
Jack waited.
"Any minute now, Daniel."
"I'm trying to figure out where to start!" Daniel said defensively.
"How about, why are you here?"
"You were being attacked," Daniel said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"Uh-huh." Jack crossed his arms, unconsciously mimicking Daniel's pose. "So you, what, just wander around at night with a mask and a sword and rescue people?"
Daniel shrugged. "Well, you told me to get a life."
"I didn't mean you should go out and become a ninja!"
"I'm not a ninja," Daniel said primly. "Ninjas were primarily spies and assassins in Japan and they didn't have a real code of honor. I have a code. And it's Mayan."
"You're a Mayan ninja?"
Daniel sighed irritably. "I'm not a ninja, Jack."
Jack counted to ten. "Then what are you exactly?"
"I'm an archaeologist," Daniel said, the unspoken 'duh' hanging in the air between them.
Jack counted to twenty, glanced at Daniel, and counted to thirty. "Daniel, it's been a long night. Please don't make it longer."
"Right." Daniel gave him an apologetic look. "Sorry. Okay, remember the dig in the Yucatan I told you about?"
"The one where you learned all the midwife stuff?"
"Yeah." He stepped over Wheezy's prone body and leaned companionably against the truck next to Jack. "Anyway, while I was there, I found a medallion in one of the temple ruins with strange markings on it. I'd never seen anything like it before and I've never seen it since. Logically the writing should have been Mayan, but it wasn't. If anything, it looked like Russian, which is completely bizarre because I dated it to nearly two thousand BCE and there definitely wasn't a Russian language then, at least not the way we know it - "
"Daniel!"
" - Anyway, that night I had a dream. I dreamed I was in this stone room, and there was a sort of shadowy figure there. He, or it, I was never completely sure, started teaching me the code."
Jack tried to follow the conversation. "The code on the amulet?"
"The warrior's code."
"The Mayan ninja stuff?"
Daniel gave him an exasperated look. Jack backtracked hastily. "Mayan warrior code."
"Thank you. Anyway, that's where I learned it."
"From the amulet."
"Yes."
Jack nodded cautiously. "The amulet taught you to dress up like a ninja and beat up car thieves."
Daniel raised one eyebrow. "I imagine it's sort of like when that device downloaded the knowledge of the Ancients into your brain and you started speaking Latin and building machines even Sam couldn't understand."
Okay, Jack could concede that point. He frowned. "Wait, you said the language wasn't Mayan?"
"I know!" Daniel nodded emphatically. "It surprised me too."
Jack let that one slide. "So if it wasn't Mayan, how can you be a Mayan ninja?"
Daniel's mouth opened, closed, and opened again. "I'm not a ninja!"
"You're not Mayan, either." Suddenly, something occurred to him. "Daniel... all those long, painful self-defense sessions where I tried and tried to get you to learn to protect yourself and you had the coordination of a wet noodle?"
Daniel had the grace to look abashed. "You seemed like you were having fun, Jack."
Jack just stared at him. Daniel tried a tentative smile, which faltered under Jack's glare.
"Do you know how many nights I spent worrying about you because I thought you'd get separated from us and you wouldn't be able to defend yourself? Do you have any idea how long it took me to convince the General to let you off-world on a first-contact team when you didn't seem to grasp the concept of ducking?"
Daniel looked at the ground. "I'm sorry, Jack." He shrugged apologetically. "I wasn't sure you'd believe me and I figured you'd worry anyway, so..."
Jack sighed. "All right. It's okay, Daniel. But," he held up one finger. "I expect to see you in the gym on Monday and I want to see exactly what you can do."
Daniel nodded, looking relieved. "Okay."
Jack smiled and straightened up from where he'd been leaning against the truck. "All right, let's get out of here. Um..." he cast a dubious look at the three unconscious men on the ground. "What do we do about them?"
"What?" Daniel followed Jack's gaze. "Oh. I usually just call the cops from a payphone or something." He started towards the passenger side of Jack's truck, stopping when Wheezy moaned and stirred a little. Daniel frowned and bent down, squeezing the side of the thief's neck until he went limp.
"Oh my God," Jack's jaw dropped.
"What?"
"You just did a Vulcan nerve pinch."
Daniel scowled. "I most certainly did not."
"Did too."
"Did not. Vulcans are fictional."
"Fine, have it your way. A Mayan Vulcan nerve pinch." Jack brightened suddenly. "Hey, maybe that explains the amulet! You're a Vulcan ninja!"
Daniel groaned and got in the truck.
THE END
SUMMARY: Response to the Daniel-as-Ninja challenge issued by Michael Shanks at United Fan Con.
SPOILERS: Brief Candle, The Fifth Race
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Oh, it had to be done.
CROUCHING LINGUIST, HIDDEN NINJA
Jack put a box of spaghetti in his basket and stifled a yawn. It had been a long day and all he really wanted right now was to curl up someplace and go quietly unconscious. Sadly, his stomach had voiced complaints at that plan, so he'd stopped by the grocery store on his way down from the mountain for supplies. Jack's refrigerator was a place best not visited by man or beast after six days offworld on a mission... not without heavily armed back-up and haz-mat suits, anyway.
He made his way to the counter and unloaded his purchases, yawning again. Damn. Maybe he'd be better off with take-out.
"That'll be thirteen twenty-five, sir," the disturbingly perky cashier chirped. Jack fumbled for his wallet and left with his purchases.
The parking lot was mostly empty, just one or two cars that probably belonged to employees and Jack's truck, sitting forlornly under a street light. He set down his bags to pull out his keys and heard the scrape of shoes on gravel behind him.
He turned to look. Nothing.
Frowning a little, he put the key in the door and unlocked it. Behind him, there was a sudden rush of movement and he found himself pinned against the truck, the key digging painfully into his abdomen.
Jack reacted instinctively, slamming his elbow back into his assailant and twisting to the side. The man fell heavily and Jack had just enough time to register a circle of figures before something hit him, hard, in the back of the head.
He fell to his hands and knees, head swimming. There was a low chuckle to one side and someone dragged him upright, shoving him back against the truck.
"Looks like we got a tough guy here, huh guys?"
Jack blinked to clear his vision and swore. He counted four people, including the one still gasping for air near the driver's side door, all armed with a variety of makeshift weapons. Too many for him to take on, certainly. Jack raised his hands.
"I'm not looking for any trouble. You want the truck, take it." It wasn't worth getting killed over. There was no way he was going to survive ribbon devices, alien invasions, and over-enthusiastic scientists just so he could buy it in an empty parking lot over some hubcaps.
"Fuck that, man." The man who had attacked Jack first had finally made it to his feet, still wheezing painfully. "You're gonna pay!"
Jack groaned inwardly. Great. By taking out Wheezy he'd embarrassed him in front of his cronies, unintentionally throwing down the gauntlet.
"Sure." Jack smiled brightly. "Loan me that crowbar for a minute and I'm all for it."
Wheezy scowled, but the Speaker laughed again. He pretended to give Jack's suggestion some thought, then shook his head sadly. "Sorry, man. You're on your own."
Wheezy stepped forward, grinning ferally, and took the crowbar from the Speaker. The other two men fanned out until Jack and Wheezy were in a circle of sorts. Someone pushed Jack from behind and he stumbled forward, ducking to one side just in time to hear the crowbar whistle past his left ear.
Bad. Very very bad.
There was an ear-splitting yell from behind Jack, and Wheezy dropped the crowbar in surprise, staring over Jack's shoulder. Jack took the opportunity to get Wheezy a good shot on the temple and he went down like a rock.
Jack spun, ready to take his next attacker... only to find it wasn't necessary. One man was down already, and the Speaker was currently duking it out with a figure dressed all in black, wearing a mask, with what looked like a sword strapped to his back. In three quick moves, almost too fast to see, the masked man took out the Speaker and turned towards the last guy.
The sole remaining thug pulled a knife from a sheath on his belt, his hands shaking noticeably. The masked man pulled his sword. Knife Thug decided discretion was the better part of staying alive, dropped the knife, and ran.
The masked man straightened from his fighter's crouch and sheathed the sword with one fluid movement.
"Are you all right?"
His voice was barely above a whisper, but there was something kind of familiar about it. Jack frowned, and pretended to stagger to one side a little. "I'm fine."
The masked man stepped forward and took Jack's arm, holding him up. "Here, sit down for a minute."
Jack nodded, then turned quickly and snatched off the mask. The man turned away, hiding his face, but not before Jack had recognized him.
"Daniel?"
Daniel winced and turned back. "Uh, hi, Jack."
"Daniel?!"
Daniel blinked. "Yes, Jack."
Jack looked at the unconscious bodies of his former attackers, then at Daniel's dark clothing and... and sword.
"Daniel?!"
Daniel rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, and the move was so purely Daniel it snapped Jack out of his shock.
"What - you - it - "
Well, mostly snapped him out of it. He stopped and took a deep breath.
"Daniel. Explain."
Daniel rubbed his nose, looking embarrassed. "Sure you don't want to go somewhere else? I really think you should sit down for a minute, Jack. You don't look so good."
"Explain. Now."
"Right." He shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot.
Jack waited.
"Any minute now, Daniel."
"I'm trying to figure out where to start!" Daniel said defensively.
"How about, why are you here?"
"You were being attacked," Daniel said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"Uh-huh." Jack crossed his arms, unconsciously mimicking Daniel's pose. "So you, what, just wander around at night with a mask and a sword and rescue people?"
Daniel shrugged. "Well, you told me to get a life."
"I didn't mean you should go out and become a ninja!"
"I'm not a ninja," Daniel said primly. "Ninjas were primarily spies and assassins in Japan and they didn't have a real code of honor. I have a code. And it's Mayan."
"You're a Mayan ninja?"
Daniel sighed irritably. "I'm not a ninja, Jack."
Jack counted to ten. "Then what are you exactly?"
"I'm an archaeologist," Daniel said, the unspoken 'duh' hanging in the air between them.
Jack counted to twenty, glanced at Daniel, and counted to thirty. "Daniel, it's been a long night. Please don't make it longer."
"Right." Daniel gave him an apologetic look. "Sorry. Okay, remember the dig in the Yucatan I told you about?"
"The one where you learned all the midwife stuff?"
"Yeah." He stepped over Wheezy's prone body and leaned companionably against the truck next to Jack. "Anyway, while I was there, I found a medallion in one of the temple ruins with strange markings on it. I'd never seen anything like it before and I've never seen it since. Logically the writing should have been Mayan, but it wasn't. If anything, it looked like Russian, which is completely bizarre because I dated it to nearly two thousand BCE and there definitely wasn't a Russian language then, at least not the way we know it - "
"Daniel!"
" - Anyway, that night I had a dream. I dreamed I was in this stone room, and there was a sort of shadowy figure there. He, or it, I was never completely sure, started teaching me the code."
Jack tried to follow the conversation. "The code on the amulet?"
"The warrior's code."
"The Mayan ninja stuff?"
Daniel gave him an exasperated look. Jack backtracked hastily. "Mayan warrior code."
"Thank you. Anyway, that's where I learned it."
"From the amulet."
"Yes."
Jack nodded cautiously. "The amulet taught you to dress up like a ninja and beat up car thieves."
Daniel raised one eyebrow. "I imagine it's sort of like when that device downloaded the knowledge of the Ancients into your brain and you started speaking Latin and building machines even Sam couldn't understand."
Okay, Jack could concede that point. He frowned. "Wait, you said the language wasn't Mayan?"
"I know!" Daniel nodded emphatically. "It surprised me too."
Jack let that one slide. "So if it wasn't Mayan, how can you be a Mayan ninja?"
Daniel's mouth opened, closed, and opened again. "I'm not a ninja!"
"You're not Mayan, either." Suddenly, something occurred to him. "Daniel... all those long, painful self-defense sessions where I tried and tried to get you to learn to protect yourself and you had the coordination of a wet noodle?"
Daniel had the grace to look abashed. "You seemed like you were having fun, Jack."
Jack just stared at him. Daniel tried a tentative smile, which faltered under Jack's glare.
"Do you know how many nights I spent worrying about you because I thought you'd get separated from us and you wouldn't be able to defend yourself? Do you have any idea how long it took me to convince the General to let you off-world on a first-contact team when you didn't seem to grasp the concept of ducking?"
Daniel looked at the ground. "I'm sorry, Jack." He shrugged apologetically. "I wasn't sure you'd believe me and I figured you'd worry anyway, so..."
Jack sighed. "All right. It's okay, Daniel. But," he held up one finger. "I expect to see you in the gym on Monday and I want to see exactly what you can do."
Daniel nodded, looking relieved. "Okay."
Jack smiled and straightened up from where he'd been leaning against the truck. "All right, let's get out of here. Um..." he cast a dubious look at the three unconscious men on the ground. "What do we do about them?"
"What?" Daniel followed Jack's gaze. "Oh. I usually just call the cops from a payphone or something." He started towards the passenger side of Jack's truck, stopping when Wheezy moaned and stirred a little. Daniel frowned and bent down, squeezing the side of the thief's neck until he went limp.
"Oh my God," Jack's jaw dropped.
"What?"
"You just did a Vulcan nerve pinch."
Daniel scowled. "I most certainly did not."
"Did too."
"Did not. Vulcans are fictional."
"Fine, have it your way. A Mayan Vulcan nerve pinch." Jack brightened suddenly. "Hey, maybe that explains the amulet! You're a Vulcan ninja!"
Daniel groaned and got in the truck.
THE END
