Cogitare
Cogitare
by Trendicide
TITLE: Cogitare
AUTHOR: Trendicide
EMAIL: trendicide@hotmail.com
CATEGORY: D/S Romance
SPOILERS: none
SEASON / SEQUEL: none
RATING: G
CONTENT WARNINGS: none, m/f
SUMMARY: A few more daniel thoughts.
STATUS: Completed
DISCLAIMER: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. We have written this story for entertainment purposes only and no money whatsoever has exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the authors. Not to be archived without permission of the authors.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I have never been taught Latin and have never studied it seriously, the little that is in here is purely guess work based on the small amounts I do know and a very small Latin dictionary, I apologise now for conjugation and grammar errors.
Cogito ergo sum.
*I think therefore I am*
Ancient Latin words, created on earth. So what are they doing on an artefact, too old be from after those words were uttered and one which was cast a thousand worlds away. Parallel cultures? Someone coming through gate and bringing this wisdom with them? It's the kind of puzzle I love, the detective work for an archaeologist, laid out in a simple Latin phrase, surrounded by a language I have not begun to decipher. 'Cogito' *I think* and that is exactly what I'm doing, embroiled in an argument with myself, revelling in the freedom of the half-light and the room. I scrawl in handwriting as indecipherable to anyone else as this language, grammar and syntax similarities, bits of pieces of the puzzle that fall delicately into place. It is so quiet in the room, though in my mind it is a riot. Yet a single knock on the door cuts through them both.
Sam stands there, bathed in half-light and the harsh fluorescence of the corridor. She looks at me mildly annoyed then taps her watch. For a second I am confused, my own watch says 6:30, not the early hours when we both usually stagger out of the base. Then the floodgates that hold my worldly thoughts at bay while I am working crash open and the memory of a promise to spend one night as normal people re-surface. Barbecue at Jack's, movie for later, rug and bed and hot chocolate in her house, all waiting for us to spend one night as an ordinary end of the century couple, not chasers of a past transposed to the present and a threat the world can only ignore. It sounds so appealing, yet I can still feel my eyes pleading with her like an inversion of a petulant child 'just five more minutes, let me finish my homework.' She just sighs against the doorframe and the wilt in her posture is enough to get me moving. I may want this, but she needs it. Ordinariness lacks in so much of our lives, but sometimes she needs more than I do to still feel in contact with the rest of the world. All I really need to feel in contact with the world is her. I rise cautiously from my chair, wary of stiff muscles and of limbs too numb to support my weight. All in working order, I join her at the door, motioning her out ahead of me, striding a little faster to catch up and walk side by side along the metallic grey corridor.
Cogitat ergo est.
*She thinks therefore she is*
She does all the time. Her mind is like mine, never silent, the whirr and hum of mental gears is as evident in her as it is in me. Although we walk in silence, without speaking, the communication is there. Practice and an understanding I can only class as instinctive tells me she wants to be out of this base as fast as possible. I can't tell if it's anticipation, eagerness or anger that drives her out, but there is reasoning, with Sam there is always reasoning. She is a scientist of the truest form, not the bumbling professor everyone pictures but the instinctive genius everyone wishes for. Her mind is as sharp as mine and we both don't so much take leaps of logic, but run at it with an intention to vault it altogether. Evidence, process, conclusion, A follows B follows C, it works the same for both of us, but with Sam, it's a blink and you'll miss it process. Action Barbie in a Labcoat with far more than air in her head. Of course I'd never say that out loud, her tongue is as sharp as her training and I have learned many of the greater virtues of silence by watching others trying to cross her. Cogitat *she thinks* Cogito * I think*.
Too true, as the verbs flow together and I conjugate them almost without thinking, it comes to me as easily as the times tables must have done to Sam, logical progressions, A-B-C, 1-2-3. These thoughts fill my head as I watch lift numbers pass harmlessly by, out of the depths and into the sunshine. Past Cerberus and into the light of day.
We've arrived at the top surface and we pass the last airman on guard giving him the automatic, polite smile that must almost be an inborn trait by now. The doors of the mountain complex open and together we step though. Out of air-conditioned silence, to the warmth of a warm summer evening. As we amble down the mountain road I feel her small hand slip into mine, another sign that differentiates between who we are in there and who we are in the light of day. Dr-Major Samantha Carter Ph.D. and Dr Daniel Jackson Ph.D., team mates and members of the most important work in earth's history to date, the Stargate project, step out into the light and become Sam and Daniel, lovers still in the first flush and discovery, secure simply in the knowledge that another loves them. I slip my hand gently from hers and drape my arm across her shoulders in a loose sign of possession, my cavemen instincts winning the smallest victory. She returns the favour by moving closer to me, snuggling into my side, marking her own territory. We talk about nothing and mean everything, she asks me if I have enough stuff at her place to change for Jack's, I respond with a question about who could drink and who should drive. The loose conversation keeps her mind slightly distracted and my own eyes hone in on the bag in her hand. She's been carrying it since we met in my office and my suspicions of its contents have by now moved to a racing certainty. Carefully I keep talking as my hand moves slowly down her arm until I am within a hairsbreadth of my prize. I wait, perfecting the moment, watching her face to see her turn away from our arms and look me in the face. Then I strike taking the bag from her hands and clutching it to me. She yelps in surprise then turns to face me.
"You knew didn't you." She eyes me acidly, but the hint of affection in her voice belies her emotions. I don't reply, instead I simply give her a whipped puppy look, the one that she has told me in more private moments, can have half the women on base swooning. Until this moment I unwittingly wielded the weapon, but self-preservation is a wonderful thing. She smiles and taking that as encouragement, I open the bag. Sweet cookies stare back at me innocently and I grin without thinking.
"Have them" she smiles at me encouragingly, "they're for you anyway." I take one and break it gently in half, offering some to her. She smiles and accepts it, whilst I eat the other, feeling the need of sugar acutely throughout my body. She must have known, she always knows. I hold her a little bit closer, bathing in her presence.
Cogitat nos ego ergo sum totus.
*She thinks of me, therefore I am whole*
End.
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