Famed in Song and Story by Fig Newton

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Famed in Song and Story
by Fig Newton

Story Bemerkung:

Written as a back-up for gateverse_remix, as a remix of majorsamfan's entertaining team fic The Forbidden Fruit.

Set in S8, with no real spoilers. Includes references to off-screen lack of clothing.

Thank you, Random, for the super-fast (and good as always) beta.

"I find it rather strange that you're the only member of SG-1 here at the briefing, Daniel." Jack thumped into the chair at the head of the table, resisting the urge to look over his shoulder for General Hammond. "Where's Carter and Teal'c?"

"Being diplomatic and staying far away," Daniel said, his voice suspiciously cheerful. He put down a steaming cup of coffee before settling comfortably into the chair on Jack's right.

Jack frowned. "Why? I thought you said the Asparagans agreed to the new treaty. That deep vein they opened up - we need that naquadah."

"Oh, they did, they did." Daniel hefted the roll of parchment in his hand. "One renewal of a treaty for mining naquadah, as requested. All ready for the formal ceremony tomorrow. The Asparagan Elders are looking forward to going through the Portal."

"So what's the problem?"

"Ah, not a problem. Not exactly." Daniel took a sip of coffee, then cleared his throat. "But there's a bit of formality that we're going to need to get through first."

"Like what?" Jack drummed his fingers on the table. "Daniel, I don't have to tell you that I don't need surprises right now."

"As if the Stargate ever gives us anything else?" Daniel rolled his eyes, then quirked a grin. "Don't worry, it's just the official treaty signing. There's going to be an extra exchange that we weren't expecting."

"Exchange of what, precisely?" Jack slouched back. "We'd better not be getting any complimentary wives again. Reynolds is still using the last three as blackmail material on Dixon."

"Oh, nothing like that." Daniel handed the roll of parchment across the table. "Read this. It's kind of self-explanatory."

"I'm not really interested in trying to decipher an alien language, Daniel. Why don't you read it to me?"

"The Asparagans speak English," Daniel said, his voice carrying that deceptively mild tone that always put Jack on guard. "It's true that they do employ a different writing system - logographic instead of alphabetic, some really interesting graphemes - but this is a copy made specifically for us. In our script." He reached for his coffee cup, then added, "And trust me, Jack. You do not want me reading that out loud."

Jack aimed his best glare at Daniel, but it was no use. It simply bounced off. He gave a long-suffering sigh and picked up the parchment with reluctance, pulling on the heavy purple ribbon that kept it closed.

"They were disappointed you didn't come, by the way."

Jack's fingers stilled.

"We explained to them that you're the head of the SGC now," Daniel continued. "They were quite pleased for you, actually."

Very deliberately, keeping his gaze fixed on Daniel, Jack untied the scroll. "This is about that... thing with their stupid apple. Isn't it." It was a statement, not a question.

"Whatever makes you think that, Jack?"

Jack gritted his teeth. He hadn't enjoyed his ordeal on Asparag, but it had been years ago. He'd managed to forget about it, for the most part. He and the other members of SG-1 had experienced more than their fair share of humiliating returns through the Stargate since then, including the time when they'd been covered in little more than glitter and the local equivalent of dandelion fluff. And the exact details of his "penance" had never actually been committed to writing, so outside of Carter and Teal'c and Daniel, no one knew about it.

Except, of course, the Asparagans themselves....

"Daniel." Jack's voice carried all the heavy menace he could inject into that single name - which, after so much practice, was quite a lot.

Daniel, completely unfazed, looked at him over the edge of his coffee cup. "Jack?"

Jack aimed a threatening finger at him. "Does the name 'Arrom' mean anything to you?"

Daniel sipped. "Why, yes, it does." His voice turned sardonic. "It means that I was fully clothed for a good three months before you found me, and you have absolutely no evidence of anything to the contrary. You, on the other hand..."

With a growl, Jack opened the scroll, skimming the first dozen lines of what seemed to be a very long poem. It seemed to be talking about holy days and devotion to honest work, and he began to wonder if he'd been unnecessarily paranoid. Then he caught the word Portal, and backed up to read the lines more carefully.

The Portal fountained, flaying air with lethal liquid lashing back
The Tau'ri flew the frigid falls to hail Asparag's hallowed hill
They basked in blesséd bounty there 'tween trees that tower towards the track
Caught by clarion of calls of splendid scenes that seized them still...

Jack looked up from the parchment with a snort. "'Hallowed hill' and 'splendid scenes'? Isn't this a little over the top for a bunch of guys wearing flannel and overalls?" he sniped.

"There's nothing wrong with a little exaggerated alliteration," Daniel observed between sips of coffee. "And anyway, those were their workclothes. Asparagan ceremonial wear makes tuxedos look downright sloppy. It takes over an hour just to get the fastenings done."

Jack gritted his teeth and skimmed further along the epic poem, wincing at florid phrases like the silhouette of sacred seeds and violate the venerated vine. Then he got to the detailed description of how the tainted Tau'ri pled for penance, and his temper blew.

"For crying out loud, Daniel! All I did was pick an apple! They acted as if I'd -"

"As if you'd risked the year's entire harvest by violating the sanctity of the one tree that represented their prayers to their deity," Daniel cut in. "They were afraid of being punished with drought, Jack. Your willingness to accept their penance meant a lot, but the bumper harvest they had the year after meant a lot more."

"They had a bumper harvest because we gave them better farming methods!" Jack snapped.

"Of course," Daniel shrugged. "But that doesn't change how it looked from their point of view."

Scowling, Jack read to the end of the poem, which did, in fact, relate his au naturel penitent walk through the village and the subsequent group prayer in wincingly exact detail. He skipped the last fifty lines, which seemed to praise the subsequent alliance with Earth, and dropped the roll of stiff parchment on the briefing room table, watching glumly as it unfurled.

"I need a P90," he announced. "Or possibly a flamethrower. No, never mind that. Just give me a zat."

Daniel gave the unrolled parchment a flick with his finger. "That wouldn't help very much. I told you, Jack - this is only our personal copy, written out in English for our, ah, convenience."

"Convenience," Jack repeated, his voice hollow.

"So we can follow along with the recital," Daniel added helpfully.

"I don't want to follow along!"

Daniel's mouth twitched. "No performance, no treaty," he pointed out. "I'd say you're stuck with it, Jack."

"You can stick it where -"

"Temper, temper."

Jack gave him a sour look. "You're enjoying this way too much, Doctor Jackson."

Daniel leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled and brow furrowed as he seemed to give the accusation full consideration. "Hmm... Probably," he conceded. He straightened up again. "It could be worse, though."

"Oh, yes?"

Daniel's eyebrows rose, then drew together. "Didn't I say?" He blinked, projecting that air of happy innocence that hadn't fooled Jack even once in the last eight years.

"Nooo," Jack drawled.

"We're only getting the poem here at the SGC." Daniel tapped the parchment again. "When they arrive tomorrow, three of their best actors will recite it in unison before the signing of the new treaty."

"Best... actors?"

"Oh, yes," Daniel said, his voice bright and his eyes glinting. "Back on Asparag, though, it was a full re-enactment, complete with appropriate... costuming." He paused, evidently to savor the look of horror on Jack's face, then added, "Sam and Teal'c both said that the actor who played you was an excellent likeness."

Jack let his head fall forward and thump gently against the briefing room table.

"I thought he wasn't quite gray enough, though," Daniel finished.

Forget zatting the parchment, Jack decided. He'd get Walter to zat Daniel instead.

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