Entry in Daniel's Diary...

It's always them against me.

They keep asking me if I'm starting to feel at home, the McDowell's, Mrs. Hastings the Social Worker, even my teacher at school. This isn't my home and it doesn't matter how long I'm here, it never will be, why can't they understand that?

I'm trying not to be any trouble but, it's hard. I don't like having to stay with people I don't know and I can't make Grandpa Nick take me if he doesn't want to. I tried to get him to change his mind when he came to the funeral but, he wouldn't, he said his work was too important, and I'd just be in the way. I told him I wouldn't, I told him I could help him like I used to help my mom and dad on their digs, but, it didn't matter, he told me I had to stay here 'til I got big. I don't want to stay here that long, I just want to go home.

I could live by myself. I know how to make things to eat, and I could learn how to wash my own clothes. I told Mrs. Hastings that my mom and dad told me the rules for being home by myself but, she wouldn't listen, she just kept saying that I was too little. She said I was lucky that they had a family who could take me 'cause some kids don't get them and they have to live in shelters, and I wouldn't like that. Thing is, I don't like this either.

I worry that even though Mary told me this diary was private and I could write whatever I want, she'll be mad if she reads it and sees me saying things like this. I think she'll ground me, and not let me go to the library, which is the only thing I really like to do. They already won't let me go to the museum 'cause they think it will give me nightmares since that's where my mom and dad died, but, I still want to go.

It's all messed up and I don't know how to make any of it better. I ask 'em sometimes, Mrs. Hastings, my foster parents, and all they tell me is that I need to try to fit in more, to be like the other boys. I don't think they'll ever understand that I can't do that. My mom and dad raised me to be who I am, not someone else, and I'm not going to change for them, or anybody else. They can take my home and everything else of my parents away from me, but they can never take that, I won't let 'em.

Muse: Daniel Jackson
Fandom: Stargate: SG-1
Words: 460

What have you forgotten?

A man walks slowly up a flight of steps. He is thin, his face lined, the hair just visible under his hat grey, his clothes old-fashioned and just a little worn. Still he moves with a certain impressive certainty of purpose; his eyes sparkle with intelligence and focus. He does not raise a hand, but the heavy iron doors swing open before him in perfect silence.

A young man appears in a blur in the entrance hall, and accepts his hat, gloves and coat, bowing and vanishing. A green haired girl with fangs slides out of the darkness to lead the way. A mountain of a man opens the doors for him, with mocking pomp. The old man knows them all -- he thinks this might be the point -- but he says nothing.

The person he has come to visit -- and the old man hesitates to think of it as a boy for all its youth, or even a man; he has never been given reason to trust much of anything and certainly not appearance -- is standing in front of belching fire. Red-orange-yellow light sweeps across them in flickering waves.

"Dramatic," the old man says dryly. It earns something of a smile.

He takes a seat close to the fire without being asked. The arm-chair is brown leather, warm and just soft enough beneath him. A pot of tea lifts itself, and the old man nods, watching it pour into bone china cups.

"Terrible weather, lately," the old man says, and sips his tea. It's rich and smoky, full of subtle flavours that he savours while he watches the other. "No? To business then. And what name are you using today, Mister Connor? Should I address you by title, perhaps? ( Hile rex; hile the Crimson King )

I wish it could last. This peace, this lull of violence, takes some getting used to, but after a while it starts to feel nice. Like maybe it could stretch forever, and I could go on with my life.

I've started to notice things I never had the chance to before. Like the way Ethan's hand dances out to brush against mine, sending jolts of electricity up my spine, before fluttering back to cradle the huge book he holds. Or the way his smile slices through the early morning fog like a shot of espresso straight into my veins, forcing me to smile back. Even the way he hums as he takes a shower, just loud enough to be heard if trying, but quiet enough to let the others sleep undisturbed. And how I find myself with one ear pressed against the door, sifting through the sounds of running water and riotous snoring.

I want to cross the gap, to smear the line between friend and boyfriend, but I know this peace can't last, and I'm afraid that things might go back to before. Quick glances that don't say nearly enough, and the small kindness of coffee in the morning and the South Park I forgot to tape waiting on TiVo. And if I discover something more with him, I don't think I could live with anything less.

If only this could last.

Words: 233
Muse: Yiruma's "Love Me"
Fandom: Original Character

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