I see the face in the mirror, but feel no connection. The people here try to tell me who I am.
Linguist.
Archeologist.
Anthropologist.
Diplomat.
Soldier.
Teammate.
Friend.
Some feel familiar, comforting. Others terrifying, alien. They're descriptions; nouns; describing what someone does, but not who someone is.
Daniel Jackson.
It's less honest than Arrom, for I have never felt more naked in my... short life than I do among these people who look at me with such desperate longing. I don't know how to be Daniel Jackson.
"Who am I?"
I stare at the reflection wishing someone, anyone, would answer.
| Category: | General |
| Genres: | Angst, Character Study, Drabble |
| Rated: | All Ages |
| Warnings: | None |
| Series: | None |
| Summary: | Identity is more than the sum of what we do. Homecoming missing scene. |
Story Notes:
This was from the Daniel Jackson A to Z on Live Journal.