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Daniel was
reeling, literally and emotionally. Vocal
chords paralysed, he didn't put up any kind
of fight when Jack extracted him from the
galley and tucked him back into his bunk, a
process the infuriating sonovabitch seemed
to quite enjoy before kissing Daniel a
chaste goodnight. He then cleared away the
detritus from the top bunk and made the
maximum arthritic fuss about hauling himself
up into it.
Retirement?
Retirement?
He tried to imagine SG-1, everything,
without Jack, and failed.
"You can't do it!" he burst out.
"It won't be the first time I've farted in
your refined presence," Jack retorted with
facetious dignity.
"Jack!"
"It's that crap they have the chicken
swimming in," Jack apologised. His head
appeared over the edge of the bunk. "Would
it kill you to show sympathy for a grumpy
old bastard with gas?" he enquired in
injured tones.
"Your standard defensive response when your
ass is about to get kicked is to engage in
deflection, obfuscation and diversion,"
Daniel told him sharply.
Jack considered this. "And your point is?"
"You can't leave me!"
Jack's head appeared again. "I wasn't
planning to," he said mildly, smiling.
"SG-1!" Daniel snapped. "You're not leaving
the team!"
"I…"
"You can't! We need you!"
Jack snorted. "You do?" he hooted.
"I do."
"I'd say since when, but you'd probably tell
me," Jack pointed out in mock-horror.
"SG-1," Daniel replied with steely patience,
"cannot function without you."
"It'll have to, because it sure as shit
won't function with me," Jack insisted
calmly.
His conviction momentarily silenced Daniel.
"I know what you're trying to say, Daniel."
"You do?" Daniel said dryly. Jack appeared
to be alone in this perspicacity. Daniel
wasn't honestly certain which way was up
right now. Jack had been talking and
talking, firing off revelations like they
were bullets, without pause, without
context, leaving Daniel at a loss to follow
him. He hated being so slow.
"But I'm compromised," Jack went on
inexorably. "I'm in love with you. I can't
command you, I can't command the team you're
part of, and you can't ask it of me."
"You're the one insisting you feel too
much," Daniel argued stubbornly, too
distressed to let this go. Jack was so much
a part of his world, it was unimaginable to
lose him from any part of it. Daniel had
made so many necessary compromises to keep
Jack, to keep all that he was allowed of
him, he was distraught that their coming
together could carry so high a price. "That
you've felt too much for a long time, yet
you've commanded just fine."
"I've functioned," Jack countered. "The same
way you've functioned, by repressing our
feelings for each other and being completely
fucking miserable. It's not possible for us
anymore, you have to see that," he contended
confidently. "We love each other, we're
sleeping together, making a commitment. We
can't take that back because it's
inconvenient."
Daniel's ragged, seething gasp cut across
Jack's insolent assertion like a knife.
"Sorry," Jack grated, after a boiling
silence. "Sorry," he said again, more
easily. "I know that I…I know, okay?"
"No, Jack, it's not okay!"
"Look, I know with my track record that
wasn't exactly the most tactful, er…"
"Will you stop being so fucking
reasonable!"
Daniel snarled, shoving aside the covers
with hands and then feet before tumbling out
of the bunk to plant himself, panting and
shaking with anger, in the middle of the
floor.
Jack's carefully meek, mild attentiveness
made him want to hit him.
"Reasonable? Not something I hear every
day," Jack noted philosophically. "I swore
an oath," he went on, in the same reflective
tone. "An oath to put service before self,
to put team before individual. I've been on
the edge, a knife's edge, of breaking that
oath for months now. It was killing me,
trying to hold on. I can't, I can not do
that anymore."
"And I can't ask you to," Daniel fired at
him, his fury fuelled irrationally by the
innate justice of this.
"No," Jack agreed soberly, insulting Daniel
with sympathy. "You can't. I know what my
commitment to the Air Force is worth, what
it's cost me personally, and I know what
you're worth to me. I won't cheapen this.
Us." He sat up, turning to swing his legs
over the side of the bunk, hands clasped
loosely on his thighs. "It's not just about
us, either. Carter and Teal'c deserve a
leader who'll be watching their six as well
as yours."
"I don't believe you would ever..." Daniel
argued passionately.
"You never do," Jack interrupted
affectionately. "I don't have your
confidence in me, Daniel, and frankly, I
don't know how you have it, the way I've
treated you. Tell me," he demanded,
"Honestly, could you take me any worse than
I've been?"
Daniel opened his mouth to issue another
angry denial and couldn't, literally
couldn't get the words out. He couldn't
counter this relentlessly efficient
emotional scourging of Jack's. Part of him
recognised the necessity for venting, the
ultimate health of it, but it was unbearable
to hear.
"I can't fight my own instincts and those
instincts will always take me to you. Every
decision, every choice I make, I have to
question how it affects you, is it a choice
I would've made before we got together. It's
not just exhausting myself second-guessing,
it's more than favouritism and fairness,
it's the life or death stuff, it's the
split-second you have to choose who lives
and who dies. If Carter or Teal'c died
because of some…"
"Stop!" Appalled, Daniel put his hands over
his ears. "Just stop, Jack, please!" Jack
had always done his duty, always done his
utmost to carry through what he believed was
right, no matter the cost to himself or to
the team, even when he was wrong. Jack
wasn't hearing him, though. He had to get
this poison out of his system and he was
venting, this was venting, he couldn't mean
it. He couldn't.
"One of us has to leave the team, Daniel. It
can't go down any other way."
"I could," Daniel burst out, only wanting
this to stop, and Jack to listen.
"Could you?" Jack challenged before he could
even get the words out. "Could you really
leave SG-1, give up your dream, for me? Your
dream, Daniel, not your duty. You live and
breathe that stuff, the meaning of life
stuff."
Daniel wanted to say that he could, that he
would, but the words didn't come. Jack
smiled gently at him as he floundered.
"Jack," he whispered, agonised, limitations,
obligations rising once more to drown him.
Jack dropped lightly down from the bunk to
take Daniel's face into his hands and kiss
him tenderly. "It's okay, Daniel," he
promised. "It's not the end of the world.
It's just…"
"I don't care less," Daniel pleaded,
clutching at him. "Jack, I love you."
"It's just priorities," Jack soothed,
petting his hair, holding him close in all
his despair and turmoil.
"Too much," Daniel whispered painfully.
"It's too much."
"We knew we were gonna have to work at
this," Jack comforted him. "The bottom line
has to be us both being honest."
This cut unintentionally deep, Daniel
bracing himself against blame Jack couldn't
possibly be…there was no way for him to
know. His dreams were bad, but he hadn't
said, he would know if he'd said something.
No, no, Jack couldn’t know. It was
impossible. Daniel was barely suppressing
his panic as it was. As little as he wanted
to talk about Elliot, Jack would want to
hear it less. It was too much to burden
anyone with. Too much to take.
He sighed, scrubbing his face into Jack's
shoulder, barely able to hold his own
weight. Jack was a man to fight limitations,
to decide for himself what he could take,
and he took Daniel's weight now, sinking
down with him to the floor, pulling the
blankets down to pool around them, both his
arms around Daniel, lips in his hair, on his
face, saying nothing, but offering his
solid, steadying presence.
Shamed, shameless, Daniel clung to him,
shaking and shaking.
"Morning," Sam greeted Daniel brightly when
he came into the galley. She did a
double-take when she got a good look at him.
"God, you look like you got hit by a truck!"
"Bad night," Daniel replied tersely, digging
into the MREs in search of dried apricots,
chocolate, power bars and coffee. It took
some rifling through the packages before he
could pull together what he wanted, but he'd
eat the leftovers later with the customary
boil-in-the-bag etiquette.
Sam pulled a face as he sat down opposite
her.
"Breakfast of champions," Daniel said
sarcastically as he tore into the chocolate
disks then started the precious coffee.
"Daniel, are you okay?" Sam asked after an
awkward moment where she looked as if she'd
prefer to stick with her laptop. She closed
it, though, picked up her dairy shake,
sipped and watched him thoughtfully.
Daniel smiled tightly at her unspoken offer
of companionship, sympathy. "I'm fine."
"You don't look it."
He glanced up at her fleetingly,
repressively, turning his attention
immediately back to his heating coffee.
"Are you and the colonel fighting?" she
asked carefully. "I, er, I heard voices,"
she admitted reluctantly, embarrassed.
"Look, I understand," he said automatically,
not particularly worried by this. Sam was in
a world of her own when she was working, she
didn't need to apologise to him for that. He
was just as absorbed, just as reluctant to
be disturbed. It required no explanation
where he was concerned. "It's okay. I know
you couldn't exactly butt in," he offered a
quick, plausible excuse for her pride's
sake. "You can't say anything, not where
Jack's concerned."
Sam stiffened a little. "What's that
supposed to…?"
"It's that whole chain of command thing,"
Daniel consciously quoted Jack, shrugging it
off. "Kind of makes it tough to be the
friend you'd want to be in other
circumstances."
Sam blinked at this and looked down
suddenly, colouring, to stare into her
almost drained shake.
Daniel hadn't meant anything personal, but
he found he couldn't be bothered to correct
or reassure her. He just went on eating,
having to wash down each grainy bite with
coffee to be able to even swallow.
Jack had been gone when he woke this
morning, no doubt needing to be in the zone,
the comfort zone, after the night he'd put
in with Daniel. He was up-front, hiding out
with Teal'c in the cockpit, quiet,
uncomplicated Teal'c. Self-realisation was a
bitch, huh? The resolution of some inner
conflicts only leading to more.
There wasn't a single argument Daniel could
advance for keeping Jack with him on their
team that wasn't completely, transparently
self-centred and Jack knew this perfectly
well, it was why he'd left Daniel alone to
digest this particular dose of harsh
reality.
They were arguing potentials and possibles,
stalled at an impasse because they were both
right, in a way. Jack's capabilities and
track record spoke for themselves, but
couldn't outweigh the potential for the harm
he could do because he was overtly
emotionally compromised. Daniel was loathe
to admit it, but his overactive conscience
wouldn't permit him to squirm off of this
particular moral hook.
Being honest, being together, seemed to be
costing them more than it was giving.
He was tired, he was so very tired of having
to think all the time. He couldn't even
pretend not to know what Jack meant when he
spoke of the toll of constant
second-guessing and he knew he couldn't put
Jack through that, not at any cost. It made
him miserable to concede, but he was having
to, driven from his position by Jack point
by point.
Recognising his own faults, his own penchant
for Pollyanna-ish naïveté, didn't seem to be
any material assistance in combating them.
It was childlike, to cling to hopes and
expectations, to unrealised dreams.
Everything had changed for them in such a
short time and yet, fundamentally, they were
still the same people, carrying the same
baggage.
Yesterday, Daniel was exhausted, alone,
willing to make any compromise that kept
Jack with him. He was still that man, he
still had the same choice to make, it was
only the context that had changed. All his
will and energy had been bent on keeping the
team functioning, now he was to be alone in
that, while Jack would fill up, would make
the private life he'd so long suppressed. He
was hungry to have Jack with him, to know
him in ways denied other people, but he
resented being forced to accept a choice he
wouldn't have made for either of them.
It scared him shitless how much Jack was
investing himself in him, how much he was
worth to him. He didn't feel he was worth
the Air Force, not to the man Jack was. He
couldn’t make himself believe in it. Jack
was certain, but Jack, oh, his Jack could be
wrong, and he defined himself as much by his
duty, his service to the Air Force, as
Daniel defined himself in his research and
the exploration they shared.
How much would it hurt Jack to be excluded?
How afraid would he be for Daniel, for Sam
and Teal'c? How could he stand to wait it
out at home while Daniel was in danger, the
world was in danger? Was Jack really that
strong?
He glanced up and found Sam still watching,
still waiting, her laptop closed and her
eyes intent on him. She smiled tentatively,
hopefully, inviting him. It was a long time
since Daniel had felt this warmth from her,
and he guessed she knew it. They were
friends, the two of them, they shared a rare
understanding. It was good, momentarily, to
feel something so uncomplicated. Daniel's
own smile was just as uncertain, but he got
up anyway, slid his coffee across to the
spot next to her, moved around and sat at
her side. Sam's smile steadied and warmed,
and he asked her to take him through the
repairs she needed to accomplish that day.
"Doesn't it ever overwhelm you?" Daniel
asked absently. He was standing behind
Carter, his hands lightly braced on the back
of her chair while she ran diagnostics and
he stared out at the big blue the ship was
punching through.
"Hyperspace?" Jack enquired, his own gaze
fixed appreciatively on Daniel's shapely
ass. "Not particularly. It's big, blue and
streaky."
Carter looked around him incredulously.
"Looks cheap," Jack went on deliberately,
"compared to what the SFX guys churn out in
Star Trek." He settled back against the
console, content. Carter was grinding her
teeth.
"I meant this," Daniel gestured expansively
at the ship.
"The ship?"
"Us," Daniel interjected sharply, cutting
him off at the rant. "Our mission." He
turned around to look at Jack, frowning.
"Saving the world?" he prompted
sarcastically.
"Literally," Jack said pleasantly.
"How many archaeologists take naps with
their butts parked on the back of a nuclear
weapon?" Daniel asked illustratively.
"One," Teal'c replied promptly.
"How many archaeologists wind up in space?"
"There are at present several attached to
various SG teams," Teal'c supplied
helpfully. "If you require me to enumerate?"
"No," Daniel denied emphatically, scowling.
"If our mission fails, our race will have
more archaeologists than astrophysicists,"
Carter commented, clearly disapproving.
"Exactly!" Daniel paced impatiently away
from Carter. "That's exactly my point. We're
talking about the end of civilisation as we
know it."
"I hate clichés," Jack complained, wincing.
"It's not a cliché," Daniel pounced. "It's
the literal truth, it's reality. Our
reality! The bottom line of this mission is
preventing the extinction of all life on
Earth. Six billion people. Incomprehensible
biological and anthropological diversity,
races, cultures, religions, history…all
eradicated if we fail."
"We get the stakes, Daniel," Carter said
patiently.
"And yet the only thing we're actually
talking about is the cosmic applicability of
bad movie karma."
Jack cleared his throat. "Hudson Hawk," he
reminded Daniel, as placatingly as possible.
"Gone!" Daniel snapped his fingers.
"Showtime, C-Span, L'Oreal, National
Geographic, National Enquirer, Library of
Congress, the Smithsonian, the pyramids,
Mary Steenburgen…"
"Daniel," Jack called out warningly,
something one of them had to do periodically
if they wanted to force Daniel into taking
the occasional breath.
"All gone! All that knowledge, expertise,
research, the entire body of evidence,
irrespective of discipline, gone," Daniel
argued passionately. "Three archaeologists,
seven USAF colonels, thirteen USAF majors,
however many captains, lieutenants,
sergeants. The Alpha site, humanity, will
have more security forces than scientists,
more administrators than educators."
"The battle against the Goa'uld goes on,
DanielJackson," Teal'c reminded him. "And
the Tau'ri, even in such straits as this,
are not without allies."
"Bless their little grey butts," Jack
muttered unforgivingly.
Teal'c tilted his head. "I refer of course
to Master Bra'tac and my brother Jaffa, as
well as the Tok'ra," he elaborated
repressively.
"Battle?" Daniel hooted derisively, shaking
his head. "What battle? Who do you think is
going to fight? All those people who left
behind wives, husbands, parents, children?
Who left those they loved to die? Could
Janet take Cassie? The general his
grandchildren? Ferretti, Emily and the kids?
Do we even know that?"
"No." Carter dropped her head, looking away
from them all. "There is no special
dispensation for anyone's dependents. When
Janet gates through to the Alpha site, she
gates alone." She was the only one of them
who had family, not just Cassie, but a
brother, niece and nephew…
Daniel went over to her and touched her arm
sensitively. He leaned in to earnestly
whisper something Jack didn't catch and she
smiled up at him, her eyes suspiciously
bright, her fingers curling around his arm.
"Ignore me," Daniel issued a general
apology. "I don't know what I'm talking
about."
"You're right to be upset," Carter assured
him. "To worry when there's so much to worry
about. I know what could be lost as well as
I know what can be saved, and I know, we
know the cost of both."
"What Carter is dancing around, there," Jack
interposed, "Is that we can't afford to be
upset, not when our responsibility is to
save all those people, including the ones we
love. All the what ifs and might have beens,
those have to be solely about the mission.
That's threat-assessment. It's our duty to
be dispassionate, objective, to put personal
feelings and issues aside because those six
billion people deserve to have us stay
focused." He wondered if this was what
Daniel was getting at, if he was still
fighting, or if he was trying to work
through in his mind his realisation Jack was
right. They couldn't be involved and stay
together on the team because their focus had
to stay outside of themselves.
And, yes, he was aware of his utter
hypocrisy given the circumstances and he
hoped Daniel was too.
It was hard, he knew exactly how hard it was
to take, and he also knew they were
choiceless. They had to accept this and move
on. The team as they knew it was screwed and
it looked to him as if Daniel was finally
fathoming this. From the moment they'd
kissed, there was no going back. Their only
choice was to be together as lovers, or not.
He was certain of Daniel's support, as
certain as he'd been of anything in his
life. He guessed this was one of the reasons
he loved him so much. Daniel wouldn't make a
liar of him, or a hypocrite, he simply
wasn't capable of it.
"I do not believe DanielJackson has lost his
focus," Teal'c observed disapprovingly.
"That's not what I'm saying," Jack said
quickly.
"DanielJackson in fact remains true to his
nature," Teal'c went on, superbly ignoring
Jack, "and continues to uphold his
responsibility to SG-1 in presenting other
options for our consideration."
"He's our voice," Carter agreed, still
smiling gently.
"That's just a polite synonym for nag," Jack
interpreted. "And for the record, I'm
confident Carter will save the world."
Carter let out a little whooshing breath and
sat up straighter, glaring at him.
"As am I," Teal'c seconded him serenely,
turning back to take the navigation
controls.
"No pressure." Daniel patted Carter's
shoulder in playful commiseration. "I've got
work," he added, jerking an eloquent thumb
in the general direction of his books and
the galley.
"I'm sure," Carter nodded, her eyes
dangerous.
Jack, who had been thinking for most of the
day he would really like to kiss Daniel,
decided he had work too. He ambled placidly
after Daniel, making sure he was out of
sight when he went into the sleeping
compartment to grab books, but planted his
ass at the table in plenty of time for him
to come out. Daniel, with an armful books
and an intense frown, smiled involuntarily
when he saw Jack sitting there, leaving Jack
feeling a helluva lot better about
everything.
"Have you thought about what will happen if
Sam doesn't, I mean, if we don't?" Daniel
asked slightly disjointedly as he came over
and sat down.
"I've thought," Jack said mildly. He thought
he got to have everything, Daniel and an Air
Force that would operate on his terms. "I
take command of the Alpha Site."
Startled, Daniel looked up from the books he
was sorting. "General Hammond?"
"Staying behind."
Daniel was trying to speak but didn't manage
it. He never did accept loss.
"He feels his place is there, Daniel. I
couldn't talk him out of it."
"Maybe that's the other reason you have to
stay focused, you have to stay
dispassionate," Daniel mused.
Jack looked at him enquiringly.
"You can't bear the alternative any more
than I can." Daniel opened a book, and then
his journal, and finally a fat manila folder
containing a sheaf of photographs.
Far from approving Daniel's heroic effort to
stay focused and discharge his duties in the
best military tradition, Jack straightened
up, glaring.
"I have work," Daniel reminded him.
"I was hoping that was a euphemism!" Jack
protested indignantly.
"It is a euphemism," Daniel agreed affably.
"For?"
"Fun."
"I have dishonourable intentions," Jack
hinted broadly.
"I'd rather work."
"Daniel!"
"Don’t you have a mission to command?"
"There's nothing to do!"
"That doesn't automatically translate into
licence to do me," Daniel stated briskly.
"Go hold Sam's wrench or something."
"I intend to hold something and it has
nothing to do with Cart…"
"Denial is good for you," Daniel informed
him sententiously, carefully selecting
another textbook from his pile. "Better than
hypocrisy, anyway."
Deflated, Jack sat back, gloomily aware
that, yeah, Daniel got it.
"I'm only trying to give you what you
wanted," Daniel gently stuck the knife in.
Oh, yeah, Daniel got it good.
Every colonel had his breaking point and
this was Jack's. It was within the realms of
possibility he was supposed to have the grit
and inner resources to hold out for longer
than eleven minutes and
fifteen-going-on-eternity seconds, but the
grizzled Special Ops sergeant who'd trained
him to hold out under torture had never
thought to throw a pensive, nearly naked
archaeologist at him.
"Daniel? Whatchadoin?"
"Why?"
"You're not supposed to answer a question
with a question."
"Then stop asking them."
"Look, the anticipation is killing me. Just
tell me. Is this the part where you lecture
me about personal feelings?"
"In what context?"
"Being compromised by them!"
"Um…"
"Is this where you drag out past examples of
feelings, favouritism and general
misconduct? Is this where I defend my
command?" Tactically, it was the next
logical step in the campaign. Attack. It was
what Jack would do.
There was a thoughtful silence.
"Is this where you convince me I can't be
any more compromised just by putting out
than I've ever been? And that, probably, my
mood will be significantly better?"
Daniel, damn him, mulled some more.
"Is this the part where I counter-attack by
forcefully reminding you of all the missions
you've successfully completed without me?
Missions you have, in point of fact, enjoyed
despite missing me desperately every moment.
Enquiring minds want to know."
"Nooo," Daniel drawled with judicious
deliberation. "I think this is the part
where we get naked and have sex," Daniel
suggested primly. "If you want?"
Jack, who was optimistically stripped for
action, hopped nimbly down from exile in the
top bunk and slid beneath the blankets,
beaming. He wanted. "No fighting?" he asked
hopefully, making himself comfy on and
around Daniel.
"I hate to be obvious."
"Tired?" Jack asked roughly, completely
failing to hide his concern.
Daniel smiled sleepily at him and stroked
his arm. "A strictly temporary cessation of
hostilities," he murmured, lifting his face
for a kiss.
"I'm crazy about you," Jack stated
emphatically, feeling Daniel couldn't hear
this kind of thing enough, then obliged with
the kiss. It completely blew his mind, every
time, to kiss Daniel. He'd watched this
gorgeous, generous mouth for years, usually
aching to stop whatever was coming out of it
at any given time, and here, at last, he had
the perfect silencer.
Daniel was a wonderful kisser, wonderful. He
responded with a quality of enthusiasm, of
adoration even, that punched out Jack's
greedy heart. He touched Jack's face, his
hair, stroked his throat and his shoulders,
hugged him close, made murmuring, ecstatic
noises, tasted good, felt good, felt fine,
licking, biting, sucking, kissing. Warm,
firm, flexible lips, lush and soft and
strong, moving over Jack's, hot, wet tongue
stroking, squeezing, tasting, tormenting. He
kissed with all he was, all he felt, nothing
hidden, nothing held back, he kissed with
love.
It burned away everything but feeling.
Jack felt as if he could do anything, his
body snapping with energy and fear and joy,
loose, limber, free, heat coiling, flushing
his skin and Daniel's, licking his belly and
fat, pounding cock. He pushed into Daniel,
hard, harder, pinning him against the
bulkhead, close to him, closer, craving hot,
silk skin, pushing and rubbing, hip and
thigh and belly, cocks humping, grinding.
Shivering friction, shaking legs, a burn in
his chest, Daniel's tongue in his throat,
his body tight, tighter, head swimming, all
of him stretched and sweating, slick and
rubbery, spiralling, blinded and clenching,
crushed with pleasure. Breathless, scalded,
he shuddered into slow, slurring orgasm.
Panting into the pillow, exhaustedly humping
Daniel as he spasmed beneath him, love was
absolutely clear to Jack.
"Ceasefire?" Jack prompted, idly stroking
Daniel's arm.
The two of them were sprawled sweatily,
comfortably, Jack more or less using him as
a pillow.
"Time out? Moratorium?"
Daniel, who was almost relaxed, let Jack
ramble.
"For real?"
Daniel smiled slightly.
Jack eyed Daniel warily, obviously trying to
work out where the rain was on this
particular parade.
"I care enough to fight," Daniel assured
him, smoothing his fingers through tufted
strands of silver, "But I'm not going to."
"That makes no sense," Jack said
encouragingly, stirring himself enough to
kiss Daniel's shoulder.
"Yesterday, I was willing to compromise to
keep you, I was ready to give anything you
asked of me," Daniel said seriously,
stilling an uneasy shift by Jack. "The only
thing that's changed for me is what you're
asking. I'm not happy about your decision,
but I'm trying to respect it and to come to
terms with it."
"And that's it?" Jack asked slowly, lifting
up to look at him consideringly. "That's
all?"
"I'm not saying it’s easy," Daniel said
tartly. "Only that I'm trying."
Jack shot him a meekly apologetic look and
kissed him gently on the mouth. "You love
me," he observed with sunny satisfaction.
"For no good reason," Daniel warned him.
"I put out," Jack reminded him sweetly,
smiling, his eyes flaring.
"That was…" Daniel said involuntarily.
"That… I…I liked that." Messy, jarring and
real.
Jack waggled his eyebrows as he launched
into his best playfully slutty
bump-and-grind. "I plan to give you such a
hard time," he promised huskily and then he
tilted Daniel's face up to meet his soft
kiss. "We good?" he whispered, brushing his
lips over Daniel's.
Daniel could only nod. He wanted more than
anything to bring Jack closer to him, to
just be allowed to love him. It hurt too
much to fight, to think. He wanted more of
this, warmth and closeness, confidences,
careful, considerate intimacy, questions
that meant something to them both, and
brought answers. He wanted respite and a
quiet, a giving, easy time.
He wanted to love Jack.
He…he wanted.
It had been so long.
Jack was ready to give him anything he
could, to do anything for him. Daniel was
beginning to realise that Jack's
determination to quit the team was an
expression, an extreme expression of his
protectiveness. This could be fuelled by
guilt, some notion of making it up to Daniel
only Jack understood. The man's sense of
justice was at times quixotic, Jack never
hesitating to tilt at his own particular
windmills. Daniel understood Jack's
protectiveness, he trusted it as an
absolute. He wasn't certain, but he had the
hope, an expectation that at the core, Jack
would not be able to let go. The first time
Daniel got hurt, or the others got hurt
because he wasn't there, Jack would not be
able to stand it. This, the very notion of
quitting, was an extravagance. Jack meant it
now, but it would change. Jack would change.
Daniel hoped…
A lot had changed since yesterday. He had
changed.
"We're good," he promised with a swift,
strong kiss, pulling Jack's face down to
his. "Jack," he whispered emotionally.
"My ass is grass, Daniel," Jack joked
gently, engulfing him.
They were good.
"You're going back to bed, Daniel, and
that's an order!" Jack insisted.
"I'm fi…"
"You do not look it," Teal'c interrupted,
treacherously picking a side. "You in fact
look like…"
"Shit!"
After some reflection, Teal'c bowed his head
in acknowledgement of the justice of this
pronouncement from his embittered, anxious
team leader. Then he fixed Daniel with his
sternest parental stare. "We have been
aboard this vessel for three days,
DanielJackson. I do not believe you have
slept since we departed Revanna."
"I have news for you," Daniel said dryly. "I
went through years getting less sleep than
this when I was getting my Ph.D's. I still
regularly, frequently, get less sleep than
this."
"Colour me unhappy," Colonel O'Neill
informed him grimly.
"Sam gets less sleep than this."
"Leave me out of it!" Sam promptly called
out from the engine compartment.
"Traitor!" Daniel called back.
"Major Carter's face did not have to be
extracted from her serving of Country
Captain Chicken," Teal'c pointed out
unanswerably.
"Power nap?" Jack enquired interestedly.
"Don't you have nothing to do someplace?"
Daniel snapped, scowling.
"I decided to do you," Jack enunciated
crisply and probably deliberately, eyeing
Teal'c with pantomime subtlety while Daniel
floundered, flushing.
"I agree, O'Neill," Teal'c acknowledged the
Vaudeville act graciously. "There is but one
of him." He and Jack closed in purposefully.
"Don't you dare!" Daniel snarled, outraged.
"Carter!" Jack yelled. "Get your ass in here
and tuck Daniel in!"
"Be right there, Sir!" Sam called back
gleefully.
"I'll get you!"
"Not if we get you first," Jack informed him
as he and Teal'c pounced, tenderly removing
Daniel from the table, the galley and his
boots.
Jack stuffed him into the bottom bunk and,
closely supervised by Teal'c, tucked him in.
He patted Daniel insultingly on the cheek
and wished him sweet dreams.
The sonovabitch did enjoy that!
Sulking under the blankets, Daniel
surrendered to mischief, and told Teal'c
that Jack was keeping him awake with his
nocturnal emissions.
"Snoring," Sam translated sotto not very
voce for Teal'c. "I hear him too," she
grumbled, then caught Jack's eye and
prudently withdrew.
"Then it would be wise, O'Neill, for you to
transfer your belongings to a distant
compartment," Teal'c judged, planting
himself between Jack and Daniel.
Daniel plucked an arm from beneath the
blankets and blew Jack a little kiss.
Jack was still glassy-eyed and glaring when
Teal'c's practiced looming forced him out
the door.
Daniel pulled the blankets over his head and
settled in for a quality sulk.
Actually, he was quite worried. He wasn't as
bad as he was the first night with Jack, but
the more comfortable he was with Jack by
him, the more his body fought for rest, the
more disturbed his dreams were becoming. It
upset him that he was coping so well with
the sex itself and yet sleep was so loaded,
so difficult. The real experiences he and
Jack shared making love were getting to be
pretty good but they weren't replacing the
old nightmares, the uncertainties between
illusion and reality, merely overlaying
them. It was less frightening than before,
that was something, but his disorientation
was greater.
Jack was being great, completely tolerant
and understanding, but his newly found
patience had its limits. He was worried
sick, it was showing, and he could not go on
not asking questions, not pushing when
Daniel was getting himself into such a state
every night.
Daniel didn't know what to do. He honestly
didn't. He was utterly exhausted fighting
clear of this on his own but he couldn't see
any way for Jack to help him, or even
understand him, only to think less of him in
his humiliation.
How could he have been so stupid? So
trusting? Where did the arrogance come from,
the arrogance to believe he could influence
another, induce something positive from what
had seemed to him a bleak existence?
He thought he was in control, and he had
none.
He thought he was helping, and had only
opened himself to, to…God, he couldn't even
formulate the word. It had happened. It.
Showing Elliot there were choices, feelings,
had crippled Daniel, deadened him in ways he
couldn't bear Jack to touch. He woke again
and again in terror, heart bursting,
shuddering from desperate, alien skin, so
much revulsion he felt sick.
How could he take this to Jack and open
himself to, to pity? How could he give it
more life, when it had ruined so much of
him?
Daniel couldn't carry this alone, couldn't
fight, and couldn't share. As badly as he
wanted to trust Jack, he saw, he felt only
loss in telling. He wouldn't risk Jack and
everything good, and so he went on,
bitterness and desperation stifling him.
Something would give, it had to.
He didn't think he was in control. He had
none.
He was scared to death.
"That was not funny," Jack complained darkly
when he finally ran Daniel to ground,
reading in the spot he'd claimed on the back
of the warhead.
"Neither was your Stepford Mom act," Daniel
snapped, his fingers trembling on the book
he held. "I'm not a child, Jack, I don't
appreciate being treated like one."
"I don't think you're a…" Jack began, taken
aback by Daniel's biting tone. He didn't get
a chance to say or do anything else.
Daniel's face wrenched and for a horrible
moment, Jack thought he was going to cry. He
didn't know whether reaching out would help
or not and found he couldn't, helplessly
watching Daniel in agony and gutting it out
alone.
Jack felt ashamed of himself, lost, when
Daniel shakily stood, one white hand
clutching the book, the other Jack's
t-shirt, trying pathetically to smile. He
didn't make it, he'd reached some kind of
limit and he seemed to know it, slowly
leaning in to touch his face to Jack's
shoulder.
Teal'c was upfront, Kel'No'Reeming before
the big blue, Carter was out back,
calculating unspecified but extremely
exciting calculations, and the asshole was
here, a deer in the headlights.
It killed Jack he hesitated, that he could
feel exposed when Daniel needed him. He was
rough when he grabbed on to him, making an
over-compensatory statement, and he was glad
of it when Daniel relaxed gratefully into
him.
"I suck," Jack sighed, rubbing Daniel's
back. "What was all that crap about me with
the brakes off and you having to take it?"
"Shut up, Jack."
The hoarse, difficult plea shut him right
up, with more mental kicking.
Emotion was difficult in another man, even
this man. He loved Daniel, he knew him like
he knew no other, and even with all of that,
part of him freaked every time he didn't get
to believe Daniel was 'fine', didn't get to
walk away.
Closing in on fifty was late, was way too
late to wake up gay. Jack was growing more
and more closed-off, needing more and more
distance to be able to function, and that
wasn't something he could necessarily blame
on the Air Force. It was hard on him to care
as much as he did, too hard. He'd been in
retreat for years now and hadn't really
fought it.
Deflection, obfuscation, diversion?
Yeahsureyoubetcha.
Daniel's heart seemed to be thudding against
Jack's chest, a truly disturbing sensation.
Jack shifted position, settling his own chin
on Daniel's shoulder, holding him that bit
closer, glanced up and found Carter
strolling into view. Before he could do
anything, she saw him, processed Daniel
hunched over mid-crisis, grimaced madly and
turned smartly on her heel to bolt silently
back the way she came, leaving well enough
alone.
Fuck it, Jack thought defiantly. He'd hugged
her snivelling ass more than once.
He didn't do this with men, though. Just
this man. He didn't know why. He could hug
the big guy, he could hug any guy he knew
real well, the full back-slapping manly-man
ritual. He could even hold the hand of a
dying friend when asked and make the
requisite wisecracks. He couldn't touch
another man though. He'd never wanted to.
Just. This. Man. And here he was. Not even
running any more, except possibly from his
own ineffectiveness. Nothing felt better to
him than touching Daniel, nothing could. He
couldn't close himself off from this,
couldn't retreat, didn't, in his heart, want
distance.
What he did want was to be able to cope
because he was sure he was shit at this.
Being with Daniel wasn't like being with
Sara, it was more consuming, more
exhausting. Jack didn't think he loved
Daniel more, but he did love him
differently. Maybe he had to, because Daniel
knew him in ways which had always been
beyond his wife. It was a cliché but it was
also inescapably true: combat changed a man.
Only those who'd shared the experience of
killing and surviving to kill again could
possibly understand. Daniel was the one Jack
couldn't shut out. Or up. Being friends,
being men, living and fighting together as
teammates, brothers in arms, made it so much
harder to hide, and Daniel was no respecter
of the boundaries imposed by what
masculinity was popularly supposed to be.
Jack wished he wasn't shit and that he could
get Daniel to talk to him. A hug should be
good, should be healthy from this man,
never, ever the touchy-feely type. In fact,
Daniel trying to burrow inside him was
fucking huge.
It still felt as if he were hiding.
"Can't you talk to me?" Jack pleaded,
praying he could take being denied Daniel's
pain, that he wouldn't lose it and spill
everything to make all this go away.
"Please, Daniel, talk to me."
Daniel stirred, peeling himself away from
comfort to smile waveringly. "I want to
trust you."
He kept saying this and Jack no more knew
what to do with it now than he had the first
time he heard it. What could he do for
Daniel? What?
"There's nothing you can say, nothing you
can feel, that would make me love you less.
Nothing," Jack said steadily, in doubt and
on the offensive. "How could it, when you
know the worst there is to know of me and
you can still want me the way you do? You're
throwing yourself away on a loser who isn't
half the man you think I am." Those glasses
of Daniel's could be rose-coloured where he
was concerned and he knew it. It wasn't lack
of perception, it was love. "I'm not asking
you to trust me, to talk to me because you
love me, but because you know me. You know
me, Daniel, better than anyone. You know my
limits, you know I walk away from what I
don't want to hear. You know it all. Trust
that."
Daniel closed his eyes, thinking, his
forehead deeply furrowed. It was only ever
with Jack he seemed to be reduced to this
state. Either the others didn't touch him so
deeply as Jack did, or he simply coped
better with them. Jack never could tell.
"I made a mistake."
Dust-dry, but talking. Relief was dizzying,
his reaction over the top for the little
Daniel had said, Jack covering by turning
them around, pulling him down with him to
sit at the back of the warhead, biting his
tongue to keep from talking, to keep the
focus on Daniel.
"I, I trusted someone."
The soft, halting words were covering a
world of pain.
"I was wrong." Daniel's voice lilted on a
deprecating smile but his bleak eyes were
empty, inward looking, his fingers knotting.
"I got it so wrong. Nothing I knew…"
Jack reached across, rubbing Daniel's thigh
back and forth, back and forth, a calming
rhythm, letting him know he was with him.
"Nothing I knew seemed to apply," he echoed
something Jack had said to him before.
How could it? How could this have happened
when Daniel was quietly doing his thing at
home? With all that they'd done as SG-1, all
that they'd been through out here, how could
this have happened to him there? How could
he have seen Elliot coming? Elliot, for
chrissake? Ambitious, pissant wannabe little
nonentity, pushing, always pushing at his
fear of inadequacy. Daniel's life was too
solitary, too often disappointing to have
prepared him for a betrayal like this. He
was too much the loner to really know how he
affected others, never, ever expecting the
shit that happened to him with a vengeance.
Knowing Jack, and Carter, had changed him
though, taught him to trust one of their
own. The defences he had weren't enough for
Elliot.
"There's," Daniel's voice broke and he
swallowed painfully. "There's more."
"There's time," Jack blurted out because he
had to, despite his determination to be the
good listener. He couldn't bear to see
Daniel in this much pain and not be making
it better.
"Not yet, okay? Not yet." Daniel said this
as if he were trying to make himself believe
there would be a time he could do this.
"Let's go to bed," Jack suggested. "I need a
hug." It was a crass, stupidly selfish thing
to say, a very him thing to say, but oddly,
it struck the right note with Daniel,
accepting of everyone's limits but his own.
An idea of how to help Daniel shake
something loose, how to punch through this
strangling, protective reserve had come to
him. It could be exactly the wrong thing to
do, but it was the best, in fact the only
strategy he could come up with. He had the
advantage of knowing what Elliot had done to
Daniel, time he put that to some good use.
Carter was at the galley table with
schematics and a power bar. She glanced up
when Jack walked Daniel out of the engine
compartment, frowning worriedly when Daniel
blanked her. Jack spared her a quick look he
hoped came off as reassuring, feeling -
crap, he didn't know how he was feeling, a
Special Ops colonel in the USAF being
cheered on by his oblivious second in
command as he headed off into the dark to
have sex with his civilian specialist.
Not only unethical, but criminal conduct. He
was completely out of control, here.
Daniel sat heavily on the edge of the bunk,
jumping when Jack knelt down and began to
unlace his boots for him, stammering his
incomprehension as Jack babbled out his
intention, too fast and too soon.
"I said." Discomfited, Jack could feel heat
bloom in his cheeks. "I think, that is, I…"
"Jack!"
What Jack thought was that he was safely in
his comfort zone in their lovemaking.
Equipped with a cock all his life, hands
were easy, merely a question of context as
it were, sweaty rubbing and wrestling and
rolling around surprisingly sexy and
satisfying, being inside Daniel delirious,
exactly his idea of what manly sex with a
man would be. He was scared it was all about
control for him. When, exactly, did he start
giving something? When would he give up on
keeping sex safe?
"I want to give you a blowjob," he blurted.
Daniel let out a breathy, staggered 'oof'
which shamed Jack into some semblance of
bravado. He had Daniel's BDUs unbuckled and
headed towards his knees before his poor
love recovered enough to bleat out an
inarticulate protest.
"I've got one myself, y'know," Jack chided
him with a little admonishing wave of his
not unattractive cock. "I'm pretty sure I
can work out what to do with yours."
"I'm not asking you to," Daniel argued
anxiously, possibly attempting to
disassociate himself from his cock, which
was trying to have the casting vote.
"I want to," Jack retorted with as much
conviction as he could actually manage.
Feeling he had to start someplace, and soon,
or he wouldn't be starting at all, he buried
his face in Daniel's groin and breathed him
in. "Damn, you smell good." A familiar,
comfortable guy smell with a hint of…"Minty
fresh?" He sat back in surprise. "You
floss?"
"I had Cassie as my not particularly Secret
Santa," Daniel snapped, embarrassed.
Ah. A chick thing. The female definition of
what smelled good was often diametrically
opposed to the male, but in this case, Jack
was pleased to approve.
Knowing how the equipment worked was, in
Jack's humble opinion, half the battle. He
angled Daniel's cock and tried an
experimental lick, squeezing his tongue
against the underside of the head. It always
made his thighs tremble and from the sounds
of it, appeared to be working just as well
for Daniel.
Every detail of what Elliot had done to
Daniel was burned into Jack's brain. There
were things he could do for him that he knew
would bring him pleasure, good memories he
hoped would erase the bad. It was low to use
a man's sexual fantasy against him, but he
so wanted Daniel to be able to let it all
go, he was willing to do anything that might
help.
This was for Daniel.
Licking, licking was good. Lifting Daniel's
cock to rub his tongue along a fat vein on
the underside, that was good for him too.
Taking hot, heavy balls velvet in his
fingers and then in his mouth, surprising
him and Daniel both. He was ridiculously
proud when Daniel let out a moan, a keening,
throaty sound of real pleasure, the first
from their lovemaking.
He jumped, though, when tentative hands
touched his hair and were snatched back with
a guilty start.
Just as guilty and nervous, Jack reached out
quickly, took hold of Daniel's hands,
squeezed them reassuringly. He was well
aware he was disassociating here,
intellectualising what he was doing for
Daniel, breaking down the mechanics to small
component doable steps. Maybe some day he
would feel it.
Rolling Daniel's balls in his mouth, one
then the other, moving his head back to
stretch and tug delicately on the sensitive
skin, fingering the base of his cock, all
solid scores. Daniel's legs were shaking,
subtle hips writhing helplessly into and
away from pleasure he could hardly stand but
fought to take care over.
Daniel was a generous, gentle lover, and
Jack cared enough to send his very best.
He squared his shoulders and swallowed,
first the head of Daniel's cock, and then,
gamely, bitter juice exploding over his
tongue. Daniel loved to have his cock
sucked.
Cocksucker. Jesus, that was Jack. Literally.
He wondered if realisation shocked Daniel
this badly to have Jack fuck him? Could
there be any comparison?
Hell, if nothing else came of this, at least
the two of them could compare hang-ups.
Fingers deft and firm, he stroked and
squeezed with practiced economy and some
notion of what felt specifically good for
Daniel, his aching mouth riding the head of
a thumping cock, tongue stinging from
python-like gymnastics, sucking with all the
finesse of a vacuum cleaner. Dimly he heard
his name, taut and urgent, then Daniel
jerked beneath him and he was swallowing
hot, viscous salt reflexively, with
difficulty and astonishment.
It was over.
"You're sure I can't do anything for you?"
Daniel coaxed, stroking Jack's belly.
"You can talk to me."
"Jaaack," Daniel wheedled.
"I'm an old man," Jack vigorously insisted
on his decrepitude, grinning, tweaking
Daniel's hand away to a safer location,
trapped under his. "This thing takes time,"
he nodded in the general direction of his
genitals, "and, sadly, a certain amount of
preparation."
"Well, then talk to me." Daniel was giddy
and shakily grateful to feel almost human,
to feel loose and easy with Jack. "Tell me
you're okay."
Jack's dark eyes were wry but he would only
smile and kiss Daniel's brow. "I keep trying
to get you to talk and I keep screwing it
up," he sighed theatrically.
"You didn't," Daniel denied gruffly.
"No?" Jack straightened up, his face
softening from deflective slapstick to hope.
"It, it seems important to you," Daniel
offered diffidently.
"You're important to me," Jack contradicted
him comfortably, cuddling him in.
Important enough Jack had pushed his
boundaries far beyond what Daniel had
assumed, had judged him capable. He was
sorry he'd had so little faith and was also
seeing for the first time he was making Jack
do all the work when they were in bed. He
hoped, he wanted very much to give something
back.
He was steadying, incomprehensibly, he was
finding some balance. His body reacted to
Jack, to his touch, not to skilful
mechanics, knowing hands and mouth. Elliot
was smooth, practiced, rapacious, wanting
Daniel's body, while Jack still had a moment
of palpable perplexity when he got it up for
Daniel. He loved Daniel, enough he was
learning to accept, and even enjoy, the
package he came in.
Jack made love with Daniel, with care and
warmth and patience but not always with any
great degree of success. They worked at it
more than they enjoyed it, straining to make
themselves fit and feel good. There was no
taking in it, only sharing and learning
together. The biggest payoff for Daniel was
getting to know Jack in ways he never had
before, ways that were closed to everyone
else. Jack in bed was different than even
the Jack who was his friend, but he was
realising now the seeds of this man he was
just beginning to know had been there for a
long time, unrecognised by him.
"You're important to me too," Daniel
promised. Jack's eyebrows went up, velvety,
eager eyes begging. He'd been a very good
boy, and he knew it, and he wanted his
treat. "You know when I first realised I
loved you?" Daniel said impulsively.
"Do tell."
"When you were leaving me. We didn't know
where you needed to be, or if you'd make it
back, only that you were driven to go. You
built the power device, programmed in the
destination, locked in that ninth chevron
and you had to go. You had to leave me
behind."
"Again with the me," Jack picked him up on
it laconically, unable to hide his pleasure.
"I wouldn't leave you but you were leaving
me," Daniel remembered. "You needed to go
and instead of insisting, instead of
marching right through the wormhole after
you, I let you go. I understood you needed
to go alone. I can't even explain the faith
I had you'd come back to me." He kissed
Jack's throat. "The Ancients' database," he
added vaguely.
"I remember it well."
"You didn’t remember anything," Daniel
corrected him, unable to suppress a twinge
of regret.
"I remember the look on your face," Jack
explained patiently. His smile broadened. "I
knew you loved me," he acknowledged
complacently. "A lot."
"Good for you," Daniel praised. "I was
sitting on a storage crate in a ship very
much like this one, limping back from Netu
before I, er, before I, I knew what I knew."
"What?"
"That I loved you."
"Ah."
"That I'd loved you for a very long time."
"Since the Ancients?"
"Yes."
"Not just in a chummy, best bu…"
"No."
"Wow." Jack considered this revelation and
generously deigned to admit to a minor fault
of his own. "I guess I didn't know what I
knew either."
"Do you know you're blushing?"
"Hot flush," Jack insisted defiantly. "Age
withers, y'know."
"If I were an idiot, I'd gush at this point
about liking old things," Daniel observed
thoughtfully. "A less perceptive man might
think, from all the hints you've been
tossing out, that it was actually okay to…"
"Can we get back to the part where you love
me?"
Daniel smiled at him. "We can."
Jack's eyebrows soared expectantly.
"I guess you're right."
"Grudging, yet true."
"Right about me knowing your limits," Daniel
elaborated, rubbing his fingers along Jack's
arm, idly tracing the contours of his bicep.
"You kind of set me straight about those
when I tried to follow the protocol Sam was
lecturing me about and called you 'colonel'
a time or two."
"The whole Jack thing?"
"That."
"Big mistake. I gave an inch, you took…"
"Exactly what you wanted me to take, Colonel
O'Neill, Sir."
"There's an unsubtly negative emphasis
there," Jack disapproved.
"Well, it's an example of limits. A good
example," Daniel explained placatingly. "I
get to call you Jack, and Sam gets to call
you Sir."
"That's military protocol," Jack objected.
"That's 'sir!' to you, Carter," Daniel
mimicked, with fair accuracy. "It's not as
if Sam exactly asserts herself where you're
concerned to start with."
"You know, when I invited you to review my
limits, it wasn't with the intention of
having to lie here and take anything you
choose to dish out in return," Jack
complained, not allowing himself to be
soothed by the petting and stroking.
"I'm just saying that sometimes Sam has a
problem asserting herself and sometimes you
can't be bothered to make sure she does,"
Daniel said gently.
Jack opened his mouth to retort, and then
closed it again, looking rueful.
"When you agree with me, it's 'Daniel is
usually right about these things' and when
you don't, 'it's never enough' with me and
'it's always about you, Daniel'."
"Limits, huh?"
"You like compartments, Jack. You like
limits. You like people to stay within the
parameters you've assigned them, and when
they exceed your limits, it's not always
pretty."
Jack made an 'ouch' face.
"My limits with you are different," Daniel
mused. "I lost sight of that somewhere along
the way. When I push, you give. When I talk,
you may hate what I'm saying, but you
listen. You allow me to influence you where
no one else does because you don't let them.
I know how much respect you have for General
Hammond, and yet, I see how hard you make
him work when he pushes your limits. I guess
your comfort zone is one of hierarchy, but
it's a hierarchy which has you at the apex.
Equality is not your natural," he hesitated.
"I don't know how to say this. Or maybe I
do. You recognise me as an equal, Jack.
That's the difference. And I'm the only
one."
Jack's hand came up to cup Daniel's face.
"Alphas mate with alphas," he said lightly,
his thumb stroking curiously over Daniel's
stubble.
"I think you've wanted to mate since I came
home from Abydos," Daniel decided. "I was
just a little slow to, um, to…"
"I did not!"
"No, no, you're right," Daniel conceded. "It
was before we left Abydos. In fact, you made
your intentions clear the moment you saw me
in the gateroom."
"And now, five years later, you take a
hint?" Jack snorted, shaking his head and
refusing to be drawn into this fruitful
tangent.
"You don't have any physical limits with me
either!" Daniel argued, warming to his
theme. "You hug, pat, ruffle, fondle,
stroke, hold my hand…"
"Any of which we could be doing right now,"
Jack hinted suggestively.
Daniel politely extended his hand. Jack
looked at it, sneering.
"All of which we've done for years."
Daniel's fingers found Jack's arm again.
"You talk to me, where you won't talk to
anyone else, even when you don't want to
talk."
"I never want to talk."
"You're all about limits."
"Yes," Jack agreed with a hint of sadness.
"I know your limits."
"And you trust them?"
Daniel closed his eyes and nodded.
"So talk to me."
They could both play the game, dancing
around the point without ever losing sight
of it. They were so good at this, so in
tune, they didn't need to speak, they could
be in a room together and without even
looking, they'd know. They could be alone
together with people all around them.
"It's hard, Jack," Daniel said painfully.
"It's really hard."
"I know, Daniel," Jack hushed, slipping his
hand around to hug Daniel's neck. "If you
can."
"I don't know if it's the right thing for me
or not, if I'm giving it more life, or, or
taking a step away from it. It scares me I
can't trust myself, that I don't know."
Daniel had been alone for most of his life,
had grown used to disappointment and relying
on his own resources because no others had
seemed open to him. He had always relied on
himself and to be robbed of his small
certainty was the hardest for him to take,
it was beyond him. "I trusted someone," he
said fitfully, eyes tight shut, anchored by
the warmth of Jack's hand. "I was wrong."
Panic was a live thing, a palpable,
oppressive force. Panic was a biting metal
taste in his mouth and numb lips, his heart
slamming against his ribs, cold in his
belly, fingers distant and tingling,
useless, a roar in his ears…
He couldn't live like this. This wasn't
living at all, this was survival. Daniel had
learned the difference between the two long
ago, in a dusty, sunlit museum as a cover
stone fell.
"I," he started, his voice husking, pitiful.
"I had sex with someone."
Jack moved nearer to him, his face touching
Daniel's.
"I didn't mean it to happen. It, it was a
mistake. A mistake." He tried to smile. "I
was drunk."
Jack's other hand was gentle in his hair
now.
"Drunk and, and incapable."
It was the closest to it he could come, he
was trying, and he still couldn't touch it.
He still couldn't form the word.
"I shouldn't have been drinking."
"Who?" Jack coaxed, his voice barely there
but so very tender. "Who hurt you, Daniel?"
Could Daniel admit that he'd been with a
man? Could he give even this much? He was so
cold inside, cold everywhere, deadening him
to touch. He loathed the helpless,
spiralling disorientation, loathed and
feared it.
"I knew him."
Jack's lips grazed his forehead. "You
trusted him," he murmured, careful but
shaking.
"I shouldn't have been drinking!"
Jack didn't hush him and tell him it was
okay, that it would be okay, but his body
was gentle against Daniel's, still gentle
and giving.
He had to know if Jack could hear this
before he could attempt to say it.
It was the feel of Jack against him that
gave him the strength to open his eyes and
look. He could trust this much.
He found Jack waiting for him, waiting
patiently with burning eyes and grim mouth.
It jolted Daniel to find Jack so steady. He
could not have borne pity. There was none he
could see, only anger and a depth of grave
understanding that shook him.
"I'm with you," Jack said quietly, and meant
it.
"He fucked me," Daniel burst out brokenly,
his anguish striking Jack like a blow. "He
fucked me, Jack." He was splintering inside,
falling, falling into a paroxysm of grief
and raging denial, strangling a stoic,
cradling Jack in his fit of revulsion. Jack
was talking, words tumbling out, but Daniel
couldn't hear him. He could hear only the
buzz in his ears, loud and getting louder,
deafening, filling his head. Sick and
quaking, he was done, he was finished,
desperately latching on to the only thing
that made sense to him.
Unwavering, Jack stuck it out with him, held
on, held Daniel as long and as hard as he
needed, not backing off for a second as he
wore himself out. Even when he could catch
his breath, when he could see and hear
again, Daniel held on, his face buried in
Jack's shoulder. Long past dignity, he
simply endured, shuddering and incapable,
slowly dulling into quietude.
Jack kissed his hair, moving now to tuck the
tangled blankets more comfortably around
them. He didn't ask anything of Daniel,
didn't challenge or judge, he simply held
him, stroking his back and his hair, and he
was still gentle, still giving against him.
Daniel lifted his head at last, near-drunk
in his exhaustion. It took everything he had
to look at Jack, every scrap of stubbornness
he possessed to meet his gaze.
"Sorry," Jack apologised with a ghost of a
sombre smile. "You're still stuck with me."
There was kindness in his dark eyes, melting
sorrow. Daniel's burned, stinging with tears
he wouldn't shed.
"Is there?" Daniel croaked. He felt as if
all his skin were stripped away, he was raw
to the touch and in so much need he could
hardly stand himself. Was there nothing Jack
would say to him?
"There's so much I hardly know where to
begin." Jack mouthed this as a platitude.
There was something, something he'd already
asked and wasn't sure he could ask again.
Daniel dimly remembered.
"Elliot," he said dully. "It was Elliot."
Jack jumped, his face flattening to fury. He
closed his eyes and breathed hard, breathed
through it, his head tilted up and away from
Daniel.
"I tried to be his f-f-friend." He stuttered
dreadfully on the word, its meaning ugly to
him.
"What happened?" Jack asked him directly but
not unkindly. "Can you tell me?"
"I got drunk."
Jack was waiting for, expecting more.
"Elliot made a pass at you?" he prompted
cautiously.
"Did he?" Daniel asked blankly.
"You don't…"
"No. No, I don't remember. I've tried and it
slips away from me. I try to stop and it…"
He bit his lip. Jack had been here with him
in the nights. He knew precisely what it did
to Daniel.
"Did he kiss you? Touch…"
"No," Daniel stated positively. "You're the
only one who's kissed me."
Jack snatched Daniel's hand to his mouth and
kissed the back of it, holding it there,
shredding the small composure Daniel was
hanging onto.
"He went down on me," Daniel said bluntly,
trying not to flinch from Jack. He
remembered the hot, gluttonous mouth, Jack's
beautiful, life-beaten face before him,
stupefying orgasm. He was bourbon-blind and
speechless, an almost dead-weight, hearing a
voice he knew. Breathing in the familiar
smell of his bed, safe at home, letting go.
The voice all the time, hands on him,
weight, a cool, slick nudge and gliding
pressure, inside him, god, inside him.
He rolled clear of Jack and staggered to the
basin, threw up violently. Hands touched his
back and he bucked them off, hanging on to
the basin as he retched distressingly, his
vision spotted. He retched until he was sore
and gagging. Jack put a supporting arm
around him and held him up while he splashed
some of the running water on his face, drank
a little from his cupped palms. He
straightened up stiffly, the walls lurching
away from him, and Jack braced him.
"He raped you." Jack spoke with infinite
compassion.
It shattered him to hear it from Jack and he
fell away from the force of it, fell against
the wall.
"I can take anything but you blaming
yourself, Daniel," Jack said with
difficulty, his voice choked with feeling.
"Anything but that."
Stricken, Daniel shook his head.
"This was him, not you. Him."
"Jack…"
"You didn't do anything wrong."
"I drank myself into a stupor!" Daniel
retorted angrily.
"You had no way to know you weren't safe. No
possible way," Jack insisted. "You were with
someone you thought was a friend."
"I let my guard down. I was the one who,"
Daniel's voice broke. "I was the one."
"He raped you."
"I didn't say no. I didn't, I didn't do
anything to stop him. Anything." He just lay
there and took it because he was too drunk
to stop it, too drunk to even be sure it was
happening.
"You didn't say no? Did he even ask?"
Daniel remembered the voice, fragments
without meaning, just the sound of it. He
shuddered from it.
"Did you say yes?" Jack asked him intently,
patience boring into him.
Daniel had said nothing, nothing, unable to
lift his head or open his eyes, to move a
muscle. He lay there and took it. That was
all. In and out of reality, of
consciousness, of dreams, he took it. On and
on, he took it.
"Being drunk, being trusting, being silent,"
Jack went on relentlessly, "Does not add up
to consent."
"Stop," Daniel pleaded dismally. "Please,
Jack. Stop." Breathing raggedly, he put his
face in unsteady hands.
"I'm sorry," Jack apologised wretchedly. "I
see this crushing you and I can't make it
stop, I couldn't stop it, any of it. I
wasn't there and I…I should've been, I
should've seen that ambitious little bastard
for what he was."
Daniel put his arms around Jack and they
held each other.
"I can't bear to see you hurting," Jack said
feelingly. "I can't see it and not want to
make it better for you. I love you too much
to not screw up."
"You don't, you don't think less of me?"
Daniel asked falteringly.
"Only of myself."
"I didn't know what to do," Daniel
confessed. "I didn't know if I could tell
you, if I should tell you. No one seemed to
even notice and I'm…I'm so tired of being
afraid, of hurting all the time. I'm so
tired, Jack."
Jack grimaced, blinking rapidly, looking for
a moment as if he would cry. "I'm here now,"
he promised gruffly. "I've got you."
"It doesn't change…"
"Nothing, not how I feel about you."
"I can't say it." Daniel smiled blindly. "I
can't even think it." He didn't even know if
he felt it, if he believed…it was all too
tangled, there was too much he'd done wrong,
too many assumptions he'd made. He'd failed,
failed utterly to make any kind of
difference in Elliot's life. It wasn't the
first such failure on his part but he felt,
it seemed to him to be one failure too far.
He carried the guilt of it all, too
exhausted to even be angry over the trust it
had deadened in him.
And yet, he was here, he was with Jack,
obstinately fighting on.
"There's time," Jack assured him vehemently.
"We've got all the time there is. You talk
to me when you can, if you can, you trust
me."
"I do," Daniel said shyly, something easing
inside.
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two |
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